Summary: When Tom and Harrison buy their new apartment… they end up moving into the Reader’s building. The Reader is ecstatic, being a huge fan of the duo, particularly Tom. They’re desperate to catch a glimpse of Tom, desperate to get his attention. And they sure do… although a series of unfortunate and embarrassing accidents isn’t the way they wanted to do so.
Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader (romantic), Tom Holland x Harrison Osterfield (platonic), Harrison Osterfield x Reader (platonic)
Warning(s): Vaguely described sexy dancing, swearing, embarrassment
A/N: I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I AM DOING THIS, TERROR IS COURSING THROUGH MY VEINS. Okay, now that that’s outta the way… I adore this song and Tom… so thought why not put the two together? Anyways, this is my first imagine in… awhile. The second one I’ve ever written, and the first one I’ve written on this blog. Please leave me some feedback!
P.S I know I use the f-word a lot. Sorry. It’s just… ingrained into my thoughts now.
Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield had moved into the building your flat was in nearly a month ago. Initially, you were flabbergasted, and desperate for a sight of them. You adored both boys, even more so after the release of Spiderman: Homecoming… and just seeing them in person would surely put you on cloud nine. Mostly because you had the world’s biggest crush on Tom. You couldn’t have been more wrong.
Three days after they had moved in, you had been cleaning around the window near your fire escape and accidentally knocked one of your many potted plants off of the windowsill. It fell several stories to the pavement below… and almost hit Harrison fucking Osterfield. Both boys had looked up, clearly startled. You squeaked and promptly ducked back inside, face tomato red with mortification. You sunk to the floor and buried your face in your hands, heart pounding wildly. You’d almost killed one of your favourite celebrities! God. How could you be that stupid? Had they seen you? It had felt as though Tom was looking right at you…You shivered at the thought.
Then and there you vowed to never do something like that again and to never say a word about it, were you ever to bump into them. Unfortunately, the Universe had other plans for you, and that was only the first of many embarrassing incidents involving you and Tom Holland.
The next… escapade occurred roughly two weeks after the “Deadly Potted Plant Incident”, as your best friend had dubbed it through a fit of giggles the very night of the tragedy. You were returning from the library, a mountain of books stacked in your arms. Most were for research purposes, but a few were pleasure reads, and you were quite excited to look at every single book. The lift hadn’t been working the past few days, so you had to take the stairs. Misfortune, it seemed, was following you everywhere these days.
With a soft sigh, you started to climb, arms awkwardly positioned to keep a grip on the stack of books. You made it up two flights of stairs before disaster struck. You couldn’t see very well with all the books in the way and thought that there was another step when there actually wasn’t… you lurched and tumbled to the ground, books skidding across the landing every which way.
“Oh, fuck,” you whined, pushing up into a standing position, your bum going out, wincing as you straightened your knees. You gently rubbed at your knees, hissing at the pain, still bent over. There’d be some lovely purple bruises tomorrow. Fantastic. Someone had cleared their throat, startling you into making a rather undignified noise and somehow flailing your way into falling again. This time on to the landing. Smack on your ass. And of course- because the Universe hated you- It was Tom fucking Holland.
“Hey… are you alright, love?” He asked gently, squatting down in order to be eye-level with you. Your eyes went wide, cheeks warming significantly. God, he was so pretty up close… You opened and closed your mouth a few times, probably looking like a fish… of fucking course now was the time your voice chose to take a lunch break. After a few painful minutes, you were finally able to speak… and that made things even worse.
“No!” You squealed, scrambling backwards on all fours, “I almost killed Harrison with a potted plant last week and now-” You cut yourself off, gasping. You’d specifically told yourself never to mention that if you met Tom! God, you were such a mess! You quickly gathered your books and somehow sprinted up the stairs. Once you got into your apartment, you threw yourself on the couch, moaning over your embarrassment. Only you could mess up this bad.
The third incident happened the next week. You just couldn’t catch a break. You had, by this point, lulled yourself into a false sense of security. You hadn’t seen Tom or Harrison since the “Book Bumble Of Utter Humiliation” (okay, so you’d practically run away whenever either of them spotted you) and everything else in your life had been going pretty well. Your favourite professor had asked to keep one of your essays to use it as a future example.
