#underworld gangster

[silentpartners01]

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[vertigoartgore]

1996's Spider-Man Vol.1 #73 cover by artist John Romita Jr. and inker Scott Hanna.

[moviesiveseenandwanttoremember]

Josef von Sternberg’s “Underworld” August 20, 1927.

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Seele (Honkai: Star Rail). Listen, I used to write her and I miss her a bit, and also: there's Belobog people around. And also, well, she's much more interesting than people give her credit for. Also, prepare for some 'rewriting', because Belobog's pacing in specific ways kind of blew a little bit much.

[escapewritings]

[trendingthink]

Gangster khan Mubarak | जिससे Atiq Ahmed भी डरता था Hello friends, in this video I will tell you who is Khan Mubarak and how he became a gangster.

[babocka]

Tag drop: General. Some of these may be subject to change, but for now, pretty happy!

[skzdarlings]

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

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“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

[charlietheepicwriter7]

V Secret Identities

Dick Grayson V Gotham - Chapter 3

“So, what do you have so far on the Red Hood case?” Dick asked Bruce, trailing behind him on the way down to the Batcave. He felt better, looser, after their fight. Maybe they could fit in a spar before breakfast? 

“Not much.” Bruce’s voice sunk into Batman’s gravelly voice . It was a code-switching thing, he suspected; just being in the Batcave puts Bruce in Batman’s headspace. It happened to a lesser degree when he and Jason were Robin, but once Tim took on the cape, Bruce and Batman became as different as night and day. 

Batman continued, “He’s a ghost in Gotham’s underground. No one knows who he is, or where he goes. Three weeks ago, he started targeting the drug dealers in Crime Alley, forcing them to work for him or die.” He tapped a few keys on the Batcomputer and brought up Red Hood’s file. “Needless to say, he’s developing his own gang at a rapid pace.”

“Red Hood, huh?” Dick studied the only picture Tim had managed to nab of the man. He looked tall, with broad shoulders covered in body armor similar to Batman’s. All features were covered by a matte red helmet. “That’s one of Joker’s old aliases. Any connection?”

“Not one that’s readily apparent. He chose the name for a reason , but until we interrogate him, there’s nothing that indicates a connection.”

Dick flipped through the file, landing on a report detailing the execution of multiple mafia lieutenants. “Nothing he’s been doing really connects with the Joker. Except for the killing.” The heads sent to the police was clearly a warning. Joker didn’t do warnings, not unless he was taunting them. “You said he’s building his own gang, right? Do you think he intends to take over Crime Alley ?”

“He’s certainly looking to put Black Mask out of business.” Batman switched to a video, an alley camera showing Red Hood beating several gangsters to death. “He's taking down the competition to establish his own control over the city's crime. His methods are brutal and lethal. He’s not just stopping criminals; he’s executing them. At the same time, he’s establishing rules in his own territory.”

“Rules?” Each gang had their own rules on how to operate, but in the end, their codes all sounded the same to Dick. 

“No selling drugs to kids. There’s more to it than that, but Hood’s morals are being enforced through violence and fear.”

“So, once Hood’s arrested, everything going to get worse because of a power vacuum. Great. At least this is a concrete difference between Hood and the Joker.” Dick didn’t know what he’d do if Red Hood was a Joker copycat. The name kept bugging Dick. Criminals liked to make names for themselves. It's a way to instill fear, to create an identity that stands out in the criminal underworld. But the Red Hood… it was one of Joker’s lesser known aliases. So why would someone else take up that mantle? Is it a way to mock the Joker, to reclaim the name from one of Gotham's most infamous villains? Or is it something more personal?

Dick asked again, “And we don’t know the connection between them?” 

Batman shook his head. “It could be a symbolic gesture, a way to reclaim the mantle from the Joker, or a means to instill fear. Or it might be something more personal that we’re not seeing yet.” He scowled. 

Turning back to the Batcomputer, Dick restarted the video. It was one of the few they had of the Red Hood. “What does Tim think?”

“Tim’s not on the case.” Dick immediately shot Bruce a glare. “Red Hood is a volatile unknown who has shown remarkable aggression towards Batman. As skilled as Robin is, I’ve asked him to step away from this case.”

“And he listened?”

A sigh. “No. I gave him a few unsolved murders to keep him entertained while we deal with this.”

Dick snorted. “Well, that’s not going to work for long. What’s the plan for when he solves them?”

“Sending him off to Titans Tower. But that’s only if we don’t catch Red Hood ourselves.”

The Teen Titans were good for Tim, especially after the disaster that ended Young Justice. Hopefully Tim wouldn't feel thrown away; maybe Dick should call him more regularly? His little brother needed him, he’d just lost his father , but Dick didn't want to make him feel smothered, Tim had complained about that in past- "There." Dick rewound the video a few frames, then let it play in slow motion. Red Hood redirected a punch to the face, smoothly twisted the arm around, and then threw his attacker over his shoulder, dislocating the man's shoulder in the process. "That's a League of Shadows move." A little further along and- "And that's a move that Lady Shiva created herself."

"His fighting style indicates he's had a wide variety of teachers, perhaps even more than me," Batman said as the Red Hood on screen pulled off a move Dick had only seen Talia Al Ghul perform before.

"Have you asked Talia about him?"

"...She hasn't been picking up my calls."

Joy. "He could be ex-League. That would explain all his weapons and tech. That helmet, it's not just for show. It's advanced, probably customized. Has anyone taken credit for designing his gear?"

"Oracle's keeping an eye on the dark web, but nothing so far. If he is League, nothing's going to show up, but-"

The clack of shoes on stone interrupted them. Alfred had descended the stairs from the manor and was staring at them both, unamused. "Pardon me for the interruption, gentlemen, but breakfast is served."

Dick immediately obeyed the unspoken demand and locked the Batcomputer. "Thanks, Alfie." He smiled, placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "But you really didn't have to come down here to get us. The intercom would have worked."

Alfred raised one thin eyebrow. "Unfortunately, that hasn't been the case since you lived here, Master Dick. Both Master Bruce and Master Tim have developed an unfortunate habit of ignoring the intercom in favor of work."

Bruce didn't even have the decency to look regretful.

With their accent into the manor, Dick spoke, "No talking about our night life around Danny, okay?"

Their eyes widened. "He doesn't know?" Bruce asked.

"He's only met Nightwing once, and he's a heavy sleeper. He hasn't found out yet and I want to keep it that way."

Alfred pursed his lips. "He'll be upset when he finds out."

"I'd rather he be upset than him putting on a costume and jumping out the window after me."

"You're worried he'll want to help you?"

Dick glared at Bruce's amused smile. “Yeah, yeah, I see the irony. The best revenge is raising a child just like you , I get it. But I’m already having enough difficulty keeping him away from my police cases, he’d only get worse if he knew I was a vigilante too.”

They got to the dining room before Tim and Danny, giving Dick just enough time to pull a booster seat out of storage. “When did we last use this?” The booster seat matched the dark wood of the family dining room table and chairs, with a cushion to match. 

Bruce looked between the booster and Dick. “Probably when you were eight.”

