#Haywire 1

[battampria]

BOYPRINCESS AND GIRLPRINCE ICONS

STOP THIS WAS THE QUICKEST IVE DONE SOMETHING.. there are too many ppl i like who would fit this (both headcanon and love wise) but i gotta limit myself 💔 added rin penrose here because shes literally a girlprince LOLL

flags by @theadorableundead! the flags are linked here.

f2u w/ credit

[peachiicherries]

Williams if you fuck Logan’s pit when he stops I will come find you I swear to god

[controversial-blorbo-bracket]

Controversial Character Tournament Round 1: Tame from Vermin Haywired

[southern--downpour]

the more and more i use my film camera the more i hate my current dslr. who the hell at kodak thought itd be a good idea to make a camera without a detachable lens and also zero manual focus and also hide every camera setting in impossible to navigate menus. im going to kill you

[nocturnalnewsiestrash]

And now that I've studied Spanish for 3 hours with my brother and my brain is all but goo at this point, off to my dead boy detectives rewatch I go <3

[biohazrd]

guess who has c0vid again!!!!!!!!!

[loveedwardlevaincois]

My Hexorcism Collection

This is part 1 because I can't fit everything here. Hope you like them~

[frigiddetective]

me: trying to take a cool picture in photo mode the lighting: Suddenly pulsing me: Why the fuck are you doing that?? enemy: starts t posing for more effect me: have I actually entered hell??

[snezario]

Sub-Optimal; Ala/stor & Vo/x

based from an idea that @sneezingfetishftw posted. I kind of want to expand on that beginning part with a prequel ficlet of Alastor being sick but idk if I'll actually get around to it... I think this is the longest one-shot I've ever written... somehow this turned out to be 1.7k words?

Alastor leans against the headboard of his bed and takes a sip from his mug, grimacing as the hot liquid travels down his throat. Coffee was probably not the best choice right now. The warmth of it was nice against his sore throat. Of course that wasn’t the only unfortunate telltale symptom of illness he had awoken with a couple days ago.

He had been pretty good at hiding the whole illness thing under wraps for the first half of the day, that is until he had to sneeze. Usually he was good at stifling them into oblivion, but this particular cold seemed hellbent on disrupting his ability to control his faculties. The first unstifled sneeze caused all the lights in the hotel to flicker, which wouldn’t have caught much of anyone else’s attention. It was the second, third, and fourth ones that well, almost destroyed it.

It was after that whole fiasco that he was banished to quarantine in his room because according to Vaggie Who the fuck knows what other chaos his sickness will wreak havoc on the hotel? Normally he’d be holed up in his radio tower, but his quarters within the hotel are not half bad. Hence, him still being in bed to begin with. A sharp prickle in his nose reminds him how miserable being sick makes one feel.

hih'ZZSSHHhue!

He tries to keep it contained, lest he face Vaggie’s wrath. Not that she’s much of a threat to him really. As Alastor recovers, he’s interrupted by a loud BANG! His bedroom door swings open to reveal Vox standing dead center in the door frame. Alastor rolls his eyes at the other Overlord.

“Do you mind?”

Vox ignores Alastor’s question and breezes past the threshold, plopping himself on a red armchair by the fireplace. 

“I was just passing through the area and a little birdy told me you were feeling a bit… under the weather.” He scrolls on his phone as he speaks, although the wide grin on his screen makes it obvious how much he’s relishing this moment. Alastor narrows his eyes, an unlikely story— Vox would never pass up the chance to taunt him, especially in a case like this.

“Well, I’m not quite on my deathbed as you can see. I didn’t realize that you missed little old me so much that you just had to come by and visit. It is flattering that you stopped by, in any case.”

Despite how awful he’s feeling, Alastor flashes Vox a cheeky grin, knowing full well just how to push the other demon’s buttons. The entertainment value of seeing Vox absolutely lose his cool is almost limitless. Although the pesky tickle is urgently becoming more than a mere annoyance. Alastor would much rather listen to Pentious’s Egg Bois spew nonsense to him for hours on end than be seen like this. Vulnerable and weak, in front of Vox no less. But it’s not something he can avoid at the moment.

Vox wasn’t someone who shied away from physical contact. He never denied himself the opportunity to encroach on someone’s personal space when he saw fit, it was mostly a tactic he employed to assert dominance or to emphasize a point. Or in this case, threaten his rival. Leaping off the chair, he’s in the radio demon’s face in a heartbeat, clenching the collar of Alastor’s pajamas in his hand.

“You arrogant prick, you think that I give a flying FUCK where you’ve been—”

Vox pauses when Alastor inhales sharply, no doubt to make a scathing retort. The radio demon raises a fist to his face and angles himself away from the other Overlord.

hhzh—hhh’ZTCHhiew! hih! ihĨ̴̢̛̘̠̪͍̠̣̪̪͗͒̓̃̎̀̓̕͜Z̵̪̝̱̪̘̺̣̗̘̍Z̷̡̜͔̱͖͉̰̭̽̽̎̆̿̉͝͝T̴̨̧̼̫̜̤͈̖̬͈̈́̄̒̓̾̀̎͠͝S̷̨̱̭͚̬̻̬͐̑̐̏͆͝ͅḨ̵̣͍͈͙͈̝̜͑̓͋̉͊͛̀̑̚H̵̤̯͔̱̓̎̈͘̚̕uu!

The space around them crackles with Eldritch energy, tendrils of which encompass the room. Vox’s screen glitches and completely shuts off.

“What the actual fuck?” The lights flicker back on and Vox’s screen illuminates again. He gives in to a full body shudder (not of his own accord though) as the static shock between them fizzles out. He jumps back from Alastor, his eye spiraling intensely. Alastor sniffles into a plain cloth handkerchief.

“Oh dear, pardon me. I’m not quite in control of my faculties at the moment.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your own mucus,” Vox snarls at him before storming out of Alastor’s room.

It’s humiliating but because the hotel has Alastor as its facilities manager, there is very little modern technology at Vox’s disposal. Meaning, he has to walk… out the front door like a common sinner. The hotel is located quite a bit away from the main hubbub of Pentagram City, which is both a blessing and a curse, depending on who you talk to. Vox makes his way to the edge of the city, a chaotic and desolate area and at the first sight of a screen (an old television set sitting in the window of a dilapidated pawn shop), he transforms into electricity and travels back to the Vees’ penthouse.

What kind of weird voodoo magic did the smiling freak do to me? Vox sits alone in his penthouse suite, glaring at nothing in particular as his eye dilates as he fumes about the outcome of his interaction with Alastor. One day, that pompous bastard would find something more than coffee in that stupid mug of his.

He idly rubs a hand down his screen as a fleeting fuzzy sensation runs through the circuitry in his head, almost like an itch he can’t quite reach. He proceeds to take a long sip from his mug, the coffee in it is only lukewarm but it’s the caffeine boost he wants anyways. Vox is feeling more drained from engaging with Alastor than he thought. It’s not entirely out of the question, but it does surprise him a little. Nothing a little caffeine wouldn’t fix. He downs the rest of the drink and settles into the sofa, turning the plasma screen television screen across from him on with a simple thought. The ambient sound immediately soothes him and the incident with Alastor floats into his memory archives to be forgotten.

An hour passes and Vox is sleepily scrolling on his phone. He could nod off right there. That is until a buzzing in his head catches his attention. It almost feels like tiny feathers caressing his internal wiring, not so much caressing as tickling. Similar to before, he can’t seem to reach it and quell the sensation. But unlike before, it’s not just a momentary annoyance. His deliberation is interrupted when his breath hitches once, then twice before he pitches forward.

“ih…ih'DZZSHHH!”

He blinks in confusion. That’s it? He just had to fucking sneeze? Again, he finds his thoughts disrupted by a familiar sensation. Vox tries to rub the tickle away but given his… specifications he realizes he doesn’t even have a nose to—eh'TZZSSHIEW! hih’IZZSHuhh!

What the fuck is happening? He sniffles. Ugh, gross. 

Between the sneezing, the developing tension headache, and the exhaustion it feels like—Vox’s screen lights up as it dawns on him. He fucking has Alastor’s cold. That motherfucker. His blood pressure skyrockets and sparks shoot off his frame, threatening to short out the electronics in the room (of which there are many). Before he knows it, he’s already electro-teleporting across the pentagram to confront the radio demon.

“ALASTOR, you pretentious manipulative fucking son-of-a—”

Although Alastor can’t determine the actual content of Vox’s plethora of insults and cursing, they do steadily increase volume as he approaches Alastor’s room.

“Hmm?” Alastor turns his head as Vox barges into his room for the second time that day. He is sitting in one of the red armchairs by the fireplace, with a book in his grasp. He wears his deceptively inviting smile as always, although it is slightly dulled down by his current illness. Vox breathing is heavy and ragged, his rage undeterred by Alastor’s placid expression actually seems to intensify as he stands face-to-face from his rival.

“YOU… you did this to me!” He jabs a finger in the radio demon’s face, mere centimeters away from stabbing him in the eye. Alastor calmly pushes Vox’s hand down.

“Careful now, unless you want to cause another city-wide blackout.” Alastor teasingly reminds him of their previous on-air encounter.

“Whatever stunt you phhhulled this m-morhhn—” Vox’s voice falters, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He sharply turns away as he succumbs to the persistent itch.

“hh—hHEHh’IZZSH! Fuh—hih…h’KSHHHIiiue! ih’Z̷͖̥̩͕͒́ͅZ̷̩̲̯̠̺̘̟̆̕T̴̛͔͆̒͌̄̚͘Ć̷̘̒̌͐͝͠H̶̥̦͖̰͙͙͙̩̠̋͛ͅH̶͍͕̪̙̦͎́́̋͝uu! ”

The lights pulsate with each sneeze from the television demon. Vox groans, leaning against the wall. That last one hurt like a bitch. 

“Oho! I see the problem. Apologies, old pal. Snf! I thought someone so advanced as yourself would be immune to such trivialities.” Despite his flippant tone, Alastor is genuinely surprised. He wasn’t actually certain the static shock would have affected Vox when he did it. He is, however, quite entertained by the development.

Before Vox can respond, Vaggie throws the bedroom door open.

“Alastor, what the fuck are you even doing? I thought we told you to—” The ex-exorcist jabs her spear in his direction and is about to go off on him when she notices Vox is slumped against the wall. Spinning her spear, she redirects the point towards him. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh him? He’s no threat, at least not in his current condition,” Alastor makes a dismissive motion with his hand, a mischievous smile on his lips. Vaggie scowls at him, her hands crossed over her chest. Her gaze flits between Alastor and Vox.

“What did you do—Actually, wait I don’t want to know. Just… stop fucking with the lights.” She swiftly turns around and shuts the door behind her. Still smiling, Alastor turns his attention towards Vox, who’s looking quite pathetic. Well, more so than usual.

“You hear that, my dear Vox? Get a hold of yourself. Now if you’ll exhhcuse me I hh-have— (dang it, now it’s his turn) hh’iZTSHHuu! eh’D̴͚̼̊̂̒Z̵̳̥̈́̀̐͊̃̊̄͘̚Z̵̻͓̖̪̤͊͒̄̓͗́̂͑͜͝͝S̵̼̖͌̔̚HHHiew!” Unfortunate timing, but can’t be helped, Alastor thinks. He scrubs a finger under his nose and proceeds to pore over his book.

Vox narrows his eyes, adjusts his bowtie, and stands up. Vox glares daggers at Alastor, who appears to be ignoring him now. As he heads to the door, he feels an unfortunately familiar prickle at the back of his screen. NO! Not aga— heh’DZZSHHuh! Fuck. He catches Alastor smirking in his periphery.

