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et-lesailes · 4 years

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title: break point

pairing: ransom drysdale x personalized reader

word count: 3050

summary: when your ex boyfriend’s mom comes to you in need of help for his horrible behavior and attitude during his house arrest, you give in and see what you can do. things definitely do not turn out as planned.

themes: angst, smut

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @denisemarieangelina, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb, @raveviolet, @hurricanerinwrites, @captainamerica-is-bae, @shaddixlife, @tessa-bl, @marvelouspottering, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc, @thegetawaywriter, @dwights-new-plague, @rynabarnesrogers, @fckdeusername, @doloreschanal, @ssworldofsw

notes: thank you so much @capsicleimpala for requesting this, i absolutely loved writing it and it was such a creative idea! i really hope you love it :) also, in this story, fran survived lol. i don’t think ransom would be able to only have house arrest for being a direct murderer, even with a rich lawyer hehe *** for anyone interested in commissioning me, please check out this post !

When you hear the television inside as you’re in the process of inserting your key into the lock of your upscale apartment door, you freeze. Last time you checked, you didn’t have a roommate, and you definitely didn’t have a significant other hanging out in there. Your heart starts racing. Should you call the police? Ever since making it big in tennis, competing in all sorts of national and international tournaments, you’ve had a lot of crazy fans vying for your attention. Some do it in sweet ways, and others… not so sweet. However, no one’s actually ever showed up at your home.

You take a deep breath and twist the lock, pushing the door open anyways. There’s no way the man at the front desk would just let anyone walk right up. Perhaps it’s maintenance?

But no. Instead of seeing a worker dressed in uniform and fixing a leak, you see Linda Drysdale lounging in the armchair of your living room, legs crossed with a naturally unamused demeanor as her blue eyes flicker across the flat screen TV. She glances up at you as if she’s lived there her entire life, eyebrow lifted. “Finally. I didn’t realize tennis practice took so much time, how many methods can possibly be involved in hitting a ball back and forth?”

You look at her in disbelief for a few moments, trying to process that your ex-boyfriend’s mother is inside your home right now despite the fact that you and Ransom broke up three years ago. You aren’t even offended by her words; you’re aware of how blunt and straightforward the seemingly harsh lady can be- she was practically a true mother-in-law to you when you and Ransom were dating. You finally speak. “Linda. What are you doing here? You can’t just- how did you even-”

“The young man in the lobby clearly isn’t getting paid enough. A twenty was all it took. Might want to move somewhere else before he just casually allows a serial killer to walk in.” She rolls her eyes, then mumbles under her breath, “Or my son.”

“What?” you ask, and she shakes her head, looking up with a slight authoritative smile crossing her lips. “We need to talk, Y/N. I’m just going to get straight to the point. My son is ruining his life, as per usual, and I’ve had enough of it. I did everything I could to get him out of this damn lawsuit, to keep him out of jail, and he’s just-- Christ, he’s an ungrateful brat, that’s what he is.” She looks fed up, the sharpness in her eyes seeming as though she’s ready to strangle the man. “Drinking himself to death, fucking a new girl every night, on every single drug you can think of-- he’s a little piece of shit, even without being able to leave the house.”

“And you’re telling me all of this, why…?”

“Because he loves you.” She states simply, and you hate that the words make your heart race. “I know he still loves you, and that you’re the only girl on this planet he’ll ever love. He’ll listen to you, Y/N,” she insists, “and so you need to go see him. Better yet, just date him again. He was a significantly better person when he was with you.”

You look at her shocked, slowly shaking your head as you let out a quiet scoff. “Linda. He tried to kill someone. He’s the reason your father died. How can you ask me to go back to him? Why do you even care what happens to him, after everything he did?”

“Because he’s my son. And maybe you’ll understand one day, when you have a child of your own. But what I understand is that you could turn him into someone his family can approve of. Or, at least, even tolerate.” She adds with a roll of her eyes before continuing, “He tried to be good for you, Y/N, you know that.”

“Good?” You look at her incredulously, starting to get a little heated. “He told me he didn’t want to be with me anymore just because I was trying to have my own career! He couldn’t stand me putting so much time into tennis. He hated me playing tennis. That’s not what a “good” boyfriend does, okay? It’s not my responsibility to fix him back up when he couldn’t even be a support for me in the first place.”

