#push the rb button

[pa-stella]

i sometimes mistake you for toffee when i see you on my dash because of the pfp asdgshfbh

Oh my god @7000f1 😂😂😂 should I go back to my human Hitoya icons??

[squuote]

something that feels particularly notable is how much the game itself pushes the player to continue, whether or not that aligns with the narrator’s desires. That there is no real consequence by not playing an ending except for denying yourself of seeing the outcome of that choice. Which in itself is the very nature of continuing to push the wheel. Choices lead to actions that lead to player interaction. And even in scenarios like the zending, where the narrator desperately does not want us to move forward, the game provides a way for us to do so anyway. The way that the game will always provide a choice no matter the moral ramifications. But whether or not you choose to take that option will always be the choice you bear.

[oughtnots]

why does it feel so disrespectful when you're waiting to cross the street and someone comes up and pushes the button

like yes, i already pushed it, do you not believe me? did i not do it right? is it on my head that the light won't change? this is an unspoken act of war i think

[mx-xcitement]

i was inspired by my last rb.

[cheolhub]

TRY ME — CHOI SEUNGCHEOL ࿐

summary. you push your sweet boyfriend a little too far when you threaten to fuck his business partner at dinner. he decides to show both you and mingyu who you belong to.

wc. 4.3k

warnings. [PLEASE READ] established relationship. subby brat!reader, hard dom/brat tamer!cheol, car s2x. heavy degradation (use of bitch), sir kink, light choking, jealousy & possessiveness, dumb!fication, praise, heavy pet name use, unprotected s2x, edging, phone call w/ gyu during s2x, mentions of fucking mingyu several times (oops), male masturbation (mingyu is kind of a voyeur?), creamp!e — MINORS DNI 18+

note. mingyu is always at the scene of the crime, i fear. he kinda got fucked over in this tho, i apologize </3 i’ll make it up to him soon. ANYWAY @jeonghantis i love u, thank u for reading this over and being my biggest supporter 🩵

your feedback is sooo important to me, so comments and rbs are greatly appreciated <3333 mwah, enjoy :p

“did you have a good time acting like a needy little whore?” seungcheol grits, hands gripping the steering wheel of his car harshly. you can practically see the skin of his knuckles losing color thanks to the dim street lights shining through his car. 

you sigh, shrugging, “could’ve had more fun if you’d fucked me like i asked.” your words were nothing if not nonchalant. you kept a cool front, but he knew you were acting like this to purposefully push his buttons. 

“and you could’ve waited till we got home, but you’re incapable of being good, aren’t you?” you could tell he was getting angrier by the second. he wouldn’t look at you, the tips of his ears were burning red, and he was huffing out nearly every breath. “you just had to embarrass me in front of all of my colleagues?”

you laugh humorlessly, “i would barely consider that as embarrassing. besides, it’s not my fault you couldn’t handle it.”

he scoffs incredulously, finally turning his head to look at you. “handle what? your hand rubbing my dick at the dinner table or slobbering all over my business partner like some bitch in heat when i denied you?” his question makes you bite your lip because, of course, it’s rhetorical. he knows you well enough to recognize you were doing both for his undivided attention. 

you flash a smile at him and he shakes his head, averting his attention back to the road. admittedly, he loves it when you get like this, all bratty and overly confident– but, god, you could be such a piece of work. 

but you’re almost positive that you love his possessiveness more than he loves when you’re a brat. your usually-cute boyfriend can be so fucking sexy when he wants to be. 

“mingyu could’ve fucked me in the bathroom, cheollie, you didn’t need to make us all leave early ‘cus of that.” your lips turn down in a faux pout. “bet he would’ve had a blast and you would’ve gotten all your little clients to make deals with you– could’ve been a win for all of us, no?”

you speak with a substantial amount of confidence laced in your words that it has him throbbing in his slacks out of jealousy and anger and burning desire to make you eat your words. he’s just about had it, ready to pull over and fuck you on the roof of his car. “better shut that pretty little mouth of yours.” he spits. “i’m not fucking playing with you, baby.”

you giggle at the warning, stomach churning with excitement and ruined panties soaking further. “or what? gonna pull over? fuck me like you own me?” you tease, hands gripping the ends of your dress as you shift in the excruciating puddle you’re sitting in. 

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he holds back a groan, cock twitching because he knows he would. he’d honestly love to. he’d love to fuck you like you’re his little slut– make you cry and apologize for nearly ruining his night.

you shrug, “maybe… but i know you won’t though. maybe i should call gyu, i’m sure he’d fuck me anywhere i wanted. i mean, did you see him? he was so ready to just take me on the table in front of everyone when i asked him.” you feign sadness with a sigh and frown. “you’d never do that– you’re so cruel sometimes, cheollie.”

“mingyu couldn’t handle you.”

“so? it’s obvious you can’t either…” you lie because you know damn well it was you who couldn’t handle seungcheol. not the other way around. “you proved that at dinner.”

he scoffs. “is that so?” you’ve finally set him off. so much so that he’s deterring from his original route home. instead, you notice that he’s pulling into the next deserted lot he sees and parking his car. 

he turns off the engine, snapping his head to see you under the harsh lamp post lighting with your pupils blown out and your thighs squeezed together. “get in the back.” he demands, voice hard and stern. 

you realize you have him right where you want him, yet you tease anyway. he always fucks you the best when you’re on your absolute worst behavior.

when you don’t move, sitting there staring at him with a small smile on your face and thighs rubbing together slightly, his voice drops an octave. “pretty girl, you better do what i said and get in the back. told you i’m not fucking playing around anymore.” 

you shiver, pussy flooding at his voice. you undo your seatbelt but you don’t move any further than that. you’re having a hard time keeping the bratty facade when all your body wants is to submit to him, but you get your next words out somehow. “make me.” you grin, eyes dark with lust and desire.

his jaw ticks at your reply, evidently unhappy with your lack of manners. surely, he didn’t hear you correctly so he cocks his head and utters out, “excuse me?”

you lean in over the center console, hand on his thigh much like it was a couple hours prior at the dinner table. “i said, make me.”

and he did. make you, that is. everything after that was a blur that had your head spinning– you remember some things like how he wrapped his large hand around your throat and how he practically forced you into the backseat as you smiled cheekily at him. you remember how he pressed his lips to your ear while he had your face down and ass up, sweetly whispering ‘cherry’ against it to remind you of your safe word. you couldn’t forget how he ripped your favorite lace panties in half before pushing his fat cock into you.

now he’s fucking you stupid, slamming into you with brute force from behind with one hand holding your wrists against your back and the other on your head, pushing your hot face deeper into the more cool leather.

“this what you wanted? wanted me to be mean to you? wanted me to fuck you and treat you like some cheap whore?” he spits. “it is, isn’t it? pissing me off turns you on?”

you choke on a whine at his words and when you don’t give him a verbal response, he topples over you, drilling himself deeper into your tight cunt, hot breath fanning against your face. “i’m getting a bit tired of you not answering when i ask you a question, baby.” he growls and you swear your eyes roll back at his animalistic-like energy. 

“yes,” you get out, choked and breathy. 

he shakes his head, gritting, “yes what?”

“y-yes, sir… i wanted this.” you submit whimpering out your words as you’re on the brink of ecstasy. you even think you’re starting to drool on his seats, and cheol notices, of course, but he doesn’t have it in him to reprimand you. especially not when you look this fucked out all for him. 

he coos, lips brushing against the bare skin of your shoulder blade. “good girl,” he praises condescendingly. “so pretty when you’re being good f’me.”

cheol has learned, after months of being with you, that his cock always puts you back in your place. it always turns you into his sweetest, respectful, all-around good girl even though sometimes, like tonight, you don’t deserve it.

“and what about mingyu, hmm? what would he think if he saw you taking my cock like a slut in the backseat of my car?” his cock twitches at his own question because, yeah, he’d love for people to see you crying– drooling– for him and his dick. 

you can’t be bothered to think about mingyu when all you can think about is his cock filling you to the brim, hitting all the spots that make you weak. you moan out something incomprehensible about how you ‘don’t care,’ and how you ‘wanna cum.’  

seungcheol lets out an airy chuckle, head spinning from the way your gummy walls always hug him so tight. “no? you don’t wanna fuck him now?” 

“n-never did! just you!” you pant, clenching around him as you grow closer and closer with every thrust. 

an animalistic noise bubbles up in the back of his throat before he spits, “that’s ‘cuz you’re just my pretty little bitch, right?”

your eyes roll and your jaw goes slack as you try to nod your head in agreement. “god, yes. ‘m yours.”

“that’s right.” he lets out a soft moan when you tighten around him, “ is my baby close?” 

“yes! yes, sir, ‘m so close!” you sob, desperately pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “gonna cum,” your warning makes cheol stop as he bites back a groan. 

“hold it.” he demands and when you let out a miserable cry, he simply shushes you. “‘m sorry, princess, but i can’t always give you what you want, especially not when you’ve been a slutty brat all night– you know that.” 

“‘m sorry! ‘m so so so sorry. please keep fucking me. please, please let me cum– i’ll do anything!” you desperately weep, tears free falling, soon to mix with the puddle of drool you’ve left on the seat. you have no pride or shame left as you attempt to push yourself back on to him. 

seungcheol smiles triumphantly at the mess he’s reduced you to. he almost feels like his actions are sadistic and, usually, he’d feel bad. usually.

he would never deliberately prolong your orgasm especially after you beg like that, but fuck, you’ve really got him in a mood tonight. acting the way you did tonight… that definitely accounts for some type of punishment. 

so his long arm reaches to grab his phone from the center console of his car all the while he’s still fully sheathed inside of your pulsing cunt. his voice drops another octave when his question comes out, “how bad do you wanna cum?”

you’re startled by his deep voice that seems to hold even more dominance than it did moments prior. a shiver runs its way through your body and you stutter out your response. “s-so bad, sir, wanna cum for you so bad.”

