#wasting time chasing cars

[1-1-s1ay-2-2]

Yoked for Christ | Explained

And why is it these men who don't sincerely love Jesus Christ as their personal Savior keep trying to get with me? When, if they had even taken a hot second to understand who I truly am by getting to know me before imagining screwing me, they would have known that I love Jesus Christ as my personal Savior.

I've spent my entire life, since I was eighteen years old, with a man who did not love Jesus Christ as his personal Savior. And since then, I've been completely and utterly miserable. I got nothing out of either of those marriages but shitty treatment and lying men. When I say nothing, I don't mean the children I have from the marriages, I mean the personal aspect of sharing life with a man and the emotional and mental contentment that should accompany it. Nothing here means -- children excluded.

After being married to two non-believers for the last two and a half decades of my life, I was left in a state of despair with a hateful demeanor. I became a hollow shell of myself. A man-hater.

There was no warm-hearted, gentle man of faith who would take my hand and drop down to his knees to pray with me.

Any man I've ever known had too much pride for that. To pray with me, to submit to Christ, to be redeemed in the light.

There was no man who would break bread with me in the name of Jesus, or praise Jesus with me, or bless our marriage with belief.

Not a man who would lovingly and adoringly have conversations about Jesus with me, as if He was his Savior, too. There's never been a man to bond with me in faith or support my faith or strengthen my faith as an evenly yoked believer. As companions in Christ~Light.

All the men I've ever known (including blood relatives) only wanted to argue with me or prove me wrong about something or be right all the time or have some sense of power over me.

Men who don't believe in Jesus only ever wanted to control me and bring out the worst in me. They didn't truly love me because they didn't truly love Jesus -- or the TRUTH.

BUT HOW CAN A MAN TRULY LOVE A WOMAN IF HE DOESN'T FIRST TRULY LOVE THE TRUTH?

Men have treated me badly because I kept allowing myself to settle with men who were not personally saved and redeemed by Jesus Christ. Men who sincerely follow Christ and have the Holy Spirit treat their women well you see.

Because Jesus wouldn't have it any other way!

When Jesus sincerely lives wholeheartedly in the heart and soul of a man, there is a difference in him, a very detectable difference that regular (unsaved) men don't possess. A gentle nature, a kind heart, and a willing soul.

A man filled with the Holy Spirit is always discernable from a man filled with darkness. The man living in the shadows of darkness is not carrying his "flashlight" you see, so he always stands out as being the one without.

A man who carries his flashlight, now you can always see him, too, by the torch he carries, by the blazing way he shines his light.

But a man who has no faith and doesn't adhere to the teachings of Christ will treat you according to his own, faithless perspective.

That's not good. You don't want to be with someone who has no moral compass, who doesn't fear the ultimate consequences of being an asshole, who sees you as something to dominate and conquer instead of a person who loves and follows Christ.

Committing yourself to an unevenly yoked relationship NEVER EVER EVER EVER works. I wasted my life on two men who didn't believe when I could have spent that time with a man who believed.

I spent my entire adult life with a non-believing man, in waiting and wanting, and hoping.

Waiting and hoping in vain for him to open his heart to Christ.

Waiting for him to be redeemed from the darkness that I married into with him. Waiting and hoping he would see the light and commune with me in the awakening of our souls. But NO. All I got was...nothing.

Darkness and more darkness. Because where there is no acceptance of the light, there is only...nothing. Darkness is nothing because life cannot birth forth in the darkness. Light is life because it takes light bursting forth from the darkness to produce life -- BIG BANG.

The Big Bang was not darkness producing darkness.

That would be a black hole. As we know -- according to our limited-ten-percent, human perspective -- black holes do not produce life.

Black holes suck life into them. They suck light and energy and everything in their path because that's what darkness does...it DESTROYS...everything. It destructs from within like a force to be reckoned with. Darkness is the real enemy here and it can take the form of anything...even light. Because darkness lies.

When darkness uses light to deceive and create an illusion of goodness, that is called "white magic"...dark magic, as we know, is when darkness uses darkness to do harm in an already darkened world. Know the difference because both types of negative energy and both types of human beings using that energy to their personal benefit exist. And it's your spiritual obligation to yourself to be aware.

The Big Bang was light bursting forth from the darkness, propelled by infinite creation energy -- eternal love energy -- and then once the light burst forth, then life burst forth. Because light is love and love is life and they are all the same in one. Sorta like the Holy Trinity.

The foundation of everything good and true always stands in three.

Our sun, it produces light that sustains us and gives us life. Without the light of the sun, there would be no life on Earth. The first green plant would have never sprung forth, the first baby would have never taken its first breath. Light is what illuminates the darkness like a spiritual flashlight that God has provided us with for the duration of this temporal, physical journey of our eternal souls.

So, you see why faith is so important to me...and sharing that faith with another who believes.

In retrospect, I see the error of my way was that I should have NOT settled for a man who didn't believe.

It's not good to be with someone just because that's who presented themselves. Not everyone you meet is meant for you.

Who cares who wants to be with me...I'm not going to be with someone just because they want to be with me. If being with them destroys who I am over the long run. If I lose myself and my faith because I allowed myself to be influenced by someone in my life who didn't believe, no thanks. Not for me.

[bloodiedrogue]

LET'S WASTE TIME CHASING CARS

 PAIRINGS: Loki Laufeyson & Female Reader

SUMMARY: After Loki finds you crying in the parking lot he makes it his sole mission to figure out why.

WORD COUNT: 6,617

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Another re-written repost because I've got the big sad and can't be bothered to be creative anymore apparently. :')

MASTERLIST

-

 “Are you alright?”

Suddenly exhaling, your breath feels heavy throughout the base of your chest. An odd amount of tightness fills your insides, causing you to struggle to look through the partially open window of your car, finding yourself lost at the sudden presence of a voice.

It’s unfamiliar to you, dripping in elegance with dashes of concern laced throughout. As soon as you hear it, your throat partially closes, and the ability to swallow becomes lost as you cautiously turn to face it, feeling the gaze of an equally unfamiliar man staring back at you. 

He’s taller than most men; 6’3”, maybe 6' 4”, his hair dropping down to his shoulders in thick waves. Like his voice, he’s overtly appropriate, the blacked-out tux he wears tight against his frame much like his overall posture, while his face protrudes in perfect angles. 

Clearing your throat, you sniff and wipe the edges of your eyes with your hands, the knuckles of your thumbs dragging across the already-smudged mascara that coats your skin. It’s an action that immediately fills you with embarrassment because who the fuck just casually cries in a church parking lot in the middle of the day? Nobody sane, surely.

And yet, drenched in tears and sweat, the hot summer air clinging to the never-ending fabric that covers your frame, you realize you’re the kind of crazy person who does that. Who does all sorts of stupid things.

“Miss are you—“

“I’m fine!” 

Cutting him off aggressively, you stare him down and watch as he sort of stiffly leans forward, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he narrows his eyes. “Pardon me, but you don’t look very fine,” he says, and despite the urge to just roll up your window and call the interaction there, you merely stare back at him, feeling your jaw clench with the sort of aggression you usually reserve for cat-callers or mansplainers. Not overly good-looking gentlemen who border on the edge of polite and creepy. 

“That’s because I’m not,” you admit, an awkward laugh impulsively tumbling out of you.

“Obviously not.” Without much thought, you shoot him a glare. “I mean, if you were, you'd be inside with the rest of the bridal party instead of crying outside.” 

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch as he straightens his back again, the smile from his previous bout of laughter still present across his face as he silently circles around the front of the car, glancing at you with every step. 

At which point you feel your heart begin to race, partly out of fear, partly out of excitement as you stare back, your eyes darting to the hand that moves from the confines of his pocket to the handle of your door. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled on account of the passenger window being tightly shut. 

You open your mouth to respond; your voice catching in your throat as you debate the implications of letting some strange, way-too-perfect man into your less-than-perfect car because obviously there are some. Both negative and positive –the potentials of what could happen are endless and immediately your mind begins to conjure up each fabricated storyline without much warning. 

For example, he could kill you right then and there —could take a gun out of his jacket pocket and put it to your head without an ounce of remorse. He could do that and shoot you or better yet, kidnap you —pull a Ted Bundy and take you back to his place where he’d do unspeakable things to your mind and body all for the sake of his own personal d—

Before you can come up with a better daydream he’s opening the door, a low groan sounding through the air as he crouches down into the bucket seat of your old Daytona, his body almost too tall to even fit. 

Nervously, you lick your lips and lean your body away from him, moving your hand slowly toward the handle of your door as he slams his own. 

“Sorry, felt a bit strange trying to have a conversation with a wall of metal between us,” he says, smoothing out the front of his jacket as he turns to face you. “Now uh, what seems to be the problem?” 

You’re not sure what to say then —how to stop and articulate your thoughts and feelings into words that won’t immediately scare this poor man away.

“I uh—“

“I’m assuming it has to do with the wedding,” he responds, motioning towards the church that sits across the pavement, its godly appearance burning holes into your chest that feels like hellfire itself. 

“Maybe.”

“In love with the groom perhaps?” he muses, a sly smirk crawling across his lips at the same time he crosses his arms. 

Rolling your eyes, you mirror his movements by tucking one arm under the other, tightening the grip around yourself as you give him an unimpressed stare. “I’m not that much of a cliche.” 

“No?”

“No.” 

“But there is someone in there you’re avoiding, yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care?” 

Like you, he stops to contemplate, his mouth falling slightly open as his brows gravitate towards the centre of his face, indicating his sudden confusion.

At which point it becomes painfully obvious to you that he isn’t entirely sure why he cares —why he’s suddenly inserted himself into the problems of a stranger by aggressively jumping into the passenger side of her car. Clearly, it’s not something he does often, which as he closes his mouth, letting out a light huff, makes you wonder why now? Why, of all people, has he decided to take notice of you?

“I don’t really know,” he eventually says, his once soft, welcoming features hardening into something that doesn’t scare you but definitely makes you less comfortable. “Guess I just got sort of… caught up in the moment.” 

“The moment?” you scoff, unsure what that means. “You mean the one right before this where I was just crying?”

Silently he shrugs, his shoulders bouncing at the same time he nods, causing your expression to contort into something resembling both confusion and annoyance as you watch his eyes begin to wander out towards the parking lot. 

He looks tired, almost as if he’s bored and just looking for something to fill up his time. As he stares his eyes are devoid of brightness —of interest in the things that surround him, leaving you to wonder if maybe that’s why he decided to join you. Maybe in his own suffering, he decided he needed something to distract him —to give himself meaning in an otherwise idle existence. 

It sounds crazy but you can see it in his eyes; the way they sort of stare through everything rather than focus on it. It’s the same look you get whenever you’re stuck in a place you don’t want to be with people you care very little about, prompting your previous response to melt into understanding. 

“Are you here for the wedding too?” 

Changing the subject, you watch as his gaze moves back to you, his eyes still dull but no longer completely empty. 

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Unable to hide your amusement at his answer, you find yourself grinning. “Friend of the bride or groom?” 

“Neither.”

“Okay then why are you here?“

“The groom actually incarcerated me a few years back on account of trying to take over your world.” 

Raising your brow, you watch as his lips sort of quiver out into a smile, one that’s all teeth and wide open, his tongue partially sticking out as he laughs. 

For some reason it fills you with an odd sense of pride watching it happen; almost as if seeing this stranger laugh is something to be cherished. Because, if you’re honest, he doesn’t seem like the laughing type nor the kind of person who outwardly feels moments of contentment. No, he seems much more withdrawn than that. More so the type to hide away any positive feelings he may have in favour of portraying something entirely different.

Something almost ignorant.

“So, I take it you’re Thor’s brother Loki then?” 

Hearing the low growl of his laughter begin to die out, you find yourself sneakily backtracking to his previous statement, wondering how on earth he managed to regain the trust of not only Tony Stark, but really the whole bridal party after such an unforgivable stunt.  

“The one and only,” he says, and immediately you have to force yourself not to roll your eyes as you watch his arms obnoxiously raise outward with pride.

“I’m surprised you made it,” you retort, pausing to wet your lips as you watch the way his arms casually fall back to his sides. “Normally you never show up to these things.” 

“Yes, well, apparently after it was discovered that Barton had a hidden family it became mandatory for all team members to attend major personal events.” 

