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jokeringcutio · 5 months

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Otis B Driftwood x Reader - Drabble "Otis Finds out you are pregnant"

Rating: Mature. Warnings: Language, kidnapped!Reader, Slasher family, allusions to mature themes.

This Drabble can be seen as following the Halloween Breeding Ritual fic, and is followed by the Reader Going into labor fic that will be uploaded soon.

Otis Breeding Ritual – Otis finds out you’re pregnant:

The heavy click of the door latch was a familiar, dreaded sound. You flinched, your heart hammering against your ribcage as you curled tighter into yourself on the bed, the leather leash coiled beside you like a sleeping serpent. You faced the wall, arms protectively wrapped around your midsection, betraying a new vulnerability unlike the defiance you once wielded so bravely.

"Hey, Bunny," Otis' voice slithered through the dim room, laced with that dark amusement that always sent shivers down your spine. His boots made soft thuds against the wooden floorboards as he approached, the weight of his presence looming large.

"Whatcha hidin' from me today, huh?" His words were teasing, feigning nonchalance, but you heard the edge of curiosity beneath them. The shadow of his figure fell over you, blocking out the scant light filtering in through the dirt-streaked window.

"Look at me," he commanded, his tone no longer playful. You didn't move, couldn't move, even as the mattress dipped under his weight. His fingers—rough, demanding—grasped your chin and turned your head to face him. You met his eyes, those almost colorless orbs piercing into you, searching for something you didn't want to give away.

"Otis..." It was all you could muster, a whisper tinged with fear and an involuntary plea for whatever came next.

"Shh, now." He smirked, his eyes dropping to where your arm shielded your stomach. His grasp shifted, trailing down to gently caress your skin over the fabric of your worn shirt. "What's this?"

You trembled under his touch, your breath hitching as his fingers brushed against you with an unexpected tenderness. It was a sensation so foreign in this hellish captivity that it only served to heighten your anxiety.

"Are you...?" His voice trailed off, the realization dawning in his gaze before his features softened into a perverse imitation of affection. "My little Bunny's been a good girl."

His laughter, low and husky, filled the room as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Pregnant," he cooed, drawing out the word like a caress more sinister than any blow he could deliver. "Well, ain't that somethin'?"

You recoiled inwardly, disgust and terror mingling in the pit of your stomach. This wasn't just about being his captive anymore; it was about the life growing inside you, a twisted new bond between captor and captive. Otis' eyes gleamed with a sick delight, and you knew that this changed everything—and nothing at all.

Otis strode across the room, the floorboards creaking under his weight. The door groaned on its hinges as he flung it open with a flourish, bellowing down the hall to Baby and Mother Firefly. "Hey! Guess what? Bunny's knocked up!"

"Really?!" The shrill echo of Baby's voice carried back, tinged with a twisted excitement. A more subdued murmur followed, Mother Firefly’s words indistinct but undoubtedly laden with her own perverse brand of maternal pride.

Your heart pounded in your chest, an erratic drumbeat as you strained to hear above the blood rushing in your ears. Otis' laughter—a dark, triumphant sound—reverberated through the room before the door clicked shut, sealing away the outside world once again.

You scrabbled backwards on the bed, the tether at your ankle pulling taut. "You don't need to... now that I'm…" Your voice broke, confusion lacing each word. Surely, now there was no further use for you in this macabre ritual?

"Need to?" Otis's eyes were alight as he advanced, a predator closing in on prey cornered and quivering. "Oh, Bunny, the fun's just beginning." His words were a growl, sending shivers tracing icy trails down your spine.

“The Halloween ritual is only the first of many parts.” His red eyes seemed to gleam as they met yours.

"More parts?" The question spilled from you, a whisper wrapped in dread.

"More parts," he confirmed, the dark promise in his voice leaving no room for misunderstanding.

With a swift motion, Otis was upon you, his hands snatching your wrists, pinning them down with a strength that left no hope of resistance. The bed dipped under his weight as he hovered over you, his body an inescapable shroud.

"Feeling you full of my baby," he murmured, his breath hot against your cheek, "it's got me all kinds of fired up."

Your mind raced, thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. The reality of your situation bore down on you—heavier than Otis' body pressing you into the mattress. His lust, stoked by the life burgeoning within you, was an added layer of violation, one that sickened even as it immobilized you.

"Please," you begged, the word barely audible, "don't."

"Shh," Otis hushed you, his gaze searing into yours, "This is art. You're my canvas, Bunny. And we've only just started painting our masterpiece."

AN: For more, follow me (:

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#otis b driftwood #otis driftwood #otis b driftwood x reader #otis driftwood x you #reader x otis #you x otis driftwood #otis driftwood x reader #pregnant reader #slasher fandom

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ladelinee · 6 months

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Authors note: Here it is! My first fanfic! It took me a long time I know, I blocked myself a bit at the end 😅. But it’s done. enjoy cuties!❤️ (and sorry if there are any grammar mistakes)

Word count: 3,5K

Warnings: intrusive thoughts, teasing, cussing, smoking.

All shook up

As I walked through the lobby, the click-clack of my heeled shoes broke the silence, almost like a constant drumbeat. It was just another day, another challenge.

I was staring into a blank space as if I were out of myself. Since its opening two years ago, the International has become one of the busiest hotels in Las Vegas. The reason? Elvis Presley.

His name was on everyone's lips, from my boss to the guests trying to find out more about him, it's a shame that I haven’t met him yet. And now, there I was: A young lady Guest Relations Manager having recently transferred two months ago into this male-dominated company. I often feel that the staff looked down upon me, seeing me as the mere "young and cute bossy girl." I felt that they were not taking me seriously and disregarded my suggestions. That was why I had to hide who I really am and present myself as a serious and professional person, to be respected.

At the entrance to the casino, I spotted Alex, one of my few friends here. He's the typical guy saving money for university, not taking the job too seriously but very friendly with me. A charming guy, though, nonetheless. His hidden talent is his ability to perfectly imitate Elvis, which he loves to show off whenever he can. Alex walked over to me with a big smile on his face.

"Heyy there she is, ya heard the King's comin' tonight? He's bringin' his mafia along. Ya know, with all this media buzz around him and the big show tomorrow night, he's gonna need special attention. The boss wants us to hold off the media too, so let's make sure his stay at the hotel is smooth. Hope we can make 'em feel welcome and without any troubles, ya hear baby?" He said mimicking Elvis’s southern accent to make it more interesting.

Suddenly, my heart skipped a beat. Elvis is coming. My hands began shaking and my mind was suddenly filled with a flurry of thoughts and insecurities. I've been a huge fan of him for years and was excited to see him in person, but this was different. I was here for work and was supposed to treat him the same way I would any other guest. But that thought only made my heart race even faster. It was going to be a tough night indeed.

“Are you serious?? Alright, we better start organising everything!” I said, stepping away from Alex. It was time to get started with the preparations. I had to handle everything; managing the media, securing the privacy of the other guests in the hotel, and, of course, ensuring Elvis Presley received a warm welcome at the International.

After a few hours passed, everything was in order. I started putting on my best uniform with a black blazer and skirt. I spent extra time doing my makeup, redressing my lips several times as I was feeling shaky.

My office phone rang, shaking me out of my reverie: "International Hotel, y/n speaking, what can I help?" I answered gently.

My boss cut through the pleasantries and interrupted my peace with a breathless "Elvis is in the building." Taken aback, I paused momentarily, then jumped to my feet and rushed to catch the elevator.

I found myself on the 30th floor, and all the elevators were moving very slowly, making frequent stops on each floor. In an anxious hurry, I furiously pressed the button with the feeling that my life depended on it, hoping to rush down and introduce myself to Elvis Presley. My limbs trembled, my heart was about to break free of my chest, and my breathing was quick and shallow. It was a sea of scenarios going through my mind, and I was pondering the best way to address Elvis politely.

Alex met me on my way down the elevator. Before I could say any word he said: "Hey! Where have you been? You missed Elvis Presley; he's so kind! He was very tired so he went straight to the penthouse. The Colonel asked not to disturb him, though" as the elevator began to descend again.

A wave of emotions washed over me and my stomach dropped when I realized I had missed my opportunity to meet him. I took a deep breath and tried to remain professional as the elevator doors opened and I faced my next challenge: keeping my cool, doing my job and dealing with my angry boss whose wrath I was surely to face after arriving late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in my office during the night shift was torture. Boredom plagued me and the regret of not having met Elvis was too much to bear. I swore under my breath, angry at myself. The hours of the night seemed unendurable. What if I go up to the penthouse? It will get things worse… I knew this was my role and I would have to suck it up by behaving myself.