She quickly waves her hands, frowning slightly. “Okay, okay. Fine, don’t think about getting back together with him. Just see him, at least. Please.” She sighs deeply, looking down for a moment as she rubs her temples before looking back up at you. “I’m begging you here, Y/N. I can’t just stand here and watch this boy waste all my hard earned money for his own selfish needs. Hell, if I could, I’d just stick him in jail now if I could. He doesn’t deserve this freedom at this point.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you look away. “What a nurturing mother,” you mumble under her breath, and although she hears you, she doesn’t remark on it. She sighs again instead, looking at you somewhat frustrated and helpless. “Just go over to his house, only for an hour. Talk to him. Convince him to stop being such a prick.”

You look at her somewhat frustrated, but finally sigh. You are the only one who’s ever been able to get through to Ransom, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t concerned when you heard the news. The Ransom you knew was an asshole, but he certainly wasn’t a murderer. Something clearly changed in him since you broke up with him, and so maybe Linda was right.

“An hour.” You finally agree, though give her a warning look. “And if he gets disrespectful or crosses any lines, I’m leaving. I’m not a miracle worker, Linda.” She looks relieved nonetheless, immediately nodding her head. “Of course. Thank you, Y/N.” The two of you stand there for a moment before she lifts an eyebrow, looking at you. “Well? Get over there before he gives himself alcohol poisoning.” You blink, about to protest but sigh. You figure it’s best to get this over with anyways- if you don’t, you’ll be up all night stressing about it. “Fine. But you need to leave first, you can’t- you can’t just hang out in my house when I’m not here, you know?”

“Oh, I’m leaving. This place is a shoebox.” Linda looks around somewhat disdainfully before pausing, looking to you with a smile. “But you’ve… decorated it very well.” You roll your eyes, gesturing to the door. “Goodbye, Linda.”

Her smile remains as she nonchalantly waves, heading out the door.

As you come up to Ransom’s door, your heart is racing. You can hear loud music and obnoxious giggling from inside, no doubt Ransom is throwing some kind of get together- or probably more of an intimate gathering featuring scantily clad women who throw themselves at his good looks and money. You glance over at his BMW shining in the driveway, barely scoffing to yourself. Of all the things to keep intact, he would make sure it was his car. You were with him when he bought that car, and it was probably one of the only “girls” he had ever loved in his life.

You being the other one, of course. You know that at one point, Ransom Drysdale loved you. You can’t help but wonder if that’s still the case.

You take a deep breath and ring the doorbell. The talking and laughing doesn’t stop; these girls are clearly unbothered, but you hear footsteps.

And then he appears, dressed in a t-shirt and perfectly fitting jeans, his brown hair slightly tousled and his cocky smirk across his lips- until his intoxicated brain registers who you are. He blinks in surprise, smile fading from his lips for just a split second- then quickly returns to his normal self, most likely realizing he absolutely must look composed and confident. “Y/N. I knew you’d come crawling back to me eventually. Took you a while, though, I’m kinda busy right now.”

You stare at him for a few moments; you thought you’d be nervous and apprehensive, but now, as if by magic, any feeling of uncertainty slips away. It’s almost impressive how he has this effect on people, but within less than one minute of this conversation, you’ve already had enough.

“Shut the fuck up, Ransom.” You find yourself saying, suddenly pushing right past him and grabbing his arm in the process. “We need to talk.” You practically drag him into the kitchen, ignoring the confused and even irritated looks of the half naked women on his couch clearly having been in the middle of enjoying his attention. It’s surprisingly easy to maneuver him, most likely because he’s a little too drunk.

“Wow, hellcat. You really missed me, huh? Unable to find anyone who’s a better fuck than me, I take it? Alright, alright, I’ll squeeze you in. I have to say, I definitely missed your tight little-”

He’s cut off by a sharp sting on his cheek when you slap him across the face, his lips parting into a shocked ‘o’ almost immediately as his blue eyes stare at you in complete shock. Even you’re a little shocked upon where this sudden boldness is coming from, but you decide you’re on a roll and that there’s no need to question it. You came here to say something, and you’re going to say it. You don’t even let him respond. Not that he has the words to, anyways.

“Who the fuck are you anymore, huh? Why are you acting like this? And not just a douchebag fuckboy, either, but a full on killer? What the hell is going through your brain?” you practically scream at him, and he blinks in surprise before his features suddenly become defensive. “What, do you think it has to do with you? Our break up? You think I’m just so tormented, torn apart, that I’m not over you?”

