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#praise bands
qupritsuvwix · 11 months
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chapel-of-rizztual · 9 months
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Look at him with his hands behind his back. He’s such a good and obedient ghoul, doing exactly what he’s told without any fuss.
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mis4dv3nture · 4 months
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so, we all agree, Phantom has a praise kink
poor lil bug just wants to be good :(
desperately trying to please his partners in order to hear those damn words
"good boy"
he used to don't care about anything else, just wanted to be good
until, while he's riding Rain, the water ghoul just stares at him in total admiration and, with the whiniest dreamiest voice he tells him
"you're so beautiful"
oh, rainy, he's so stupidly in love
Phantom cums so hard he almost blacks out
yeah, maybe he doesn't just wanna be good
he likes to be praised
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afxkei · 4 months
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FIRST DRAWING OF TWENTY TWENTY FOUR . ..
WE HAVE THE BOOGNISH .
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moregraceful · 6 months
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Send me a number 1-100 + a pairing and I will tell you what song it corresponds to on my Spotify wrapped AND give you a 5 sentence summary of a fic based on that song
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lifemod17 · 2 months
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saw That One impudent and heinous anon ask going around just now (editing cuz it was actually like 12hrs ago but i was busy then but the message still stands) BUT since they were a coward hiding behind an anonymous ask, I'm not gonna reblog it cuz they just want the attention ✨
Instead I'm just gonna leave this little reminder from Vessel himself ^^^
OH ALSO FROM II HIMSELF:
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miasmaghoul · 10 months
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what about mountain and dew high together and dew gets the courage to top mountain. but mountain thinks it's adorable (but he doesn't let dew know that) and he let's dew top him
oh hell yeah
(this is maybe not exactly what you asked for but uhhhh just go with it lmao)
Cozy.
That's the word Mountain would use to describe his current state. Sprawled on the floor of the greenhouse, high as a kite and basking in the scent of turned earth and humid air. Watching early spring rain pour over the angled glass roof, accompanied by the low rumble of distant thunder and the rare flash of lightning. His favorite sort of weather.
The press of a small body on top of his own has him purring, and it's loud enough to drown out the thunder.
"You're so high," comes a light voice from above him, and Mountain chuckles.
"Like you aren't," he murmurs, sluggishly lifting his head. Dew is definitely at least as stoned as he is, red-eyed and twirling a lock of silver hair around an elegant finger. It's a good look for him.
"Maaaaybe," the little ghoul sing-songs, resting his chin on Mountain's chest and giving him a goofy grin. "You complaining?"
"Never," Mountain rumbles, wrapping long arms around Dew and giving him a squeeze. It wrings a chirp from those pretty pink lips, a sweet sound that hits Mountain in all the right places.
They've been here for a while now, long before the rain started. Dew is a frequent visitor in the spring, happy to finally be outside again without the wintery chill biting into his flesh. The hazards of being a water ghoul, Mountain supposes. Dew is a different person in the greenhouse - soft and quiet, tapping into his power to help him mist the plants and re-pot overgrown foliage. They fall into a routine, and it's the only time Mountain has ever seen Dew content to attend to something like a chore.
Maybe that has something to do with what always happens after they finish work. When Mountain breaks out his secret stash of the good shit and they end up in just this spot, loose and comfortable and lost in a decidedly purple haze.
Mountain drags broad palms over Dew's back and the little ghoul hums his appreciation, mirroring the motion along Mountain's sides. Casual touches, the pair of them tactile and blissfully caught up in simple sensation. Mountain watches Dew's face as they feel one another, watches his eyes darken and his smile gain a lascivious tilt. He licks his lips, and Mountain's stomach gives a delightful little swoop.
"Come here," he says, and Dew needs no further invitation.
He shimmies up just enough to catch Mountain in a languid kiss, slow and decadent in a way Dew only gets when he's stoned. His long fingers thread into Mountain's hair at the same time Dew licks into his mouth, thumbs grazing the tender place where his horns meet his skin, and Mountain can't hold back his groan.
