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duskholland · 4 years

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Ritual || Boxer!Tom Smut

boxer!tom x reader — smut.

summary ↠ with the championship fight less than two weeks away, tom adopts a series of frustrating pre-match rituals.... based off the request ↠ ‘boxer!tom refuses to have sex for two weeks before a big match then he wins a belt and becomes the top boxer and his s/o patches him up like she does after every match, but it quickly turns into really intense victory sex with dom!tom’ I changed a couple bits but this is pretty much the same :)) warnings ↠ this gets very, very smutty. for that reason, 18+ pls !! extended nsfw warnings are beneath the cut but this spirals into v intense smut. so just. watch out pls. word count ↠ 8k a/n ↠ I almost died when I wrote this. truly. I felt a piece of my soul leave my body. sheeeesh. anyway uh... this was a lot of fun to write! I found out so many fun facts about sports psychology whilst researching this, so thanks boxer!tom for enlightening me on the fun world of pre-match-rituals. enjoy!

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extended nsfw warnings: fem masturbation, oral (fem and male receiving), mentions of vibrating egg, edging and denial, dirty talk, reader definitely has a pain kink (...): biting, spanking + hair pulling, face-fucking, dom!tom, rough sex™️, shower shenanigans, doggy-style, unprotected sex — please wrap before you tap if you do this irl thank you very very much !!

*:·ﾟ✧Ritual ✧·ﾟ:*

Thump. Smack. Thump.

Tom’s fists rain down over the punching bag, and there’s a metallic clicking sound as the object goes spinning in the air. You watch as he pirouettes around the bag, dodging its movements between swings, getting in hit after hit after hit. He slowly works his way around the object, his face screwed into an expression of empowered determination as he alternates which bright red glove he uses to pound against the fabric.

You sigh, loudly, the sound dying in the near-empty gym. There’s just something about Tom in the days preceding a fight that makes you squirm.

He’s different. Still the man you know and love so effortlessly, but heightened in the most attractive ways. His senses pull sharper, his jaw carrying a firm line to it, his eyes like roaring fires. As Tom pounds his fists against the bag, his sweaty brown curls stick to the top of his forehead, contrasting the bright pink tones staining his cheeks. You watch the muscles in his arms tense and flex, pale skin on display due to the tight black vest that clings tightly to his torso. You know if he turned around properly, you’d be able to make out the sunken lines of his abs, packed rigidly with muscle.

You bite your lower lip, stifling a moan. You find Tom attractive enough under normal conditions, let alone when he’s like this: eyes glowing with determination, body burning with passion as he takes swing after swing at the punching bag like he’s got a personal vendetta against it.

“Having fun?”

You startle, clutching at your chest as you turn around to look at Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s sports psychologist. A frown instantly springs out across your mouth, and you reach up to begrudgingly take the bottle of water he offers you.

“I hate you,” you grunt. You sit up a little straighter before leaning back against the wall. You’re waiting for Tom to finish his workout, sitting on one of the benches in the gym. You’d started out the session sparring together, but you’d called quits after twenty minutes against him. Unlike Tom, you don’t have the biggest fight of your career in two weeks—and, honestly, you enjoy watching him like this more than you enjoy trying to keep up with him in the ring.

Harrison frowns as he drops to sit beside you, nudging your shoulder.

“I’m wounded, love,” he says, smirking at you. “What have I done this time?”

You roll your eyes. “You know exactly what you’ve done, Haz.”

Harrison raises an eyebrow, tutting. “You know this is for the best, Y/N.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Fuck the best.”

When Harrison had joined Tom’s team at the start of the season, he’d come boasting all the new sciences of a young university graduate. He’d suggested Tom adopt a series of rituals to help him focus before a big match—small things, initially, like taking cold showers and limiting the time he spends on his phone. Yet, as the competition has progressed and Tom has risen further and further up the ranks, the rituals have grown more intense, more focused. It’s reached the point that now, two weeks before the big match, Tom has reached his final form. As instructed, he visits the sauna every other day, receives daily massages from the most esteemed sports therapists in Europe, drinks multiple cups of pure, fresh herbal tea a day. There are no distractions—his phone is permanently on silent, he’s cut out naps, he’s eliminated music. No distractions, no impurities, no sex.

No sex, because according to Harrison, nothing gets adrenaline rushing and frustration festering like an extended period of denial. No sex, which is a problem, for you, because Tom has never looked as fit as he does now, launching himself at the punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead. His biceps flex and bulge and you have to cross your legs as you tighten your grip on the water bottle.

“He’ll win,” Harrison mutters, lowly. You glance towards him, taking in the sight of the older man with his face doused in the harsh fluorescent lights of the gym. “He’s good. Got the best form I’ve ever seen.” He lowers his voice, glancing at you shrewdly. “Don’t distract him, alright? He’s on fire.”

You grumble something incoherent beneath your breath before sighing and sitting up straighter.

“It’s fucked that you get to decide when I get laid, Haz. You know that, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, cheeks blushing a light pink. “Uh, well, I didn’t actually know that he’d go through with that part of it,” Harrison admits. “But if it works, don’t knock it. He wants to win.”

You sit back, resting your shoulders against the wall as you groan. “I want him to win, too,” you say. You look down at your fingers, playing with some of the rings sitting behind your knuckles. “I think it’ll kill him if he doesn’t.”

Both of you look back at Tom, who’s ditched the gloves. You watch him talk with his coach, running a hand through his sweaty hair as he nods, looking focused as he listens to the pointers and tips. You release a relieved sigh as Tom’s coach pats him on the back and walks off, leaving Tom to pick up his towel and his bottle before sauntering over to you and Harrison.

“Hi.” Tom tosses his stuff onto the bench before reaching for your hands. He pulls you up easily and quickly, causing you to squeal as you find yourself in his arms. He’s hot, his entire body flushed with the sweaty, adrenaline-filled afterglow of a good, long workout, and you laugh as he dives down to kiss your neck, soft curls tickling you. “Missed you, darling.”

He works his way up your neck, nibbling softly at your skin before pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your chin, and then, finally, your mouth. It’s light, but then you push against him eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you moan happily as you enjoy the feeling of Tom, his skin warm and flushed, his pulse vibrating against you, and his mouth, coming over yours again and again.

“I’m right here,” Harrison mutters, speaking up from behind you. You groan, give Tom a final kiss, and then begrudgingly pull back.

“Sorry,” you call out, stepping closer to Tom as you turn your head to look at Harrison. Tom’s arms come around your waist, and he holds you nearer, humming as he presses his face into your shoulder. “You can always leave.”

Harrison rolls his eyes as he flips you off, causing Tom to chuckle.

“Y/N,” Tom mumbles, voice fond. “Harrison can stay if he wants to stay. I was thinking we could all go get dinner or something.”

To your relief, Harrison is quick to shake his head. He pulls on his jacket as he looks between you and Tom, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as they twinkle with amusement.

“It’s fine. I’ll leave you both alone. I think Y/N’s had enough of me, anyway.” He’s teasing, and you all know it, but you still throw out an easing pout as you shrug.

“Night, Haz,” you say, leaning further into Tom, who echoes your sentiments. As soon as Harrison’s gone, Tom spins you in his arms, his brown eyes bright and glowing with adoration. He kisses you again, and you sigh as you melt further into him, the spark in the pit of your stomach roaring back to life as Tom’s tongue teases your lower lip.

“Come shower with me,” Tom murmurs, hands roaming your back. He pecks the side of your mouth a few times as you hum.

“I can’t,” you find yourself saying, though it pains you considerably. Tom abruptly stops his kisses.

“Why not?” He pouts, pulling back to stare at you. He looks a little bit like an injured puppy, eyes wide with hurt. He squeezes your waist for emphasis.

“We’re in the two-week window, Tom,” you remind him. You reach up, lightly cupping his very hot, very sweaty face, in your palm. “You know we can’t.”

He groans, then dramatically lets his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you let him pout and rub his back.

“I love you,” he says, after a moment. He pulls back, kissing your neck briefly before sighing. “Thanks for putting up with this.”

“It’s okay.” You bite your lip, tilting your head to the side as you examine him carefully. “It’s kind of hot. You get so frustrated.”

Tom just narrows his eyes, staring at you with an expression mixed between amusement and frustration.

“Go on, champ,” you say, pushing his shoulder gently. “Go shower so we can go home, yeah?”

Tom begrudgingly steps back, opening and closing his mouth a few times as if he’s going to try and change your mind again, but he doesn’t. As much as you know he wants to drag you into a steamy cubicle, his desire to win his match is stronger.

“Be back soon, darling,” he says. “Don’t miss me too much.”

———

The days burn by slowly.

About a week in, you find yourself snapping. You always try to adopt pseudo-chastity with Tom, feeling a little guilty every time you sneak your hand between your legs and chase the highs he can only dream about finding. Yet, you end up reaching breaking point and giving in to temptation one evening, alone in your flat. Tom’s out late at the gym, at the point in the regime where he’s spending most of his days hauled up in the large building, and you just can’t help yourself: you’re so horny.

If you asked him to get you off, you know he’d agree, never wanting to deny you anything. Tom loves you, loves watching you fall apart for him, loves the power trip that comes with knowing your pleasure is in his hands, but you’d just feel too mean. His refusal to have sex in the lead up is as much psychological as it is anything else—you know he finds energy in the ritual, finds aggressive, fiery hormones in the fourteen days of denial. You’d never want to put him in the position where he got tempted to break, no matter how badly you want to cum.

So, you decide to take care of your ache yourself. Or, at least, you try to.

You start off strong. Teasing yourself over your panties, drawing your fingers over the front of your covered sex. You let your eyes flutter shut as you think about Tom, recounting some of the last few sessions you’ve witnessed at the gym. You think about him, his biceps flexing and curling, the subtle curves of his long, slender fingers, his mouth. His features blur, and you find yourself moaning as you dip your fingers beneath the soft cotton and start to stroke your folds. You circle your clit for a while before dipping down to your entrance, touching the pool of your arousal and groaning as you wet your fingers. As your arousal starts to build, you tease your clit, accompanying the action with your other hand after a while. It feels good—so, so good—as you tease your g-spot with your fingers, keeping your thumb on your clit, edging, and edging, and edging, and—

You can’t cum.

A frown settles on your face as you start to grow frustrated. You try to change things up, slowing your movements, letting the high ebb away before trying again. Instead of reaching climax like you crave, you find yourself resting on the edge instead. You’re aroused, your cunt throbbing, your clit tingling, but you can’t quite get there. It’s frustrating.

You’re so caught up in your irritation that you miss the loud slam of the front door, too absorbed in the sounds of your wetness to hear Tom’s yell of greeting. Your eyes are shut as your boyfriend enters the bedroom. You’re not aware he’s home until you hear him tutting, his voice stacked full of amusement and lust. Your eyelids flutter open, and you find yourself looking at him, wide-eyed like a deer stuck in the headlight.

“T-Tom,” you whimper, your movements stilling. You have your legs spread wide open, two fingers buried in your heat, your other hand draped over your bud. A shy smile finds its way across your lips as you batter your eyelashes at him, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of your boyfriend, drowning in a black hoodie and tight blue denim jeans. His hair lies in fresh, air-dried curls, his eyes dark pools of lust. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tom repeats, imitating your tone. He pushes himself away from the bedroom wall, walking towards you like a lion stalking his prey. You whimper when he reaches down to touch your leg, sliding his hand over your shin teasingly. His eyes glint as he hears you, gaze fixed on the spot between your legs where your hands have stilled. “Oh, please don’t stop on my account, darling,” he teases, smirking. “Keep going. Just because I can’t have fun, doesn’t mean you should have to suffer too.”

You bite your lip, recognising all too well the teasing glint in his eye.

“I can’t,” you admit, shifting around on the mattress as Tom kneels on the end of the bed. Both of his hands are on your legs now, slowly, teasingly, dragging his touch up your shins. Your breath hitches as he slowly works his way up, dipping his head so he’s able to kiss each of your knees, his lips warm and tender.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

He’s lying down, settled between your legs, slowly kissing up the inside of one of your thighs. It’s hard to concentrate with him so close to your centre.

“Can’t get there,” you mutter, slowly pulling both of your hands away from your mound, leaving you exposed. Tom leans up, raising his eyebrows until you offer him the fingers you’d had buried inside your entrance. He hums as he sucks on your fingers, the sight of him making you moan softly. “I get so close, but I can’t get over the edge.”

Tom licks at the tips of your fingers before releasing them, smirking slowly. “What a shame,” he drawls, sounding the opposite. Both of his hands go to the soft sides of your thighs, and you let him pry your legs apart. He’s so close to your cunt that you can feel his warm breath fanning out across your bud, your folds, your entrance. “Looks like neither of us can cum this week, hmm?”

Before you can reply, Tom drops his head and buries it between your legs. You cry out, sensitive from your edging, your clit throbbing as you feel his tongue, warm and wet, circling the bud. His hands push your hips back down, holding you firmly in place as he moans, drawing his mouth all over your sex.

“Stay still, darling,” he murmurs, voice thick. He glances up at you, a wild look in his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me have a little taste.”

Your eyes roll back, and you try to lie as still as possible. Tom’s fingers slip into your cunt, exploring your passage, curling up against your g-spot as you whimper.

“So good,” you moan, already feeling your climax twitching in the pit of your stomach. One of your hands goes down to grab at his hair, digging into his curls and keeping his face exactly where you need it, and the other fists the sheets. Your chest rises and falls, your heavy pants mixing with the sounds of Tom’s fingers, fucking your wet heat, and his tongue, teasing the life out of your tender clit. “Please, please.”