“mmm, and you’ll do anything to do so, yeah?” 

“yes! anything… please.”

the desperation in your voice evokes a shaky breath from him. he loves you when you’re a menace, but when you’re like this? all fucked out, drooling, and begging for his cock? it nearly turns him into a mess. regardless, no matter how much of a bratty front you put up– no matter how bent out of shape your attitude gets– he’ll always fuck you back into place. you’re at his mercy. you both know it. 

“alright, baby,” he starts gently, releasing his grip on your wrist using the free hand to ghost over the skin of your ass before grabbing a handful and massaging the flesh. “can you get on your hands for me?”

you nod eagerly, clenching around him instinctively at how quickly his demeanor can change. you do as he says, weakly moving your body till you’re on all fours with his dick still enveloped in your heat.

cheol unlocks his phone with his free hand, searching for his recent contacts. he places the phone next to your hand and you furrow your eyebrows at the action. 

the words ‘kim mingyu’ read on the screen and he smirks when you crane your head to look back at him. 

“w-what… what do you want me to do?” you stutter, though you’re sure you don’t really want to hear the answer to your question. 

his heavy hands continue to knead at your ass while he responds, voice barely above a whisper, “apologize to mingyu and i’ll let you cum.”

“but… won’t he… won’t he know what we’re doing?” you try to reason, but seungcheol knows. he knows that mingyu will know the second you utter your first word to him. 

that’s why he’s dead set on doing this. he needs mingyu to hear you getting wrecked on his cock– needs mingyu to know that you are his.

“don’t worry about that, baby. you’ll call him anyway, won’t you?” he slowly pulls an inch out of you before pushing back in, just barely fucking you. 

you whimper, nodding your head, “okay, okay. i will.” 

“good girl.” he praises, reveling in the way you tighten around him. 

your hand shakily presses the call button and you watch his name reappear on the dimmed screen. you press the speaker button and the sound of rings fill the car, but it doesn’t take long before he answers, his strained voice filling the silence.

“hello?” mingyu asks, clearing his throat. 

“hey mingyu,” cheol greets and you feel your entire body heat and tense up, a sharp exhale leaving your lips. “did you get home alright?”

“cheol…” you whimper lowly to keep the man on the phone from figuring you out but end up wincing at the tightening grip on your ass. you take it as a warning, biting your lip to keep from saying anymore. 

you tune out the conversation, trying to think of anything else but the burning fire in the pit of your tummy and the fact that cheol’s on the phone with his business partner whom you threatened to call up and fuck a mere 20 minutes ago. 

it isn’t until he slowly starts moving that you push your face into the leather seats to mask a whine– though it obviously doesn’t work much because you’re sure mingyu is well aware that you’re… present. 

“yeah, she’s here,” seungcheol smiles wickedly to himself as he replies to mingyu asking the obvious. “actually that’s why i called. she wanted to talk you– apologize for what happened earlier– isn’t that right, Y/N?”

you whimper again, suddenly changing your mind and shaking your head ‘no.’ this is way too embarrassing. 

cheol can’t resist the chuckle that comes out of his mouth. you’re cute. cute in the way your body betrays you when your pussy clenches tightly around him at the offer. cute when you say you don’t want to when your body says the exact opposite. 

“gimme a sec,” he says as his hand moves to press the mute button. “c’mon, don’t you wanna cum, baby?” he coos, snapping his hips against your ass at a steady pace.

“i do!.. i do, b-but he’s gonna know if y-you keep going.” you pant. “‘n i-i can’t talk to him like this.”

“oh, well maybe you should’ve thought of that, baby,” he says and you can hear the faux pout in his words. “if you wanna finish, you’ll have to apologize to him for being such a needy little thing all night.”

you shudder and nod defeatedly as seungcheol continues to thrust in and out of you. your hand moves to unmute the phone, taking a shaky inhale before you speak.

you try your best to sound as normal as possible, but your words still come out breathy and stuttered, “h-hello,” 

“Y/N?” mingyu calls, voice lilting a bit out of surprise. 

you involuntarily clench again at how taboo this whole situation is. how is cheol so okay with this? how will he ever face mingyu again? you know for a fact you won’t be able to without thinking about cheol’s cock stretching you out, but… then again, maybe that’s exactly what seungcheol wants.

“hi, gyu,” you greet, the nickname loosely slipping past your lips. you feel seungcheol’s hands grip at your waist again. rougher this time. like he wants to tell you something– stop being so friendly– just with his actions.

your eyes screw shut and your teeth dig into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip to omit the whiny sound from leaving your lips. 

it doesn’t go unheard, of course. you can practically hear your boyfriend’s smirk when mingyu asks, “are… are you okay?”

you laugh breathily, a whine dying on the tip of your tongue when seungcheol moves a bit faster. “yeah! no, i’m good! i-i’m great.” you just need to get this apology over with so you can hang up and finally get what you want. “listen, gyu, i– oh, fuck.”

clearly, seungcheol couldn’t let it be that easy, slamming into you like he was minutes earlier. the tip of his cock rams into your sweet spot and you find yourself barely holding on, seconds away from crumbling if he doesn’t let up. 

mingyu’s mouth runs dry and you know he’s finally pieced it all together when he exhales sharply, “Y/N? are you sure you’re okay?”

seungcheol rolls his eyes. he topples over you again, plush lips pressing against one of your heated ears, “answer him.”

“yes, yes…” you pant. “i-i wanted… to say sorry.” 

“tell him why you’re sorry.” cheol’s hot breath fans against your ear again. his thrusts don’t falter in this process, effectively hitting your spot over and over and over. 

it’s driving you crazy. beyond crazy, honestly. it’s driving you absolutely mad. so mad that you don’t even care about the sob that comes out of your mouth when you apologize to mingyu again. 

“‘m sorry! sorry for ruining dinner ‘n sorry for being needy and ask– fuck– asking you to fuck me to- to rile cheol up.” you cry, tears slipping down your face as the knot in your tummy gets tighter and tighter. “i’m so sorry, please. please forgive me.”

seungcheol smiles against your ear, biting back a chuckle at your desperation. he knows the apology was more for him than mingyu. 

mingyu shudders straight into the mic before stuttering, “Y/N… it’s… fine, please–”

“cheol,” you sob, cutting him off and it startles both seungcheol and the man on the phone. it’s apparent that you’ve lost the ability to be discreet and your boyfriend takes pride that he and his cock are the reason for that.

but it’s when you cry out the other man’s name– a whiny ‘gyu’– that his jaw sets and his teeth grind together. 

“so fucking dirty,” cheol spits, sitting back up. his hips snap against your ass vigorously and it’s like both of you have forgotten about poor mingyu who’s still on the line and now hearing every word– every little thing. “moaning out his name while i’m fucking you like this? you really want him to know how much of a slut you are?”

mingyu lets out a muffled groan into his phone, hand slipping to palm at his clothed cock– which has been all hard and achy since you whispered into his ear at dinner– his other clamped over his mouth. he’s trying to keep his sounds at bay, trying to fight the moan that bubbles up in the back of his dry throat, but his name falling from your pretty lips like that? it’s making it impossible. 

he knows the two of you have forgotten all about him because he can hear the vulgar words his partner spits and the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against what he presumes to be your unbelievably soaked cunt. it’s driving him nuts. you’ve been driving him nuts all fucking night. 

and it’s true. you and seungcheol pay no mind to the phone– you’re too busy losing your mind and cheol is too busy making it happen– it’s like he doesn’t even exist. 

your walls hug his cock tightly and it elicits a deep chuckle from the man behind you. “look at that. you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” he says breathily. “just like you’re made to take my cock. isn’t that right, baby? made just for me?” 

you respond with a moan, arms giving out on you as you return to your previous position– one arm limply hanging off the seat while the other grips at the door’s cup holder– your face buried into the leather seat. 

seungcheol doesn’t tolerate that response, though, hand lacing into your hair and pulling your face off the seat. “answer me,” he grits, roughly tugging at your locks. “or i’m pulling out.”

you panic at the thought of being left all high and dry, incessantly shaking your head in his tight grip. “y-yes, sir, yes! for you– made for you.” you sob in a mix of pain and pleasure, back arching while his cock finally hits your cervix. “cheol– cheol, i’m– fuck, ‘m gonna cum! p-please, can i?”

and it’s when mingyu hears seungcheol’s given name– when it’s followed by your desperate pleas for release–  that he can’t hold it in anymore, letting out a loud, drawn out moan. he’s quick when pulling his cock out of his slacks, spitting into his palm, and working himself rather aggressively. it’s like he’s chasing his own release, too.

seungcheol grunts in confusion at the deep moans, but then it comes back to him. mingyu never hung up. an evil smirk plays onto his plush lips, “oh-ho, you hear that, sweet girl? sounds like gyu stuck around to hear you cum all over my cock.” 

and mingyu moans again, a hushed, “fuck,” slipping past his lips. you can almost hear how fast his hand moves, how unbelievably eager he is. 

your boyfriend moans, giving you sharper thrusts. he pants out his next words, “that’s so dirty, mingyu… didn’t know you were into that.”

and mingyu wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, but he can’t form the words when all he can think about is the sound of your pornographic moans and how he’s needily bucking into his tight fist, wishing he was in seungcheol’s position. 

you, on the other hand, could care less that mingyu is on the other side of the line, truly. you’re practically at your breaking point, and if you don’t release sometime soon, you may break. 