His own hands stroke over the little ghoul's back, rippling his already wrinkled shirt and tracing the ridge of his spine. Subtly lifting it, exposing the soft skin of Dew's lower back to his wandering fingertips. Mountain drags them along Dew's waistband while Dew busies himself sucking on his tongue, and the sound he makes when Mountain's callused digits sneak into his jeans is simply divine.
"Grabby," he accuses, tugging at Mountain's lower lip with playful fangs. "Lookin' for somethin'?" Mountain hums, leaning up to lick a drop of saliva from the corner of Dew's mouth.
"Could ask you the same thing," he replies, pressing against Dew's ass. It forces the little ghoul to rut against his stomach, and the press of his stiff little dick into his belly has them both groaning. Not that he's alone there, Mountain's been chubbed up against his zipper since Dew took up residence on his chest.
Dew catches him in another kiss then, but there's a new hunger in it. An eagerness matched by the way the little ghoul rocks his hips, grinding into the slight softness of Mountain's belly. He can feel the wet spot on Dew's jeans already, the sea-sweet aroma of his arousal mixing with the heady floral scent surrounding them. If Mountain slipped curious fingers between his cheeks, he knows Dew would be all wet there too.
But when he tries to do just that, Dew chitters and pulls away.
"Wait, wait," he huffs, resting his forehead against Mountain's and giving him a perfect view of bloodshot seafoam eyes and pink cheeks.
"Something wrong, droplet?" He gets both hands on Dew's ass, gives it a solid squeeze. "I can tell you want it." He tugs those slim hips against him once more and relishing the little shiver Dew gives in return.
"Yeah," he breathes, low, "yeah, but not - I don't -"
He fiddles with Mountain's hair, carding his fingers through think auburn strands while he stumbles over his words. Mountain rubs his nose against the little ghoul's, affectionate and encouraging. It's interesting to see Dew hesitant, he's not usually one that has trouble saying what he wants.
"What is it, angelfish? Is there -"
"I wanna fuck you."
He says it in all in a rush, and Mountain's words catch in his throat. His hands still as the gears in his head turn, processing Dew's request. The little ghoul searches his face for a moment before he leans back down, nuzzling Mountain's jaw and giving his earlobe a nibble. He sighs, stretching his neck as Dew starts to kiss his way down it. Wet and filthy.
"You...you what?"
"Wanna give it to you," Dew mutters, the words soft but insistent. "Wanna...wanna stick it in, can I?"
The way he asks could almost be called innocent, but the nasty little hump he gives Mountain's stomach is anything but. It makes his head spin, makes his cock throb where it's trapped against his hip. It's something Dew has never asked for, something he didn't even know the little ghoul would want. It's rare that anyone asks Mountain if they can fuck him, and Dew being so blunt about it is doing funny things to his insides.
Or maybe that's just the cool slide of that skilled tongue along his pulse point. Hard to say.
Either way, he knows the answer.
"Yeah," Mountain says with a sigh, hands slipping up Dew's shirt to hold him close. "Fuck, yeah you can."
Any slowness gets thrown out the window the moment the words are out, Dew wriggling out of Mountain's grasp and sliding down to kneel between his legs. It only takes a moment for the little ghoul to divest Mountain of his pants, and even less time for Dew to wrap his lips around the ruddy head of his cock and give it a firm suck.
"Oh, oh -" Mountain gasps as Dew takes him deeper, reaching down to lace his fingers into long, silver hair. "D-Dew, shit..."
The little ghoul works him purposefully, bobbing his head over the first few inches of Mountain's thick cock, one hand working the rest while his other fumbles with his own belt. Mountain groans low in his throat while he watches the show - watches Dew drool down his shaft and dip down to lick at his balls, watches him kick off his own jeans and boxers. Watches him pull back to kneel between his spread thighs, that hand still wrapped around the base of his wet length, lips slick and swollen.