“Ah, yes, the elusive Barton family. I’ve heard good things.”

“I’ve never met them. I’m not allowed to on account of the fact that—“

“You tried to take over the world,” you finish, your tone filled with boredom as you lazily lean forward, pressing the side of your face against the edge of the steering wheel.

“Not a fan of my work, I’m guessing.” 

Awkwardly, you snort and move your arm to partially hide the tentative curving of your lips, suddenly feeling unsure about how to navigate the oncoming trail of conversation. “It’s not that I’m not a fan,” you say, your lips moving on their own, pausing to let your brain catch up as you bite back the smile that still presents itself across the lower half of your face. “I just think what you did was pretty stupid.”

“Stupid?” Puzzled, Loki looks at you, his pupils blown out as he shuffles to his side, pressing his shoulder against the backing of the seat to get a better look at you.

Staring back, you take a moment to properly survey him again, your eyes trailing down the length of his face, picking apart the angled features, lapping them up like a visual honey too sweet for you to swallow. 

More than anything you want to look as long as possible —want to lock eyes and really get a feel for what makes him tick even though you know you shouldn’t because people like him (interesting people who do things because they want to) and people like you (boring ones who just do what they’re told) don’t really mix well. 

“Very stupid, actually. Momentously stupid. Almost stupider than me agreeing to come to a wedding with my ex boyfriend who also happens to be my coworker.”

You’re not sure why you tell him; why your mouth just falls open and the words sort of spill out like they’re nothing but they do and at that point, his interest has already peaked, his brows rising upwards at the same time a small scoff of disapproval falls from his lips. 

“Ex boyfriend and coworker? Are you mad?”

“Maybe,” you cringe, trying your best to ignore the unfortunate recognition; your face scrunching up to reveal clenched teeth and wide eyes. 

Chuckling, he leans towards you in his seat, casually resting his elbow against the headrest. “That’s quite the trek, from coworkers to friends to lovers to—“

“Oh, we were never friends,” you correct, feeling another wave of embarrassment rush through your system once you realize that you could’ve just left it that. He doesn’t need to know the timeline of your dating history. 

“So lovers was the start of your romantic journey?” he muses. 

“I guess so, yeah.” 

“But that ended once you started working together?” 

Pressing your lips together tightly, you wonder how weird it would be if you just left. If you just unlocked your car door and got out and left without another word. It’d probably be easier than explaining whatever it is you can feel him shamelessly fishing for. He doesn’t know anything about you and you only really know what you’ve read in the media or in files you’ve stumbled upon through work about him, so really your Loki knowledge isn’t all that sufficient either. 

Yet despite that, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this is just something he does —exploits information out of people to get the upper hand. Given his public track record, it wouldn’t be a far-off assumption. He did, in fact, try to take over the world amongst other things so the act to collect the details of people and their behaviours is probably somewhat ingrained into his system.

Most likely, he’s the kind of guy that, no matter the situation, he needs to be on top of things —needs to know exactly what he’s getting into so that he can know how to get out. But what exactly does that have to do with this conversation? And why is he still here, sitting inside your shitty car asking you about relationships and acting all chummy as if he knows you?

Sighing in slight defeat, you move your hands to your eyes, palming the sockets for a good few seconds as you debate whether or not you should continue talking, because really what could be the harm? Sure, Loki’s the king at causing problems but you’re not the greatest at avoiding them either, so really what’s the issue here? 

“I got the job after we hooked up at a bar,” you eventually admit, realizing just how terrible it sounds. “Neither of us knew each other beforehand and he was cute so we had sex and then somewhere along the line I mentioned that I needed a job so he got me one.”

“You had sex to get a job,” he states, his tone mixed with amusement and confusion, causing you to groan and roll your eyes because yeah that’s kind of what you did but at the same time not at all.

“I mean, I didn’t have sex with him with the intention of snagging one,” you say, watching as Loki sort of nods his head, his expression skeptical. “I had sex with him because he was hot and I was bored and then somewhere along the line I thought we connected so I told him I didn’t have a job and then because he’s fucking weird he offered to get me one where he worked, which in retrospect, now that I’m thinking about it was obviously a very stupid idea and—“

“Is that why you were crying?” 

Cutting you off, Loki stops all movement, his eyes taking place within your own, watching as they blink away the tears that begin to reform. 

You don’t want to admit that that was why you were crying —why the second you saw your ex across the room, motioning for you to come dance, you basically had a full-blown panic attack and made a run for it.

“Because if so, let me be the first to tell you that crying over a man is hardly worth it.”

You’re not sure why but the sudden image of him sprawled out in the passenger seat, his gaze hard yet sincere as he gives you a pep talk about boys even though he knows very little about the situation is hilarious to you. So hilarious, that you can’t help but laugh.

“And you’re saying this because you have experience?” you question, taking a moment to wipe your eyes and deeply breathe, feeling the storm begin to settle again as Loki shuffles next to you in his seat.

“Of course I do, I’m a thousand years-old.”

“Yeah, but just because you’re old doesn’t mean you’re experienced. They’re two different things.” 

Leaning slightly forward, he pauses and flashes you a smirk, his stare boring into you in a way that makes your body move away from his, closer to the door that you once again debate escaping through. 

“Believe me darling, I’m as experienced as I am mischievous.” 

And suddenly, just like that, his presence is too much. Inside the claustrophobic confines of your car, where you can feel his breath fanning your face and his eyes exploring your features, taking in each section as the moments slowly pass, you feel almost trapped within his gaze —trapped within the thoughts of what could happen next, because really, anything could. He could merely mutter something sarcastic or make some joke about how being old correlates to having lots of sex (which you’re sure in his case is probably correct). He’s attractive in a conventional way and witty in a mysterious one and yeah, technically a prince so why wouldn’t he get laid? 

Suddenly, his intentions feel like a hidden treasure, locked away behind the gaze that keeps glancing between your lips and eyes, lingering at the former —making you wonder if maybe he’s got something else on his mind.  

Because he’s at a wedding after all. Most likely alone because the thought of him attaching himself to anyone involved in Tony Stark’s inner circle seems less than likely. He’s probably just lonely and bored, looking for distractive solace in the hands of another. You figure that’s probably why he first stopped for you in the first place—why he inserted himself into the passenger seat of not only your car but now your problems, leaving you with two choices: accept him and bring him along for the ride or kick him out before things get too weird. 

Being the terrible decision-maker that you are, you immediately pick the first one, tearing your gaze from his reach to grab your seatbelt, feeling your chest pound. 

Next to you, Loki leans back again and gives you a confused stare, watching as your attention quickly changes from him to the inner workings of your vehicle, your one hand moving to click your seatbelt into place while your other reaches for the ignition. 

“No longer care to keep up appearances?” he asks humorously and you shake your head, turning your attention to the rearview mirror as you begin to back up.

“I never wanted to come in the first place,” you grumble, cautiously turning the wheel in your hands as you attempt to perfectly position your car. “All I wanted to do was spend my weekend lying in bed in my underwear drinking wine and watching reruns of Criminal Minds.” 

“The night’s still young,” Loki quips, laughing after he notices you subtly roll your eyes.

“Nice try, but we’re definitely not doing that. Not together. I barely know you.”

“Well that seems a bit unfair given your apparent track record, don’t you think?” 

As you finish pulling out of the parking space and turn to move toward the exit, you give Loki an unimpressed look, knowing that he’s right. You’re a giver of temptation and if he wasn’t right and you weren’t as stubborn, you both know you would’ve taken him up on his offer right then and there. 

“I’m just saying. You’re obviously attractive enough to get what you want,” he quickly adds, raising his hands in defence, watching as you scrunch up your face and turn back towards the pavement, trying your best to ignore the way his lips part into yet another smirk. “And clearly based on the way you reacted to my staring I assume I fall under that category, so who am I to deny the chemistry that we’ve so easily acquired in these mere moments?”

“Chemistry,” you snort, shaking your head as you glance both ways before pulling out of the parking lot and turning left. “Loki, I don’t even know you.”

“There’s not a lot to know.”

“You don’t even know me then.” 

“Please, I know plenty about you,” he retorts, turning to face the church as it begins to disappear behind you. “I know that you work under Pepper because if you worked under Tony I would’ve already heard about you.”

“That’s not—“

“I know that you’re impulsive.”

“Okay but—“

“I also know that, like me, that last thing you want to be is bored,” he says, looking back to raise his brow at you as you make another left turn, trying your best to ignore the irritation that rises throughout your system. “Which is precisely why you’ve chosen to basically kidnap me in some last ditch effort to fuel your own distractive entertainment.” 

Dropping your jaw, you look at him with narrowed eyes, noticing the ever-present smirk that fails to leave his face grow even larger. “I'm not kidnapping you.”

“Luring me into your car, failing to give me the option to leave before driving off like some maniac,” he responds, counting each point on his hand. “That seems to me like your classic case of kidnapping.”

Scoffing, you turn your attention back towards the road, shaking your head as you attempt to shove away the discomfort you feel in knowing that, once again, he’s right because you do hate the feeling of boredom. You hate how it slowly, painstakingly inserts itself into your life any chance it can get; pulling you in, wrapping its roots around your feet, trapping you in a way that’s minuscule and easy to escape from, yet hardly worth the effort. 

So often you find yourself stuck within these episodes; ones where everything you do feels meaningless and never enough, forcing you to confront the notion that maybe this is all you’ll ever be. A boring person who works a boring job, whose only way of escapism is to make stupid mistakes.

Because that’s exactly what this is. This whole day has just been one mistake after another; an impulsive path of reckless behaviours that Loki can spot a mile away, because not only are you the things he’s previously mentioned, but apparently you’re also easier to read than fucking children’s book.

“I feel like kidnapping is a strong word,” you eventually retort, your mind moving back to the conversation, even though at this point a part of you just wants to pull over and kick him out of the car so you can go about the rest of your day in peace. 

“So is the truth, oftentimes,” Loki says and immediately you groan. 

“Tell me, are you always this annoying?”

Laughing, he raises his arms and shrugs, leading you to believe that the lack of verbal confirmation means that most likely, yes he probably is, and no, you probably can’t do anything about it. 

Regardless though, you try anyway. 

“If you could be less annoying, you know, on account of the fact that I’ve had a really hard day, I’d appreciate it,” you say, offering him an innocent grin. 

“Only if you properly tell me why your day’s been so hard,” he says back, shooting you a grin of his own. 

Unsurprisingly though it isn’t filled with innocence. No, it’s filled with chaos and perversity, the ends of his teeth poking out from between his lips. 

Fighting back the urge to groan again, you heavily blink and release a breath, hearing the laughter that he immediately emits in response to your obvious annoyance.

“Fine, but I want ice cream first.” 

-

By the time you’re at the front of the line, ready to order and devour your ice cream the way you’ve been dreaming about since you decided on the whole idea, you’re reminded of Loki’s presence again, causing you to sigh. 

During the entirety of the drive, he wouldn’t stop talking —asking you questions about your life and your ex and how the events of said relationship had led you to this exact moment. (The one where you supposedly kidnapped him and convinced him to get dessert instead of staying at the church for dinner).

Every time he asked you, you forced yourself to turn him down, repeating your previous statement about how you wouldn’t talk until there was a bowl of ice cream in your hand, prompting him to scowl or roll his eyes or, near the end of the drive, both. 

It drove you absolutely crazy, dealing with the onslaught of overly pressured chatter followed by the discomforting moments of silence that you’d receive after scolding him for not listening. Honestly, it was almost like dealing with the nosiest child, hellbent on learning every viable piece of information he could even though none of it really mattered because you and your ex were done —finished and over with, which meant there was nothing to talk about. Nothing to say or explain or to uproot and burden him with. 

Regardless of that though as you finish ordering, Loki leans in close, the side of his body brushing against yours as he whispers a quick, “so, now are you going to talk about it?” at the same time you pull out your cash to give to the girl at the register. 

“Is the ice cream in my hand?” you ask, giving him a stern look. 

“No, but—“

“Then chill out, alright?” 

Shaking your head at his lack of patience, the girl at the till then asks you your name and absentmindedly you give it to her, afterward glancing over at Loki whose brows suddenly raise at the sound.

You realize then that up until this point you hadn’t bothered to properly introduce yourself. A fact that you immediately find conflicting as the two of you wander over to the handoff plane where your ice cream already awaits. 

