oozing out

Rising sign Vibrations

Every rising sign has a reason to celebrate. Each of you has a distinct look that is beautiful in the eyes of another. Inspired by an anon on @disneystrologie account who mentioned that “the risings aren’t really appearance. It’s more so the vibe that you give out that enhances your genes”. I think, whoever you are, that was a very sagacious observation on your part. Hope you don’t mind me elaborating some more.

Aries | Loud and proud, you won’t miss these individuals in a room. They ooze life out of them as if the next big race is about to begin. When you look at them you see someone who knows where they are trying to go. Direction and drive is thrilling to watch. It’s beautiful to be a part of so there’s no shortage of individuals clamoring for an Aries rising’s attention.

Taurus | Old school beauty in a new package. What is old school depends on your heritage. Taurus rising’s know where they’ve come from and have the willpower to expand on the comforts of their past. You see it in how they carry themselves. It’s as if royalty from all walks of life have graced you with their presence. Make sure not to hit your head as you bow down.

Gemini | Lively individuals with a fairy like disposition. Lithe, young movements. It’s like watching your childhood crush race you to the river. It’s like watching your brother’s older friend tease you mercilessly. Gemini rising have a youthful beauty that makes you think anything is possible. 

Cancer | The watery vibe of cancer risings is like a siren call. Coy is what you think of when you see a cancer rising. There is something beneath the surface with them. The changeable nature of a cancer rising lends itself well to human nature’s constantly fluctuating desires.

Leo | It’s hard to deal with the voluptuous quality of a Leo rising, but thankfully we all manage. Something about them is bigger and better. Each Leo rising works that quality like there’s no tomorrow. They are larger than life. A cinema masterpiece you are willing to watch over and over.

Virgo | Where Gemini rising is youthful and lively, Virgo risings are youthful and somber. There is an energy about them that is contradictory. You know they are calm, yet a restless spirit hides within them. A knowing smirk is a common characteristic for these rising signs and they wear it so well. It could make the most hardened minds curious as to what they know.

Libra | So charming, it’s honestly hard to be around them. You feel like you would do anything for them. In fact you truly want them to like you! If a beautiful creature such as this likes you, surely you’ve done something right. Lovely, full features.

Scorpio | It doesn’t matter if you consider them cute, sexy, beautiful. Hell you could actually think they might be ugly, but the enticing nature of a Scorpio rising is hard to miss. Their actual genetics are enhance by pluto’s glow and penetrating stare. You really can’t help but look at them. You won’t ever want to look away once they are done with you.

Sagittarius |  Nothing can go wrong with these individuals around. Didn’t you know that Jupiter watches out for his own? They are brass and loud and so much fun from a single glance. You know that you’re in for a good time when you encounter a Sagittarius rising.  Do it big or go home and that includes their appearances. They take up space with their shining light

Capricorn | Sharp or strong features are common with this rising.  Even without the features they are known for, there’s something commanding in the way that they move. Something about that screams power to those around them. Power is beauty in the eyes of many.

Aquarius | Trendsetters who know no bounds. Aren’t we lucky we have them? There’s something about them that’s different. Different is good because who else would we base our art off of? Who else would inspire us. An Aquarius rising knows and understands this. Even if they aren’t conventional, they certainly have a way of making us fall for them.

Pisces| A soothing wave over your soul, you’ll feel like you’re drowing in the touch of a Pisces. It is hard to get them out of your head. Their energy is elusive, yet endearing. We as humans want to figure out what makes other works which is why Pisces risings cause so much obsession. What is going on with that beautiful vibe?

So I just found out that Voltron season 1 had vietnamese sub. Needless to say I was ecstastic

In episode 6, Keith’s Iconic line was executed perfectly and ten times cuter than the original line. The meaning is still the same, tho, but cuter

One of the cutest things the translators did is that they change the pronouns of Keith while talking to Lance. Normally, they use” tôi (I)” and “cậu (you)” for common situation. They are formal, could use for both gender (mostly man, tho), for friend, acquaintane, someone you just met, etc,etc..(but only use it if both user were in a same age , dont use it with someone older, VNese has a lot of pronouns, follow a set of stange rules involves age and social rank, pretty confusing ) We dont use this quite often in real life tho, because they give off a cold vibe and create a distance between the speaker and the listener

This kind of pronounssuits Keith, as he’s pretty close-off and not really on a same level of friendship and closeness to the Garrison trio. But in that “I cradles you in my arm” line, Keith used “ Tớ”(I) to talk about him , which are more commonly used among people in a same age range, also sounds softer, cuter and sweeter, indicating a close level of friendship between two users. Using this type of pronouns make the user seems friendlier and easy to talk to

Also, they translated the world “cradled” to “nâng niu” which was hilarious cause that word is use for holding, cradling, protecting something small, fragile and absoloutely precious to the speaker. Can you feel the gay oozing out of KeithXD

