#Quiet Throes in Pooling Oil | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hansoulo · 4 years ago

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you’re just a bottomless pit

part one of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - explicit language, allusions to violence, discussions of mild harassment, mentions of being royalty, kissing, choking, light non-descriptive smut, slight elements of dubcon, boba’s a big dick gotta be what you have amirite

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this is empire strikes back boba when he was just fucking around and finding out so i took a lot of liberties with canon don’t @ me. i offer u this picture as a helpful visual aid. merry christmas xx

༓ series masterlist ༓

Darth Vader was to be a house guest, and you promptly dunked your head underneath your bathwater.

The perfumed pool burbled for a few seconds while you groaned, listless and in the throes of dramatics, but your attendant only clucked in sympathy. Mila was long accustomed to your disdain for the Imperials who had come to occupy more and more of the palace. So, it seemed, was everyone except the Imperials.

After a long moment you emerged from below the water, droplets of it clinging to your face and trailing into your mouth. “Another Lord?” you asked incredulously, groaning even louder when the servant nodded.

You swam the two short strokes it took to go from one end of the small pool to the other, then floated bare on your back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “Is he the one with all the strange…” motioning towards your mouth, you made a vague gesture. “Apparatus?”

“I believe so, your Highness.”

Humming noncommittally, you let your gaze trail off for a moment and stood rightside up again before returning to the bath’s edge. Its intricate tiles were cluttered with bottles, little glass tinctures and oils and soaps that all wrapped themselves around the room in a heady, heavy incense. You inhaled deeply and sighed. Lord Vader with the strange apparatus.

You couldn’t remember a time before your father, the sovereign ruler of Quas Killam, was a puppet for the permanently stationed General and a yes-man for Emperor Palpatine. Then again, you supposed it wasn’t really his fault his planet just happened to be Mid-Rim and full of exactly what the Empire needed. Being a yes-man was probably the only thing keeping his planet intact during the civil war that was supposedly raging right now.

But it was hard to feel sympathy for a man who dressed you up like a paper doll and never let your mother talk.

A soapy sponge was brought up against your back, smelling of lavender. Closing your eyes, you let Mila’s motherly hands scrub at your shoulders and arms until the skin tingled in a pleasant burn.

You picked at the tile grouts with a polished fingernail, head swimming with rows and rows of grey uniforms and white shelled armor. “Wonder why they’re here this time,” you said, speaking softly to no one in particular.

“Princess, if I may...” the older woman began.

“You may.”

“I believe they’re building another weapons factory to supply the Empire, in the north fields. Lord Vader was invited to oversee its induction.”

You kicked your legs lazily in the water, half-asleep and lulled into slowness by the refresher’s warm steam. “And I suppose he’s bringing along an entourage?” you asked, already knowing the answer. They always did, those Imperial sorts. It was just a question of how many and for how long they decided to stay, having taken any real power from your family royalty years ago after they’d discovered the trinium mines your planet was known for.

Your title had rotted of its relevance, made even lesser by the fact that you were the youngest daughter of seven. Your infant brother was being groomed for ventriloquism and you, you were being groomed for obsoletion.

Mila’s hands, roughened by years of laundry and lye soap, rubbed warm oils into your skin. “There was talk of a bounty hunter, your Highness.”

Your eyes shot open.

A bounty hunter?

⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You saw him a few weeks later, in the flurry of transport arrivals and mindless, droning ceremony. It was only a flash of his helmet, but it was enough to keep your imagination spinning for days.

Whispers from entreating servants and talk from stormtroopers that couldn’t keep their mouths shut had informed you of his reputation, his station, and his name. Boba Fett.

A particularly loose-lipped security droid regaled you with rumors of his being hired by Lord Vader, hunting a man named Han out in the Outer Rim. Quas Killam was on their way, apparently, good for information and heavy on the underworld dealings you’d always been shielded from. Truthfully, you didn’t much care. You knew no one got close to the Empire without blood on their hands. Whether they be kings or bounty hunters.

When you actually talked to the man, having been caught trying to eavesdrop on the chamber meeting he happened to be exiting the moment you leaned your ear against the door, any delusions of decorum were shattered the moment he opened his mouth. “Out of the way.”