“Gesundheit!” The radio demon calls out after Vox’s retreating figure.

[novastrae]

GOOD MORNING EVERYPONY MEOWHAITHAM HAS ARRIVED

[ticketmastersince2k4]

TBT 2023: Marvel's Avengers & Haywire

Welcome backward, Ticketholders!

This is going to be a very special Throwback Thursday for me because I'm pushing a review from the first birthday I celebrated in Soap Lake, WA. Ever since the first Spider-Man in 2002, I had made it a tradition to watch a Marvel movie in theaters on my birthday. But not only was this the first time I had honored the tradition since moving out of California, it was the movie that solidified the MCU in pop-culture history. The concession area was standing-room-only, the theater was packed, and (almost) everyone was dressed like our small town was hosting Comic Con. Even the ticket booth guy was wearing one of those pillowy muscle jackets that looked like an Iron Man suit. And watching that movie on the big screen made me feel at least ten years younger (at the time). Some of my language and 2.5D crushing (Colin Jost is the luckiest man alive) on Black Widow haven't aged well, but I feel like I otherwise did the art of film criticism justice when it came to the coolest superhero movie I had ever seen.

The lead-off to this double-feature review is, of course, Haywire, one of the first action movies to have a female MMA fighter in the lead role. It's formulaic, averagely acted, and competently choreographed. Give it a watch.

And enjoy the reviews!

[girl-lostconnection]

i luv ur work and I'm just curious your thoughts on if bat reader got pregnant? Maybe a little clutch of 3 babies that are around 6lbs each so small but maybe most fruit bat babies are? Or since it's a hybrid of the one/all the boys maybe it's one baby but a little bigger and sweet reader is waddling everywhere constantly barefoot

Yk, anon, your idea is so cute I’m gonna give you a pass for pregnancy trope because god knows I’m not a fan of it. Don’t get me wrong, I have massive respect for people who decide to get pregnant but Jesus, if it’s not some prime horror material. Also I just personally don’t like pregnancies or kids

Okay, you will need to hold my hand with this one because the next thing will be wildly anti-scientific and borderline magical, but it’s fanfiction — we are gonna freestyle. No one can stop us from having fun, anon.

I can imagine Reader finding out they are pregnant and as soon as 141 find out, at least one of the boys is glued to their side.

Especially Price — Komodo dragons are incredibly protective fathers and he is no exception. The man would be patiently peeling and cutting all and every fruit, rubbing your legs and kissing your cheeks because you deserve it for working so hard.

Simon’s provider instincts would go haywire because your scent changes with pregnancy and primal part of him needs to make sure you eat enough, you are warm, you are safe, you are comfortable. He is slightly paranoid and doesn’t let you walk anywhere alone, just looming over your shoulder.

But he’s also the one who will relax once he sees that one of the lads actually come to take turn guarding you. Wolves separate responsibilities and in a wolf pack some wolves go hunting while others watch pups then they switch. So he’s okay if someone is nearby but he definitely feels more comfortable if he’s glued to your side and his hand is on your shoulder.

Man seriously doesn’t understand why can’t you all just move as the group of five if that would maximise the safety of you and the child. So what if it’s impractical? Doesn’t matter that he would look like he’s guarding a bloody prime minister, he will be advocating for you all to walk around together.

Kyle is relatively calm because he’s not velcro husband but make no mistake the man is velcro dad. Eagles are incredibly protective of their young and shield them from cold and heat and predators and literally chew food for them. Let’s hope Garrick holds himself together.

But he def would become more attentive, pecking kisses here and there, chatting you up before bed. I think it would soothe his human part that he can hear how calm and happy you are with everything and therefore it’s okay.

Soap is surprisingly the calmest of the bunch, he reads up a lot on bay hybrids and how long the pregnancies go and what to expect. He starts a journal with memories for the baby(-ies) when they grow up so they know how loved and cared for they were even before birth.

The man is there scratching and writing away, notating the side effects and doodling you devouring a melon all alone as he watches you in love. Soap would also be the calmest dad of them all but on the scale of 1-10 where 1 is protective and 10 is Simon Ghost Riley, he’s 11.

He’s all easy smiles and charm and then he just snaps his jaws when someone tries to touch the baby(-ies) or you without asking because hands the fuck off. Get your own, baby and mate, these are his.

He has no chill when it comes to this, I’m sorry.

And then there’s you, who starts sleeping exclusively head down and wrapping in your own wings and Kyle’s when he’s available. You get cold easier so you cuddle up to hot like furnace Simon and then you are too hot and snappy, scrambling back on your perch.

You start walking barefoot because cool is nice and because staying in half transformation is easier then wasting energy to be mostly human (Johnny blinks once, twice then his hind brain takes over and he’s grooming you for hours on end because omg, that’s fur, this is lovely, hen, come ‘ehe)

And then babies themselves arrive. In the scenario where there are multiple of them — like a clutch of 3 babies, they mostly all resemble only you in the first few months because they emerge as lil bat hybrids covered in bat fur.

They will loose most of it after the first year but before that — the only indicative of who might be the dad is the eye colour.

Doesn’t help that both John’s are blue-eyed.

In scenario where there is only one baby, which would be definitely rarer, I think it would be fun if the baby actually was a different hybrid, for example you have yourself a little seal!baby and Soap is ecstatic. I think his baby would be the oldest one and if you decide to have any more, the next would be Kyle’s, then Price’s and Simon’s twins would be the last ones.

[invincibledc]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪 𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 + 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑿 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹!𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑫!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹⋆. 𐙚 ˚

pt.1 || pt2

☆〜 okay, so mark is stressed the fuck out. Not only that you have no recorded of living anywhere in the world… or planets. You’re actually some kid that has a crazy power to shift anything you want! Oliver didn’t know how to feel about you until you changed something he didn’t like into what he desired. Oliver immediately told mark that you need to live with them.

Your powers resembles Eve’s powers to a maximum, with how you shift things like oh the food you didn’t like was there so you shifted it into a nice Burger King burger. Mark was shocked before Oliver grabbed something and asked you to change it. You had told the family about your history with your powers.

Debbie couldn’t help but comfort you, mark felt bad that your powers go haywire at times. Oliver looked at his older brother and suggested why not just let you train it off. So the plan proceeded. You had some random clothing rag infront of you before you changed it into the hero suit you had before you left Dick.

You were now nine, living your life in this reality. You’re a protege of atom eve! And boy is it amazing! Even though Oliver makes fun of your hero name, you make fun of him. Ending up if you two rough housing, of course mark or Debbie had to break it up quickly before Oliver accidentally uses his strength.

You were practically the youngest sibling in the family of the graysons, which means mark is more nervous about having his younger siblings that have powers. Oliver can handle himself, Mark can trust him. Oliver has started to adapted to the human nature, of course you show Oliver your favorite things to make.

He once made something for you off of a video he saw on television. He was happy to see you smile and hug him, holding you in the right amount of strength as well. Mark’s eyes soften when coming home from a mission to see you and Oliver snoozing while science dog played in the living room tv. Although, the graysons have thoughts in their head….

What if you get forced into another universe… what if it wasn’t something safe. That really freaked Oliver out to almost a breakdown. He loved his new sibling! He loved how your powers and how you two would play around. He can’t just let you go! He holds you tight, his purple arms wrapped around you as he frowns. “Don’t leave us…” he says lowly before falling asleep.

Everytime Eve called mark, mark gets scared that you probably were forced into another place with your powers. Only to learn that most calls were due to Eve being impressed at how quick you changed a normal house into a unicorn! Eve had the most fun with you.

She practically loves you! She sometimes go into the house to see you creating random stuff like glowing lollipops, or even such as gummy worms that actually wiggle like worms.

Was kinda terrifying to have a gummy worm crawl to her, but at least your creativity was your main source of your powers. Mark and Eve already had agreed for you to just learn your limits and offense. Because of how you couldn’t just fly, Oliver had to pick you up and fly around. Sure you didn’t mind at first, til it got embarrassing at your older brother practically making fun of you.

“How’s the wind sparky, is it coool?” He teases as you huff, “Shut up!” Mark had to stop your bickering as Oliver tested to try and drop you…. Yeah he wasn’t going to but mark was really scared he might.

And just like before you spent months here, loving your new family. Loving your new mom, new brothers, new mentor, new everything. It’s like you practically forgot about your last life with dick. There were definitely brotherly moments where you Eve started to talk about dating to you.

You couldn’t help but giggle nervously, Oliver didn’t get it at first. He understood mating, yes. But that’s cause he understood that adults do it for their causes. But when it came to you, he didn’t like it a bit! Mark teased Oliver for acting like a big brother when another kid tried to talk to you with loveydovey eyes. And he didn’t like that! You’re young! You’re pure! You’re his sibling!

Oliver grabbed your hand and dragged you from the kid who was now heart broken. “What was that for Oli!?” “I didn’t like how he looked at you..” Oliver pouts as mark couldn’t help but laugh at this, but that before Eve elbowed him and mentioned this may happen when you’re a teenager. And suddenly this bitch locked in and became part of the “protect y/n” team.

If you had gotten bullied, oh boy… Oliver may snap. Mark knows kids are assholes, sure. But he and Debbie will be the civil ones to just sit down and talk to the folks of the bully. While Oliver is seeking for blood. He doesn’t play about his family.

Then suddenly it happened. All over again. Again. Again.

You were making confetti from the air as Oliver clapped his hands impressed. He floated a few feet off the ground and collected some, you both created a game called “Catch the Confetti” where Oliver would catch how many he can get and you both get to decide the prize. In the shared room of you both, a sparkling portal opens up.

Your eyes widen as you stopped creating the confetti. Oliver gasp, stopping to land on the ground. And then the hungry portal began. It started to suck in everything you own into the portal.

You screamed feeling yourself getting sucked in, Oliver screamed for you, speeding over to grab your arms. “No! Stay! You have to!”

He grits his teeth as he feels the portal get angry. You sob as you look at Oliver, “I don’t want to go!” “I know! I won’t let it take you! We haven’t gone to Tokyo and try your favorite cafe! We haven’t had a big sleepover yet! We haven’t played catch yet with each other! We haven’t….” Oliver felt his eyes tear up, you hated to see him cry.

And he hated to see you cry.. but you knew what you had to do. “You have to let me go.” Oliver’s eyes widen. “What!? Are you nuts?!” You looked at Oliver, and you looked back into the patrol. “I’m sorry…” you let go of his hands. Oliver tried to get you back, but you were already sucked in… the patrol closes just as Oliver reached out. Everything felt like slow motion.

Oliver fell on his face, getting up as he screamed your name.

Mark bursted in, late…. Late… late.. late.

Oliver turned towards him with sadness in his eyes, “They’re.. gone.. mark…” Mark’s eyes widen as he held Oliver tight to him. He knew you and Oliver were close. But this.. was devastating.

And now they wondered.

The graysons were wondering where the child could be….

TO BE CONTINUED

[erodasfishtacos]

Wedding Band Cuts

prompt: YN goes into a massage and things go haywire quickly

word count: 8k (oooops)

warnings: this is all filth, i couldn't get this concept out of my mind

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here

first fifteen to click here can get a free $5 membership for a month<3

=================

YN may or may not have a slight crush on the owner of the health club that she belongs to.

An boujee, exclusive type of place that there was a waitlist for membership and the prices to join were insane.

The only reason she could attend was because she got a massive discount because of her work.

He wasn’t what someone would imagine the typical gym owner to look like. 

No, he wasn’t a meathead with bulging biceps, thick veins protruding from his forearms, and  a protein shake in hand at all times.

Harry was lean.

Built in a way that was quietly powerful, his strength evident but not flaunted. 

The kind of muscular that didn’t demand attention but commanded respect nonetheless. 