“cheol, please– please, please, i-i can’t–” you gasp out, pussy tightening around him and squeezing him for all he’s worth. “oh, my god, i’m–”

seungcheol shushes you, “‘s alright, baby, you can cum in a sec.” 

and just as you’re about to let go, cheol’s hand grabs at his whiny phone and ends the call, sending mingyu to what you presume is his doom. 

“i’m the only one who gets to have you like this.” he grunts, hips stuttering a bit. you can tell he’s close, too. the way he huffs out his words and his movements get sloppy. “cum for me, baby, come on.” he whispers. 

and you do. your orgasm, powerful and blinding, washes over you seconds after he gives you the okay. your body convulses and your back arches as the knot finally unravels in your tummy. your eyes roll, jaw dropping and letting out the loudest cry of his name. 

“fuck, that’s it, baby. that’s my fuckin’ girl.” he coaxes, fucking you through your orgasm, though your vice-like cunt makes it nearly impossible. “gonna fill you up just like you need, yeah? just take it all for me.” 

you whine, still recovering from your euphoric high, yet you still give him a broken nod. 

he groans loudly, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he’s nestling himself deep and stilling inside of you. his cock twitches and, before you know it, warm cum floods your pussy, effectively filling you up just as he promised.

the post-orgasm haze lingers over both of you for a while, but seungcheol is the first to speak up, a twinge of guilt filling him when he sees you’re still shuddering and twitching underneath him. 

his voice hoarse, “baby, are you good? was i too rough?”

“mmm, ‘m good, i liked it. you’re so hot.” you mindlessly admit, words breathy and muffled. 

he scoffs, hand soothing over your body. he’s always so soft after he fucks you regardless of how mad or upset he is. “so you did all of it on purpose, hm?” he asks knowingly and when you give him a sleepy giggle, he rolls his eyes. “you’re annoying.”

“it was worth it… it felt so good, cheollie,” you admit. “hope you’re not too mad, you know you’re the only one for me.” the reassurance slips from your lips and seungcheol can tell it’s genuine. 

“baby, you know you can just be normal and ask if you want to be fucked like that, right?” 

“it’s more fun this way,” you tell him, shameless with your words. “i literally thought i was going to cum when you ripped my panties. i’m serious, you’re so fucking hot.”

he snickers at your blunt words, “i think you’re still cockdrunk, baby. come on, i’ll clean you up and we can go home. think i got some napkins in here.”

you sigh, nodding your head, “can we roll the windows down? smells like sex in here.” 

he laughs, taking in the fact that it is now stuffy in his precious, fogged up car, but you were right. it was so worth it. the sex was just as good for him as it was for you, if not better. 

when he pulls out, he makes sure your ass is still raised up so his seed doesn’t spill out as quickly to avoid the mess it’ll make while he scavenges for napkins in the glove box. he does eventually get you cleaned up, handling you gently and whispering about how well you did, much like he does every other time. 

once you’re clean, he gets you to turn and look at him. he smiles at your disheveled state, “well, you look like you had the time of your life.” he says sarcastically. 

“i did, actually.” you say as a matter-of-factly. “i feel kinda bad for mingyu, though… i didn’t want him to get caught in the crossfire.”

cheol rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, “he’ll be fine, i’ll text him right now.” 

when seungcheol grabs his phone that now resides on the floor of his car, he sees that there are already a few missed texts from mingyu. 

“he said he’s fine.” seungcheol assures, though you can tell by the smug smirk on his face that mingyu most definitely did not say it was fine. “don’t worry about him.”

kim mingyu

hello?!

???

dude

not cool.

choi seungcheol

sorry, man. call dropped. see you monday.

kim mingyu

??????

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

taglist 🔖: @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @rckwithyou @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol @miriamxsworld @enhacolor @jihoontea

[skipppppy]

Also if you did pick one of the first options, show me your sleeping buddies!! I love seeing people’s favourite stuffies it makes my heart so happy :)

[rinneverse]

࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞! — 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆. ˒ ⊹

syn. bladie brainrot. he is the only man ever. pair. blade x f!reader cw. biting / fem reader / p in v / exhibitionism (?) (they bone in an empty alley) / just a lil thirst i'm so very normal and sane about bladie note. blade my beloved. hes in my brain always. i meant to stay under 300 words but then it got a little bit out of hand—regardless, i hope u enjoy ♡. i love blade RAHHHHHHH

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

blade is not gentle in the way he loves you.

he's rough around the edges, and perhaps a little too possessive for his own good. he likes to press your buttons, rile you up and push you until you break. it drives you mad.

you still can’t help but be drawn to him, though; his aloof manner is alluring and the glint in his eyes is dangerous. and oh, watching him in battle—the flex of his biceps, the almost graceful way in which he brutally takes his enemy down—you think find yourself entranced.

and when it’s all said and done, blade still has so much pent up energy left. it’s almost like clockwork: he takes down his final enemy and then is whisking you away once the other stellaron hunters take over the scene. you can see kafka and silverwolf share a knowing glance and your face grows warm in embarrassment.

blade was insatiable.

the moment he gets you alone he’s already mouthing at the sensitive skin of your neck, canines pressing against the flesh almost like a warning—a reminder that he could so very easily pierce with them—and you find yourself thinking that you wouldn’t even mind.

his tongue laves up your jugular, drawing a sweet moan from your lips as he sucks a hickey right on your pulse point. blade knows exactly what gets you going and he does not intend to waste a single second.

a breathy sigh of your name against your neck, rough hands trailing down your sides to stop at your hips and give them a squeeze, blade wants to devour you. he slides a hand under the fabric of your skirt, pushing your panties to the side to expertly rub circles on your sensitive clit. he drinks in the moans you let out in a kiss, a heated exchange that melts your core and sends shivers down your spine.

"blade," you whine. "more.. need more."

he hums, crimson eyes glinting in the darkness of the alleyway as he turns you around, pressing you against the cold wall. it wasn't uncommon to have blade take you wherever and whenever he wanted, especially when he grows pent up—like he was now.

you hear rustling, and in seconds you feel the fat head of his cock prodding at your soaked cunt. your lips fall open in a quiet gasp as you feel him stretch you out, the familiar ache of him splitting you open a welcome one. you hear him let out a harsh sigh behind you, his lips attaching to your neck once again.

and there he takes you. his thrusts are harsh and his grip on your hips is bruising, but you wouldn't have it any other way. he leaves dark bruises along your neck and collar, marks of his possession over you that the sight of alone sends him into a frenzy.

blade is not a gentle lover. but he is an attentive one—he doesn't stop until you're crying from the pleasure, making sure he and he alone is the only thing on your pretty little cock drunk mind.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[vigilvntes]

Jason Todd x Reader | On again-off again relationship hcs

A/N: lisTen. i'm incredibly sleep deprived so this is gonna be very messy and i have a whole ass book to read before my class at 9am and i probably won't sleep tonight so let me have this. let me have my low-key volatile relationship with jason todd where we love each other so deeply that we can't even stand to be around each other sometimes because we frustrate the fuck out of each other but we also can't live without each other. as the great lorde once said: let me live that fantasy.

W/C: 2500+ (help me i basically just outlined a whole story </3)

likes, rbs and comments are all very much appreciated <3

SOME NSFW UNDER THE CUT! ALSO BONUS BATFAMILY GETTING INVOLVED IN THE DRAMA AT THE END BECAUSE ,, FUNNY!!

you and jason have known each other for three years, and you've been together for around two years and two months of that time, if damian's calculations are correct. it's electric and heated and frantic and loving and frustrating and soft and infuriating, all at the same time. you just can't seem to stay away from each other. it's a 'cat and mouse' kind of situation, one where you just can't seem to stop chasing each other despite how ridiculously awful it always seems to turn out in the end. the longest you've managed to really hold it together is seven months, but you can't stay away for more than a month at a time.

you make out like teenagers. make love almost every night. laugh at his dumb jokes or funny comments. patch up any mild injuries he comes home with. tickle each other until you're on the floor breathless, surrendering and begging him to show you mercy. you spend lazy mornings together in bed. bicker and shit-talk each other over breakfast. cuddle on the couch late at night. it's perfect in theory, and he's admittedly an amazing boyfriend. he's caring and attentive and he loves to love you and be loved. but your tempers get the better of both of you.

fights break out because you're both kind of impulsive and hot-headed. neither of you can help your snark or cutting comebacks sometimes. you run your mouths about something – anything, and you run the risk of everything breaking down within the hour. you know his weak spots, know how to push his buttons when he's really pushing yours; and as you know his, he knows yours just as well. you'd never go as far as to bring up anything too personal or out of pocket, but you still know just how to get on each others nerves perfectly. how to manually detonate the ticking time bomb before it blows up on its own accord.

you frustrate the fuck out of each other, and he has a tendency to just walk out of your apartment mid-argument. he puts the suit on, tells you he'd rather be out on the streets getting his ass handed to him by a gang of drunks dressed up as teletubbies and then have bane rush in and pummel him into the concrete than have to deal with you when you're feeling particularly prickly, and you tell him to go fuck himself on his way out. the battle to get the last word in commences, and you've often found yourself yelling at him from your apartment window whilst he yells up at you from the street below because you both just refuse to give up the fight.

most times he comes back, but sometimes he doesn't. when it hits 8am and you haven't heard him rummaging through your kitchen cupboards or refrigerator; he still hasn't crawled back into your bed, kissed your forehead softly and buried his face into the crook of your neck, you shrug your shoulders, tell yourself everything's going to be okay. and then sob violently into your pillow because it's over. he's gone. but with jason, it's never really over. by some weird twist of fate (love, but jason prefers to call it coincidence, although it's anything BUT that) you always end up finding your way back to each other. you break up and even DATE other people but it's never serious and it just never feels the same because for some strange reason whenever you're apart you both miss the chaos of each other and even though you can literally be the worst when you're together, you would rather be together and be the worst than be without each other.