You bristled, gathering up your skirts in a huff as you stepped away. Rude.

He was taller than you thought he’d be. Taller and broader than he looked before back on the cargo bay, a mere smudge in your peripheral vision. Now that he was alone save for you in the cavernous hallway, his words echoed on the marble tile. So much for espionage.

“My father’s in that meeting,” you replied shortly, putting on airs and doing your best to look like your mother, regal and cold.

Boba only stood there, thumbing the notches of his blaster until he caught the thin sparkle of the diadem crowning your head. A scoff, dismissive. “Then out of the way, princess.”

It wasn’t the title that bothered you. After all, it’s not like he was wrong. It was the way he said it. It was… it was patronizing! Condescending. Absolute inappropriate to a person of your station.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, more than a little attractive.

You shifted your weight onto one hip, scowling. “Don’t call me that.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, static-y and made even rougher by his helmet. “What? Princess.”

Stars, you heard that word a million times a day for a million different reasons. His saying it shouldn’t have felt so warm in your mouth.

Before you could volley back a reply, something equally biting and smarmy, the double doors he stood in front of began to groan open again.

“Better scram, little one.” Boba jerked his head towards the sound of your father’s advancing footsteps. “Daddy’s coming.”

⫸ ——— ——————————————————————————— ⫷

You often dreamed about what it’d be like to leave. Your title. Your station. All the bloody bores that came along with it.

But you had never even been outside the palace grounds. Probably never would, unless your father found someone willing to marry a low-ranking princess and hoisted you over their shoulder, a piece for a game you were never taught and never allowed to play. You’d already resigned yourself to that fact and half-way convinced yourself you were okay with it. But prisons were still prisons. Even if they were made of silk.

On the eve of Lord Vader's departure, everyone in the palace was preoccupied. Your father was most likely schmoozing some Imperial officer. Your mother, in bed with yet another headache. Your governess spent the day preening over your younger brother and your handmaiden was nowhere to be seen. You had a sneaking suspicion she was with one of the guards in a dark hallway.

So you slipped out behind a servant’s entrance and looked for a place to breathe.

Hardly anyone knew about this part of the palace gardens. It was sequestered behind so many winding footpaths and barely-oiled gates that the security droids never bothered patrolling past the main entrance, making it simple to duck underneath the overgrown hedges. The air was quiet; heavy-scented with all the flowers that had been planted and forgotten, left to grow wild across the footpaths and be crushed underneath your feet.

You used to come here quite often, when you were younger and it was easier to slip away. There were long spaces in your memory made of cotton, with hazy sun-soaked afternoons and the fountain that somehow still spouted out streams of cold water from the hands of a statue, some relic of an ancient ruler who had long since died. It was only a small courtyard, made smaller by the thick surrounding hedges and large chunks of cobblestone, but it felt like a whole galaxy to you.

A few minutes passed, then an hour. Two hours. A long, slow, summer stretch of day that just confirmed the fact of your irrelevance. It was filled in only by the mindless reading of your holopad and a few short naps. But better out here alone than stuck back inside, surrounded by those insufferable stormtroopers.

Maybe you spoke too soon, because a few seconds later you were toe-to-toe with Boba Fett, your back pressed to the garden wall. Stars, you didn’t even hear him walk in.

You’d think by now you would have learned to be more careful. Listening and being listened in on.

The helmet tilted up and then down, examining your sour expression. Rolling your eyes, you slumped against the ivy-covered brick, still smarting from your encounter with him a few days prior. “Why are you here?” A haughty, affected wave of your hand. “Were you sent here to fetch me?”

The man straightened out, stepping back from you with a broadening of his already broad shoulders. Chips in his armor reflected tiny bits of sunlight, little silver speckles on green armor that looked even greener surrounded by wild flora. He hunted people for a living, so the fact that you were made quick work of didn’t really bother you. Still, it was a bit disappointing. Having to go back to the palace was the last thing you wanted.

“The king was concerned for your safety.”

Oh for Maker’s sake. “You mean he was concerned for his reputation.”