He was intimidating in a different way—not because he towered over people or grunted loudly when lifting weights, but because he moved with an effortless grace that made everything he did look easy. 

The men who spent their time flexing in the mirror and slamming weights to the ground were often left in the dust by him. He bypassed them without so much as a labored breath, but he was never condescending about it.

He didn’t rub it in their faces or attempt to show off.

That, somehow, made him even more attractive.

YN knows that she has never, in her whole life, found someone as attractive as Harry. 

It was almost embarrassing how her stomach flipped whenever she caught sight of him in those tiny workout shorts, the ones that made it impossible not to stare. 

She wanted to drool like a dog when he lifted weights shirtless, every muscle in his torso shifting in perfect harmony. 

But she wasn’t the only one who felt this way—every woman at the gym seemed to have the same not-so-subtle admiration.

The issue was with her (and the other women) she was married.

Despite being the owner, Harry was always around.

 Sometimes he was doing administrative tasks, other times he was covering for employees who had called in sick. 

Hiring college kids meant dealing with last-minute schedule changes, so he often found himself playing the role of front desk attendant, janitor, or—on rare occasions—masseuse.

It was a health club, after all. 

The gym offered more than just workout equipment; there was a spa with facials, manicures, and, of course, massages. While Harry wasn’t an esthetician and couldn’t fill in for those services, he was a certified masseuse.

However, he rarely stepped in for that role because his staff was dependable.

That didn’t stop the women from hoping.

It was common knowledge among the female members that if someone called out, there was a slight—very slight—chance that Harry might step in. 

None of them had been lucky enough for it to happen, though. 

And when news spread that Jerry, a seventy-one-year-old man, had received a massage from Harry when his assigned therapist had to leave due to a stomach bug, the collective jealousy among the women was almost comical.

Jerry, blissfully unaware of the silent resentment directed his way, had wobbled out of the building looking loose-limbed and content, oblivious to the scowls of women who had never before envied an elderly man quite so much.

Tiffany, one of the braver women, decided to test her luck. 

With a sickly sweet smile, she had approached the front desk where Harry was working, tilting her head just so as she asked if he might be able to squeeze her in for a massage.

Harry, ever professional, had simply glanced up from the computer screen, offered her a polite but firm smile, and informed her that since the therapist had left early, they unfortunately wouldn’t be able to accommodate her request. 

He didn’t offer to step in himself, and Tiffany had to swallow her disappointment as she rejoined her friends, shoulders slumping in defeat.

YN was excited for the massage because she kept such tension in her lower back, her thighs, her glutes.

And she definitely didn’t get them regularly enough because life was busy so the strain and stiffness built and built until her body ached enough to have her make an appointment.

It was last minute, they were able to squeeze her in at the last session available, eight in the evening.

The gym was closed at that point but the spa was open until nine.

When YN steps into the dimly lit lobby of the building, she immediately notices how quiet it is. 

The usual low hum of voices or the distant clinking of weights from the gym is missing.

 Instead, the only sound is the faint buzzing of the overhead light and the gentle click of the door settling back into place behind her. She makes her way toward the receptionist’s desk, her steps echoing slightly against the polished tile floor.

The desk is empty. 

No receptionist in sight, no signs of life beyond the unlocked door. 

If the entrance hadn’t been open, she would have assumed the place had already shut down for the night. 

It’s unsettling, the stillness of it all. 

There had been only one other car in the parking lot—a sleek black sedan parked near the entrance. 

She could only hope it belonged to her massage therapist because if she didn’t get the relief she was craving, she might actually scream. 

Her shoulders ached, tension coiled tightly along her spine, and she needed to feel like jelly by the time she walked out of here.

YN lingers at the front desk, her fingertips lightly tapping along the smooth oak surface as she chews on the inside of her lip. 

She glances over her shoulder toward the hallway leading to the massage rooms, her nerves prickling when she hears footsteps approaching. 

The rhythmic sound of sneakers hitting the linoleum floor grows louder with each step.

She fully expects to see Pedro—her regular massage therapist. Pedro, who always greeted her with a knowing smirk and a shake of his head, chastising her for letting herself get so tense.

But it’s not Pedro who steps around the corner.

No, it’s Harry.

Harry, the owner of the gym.

He’s always been effortlessly charming, the kind of man who draws attention without even trying. 

Women often mistook his friendliness for flirting, but that was just his nature—engaging, attentive, and naturally likable. He had one of those faces that made it hard to pinpoint his exact age. 

Deep-set dimples softened the sharpness of his jawline, giving him an almost boyish appeal, while the light scruff and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes betrayed his real age.

“Hello, I’m sorry about that,” he says as he moves behind the desk, leaning down to click around on the computer, hiis voice is smooth, deep, the kind that makes you want to lean in just a little closer, “You must be… YN, right? Here for your massage with Pedro?”

“It’s okay,” YN reassures him with an easy smile, a bit fluttery because he was cute, “Yes, that’s me,”

“Pedro had to leave earlier due to a family emergency,” Harry informs her as he clicks around a bit more before looking up at her, “I should have called to cancel but I got distracted with some paperwork. Are you comfortable with having one with me? Or I can reschedule and give you a free massage on the house for the inconvenience.”

YN hesitates. A free massage sounded tempting—nearly $200 worth of pampering for nothing. 

But then there was the other option: a paid session with Harry, the hot gym owner with broad shoulders and an easy smile. 

She hadn’t expected to find herself in this predicament, but now that she was here, her stomach gave a nervous little flip.

“I really need one. I’m really stiff,” YN’s eyes darted away nervously, something akin to the feeling when you’re about to drop down on a rollercoaster creeping into her stomach, “But I don’t want to inconvenience you at all.”

“It wouldn’t be an inconvenience to massage you,” Harry replies, his words slow and this morbid monotone that somehow works for him, his eyes narrow just the slightest, and even though nothing he said was inappropriate.

The way he says it sends a shiver down her spine. 

It’s not the words themselves—it’s how they linger in the air between them, heavy with something unspoken.

 YN presses her thighs together instinctively, pulse quickening as heat creeps up the back of her neck.

YN rolls her lip between her teeth, she doesn’t know when she got so brazen but she gives him a small, unsure smile, “Hopefully you’re as good as Pedro.”

Harry’s grin falters slightly, eyes narrowing at the challenge, “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands.”

“Pedro’s hands are amazing though, not just good, you know?” YN keeps her tone casually like she’s not trying to bait him but she’s pretty sure that she’s not misconstruing the sexual tension for him just being nice, he wasn’t like this all the time. 

“I'm sure you’ll be satisfied with my services. Are you hard to please?” Harry asks with a tilt of his head, a slight smirk she's never seen before.

YN lets out a breathy laugh, tapping her fingers against the desk, “Most people would say no. My husband, on the other hand? He might say something different.”

Harry’s eyes flicker down to her left hand, his expression tightening almost imperceptibly when he finds her ring finger bare. 

His jaw clenches just the slightest bit before his tone turns cool, more businesslike,  “I’ll show you to the room we’ll be using.”

YN wonders if she shouldn't have mentioned she had a husband, maybe she had led him on with the fact that she didn't have her wedding band on.

She knew she would have to take it off anyways, and didn't want to get the lotion rubbed into nooks and crannies that are difficult to clean.

He steps out from behind the desk.

YN’s eyes drop to do a full body scan, she often subtly checked him out when she was here but now with a bit of arousal pooling in her tummy - she had a whole other perspective on him.

How his legs were such a sweet juxtaposition of lean but thick at the same time, she could easily imagine herself sinking her nails into them.

The shorts he wore showed them off entirely too well, he absolutely knew what he was doing when he stepped into those short shorts that morning.

And when he turns to start walking down the hallway, YN can appreciate how broad his shoulders are, and they're accentuated by the way they lead down into narrow hips.

The definition of manly.

As they walk down the hallway, YN peeks into the other offices—empty, confirming that they are, indeed, alone.

 It shouldn’t matter. 

This was a professional massage.

 Nothing more.

“I didn't know you were certified in massages,” YN chimes in as they walk, just to break the silence that had fallen in between them.

YN deemed it awkward but she didn't know if he did.

He doesn't turn around but he does reply, “I got a certification when I got my doctorate in exercise science and kinesiology. It was an elective. I did them more when I started the business but now I have employees for that.”

“So you're rusty, is what you're telling me?” YN teases, she should stop baiting him because he seems easy to react and not always in a good way.

YN has seen Harry yell at grown men over poor form that could have seriously injured their backs or throwing them out for not respecting the gym rules.

He was intimidating to say the least.

“Did I say that?” Harry turns to look over his shoulder, “My wife requests them enough that I don't get to become rusty.”

“Oh,” YN replies lamely, eyes darting down to see that he did in fact have a gold wedding band on his ring finger, hard to miss, and proudly shining.

 It’s hard to miss.

And yet, for a moment, she had.

“Oh?” Harry questions, still glancing back, “Is there an issue?”

YN swallows harshly, his eyes were laxer focused and challenging her to say something that she shouldn't.

She shouldn't because he's married.

She shouldn’t because she’s married.

“N-no,” YN stammers at the sudden question, tightened uncertainty winding in her belly - mixing with the hot, subtle arousal.

“Good,” Harry nods before he's stopping one of the last doors on the left, his hand curls around the knob, “Undress to your comfort. Some people prefer keeping their bra and underwear on, others go nude. Whatever you feel best doing.”

YN hesitates, her fingers twitching at her sides.

 Normally, she’d strip off her bra but keep her underwear on—just enough coverage to maintain a sliver of modesty. 

But something inside her stirs, something unfamiliar yet enticing, daring her to step beyond her usual boundaries.

She bites her bottom lip, the decision swirling in her head as she looks at Harry.

 But his expression gives nothing away, his patience unwavering as he waits for her to step inside.

“I'll give you a few minutes to get settled. Please lay face-down under the sheet, pull it up to your lower back. Do you have any questions?” Harry asks as he flips on the light, the beautiful room already set up, and a twinkling zen music filters through the built-in speaker.

“No,” YN says again, quiet as she steps past him into the space, “Thank you.”

Harry dips his chin in a silent nod before stepping back, allowing her to move past him. 

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

++

It takes longer than she expects for him to return.

At least ten minutes pass, maybe more. 

She can tell by the way the medley of soft instrumentals has shifted two or three times, a seamless transition of calming melodies. 

She breathes deeply, inhaling the mix of essential oils perfuming the air, but the stillness is beginning to make her twitch.

The way that she can feel her nipples against the sheet, the way that every part of her skin is touching it actually.

It’s warm in the room, enough that she can feel the perspiration start to prickle at her lower back, and she can’t decipher whether or not it’s from the temperature of the room or the flush of her body.

YN digs her fingernails into her palms momentarily, to ground herself, to get a hold of herself.

She’s not in some fucking fantasy novel.

Harry is a professional. 

He’s probably oblivious to the thoughts swirling in her head.

He’s married.

She told him that she is married.

The last thing he probably wants is a client sexualizing him in the middle of his job.

Before she can scold herself enough to feel guilt of her rather debach thoughts - the door opens and her heart squeezes with anticipation.

He cracks the door before stepping in, “Ready?”

“Yes,” YN swallows as she squeezes her eyes shut, the door clicks closed behind him.

YN had pulled the sheet up over her shoulders, every masseuse had different protocol, and as soons as he steps over - she realizes that she already hadn’t been great at following his very simple instructions.

She hears his measured footsteps approach before feeling his hands on the sheet—his fingers brushing against the warmth of her bare back as he carefully folds the fabric down.

 It settles just above the swell of her bum, exposing the curve of her lower back.

He stills for the briefest moment.

Then, a deep inhale.

It’s almost imperceptible. A barely-there intake of breath that might be nothing—or might be something.