jason turns up at your door at 2AM when he hears you might be seeing someone new after a breakup the month before, demanding to be let in and when you relent (pretty quickly) and open the door he immediately has you against the wall, desperately grabbing at your hips and kissing you like there's no tomorrow whilst mumbling that no one could ever compare to him so don't even think about trying to replace him.

he has you naked and spread out on the bed in ten minutes tops, his tongue swirling against your clit in all the right places, big hands gripping on to your thighs. he grins like a fucking maniac when he makes you cum in record time, just under a minute if he was counting correctly. you cum on his face again, his fingers, his thigh and eventually his cock, until you're laid on his chest with his cum leaking out of you, breathless and all fucked out, mumbling 'i love you'. he says it back, reminds you again that no one could ever be him, and you know he's right. you knew this would happen and truthfully you were desperate to have him back which is maybe, possibly why you made a point to mention to roy that you were seeing someone else because you just knew he'd tell jason.

on the flip side, you send jason a risky picture of yourself in a brand new lingerie set when you find out he's going on a date with someone. you immediately apologise and claim it to be accidental and that it was meant for someone else. you watch your phone blow up with calls and texts from jason, listen to each and every angry-horny-frustrated-infatuated voicemail he leaves and grin the whole time because you know you have him wrapped around your finger, as much as he denies it.

you turn your phone off, unlock your door and wait patiently by the open window until you hear angry footsteps coming from below, stomping up the stairs of your apartment building. he busts through your door and demands that you tell him what the fuck you think you're playing at. you feign innocence and tell him that it was a genuine mistake but he knows you're lying and he has you on the couch, straddling his lap almost immediately. your pyjamas have been torn off, giving him an up-close, in-person view of the pretty new set from the picture earlier. the view is much nicer when it's not on a tiny phone screen; pictures do the real thing no justice. his phone vibrates while you're trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck, and you tell him he should take the call because it's probably his date wondering where the hell he is but he just turns his phone off and tosses it to the side. why the hell would he go on some shitty, awkward first date when he could have you?

the reunion is always sweet. there's always that honeymoon period with him no matter how many times you've broken up– upped and left each other following an argument. when it's good, it's really good. but you just can't seem to escape the inevitable. eventually one of you pushes it too far and the whole thing blows up in your faces. he walks out, you cry yourself to sleep and then you find some way to worm your way back into the others life, depending on who picked the fight that left everything broken once again. neither of you are exactly sure why you fight like cat and dog. you're perfect for each other on paper; you understand each other on a far deeper and more intellectual level than anyone ever could. you get on like a house on fire on your good days (which are admittedly most days), but somehow the bad days always seem to outweigh the good. he once made a joke that it's because you love him so much that you can't live with him, but you also can't live without him. he was probably right.

one night, after a particularly nasty breakup the week before, he stumbles into your apartment clutching at his side, barely able to breathe. he's been so uncaring lately, letting himself get caught up in his own head and his emotions regarding you and your relationship and it's lead to him taking a few more blows than he normally would. tonight he paid the price, took what he thinks might be the final hit, and he needed to see you one last time just in case things don't work out for him. you don't even have the chance to ask him what he's doing in your apartment before he's collapsing on to your living room floor, blood dripping through his fingers and on to your carpet. you drop to your knees next to him and whisper his name so softly, inspecting the wound and feeling guilty when he hisses in pain when your fingers brush against it. it's deep, and yes you've patched him up before –you know how to stitch up cuts but you're not a medical professional and this is a serious wound to his abdomen. there's not much you can do about it alone. you're already crying but before you can start freaking out and trying to fix things he takes your face in his hands, his grip weak, and tells you very sincerely that he loves you deeply, and he's sorry for all of the fights he's caused and all of the times he walked out on you and that it's always been you and it always will be.

he's in and out or consciousness and you're begging him to wake up, to be okay; telling him that you love him and you can't lose him. you try your best to stop the bleeding, pressing towels and old shirts against the wound but it just won't stop. so you call alfred from jason's phone, explain to him what's going on and soon enough you're playing host to a batfamily gathering in your tiny living room. dick quite literally has to drag you away from his body kicking and screaming while bruce and alfred assess the situation. they decide to take him back to the manor, and of course you follow them. you spend days by his side, waiting for him to wake up. alfred has to take you by the elbow and walk you away from him to eat dinner or shower or sleep in jason's old room.

it's just so typical that you're not there when he wakes up. you're sleeping, bundled up in his bed sheets when alfred comes to wake you. you literally leap out of bed, almost tripping over your own feet as you run into the room jason's in. that stupid grin, although strained, spreads across his lips as soon as he sees you through half-shut eyes. you're crying already, rushing to his side and resting your head on his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. he chuckles at your reaction, teases you for being so worried about him as if he hasn't already kicked death in the dick before, and he mocks you lightheartedly for admitting that you can't live without him (it was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness). you giggle through your tears, letting it slide because when you look up at him, he's crying too.

it literally takes jason almost dying on your living room floor for you to both realise how much you actually mean to each other, and that having a connection and a love like this isn't something that you can and should just walk away from every couple of weeks. you both decide to start working on things; learning how to control your temper and when the appropriate time to shut the fuck up would be. how to talk things through maturely, without the yelling and constant breakups. of course, you still bicker and shit talk each other. and sometimes one of you will take it too far. jason will glare at you for a moment until you give him an awkward grin and mumble 'oops', and you'll give him the silent treatment for fifteen minutes (which would feel like HELL to him) until he makes you laugh. you're happier this way, knowing that it doesn't have to be that difficult and you can just be. you're not constantly waiting for something to go wrong or for one of you to fuck up, that anxiety has dissipated and you enjoy feeling calm and content with him.

+ bonus: batfamily getting in on the drama

the first time jason stormed into the batcave at 3am, fists balled and eyes red and puffy, bruce was immensely concerned. he sat jason down, put on his best dad™️ voice and asked 'what's wrong?'. jason told him it was nothing, just a little relationship trouble and that bruce didn't have to worry it, he just needed to get away and he thought the batcave would be the perfect place to brood for a few hours before going back home. the second time jason stormed in, he was still concerned for his emotional state, but not all that surprised to see him. bruce left him alone, let jason sit next to him, listened to him curse under his breath. the seventh time? bruce sat at his desk, jason beside him, listening to him ramble on and on about what had happened and how he took it too far again but it's not entirely his fault because you pushed his buttons but he shouldn't have said that to you because he loves you but you just get on his nerves sometimes. bruce nods occasionally, murmurs 'uh-huh' just to prove to jason that he is listening. kind of. sort of. not.

dick receives frustrated, angry texts at ungodly hours in the morning from jason telling him that the relationship is over. jason isn't sure why he vents to dick. it's definitely not because dick gives good advice, jason doesn't even open the texts dick sends back full of agony-aunt type solutions. one night, he receives one of these texts from jason, telling him that you're done with him and he can't ever go back to your apartment. all he can do the next day when he sees you and jason walk into the manor, grinning at each other like you're the sun, moon and stars with his arm wrapped around your waist, is shrug his shoulders.

listen, if damian is going to be forced to sit through the weekly couples quarrel at the manor, he's at least going to make some sort of profit from it. it starts out as a secret, damian makes everyone place bets (with real cash) on how long it'll take you and jason to piss each other off when you come over for dinner. tim wins the first time, and is less than amused when he only receives half of what everyone put into the bet, damian citing that he's the organiser so he gets half of the profit. eventually, he branches out. he starts taking money for bets on how long it'll take for a fight to break out, what you'll be fighting about, and which one of you will leave the dinner table first. everyone joins in (even alfred), and when you find out about damian's little scheme, even you can't help but slide over a $20 bill with a declaration that it'll take jason 45 minutes to say something that'll have you glaring him down. you win that bet, because you know him better than anyone else, and you split the profits with jason. everyone thinks this is unfair, and you're both promptly excluded from participating in the betting.

[tomorrcwz]

could you write we are never ever getting back together w/ rb seb or another dilf 🫶🏿

★ . . . 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐕𝟓

pairing: rb!sebastian vettel x ex!reader

in which you swear, you're never ever get back together with your ex sebastian, your first love, but it's harder than you thought when taking a trip down memory lane.

you were dead sent on your promise, you drunkly made on yesterday's night out with your girl friends at that small shabby looking bar around your street's corner — you were never ever ever go back to your ex, your stupidly handsome, cheeky, talented, rich boyfriend who has made a living out of his hobby, racing around the world, and who's blue eyes were deeper in it's colour than the ocean after a rainy day and the dirty blonde hair, which fell stunningly against his forehead in lose curls. those, you loved to comb your finger through them when you found yourselves on a sofa or bed, his head, comfortably resting on your lap, looking up to you with a cute smile, you had fallen in love with summers ago — back when you were green behind the ears, knowing absolutely nothing about love but thought otherwise.

no, sebastian vettel and you were over, forever and some more because you were a better person now, smarter than before. it should've ended after the first breakup that was caused by sebs hands — he said, he needed space, even though you haven't seen each other for a while 'cause of his hectic work schedule and you studying and working back home, resulting in you not attending every race on the calendar or more specifically said, all but two.

so the first break up happened, and oh well, you didn't really get his reasoning behind his words, but in a short span, you got together again after calling nights in a row, him halfway across the globe.

"I miss you badly, hase (bunny)", the german man sheepishly mumbled under his breath, face mushed against the pillow of his hotel room bed as he awaited your answer.

a low moan escaped your lips. you knew it wasn't going to work but you loved him too much, your first love.