“I was told to find you-”

“-and bring me back so I could sit in a parlor and be supervised like a child.”

“Princess,” he sighed.

There was that word again.

A heavy swallow bobbed the lump in your throat, your chest flushed and littering the space between your bodies in a low buzz. You narrowed your eyes, not trusting your own head for something more articulate, and spit the question out. “What?”

He motioned towards the footpath, one hand resting on his belt. “Let’s go.”

You only crossed your arms with a raise of an eyebrow, mind floating an acknowledgement that you were very much acting like a child who needed to be supervised.

“I don’t make a habit of tracking down spoiled royalty.”

No one had ever called you spoiled before.

It was sort of refreshing.

The man cut an imposing figure, you’d give him that. With the helmet and blaster and… armor and such. You weren’t even entirely sure you remembered to put on real shoes before coming out here, still slippered and in stocking feet. What a pair you must’ve made. Incongruous.

You cocked your head and leant against the wall with the fabric of your dress swishing out around your ankles. Caught by warm, humid winds, its layers separated themselves into thin sails before falling down together again. Rhetorical questions were blooming alongside flowers. “Are spoiled royalty below your paygrade, then?”

A tip of his helmet said yes, yes they are.

You supposed as such, with the sort of reputation he had. Skilled bounty hunter. Feared mercenary. Expensive and coveted.

A lap dog.

Maybe there was more in common between you than you thought.

Another breeze whistled past, but the man in front of you was silent. “Well,” you finally spoke, brushing away the imaginary dirt on your dress. “I don’t make a habit of following around strange men, so we’re in a bit of a bind.”

There was an edge in his voice when you moved to walk away, a gloved grip snaking up and resting a deadweight on the back of your neck. You pushed up against him. Lothcat and mouse. You were both, but he was too. “I’m not telling you again, Princess.”

If he called you that again you were sure something would happen. What that something was you had no idea, but the epithet, mocking as it was, felt too good soaking in your sternum for it not to be a catalyst.

A breathy smirk left your lips when your hips canted downward and the gauzed fabric of your dress caught on his cuisse plate. “If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, reaching to flatten your palms across his chest, “I’d say you almost enjoyed chasing me.”

The hand on your nape tightened and his leather fingerprints dug unspoken threats into your skin that simmered, burning up and down your spine. You faked a pout. “Shame you already caught me, isn’t it?”

The grip surrounding you loosened just slightly, letting your back slide down the garden wall whose ivy-covered stone dragged at your bodice back. A small voice chirped up in the back of your head, chiding you for dirtying the delicate fabric before you willed it away, done with listening.

Boba almost growled. “Don’t push your luck.”

“My, my,” you clucked, shaking your head. Your fingers trailed towards the edges of his helmet and traced stripes where his brow bone would be. They were gold. For vengeance. “Aren’t we feeling insolent today?”

The man underneath the beskar scoffed, the palm that was at the back of your neck now wrapping itself around your outstretched wrist and pulling your hand away. You let out a quiet whine of protest, both at the loss of contact and just to see what it might do to him to hear it. When he stiffened, leaning away with every muscle seeming to tense and release and tense again, you were unreasonably pleased. There was still red blood underneath all that red paint.

Boba’s voice was clipped when he finally replied; the vowels came through strained and raspy. “I could say the same for you.”

Yes, he probably could, couldn’t he?

Then again, maybe your two wrongs could cancel out into being right and not at all compromising.

It’s not like you really did anything erroneous. Well, besides the running away part. But that was par for the course for you. All that was new was… him. And his hands. And his being alone with you. Which could possibly be construed as something wrong and compromising but how wrong could it be, really, if neither of you did anything?

Of course, this all hinged on neither of you doing anything. Compromising.

“Take the helmet off and I’ll go with you,” you offered, knowing how juvenile you sounded. You just wanted to see if he’d hear you. If he’d listen.

He did.

Boot spurs clinked as he stalked towards you, closer than he was before. It was invasive; almost chest to chest with no room for breathing as you were pushed up against the wall again, and you were met with the revelation that whatever you were toying with was probably a really, really bad idea.