My frustration with the situation was growing and I kicked a nearby table, the sound echoing through the office. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and called myself silly for missing out on such an opportunity. Abruptly, the floor began to shake violently. I waited for a second to see if I had caused it with my kick on the table, but no, it was an earthquake! As the shaking increased, I scrambled around the hotel, searching for a safe place to wait out the disaster.

In a rush to evacuate, I made my way down the emergency stairs. Since I was relatively new to the hotel, I quickly got lost, the immense size of the building was contributing to my feeling of disorientation.

After several minutes of wandering in the dark, I spotted a dim light coming from a nearby door, the glow invited me to investigate further. Filled with curiosity, and desperate to make sense of my surroundings, I opened the door to take a closer look.

I cautiously entered the room, relieved to find the earthquake had ended, but my sense of relief quickly faded when a deep and gruff voice spoke out from the darkness.

"Hey, darlin'" The voice caught me off-guard and sent a shiver of unease down my spine.

“My, my, you're a jumpy one, aren't ya?” the deep voice replied from the darkness.

I shot back, “Well, excuse me, I wasn't expecting some kind of mysterious man in the darkness.”

I thought it might be Alex attempting to pull a silly joke on me and I was starting to feel a little annoyed. "Anyway, what are you doing here?" I inquired in a slightly irritated tone, assuming it was just a prank, considering that it was a difficult area to reach. “Seriously, Alex? Let’s go back to work and make sure everyone is safe. I didn’t have a good day and this is the last thing I need”

The figure got closer to me, gently pushed away my hair and whispered into my ear: "Sure thing, boss". I could feel his warm breath in my neck and sense the amusement in his voice, as if it were a game.

After a moment, the figure took a step back and lit a cigar, held between two ringed fingers and turned over to switch on a little lamp. When the smoke cleared, I saw the face of Elvis, with his captivating blue eyes, dark hair, perfect nose and lips. I was mesmerized by his smile, his voice was still ringing in my ears and the smoke from his cigar filled the air.

To my surprise, I discovered Elvis dressed in a black and red robe, accompanied by golden slippers. I could perceive a white item beneath the robe, but it was difficult to make out any more due to its loose cut. Furthermore, his bare, hirsute chest was appealing, and it was all that I could focus on.

My body was flooded with adrenaline, as if about to burst. I felt intimidated by Elvis's physical presence but also filled with excitement and an intense attraction. I was frozen, unable to process what was happening, my blood boiling with a cocktail of emotions.

Elvis noticed my reaction.

"Ahh, so you do know who I am?" Elvis purred, the deep voice sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

With a sly grin, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "Sweetheart, I have to admit, I'm really enjoying this game. You're making this really fun to play."

He took a step back and blew out a big puff of cigar smoke, smiling broadly, savouring the moment and taking enjoyment in my reaction.

Even if I wanted to scream and go to his arms, I had to remain calm and professional. Actually, not reacting would be a nice strategy as he will see that his play game is not working.

“Mr. Presley, nice to meet you… unfortunately under these circumstances. I am glad you are enjoying the premises of this hotel. I would never have guessed you were in... in… “- damn, I didn't even know where I was.

“In the backstage of the showroom?” He chuckled.

“Hell, I’m more than enjoying the hotel, sugar. I gotta say the International is quite lovely. The room is very good and inviting. The bed is…” He changed his facial expression as if he was aware of something and started staring at my body while walking around me. “Oh boy, so comfortable and tender. I would sleep in there all night”

Is he talking about the hotel? I was getting confused by his words.

“Okay, the lobby was nice, but now, ya'll have to excuse my language, darlin', but the hallways in this hotel” Elvis pauses, his tone turning even friskier, his gaze never left my body, running from top to bottom and back again.

"The hallways are… oh gosh, phenomenal. And then the casino... the casino, dear god, that place is…” He takes a moment to catch his breath, his eyes moving slowly across my body once again.

"It's like a playground for sin, darlin', and I could be playing for hours.” He pauses, smiling slyly as he lets the words sink in and stare at my eyes.

Right, he is definitely not talking about the hotel.

Before I could even consider how to respond to what I had just heard, our feet began to feel a familiar vibration. The earthquake was back and even more intense than the previous one. As I noticed a tower of precariously stacked chairs near the door begin to shake, I realized that they were about to fall towards us. Elvis acted quickly, grabbing me and pulling me to the ground for safety.

All I heard was an abundance of noise, and I could not see any clear semblance of my surroundings. This was primarily due to Elvis's arms and body shielding me for protection, blocking my view. With my eyes tightly closed, I waited until the violent shaking ceased.

"There you go. Now we can finish our little talk, 'ya alright, baby?" Elvis whispered. I cracked my eyes open when the commotion ceased, finding Elvis on top of me. He was supporting himself with his arms each just inches apart from both sides of my face, close to either cheek, leaving me speechless. I had never been so close to him before, I could feel his accelerated breath and smell his cologne - a combination of manly and clean and woody scents mixed with cigar aroma that had a truly captivating effect on me.

I felt something cold against my chin, and when I took a quick peek, I saw a golden necklace dangling from his neck. It gave me a quick peek of his bare chest, I had to struggle to control my blushes.

Reality hit me hard. If my boss found out that Elvis was injured and I didn't do anything to help him, I would be in a whole lot of trouble.

"Mr. Presley!" I exclaimed with a panicked tone. "Are you hurt? I am so sorry; it's me who should've looked after you. Please let me help you," I continued, as the anxiety consumed my body.

Elvis's smile faded from his face, as he focused on something else. This worried me since I didn't know what he was looking at. Was I bleeding or something?

To my surprise, he put his hand on my chest. My heart started to race. "Well, bless my soul! What a fine name you got Miss y/n y/ln" he said, reading my employer badge. His smile returned, leaving me feeling a bit flustered and exposed.

"Mr. Presley, I understand that you wish to learn my name, but I don't believe it is the best time for that" I responded in an attempt to maintain my cool.

“Please Mr. Presley, let me check if you are alright” I requested, trying to free myself from him. “Sorry this place is a bit tight I can’t barely move if you could please stand for a second…”

Elvis chuckled again, his eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Oh darlin’ I ain’t hurt. But I appreciate your care. Don't ya worry, I've been in tighter spots than this" he said, standing up and walking over to the wall.

I couldn’t help but feel anger rising within me; I was convinced that he treated every woman in the same manner. Despite those emotions, I desired his compliments to keep coming; had I become insane?

"I think I need to leave to make sure that everyone is safe," I said, cutting him off. Setting my pride and responsibilities as my top priority.

“Darlin’ don't even try and hide it, ya know you’re blushing like a damn beetroot” He gave me a naughty smirk.

I looked at him, and I walked towards the door, intending to leave the room. I felt like he was objectifying me, and I was not going to allow such a thing. “Good night, Mr Presley” I replied politely.

“Hey hold your horses lil’ lady! And please call me Elvis”. He continued, his tone more relaxed and friendly after seeing my reaction.

With a sense of courage, I grabbed the door handle, ready to exit the room and leave Elvis behind. I wondered what would happen next. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be strong enough to deal with my boss and meet Elvis’s requests. Maybe the best choice would be to resign. Yet, I was still waiting for him to beg me: "Please don't go, please don't go." He had me completely hooked already. And then…

The door was locked.

“C’mere sweetheart, m’sorry… I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.“ he said as he was walking close to me. “it was just a little tease, I didn't mean any disrespect, honey. You're a truly amazing woman." Elvis continued, curling one lip cheekily, making me smile a little.

“Apologies accepted. But I’m afraid we have a little problem, Elvis.” His eyes shined when I called him by his name.

“The door is locked. I am sorry, I could not even bring a walkie with me in case of emergency”

“Ah sweetheart, ya ain’t have to be sorry. I like stayin' here with ya, but I’m impressed how good ya are and how much ya care about others, we gotta lot in common. We both put our hearts into what we do, no matter what, ya know what I mean? So I’ll understand if ya wanna leave”

His words shocked me a bit. I made the wrong judgment about him. Despite the enormous fame that comes with being Elvis Presley and being surrounded by people constantly, he remained very kind towards me. Even so, with the earthquake, he was still gentle and protected me. This man surely belongs to another world.

“Darlin’, ya want me to open the door for ya?” He asked, leaving me concerned.

“Oh no, please don’t push or bang I don’t want you to get hurt” I insisted.

“Honey. I’ll show ya how a real man handles a door. Step on the side” He said with confidence.

His words made me confused, I didn't know what to expect next. Elvis opened up his robe, reaching deep inside his chest where the white strip was. To my surprise, the white strip was a shoulder holster. he took out the gun and fired at the door as it was made of paper.

The noise was deafening, and made me scream in shock and take refuge in his arms. I thought the bullet might ricochet and come right back at us.