"oh basti", you said, voice laced with longing. "i do, too, so much. when are you coming back home? we could meet up. . ."

on the other side of the call, you heard his laugh. "but should we?"

you also giggled slightly, realizing that the pair of you already went over the translucent barrier of broken up exes, strangers, friends, whatever you should be. "we definitely should. you love me, don't you?", you sweetly asked him, fumbling with the teddy bear he got you in monaco last year when you visited him at work and spent days afterwards with him in the heart of monte carlo, relaxing on the beach, shopping at the local shops and markets, and went on hikes. "because i love you."

silence greeted you for a second, and then another few, letting you wait in anticipation, wondering if he loved you or just wanted to have fun, have someone so he wouldn't get bored or—. "hase, there's no one i love like i love you, you know that, right? we complete and compliment each other so well", he answered. "I'd give you the world just to hug und kiss you right now."

you sign, a stupid grin growing on your lips. "then come back, sooner than later, yeah?"

"I wouldn't want to leave a lady waiting, hase."

and as he had said over and over again on the phone, he did come back for you, going as far as picking you up after work with a fancy looking car, you didn't want to guess the price of, dressed up in a dark button up and fitting jeans, sunglasses resting on his nose, hiding one of his most striking features.

you had hugged him in the car, no worry clinging in your brains as you pushed the dark glasses out of his face, interlocking lips hotly and climbing in his lap on the driver's seat, grinding down on him, making out like horny teenagers — which wasn't far off as you were just two young individuals, high on the feeling of being in love.

afterwards he drove you home to let you doll up for a date night which ended with him pushing you roughly into the sheets, rolling and play fighting, kissing and groping, moaning and whining. you felt right back into the relationship like you never had broken up in the first place. the only difference was the closeness; you took more breaks to visit him, travel the world alongside him and he in turn showed more interest towards your work and study, returning faster home to you.

but maybe that was the problem, the cause of another break up, this one.

you grew too fast close, too close, leaving no space — whenever he was home, you did everything and anything together, even if it was a one (wo)man task; there was unsolved pressure with the actions, causing you to fight more than beforehand and leaving you to passionately more or less solve a disaster by having sex. there were no character growth nor deep talk, you both rather went to your friends to talk about how dumb the newest problem in your relationship was — and his friends shared his views with yours, and they let you know about the information, resulting in more fights.

alas, in the end you broke up again just yesterday night, drunkly blocking his number to avoid the silent plea of a voice in your heart to call him, to beg him to take you back.

you'd miss him picking fights, you thinking you were always in the right and him escaping the house to listen some rock album in his old bmw. in addition to that you'd miss his cheeky comments, the loudness of his laughters, the blue hues of his magnificent eyes and the love he wore on his sleeve, showing it openly towards the world. you'd miss his warm touch and lips on your neck, the gently squeezing of your hands whenever you were out.

you'd miss your first love but sometimes it was for the better and cutting contact to distance would let you heal.

or so you thought because he had called you this morning, your head pounding, to tell you on your voice box that he still loved you — it left you feel exhausted and you strongly believed that you were never ever getting back together.

the teddy bear would acts as a reminder of firsts with a lover, him sitting prettily on sebs side of the bed.

˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗ rina speaks : loved the request, pls send more !!

[from-izzy]

[19:32] | tbz kim sunwoo

» ​PAIRING: tbz kim sunwoo x pregnant fem reader​ » TROPE/AU​: uhhhh...i don't think there's a trope for this one 🤔 established relationship au! marriage au! » GENRE​: husband sunwoo, fluffy fluffy fluff fluff, slight angst, ​comforting sunwoo, loving sunwoo, patient sunwoo, hurt/comfort » WORD COUNT: ​1868 » ESTIMATED READING TIME: ~7 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): pregnancy, vomiting and sickness, insecurities

this was my first ever timestamp story! ahhhh the memories from re-reading this 😍

i didn't want to change it much (changed one sentence) but it's more proofread now 🤭 this gathered 183 notes (14 rbs, 169 likes) and even though it hurts that i can't see that evidence anymore, i'm glad it got that much love!! this is very overdue but thank you so much 🫶

navi/masterlist!!

You never knew that pregnancy would be this hard. 

Whenever you asked your mum about her pregnancy journey, she would always have a smile on her face, telling you all the exciting milestones; first positive test, telling other people the news, first ultrasound, first time there was a definite belly bump, first movement, buying items for you or your big brother and the list goes on.

Your mum didn’t leave out the other side of pregnancy though and in particular the sickness and depleted self-confidence due to the new changes in the body internally and externally. However, your mum only experienced a few episodes of morning sickness (compared to your grandma or her already mum friends) and you were nowhere like your mum.

“Please…” The tears in your eyes only accumulated over the past hour or so and the clock on the opposite side of the bathroom was becoming blurry. You could only murmur out whispers of pain and begs that this episode would pass by soon; and before Sunwoo would arrive home.

Kim Sunwoo has been the best husband ever. You thought that he was already perfect and loving but with all the new challenges and experiences in life, there was no way that you couldn’t fall for him even more day by day and the silver band around your ring finger is one of the evidences for that. 

Trudging to stand up from the kneeling position, the small whispers turned into louder cries by the second. The headache was killing you, your knees felt so cold and you could still taste the acidity of your stomach in your mouth. The flush button feels so out of reach unlike the first three times you pushed it and you eventually gave up for a bit to rest your forehead on the toilet seat, “God please…”

Still with all of these rough patches during your pregnancy, your blurry eyes could still see the purple shirt that covered your little pregnancy bump and with shaky hands, you soothed the little bean inside of you, “Can’t wait to meet you, baby. Your dad and I can’t wait to finally hold you in our arms.”

As if your child is listening, a little kick could be felt as if acknowledging their mother’s loving words. You could only sob while chuckling, still softly rubbing your stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your stomach. 

In the back of your mind, you are still very aware of the time. Sunwoo was supposed to arrive home around an hour ago yet he’s still not home. You were about to call him to check up on him but your episode started and your phone is way too far for you to even comprehend walking to the other side of the apartment. Sunwoo has been so busy for the whole time of your pregnancy with work as well as taking care of you. 

Waking up at a random time at three? He’s there to walk you to the bathroom

Sudden craving as soon as you wake up? Count on him to drive there and back as soon as possible.

Needing hugs and comfort? He’s running and never letting you go.

This was not how you wanted to greet him after a long week of work, especially when it was his first week of getting promoted. You just don’t ever want to worry him but you conflictingly accepted that pregnancy is not necessarily a one-person job and Sunwoo made you realise how important it is to always reach out to him whenever you need him. Still, you try to do everything yourself first.

Needless to say, you love this man with your whole being and you can’t wait for your child to meet the best dad in the whole wide world.

You freaked out at the familiar sound of the door unlocking, creaking open and the bright call for your name. With all the strength that you have accumulated over this short amount of time, you find the drive to stand up, put the toilet lid down and flush your evidence of pain down the drain. 

But throughout your pregnancy, Sunwoo is always so alert whenever he hears the toilet flushing that he practically runs to the bathroom to see you struggling to take even a step further away from the toilet, holding your body by pushing down your palm onto the edge of the sink next to you, “Baby?” At the sight of your dried tears, red eyes, dishevelled hair and shaking body, Sunwoo rushes over to you, imagining the war that you probably had alone, “Sit down here.” He pointed and directed you to the toilet seat.

You couldn’t help but cry again when you felt Sunwoo’s arm wrapping around your waist, setting you down on the toilet carefully. He kneels before you, lifting his head to scan your face for any additional discomfort, “I’m sorry.” Sobbing louder and louder when you catch a glimpse of his worried glance and creasing forehead, “I wanted to greet you nicely today. I even made you some snacks and such in the kitchen but you have to see me all ugly like th---”

“Hey, hey. Just stop, okay?” Sunwoo hushes your words when you begin to downgrade yourself, “Don’t say those things. You’re beautiful, bubs.” He tries to steal a kiss from your lips but you shake your head and push your face backwards, “Hey…”

“No, don’t kiss me. I'm disgusting right now.” You managed to say between your sobs. You couldn’t face your husband anymore in shame that you couldn’t take care of yourself for the whole week. Everything seemed to have the worst timing. You just wanted to make sure you could at least be there for Sunwoo when he opened the front door as he got through his first week of promotion yet not even halfway through the week, it was obvious that Sunwoo has done more reassuring than getting reassurance, “Don’t leave me…” 

Your heartbreaking tone made Sunwoo's heartbreak, “I promise I won’t.” He whispers with a sad smile. He’s heard this a couple of times recently but he promised himself and to you that he will always remind you that he’ll always be by your side, just like he promised a year ago on your wedding day, “Bubs, I’m right here for you. You can lean on me okay?” You clenched your fist at the understanding words, though you still felt so frustrated with yourself. Sensing this, Sunwoo rests both his hands on yours, moving his thumb over your palm to hopefully soothe your nerves, “I…should have called you. I’m sorry I’m late today.”

“Don’t be…” You shake your head, and finally meet your husband’s eyes who looks to be relaxed even though he’s also nervous inside, “Was everything okay today?”

“It was more than alright.” Sunwoo bites his bottom lip, crushing himself out internally to not rush home even faster when he left work today. He tried to hide his thoughts but his hands on top of you betrayed him.

“Sunwoo…what’s wrong?” 

“It’s just that---” Sunwoo sighs out exasperatedly at his past actions, taking one hand away to sweep his hair backwards, “I just should have come home earlier. I finished work early today but I decided to go to the shops for a while.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself.” You reassured him for the first time in the whole week (that’s what you felt at least), bringing your hands to cup his face gently, “Did you get whatever it was that you wanted?”