“I never needed to use a booster seat!” Dick immediately defended, trailing off as Tim and Danny entered the room, Danny holding Tim’s hand. Dick glared; this conversation was not over. 

The table was already set: Bruce at the head of the table, with two seats on the right, and one seat on the left. As Dick was about to ask Danny to sit beside him, Danny dragged Tim over to one of the seats on the right, grabbed his booster seat without a word, and claimed the chair next to Tim. “Danny? What are you doing?”

Danny scowled at Tim. “If I don’t make him eat, Tim’s not gonna eat. So, Tim’s gonna sit here until everyone else is done, and if he doesn’t eat, he can’t have ice cream with us today.”

“We’re taking Timmy to get ice cream with us?” Dick asked as he took his seat across from them.

Tim shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Yes, we are! And you better not have forgotten, you promised!”

“Okay, okay.” Dick laughed. At least Danny and Tim were getting along better than he and J–

Breakfast began with an awkward silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils. Bruce finally broke the ice. "So, Dick, how's work been at the precinct?"

Dick was about to respond when Danny, his eyes lighting up, jumped in. "We just solved a couple of murder cases! They were really tricky, but we figured them out."

Bruce's interest was piqued. "Oh? And how exactly were you involved in these cases, Danny?"

Danny shrugged nonchalantly. "I just helped out a bit. I'm good at noticing things."

With some prompting from Bruce, Danny launched into an enthusiastic explanation, detailing how he and Dick pieced together the clues. Dick sat back and let Danny talk. Danny’s medium abilities weren’t something he’d planned to talk about with his family despite Danny being open about their existence. It didn’t bother Dick that Danny was a meta, but it was like Danny had no hesitation in telling everyone. Kids got trafficked all the time in Bludhaven, especially meta kids like Danny. And Danny was running around telling people about his powers, conning them into paying him to speak to dead family or friends.

Dick was half-expecting to turn on the TV in the evening to learn that one of Danny’s past marks had blabbed and then everyone would know that Richard Grayson’s foster son was a meta. 

“-Honestly, the Hollydale Gang Murders is why I think those cases you were looking at are actually the work of a serial killer,” Danny was telling Tim, to Dick’s alarm. “The murder weapon keeps changing and the victims are unconnected, but there are too many similarities! They were all ambushed, all identifying features were damaged, all dumped in dumpsters–”

“Yeah, but all those things happen a lot with Gotham murders. You have to look for connections beyond that–”

Bruce held up a hand. “Wait, hold on. Tim, you told Danny about those murder cases?”

Tim shrunk in his chair. It seemed to dawn on him for the first time that Dick hadn’t told Danny about the vigilantism. “Yes? Was I not supposed to?”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Yes. No.” Another sigh. “What’s done is done. Danny, do you mind keeping this to yourself? Those murder cases you and Tim have been working on... I was the one who arranged for Tim to get them. I had to pull a lot of strings to make it happen.”

“Why?”

Bruce sighed. "Tim has a very particular set of skills and interests. Solving these cases is more than just a hobby for him—it's a way for him to channel his energy and make a difference. But it's also something that needs to be kept quiet. Not everyone would understand or approve."

Danny's eyes widened in realization. "So, you’re saying Tim wouldn’t be getting these cases without you?"

"Exactly. And I need you to stay quiet about it. If word got out, it could cause a lot of trouble, not just for Tim but for everyone involved."

Danny thought for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in his eye. "I see. So, this is pretty important to you, huh?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow, sensing where this was going. "Yes, it is."

"Well," Danny said slowly, "keeping secrets can be tough. Might need a little incentive to make sure I don’t accidentally let something slip."

Bruce folded his arms. "What do you have in mind?"

"A hundred dollars should do it," Danny said, trying to keep a straight face but failing to hide a small grin.

“Danny…” Dick tried to scold, but Bruce patted his shoulder. 

Bruce stared at Danny for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "Alright, chum. You've got a deal." He pulled out his wallet and handed Danny a crisp hundred-dollar bill. "Just remember, this isn't a game. Keeping this quiet is important."

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know . I’m not going to spoil all my fun.” Everyone flinched, but Danny was too busy stuffing away his ill-gotten gains to notice. “Tim’s my first friend who shares one of my hobbies; I don’t want to lose him just because it’s kinda illegal.”

Tim looked touched. “Thanks, Danny. I don’t want to lose you too.”

They finished breakfast with Dick smiling at Danny and Tim–he was so happy they were getting along that his chest ached. As Danny left to use the bathroom, Dick pulled Tim aside. 

“I already know,” Tim said, clearly expecting a lecture. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d already told him about our identities. I’m sorry.”

Dick pulled his baby bird into a hug. “I’m not mad; I just wanted to check in with you.” He pulled away enough so he could look at Tim. The bags under his eyes had only gotten deeper since they last met, and his hair was greasy, like he’d skipped his last few showers. “How are you holding up?”

First Stephanie, then his father. Timmy was losing so much in such a short period of time. 

Tim didn't look him in the eye. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice hollow and distant.

“Timmy…”

“I’m fine , Dick.” Timmy pushed him away. He was shaking. “This is just… something I have to deal with. It doesn’t involve you.”

“It does involve me because I care about you!”

“Yeah, you cared so much that you adopted a kid without telling me.” Dick opened his mouth, but Tim wouldn’t let him speak. “Oh, sorry, you’re fostering a kid. My bad. There’s so much difference between the two.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tim closed his eyes. “I’m sorry too. I’m not… I shouldn’t be taking things out on you.” Dick reached out for another hug, only to be rebuffed. “I want to be alone right now.” Turning away, Tim disappeared down the hall, leaving Dick alone.

@starlightcat04 @maeashryver @widderwise @darkstarsapocalypse @sisma @luminanightfall @storm-fire98 @amyheart19 @collectingthegoods @redhoneysugarorange @lordfirecat2004 @screechingnoises @meira-3919 @dannyphannypack @satisfactionbroughtmeback @rowanaway-fromthisbs @i-always-say-yea @avelnfear @some-rotten-nest @ark12 @heirxofxtime @akikkobara @blep-23 @skulld3mort-1fan @markus209 @stargirl1331 @onlyhereforthechaos @inth3world @awkwardmaiden @fantasticbluebirdfan @currant-owo @alice-hazelwood @screamingtofillthevoid @crystalqueertea @gaelicholiday @gmkelz11 @mattybook1987-blog @bytheoldwillowtree @apointlessbox @chemical-pepis @ghostface3100 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @bathildaburp @boo-ghosties @bubblemixer @halfalix @lyra689 @dragon-dancer16 @lunadoll36 @mimilikey @hellomygay @frogs-are-pretty-awesom @overtherose @cyrwrites @your-emo-nightmare @lexdamo @roman4517 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @raginblastocyst @thegatorsgoose @fisticuffsatapplebees @olivethetreebitch @vixen-uchiha @ae-vixrose @joseph557 @kisatamao @gin2212 @thewondersoflebanon @d4ydr34min9 @malice-of-the-sunrise @tiblii @that-awkward-fae-nerd @aph-mable @dolfay @ghostreblogging @wackyattack @writer-extraordinaire @boo-ghosties @coruscateselene @emergentpanda-blog

[fallen6253]

About the soul-swap partners:

I love that neither of them decided to stick to their given roles.  In either universe, really.