“I- no, when the fuck did I say-”

“Well then why are you here, Y/N? Why do you, of all people, need to be here right now? Who are you to come show your concern and your goddamn disgust when you’re the one who dumped me?!” His voice is just as loud as yours if not louder, the vein in his neck bulging from anger, his eyes practically a shade darker. You throw your hands up in frustration, retorting, “Why does that even matter, Ransom? Can I not be concerned that the former love of my life turned into a goddamn murderer? Am I not allowed to be a little confused that my ex-boyfriend turned into a fucking psychopath?”

“Former, huh?” His voice suddenly gets low, dangerously low. “So that’s it? You found someone else? Some prissy, preppy tennis playing fuck who lets out the same little grunts and groans out on the court, in the bedroom too? That your type, Y/N? A skinny little-”

“You were my type, Ransom!” you practically scream now, glaring up at him in complete fury. “You know what my type was? Confident, funny, manly, someone who wanted me to be safe and someone who was so thoughtful he remembered everything I liked and disliked, who wanted to do everything he could to make my life better because he knew how to be selfless! Do you even know what that word means now?!”

“Well maybe I became this way because you decided to prioritize tennis! You don’t think that’s a little damn selfish?!”

“Are you-- God, you know what? Maybe you’ve always been this fucking ridiculous, and maybe I was blind. Maybe this is all my fault, Ransom, because I trusted the wrong person. I can’t even fucking believe I-”

And then his lips suddenly crash against yours, his hands grabbing your waist and pinning your small frame against the cool counter, a husky growl of frustration escaping his throat as he kisses you. Rough. You gasp, starting to press your hands against his chest, wanting to push him off… until you don’t. You’re kissing him back fiercely, though still angry as ever, moving your hands to grip his muscular biceps as you dig your nails in. “I fucking hate you,” you hiss against his lips, and he scoffs in between kisses, barely groaning from the feeling of your sharp nails leaving indents in his skin. He’s turned on, and you know it.

“No you fucking don’t.”

There’s no need for foreplay. There’s no time or patience for that. After easily sitting you up on the counter, he pulls your shirt up over your head only to connect your lips again, his teeth pulling on your lower lip roughly as he unhooks your bra and tosses it aside. His hands find your gym shorts and shove them down- he quite literally rips your underwear off, making you let out a muffled squeal of surprise into his open mouth. When you feel his fingers slide up your thigh and rub up against your wet folds, you let out a shaky gasp, moving your hands to grip his shoulder blades through his tee. “O-oh…!”

“You’re fucking soaked for me, cupcake.” His other hand moves up to grip the back of your neck, fingers curling into your brown locks. Despite the distraction of the haze of pleasure rushing through your brain and body, you can’t help but note his fond pet name for you. Every time you got stressed, you’d bake- Ransom would always lovingly make fun of you for this, hence how “cupcake” began. However, he doesn’t give you much time to dwell on this- perhaps on purpose. He’s most likely realized he fucked up, God forbid he show any sign of affection. You let out a short moan when his broad fingers rub your clit, his other hand using the grip on your hair to tilt your head up so your brown eyes are locked firmly onto his blue ones.

“You like that? You see what you’ve left behind for these past few years? You couldn’t possibly have forgetten how good I fuck you, right?” he speaks through husky breaths, panting just as much as you as he rubs. You moan lewdly, though your teeth clench in frustration. “Just fuck me already, Ransom, stop… stop fucking talking…”

He snickers and suddenly stops rubbing, leaving you feeling slightly disappointed despite the fact you asked for it. Hastily unbuckling his belt and pushing down his jeans and briefs, he wraps his fingers around his throbbing length, groaning lowly to himself as he pumps his shaft. Pressing it against your entrance, he wastes no time in thrusting inside you, gripping your hips tightly as a grunt of pleasure escapes his throat.

“Fuck. Fuck. I forgot… how fucking tight… your pussy feels around my cock…” he groans with half shut eyes as he bucks his hips forward, tilting his head back. “God damn!”

“Ransom!” You hear a girl’s voice come from the kitchen doorway, gasping from both surprise and pleasure as you look up- normally, you’d be embarrassed, but right now, you couldn’t care less. You’re still riding the rush of adrenaline from your rage towards this man, but before you can even comment, he sharply yells at her, “Get the fuck out of here, and take your damn bimbo sluts with you- I don’t fucking need any of you anymore!”