Dew's own cock juts out from his lap, pink and shiny and so hard it's curved up towards his stomach. Mountain's mouth waters at the sight of it, and when he licks his lips he has the pleasure of watching it spit a blob of pre that dribbles down his short, slender shaft. If he were in a teasing mood he'd call it cute, but the look Dew gives him - starved and needy - helps him keep the thought to himself.
Dew gives him one last tug, long and slow, rubbing over the frenulum long enough to make him hiss before letting go. It falls against Mountain's shirt with a wet slap, makes him grunt, but all his attention is focused on Dew. On the hungry look in his eye, the flush of his cheeks and the tension threaded through his slim form. He grips Mountain's thighs, spreads them wide, and when the rough tips of two fingers graze his hole Mountain shudders.
"Good?"
"S'nice," Mountain slurs, his own hands idly running over his own chest. Fiddling with his nipples through his shirt for something to do. "Keep going. Get me ready."
Truthfully, Dew could probably fuck him with no prep. Could slide that sweet little stiffy of his right inside with no trouble. Sure, it might sting for a second, but beyond that?
But saying it is worth it for the moan Dew gives him, tight and pained and paired with a strong kick of that small cock. Makes it hit his t-shirt, leaving a cute little wet spot behind. He gets a hand on himself immediately, giving it a firm squeeze.
"Hold your legs," Dew says, shaky and thick. "Lemme see it, wanna see it."
His voice cracks at the end, and Mountain obliges. Hooks his hands behind his knees and pulls those long legs to his chest. Holds himself open, exposes the most secret part of himself in a way that would have him blushing if he were even a little bit more sober.
Now, though? Now he's too caught up in the way Dew's brow furrows at the sight. In the way he sucks his lower lip between his fangs when Mountain clenches.
"Pretty," Dew breathes, wiggling a fingertip over wrinkled skin just enough to tickle. To make it wink against the pad of his finger. Dew's slight shoulders hunch with it, he makes a strangled sound, and Mountain leaks onto his own shirt.
"Gonna stretch it out?" He feels breathless already, and he really doesnt know why. Must have something to so with the stunned look Dew wears. "Fill me up?"
"Uh huh," Dew says, slack jawed and staring at the way his hole twitches. He sounds so adorably stupid like this, and Mountain can't resist pushing just a little bit further.
"Gonna make me take it?"
The little ghoul's face crumples as he gives a frantic nod, and then he's moving. Pulling back the hand that was teasing Mountain's hole and using two fingers to polish the sticky head of his cock. Smearing pre over the digits and getting them nice and slick. There's always so much of it, a leaky tap thanks to his water ghoul nature. Mountain rarely has to use lube when he carves a place for himself in that tiny body, and he's ever so pleased to see that it works both ways.
Dew spreads the mess over his entrance, presses a spidery finger inside, and oh it's good. Better that it should be for how little stimulation there is, helped along no doubt by the high and the anticipation. By the way Dew's already panting as he pumps that single digit in and out, crooking it on each slide in until he finds the spot that makes Mountain's thighs quiver.
"Yeah, right there," he groans, letting his head thump back against the floor while Dew massages him just right. Presses against his prostate and makes his cock spit more fluid onto his already damp shirt.
"More?"
Dew sounds lost, somehow. Like he can't believe this is happening. Mountain grunts his assent and Dew pulls his finger back, sliding in with two this time. It's enough of a stretch to really feel now, a tingly burn that lights up Mountain's nerves and has him moaning deep in his chest.
Dew whimpers at the feel of him clenching around his fingers, hunting again for that sweet spot. He finds it quicker this time, and when he puts blessed pressure on it Mountain goes boneless on the greenhouse floor.
"Dew, oh fuck, Dew -"
"Is it...good?" Poor thing sounds so unsure. So needy for reassurance. Who is Mountain to deny him?