YN convinces herself she’s imagining things.

He’s probably adjusting his stance. 

Or stretching his fingers.

 Or something entirely mundane that has nothing to do with the fact that he just discovered she’s completely bare beneath the sheet.

“I'm going to begin. Please, let me know if anything is sensitive or sore during. Is there anywhere you would like me to focus in particular?” Harry inquired, he sounds formal, professional as he should.

“My glutes and calves,” YN responds after a moment of thought.

The calves part was true - they were tight and sore from her legs days at the gym.

Her glutes, however, did not need any work but she couldn't get the imagine of his hands massaging her there out of her mind.

“Noted,” Harry replies with a gruff, clipped agreement like he was gritting his teeth at her answer.

The beginning of the massage is as normal as anything, his fingers press deep into the knots lining her shoulders, working out the tension that she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. 

The pressure is firm, methodical.

But the moment his palms cup around the nape of her neck, a shiver bolts through her spine.

She tries to squeeze her thighs together subtly, a feeble attempt at quelling the heat pulsing low in her belly. 

But it’s impossible, her legs already splayed relaxed on the table.

Harry notices the movement.

“Are you uncomfortable? Do you need to reposition?” Harry asks when he notices her fidgeting, concern in his voice that makes her feel even more guilt at her thoughts.

“No, I'm good,” YN’s reply isn't more than a strained squeak.

Harry doesn’t comment on it, but he does press his thumbs deeper into the base of her neck, a silent cue for her to relax.

“Try to relax then. You're tight,” Harry continues to move his fingers and all she can hear is that last sentence on repeat.

He's talking about back muscles, she has to remind herself.

You’re tight.

YN does finally listen, relaxing into the soft, heated cushion of the table, and purposefully clearing her mind.

“There you go, good girl,” Harry murmurs when he notices her shoulders start to loosen, neck letting her head hang more into the face cushion, and her thighs melting into the table too.

Good girl.

YN’s clear mind is now filled once again.

Her muscles should be turning to liquid under his touch, her mind blank with relaxation. 

But all she can focus on is the phantom sensation of his voice curling around those words.

By the time he finishes her back—nothing but completely professional work thus far, she’s half-certain that if she were to open her mouth, she’d be panting like an overheated dog.

“I’m going to start on your calves,” Harry informs her, shifting his stance beside her, “Then I’ll work my way up to your glutes. Since you requested them, I just want to confirm you’re comfortable with my hands there.”

YN knows he’s only being professional, ensuring her comfort.

If only he knew the absolute filth running through her head.

If only he knew just how much she wanted his hands there.

“Yes,” YN replies shallowly, she had been laying down for at least the last twenty minutes and she felt like she’d just ran a marathon, her throat parched and aching.

Harry’s tone sharpens, more assertive than she’s ever heard before. 

There’s a domineering edge to it that sends a shiver down her spine, “Yes, what? Yes, you are comfortable with that, or yes, you do want to change your mind?”

YN feels embarrassment flushing her at the miscommunication, it blends into the heat she already has seeping from her skin so there’s no difference.

“Yes, I am comfortable with your hands there,” YN manages to get out, she wonders if Harry thinks she’s an absolute basketcase or if he even has any awareness of the situation.

If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

 Instead, he resumes his work, his hands slick with the massage oil he had been using. The scent of sweet almond fills the space between them, subtle yet intoxicating.

 It’s her favorite scent—always has been.

 It reminds her of the raspberry almond cake she and her husband had shared on their wedding day, the same one they’d made a tradition of enjoying every anniversary since. 

Her train of thought was interrupted by an involuntary groan that she lets out when he presses on a tight spot right in the center of her calve.

The pain is sharp and sudden, and instinctively, she tries to yank her leg from his grip, but Harry’s grip is firm, steady.

 He doesn’t even struggle to keep her still. 

His hold is effortless, almost dismissive of her attempt to squirm away.

“You should stretch for longer than five minutes before you work out,” he chides, his tone laced with knowing disapproval,“Especially when you’re doing legs. You need to be warming up your hamstrings, groin, calves.”

He punctuates his point by pressing into the same tender spot again, and she lets out a similar sound—somewhere between a whimper and a gasp as the ache flares up once more.

“How do you know I’m not?” YN challenges, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. 

She hadn’t even realized Harry was paying attention to her.

 She hadn’t thought he noticed her at all, let alone enough to critique her habits.

Harry chuckles, the sound low and rough, curling at the edges with amusement, “That reaction, right there.”

YN is about to deflate because it wasn’t because of him noticing her until -

“I’ve seen you stretch. You sit on your mat and scroll on your phone for five minutes while barely trying to touch your toes,” Harry calls her out.

His assessment is shockingly accurate, and she doesn’t have much of a defense.

 Instead, she deflects.

“I’m plenty flexible without stretching,” YN quips, allowing a teasing edge to slip into her tone. 

The innuendo is obvious, intentional.

Harry doesn’t rise to it in the way she expects.

 He doesn’t laugh or smirk or falter.

 Instead, his response is delivered in the same flat, unimpressed drawl. 

“Are you?” His thumb digs into her calf again, pressing into another tight knot of tension, “You’re just as tight as you are flexible.”

Touché.

She doesn’t realize just how tightly she’s been clenching her thighs until Harry’s palms press flat against the backs of them. 

Firm but not forceful.

“Spread your legs for me.”

Fuck.

His voice is steady, authoritative, yet devoid of hesitation. 

There is no question in his command. 

She obeys without thinking, parting her legs easily, pliantly.

 But as soon as the sheet shifts—just slightly, the reality of her own arousal crashes over her in a suffocating wave. 

Embarrassment sinks its claws into her as she wonders—can he see?

 Can he tell? Is there enough of a telltale sheen on her inner thighs to give her away? 

A visible wet spot on the table?

“Why are you clenching—” Harry starts, but then he stops.

Silence.

A sharp inhale.

It’s as if something clicks into place, something he wasn’t expecting, and it cuts off his line of questioning entirely.

“Wha—” YN begins to ask, shifting slightly to glance behind her, but before she can move too far, a hand comes down to the base of her neck.

His palm cups it, firm yet controlled, pressing her back down into the face cradle. 

The pressure isn’t rough, but it’s purposeful.

 It’s the first real slip—something that isn’t professional, not even close.

The way he grips her isn’t the neutral, detached touch of a masseuse simply guiding their client. 

No. 

This is something else entirely.

“Don’t move.”

His voice is rougher now, deeper.

 There’s something strained in the way he speaks, his accent thickening as if he’s forcing himself to remain composed.

 It takes her an extra beat to process his words, to pick them apart through the weight of his tone.

“Jesus. S’ridiculous. Just trying to do my fucking job.”

The words aren’t meant for her, not really.

 He’s speaking to himself as much as he is to her.

And yet, they hit her like a slap.

Embarrassment rattles through her, her heart climbing up into her throat. 

He sounds frustrated. 

With her. 

The realization makes her shrink, makes her feel small—like a child being scolded.

“I’m s-sorry,” YN stammers, her mouth suddenly dry, her tongue thick and useless in her mouth. 

She doesn’t even know what she’s apologizing for—only that she feels like she should.

 Because whatever he saw, whatever he realized, it was enough to shift the entire dynamic between them in a matter of seconds.

To Harry’s credit, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t pull away. 

His hands remain on her, though now they focus on her glutes, kneading into the muscle with a more methodical, calculated touch.

Subconsciously, she starts to clench her thighs again, as if trying to ground herself. 

As if trying to remind herself that this is just a massage. 

That she isn’t some… deviant, reacting to something as simple as his hands on her.

She isn’t.

But then…

His hand moves.

It grips the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing just hard enough that the tips of his fingers press deep into the skin, surely turning it white beneath his grasp.

The gasp that rips from her chest is instant, shocked, sharp.

Because this isn’t just crossing a line.

This isn’t just towing the boundary of professionalism.

This is tearing right through it, shattering it to pieces, leaving nothing behind.

“Stop apologizing and stay still,” Harry orders, his voice rough with unspoken tension.

His fingers remain where they are, digging in just enough to make a point, to drive something unspoken between them.

“Do you understand me?”

YN swallowed hard, her heart was trying to escape her chest at the moment.

Yes.

Yes, she understands.

The massage resumes, thumbs pressing into knots, trading the ache for a different kind.

Should she end the appointment? 

Apologize and never show her face in the gym again?

YN does better, she does, she lasts at least another five minutes as she tries to stay as stock still as possible.

His touches are back to professional and she’s starting to question herself, start to question whether or not he had even squeezed her ass like that.

But then her thoughts start to spiral again, horny and desperate in a way they’ve never been.

It must have been a wiggle of her hips, maybe even a subtle attempt to see if she could find any friction against the table, but whatever it was—Harry had noticed. 

He had noticed, and she knew it the moment the air in the room seemed to shift, thickening with the weight of his attention.

“What the fuck did I just say?” Harry scolded with no more softness in his voice, that upbeat bubbly man that everyone around the gym knew and loved - nowhere to be found and it was as intimidating, thrilling as it was frightening.

The smack comes fast, hard, landing squarely on her left ass cheek with a force that makes her gasp before she even realizes what’s happened. 

The sharp sting spreads out in waves across her skin, the heat sinking into her already sore  muscles. 

She jerks, instinctively trying to sit up, but she doesn’t get far before his palm is at the base of her neck, pressing her face back into the cushioned cut-out of the massage table.

The stinging sensation lingers, blooming like fire just beneath the surface of her skin

 It’s different, though—not just the typical burn of an open-handed slap. 

It’s sharper, pinpointed.

And then she realizes—

His wedding band.

It had cut her. 

Only slightly, just enough for her to feel the tiny scrape, but still, the knowledge of how it had happened made her stomach clench.

 Her cunt shouldn’t pulse around nothing at that thought, but it does.

 It totally does.

“You’re ruining my sheets,” Harry observes, full of judgement and disapproval, like she was inconvenience more than anything.

YN stays quiet because he had told her to stop apologizing and is she pouting about because she just got smacked? 

Maybe.

Harry leans forward, his body heat radiating against her back. 

The soft cotton of his t-shirt brushes against her skin, and she can feel the cool chain of his necklace ghosting over her shoulder.

 When he speaks next, his voice is quieter, deliberate, “You have four options.”

Her breath catches.

“You can either stay still and get your normal massage. You can keep moving and have an ass that aches for the next week. You can end the massage right now and walk out the door. Or…”

YN waits for him but she realizes that he’s teasing it, edging it, her voice is barely above a whisper,  “Or what?” 

“Or you can tell me exactly what you want me to do to you and I’ll do it,” Harry hums as he stands back up, his hands gripping the back of her thighs, and pushing them apart from where they started to drift together once again.

She could tell him. 

She could put it into words, could give voice to the heat curling low in her belly, but the thought alone makes her want to squirm in embarrassment. 

She’s already acted desperate enough—she refuses to push herself further into that category.

The tension in her stomach, the feeling of his wedding band leaving a mark on her ass.

“I’ll stay still,” YN replies with as much of a steady voice that she can manage.

Harry laughs, deep and mean, amusement tinged with something almost cruel. 

It makes the humiliation simmer hotter beneath the surface of her skin.

“Do you soak Pedro’s table?” he asks conversationally, like he’s discussing nothing more than the weather, “Because he’s never mentioned it. And I think I’d remember something that pathetic.”

She knows exactly what he’s doing. 

He’s trying to break her, to make her react. 

His hand twitches against her skin, like it’s itching to leave more marks. But she refuses to give him the satisfaction. 

She clenches her jaw, grits her teeth, forces herself to keep still even as his hands press into her muscles with increasing pressure.

