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witchyjamjo · 4 years

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mysterio, though. like,,,, thank you mr. gyllenhaal for playing suck a crackhead and giving me the worst ideas ever with that beard of yours. can you imagine the beard burn between your thighs?

he’s obviously all in or giving nothing, so he’s going to make you cum at least 3 times before worrying about himself. now, let’s talk about how he eats you out like the absolute god/goddess you are? it always starts slow, with kisses trailing up your leg, little bites along the way. the louder your whimpers are, the harder he bites. which in turn just makes you moan more. and oh, how that spurs him on.

his tongue is so gentle at first, testing you to see how you react. he can smell you; he tastes you. the only thing he wants is more. and so, you feel the way that that beard scratches the inner part of your thighs, and how that coil in your stomach builds. and the more it builds, the faster he goes. he’s worshipping you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

but when you do cum, you’re screaming his name. and all quentin beck does is look up from between your legs with the most devilish smile, lips moist.

#mysterio x reader #mysterio smut #mysterio imagine #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal smut #smut #quentin beck #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck smut #quentin beck imagine

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witchyjamjo · 4 years

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okay, so i’m supposed to be meeting a friend at applebees, bUT i just need someone to understand the thirst for poe dameron? like, just picture that man all worked up and greasy from pent up anger at some choice he had no say in, and so he takes it out by working on his x-wing. and then you’re there, and it’s like all his anger evaoporates. and you hold that gorgeous head in your hands, and your fingers tangle into his curls as he nuzzles his head against you?? and it’s just the moments like this, where you can stand by him and calm the fearless man down. and gOD, I LOVE ONE MAN.

#and i would continue but my friend is here!!!#so i’ll think more about it while at a local applebees #and expect more later #oscar isaac #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader

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witchyjamjo · 4 years

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...but being the help, right?

like, it’s not your fault you actually enjoy cleaning houses for a living or that you prefer the quiet that the thrombey house normally holds. mr. thrombey is a good man, and the rest of the people you work with are kind and nice. plus, the pay is pretty good for what you do. so, you can say you enjoy working at the manor -- at least until the rest of the family comes around.

that’s when you despise it. because you’re a good person, you guess, and that means that even if mr. thrombey’s grandson is an asshole, you’re still tied to your job and social courtesy to help him out. so, when fran is done with him and there’s no one else around, you’re always the one to give him what he wants and smile while you do it.

because, maybe (and just maybe) there’s something else helping you do it too, that makes you weak to your knees when you see that asshole.

and man, would ransom learn so quickly how much you’re willing to do.

it’s the nights that he’s staying in the estate, despite the fact he doesn’t live horribly far away, and how he’ll wonder around the halls after everyone’s gone to sleep -- only to find you still polishing the silver or cleaning up mess of a party. and he never helps (which makes sense...since he’s a dick) as you continue to get more and more tired. and as the two of you chat; you’re becoming a little more aggravated because if he’s going to stand there, common decency dictates that he should be helping. so, you snap at him.

and it’s one thing leading to another before his mouth is all over you, and you’ve dropped one of the silver spoons near a doorway. those arms that always seem to be stretching his sweaters are holding you up against a wall -- since you really can’t hold yourself up -- and you can barely breathe with how good you feel. the only thing running through your head is how quiet you have to be, and that maybe you should snap at ransom more often.

it starts happening more often than you imagine. if there’s a family gathering of any sorts, then the night normally ends with ransom fucking you:

there was his “stupid snowflake of a cousin”’s graduation party. you had stayed to clean up the confetti that never seemed to be all gone from the foyer, which was how you had ended up on the front porch with your skirt hiked up around your waist and ransom in one of the chairs beneath you, watching every muscle in you twitch as you lowered yourself onto him.

there was the night of his mother’s birthday party, and how you had to stay late to clean up the china ware she preferred. and after everyone’s asleep and ransom’s already got your jeans hiked down to your ankles, you’re bent over against the sink basin. your apron is soaked, and the copper of the sink is cool to the touch. ransom’s chest is pressed firmly against your back, his beautiful and large hands holding you close to him while planted firmly on your chest. and he’s slow. he’s taking his time pulling out and pushing back in, like it’s agony if he was to go any faster. there are tears in your eyes, and you’re too weak to even make any noise except maybe a slight whimper -- which only makes him go slower. and you can see the grin on his face from the reflection of the window above the sink. and when he locks eyes with you in the glass pane, he knows he has you.