She stares at both of you angrily before grunting in annoyance, whirling around. You moan as Ransom thrusts into you even rougher, your hands sliding up under his shirt to feel his skin, nails once again digging in to relieve your tension. “Mm… mm… don’t… fucking stop…!” you cry out as you hitch your legs high up around his waist, letting him get a better angle as he continues fucking you in the middle of his kitchen. Your body is practically being rocked upwards from how powerful he is, your head buried into his neck as you bite and suck desperately only making him groan even more.

“You still on birth control?” he breathes out gruffly into your shoulder as his hands cup your ass, his teeth nipping and biting harshly. “You still getting checked regularly for STDs?” you retort breathlessly, though to be honest, you’re not worried about that despite his recent history. He may treat his things like shit, but he keeps himself well maintained all to uphold his little rich boy image. He’s actually much more hygienic than one would imagine, and has standards with the women he sleeps with despite coming off as such a playboy.

“Yes, just let me fucking know if I can-”

“Yes, yes, I’m on birth control, come inside me,” you whine demandingly, moving your hands up to grip his brown hair tightly, messing it up even more than before. He smirks, grunting louder as he uses his hold on your ass to rock your hips towards his, the sound and feel of skin slapping putting you into overdrive. “Ransom…! Shit, Ransom, I’m close, fuck, I’m coming!” He groans just from hearing you, chest heaving as he keeps going, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “Come for me, doll, fuck…!”

Your release combined with the sensation of his inside you is euphoric. As much as you hate to admit it, you missed sex like this. You certainly haven’t had it since you broke up.

He pulls out with heavy breaths, staring at you for a few moments. You swear you catch a glimpse of the old Ransom, the one you fell in love with, the one who would never actually hurt anyone despite coming off as such an asshole.

“Don’t push me away.” You suddenly speak quietly through uneven breaths, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck as you stare up at him.

His hands are still holding your hips, those pacific hues studying every inch of your face with all types of conflict and concern spread across his sharp, handsome features.

“I don’t want to.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #rhee commissions

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scribeofmorpheus · 4 years

Text

Warm Amber Hue

First Spooktober Challenge Request!

For: @500daysofbecky

Words: 1.3k | Warnings: None

Note: Süsser is a German term of endermeant that means “Sweet/My Sweet”.

A/N: I know spooktober is over (though as long as the leaves turn sienna or blood-ornage, it is still spooky season imo) but I decided to do this late and let’s just pretend I have good time management skills.

The crunch of the leaves spread across your driveway had turned softer, quieter. The weather was no longer warm and the air no longer felt dry and pollen infused. Autumn had settled and changed the colours of the leaves into a sunset’s palette.

Something was bewitching about your secluded cabin built for two during this season. It seemed almost like a relic preserved out of time, away from the loud noises of cars and sondering city dwellers. Secluded and intimate was just how you liked it.

Your trip to the farmers market had been fruitful to the point that your arm ached from carrying the heavy wicker basket all the way from the town square. With a relieved sigh, you were glad to finally be back in your cabin. The first things to go off were your shoes, then your scarf and jacket and finally, your gloves.

“Erik?” you called out into the quaint space.

The fireplace had logs burning to chase the bite of the chilly breeze and several candles had been lit for some time considering the puddle of melted wax threatening to put out the candle wicks. Erik was definitely home, but the place was eerily silent.

You unpacked the fruit, bread and cheese and headed out to Erik’s favourite spot behind the house, next to the woods. The hammock where Erik would spend most of his time reading was swinging –empty– with the wind. The wind chimes made sweet music of their own while leaves glided over the polished surfaces of the twin rocking chairs that faced the sunset. The padlock locking the entrance to your barn-turned-studio was untouched.

Erik was nowhere to be seen.

A part of you worried, the other part of you kept thinking of places to check.

“Where could he be?” you pondered.

Then a lightbulb went off in your head and you made your way to the only other place left he could be: the gazebo.

Erik had built the gazebo from the ground up with his own hands. Woodworking had become therapeutic for him, he would always say that building something with his own hands was always fulfilling. He had asked you to dance in the starlight when he had finished constructing the gazebo. That night had been perfect, filled with wine and music and more…

At the centre of the gazebo were two metal garden chairs and a table with a chess set laid out. The chess pieces looked different. Erik always played black and you remembered the bishop being in a different position last week. He must have played a move, but he only ever played with one opponent. That meant Charles had been by. The implication of a visit from Charles filled your belly with dread.