“Y'know, sugar, maybe that ain't your first scream, but I promise ya ain't gonna be the last one" Elvis joked while looking at me in a teasing way with his right eyebrow raised.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I asked with an irritated tone. "You just fired a fucking gun right next to my ear!" He didn't seem to take me seriously, instead smiling slyly and wrapping his arms around me.

"Don't get angry, darlin'," he said, his breath making me shiver. His chest was still exposed, and I had to fight not to look.

"You're right, I shouldn't have scared you like this" he continued, his tone soothing. "But at least I did open the door, right?"

"You're right" I whispered back, my voice trembling. "At least you did open the door." I looked up at him, his gaze locked with mine, my breathing getting heavier.

"I think you're enjoying this little surprise,darlin’” was all Elvis said with a charming grin, caressing my back with his fingers while the other hand kept me firmly to him.

I tried to struggle out of his grasp, but his big and strong arms were impossible to pry free. And to be honest, I wasn't really trying so hard to escape his embrace, either. In fact, I was starting to feel quite...

"Yes, I think you like it." Elvis breathed deeply, his voice and breath coming across as both intense and sultry as he was feeling my heartbeat.

My irritation and annoyance started to disappear, and I couldn't fight the urge to look at him.

When I realized what I was doing. I pulled away from him to regain awareness of myself. I knew I shouldn't be acting this way, yet I was helpless against the charm that Elvis held.

Elvis chuckled softly as I pulled away and straightened myself. He looked at me with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something more.

Suddenly, we heard a sound, and I assumed that it was the rumblings of the earthquake. However, when the footsteps began to get louder, we realized that it was actually a pair of feet rushing towards us.

Eventually, Joe Esposito opened the door from the other side. There was a distinct look of surprise on his face when he saw us.

"Elvis? Elvis! Are you ok?" Joe asked, his voice tinged with concern. "We were looking for you and heard the gunshots, what's going on?" He inquired, relieved but also worried.

“Hey man, all good don’t ya worry. We just got stuck down here. But thank God miss y/ln was very professional and supportive. My clever girl…” Elvis winked at me and smiled.

"Good evening, Mr. Esposito." I had met Joe previously while working with Elvis and was aware of his efforts in coordinating everything around the hotel in advance for him.

"Thank you for locating us." I said in a grateful tone, "I've made my attempts to keep Elvis safe at all times while we were inside this room, and I'm grateful that you've come to assist us."

Joe remarked with a smile, "Miss Y/ln, thank you so much for your exceptional services. Now I know that Elvis was in safe hands. Let me give you my number to keep in touch, beautiful. You deserve a good tip."

Before Joe could proceed, Elvis stopped him and whispered something quietly to him and Joe stopped. I couldn't make out what was said, but Elvis's expression was serious. After the little whisper, Elvis looked at me with a warm smile.

"Well, Miss," Joe continued, "I better take Elvis to a safe place immediately. The Colonel is going nuts!"

“Absolutely” I replied "If you require any additional assistance, do not hesitate to let me know. Have a lovely evening, gentlemen."

As I flashed my customer-service smile, Elvis returned my expression with a sly, cheeky grin. I couldn't help but return the gesture, amused by his impish expression.

“Nice to meet ya Miss y/ln. Until we get locked again in another dark room sometime.” Elvis mumbled with a smirk as he walked down the corridor.

“Sure thing, boss” I smiled whispering to myself.

Part 2 here!

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis the king #elvis history #50s elvis #60s elvis #70s elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader

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aurorawest · 9 months

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Reading update

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers - 3.75/5 stars

I hate myself a little bit for using this word to describe this book, but it's a meditation on modern (western) culture, the drumbeat of living a purposeful life, and, imo, the millennial condition.

It also, separately from that, made me think of the song 'New Constellations' by Ryn Weaver: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13EX7qGdUGI

The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by KJ Charles - 5/5 stars

This book features Gareth Inglis, a member of the gentry whose father shipped him off to his uncle when his mother died. Gareth never saw or heard from his father (who remarried and had another child) again, and no one knew he existed because his father was a piece of human garbage. Which meant I couldn't stop thinking about my former father-in-law, who had two sons from his first marriage whom he, as far as I could tell, never had any contact with after remarrying and having another child. Life imitates art?

Anyway, it's KJ Charles, so you pretty much can't go wrong. I saw someone refer to this as enemies-to-lovers and realized my toxic trait is railing against people who want to apply enemies-to-lovers to everything. Spoiler alert, this is not enemies-to-lovers. But it is lovely, and includes Gareth and Joss Doomsday (a smuggler) bonding over beetles.

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by SA Chakraborty - 4.5/5 stars

It was no Daevabad Trilogy, but then again, I remember finishing City of Brass and being like, yeah, it was fine, I'll probably pick up the sequel at some point. It wasn't until Kingdom of Copper that I grew to really love the series, so I'm hoping the same happens with this. This book was a lot of fun, and the fact that all the characters were middle-aged was pretty delightful. I'm definitely excited to see where this series goes.

The Long Run by James Acker - 5/5 stars

Excellent YA book about two lonely jocks in New Jersey.

Feel the Fire by Annabeth Albert - 3.75/5 stars

His Accidental Cowboy by AM Arthur - 4/5 stars

Brida by Paul Coelho - 1/5 stars

One of the reviews for this book on Storygraph says it 'aged like milk' and I can't put it better than that. This is a soul mate AU where souls undergo cell division, essentially, and your soul mate is from your same base soul from before the soul split in half. Okay, great. Oh but wait, the soul always divides into male and female. And your soul mate is always someone of the opposite sex, even though that doesn't make sense because as souls divide again and again, that means there are a lot of people out there who came from the same original soul as you. Also, witchcraft? Also also, even though the book is called Brida and is ostensibly about the title character, her whole journey was really just to serve the unnamed male character, the Magus. This isn't implicit either, it's completely explicit. At the end it's like, 'sometimes young women come along to show men the way' (I'm paraphrasing but...not much).

This went straight to my give away pile, and I hated it so much that the rest of my Coelho books joined it (except The Alchemist).

Enlightened by Joanna Chambers - 5/5 stars

Or, For The Love Of God Please Give David Lauriston And Murdo Balfour A Break, And Preferably A Happy Ending.

They got one, btw.

Song of Silver, Flame Like Night by Amélie Wen Zhao - DNF

Honestly, the Mad Libs YA title should have warned me off of this one, but I always give my Illumicrate books a try. Cartoonish villains and protagonists I find myself liking less the more we get to know them. The prose is quite good but not enough to make up for the character deficiencies.

Solomon's Crown by Natasha Siegel - 5/5 stars

Blurbed by no less than Tamora Pierce (Song of the Lioness supremacy!), Rainbow Rowell, Freya Marske, and CS Pacat. Did I go into this book with insanely high expectations? Yes. Did it mostly meet them? Yes! If you're a Captive Prince fan, this one's for you.

Siegel tells us up front, before the book even starts, that it's a romance and not historically accurate. So don't go into this expecting a historically accurate love story between King Richard of England and King Philip of France. It is, however, a gorgeous romance. The world-building is top notch. Even if it's not totally accurate to the High Middle Ages, it feels accurate, if that makes sense? Siegel really captures the feeling of being in a different world. Lush writing, amazing sexual/romantic tension, lovely sad boys. Highly, highly recommend.

Daniel Cabot Puts Down Roots by Cat Sebastian - 4.75/5 stars

I docked .25 stars because it bugged me that they didn't move in together at the end. Idk, just felt too 'look, I'm subverting romance conventions!' Still good, obviously.

Like Real People Do by EL Massey - 4/5 stars

A very wholesome and low stakes hockey romance. I found myself often thinking that the interactions of the men on the hockey teams seemed unrealistic, but it was charming and sweet enough that I didn't care.

The book reads like fanfiction, which is because it was fanfiction—but it's in a mostly good way, not a bad way (*cough* All The Way Happy *cough*). Apparently the original version was Check, Please! fanfiction, which I am vaguely familiar with as a thing that exists. Apparently it's a web comic? Anyway, I enjoyed the book enough to pick up the sequel.

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kangaracha · 11 months

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lee know + sorry, I love you

He'd always loved dance more than anything else, and this is no exception.

Fluid and sharp, shifting with every change in the tempo, drumbeats like puppet strings tugging at limbs. Her body creates lines that imprint themselves on his vision like too-bright lights, silhouettes of her dancing behind his eyelids even when he closes them. Her music permeates their practise room even after she leaves; at the end of every chorus, he expects her to laugh, or to say something snappy, like she'd recorded herself over the track when they'd danced, the music and their movement equalising each other.

"You've been practising without me," Han complains over the absence of her voice, and Minho blinks back into reality.

Boys, sweating under the hum of the airconditioner, and the same movements he's been drilling into his limbs for weeks and weeks. He's supposed to be watching the others, but on the ninth runthrough of the day, he'd wandered off for a moment. It happens.