As you move to grab it you hear Loki mumble your name on his tongue, repeating it a couple of times with a smile, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he eagerly follows behind you. 

“I like it, it’s got a nice ring to it,” he says and a part of you feels almost embarrassed at the number of times he’s uttered it. 

“Yeah, well, it’s the one my mom gave me.” 

“It suits you.” 

Ignoring him then, you grab your ice cream off the counter, offering the worker behind it a quick smile before ushering through the doorway, feeling Loki hot on your trail as you awkwardly try to push the door open with your body. 

Almost immediately, Loki comes to your aid, reaching around to grab the handle before pushing it out so you can slide from its grasp, prompting you to mumble a quick thanks as you both wander back towards the car. 

“Alright, now that you have your ice cream, speak up,” he says on the way, watching as you roll your eyes and move to lean against the hood, tucking one leg behind the other comfortably.

“I don’t understand why you want to know. It’s not that interesting,” you say before taking a bite of your dessert, your lips wrapping around the spoon as you practically moan at the taste. 

“Interest is a matter of opinion,” he replies, taking the space next to you. “Something that’s uninteresting to you could very well be interesting to me. Take for example, the time I literally stabbed Thor in the back.”

“Why did you stab your brother in the back?” 

“What do you mean why?” 

“I don’t know, it just seems kind of rude.” 

Giving you a confused look, he shakes his head. “Rude?”

“Yeah, rude. Stabbing’s rude.” 

“It’s not rude, it's funny.” 

He sounds so serious as he says it, causing you to snort and take another quick bite before swallowing hard and turning to face him. “I know that in your world it’s probably like… a super casual thing to just betray your brother and stab him in the gut, but like, we don’t do that here.”

“I didn’t stab him in the gut.”

“But you—“

“No, no, I stabbed him in the back.” 

“Okay, but that’s not the point. The point is that it’s not okay to do that.”  

“Oh, I know.” 

“You know?” 

“Yes, of course I know, I’m a trickster, not a fool.”

For some reason that makes you laugh, your whole body bouncing as you lean back against the hood of your car and take another bite. “I guess I just don’t understand your thinking then,” you then say, angling your face so that it’s in line with his. 

“Most people don’t, to be honest.”

“How come?”

Shrugging his shoulders you watch as his face sort of falls, his eyes dimming down at the mention of misunderstanding, making you wonder if maybe that’s why he’s suddenly attached himself to you. At first, it didn’t make much sense —having this strange, borderline manic man you barely know suddenly insert himself into your life and all its wonderful problems. 

Based on your assumptions (and what others had told you) he’s always been a bit of a loner —the kind of guy who keeps to himself regardless of interest. Everyone assumes he’s this giant asshole. This… conceited God filled with resentment for what Earth did to him after the attack on New York. They think he’s angry and vengeful —too full of himself to accept the company of Earth’s inhabitants like his brother, which is why he acts out —why he never listens to the people he so desperately needs to right his wrongs. 

Based on your conversations though, you assume he acts the way he does because he’s just stubborn. Because maybe like you, he’s just awkward and mulish, unable to set aside his pride, even though all he wants is for people to like him —to see him and connect with him. 

Which makes you wonder if maybe that’s why he jumped at the chance to help you. Perhaps through your mess of tears and lack of regard for your emotions, he saw a bit of himself in you. Somewhere along the line, he connected with you, and now that you realize that you can’t help but wonder if somehow you’ll end up doing the same. 

Because already, despite the constant streamline of words that seem to fall from his lips, you can feel yourself growing fond of him. Sure, his presence is a bit much (bordering on unbearable when he puts his mind to pushing your buttons) but he’s nice. He’s nice and caring and funny and when you look over and see the sadness in his eyes it almost feels like your heart is breaking. Under the pressure of his stare, it’s cracking and you’re not entirely sure what to do other than to move closer to him, bumping your elbow with his as you offer him a smile to gain his attention. 

“Do you want to hear something stupid?” you say then, and before you know it his eyes are brightening and his lips are parting and suddenly there’s this light inside him that you know at that moment is reserved for you and you alone, so you continue.

“I lied earlier when I said I didn’t want to go to the wedding,” you tell him, and Loki raises his brow, the interest in your statement growing across his face. “I actually went to try and get that asshole back.” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought that I could,” you say with a shrug. “Which now that I think about it is kind of ridiculous.” 

“A bit yeah. So many options of revenge in the world and you chose the route of lust.”

Snorting, you move to set aside your ice cream before sort of rolling onto your side, watching as Loki does the same, both of you now facing each other completely.

“I should’ve just stabbed him like you did with Thor.” 

Laughing, he shakes his head. “As much as it pains me to encourage you not to do that, deep down know that I think it’s a brilliant idea.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” you muse, reaching over to grab another bite of ice cream. “You know, the night’s still young, maybe we should go back? I’m sure by now everyone would be too drunk to even notice. We could probably gut him pretty good.”

“Don’t tempt me darling, you know that I would.” 

Darling. God, why did he have to call you that? Literally of all the names in the world, why was darling the one he decided to choose? 

Just thinking about it makes your entire body melt, almost as if he’s used his magic to transform you into the ice cream sitting next to you, causing you to soften and mollify, your entire being suddenly malleable in his hands.

It makes you think about what you’d do to keep this going —this strange charade of strangers turned friends, subtly flirting with one another on top of a car that’s too old to be considered cool. You don’t want it to end yet. You don’t want to have to get in the car and drive him away only to be left alone again, broken and bored. 

At least not yet. 

“Hey, we should go for a drive,” you say and suddenly you’re sitting up and grabbing your ice cream, shovelling down the last few bites as you wander over to the garbage bin a couple of feet away. 

Following suit Loki sits up too, noticing the sudden pep in your step as you practically sprint back to the car with your hands shoved into the pocket of your dress, your face scrunched up in excited bliss as you step in front of the driver’s side door.

“A drive?” he asks and all you do is nod, unlocking the door before silently sliding in, watching from the corner of your eye as he does the same. 

“Yeah, we can blast some music and just go where the road takes us,” you say, hearing the click of his seatbelt go off before you reach around to grab your own, feeling your heart begin to race at the thought of doing something fun for once. 

“Hopefully it doesn’t take us off a cliff,” you hear Loki mumble and without even thinking you scoff and reach over to slap his arm. 

Before you can hit him though he grabs your wrist, tightening his fingers around the base ever so gently, causing both of you to look at the connection of your hands; the feeling of heat rising through your face once you realize that holy shit he’s touching you and oh my god he isn’t stopping. 

Because instead of letting go he merely stares, his gaze heavy and curious, almost as if he’s studying your hand as he slowly releases his grip and begins to slide his fingers along the base of your palm, exploring the skin until eventually, he laces his fingers in yours. Afterwards, he pulls your hand towards his lap, laying the base of his forearm against his thigh while keeping hold of you like it’s the most normal thing in the world, even though it’s not and suddenly you feel like you might pass out because who even does that? 

“I…. uh…” 

Opening and closing your mouth, you shuffle in your seat and blink, trying your best to avoid Loki’s gaze as you eventually just swallow hard, accepting your fate by awkwardly reaching around to shove your key into the ignition to start the car. 

As you do, Loki chuckles and thumbs the base of your index finger, moving the digit back and forth, feeling you shiver under his touch. “I can stop holding it if you want,” he says, even though secretly he hopes that you’ll say no because frankly he kind of likes the way it feels.

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine, it’s just—“

Feeling the struggle within your voice, Loki releases your hand, trying his best not to laugh again as you quickly place it onto the edge of the steering wheel, a look of pure embarrassment plastered across your face as you begin to back up the car. 

“If you didn’t want to hold my hand you could’ve just said so,” he says not long after, crossing his arms over his chest as he flashes you the kind of smug look that makes your hands sweat and your stomach twist.

“It’s not that, it’s just, I—” Unable to produce the words you hear floating through your head, you merely stop talking, knowing that no matter how hard you try your brain won’t willingly match up with your mouth, causing your heart to start to ache in the process, because deep down you do want to hold his hand. Weirdly enough, despite the little time that you’ve known him, you want to take his hand and grip it tight and maybe even pull him into your frame for a hug or a kiss or—

“It’s fine, darling, I’m used to rejection. Nobody wants the evil Asgardian prince.” Dramatically he places the back of his hand on his forehead, throwing his head back while closing his eyes. As he does you roll your own and turn onto the road, trying your best not to snort at his dramatics, wondering if he means it. 

You imagine that he partially does, given the track record of opinions people seem to have about him. Oftentimes their fondness is pretty scarce, especially considering that when he first joined the Avengers the talk around the office was anything, but nice. At the time you didn’t think much of it. Loki was nothing but a powerful God you’d never had to interact with. He didn’t feel tangible or real, even when you’d see images of him on the news or in person at Stark Industry events. To you he was merely just a person, living his life outside your own, trying his best to do the right thing, even if it meant suffering through the eyes of others. 

“Well, what if I want the evil prince?” 

Swallowing hard, you’re not sure if you regret your words as you drive through a set of yellowing lights, glancing over at him with raised brows, feeling your hand almost twitch at the sight of him, because you do want him. More than anything you’ve wanted before, you want to reach across your car and grab his hand and drive into the sunset without a map, all while telling him that everyone is stupid. 

So you do. 

Before he can respond either in agreement or protest, you lift your hand off the wheel and thread your fingers in his, feeling the way his grip immediately responds to yours by holding it tight and pulling it close to his torso as if it’s something he needs to protect. 

“I know we barely know each other; like literally I know nothing about you so this is probably weird, but like, I feel like we click, right?” 

You have no idea what you’re saying —what the words coming out of your mouth are trying to accomplish, but thankfully he seems to understand because not long after he sort of smiles, his eyes travelling from your hand to your face. 

“Click, yes,” he laughs, causing your heart to sort of swell because here he is still holding your hand and smiling despite the lack of audible sense you’re making. 

“I don’t know, I just… I like you, I think. You’re different. Not like in a bad way, but in an odd way where I don’t really know how to navigate where to go from here, because we kind of met in a weird way and—“

Snorting loudly, Loki cuts you off mid-sentence, shaking his head. “You know, I understand what I like you means, you don’t have to explain it to me.” 

Opening your mouth to respond, you quickly close it in favour of focusing on the road, knowing that if you don’t you’ll most likely get distracted and miss your turn-off.

-

TAGGING: @lovelysizzlingbluebird, @just-someone11, @linaax, @eleniblue, @cheekyscamp, @ozymdias, @use-your-telescope, @liminalpebble, @freegardenbanananeck, @lokixryss, @unlucky-number-13, @violethaze @simplyholl, @coldnique, @mischief2sarawr (if you’d like to be added fill out this form)

[videomessiah]

Sebastian Bach gets threatened by a guy in Point Doom (2000)

[heystephen]

it’s so crazy how you can be listening to chasing cars by snow patrol and then suddenly denny duquette just died and the interns are walking out of the prom and izzie is telling chief webber that she was the one who cut the lvad wire and that she’s quitting

[diari0deglierrori]

The one day my stupid brain forgets to have a water bottle with me at all times is also the day I do the most things that make me sweat like a pig

[carcinized]

^ top 10 albums that make me feel emotions

[wewindondowntheroad]

life right now is just a series of adult tasks i am dreading every waking hour

and as soon as i'm done with one there's another waiting

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

25 Laws of power for women

Conceal your goals especially the ones that are appealing. Losing weight, reinventing yourself, marrying wealthy. Instead talk about your altruistic goals - to help children, invest in education, this will chase insecure people with vile intentions.

Do not give anyone your source of power: Was is a book that changed your life? a mentor? a movie? Never give up your secret to success. If forced to do say allude to God, the universe, the a random phenomenon

Use the patriarchy to your favor; we live in a world that is, only associate with men who have power, use that power for good.

Never appear too perfect but be selectively vulnerable when needed. Only share something that you will be comfortable saying. You might say “I forget my keys all the time,” “I don’t know how to perfectly park a car “. But never disclose something you are not comfortable with just because you are afraid of being perfect.

Maintain distance in relationships. Friends are the best and you need them. But if you feel that they are becoming too dependent, see them at your own will. But also the reverse could be the case. Your friend may keep a distance, and that is the way of life. You have got to move on from it.