“Erik,” there was a hint of sadness in the softness of your voice.

You picked up the king chess piece and squeezed it in your hand.

He had promised you. He couldn’t even wait to say goodbye.

You slumped into the metal garden chair and placed the king back in his place, the pads of your finger tilting at the cross apex until the piece clamoured over.

“Y/N?” Erik’s familiar cadence startled you.

He looked worried upon seeing your wistful expression, placing the logs of freshly cut timber down on the wet moss. He walked over in quick strides, a knot forming on his forehead as he knelt down and placed his hands on your knees.

“What’s wrong, Süsser?” he asked, peering his godly blue eyes at you.

You always smiled when he called you by your pet name, there was something different in his voice whenever he said it. Something equal parts passion and possession, almost as though you were his own personal saint that he loved to revere.

“It’s nothing,” you placed your cold fingers on his cheek. He was flush from chopping wood no doubt. His body heat felt heavenly to your icy skin. Erik shivered but didn’t move, instead, he leaned into your hand and lifted your downcast chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing… really. I just- I thought…” you glanced at the chess table and he knew instantly what had crossed your mind.

His eyelids drooped slightly, a tightness forming around his jaw, “You thought I left you.”

“Yes,” you answered, your eyes focusing on the growing knot on Erik’s forehead.

He looked up at you again and there was a sincerity in how vulnerable he looked. The mighty Magneto, heralded as liberator or villain depending on who you asked, had never looked so fragile and human in your eyes until this simple moment.

“I promised you I would never leave,” he whispered. “Nothing good ever comes from my intervening. The world doesn’t need me.”

You gave a weak half-smile, “Charles has a way of changing your mind.”

Erik placed a chaste kiss on your palms, lacing his fingers with yours so they were one, “He did come by, yes. And we got to playing chess, but when he finally asked what he wanted to ask of me, I refused.”

His confession surprised you.

“What if it was important?” you asked, feeling a little guilty.

Erik chuckled, a dangerous edge to the darkness of it, “With Charles… it always is. But he has his army and I want nothing but peace and quiet…”

He leaned forward and kissed your lips tenderly. When you opened your eyes again, Erik was all you could see.

He placed your hand over his chest so you could feel his heart thrumming with glorious life, his heartbeat was strong and faster than it should have been. He was letting you in, completely. His heart was at your mercy and the touch of your hand on his chest made him swallow loudly.

He whispered intimately, “And I want you. That’s enough for me. You’re enough for me.”

“Erik,” you nearly whimpered as tears welled around the edges of your eyes. “You have always been enough for me, but you aren’t just Erik Lehnsherr, you’re more than that to so many people. The world will always find a reason to take you away from me.”

“That may be true, but I’m not alone anymore. I have you. And you and Erik Lehnsherr go as a package deal. Same goes for Magneto.”

“But—“

“It’s more than that,” his face turned serious again, one hand stretching out to the other garden chair beside you both. A sliver of thin metal unwound itself from the delicate woven pattern of the chair. It hovered towards Erik’s other hand that held your left hand. Slowly, the thin metal snaked gently around your ring finger and moulded itself into a spiralling band.

When he was done, Erik looked back up at you expectantly an unasked question hanging in the air.

Your bottom lip quivered.

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like,” he began. “Now it’s my turn to show you just how deeply I’ve fallen for you. If you’ll let me.”

It wasn’t traditional and calling it spontaneous would be an understatement, but the underlying question hidden beneath Erik’s words didn’t seem ill-thought-out or brought on in the spur of the moment. From the look on his face and the slouch of his shoulders, you could tell this had been on his mind for a while. It was the type of thing that could crush him where he knelt and he gave you the power to decide.

You knew instantly what your answer was.

Marriage was never something you contemplated often, but a forever with Erik certainly was.

“Yes,” you said happily.

A youthful smile crept over his face, his teeth in full view as he laughed triumphantly before he picked you up and pressed you close in a joyous hug.

Autumn had come. With it was the promise of change. It marked the time when your life would never be the same again.

The End!