The sub made Keith desperately want Lance to acknowledge their bonding moment and offer an olive brand for a new friendship that he changed his way of speaking to somewhat friendly and soft. Also he refer Lance as someone precious to him and in need of protecting.  Someone give this dork a pat please he pines so hard

The Klance game is so fucking strong I cant help but laughing like an idiot

You Who... [M] (ft. Jeongguk)

Originally posted by bapsae-monsta

Drabble Game Prompt 96. “Here, let me.” with badboy/jock!jeongguk

→ badboy football jk (warning: overstimulation, cumplay, fluff, and fuckingjeonjungkook)
→ 1.4k words prequel part 01 | 02

A/N: i have no idea where this came from, my hand sort of slipped, jfc what have i done 

UPDATE: added the highly-requested prequel as a thank you for 1k+ notes :) make sure to check out Give and Take! It’s a similar AU to this one! 


“There you go, yes, you can do it babe,” Jeongguk encourages, as you bite down on your lip.  

He grins up at you as you move your hips slowly against his, finding the way you squeeze your eyes shut tightly the cutest thing ever. 

“J-jeongguk I-I can’t–” you stutter, arms clutching at his bare shoulders as your movements stutter and begin to slow down. But you whimper instead at the loss of friction between your legs and begin to cry tears of frustration as you don’t know whether to continue grinding against him and chase after another orgasm or to stop completely. 

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Venus in the Houses

In the 1st: The Knight

You wear your heart on your sleeve not in sensitivity, but with bravery. You come as you are; always ready to fight for what you love.

In the 2nd: Dionysus

The melody in your heart oozes out of you as a siren song, taking pleasure in all you feel in your heart. You let the richness take over your very being.

In the 3rd: The Hummingbird

Ever-flitting, ever-flying; so envied and admired. You move impossibly fast, it takes focus to see your wings oh but we hear the beautiful music they make as you pass us by with your jeweled feathers.

In the 4th: The Envelope

Your lover is your letter, you the envelope. You carry them safely to their destination, recognizing precious words and beauty as the truth. Oh but how easily battered you can be, please bubble-wrap your loving heart.

In the 5th: The Leather Jacket

You wear your heart as a coat, whether worn or new or real or fake. You exist as a symbol of yourself you create out of your own fabric. Expression is your savior, savor it.

In the 6th: The Furrowed Brow

The worrier, the servant, the loyal. You do not let it all show, you stand poised and sure but that one little crease, that only little wrinkle expresses it all. You do not have to stand impossibly tall, sit down. It’s okay.

In the 7th: The Nymph

Either fairy or seductress, you walk lightly and nervously about. You are sweet, whispered nothings in the sunset fields; whether they mean something or not…

In the 8th: The Taxidermist

You sculpt around you in stillness and a resistance to trust and to allowing the world to move around you. Your taboo necromancy is intense and even scary, but if they looked beneath they’d see that you simply create out of what is before you.

In the 9th: The Wanderer

The free spirit full of self-destructive flightiness, unwilling to fully let go for what else is out there? You feel yourself on the precipice, not sure whether to let go and fall down down down into the wind or continue to resist.

In the 10th: The Willow

The wise beauty of movement and stillness wrapped together in harmony with all around you. That surprising snap and wit lurking in your calming vines, it haunts and provides all at once.

In the 11th: The Amphibian

Master of water and land, you can go in and out with ease, but can’t quite seem to choose which you truly want. Perhaps the company around you is enough, but maybe if you dive down deeper or climb up higher you’ll find something better than you recognize.

In the 12th: The Saved

They fall into the hot spring in the middle of the night with you, sipping wine and sharing kisses and admissions of vulnerability that drift into the night. But don’t let them drown, for they so easily can if they are not wary.

Mozzarella Stick Onion Rings

Makes 9–12
Recipe by Alvin Zhou for BuzzFeed Tasty

INGREDIENTS
2 large white onions
3–4 slices mozzarella cheese
2 cups flour
5 eggs
2 cups bread crumbs
Oil, for frying
Marinara sauce

INSTRUCTIONS
Peel and cut onions into 1-centimeter rings, then separate the rings.

Slice the mozzarella into 4 even strips, and place a smaller onion ring in the center of a larger one. Fill the gap between the rings with strips of mozzarella. Repeat with remaining onion rings and freeze them for 1 hour.

Place the flour, eggs, and bread crumbs into three separate bowls. Dip each prepared ring into the flour, then the egg, then the breadcrumbs, then back into the egg, and one last time into the bread crumbs. Repeat with the remaining onion rings.

Heat the oil in a pot over high heat. Fry the rings until golden brown, being careful not to fry them for too long as the cheese may ooze out completely.