You’ll get what I mean.

Cale, who was Kim Rok Soo, does not keep up the image of trash.  He calls himself trash, he is called trash.  He does not keep his reputation.  Not the alcoholism, and he doesn’t throw bottles at gangsters.  No, he takes care of the underworld and other nobles in his own way (ie, recruitment or utter destruction).  He does not have his old reputation in this world either.  He’s not known as this cold leader who doesn’t care when someone dies, he’s known as a brilliant young man who cares way too much.  He’s known as an idiot who would rather pass out from exhaustion a week later than leave things to fester for one minute.  

And then there’s Kim Rok Soo, who was Cale Henituse once upon an apocalypse.  (First the fuq of all, nobody knew jac squat about him in the first place, and being the son of his mother probably made him something of an automatic anomaly.  I assume just being a Thames makes you kinda weird.  But anyway!) He lived as trash, an alcoholic who threw too many bottles back and then at the wall.  Then he lived through 20 years of a losing war.  And he got tired.  Tired enough to listen to a voice in his head in his last moments, to switch worlds and bodies with some stranger.  And he chose the motto that reflects the sentiments of his soul swap partner to a T: let’s live peacefullly.

And he smiles now, as Kim Rok Soo.  He sits back in his office chair, with an easygoing attitude.  He’s not the trash that would only shout; he is sly, and he knows how to use his status to properly put punks in their place.  He’s the team leader who refuses to be mistreated by anyone.  He will not be used, he would rather do his work as he needs to.  He isn’t a lowlife with no responsibilities in the wake of a war he would be just about useless in; he has a niece he has to go home to.  He drinks casually, not too much.  And he smiles in a way that’s too bright for the cold Kim Rok Soo.  He’s too happy now to be called cold-blooded. It’s like there’s a fire in his eyes that had been lost ages ago. Something that was rekindled when he had someone to go home to.

Despite changing their own lives so much, they wound up being nearly the same as one another and that drives me a little insane.

And let's not forget the best part.  One famous line they have in common in every world:

“Should I flip everything over?”

Another thing: I think Cale's gonna start resembling Kim Rok Soo. As in, he'll start relaxing a bit as the work goes on, he'll learn to rest as he goes (as in actually rest) and delegate work properly. He won't brush past comments like he used to, he will look a person in the eye and go 'I can just leave this world and leave you to your fate' which I would love to see, honestly. I feel like their individual capacity to be petty increases with age, and that's probably one of my favorite things about these characters. So them finding new ways to piss off people who don't like them could just be made into its own series and I would sell my soul for it.

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Pink Moon in Scorpio ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

Hey, was your Full Pink Moon in Scorpio great on the 24th/25th of April? It took me a couple of days to realise there was an active shedding and releasing of A FUCKTON of black magick and karmic debris from the collective of people tuned into this PAC. That shedding and releasing was by Divine Mandate, so that’s good to know hahah

After the Full Moon, have you been feeling lighter now? Brighter in the mind? Clearer about your purpose, maybe? More motivated to take the next step? Kinda ironic because Scorpio is the darkest sign of all. But hey, seeds need to break in the dark for them to grow into plants, trees, fruits and flowers, right?

This Full Pink Moon in Scorpio is really associated with rebirth, plant magick and wishing for a victorious blooming of our desires. Scorpio is also a sign associated with the underworld, death and ancestors. Did you know people born with significant Scorpio influences in their birth chart were often born shortly after some death had occurred within the family/bloodline?

Since the Full Pink Moon has passed, have you been feeling the call of your ancestors? You’ve got a huge family of great and wise ancestors you’ve never even met in this incarnation watching over your spiritual development. Each of them loves you and honour all the spiritual work you’ve done in this incarnation. The ripples of your lightwork go beyond what you can comprehend at this moment.

Listen carefully with your pretty heart~ Your ancestors and Spirit Guides are currently very active in guiding you towards your most exciting chapter yet! Stomp forward confidently, babes~!

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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Pile 1 – Let’s Go Far Away! Far From All the Dra-mama-mama~

s h e d d i n g – Queen of Pentacles Rx

You are not taking anybody else’s karma as yours anymore. You’re done. Fucking done with spiritually taking care of everybody who isn’t even aware of their bullshit karmic load. And on top of that, you’ve been known that these fuckers ain’t ever gonna be grateful anyway. So, why should you bother? You learnt the hard way, didn’t you? Now you’ve truly become a spiritual boss bitch. You ain’t vibing with Love and Light anymore—not like that, at least. You understand now that the whole ‘love and light’ consciousness has been weaponised to neutralise the power of those who can defeat EVIL consciousness.

Now, you understand people are fully responsible for their own healing; for how they react to what’s happening around them and for their own choices. Even their points of view are theirs. You’re not participating in anybody else’s drama anymore. No amount of empathy will ever make you stupid again. That was your decision quite a long time ago and now that resolve has become SOLIDIFIED. Welcome back, spiritual gangster. You’re YOU again~ Now, we watch you quantum jump into your greatest abundance Reality yet!

t r a n s f o r m i n g – 9 of Pentacles Rx

I feel like you’ve been in isolation of sort for quite a while, right? Or at least, there’s a clear indication that you’ve not been in communication with too many people. Your ancestors gave you that push to be alone and to clear your aenergetic field from a lifetime’s worth of bullshit you’d absorbed from other people. During this time, you were shielded from further psychological attacks from your environment. But at the same time, you were also being given clear guidance about your next steps.

Your visions and daydreams are not random, so this Full Pink Moon is giving you more reasons to believe all of your gut feelings about your place in the world—about what you’re put on Earth to pursue and manifest. When you’re excited, make sure you share your good news with ONLY those you feel are vibrationally safe to share with. People you know won’t have any business being envious of your progress. Otherwise, keep moving on in silence, dear ghost~ You’re about to become reborn into real riches!

g l o w u p, BITCH – 6 of Wands Rx

The whole aenergy of this Pile is abundance and material riches. I’m being told, you’re building a massive Empire that’s based on real spirituality. An empire that will serve a great number of people and how that contributes to not only your material security but also to the prosperity of all involved with your projects/spiritual work in the future. With that said, your success is needed by the world! You’d better believe there’s no force on Earth strong enough to mess this up.

Your ancestors, in fact, have been setting you up for this success for literally aeons. Even from the aethers they’re still very much actively making this happen. It’s a family project, babe~ You’ve got important codes stored in your DNA—you bloodline is special. One way or another this will continue to get revealed to you through various means your ancestors can think of ;P Your physical beauty, physical prosperity, physical safety and everything is quantum jumping into a much higher octave of Reality.

You’ve set up the foundation well. You’ve sacrificed a lot with so little guidance. Congrats again, welcome Home to 5D Consciosuness~!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Hello? Ordering From Future Express~

s h e d d i n g – Page of Pentacles

You’ve been in the process of learning (or preparing) for a big change in your Life. This Full Pink Moon, if anything, is just indicating that you’re ready to mingle in the higher level of whatever you’re graduating from. Rather than becoming a student, you’re becoming an actual employee, worker, or expert at this thing you’ve been studying/preparing for. You have a lot of knowledge that’s ready to be shared by those who can benefit from your work. So, congrats~!