You had just returned from grocery shopping, headphones in and two bags in your hand. The lift was finally working again, so you walked in. Your favourite song of the moment came on before the doors closed. Things had been getting better… you hadn’t had any more… eventful encounters with your famous sort-of neighbours. You could just… let go and dance to your favourite song, right? You put your bags on the ground, hips already starting to drop and move with the bass. Seconds later, you were full on dancing as though you were in a club. A bright smile bloomed on your face as you spun around slowly, circling your hips, hands in the air.
You hadn’t noticed that the lift had stopped… but you did see the doors opening over your shoulder mid hip-roll. And there, in all his lazy Sunday afternoon glory, was Tom Holland, mouth hanging open. Oh shit.
How do I stay motivated to write on a schedule? I want to write more, and I thought planning writing out might help.
Hey, nonny, thanks for your question! I’m pretty sure every writer has faced this problem at some point, and motivation can be hard to come by. I’m currently in a writing slump, and really I’m just making myself write every day. You’ve kind of asked two questions here - how to stay motivated/write on a schedule, and the benefits of planning, so I’ll address both.
How to Write Consistently
Unfortunately, there is no magic solution that will solve all your problems and make you want to write all the time. Sometimes, you lose motivation or inspiration, and you don’t know how to get past it. Here are a few tips to keep you writing on a consistent schedule:
Set yourself a goal to reach every day. Whether it’s 100 words or a 1000, give yourself something to work towards when you write daily. For me, the site 750 Words has helped me write a consistent amount every day.
Try writing sprints. If you’re really pressed for motivation, just set a timer and start writing as much as you can. Sprints can get your creative juices flowing.
Learn to write even when you don’t have motivation/inspiration. You may not always feel like writing, but if you realize that sometimes you have to write when you don’t want to, it can make things a lot easier and help you push past a bout of writer’s block. Be careful you don’t overwork yourself, though.
Set yourself a literal schedule. Set aside some time every day where you just write, and you won’t be distracted. If you do it daily, you’ll set a routine that you can follow, and make writing a habit.
Choose a place where you write. If you can, write in the same place every day - make it feel official. Write wherever you’re not going to be distracted, and where you’re most comfortable and motivated.
Tell someone about your plans to write every day (or however often). If you tell someone, or post it somewhere, that you’re going to write consistently, odds are you’ll feel a lot more motivated to actually follow through on your promise.
Keep track of when you write/reach a word count goal. Mark it down on your calendar every day you sit down and write.
If you’re really not feeling your story/fic/novella or whatever you’re writing at the time, write something just to keep yourself in the habit. Make a diary entry, or a one-shot, or a blog post. Just make sure you keep the habit. Who knows - maybe after writing something unrelated, you’ll get more inspiration for your main work!
Personally, I am more of a panster - I tend to let my story take me where it wants as I write, and I don’t plan a lot of it. However, I do plan the rough plot points and arcs - but I usually end up changing something while I write. So, take my opinion on planning and pansting with a grain of salt.
For some people, planning their story to a ‘T’ helps them stay motivated - they know what scenes they want to include, they know how all of the scenes and plot points fit together, they know how their character arcs tie into the subplots, etc etc.
However, for some people, knowing too much about their story before they write it can hinder them and make them lose motivation. They might feel restricted by their original plan.
When some people write a story, they like to know nothing about it as they go into it. There are varying degrees of this - some people have a general plot, some just have an inciting incident and start from there. They might feel that this gives them more freedom with their story and boost their creativity.
On the flip side, not knowing anything about their story can make some people feel lost. They might not know how to connect scenes and plot points without a plan, or how the story should continue.
So, how do you know which one suits you, you ask? That’s up to you. You just have to see which one works for you through experience. (Generally, even if you’re pansting, you’ll probably have some idea of where your story is going, even if it changes.) Don’t be afraid to stray from your plan, or rewrite something you don’t like. It’s up to you!
Hopefully this helped you out! Here are all of our posts about outlines, if you want to start planning more. If you have another question, feel free to ask, and good luck writing!