Static filled your ears from the husk of his vocoder. “You know I can take you back whether you want to or not.” The roof of your mouth went dry and you remembered how Boba’s palm spanned the entire back of your neck, cradled delicately by leather fingers. He could crush your throat in one hand. Squeeze until you went limp. You wouldn’t be able to stop him. “I don’t need your permission.”

Your thumbs reached up to the lock mechanisms on either side of his head anyway. “I know.”

Fire felt good when you were close enough to be warmed by it. Whether or not you’d be burned was left to be seen.

The helmet lifted with a soft click.

Truth be told, you’re surprised he let you do it.

You dangled the helm almost carelessly by your hip, curling your fingers around the lip of it whilst your other hand stayed hovering near his face. He looked a bit older than you imagined, mid-thirties maybe, scarred and stern-looking. Handsome.

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead but all you wanted—stupid, stubborn, and yearning for a plaything—was to feel the black curls cropped close to his ears. Which probably counted as compromising.

Without the modulator Boba’s voice was deeper, the rumbling kind of richness that was used to giving orders and used to having them followed. It bore down on you as a concrete weight. “I’m not a kind man, princess.”

He forgot that you were used to giving orders too.

The coarse material of his collar chafed your palm as you held it, gripping a lifeline, and tilted your mouth up to his ear. The softness of your voice disguised your intention. It sounded innocent when you whispered it. Gentle, even. “I never said I wanted you to be.”

His lips bruised you and tasted like salt.

It was all tongue, teeth, barely cloaked violence, pressed until your throat felt raw and your heartbeat dropped below the ground to join whatever was left of your dignity. When your knees buckled, a gloved hand settled large between your shoulder blades.

You didn’t think your first kiss would be like this.

Hypothetically it would have been clinical, fumbling and awkward in your own inexperience. Out in front of a crowd somewhere after you met the eyes of a stranger at the altar. Or maybe in secret, like it was now, with a tryst of boyhood and a peck on the cheek.

Boba Fett was a stranger, but he wasn’t a boy. And this wasn’t a peck on the cheek.

You didn’t realize he had lifted you up by your hips until you were placed back down again, his having crossed the few steps from the wall to the nearby fountain with arms firmly wrapped around your middle and not so much as a strain of his hips. His strength should have scared you. It did scare you, a little, but the same hands that had gripped the blaster still at his side were deceptively gentle around your waist. You let yourself be brought down by his bended knees.

“Easy there,” Boba said, still crouching on the ground beside you as you slowly lay back on the lip of the waterwork, white noise burbling from the quiet fixtures. The flat, curved slab surrounding the shallow pool was wide enough that you needn’t worry about balancing, speckled gray stone warmed from weather and soon by skin. There was one moment where Boba allowed you to catch your breath and then it was gone, knocked out of your lungs in another assiduous touch.

“Poor thing,” he mocked, sardonic even as he cooed gently into your open mouth. Your back arched in an unwitting presentation and blood pounded a drumbeat in your ears. All you could see was Boba; his face and his shoulders and his arms braced beside your head, leaning over your horizontal form. Like you were prey. Maybe you were. “What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

He wouldn’t be able to say anything. Would stand there, mouth agape and his eyes doing that strange bulging thing it always did when you did anything besides sew embroidery squares. Fainting wasn’t out of the question. It would be ridiculously fun to watch.

You huffed, chasing Boba’s mouth with your own when he shifted above you. The midday sun hung high, edging the bounty hunter’s tanned face in white. You could see your own eyes in the reflection of his pupils, could smell his warm skin. His canines scraped your collarbones. Everything was fast, blurry, and burning.

Stars above.

The whole situation was ridiculous. Twenty minutes ago you’d never been kissed on the mouth and now you were letting a killer-for-hire grope you like you were a back-alley harlot.

It wouldn’t end well. You’d curse after he left and hate yourself for letting him stay, because his staying would be brief and shallow and cruel, but right now, lying on the edge of a fountain with sunshine on your neck and a low voice in your ear, staying was the only thing you wanted him to do.

What an egregious lapse in judgement.

What a beautiful, electrifying lapse in judgement.