Of all the Piles, I sense your journey thus far has been pretty much lighthearted. It isn’t to say some traumatic things haven’t happened, but no matter your age, you’re such a wise optimist. You’re the type that can always say, ‘Oh well, I did learn and gain valuable lessons from it.’ You have an awareness of your surrounding and the events that visit your everyday Life, so you’re not often bothered to the degree some of the other Piles are XD

t r a n s f o r m i n g – Knight of Cups Rx

I sense that many of you reading this have been in the active process of manifesting a new kind of Reality. You’ve daydreamed and fantasised a lot—too much, sometimes LOL But I’m getting that your heart is literally constantly pulled in that direction because you’re literally that close to manifesting this Reality. Of course, when we say ‘close’, some of you may wonder how that’s even possible because you don’t feel like you’ve done a lot.

But I’m being told that your manifestation is heavily ‘water based’, meaning it is highly based on the emotions produced during your daydreaming~ As long as you maintain the feeling, the optimism, the feel-good vibes from those daydreams, you’re GUARANTEED to get every single thing you’ve envisioned for yourself. I betcha you have significant Water sign placements or planets in Water Houses in your natal chart :D

g l o w u p, BITCH – 5 of Cups

I know that recently you feel like you’ve lost something important. Although you’re positive and optimistic, it’s only natural that people can still dwell in the negative emotions caused by the shock of any kind of loss. You can take your time. But also know that this Full Pink Moon is promising you a way to rebuild or rediscover in another form what you’ve lost. What’s been lost or broken will be renewed and you will be a lot happier.

By this, the general message is that you have so much good fortune and success in the future. It’s almost like, your daydreams have been ordered from the future express and delivered to your doorstep as feel-good thought-forms. For now, they may be only thought-forms, but you’re being directed to the right place, so don’t lose sight of those visions, OK? For the most part, I think most of you already know this—you just needed some kind of a validation ^o^v

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Calm in the World, Lucky Girl~

s h e d d i n g – 7 of Swords

Ooohhh my lucky guuurl~ You’re the lucky Pile, but actually, you’ve worked really hard to increase your luck quotient in this world! Of all the Piles, you’ve transmuted a lot of karmic bullshit in your bloodline—things like toxic mindsets which were passed down by your elders. I think you’ve worked the hardest to transform yourself whilst carrying generational bullshit which you vowed would stop with you, because you wouldn’t want these mindsets or ways of living to be passed down to the next generations.

And in your case, I get that you’re not just thinking about your own bloodline; you’re also thinking about stopping these toxic ways of living and being for all people belonging to your generation and the next. You’re thinking global—you’re thinking cosmic. This Pile is definitely for those of you who identify as being a witch or a mystic or something similar in nature. You are now shedding ugliness. All the ugliness in the ways you were brought up.

t r a n s f o r m i n g – 9 of Cups

No matter when you come across this reading, within just a couple months your abundance level is going to visibly get better. This sense of abundance is going to be real—not just a mindset thing—it’s going to be physical. You’ve been working so hard for so long on the mental and spiritual level, and in many cases, you might’ve felt like your spiritual work hasn’t produced anything tangible at all. And this could’ve often dimmed your light and made you cry, because it felt like your struggles were never going to end.

You were going in circles, but babe, you were always spiralling up out of that hell that was created for you. I think you just didn’t realise that. The path was never straight; it was a spiral in which you were spiralling and meeting old wounds and healing them, but the whole time, you were spiralling UP! Okay? The exit is close. Dang, many of you tuning into this are already out! The real physical abundance is following along tightly. Look forward to this year’s Lion’s Gate, Wise Ones~! You’ll be surprised! <3

g l o w u p, BITCH – 10 of Wands

In the deck I’m using, 10 of Wands depicts an array of soldiers who’ve just finished warring. They’re back home now, exhausted, traumatised, needing a lot of care and ease after a long battle, and are probably still in a war mindset after being in it for quite some time, right? But the important thing is that they’re home; that the war is OVER. It is OVER. It’s peacetime now. You’ve just got to celebrate all you’ve done for your country (yourself) and relish in a good bowl of soup to soothe your aching heart.

Recuperation and relaxation are crucial for you right now. You need all the TLC you could give to yourself, so in that sense, if there’s somebody who could be of some assistance to you, don’t hesitate to ask for help so your Life can be a little easier. For the time being, you need to be taken care of. Sooner than later, you will be jumping into a different kind of an exciting bandwagon straight to your Destiny~ Then, you can help others~!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[bigbangclappin]

Baby Daddy Gangster 3

Summary: Ding Dong! Your baby daddy is back and wants in your life and your daughter’s. And with that smile you might as well shove the door wide open.

Paring: Nakamoto YutaXReader(1st Person POV!)

Warnings: Cursing! Baby Daddy themes, mentions of smut, toxic relationships, Mafia/Yakuza themes (It’s not glamorous in real life folks!) 

Word Count: 4.9K

A/N: it's finally here!! Part 3. I hope you all enjoy it! I may do a part 4 based on the response here to part 3!

Tag List: @nonbinarykais-world @angelictypo @stolasisyourparent @ch3rrych3s @marvelahsobx @crazyllamasurfer @sunooluver @ayowhatthefuck563  @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @miinghaosstuff @veryhao @johnbanana

Part 2

“Ms (L/N)?” A sweet but masculine voice called.

Mark was jogging toward me and I felt myself pale in worry, please God tell me my Yuki was alright and that she wasn’t hurt. 

“Yes?” I replied when he reached me on the sidewalk, “What is it? Is Yuki alright?”

“Geez,” He ran a hand through his hair seemingly embarrassed,  “yeah I should have led with that Yuki is just fine! I’m sorry I just had something to ask you if you had a moment?”

I couldn’t help but feel relieved at the thought that my daughter was okay. Lately I was a hop, skip and a jump away from the edge due to her father’s sudden need to be a thorn in my side. I feared he’d try to power play me and kidnap Yuki or something only Yuta would do. 

While it may sound irrational to the regular people passing me by on the street, the fellow mothers, wives, and girlfriends of the underworld know just how true that fear really was. 

Look the wrong way, say the wrong thing, your child could disappear in front of your very eyes. 

In the back of my mind I knew that Yuta wasn’t the same man his father was; thank god. It meant my child wouldn’t be a sadistic means to an end. Thank goodness he took after his Grandfather. 

While his Grandfather ruled with an iron fist where necessary, he knew how to be a real family man to his loved ones. He showered affection and wisdom over Yuta and luckily it took precedence over his father’s harsher borderline neglectful upbringing. 