"So good," he mutters, rocking his hips in an effort to take those wonderful fingers even deeper. "You're doing so good, don't stop, oh -"
His back arches when Dew curls his fingers just right, and he can hear the moment the little ghoul loses his patience. It comes in the form of a stuttered whine and Dew's other hand flying to Mountain's thigh. Holding on for dear life. The one inside him goes still, and Dew's breathing is so harsh you'd think he'd been running a marathon.
"Mount...Mount, can I?" He pulls those talented fingers back, lining himself up and nudging the flared head against that hole instead. Prodding at it. "Please, I gotta - gotta feel you, please -"
He wants to watch. To see the undoubtedly shocked look on Dew's face when he finally pushes that slippery little dick of his into the hot clutch of his body. Wants to drink down the hurt cries of pleasure that he can already imagine filling the room, to lose himself in the filthy slap of skin on skin.
But he can't. Can't lift his head. Can't take his eyes off the sheets of rain washing over the roof. Can't focus on anything but the ache in balls and the gentle press of Dew's cock at his entrance. Waiting for permission.
He'll have to be less high next time they do this.
"Go on," he encourages, hitching his knees higher, "put it in. Give it to me."
Dew digs his claws into Mountain's thighs, presses forward, and Mountain doesn't know which of them is louder. He slides in so easily, so smoothly, further and further until their hips meet and they're both left gasping.
Dew's babbling, he can hear it, but there's no sense to the words. A reaction to sheer overwhelm, to heat and pressure and the newness of it all. His hands stroke feverishly over Mountain's skin, from his ass to the backs of his knees. Self soothing more than anything else. Mountain can feel him pulsing inside, so very hard, and to his utter delight that little cock is just long enough to nudge perfectly at his prostate.
"You feel so good," he sighs, and Dew throbs. Mountain clamps down around him, and Dew sobs. He forces himself to look then, and it's enough to have the knot of pleasure in his stomach tightening.
Dew looks beautiful, flushed right down his throat. If he didn't have a shirt on, Mountain knows he'd be painted pink right down to the nipples he can see poking though thin cotton. He's sweaty at his hairline, silver strands plastered to his cheeks and forehead. His top lip is curled back, exposing the chipped, crowded fangs that everyone finds so charming. His chin shines, slick with drool that has dripped down to soak into his shirt. He's wrecked already, and Mountain can't resist clenching again just to see him wince.
"C'mon, droplet," he coos, "be a good boy and fuck me like you mean it."
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dykehayleywilliams · 7 months
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dearlymrme · 1 year
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Y/N: Okay, that's it! I will now torture you.
Terzo: Oh... Kinky.
Y/N: I think you are sweet and beautiful.
Terzo: Wh–? Wait–
Y/N: You deserve to be cared for as much as you care for others.
Terzo: No...
Y/N Your feelings and needs are valid and deserve to be heard.
Terzo: Stop! I need a safeword!
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vinniesasslicker1 · 5 days
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I did it again…
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dravencroft · 10 months
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You were cast out from the heavens to the ground Blackened feathers falling down
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lunariiawrites · 8 months
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Praise
Pairing: Cumulus x f!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Soft dom Cumulus, sexual content, dirty talk, praise
Summary: After a fight breaks out, you're left to clean up the mess, and Cumulus decides to show you a few notes on the piano, among other things.
a/n: My first smut in over seven years and my first f/f fic ever! Feedback is appreciated since I'm always hoping to grow, but I hope you like it!
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Silence is both a blessing and a curse.
The morning had started oddly, the halls being almost silent save for the quiet footsteps of the siblings migrating to breakfast or whatever tasks they had assigned to them for the day. Fortunately, your tasks weren’t as time-consuming as normal, and having them done within a few hours allowed you to relax for a minute or two; hoping that Sister Imperator didn’t come rushing out of the shadows to scold you.
Sunlight decorated the wall in a multitude of colors, shining in from the stained glass window above. The clock overhead ticked ominously and you got the weird feeling that something wasn’t right. As time ticked on, the feeling nagged at you, gnawing at your brain like a pack of rabid wolves. 