Here’s a V angst no one asked for and when I told people about it, I got yelled at with “AMS O U C H” :))) 💛
inspired by Burn from Hamilton ヽ(ヅ)ノ and a thanks to the dialogue in Secret Ending 1
[ Word Count: 1962 ]
Jihyun believed in souls. He also believed in soulmates. Thinking back, he talked about it so much that MC was really convinced they were his soulmate. They were going to be together for the rest of their lives, knowing their souls belonged to each other. MC was confident in that future and they were sure Jihyun was too. The two of them had talks about it almost nightly, generating a fantasy of the future - complete with kids, a dream house, and talk of growing old together. They really did feel like soulmates.
Apparently, they were wrong.
It was during his newest exhibition where Jihyun would experience a beginning and an ending. He was there walking around and chatting with visitors, but someone caught his eye. She had been standing by this one photograph of a pink flower he took in the mountains for almost an hour today alone, and she stopped by yesterday as well - the least he could do was stop by and say hello.
Or, that was the plan, but he caught her just when she was speaking. “..Beautiful.” She whispered. “Do you like it?” He asked, stopping a few feet from her. “Yes, I love it.” The girl looked away from the photo to Jihyun, a polite but obviously confused look on her face. She was beautiful - long, blonde hair, green eyes, a pretty face - but that didn’t matter to Jihyun. He had MC, and besides, this woman was not the first beautiful lady he encountered. Nevertheless, something about her still made him curious. “Excuse me, but who are you?” She asked, bringing his attention back to her. “The one who took this photo.” He answered, a hint of a smile on his face. What? He could afford to be a little smug. Her face lit up a little bit, “You must be V, the photographer!” Jihyun nodded with a small chuckle, “You’ve been standing here for almost an hour, so I came to say hello. And didn’t you come yesterday too?” “Yes…the photo was so beautiful I just had to come for another look.” “I’m glad you like it, please enjoy it.” He smiled and was about to walk away. “Wait! I had something to ask you.” “What is it?”
“The sun is the mother of all things. This flower wouldn’t have come to life if the sun hadn’t exuded energy. This consistent love and warmth, I feel it from all your pieces! Do you think a world…where our fears are gone and filled with love and warmth, like when I see your photographs, will ever come? Do you believe we all can become the sun one day?” Her words shocked him. He had never thought about that, never thought he could make someone feel that way. Maybe that’s what caught his attention. “No,” He said, “I don’t have such profound thoughts when I take photos. I’m not that great.” “You are great, V. Just by taking photos like this.”
Now, V felt like doing something crazy. Well, not that crazy since he had done it before. In fact, he did this when he met MC too. “Thank you…do you want this photograph?” He could see her eyes light up a little bit, but it faded quickly. “I love it, but I don’t have enough money to purchase it.” Jihyun smiled brightly, sure he was totally going to make her day. “I’ll give it to you as a gift. Please let the receptionist know your name, address, and phone number.” The lady blinked, “What? Oh, I can’t accept such an expensive piece!” They went back and forth for a little bit until Jihyun settled it. “How about this? I’ll give you this photograph, and you can buy me coffee after this exhibition. Your thoughts made a big impression on me and I’d like to hear more of how you see life. Oh, can I ask your name?” She paused for a moment, thinking it over. Which gave Jihyun time to do the same. It wasn’t a bad idea, her thoughts really did intrigue him…and that was it anyways. He wanted to hear her thoughts on the world, it might give him a new outlook on how to take his photographs. And he could really use a coffee. MC was working late and they trusted each other. He’ll just send her a text.
“It’s…Rika.” The lady - Rika - answered him. “My name is Rika.” He smiled, “Is that your real name?” She shook her head, “Well, let me tell you mine. People call me V, but my name is Jihyun Kim.”
How coffee turned into this, Jihyun had no idea. It was about 10:30pm and Jihyun was stumbling into he and MC’s house, but with Rika chasing after him, their lips clashing as he pushed her inside. Jihyun had never been this frantic before. Not even because he was worried about MC coming home, but because he was desperate. Desperate for this feeling, for this person who he was leading to his bedroom. The person not being MC. MC being the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.
MC, his soulmate. Right? Or… “V…” Rika’s voice brought him out of his thoughts and MC was out of his mind again. It was just Rika. Rika. Rika. “Rika.” Jihyun breathed out.
Maybe MC wasn’t his soulmate.
That was a mistake. That whole night was a mistake. But…Jihyun kept going back to Rika. MC had no idea about what had happened, nonetheless that it was still happening. And it wasn’t even just sex, it was practically a full on relationship full of dates, small kisses, cuddling after sex. But Jihyun was hiding it from MC. Hiding this…relationship? From the person he called his soulmate.