Drain on a paper towel, then serve with marinara!

Nosy Rosy Big Brother

Originally posted by oldbucksicle

Summary: Dean’s hit with a strong case of curiosity. Pure, uncontrollable curiosity that leads to him finding a treasure trove of nasty little things.
Paring: Sam/Reader, Dean/Reader (kinda), Implied Sam/Reader/Dean at the end
Word Count: ~2.5K
Warnings: FILTH. At this point it’d be easier to name what’s not in this fic, but I’ll name a few that are; smut (obvy), dirty text, nudey pics, sex videos of Sam/Reader, masturbation, anal play, anal sex, vaginal sex, dirty talk, copious amounts of semen, Sam’s a big fan of creampies (both of the butt and vag variety), more masturbation, voyeurism, NSFW gifs just to really mess y'all up :)
a/n: aight don’t judge me but I only have one fic to post today bc school’s got me fucked up and has literally sucked my soul from my body. I’m still working on some of the requests you guys have sent in and other WIP’s as the mood/will to do anything but cry in a corner hits me (lol but I’m fine tho I swear) I hope you guys enjoy my contribution for Smut Appreciation Day 2017!



The first time Dean “snoops"—it’s by total accident. 

Sam had lent him his phone after Dean’s had been compromised on the hunt that they had just finished. Long story short; phone in pocket plus getting pushed into pool by werewolf equals no bueno. Dean pulled up the messaging app to shoot the hunter that been helping them out a text to let him know that everything had been squared away, but when Dean went to tap compose message, his thumb took a sharp left and ended up pulling up the messages between you and Sam. 

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Bite

A quick little blurb about biting bum’s and scorching heat and whiplash that leaves you breathless. Hope you all enjoy it!

P.S.: DO NOT COPY AND REPOST THIS ANYWHERE.

Originally posted by bestharrypics

Hot.

It’s hot and you swear your brain has just about turned to mush with the sweltering heat that comes from the bright sun up in the Hawaiian sky.

Your skin is glowy from all the vitamin D but you feel hot and sticky and uncomfortable and desperate to get rid of the sweat and the suncream and the sand that cling to your body.

Your body drowns in immediate relief when, after waiting for your boyfriend to shower, you finally get your turn to slide under the almost cold spray. It’s refreshing and so satisfying to feel and watch everything that was making you feel sticky and gross slide away down the drain, your head immediately clearer once your head feels the fresh water soak up your hair.

You and Harry had been out all day long and now, when the sun had gone down a bit but enough to cool the room you both had booked, you two had decided a night inside was all you needed. Room service and Netflix and a good cuddle - three things you’ve been craving ever since he’d dragged you out early in the morning for a workout and then a day at the beach.

When you finish, renewed and smelling fresh, you stalk into the bedroom only to find Harry at the brink of consciousness. His hair is wet and flopping all over the place and his long legs are spread wide as he clutches the pillow on your side of the bed, his nose burrowed into it, eyes closed as he enjoys a peaceful nap.

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Rising Sign Vibrations

Aries | Loud and proud, you won’t miss these individuals in a room. They ooze life out of them as if the next big race is about to begin. When you look at them you see someone who knows where they are trying to go. Direction and drive is thrilling to watch. It’s beautiful to be a part of so there’s no shortage of individuals clamoring for an Aries rising’s attention. 

Taurus | Old school beauty in a new package. What is old school depends on your heritage. Taurus rising’s know where they’ve come from and have the willpower to expand on the comforts of their past. You see it in how they carry themselves. It’s as if royalty from all walks of life have graced you with their presence. Make sure not to hit your head as you bow down.

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Someone

Inspired by this post, a small fic on Bad Bob just trying to be the best dad he can be. Could also be seen as a companion to my fic Coach. Also on AO3…  

Bob had grown up in locker rooms. The majority of his life was spent surrounded by the sweaty stink of post-game adrenaline, the raucous laughter, the camaraderie. And he loved it… for the most part.

There was the part of it, however, he didn’t like, didn’t particularly care to join in on. Prejudice of any kind had no place in Bob Zimmermann’s heart. When a distasteful joke was made, he retreated into himself. Excused himself to go shower or meet his parents – and later, Alicia.

Alicia was quite vocal many times saying, “If you had been a stereotypical jock I would never have given you the time of day.”

Bob nodded, and didn’t think he was being or not being anything in particular. He just preferred to judge people by their actions and their heart – and nothing else.

Alicia loved his gentle nature, which was a stark contrast to the person he was on the ice. While he was Bad Bob Zimmermann on the ice, off the ice Bob opened doors for little old ladies, he stopped to pet random dogs on the street, he called his parents every Sunday, made corny jokes, and enjoyed cooking for the people he loved.