In the darkest recesses of my mind I knew Yuta wouldn’t use Yuki as a tool to get back at me. It wasn’t who he was; his father though his father was still on the throne then we were in big trouble.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” Mark waved a hand in front of my face with a chuckle, “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh yeah I’m fine just a lot of papers to grade and please call me (Y/n)” I waved him off, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

The man’s brows furrowed and he chewed his bottom lip before speaking trepidatiously, “There was a man here last week during outside play that approached Yuki…don’t be alarmed she was okay. I got there as soon as I saw what was going on. I asked who he was and what he wanted with Yuki and he was super hostile. Like a territorial tiger or something, I thought he was going to knock me out just for picking Yuki up. He did show me a birth certificate claiming he’s Yuki’s father…” He ran his hand through his hair pausing for a breath, “Ms–I mean (Y/n) I know you said Yuki doesn’t have another parent and we will honor that but that man was Nakamoto Yuta, the Nakamoto Yuta the heir– no scratch that the leader of the largest Yakuza family in–”

I snapped before I had the chance to catch myself, “I know who he is!”

I mumbled a sorry as I ran my hands over my face in order to get it together, “That bastard haunts my every waking moment on this godforsaken earth, is what I meant to say. I guess for safety’s sake I should let you know that he is Yuki’s long-lost bio dad who has for some reason or another decided to pop up and become a pain in my ass. Yuki is not to be released to him without my consent. I have sole custody of her and he is not to be anywhere near her during school. He distracts her and is also a child himself.  I understand Yuta and his men can be intimidating, please tell me right away if he causes you any trouble I will take care of it. I know he will give you a hard time, just let him know I told you to tell him ‘Ear’ that’s all you need to say. It’s like tiger repellent.”

“Just the word ear?” Mark asked confused, “You don’t think he’ll threaten the other kids do you?”

“Yep if he has any sense to him he’ll remember what that means and not to push me or others in order to push me,” I shook my head for the other question, “Yuta wouldn’t hurt the other kids. He has some decency to him. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner it slipped my mind with everything going on, if it’s really too much trouble please let me know.”

“It’s no trouble at all I just wanted to be on the same page in case we needed a safety plan for Yuki and yourself.” 

I put a hand on Mark’s shoulder with a laugh, “A safety plan won’t keep Yuta away trust me if that were the case I would have deployed one by now. Just call me if he tries anything stupid.” 

“Will do (Y/n).”

As I walked to work that morning I had an inkling that the bastard was going to be poking his head around soon enough. He had been way too quiet the past week. He couldn’t go without trouble for more than twenty-four hours let alone seven days.

***

“So who can tell me the difference between a metaphor and a simile?” 

I smiled at all of the eager faces with their hands raised ready to answer my question, “Go ahead Binna–”

A knock interrupted my student and I noticed the school secretary disheveled looking as if she were clutching her pearls. “Ms (L/N)? Can you come with me for a moment? It's important.”

I eyed the lady up trying to figure out what it was that made her jog up to the second floor as if her ass was on fire when she couldn’t even be bothered to roll to the otherside of reception half the time. 

“Hana please read the first paragraph and then pick someone to read after you're done and be fair please. No auctioning off snacks for reading rights.” 

I was hardly able to ask what was going on when the secretary offered to watch my kids for me while I handled my ‘husband.’ 

“Handle who’s husband?” I asked confused, “Aren’t you in charge of building security?”

“Your husband is demanding to see you!” She shooed me away down the hallway.

First off how dare she make rude ass gestures like that toward me but second, I was never married and never will be. “I’m not married, you probably mixed me up with on of the other teachers I have to get back to class–”

The secretary grabbed my arm and whispered, “The Nakamoto Yuta is downstairs in the headmaster’s office waiting for you. The headmaster vacated his office for you to have a place to talk. I am not mistaken.”

I just gave a ‘tch’ and made my way toward the administrative office. This man didn’t know the meaning of conspicuous if it punched him in the face. Like I wanted to right now. Boundaries were a big thing when we were together because if I didn’t have any Yuta would’ve steam rolled me into a rice cake. Apparently in our time apart he forgot that work was a no interruption zone. He was part gangster and part Chihuahua. Cute ,loyal, with an adorable face on one hand and on the other a yappy, loud bark with territorial issues over their favorite person.  

As soon as I landed on the bottom floor I saw two of Yuta’s normal security posted outside of the office. When they saw me they bowed and I rolled my eyes at the memories of being called sister-in-law. I’m clearly regarded in the same manner as they held back a male coworker of mine just trying to walk out of the door before me. 

Although he was rude it was still embarrassing to have two large men make a scene over something so small. 

“Johnny,” I sighed at my husband’s right hand who sat just outside of the headmaster’s office in the ‘naughty’ chair, “Long time no see.” 

The man stood up with open arms and a cheeky grin and I couldn’t help myself, “Fine.”

He locked me in a giant bear hug and then tugged on my ponytail, “How’ve you been?”

“Not bad all things considered,” I pat him on the back with a grin, “How are things for you?”

“Things have been interesting.” He laughed and nodded over toward the closed office, “Go on lover boy is all twisted up in there.”

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe if I smack him it’ll right him out.”

“Good luck with that!” Johnny called leaving the small reception area entirely to stand outside with the other men, closing that door behind him too.

Here we go. Again.

I pushed the door open, “Nakamoto Yuta I am working this better be important.”

“Trust me it’s important baby,” He mumbled from his position on top of the desk. Dark hair, shaggy and unkempt, he had run his fingers through it and put some behind his ears. His all black suit covered all of his telling tattoos aside from the large neck piece peeking over his dress shirt collar. 

Worst one of them all might as well have been winking at me. I wish he’d get it covered up or lasered. I didn’t want to constantly see my initials on his left ring finger like we were still together, common-law or not. 

“It should be detrimental if you kicked my boss out of his office just because you felt like it.”

“You look beautiful,” Yuta gave me a smile and went for my hand. I dodged him just in time, “Still smell like peaches and cream too.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “What are you up to?”

“I can’t compliment my woman?” he asked with a little smirk that made my heart race.

“Does she know you are giving other women compliments?” I quipped, taking a whole step back, it felt like he was stalking me around the room like a jungle cat who hadn’t eaten in god knows how long. I’ve been his mouse before I know all of the signs it’s not happening again.

“As if there would ever be anyone else,” he rolled his eyes at me and nearly succeeded in backing me into the corner, if it weren’t for my swift footing. 

“Why are you here right now Yuta? Please, I have to get back to my class.”

“I went to visit Yuki at school today because I presumed you let Mark know that Yuki is in fact my daughter too. As in yours and mine. Did you know he had the balls to tell me that I couldn’t see my daughter?  He told me that he was instructed to tell me that I wasn’t allowed to see her, and that she wasn’t to leave the grounds without your permission–”

“Because she is learning–”

“Because you don’t want me to see her without you,” he snapped back. He ruffled his luscious hair before taking his seat back on the desk, arms crossed like a petulant child. “He said ear.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh and it all made sense now as to why this couldn’t wait, “You pulled me away from class because you were embarrassed?” 

“I was not embarrassed! I was appalled that you told him about it! A complete stranger!”

I covered my mouth to muffle my laughter, “Yuta I knew you would try to go behind my back because you can’t help yourself. If you had just stuck to the schedule I made for Yuki’s visits with you…”

“I would babe but sometimes our schedules don’t line up. Which is why I try to see her when I can.”