He had a system. Two phones - one for MC, one for Rika. He wrote letters to both of them, showed them both the photographs he took, talked to both of them daily. It was eating away at him, but the more he did this, the more disappointed he felt himself becoming when it was MC instead. He wanted more of Rika, felt more of a connection with Rika. MC was losing their grip on his soul.
MC noticed something was wrong when their nightly talks got more and more infrequent. Nightly turned into every other night. Every other night turned into once a week. And now…nothing. Was something wrong with Jihyun? He did seem a bit more depressed lately. And he took a lot more trips than before. Well, he was getting more and more attention, it was probably just to get the perfect shot.
They thought nothing of it. Until the scandal broke out.
‘Famous Photographer V Engaged?! Who Is This Mystery Girl?’ Mystery Girl? MC asked themselves when they first saw it. People knew they were dating - though the gender situation was still unclear to them, but that wasn’t the point - but why did they assume they were engaged? Wait. Who was that?
There was another woman in the photo, one that MC had never seen or heard of before. Her and Jihyun were holding hands, looking like they were running across the street. She was holding a hand up to try and cover her face, but there was…a ring on her finger?
No, it was just a friend of Jihyun’s. Someone he was helping, as always. There was no way- The phone rang and MC glanced at it. It was Yoosung, so she picked up. “Yoosung?” “MC, did you see the news?” Right away, then. “About Jihyun? Yeah, but I didn’t hear anything from him y-” “I know who that is.” MC blinked. But they didn’t say anything, so Yoosung continued. “ She’s my cousin. And she had been talking about a boyfriend for a while now. I never got to meet him, but she mentioned things that match V…I should have told you, but I didn’t think that-” “Yoosung?” MC cut him off. It took a second, but he answered. “Yeah, MC?” “What things matched V that she told you about?” “Uh…he had an unusual hair color, he was a photographer..” “Give me specifics, Yoosung.” “There was something about letters…” MC hung up.
And as soon as they did, V walked through the door. “MC-” “V. What is this all about?” “It was a mistake. I was only-” The TV in the background cut him off again. “This just in! Photographer V released a statement! There’s…letters? A bunch of letters, apparently back and forth between this new girl?! Should we read some of them? Oh, this one-” V turned off the TV. “MC…” “You should go, V.” “…MC…”
MC didn’t speak again, they just walked off into their room. They knew V was behind them, but they didn’t care. MC wouldn’t speak a word to him again, but this was going to show him. They went straight to their shared nightstand, opening a drawer and throwing out all the clothes. “MC-” V tried, but MC pulled out a box at the bottom of it. They opened it, taking out pieces of paper. No, letters. They stared at them for a second before taking a deep breath. “I saved every one of these you wrote me. From the moment I read them, I knew you were mine. You said you were mine….I thought you were mine.”
V looked at MC helplessly, looking like he was about to speak, but MC beat him to it. “You and your words flooded my senses, left me defenseless. You built me palaces out of paragraphs, built cathedrals.” They looked back down at the letters, smiling in fond remembrance, but could also feel the tears filling their eyes. “The world seemed to burn..” Their voice hiccuped at the last word, hands holding the papers tighter. “You published the letters she wrote you. Told the whole world how you brought this girl into our bed.” The tears were spilling over now, and MC turned around, glaring at him. “You and your words, obsessed with your legacy. How they perceive you! You, you, you….!”
There was a pause after that, but MC held up their glare. V took a step back from them, tears building up for him as well. But that didn’t make MC back down. It only fueled them. “You have torn it all apart.” They stomped past him, pushing him out of the way to their built-in fireplace. Luckily, it was electronic, so MC turned it on and it started up quickly. “The world has no right to my heart! The world has no place in our bed. They don’t get to know what I said. I’m burning the memories, the letters that might have redeemed you.”
“MC!-” V ran over, trying to grab the letters, or at least one of them, from MC, but they were quicker. They pushed him away with both hands, pointing a finger at him and raising their voice. “Jihyun Kim, you forfeit all rights to my heart! You forfeit the place in our bed! You’ll sleep in her apartment instead! With only the memories of when you were mine…!” MC broke out into a full sob at their ‘mine’.