"No I haven't," he lies between breaths, squinting at himself in the mirror. Had he messed up that last move? He can't remember - he'd just been moving with the music, doing whatever they'd been doing last night. "I'm just better than you."

"And I bet that jacket on the couch is yours too," Han scoffs. In the mirror, Minho finds the end of the couch - and yes, there is her jacket, soft pink and edged in black. He'd told her the middle of summer was too hot for a jacket, even in the middle of the night, and he'd been so correct that she hadn't picked it up when she left, too busy laughing at him imitating her stumbling over the chorus of the song that's repeating in the background now.

He considers lying again - not because he has anything to hide, but just to see how far he could string Han along - but the novelty has passed on, along with his breath and the little energy he'd dredged up sleeping the first five hours of the morning. "I'd rather go deaf than listen to her evaluation track again, and the dance break needed work anyway."

"Did it?" Han questions, his arm falling heavy around Minho's shoulder. His heart is beating like a jackrabbit's, oppressive heat rolling off of his skin. Minho's pretty sure he's going to get a rash if they stay pressed together like this for too long. "Or did you just want to give her shit about it?"

Minho shrugs, his face a poster of indifference. He's sure it's amusing. "Is it my fault if she can't hit the beats right?"

"Probably," Han tells him. Minho snorts and steers him towards the long couch at the back of the room, aiming for the coveted spot beneath the air conditioner.

"Did you tell her how you feel yet?" Han asks as he deposits both of them on the seat, his arm still tight around his shoulders.

Minho pauses, his stomach twisting around itself from more than the heat. Complicated; that's how that question makes him feel. Exhausted, because there's no right way to turn and no clear answer to give.

"I told you I'm not going to do that," he answers, in a voice that's lowered so that the other boys won't hear. Not keeping secrets, per say, but just...keeping it quiet. He didn't need Seungmin riling him up about it at every opportunity, nor did he want to sit the boy down and tell him that this was really serious to him; life wouldn't be right without Seungmin buzzing around the edge of his consciousness like a gnat. Didn't need Chan worrying himself to death about how to handle it either, when Minho could handle it just fine on his own.

"And I told you that that's really dumb," Han answers, not for the first time.

"I like just being friends," Minho insists.

"Liar," Han insists more.

And he's right; with every day that passes, and every night they spend holed up in this studio, he hates being friends a little bit more. But there are words, as an idol, that are dangerous to say, actions that, once taken, he cannot take back - and even if he didn't wear a name and a face known to millions of people, saying hey, i love you to his strictly a friend could destroy everything he has.

He doesn't want to imagine the world when she runs away. He doesn't dare to imagine it if she stays. In the light of it all, this eternal limbo seems like the better option, even if it eats away at him a little bit inside.

#stray kids #lee know #skz lee know #skz han #han jisung #lee know x reader #sort of i guess #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #roo writes

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thechaoscryptid · 1 year

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@somedayourocean prompted me on discord for sleeby sheiths, “don’t think I didn’t notice you yawning”(I took a little liberty with phrasing)! (you too can send me a prompt from this prompt list!)

(you too can listen to the song inspo about the northern lights!)

In the grand scheme of things, waking to a gentle drumbeat isn’t the worst way to come into consciousness. Shiro blinks up at the darkness and groans softly as he rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, and then he shivers. Making camp in Keith’s ship in the middle of an ice planet perhaps wasn’t their greatest plan; even with environmental controls, they’re living out of a freezing metal shell for the next few days as Keith does some Blade work.

It would be easier to bear if Keith were actually...present.

Shiro frowns when he throws his arm to the side and finds Keith’s side of the bed empty. From the foot of the bunk, Kosmo begins to glow softly as he whuffs in his sleep, but the gentle illumination doesn’t illuminate Keith anywhere

“Baby?” Shiro slurs.

A muffled clang comes from the small kitchen just past the doorway, followed swiftly by a string of profanity.

“Keith?” Shiro asks, suddenly much more awake.

Keith’s head pops through the door, and he colors with embarrassment even as Shiro slumps in relief. “I was, ah...couldn’t sleep.” He tips his head toward the front of the ship. “They’re kind of loud out there.”

“Wha’s going on?” Shiro wraps himself in their blanket and shuffles to Keith, then past. The short hallway glows, in green and blue and flickers of quintessence purple, and his brow wrinkles.

“Equinox,” Keith says, and Shiro is not awake enough to puzzle out any more questions.

It doesn’t matter when he peers through the cockpit door, because the barren landscape dances before him. There are no trees to sway, no rivers winding through the mounded snow, but the planet is alive nonetheless. The atmosphere writhes with aurora that leaps from sky to snow and back again; in the village down the slope, the streets run with pale imitations of the sky as the citizens dance along with it.

The drums pound on.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous,” Shiro breathes as he leans into Keith. “I don’t think I’ve seen them anywhere near as bright on Earth.”

Keith hums, hooking his chin over Shiro’s shoulder before he presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “I was gonna bring you into town tomorrow night for the festival, but it started a day earlier than I thought,” he says. “Lasts most of the week, though.”

Shiro turns around and drapes his arm over Keith’s shoulder, crowding into his space and slotting their lips together like he’s done a thousand times across a thousand nights. Keith smiles against him, but pulls away to yawn in the next moment, sharp teeth glinting with the light.

Still, he offers, “We could go see what’s up, if you’re awake.”

“After that yawn?” Shiro nuzzles against Keith’s neck and huffs a laugh. “You worked all day, spitfire - the festival can wait.”

“I was gonna surprise you,” Keith grumbles.

Shiro puts his hand over his eyes. “I haven’t seen a thing. I have never once seen outside this ship, because I’m too busy staring at your ass.”

“Shiro!” Keith’s snort rings through the cabin, his laughter soon after. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet here you are,” Shiro says. Just to make his point, he pointedly slides his hand down the curve of Keith’s spine and grabs when he reaches muscle. With a gentle nip to Keith’s pulse, he grins. “Come back to bed.”

“Mm, to sleep?”

“Well...” Shiro squeezes once more, then tugs Keith closer for another languid kiss. “I think we’ll make it there eventually.”

#sheith #my writing

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poppletonink · 1 month

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Review: yes, and? - Ariana Grande

★★★★☆ - 4 stars

"Yes and? Say that shit with your chest, and be your own fuckin' best friend."

'yes, and?' is an iconic, new single from Ariana Grande's latest album eternal sunshine. A mixture of house and pop, and a similar vibe to Madonna's Vogue, this upbeat track is guaranteed to give you an instantaneous confidence boost. Alongside the affirmations spoken in a whispered and soothing tone (almost like spoken word poetry) and Grande’s signature vocals that embody the very nature of self-confidence, the lyrics encourage self love, the power of becoming your own best friend and not caring what others think. Bell tolls, angelic harmonies, a consistent drumbeat that imitates clapping and the occasional shimmering synth line only add to the glamorous and empowering essence of the track. Fierce and fun, yes, and? is the perfect song to belt out the lyrics to in the car, in the shower or while you're dancing around your house happily.

#yes and #ariana grande #ariana grande yes and?#yes and?#arianator #music blog #music review #track review #single review #eternal sunshine #eternal sunshine ariana grande #music reccs

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hierarchyproblem · 10 months

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The etymology of the grindcore subgenre mincecore is really interesting to me. So mincecore has a slower tempo than most grindcore, right, and if you mince something it's gonna have a larger particulate size than if you grind it (eg. garlic vs pepper), so that makes intuitive sense. But you might also mince meat, so it's also a reclaimation of the goregrind that was on the rise in the late 80s when mincecore was coined.

Say you're Agathocles, right (the first band to play in the mincecore style, not the tyrant of Syracuse), and you're watching grindcore move away from its origins in British anarchopunk and US hardcore (and the overtly political lyrical themes of those genres) as goregrind becomes more popular (with exactly the lyrical themes the name implies) at the same time as you're seeing machismo take over the scene, reintroducing cultural elements of misogyny and homophobia which — well, they might not have previously been totally absent, but they'd've at least been frowned upon.

So not only did the band specifically criticise this subcultural shift in their music itself, they gave the genre they founded a name that pays homage to effeminacy and camp:

Ain't that clever? Wordplay and shit! (I include the screenshot to demonstrate the revealing example-case provided by the Cambridge dictionary.) It'd probably be a stretch to say that the bouncy drumbeats found in mincecore songs is deliberately gesturing at this too, but it's a an association I can't help making.