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees @bookish-shristi @electroma89

#erik lensherr imagine #magneto imagine #erik lensherr x reader #magneto x reader #reader insert #request #scribescribbles #xmen #x men

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vips-clicks · 4 years

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The wilderness of Madhya Pradesh hosts one of the most beautiful avian residents in the world, the Indian Paradise Flycatcher. Christened as the state bird of MP in November 2001, it has been a sought-after subject of many birdwatchers and photographers. The film has been directed and narrated by naturalist and film-maker, Shashank Birla, edited by Shristi Rani, along with additional video and image contributions by Manish Shukla ,Avinash Bhagat, Dipu Karuthedathe, Vipul Saxena @vips_claws and music composed by Rafael Krux. https://www.facebook.com/mptigerfoundationsociety/videos/2019666574832744 #bird #birdsofinstagram #mptourism #indianparadiseflycatcher (at Indore, India) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDPvewhgRSZ/?igshid=ch6gmspug3gj

#bird #birdsofinstagram #mptourism #indianparadiseflycatcher

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lyricstuffcom · 2 years

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Chunumunu - SAGAR

Chunumunu – SAGAR

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lyricspapa · 3 years

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Yaad Na Aana Lyrics – Yash Narvekar

Yaad Na Aana featuring Shristi Ganguly, Pratik Deshmukh is a gratifying song, and it has easy on the eye performance by Yash Narvekar, Akasa. The superlative lyrics of the track are written-down by Yash Narvekar. Yash Narvekar is the constructor of YAAD NA AANA’s bang-up music. The drop-dead music video of the warble is ruled by Bhargav, Sarthak. YASH NARVEKAR, AKASA | YAAD NA AANA FULL SONG…

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#Yaad Na Aana Lyrics – Yash Narvekar

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eduardomarin90 · 3 years

Video

vimeo

Bentley "100 Years of Extraordinary" from Aidan Gibbons on Vimeo.

Agency: Keko London Producer: Tori Devgun Creative Director: Paul Zeidler Account Manager: Lisa Koba

Production: Mill+ Director: Aidan Gibbons, Ergin Kuke Executive Producer: Josh Davies Producer: Terri Wood, Bruce Williamson Production Coordinator: Lucy Hawes Shoot Supervisor: Dan Moller, Stefan Susemihl

Editorial & Sound Editor: Johnny Rayner Sound: Factory VFX Production VFX: The Mill Executive Producer: Colin Oaten Production Coordinator: Ellie Thwaites Shoot Supervisor: Dan Moller, Stefan Susemihl

VFX Creative 2D Lead Artist: Stefan Susemihl 3D Lead Artist: Dan Moller, Ed Shires 2D Artist: Lucas Carrecedo, Matthew Unwin, Pete Hodsman, Joe Dymond, Charles Dockerill, Flavio Kawamoto, Jose Cabellero, Igor, Alfie Vaughn, Jiwti Tiwari, Arijit Ghosh, Maheshwaran Chandrasekaran, Venuprasath D, Amit Kambli, Aron Bjorketun 3D Artist: Maria Carriedo, Marta Carbonell, Antonio Filippin, Maxime Cronier, Marc Greyvenstein, Ashley Tilley, Amaan Akram, Luis Cancio, Abdel Halim Garess, Andreas Graichen, Peter Agg, Nicola Gilbert, Margeaux Huneau, Gabrielius Borukas, Sebastian Bispo, Vicky McIntyre Sivasubramanian, Somesh Tiwari, Lavan Kumar, Goonda Kiran Kumae 3D Concept: Andrea Chiampo, Sasha Vinogradova 3D Tracking: Raj Kumar M, Sathyaraj J, Leela Shankar, Manoj Ravi, Shristi Sanyal, Muruganantham T Design: Matthew Campbell, Will MacNeil, Jessica Tan, Chris White, Florian Thamer, Filiberto Chiarinelli Art Director: Grant Berry Concept: Can Y Sanalan, Matthew Campbell

Colour: The Mill Colourist: Oisin O'Driscoll Sound: Factory Producer: Lou Allen Sound Engineer: Mark Hills

Music: Wake the Town Producer: Dominic Bastyra Musician: Slinger

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sisaki1 · 4 years

Video

Sisaki - BATASH x MAYA MA | cover |

- Sisaki

#Batash #Mayama #cover #sisaki # sisakimusic # sisakisongs #nepalisongs # nepal # newsongs #new # coversongs

#sisaki #maya #cover #sisaki music #sisaki songs #nepali songs #nepal #nepali #new song #new #new music #music #Shristi K #trend

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et-lesailes · 4 years

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not so golden

pairing: dark!nomad steve x reader

word count: 1777

summary: you and steve are both “lost souls” in a way, and you find solace in that together through keeping company in the sheets.

themes: smut, choking, degradation

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @denisemarieangelina, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb, @raveviolet, @inactivewhore

notes: patreon saw it first- click here to check it out and join, i would be so grateful!! graphic creds go to @thewritingdoll!