YN doesn’t bite, has to squeeze her eyes shut but she doesn’t, teeth gritting as the pressure of the massage increases.

Then, he revisits the small cut, pressing his thumb against it, rubbing over it in a way that makes her tense involuntarily.

“Does your husband not fuck you?” His voice is scalding, lips brushing her cheek as he speaks, “You’re squirming like you’ve never been touched before.”

The impulse to shoot an insult at him is hard to not take but she’s staying still out of spite.

Harry’s hands start to dip further in between her inner thighs, his fingers swipe against the damp skin of her thighs, and he then rubs it on her asscheek, “Can’t tell when the massage oil ends and your slick starts.”

Her thighs part slightly wider, a silent offering, even though she knows better than to expect mercy. 

She should have anticipated it—the punishment that follows.

The next smack is harder, sharper.

 It radiates through her lower half, a forceful enough hit that her nipples brush against the sheet below her. 

She swallows back a moan, biting her bottom lip until she nearly draws blood.

“You should be thanking me, do you know how many women wish they were in your position right now?”

Even though it was true, he didn’t have to be a cocky prick about it.

YN stays silent, she didn’t know how he still managed to get up the massage at this point.

“I said thank me.”

Another slap. 

Same spot. 

This time, the band on his finger catches her skin just right—or just wrong. 

She feels the sting of it cutting into her, nothing deep, just enough to make her gasp softly. 

Her breath shudders as she exhales.

YN gnaws on her bottom lip to prevent herself from speaking.

Harry’s patience snaps.

His hand knots in her hair, jerking her head up so that her cheek is exposed to him.

 His lips hover on her cheek, just near the corner of her mouth, but he doesn’t close the distance, “Speak the fuck up,” he growls, “or I’m stopping.”

She can’t believe she’s in this situation.

With a married man.

As a married woman.

But when she speaks, her voice is even, measured.,“I would like my massage to continue.”.

Harry exhales sharply, nostrils flaring.

 He unwinds his fingers from her hair, pushing her head back down onto the table.

“Fair enough.”

He does exactly as she asked.

He massages her like nothing happened, his hands working over her shoulders, the backs of her arms, expertly kneading out tension.

 It’s frustrating. 

Infuriating.

Because he has more energy for edging, doing things out of spite than her.

And fifteen minutes later—she’s the one struggling not to move again.

Harry actually starts to hum, an annoying tune from an old game show, completely out of place in the dimly lit room. 

It breaks into the soft rhythms playing from the speakers.

YN squirms.

Harry smacks her again, sharp and precise, the sound echoing through the space, echoing in the thick air between them.

 It stings.

Of course it fucking does.

 It leaves heat blooming across her skin, a reminder of his control. 

But he does not speak.

 Instead, he returns to the slow, methodical touches that are driving her mad—too firm to be teasing, but nowhere near what she needs.

She breaks.

She fucking breaks.

"Touch me, please," YN throws her pride out the fucking window, off a bridge, down into the deepest black hole where she doesn’t have to face it again. 

Desperation drips from her words, heavy and undeniable.

Harry exhales a long-suffering sigh, unbothered by her distress, "I am touching you," he bleats, his voice laced with indifference. 

His fingers trace aimless patterns along her skin, not nearly enough, "We have about ten minutes left of the hour. Where would you like me to focus the rest of the massage?"

“I need something, please,” YN asks with a pathetic plead starting to work her way into her tone.

Harry, ever unyielding, remains unaffected, "You came in with the complaint of calves and glutes. Are you still not—"

YN wants to cut the shit.

“Please, fuck me. Please,” YN feels like she’s on the line of sobbing for relief at this point, she doesn’t know if she’s even been this worked up, and the inability to see him somehow makes it worse, makes her feel more vulnerable, more desperater, “Please.”

“You could have had it fifteen minutes ago,” Harry chastises but his hands - they slide down her body, teasing the sensitive skin, but they don’t go directly to where she needs them the most.

“Harry, I -”

A smack.

Unraveling her like that wedding band on her sensitive skin.

Then his hands are gone entirely. 

The loss is immediate, unbearable. 

The air crackles with unspoken tension before she realizes—he’s just looking at her.

"Knees," he commands, his voice sharp enough to slice through the thick fog of her arousal.

“I-” YN begins to asks but he’s not patient any longer.

“I said get on your fucking knees,” Harry repeats, louder and thankfully, no one else is here.

Before she can fully process, he takes it upon himself to move her, gripping her hips and lifting them effortlessly. 

Her knees slide inward, bringing them closer to her chest, forcing her body into a position that leaves her fully exposed, fully at his mercy.

He winds his fingers into her hair again, fisting the strands tight enough to pull her out of the cradle of the cushion. 

Her cheek is smushed sideways against the table now, breaths coming in shallow, uneven pants.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry has no manners, taking what he wants by spreading her cheeks to get a better look at her.

There is no manners left in him. 

No pretense of control.

YN realizes belatedly that there are fat tears rolling down her cheeks, that Harry must now be able to see, and in a break from the thick tension in the room.

He does something oddly sweet, it reminds her of her husband actually, he presses his lips to her cheek.

His voice is soft, more so like she hears around the gym or when he greets her in reception, “Okay?”

“Okay,” YN nods in agreement, her voice cracks, and she can see him smile before slipping back into a scowl.

She appreciated him checking in, warming  her up in a different way.

“Never seen a needier thing in my life. God, your husband must not do shit for you. You're clenching around nothing—both holes,” Harry murmurs thoughtfully, his tone a perfect blend of mockery and amusement. 

His words are crude, biting, but they set her nerve endings on fire.

YN barely has time to react before she feels it—his spit landing on her tighter hole, warm and slick, quickly chased by the rough pad of his thumb spreading it around.

Her skin prickles, her breath catches, and then he continues, his voice dripping with sinful amusement.

“Everyone around this gym thinks you're this sweet, kind person. I hear them talk,” He pauses, tilting his head as if considering something. “What would they think if I told them about this? A bored housewife coming into a massage and begging to be fucked decently.”

It's a monologue, she knows he isn't expecting an answer.

“Spread out on this table, showing me everything with no shame.”

Two fingers—his index and middle, drag lazily through her folds, teasing, pressing at her entrance but never quite pushing in.

YN is trembling, trying not to move but everything aches.

“I would have subbed in much soone for Pedro if I knew I'd get such a sweet cunt out of it. I should have known you'd have the prettiest one I've ever seen,” Harry accentuates it with tucking his fingers into her, the slight stretch of his two thick digits were welcome with how ready she already was, “Those little bike shorts you wear hide absolutely nothing.”

YN pushes back, pulling him in even deeper, and luckily, he doesn't scold her.

But he makes her work for it.

“Ride ‘em. My hands are tired from the massage,” Harry curls them forward against her spongy front wall, hitting her spot head on like he had it memorized on a map.

YN was sweating, hair matted to her skin, and visibly droplets of west gathering around her temples as she started to push back on him.

She couldn't believe what she was doing right now.

“You hear that?” Harry asks, thrusting his fingers a few times to make the sound even more obscene, slick and lewd in the quiet room, “Should record that and make it the spa soundtrack. S’that sound like a good idea, baby?”

Her head drops forward, a loud moan tearing from her throat when his thumb presses into her tighter hole, sending pleasure ricocheting through her body. 

She’s never been this full before—never felt this close to unraveling without even having her clit touched.

Harry’s laugh cuts through the haze of her pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groans, watching her. “You like your ass played with too? This is my lucky day, huh? Is that how you’ll tip me? Let me choose?”

“Yes, yes—you can choose,” YN babbles, her voice high and desperate, her stomach tightening, her body coiling tighter and tighter. 

She’s grinding now, less controlled, more frantic, chasing something she’s not sure she could explain, “Please, I just need to come. I need it, please—”

But Harry pulls his fingers out.

The loss is devastating.

Tears sting at her eyes, spilling freely, mixing with sweat, with spit, with the sheer mess of her. 

Her hair is frizzy from where he’s pulled it, her cheeks damp, her mouth parted as she gasps through the absence of him.

Harry grips her hip harshly, not giving her choice as he helps flip her over until she's on her back.

And it's the first time in all of this that she's been able to really see him.

It was nice to see that he was affected too with huffing breaths, nostrils flaring, and sweat on his temple from the heat of the room.

And then he’s peeling his shirt off, tugging it over his head in a way that looks effortless.

His body is all sharp lines and defined muscle, the kind she sees every day in the gym but never gets to touch.

Her legs automatically close, a futile attempt to shield herself, to protect her most vulnerable spot.

 But Harry frowns at that, smacking her thigh sharply, silently telling her to open back up.

He tuts, shaking his head as he looks down at her, “Puppy, if you were this desperate for cock, you could have just asked me. You’re cute enough. I’d fuck you in front of everyone—bend you over a weight bench, let those little biker shorts trap your thigh and watch your squirms.”

YN can tell he’s about to put his mouth on her—but she can’t. 

She can’t take any more teasing.

Her hands shake as she reaches up, fingers pressing to the side of his neck, thumb pressing beneath his jaw. 

She’s sniffling, trying to speak through her sobs of frustration.

“I can’t—I need you to fuck me. Please, H, please.”

The hour of foreplay was more than enough.

Harry blinks, his gaze locking onto hers, searching. 

And then….

He moves up the table, his hand cradling her jaw as he kisses her, slow and deep, melting away her desperation for just a moment.

“You want me to fuck you?” he murmurs, the rasp was thick in his tone, “You’re ready?”

She nods frantically, clinging to him. “Yes. I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Harry kisses her quiet before pulling back just enough to push his shorts and briefs off. 

She doesn’t get a chance to look at him before he’s guiding himself to her core, pressing in, inch by thick inch, until their pubic bones meet.

He lets out this euphoric, beautiful low moan when he pushing in until their pubic bones meet, and he's big - really fucking big and she's so fucking full that it's insane.

Don’t need to wait,” she breathes, voice trembling with urgency, her fingers digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders. 

Her legs wind around his narrow hips instinctively, locking him in, heels pressing into the firm curve of his bum as if to keep him right where he belongs,“Please move.”

And Harry fucks like he weightlifts.

Hard. Determined. Precise.

Every powerful thrust sends electric pleasure sparking through her veins, his strokes deliberate and deep, like he’s got something to prove—like he won’t stop until he’s got her unraveling completely beneath him. 

His pace is relentless, the force of his movements pushing her up the table in tiny, helpless jolts before he’s tugging her back down onto his cock without missing a beat. 

The friction is dizzying, intoxicating, and YN feels herself slipping closer and closer to the edge with every merciless snap of his hips.

“I’m gonna—if you rub my-” she pants, but she doesn’t even need to finish.

Harry already knows.

With a low grunt, he shifts, his weight shifting back slightly as his hand snakes between them.

 His fingers find her clit with ease, with skill, and he presses down, rubbing tight, fast circles with a very specific intent in mind.

 His voice is rough and coaxing as he groans, “Yeah, fuck, yeah. C’mon, baby. I deserve it, don’t I? Soak me.”

And that’s all it takes.

A sharp, wrecked cry tears from her throat as her body gives in completely, pleasure overtaking her in a crashing, uncontrollable wave. 

YN’s limbs go boneless, loose like a marionette with its strings cut, as her orgasm seizes her, dragging her under with white-hot intensity. 

The overwhelming sensation floods her lower half, a gush of wetness spilling out between them, coating both of them in the aftermath. 

The slick, obscene sounds of him fucking her through it echo in the room, each thrust impossibly louder, wetter, filthier.

“Holy shit,” Harry growls, his voice thick with awe and arousal, “That’s the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

His breath hitches, his control slipping,“You just squirted on me—look at you, all swollen and puffy for me.”