Anyway Agathocles are still going, along with many excellent imitators such as Archagathus, Rot, and Haggus. And check out Rancid Stench:

#uhh that album cover probably deserves a #tw gore #tw death #or something for the sake of courtesy

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upalldown · 2 years

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Arctic Monkeys - The Car

Album number seven from the indie rock quartet produced by regular collaborator James Ford

9/13

Now, sixteen years later, the exciting freshness of daylight has passed, but what we’ve stumbled across instead lies a welcoming sunset evoking charm and warmth. Arctic Monkeys are perhaps one of the most unpredictable, innovative, and experimental British bands out there. Their deep grasp on nostalgia and the familiar enriches every aspect of their new material.

The Car, the band’s seventh album, features ten new songs written by Alex Turner, and is undoubtedly the singer’s most adventurous vocal performance of his career. Within the confines of Arctic Monkeys’ previous material, Turner’s vocals have remained mostly sultry and low in tone in a way that imitated his and the band’s endearing mystery and edginess. The record AM represented the essence of this '60s intuition with the dark grittiness of "Do I Wanna Know?" right through to "I Wanna Be Yours".

Tranquility Base Hotel + Casino provided a real deviation from the Arctic Monkeys sound that came to be so familiar. It was a venture into a new sound with distant nods to the band’s older material. At surface level, understanding and appreciating The Car may start with your relationship with Tranquility, but a deeper dive reveals more connections and mirrorings of older work, such as the kitchen sink lyricism of Whatever People Say I am, That’s What I’m Not, the darker, mysterious croonings of Humbug, and the reflective lamentation of Turner’s musings in Suck It And See.

The Car, therefore, does not shy away from laying it all out bare. "Sculptures of Anything Goes" taps into the ambivalence of past mistakes with lyrics such as “is that vague sense of longing kinda trying to cause a scene?” and “puncturing your bubble of relatability with your horrible new sound”.

The record also brings to the fore the masterful talents of accompanying band members Matt Helders, Jamie Cook, and Nick O’Malley with tracks like the '70s-inspired epic "Body Paint". “The strings on this record come in and out of focus”, Alex Turner described in a recent interview; “there’s times the band comes to the front and then the strings come to the front”. This is an element that truly comes through with tracks such as "I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am" and "Jet Skis On The Moat".

"Hello You" is the moment at which everything all comes together with grace and vivre. Dosed notably but delicately in dramatic riffing and drumbeats, the track playfully yet emotionally dances around with talented and creative lyricism which is demonstrative of the reverie of Turner’s talent: “‘As that meandering chapter reaches its end and leaves us in a thoughtful little daze / this electric warrior’s motorcade shall burn no more rubber down that boulevard’ / read the message I left on the thank you card.”

Putting the band under the microscope is an interesting challenge, but that’s all part of the fun. Since the release of Tranquility, it’s been difficult to pinpoint exactly where the band will go next. The Car flickers between solemn nostalgia but also having a blast – a journey which can be unsettling but fun and surprising in a way that you wouldn’t expect. Perhaps that’s the reflection of its namesake: much like being in a car, the route to where you’re going can be uncertain and unfamiliar. Arctic Monkeys are leading us all somewhere perhaps even they didn’t envisage, but some of the best experiences in life are ones that you didn’t plan for.

youtube

https://www.thelineofbestfit.com/albums/arctic-monkeys-the-car-running-wild-sumptuous-new-landscape

#arctic monkeys #the car

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pxayopina-unilsiyu · 3 years

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Rating Avatar soundtracks

I’m bored let’s go. fair warning i have 0 knowledge of music theory outside of stuff I learned in piano/saxophone lessons years ago.

3. The classic Avatar (2009) OST

Well, there’s a lot to say about this one. Ironically, I think its greatest strengths lie in the orchestral tracks, but maybe I’m biased because You Don’t Dream in Cryo is my favorite song out of any of the soundtracks. There’s a lot of criticism circulating around it, some of which I agree with, some I don’t. In short, it serves its purpose (being a semi-blend of orchestral and ‘tribal’ motifs, representing the divide between humans and Na’vi) to the barest of minimums and then goes no further. Holds a special place in my heart for obvious reasons, but overall, a 6/10. Had potential, played it very safe, still one of the best and most iconic movie soundtracks to date.

Anyway, if you haven’t already, I’d definitely listen to the deluxe version of this one, it’s got a few bonus tracks that I think add to it. Again, I think this one works great for the human side of the movie, just not as much so for the Na’vi. But if you’re trying to represent equality between the two sides as well as the Na’vi’s triumph, you should probably put equal effort and authenticity into both.

2. Pandora: The World of Avatar Soundtrack

I’m very 50/50 on this one. To be clear I’m not counting the Flight of Passage Ridethrough and Pandora Walkthrough as I don’t really count those as ‘songs’. Am counting the River Journey ridethrough. Anyway, the first half of this is pretty good. Spirits of Mo’ara is just a rehash of songs from the Avatar OST but otherwise, everything up to Shaman of the Souls is great. Then we get to everything after it. I’m sorry to everyone who likes surf rock, but all of the surf rock songs kill this soundtrack for me. Especially the Pongu Pongu songs, they are like nails on chalkboard for me. I did not need a surf rock version of the main Avatar theme to exist, thank you. Anyway, this one still has a one-up on the Avatar OST for me primarily because it actually has proper Na’vi lyrics in it. The songs that do have Na’vi lyrics are not my favorites; The Shaman Call is literally just the same basic verse lifted from River Journey repeated ad nauseum and Bossa’s lyrics are either nonsensical or just phrases from the film. This OST also does a better job of including Na’vi motifs and straying away from just being a basic orchestral soundtrack with some chanting and drumbeats thrown in. All in all, this one’s getting a tentative 7/10. The first and second half of it feel totally different so I could honestly rate them as individual STs but they’re on the same album so it is what it is.

1. Toruk: The First Flight

What can I say, this one is by far the best, at least in some regards. This musical is about Na’vi, and they made the soundtrack Na’vi. The use of instruments is spot on; aside from string instruments there is very little generic movie soundtrack vibes. All of the vocals sound Na’vi-ish, and by far my favorite aspect of it is that it makes use of throat-singing, something that was originally going to be in the Avatar soundtrack but was ultimately cut. It sounds awesome, and hearing it utilized so well in this album makes me disappointed it is not more heavily used in the Pandora soundtrack and that they cowardly cut it from the Avatar one. Also! It has Na’vi lyrics in it! Actual Na’vi lyrics! A lot of the lyrics are really complicated too, which elevates the authenticity even further. Also, really baffles me how the Cirque performers have better Na’vi pronunciation than some of the actors in the film, but it just goes to show their level of dedication to the project. I love how each clan’s ‘theme’ song has its own distinct feel and vibe, and each truly feels fitting to the clan it represents. The Omatikaya’s is layered and expressive, the Tawkami’s is light and playful, the Kekunan’s is brooding and ancient, the Anurai’s is mournful and lonely, the Tipani’s is fierce and energetic. There’s not much I can criticize this one for, especially since it is meant to go with a performance/show, which I haven’t seen. The only thing I’ll say is that some of the tracks feel a little repetitive, but again, I can’t make a judgement without its fuller intended context. This one gets a 9/10; for a Na’vi inspired soundtrack, it is the best of the three. It truly sounds like it was created by the Na’vi, rather than a bunch of humans trying to imitate them.

Ok thanks for reading I guess! Definitely listen to all of these all the way through and come to your own conclusion, they’re each great in their own regard, I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on each whether it be positive or negative. I really hope the soundtracks for the sequels will take from each - especially Toruk - and improve upon the first’s flaws.

Makto nìmwey! I have a headache and I’m gonna pass out for an hour now.

#avatar 2009 #avatar movie #james cameron's avatar #pandora: the world of avatar #pandora #toruk: the first flight #music #avatar and pandora STs are kinda tied for me #pandora gets one point over avatar for the Na'vi lyrics tho

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bread--quest · 2 years

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i have an apush exam tomorrow and instead of studying or even THINKING about studying or even RELAXING im sitting here like. do you think the first music was a drumbeat do you think that drumbeat was an imitation of someone's heartbeat is music literally in our blood

#girl what are you saying (@ me)#upd8z #its when i need to be at like my most normal that im the most Fucking Unhinged

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vintage-story-time · 3 years

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Family Games by Ray Todd

Chapter 6

Glynn wasn't used to whiskey. He'd only had three beers in his life, and the

drink he'd taken with his sister was a fire in his belly. He wanted another one,

but didn't dare swallow it because he might get too smashed to go upstairs. And

Lorena hadn't been putting him on when she said she'd never screw him again, if

he didn't help her with the plan.

He couldn't hack that, couldn't go back to jacking off, after he'd fucked his

sister and her friend a couple of times each. And the blow job that Lorena had

given him last night -- that had almost melted his backbone. It was everything

he had ever dreamed of, and now he was anxious to taste her little pussy.