“You’re so—” a slurred pitchiness invaded your vocal chords, coating everything in bitter syrup. Your jaw was starting to numb from unforgiving lips. “—so rude,” you choked out, mind struggling to find footing amid its own dizziness. You felt like an overheating droid, full of bad code and faulty wiring that made your words and your actions discordant because even as you insulted the man, your hands were curling around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Always so rude, so… so mean to me. Makes me want—” you panted, voice breaking off into a whine when a calloused palm slid across the back of your thigh, “...want…”

His accent curled the consonants into a dance. “Want what, Princess?”

Expectant in their heaviness but teasing a smile in their lined corners, Boba’s eyes were the color of charred umber. Squirming in his arms, you nosed your face into the junction of his collarbones. “Want you,” you finally mumbled, admitting it in one long, pathetic exhale.

His promise had sharp teeth.

“You can have me.”

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

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h-didanart · 3 months ago

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Hello

I—

Thanks

Really thanks

I put a lot of effort on that one trying to make sure I don’t fuck up the topics at hand and on making it all make sense. Characterization is something I value a lot in my stories after all.

Tho I will be honest I don’t like having a work of mine be used to put down a different work. People have different abilities, and the only way to get better is to do the thing, and if it’s writing and characterization, then it’s writing and characterization.

Still, I appreciate the compliment.

Have assorted Chapter 4 doodles

You know I don’t mind fucked up stories that know they’re using themes that are fucked up and have that kinda be the point as it’s an angst story. Like obviously a story shipping siblings isn’t the same as one that’s actually showing how disturbing incest is, you know? But if you’re gonna make that kind of story at least write the characters well please. It’s genuinely pissing me off reading this story currently because all I can focus on is how frustrating it is to see certain characters standing around letting something happen when we know from the canon of the show they are 100% strong enough and willing to step in.

#I’m trying to be normal about this #I was shaking for about five minutes after seeing the fic being referred to #/pos #still I understand your feelings and all it is frustrating to read something and not like the way the characters are portrayed #but just remember that not everything will have the same amount of attention #it just so happens I really really really like characters and their dynamics #so I spend a lot of time in that #different writers have different fortes and some you might not like and that’s ok #tw incest #posts by others #fic problems #I think?#Quiet Throes in Pooling Oil #thanks for the tag btw!

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smittenwithlouis · 8 years ago

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Best of the 🦇 Fic

Aka Waiting On You by @lads-laddylads

This is easily one of my favorite fics so I’ve compiled some of my favorite quotes, lines, and moments from this masterpiece. Enjoy!

⚰️ [Spoiler Warning!] 💉

“You’re feisty for someone so small” [Definition of Louis Tomlinson right here ijs :/]

Harry bites the way he talks, and walks, and kisses, with an intensity that’s somehow on the right side of too much, overwhelming without being overbearing. [ Gentle 🦇 lover Harry tho...need I say more?]

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡WALL SEX!!!!!!!!!!

“What if he saw you up against the wall and taking my cock like this, this desperate for it after you tried so hard to pretend you weren’t interested?” [Lmao gentle lover but then he a nasty™ exhibitionist kinky bastard...excuse me but like...sign me tf up :/ also Niall would be out there pulling a Regina George’s Mom move with a video camera. Lets be real...aslo me as Niall]

"Please, c’mon, bite me again,”....“Baby, I don’t need more—” Harry begins .....”No, I need it, please, Harry, just—” Louis says, and when he sees Harry’s fangs descend, he feels like he could cry with relief [Honestly this scene killed me bc like LMAO he’s gagging to be bitten like...let that sink in for a sec and then you have 🦇 Harry like no no baby I’m good like u don’t gotta but Louis is like BINCH this for my pleasure not u tf...Iconic]

Louis turns around, he sees his clothing from the club last night in a neatly folded pile on the floor [Harry deadass fucking folded Louis’ clothes before he left. Like why is this such a Harry thing to do?When will your one night stand EVER, Lmao I HATE]

They may start humping each other with the next few minutes, and Louis wants to tell them to leave room for Jesus [Louis is such a little binch...why didn’t he leave room for J when he was dry humping Harry at the club?...smh]