The next moment felt like forever, but MC was standing there, sobbing while V looked at them. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as well, but he knew it was over. There was no way he could fix this.
MC opened their eyes, glaring at V one more time. “I hope that you burn.” They said before turning around and throwing the letters into the fireplace. “MC!” V yelled, watching the letters he wrote them turning into ashes.
“So much for soulmates.” And MC walked past him, towards the door.
okay, so it sounds like betty’s speech inspired somebody to do something and that’s the big mystery she’s involved in. it’s also sounding like it’s going to involve kevin and sheriff keller. i guess maybe she gets blamed because her speech inspired them?
Prompt: (Requested by anonymous) Hi! I LIVE FOR YOUR TOM HOLLAND (HARRY POTTER) IMAGINES. They are the best! Can I request one? Like reader and Tom are both purebloods, so their parents decide to engage them, reader (Ravenclaw) likes Tom (Griffyndor) , but he doesn’t cause she isn’t very curvy. And he makes fun of her name because she’s called Raven and the house has quite the same name. But they end up together in the end. Hope this made sense. YOU ARE AMAZING THANK YOU
Word Count: 5100 (longest one as of now)
A/N: This actually loosely followed that request, so I’m sorry. I got really into this and drew inspiration from all sorts of things. I hope this works and I hope this doesn’t make anyone set their standards for me super high (b/c it’s super long).
WARNINGS: SELF-IMAGE ISSUES (brief discussions of the reader having self-image issues). Don’t listen to the Prince’s Tale from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 or you’re gonna cry because I almost did as I wrote this (the climax is very emotional).
*Unedited and formatting will most likely be off (posted via computer, not phone)
July 22: Favorite Scene- What scene that the 12th Doctor featured in has been your
Oh my dudes, it’s such a hard choice! There are so many scenes that are my favourites. There are epic scenes, funny scenes, sad scenes, emotional scenes, inspiring scenes… But this… This is the Twelfth Doctor for me. In the shadow of lurking death he throws a party, celebrates life and gives his knowledge to people who listen. All of this while being his epic himself. In my opinion this is the most epic scene that shows off the Doctor’s character so well.
I helped you dig a well, with a first-class, child-friendly visitor’s centre! I’ve given you some top-notch maths tuition in a fun but relevant way. And I have also introduced the word “dude” several centuries early. Let me hear you! ALL: Dude! DOCTOR: Are you a Renaissance? ALL: Dude! DOCTOR: Are you a Medieval? ALL: Dude! DOCTOR: I am a dragon-slaying? ALL: Dude! DOCTOR: We are all the young? ALL: Dudes! DOCTOR: I like it. But I’ve got some sad news for you, dudes. Tonight, I’m going to have to leave you.
Note: What happens when I talk to my dad about kangaroo care and SIDS tragedies? I get inspired to write Killian with babies. I know that there is a huge queue going, but when the muse hits you, the muse hits you. This might be the shortest thing I have written in awhile but I cannot imagine it any other way. So here’s some shirtless!Killian with newborn!Harrison and some Henry too. Because everyone needs some Captain Cobra. As always, thank you @welllpthisishappening for reading my walls of text and screeching at me. Summary: Killian and Henry have a meaningful conversation while cuddling the newest member of the Swan-Jones family. Rating: T Word Count: 2,500+
Killian Jones had a son.
He had been a father for four days now, but the fact still stunned him even while he held his newborn child. The boy was quite large, already weighing nearly a stone, but he felt quite small and vulnerable against his chest; a tiny little bird without feathers. An intense hum of fear and anxiousness sang in Killian’s blood, afraid that if he squeezed too hard then he would break the beautiful boy in his arms. His son was fragile, more than most babes, and had already suffered an injury coming into this world.
“You were born into this world already struggling,” he murmured aloud, running a finger down the side of the boy’s cheek. The boy wrinkled his entire face in response. “I’m sorry for that, little one. I would never have wished it upon anyone.”
The babe merely whimpered in reply, nosing his face closer to his father’s chest in search for warmth. Killian adjusted his grip, careful not to move the boy’s left arm in fear of disturbing the boy’s broken clavicle.