You’re sitting out on the balcony of your room when you see his motorcycle pull up into the parking lot of the shitty motel, your eyes immediately lighting up with intrigue as you nibble on your lower lip. He’s been trying to keep a low profile ever since he checked in, but you know exactly who he is under that helmet.

Because you ended up in bed with him the very first night he arrived.

Sure, it was a bit impulsive, but both of you were… desperate. Hungry. Him more so than you. You had heard a lot about the golden boy that was Captain America, but the version you met that night was different to say the least. You have no idea what he had been through to make him so incredibly different of a person, and while you’re curious, you don’t want to press too much. The sex is too good, and you found yourself even liking how rough, demanding, and even degrading he could be.

He gets off the motorcycle and takes off his helmet, his lengthened locks free from the headgear. You smirk as you playfully whistle, taking another swig of your drink. “Looking good, Captain.” He looks up at you, his naturally stern face sharp and unamused. “Surprised you’re up there and not down here. I imagined you’d be waiting at my door with how I had you screaming last night.” He simply walks inside his room before you can even answer, but you don’t hear the door shut. You scoff incredulously to yourself; he’s waiting for you to come down to him. How cocky can he be? You have half a mind to continue on with your own business, leaving him to his room all by himself.

But he knows what he’s doing, and you silently curse yourself as you down the rest of your drink and stand up. He’s too good to resist. You go into your room only to leave it, walking down the stairs and approaching his open door. He’s already lounging on the bed in nothing but a somewhat ratty wifebeater and dark jeans, remote in his hands as his blue eyes focused on the TV. “Get in here and close the door behind you. Unless you want an audience of hobos and drug dealers.” He speaks without even looking in your direction. You look at him somewhat indignantly. “What makes you think I’m here to fuck? Maybe I just want to talk.” Of course, that’s a lie, but you figure you can entertain yourself by at least trying to humble him.

“Then talk while you ride my dick, sweetheart. I’m not in the mood for cuddles and heart to hearts right now.” He speaks bluntly, glancing at you for a second before looking back to the TV. “That’s a pretty little dress you got on there. Did you wear that just for me?” You roll your eyes, stepping inside and closing the door behind you nonetheless, locking it for good measure. “Believe it or not, hun, my day doesn’t revolve around you.” You come over to his bed, suddenly feeling a bit bold- you grab the remote from his hands and turn off the TV. “But while I’m here, I want to be the only thing you pay attention to. Pretty sure I deserve at least that much with the amazing blow jobs I give.” He blinks but barely snickers, relaxing his muscled arms behind his head and nodding towards his jeans. “Then by all means, doll, go ahead. You have my undivided attention.”

You look at him for a few moments, tempted to actually follow his direction but stopping yourself. “No.” You cross your arms, looking at him defiantly. “You’re going to show me what your tongue can do this time. Unless you don’t think you have what it takes.” He blinks and slowly smirks, shaking his head to himself. “Is that the game you’re going to play, now? With me. Really?” He remains leaned back comfortably against the headboard, lifting one finger in a “come here” gesture. “Get on the fucking bed. Now.” You somewhat glare at him but eventually oblige, coming over and crawling onto the bed. “This is so unfair, I bet you can’t even-”

You suddenly let out a squeal when he moves to pin you onto your back on the bed, his massive hand moving to your neck as he barely squeezes. “The only sound allowed to come from you right now is you moaning for me and screaming my fucking name, do you understand?” You whimper but nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Y-yes Steve…!”

“Yes who?”

“Yes Captain!”