Develop your own style that makes you unique, beautiful, and elegant. Avoid trying to fit in the crowd of people who claim to care less about their style yet have too many opinions about other women’s style

Avoid male friends at all cost, you will have male colleagues, male bosses, male acquaintances, business partners. Keep it that way. You do not want a Truman Capote divulging your secrets to the world. Do not keep a man who does not fit your standard.

You do not have to win at every game. Pick and choose what is best for you and leave room for others. And step down if you have attained that level of success, do not let the society do it for you.

Trust people but remember that we are all humans. So trust with discretion!

Confuse people with kindness; people are not always comfortable with beautiful and intelligent women. That power is too intimidating so confuse them by being genuinely generous, curious, kind, and passionate.

Keep your strong opinions to yourself.. if you support a movement, a way of life, do so silently.

We all have dirty laundry, wash them privately, don’t expose yourself. Remain silent when people try to attack you or shame you. Whatever is not confirmed is not true. You are the only one who knows all the truth about you.

Don’t attract pity or praise: People who pity you do not help you, in fact they might think that you are weak and could mock you at their annual gossipping meeting. And if you are doing things for the sake of praise you are wasting your time.

Choose yourself all the time; never put any one’s feelings above yours.

Trust your own intuition if you feel someone is being malicious towards you, giving you back handed compliments then you should let them go

Never speak bad of another woman. Do not lazy around gossipping. Keep your hands clean and your conscience clear.

Avoid women with low self esteem they will bring you down. For some reason they do not like seeing other women who are doing better than them

Be careful who you seek validation from. Not everyone needs to be pleased. If they are in no way capable of contributing to your life in the ways you prefer, then don’t ask them for their opinions or please them.

Do not compete with other women, if you do you are only putting them on a pedestal. You are making the the standard by which you measure your progress. If you do compete, begin digging your grave.

Do not give unsolicited advice, do not share the inner workings of your mind, If your mouth is very charitable you better start journaling.

Be well-rounded and interesting. It attracts people. It also keeps you busy because you are continually improving and learning. An idle mind is an easily subdued one.

Avoid women who want to live vicariously through you; they want to know who you know, shop where you shop, befriend who you befriend, wear what you wear.

Pay attention to the source of your discomfort; get rid of them. You tell them your dreams and they remind you of all your hindrances. They ask why are you dressed so fancy as though fancy isn’t subjective. They undermine you interests and goals. They will also be quick to bring you down because they are afraid of your potential.

Do not fear power or please power. When we see powerful people we try to hard to befriend them, to be close to them but you need to be comfortable without them. Don’t push yourself in the name of friendship, do not try too hard to be in their inner circle. Your independence of mind is the most important. Instead become a powerful woman, aloof to the presence of power but aware of its importance. Be an ingenious and intelligent and use your creativity to uplift yourself. When you do so it will be hard to ignore you. Even the powerful will become an ally.

Enjoy moments of solitude. Use that time to develop yourself, improve your body, learn new skills, create with your mind, read widely, become more elegant, then launch yourself.

Remember the most powerful women are the most intelligent. Inspired by Robert Greene's 48 Laws of Power. Use at your discretion.

[fxrmuladaydreams]

austria ‘24

lando x reader

summary: you let lando take his frustrations out on you after the austrain gp

notes: please please please forgive me for being gone for so long, it’s been hard finding the motivation to write lately, but this one came pretty easy to me after the race. i hope you enjoy it 🤍

warnings: !! CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI !! oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, a little bit of degradation from lando

wc: 1467

You can’t remember exactly how long you’d held your breath for, standing next to Jon in the garage, gripping onto his arm as Lando and Max fought for the lead. You could practically feel your heart beating out of your chest. They were both aggressive, competitive drivers, neither backing down from the fight.

You feel your heart drop to your stomach as you see them make contact, both with punctures in their tyres as they slide into the gravel.

You close your eyes and let out a breath as Lando drives slowly back out onto the track, countless cars already zooming past. He manages to drag the car back to the pitlane, halting the mechanics work when he stands up and gets out of the car.

He keeps his helmet on as he walks past everyone, attempting to keep his cool while he’s still within view of the cameras.

“You should go talk to him.” Jon says to you, nodding in the direction Lando walked off in.

You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what you're about to walk into.

You follow his path down the hall, stopping outside the door to his driver’s room. You lift a fist to the door and gently knock. When you don’t get a response you call out to him.

“Lando? It’s me…”

The door opens slightly, Lando’s hand reaches out to grab onto your wrist, tugging you inside, then closing the door again behind you.

He’s got his race suit hanging around his waist. His shoulders are tense as he paces back and forth in the small room. He looks like he’s trying to slow his breathing, to calm down, but can’t.

“Are you alright?” You ask softly.

“Fine.” His voice is short, clipped, giving you a warning that he’s trying his best not to blow up, especially at you.

You sigh, and lean against the wall, watching as he moves around the room. He’s clearly trying to keep himself distracted, occupied as he fiddles with the strap on his helmet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks up at you for the first time when you ask. His eyes are rimmed with red, his cheeks flushed, and his face still damp with sweat. You can’t tell if he’s about to cry or burst from frustration. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Max pushed too hard.”

He closes his mouth, his brows raising in surprise.

“He pushed you off track. It’s clearly visible in the footage.”

“The FIA won’t do anything about it.” He grumbles. “He always wins, he’s always on top… I can’t believe he would wreck my race like that.” He huffs. “I was driving fair, and he just completely wrecked my car. And he’s still going to get points.”

You reach out for his hand and pull him over to you.

“There was nothing you could’ve done.” You gently stroke his cheek. “Is there anything I can do?”

He shakes his head, looking down at his hand in yours.

You tilt his chin up to look at you again. “Maybe… help you blow off some steam?” Your hand moves to tangle itself in his hair.

“I need to go talk to the media…” He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours, clearly not making any move to leave you.

“And think of how grateful everyone will be if you go back out there with a clearer head…”

Before he can reply you tilt your head up to give him a teasing kiss. His lips chase yours when you pull away.

“Your choice, handsome.”

He wastes no time lifting you up by your legs, keeping your body trapped between his and the wall behind you. His lips crash against yours in a desperate needy kiss. His hands grip onto your thighs, hard enough that you wonder if you’ll have his handprints bruised into your skin by the time he’s finished with you.

He rolls his hips against yours as he kisses you, his already tight fireproofs feeling so much tighter against him.

His mouth trails down the side of your neck, leaving harsh bites in its trail. You let your head roll to the side, giving him more space to mark you up. Part of you wonders how difficult it’s going to be, hiding his marks when you leave, but with a roll of his hips and a low moan from his throat, all thoughts go out the door.

“Need you.” He groans in your ear.

He lets your legs drop back down to the ground, as he drops to his knees. His hands make quick work of your pants, tugging them down your legs so you can kick them off. He does the same with your underwear, then lets his fingers run through your folds.

“So wet for me.” He smirks up at you. He licks his fingers, and moans at the taste of you. He lifts one of your legs, putting it over his shoulder before he practically dives in to taste you.

Your hands tangle themselves in his messy curls, your head thrown back against the wall. You whimper as Lando sucks harshly on your clit, eager to get you to fall apart on his tongue.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, as you pull on his hair, dragging his face away from your cunt.

He looks up at you surprised, almost offended, with his hazy eyes and your slick covering his chin.

“I need you to fuck me.” You tell him.

He grins, standing back up as he pulls his fireproofs down enough to free his cock.

He’s so hard, heavy in your hand as you stroke him.

He lifts you back up again, sliding the tip of his cock through your folds.

“Ready?” He asks.

You nod, then gasp, feeling him fill you up completely in one quick thrust. He stills for a moment, allowing you time to adjust, then gives an experimental thrust.

Your moan urges him to keep going. He fucks into you faster and harder than he’s ever done it before. You wrap your arms around him, attempting to keep yourself upright and stable.

He shows no sign of slowing, even as you tighten around him and moan his name, set on using you for his own pleasure, and it’s making you even more desperate for him.

He moves a hand to press his thumb against your clit, quickly hurtling you towards your orgasm.

You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut as he pounds relentlessly into you.

“That’s it, cum on my cock.” He growls. “Where do you want me to cum? Gonna let me cum inside you?” His voice is teasing.

You nod your head, unable to speak.

“Oh, have you become dumb on my cock?” He coos at you.

You can’t reply, simply burying your face in his neck.

“That’s okay. You don’t need to think baby, I’m gonna give you what you need, gonna fill you up with my cum…”

With a few more hard thrusts he feels himself spilling inside you, stilling his hips against yours. He takes a moment to catch his breath, then pulls out and gently lets your feet fall to the floor.

Your grip on him becomes tighter as you feel your legs nearly give out beneath you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He says, carefully guiding you to the couch.

You try to calm your heartbeat, running a hand over your face.

He tucks himself back into his pants as he looks at you. “Shit, sorry…” Lando grimaces, looking between your legs.

While the sight of his cum spilling out of you sends a new wave of arousal down to his cock again, he searches for a towel.

In the many times the two of you had had sex, he’d never actually cum inside you before, always using a condom or pulling out.

He sits on his knees in front of you, gently wiping between your legs with the towel, apologizing when you wince.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You smile at him. “Feeling better?”

He shrugs, but smiles. “About the race? Not really. About what just happened? Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You laugh as he grins. “You should go. Don’t want to keep the press waiting for you for too long.”

He leans his head against your knee. “Or… I could stay here, and we could do that all over again…”

You shake your head, grinning at him. “I will not be the reason you’re late.”

He huffs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine.” He stands up, only to drop down on the couch next to you. “But you’d better still be here when I come back.”

“I will.” You nod.

“Without pants.” He says with a smirk, slipping out the door before you can reply.

[unsteddie]

Steve and Eddie are on again off again for years after the events of st4. It's never too serious, they have basically opposite schedules. Eddie tends bar and plays with his band, existing mostly at night. Steve gets a degree and moves onto being a school counselor, late nights are the bane of his existence. It's easier when they live together, but over the years they've moved in and out of the little place they share with Robin.

Eddie's moved cities a few times, tried living with the band, has been on and off tour. Steve moved back home when his parents divorced for about a year to help his mom out, moved in and usually quickly out with partners. He volunteered a few summers to live in low income rural areas and help with the schools summer programs.

They just never quite get the timing right to try anything other than casual. It's honestly tearing Steve apart, it's been the source of every break up he's had since meeting the man. Eddie however seems entirely unbothered.

Steve knows for a fact he's Eddie's favorite person. Even when Eddie is "seeing" someone else, Eddie's relationships are never serious, he still prefers to spend his time with Steve. He just doesn't get why Eddie doesn't want something real, but he doesn't push, doesn't wanna lose what he has

It's a full decade of this nonsense before the song Quit Playing Games With My Heart by The Backstreet Boys comes out. Steve doesn't really care much about the band, he likes boy band music well enough. It's fun and catchy and danceable. But he's picking Eddie up from the airport, back from a three month stint in LA recording and promoting with the band. And the air is tense as the lyrics spill out of the radio, and it makes Steve feel heavy.

The song ends but he's still pretty misty, it's only ten minutes back to the apartment. He can hold it back, and when they're home he'll just excuse himself and cry quietly on his bed. He's done it plenty of times before, this is no different, he's got this, he's good.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks softly, and his his voice sounds strained, like something's got him worked up too.

Steve can't respond, not with his voice, so he just sort of nods, doesn't look at Eddie, but can feel the weight of Eddie's stare.

"What is it about me that you don't wanna stick around for?" He asks quietly, but there's a solid quality to his tone, like this is a question he's resolved to ask many times, and finally got his nerve up.

Steve doesn't respond for a long time, as pieces slowly move into place. Eddie has always seemed so unaffected, even congratulating Steve when things got serious with someone else. But if he looked closely at Eddie's reactions now, in retrospect, with the way he asked his quiet question, it clicks.

Eddie never liked any of Steve's partners, always gave Steve an out of he needed it, was always a little petty about Steve's ex's after a breakup. The thought that maybe, for all these years, a decade now, they'd been wasting their time keep things casual was just...well it was fucking hilarious. Terrible and heartbreaking, sure. But it kick started ridiculous sounding giggles.