The doctor had assured them it wasn’t uncommon for large babies to break their collarbone during birth and that it would heal in a few weeks, but this didn’t little to soothe him. Killian could not help but feel resentful that there wasn’t much modern medicine could do to help his baby boy. According to the doctor, there was no cast or salve that they could use to heal this type of injury for an infant and the only thing they could do was pin the affected arm’s sleeve to his body in order to immobilize it. He had nearly begged Regina to heal him and relieve his son of his pain but she had refused, citing that his body was too weak to handle such magic.
(Rate my smut =)))))))) Yeah so I was inspired to write some terrible Ivar smut after that fucking amazing trailer so here it is and I hope it doesn’t suck too hard because I am kinda new to this writing smut thing. Feedback would be greatly appreciated if any sisters can spare it. Enjoy!)
There he was; all the way across the hall, brooding atop his great throne. His chin resting lightly upon his hand as his fingers traced idly along his lips in a more seductive manner than he intended while lost in his deep, dark thoughts. He was glowering in your direction, like he always did. You found yourself quickly glancing away from the hold his dark and fiery eyes had on you. You always had a deep fascination with people’s eyes and Ivar’s wild, deep, ocean blue ones were among the most fascinating to you.
All of the terrors and bloodlust, torture and dark tendencies Ivar’s world held; those eyes had seen it all. They were stained with his own sadistic, mad and lustful thoughts; corrupted by whatever blackness had seeped into them from his calculating and tormented mind. And those same eyes now burned dangerously into the back of your head.
He had always thrown those same daggers at you with his eyes and you had not a clue why. You had made it very clear that you supported him; in every bold decision he made and every new war he would start. In fact, you made it very clear that you had eyes only for him. You would always touch his arm lightly and talk sweetly and seductively his way; you made it very clear that you wanted him. Your feared, dangerous, calculating and triumphant viking King. How could you have resisted?
You had done all you could have to shown your devotion and adoration and pure want for him and he treated you as if you were his worst and most despised enemy. You couldn’t understand it. You hated it.
“(Y/N)!” His sharp, authoritative voice called out your name; cutting through the noise of the small feast raging on around you; bringing you quickly out of your fleeting thoughts. You looked back his way. You thought you had imagined his sweet voice calling out to you but you changed your mind when you saw Ivar actually motioning for you to come over to him now. You stood there in a trance before quickly bringing yourself back into reality and rushing over to your King.
You approached him cautiously when you neared his throne. Everything about him intimidated you; a powerful aura seemed to naturally surround him. He wore a dark, hooded cloak that hid most of his face from his crowd of warriors enjoying the feast in front of him. His expressively dark eyes were the only things visible to you now; the left one much more hidden than the right due to being completely bloodshot from his recent time in battle. The dark blue mixed with the veiny crimson red only furthered your intrigue of him.
The Boneless looked you up and down, slowly. His eyes growing more and more hungry and predatory rather than hate filled as always when he looked your way. “Y-yes? King Ivar?” You stuttered your words out and mentally kicked yourself for sounding like some scared, little mouse. You quickly averted your eyes to the ground after the pathetic display. “Won’t you join me, (Y/N)?” His sweetly, sly voice inquired and your gaze shot up to meet his then. He was smirking at you under the hood but his eyes refused to match his playful grin; they still remained dark and lusty; swimming with even darker ideas that filled his mind to the brim. You could only nod before pulling your gaze away from his to spot the throne right next to his own. You began to cautiously walk towards it when you heard Ivar tsk. You looked at him to see he was shaking his head in disapproval while still grinning madly at you. “No, sit here.” He said; his voice growing dark as he lightly patted his own lap.
You were immediately taken aback by his request; you stood there, frozen. His grin disappeared just as quickly as it had formed on his face as you stood unmoving, continuing to gawk at him. “Incase you couldn’t tell, that was a command, not a suggestion, (Y/N). Obey.” This was absurd and you were confused as to why he was treating you like this all of a sudden. Was it the severe amount of mead he had consumed while perched upon his throne perhaps? Your continued lack of movement and words began to irk him and his hand then shot out to roughly grab ahold of your arm; making you cry out before pulling you onto his lap forcefully. You froze yet again and gasped when you felt his half erect length beneath the fabric of his pants under you. Some of his men turned to eye you both curiously now; some cheered in response to their King now openly feeling you up.