It was the first crash that broke the silence. 
Being near the practice room, it would make sense that noise was being made. However, these weren’t the usual melodic tones that Papa and the ghouls would normally produce when practicing for a tour. Instead, it was a loud din of crashing, shouting, and growls that made you worried to move from your secluded bench in the hallway. After a few more minutes of shouting that suspiciously sounded like Dew and Swiss, the halls were almost quiet again. 
Carefully making your way to the practice room, you peered inside, shocked to see the instruments in chaotic disarray. Papa stood in the middle of the mess, a frown clear on his face as he rubbed his temples in frustration. The door creaked, revealing your presence to the normally cheerful leader. 
‘Strange. Where’d everyone go?’
“Ah, sister.” Giving a sad smile, he swept his hand around the room. “It’s quite a mess, no?” Indeed it was. Instruments were scattered haphazardly on the floor, joined by picks and sheets of music. It looked like a tornado had flung everything around before blinking out of existence.
“What happened?” 
“There was a fight.” Shrugging, he sighed. “Everything was going fine one moment, then the next… Poof.”
Honestly, you felt bad for him. A fight breaking out was never a good thing and being that Papa viewed the ghouls as friends, as many in the abbey did, you could tell that not knowing how to help was hitting him hard.
A soft knock tapped on the door as it creaked open again. Looking over your shoulder, Papa nodded solemnly. 
“Sister,” With a pleading look, he gestured around the room. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Don’t worry about it, Papa.” Picking up some music sheets from the floor, you gave a reassuring smile. “I got this.”
After Papa had left the room, muttering something about Sister Imperator and her constant meetings, you set to work. Picking up a few more stray music sheets, you set them on a stand, almost painfully aware of a gaze locked onto you. 
“Need some help?” A sweet voice startles you, as does the warm breath that tickles your ear. Turning, you’re surprised to see Cumulus standing behind you, surprisingly not wearing her mask. Instead, her glamour was almost fully off, as were the ghouls’ rights within the abbey. 
“Sure.” Handing her the music notes, you smiled sheepishly. “Could you help me sort these? You’d know the order better than I would.”
Nodding, she took the sheets from you, arranging them so they were actually readable. Turning, you began to pick up the various instruments strewn all over, hoping that none of them were broken. 
“It’ll be ok.” Cumulus broke the silence, setting the finished stack of papers back onto the stand. 
“What?”
“The whole fight thing? Dew and Swiss were messing around and it got taken too far.” She explained casually, picking up her keyboard. “They’ll be fine. Probably make up by the end of the night.”
That wasn’t a surprise. Both Dew and Swiss had tempers that sometimes flared as a result of their banter. Thankfully, you had never been on the receiving end of either, the two usually treating you with respect and delivering good natured teasing at the most. 
Cumulus hummed thoughtfully as she played a bit on her keyboard, her fingers tapping the keys lightly. Staring at her reverently, you smiled, getting lost in the music. After a bit, she nodded, satisfied. 
“I wish I could play like you.” 
“Come here.” Cumulus patted the seat next to her and you climbed the short steps of the stage, taking a seat on the padded cushion. “I’ll show you some things.” 
Her hands were soft as they held yours, showing you where to press to produce certain notes and demonstrating certain chords. Eventually, she stood behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as she calmly guided you.
“Good girl.” Cumulus’ unique scent of vanilla and honey floats around you, invading your senses and making you shiver along with her words. “You’re doing so well.”
Your eyes closed as her hands left yours, goosebumps raising as cool fingertips caressed your heated skin, trailing up your arms. 
“I’ve watched you, you know.” Running a hand through your hair, she chuckles as you tilt your head towards her touch. “Always running around, always helping everyone but never quite taking the time to relax.” Claws lightly scratch at your scalp and you groan, the noise barely slipping out.
“You’re so adorable.” Humming, she released your hair and gently grasped your jaw. “Look at me.” The words were a command, wrapped in a soft and gentle tone.