His gaze is locked on where they’re connected, utterly mesmerized, before something shifts in his expression—something primal.

 He grips her hips tighter, holding her open as he starts pounding into her even harder, chasing his own release with ruthless determination.

The force of it knocks the breath from her lungs, and before she can even process the sheer intensity of it all, he’s surging forward, crushing his mouth against hers in a desperate, bruising kiss.

 It’s messy—more teeth and tongue than finesse—but it’s everything. 

A claiming, a surrender, a moment of pure, unfiltered need.

He pulses inside her with a deep, guttural groan, spilling into her with a final, shuddering thrust, his body going rigid before finally melting against her. 

He stays there, buried deep, chest rising and falling against hers as he slowly comes back down from his high.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is their mingled, heavy breathing. 

Then, Harry huffs out a breathless chuckle, forehead pressed to hers, body warm and weighty on top of her.

“Told you,” he murmurs smugly, voice thick with satisfaction, “Told you you wouldn’t be patient enough for foreplay.”

YN scoffs, though there’s no real heat behind it.

 Her fingers find their way into his damp curls, scratching lightly at his scalp as her lips twitch into a lazy smile. 

“The whole massage was foreplay,” she argues, pressing a kiss to his temple, “I think I did okay.” 

A playful smirk tugs at her mouth as she adds, “I don’t have the patience you do.”

“You never have,” Harry murmurs, his thumb brushing her slick hair off her forehead with a tenderness that makes her stomach flip. 

He presses a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth, voice laced with affection as he murmurs against her lips, “You’re an impatient little thing for orgasms.”

His tone is teasing, but the warmth in his gaze, the soft adoration in his touch - it’s so much love and fondness interwoven between them.

“Don’t like this one bit,” Harry grumped after a moment, pulling her hand up and giving a pointed gaze towards her bare ring finger, “Made me almost break character.”

YN giggles as she allows Harry to pull her up to sit, he slips off the table, “I didn’t want to get massage oil on it. It makes the diamond all foggy and I have to take it to the jeweler to get it cleaned then.”

“Hey,” Harry grips her chin, buttoning their lips together for a long moment, “Happy anniversary. I love you and I hope this met your expectations of the scene you were fantasizing about. I’m just glad your fantasies are with me.”

“I’m in love with you, have been for ages and never plan not to be. It was absolutely perfect but now I’m worried I’ll get greedy for more,” YN laughs as she spreads her loegs once again, letting Harry start to wipe her off with a warm towel he takes from the towel warmer that’s conveniently in the room.

“You’re always greedy,” Harry argues gently, blinking up at her, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk into this room again without getting a hard-on.”

YN shakes her head with another bout of laughter, “You’re going to be fucked. I have a lot of fantasys about fucking a gym owner.” “Mm,” Harry rumbles as he tosses the towel, his touches getting more full of intent once again, “Lucky you’re married to one, hm?”

+

whew. i hope you enjoyed!

now if you are confused about anything the synoposis - harry and yn are a married couple, they own a gym, and yn wants to roleplay masseuse/client for their anniversary. there is no cheating!

now i recommend going back and reading it and finding all the little hints that they were married couple the whole time.

i would super love to know your feedback on it

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾’𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

One thing about your future spouse that you’ll love is how they’ll smell. They might have a woody smell mixed with something sweet but spicy. I’ve noticed that sweet scents are such that they tend to be more of the base scent alongside the woody one. It is going to cause your person to smell scrumptious. I don’t even care if you’re enquiring about a man, they are going to have a certain sweetness in their scent. I do not get the sweetness being overpowering or even obvious but something that is more of a base and can be smelled but the woodiness and spiciness are more noticeable, and apparent. You might be a sucker for sweet scents with a certain richness to them, like you might like vanilla or cocoa butter scents for yourself for example! Some of you could like floral too but I’m getting something richer than that so I can only think of the ones mentioned above. Either way, you’re going to love smelling them. You’re going to feel so greedy and selfish, wanting all of them to yourself to see, smell and touch. You’re going to be physically obsessed with them. It could be that you’re naturally a physical person, doesn’t even have to be sexually or you will be that way after you meet them. However, I am getting you finding them very sexy and wanting to do it all the time but that could simply be for a select few of you who have a high sex drive. Your person is unfortunately making me all smiley, blushing, unable to put my smile down. You’re going to like them so much, you might find yourself naturally reacting in such ways when you see them, even just on the phone. Like, they won’t have to be physically present for you to be attracted to them and feel the chemistry with them. Girl stop! I’m getting you thrusting your hips forward on simply seeing a picture or video of them. Gosh, you’re so down bad and shameless. For many of you, sex might be very important or it might simply be the intimacy that comes with it but you’re going to want to be attracted to your partner even over the years, you’re not going to settle for the “it gets boring after a while” bullshit because you think that relationships and marriage are such that you see the other person handle life, you’re with each other in really intimate ways, you have the knowledge that you have someone to call your own, you have disagreements but hold each other’s best interests at heart, you learn so much from each other, you are two strangers who choose each other and love each other, make each other your family, your life partner despite not sharing the same blood and choose each other again, and again, and that in itself would create a deep intimacy, understanding and love for the other, causing you to only find them more and more attractive over time.

Physical attraction or sex is being emphasised here, even if the other person isn’t physically attractive, you want them to be attractive to you chemically, making your hormones and heart go haywire by simply just their presence causing you to be physically attracted to them. You care about attraction and you’re going to be insanely attracted to them. You’ll honestly find everyone about them attractive, like you’ll want to love them in really nasty and dirty ways, and in really soft and divine ways as well. I’m not sure if I’m expressing it well enough but I do not want to list the nasty things here, it isn’t even just about sex, you’re going to be attracted to them even when they fart or have a morning breath. Don’t even try to deny what I’m going to tell you next, you enjoy clashes, fights or jealousy in your relationships. You feel like it brings the spark back and makes you feel a pulse on the lips, the vertical ones or whatever you possess. With that being said, you’re a very passionate person and partner, and are going to hold sex or physicality to be important, precious, and possibly even sacred, that’s great but you’re going to get very worked up over others possibly being attracted to them. You’re going to find them irresistibly attractive and sexy so you’re going to be upset about how others find them to be such as well. However, you’re going to love bringing it up and receiving assurance from them. I don’t even think that it’s anything toxic, in fact, I’m finding them finding it very funny and annoying too if overdone but still sort of enjoying how much you want them. They’re going to wish that you’d believe them but the truth is, they’d be similar to you, being extremely attracted to you and hence, possessive over you causing them to have their own jealous moments. You might get upset about people looking at them or interacting with them but will prefer self regulating and not letting it get to you (it will have already gotten to you but at least you’ll be trying), you’ll likely find it more maddening to think about their past or if they act out in ways that you think are disrespectful (most of you will overthink a lot at some point but will usually prefer dealing with it by yourself, internally and will never get over it but will still move past it) but your person is going to be like “why were you talking to him smiling so much?” And you might not have any clue what they’re talking about 💀. Someone will eye you and they’ll want to gnaw their eyes out, you’ll be similar too in this regard. “Who are they to look at my wife like that?” You’re going to find this aspect of them to be so sexy as well. Knowing that you’re desired the way you desire. It doesn’t seem to be unhealthy honestly but again I’m a very intense, passionate, jealous and possessive in love too so I shouldn’t pass any judgements here.

‘Jealous’ by Nick Jonas is coming through here “I turn my cheer music up and I'm puffing my chest. I'm getting red in the face. You can call me obsessed. It's not your fault that they hover, I mean no disrespect, it’s my right to be hellish. I still get jealous ‘cause you're too sexy beautiful and everybody wants a taste that’s why, I still get jealous. You’re too sexy beautiful and everybody wants your sex that’s why, I still get jealous.” You both wouldn’t want other people looking at your partner in ways that only you’ll have each other, it seems territorial mostly. Also, if either of you have had a past, that’s going to be enough for you to want to put a gun over your own head and pull the trigger 💀. I’m unfortunately getting explicit messages coming through here. Your relationship could be a very physical and passionate one, the idea of anyone else getting your partner like that is going to just hurt. I personally don’t think it’s toxic because romantic love and sexual relations are the most intimate one can get with anyone so it only makes sense to be slightly upset about your partner sharing something so special with anyone else. I wonder if this jealousy will cause some problems at some point because I am trying to move past it but it comes through again and again but yeah, back to the explicit message that I got earlier. They’re going to ask you to be loud in bed, to speak up and make some noise. “Make some fucking noise, let them hear how good I’m making you feel” is what I heard. You’re going to find them normally cursing to be sexy too. You’re going to feel really safe with them and are going to feel protected. “I have someone who is here for me, someone who’ll stand up for and with me.” I wonder if you’re planning on wearing lingeries for your future partner or have started seeing, or gained interest in slip dresses, lingerie, etc. recently or always have. If so, this is just confirmation that this is your pile. Honestly, your partner could get you these dirty, sexy and pretty things to wear, and the way they’ll eye you will make you weak in the knees. For some of you, not only are they going to have that intense gaze while looking at you in your skimpy clothing but might even have either a full on grin or a smirk that will make you all embarrassed. In fact, they might even say some dirty words, praising or degrading you but you’ll just want to drip on their wood. This is not even my usual language, it’s your energy, don’t get mad at me! One or both of you might make adult jokes or talk in innuendos, it could simply be casual jokes or dirty talking but it’s going to cause you to feel throbbing down there either way xD. I hope that you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

You’re going to meet them after a break up or separation. The break up doesn’t have to be recent but it’s going to have put you in a spot where you became scared of love and had love or the desire for it make you feel worthless at some point. You might not actively be in a place where you are avoidant and think of love poorly but the effects of the past could both come up, and subside when you meet your person. You will have a desire for love but you’re also going to fear it and you’re going to have been scorned so you’ll be desiring a very particular kind of a love, and it could be rare to find such a pure and sacred love, you could have heard about how unrealistic it is from others or in small and big ways just realised that it’s not common, it’s not even something most people are aware of or think is possible? You could have seen people talk about hearing people getting cheated on, the first love theory of how people never get over the one that got away, all men or women are the same, etc. So you’ll hold romance to be sacred and also yourself to be such because you’ll have felt so dirty, worthless and used at some point, and will not want to feel that way ever again. You’re going to be trying to convince yourself that you should not have a negative view of love but that the kind of it that you desire might or might not exist, and might or might not find you, and that you need to learn how to accept that you might have to stay single forever and might never such intimacy with anyone. You might or might not actively think about love at the time you’ll meet them but you’ll definitely be trying to build more and more richness in yourself, and your life even without a romantic partner. You’re going to get very close to them, you’re going to develop deep intimacy with them, it’s going to be the kind of love where you’re so smitten that their dreams will be your own, where their happiness makes you happy and you’re just going to be theirs completely. I do not even care if you’re atheist, you are going to be grateful to the divine or just life for the love you’ll have, for the person you’ll have. It is like all your pain, complaints, negativity will be erased because of them. You’re a person who tries to practice love and goodness even without a romantic partner. You know how some people are trying to become rich, good looking or seem good in character only to attract the opposite sex or whoever they are interested in romantically. You’re not one of those people who expect romantic love for being a loving and good person, you in fact want to become this way more and more even if you never find a lover because then you’ll have at least led a good life. If you’re not this way yet, you’re going to have become that way by that time because people, love and romance will have disappointed you enough by then, and you will want to have a good quality of life even if it’s without it. The love you’re going to find in him is going to be exactly the kind you desire. For you, devotion is very important in romance and connections in general.