Giggles quickly snowballed into full hysterical laughter. He glanced at Eddie who looked hurt, which was absurd. Steve's laughter became unhinged, and he had to pull off the road. Eddie didn't look hurt anymore when he looked back, he looked furious, and he was wiping his cheeks. Steve hadn't seen tears, but the idea that Eddie was crying over him did nothing to quell the laughter.

The moment the car stopped Eddie threw the door open, and climbed out. Grabbing his duffle from the back seat. He managed to stomp a good distance away before Steve could get himself together enough to chase after him. He was still giggling when he caught up enough to grab the strap of Eddie's bag. He pulled it back hard enough to knock Eddie off balance, and had to reach out to steady him.

"Eddie please," he paused to laugh and catch his breath as Eddie struggled to pull out of his grip. "Please, baby, give me a minute."

Eddie froze at that. They didn't use pet names like that. Nothing so relationship-y. It was enough to make Eddie wait for him. Steve didn't let go though, terrified Eddie might run off without a proper explanation.

He didn't know how to explain it, the years of longing, the way he'd wanted to ask the same question so many times, how he ached for him. He certainly didn't know how to explain his reaction.

"I don't know why it made me laugh like that." He started once he had his breathing under control. "Some stupid pop song-" and he was laughing again because this was stupid. He threw his hands up in frustration, immediately grabbing onto Eddie again when his hands came back down.

"some stupid pop song had me on the brink of tears, because my stupid, broken heart-" more laughter, and Steve was getting really tired of this. "Aches for you, when you've, I guess-" laughter, "been feeling the same way. God Eddie how stupid are we?"

And with that the giggles were gone, his insides had gone suddenly still, and he felt the loss of the time they could have had.

"how long?" Eddie asked, quiet again, he was never this quite. When Steve looked at him now his face was hard to read, tears still brimming in his eyes, but the anger and hurt were gone.

"since the boat house probably, at least since the hospital, for sure. When you woke up and you were cuffed to the bed. The first thing you said was some joke about being flattered they thought you were that dangerous. I knew for sure then, but I think it started in the boat house." Steve flushed, his face hot and pink.

"God, no, that's ..we can't have been feeling the same way so long. Stevie, what have we been doing?" Tears were falling, both men crying on the side of the road, and Eddie was holding onto Steve now too.

"Didn't think you'd want me for real. Didn't think anyone-" Steve coughed around the lump in his throat. "Tried to move on, so many times. Never could, it always came back to you."

And Eddie was suddenly in his arms, weeping, getting tight words out between sobs. "Never. Anything. Compare. No one. Even close. Just you. My Stevie."

"Didn't catch all that sweetheart. You'll have to tell me the rest later." Steve whispered into his ear, and Eddie melted in his arms, nodding emphatically into Steve's shoulder.

The time they waisted sat heavy on Steve's shoulders, but he had Eddie now. Eventually they would joke about it, about pining after each other for a decade before getting thier shit together, but it was gonna hurt for a while still.

[elllisaaa]

THINK AABOUT THIS

horny bsfheeseung who can't control himself when he's with you and eventually ends up fucking you on a rainy night

i'm thinking about it yes, because imagine HORNY BSF!HEESEUNG who was only supposed to come spend the afternoon at your place and watch a film with you. it was a cold day, so you were wearing a hoodie three times too big for you, some shorts and your warmest socks. you had already set up the couch - cozy blankets prepared for you, snacks and drinks scattered all over your table. and you were just so excited about finally spending time with him that heeseung felt really guilty about the way he couldn't help feeling hot under the collar when you hugged him and dragged him to the couch, snuggling up against him because you were freezing.

you put on the film, but heeseung cannot focus on it at all. everytime he tries to look at the tv screen, his eyes are drawn back to you - to your pretty face, pretty eyes, and pretty lips that he's dying to kiss. he's not usually this bothered around you, he has self-control, but there's just something about you today and the way your scent intoxicates him more than usual that makes him hard in his sweatpants. but it's okay, heeseung thinks, he just has to go through the movie without being suspicious and then he can go home.

wrong. not even halfway through the film, rain starts pouring outside. and it doesn't seem to stop. its raining so much that when the movie ends, you decide that it's too dangerous for heeseung to take his car to go home now. "but it's okay, you sleep here." and heeseung wants to say no, because he knows that if he stays in your presence one more minute, he's going to lose control. but you're actually right, he cannot drive in this weather.

so heeseung tries to not look at your ass too much as you bend down to get him another pillow so he can sleep on your couch comfortably. and he tries to not get distracted by the way he can still see the outline of your boobs, even under your oversized sweater. it's hard - and he's very hard by now - but he really tries. he's aware you're just being sweet, he's aware that you're not feeling the same as him, he's aware that he's being pathetic, but just cannot stop himself when you bend down again in your tight shorts to pick up a pack of gummies that fell to the floor.

"fuck, y/n, can you stop doing this ?" you turn around, the bag of candies in your hands and a clueless look on your face as you plant your innocent gaze into heeseung's lustful one. "stop doing what hee ?" - "bending over like this, showing me your pretty ass. that is if you don't want me to fuck you, baby." he eats up the way your cheeks immediately grow red, mouth opening and closing without knowing what to say anymore. the smirk on his face widens as he gets closer and you don't back out, dropping back the sweets once he wraps his arms around your waist. "so, what do you say ?" his lips are brushing against yours with how close he is, but you don't mind it, you just him to kiss you now. "yes, please."

heeseung doesn't waste any more time talking before he grabs you by your neck to pull in a kiss that leaves dazed, your mind blank, breath short from how good his tongue alone makes you feel. he chuckles when you chase his lips, fists closing around the fabric of his tee. "you want more ?" - "heeseung, please, don't tease me… i've waited for this long enough." the realization that you had been wanting just as bad is what sends heeseung far away, too far away to have control over himself anymore. "shit, i'm sorry princess, i'm gonna make it up, yeah ?" you nod and the next thing you know is that heeseung has you bend over for him on the couch, your shorts and underwear pulled down just enough so that he can push his cock inside of you.

"feeling so good baby, knew you would, i knew you would be perfect for me." you only moan louder at his words, trying to keep a bit of sanity as heeseung pounds into you like an animal. but in the end you don't mind the way his hand presses against your lower back, under your hoodie that he didn't take the time to throw away, forcing your back to arch even more, his cock hitting even deeper into you. "hee ! i'm close, i'm close please…" - "gonna make you cum all over my dick and then fill you up. everybody's gonna know you're mine this way."

and you don't deny, because in the end that's what you want. as you come down from your high, slowly opening your eyes that fall on the raindrops hitting your windows, you wonder if he really means it. "shit… you're still so tight baby, makes me want to fuck you again." you only whine at his words, letting him grab your hair and yank your head back. and you don't dare ask him what's gonna happen after, you just want to enjoy the way he's making you feel a little longer.

[beautifulbrainrot]

So picture this, spencer gets so wasted at a party with the bau and you take him home and in his drunken state he pushes you onto the couch and starts making out with you and humps your leg until he either passes out or cuts and falls asleep, but he thought it was a dream so he was mortified when he woke up on top of you the next morning

that’s so hot omfg

i had so much fun writing this! you have a beautiful and very dirty brain i love it

spencer reid x gn!reader

cw 18+ spencer is drunk, you arent, or your at least a bit tipsy it’s not specified but you do drive, making out, leg hunping?? idfk, coming in pants (yum), kinda swaps povs? idk

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

“come on spence, let’s get you inside.” you said, hauling spencer out of your car. he tripped over his feet as he stepped onto the pavement, stumbling into you.

“you smell re- really good!” he giggled, dopey smile on his face. spencer rarely drank so it was no surprise that it only took a few drinks to have him absolutely wasted. what did suprise you was what a giggly and touchy drunk he was.

he pulled away from you and planted his hands on your hips, biting his lips as his eyes shamelessly ran over your body.

“you’re.. so pretty, like so pretty! i just wanna-“ he whined, biting his lip and swaying slightly on the spot.

you blushed slightly at his candour, smiling internally. you shook it off, he’s your coworker! he’s just being nice!

you wrapped your arms around his waist as you helped him walk up the steps to his apartment, unlocking the door with the key he had given you a few months prior in case of emergencies.

you both stumbled through the apartment door, clicking on a lamp for some light. his apartment was small and homely and filled with books. you led spencer over to the brown couch in the middle of the room, both of you flopping down on it.

he quickly snugged into you, a blush erupting on your face as he did. he looked up at you with his big doe eyes and you bit your lip. don’t kiss him. do not kiss him, you repeated to yourself as your eyes drifted down to his plump lips.

his eyes raked over your form as you both lay there, seemingly mesmerised by you. this time when his doe eyes flicked up to look at you they were filled with lust.

“you’re so beautiful...” he whispered, closing the space between you, pressing his lips against yours. you gasped but quickly returned the kiss, holding his face in your hands as the kiss turned passionate, your lips moulding together as you pulled each other as close as possible. you pulled away from him slightly when you started to feel him rutting his steadily growing erection against your leg softly as he chased your lips

“spence..?” you questioned softly, a deep blush spreading across your face as your coworker gently humped against your leg.

he whined your name as his eyes squeezed shut, his mind foggy, delving back in for another kiss which you quickly granted. as you kissed, you gently brushed your hand through his soft curls, tugging lightly to see his reaction. he moaned softly at the feeling, his hips speeding up their movements against you.

you couldn’t believe this was happening. and you never wanted it to stop.

you started to gently move your leg against him, a whine slipping out of his bitten lips at the extra friction. you were desperate to hear that sound agains, bouncing your leg slightly as he rubbed against you. more whimpers and whines fell out of his parted lips as you did this, his eyes sqeeezed shut as he surrendered to the pleasure. you drank in his desperate moans hungrily, drunk on him.

his hips began to speed up and you could tell his orgasm was approaching. you lifted his chin with your thumb causing him to open his eyes to look at you, his pupils blown in lust as he humped you faster, chasing his release. you pulled him in again for a passionate kiss as he came hard in his pants, his hips slowing down as you continued to kiss him more softly.

he fell asleep on top of you, exhausted from the drinking and your activities. you ran your hand through his tousled curls softly before drifting to sleep yourself, dreaming of him.

-

“mmm..” spencer moaned softly as he rutted against you.

you grasped his chin between your thumb and forefinger gently, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

his hips stuttered, warmth filling his pants as he came.

spencer’s eyes opened slowly, eyes blurry and head pounding. this is why you don’t drink spencer. he bit his lip softly at the dream he had had about you, how good you had made him feel. he knew he should be thinking of his coworker like this but he just couldn’t help it.

he blinked a couple of times to clear the blurryness from his vision, becoming aware of the fact he was on his couch. how did i get here? oh someone drove me.. who was it?

spencer’s eyes widened as he realised, turning over on the couch to see your sleeping face behind him. it wasn’t a dream. holy fuck it wasn’t a dream?!?

spencer gasped lightly as your eyes blinked open.

“hey spence,” you yawned, “why are you starting at me..” you questioned, eyebrow raised as you rubbed your tired eyes.

he blushed furiously as he looked at you, memories of the previous night filling his head.

“did we.. last night. did us- we- actually.. um.. do that?” he squeaked out, blush spreading across his face.

a blush spread across your face as you looked at him, all the memories flooding back to you. you bit your lip as you looked up at him, “i think so.. yeah..” you said, your cheeks burning.

“it was.. kind of nice..”

“yeah.. it was” you smiled, reaching up to cradle his face in your hand. you pulled him in, pressing your lips against him softly. he quickly deepened the kiss, clambering on top of you.

“round two?”

[sttoru]

omgg how about car sex with gojo?

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. unprotected, creampie, breast play. spanking. big dick satoru bcs. yes.

you wouldn’t have agreed to this if satoru’s windows weren’t tinted. luckily for both of you they were and it was in the middle of the night—an empty parking lot serving as the perfect setting for your ‘activities’.

“shit—look at you, riding this cock so fuckin’ well.” satoru grins, slumping back in his seat, legs spread with his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth on top of him. you were doing most work however, bouncing and sometimes grinding against him in attempt to take his massive length in as far as it could reach.