Opening your eyes made you flinch at first, not expecting her to be that close. Her hair spilled over her shoulder, almost tickling your face as you searched her own.
“You’re gorgeous.” Cumulus smiles at the compliment, a light blush blooming across her cheeks.
“So are you, sweetheart.” The words catch you off guard, and a blush flares across your cheeks, and the temptation to avert your eyes is high. Somehow, you keep your attention in front of you. 
“I’d love to help you unwind a little.” Her thumb caressed your cheek almost lovingly, and you smiled. Cumulus waited for an answer, the hand not holding your face trailing up your thigh to squeeze lightly, grounding you for the moment. “What do you say?”
Word of what all ghouls were like behind closed doors frequently spread among the siblings, and the ghoulettes were said to be passionate lovers, if not a bit rough once in a while. Heat pooled in your gut as your mind brought unbidden images of what exactly Cumulus had in store for you if you were to say yes. 
Hand on your thigh tightening, Cumulus growled softly, her tail waving back and forth in anticipation.
It didn’t take much to make a choice.
“Yes.” 
The world spun as Cumulus pulled you from the semi-clean practice room. After a minute or so of walking and trying to keep up with her hurried pace, you ended up in a room decorated in white and blue.
Cumulus’ room.
Pressing you against the door, Cumulus pressed a hand next to your head, slotting a thigh in between your legs as she partially caged you in, a hungry look in her eyes. Control was something that the air ghoulette was normally praised for, but in this instance it looked like she was struggling.
“Last chance, love.” A purr rose from her throat as she nuzzled your throat, nipping gently. “If you don’t leave now, that’s it. You’re mine.” 
Instead of answering with words, you answered with a harsh kiss, pulling her down towards you. 
Her eyes flashed briefly before closing, not that she gave enough time for you to properly notice the flicker of her iris’. Instead of the soft and gentle ghoul you’d come to perceive her as, Cumulus’ demeanor now changed to that of the predator all the ghouls could be at heart.
You weren’t afraid in the least.
Shallow breaths left you as her plush lips continually met yours, the pace of the kiss almost seeming feverish. Your hands wound into her hair, tugging lightly on the blonde curls and coaxing a gentle moan from her. Her lips traveled down your neck, leaving wet kisses and the occasional bite. 
Some of the siblings expressed a fear of being bitten, thinking that the ghouls’ fangs were too sharp. Instead, it seemed to offer just the right amount of pain among the pleasure, and Cumulus was careful not to break the delicate skin between her teeth. She chuckled as you craned your neck to give her more room. 
“Such a good girl.” A lightning bolt of arousal shot through you at her words and she smirked, gripping your chin and directing your hooded eyes to focus on her.
“I think someone likes to be praised.” 
Before long, you’re seated on the plush bed, covers silky against your skin as you fumbled with the buttons of your habit. You had managed to pull the top over your head, making your hair a mess. Cumulus kneeled in front of you, already undressed, a smile on her lips as she pulled off your skirt, claws leaving light scratches on your skin. 
Leaning forward, you kiss down her collarbone and she sighs, fingers tangling in your hair. Murmuring her assent, she pushes your head down and moans when your breath ghosts her chest, tongue darting out to lick a hardened nipple. Cumulus purrs as you worship her, massaging her breasts as you lick, bite and suck. 
Without warning, you’re flipped, Cumulus straddling your waist. She hums, kissing down your collarbone before copying your earlier actions, sucking hard. Your hips bucked, barely moving with the way she was holding your hips down. A keening whine left your throat, and you couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Please!” You begged, the plea sounding semi-broken from your throat. Cumulus smiled, lifting her head to regard you carefully. Purring, she stroked a cool hand down the flushed skin of your face, trailing her touch down to your waist.
“What is it, baby?” She cooed, voice soft and sweet once more. “Want me to fuck you?” 
“Yes!” 