He looked up the stairs. It was quiet up there, and his sister had been out of

the shower for a long time. For a second, he thought she might have given up on

the whole thing and gone to bed by herself. Then he knew better; Lorena was

pretty stubborn, and when she set her pretty head to something, she carried it

through.

That meant he had to go try out his part. There was no noise up there, nobody

yelling, although once he thought he had heard low voices murmuring. So his

sister must have gotten away with her imitation of their mother; Lorena must

have already fucked the old man.

Oh wow, he thought, reaching down to touch the ultra-hard prick that was

threatening to split itself in his jeans. Lorena and dad; his sister all naked

and hot, taking his dad's cock into her wiggling pussy -- the image made him

squirm. He'd like to see that.

Glynn climbed the stairs, his hard cock bulging, his hands shaking a little when

he reached the second floor. He went into the bathroom he shared with Lorena,

peeled out of his clothes and took a shower. The hot water and soap made his

shaft ache even more, and he climbed out of the enclosure to dry himself off.

Putting on his beatup old terrycloth robe, he walked barefoot down the hall and

paused at the door to his father's room.

Pressing his ear to the panel, he could barely make out the whispering inside,

and drew back quickly. Lorena had scored, that was certain; she was talking with

the old man now, and nobody was raising hell. That left the next move up to him,

so he went on to his mother's bedroom and quietly opened the door.

The bedside radio was playing softly, and its dial light was the only light in

the room. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him and saw the shape of

her body. She was lying on top of the covers, stark naked from head to toe.

Taking a deep and steadying breath, he shed the robe and moved carefully toward

the bed, his heart pounding.

All these years, he thought -- ever since he was big enough to know what to do

with his cock, he had had a thing for his mom. She was so damned beautiful, so

sexy, and there was a special bitchy look around her eyes that made a guy think

she would really go wild when a piece of meat was put to her box.

Glynn had started peeping early, looking to catch a glimpse of his mother's big,

glorious tits, trying to see up her dress. He had hoped to catch her naked in

the bathroom some day, but she always locked the door.

And a couple of times, he had heard them screwing, his mom and dad, heard the

squishy noises of a man's prick moving in a woman's hot, juicy pussy, heard the

moaning his mom made and the panting of his old man as they fucked. Both times,

he had rushed into the bathroom and closed his eyes, trying to picture the

scene, while he beat his meat and pretended that it was him in there between his

mother's surging white thighs.

Now he was standing over the bed where his mom was asleep, smashed on whiskey.

He was staring down at the delectable body spread so innocently and unknowing

for his eyes, and Glynn wished that the light was better, that he could see

every gorgeous detail of that magic flesh.

She had one knee lifted as she lay on her back and the dim light played over the

heavy cones of her tits, but when he looked on down the sweep of the magnificent

body, he couldn't make out her pussy, only the general shape of the dark mound

hidden in shadows. But he could stare to his heart's content at the beauty of

her legs, so long and molded; he could gaze hungrily at the melons of her firm,

tip-tilted breasts, and he drank in the sights.

Glynn thought of how many times his old man must have seen her like this, of how

many times -- thousands, maybe -- that his father had crawled over on top of

that beautiful body and fitted himself between those soft pale thighs. Glynn's

prick pulsed, and he soothed it with his hand, gripped it as he began to move

like a robot to the bed where the most unreachable, the most forbidden, object

of all his sexual fantasies lay.

Cautiously, he eased his weight upon the bed and lay down on his side, his

breath hanging in his tight throat and blood drumbeating in his ears. He

listened to her breathing, and now that he was near, could see the smudge of her

black lashes lying against her cheeks. She was so lovely, so desirable, that the

closeness of her was like a sharp knife in his guts.

He was going to fuck her. A jolt of knowledge jumped inside his head as he knew

that, for the first time, really knew it. He was at last going to fuck his

mother. The impending divorce, the plan he and his sister had to stop it, even

the screwing he had shared with Lorena and Jean -- all paled beside the fact

that he was about to put his meat into his mom's precious cunt.

No matter what the hell happened, no matter if the whole world blew up in

Glynn's face, he was now determined to fuck that dream pussy, if he died for it

afterward. She might wake up and scream, but he would cover her mouth; she might

kick, but he would force his way in between her flashing legs. He was too close

now, and the greatest prize of all was within his reach.

Reaching out one uncertain hand, he put it softly upon her tit. She stirred, but

the rhythm of her breathing didn't break, so he cupped the wondrous mound gently

and rolled the long nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She felt spongy and

firm, felt fabulous and wild, and he pressed down, knowing the give of the

breast, allowing it to spring back so that the nipple hit his palm.

Sliding over, Glynn lowered his mouth to the nipple, and licked over it. It

tasted like honey, like love, tasted like all the dreams that had ever raced

around inside his head. Drawing the resilient nub into his teeth, he chewed

delicately upon it, then sucked it hungrily. His mom didn't move, deep in her

alcohol-ridden sleep, so he opened his mouth as wide as he could, and tried to

take the entire sweet tit into it.

His hands strayed down, sliding tenderly over her rib cage, down to the satiny

planes of her stomach, and parted to caress the padded shapings of her

hip-bones. Only then, with the flavor of her breast perfumed in his mouth, only

then did he dare to move one hand on down to the taboo place, to her pubic

mound.

It was rich and warm beneath his fingertips, the black hair piled kind of crisp

and crinkly against his palm. There seemed to be a special kind of life in it,

and Glynn shuddered as he fondled the thick, furry bush. One finger eased into

the clinging excitement of the pubic hair and discovered the smoothness of her

pussy lips.

Lingering there, Glynn stroked the velvet soft lips, ran his finger slowly up

and down them, trying to imprint the shape and feel of them forever upon his

feverish brain. His mom's cunt; his lovely mom's pussy, his daddy had pumped the

meat into it, and now he was caressing the fantastic snatch himself. He was

feeling up his mother's pussy, and it felt like satin, silk, all downy and

cottony, all hot and tickly.

Glynn nudged his cockhead over so that it touched her thigh, and another flash

of erotic pleasure shot through him at the contact. She was so warm, so ripely

shaped, and he moved his prick up and down the full perfection of her thigh,

from hip to the knee. His finger hesitated against her labia, then began, of its

own accord, to work gently inside.

The tip was in her, in his mother's cunt lips, and the heat it found there was

succulent, an alluring inner warmth that moved right up his wrist, on up his

arm. His mouth was dry now, and he took it from the opulence of her tit,

breathing harshly, his brain whirling with keen excitement. His finger probed

deeper, moved on up into the wetly clinging grip of the pussy itself, until it

was buried to the knuckle.

For awhile, Glynn just lay there with his rigid prick thumping against the

velvet flesh, holding his finger full length inside the most fascinating cunt he

had ever thought about. She felt impossibly soft and rich inside, hot and

slippery with a special lavishness that shook him to the core.

He couldn't wait any longer, or his throbbing cock would spurt semen over her

thigh; his balls ached with the pressure that had built up within them, and he

was wildly turned on by the thought that very soon, he would let go his load

deep within the treasured confines of his mom's pussy.

Removing his finger from the gripping of the enfolding tissues there, he stroked

the abundantly haired pussy again, before lifting to his knees and crawling

around to poise himself between her outflung legs. Glynn couldn't resist running

both hands over those enticing legs, so that his palms and fingers would forever

remember them. They were so long, sleek and lovely and slim. Smooth and

graceful, they were the sculptured gateway to his personal paradise; he moved on

his knees between them, using his hands to spread them even more, to open the

hairy target of her crotch to him.

Bending, he caught the rise of a fragrance from her cunt, a spicy, musky,

stimulating perfume that was his mother's womanly essence. She moved then,

mumbled unintelligible words in her sleep, and crossed one arm over her eyes.

Transfixed, he crouched without motion for what seemed forever, until the

urgency in his balls pushed him on.

Glynn was beyond stopping now. If she came to and screamed, he meant to fuck her

anyhow, even if he had to fight her off the bed and down onto the carpet.

Trembling, he used one hand to steer the flexing head of his prick into the

shadowy bush of her mound, and when the tip of it pressed into the crinkly

hairs, fought down the need to let it go all over her pussy.

But it was hotter inside, unbelievably rich inside, and he had to get there.

Slow and easy, Glynn hunched his belly forward, and helped his prick with his

hand. It shoved into the slick lips, slid thrillingly into them as they

stretched to admit his cockhead. Not slow now, but driven by his inflamed

passions, Glynn gave a jab that sank his prick into his mom's cunt.

All the way inside that enchanted pussy, it went, into that sizzling hot snatch

that his daddy had fucked so many times and that was now, at last, his.

He shuddered as it went home, as his iron-hard prick slid greasily to its entire

length inside her vagina and his balls came to rest in the fluffy crack of her

shapely ass. Glynn had his meat packed in her cunt now, had it stuffed all the

way up her, and the sensation was fantastic. He stroked her, lifted his ass to

make his pulsing cock slide back to the head, then pushed it in once more,

grunting with pure joy.