“nghhh, ‘toru, s’good.” your fingers dug into his shoulder and curl around the material of his shirt. the condensation on the car windows becomes more noticeable the more you two go at it. your mixed breath, gasps and moans fill the air whilst your combined thrusts make the car itself shake in its place.

satoru’s hand lands harshly on your ass once, and then twice for good measure. he relishes in the sensations of you tightening up whenever he’s spanking you; “yeah? i know it is. you wouldn’t be bouncing on my dick like a desperate and greedy little thing if it wasn’t.”

you felt like you could run out of breath at any moment thus you slowed down a bit, pressing your upper body against your lover’s to calm yourself down—the pleasure chasing was a tiring task after all. especially when satoru’s mainly letting you do all the work while he’s lazily leaning back against the headrest.

he did look as handsome as ever; the light blue dress shirt crinkled and slightly unbuttoned at the bottom to let you see his abs tensing with each grunt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows which allowed you to see every vein on his arms whilst his hands played with your breasts. the one thing that perfected that look were his sunglasses which rested on the top of his head. satoru had apparently took them off to see you in all your glory;

“already tired, hm?” he chuckles once he notices how much you’re struggling to resume your movements. his hand strokes the back of your head lovingly, the other still playing with your tits, “want me to help you out?”

you nod with a weak ‘please’, too exhausted to ride him any further all on your own. you had already came thrice whilst he had reached his climax only once.

“aww, all right, pretty.” satoru chuckles before slowly lifting your hips up and off his lap, eyes darkening for a second once he sees the mess on his dick and thighs—your own slick mixed with his cum staining his skin. it made him want to devour you right away.

he lays you down over the backseat and wastes no time climbing between your legs, pumping his length with one hand whilst looking down at your body spread out for him in such a small place.

having spent the last half an hour seeing you bounce on his cock whilst he did nothing but smack your ass or play with your tits was all for this moment—he was gathering and sparing his energy to fuck you good at last;

“hold onto me, angel. can’t guarantee you’ll be able to walk straight after this.”

[embbarnes]

Fugitives.

summary: While you and Bucky flee from captivity in Berlin, Bucky shows his thanks to you for always being by his side.

warnings: SMUT | 18+ Minors DNI | CW!Bucky | Some violence | Bucky is triggered | Non-serious injuries | Light dirty talk | Cunnilingus | Slight nipple play | Swearing

a/n: Um...I did not mean for this to get so long, it just kept coming out. I had a dream about this scenario so I had to write it. Unedited, so ignore any mistakes please. wc: 6.0k

You felt panic surging through your body as you paced back and forth in the empty room they threw you in.

Things were nice. Things were...manageable.

Until Steve showed up and brought a barrage of government men with him, vowing to capture Bucky and you. Steve didn't seem to have ill intentions, but...you nor Bucky could afford to trust anyone. Especially since shortly after Steve broke into your apartment, there were dozens of men trying to take you out. You hadn't prepared for the chase that followed, the sheer panic in his eyes as you both made a break for it and ran off. You leaped from your apartment down to a lower building, suddenly a man in a black suit was now attacking Bucky with the intent to kill.

Everything happened so fast.

You were running, avoiding cars and guns, then you surrendered.

Now you were stuck in this tiny room, left to the unknown.

As you paced restlessly back and forth, the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind were abruptly interrupted by an unexpected plunge into darkness, the sound of electricity dying as the low frequency slowly quieted with the loss of power. The sudden absence of light startled you, leaving you momentarily disoriented. Before you gathered your bearings, a cacophony of alarms began to blare, their urgent wails piercing through the silence and hurting your head. Pulsating red lights started to flash intermittently, casting an eerie, crimson glow throughout the space of your confinement.

The combination of blaring alarms and flashing lights created a sense of urgency and you could hear the rapid footsteps of running agents outside the prison you were kept in, chaotic shouting and commands came from them as they continued towards something. The building had a complete shutdown of its electrical systems. The electronic lock securing your door, now devoid of power, had been rendered ineffective. The door that had kept you trapped was now...unlocked.

Immediately, you seized the opportunity to escape and locate Bucky. The door flew open with a resounding crash and you swiftly navigated the narrow hallway, stealthily trailing behind the surge of agents converging on a central location. Your presence didn't go completely unnoticed; a few agents spotted you on your way there. You swiftly incapacitated them with well-placed strikes, your past training came in handy, and with a few sneaky moves Bucky taught you when you were still living as peacefully as you could in Romania.

As you rounded the corner, you found yourself in a more spacious chamber. There, amidst the chaos, stood Bucky - tall and imposing. His movements were fluid and precise as he dodged the batons wielded by the attacking agents. He expertly dispatched his assailants, sending them sprawling across the floor. They weren't a match for him. You wasted no time in making your approach. "Bucky!" Your voice rang out, cutting through the din of the fight as you sprinted towards him, your heart pounding with a mixture of relief that he was okay.

He pivoted in your direction, his glacial blue eyes piercing through you with an unsettling emptiness that seemed to chill the very air around him. His countenance, a mask of stoic indifference, coupled with his rigid posture, caused you to halt abruptly several paces away. The atmosphere grew thick with tension as you observed him, searching for any hint of recognition in those familiar yet distant features.

"Bucky...?" The name escaped your lips in a hushed, tentative whisper, barely audible even in the deafening silence that enveloped you both. As the seconds ticked by without response, you found yourself repeating his name, this time with a noticeable tremor in your voice, uncertainty and a touch of fear coloring your tone. The man before you seemed both intimately familiar and alarmingly foreign, leaving you caught between the urge to approach and the instinct to retreat.

No response.

"...Soldat?"

There, his form straightened slightly, a flicker of recognition passing across his features. His eyes, once vacant, now held a glimmer of awareness. "я готов отвечать," he intoned, the Russian phrase rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. His voice, though devoid of any discernible emotion, carried a weight that seemed to hang in the air between you. He spoke in a low, measured tone, each word carefully enunciated as if reciting a long-memorized script. As he regarded you, his gaze remained steady and unwavering, his passive figure into an attentive, albeit still detached, presence.

Shit. They activated him. How?

Someone here knows more. This just became way more complicated, and dangerous.

"Soldat, we have to go, now," you spoke quickly to him, your gaze fixed upon the soldier's eyes. Despite their vacant expression, a flicker of comprehension seemed to pass through them. His programming, deeply ingrained and unyielding, compelled him to heed commands and execute them without question. You knew he would comply, for that was the very essence of his conditioning. You felt bad for this, making the soldier do the work for Bucky but right now you had no time to bother deactivating the soldier. Right now, he was needed for the sole purpose that he would get you both out of here.

With swift, decisive movements, the soldier's hand clamped around your arm, his grip firm yet not painful. He began to move, his powerful frame easily clearing a path through the agents that stood in your way. As you ascended flight after flight of stairs, you found yourself struggling to match his relentless pace, your feet tripping as he drug you along like a helpless doll at his side. The soldier's unwavering hold on your wrist proved to be your saving grace, effortlessly hauling you upright whenever your footing faltered. Your destination became clear as you continued your ascent, knowing a helicopter sat waiting.

Upon reaching the roof, he swiftly detached the tether from the helicopter and flung open the door with a sense of urgency. He tugged you around and forcefully pushed you inside the aircraft, your body stumbling against the cold metal interior. Seconds later, he adeptly climbed in after you, the confined space of the helicopter suddenly felt even smaller with him next to you, not to mention you’ve never actually been inside one.

"You can fly this thing, right?" you asked, your voice tinged with anxiety. Your eyes darted around the cockpit, frantically searching for any sign of a seatbelt or safety harness to secure yourself. The lack of familiar safety measures only made your growing sense of unease worse.

"Да," Bucky replied tersely, his voice carrying a harsh edge that left no room for further questions. It was clear that the soldier was still firmly in control, his demeanor radiating a cold efficiency. With practiced ease, his hands moved across the control panel, flipping a series of switches in rapid succession. The long rotor blades of the helicopter began to spin, their increasing speed creating a deafening whir that filled the air around you.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as the helicopter's rotors whirred to life. The chopper lifted off, you felt a mixture of relief and anxiety wash over you at the thought of finally getting away from captivity with him. Your eyes were drawn to the window, where Steve, determined and desperate, made a last-ditch attempt to stop your escape.

The soldier ran at you both, he tried to grab on, anything to keep Bucky here and prevent him from fleeing. His fingers grazed the helicopter's landing skid, missing it by mere inches. You watched, a lump forming in your throat as his face contorted with a mix of frustration and concern. He was shouting something, but you had no idea what he was saying. The image of Steve standing there, looking increasingly small as Bucky skillfully piloted the helicopter away from the base, was the last thing you saw as the base shrunk out of view of the trees.

Bucky piloted the helicopter and carefully monitoring the fuel gauge as it gradually depleted, the carrier wasn’t full when you took off, so you knew it would run out quick. As the last drops of fuel were consumed, he maneuvered the aircraft to a safe landing spot in the heart of the dense, verdant forest, finding just the right spot to sneak a landing to. The thick canopy of trees surrounded you on all sides, creating a sense of isolation and wilderness and covering you from open view if any of the agents had begun to follow.

You took a moment to survey your surroundings, drinking in the lush greenery and the earthy scent of the forest. The rhythmic whirring of the helicopter blades slowly came to a halt, the sudden silence amplifying the natural sounds of the woodland. Once the blades had completely stopped their rotation, Bucky reached over and unlatched the door with a metallic click.

You turned to him to speak, and without warning, he grasped your arm and began to pull you from the confines of the helicopter. "Wait, Bucky," you stuttered, caught off guard by his sudden action. Your protest went unheeded as you found yourself tumbling out of the aircraft, your legs tangling beneath you in a decidedly ungraceful manner.

Fortunately, Bucky's firm grip on your arm remained steady throughout your clumsy exit. His quick reflexes and strong hold prevented you from an embarrassing and potentially painful encounter with the forest floor. Instead of face-planting into the damp, spongy moss that carpeted the ground, you found yourself teetering on the edge of balance, saved only by Bucky's steadying presence. He looked down with a mostly blank, unamused expression.

Still the soldier.

"We need to move. They will follow." He grunted to you, his voice low and strained. His hand found your arm again, tugging you along forcefully after he spoke. The sudden movement caught you off guard, causing you to stumble. However, this time you managed to regain your balance quickly, adjusting your pace to match his long, determined strides from him doing this earlier.

"You don't have to pull so hard, I'm right behind you," you stammered with mild discomfort. You gently worked your arm from his tight grasp, your fingers lightly massaging the skin where his grip had been. Despite the firmness of his hold, you didn't sense any malice or anger from him. He didn't actively mean to hurt you, he never did.

You had lost track of time during your trek through the forest, your feel would occasionally get caught in a sunken hole in the moss and make you stagger a bit. The minutes blended together as you strolled side by side, Bucky somehow never faltering. The once vibrant sky, painted with hues of orange and pink, had gradually faded into darkness. Heavy clouds, like a thick blanket, now obscured the stars and slowly rising moon, you had no light to guide your way through the thicket. The air grew heavy with moisture, and soon, a light drizzle began to fall over you both.

As the gentle shower persisted, you found yourself shivering involuntarily, your body reacting to the sudden drop in temperature. the cold rain didn’t help, and your lack of a coat made your skin bubble with goosebumps. Bucky glanced down at you, taking notice of your discomfort almost immediately. He didn’t say anything, but he shed his red henley and draped the shirt over your shoulders, carefully guiding your arms through the sleeves. The garment engulfed you, its size emphasizing the difference in your builds. The fabric, still warm from his body heat, provided an immediate sense of comfort against the chill.

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, your body still trembling from the cold despite the additional warmth provided by his shirt. The henley offered a much-needed shield against the relentless, chilly rain that continued to fall. Its fabric felt comforting between your skin and the rain, despite knowing it would probably get wetter within a few minutes. "Thank you..." You murmured softly, your voice barely audible above the patter of raindrops, lifting your gaze to steal a glance at him, noting his stoic expression as you walked side by side.

Bucky remained silent. Instead, he acknowledged your gratitude with a curt, almost impatient grunt. His hand suddenly reached out, grasping your arm firmly but not roughly and gave an insistent tug.

He urged you to quicken your pace, his voice low and insistent. "Train station up ahead," he grumbled, his eyes darting around warily. "I've got some money in my pocket. Should be enough for tickets." As you hurried along, the dense forest gradually thinned out, giving way to the first signs of civilization. Warm, golden light from street lamps pierced through the misty rain, and you could see the outline of buildings rather than the uneven, almost abstract silhouette of the trees.