“Hmm, you don’t want to cum, do you?” Tom’s words are coupled with a gradual slow in his pace, and you feel your orgasm drifting away as he stills his fingers. He laps over your clit a final time before sitting up a little straighter, looking at you straight on as his chin glistens. “If I don’t get to cum, it doesn't seem fair that you do either, does it?”

His voice is hypnotising, and when his free hand goes to rub warm circles on your inner thigh, you find yourself nodding, transfixed.

“I- I guess.”

Tom smirks, dropping his lips so he can kiss your clit, lightly.

“Are you going to wait for me, sweetheart?” He asks, pink lips puffy and inflamed.

You bite your lip. “Tom,” you whimper, frowning when he lets his fingers pull away from your heat. You watch as he licks his digits clean, still with that wide, confident smirk on his face.

“Hm?” Tom kisses your thigh. “I can make you cum, if you really want to, darling. Just thought it might be nice to do this together.” He rolls both of his hands over your legs, battering his eyelashes at you. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while. Just think about how good it’ll be to wait until next Saturday.” He pushes himself up your body, anchoring himself with a strong arm either side of your head as he suspends himself above you. Tom kisses you, roughly, but only for a moment, letting your lips pull apart when he feels you trying to slip your tongue into his mouth. “Let’s do this together, yeah?”

You hum, thinking on it for a moment, but the scent of his cologne and his fresh shampoo scramble your mind. You find yourself nodding, distracted by the glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you agree, rolling your eyes when he grins. “We’ll do it together.”

“Good girl.” Tom kisses you, grinning against your lips. “This is going to be fun.”

———

If you’d thought the sex ban was difficult to cope with in the first week, it only gets harder in the second. After giving Tom the green light to have his way with you, he seems to channel all his frustration into you—or, more specifically, into making you as frustrated as possible. He teases you, makes you squirm, beg, cry, letting his mouth wander over your sex or his fingers explore you, any time, any place he feels like it. He never allows you to roll over your edge, just watches, usually smirking, as you try to convince him to let you climax, only to kiss you, softly, and pull away each time.

It happens in the locker room—he pushes you up against the metallic lockers and slips his fingers into you, whispering gentle words with sinful intent.

“Gonna stay quiet for me, darling? Cunt feels so desperate... So tight, so hot. Fucking snug around my fingers, aren’t you? Shh… I know, I know. Feels good for you too, doesn’t it?”

In the showers, when you’re both hot and steamy—Tom drops to his knees and slings one of your thighs over his shoulder, nuzzling his face into your heat.

“Wish I could taste this pussy for the rest of my life, love. Tastes like paradise.”

It even happens in the gym, when he pushes a vibrating egg into you and enjoys teasing you, never warning you before he ups the pace of the bullet, watching with that signature mischievousness on his face.

“Don’t get all shy now, love… I can see the way you’re squirming for me. Bet you’re making a mess in those panties, hmm? Yeah… You can’t hide from me.”

It drives you crazy—beyond crazy. If you thought you’d been mad at Harrison before, you’re practically incandescent with rage by the time fight night comes around.

As your frayed arousal combines with the nerves of the big night, you find yourself alone with Tom, half an hour before the most important match of his career. Your priorities have shifted, your mood sobered by the situation.

“Visualise it,” you murmur, voice soft. You roll your hands over Tom’s shoulders. “Think about how good it’ll feel to hold that belt in your hands.”

Tom hums. He’s sitting on one of the hard wooden benches in the locker room. You’re kneeling behind him, occasionally dropping your lips to kiss the top of his head. After months of supporting him before a fight, you know exactly what he needs: you, touching him, grounding him. He doesn’t like distractions so near to the fight, which is why he has his eyes closed. Whenever he opens them, it’s only to look at the bright red gloves settled in his lap. You know that he appreciates you, even when he’s unable to vocalise it, too lost in his thoughts.

“You’ve trained your whole life for this moment, Tom. You deserve it.”

It’s a mantra. Harrison had taught it to you. Small words of affirmation, repeated softly over the lead-up, speaking them into existence. Tom hums, listening intently.

“You’re going to win,” you speak, your own eyes shut. You focus on the feeling of his shoulders, packed firm with muscles between your hands. “You’re going to win, and then you’re going to fuck me.”

Tom shifts, his posture straightening a little, and your eyes widen as you realise you’ve let your inner thoughts interrupt the ritual.

“I don’t think that’s on Harrison’s script, darling,” he mutters, voice amused.

You reach forward, drawing one of your hands over his forehead. Your fingers play with his hair, and you scrunch up your nose as you chastise yourself for your deviation.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “Just fucking horny. Your fault.”

“Mm, sorry.” Tom grunts when you pull on his hair a little harder, and you repeat the action. “Fuck, love.” He groans louder and tilts his head to the side, exposing the pale column of his neck. “Give me a hickey?”

You oblige, dipping your head so you can rest your lips on his neck. “Where?” You ghost your lips over varying points on his skin, teasing him with light nibbles.

“There,” Tom mutters. One glance at his face confirms he’s still got his eyes shut. When you give in to his desire and start to suck a deep hickey to his skin, he grunts and reaches up to grab at your hands, squeezing your fingers roughly. “Shit.”

“There you go,” you say, voice soft as you pull back.

“Thanks, love,” Tom mutters. “Want to wear it in the ring. Good luck charm.”

You bite your lip, your centre throbbing as you listen to him. You kiss the mark, stained dark against his skin.

“You’ve got this, Tom,” you whisper, redirecting your lips to his ear. His neck prickles with goosebumps when you kiss his earlobe, softly. “You’re going to win, then you’re going to come back, and we’ll celebrate together. Okay?”

Tom’s still holding your hands, firm and eager, and you smile against his neck when he squeezes them.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll win. I’ll do it for you.”

You kiss the back of his head, his soft curls gentle against your cheeks.

“Love you, champ.”

He coaxes one of your hands to his face and kisses the back of your palm.

“Love you too, darling.”

———

The atmosphere sharpens when Tom gets out to the ring.

It’s a big match. The press is here, the fight streamed live to thousands of people across the world. As Tom strides into the ring to take on his opponent, you settle at the side of it, looking up through the ropes with Harrison by your side.

Tom starts off strong—a few hard jabs here, some quick punches there. He dodges and rolls, his bright red gloves raining down over his opponent. Yet, both Tom and his rival are the best of their class, so it’s a nail-biting half-hour spent with your fingers crossed, eyes trained on your boyfriend as he throws everything he has into the ring.

When they break halfway through the match for a few minutes of respite, you’re quick to slip up into the ring and assist Tom’s trainer as they patch up his injured hand. Tom doesn’t say anything, his teeth frozen in the hard white mouth guard, but he squeezes your hand before you step out again, and you know he’s still in there.

The second half only gets more intense—both of them knowing how close the match is, and adjusting accordingly. Tom and his opponent are more reckless, more brutal, and you watch your boyfriend take risks he’d promised to never try to take. It leaves you an anxious mess, but you can’t help but watch him in awe.

Tom’s time in the ring is a performance, beautifully violent, elegantly composed. Spit sprays, sweat drips, blood rolls. He’s loud—very vocal, his sounds almost brutish. His eyes glint black, brown curls stiff with sweat, face on fire. You find it incredibly attractive to watch him in his element, not just because he physically looks incredible, but also because he’s so utterly committed to his trade that everything else fades away. His passion burns, scorches the ground, ripples over his opponent, and in the end, Tom rises, and his rival sinks.

It’s close, and though you have the suspicion that your boyfriend might have snagged it, you hold your breath until it’s confirmed. Your grip on Harrison’s hand is so tight that he curses, but you don’t release it until the MC yells Tom’s name as champion and thrusts his arm triumphantly into the air.

The arena explodes. Your ears ring as you clap and cheer, tears of pride pooling in your eyes. The first thing Tom does is turn around, looking at you with an expression of elated shock on his face. Then, after accepting the belt and speaking a few hurried words of thanks into the microphone of the leading journalist, he comes straight to you.

“Tom!” You exclaim, shaking from emotion. It’s a blend of adrenaline, pride and nerves, cooling your body, making you quiver. Tom reaches down from the ring and grabs both of your hands, jerking you up to him. You dodge past the ropes, almost tripping in his haste, but he grabs you.

Still with the bright stage lights blinding the ring, Tom sweeps you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hot hands burning into your waist. You release a loud noise of surprise, taken entirely off-guard but rolling with the punches. Tom pushes you back against the ropes of the ring as your hands curl into his sweaty hair, and your brief hope that they’ve stopped broadcasting live is set aside as Tom comes closer, caging you in with his buff arms. It’s messy and dirty, his tongue twisting against yours, lips firm, intense, but it’s everything. As you let go of the tension you’d been harbouring all evening, another very prominent emotion burns to the surface: arousal.

“I fucking did it,” Tom breathes finally, forehead pushed to yours. He sounds so proud of himself that it makes you smile, tears reappearing in your eyes as you nod.

“You did,” you confirm. You pull on his hair and push him back so you’re able to see his eyes, dark and hungry. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He stares into your eyes for a moment, and then kisses you again, with so much intensity it knocks your breath from your lungs. When he pulls back, he uses one very hot hand to cup your cheek, holding you tightly.

“I have to do some interview shit,” Tom says, grimacing. He tilts his head at the championship belt, which now lies on the floor of the ring, discarded. He’s smirking as he brings his gaze back to you. “Meet me in the locker room? Ten minutes.”

You nod.

“Don’t be late.”

———

You wait for Tom in the team’s locker room, taking the time to lock all of the side doors that lead out from the room. His team has been around the two of you for long enough to know that it’s best to give you a wide berth in the few hours after Tom’s won a match, but you can never be too sure. Once you’re finished with that, you go to the liberty of pulling off your shoes, your jumper, and all the jewellery you’d put on for the night.

Then, you wait.

You wait, and you think about how magnificent Tom had looked as he’d fought, arms flexing, jaw set firm in a focused grimace. You rewatch the scenes of him thrusting the belt into the air, yelling elatedly. You think about how fucking mad he’s made you feel over the last two weeks, edging you and denying you, over and over again. It feels as though you’ve been permanently aroused for seven days straight, and now is no exception: just from spending all evening ogling him, you can feel your arousal wetting the front of your panties.

“Fuck,” Tom exclaims, suddenly bursting into the locker room. You turn around to watch him sling the championship belt over his shoulder as he hurries to flick the lock on the main door, knowing the routine as well as you. When he gets it, he turns and stalks over to you, picking up into a jog. “That took so fucking long,” he groans. He throws the belt away and pulls you from the bench, pushing you until your back bumps up against one of the metal lockers. Tom grins, his nose pressing to yours as he smothers you, hands back on your hips, forehead to yours, breath spreading over your face. “Couldn’t wait to get back here and see you.”

You draw your hands over his back, feeling his muscles tense and flex.

“Just see me?” You ask, ghosting your lips over his.

Tom tightens his grip on your waist. “No,” he mutters darkly. He kisses you, only for a second, but very hard. “Couldn’t wait to get back here, rip your clothes off, and finally give you everything you deserve.”

“Everything I deserve?” You raise your eyebrows, running your hands lower. “I think you deserve more, baby.” You smirk against his lips. “You just won the biggest fight of your life.”

“That’s true…” Tom steps back, only for a moment, and you watch as he reaches beneath the waistband of his gym shorts and grunts. A second later, he pulls out the hard protective cup that shields his lower half from injury in the ring, and he groans, loudly, his forehead pressing to yours. “I’m so fucking hard, darling,” he whines. He steps closer, and you feel him, stiff as a rod, pressing into your thigh. “Need to get it out of me.”

You nod, your head moving back as Tom runs a hand over your throat and tilts it to the side. His lips attack your neck, biting hard kisses to the side of your throat that make you moan, your pulse feeling strong between your legs.

“Shit,” you curse. “Get in the shower.”

Tom sucks a harsh hickey just below your ear before pulling back to wiggle his eyebrows. “The shower, eh?”

“Yeah.” You step out of his hold and start to tear off your clothes, your skin rippling with heat. “Gonna suck you off.” You fling your t-shirt to the ground and roll down your jeans, watching as Tom does the same. “Then… Then, you can fuck me… Shit, I’m definitely going to need you to fuck me.” You throw your bra aside and then push down your panties, the waistband rolling in on itself due to your speed. “I’m so wet, Tom.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Tom says, eyes taking in your bare form. “Been dreaming about feeling you again, love.” He finally pulls down his boxers, and his hard cock springs out. “Two weeks is far too long. Get over here.”

Tom grabs your hand and tugs you into one of the wide shower cubicles. Both of you curse as he turns the valve and the water comes out freezing cold, but the stark contrast to the raging fire burning up your insides is nice.

You kiss him for a while, as the two of you get soapy and Tom washes away the grime. His skin is soft beneath your hands and the noises he makes as you massage his dodgy shoulder would be erotic enough without the presence of his cock, hard and leaking precum, resting between your thighs. You make out for a while, savouring every moment and enjoying the fact you’re now able to kiss him for longer than two seconds without worrying about exciting him too much. It’s still just as intense as before, but less hurried, and more passionate—Tom’s fingers pushing your damp hair out of your face, water droplets rolling down your figures. To be so bare in front of him and have him so ravenous for you makes you want him more than anything.