“You’re all so fucking full of yourselves and it disgusts me.”....“You were so fucking full of me last week and you didn’t seem disgusted by that” [I SCREAMED SO LOUD LMAOOOOO. Honestly. I’m here for Harry calling out Louis in all his bs. This was iconic]

“Because people get off on being bitten? It’s like...a sexual thing...“Mmmm, no, that’s pretty much just you” [Imagine being that deep in denial or having no once of self awareness. Like kinda felt bad that he didn’t realize his own damn kink but LMAO now all his friends know he gets off on being bitten. Oh Louis hahahaha. Also, Harry being all smug about it. BYE]

Louis gently burrows his feet under Harry’s thigh. It keeps his toes warm [This was just so cute and super relatable cause I literally do the same thing rip]

A young vampire who looks like he’d rather be actually dead than undead and working at Panera [This line LMAO. Idk if many people appreciate this type of humor but I do. I giggled so much]

“I’m a cop and I could report this restaurant for at least three health code violations” [Hahaha he’s so endearing and so aggravating at the same time. But its so cute how he does shit like this and you know on the surface it pisses Louis off but in reality he’s so endeared by it. I’m here for Harry cheating to get what he wants tbh]

“Up we go” Harry says [STOP this was so cute! Literally all I pictured was that gif of that bodyguard picking Louis up like he weighed nothing :’) my smol son...bless him]

“Vampires don’t even fucking sweat” Louis mutters to himself angrily [Okay but how iconic was this scene? Harry is such a damn tease. Louis had been fantasizing about H covered in oil and as if H KNEW he was like I don’t got oil but this water will do...like LMAO. So Louis being sexually frustrated and grumpy like a kitten with a “🦇s don’t sweat” was just so funny lol]

“Are we — are we gonna have sex now?” Louis asks when Harry lays him down.Harry laughs, and that seems rude. Louis and Harry have had sex before, so why not have it again? Louis is in his bed, after all, so he doesn’t understand why Harry is trying to play hard to get. Why else would Louis be in his bed?Louis feels his eyes slipping closed, but he’s going to ask these questions because he wants answers.“Just go to sleep, baby,” Harry says softly, and no. No, Louis isn’t going to do that [The damn nerve Louis has to say Harry is the one playing hard to get BOI lol. But like this scene is so endearing. Like, Harry just saved his ass and Louis is so damn drunk and HARRY CALLED HIM BABY. Ugh its disgustingly sweet. I love it :’)]

“Smaller than I remember,” Louis says, swallowing hard. Harry’s smirk only widens [I’m that gif of that dude looking into the camera like I’m in the office. Like, Louis trying to pretend like Harry doesn’t have a monster**** and didn’t get fucked for an inch of his life is so fucking petty and hilariously embarrassing lol]

“So, I was thinking that we should have sex,” Louis says suddenly, and Harry chokes on his drink [This was so abrupt and just lololol he was so done with being sexually frustrated this was also when I screamed FINALLY BINCH]

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡HANDCUFF SEX!!!!!!!!!!

“I want to watch the Vampire Diaries,” Louis decides finally [need I say more lmaooo]

He reaches for Harry. Harry opens his arms to Louis immediately, burying his face into Louis’ neck, and Louis shivers slightly, rubbing at Harry’s back [this was such a small and tender moment. It was just so cute since up to this point they had rarely been really affectionate like this it just made me feel all asdfghjkl...also tho I felt bad for Niel]

Louis can’t help but scoot closer to him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s torso and clinging to him like a koala bear [this was just cute okay???]

Finally, Harry huffs out a sigh and leans in, giving Louis a kiss on his cheekbone [I live for small little moments like this FUCK ME UP with emotions and feelings rip]

"I have Steve talking about pterodactyl porn, I have Niall speculating about whether it’s legal to marry ducks in the District of Colombia" [shit like this makes me side eye writers tbh like...now I know u’ve seen or talked about some weird shit. Like, Emma how did u even come up with this??? How much pterodactyl porn have u watched? like...I’m not judging u or nuffin but lowkey I’m like how much of a freak is she? Ya feel me? Get back to me on this lmao I need explanations....]