He nods in approval and releases your neck, instead leaning in to suck all over it as he moves his hand down to push your dress up and grab your panties, jerking them down. You shudder feeling his fingers rubbing your folds, your breaths getting heavier from anticipation. He suddenly shifts his entire body down until he’s between your legs, his head dipping down between your thighs. He wastes no time as he begins nibbling on your clit slowly but firmly, his eyes dark with lust. Your sweet, wet pussy is all he can focus on, the sounds of your moans and whimpers practically music to his ears. He pushes his tongue inside soon after, moving it around all over the edges of your tight core and growling in satisfaction to himself. He won’t ever admit to you that he’s wishing he did this earlier; you taste absolutely delicious to him. Meanwhile, you hate how damn talented he is- wasn’t he supposed to be the gentlemanly, courteous, almost naive soldier? You had heard he was inexperienced and never dated, but clearly this wasn’t true, unless he was just naturally amazing with his mouth.

Your body’s writhing in pleasure as your hands reach down to grip his soft locks of dirty blond, your gasps breathy and loud. “Captain…!” you whine, and he pulls back just an inch to spit on your pussy, sharp eyes practically piercing through yours as you stare back at him. “You’re a dirty little slut for your Captain, aren’t you?” he growls, leaning down and lapping all over your folds in a wonderful mess. “You gonna cum for me, doll? You gonna tell me you were wrong about assuming I “don’t have what it takes”?”

You moan as he flicks his tongue up and down, his broad fingers now rubbing your clit roughly at the same time. “O-okay, okay, I was wrong! Fuck, Captain-- fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He rubs even harder and you moan loudly as you release, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you stare up at the ceiling. You feel his tongue licking up every bit, his lips smacking together crudely and shamelessly as he sits up and wipes them with the back of his hand. “You should be grateful your Captain even did that for you. Now you better do something about this.” He cups his bulge through his boxers with a low groan, looking at you expectantly and demandingly. “How should I have you today, hm?”

“You decide.” You breathe out, sitting up and looking at him almost desperately. You’re done being stubborn and making demands, all you know is that you need his thick cock inside you. He doesn’t even bother to respond- with words, anyways. Instead he simply rids himself of his jeans and moves back to sit against the headboard, gripping your waist and pulling you swiftly on top of him with his ridiculous strength. You gasp as he positions you to sink down onto his rock hard length, a whimper slipping out of your throat already feeling yourself stretched out in the best way possible. “O-oh my God… Captain…!”

He groans as he moves you up and down on top of him, practically controlling you despite you being the one on top. “You look so fucking good when you’re not having an attitude with me.” He says with a smirk, fingers pressing into your skin before moving to your ass and digging in roughly. “Not that it ever lasts long. You can’t help but obey me, huh?”

You mewl in pleasure feeling his hands roam over your ass, still bouncing up and down on him. He’s completely right. As opposite as he is of the Captain America everyone knows and loves, you’re entirely turned on by him. “Y-yes, Captain!” you admit shamelessly in a loud moan, hands placed on his chest to keep yourself supported.

He suddenly flips you over though, now pounding into you relentlessly in missionary position. “God…. dammit…” he growls through grit teeth, hips bucking aggressively as he pins you down against the mattress. “Go on, cum for me again, my little fuck doll. I know you want to.” Your back arches and you nearly scream in euphoria once you reach your climax, a panting and breathless mess as your body slowly relaxes again. He smirks, hjs chest heaving and a groan escaping his lips as he pulls out, shooting his load all over your dress with a pleased expression on his face. “You better keep this dress on for the rest of the day, sweetheart. Show the world what a little cum slut you are, hm?” He straightens himself up, getting off of you and putting his jeans back on. You sit up and stare at him for a few moments, catching your breath before moving to sit on your knees before him.

“What happened to you?” you ask in a soft whisper, looking up into his eyes. He blinks and looks back down at you almost quizzically, but for a second, you see some humanity in his features. A softness, a regretfulness, something that seems to portray who he really is underneath the messy hair and grown out beard.

It disappears in a split second though, and he turns to go to the bathroom. “Get out of here, kid. I don’t need you in here to be my therapist. Maybe you should be wondering what you’re doing in some run down motel having sex with a stranger.”

“I have nowhere else to go.” You answer bluntly, standing up and grabbing his arm. “I don’t have a home. And something tells me you don’t, either.” He tenses and you actually fear for a moment he might explode. “You can talk to me, Captain,” you add nonetheless, your voice gentler than before. “Please… please talk to me.”

He stays turned away from you for a few moments before finally looking down at you, glancing at your hand on his arm.

“Call me Steve.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #nomad!steve #steve rogers imagine #dark steve rogers x reader

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