When Jack came along one hot August morning, Bob held his newborn son as tears flowed freely down his face.

“He’s perfect, Alicia,” Bob murmured as he pressed a kiss onto the baby’s head.

Alicia hummed and closed her eyes, full of exhaustion and bliss.

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Uncharted Waters | R.M.

PAIRING: [Reggie Mantle x River Vixen!Reader]


Like just about any other problem that happened over the summer, yours was an extremely shallow issue compared to what happened to Jason Blossom on the fourth of July. The closest person you might have possibly heard the story about the star quarterback came from an unlikely source—from the arrogant douche himself, Reggie Mantle.

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Wings of Butterflies

A/N: Adele believes in trilogies, I believe in pentalogies. This is the fifth and final installment to Rotation (I mean it this time). 

// Another Man’s Treasure // Mind on a Mission // Take the Lead // Worth the Pain //


Who knew the South of France could be boring?

Neither the wine nor the men, either the beaches or the crystal clear water could interest you. Your family knew something was up with you, your brother even attempting a heart-to-heart one night to pry deep into the corners of your mind to understand why you weren’t your happy, bubbly self. Even Harry’s family had taken notice, his sister struggling to get more than three word answers from you, either via text or in person, over the last few months.

But you stayed mum. You hadn’t much to say anyway. You’d done a lot of growing, a lot of thinking, since Harry had left you all alone.

If life were divided into chapters, the night he came round and the morning he left made for a very distinct Ending and Beginning.

Harry hadn’t been able to ignore you for much longer than a week. Not because of your persistence—no, you hadn’t reached out to him again since the day he all but vanished from your bed—but because guilt kept gnawing at his conscious every time he looked at his phone. He’d read all the texts—and saved them, too—stared at the missed call notifications, but he hadn’t brought himself to listen to the voicemail you’d left late that evening. He hadn’t mustered up the courage, and he was disgusted with himself for it.

So, with a deep breath, he listened to the message. Better a week late than never, right?

You were crying; well, sobbing was more accurate. You didn’t say anything at first, probably not realizing the recording had clicked on as you choked in search of air. Once you settled down, you laid into him with a few choice words—all of which he agreed with—but it wasn’t the name calling that stuck with him or the way you hoped to never see him again that plagued him with regret. It was your final word, your final question, that haunted him.

Why?

Because there were a million reasons why and none of them excused him for being such a dickhead. And that made him angry, very angry, because there weren’t many situations he found himself completely lost in, unable to navigate the waters, yet here he was drowning in your tears without a buoy or damn life preserver in sight.

So he called.

And, despite being in the library studying for an exam, you answered. You hesitated at first, the stitches holding together your heart pulling at the seams with the sight of his name and his face across your screen, but answered nonetheless.

“Hello?”

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MBTI as Night Vale Proverbs

ESTJ: “I’m all business,” I say, peeling off my skin strip by strip, showing you what oozes out. “Business to my core.”

ISTJ: Be careful what you wish for. Because it probably won’t come true, and life is about expectations management.

ESFJ: Knock knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad I didn’t say your mother’s in the hospital. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Listen. I’ll drive you over there. We’ll leave right now. Grab a coat; it’s a little cold out. I’m so sorry.

ISFJ: Eating meat is a difficult moral decision, because it’s stolen, that meat. You should apologise.

ESTP: Pain is just weakness leaving the body, and then being replaced by pain. Lots of pain.

ISTP: “There’s no harm in trying” really depends on what you’re trying. Either way, give it a go - it’s probably fine.

ESFP: I let my haters be my motivators. Mostly they tell me I suck, and then I get sad. This was a terrible idea.

ISFP: Say what you will about dance, but language is a limited form of expression.

ENFJ: If you love someone, set them free. Set them free now. This is the police, and we have you surrounded.

INFJ: If I said you had a beautiful body, would it even matter because we are so insignificant in this vast incomprehensible universe?

ENFP: Ask your doctor just who he thinks he is. Say it just like that. Say, “Who do you think you are?” See if he starts crying. I know I would.

INFP: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never quite describe the pain.

ENTJ:  Remember that all sentences must have a noun, a verb, and the phrase “foolish mortals”.

INTJ: Listen. I’m not a hero. The real heroes are the people that point out to us when protesters have smartphones, thus invalidating all concerns.

ENTP: Lost? Confused? Lacking direction? Need to find a purpose in your life?

INTP: Look to the sky. You will not find answers there, but you will certainly see what everyone is screaming about.

~Nero & Nike

phantomavenger  asked:

Prompt #11 :)

I loved doing this one. Here’s #11: “If I die I’m going to haunt your ass.”


“You’re the worst, like the actual worst!”

Derek huffed beside him, “if you don’t shut up I’ll leave without you.”