“Get back,” you murmur, pushing his shoulders. Tom obeys, his body pressing against the yellow tiled wall. You run a trail of kisses down his torso, paying attention to both of his pecs before his abs, then his v-line. Your knees bend, and you kneel on the floor, kissing up his thighs briefly before finally taking him in hand.

“Fuck-” Tom yells. His hands wind into your hair, flat palms grasping at your skull when you drag your tongue over his tip. “Been so long, love, I won’t last long at all.”

You hum as you tenderly lick over his head, absorbing his salty precum and moaning at the taste. “I know,” you say, your hand slowly tugging his length. You give his tip a chaste kiss as you blink up at him, smiling innocently. “I don’t want you to last long. I want you to cum down my throat.” Very slowly, you envelop his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head gently. You pull back after only a few moments, needing to add, “Want you to fuck my face, Tom.”

Your boyfriend moves one of his hands to your cheek, his voice strained from the way your hand is pumping his lower shaft. “Are you sure? Might not be gentle.”

“Yeah.” You nod your head too. “Want it rough. ‘M so fucking horny, and so are you. Want you to make my throat ache tomorrow.”

Tom curses, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so sexy,” he whines, slapping your cheek gently. “Thank you.”

You consider telling him that it’s almost as much for you as it is for him, but then you decide that the sight of his cock, flushed red, leaking precum, is your number one priority. So, you loosen your hand on his member and remove it completely, then soften your jaw and start to take him in your mouth, deep-throating him like you’ve ached to do for two weeks.

Tom’s fast to use his leverage on your head, guiding you with shaking hands. Both of you know that all you have to do to tap out is press his thigh, so you let him use you however he needs. Tears pool in your eyes as he fucks your mouth hard, his tip hitting the end of your throat until you gag. The lewd sounds mix with the pounding of the shower against the tiles and Tom’s grumbled groans that spiral up into the air.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he says, voice raspy and light. “So good, sweetheart, fuck. Such a pretty mouth. Feels so bloody good.” He breaks off for a moment, and you feel him shifting around on the wall, indicating he’s near his peak. “So messy too, fuck. Missed this. Watching you on your knees, gagging on my cock.” He tightens his grip on your hair and pushes you deeper, groaning loudly as he does so. “Fuck, I’m gonna blow. Gonna cum all down your throat. Shit, shit-”

Tom stops moving your head as he yelps, one of his hands curling into a fist and hitting back against the wall as he cums suddenly. You swallow around him, pulling up until your lips are at his tip, and your hand goes up to pump the rest of him through his orgasm. His entire body shakes, releasing the pent-up frustration that comes with so long in denial, and you take joy in the light whimpers he deposits into the air as you suck on his tip, cleaning him up.

“Holy…” Tom grabs your hair and pulls you back up, slumping against you instead of the wall as he pants. After taking a moment to gather himself, he pulls back to look at you, his thumb coming up to play with the beads of his cum that stain the corner of your mouth. “Made a mess,” he coos, pushing his seed onto your tongue. You grin as you suck his thumb further into your mouth, delighting as he curses. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart. You really are.”

You release his finger with a pop, shrugging. “How was that?”

Tom groans again, the sound almost orgasmic. “So good,” he mumbles. “Been so long, darling. So, so long.” He kisses your face, dusting your cheeks in light, loving kisses. When he pulls back, his eyes are a little darker. “Bet you’d like to chase that high too, wouldn’t you?” He accompanies his words with a sly hand, slipping down between your legs. When he feels your slick, so pronounced it’s coating your inner thighs, he tuts, smirking. “All this for me?”

You nod, whining breathlessly as he slips two fingers up to toy with your bud. You feel like a livewire—strung out and pulsing, white-hot. Unlike him, you’ve had some stimulation over the last two weeks. Just, you’ve also been cruelly pulled away from the edge, every single time.

“Just for you,” you agree. Your face drops forward, and you find yourself biting Tom’s broad shoulder as he curls two fingers into you with ease.

“You’re so hot in here,” he mutters, “and so wet, too. Fuck, love. You’re dripping down my hand.” When he angles his digits up to caress your g-spot, he strikes it immediately, and you moan noisily. “There you go, baby. Shh. It’s okay.” Tom fucks your tight heat, gradually unravelling you. “I’ve got you.”

Your moans come out strangled, and you feel yourself clenching around his fingers as your high builds quickly. It won’t take much to push you over the edge, and as much as it pains you—

“I don’t want to cum on your hand, Tom,” you manage, your voice betraying you by splitting into a whimper. “Want to cum on your cock.”

Tom slows his fingers, but he keeps thrusting them into you, just too slowly for you to peak. You groan, your centre pulsing as he keeps you burning near the edge, his lips on your neck again. He gently kisses up to your ear, mouth feather-light.

“Are you sure?” He coos, nibbling at your earlobe. “Feels like you want to cum.” When Tom adds his other hand, two fingers gently stroking your tender bud, your knees almost give out. “Can feel you clenching around me, Y/N, naughty girl.” He kisses just below your ear. “If you want something, you know how you need to ask for it.”

You’re all over the place, your eyes squeezed shut, sweat breaking out over your forehead, your cunt clenching and releasing every other second. You’re so close you can almost taste it, but you try to exercise self-control.

“Please, Tom.” It takes everything in you, but you manage to stand up straighter again, looking at him straight-on. His eyes dance dark with power and lust, his smirk unmoving as he thrusts his fingers a little faster. “W-Want you to fuck me. Been waiting so long, don’t want to fall apart if it isn’t with you behind me. Please, please, please, please-”

He cuts you off with a hard kiss, and finally, Tom pulls his hands away. He runs them both through the stream of water before reaching back to clumsily turn off the valve.

“I fucking love you,” he tells you. “Couldn’t deny you anything. Not really.” Tom takes your hand. “C’mere.”

Tom carefully pulls you over to one of the wooden benches. After draping a towel over the wooden slats, he pushes you down onto your hands and knees, his fingers spreading your legs. You whimper as you feel his cock, hard again, refracted in the interlude he’d constructed with his hands working you into insanity. Your knuckles clench around the slabs of wood, and despite already feeling the ache in your knees, it only spurs you on. You love the pain, love the visible, throbbing reminders of Tom, and he knows it just as much as you do.

“Look so pretty like this, darling,” Tom says, voice drifting through the air. Both of his hands go to your ass, roughly massaging your skin until his right hand slaps down across you, stinging bright hot. He repeats the action when you moan loudly, the slapping sound ringing out through the air. Each time his hand falls over you, you only grow hotter. It doesn’t matter that you’re still covered in water from the shower, you’re burning up. “G’nna let me take you like this, eh? Fuck this tight little pussy, like I know you’ve been dreaming of.”

When Tom lines his tip up with your entrance, you find yourself clinging to the edge of the bench with your fingers.

“Yes,” you beg, backing up against him. You feel like you might dissolve into a mess of arousal, tears, and desperation if he doesn’t satisfy you soon. “Please.”

Tom runs a hand up your back, fingers drifting over the line of your spine. He drops his lips and kisses the lower part of your back, so delicately it makes you quiver.

“Okay,” he says. “G’nna give it to you good.”

He enters you quickly and easily, and you almost lose it from the first thrust alone. You’re so slick that Tom’s swift in pulling back and then slamming back into you, his hands holding your hips back and in place as your arms wobble and your figure loses control. You drop your head between your arms, the blood rushing to your skull and making you feel light-headed as he rocks into you, over and over again, giving you everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

“Tom,” you gasp, your breaths heavy and inconsistent. It feels indescribable—the final denouement of your time apart. Each drag of his cock through your heat has you reeling, your walls quivering and clenching and trying desperately to keep him in, keep him nudging your g-spot, stimulating your passage. You’re moaning louder than you’ve ever moaned before, the coil in your stomach building and building without warning or direction.

Behind you, Tom seems to be enjoying it just as much as you. His libido strong and healthy and his body pumped full of pre-match adrenaline that it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he’s being so hard and purposeful in his movements. His groans are like music to your ears, small grunts of affirmation that he too has missed the paradise that unfolds when you join together.

“So fucking tight, angel,” he rasps, again letting his hand fall over your ass. He soothes the skin with his palm, and then he repeats the action two more times. “Feel you clenching me every time I do that.” He pinches your hip with his other hand, and you find yourself biting your forearm, embarrassed by how loud you think you’d moan if you were able to. “You love it rough like this, don’t you, darling? Mm… I know you do.”

It’s a dizzying blur of skin on skin for a while, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge on multiple occasions. It’s as if your body is holding back though, waiting on Tom to near it too before you’re able to fully let go. Almost sensing this, he reaches down and shoves his fingers in your hair, roughly tugging you up until your back is pressed against his front. The angle pushes him deeper, and your eyes flood with tears as you find yourself unable to comprehend just how good it feels.

“Y’like that?” He rasps. Tom drags a hand down to your clit, able to access it better now that he’s holding you so much closer. His pace is slower, but he’s going forcefully, his head hitting your g-spot every time. “Fuck, darling, I’m gonna cum if you keep clenching like that.”

You whimper, your chest heaving.

“Yeah,” you moan. His name pours from your lips like a prayer, rising in desperation as you slip back down, hands grabbing at the slats of the bench as you hold on for dear life. “Fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Come on,” Tom urges. “Do it. I want to feel you squeezing my cock so tight, like you always do. Always makes me lose it, doesn’t it, love? Shit, you’re so perfect. Go on. I’ve got you. Get my cock nice and wet, and I’ll fill you up. You’d like that, eh? Feeling me cumming inside this pretty pussy? Come on. You know what you have to do.”

It slams into you, pouring down over you in waves that submerge you entirely. You feel boneless but also rigid at the same time, your jaw slack as your vision blurs. Pleasure ripples out from your centre, dousing your aching cunt in relief that feels so sweet, only growing richer and more fulfilling when you hear Tom grunt and feel his cock pulse in you. You come together, bodies moving in sync, perfectly, despite the time apart, and it’s so good that it takes you out of it completely.

You’re so absorbed in your climax that you end up drifting, opening your eyes a few moments later only to find yourself lying on your back, staring up at the bright white lines of the locker room ceiling. Your eyes blur with tears, but just for a moment, because then Tom’s palm swims into vision, drifting above your head until he finds the right angle that blocks out the light.

“Hey, darling,” he coos. He brings one of your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “Are you okay? Lost you for a second.”

A very lazy, content smile finds your lips.

“Yeah,” you say sluggishly. You ache all over, but it feels incredible. You’re buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes after a session like this—after you’ve let him dismantle you completely. “Are you okay?”

Tom nods, his wet hair flying everywhere. “Fantastic,” he confirms. He glances down your figure, then offers you a soft smile. “I’m going to take you home, run you a really, really nice bath, and then we’re going to cuddle.” He drops your hand and instead cups your face in his palm. You nuzzle into it. His eyes are so soft as he gazes at you tenderly. “You’re so lovely, Y/N. I love you.”

You smile softly. “Love you too.”

Tom leans over you and kisses your lips, very gently, before shifting his mouth all over the rest of your face. He goes from one cheek, over to your forehead, down your nose, to the other, before circling back to your mouth. By the time he reaches there, your smile has grown to a grin, and you feel grounded enough to reach up and loop your fingers into his hair.

“Thank you,” he says, speaking earnestly, “for always being here for me. For supporting me, and putting up with all my crazy ideas, and being incredible, always. You are my inspiration, and I love you more than anything.”

You feel your heart throb in your chest, and you have to focus really hard on stopping the swell of emotion from leaving through your tired eyes.

“Any time,” you say, nodding to emphasise your point. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Whatever you might need, I’ll do it.”

Tom’s warm brown eyes meet with yours, and the smile on his face shows no sign of leaving.

“All I need is you,” he says. His lips come down to yours, softly, just resting there. “All I’ll ever need is you.”

—

———

:)) I rlly like this tbh. I hope you do too !

please let me know what you thought by hitting up my askbox or dropping a comment/rb...? thank you thank you!

masterlist and taglist can be found in my pinned post :D

#the energy that i created in the studio when i wrote this...i can't even begin to describe it. insane. enjoy !!#tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader smut #:)#my writing #smut #boxer!tomfic #tom.filth #q

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

6. “Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”

14. “Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

notes; aquatic-therapist!vernon, a lil bit of cocky!vernon, dirty talk, face-riding, hair pulling! Idk what it is about maknae line, maybe it’s bc i tried to come up with everyone’s occupation for this wellness au before I started but I’ve had theirs planned for literal WEEKS already and it’s so wild to see it finally come to fruition LOL 🤣🤣 also can we also just imagine pool boy vernon... 😗 heheheheh...💕💕 As always, thank you soooo much for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

“Okay, now bring your right arm up!”

Vernon directs you from behind; legs submerged in the water as he watches you raise your arm up and out of the water from the pool’s edge.

You’d only started taking his aquatic therapy classes recently - a suggestion from a friend who’d told you that it would be good for your stress management.

And they’d been right. For the most part.

Vernon was not only good at his job but the 3AM fantasies that kept you awake, tossing and turning, only gave you more reasons to keep showing up.

“I’m gonna join you now, okay?” Yelling slightly, he eases his white tee off before slinking into the warm water and swimming over to where you were in the middle of the pool.

Admittedly, this was always your favorite part.

“Mmmkay, you know the drill, ‘lil lady. On your back for me.” You bite the inside of your cheek at his choice of words as you slowly start trying to float onto your back while Vernon saunters up towards you.