She wiggled slightly on the first thrust, and swung her pelvis more on the

second one. Glynn reached both hands down under the smooth cheeks of her ass and

held on as he worked his aching prick in and out of the wet gloving of her

marvelous pussy. Her vagina grasped his shaft, caressed it with velvet

bubblings, with hotly soaped strength, and he lay down on top of her then,

blinded to any danger, needing only to fuck and fuck this most erotic of all

cunts.

Her arms lifted around him, and she hiked her crotch to take him deeper, a soft

moan escaping the lips now placed at his ear, her warm breath tingling. "Oh

darling -- it's been so long -- oh, how lovely. Your prick is so hard -- "

The words centered in his lunging prick, turned him on even more, and Glynn

began to hammer his cock into her pussy, to force it strongly with every

powerful stroke. The bed shook and they rocked together, glued at the crotch.

His balls slapped damply and softly at her ass, and now his mother's long,

fabulous legs raised to wrap around him, crossing themselves at the ankles.

"Fuck me, darling. Fuck me hard and deep -- yes, like that! Feed that cock into

me, darling. Oh! Lovely, lovely -- "

Blindly, his mouth sought for hers and found it. His tongue pushed between her

open lips and discovered the wet squirming of her tongue. She sucked on his,

pulled it toward her throat, and her teeth clashed along his as she groaned in

rapture.

Then suddenly, her body stopped its whiplash movements; her ass ceased to heave

up and down, and her beautiful legs dropped away from his body. Glynn could feel

the shock that rippled through her, feel the stiffening of her pussy around his

stroking prick. She pushed both hands against his chest and gasped.

"N-no! You -- you're not Eric, not my husband! Why -- what -- "

Glynn let go of her ass and reached up, just in time to catch her wrists as she

tried to claw his face. "Easy -- take it easy, mom!"

Her hiss was pure outrage: "No! You -- you! Glynn, you c-can't, we mustn't -- oh

please, please let me go!"

Pinning her arms above her head, he forced his prick solidly within her wet

pussy, held it there while she wiggled and tried frantically to work it out of

her body. But he had it socked to her, and as long as he was firmly between her

legs, she couldn't get free.

She kept struggling, her tits bouncing against his chest, her pelvis surging in

movements that were about to make him come. He whispered harshly at her: "Stop

fighting! I have my prick in you, mom. I've been fucking you, and you dug it.

I'm going to finish screwing you, and if you keep yelling, you'll wake up dad

and sis."

The last thought was a good one, because she fell limp beneath him, only tugging

weakly at her arms. "Don't, Glynn -- oh please don't. You're drunk or something,

and don't know what you're doing."

He jammed his prick hard against her womb and gyrated his ass to move the

cockhead around, feeling very strong and conquering. "I know what I'm doing --

what I've always dreamed of doing. I'm fucking you, mom. I have my prick shoved

deep inside your beautiful hot pussy, and pretty soon, I'm going to come in it.

I love you, mom -- I love your cunt so much that it's been driving me crazy. Now

it last I'm fucking you, and I won't stop for anything."

She lay still, but he thought his cockhead sensed a tremble in her vagina]

walls, and his prick responded to it. He said softly, "It's happening, mom, and

nobody can stop it. Please fuck me back; please come with me."

She made a strangled noise, and words came tumbling out: "I -- I can't, but --

its been so long, and I'm a passionate woman. Oh please -- oh my sweet boy, why

me? H-how could you -- oh, Glynn!"

Her pelvis lurched against his, and he let go her wrists so that she could hold

him in her rounded arms, so that her big, soft tits could flatten themselves

against his heaving chest. The nipples were hard, boring into his flesh, and

Glynn's heart leaped with bliss. His mother was laying her pussy up to him! She

was fucking him back, trying to come with him, this first magic, crazy time they

were screwing.

Those terrific legs webbed him in again, and she rolled up on her shoulders to

open her cunt wider for his now feverish strokes. He fed her the hard meat,

socked it deep and pulled it out, only to shove it balls-deep again.

"I'm, t-trying to hold back, mom," he panted, his hands taking another

delightful grip upon the hot cheeks of her bouncing ass. "But I need you so

much, I -- I can't. I'm going to come. I'm coming!"

His prick swelled, and the flexing head suddenly poured forth a hot, hissing

stream of semen. Glynn shot off inside his mother's softly receiving pussy,

pumped his come in quick, spitting jets so that it splashed against her cervix

and inundated the quivering walls of her vagina. Again and again, globs of his

semen fountained into that, hot, trembling cunt, and he ground his balls

lovingly into the cleft between her cheeks, reveling in the farout sensation.

She gave a tiny shriek. "Oh! You're coming in me, dear -- you're flooding your

mother's pussy with your littleboy come, and I love it, love it! Keep fucking

me, darling -- oh keep fucking me!"

He laid the meat into her steadily, still hard as a rock, still eager as ever to

screw this exquisite cunt, and his prick made sloshing noises as it worked back

and forth in the hot bubbling lubrication of his own semen. She rolled her ass

and scraped his back with her fingernails, clamping her long legs around his

waist and trying to lift him off the bed. Her crotch pounded up into his, and

her pussy seemed to wiggle violently over his moving cock, seemed to clench down

upon the head of it as it reached home time after time.

Glynn was delirious; he and his mother were fucking, fucking, and she was

digging his prick as much as she loved his dad's. She was screwing him hard and

wild, sledging her belly up to his and dropping it back, twisting her greasy hot

pussy all over his rod.

"S-sweet boy -- darling boy! Your cock isn't as big as your daddy's thing, but

it's so hard, so hard and so young! Ooohh, how I love it, love to feel it this

far up my pussy -- oh, Glynn, my baby, my darling, your mother would like to eat

you up. Ah! Ah, that's good, so good! More and more of this lovely young prick,

and -- and -- oh yes, I'm coming, coming, coming!"

He felt the vibration of her cunt, the frantic gulping as his mother came, as

his lovely, hot mom came on his prick. It was too much for Glynn, and he let go

with yet another load of semen that had built up hurriedly within his balls. Not

as strong, not as copious, there was still a gush of come that added to the

fiery liquids already there.

Sagging, he collapsed on top of her, the strength draining from him, but

reluctant to have his cock leave the beautiful intimacy of his mom's spasming

pussy. She cradled him with her legs, hugged him close and stroked his hair,

crooning words of love in his ear, licking the tip of her tongue into his ear

every so often.

"My baby," she murmured. "My sweet child. You've turned into a young man, a

horny young man who had the nerve to sneak in here and practically rape his own

mother while she was sleeping off all the liquor she drank tonight. And I'm very

glad you did, dear. I suppose I've been sublimating my own incestuous desires

for ages, and I'm so happy it finally happened to us."

"I love you, mom," he whispered, stroking her fabulous body, holding his slowly

melting prick within her cunt while the mingled juices of their bodies leaked

out and puddled in the feathery cleft of her ass.

"And I love you, dear," she said, running a soft hand down between their bodies

so she could cup his flaccid balls. "How did you ever gather the courage to do

it?"

He was on the verge of telling her about the plan, balanced for a ragged moment

upon the edge of exposing the fact that her husband and her daughter were at

this very second down the hall in probably the same general position. But Glynn

held back in time, and didn't say that his dad and sister were fucking now, too,

that incest in this family had suddenly become a game for four players.

Were they as happy as he and his mother? He supposed so, knowing Lorena well

now, knowing the strong lusts that moved within his sister's young cunt. He

stirred his softening cock into his mom's pussy, and she squeezed his balls

lightly.

"It was so wonderful," she said. "I haven't screwed anyone for too long. Your

father and I once had a good thing going, but it disappeared somewhere along the

line. I've been so lonely, so damned frustrated. But now, darling -- oh, now I

have you."

He felt his prick slide limply from the pussy he adored, and she helped him lift

himself from her hot body. He lay beside his freshly fucked mother, sated for

the moment and content, proud that he'd really gotten into her, that he had let

two big loads of come off into her beautiful cunt. He had made her come, too;

she loved his prick.

Glynn said, "Has dad got a bigger cock than me?"

She came up on one elbow and kissed him, her big tit brushing warmly against the

side of his face.

"Yes, your father has a tremendous penis, but that doesn't mean I can't get just

as much, or more, pleasure from your sweet thing, darling. In fact, you excited

me more than I think I've ever been, in all my life. Maybe it was the idea of

being screwed by my own handsome son, of having my own child's prick in me, but

whatever the cause, you were a marvelous lover. Imagine -- coming twice, in such

a short time."