The transition from the forest floor to urban terrain was abrupt and jarring. Your feet had been accustomed to the soft, springy moss of the woodland for the last few hours, now met the unyielding surface of wet concrete. The sudden change in texture caused you to stumble slightly, your posture jerking upright as you adjusted to the new environment.

The outline of a small train station materialized through the rain as you both walked across the empty lot. As you approached, a ticket booth came into view, a solitary worker visible behind the foggy plexiglass. Bucky took the lead, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a fistful of crumpled euro bills, sliding the money under the narrow opening in the plexiglass. He exchanged only the briefest of words with the booth attendant, making it short and quick.

You boarded the waiting train, your footsteps echoing softly on the metal floor as you made your way through the narrow corridor. Eventually, you reached the car designated for your stay, fumbling briefly with the key before successfully unlocking the door to your cabin. With a gentle push, the door swung open, revealing a compact yet cozy space. Though, with all the anxiety you both felt, there wasn’t much appreciation for it.

Bucky carefully maneuvered himself into the small cabin, he sat on the modest bed nestled against the wall, sinking down onto its surface with a barely audible sigh. You noticed the tension in his shoulders, the slight furrow of his brow. Bucky closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, repeating this process several times. It was a technique you'd seen him use before, every time he would try to regain himself after an episode.

Your gaze remained fixed on him, concern etched across your features. It was obvious that Bucky was still engaged in an internal struggle, fighting to get control over the soldier's mindset that threatened to remain the dominant consciousness. These moments of transition were always challenging for him, the process of the soldier's persona receding leaving him vulnerable and raw.

"You're doing good, Bucky," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with encouragement. Your words seemed to reach him, and you noticed a slight relaxation in his posture as he continued his measured breathing. "Just like that...he will fall asleep and let you keep control." You hummed warmly, sitting beside him and rubbing his back.

He exhaled one final, deep breath, his chest deflating as the tension slowly ebbed from his body. The train suddenly jerked to life, the ancient gears in the wheels groaning and creaking as they began to turn. With a lurch, the massive iron beast slowly inched forward, gathering momentum. "I'm okay," Bucky finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure after the soldier finally relented control and faded into the back of his mind.

"Good," you rasped back, your own voice rough with fatigue and stress. You turned your gaze to the window, but the darkness outside revealed nothing of the world rushing by. Trails of rain ran down the window, the spotted droplets turning into streaks as the train moved. After a moment of contemplation, you shifted in your seat to face Bucky once more. "So... where exactly are we going?" you asked, curiosity and a hint of trepidation coloring your tone.

Bucky's eyes, which had been fixed on some indeterminate point in the distance, finally lifted to meet yours. "France," he replied, his voice low and steady. "Then back here. Then... somewhere else. We have to keep moving, keep them guessing." He paused, "They won't think to look around Germany once they believe we've left the country. We'll use their assumptions against them, stay one step ahead."

"Ah, smart..." You murmured, settling back onto the plush bed. The gentle sway of the train car and the rhythmic clacking of wheels on tracks created a soothing ambiance that prevented that dull ringing from pure silence. From what Bucky had told you, the ride would stretch on for hours, well into the night. You wouldn’t have to get off the train at the stop in France, so this was going to be a long trip.

You decided to make yourself as comfortable as possible for the long haul ahead and began to peel off your rain-soaked garments. The damp fabric clung stubbornly to your skin, requiring some effort to remove. As each piece of clothing came away, you felt instant relief from the clammy sensation that had been plaguing you since the downpour. You were left in nothing but your undergarments, your skin finally able to breathe freely.

Bucky, ever attentive, couldn't help but watch as you undressed. His eyes traced the gentle curves of your form, appreciating the soft planes of exposed flesh. There was a sudden need in his gaze, though he maintained a respectful distance. The sight of you, vulnerable and nearly bare, completely trusting in him, stirred something in his gut. Bucky followed suit, he saw little point in remaining in his waterlogged attire for the duration of the night so he shed his own rain-drenched clothes, revealing his gorgeous physique. His meaty arms and legs, his soft belly, he had been doing so well since HYDRA. He filled out, and he looked so much healthier, building much more mass.

He crawled next to you, his movements slow and deliberate as he positioned himself close by. The two of you lay side by side, your bodies gradually warming up in the confined space. The gentle hum of the train's heater filled the cabin, its warmth seeping into your damp clothes laying on the opposing cushions and caressing your exposed skin. You shifted, nestling against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His larger frame instinctively curled around you, providing an additional layer of warmth and security. The exhaustion of the day began to settle in your bones, and you allowed your eyelids to flutter closed, savoring a few moments of respite.

He glanced at your arm, noticing with concern the light bruises forming from when he had been grabbing you earlier in his role as the soldier. Bucky tenderly pulled your arm closer to inspect it, a frown taking over his features as he observed the marks of where his hand grasped you many times. His usually bright blue eyes narrowed, now clouded with guilt and remorse for his earlier behavior. In a silent gesture of apology, he softly kissed the bruised area, offering comfort where he could without words as you lay against him. The room enveloped in what was mostly silence, save for the tapping of heavy rain and the rhythm of the tracks. You were so exhausted from the day's events and the emotional toll they had taken on you. Despite everything, you chose to stay by his side, no matter what happens in his life. You were always there with him. You were the one person he could count on more than anyone else.

As your consciousness began to drift away, it suddenly snapped back into focus as you felt Bucky's warm body pressing closer to yours. His calloused hand slowly descended, gently caressing your inner thigh with a tenderness that belied his strength. His thumb traced delicate circles on your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Bucky shifted slightly, propping himself up to gaze directly into your eyes, his own blue orbs filled with a mixture of vulnerability and adoration.

"Doll, I..." he began, his voice husky with emotion, "You mean the world to me. You've been by my side...no matter what. Even with...the winter soldier still hidden in my head. You have stuck with me." As he spoke, his hand continued its gentle exploration, inching closer to your most sensitive area, his touch both comforting and electrifying.

"Bucky..." you breathed, your voice laden with affection and reassurance. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere - not now, not ever." Your hand instinctively reached up to cup his stubbly cheek, your fingers tenderly stroking the rough texture of his skin. Bucky leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the intimacy of the gesture.

"You don't need to thank me for standing by you or for protecting you," you continued, your voice soft but filled with conviction. "It's not a burden or an obligation like you always seem to think…it's a choice I make every day because of how much you mean to me. I may not be able to move mountains or change the world, but I'll always do whatever is within my power to support and love you, Bucky. That's a promise."

His eyes glistened with a hint of moisture, your words resonating with him and making him feel much more emotional. Slowly, he leaned down, closing the distance between you as his lips met yours in a tender kiss. The softness of his slightly damp lips sent a shiver through your body as he moved them against your own eager ones. His body hovered over yours, creating a protective cocoon around you. His thick arms, strong yet aware and careful, formed a gentle cage, holding you close beneath him. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, the cold of the rain and soaked clothes now long gone as you pressed up into his lips in return.

When Bucky pulled back, his eyes met yours, filled with tenderness and longing. "M'gonna show you just how much I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "For stickin' by my side through everything... through all of those long nights, through hiding and running..."

His right hand gently cradled your arm, his touch feather-light as he examined the tender flesh he had inadvertently grabbed earlier while in his Winter Soldier mindset. Your skin was sensitive, sporting light bruises from where his hand had held on. Bucky's expression softened further, a hint of regret flickering across his features. “I’m fine, Buck Buck.” You whispered soothingly, not wanting him to feel bad.

He placed soft, reverent kisses along the discolored skin after you spoke, each press of his lips was like a silent apology. His warm breath fanned across your skin in gentle, soothing pants, you could see he was getting worked up.

His body shifted above you again, his fingers delicately hooking into the elastic of your underwear and slowly tugged them down your legs, savoring every inch of newly exposed skin. The fabric whispered against your thighs before he flicked them off onto the floor, not paying any attention to where they went. A shiver of anticipation ran through you as the cool air caressed your now-bare skin. Your breath caught in your throat, a mixture of excitement and vulnerability washing over you after being fully exposed to his gaze. It wasn’t the first time, of course, but that didn’t matter right now.

Bucky held your legs, his touch both firm and tender, wrapping his arms under your hips, lifting you up off the flimsy mattress slightly. The sudden contact made you gasp softly, your body tensing momentarily as the cold metal of his left arm pressed against your warm skin. The contrast was electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through your body.

"Ah, Bucky..." You hitched, your voice a breathy whisper filled with desire and anticipation. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, your body trembling slightly, feeling his hot breath against your lower abdomen.

His mouth placed open kisses on your belly, a line going across your abdomen as he kissed. His hair draped over his forehead as he dipped down, his stubble scratched your sensitive skin as he lowered farther to your core. You felt yourself quiver, his lips were right there...and the damn soldier was teasing you.

He gently spread you open, taking in everything you had to offer him. You were so beautiful, his hazy eyes glued to your folds and he finally lowered down to you. His tongue licked a slow stripe up from your entrance to your clit, teasingly flicking over it once and making you moan quietly. Your breath hitched as he did it again, his tongue was so warm and the pressure he applied was always perfect.

Bucky always knew what to do, his lips were wrapped around your pretty pearl within seconds and he gave you little nursing suckles. Your body stiffened instantly and your hips moved towards him on their own, chasing that addicting wave of pleasure that continuously shot through your limbs. He sucked so good, his tongue teasingly circling the bud in his mouth while he nursed on your clit. Those strong arms held your hips firm, preventing you from having more and less.

He released your clit, listening to you moan below him and he chuckled, his voice coming out in a teasing whisper. "Shh...we can't let anyone hear you..." You felt his hands trail up your body in a slow rub, squeezing your soft sides before he groped your breasts. He teased your nipples, pinching them and rolling them in his fingertips. The cool metal fingers of his left hand made you gasp, your back arching up off the flimsy mattress.

"Bucky...oh shit..." You huffed and held his wrists while he toyed with your sensitive buds. It was dark in the cabin, but he could tell they were a bit more red than usual, your body responding to him eagerly. "Please..." You lifted your hips to try to encourage him to lick you again, desperate for his lips and tongue on your wet cunt, lapping and sucking you to your climax. You were desperate, needy, you wanted more as he continued to give you enough to tease, but not enough to feel that ecstasy you desired.

"S'good baby...just let me play with you. I'll make you feel good, I promise...just sit still for me." He laid sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your inner thigh, his teeth gently nipping your skin as he lightly suckled with each kiss. His hot breath hit your pussy and you knew he was hovering his mouth there on purpose, just to watch you whine and mewl under his hold. That stupid smile on his face that made your belly tighten, his mischievous glint, he finally relented and let his tongue lap at you again.

He teased your entrance, his tongue pushing in a few times and swirling around, dragging your arousal up and over your throbbing clit. Bucky expertly drew elaborate designs on your little pearl, being urged on by your sweet, delicate sounds of need and pleasure. Your hips desperately chasing his light touches, encouraging him to do more to you. You let out a frustrated huff and your hand tangled in his hair. "Bucky, come on, please..."

Your plea went to his groin, the blood rushing down and making him twitch. "You're so good to me, doll..." he grunted against your folds, taking your clit into his mouth and giving a harsh suckle. You bit your lip hard to stifle your loud cry. "So damn good to me...always by my side. Always makin' sure m'alright..." He laid kisses along your slit, his tongue slithering inside you again, swiping all the way up through your folds. "You taste so good for me...like a drug. I love lickin' you baby...I love suckin' your pretty clit. Such pretty sounds for me, c'mon babydoll, make some noise f'me..."

Your clit was engulfed once more, his lips and tongue giving you intense suckling and swirling. He sucked on your precious bundle of nerves like he were drinking down sweet honey, his tongue cradling your bead as his arms and hands kept you perfectly still for him to work on you. His tongue swirled in gentle circles before he settled it underneath the bud, continuing to nurse on you.

"Bucky...I-I'm close, if you keep doing that..." You rasped and stuttered, your voice coming out with gentle whines emphasizing the pleasure you were feeling. You let out short pants as your orgasm rapidly approached, his tongue working your clit relentlessly, he could feel you were close. The way it twitched on his wet muscle, how you writhed beneath his arms, the erratic breaths coming out of your parted lips.