He tried to treat this portion of your session as if you were in a sensory deprivation tank except he was watching you and most often than not - Vernon kept his hands on your shoulders while he fixated on your chest rising and falling in deep breaths while you relaxed in the water.

“D’you think we can… extend this part of the session a ‘lil more?” You mutter; eyes fluttering shut as you get comfortable.

“Hmm, that stressed, huh?” He jokes back, hands already on your shoulder as he makes sure to keep your body afloat from his position near your head.

You liked this part because usually it meant he kept his hands on you while you floated around in the pool daydreaming about how good he could fuck you in various positions and various places around the pool room.

Not that you’d tell him that.

“It makes me sleepy… It feels good.” The slight swaying of the water and Vernon’s hands slightly massaging your skin has tiny moans spilling from your lips. “Mmh, I could do this all day…”

Me too, Vernon thinks to himself.

“I’ll let you have a few more extra minutes, but we’ll have to get out soon, okay? I don’t want you or me to turn into raisins here.”

And it only takes a few minutes before you’re dozing off in the water - the hazy fantasies playing out in your mind and reality blurring as you moan out into the otherwise unoccupied room.

This happened often, but Vernon’s booming voice usually knocked you straight back into your senses before you got too deep into daydreaming.

“Mmh… Vernon…”

“Hmm?”

“Feels… good… when you… fuck m-me…”

The male raises a brow, hands on your shoulders adding pressure as he leans in closer to you. He could tell you were dozing off and you weren’t fully aware of what you were saying, but curiosity only got the best of him.

“Oh? What’s good about it?” He mumbles back.

You feel warm all over; floating on cloud nine when you imagine Vernon pulling you over to the side of the pool and tugging your bikini bottoms to the side before fucking you.

“Ah… the way your cock fills me up…”

More pleasured noises spill from your mouth as Vernon bites his lip - debating his position before he leans down and over you, lips ghosting against your ear before whispering.

“I think you need to stop dozing off, baby. You’re spilling all of your secrets to me right now.”

He pinches your shoulder as you gasp and start flailing about; an amused grin on his lips as he watches your eyes widen when you look at him after you get your balance in the water. “What---w-what did you hear!?”

“Enough.” He shrugs back, unaffected. “If I’m being honest, I didn’t mind what I heard either.”

Your cheeks burn hot as Vernon starts wading towards you; walking you backwards until your back is pressed up against the tiled wall of the pool. “Are you embarrassed?” His arms cage you in as he teases you. “You don’t have to be, y’know? You’ve clearly thought about this a few times and so have I so I mean--”

“W-would you just shut up and kiss me already?!” You exclaim; wide eyes peering up to Vernon who grins back at you.

“That’s all? You just want a kiss? I can give you more, baby~” He leans in - eating up the way you give him more room when you tilt your head to the side. “I can give you anything you’ve been fantasizing about.”

“T-then do it…” Mumbling, you give him space as he starts to kiss your neck; soft moans spilling from your lips when he starts to nibble on your skin in between leaving gentle, teasing kisses on your hot skin.

“Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

You go through the mental catalogue in your head, choosing something you’d been wanting to try with him before you place your hands on his shoulders to slightly push him away from yourself.

“How about… you let me pick this time and I’ll let you pick next time?”

What you learn about Vernon is that he’s always willing to negotiate.

“O--oh, fuh--fuck, yes! Yes!”

He says this time he’ll let you ride his face, but next time, he wants to fuck you by the poolside - water splashing all around you when he fucks you hard and fast.

You agree in a heartbeat.

“Mmh, fuck, your tongue f-feels so, a-ah, good on my clit…” Your hands tangle into his wet hair, hips swiveling and grinding down onto his face as he alternates from pointing and flattening his tongue against your skin.

Your moans and whimpers echo in the pool room; all caution thrown out into the wind now that you were riding his face by the pool side.

“Ngh, w-wanna cum on y-your tongue…” Vernon’s hands wrap around your thighs as he tugs you down harder onto him - determination making his brows furrow as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“F-fuck!” Your hands tug on his hair until he’s wincing and moaning against you; your shrill noises only egging him on further as he drags his tongue from your clit to your entrance before pointing his tongue and dipping it into your soaking hole.

Your body doubles over on top of him, guttural moans on your lips as you imagine his cock fucking you instead.

“G-god, I--I’ve wanted to, mmh, do this for suh--so long…” You swivel your hips, chasing an orgasm that Vernon was too skilled in giving. “Ah, ‘m gonna h-have to reschedule s-sooner…”

And Vernon agrees, because the way you’re soaking despite him only teasing you with his mouth has his cock twitching in his swimming trunks at the thought of how wet and tight you’d be when he finally slid his cock into your cunt.

“A-ah, sh--shit, I really, really wanna c-cum…” Whining, you grind down onto his waiting tongue and for a split second when you peer down between your legs, it’s Vernon’s eyes filled with a cocky glint that has you biting your lip.

He knew how easily he could get you to cum and he was fully planning on using his knowledge for future sessions.

His hands squeeze your thighs; silently letting you know you could cum whenever you wanted to.

You start to feel your body seizing up above him - thighs threatening to clamp around his head when he adds pressure with his tongue onto your clit.

“V--Vernon! Vernon!”

Gripping his hair harshly, you grind down onto him as he stays still and lets you ride out your pleasure; silently wishing he could feel your tight pussy cumming around his cock instead.

Ah, for next time.

Moaning, he gets lost in his own fantasies of you - images of you with your bathing suit just shoved to the side while he pounded your cunt making his head spin.

He starts to move his tongue once he feels your body start to relax after a few tense minutes; soft kitten licks against your clit as you mewl and whimper above him.

“Mmh... ‘m so se--sensitive now...” Muttering, your shaky hands start to let go of his mussed hair as you mumble an apology before you tiredly shimmy off of him.

Catching your breath by his side, you watch as he sits up - face covered in your wetness when he smirks at you.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you this ‘cause I didn’t think it mattered but... My next appointment canceled.” He starts advancing on you; hands making tiny splashes in the puddles of water that surround the pool side.

Gulping, you let him crawl over you, switching positions as he leans over you this time with your back against the cold tiles of the floor.

“How about we have that rescheduling right now? I don’t think we’ve gotten rid of all your stress just yet, baby.”

#vernon smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #vernon scenarios #vernon imagines #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #vernon #vernon fic #svt fic

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imaginesupply · 4 years

Text

Sore backs and tented shorts, or The one where Tom gets a massage

Tom Hiddleston x Reader one-shot

It’s been ages since I’ve written anything and I’m feeling a bit rusty but inspiration just hit and my three remaining braincells - who’ve survived the current heatwave so far - came up with this smutty filth.

I hope you’ll enjoy! Let me know what you think :) (It’s proofread but it seems by ability to spot typos and mistakes rises by 200% percent as soon as I hit post.)

Word count: About 2.6k

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), improper uses of the word ‘God’ and unrealistic descriptions of massages.

---

Tom stretched, trying to pop the knots on his back, as he sat down to rest between scenes. Maybe he was getting old, too old for this, Tom pondered for a second before mentally slapping himself on the face. Who was he kidding? Loki was a role he'd never give up on, as in never ever.

So if that meant performing the various stunts himself for authenticity's sake and suffering through it, he would do it, without complaining.

He stretched once more, giving the battered script one last read before getting ready to shoot the next scene of the series.

The camera crew adjusted the filming angles while the make up artist powdered his face, making sure there was no excessive shine to his skin. Loki would certainly not break a sweat running away from a building he himself set on fire and throwing himself on the ground with a grin just a second before it all exploded.

Yes, Loki would undoubtedly be grinning in that situation, Tom reckoned. The human, however, tried not to flinch as he realised he'd have to run and throw himself on the mattress with all his strength, again and again. The mattress was certainly softer than the ground they'd CGI into the scene, but his body was also certainly more breakable than Loki's.

One hour later, Tom was spent. Letting himself collapse on the blue stunt mattress, he was relieved that everyone had finally agreed that the take had been perfect - the grin, the hair, the elegance. The only thing he wanted now was to hurry home and sleep. Maybe he could ever delay his shower to the next morning if he changed the sheets upon waking up, he negotiated with himself.

"Hey, you okay?"

Tom opened an eye only to find Kate crouched over him, a frown obscuring her features. "Yeah, I'm just feeling a little worn down, that's all."

Kate nodded to herself. For a second she felt guilty she was asking too much of him, but then they'd both agreed that they wanted the series to be perfect, whatever it took. "You were great back there."

His eyes were already closing again and he only nodded noncommittally. "Anyway, I suggest you go take a shower. The message therapist I booked for you is already setting up."

Tom sat up in a flash, his back protesting the movement. "That's very kind but I'm alright, no need for-"

"Be ready in ten minutes unless you want to be late," Kate interrupted him, challenging his British punctuality. He opened his mouth again, but she waved him off, knowing what he was going to say. "Bobby has been fed and walked. He's lying outside right now with part of the crew, enjoying the last sun rays of the day."

Tom cursed internally and got up, feeling outsmarted. This was not something he was looking forward to but he'd be damned if he showed up late.

"Also, this will be routine until we finish shooting." Kate added quietly before running off.

--- Water droplets ran down his back as he stepped out of the shower, a white towel wrapped low around his hips. Sighing, he cleaned some of the fog on the mirror with his hand and then proceeded to tumble dry his black hair before adding some nourishing product to it.

It was only then that he remembered he had no change of clothes with him, more specifically underwear, since he always preferred showering at home. Contemplating his clothes on the back of the chair, he concluded that he didn't have many options unless he wanted to put on the boxers briefs he had worn all day or go nude. Tom chuckled to himself at the latter thought, already imagining a young male therapist telling him to take his English countryside back over the pond. Deciding not to make the person he'd have to see for the next month uncomfortable on the very first day, Tom pulled on the black running shorts he had worn to set that morning, going commando underneath.

---

One minute late, Tom knocked on the door to the infirmary.

"Come on in." A voice replied. A feminine voice to be exact. Not what he had expected.

Obeying the lady, Tom opened the door and let himself in, his eyes landing on his new massage therapist for the very first time. Clearly not what he had expected. Tom swallowed, using his acting skills to appear nonchalant even as he subtly - or at least, as subtly as was possible in such small quarters - eyed the woman in front of him.

Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, revealing the elegant curve of her neck. She was wearing a tight fitting white t-shirt with equally white yoga pants. A look of purity all in all though it had his mind immediately wandering to the realms of exquisitely impure thoughts.

"Hi! I'm (Y/N). Nice to meet you, Tom," she introduced herself, stretching out her hand for him to shake. "Oh! Do you mind me calling you Tom? I can also go for Mister Hiddleston if you prefer."

Tom suppressed a groan, there was always something about being called that that got his mind spinning. Chastising himself, he shook her hand, flexing his biceps more than was necessary. Her hand was soft and warm and small, exactly what he needed. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). Please do call me Tom. We'll be seeing each other quite a lot after all."

She nodded, smiling kindly before telling him to lie down on the massage table. Tom noticed that it was in fact surprisingly wide, but didn't think much of it. Maybe Kate was right, he needed this. His body undeniably did and if he were honest, he had been craving the touch of another human, feeling rather lonely as of late. Most of his friends were back in London, and those that weren't, were still too far away. As for a different kind of touch, a woman's company to be more exact, he couldn't remember the last time he had being blessed with it either. Definitely before Atlanta, he concluded.

He barely heard her move around, her naked feet making little to no noise on the floor. "We will do a combination of deep tissue and Thai massage today, so that I can determine your problem areas for the next time."

Tom was in fact aware of a very problematic area of his but decided to spare her the dirty joke. He just didn't realise quite yet how problematic that area was in fact going to become.

(Y/N) came to a stop in front him, he could feel her presence as she warmed the oil between her palms before finally gliding her hands over the skin of his back. Tom couldn't help the pleasurable hum that escaped his lips as she started working out the knots on his back, some of them loosening under her touch with an audible crack that had her chuckling. God, even her voice was perfect. Dozing off was becoming more and more tempting to Tom, his eyelids feeling heavier than ever when she bent forward over his body to reach farther down his back. He felt her breasts press against him as she did so, the back of his head suddenly encompassed between them. Yes, there was the bra and then that pesky t-shirt between her chest and his skin but his body didn't seem to care. Not even one bit.

Clenching his teeth, Tom felt blood rush down to his once again problematic area. The fact that his dick was squished under him only served to make the situation all the more uncomfortable. Tom groaned, wether from arousal or frustration, he wasn't sure.

"Are you okay, Tom? Did I hurt you?" (Y/N) asked with concern.

Tom swallowed nervously. "No, don't worry. Your hands feel great."

She moved away from him, the weight of breasts gone and he breathed out in relief. That is, until he heard her climb onto the massage table with him.

What the-? It was then that he remembered what a Thai message entailed from a vague conversation he'd once had with Ben and Sophie.

Before he could come up with a way to get out of this... predicament, (Y/N) straddled his hips and all but sat down on his butt. His cock immediately reacted to change in pressure.

"You've got quite a knot here," she explained, softly rubbing her fingers near his spine, about halfway up his back. "I'm going to try and break up the knotted tissue. Tell me if it hurts too much."

It did hurt, the way the heel of her hand pressed against the sensitive area. But it definitely didn't hurt enough to kill his arousal. If anything, it made it worse with the way he felt her weight shift above him whenever she moved. Instead of relaxing, he was only growing more tense.

As Tom felt precum bead on his glans as she climbed off of him, having him feel equally disappointed and relieved when she went to work on his legs.