oh -- and not to forget the release of mr. thrombrey’s 40th book. you promised yourself and your employer that you’d stick around to reorganize all of his books in the library -- just the way he liked them -- after all the family had made their way in there at some point during the night. and ransom promised to help, since he knew how his own grandfather liked the books.

it’s nearly two in the morning when he has you cuming for the third time, back pressed against one of the shelves as you continue to ride ransom’s dick. and his hand is around your mouth to try and keep you from screaming in ecstasy while your orgasm continues to pool in your lower stomach. he just needs you to be a good girl and cum already, because he can’t if you can’t. and he’s thrusting harder and harder. and you’re so close, and when he accidentally lets out one moan that sounds so guttural and raw from his lips, it pushes you over the edge.

#ransom thrombrey #ransom drysdale #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom thrombrey imagine

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witchyjamjo · 4 years

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i’m sorry but i saw knives out last night (twICE) and i have not been able to think straight since then.

because all i see is how much of an asshole ransom must have been in college. like, can you picture the complete and utter asshole that every girl fawns over despite how horrible he is? he’s the man that all your friends gab and gab about, about how they just want to get to know him a little better – maybe he’s not really an asshole and he’s a good person. but you know the truth, and you never want to see the likes of ransom on campus.

the horrible thing is that he definitely has the same major as you – english literature. and you can’t stand being in all the same classes as this rich and pompous jerk who flirts with every girl willing to bat their eyelashes at him, and then subsequently leaves them without so much as a text message.

so, when you’re partnered with him for a final project for the semester, you couldn’t hate your professor more. you even email the guy after the lecture and tell him that it’s probably better if you didn’t work with ransom – since your professor knew your writing interests were so different than his. the professor’s response? “consider it a challenge! grading won’t be too harsh.” and you know you’ve lost the battle.

so, the next few weeks are filled with trips to his ‘swanky’ apartment uptown – which is a good 20 minute drive away from campus. but of course, his defense is that it’s so much quieter and you can actually hear yourself think in his apartment. so, you go along with it. and you let yourself the plush furniture and lavish snacks a little too much. and then there’s the fact that maybe, just maybe, ransom isn’t so bad after all. because he laughs at the little quips you make at him, and then he normally counters with something just as witty. and then there are the little smiles you two share from across a large living room, where the space feels like miles apart. but you won’t break. you can’t. so, you keep your distance and let his charms work their ways from a good ten feet away.

it’s four study nights into the project when ransom decides you need to be a little closer. as you walk into the apartment, you notice the loveseat you always cozy up in has disappeared. all that remains is the couch, and ransom says that he is just getting it cleaned. you hum a response like “sure, yeah, i believe that” as you set up for the evening. throughout the evening, there’s more banter and discussion over the contents of the book, and at one point you get a little too passionate for your own good – sitting up and crawling over towards ransom to press a finger against his chest – like an accusation.

and there’s fire in his eyes – and not the hatred you would have expected. when you notice how he’s looking at you, as though the word ‘lust’ would not be adequate enough, you back off. because you realized, in a split second as you locked eyes, that you were willing to mirror that look. you pack up your things with some thinly veiled excuse of needing to get home for a test tomorrow, and head out before he can stop you.

the next night, the couch is gone. but the loveseat has returned. reasoning? “well, now that the loveseat’s clean, the couch should be too.”

you don’t talk about what happened before. but maybe that’s your downfall, because being closer to him on the loveseat allows for a lot more of the same heated arguments from last night. and he makes sure you’re riled up; it’s like he enjoys seeing you like this. he picks a fight whenever the discussion allows, and your banter turns into to semi-hurtful comments thrown towards the man who can have everything and everyone he wants. and in your head, you were pretty sure that would include you if he just asked.

you keep checking your phone, because a snowstorm is supposed to be coming in soon. at least that’s the excuse you give ransom. every time you find yourself admiring his strong jawbone or physique, you look for a new reason to leave. “well, the storm’s coming in soon.”

his response? “oh, you can stay another hour or so before the roads start getting wet.”