This is because you are a very devotional person, you find joy in giving your all into just one person who you feel passionate about. The world we live in doesn’t allow you to express your devotion enough because those you meet are not worthy of such devotion so meeting them is going to be so freeing, touching and just a safe haven. You’ll have experienced connections that will have hurt you a lot, you’ll be glad to have gotten out of such stupidity so meeting them knowing what you experienced last time but still choosing to love them and them not disappointing you is going to be enough to make you tearful. You’re going to hold them precious and will value them. You’re going to be so grateful for them like nothing will be able to pull you down because the love you will share with them is going to have you high at all times. “Nothing can bring me down” is the energy that I’m getting from you when you’re in love. When your eyes will meet theirs, you’ll feel like the fragrance of the heavens itself are spilling through. Your love is going to be such, the devotion of your souls to each other’s is going to be such that you’re just going to thank whatever or whoever sent you their way. “What did I do to deserve you?” Is how you’ll feel. When you meet them, you might not be closed off as per say but you might be more focused on other things and your own growth especially after whatever you will have experienced in your past connections, you’re not going to have it in you to deal with certain kinds of people, connections, let alone chase anyone or let anyone consume you. Your person is going to be very persistent with getting you. It’s going to be a “yes or yes?” situation for them. I feel like your person is going to be a bit playful in their approach. Initially, they will obviously not know everything that will have happened in your life and your inner workings but they’re going to have a crush on you, and will want to impress you, and you’ll make them feel all fluttery on the inside, they’ll be able to feel the butterflies in their tummy so they’re going to be smitten by you almost right away. I kept on getting something about the eyes with your reading and I finally understand it, they’re going to love your eyes, might make a comment about it (possibly multiple ones) and they’re always going to be looking at you, like they’ll make it so obvious, I’m not exaggerating here, anyone who looks at them and follows their gaze would know that they’re staring at you. I’m talking about before the both of you get together, because they’ll stare at you a lot, whenever you’ll look at them, your eyes are going to dwell within theirs for a while, further solidifying their attraction and connection to you. Incidents of the past will have affected you very deeply, you’ll have developed deep rooted beliefs that you’re not worthy or attractive enough to be desired, to be wanted right away, to be yearned for deeply, to be pined over. I’m not sure if this has already occurred but something or possibly even multiple situations either already have or will make you feel very worthless, mistreated and worthless. “Am I really that easy to forget and get over?” Is what I heard. I’m not sure what it is but there’s this thing of wanting to be enough for others.

It comes from a wounded place and perspective, an inferiority complex almost. In this lifetime, when you’re younger, you’re going to hold others to a very high regard, often believing that they’re better than you or that their opinions matter more. So you’re going to try different things in hopes of being liked, tolerated and enough but due to how scorned these connections will leave you, you’ll have developed a pretty good perspective of yourself and solid self esteem, you’ll have realised that you’ve always been enough, and valuable but your experiences will still have left scars, they’ll not even be visible to the naked eye for them to see but they’ll still be healing these scars, erasing them until they’re faded, as if they never existed by simply just desiring you. They’ll not even be aware of it, they’ll simply be staring at you because they’ll be attracted to you. Also, they’ll be attracted to you right away, it’s like when they’ll see you their heart will skip a beat, they’ll feel hot around you, it’s like you’ll have started within them, burning away their inhibitions and shame. They’re going to end up thinking about you a lot and just daydreaming, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had literal dreams about you because they’ll surely think of you before bed. Due to the wounds of the past, you do not consider such traumatising and hopeless situations, and feelings to be ‘love’. If you haven’t undergone such situations yet, all the best but again, you’re going to end up with your person so I hope that soothes your heart a little. You’ll consider only them to be ‘love’ because you’re a ‘one and only’ kind of a person. It’s not like you will be lying about it, your world will in fact start with them and end at them because they’ll breathe a new life into you. You’re not going to open yourself to them immediately but are going to express your love for them through your eyes, you will probably not make it as obvious as this person does, you will just look towards them, look at them just a second more than normal and then look away, not wanting to make it obvious. You’re eventually going to melt for their advances, gestures and words. They’ll make you feel so desired, so loved, almost like you’re worshipped. You’re going to find your body opening and melting into their arms, and body. Your sense of peace is going to be in them, in their breath. You’re going to greatly care about their health because you’re not going to know what you’d do without them. Well, you’d be self sufficient and lead a good life even without them but now that you’ve met them, it’s going to be depressing to imagine a life by yourself. You’re not going to be able to stay apart from each other, it simply won’t be possible. You’ll find them to be the most attractive and intoxicating so well, I do not even have to list individual qualities. This is the kind of love most people are not even able to imagine, let alone understand or receive but you’ll have it, you’ll experience it and you’re going to be grateful for it, wholeheartedly. I hope that you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

There are two groups here, one group is a bit depressive and melancholic, the other has the mindset that we have one life and we should have fun instead of letting the heaviness of it get to us. I wouldn’t be surprised if many of you have had phases of both or somehow manage to be both ways but moving onto what you’re going to find attractive about your future spouse, their authenticity is going to be something very admirable and striking to you. They’re going to bring out a very childlike and fun, yet sensitive and innocent side of you. When they’ll enter the room, even if you haven’t gotten to the point of relationship or dating yet, you’re going to know that it’s going to be much more fun than it would be without them. The energy that I’m getting here is an innocent crush but a lifelong one. You might not even have gotten that deep yet in the physical world and might have a more fun dynamic initially but it’s like they’ll be seeing right through the heart of you. You’re going to feel like family to each other almost right away. You’re going to find your walls crumbling down with the strength of what you’ll feel for them. You’re not going to be willing to change yourself for them and it’s going to be their authenticity that will have this effect on you. It would be very difficult to get the real you before you meet them because before you meet them, you’re going to be trying on different personas and ways of life, however on meeting them you’re going to want to be seen authentically and also simply just lead a life that is true to you, to live as the person that you truly are. You’re going to love feeling like they’re changing you as a person but it’s also going to be scary. You’re going to start wanting to share a life with them but will feel really insecure because they’ll be true to themself while you’re not so you’re going to feel like they’re not going to want you. I wouldn’t be surprised if your pile has a temporary separation but that’s not going to be the case for many of you. You’re going to be a manic pixie dream girl to them. They’re going to find you unpredictable and very hyper fun, someone who’s gestures are exaggerated but will also see your softer, more vulnerable sides and they’re going to be shy when it comes to you. They’ll have just as much of a crush on you as you will on them but you’ll give them many mixed signals due to your own insecurities and the way they’ll be making you feel, and in turn, they’ll have mixed feelings towards you and will act accordingly. I’m genuinely getting both parties not being able to handle this situation well but they’re going to touch you very deeply without even a solid relationship being formed. You’re going to see them as a larger than life person who’s going to be forever young and works hard, plays hard, someone who’s just living life well. In this world where everything is so digital and artificial, most people are lonely, depressed and miserable because no one seems to understand quality time anymore, no one seems to have a life or love that is full of activities, you’re going to find the way they’ve managed to have an actual life to be really attractive. You’re going to separate but even after you do, you’re going to hold a lot of love for them. You’re going to be unable to forget their voice or the way they made you feel. At some point, you’re not going to be all up in your feelings anymore but are still going to have them in the back of your mind or thoughts of them will just come up and you’ll realise that you haven’t forgotten their manner of speaking yet. During this separation, you’re going to be mad at them, wondering if they just didn’t return your feelings.

However, gestures don’t lie and you’re going to believe that they did feel at least a little something but you’re going to be deeply grateful towards them despite the resentments here and there. You’re going to find yourself speaking about them a lot after you meet them even after the separation. Eventually, there’s going to be this thought of “what if they never felt the same way?” So as your emotions aren’t as fresh anymore, you’ll stop talking about them as much until it is gone almost completely, you will still think about them and pretty actively but despite the knowledge that you grew a lot thanks to them, there’s also going to be this thought of how you were left behind by them. ‘Co2’ by Prateek Kuhad is the energy that I’m getting here. “Maybe it’s the way that you can see what I’m missing, what I can never be. I just wanna feel like I deserve you ‘cause you deserve me” and “I couldn't say ‘I need you’ on that night when you left and I lost all track of time. I just want you close so I can feel you. Can you feel me? And nothing says ‘I love you’ like the words that were never said, but could be heard. If only there was peace around us, baby. You would hear me and maybe it's the way that lovers do. I just want for me what I want for you. Only with the sun above us maybe you would see me and even if you leave, I may be fine ‘cause my heart, it has its own design.” You’re not going to know if you feel grateful for having met them and grown so much or if you are resentful due to the fact that they could stay away from you, that they could leave you, forget you, move on without you or if they just never felt anything and it was just all in your head. The last one is going to be something that your memory of their actions will prove false but the possibility of it is always going to be there so it’s going to be complicated honestly. For some of you, it could be something like they dated people during the separation and you’ll feel like it isn’t respectful to you, that you should not let them in but there’s also going to be the knowledge that you handled things very immaturely in the past. You’ll have yearned for them, cried over them, questioned their feelings and intentions, gotten over them, all of that so you’ll not be sure if it’s worth it to entertain them but you’ll inevitably melt at some point when you run into each other and reconnect. You’ll have missed them a lot and you’ll realise it when you see them, you’ll be really happy to see them after so long but you’ll also know that you’re unsure about what ever is the reality of the connection. For those of you who watch bollywood movies or are indian, you’ll have gotten over your ‘Geet in Shimla’ phase by yourself so you’ll know that you can live without them and happily but you’ll still have missed them, and will have unresolved soft as well as hard feelings towards them. You’ll still not be willing to initiate anything towards them because you’ll feel bitter about how they moved on without you and would have probably never reached out to you if you didn’t run into each other. In fact, despite melting on the inside, you’re going to re-solidify yourself and be sort of reserved from them at least emotionally, you’ll be reminding yourself that you can’t enter the place that you worked so hard to get out of. They’re going to have missed you a lot as well so they’re going to prove their devotion towards you. They’re going to decide that they’re going to lose either way, in one way at least they’ll have tried, they’ll know that they majorly sacrificed by letting you go and were clueless about it back then due to the overwhelm, emotional deflection or/and immaturity but aren’t going to be willing to let that happen again.