He kept just as he was, knowing that this is what was getting you there. He didn't change a thing, and you finally reached your peak, chasing it down and pouncing on it until it overwhelmed you. With the sweet arch of your back, he finally allowed you to grind and buck your hips into his mouth. He held your waist as you tugged on his hair and mewled out a little too loudly. His name leaving your mouth in a sweet symphony of beautiful moans, he about humped the mattress below him to satisfy the growing urge from his cock.

After your body relaxed from its rigid state, you laid back down on the mattress and gasped, his tongue continuously and lazily lapping up your mess. "Ah...Bucky..." You gave his hair a gentle tug, overstimulation making your legs shake vigorously. He lifted, his lips glossy and his chin wet from his little feast.

You didn't care, you pulled him close and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips and eagerly pulling him closer to your body. The aftershocks had run completely through you, so your shaking body was growing chilled in the tiny train cabin. His warmth was something your body instinctively sought in the dark room. The tracks were loud as was the rain, you hoped that was enough to muffle your embarrassing outcry of pleasure.

Your face reddened, a deep blush spreading over your cheeks as you thought back to the sounds of your own moans, which seemed to echo in your mind. Bucky, so attentive and extra charming in the moment, just chuckled softly in response, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You're beautiful, doll. So beautiful...did so well for me," he murmured in that endearing tone of his that never failed to make your heart flutter.

Bucky dipped his head down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your chin and jawline, slowly moving down the side of your neck. He kept himself close to you, his arms creating a warm, secure cocoon around you…despite the usually cold metal arm that you often had wrapped up when you two slept together. He clearly tried shielding you from the chilly air that permeated the train cabin, his warmth a comforting barrier against the cold.

"And you're very handsome, with the prettiest pink lips," you whispered back, your voice soft and full of admiration for the man you loved. Even though you were still rather dazed from your orgasm, you felt a little better than you had moments ago. Your arms were still heavy with blissful exhaustion, but they lazily wrapped around his neck and shoulders. You played absentmindedly with the roots of his hair at the back of his head, twirling the strands gently between your fingers in the way that he liked.

"What happens when we get back to Germany? Where will we go once the train turns around?" You asked in a soft whisper as Bucky laid beside you, cradling you close and more comfortably. He sighed back to you, watching the faint lights out the tiny window of the roomette flicker and dance as the train sped through the night.

"We go somewhere else. Quickly. Maybe Russia," he replied, his voice a gentle murmur that matched the rhythmic clatter of the train's wheels on the tracks. "There are a lot of small, private towns we could go to, hidden away from the world. Places they won't think to look, places where we can blend in and live quietly, away from prying eyes and cameras. Places where we could be at peace. Or, try to be." He mumbled softly, his thumb gently caressing your shoulder as you laid close, feeling the warmth of his body and the reassuring steadiness of his presence.

You gave a soft hum in response to him, feeling the warmth and comfort as you snuggled even closer into his broad, welcoming chest, so warm like a heater. "Well...I guess I have to practice my Russian," you said with a playful chuckle, the sound light and soft. You placed a tender kiss on his sternum, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing before settling in for the night. The drop in hormones after fleeing from the government and Bucky so eagerly eating you out made you feel especially tired. Bucky glanced down at you with a gentle gaze, pulling you a little closer, his lips curving up into a small, affectionate smile.

"I'll teach you, help you refresh," he whispered with a reassuring tone, his voice a calm and soothing presence in the quiet room. "Let's worry about that later...for now, get some sleep. We've got at least eleven more hours," he added, his words a comforting reminder of the time you had together, promising a long, restful night ahead.

"You need sleep too," you insisted, your brow furrowing with concern. You had a strong feeling that he wouldn't allow himself a moment's rest while you were sleeping. "Promise you'll get some sleep," you repeated earnestly, "You can't stay up the entire time and be exhausted when we get back. It's important to take care of yourself too, besides, if you’re sleep deprived you won’t be alert."

"I promise I will," he replied, a gentle chuckle escaping his lips as he tried to reassure you. "I'm just gonna stay up for a little longer. I want to make sure everything is good... that no one is here lookin' for us. Once I know we're safe, I'll get some rest, I swear." His eyes softened as he spoke, trying to ease your worries.

"Hm..." You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious of his promise but he had never lied to you before so...you relented. "Fine. Since you promised." You settled down into his chest and let your heavy eyelids finally close, sleep had been clawing at your consciousness and you were finally allowing yourself to be taken. Bucky was happy you fell asleep, he wanted you to rest. For everything you've done for him, being with him throughout everything, your love and loyalty was something that constantly amazed him. But he couldn't ask for anyone better than you. You were his everything, and he'd continue to love and protect you with every fiber of his being.

Bucky's own eyes grew heavy after staying awake for a while, weighed down by the fatigue of the long journey and the emotional toll of the day’s events. You both gradually succumbed to the comforting embrace of sleep, wrapped together closely with limbs hooked around each other, fitting together snugly like customized puzzle pieces. The rhythmic and soothing sound of the train tracks clicking beneath you provided a steady lullaby, while the rain stormed down incessantly on the roof of the train, creating a calming yet persistent background symphony that replaced your need for white noise that you had always insisted on using.

As the train tirelessly carried you to newfound safety, away from the chaos that lay behind, the world outside blurred into a haze, granting you a temporary break from all the stress the world brought upon you both.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest.

[chiscaralight]

thinkin' about modern au overworked, sugar daddy!wriothesley. he’s so pent up and frustrated from his stupid job, what better way to relieve tension than with that cute body of his sweet, sweet sugar baby?

which is exactly why he has you like this, nose pressed against his hard pelvic bone as he fucks your mouth in the living room of his huge penthouse. The job pays extremely well, a little too well, and he has no idea what to do with all the money. so he’ll throw it all at you! with the way you’re working those lips around his cock, he might just buy you your very own. your sweet laugh is muffled, but he doesn't know why you think it's funny. he's being dead serious.

he's not very patient either, because he doesn't even let you get your clothes completely off! your cute little skirt is bunched up around your waist, his large hands gripping at the fat off your ass as he bounces you up and down on his length. it's insane to him how small you are, fully able to hold and use you like this. you can't even fight back at this point, you're just going stupid on his cock! that expression on your face, the way your nails are digging into his shoulders, is the exact reason why he can't get enough of you.

and he's ripping your shirt, the sound of buttons popping off ringing in your ears so he has access to your tits. you whine in protest as he bites down on your sensitive bud. not because it hurt, but because this is the thousandth time he's ruining one of your favorite clothes! he's detaching momentarily, groaning about how he'll replace it. he doesn't even know why you complain, he'll buy you twenty more of the same type if you want. just let him take good care of you tonight, and you can ask for whatever you want.

the two of you barely make it up the stairs when he decides he doesn't care enough for a bed to walk the remaining what, ten feet? so your back is pressed to the cool wall of the upstairs hallway, tongue chasing his own as he fucks up into you, strong arms hooked under your knees. you're moaning into his mouth, eyes starting to water from how thick he is. no matter how many times you let him lay waste to you, your tight cunt struggles to fully take him as he drills into you. but it's exactly what he loves.

he stops to put you down, pressing your face into the wall before he slides back in again. you can't even hold back the sister noise that leaves your lips and he's grunting at the sound, hips slamming forward in one thrust. unable to catch your breath before he moves again, your moans start to sync with the slaps of his hips while your tears run from the pleasure. your eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed as you take his cock just as you always do. but his eyes are watching you. this is why he'll never quit that fuckass job. who'll make sure you're living as lavishly as you deserve? the money isn't even the drive, it's that sweet fuckin' cunt that turns him into an animal,, primal instincts activated as he ruts into you with his orgasm. he'll make sure he's pumping you full of his cum just like he whispered in your ear a few minutes ago. maybe he'll stop paying for your birth control too and fuck a kid into you, then he'll be sure no one else can take that mind-numbing pussy away from him.

your lips are pouted as he guides you back to his room. it'll never not be funny how difficult you find it to walk after, but it's not like you asked him to go that hard? he ushers you into the bathroom and offers for you to spend the night. it's late, and you can pick whichever one of his cars you want him to drop you off in tomorrow. you pretend to think, knowing fully well you'll snuggle into his soft sheets anyway. when you finally do, he's quick to follow, his hard chest pressing into your back. his lips are hot on your neck, followed by a large hand raising your leg. since you're staying the night, another round wouldn't hurt, yeah?

[3liza]

I agree that the pushback against White Woman Paranoia About Men is warranted but

I also see a lot of posts by men and people who situationally may never experience this, about how being wary of men as a class is delusional due to the actual crime statistics being basically negligible compared to, for example, being hit by a car or getting into a car accident. and what this kind of post doesn't acknowledge is that there are lot of ways to have an exceptionally bad experience caused by strange men in public that have nothing to do with anything that is classified as criminal, bodily harm, and specifically any behavior that would actually be worthwhile to report, making it unknown to the statistics. the guy who followed me for two blocks one night and then brushed by my back and said "don't fall" very pointedly as I was standing on a freeway overpass wasn't doing anything illegal and certainly nothing any cop would do anything about if I "reported" it (lmao) but yeah that is an unpleasant experience I remember vividly and would like to avoid in future. one example of many, obviously, I'm not making a whole post about a single experience

it is absolutely the case that the only rapes and most of the physical assaults I've experienced have been from men known to me socially or intimately, but until I got a large dog, going outside was about 60% likely to involve being harassed. which is a lot more than I have been hit by cars (zero times)

being harassed is extremely unpleasant regardless of its likelihood to progress to physical assault. sometimes it can be so unpleasant it affects our daily lives, and a single incident of harassment can impact a person's mental health. the expectation of ongoing harassment does this moreso, it creates a continual expectation of being pursued, questioned, and then having to deal with someone getting angry at you when you don't accede to their demands. in any context this is unpleasant. people who do not experience sexual harassment in their daily lives may be able to empathize with this experience if they were ever bullied as children. people chasing you around, calling you names, creating unpleasant confrontations for no reason, and then the next day you have to get up and go do it again. people change schools, quit jobs and move out of shared living situations to avoid this kind of stress, it's reasonable to develop an aversion to it. it's reasonable to develop reactivity and hypervigilance as well. verbal and social harassment without any physical assault is more than enough to cause a trauma response.

it's also just inconvenient. even if you are not menaced or belittled or traumatized by an episode of harassment, having to Manage a Harassment Situation in the grocery store or post office when you're just trying to get an errand done is a massive waste of time. a lot of women have to plan for extra time during errands or travel to account for getting out of situations like that.

a LOT of the paranoia about men from women that you can read everywhere in the culture is based not in a fear of getting physically harmed or killed, but simply avoiding more harassment.

I think a lot of women have defaulted to explaining this desire to avoid men and avoid being alone with men, or explaining their suspicion of men, as fear of physical harm, because that's the only way people who don't get harassed are able to take it seriously. but it's completely reasonable to want to avoid being annoyed, bothered, harassed, questioned, inconvenienced, interrupted, or to have someone just be rude to you, completely apart from the actual percentage likelihood that they are a serial killer. even the act of telling these men politely that you can't talk right now, aren't interested, have to go, have a boyfriend, whatever, is annoying and often escalates into a confrontation or to the man being angry at you or insulting you. we can agree that getting into a verbal argument for no reason on the street is a negative experience. it can be annoying and unsettling without being a threat to life and limb. and no this isn't a "i have bad social skills and can't handle normal human interactions" thing, it's not a social interaction required by common decency or manners or basic function, it's someone putting you into a bad situation for no reason and then getting mad at you when you decline to entertain them. the harassers are the ones being rude. it is a violation of the social contract to catcall someone. it's just annoying and I want to avoid it. most women want to avoid it, and behave accordingly.

no terfs on this post. everything I just said about being bothered by strangers applies double (at least) to the experiences of most trans women

women aren't the only people who get harassed by strangers either, but it is overwhelmingly an issue experienced by women, and people who are perceived as feminine or as women.

it's also not just men who do the harassing, but again, it is overwhelmingly men who are doing it.

some women experience no harassment or very little of this harassment and won't identify with this post. that's true and real, but doesn't make it not true that a very very large percentage of women, maybe even most women, have experienced this. no experience is universal