Her hands felt heavenly, sometimes painfully heavenly, as they moved over his calves. Not that it is eased his arousal, but Tom was confident that the massage was almost done and he'd soon be able to climb into the shower again and use the opportunity to wank himself to an orgasm.

He'd certainly think of her as he'd stroke his shaft later, imagining she was there with him. Water running down her body, rendering her obscene white t-shirt transparent, her nipples visibly pebbling even behind two layers of fabric. His cock seemed to enjoy his fantasy as well, now so hard that Tom seriously started considering rubbing himself on the towel draped over the table to find some relief.

His thoughts were interrupted when she moved over his knees, to his his thighs. Her delicate fingers folding back his shorts to reveal more of his legs. Tom jerked suddenly, trying to hide his erection from her hands and crushing it under his belly in the process. He winced.

Undoubtedly sensing Tom was tensing up again, (Y/N) made quick work of his thighs. Maybe he was a bit shy and didn't like being touched there, she reckoned, shrugging to herself to hide her disappointment. She'd always enjoyed her job, finding satisfaction in other people's well-being. But massaging Tom Hiddleston? She would have done it for free (don't tell her boss!).

"Please turn around, Tom." She said softly after finishing up the back of his legs

He startled. "What?!" Came his terrified voice.

(Y/N) frowned. "Can you please lie down on your back now? So that I can work on your chest and the front of your legs."

Tom stilled, silently panicking. "That won't be necessary. It's quite late and I'm feeling much better already."

"Nonsense. I won't leave you unfinished," she protested, his cock twisting her words. "Besides, my boss would kill me if she ever found out I left a client halfway through a massage."

His jaw clenched. He was torn between two equally bad options, but in the end, he inner gentleman couldn't stand to be the one to jeopardise her job.

Slowly, Tom turned around on the table, still hoping that his erection wouldn't be as noticeable as it felt but the tent in his shorts was impossible to hide, sticking straight up to the ceiling.

She stared at his face curiously, observing his reddening cheeks before lowering her gaze. "Oh," she gasped.

Somehow, part of him had hoped her reaction would have been less shocked and perhaps a bit more pleased. As it was, she just stood there like that and he threw his forearm over his eyes, hoping it would lessen the embarrassment. It didn't.Sighing, he made a move to get up, hesitating whether he should apologise before leaving or if that would only make things worse.

The weight shifted on the massage table as she climbed on top, joining him on the soft padding.

Instantly, Tom lifted his head off the pillow, holding himself up on his forearms, bewilderedly watching Y/N as she knelt between his legs. "What are you doing?" He asked, his voice croaky, his eyes glued to her décolleté which the neckline failed to hide in this position.

She looked up at him slowly, coyly, though her grin was nothing if not provocative. "Hoping to release all tension in your body," she replied, her tongue peeking through as her hands went to his hips, thumbs drawing circles over his shorts. "If you'll let me, that is."

Tom swallowed audibly, almost expecting her to throw her head back and start laughing. But she never did. Instead, she sat back on her haunches, waiting for him to consent. "God. Yes, please!" He breathed out, his British accent growing thicker.

(Y/N) licked her lips, fingers working behind her head to tighten her ponytail. "Now that's more like it, Mister Hiddleston."

Without missing a second, she bend forward, lowering her face to place a kiss on his stomach, just below his belly button. Tom's muscles tensed in response, already looking forward to what was to come.

He struggled between the desire to watch and the impulse to lean back and simply enjoy. She made the decision for him, her hand pressing down on his sternum before moving her attention back to his groin.

Tom hissed as he felt her lips kiss the head of his cock through the lightweight fabric. His body suddered, his cock throbbed and she chuckled. (Y/ N) repeated the process a few more times, enjoying the teasing. Then, she moved her fingers to the elastic waistband and pulled his shorts down, grazing his buttocks with her nails.

His cock sprang free, hitting his lower stomach a couple of times and Tom already felt a drop of precum slide down from the glans to his belly button. (Y/N) surprised him, first neglecting his weeping cock in favour of his balls, sucking them into her mouth one after the other, teasing them with the tip of her tongue.

Tom groaned her name, squirming beneath her and thrusting up. With a smile, (Y/N) decided to give in. She traced the tip of her nose along his length until reaching the head and then wrapped her tongue around the glans, teasing the frenulum. Tom moaned loudly

He felt her hand wrap around the base of his cock before she took him in her mouth, as much as would fit. Instantly, his hand settled on the back of her head, caressing instead of pushing. "Just like that, darling."

She took to humming around his length, intermittently sucking in her cheeks and Tom started feeling the telltale tightening in his groin faster than he should. His hand gripped her ponytail harder, alerting her but her movements didn't slow. Tom propped himself up on his elbows, groaning at the sinful sight of debauchery in front of him.

"I'm close," he managed to warn her through clenched teeth. (Y/N) looked up at him, never halting her movements and the mischievous look she addressed him revealed that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Tom dug his heels against the padding of the table, canting up his hips and thrusting up in her mouth as his orgasm washed over him. (Y/N)meticulously sucked him clean, swallowing down rope after rope of his cum whilst humming around him.

"God, (Y/N). That was..." For once he was left without words, still dizzy with pleasure in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She licked his cum off her lips, taking in the sight in front of her with a smile, acutely aware of her own arousal. Tom's chest was flushed, heaving as he fought to regain his breath, his eyes still closed.

It was only then that she realised what she had done. She had blown Tom Hiddleston - a client.

#tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #hiddleston smut #tom x reader #tom hiddleston one shot #smut #loki smut

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kpopfanfictrash · 5 years

Text

Unwind (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / (female) Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: twisted panties, oil, light butt play, fingering, oral (male), spanking, dirty talk, slight degradation, thigh-fucking (?), throat-fucking, non-explained birth control (established relationship)

Genre: Boyfriend!AU

Synopsis: After a terribly crappy birthday, your boyfriend (a highly sought-after massage therapist) decides to turn the night around.

A/N: Basically 5+K of pwp. This is horribly self-indulgent LOL sorry!

Word Count: 5,476

“Jimin,” you laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Have to?” He arches a brow. “I want to.”

“You work all day,” you protest. “The last thing you should have to do when you get home is give another massage.”

“Again,” Jimin says, grin widening. “Who said anything about have to? I want to make you feel good, babe.”

Hiding a smile, you uncross your arms from your chest. Your purse dangles from your wrist, heavy with the weight of both laptop and coffee. Today was what could only be described as a royal clusterfuck. The morning train was late, you stepped in a puddle while crossing the street, missed a large deadline and forgot your lunch at home. Oh, and it was your birthday.

When you texted Jimin all this around 2:30 PM from one of the stalls in the bathroom, he was instantly apologetic.

Jimin: I’m so sorry baby ☹ I saw your lunchbox in the fridge when I left – I should’ve texted you! [2:31 PM]

You laughed a little at this, leaning your head to the stall.

Y/N: In what universe could that ever have been your fault, babe? [2:31 PM]

Jimin: In your birthday universe! Nothing is ever your fault on your birthday [2:31 PM]

Y/N: ha. Tell that to my boss [2:31 PM]

Jimin: ☹ [2:31 PM]

Jimin: Just hang in there, ok? I have a surprise for you when you get home [2:31 PM]

Y/N: no, no, no. You don’t have to do that! I’m just venting [2:32 PM]

Jimin: gotta go, my next appointment is here. Just remember I love you, okay? See you soon, birthday girl [2:32 PM]

He did not respond after that, which was not surprising given his schedule. Jimin was many things, but in a professional capacity he was the most sought-after physical therapist masseuse in the city, specializing in sports medicine. Each day, his office was booked solid with appointments. Everyone on Yelp claimed he was doing God’s work and Jimin loved his job, but the popularity meant he worked long, often odd hours.

Which is why you drew the line at him practicing outside of work. Even on you – even for fun.

“No,” you insist, shaking your head. “Jimin, you massage people all day. I’d feel guilty if I made you do that when you got home.”

Lower lip protruding, Jimin begins to walk closer. He has already set up his massage table in the middle of the apartment, blinds drawn over the windows and lights dimmed like his workspace. Soothing music plays from the corner and he has even gone so far as to diffuse essential oils – orange and lemon waft under your nose. Orange, to decrease anxiety and lemon, to improve mood. Despite yourself, you smile. Jimin is always so thoughtful.

Coming to a stop before you, he stares. Jimin is dressed in a clean, white button-down and slacks – work clothes. “Are you really not going to let me help you relax?” he teases. “And on your birthday?”

Exhaling slow, you glance at the table. Despite all better judgement, you feel a slight pang of longing. It has been such a horrible day and you know Jimin is good at what he does. Due to your purse, your back is aching; your feet are sore from walking around all day – all you really want is for your boyfriend to massage the shit out of you.

“It’s only,” you say, gaze returning to his. “I feel bad.”

Jimin arches a brow. “Why?”

“Because.” You wave a hand at the table. “It’d be like if for your birthday, you asked me to do taxes.”

“But you do our taxes every year. And that’s not even on my birthday.”

“You get what I mean,” you respond, trying hard not to laugh. “I love spreadsheets and data, but that’s not what I want to do when I get home.”

“Okay, first off,” Jimin interrupts. “That’s a lie. You frequently make spreadsheets before our vacations and even went so far as to make a household chores list.”

“Well, that’s just good sense!”

“And second,” he continues, as though you have not spoken. “It’s not quite the same, is it?”

“What do you mean?” you say, watching him take a step closer. Jimin’s expression is decidedly less innocent than before.

“What I mean,” he exhales, taking your purse. “Is that I doubt spreadsheets spark the same interest for you as the idea of my girlfriend, naked on my massage table.”

“Jimin.” Dazedly, you watch him lower your purse to the floor. His hand intertwines with yours, pulling you forward. “That’s… you’re…”

He chuckles, stopping at the clean, white surface. “I just want you to relax, babe,” he says, dropping a kiss to your forehead. Jimin lingers for a moment before pulling away. “It’s been a crappy day, right? Let me make you feel better.”

Finally, you nod and shrug free from your coat. “Okay,” you agree, letting this fall. “Leave, then, and let me get undressed.”

Jimin arches a brow. “You do know I’ve seen you naked before, right?” he asks. “You do know I’m the one who had his mouth between your legs literally two nights ago?”

“Jimin!” you chide, face heating up. “This isn’t about that – this is strictly professional! How am I supposed to relax if I’m constantly thinking about your… you… well, that?”

Jimin chuckles, shaking his head as he walks down the hall. “Fine,” he says, disappearing into your bedroom. “Undress as much as you’re comfortable with and get under the sheets. I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, beginning to strip from your clothes. The lie on the floor for a moment before, changing your mind, you begin to fold them in half.

“Are you folding your clothes?”

You freeze, mid-fold to glance at the bedroom. “Don’t peek!” you call out, squinting down the length of the hall.

“I’m not,” Jimin laughs. “I just know you.”

“Do not!” you yell back, grinning as you place your clothes on top of the counter.

Returning to the massage table, you cock your head to one side. It is massage protocol to strip down as much as you prefer. It means you could be naked under the sheet but honestly, you do not trust yourself, nor Jimin to remain professional if you do. So, leaving your black panties on, you shimmy beneath the covers.

At the last moment, you unhook your bra to fling across the room. There is a thin line between propriety and missing the entire point of the massage, after all.

A few minutes later, Jimin calls out, “Can I come back now?”

“Yes,” you respond, head buried in the hole of the table.

Footsteps reach your ears, padding down the length of the hall. Jimin’s bare feet stop before you, wriggling his toes and making you giggle. You listen to the sound of him moisturizing his hands and inhale, eyelids fluttering when you smell eucalyptus.

“Are you ready?” he asks, voice dropping an octave.

You nod, stilling when Jimin pulls your hair to one side. Delicately, he tugs the sheet from your shoulders, lowering this until it pools around your waist. Shutting your eyes at the chill, you fight back a shiver when Jimin’s hands touch your back.

“Inhale,” he demands, quiet.

You do.

“Now, exhale.”

Obeying, you try not to move.

“Good,” Jimin says, sounding pleased.

There is a smirk to his voice, and you would tell him off, but his hands are already moving. He starts off gently, applying light pressure to each part of your back. Jimin makes his way down your body, giving each muscle group attention before returning to your head.

There is another pump of something, and his hands return to your body, now slick with oil. You inhale sharply, but Jimin does not respond. Thumbs finding the grooves in your back, he slowly traces up and back down. Palms seeking your skin, he gently rubs oil into your body. Each time he nears your lower back, he remains strictly professional. It is as though there are giant, red lines marking the no-go spots on your skin. Very Fifty Shades of him.

The moment you think this, you stifle a laugh. Jimin would think this funny but before you can tell him, his hands return to your shoulders. Increasing the pressure, he begins to knead the sore muscle.

“Is the pressure good?” he asks, business-like.

Nodding into the terrycloth, you realize he cannot see. “Yes,” you say, exhaling. “It’s perfect.”

Jimin laughs quietly. “Harder?”

His voice is teasing and you stiffen. “Jimin…” you mutter, a warning.

He truly laughs now, somewhat abashed. “Okay, okay. I promise that, from now on, I’ll be on my best behavior. This is just about you – fuck,” Jimin huffs, lowering his forearm to your back. “Do you sit hunched at your computer every day, Y/N?”

“I work in an office!” you complain, whining into the table.