Stiles paused, eyes wide and mouth dropped in shock at the threat. He didn’t sense any joke behind it. Instead he went back to his silent freak out as he did his best to ignore the undead groans from the other side of the door.

Zombies. Freaking zombies. As if Beacon Hills couldn’t get any worse. This time if people were bitten they wouldn’t turn into were-somethings. They’d be zombies; rotten, gnarly, undead flesh craving things. Of course Stiles had played his fair share of online games with his friends to fight off creatures, like zombies, but the real thing was much more terrifying. They smelled terrible, their skin looked horrendous especially when it fell off in chunks, and for the love of God the noises were things of nightmares.

Sick pained groans that were hollow and void of any sort of intelligence.

Just hungry.

Very hungry actually since they tried to make him Stilinski a-la-mode about five minutes ago and Derek a Hale sunday.

“This is your plan? Hide in a storage closet?” Stiles asked and flailed just crazily enough to knock over a paint can.

It clattered to the floor with a harsh sound followed by a long silence. Derek’s eyes flashed blue, and gave Stiles level ten of the Hale-Glare-of-Gloom™. From outside the storage room of the old factory the silence gave way to loud hungry moans of the undead, bodies banging against the door. The rusted hinges weren’t going to last if the pileup on the other side grew until the pressure was too much.

“If I die I’m going to haunt your ass,” Stiles muttered as he shuffled backwards until he was flush with the wall, his heart about to beat out of his chest.

“You’re not going to die Stiles,” Derek said.

“I’m so going to die, you’ll probably heal,” he said, his hand ran through his hair but didn’t seem to have its usual calming effect, “oh, God. I’m gonna be a zombie—holy, Derek…you gotta keep my dad away from fast food, alright? His cholesterol is through the roof. Give Scott my comic collection; he’ll keep them safe–”

His panicked ramble was cut off when Derek was suddenly in his space, his hands tight around Stiles’ shoulders. There was this look of…uncertainty in his pale green eyes, and before Stiles knew what happened he was wearing the leather jacket.

“What–?”

“Keep your head down, hang on tight, and whatever happens…run,” Derek said seriously before he hoisted Stiles up onto his back.

Stiles gasped in surprise, his legs automatically locked around Derek’s waist as his arms wrapped around Derek’s shoulders. His mind raced with questions, for example; why the fuck Derek was about to risk his life for him of all people? Seriously there was no rhyme or reason for it, the guy made his dislike for Stiles crystal clear.

The door was kicked open, the hinges flying off and the metal crushed the few zombies right in front of it. There was a split second path and Derek was already running; Stiles let out a small shriek and curled himself tighter against Derek, his head hidden in the crook of Derek’s neck. Hands tried to swipe at him, but the leather and denim he wore made it hard for hands to actually grab and tear into his flesh.

Stiles had no idea how Derek was doing, he had no idea if he was hurt, he had no idea where they were going. At one point Derek jumped, and they free fell for a while before landing. Eventually though they made it to a place where fresh air was all around them and the noises of zombies were gone.

He found it in himself to look up when Derek slowed, they made it out of the old factory, into the back end of the woods.

Victory.

Well almost, because suddenly Derek collapsed to the ground with Stiles still on him. His knees smacked onto the hard ground violently but he had enough sense to roll off Derek, finally taking a second to see if he was okay.

“Oh my God, dude, Derek!” Stiles gasped and scrambled to his knees to shove Derek on his back and off his wounds.

There were angry tears of skin and muscle, blood oozed out in thick globs, and Stiles was so sure he was about to puke. Derek let out a pained sound and tried to curl in on himself only to fail and fall back.

“You so cannot die! We save each other! We don’t freaking die!” Stiles exclaimed, trying to see if the wounds were healing themselves or not.

Hands cupped his face and pulled him away from Derek’s torso. His eyes met pale ones which were riddled with pain. Stiles hated that; he couldn’t even do the cool werewolf pain drain thing, he could only sit there helplessly. He wasn’t just sitting there though, because now he was bent down with lips on his which were surprisingly soft.

So maybe he totally flailed and maybe he accidently bit Derek’s lip, but he was well within his freak out rights. Derek Hale was kissing him and he hasn’t kissed many people, let alone super attractive people that were so out of his league.

Stiles pulled back, lips still semi-puckered with his brows drawn in, “why did that feel like a goodbye kiss?”

Derek had the audacity to roll his eyes, “not…a goodbye kiss, it was a ‘calm down I’m healing slowly’ kiss.”

“So you’re not dying?!”

“No, I can feel myself healing.”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Stiles wheezed, leaning back down for another kiss which was probably only a little less clumsy than the first one.

“What kind of kiss was that?” Derek asked softly.

“I think it was a ‘thank god you’re not dead don’t do that to me again you dick’ kiss,” Stiles answered.