He said, "I want to fuck you forever. I always wanted to, ever since I got big

enough. I used to hear you and dad making it in here, and it drove me right up

the wall. I used to go into the bathroom and jerk off while I pretended it was

me between your beautiful legs. I guess I was jealous of dad."

She kissed him again, and ran her tongue warmly into his lips. "Well, you don't

have to be jealous any more. You can do it to me all the time, in oh so many

ways. There are so many things I want to do to you, do with you. But we'll have

to be very careful, dear. What with the divorce so close now, if your father had

even the slightest suspicion that there could be anything sexual between his

wife and his son -- "

He didn't want to hear anything about divorce, and said, "We can be careful,

since you and dad don't sleep together any more. Oh mom, I -- I never went down

on anyone, but I really want to do that to you. I want to taste your lovely

pussy, but you'll have to show me how. I don't know anything about that, only

what I've seen in pictures."

"How wonderful," she sighed. "Your father has always been just a little stuffy

about oral sex. He did it to me a few times when we were first married, but I

always had the feeling that he didn't really like it. Yes, dear, I'll teach you.

We'll make all kinds of exquisite love together, my handsome, stiff-dicked son

and me."

He turned his head and kissed the nipple of her tit. She lifted the big mound

with one hand and fed it to him, rubbing it into his mouth and across his teeth.

Glynn worshipped it with his tongue, licking first the nipple, then all around

the spongy melon of his mother's breast, thinking of sliding his cock between

those big tits, of titty-fucking her as he had done the night before to his

sister. Would his mom react the same way, and lap the sliding head of his prick?

Both of them froze in place; they could hear the sound of a shower going in the

bathroom that divided this bedroom from the one Eric Johansen slept in. Glynn's

half-hard cock dropped again, even though he had a pretty good idea that his

father wouldn't be coming in here; not with Lorena in his bed. But what was the

old man doing, taking a bath at this time of night?

Probably making himself tidy for another round of screwing with Lorena, Glynn

thought. But whatever the cause, it scared hell out of his mother. She pulled

away from him and whispered, "You'd better go, dear. Tomorrow we can be together

again, just as soon as possible, I promise. I'm not about to let my young lover

go, now that we've discovered each other."

He slid out of bed, peeped into the hall, and split for his own room.

#Family Games by Ray Todd #Chapter 6

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autumnsnuggling · 5 years

Text

My Little Windmill

1.2k, no warnings, general audiences, domestic drarry and fluff :) Thanks for the beta @katerinehathshblack! Also, thanks for the squeals of encouragement @midsummerdancer :D

The offensive screech of electric guitar met Draco’s ears as he approached home. With every step he took, the sound, accompanied by a heavy thudding drumbeat, grew louder, reverberating off the neighbouring houses, filling Draco with a sense of dread.

“Please don’t let that be Harry’s racket,” he prayed, continuing down the usually sleepy suburb. But, only a few minutes later, Draco sighed as his worst fears were confirmed, the sound of Blink 182 chanting about all the small things yelling at him through the open living room window. Harry was apparently hell-bent on making everyone’s ears bleed today.

The fact that Draco knew what the song was would have filled him with disgust once upon a time. But now, despite the fact that he maintained the band had merely yelled down a microphone, banged on some drums far too hard, repeatedly struck horrifically loud, out of tune chords and called the resulting noise music, a flicker of pride warmed his stomach. He’d worked hard to get past his past prejudices and move on after the war; recognising a currently popular song for muggles was something he’d never thought he’d be able to manage, but now it was almost normal. Harry was always listening to their radio stations, and Draco had to admit, he’d even liked a few of the tunes. Father be damned, he loved that.

But, unfortunately for Harry, ‘All The Small Things’ was absolutely not one of them. It made no sense, had atrocious arrangements, and the singer was not worthy of his title, merely speaking and yelling the words at different intervals, which required no skill whatsoever. Whatever Harry liked about the song, Draco would never know, no matter how many times they debated it.

As Draco pushed open the vibrating door, he winced, an almost deafening level of music surging to greet him, prompting the first sparks of a tension headache. He sighed, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his coat before trying to track down his poor deluded partner.

It didn’t take long to find him; the idiot was in the middle of the kitchen, so close to the speakers that Draco could practically see his skin ripple with every beat of the bass. His eyes were closed, body jumping, shaking, and contorting weirdly in what Draco could only imagine was a shockingly atrocious attempt at dancing. Every now and then, his man jerked his head in time with the beat, shaggy hair flying in every direction as he spasmed along to the noise blasting from the speakers. By the way his mouth moved with the lyrics, scrunching up his face in what Draco presumed to be passion, though looked more like a grimace of pain, it appeared that the man was shouting along with the singer. Not that Draco could hear him over the din of course. In short, he looked utterly ridiculous. So why was there a sappy smile on Draco’s face?!

“Say it ain’t so, I will not go, turn the lights off, carry me home!” The singer yelled again as Harry threw his arms up wildly, further destroying Draco’s efforts to rearrange his smile into a smirk. What in Merlin’s name had the Gryffindork done to him?!

“Keep your head still, I’ll be your thrill, the night will go on, my little windmill!” His boyfriend chanted, hand-banging again as his fingers struck weird positions around his waist, apparently attempting to play air guitar too. Even with all his years of social training, Draco couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in his throat; he looked like he was imitating an angry chicken flapping for corn!

Yet still Harry jerked and vibrated along, completely unaware of his audience. As Draco leaned against the door, resolving to store the memory of this day safely for their grandchildren to watch (for who wouldn’t want to see the great Harry Potter looking like he was having a seizure to muggle grunge), Draco scoffed at the warmth growing in his chest. With each drum beat, a sickening happiness curled its way through his veins. Gods he was in love with this idiot; Salazar was surely turning in his grave!

As more dastardly instruments joined the fray, signalling the impending end of the track (and not a moment too soon for Draco’s sensitive ears), his boyfriend’s movements only became more ridiculous. Outrageous jiggles and gyrations pulsing through the man’s body, accompanied by violent hip thrusts, sure to cause actual damage if Harry wasn’t careful! But suddenly, with a final strike of a cymbal, and one last desperate pump of Harry’s arms in tandem with the clang, the racket finally faded. As Draco desperately held his breath, determined to regain some of his self-control and not just collapse into fits of laughter at the euphoric expression on his boyfriend’s face who was finally, thankfully still, echoes of the atrocity reverberated around the room. Just as silence threatened to break into the next horrific assault of the senses Harry called music, Draco brought his hands together in a deliberate, slow clap. His smirk widened as his boyfriend jumped a mile.

“Bravo. Excellent performance. When can we showcase you to the world, Potter?” Harry hurried to turn the stereo down as another song, sounding suspiciously like Eminem threatened to deafen them once more.

“Oh, piss off,” his boyfriend stuck his tongue out at him, laughter dancing in his eyes as he ducked in for a kiss. His mouth was hot, hungry, and delicious against Draco’s, sending shivers down his spine. It ended far too soon.

“Dance with me,” Harry commanded, leaving Draco’s mind spinning from the abrupt loss of his lover’s lips. Arms snaked around Draco’s waist, pulling him towards the stereo as ‘The Real Slim Shady’ muttered quietly in the background. Another diabolical tune. Still, Draco was powerless to resist his lover’s puppy dog eyes, following his tugs.

“I don’t think what you were doing qualifies as dancing,” he quipped, eyebrow raised. Harry, of course, ignored him, whacking up the volume on the stereo once again. As Draco winced and the walls vibrated one more, his boyfriend’s hips began bouncing dangerously of their own accord, and Draco found himself snorting with laughter again. Harry’s attempts to rap along did nothing to lessen Draco’s amusement.

But as the song continued and his boyfriend threw himself into the song, jolting and gyrating violently again with a stupidly happy smile on his face, pure, insufferable, fuzzy, sappy love spread traitorously through Draco’s chest. Damn Hufflepuff tendencies.

“You’re utterly insane!” he yelled over the music.

“It’s why you love me!” Harry yelled back, grinding outrageously onto Draco as he grabbed his arms and forced them to move in sync with the song. Draco couldn’t help but grin, dropping his head to Harry’s ear.

“Merlin, but I do…” he murmured in his boyfriend’s ear, relishing the shiver that ran through him.

As another chorus pumped through the walls, and Harry dramatically moved Draco’s arms into ever weirder positions that he called dance moves, Draco sighed once more, before resigning himself to his fate. As the song yelled on, and Harry jigged horrifically, Draco joined him on their kitchen floor, allowing himself to get lost in the horrific music, and the glow of Harry’s grin as he fudged his way confidently through the lyrics.

There were worse things than making an idiot of yourself with the one you love.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Just for the record, I love the songs in this fic! :D

#mywriting #drarry #fluff #domestic drarry #drarry squad #loved writing this #much fun #hope you loved it as much as I did #autumnsnugglingwrites

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