“I…” Sunwoo shook his head, closing his eyes frustratingly, “I did but I would have come home earlier if I knew you were like this.” Suddenly, he took out his phone from his pocket, scanning the call log history and not once a single missed call came from you, “Where’s your phone by the way? Why didn’t you call me with your watch?”

“Phone is in the kitchen. And my watch…” You answered guiltily. You had a feeling where this conversation would go as it did many times in the past. 

There were too many occurrences before this one when Sunwoo would come home with you in this state, sometimes better than this, unfortunately, more times worse than this. When Sunwoo realised that this wasn’t going to be an easy thing to predict and prepare, he got you a smartwatch that allows you to call him. 

Never once had you used it.

How could you when you felt like the worst person ever to be burdening him with this? You should be able to do this alone. All the mothers on the internet did. All those single mothers probably did this all alone too. So you should be able to do this too?

“We talked about this.” Sunwoo said sternly, his eyebrows furrowed. He puts both of your hands away from his face to your lap, tapping on your watch on your wrist and calling his phone to make sure the dial still works. Sure enough, his own phone rings along with your saved name on his phone and his personalised ringtone for his wife, “Bubs…”

You shook your head, “I-I just can’t…not when you’re so busy with work and feeling tired.”

“Bubs.” Sunwoo’s voice shook and before saying anything else, he rested his forehead on your hands, taking deep breaths as he calmed himself down, “In sickness and in health right?” He continued his words as he looked back up with a tear rolling down his face. You whimper at the sight, your heart swelling as you can feel the love that he holds for you in his eyes.

“I-I know but sti---”

“Pregnancy is not supposed to be tackled alone like this.” Sunwoo shook his head, pressing a kiss with his plump lips on your forehead, “Someone is supposed to support you, hold you, and make sure you and the baby are safe and sound. I can’t be that someone if you don’t tell me, you know?” He reminded you once again, being the utmost patient with you as you wrap your arms around his neck and he holds the sides of your waist.

“Sunwoo…”

“Call me next time, please? You’re not a burden. Not to me. Never to me.” Sunwoo cups the side of your face with his palm and with a genuine smile that finally reaches his eyes, Sunwoo leans down to give you a soft peck on the lips despite your pout and complains after, “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

It was such a simple statement from your husband yet you felt your whole body relax at the genuine reassurance from the one person that you love the most in this world. Even though your eyes were still leaving tears down your face, Sunwoo looked at you with the most heartwarming gaze in the whole world, smiling with that box smile of his when you finally managed to let out a small smile, “I love you so much, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Now.” Sunwoo leans away to stand up slowly before kneeling back down again but this time with his back facing you, “Hop on! I bet you’ll be happy with what I got you.”

navi/masterlist!!

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️

[hearts401]

Fuck it poll because i have got to know what the people think

*this includes like. fistfighting and kicking. anythings on the table type fighting but not a fuckin. to the death type thing LMAO. Also this is assuming both of them are angry enough to fight in the first place, it doesnt matter over what tho

rb for higher sample size if u want but idrc abt that lol

[dear-ao3]

Re your RB cursed second seat post, just wanted to add a few things and make a couple of corrections because this stuff really does add to the uh... flavour

First, while I know it's not entirely relevant, the whole Racing Point driver swap was SO MUCH more dramatic because Lance Stroll and Esteban Ocon are like. Besties. Like BFF friends forever since childhood. Poor son of mechanic and rolling in cash son of billionaire true friendship story. Esteban was fired in favour of his best friend, by his BEST FRIEND'S DAD. PEAK drama. They're still besties, bee tee dubs, because Esteban only makes enemies with his teammates.

F1 Invisible Moustache Twirling Supervillain Christian Horner also has a history of 'we're fully supportive [x driver] to be the best they can be and have no intention of changing our driver line up' and then oops, sorry. We lied. Like... five minutes later. Happened to Gasly, happened to Albon, and the former is currently where we're at with Checo. Christian has admitted that they were too hasty with Albon but oh dear how sad too bad boy's thriving now oopsie doopsie.

Also not forgetting that while Daniel was twiddling his thumbs waiting for his metacarpal to heal, Liam Lawson, the AT and RB reserve, got the highest placing position for the Alpha Tauri team this season (up until Mexico, anyway) while driving in Daniel's seat, and also threw himself into the RB second driver conversation.

And a couple of minor corrections:

DR didn't just leave RB because of the unreliability, it was more about being pushed aside for Golden Child Max Verstappen (affectionate, maybe slightly derogatory), which of course he knows all about because DR did the same thing to Vettel back in 2014. Who also had experience in that field because you could argue the cursed seat actually started with Mark Webber vs Seb Vettel back in like... 2010

Honda has been in F1 before. They sold to Brawn GP for the princely sum of one euro symbolic cash when they were going under, because Ross Brawn knew they'd built a MEGA car and couldn't bear to see them not run it for the 2009 season. Brawn GP won that year, it was Jenson Button's one and only championship win.

F1 drivers can't really go back to F2. If you've won it before, you can't compete again, but it's a feeder series so there's no way some ex-f1 driver is ever gonna be in F2 (or any of the lower formulas) because it's specifically for young talent. IDK maybe you meant Formula E? They also often go to WEC or IndyCar. Even rallying.

RB didn't give Checo another car at Suzuka he went out in the same car after they fixed it up enough for it to drive around one lap. Worth noting he was like 32 laps behind by this point (IDR the exact number but it was LORGE). spare cars haven't been a thing in F1 since 2008

Finally, the Fernando and Charles rumours are so fucking funny ain't no way either of them are gonna go to RB only to be a second to Max. I can see Carlos doing it though, trying for the grand return a-la DR. He's just Like ThatTM (affectionate, again also slightly derogatory). They've also been hardcore courting Lando Norris, who's way too smart and aware of his mental health to put himself into that depression spiral.

ANYWAY this isn't intended to be a big GOTCHA i just wanted to, as I said, add some extra flavour because F1 is so much more insane than anyone who doesn't follow it can POSSIBLY comprehend. Thanks for the post, I love seeing people explain the bonkers bullshittery.

yes yes thank you for pointing out all my mistakes and all that i j ew i was going to be getting Peer Reviewed (again, tumblr deleted my damn post so the first version was more accurate but i was pissed and i was also 1am so…) but yes. i am also new here in terms of the f1 drama. but yes it’s totally positively bonkers do you guys See now why fandom people are attracted to it???

[grippysockgangg]

I’m sorry I spammed your entire blog it’s just that no one is fucking posting and if I don’t push my silly little rb button I’ll explode

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Exploring (Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru)

Contains: Rimming, awkward first times.

I think it's funny to explore StSg as teens stumbling through a budding relationship. The idea of them messing around and not getting things quite right is very endearing to me. Hopefully you enjoy this! Crossposted to Ao3 under the same name and shared to twitter as kenjakusbrain! Comment or rb if you like or have anything to say!

Talking about what he wanted was never something Geto was good at. He often just chose to go on with whatever made the group happy, or more specifically, what made Gojo happy. So when he opened the door to his room and found Gojo already undressed on his bed, a pillow placed strategically over his groin, Geto thought the other teen had somehow mastered mind reading. Geto didn’t remember mentioning that he’d been missing Gojo lately, but he had been thinking about it. 

Their relationship had taken a turn for the romantic about a month prior, and the fresh eagerness in exploring one another's bodies hadn’t been lost. They usually found themselves a tangled mess of limbs in whoevers room they ended up in. This was the first time Gojo had taken it upon himself to set up a special surprise for Geto after a mission. Gojo had known he was going on an easier one today, perhaps that's why he chose it.

Geto quickly closed and locked the door behind him, thankful he had been alone walking back to his dorm. 

“Welcome back, Suguru~,” Gojo said, his voice playful as he spoke. His hand beckoned Geto to come closer. “I wanted to give you a little surprise, thought you might want something special tonight.”

Geto kicked off his shoes by the door before approaching Gojo, wanting to see for himself what the other boy had planned. Seeing Gojo laying against his pillows in his bed was always a sight that made his heart swell, but to have him exposed like this, a different part of Geto was already swelling in excitement. 

“Why would you think that?” Geto asked, he most certainly did want something special from Gojo, but he couldn’t help but wonder what the selfish teen was thinking. Kneeling on the bed he crawled over on top of Gojo, looking into Gojo’s bright blue eyes he couldn’t help but smile as he leaned in to share a soft kiss.

Gojo’s hands greedily pulled Geto down on top of him, making their teeth clink together on accident. Neither of them cared, wanting nothing more than to keep the kiss going. Gojo untied the bun resting on the back of Geto’s head, causing his shoulder length black hair to tickle his cheeks as they kissed.

Instead of answering, Gojo continued undressing Geto. His hands drifted to the buttons on the front of Geto’s shirt, slowly undoing them before pushing the white cotton fabric off his shoulders and onto the floor. Gojo would be lying if he said he put too much thought into this, he really had just made the spur of the moment choice to surprise Geto.

Geto’s own hands wandered down, tracing along Gojo’s chest and down further across his abdomen to squeeze at his hips. Their soft kiss had turned into a more heated one, tongues teasingly swirling around as both their cheeks grew flushed at the action.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Gojo breathed heavily against Geto’s cheek unsure how to bring up the idea that led him here. The moment he took to breathe was all Geto needed to kiss down onto Gojo’s neck, sucking and biting at the flesh. It didn’t hurt, but Gojo whined at the attention, it was as if Geto always knew just where he needed to be touched.