When you reconnect, they’re going to find themself acting like a different version of them, one that they were with you, all the feelings that never truly left are going to come back to them and they’re going to realise that they’ve either already lost you or are going to if they don’t take action. You’re not going to be available for them because you’ll be scared of things going the same way again. You will have matured, changed and grown, you’ll have become more yourself than you’ve ever been, and they’ll have played a major part in helping you get there but ironically they’ll not have any of you, there will be no space for them in your life. You’ll still feel softly towards them but the fear is going to be there. You’re going to be so familiar to them but will have no time for them. You might try to avoid them by saying “I’m busy” or “I was at work”, etc. It’s going to be very hard for you because you’ll have a massive crush on them but you’ll still be pushing yourself to do it, to have some self respect and act like it. They’re going to find you and your connection to be precious, they’re going to be hopeful despite the distance and separation that you’ll have undergone. They’ll try to make plans and will try to pursue you. They’ll feel like home to you but with that there will come a feeling of vulnerability, a fear of getting hit where it hurts most. They’re going to treat you like family. Despite being someone who’s authentic to themself and having an active life because they’re the type to make the most out of their life, be productive and keep themself busy, they’re going to not have lost their soft spot for you but you not wanting to get played will still try to avoid them for a while. They’ll be persistent and the fact that they built a home with you despite being charismatic enough to have anyone they want and always being on the go will be something that you’ll love about them. They’re really going to have to win you over because you’re not going to let yourself melt right away. They’re going to support you through a lot and will be a friend, and confidant above just a romantic partner. You’re going to find their unabashed way of being themself, expressing themself and going after what they want to be attractive. You’re also going to find the way they make you feel and change you as a person to be attractive because while you may be mad at them for leaving you behind, you truly needed the space to grow by yourself at that time. You’re going to find their persistence after you reconnect and the way they treated you like family right from the start and the way they could just see right through you to be very attractive. I’m pretty sure even throughout the marriage, you’re going to find many new appealing qualities that they possess but it’s this that the spirit wanted to get to you today. Well, to put it quite plainly, you’re going to find all of them to be very attractive but the intense and dramatic ‘the notebook’ coded storyline is going to add more of a theatrical feature to the mix xD. You’re going to have the biggest crush on them even throughout the marriage, you’ll feel your heart flutter in your chest at the mere sight of them despite knowing that they have a receded hairline and wrinkles on their face. You’re going to be like “OH MY GOD, HE HEARD ME! OH MY GOD, HE KNOWS MY NAME!” As if you’re not literally married to them. I hope that you enjoyed it. While they’re pursuing you, they’re going to show you through their words and actions that their love for you is unwavering. Like, they’ll not be able to imagine anyone except you as their spouse and they’ll show it. You’d not settle for anything lesser than this anyway. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

[yukioos]

we neeeeeed a part 2 of like a tattoo where they argue about him joining the game and her managing to convince him to join too

GENESIS

SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // once in-ho tells you that he’s going to be participating in the games, the two of you have an argument due to your reluctance. after resolving it, you come up with a compromise, if he joins the games, so do you. so he accepts, the two of you join the game and vote whether or not all the players will stay in the games for another round.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! this is pt2 to like a tattoo. hope u guys like it! i’m probably gonna make a part 3 btw. this has 2.5k words here are the links to part 1 part 3

WARNINGS: not proofread, sexual innuendo, cussing, reader n in-ho get into an argument

“what do you mean you’re participating in the games?” your chest and throat tightened, having to choke out your words. heart beating quicker than ever, you sat up and pulled your legs away from in-ho, pulling them closer to you.

“i’d like to take part in the games this time around. the old frontman who made the games, oh il-nam, claimed it was more interesting to be in the games rather than watching from afar.” he reached out for your arm, craving your attention, but you quickly pulled away with a harsh expression on your face. he felt a pang in his chest, but tried his best to ignore it, as he wanted to persuade you to let him act as a player.

“i don’t fucking care what il-nam said, you’re not joining the games.” as your eyebrows furrowed, and deep lines formed between them. your surprise had quickly evolved into anger, eyes narrowing as you glared at your husband. with clenched fists, you kept your stare on him, attempting to intimidate him into backing down. you continued, “i won’t let you.”

you had never talked to him as sternly as you were now. and to be honest, it scared him. he knew you could act like this at times, after all, it was why he married you. you would stand up for what you thought was right, and wouldn’t submit no matter what. however, this was when it could make him frustrated. he knew you had the power to make him stay away from joining the games again, and you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

“where did this attitude come from?” he argued, biting his cheek and glaring into your now sharp eyes.

you quickly retorted, “oh, come on. do you seriously expect me to allow my husband to go into a place where he could fucking die? it’s clearly not safe out there, we just saw a quarter of the players get shot.” emotions spurred in your body, unable to show how you’re both angry and worried for him at the same time. he knew your heart was in the right place, but was frustrated with your reluctance to let him participate in the games for a couple of days.

he paused for a minute, clearing his mind to find the right words, when he heard a sniffle. he turned his head to your barely shaking body, your sleeves wiping your red eyes. you were crying. that’s when he realized you’d never cried before in your relationship, as he had always treated you fine, but he also realized, in that exact moment, that you cared for him more than any other being. it made him feel a sense of pride but also guilt, as he didn’t want to listen to you.

you averted your gaze and instead thought the ground was much more interesting than the eyes you would admire for hours on end. you then placed your cheek on your knee and glanced back to the man, spotting his eyes still on your frame. a moment of silence occupied the room, then you broke it by muttering, “if you’re in the game, then i want to be in it too.”

he would've never expected to hear those words come out of your mouth.

he took a moment to consider your shy words, not knowing if you only offered to be in the game so you could be closer, or because you felt bad. but the guards already knew your faces, and there were extra tracksuits you could wear. if anything went haywire, the guards could take the two of you out of the game momentarily.

he clenched his fists and made up his mind. he looked into your puffy eyes and smiled at the cute pout on your face, causing him to chuckle. after he took a sip of whiskey, he stated, “we can both be in the games, but we’d be joining in a few hours. we need to have backstories and act as if we are not affiliated with one another. another thing we would have to do is come up with fake names. we cannot risk players finding out our identities, do you understand?”

after the long rant, you nodded and scooted closer to him. your heart warmed that you’re plus be closer to him, but also felt warm and nervous. what if the guards forgot your face and shot you? what if they just didn’t care that you and the frontman were partners? i mean, they killed the players without a second thought, what makes you any different?

as if he read your mind, he stated, “you’re my wife, they won’t lay a finger on you.” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead, “i’ll make sure of it.”

you leaned in closer to his warm chest, hands rubbing the cloth, separating your touch from his torso. as you comfortingly ran your hands against his body, you kissed his cheek and apologized, “‘m sorry for yelling at you, honey. i was… scared, i guess.” you peppered his face in kisses, apologizing in every way you could before you had to basically go no-contact for a week.

he ran his hand down your back, loving the feeling of your lips praising him, how in love and sorry you were. of course, he wasn’t mad at you, but he felt pride in knowing no matter what, you would still love him.

suddenly, a filtered voice came through the intercom in the dark room. it stated, “sir, the players will be voting in twenty minutes.”

you turned your head toward him, adoring his features as he pressed a square button, “we’ll be down shortly. grab a tracksuit with the number three, please. keep the number one tracksuit, too. my wife will be participating in the games as well.”

a small noise of acknowledgment went through the intercom, and the two of you made your way to a dressing room. once you were done changing, the guards escorted you down colorful stairs, hearing soft chatter near the bottom. you paused in your tracks and bit your lip, causing your husband to stop right after you.

he held his hand up to the guard, causing him to stop walking. he stood in his position, and in-ho’s eyebrows turned upwards with curiousity. he gently grabbed your hand and asked, “i understand you may be nervous. if you are unsure whether or not you want to play the games, i will have a guard escort you back to the headquarters.”

you glanced nervously at the walls, feeling more and more nervous by every passing second. you reminded yourself you wouldn’t get hurt, as the guards knew what you looked like, so you were safe. if anything went haywire, you could talk to in-ho, and maybe somehow the guards could pull you out of the games.

you nodded, signaling that you were okay. he hesitated but sent you a heartwarming smile, squeezing your hand three times. the three of you continued to walk down the stairs until you saw a group of players at the bottom, waiting to be let into the sleeping room by the guards.

he whispered into your ear, “we must act like we have no affiliation with one another. if we end up having to be in a group together, act as if we are meeting each other for the first time.” as you walked down the steps, his words became more hushed.

you questioned, “what are we doing now?”

“we’ll be voting whether or not we want to stay in the game. there will be three hundred and sixty-five players in the game, two of them are us. i am guessing the votes will be almost even, so i need you to make sure they are as equal as possible when you vote. if the person before you makes the vote 182 o’s to 181 x’s, vote x.” he ranted, making sure you had every detail.

you grinned and nodded. the guard turned around and nodded to the two of you. as they walked away, you gently grabbed in-ho by the neck and pushed your lips together, knowing you’d miss them. you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a tight hug, never wanting to leave. it would be odd not to get a kiss on your forehead before going to bed each night.

you quickly pulled away once feet started shuffling toward the dark blue door. you walked through the crowd of dark green tracksuits, traveling to the back so people wouldn’t spot you easily. a square guard began to speak, but you weren’t listening that much. you had separated from your husband, but you already felt nervous.

words began to catch your attention, “if you wish to continue playing, press the blue button with the ‘o.’ if you wish to stop playing, press the red button with the ‘x.’ you will vote in order or player number, from highest to lowest. player 456.” a man began to walk up toward the podium, causing you to hold your breath. was this the man in-ho was talking about for months on end?

players began to mutter amongst themselves, but player 456 held his head up high, confidently strutting, as he knew what he was going to pick. suddenly, a woman shouted, “this is all useless, there’s no point. just as you didn’t get to choose when you entered this world, you don’t pick when you’re going to leave it. the time and place of each one of your deaths was decided the instant you were born. there’s no changing it now. no matter how hard you try to fight it, you’ll never be able to escape your fate.” the woman in dark eyeliner was quickly ignored by the walking player.

he smashed his hand on the red button and stared at the circle guard. a square guard informed, “once you’ve voted, attach the patch you’re given and stand in the area marked with the corresponding symbol.” he placed the red patch on the right side of his zip-up.

more people began to get called up, and you paid close attention to the score, which would depend on what you would vote for. as your husband informed, the score was even so far, and many people already stood on the side they were assigned to. once player 230 was called up, he ran and clicked a button, snatching his ‘o’ patch from the guard.

a man intervened and yelled, “hold on everyone, wait a minute! don’t do this to yourselves. just think for a second. can’t you see what’s going on? these aren’t regular games we’re playing. if we don’t stop this, they’ll kill us all. just focus on getting out of this place. and to do that, we need to win the vote. we can stop this here and now—“ you then realized it was player 456, seong gi-hun, who you were warned about.

an older man stepped out from his section and began to argue, causing other people to join in the argument. the x’s began to argue with the o’s, and the people who were undecided argued with anyone who didn’t agree with them. minutes passed and the players were quickly silenced once player 456 told the others that he had participated in the games at one point.

suddenly, all chatter was silent once a click was heard. a triangle guard had placed the tip of the gun against gi-hun’s back, who was holding another player by his shoulders. the square guard stayed, “starting now, we will not permit any action that interferes with the voting process. with that, we will now resume voting.” the guard continued to call up players, gaining many different votes from various players.

the players began to cheer once the vote was 181 to 181, making it an even vote. player 6 was called up, and depending on her vote, you would have to change yours. she voted ‘x’ and was quickly given a red patch, ashamedly walking away.

you felt a comforting hand on the small of your back, causing you to smile, knowing exactly who it was. you then remembered you had to act as if you didn’t know him, so you tried to look intimidating and stoic. number three was called up, your number, so you took your time to walk down the isle. as you pretended to hesitate, you glanced up at the pig of cash, causing you to tap the blue button. the players cheered and you were given a blue patch, you thanked the guard with a bow. the vote was even now, and you stood in front of the blue group, wanting to see your husband’s face again, even if he didn’t initiate eye contact.

the guard stated, “and finally, player one.”

another player tom the blue side yelled, “now everybody, say ‘o!’” once everyone turned their heads toward the back of the room. the x side began to arrange their arms into a cross, and the o side made an o with their arms.

his large back stood out to you, the one you had left so many scratches and scars on in the past years, having to wipe it up due to droplets of blood. you missed the warmth of his body already. his hand hesitated, and you heard the ‘o’ sound from the button, causing the blue side to erupt in happiness. you jumped up and down and pushed your fists in the air, pretending to celebrate with the other players.

his veiny hand lingered on the button for a couple of seconds too long, then he finally turned with a blue patch on his chest. as the other red players retreated back to their beds with tears and looks of defeat on their faces, player 456 stood in his place, staring at the ground.

the other players on your side began to walk back to their beds, separating each side based on what they voted for. you followed the others back to a bed, but saw an expression on your husband’s face.

he was slightly smiling, the type of smile only the people closest to him would know of. it was the one filled with malice, one filled with sadism and hate.

but in that moment, you realized your husband was much darker and twisted than you thought.

he relished the way seong gi-hun knew he wouldn’t leave the games any time soon, and how he would have to go through hell once again.