when you say, “ransom, i don’t know how much longer i should stay…” he offers up his guest room. and you don’t think that sounds too horrible. so, you let your phone fall to the wayside as you get back to work with annotating and discussing the final few chapters. he offers you a drink at some point, which you say you can make on your own. you might have made yourself too many drinks by midnight, because the arguments are starting to slip into less academic categories. and you’re final nail in the coffin – the moment that has you realizing you should be heading to bed is when you say, “your reasoning doesn’t even make sense. you think anything that comes out of those pretty lips is going to win in a fight.”

and he just grins. “you think my lips are pretty, huh?”

and you don’t really realize how close he is, and how much you’re willing to give to him, until those pretty lips are on yours and ferociously attacking your will. there’s no need to fight against your ill will towards him, as you know you’ve succumb to that long ago. his lips trail down under your chin, and then to the nape of your neck; biting and sucking along the way. “you don’t give hickies to other girls,” you say offhandedly.

“how keen of you to notice,” he whispers back against your collar bone. he’s already started putting at your deep maroon, knit sweater you’re wearing and unbuttoning the shirt underneath. you don’t really have the forethought to do the same with him, because all your mind can center around his how amazing his mouth and hands feel all over you. you’re squeezing your legs shut to try and stop the sensation pooling in your lower stomach, but ransom knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

and he’s going to take his time with it. he wants to savor every inch of you, because he knows he’s not going to get this chance again. so, he’ll make the most of it tonight when he rails you against the loveseat you seem to adore so much. the one that had previously been the way to stay far away from him. ransom couldn’t think of a more ironic ending than pulling at the tight ponytail you always kept your hair up in, pounding his cock into your tight folds and letting the beautiful sounds of your moans fill the space.

#ransom drysdale #ransom thrombrey #chris evans #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader

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witchyjamjo · 4 years

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I really want The Nomad to finger me against a dirty wall, with my skirt rucked up and his fingerless gloves on, one hand delving into where I’m aching for him, dripping down my thighs and the other, cupping my jaw letting me suck on his fingers and letting me taste the leather of his gloves, as he fucks me rough and hard on his hand, telling me the nastiest stuff in that dark voice of his, completely commanding my body, and yeah.

#i literally can't breathe; why would you do this to me???

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witchyjamjo · 4 years

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Billy 100% has an innocence kink

YEAH. i firmly believe nothing would turn billy on more then the idea of debasing someone pure. Of seeing a girl who’s a daddys girl, goes to church, wears ruby lipstick and wears flowy dresses and skirts and floral blouses. Who looks at him with doe eyes, all innocent and naive, but who pushes back when he prods, who blushes furiously at his taunts and snipes at him, who promises to never let him lay his dirty hands on her, she wouldn’t ever, not only because he’s so crude but because it’s not like her to engage in such acts, she’s never even touched herself, made herself cum all over her fingers much less imagine a cock fucking into her. Until him. And all the sudden she can’t get his rakish smirk out of her mind, his half unbuttoned shirts and sweaty skin, his cockyness, she thinks about it and she can’t help but let her mind wonder, her fingers explore, her breath catch. And soon she goes from turning her nose up at the idea of him having her, to her on her back on his poorly made bed, her legs spread as billy pulls her pink panties down her legs, laughs at how childish and girly they are, how cute she is, how he’s going to fucking tear her apart, ruin her for anyone else, so much so that down the line when she’s finally found a good man who she’ll marry and takes to bed, when he makes love to her all she’ll be able to think about it back to this, back to billy and how it felt to have a man between her legs and in her cunt, fucking her. Taking her. Making her feel small and used and fucked out. And Billy lives to see it, her break down for him, for the first time she ever has. Guide her into sucking his cock, the way her pretty lips wrap around him, how her eyes look up to him for approval, how he holds her head in place and fucks her mouth like he’s about to fuck her pussy, which he tells her, just to watch the flush on her face, the whimper and clench of her throat around his girth, her thighs squeezing together at the thought of taking this cock, his cock, inside her tight heat. And when he finally does, when he pushes her back and makes her hold her own legs open so he can rub his cock into the open soft clutch of her wet pussy, feral grin in place as he dips it inside, bracing himself above her, all broad sweary chest, and tan skin, and golden main and vivid, hungry blue eyes, he tells her, he lets her know what he’s about to do.

#hnggg okay

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