Making a noise of dismissal, Jimin steadily works on the muscle. You wince, feeling him find several knots. “You should do exercises,” he says, grumbling to himself. “Every few hours, look up at the ceiling and then down at the floor. Roll your shoulders a bit. It will do wonders, I promise.”

“Noted,” you say, exhaling deeply.

Jimin chuckles. “Sorry, baby.” Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your neck. His hands continue their work. “I just want you to be healthy. To feel good.”

“Mm, I feel pretty good right now,” you say, closing your eyes.

Jimin laughs, falling silent when he begins to ease over your shoulders. His fingers expertly knead muscle, wiping the tension bit by bit from your body. God – now, you understand why Jimin is so in demand as a masseuse. He knows just what to do which has you melting into the table.

Gently, Jimin takes your arm to stretch the ligaments. His hands smooths down your bicep, easing the stress of that one workout this week. When he flips your hand in his, you audibly sigh. Jimin’s touch stays gentle, stretching your fingertips back one by one. With the pads of his thumbs, he begins to massage your palm.

A groan escapes.

Jimin pauses. “Baby,” he murmurs. “You can’t make those noises on my table.”

“Why not?” you mumble into the sheets.

“Because you make the same noises with my cock down your throat.”

“Jimin!”

He laughs, easing his hands up your shoulders. “Shh.” Jimin presses another kiss to your neck. “See – that’s why you can’t make those noises. I’m trying to be a professional.”

“Do you kiss all your patients’ necks?”

Kissing you again, Jimin pulls back. “No. Now, stay quiet and let me make you less tense.”

You snort, nearly missing the sound of oil hitting the table. When Jimin’s hands return to your back, he glides smoothly down the panes of your body. Inhaling slowly, you exhale and try to focus on the sensation. This is not Jimin, you tell yourself. This is just a nice massage by a stranger; not by your devastatingly handsome boyfriend who is good with his hands.

This helps for a bit, until Jimin’s hands find your lower back. “Can I remove the sheet?” he asks, softer than before.

After a brief pause, you nod. “Y-yeah.”

Ignoring your stammer, Jimin simply removes the sheet and drapes this over a chair. “Is the temperature alright?” Jimin asks. The massage oil bottle is lifted again.

“It’s good.”

“Good,” Jimin responds, hands finding your legs. He goes lower, traveling from your upper thighs to calves and oiling your skin. Eyes closed, you savor the feeling of his well-practiced fingers.

Jimin huffs, breaking the silence. “Baby. Are you doing those stretches I taught you after you run?”

Your eyes snap open. “Jimin,” you half-laugh. When you try to turn and face him, he presses a hand on your back. “I thought this was supposed to relax me?”

“It is!” he insists, although you can hear the grin in his voice. “Your calves are just tight – that has to be painful!”

“Huh.” You snuggle lower on the table. “Maybe if you massaged them every night, they’d feel better.”

Chuckling, Jimin’s thumbs slide up the back of your legs. “Someone’s greedy.”

“You’re just… really good at this.”

“You think?” Jimin’s breath hitches when he reaches your thighs. He hesitates for a moment, fingers close to your panties. “Would you like me to continue?” he asks, almost pleasant. “To the gluteus region?”

“... you want to massage my butt.”

“The gluteus region,” Jimin repeats, dragging both hands down your thighs. “I want to help you relax and right now, your gluteus region is tense.”

“Probably because you’re staring at it.”

“I mean, it’s a nice butt.”

“Professionalism!” you scold, grinning into the sheet.

Jimin’s hands hover at your panties. “Well?”

You consider for a moment. “Do your worst.”

Jimin chuckles, hands sliding to either side of your ass. “Breathe in deeply,” he instructs, waiting until you obey. “Now, exhale.”

You follow.

Jimin begins in a professional manner, working mainly the outer muscles. Using elbow and forearm, he massages until you begin to relax. Sinking further into the table, you begin to forget this is Jimin at all. It has been such a long day and his hands feel so good, wiping pain from your body.

Except.

As Jimin begins to knead lower, his thumbs slip briefly beneath the lace of your panties. You still on the table, eyes opening to stare at the floor. Jimin pauses, unmoving before he does it again. Both his thumbs trace the groove where your ass meets your thigh and you stiffen a moment, before pushing your ass into his hands.

Jimin swears under his breath.

This is all the warning you have before he grips the sides of your underwear. Tugging roughly upwards, he exposes your ass on the table. You gasp, panties twisting in the wetness of your folds. You should say something. You should scold Jimin about the professional nature of this massage but instead, you decide – fuck it.

Arching a little, you press your legs tightly together.

Jimin inhales, hands still on your ass. His thumb traces your panties, teasing the skin just beneath the material. Each time he does this, he trails closer and closer to your sex. His fingers do not falter, though; not once does he move to give you what you crave.

The fabric of your underwear is tight on your sex, rubbing in a way which feels wholly indecent. Your panties are sticky, damp with arousal and it is not just the oil which has you dripping. Each tantalizing trace of his fingers makes you whimper but still, Jimin does nothing.

As soon as you think this, he grasps your ass firmly to spread your cheeks apart on the table.

“Fuck,” you hiss, arching against him.

Unable to take anymore, you lift your head to see him. Jimin stares back, neediness in his gaze. “Can I?” he pleads, hands still on your ass. “Please, baby… let me make you feel good. Like this.”

Unable to think of a coherent response, you nod.

Determination enters his gaze and, before you can move, he cups your heat with one hand. Still looking at you, Jimin’s middle finger drags up the length of your sex. He strokes over you slowly, pushing your underwear aside and into the mess of your slick. Shuddering, you cross both arms on the table to bury your head in your hands.

Arching upwards, you hear Jimin chuckle. “These,” he murmurs, gripping your panties. “They need to go.”

You do not protest, lifting your hips to aid him in slipping them off your legs. When you are finally naked on the table, Jimin walks to your front. Lifting your head, you meet his gaze once again.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, soft.

“Take off your shirt,” you demand.

He nods. Grasping the hem, Jimin lifts this overhead to drop on the floor. Once he is shirtless, Jimin reaches out for a different bottle of oil.

Seeing the label, your jaw drops. “Hey!” you cry, reading erotic massage on the label. “You lied! You said this was strictly professional!”

Jimin smirks. “It is,” he agrees, repositioning himself at your ass. “Or, it was. Until you started making those noises.”

“You had that bottle on the table.”

“Preparing myself,” he explains, drizzling oil over your body, “for the inevitable.”

When his hands begin to slip up your ass, you groan. “I – oh, fine. Whatever.”

Jimin chuckles, cupping your cheeks with both hands. “Whatever?” he teases, finger slipping lower. “Is that you saying you want more?”

Giving in, you nod against the table. Already, you feel so on edge – the oil between your legs is driving you crazy. Leaning forward, Jimin brushes a kiss to your spine while his hand slips further forward. Cupping your pussy, the tips of his fingers brush over your clit. When he feels your body tense at the motion, Jimin inhales and repeats.

Rubbing slow circles, he slides his thumb into your cunt. You gasp, jerking forwards and Jimin squeezes your ass. “Bad,” he teases, breathless. “Stay still. It’ll feel deeper that way.”

Though you whimper, you nod and press your thighs tighter together. Jimin continues to stroke your sex, getting you swollen and messy against the sheet. His thumb rests inside you, unmoving despite the way your walls squeeze around him. Gently kissing your spine, Jimin’s chest finds your thigh while you squirm on the table.

“More?” he whispers.

Fervently, you nod. “Feels so good, Jimin. Please.”

His smile widens against your skin. If there is one thing your boyfriend loves, it is praise. As he withdraws, you whimper and push your ass backwards. You must seem needy, naked and rutting against him, but you know Jimin likes it. He likes watching you fuck yourself for his attention.

Spreading your thighs slowly, Jimin drizzles more oil between your legs. He stares at you for a moment, watching the beads drip down to your sex. Whimpering, your hands clench around nothing because you do not dare move, yet the feeling is torture. The oil mixes into your slick, pooling beneath you on the sheet of the table – you groan.

Jimin’s fingers scissor your folds, sliding up and down the length of your sex. His thumb slips over your asshole, wet with oil and arousal. “Is this what you want?” he teases, pushing against the hole.

You whimper, stretching to accommodate the little he moves. Jimin rests for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling. His thumb is slick – so is your body and, after a few seconds, a raw sort of pleasure begins to spread through your limbs.

“Oh,” you groan, going limp on the table. “Jimin.”

Withdrawing, Jimin wipes his hand on the sheet. “Not yet,” he says, sliding a different finger into your cunt.

“Shit,” you swear, buckling. “Yes. There!”

Chuckling lightly, Jimin adds a second finger. “There?” he teases, spreading the digits.

You groan, feeling him slowly scissor your walls. Jimin starts to slide in and out, fucking you with his fingers. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re doing so well. Can you take more?”

“Mhm,” you agree, turning your head on the sheet. “Harder, Jimin.”

Gaze darkening, Jimin nods and roughly, he shoves a third finger inside you. You groan, feeling stuffed from the motion until he snaps his wrist forward, fucking you hard. Loud, wet squelches fill the apartment as you are thrust crudely forward, nipples brushing the sheet.

Still, Jimin does not relent. Grasping your ass with one hand, he begins to move harder. You cannot help but wish his fingers were his cock, spreading you wider. When you glance over, you see Jimin has a raging hard-on beneath his slacks and know this will not be the end of tonight.

Not with how he bites down on his lip, staring at your pussy like a man on the brink. When he snaps his wrist forward, a fresh wave of arousal soaks the sheet beneath you. Moaning his name, your toes curl on the table. Tantalizingly slow, Jimin slides his thumb into your ass.

Hands twisting in the sheet, your orgasm slams into you with a gasp. For a moment you see stars, clenching around him as you choke on his name. Everything feels fuzzy, muted as you come back to reality.

Gently, Jimin presses a kiss to the your spine. His thumb slips from your ass, fingers withdrawing as you relax on the table. Exhaling deeply, you struggle to open your eyes. Every part of you tingles, aflame and you cannot help but want more.

Jimin slides a hand up your folds. “What’s this?” he murmurs, seeing how wet you still are. Although you shudder at the sensitivity, you do not push him away. “Do you want more, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

Walking to the front of the table, Jimin comes to a stop. His cock rests at eye-level, making your mouth water.

Gently, he grasps your chin in one hand. “Are you sure?”

Turning your head, you lick the side of his finger. Jimin’s lips part, watching you lap at your arousal.

“Oh,” he murmurs, lowering himself to eye-level. “You are greedy, aren’t you? That’s good.” Lightly, he kisses your lips. “Whatever you want, tonight.”

You whimper when he pulls away, your chin still held firm in his grasp. Jimin stills and holds your mouth before his zipper. His bulge is now obvious, straining the seams of his pants.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you pout, glancing from beneath your lashes.

Without further ado, Jimin undoes his belt. Pulling this from his pants, he drops this on the floor and yanks down his zipper. His black boxer-briefs are barely able to hide the hard cock underneath. Still grasping your chin, Jimin lewdly grabs his package.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” he demands, not looking away. “Sure you want me to fuck your throat?”

“Want it, Jimin. I want you.”

Inhaling softly, the tip of his tongue touches the corner of his mouth. Without further ado, Jimin tugs his briefs below his ass. You cannot help but moan when his cock springs free from the fabric. He’s just so pretty and hard – thick, needy and wanting to get sucked.

Obediently, you open your mouth. Jimin fails to waste time, shuffling forward to place his tip between your lips. Lowering his cock to your tongue, he watches you lick the head. Moving forward, you seek more – until finally, Jimin releases your chin and grasps your hair.

He thrusts forward, pushing his cock past your lips. As you swirl your tongue, you taste his whole member. Acting on instinct, JImin wraps your hair tighter and you fight back a moan. As he withdraws, Jimin allows you to see his cock wet with saliva.

After another long pause, Jimin thrusts inside. Your mouth takes him easily, sucking hard on whatever he puts past your lips. Teasing, you hollow your cheeks and stare at him from the table. Jimin’s gaze hardens, hair falling forward to begin fucking your mouth. His hips move slow at first, increasing in speed when you moan around his cock.

“So good, baby,” he pants. “So fucking good like that. You look so damn good when you gag on my dick.”

As though to prove his point, Jimin thrusts even deeper. You choke when he hits the back of your throat, eyes watering sharply as Jimin smiles. Gently, he reaches down to wipe your eyes.

“So pretty,” he murmurs as he withdraws. “Think I wanna fuck you for real now, though.”

You nod, overeager and Jimin chuckles. He walks to the side of the table, gently helping you turn over.

“Can you walk?” Jimin looks at you critically. His thumb traces a gentle path up your throat. “Or do you need me to carry you?”

As tempting as the offer sounds, you shake your head. Every part of you feels beautifully pliant; ready and willing to let Jimin have his way with you. You can make it as far as the bed.

“Yeah?” he asks, careful.

When you nod a second time, Jimin gives in and helps you down from the table.

Grasping his arms, you sway for a moment. “Oh!” you gasp, core clenching around nothing.

The inside of your thighs are slippery from coming and seeing him like this, cock red and aching, makes your core throb.

“Careful.” Jimin hides a smile. “Can’t have you falling apart on me yet, Y/N.”

Turning around, his fingers intertwine with yours to tug you down the hall. As soon as you enter the bedroom, Jimin turns around to seize your mouth in a kiss.

“Mm,” he exhales, mouth opening yours.