“Wanted to try something new, maybe you could try what I tried last time,” Gojo whispered, as if he were almost too embarrassed to bring it up. The last time they went further than messily grinding against one another things had ended in Gojo coming as soon as he entered Geto. To say Gojo was embarrassed would be an understatement. 

Geto chuckled against Gojo’s neck, remembering just how apologetic Gojo had been. They had been unsure about it, rushing through the motions in a moment of heated passion, so to have it end so suddenly was a surprise.

“That does sound nice, but maybe we should wait a little more, I don’t want to make the same mistake,” Geto confessed, face still buried in Gojo’s neck. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, Geto often wondered just what that would feel like. He had something else in mind though, something he wanted to try first. “I do have something I think you might like though.”

At first Gojo was discouraged, he’d never be upset with Geto for not wanting the same thing as him, but he did feel kind of silly coming in here like this only for Geto to not be up for it. Quickly his mood picked back up at Geto’s insistence that he had an idea. 

“I’m all yours tonight,” Gojo said, pressing a kiss to Geto’s forehead. Even if it wasn’t what he had thought of originally, Gojo still wanted to make their last time up to Geto.

Geto pulled away from Gojo’s neck at the soft words, he was always touched when Gojo thought of him. Pressing another kiss to Gojo’s lips, Geto squeezed his hip again before pulling his hand away.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me,” Geto’s voice was dark as he spoke. The playfulness was still there, but buried by the lust that was quickly taking both of them over. 

Gojo didn’t need to be told twice, as he adjusted himself, he could feel Geto sitting up and moving further down on the bed. He had never been much of a shy person, so it was no surprise that Gojo was ready to put his ass on display for his boyfriend. Wiggling his hips, Gojo looked back to see Geto’s response.

The flush that had covered Geto’s face was a deeper shade now, Gojo’s shameless display doing more for him than he had expected. Geto could feel his cock growing harder in his high-waisted pants. As he situated himself, Geto tried to calm himself down, this was something he’d thought about trying since the first time he showered with Gojo and caught a glimpse of the other teen’s ass.

Settling on his knees behind Gojo, Geto brought his hands up and softly squeezed the plush, pale cheeks before him. From this angle he could see Gojo’s balls hanging down, obscuring the hard cock he had grown quite familiar with from view. While Geto wanted nothing more than to lay on his back and take Gojo’s cock in his mouth, he was more eager to try something new.

Gently he spread Gojo’s cheeks, revealing the hole to him. Geto noticed that he just happened to smell like the soap they both used, Gojo must have just showered before Geto got back. Geto places small kisses to the soft flesh in his hands, making sure to give each cheek just as much attention as the other. He heard Gojo sigh above him, hopefully the gentle nature of Geto’s affection wasn’t too boring.

A sharp gasp filled the air as Geto licked a soft circle around Gojo’s tight hole. Of all the things Gojo had expected, this wasn’t one of them. Pressing his tongue flat against it, Geto began teasingly stroking the hole. 

Reflexively, Gojo clenched himself up, even if it felt good he had never felt so sensitive before. Reaching down, he started swiftly stroking his cock, he could feel it throbbing in his hand with each pass of Geto’s tongue across his hole.

Geto didn’t mind that Gojo had started touching himself, in fact it spurred him into going further. Knowing that he was making Gojo feel that good made Geto want to try even more. 

With a little more pressure, Geto pushed his tongue past the tight ring of muscle and timidly licked at the edge of Gojo’s entrance. He could feel Gojo squeezing around the tip of his tongue as he slipped it in further, the slight stretching causing Gojo to choke on a moan he’d been trying to keep in.

Slowly Geto started to fuck his tongue in and out of Gojo’s tight hole, the stretch not enough to hurt but the feeling of his tongue inside making Gojo stroke his cock even faster. Spreading Gojo’s ass open wider, the hunger inside Geto urged him forward, reaching his tongue as far as he could into Gojo’s ass. He could feel his own spit running down his chin, but he was too lost in the feeling of Gojo all around him to care about the mess.

Suddenly Gojo clenched much harder around his tongue as he came all over his own hand. Geto slipped his tongue out as Gojo rode out his orgasm by fisting his hand. Tongue still lingering, Geto licked softly at the rim of Gojo’s hole. He felt a shiver run down Gojo’s spine as he kept up his ministrations.

“Sugu- please it’s too much,” Gojo whined, voice muffled by his own hand over his face. 

Sitting up, Geto pressed a final kiss to Gojo’s soft cheek before moving further up the bed and laying down next to him. He smiled as he watched Gojo turn to face him, before he quickly buried his face in Geto’s chest.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Release (Reunion Part 4) | Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

It might be time to get out from under the Colonel’s thumb.

a/n: here it is! The 4th and final part! Thank y’all so much for sticking with me through this story, I can’t describe how much it means to me 🥺 I do have ideas for a sequel if anyone’s interested! I’d love to hear your thoughts 🤍

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: a couple swear words, it does get a bit suggestive towards the end, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist | add yourself to my taglist!

“Bobby Kennedy’s been shot!”

You stand next to Elvis, teary-eyed, as he clutches your hand like a lifeline. The two of you are directly in front of the tv in his dressing room, surrounded by the crew, all of you stunned as you absorb the news.

“We’re ready on set,” someone says quietly among the crowd. No one pays him any mind.

“Steve,” Bones says, “we gotta get back to work.”

Steve steps up, muting the tv.

“Listen,” he says, “I, uh, I just wanna say that… that this nation is hurting. It’s lost, y’know, it… it needs a voice right now to help it heal.” He gives the room a watery close-lipped smile, voice tight, “We have to say something.”

He turns and looks at your husband. “You have to make a statement, E.P.”

You turn at the sound of the curtain being pulled back as the Colonel enters the room.

“Mr. Presley does not make statements.” he says incredulously, working his way through the crowd, “He sings ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ and wishes everyone a Merry Christmas, and good night.” He punctuates his statement with the push of a button, turning off the tv.

The crowd leaves, Steve and Bones giving you and Elvis each a comforting pat on the shoulder as they exit.

Elvis steps away to change out of his outfit for the special, leaving you and the Colonel alone in the other room. You sit down on the couch, ignoring him, and turn the tv back on, making sure to turn the volume up so your husband can hear the news coverage.

“Poor Mrs. Kennedy,” the Colonel sighs several minutes later, “it’s a tragedy. But, it had nothing to do with us.”

Elvis looks up, incredulous. “It has everything to do with us,” he says, stepping into the room.

“I just do not think we should be making speeches,” the Colonel explains, “about politics and religion—”

“Dr. King was shot 8 miles from Graceland while I was out here singin’ to turtles,” your husband scoffs, cutting him off. “And now this, and all you can think about is how many goddamn sweaters I can sell?”

“I am a promoter, that is what I do,” the Colonel says lightheartedly.

“And I’m Elvis Presley, that’s what I do!” your husband retorts, slamming the Coca-Cola bottle he’d grabbed on the desk with such force that it splashes onto the lighted mirror.

“Oh… Mr. Binder has certainly got inside of your head with all of his hippie friends,” the Colonel replies quietly. “You actually think that you singing your old songs dressed in black leather, sweating, mumbling incoherently to the audience was a good show?”

“Colonel, I know when I’ve excited an audience,” he replies with a subtle wink in your direction, showing off that confident smile he’d been missing for far too long.

“That was not a real audience, my boy,” the Colonel says matter-of-factly. “There was a sign flashing ‘applaud’ telling them when to clap for you. This entire jamboree was an embarrassment.”

He stands up from his chair, moving to stand beside Elvis. “You have embarrassed the sponsors, you have embarrassed yourself, you have embarrassed me. Now you can sing whatever songs you and Mr. Binder choose for 55 minutes,” he says dismissively, “but at the end of the show there will be a Christmas song. Or else we will be sued. No,” the Colonel amends, “you will be sued for breach of contract because I will no longer be the promoter of your career. I will have to leave you.”

Elvis only hums in response, face expressionless as he moves past the Colonel towards the door.

“Now I have convinced our friends at Singer Sewing Machines to come back tomorrow for ‘Here Comes Santa Claus,” the Colonel says. “I will see you in the morning, Mr. Presley. Oh, and as I recall,” he calls as Elvis steps out of the room, “Dr. King said rock and roll music contributed to juvenile delinquency.”

Elvis doesn’t deign to give a response as he closes the door, leaving you alone with the Colonel.

“How dare you.”

The Colonel turns to you as if he’d forgotten you were there, looking surprised at the outrage showing on your normally calm and collected face. You step forward, poking him in the chest.

“You have done nothing but manipulate him to try to shape him into whatever will make you the most profit— those damn movie musicals, this stupid Christmas special sponsored by sewing machines of all things? You dare to come in here and claim that those people out there were clapping because a flashing light told them to? Threaten to leave my husband after everything he’s done for you? You have no respect— none!— for the talent my husband has, and I for one would appreciate it if you left. Please.” You finish, nostrils flaring, and you feel as though you could burn a hole through the Colonel’s smug face with the fiery anger in your eyes.

The Colonel’s eyes narrow imperceptibly, his voice cold. “I have done nothing but care for that boy, Miss Y/N. I would strongly advise against saying anything like that ever again.”

You scoff in astonishment, “Care?! You’ve never cared about him; from the moment you saw him all you saw were dollar signs; a carnival attraction. My husband is a talented man who can hold his own in this business. We don’t need you. My Elvis doesn’t need you.”

“I know you want him all to yourself, but he will always need me, Miss Y/N—“

“No.” You cut him off, the condescension in his tone only succeeding in making you angrier, “You’re the one who needs him. And we both know that you’re absolutely terrified of the day he figures that out.”

You storm out, leaving the Colonel frozen in place trying to process your outburst.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you head home, knowing that Elvis was going to be staying late at the studio to prep for tomorrow.