“Try another time when she isn’t at school.Without being sneaky about it too.”

“Who’s being sneaky?” he asked me with a roll of his eyes, “You knew I was trying to take her for lunch. I don’t have a regular nine to five job (Y/n) you know I don’t do the same shit everyday at the same time.”

“So your solution is to be selfish and disrupt her routine?” I asked annoyed, “Pull her out of class because Daddy has to go back to Osaka to oversee the factory? How is that fair to her?”

“Life isn’t always fair baby you and I both know that–”

“Yeah but that isn't an illusion I’m willing to destroy when she’s three Yuta! I mean come on–”

“So what?” He asked his arm flailing out in question his face heating with anger, “Fuck me then? I don’t get to see my little girl for two weeks because you want to keep her in a class where all she does is play with blocks?”

“You’re really starting to piss me off,” I managed to get out through gritted teeth, “These are the consequences of your own actions. I’m not going around in circles with you over your reasons again. Fact of the matter is I built this routine for her without you. Her world can’t suddenly revolve around your busy schedule, that’s what being a parent is all about. Yuki comes first, everything else is second. We sacrifice niceties and our time for her. I gave you options to work with if you want to see her. You can’t impose your will on our daughter.”

I could see his tongue poke the inside of his cheek out of anger and frustration, “It sounds like I can’t impose my will on you–”

“You’ve never been able to, a tradition I’m handing down to Yuki.”

“(Y/n) stop,” Yuta snapped slamming his open palms against the desk, “I’ve done everything right by you and by Yuki! I’m tired of this back and forth. She's my daughter too and if I want to take her out to lunch then I will!”

“No one said you couldn’t take her to lunch!” I snapped in return my blood boiling, “Just that you are going to respect her schedule. She’s the kid, it's not on her to follow your schedule! Kid’s her age need a routine that’s all it comes down to! I didn’t choose your line of work for you, and neither did she!”

“You can’t tell me that when you found out you were pregnant you didn’t factor in how I lived, how I had to make time for you, which I did, how sometimes our time was cut short, and in some way that would boil over in to how it would be when Yuki was born! You’ve always known how it is we’ve been together for ten years!”

I put a hand to my face in exasperation “Alright let me uno reverse you; You can’t tell me that when you left Yuki and I at the hospital that you expected me to know you were going to come back at some point in time and just become wonder dad. I didn’t even know you left one of the nurses told me you bolted!”

“Jesus, I expected you to use your context clues. I went to every appointment with you, every ultrasound.I helped pick out her name! How does that sound like I didn’t want to be in her life?”

“What?” I spat ready to yank at my hair, “Maybe because you said I’m not ready to be a father I’ll pay for you to have it taken care of?”

“Fuck!” He kicked the desk corner so hard it jumped back from the force. “I was scared of losing you! My enemies were closing in on the family and you were the prime target! They needed to believe that you meant nothing to me! Especially since you were pregnant! It’s the biggest target in my world! Kidnap and kill the leader’s woman. I couldn’t risk that happening to you or to our child! I panicked and I made a mistake! I want Yuki; I want you! I did what I thought I had to at the time to protect you both from harm. There isn't a day that goes by where I don’t think of our Yuki and you. She’s the apple of my eye but you’re my entire world (Y/n)--”

“Yuta–”

“No I already know what you’re going to say and I’ve held my tongue long enough,” he snapped rising up from the desk, “I love you! I always have and I always will–” 

“You, you, you! It’s always about you!” I screamed angrily, “Maybe if you had taken a goddamn moment to talk to me about whatever danger was encroaching, things could’ve been different! We may not even be here in this position if you thought about me and Yuki. Instead you kept us out; You’re angry at me for something you broke Yuta. How can I trust you to tell me the truth when it counts? I love you too, clearly I had your fucking kid but none of that matters if I can’t trust you to tell me anything. You lied to keep us safe sure, but you damaged the already fragile relationship we have instead of just talking to me.”

Yuta ran a large hand through his hair again but he wasn’t quick enough to hide his smirk, “You still love me? 

I stayed silent for a moment, chewing on my cheek, “Possibly.”

He chuckled deep, “Nuh uh baby, that’s not how that works.”

I cursed myself for my slip up as I glared at the man who will always be first and foremost a pain in my ass. “Ear Yuta.”

Red flushed his cheeks in embarrassment almost instantly, “Just because emotions haven’t always been your thing baby doesn’t mean you can try and deflect by kink shaming me.”

“I’m not embarrassed that you need your ears stimulated to cum.”

“What did she just say?” I heard Johnny ask from outside the office. The door popped open quickly, “Wait boss is that true?”

“Out Johnny,” Yuta pointed back at the exit at the same time I answered ‘Yes’.

“What the fuck (Y/N)?” he snapped at me, “If you value your life you will never repeat this to anyone…”

Johnny lifted both hands up in a defensive gesture, “Not my story to tell man.”

“Great, now get out and tell everyone they will lose their tongues if they talk!...and walk at least a few rooms down,” He ordered clearly out of sorts. 

Someone was most definitely embarrassed by his own needs. I tried to swallow my chuckle but I let it out anyway finding it too hard to contain. If looks could kill, yikes, this man’s icy stare would’ve caused me to drop dead right then and there. Maybe I went too far this time. 

Putting him in a position of shame in front of his men wasn’t the best idea. Other women in my shoes have been dealt with for less. Not that it justified his behavior. I just knew how things worked amongst the men in this organization and while Yuta had really pushed the envelope as far as progress for women goes, there were some things even he couldn’t let go.

Not with his men overhearing. He had to uphold his honor and reputation now. Unless he wanted to lose face in front of his subordinates, and in this world any sign of weakness will get you dethroned faster than a snap of your fingers.

The tapping of my ex’s fingers against the hard oak of the desk snapped me out of my thoughts and back to the present danger I was in. 

I thought for a moment that he may actually hurt me and that I royally fucked up. 

“You know how easy it is in my position to make things happen (Y/n) I could have marched right into that little nursery school and taken our daughter if I wanted to. I still could, nothing nor anyone could stop me, including you. We both know that, but you know why I haven’t done that?”

I could fathom a few guesses but with him leveraging his power over me, I thought it best to stay quiet and only shake my head in response. I didn’t want him to make good on his threat. He wasn’t wrong that he and Yuki could up and leave without a trace and no hope of me finding her. 

My pride hurt that I wasn’t able to bite back at his arrogance; I startled when he placed his large palm against my cheek. I attempted to squirm out from underneath him but the gentleness behind the touch turned to harsh control as he gripped my chin in his hand so I had no other choice but to look at him.

“I respect you.” He stated solemnly his hold tightened more, “I respect that you’re the mother of my child, unlike you who treats me as if I’m a fucking joke…”

I tapped him on the back of hand, “You’re hurting me Yuta.”

He let out a tch and backed off slightly, “I didn’t expect the warmest of welcomes baby, but I didn’t anticipate the depth of your animosity toward me, rather to the picture of me I had to paint.”