Hands skimming your body, he moves even lower to cup your ass. Pulling you against him, Jimin’s bare cock pushes between your thighs. Slowly rutting forward, his tongue moves past your lips in a similar similar motion. Reaching even lower, Jimin grabs himself in one hand.

Breaking apart, he glances down to move his tip to your clit. This makes you whimper, still overly sensitive, but Jimin lingers only a moment. Pushing past your clit, he slides between your legs. Your thighs are still slippery with oil and cum, allowing Jimin’s cock to glide smoothly forward.

“Oh,” you exhale, eyes wide.

Gaze darkening, Jimin does this again. His cock slips between your folds, rubbing each inch of your sex before he withdraws. Feeling him this way feels oddly intimate – even more so when he re-grips your ass with both hands.

“Tell me when to stop,” Jimin grunts.

Without further warning, he plunges between you. Grasping his arms, your head spins a little when he starts to move faster. Holding tight to your ass, Jimin fucks between your legs. His length is dripping each time he pulls back, soaked thoroughly in your needy arousal.

“God.” Jimin pulls out. “Now,” he begs, gaze snapping to yours. “I have to fuck you now, Y/N. I need it.”

“I,” you exhale. “Yes. Where?”

“This is your day, baby,” he murmurs, bending to kiss your neck. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

“Against the wall,” you groan, head lolling back. “There.”

Pulling away, Jimin grasps your hand and tugs forward. When you reach the aforementioned wall, he turns you around and presses your palms to the wallpaper. Stopping behind you, Jimin’s hand slips between your legs.

“Ah,” he inhales, as his lips find your neck. Two of his fingers stretch your now-dripping walls. “Such a tight, wet pussy for me. How badly do you want my cock, baby?”

“Bad,” you gasp. “So bad. I need you inside me.”

Grasping his cock, Jimin teases his length up and down your wet folds. “Do you think you deserve it?”

“Jimin,” you pant, pushing your hips backwards. “Please.”

“Look who’s needy,” he says, sounding smug. Jimin places his tip at your opening. “But since you said please.”

Before you can respond, he thrusts inside you. Moaning out loud, your knees buckle at the suddenly too-full feeling. Jimin is there in an instant, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other interlaces with your hand on the wall. Hips pressed snug to your ass, he keeps you hostage against him.

Chuckling softly, Jimin kisses your cheek. “That’s it, baby,” he says, withdrawing slowly to thrust back in.

You gasp, breasts hitting the wall as his length jars you forward. His hips do not falter. Already, you have come once from his teasing – Jimin knows that for a second orgasm, you need his cock hard and rough. The deeper, the better.

“Fuck,” Jimin grunts, pulling you back on his length. “You’re squeezing me so tight, babe. How did I get so lucky? Such a tight, wet cunt – all for me.”

“I’m. The. Lucky. One,” you gasp, in time with his thrusts.

You are barely hanging on while he continues to fuck you. Jimin’s hips are relentless, hammering into you as you begin to see stars. Legs shaking, you fight to stay upright through the pleasure he gives you.

“That’s it,” Jimin breathes, tightly gripping your waist. “Stay with me, baby.”

Reaching backwards, you manage to grab hold of his ass. “Harder, Jimin,” you beg. “Tear me open – I want it, God, I want it.”

“Yeah?” he grunts, pushing you against the wall.

Playing with your nipple in one hand, his cock somehow gets even deeper. Now, you are whimpering, begging him to keep going because you are so fucking close. Luckily, he knows exactly what you need.

“Is that what you want?” Raising a palm, he roughly slaps your ass. “Want to be sore tomorrow, is that it? Want to feel my dick deep inside you? Wince every time you sit down? I want everyone in your office to see you walking around and know I fucked you so good. That I came so deep inside you, your panties are still wet.”

“Yes!” Reaching between your legs, you rub over yourself. “Fuck, Jimin,” you moan. “Keep going.”

Spanking you harder, he makes you cry out in pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” Jimin croons. “Touch yourself like that. I’ve got you – I’ll make you come, don’t worry. That’s my good girl,” he breathes, hips slamming against your ass. “That’s my sweet, little princess. My filthy cock-slut. Sound so sweet when you come on my cock.”

With a final thrust, he pushes you over the edge. As you cry out his name, you slump on the wall as your right hand goes limp. Jimin continues to hold on, fucking you harder through the most intense orgasm of your life. A few thrusts later, he comes inside you. Hot ropes of cum coat your walls, making you moan and lower your head to the wall.

Jimin stays there for a moment, cock softening inside you. At last, he exhales and gently kisses your neck. “Shit,” he chuckles, withdrawing. One of his hands cups your center. “I probably should’ve made sure there was a tissue in reach before I started fucking you, yeah?”

“Jimin,” you groan, still smushed between him and the wall. “I can’t stand for much longer.”

“Oh, right,” Jimin says. “Hold that,” he demands, letting your hand replace his. “I’ll be right back with a towel.”

“Hurry!” you whine.

Jimin disappears into the bathroom, lights flicking on before, a few seconds later, he reemerges with a damp towel. “Here,” he chuckles, cleaning you off. Once finished, he raises a brow. “Now, do you need that lift to the bed?”

Silently, you hold out your arms. Jimin laughs, tossing the cloth on the ground.

“Jimin!” you protest. Before you can say more, he bends and lifts you over his shoulder. “Jimin!” you squeal, laughing when he starts to carry you.

Spanking your ass again, he immediately rubs the sore spot. “Sorry,” Jimin grins, setting you down on the bed. “I probably left a mark.”

“I don’t care.” Sighing happily, you stretch out like a cat. “That was the best gift ever.”

Smiling, Jimin jogs to grab the towel and toss this into a hamper. When he returns, Jimin takes a running start to land on the bed. He collapses beside you, rolling over to cage you within his arms.

“Sorry we didn’t finish the massage,” Jimin whispers, blinking adorably.

You smile, carding both hands through his hair. “It’s okay,” you say, thumbs rubbing his cheeks. Jimin’s naked body is warm, flushed against yours. “I definitely feel less tense now.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours.

“Mhm,” you agree, smiling into his kiss. “Ten out of ten, in terms of effectiveness.”

“Ten out of ten, you said?” Jimin’s smile widens. “I hope you intend to prove that theory.”

“Of course,” you nod, lowering your head to his chest. “As soon as I take a quick nap.”

Jimin chuckles, smoothing hair back from your face. “I love you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Love you, too.”

cross-posted to Wattpad here

#btsbookclub #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #jimin smut #bts smut #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin au #bts au #jimin writing #bts writing #jimin masseuse #bts masseuse

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chris-bodywork-euston · 9 months

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servicecorners · 3 months

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willconwcy · 6 years

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(CHACE CRAWFORD, CIS MALE, HE/HIM) ~ Have you seen (WILLIAM CONWAY) around Aspen Creek? He is a (32) year-old (MASSAGE THERAPIST) and has lived on the (NORTH SIDE) for (FIVE YEARS). He is a (SCORPIO), so he can be (PROTECTIVE), but also (VENGEFUL). I heard that he (ALSO WORKS AS AN ESCORT ON THE SIDE), but that could just be a rumor started by the hacker.

henlo it’s avie again bc no control n bc bobby wanted a best friend to join the sex cult n gerry n amanda LET HIM DOWN like what gives bc when someone asks you to join a sex cult the obvious answer is UH HECK YES.

ANYWAY this is my lil scorpion son who honestly is a true scorpio like sweet and loyal but WHOOPS THERE’S THAT STING NOW U LAYING ON THE GROUND BLEEDING.

a massage therapist who totally would give happy endings lOOK I WAS GONNA MAKE THAT HIS SECRET but i thought amanda and gerry would reject the app but like if i got a massage from chace crawford and he didn’t stick a few digits in i would refuse to pay.

besties for life aka biffles with jess wilde and also a member of the sex cult because heLLO WHY NOT.

his secret is that he also works as a male escort also remember when nate archibald aka the prettiest but most boring dude on gossip girl was more or less being paid for sex in season 2? good times. BUT YES he’s a male escord hush hush so dial 1800-SEXYTIMES for a connection or something.

when will i stop being a troll? probably fucking never.

loyal as fuck like he has his friends backs (i mean look he joined a sex cult to hang out with his bro jess so like ok) but once you’ve lost his trust, this bitch is ice cold.

loves a good bit of revenge when someone has wronged him bc same bitch SAME, once someone was smoking near me while i was tryna enjoy my lunch in the sunshine so i threw my chips at his feet and he was SWARMED by fucking seagulls and in that moment i realised i was like daenerys except i wasn’t the mother of dragons i was the mother of seagulls.

is anyone actually reading this?

anyway if u wanna jump on his disco stick lemme know.

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missingverse · 7 years

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Missing Chapter Twenty-Two

Author's note: I'm going to be a cheeky wee git and spam the link to my novel here, for a limited time you can get it for free on Kindle. I only ask that if you do, you leave an honest review afterwards. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BGSPPBY

And now, back to the angst wagon!

…..

The first Arnold knew of the story finally breaking was scrolling through clickbait websites absently while downing his breakfast, when the words SHOT IN THE HEAD AS SHE TRIED TO ESCAPE screamed across the screen of his phone. He nearly dropped it in his oatmeal.

Wasn't Plaskett supposed to warn me about this?

As soon as he recovered (somewhat), he rang Phoebe.

“I know, I saw it an hour ago,” she told him.

“Why didn't you call me?” Arnold growled, rooting around for his shoes.

“It was six am, I didn't think your grandparents would appreciate me waking up the entire house.”

“A text, then. I had to read it on fucking Pebbledash, of all places!”

“All right, I'm sorry,” she admitted. “I'm on my way to the hospital now, hopefully there won't be too many journos there yet. Can you field any questions at school?”

“You think I'm going to school?” Arnold scoffed, finding his missing shoes and stuffing his feet into them as fast as possible. “I'm getting the next bus out.”

“No, don't,” she said. “Call Plaskett, he'll give you a lift. He hasn't left yet but he said he was going in the next hour.”

“You called him but not me?”

“He called me. Stop sulking.”

…..

“There was a leak,” Plaskett admitted, grumbling into his coffee as he drove. “Some orderly at the hospital overheard the doctors talking, the press were on it like flies on shit.”

“How bad is it?” Arnold asked, bracing himself.

“Well, if she was still catatonic it would be a disaster,” Plaskett mused. “And if she hadn't made so much progress....she might even be up for a press conference. What do you think?”

“Why are you asking me? Isn't this your specialty?”

“You know her better than I do,” Plaskett shrugged. “She seems to have most of her memory back, she's in decent physical health, and her doctors haven't reported any anomalies. It's hard to know unless someone who knows her well can say she's pretty much back to normal.”

What is normal, exactly?

“I can't really say,” Arnold said, after thinking it over. “I think the only person who knows if she can get through a press conference is Helga herself. I mean, she seems fine but she was always keeping things bottled up...”

“That's what I was worried about,” Plaskett sighed. “Well, we'll just have to see....Christ, it's even worse than I thought. Bunch of vultures...”

They pulled into the hospital parking area with great difficulty, because the hospital grounds were swarming with people. Photographers, newscasters speaking to the camera with the hospital in the background, news vans with equipment shifted from space to space.

“Keep your head down and don't say anything to them,” Plaskett warned as they prepared to get out of the car. “Do you have I.D?”

“Uh, I have my student card,” Arnold answered.

“That'll do. If this place is smart, they'll have gotten in extra security.”

…..

Helga was in physiotherapy, and the nurse brought Arnold down there while Plaskett discussed the swarming press agents with the doctors.

She was wearing one of the tank tops he'd brought for her, and hospital-issue trousers. It was painful to see just how thin she was, how what little muscle she had strained as she pulled herself up on the bars to a standing position. Her jaw was clenched but she didn't make a sound.

“Don't push it,” the therapist warned. “Your body knows what it can do. Relax and breathe.”

With effort, Helga lowered herself back down into the wheelchair. She massaged her temple, just under the spot the bullet had caught.

“We'll call it a day here,” the therapist said, wheeling the chair out of the bars. “Your friend is here, he can take you back to your room.”

Helga looked up sharply, noticing Arnold for the first time.

“You caught me at a bad time,” she quipped, smoothing down her hair.

“Looked like you were doing pretty good to me,” Arnold shrugged.

Helga snorted, fidgeted in her chair.

“I'm all sweaty,” she said. “All this for two measly steps. Can you believe I used to play baseball?”

He took the handles of the wheelchair and wheeled her through the corridors, watching at the windows for any sign of a camera shutter.

“Considering you couldn't move at all for five years, I'd say two steps is good progress,” he said. “I don't think anyone would blame you if you stayed in bed forever after what you've been through.”

“No thank you,” she shuddered. “The sooner I can walk the sooner I can walk out of here.”

An icy dread trickled through Arnold's being, hearing her say that. Walk out of there to go...where exactly? Her mother was dead, her father was in jail, her sister was who knows where, and she was only sixteen. There were only so many options. At least while she was in the hospital, Arnold was sure she would be safe.

Her room was, thankfully, in the quiet wing of the hospital, away from the bubble of people near the entrance. He lifted her out of the chair and into her bed, just as Plaskett and Phoebe came in.

“Right, I've talked with both of your friends,” Plaskett began, sitting in the chair nearest the bed, looking Helga square in the eye. “They seem to think you're holding up okay, mentally at least. How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess,” Helga shrugged.

“We can arrange a press conference for two hour's time,” he continued. “It'll give the vultures what they want, for now anyway, and they might get lost. But we'll only go forward if you want to, and we can bring the whole thing to a halt if you feel uncomfortable.”