His rapid breaths were hot on your neck and then on your delicate ear as he leant in close to whisper something to you. “I am your King now, stupid woman. That means you must do everything I say, not stand there gawking at me like a fucking idiot at my commands. Don’t worry, i’m sure you will learn in due time.” You whimpered and felt your own breaths grow heavy as his large hand reached into the top of your dress to continue fondling your breasts. “I-Ivar, please!” You began to shakily plead with him to let you go as you weakly struggled beneath his wandering hands, but he quickly silenced you as he reached his other hand under the thin fabric of your dress to shove two thick fingers deep inside your already very wet and slick cunt.
You gasped and moaned quietly as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you all while laughing darkly into the back of your neck. His lips moved to your ear once again. “I know this is what you want, (Y/N). The way you tease me with your sweet words in front of my men and the fucking pathetically evident lust you try so desperately to conceal in your eyes whenever you look over at me.” He chuckled again as he continued to speak. “Just look at how wet you are for me already. Do you like being teased in front of all my men like this, do you? You do? fucking whore.” You squirmed and moaned even louder now as he breathlessly insulted you; his unrelenting fingers continuing to forcibly fuck you.
All of the viking warriors’ attentions were now on you. They continued to cheer and whistle and laugh at your heated predicament. “Ivar. Ivaaar, pleeease!” You tried to beg him to release you through your arousal but it only sounded like you were praising him and egging him on which caused him to pump in and out of you even faster. All of the men’s own lusty eyes were on you now as your cunt was continuously fucked by your King’s intrusive fingers; it was humiliating and wrong, but at the same time, the pleasure was overwhelming you. “Shh.” Ivar shushed you soothingly. “Who does this cunt belong to now, (Y/N)?” He pushed his two fingers further into you and held them there as he asked the question and you could only moan out his name. Ivar’s other hand quickly removed itself from your cleavage to lift up your skirts even more and smack your bare ass with brutal force. You yelped in response as tears began to well up in your eyes. “Say it properly, bitch. Say ‘my cunt belongs to my King, my cunt belongs to King Ivar.’” You opened your mouth to breathlessly speak again. “My cunt belongs to my King, my cunt belongs to King Ivar.” You echoed his words with a moan. Ivar seemed to echo your own moan then too in response to your submissive words.
“You are mine.” He moaned again through his words as he began thrusting into you. Ivar then suddenly pulled his hand out from under your skirts, making you whine and fucking hate yourself for wanting this public debasement to actually continue on. “Open that pretty mouth of yours, (Y/N).” Despite everything, you obeyed your King; under his mind numbing power completely now.
Ivar pushed his two fingers into your mouth this time; letting you taste yourself mixed with the taste of the calloused, salty skin of his own fingertips. “Good. You’re learning. Very good.” He breathlessly praised you as his erect cock only became more pronounced under you in response to your obedience, making your eyes roll back. You moaned behind his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” Ivar commanded and you obeyed. Sucking his fingers dry of your wetness. He soon forced a third one into your mouth and you continued to lick and suck on all three digits; completely overcome with your arousal now; it was like no one else was in the room, just you and Ivar, in this moment. “How cute, (Y/N) has probably touched herself many times while dreaming of finally choking on my cock.” Ivar announced in a mocking voice to the men in the room as you continued to submissively suck on his fingers. They all laughed in response and you could feel your face reddening from the shame and the realisation that you and Ivar were in fact not the only ones in the room.
You pulled away from his digits then and gained enough courage from your sudden rage to spit directly in his face. He immediately stopped laughing along with them all and growled as he pushed you harshly off of his lap and onto the floor. Wiping away the spit now in his eyes, he looked down at you with that same fire once again. “Now you are right where you belong, (Y/N). At my feet, on the floor like a good little pet.” He concluded with another grin and a dangerously sweet expression before quickly returning back to that same glare; taking the chance to spit down into your own face. They all laughed again as you desperately tried to wipe his spit from your face. “Fuck you!” You screamed up at him now, enraged. “Be good, and I might just fuck you, pet.” The laughter only grew louder; ringing in your ears. Tears continued to form in your eyes.