“I saved your life. I’d do it again if I had to.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Derek did in fact shut him up.


ASK ME A PROMPT FOR THE DRABBLE CHALLENGE!

listen, my friends who date straight cis men:

you have got to be alert and on top of things because straight cis men are the most irresponsible vectors of disease a careless god ever created. they are so disgusting and indifferent.

know about stis. know about bv, yeast infections, that thing that looks like a skin tag, the greenish ooze coming out of his dick, that funny smell–know what healthy genitals look and smell and feel like and don’t be afraid to assess your situation and turn him down if you want to and feel like you can.

you have to know this stuff because most men don’t know what’s up down there and if it isn’t actively hurting them they do not give a FUCK what it will do to you or anyone else as long as they get off.

you have to know this stuff because even tho it’s their responsibility, they’ll shirk it to the grave. don’t let their indifference affect you!

It’s April 26th, and it’s hot, unbearably hot. Harry feels like his insides are melting, about ready to ooze out of his body. He doesn’t remember it being this stifling the last time he was deployed; it’s like the heat is magnified, weighing him down, dragging him into the dirt. He’s trying to stay focused, he really is, but he has sweat dripping into his eyes and he’s miserably dehydrated and he feels off balance in every sense of the word. Liam asks if he’s feeling okay, and Harry nods slowly, furrowing his brows, wondering if he’s really that transparent. He feels pathetic, slightly, and weak for being the only one this affected by the 108 degree sun. He forces himself to keep up with Liam’s strides, his gear heavy, and by the time they catch up to Rob and Colin, Harry’s vision is spinning.

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Sorry, for making you guys wait for so long, but to make it up to you I think this is the longest imagine I have ever written. I hope you’ll enjoy. I also combined two reqests for this one. I hope that’s okay.

Request: Could you write an imagine about Ivar getting wounded in battle and the reader takes care of him? Thank you.

Request: Are you taking requests at all? If so could you do one where the reader takes control in bed and Ivar has to sit back and take it?

Warning: This contains smut and blood, the essentials of the Ivar fandom.

—————————————————————————————————-

You pulled your sword back and the soldier in front of you dropped to the ground. You turned, looking for your next opponent but no one was there. It took you a moment to realize that there was no one left. The battle was over. The last few survivors of the once large hostile army were fleeing to save their lives. All around you the warriors started to cheer in triumph, you would have joined in but for some reason you didn’t feel joyful at all. You were still panting but the rush of the battle slowly died down. And as the adrenalin left you, the strange feeling that something was wrong only grew bigger. You tried to tell yourself that you were only worried because Ivar wasn’t beside you like usually. He always stayed close to you in battle and you were used to fight side by side with him, often even riding in his chariot with him. But today you had somehow been separated. In the immediate rush of battle you hadn’t thought much about it but now that you were calming down you felt worry sneaking into your heart. You looked around, hoping to spot Ivar somewhere.

You could see Hvitserk with a small group of warriors not far from you. They were still cheering and slapping each other’s shoulders. Ivar was nowhere to be seen, so you went over to his brother.

“Y/N.” He greeted, a wide smile on his face. “Good to see you in one piece.”

You nodded. ”You too. Have you seen Ivar?”

“Not since before the battle. Was he not with you?”

“He was, but we got separated.”

Hvitserk must have noticed your worried tone. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m sure he is okay. It takes more than a few Saxons to kill him.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile. “You’re probably right. See you later at the camp.”

With that you turned to look for Ivar again. You climbed up a small hill so that you could overlook the other side of the battlefield that was lying behind it. When you made it to the top you gasped in shock. You could see Ivar’s chariot, the white horse was covered in blood and had started to graze between the fallen warriors but Ivar was nowhere to be seen. You felt your stomach twist with fear. As you hurried towards the empty chariot you heard someone call your name. You turned to see Ubbe running up to you. By the look on his face you could tell that something was wrong.

“Where is Ivar?” You asked him, your voice sounding strange and high pitched.

“He was wounded. We already brought him back to the camp.”

Panic shot through you and you felt your legs start to tremble. “I have to see him.” You said, your voice shaking. Although you weren’t sure you could trust your legs to support you, you started to stride towards camp. As you walked past Ubbe he caught you in his arms.

“Y/N, wait. Calm down. It is not that bad. I’m sure he will be fine.”

“I have to see him.” You repeated stubbornly and tried to wind yourself out of his arms.

Ubbe looked at you with pitying eyes for a moment, but then let go of you. “Alright, I will come with you.”

You stormed into the tent where the wounded were treated and searched the rows of bleeding warriors. When your eyes fell upon Ivar you felt like your heart stopped for a moment. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed. As you got closer you could see that a long cut had gone through his armor. Blood was oozing out of it and running down his side. Cold fear began to rise inside you, but with it came a stubborn determination. You would not lose him.