I searched through his dark eyes not exactly sure as to what I was actually looking for, what I did find was sincerity. “Your lie was convincing. The first few months after you left were terrible. I was running on Redbull and a prayer. Yuki wasn’t really fussy so there wasn’t much to distract me from thinking of you. It doesn’t help that she has your eyes and smile. Every Time she let out a little giggle I thought of you and my heart broke all over again. I learned to cope with the idea of being a single mom and doing it all on my own, it took me a while but I finally got there. Then you show up on my doorstep like you didn’t stomp all over my heart and everything was fine…so yeah it’s a little hard to believe otherwise.”

“Let me have the chance to show you how sorry I am for having to walk away from you when you needed me most.” 

He took my hand in his, he intertwined our fingers together and kissed my knuckles gently. His big eyes bore into mine and I had to admit he still knew how to get me to bend. I could never resist when he was being charming and sweet.

“It’s going to take a lot more than a handsome smile, Yuta.” I chided him but found myself unable to pull my hand away from his. 

It’s not that I didn’t want to give him a chance, I really wanted to throw caution to the wind and let the chips fall and land wherever they may but I had Yuki to be concerned for. He needed to prove he wanted to be in her life as her other parent. Which meant less focus on himself and more on our daughter’s needs.

“I don’t expect you to marry me tomorrow,” he said with such nonchalance, “Maybe in a year.”

I scoffed in disbelief, “Maybe never if you don’t start asking for my consent. I can’t believe you, I give you an inch and you took the whole god damn yard stick!”

“Baby you know I’m the only one for you…” he moved in like he was going to kiss me.

“How would I know that?” I pressed my palm to his invading lips, “I’ve only ever been with you.and like one and a half other men.”

 This man easily gives me whiplash one moment he’s being cute laying the overconfidence down thick, and the next his eyes are nearly black and I swear at the mention of other men he was hulking out due to his horrible possessive streak.

“What the hell does that even mean?” He growled, “Who are they?”

“I’m not stupid baby. I remember what happened when a poor unsuspecting sophomore tried to flirt with me,” I cringed at the awful bloody memory, “You nearly killed him.”

Yuta rolled his eyes, “Anyone who didn’t know you were my girl were either blind, gay, or didn’t care that we were together. That bastard was the latter. He got what he had coming to him just like you did when I fucked you in the guys showers afterward.”

I gasped in shock, “I’m at work Christ Yuta what if my boss heard you?”

He shrugged his shoulders with that irritating smirk of his, “Oops slip of the tongue.”

I ran a hand through my hair and put some much needed distance between him and I. “I’ve got to get back to class.”

Just as I pushed the handle down he grabbed my hand, “Oh no you don’t you have two very important names to disclose before I go on a fucking witch hunt. Was it that smug fucker Mark?”

“Nakamoto Yuta,” I sighed angrily while trying to twist my wrist from his grip, “How many times do I have to tell you that there is nothing going on between me and Mark?”

“As many times as it takes unless you willingly give up those two names…”

I swear to God if I could’ve slapped him I would have, I was past my breaking point. My blood was boiling hot, something only he managed to achieve. I’m entirely sure I’ve disclosed those two individuals to him before in the first place. I don’t know why he was being so dramatic.

“You weren’t the one who popped my cherry Yuta, you know that so there’s one…”

He nodded his head but then glared at me expectantly, “And the last one?”

“Seriously he was barely anything but second base–”

I heard his sharp intake of breath, “One base too many for my liking (Y/n), name now.”

“I don’t even remember his name. I was drunk at a party right after we broke up for the first time, I couldn’t even tell you what he looked like to be honest with you.”

“That’s classy babe, just hook up with anyone,” he snarled and aggressively ran his hands through his hair. 

“We weren’t together!” I scoffed, “It’s not like I slept with him, not to mention that this happened years ago! I haven’t been with anyone but you ever since. Including up to now. Your jealousy will be your downfall Yuta. ”

“Loving you is my downfall?” he asked with a sardonic brow raised.

I did not have the strength nor the patience left to have this fight with him again. I’ve tried one too many times to talk to him about this. I wasn’t going to beat my head against the wall again when I had a class of preteens waiting for me. 

“Are we done here?” I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest, “I really need to get back to my class.”

Yuta did that thing with his tongue and nodded his head, “We’re done for now. I’m taking our daughter for lunch and when I come back from Osaka you and I are going to dinner to finish this conversation.”

“Whatever,” I called over my shoulder. 

As I passed Johnny in the hallway I gave him another hug and apologized for putting him in the middle of another one of our notorious arguments. Poor guy probably felt like our third since he knew everything that happened in our relationship. He assured me that it was okay but I still felt awful.

As I walked back to my classroom I had this nagging feeling that Yuta may be a lot harder to put off then I initially thought. I was going to have to try harder and smarter if I wanted to get around Yuta’s constant watch.

I couldn’t have that threat of Yuki being taken from me hanging over my head. I had a lot of planning to do. With Yuta away for some time, I had the perfect opportunity to strike.

[vertigoartgore]

1990's Wolverine Vol.1 #31 cover by Marc Silvestri and Dan Green.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Spellbound

Tommy Shelby x Witch Reader

The reader is from the marauder's era of Harry Potter. After the war, the reader tries to leave the magic behind to start a new life in the muggle world. When she falls for her gangster boss the real chaos begins. The reader and Thomas adopt young Harry and this series follows Harry's journey alongside the Shelby Family.

Done by request so send your ideas in!

Part One - The reader leaves the magical world - not knowing what else to do she sees an advert for a bartender. Having worked at Three Broom Sticks she figured it couldn’t be that different. Falling for her boss and getting sucked into the complicated crime underworld of Birmingham was not a part of her plan

Part Two - The Shelby Family Grows - Harry's first night at Hogwarts

Part Three - The Second year of school hasn't even started yet and the Malfoys are causing trouble.

Part Four - Chamber Of Secrets - The aftermath of Harry's second year leaves him in the hospital wing, naturally the whole family needs to check on him.

Part Five - Coming soon - POA ending

[ozzgin]

Hey love your works! Especially your yakuza series!

Idk why but for some reason I imagine that y/n’s family is also somehow involved in the crime underworld and they’re totally unaware or some shit. They just seemingly have a talent for befriending and attracting crime families

It’s up to everyone’s interpretation, of course. It would certainly make an entertaining twist.

Like Reader flying back home and bringing Daitou with her, and him nearly choking when he sees one of the relatives because he recognizes them as one of Boss’ international partners.

“And this here is…wait, do you know each other?”

The relative throws him a menacing glare so the yakuza can only clear his throat and mumble:

“Oh no, not at all. You have a lovely family.”

Plus Reader being shocked and grateful that her family has no issue with the new boyfriend being a gangster whatsoever. She expected to fight them for it, or try to prove he’s a good person, but they immediately accepted it, no questions asked. She didn’t think they’d be this open-minded. (They’re already planning the potential benefits of an alliance)

[yumeka-sxf]

A chronological analysis on Twilight and Yor - Part 20

*This is part of an ongoing post series. If you missed the Introduction/Part 1, click here*

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After Yor meets Yuri on the train, she's reminded of the fact that he's "all grown up" and doesn't need her to take care of him anymore.