Ivar stopped laughing then before giving you yet another command in a dark voice still laced heavily with lust. “Crawl between my legs and take my cock like a good bitch now. It is your King’s command.” You hated how the debasing order seemed to turn you on even more. He was treating you lower than a fucking dog; you should have hated him and instead, you were a shaking, aroused, hot mess for him. “Don’t make me ask again.” Ivar growled down at you. His intense, hungry and bloodshot eyes dared you to even think about disobeying under the blackness of the hood. You refused to move until he lunged forward and roughly grabbed ahold of your hair, making you cry out as he forced you to crawl on all fours towards the enticing looking bulge in his pants. He carelessly undid the braces around his legs while still tightly holding a fistful of your hair; holding you in place. You whimpered and hated the now growing, sharp pain in the back of your head from his hold on you.
Ivar threw the braces to the side of his throne and began to undo his pants next; breathing heavily and cursing under his breath as he fought to undo his belt with one hand, through his own arousal. Finally undoing it, throwing it also to the side and forcing his pants down enough to just expose his fully erect cock to you, he continued to pull you in then, right onto his member. He forced his length all the way into your mouth; hitting the back of your throat without warning and making you gag and sputter around him. His hand remained tangled in your now matted hair as he forced your head upright to stare into his lust filled, dangerous eyes. You moaned behind his cock and let your tongue begin to glide up and down his length a bit. “Don’t you dare take your eyes off of mine.” Ivar growled before beginning to thrust in his chair into you; fucking your mouth violently.
Tears streamed down your face as he kept fucking your throat; grunting and growling like an animal all the while. His now almost black eyes threatened to roll back into his head at any moment as he continued to stare intensely into your own eyes as if it were the most important thing in the world; to hold your gaze. A huge, predatory smile was plastered on his face all the while. He was close; you prayed this overly harsh treatment of your throat would end soon. Your eyes blurred his image above you as tears continued to fill them. Ivar leant down and used his other hand to harshly grab ahold of your jaw, pulling you closer to his face, and his eyes. “Don’t take your eyes off of me!” He warned again, breathless and crazed looking. You obeyed. And soon enough, he released his warm seed directly into your mouth.
He pulled out and removed the hand at the back of your head to cover your mouth. “Swallow it.” He commanded and you obeyed. Swallowing down his salty seed. You felt it travel down the inside of your throat, taking place deep inside your stomach. You moaned and closed your eyes as his hands still held your face. Your hot breaths were heavy and you longed for your own release. “Very good. Good bitch.” Ivar praised you before releasing your jaw and mouth from his rough grip and doing his pants up again. He reached down, grabbed both your arms and pulled you up into his lap for a second time; cradling you now in his own arms. His face was real close to yours as he continued to seemingly stare into your own soul. This time, his hand soothingly petted your hair as he leant in to whisper in your ear again. “Go wait for me. I’m not even fucking close to being finished with you.”
A/n- This is for @hannahindie’s Han Celebrates With Pawnee
challenge! This is honestly one of my all-time favorite shows, and I was so
excited when she posted this. Two of my
favorite shows mashed together. Sort of. I picked April Ludgate’s quote, “But
then I remembered alcohol existed.” It is bolded in the fic. Thanks to @queen-of-deans-booty for the help/inspiration with the fighting part! I hope you guys like
this one. This is unbeta’d, so any and all mistakes are mine.
Characters/Pairing: Cas, Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1,170
Warnings: Verbal altercation; I would say arguing, but they’re
literally yelling and screaming at each other. Little bit of angst, but fluffy in the end.
“You know Dean, you can be such a fucking asshole sometimes!”
“Are you kidding me?! Oh my god, you’re actually serious
right now. Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you this? If you are being
threatened, I’m going to knock someone on their ass!”
“Oh please! I was hardly being threatened!”
“That dude had his grubby hands all over you!” he bellowed.
“HE WAS A DRUNK FRAT BOY AND I COULD HAVE HANDLED IT WITHOUT GETTING THE DAMN COPS INVOLVED!”
you screamed back at him, finally losing what little cool you had left.
Savior of klance, president of our hopes and dreams, first officer of the ship and the light that guides my way through the scary kallura possibility. Bless you. May your post be truth, may your words be Lauren's will, and may your ideas inspire dreamworks' mind.
it’s stephanie march’s birthday today and i really hope she has the most amazing day because she deserves the world. i can’t put into words how much she’s helped me with things going on in my head that i don’t quite understand, how inspirational she is, how beautiful she is, how talented she is. i’m so lucky and proud to be able to call her my idol, i love her so much she’s my world.