•••

Unbeknownst to you, Steve went back to Elvis’s dressing room to try to talk to him about making a statement. He got there in time to see Elvis storm past him, looking like he was in no mood to talk, and then he heard your entire altercation with the Colonel.

Not knowing what to do, he decided it was best if he stayed out of it for now and returned to the control room to shut everything down.

He’s about to flip the last few switches when he hears Elvis singing the saddest rendition of “Here Comes Santa Claus” he had ever heard. He turns on the mic.

“We’re… pretty set for the number tomorrow, right E.P.? It’s pretty familiar territory?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then: “A reverend once told me, when things are too dangerous to say…” Elvis says, and Steve can see the spark of an idea in his eye, “sing.”

Steve, Bones, and Elvis work through the night on a new song, and only when Elvis is about to leave does Steve remember what he overheard earlier that night.

“E.P., hold on a second.”

Elvis stops in his tracks. “What’s up, Steve?”

“Look, I stopped by your dressing room earlier— I was gonna try to talk to you about making a statement, but you didn’t exactly seem in the mood to talk by the way you walked outta there,” he says with a dry laugh, “and I, uh… I overheard something.”

He proceeds to explain what he heard of your conversation with the Colonel. Elvis nods, listening intently. It was one thing to have flickers of thought like that for himself, but for you to outright say it all, to see the big picture… he realizes something has to be done.

“Thank you for tellin’ me, Steve” is all he says before he turns and walks away, a plan forming in his head.

•••

The next morning, you arrive at the studio with Elvis. He had talked with you about his new song and his plan for filming today and you were completely on board, you couldn’t be prouder of him.

He had also talked with you about the conversation you and the Colonel had.

“I’ve had thoughts of droppin’ the Colonel for a bit, I’ll be honest,” he had admitted, “but to hear it the way you said it, all laid out with the big picture, I—“ He faltered for a moment, grasping your hand, “And then to hear the way he spoke to you… I’m firin’ him right after the performance today, I promise you baby.”

“I don’t want you rushing into anything, honey,” you had replied, concerned.

“Don’t worry, my love, I’ve got it all figured out. He won’t have his claws in me— in us anymore after today.” he had said, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

You stand near the set, decorated to look like a page out of A Christmas Carol. The Colonel surely loved that, you think, but he’s about to be very disappointed. You beam with pride as the cameras frantically turn to Elvis as he steps in front of the lighted sign and begins performing his new song, “If I Can Dream”, with more emotion than you’d ever seen in him.

The cameras cut after his performance and he turns to you, chest heaving. You run to him, and whisper as he wraps his arms around you, “That was incredible, baby.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, darlin’” he whispers back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

The tender moment is interrupted by the Colonel storming down from the control room.

“Mr. Presley!” he shouts, face livid, “Was I not perfectly clear that there was to be a Christmas song today?”

“You were,” Elvis responds calmly, “I just thought that this was a smidge more important than sellin’ Christmas sweaters and sewing machines. Oh and by the way, Colonel,” he adds nonchalantly, “you’re fired.”

“I— what?” The Colonel looks genuinely confused for a moment, and you almost feel bad for him— before he opens his mouth to snow your husband yet again. “My boy, you don’t mean that! I’ve been with you through everything, we—“

“Yes, and I think it’s time we went our separate ways.” Elvis says firmly, “Especially after how you treated my wife.”

The Colonel blinks, then turns to you, his face nearly purple with anger. He hisses, “You did this, you—“

Your husband steps in front of you protectively. “Oh no, she didn’t do nothin’. You’ve had your claws in me since I started out and I am sick and tired of it. This was just the final straw. Security,” he calls “could we get this man escorted from the premises, please?”

The Colonel is escorted out, and Elvis turns to the control room, calling out, “Now I’m not sure if you fine folks from Singer Sewing Company are still here, but I’d still like to perform a Christmas song for y’all, seein’ as you came all the way here. Also, I’d very much like to avoid bein’ sued by y’all if I can help it,” he jokes. He performs a very sweet rendition of “Here Comes Santa Claus” (the irony is not lost on you with that one) before rushing everyone back to his home.

The two of you sit in your room, curled up in bed together while Jerry, Steve, and Vernon, along with a team of lawyers, try to figure out how to get the Colonel out of your lives for good.

“Y/N, my darlin’, my angel,” Elvis says quietly, “I’m so damn sorry about that damned evil man. You should never have had to put up with everything he did—“

He’s been apologizing for far too long today. You shake your head, “No, Elvis, I… I sensed something was off about that man the moment I met him, I should’ve said something sooner…”

“No, sweetheart, no,” He cups your cheek, turning your face so you’re looking into his eyes. His voice takes on a serious tone, wanting to make sure you hear and understand every word he’s about to say, “You did not deserve that, not even one bit of his bullshit. I love you darlin’, more than words can say, and I cannot thank you enough for sticking with me through this entire thing. I truly cannot thank you enough, my darlin’. I love you forever and always.”

Speechless, you pull him in for a kiss, tears brimming in your eyes as you wonder how the hell you got so damn lucky.

•••

Elvis enlists Jerry to be his new manager, and continues working very closely with Steve and Bones as he plans his world tour (“I’m 33 years old and I’ve never been out of the country, ‘cept for the service,” he had lamented to you when the idea first came to him.)

He’s absolutely thrilled at the idea of performing for crowds in Europe and Japan, and even more ecstatic at the idea of having his own plane to fly him there. The “Evelyn” is his other pride and joy, he jokes, second only to his actual daughter.

One day, in the midst of packing to leave Graceland for the first stop on the tour, Vernon and Jerry come running in, looking frantic.

“Dad? Jerry? What’s wrong?” Elvis asks, concerned.

They turn to where you and Elvis are standing by the car. Jerry gestures for Vernon to speak first.

“Well, son,” he begins, “I got a call this morning from… from the Colonel. Saying somethin’ about ‘we still owed him for everything’ and started rattling off numbers and prices for things he wanted us to pay for. I went and got Jerry right away.”

Jerry takes this as his cue to speak, “The lawyers went over the papers and said that he wasn’t entitled to anything like that. I think he’s still assuming that we haven’t bothered with a lawyer, seeing as he’s making demands like this. But anyway,” he shakes his head, getting back on track, “I did some digging, and it turns out Colonel Tom Parker doesn’t exist. His real name is Andreas van Kuijk. He fled from Holland a while back and created this entire fake identity. He’s a con man. Always has been.”

“He’s… what?” A mix of confusion and anger dawns on your husband’s face as he furrows his brow, trying to make sense of what they had just said.

“Dad, did you figure out where he was callin’ from?” He asks after a moment of absorbing the news, suddenly all business.

“Uh… I think it was the Stardust?” Vernon replied, naming the popular hotel and casino in Vegas.

“Let me guess,” you speak up, noting the determined glint in his eye, “we’re making a stop on the way to LA?”

He nods. “Yeah, baby. I wanna talk to this bastard.”

Between all of you, you’re somehow able to organize a quick pit stop in Vegas on the flight to LA, and you accompany Elvis to the Stardust.

You find the old man sitting alone at a row of slot machines, putting coin after coin into the machine. He looks up as you approach, and a surprised smile spreads across his face.

“My boy! You’ve returned! I hope there are no hard feelings—“

“I ain’t here to take you back, you snake.” Elvis hisses. “My father told me you called. You seem to think you still got your claws in me.”

“Well, my boy, I am just trying to be an honest businessman and get my money’s worth. You owe me quite a bit from all the years we worked together.”

A laugh tears from your husband’s throat, “An honest businessman? Really? After what we’ve learned about you? You haven’t said an honest thing to me in your life, not even your name. Oh that’s right,” Elvis sneers, seeing the Col— van Kuijk’s eyes widen just the slightest bit. “We know all about you, sir. All the lies you’ve told. Are you even from Holland, or is that another lie?”

“Does it truly matter where I am from?” he says smoothly, “I discovered you! I made you! You would be nothing without me!”

“How dare you, you toad.” Elvis spits, “I may have gotten my start with you, I’ll grant you that, but— well. I believe my wife told you this before: I. Don’t. Need. You. You made 50% of everything I have ever made since I started out and you think you can come back here and bleed me dry? No, sir,” he says with a dry laugh, “You and I are done entirely. Have a nice life, Mr. van Kuijk.” He spits out the name of the conman like it’s a curse word. Before van Kuijk can say another word, he grasps your hand and leaves, content in the idea that that will be the last conversation he ever has with him.

Back on the plane, you and Elvis are alone. The others elected to drive and meet you in LA, and it turned out his father didn’t necessarily like flying, so there’s no one around to bother you as Elvis continues showering you with affection, telling you how much he loves you and how grateful he is that you gave him the push he needed to finally get rid of that old conman in the first place. He’s pulled you close, and his hands snake around your waist as he says, as if the thought had just come to him: “Darlin’, have I ever thanked you properly for that?”

“…Yes?” you reply, confused. “You just said thank you to me at least 20 times in the last 10 minutes, honey.”

“No, darlin’…” His grip on your hips tightens the slightest bit, and you finally notice the look in his eyes as he moves to plant kisses down your neck, murmuring against your skin between each one, “have I ever… thanked you… properly?”

You can only whine as he reaches a particularly sensitive part of your neck, your hands winding into his hair, and you feel his lips curl into a smile.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he breathes, moving his attention to the other side of your neck, one hand snaking back to slowly, slowly, slowly undo the buttons along the back of your sheath dress, “‘M gonna make sure you know exactly how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me.”

Your husband is extremely thorough in his appreciation of you as you fly off to LA, and everything, finally, is as it should be.

~The End~

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