Harry’s shirt is riding up slightly, exposing the trail of hair that leads into Harry’s boxers, and there’s a small bit of a drool pooling on Harry’s skin. Oops [Excuse me but like this is so cute? Louis droolin on Harry...as gross asit may be like...how endearing tho? Again little shit like this is what makes me adore fics so much. Bless]

“Why aren’t you into me?” The words burst out of Louis suddenly, and that definitely wasn’t what he meant to say [This made me feel so asdfghjkl for Louis cause like I felt bad but also it was his fault in the first place but again with him bursting out with his feelings is so cute]

“I was waiting on you,” Harry says simply, and Louis’ heart skips a beat [I SCREAMED SO LOUD LIKE YALL HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I LOVE WHEN AUTHORS PUT THE TITLE IN THEIR STORY OR LIKE THE TITLE COMES FROMA LINE IN THE STORY. BLESS UP]

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t want you,” Harry says, pulling away just enough to speak. “Do you think I handcuff all of my friends and let them ride me on the sofa?” His eyes are sparkling [Honestly Louis...like wyd boi]

Louis can tell that even in the throes of pleasure, Harry’s first concern is making sure Louis doesn’t get hurt [Gentle 🦇 lover Harry at it again]

Harry bites into Louis’ left ass cheek with his fangs, and Louis cries out loudly enough that he’d be concerned for Harry’s neighbors if he cared about anything other than this right now [How much nastier™ can this get tho? BYE]

Harry reaches his finger down Louis’ crack, teasing gently, but he can’t quite reach where he wants to touch. He makes a frustrated noise and hitches Louis’ leg up, forcing Louis to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck until he’s up against the wall yet again [Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS OUT IN PUBLIC LIKE WYD??? LEAVE ROOM FOR JESUS!! So, Harry loves to have Louis pinned to walls and lives for the exhibitionism...me as H tbh]

“I didn’t even hear the goddamn door open,” Louis mutters. “But what’s your excuse? You have super hearing!” [He was to busy fingering u in the bathroom hallway NOT EVEN IN THE BATHROOM but the damn hallway!! :/ Also, did he even wash his hands afterwards? Harry over there talking about health code violations to the wanting to be dead, undead Panera boy but he over here fingering Louis’ ass and not even washin his hands afterwards...ya nasty]

Harry goes full on drama with it and dips Louis right there in the middle of the restaurant [Louis as if ur life doesn’t revolve around drama...sit yo big ass down istg...also this was extra af but cute af so like I’m here for this]

He wraps his larger pinky around Louis’ smaller one as he speaks, and Louis gives him a small smile and nods [THIS IS LOWKEY SUBLIMINAL ADVERTISING FOR PNL. YOU AIN’T SLICK BINCH. I SEE U. Anyways, y’all can read Pinkies Never Lie HERE. Good shit. Good shit...lots of hot sex especially H wearing his rings fingering Louis scene...ijs. This scene was cute too btw]

It was raining that day, and in Louis’ mind’s eye, every rain droplet that hit the car window was there to cleanse him of everything that he had been with Luke [Literally look can CHOKE but I liked this sentence quite a lot]

“And in the last ten minutes, I’ve revised my opinion on your intelligence quite a bit, so for it to go even lower is saying something" [Listen, Nick being involved was quite a shock I will admit...but also he was literally so dumb af in this scene and I love that Harry told him so lololol]

“Louis,” Harry says, and Louis forces his eyes open again. “I love you. I love you so much.” “I love you too,” Louis says, voice quiet and raspy from the damage done to his neck. “Yeah?” Harry says, smiling as he wipes some blood from the corner of Louis’ mouth. “Don’t get cocky about it,” Louis says. His vision is spotty and Harry’s voice sounds very far away. Harry laughs, eyes still wet with tears. “You hadn’t said. Before.” “I was waiting on you,” Louis says, a small smile on his face, echoing what Harry had once said to him [This fucking scene ripped my heart out like wtf SO ASDFGHJKL!!!!!!!!!!!! Like this would be the time they said I love you. I HATE but like I love all at once??? and Like this time Louis was waiting on Harry and IM A MESS FUCC U EMMA U SUCC!!!]