“Why is no one tending to him?” Your voice was fierce and demanding.

At the sound of your voice Ivar opened his eyes. He looked tired and was a little pale but he smiled at you. You ran to his side and dropped to your knees, clutching to him as if your life depended on it.

He chuckled. “Are you trying to squeeze all the blood out of me, woman?”

You softened your grip around him. “I was so worried. When Ubbe said you had been wounded…”

“Shhh. There’s no need to worry. It’s nothing.”

Seeing all the blood that covered his chest and ran down his side, you weren’t fully convinced by his words.

Ivar’s eyes had followed your gaze. “I said there’s no need to worry. Most of that blood isn’t mine anyways.”

You ignored him and rose to your feet to stop one of the women that were hurrying along the rows of the wounded. Most of the women that did not fight in the shieldwall were assigned to take care of those who were wounded in battle.

“Why is no one tending to him?” You repeated your question from earlier.

“Because his wound isn’t that deep. We have much more serious cases to deal with first, so even a prince will have to wait.” With that she shoved you out of the way and scurried off.

You thought about calling her back when heard Ivar chuckle.

“I told you it is nothing. Do you believe me now?”

“No.” You said stubbornly and turned to Ubbe who was still standing close to the entrance, trying his best not to be in the way. “Can you help me bring him to our tent?”

“Why do want to bring him there?”

“I will take care of his wounds myself. Now come help me.”

You could see a pleased smirk grow on Ivar’s face, he seemed to like the thought of you tending to him instead of some old woman.

It was quite a struggle to get Ivar into your tent with him wounded and only Ubbe to help you, but you finally managed to lay him down on your bed.

You gave Ubbe a thankful smile.

“Do you need any more help?”

“No, thank you.” You said and he left the tent.

You turned back to Ivar and carefully opened the strings that held his armor together. Then you helped him to sit up to get it off him. As the hard leather scraped over his wound, his face twisted with pain but he didn’t make a sound. You took out your knife and simply cut open his tunic in order to spare him from having to move even more. You loudly sucked in a breath at what you saw. The cut went from his left shoulder almost to the middle of his chest. You examined it closely and were relieved to find that the woman had been right, it wasn’t too deep. What worried you was that it hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. It would clearly need stitches.

You rummaged through your things to find what you needed. Ivar hadn’t said a word since you had brought him here. He just kept watching you, seeming quite relaxed, a small smile on his face, almost as if he was enjoying himself.

“Why are you smiling?” You asked him as you stepped back to the bed.

“I just like to be the center of all your attention.”

“You won’t like it as much anymore once I stick that needle into you.”

He just shrugged and followed your movements with his eyes as started to carefully clean the wound. You were quite consumed with your work when you felt Ivar’s hand slide under your shirt. First you tried to ignore it and kept working but that got more and more difficult as his hand slowly slid up your belly and his fingertips ghosted across your breasts. You ignored the warm feeling that spread through you and fiercely grabbed his arm and pulled it out from under your shirt.

“Ivar, this is really not the right time. Please let me patch you up first.”

He grinned at you, full of mischief but placed his hand back on the bed, while you fumbled with the needle.

“Does it hurt much?” You asked him as you had made the first few stitches.

He shrugged. “I’m used to pain.”

You nodded, unable to stop your eyes from wandering to his legs. If Ivar had noticed, he ignored it. You forced yourself to concentrate on your work.

As you were almost finished you could feel his hand on your hip again, fingers caressing your stomach. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of your pants and let them slide along it until he found the lacing.

“Ivar, this is really not the time, you should rest.” You said as he started to fumble to unlace your pants.

He gave you a dark grin. “You asked me to let you patch me up first. That I did. Now it is my turn.”

“You have lost a lot of blood. You should rest.”

“I can’t. You look to irresistible like this.” He whispered and slid his hand into your pants. First you didn’t know what he meant but then realized that you were still as much covered in blood as he was.

You opened your mouth to protest and tell him that he really needed to rest, but that moment his fingers slid over your folds and the words caught in your throat. Ivar noticed your reaction and smirked, knowing that he had already won that battle. His hand cupped your sex and one his fingers sneaked between your folds stroking up and down. You moaned and couldn’t stop your body from moving against his hand. His skilled fingers found your sweet little knob and he started to circle his thumb around it. You moaned out his name at the exquisite feeling. As he felt your wetness spreading under his fingers, Ivar let out a pleased little groan. Your whole body was trembling as you pressed yourself against his hand. Much too soon for your liking Ivar retrieved his had from your pants. Since he couldn’t use his left arm terribly much he to break contact to slide his right arm around your waist and pull you into the bed. As soon as he had you pressed to his chest, his lips crashed onto yours. Without breaking the kiss his hand sneaked back into your pants. He drew a few more circles around your clit before he pushed one finger inside of you. Your head fell backwards as you let out a pleasured sigh. He started to move in and out of you, his pace slowly increasing. You moaned out loudly and rocked our hips to meet his movements, already feeling the heat building up inside of you. But all of a sudden he stopped. With his head he gestured towards you shirt.