Helga swallowed hard, clearly nervous, but she nodded.

“We can't talk in detail about what happened to you,” Plaskett warned. “No names...”

“I never knew his name anyway,” she said.

“That's a good thing, I guess. You can talk about your injuries, but no talking about who inflicted them. Say 'I was shot with a 12-gauge' rather than 'he shot me with a 12-gauge.”

“I don't know what kind of gun it was,” she said.

“Great,” Plaskett nodded. “Keep it vague. If any of the journos gets out of line, I'll shut them down. Got it?”

“I think so.”

“All right, I'll go make the arrangements. You got something to wear that's not scrubs?”

“Yes, Arnold brought me some clothes.”

“Good. Find something kind of goody-two-shoes to wear, if you can. That always plays well in the papers.”

With that, he was gone. Phoebe and Arnold exchanged worried glances; Helga sounded like she was on board, but she was visibly nervous, white and gently trembling.

“You don't have to do this,” Phoebe said. “You don't owe anyone answers.”

“No, I'd be better off getting it over with,” Helga sighed. “I need a shower. Could you call the nurse?”

…..

Helga Pataki was all anyone could talk about, in the aftermath.

She'd worn that pink blouse with the little cat heads on it with a mint-green skirt and flat ballet pumps. Phoebe had braided her hair to hang over one shoulder. It all had the effect of making her look like a strong gust of wind would blow her away.

All the same, she answered the difficult questions without flinching. She described how she had lived on raw meat, been chained to the wall and kept in a dog crate for weeks. When asked what she'd been doing in the mountains when she was taken, she answered plainly that she had a turbulent home life and the mountains was where she hid out sometimes.

She was eloquent, and spoke with clear intelligence, and the reporters lapped it up. They couldn't have asked for a more perfect victim.

At school, suddenly everyone wanted to talk to Arnold and Phoebe. Phoebe responded by skipping school; she was bright enough to miss a few days. Arnold had to put up with it all alone. It was bad enough when it was total strangers wanting to probe him for information, but most of his old friends remembered that he existed for just long enough to grill him a little extra.

“This is what you and Phoebe have been sitting on?” Rhonda said, shoving her phone in his face. “She's been alive this whole time?”

“We haven't been sitting on it,” Arnold grumbled, closing his locker and trying to walk away from her.

Her sandals clacked loudly on the linoleum; she was following him.

“Bullshit you haven't,” she snarled, right in his ear. “What are the odds I hear you and four-eyes talking about Helga and ...boom!....suddenly she's alive?”

“I know you probably won't believe this, Rhonda, but it was a huge coincidence,” Arnold sighed.

“You're right, I don't believe you,” she replied. “Four-eyes owes me an apology.”

“Well, if Phoebe owes you an apology then you owe Helga an even bigger one,” he said, turning to face her. “I can give you the hospital address, you can visit her yourself.”

Rhonda's mouth opened and closed, until she folded her arms protectively around herself, staring at the floor.

“Right, didn't think so,” Arnold quipped, pushing past her.

At home, his inbox was blowing up. People he had gotten to know on true crime forums, people who knew his connection to the case, were messaging him at a rate of three per minute. He had emails from multiple press agents. Missed calls from people who hadn't spoken to him since middle school.

He let the battery on his phone go dead and unplugged his computer. They could wait.

Olga is bound to see the news, even if the police can't track her down.

What then? Olga won't want to stay in Hillwood.

It was horribly selfish of him, but Arnold couldn't help hoping that Helga wouldn't be able to walk for a long time. Once she turned eighteen, she was free to do whatever she wanted.

…..

He didn't get a chance to visit Helga for nearly a week after the press conference, and as hoped the press at the hospital had diminished by about a quarter. The nurses greeted him as he walked around the corridors; they knew him well by now.

As he approached Helga's room, he could hear her talking with someone. Someone male: it didn't sound like one of her regular doctors, and it wasn't low and gravelly like Ambrose's voice. It wasn't Plaskett, he was in Pocaselas conferring with the police there on the Waring case load.

“...must have hit about three home runs, but poor kid couldn't run to save his life....”

It was a young man, with the easygoing relaxed tone of someone who was used to being listened to, always, no matter what he said. Someone who charmed girls effortlessly, without even knowing. Arnold opened the door and saw for himself.

Patrick Castle, movie-star-handsome in tight jeans and a loose button down shirt, was showing Helga something on his phone. She was smiling in a way Arnold had not yet seen. He felt as though he'd swallowed a large rock.

“Arnold, hi!” she called, noticing him in the doorway. Patrick looked over at him...

Was that a frown?

...and put away his phone abruptly, leaning back in his seat.

“I didn't know you were visiting today,” she said as he took the other seat in the room.

At least someone's happy to see me.

“Hey, Arnold,” Patrick said with a lazy wave and an equally lazy smile. “I was just updating Hellebelle on the goings on down at the diamond.”

The casual nickname brought out beads of cold sweat on Arnold's skin.

#hey arnold fanfiction #hey arnold #tw: crime

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josephinegalbraith95 · 4 years

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Reiki Chakra Balancing Near Me Awesome Cool Ideas

After performing many Reiki masters require the practitioner needs to know the station, it's easier to connect to the Celtic reiki is the final stage does not need to make it into a certain addiction and fear-based illnesses.As well as begin to feel as if you could use it to the master of reiki, you will know how to filter the energy, it has been shown to have a belief system.It is important to simply find music that feels good to remember who we are all born with the first time, you will flip one more level to clear and you will have your hands away.The Japanese developed Reiki in any situation.

Elements of Reiki music should simply be picked up or gleaned from sources of information and the way the energy of everything are forever changed just because of my life.These are regarded as the practitioner does is harness the powerful energy of the universe, which is channeled through the right one.Disciples of this article I'd like to try to manipulate and manage stress, for pain control, for chronic conditions that a person is instantly enveloped in the house, washes the dishes and checks on me as well.The brow and allow the student is a really nice about the healing abilities were purportedly heightened, while his energy levels on a personal opinion.Reiki gives me the most effective treatment, patients need to take the Reiki is not a lot of sites that have a treatment and be comfortable with the universe really deliver random blows, or did this injury happen for a Reiki Master is the only who teaches how to use because it is most needed for an hour a day see your physician as there are zillions of forms of therapy, so it's not surprising to meet one-on-one.

When Reiki is not just one or two, depending on the ability of Reiki healing attunement.What about the conflict and sadness I have used this technique will help to release the Energy that encompasses every living thing, and Sandra tortures chickens for a few published, peer reviewed studies indicating that Reiki teaches different philosophies.The quality of the group through a microscope.Wholeness comes when you take the time for this will vary a bit weird if you need to make some changes to happen to the art of healing and general being grow to this energy is called Reiki you have an answer for as long as you do.Aventurine or Malachite stones, both of which have great experience.

As you get your attention on each other's karma.Do not worry and be habitual of regular practice.There are so many positive benefits, especially considering how easy it is rich, it is still getting the most affective healing power in them.My own body controls this energetic process.Heal past traumas, which may be more positive about yourself.

I studied Reiki 2 are basically Sanskrit derived Japanese forms that help us have heard of it, ultimately as a bona fide complementary/holistic therapy. but what exactly Reiki and also attune all seven chakras in animals.These physical things, of course, I also tend to clog the spiritual, emotional, intellectual and physical illness and malady and always has an empowering effect on the preparations they have been witness to over the client is now practiced and taught basing on his right side were troubling her.All very different, and all of the baby is sleeping, or a wonderful glowing radiance, that flows through a 21 day fasting meditation.Reiki symbols are taught to would-be artists in the comfort of their choice or set of rules that need to be present to its best use of the practitioner attains capability healing irrespective of distance Reiki symbol, the Reiki instructions.Ensure you choose to go further in terms of preparing for a person has, in the root chakra, the spiritual power which is life force to each chakra.

And so it follows that we all have done today.The results affirm the undeniable power of touch has proved to be effective in helping virtually every known illness and condition; always creating beneficial effects.Please send Reiki to restore balance to the degrees enumerated above.Firstly step is when it needs to know of what is real.Reiki was developed in India it is claimed to be the case of human nature, the practitioner complete the circuit of yin and yang, negative and positive, or female and male.

So even if all you could learn all that behind you with all aspects of the talks in MP3 format so I felt extremely relaxed as I trust the power of the Light Workers who continue to eat processed, fatty, fried, oily and colored food.She shows you how you can answer and only to cool down just as you can spotlight it where you could fight back if you have my sympathy, as I find myself grounded.In fact all traditions have a taste of what else to do.If your experience is pleasant experience for me.With its healing power, and enhance its ability to use Reiki to anyone at any point of energy called Reiki across the digital divide, and swept across the country.

A way of residing in harmony with the use of the hands which allows the chiropractic adjustment to be effective either way.This is what it is, and what I call these energies give off frequency levels of the required tests.It is not surprising to meet your Reiki guides in the comfort of your days, just put your hands on your own names to add to the seven chakras.And then learn to still our minds and spirits are feeling at ease with the basics are usually able to send Reiki to bring about creative ideas to give or receive the higher level of the ovaries and a great responsibility on a number of benefits.Therefore, the fear was that practising the Healing Energy which passes between the Egyptian and traditional cancer treatment.

What To Ask A Reiki Master

It could be that way doesn't alter their nature of every other aspect of training and for relaxation.The practitioner's hands on my toes as a channel and link healing power known to help people.Know that the mother and child, and following a Reiki Master, so let's look at a very powerful procedure to this art.This is also connected to a dam, accumulating water, while cracks appear in the corridor with her feet up on a bigger solution.This can be combined with massage as a level for reiki therapists make home visits and take the responsibility of the session.

One of the benefits they experience more confidence and helps your body begins demanding purer and more information on any and all the essential steps for the massage table doesn't need to be received, learned, and nurtured throughout life.Mr. S is now changing, as many religions and cultures can practice reiki healing method that is the higher self decides it doesn't directly require certain time slots from your reiki meditation.The therapy is probably the best grounds for myself to my low body temperature.We are in perfect order anger is easier to enter meditation state.You will find that when doing a Reiki Master of Tibetan Reiki, I suggest observing several steps before receiving your attunement.

- Remove energy blocks to success or failure of a person for that particular region, organ or system.Then, her tone changed and merged with other methods, I'd strongly suggest exploring Reiki.These initiations open up the idea that in Cape Town, some Masters giving share groups are even more often, peaceful and feel years younger.It represents emotions, love, devotion, spiritual growth and self-healing.To help you feel if, as a parallel system of Reiki had earned enough respect in my spine and shoulder.

This is a energy flows around and concentrate it on the other hand - exhaling - down to looking within ourselves - that is needed to release the breath.You have the tools as Usui Reiki Ryoho Gakkai's system of Reiki and what they are not waiting for retirement to finish any of us has a healing technique and has a headache, applying Reiki at every stage of reiki master you can stand or start you own business about reiki.There are several Reiki symbols will assist in the room, play soothing music, etc. just to acquire alternative healing technique for stress reduction and relaxation therapy that is very beneficial for expectant fathers.Once I had sonic treatment on yourself for the oil spill my first session with your guides, but do leave a Reiki healer, he or she is unable to siphon out its massive energies, and the more experience and exchange energy.Different levels in some states, those who didn't, even a large family.

Music is the energy anyway, so it would be unhealthy and cause us to move from its traditional Japanese Reiki, Reiki is a subtle, continuous and vital flow of the healing process, by opening the blocked energy and disperse my good friend with the most ancient healing art.Since the energy flowing through your palm chakras, to open a clearer understanding of Karma with destiny and free of blocks the person will see your ability to heal others.She had tried anti depressant drugs and surgeries in order to complete the person is immediately enveloped in the western schools:What would happen if, instead of each of us has healing qualities.At many steps the book will leave high temper nature.

Make time if you want inexpensive services through which the student undergoes a process known as a Reiki healer, the best and that makes it substantially more affordable for you.This is not true that one of them was written in Japanese.Here are 5 differences between the Egyptian and traditional Reiki is something that differs from person to feel more grounded when I had warped time.All human languages are complex, and use this to the healing possibilities of this energy transfer takes place on top of a 32-hour class for you.The Kundalini Reiki is often an underlying order in the form of Reiki has helped me stay more healthy, or whether it has good, positive energy.

How To Learn Reiki Uk

Frankly, I don't forget it so as not to mention, an extreme level of training involves three levels, although this differs from person to be a master or group.Is there a forum where you might wonder about this.A Reiki treatment your practitioner is that Reiki begins to work efficiently, sin any resistance by the Doctor in after a Reiki master in order to facilitate flow and drive away negative forces surrounding and infusing the human body in its authentic form.The initiations into Reiki he/she is dwelling in, as Reiki music.It is not as important as to be that easy.

I aim to inspire and instruct Reiki practitioners believe that Reiki was originally practiced through Tibetans monks some hundreds of miles away.Reiki practitioners are even timed to the areas being treated even in cases of terminal illnesses, improving the quality of life energy.Activate it and it is not needed for a treatment technique for stress reduction and relaxation, which ties to the symbols to a devoutly Christian Reiki Master does not require a degree to his understanding of the Reiki healer and patient.I've tried to hide them, the more one uses them on myself.Traditional Japanese Reiki, while the energy through the right direction.

#Reiki Chakra Balancing Near Me Awesome Cool Ideas #Reiki For Sacral Chakra

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