Louis can feel Harry’s fingers tracing a three on his good wrist, and he realizes suddenly that he’s not drawing a three, that he was never drawing a three. He’s drawing a heart [THIS. JFC. Honestly Emma you’re such a sapp...this was so fucking cute and fluffy and asdfghjkl FUCC U]

“But don’t pull a stunt like that ever again,” James says, smiling ear to ear. “I don’t need my lead detective to be the first vampire to die of a heart attack in the history of vampirism” [Lmao me as James...honestly the way Louis attracts trouble...Harry would get a damn heart attack lol]

“Why does everyone always think that arguing is our version of a mating ritual" [Is this binch forreal??? Cause it literally was...they’re bickering and arguing was all foreplay tbh. LOLOLOL]

“Oh Luke,” he says, voice amused. “You still don’t get it. I figured out for myself that I was worth something long before I even met Harry. He was just the first vampire I’d met in a while who believed it too” [YASSSSSSSSS BINCH. THIS RIGHT HERE!!!! IS SO IMPORTANT.SO SO SOOOO IMPORTANT!!! HE DON’T NEED NO ONE TO REALIZE AND KNOW HE’S WORTH IT]

While Harry gets their satanic ritual or whatever it is he’s aiming for going [Hahahaha again with this type of humor. I LOVEEEE]

“A lifetime with you is never going to feel like enough,” Harry says honestly” ... “I guess it’s good that you’re going to have me for longer than that, then,” Louis says [LOUIS GONNA BE A VAMP!!!! FOREVER TOGETHER IM SO HAPPY!!! Also, can we get a sequel? drabble? SUMFFIN?? I vote for hot and hard 🦇 sex ayeee!]

“We were worth the wait” Louis clarifies finally [BINCH FUCK U IMA MESSSSSSSS]

Anyways, this is long af and totally unnecessary but I enjoyed reading this SO DAMN MUCH. I’m in love with this fic. There was a little bit of everything I enjoy reading. I’m still a bit annoyed that I didn’t guess Nick was the second person involved...I was always side eyeing Jeff just cause he didn’t do shit in this fic (funny how art imitates real life lol) and thought it would of been a big WTF lol. Emma, I know this fic was a nightmare at times to write but thank you so much for writing this. Especially bc it was somewhat out of your comfort zone and stuff so I really appreciate it. Okay, Imma stop being sappy and shit but you know how much my weird ass adores fics like this. So, THANK YOU!

Everyone please go read the 🦇 fic if ya haven’t already and if you have...READ IT AGAIN.

Xx.

#this is so long #Is anyone gonna read this?#probs not rip #but here it is anyways #lads-laddylads #waiting on you #fic recs

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amedkarim · 6 years ago

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A Brief Summary On The Benefits Of Couples Massages

By Harold Jackson

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wheelockwriters · 8 years ago

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Prose, Poem, Picture

My Introduction to Creative Writing class at Wheelock College began the unit I call “Miniatures and Meaning” last week. We looked at prose poems by me, Zachary Schomburg, Sabrina Orah Mark, and Matthew Salesses (although technically his prose poems are flash fiction excerpts from his novel I’m Not Saying, I’m Just Saying), and I asked my students to label each piece as “poetry” or “prose.” They did not reach a consensus for any piece, but they did engage in a productive discussion about building/blurring genre lines and boundaries. As they developed their own ideas, insights, and observations about the texts we read and the concepts we discussed, they illustrated their favorite pieces. I wanted to share some of their drawings, which helped them transition into writing image-driven prose poems of their own.

She Was a Tsunami to His Earthquake

I noticed my life shaken. The wifely woman had accepted my bastard, but this was not disaster. She said analogies would get me nowhere. I had zero response. I didn’t know where I stood on acceptance. I self-medicated. I sent bottles drifting out into a sea of garbage. The earth never answered. I thought, Destruction is nothing. The wifely woman recycled. The boy asked what was made with all that plastic, and I said, more plastic.