“I’ll give you my fingers tonight.” Cumulus agreed, dipping a hand beneath your underwear to stroke your core lightly, adding to the fire. “Then if you’re good, you might get something else tomorrow.” A devious light entered her eyes for a moment and she smiled innocently.
“I might even share.”
The bloom of heat raged inside you at her words, and you gasped, bucking against her hand. Cumulus watched lovingly, seeing you become more desperate, stroking your clit with a steady hand and bending down to say the most filthy things in your ear. 
“My good girl.” Pressing a finger into your folds, she whispered sweetly to you, curling her fingers just right to make you see stars. “If I had my way, you’d never leave this bed.”
“Fuck!” Arousal spiked as she played with the sensitive bundle of nerves. A knot settled in your stomach, and bucking your hips again, you pleaded with her to go faster. 
Speeding up her pace, she pressed a kiss to your stomach, enjoying your high pitched moan and the soft squelching noises she was making with her fingers.
“So wet for me.” A broken plea burst from your lips and she leaned down, breath ghosting onto your cunt as she pulled her fingers out, inspecting how wet they were in the light. “So responsive.”
“Cumulus, plea–” Her mouth latched onto you, tongue circling your clit and diving through your folds. “Fuck!” 
The knot burst as she sucked lightly on your clit, groaning contentedly as you came for her as she coaxed you through your orgasm, a pleased purr rumbling in her chest. 
“Good job, baby.” Exhausted, you laid next to her, sighing as she pulled you into her arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get some rest, okay?”
“Not tired.” You mumbled, honestly wanting to stay up and talk with her some more. Cumulus chuckled, pulling the covers over you and watching as you nestled your head into the pillow. 
“We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.” She whispered, resting her chin on the crown of your head. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” 
Falling asleep came easily after that, the melody Cumulus was humming making you drift off peacefully, feeling safe with her arms wrapped around you. 
As you drifted off, Cumulus hugged you possessively as she heard the other ghouls through the wall, groaning at the sinful noise you two had made. Closing her eyes, the ghoulette smirked.
“She’s mine.”
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skywarpie · 1 year
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Yall already know what ima say
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daddy-long-legssss · 4 months
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The Story Behind The Song: Arctic Monkeys’ early ambitions on ‘A Certain Romance’
Lucy Harbron – Far Out Magazine | January 17, 2024
It was 2006. Mortgages were crashing, and businesses were going bust. Tony Blair was on his last legs in office as the longest-serving prime minister since Margaret Thatcher, and the hangover of ‘Cool Brittania’ was beginning to set in with an unexpected ferocity. Things were bleak when a young Alex Turner sang, “There ain’t no romance around there” through the public’s speakers. Arctic Monkeys were about to write themselves into musical history as the voice of a new generation.
The final song on their debut album, there has always been something special about ‘A Certain Romance’. In 2022, after the release of their seventh album, The Car, Turner seemed to find himself reflecting back on that 2006 track. To the musician, that early cut holds a clue to everything that was to come as he said the piece “showed that we did actually have these ambitions beyond what we once thought we were capable of”.
Coming in at over the five-minute mark, ‘A Certain Romance’ almost feels like the Arctic Monkeys’ version of a rock opera, summarising all the themes, feelings and energy that came before it on their seminal album Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not. It has the cheekiness of ‘Fake Tales Of San Francisco’ and the catchy instrumentals of hits like ‘Dancing Shoes’ or ‘I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor’. Utilising the northern charm of ‘Mardy Bum’, it stands as a final, neatly summarising point on the social commentary found in their early tracks like ‘From The Ritz To The Rubble’ or ‘Riot Van’. Really, it could be argued that ‘A Certain Romance’ is the ultimate example of Arctic Monkeys’ original sound, perfectly encapsulating all the things that made the world listen up and pay attention.