“Take that off.”

You did as he had said and he sighed as your breasts fell free from the fabric. He started to move his hand again and at the same time his mouth found one of your breasts. He was taking turns in sucking at your nipple and letting his tongue swirl around it. Soon he added another finger and thrusted them inside you more forcefully than before. Your moans got louder and louder and you could feel the heat spread from between your legs through your whole body. He let go of your breast and looked at you, a devilish grin on his face. Then he curled his fingers upward while keeping up his pace. Stars exploded in front of your eyes. He was hitting exactly the right spot. You knew you couldn’t take it much longer.

“Ivar.” You panted between your moans. “I… I’m about to…”

“That’s right.” He cooed. “Come for me, Y/N!”

Hearing his words you let go and let yourself become consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. He kept moving his hand until you were coming down form your high. As the trembling of your body subsided he pulled you on top of him. You rested your head on his chest, careful not to bring any pressure on the fresh stitches. You lay like this for a while and he stroked your hair. As you shifted your body to get more comfortable, you felt his erection press against you. You looked up to him almost in surprise.

“After you have lost so much blood?”

He shrugged and gave you a crooked grin. “It’s what you do to me.”

You smirked back at him and moved to open his pants and pull them off his legs. You gave the top of his cock a teasing lick and then moved back up to kiss him again. Very slowly you worked your way back down, trailing kisses along his jaw, his neck and down his chest. Ivar followed each of your movements, looking at you in awe. When you were back down you gave his cock a long lick from base to top and Ivar let out a long sigh. You gave him one last playful smile before you took his member into your mouth and softly started sucking while stroking its base with your hand. Ivar let out low growling noises and tangled his hand into your hair.

You were surprised as he tugged your head upwards after a while.

“Enough.” He said, his voice was thick with lust but it still had a commanding tone. “I need to be inside you.”

You bit your lip and moved back up to straddle him. You positioned yourself over his tip and moved your hips so that your folds were brushing over him making just the tiniest bit of contact.

Ivar narrowed his eyes at you. “Stop the teasing, woman. You know I’m not a patient man.”

He put his hands on your hips, as if he was ready to pull you down on him at any second.

You shook your head at him and pressed his arms back to the bed. “You still have to go easy. You lost a lot of blood today, so relax and let me do the work.”

He gave you frustrated growl and you chuckled. “I think have already suffered enough today.” You decided and slowly began to let yourself sick down on him.

You closed your eyes and relished the feeling of his thickness stretching you out. As your hips met his he filled you completely and you took a moment to adjust before you slowly started to move. You rocked your hips against his and moaned at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. Ivar’s hands moved up your sides to play with your breasts, while he watched you bounce up and down on top of him. As you started pick up more pace he seemed unable to control himself any longer. His hands closed around your waist and he pushed you to the side in order to get on top of you. You clicked your tongue disapprovingly and shook our head, while you fought to push him back down on his back.

“I said I will do the work, otherwise I will leave and let you rest like you should.”

You knew it was an empty threat, for you wanted this as much as he did, but it seemed to work. He gave you an annoyed growl, but relaxed and looked up to you expectantly. You smiled and nodded, almost in disbelief that he had obeyed you. You placed your hands on his broad chest and started to rock your hips again. Ivar’s hands moved to your hips again but he left you in control. You kept moving your hips against his and leaned down to kiss him. But before your lips touched his he slightly turned his head and licked over your cheek. Then he kissed you deeply and you could taste the blood he had licked off your skin.

“You taste like the goddess of war.” He breathed against your lips.

As you sat back up to pick up a little more pace, Ivar dipped his fingers into the small drops of blood that were still dripping out between the stitches you had made on his chest and drew a line from your throat over one breast down to your navel. Then he repeated his actions on the other side. When he was done he looked at you, seemingly pleased with his work before his hands went to your hips again, steadying your movements. You moved faster and faster while moaning out his name. The heated knot in your stomach was growing fast. Ivar’s grip on your hips became tighter and he roughly thrusted upwards to meet your movements. You could feel yourself tighten around him as you fell over the edge. You whole body spasmed for the second time that night, while Ivar’s strong arms held you in place as he kept pounding into you. You were still riding out your orgasm as he gave one last forceful thrust and then pulled you down on him, burying himself deep inside you while he spilled his seed.

Totally out of breath you collapsed on top him. You lay like this for a while, both of you panting heavily.

Now I feel like resting.” Ivar rasped as he wrapped his arms around you.