As I described in Part 8, earning enough money to support Yuri was the main reason Yor became an assassin. Since she didn't have the luxury to pursue anything worthwhile for herself, taking care of and being useful to others became her main focus in life. But since Loid and Anya don't benefit from her assassin work, and now Yuri doesn't either, she begins wondering why she needs to continue doing it. This question is reinforced a few times later: first, when they're on the train and she realizes how much she enjoys being with Loid and Anya as a family, without having to worry about work. And again, during her initial meeting with Olka.

When Olka tells her that she wants to get away from the dangerous life of a gangster to a peaceful, quiet life, Yor takes a moment to reflect on those words, as they were the same thoughts she had on the train earlier – thoughts of what it would be like to live a normal life with your family without all the fears and dangers that come along with being involved in the underworld.

Olka asks Yor why she's so worried about her family discovering her identity since they're just a cover-up family, which leads to a softly emphasized scene of Yor with a noticeably sad expression, as she reluctantly admits that, yes, they are a family just for show.

We know from previous episodes, like the cooking lesson and post-Fiona date, that Yor has since realized that being in the Forger family makes her happy, despite the fact that they're a "fake" family. However, she doesn't know if Loid and Anya feel the same way, especially Loid. For all she knows, he's letting her live with him as his wife more as a favor to her, and because it's convenient for their front at Eden, and not because he personally finds happiness in the arrangement. While he did tell her during their previous date that he wants her to continue playing the role of Anya's mother and his wife, Yor doesn't know whether he feels the same happiness being together as a family like she does.

Yor becomes even more motivated to help Olka when the latter mentions that she's left so much of her old life behind her now.

Perhaps her eagerness to help Olka comes from her sad resignation to the fact that she herself can't attain the kind of life Olka is heading towards, so at the very least, she wants to make sure Olka can attain it.

Meanwhile, we see just how much Twilight's spy work has "traumatized" him, to the point of being on total high alert on the ship even though Sylvia specifically ordered him to relax. Not only was he immediately suspicious of the lottery for the cruise ticket, but even after he's on the ship, his ever-calculating mind can't help but imagine the worst scenarios. He begins looking out for any signs of terrorism and dubious behavior, much to Anya's dismay.

However, thanks to her coaxing, he catches himself and makes a conscious effort to turn off the "spy mode" in his brain (as much as he can anyway).

Later, we see Yor being nervous when having dinner with the executives, obviously not comfortable in such a formal situation and still afraid that she'll be spotted by Loid and Anya. However, when given a task she knows best – assassination work – we get to see a side of Yor that has yet to be fully highlighted in the series…a side that's serious and confident, without her usual doubts and hesitations.

Her social awkwardness and uncertainties disappear as she takes on a total "in-charge" demeanor when guiding Olka and company back to the room. But Olka has spent enough time with the underworld crowd to see that, while Yor is very good at her work, it doesn't suit the sweet, gentle person that she really is. Even before the real danger starts, Olka tells her that she doesn't seem like the underworld type, and even suggests that she spend time with her family when the ship stops at the resort. Olka must have sensed from Yor's hesitation and sad expression in their previous conversation that she truly cares about them.

It's unfortunate that Yor doesn't have a permanent confidant like Olka – someone who not only knows her true identity as an assassin, but also senses that she has real feelings for what should be a "fake" family…and is supportive of that in her own subtle way. Twilight has Franky, and Sylvia somewhat, as people who know him as both a spy and as a (fake) family man. But even though they're not openly supportive of the fact that he's catching feelings for his family, they're still people he can not only confide in without having to hide his true identity, but they care about Anya's well being too. Yor doesn't have anyone like that. While Shopkeeper and McMahon know her true identity, her relationship with them seems to be strictly business. So, as brief as her time with Olka is, it was good for Yor to finally converse with someone who understands her inner feelings that she herself is having trouble realizing.

While Anya and Twilight are having dinner later, Anya mentions that it's been a while since they've eaten dinner without Yor, to which Twilight comments that it does seem lonely without her. He could have replied with any number of less melancholic responses ("It does feel weird" or "She must be very busy" to name a few). So the fact that his first thought was how lonely it felt does seem to indicate a momentary lapse in his spy facade, to which Anya rightfully calls him out and he immediately tries to deny it (with a slight but telling blush).

When they visit the gift shop, we see that Twilight is still having trouble learning how to find enjoyment on the trip, despite the fact that Sylvia made it an official mission. It's tragic to think that even when given orders to have a relaxing family vacation, he simply can't turn off the suspicions and anxiety in his mind. But his anxiousness about people potentially eavesdropping on him soon changes to concern about Anya's mental health. Similar to when he took her to work and had her play in the sandbox, he completely misinterprets her actions as displays of emotional trauma.

I love the interpretation from @sunfoxfic about this side of Twilight's character, to quote:

"His trauma really grounds every action he takes - everything he does is to protect others from experiencing the same trauma. Loid is a highly pragmatic and sympathetic man, and in that way, he's unwaveringly kind to everyone but himself."

Just like the sandbox incident, the scene with Anya at the gift shop is a prime example of Twilight's empathetic side that he keeps hidden from everyone else. Only we as the audience know how much he agonizes about the well-being of those who may have experienced similar trauma as he did. Since Anya's reactions make no sense to him, he can't help but conclude that she has her own share of deep-rooted trauma as well. And, as I've reiterated many times before, rather than express anger or blame her for anything, he puts responsibility on himself to do a better job at trying to understand her. And all of this relates back to what he told Desmond during their first encounter…that he won't stop trying to understand others.

While Yor is keeping watch that night, she has plenty of time to reflect on what happened the day before. As she sits there for hours in silence, we see that her expression has taken on the "robotic" look she had at the very beginning of the series "pre-family," back when her assassination work was all she focused on in her life. This is probably the longest amount of time she's had to continually concentrate on work since meeting Loid and Anya, so it makes sense that her eyes would start to harden like that.

However, when she realizes that she never tried to contact them, her eyes immediately light up as she imagines a scenario where she meets up with them on the ship.

She then starts to wonder why she was hesitating so much when fighting Barnaby. She thinks it could be because she was afraid, not of death or pain, but the fact that if she had gotten seriously injured, she may have had to leave the Forger family. This makes her think back to when Olka asked her why she was so concerned about them since they're just a cover-up family. As I've previously mentioned, Yor has come to realize that being with Loid and Anya makes her happy, but she's also resigned herself to the fact that that happiness can be taken away from her at any minute. So far the biggest threat to her place in the Forgers has been Fiona, but she was able to remedy that by talking with Loid. But this time the threat comes from something where talking isn't an option: an important job from Garden. This is why she tells herself that she needs to keep her priorities straight – as far as she's concerned, her personal happiness is secondary compared to the importance of the job at hand. As she continues to think about the people whose happiness she strives for – Yuri, Loid, and Anya – the same thought she had upon meeting Yuri on the train comes back to her…if none of the people she loves benefit from her assassin work, then why does she need to keep it up?

Continue to Part 21 ->

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