It’s like they seemed to know that, too, always allowing the song a special place. In fact, it was really the band’s opening remark. Years before the offer of a debut album came around, the group were a well-oiled machine with their own local hits. They had the northern live music scene in their hands as their homemade demo CD was passed around like everyone’s worst-kept secret. Beneath the Boardwalk features eight out of the 13 songs that would be on Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, albeit in a slightly different, lower-quality version. But the opening number, ‘A Certain Romance’, sounds just the same.
It’s all there, from the rolling opening drums to that final guitar solo. Recorded and produced in a rented studio at only age 17, the existence of ‘A Certain Romance’, one of the band’s most explorative and energetic numbers, in this form this early in their career feels like a diamond sitting in a mine. It proves that they were always onto something special.
They never needed any help. In fact, their producer, Jim Abbiss, noted that they even seemed nervous about the help. “I think they were probably a bit weary, like ‘who’s this guy? And is he gonna make our sound this or that.’”
They didn’t want anything to change too much, as the group already had the songs figured out. Turner certainly did, as the track’s meandering narrative about hometown lads, fights, and local boredom is already there. Talking on a podcast, original member Andy Nicholson revealed the story behind the song. “We had a practice room with a pool table in, and we had a party in there, and we invited another band who were friends of ours, and we all had some drinks,” he said. “Then something happened, someone throws a pool cue, someone throws a pool ball, and everyone ends up fighting,” he added, explaining the lyrics, “there’s boys in bands / And kids who like to scrap with pool cues in their hands.”
But the magic of Arctic Monkeys lies in their nuance. What begins as a snooty analysis of his local landscape is a genuinely affectionate take. “Well, over there, there’s friends of mine / What can I say? I’ve known ’em for a long long time / And, yeah, they might overstep the line / But you just cannot get angry in the same way,” Turner sings, looking around at his bandmates and lifelong friends. ‘A Certain Romance’ is not only a time capsule for the group’s beginnings but is an ode to all the people who were there with them. It’s an ode to the hometown that made them and all its various characters.
But as the last guitar solo roars to life, there is an unspoken statement that they’re going to be bigger than what they came from. “I remember when we were recording ‘A Certain Romance’ and having a conversation with the producer about the final guitar solo,” Turner told NME, recalling the moment these songs were reworked for their debut. But they wouldn’t let anyone mess with ‘A Certain Romance’, knowing exactly what they were doing and trying to say with that one. In the 2003 demo version, all the feeling is already there, and Turner wouldn’t risk it.
“There’s something that happens at the end of that track where we break some rules in a single moment,” he continued. What happens at the end of the piece feels even more special, considering how the album was recorded. “These are the songs we wanna do, and I think this is the order we wanna do them in,” Alex Turner told their producer, recounting the conversation in 2007 to RadioX, “And he goes, ‘alright, we’ll try to record them in that order as well.’” As the final song, that last guitar solo is the last thing recorded for the album, standing as a cathartic outlet and a chance for the band to prove themselves.
“We focused on the [emotional] effect of the instrumentals over the words,” Turner reflected on the track, concluding, “and I feel like we’ve been trying to do that again and again since then.”
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waugh-bao · 5 months
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“Charlie has a whole new energy this time out. I think it has a lot to do with doing his own stuff. He was working all the time the Stones were off, and he made a very good record with Bernard Fowler.”
Keith Richards, 1994
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moregraceful · 2 months
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It took HR three hours to acknowledge my resignation 😌 but it is done.
I am not doing anything for the rest of the day and I'm about to reblog a prompt meme for kissing in five seconds (so I stop clawing my eyes out in Canva and do something less crazymaking - to be clear I was not doing anything prior to confirmation that my resignation was received either) and later I am seeing a friend for dinner whom I ghosted for two months because I was so miserable. She's excited to hear how I found a nonprofit that is a bigger shitshow than a public library. I will ask her for a work (or??? grad school?????) reference.
Last night at dinner, while I was doing a dramatic and humorous verbal reenactment of something deeply stupid, my mom said, "I haven't seen you smile in months." Guy who weaves joy into the fiber of his being not smiling for months around family he lives with? Lmao.
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