#muse: baccarat

[twopieceworld]

A Blind Date (@raunchyremnant)

Baccarat never had to worry about being unlucky thanks to her Devil Fruit. In fact, she decided to indulge herself tonight by going on a blind date with a random man who she met through a mutual acquaintance. When he suggested going to a festival, Baccarat was initially against it but he convinced her it would be worth it. He called himself Qrow and just when she was starting to warm up to him, the pair had entered a funhouse of mirrors and somehow ended up in this strange dimension.

“To think my luck didn’t protect us. Just what is this place?”

[xamassed]

⟬ meme / @mcmcntomorii​​ ⟭  

❝ good morning. no, don’t get up, it’s raining, let’s stay in bed a little longer… ❞ ( @ baccarat :3 )

“You really are a spoiled brat, aren’t you?” Claimed the woman that took pride in being the one to do the spoiling.

Baccarat had barely risen from the bed, the cold and slightly clammy air in the room touching along bare skin once the covers shifted downward. With the sun behind the clouds and the curtains tightly drawn, the darkness in the room could easily be mistaken for nighttime. The lack of light, paired with the gentle pattering of rain and Mukuro’s soft pleas, urged her to slip back under, hands working the covers until they created a tent over both of their heads.

“Only because you asked so sweetly.” She shifted in close, let their bodies tangle together. She sought her partner’s warmth, sough the gentle beating of her heart against her chest as she laid her head against her breast. “This kind of weather makes me want something warm to drink. What should we get? Hm. . .”

[00127am]

ACE OF HEARTS : the beginning of a new relationship

@ rollthedice detective chittapon leechaiyapornkyul can't seem to beat you, the vision casino's own high roller, at any game of cards (or any odds of gambling for that matter). but he can stop your repeated attempts to rob the vision's vault. ⤷ word count 769

🂱 🂱 🂱

“Three of spades,” you muse, half lidded eyes flickering to your opponent, “Unlucky hand,” 

Ten laughs, leaning down onto the table and returning your gaze with a ducked, sly countenance. Slim fingers beckon for another card before resuming the repetitive tapping onto the board in amusement, fingernails skating just centimeters from yours in practiced precision. There’s an underlying sense of entertainment dripping from the full of his irises as he drinks in your appearance, cigarette hanging loosely from upturned lips. He takes a drag of it before flashing you an arrogant smile, nimble fingers teasing the edge of the card before he flips it up and places it face down-- smoke slipping out from fanged canines. “You really think so?” 

“I do,” you purr, nodding your head for the house to place another card in your square, “You’re an unlucky man when it comes to baccarat, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkyul,” 

A shiver slithers up his spine when you say his name, syllables falling off your tongue in sweet intonations as thick as honey. There’s a crack in his cocky composure, a heart which beats three times fast with each stolen glance at your stained lips. He falls back into his seat, appearing indifferent to your antics but you know better. You have Ten Lee wrapped around your finger. He pulls the cigarette from his lips, once more looking towards your elegant frame. “I know the outcome of this game better than you do,” 

It’s your turn to laugh as you gesture for the house to flip the cards. She does, supplying Ten with a total value of eight points. A complete win. The private eye can’t hide his victorious grin as the crowd around you cheers at the five of hearts, pushing his shoulders and ruffling his hair encouragingly as if some of his luck will rub off on them. He’s expecting to watch your face fall in humiliation, perhaps have the pleasure of seeing your cheeks burn with color before you bury your expression in your hands. To have you tilt your jaw away from him and slide over the money. To hear you admit defeat from those ever-tempting cherry red lips. But you don’t falter in your nonchalant frame and the confident pass of your countenance. In fact, you seem apathetic. As if there's any possibility at all that you can score higher than him.

You can’t. It’s impossible. The chances of you pulling an ace from the deck to score a total value of nine points are ridiculous. A one in one hundred. You won’t be able to, can’t. Ten has calculated the odds. The next ace wouldn’t show up until seven plays later. There’s absolutely no reason for your cheshire grin, but you remain conquerous in expression. As if you could possibly know what the play will be. The house flips your card. 

For Ten Lee’s cunning to fail him is a one in a million chance, no, billion. There’s very seldom a time and place in which the detective feels as if a rug has been pulled from underneath him. Wide eyed and slack jawed. Because Ten ran the cards, he ran the plays, he ran the jitter and jerk of your fingers, every hint of a smile or frown, every movement of the cards and cower in your stature, every fluctuation of your tone. There is no way in which you should have won a game as predictable as baccarat. Yet, you did. 

The Ace of Hearts lays heavy against the table. 

In all of his confusion, you manage to steal the cigarette from his dwindling fingers-- raising it to your lips and taking a slow drag. You exhale, blowing the smoke into his face as you thumb through your newly earned cash (three fourths of which came directly from Ten’s own silk-lined pockets). There’s a mischievous hint in your eyes as you stick the cigarette back in between his lips, tongue snaking over your lipstick as if to relish the taste. If he weren’t so irritated at his failure, the private eye might have kissed you then and there gulped (‘heat of the moment’ he concludes when thinking back, after all Ten Lee could never like someone so… so irritating). He can taste whatever sickeningly sweet venomous concoction you were drinking beforehand and the bitter burn of your lipstick which sticks to the surface of his tongue and lashes eagerly at his teeth. The taste of it is so overwhelmingly you that it forces a blush to spark on his cheeks, searing his skin and consuming his ears. 

“That’s how you play baccarat, Detective,”

taglist. @yangasm @misted-dream thank you for supporting roll the dice ♡

@ home @ next

🧾 © 00127am 2024

[alannacellucci]

The Breakers Music Room —

The MUSIC ROOM, designed by Richard van der Boyen and Allard et Fil, reflects the French Baroque interior the Vanderbilts would have seen in places like the Paris Opera House, and was the setting for family weddings and debutante parties. Gold and silver leaf, blue-grey Campan marble from France, mirrors, and crystal light fixtures combine to make a glittering effect for evening concerts and receptions. The spirit of music and numerous great composers are celebrated in the ceiling painting. This room and furnishings, in addition to those in the Morning Room, were designed and constructed in France then shipped to this location for installation.

————————————————————————

The Breakers Morning Room —

The wall paneling in the MORNING ROOM was designed by Richard van der Boyen, who carved elaborate garlands and figures in the late Renaissance style. Classical mythology and allegories decorate this room, from the painted allegory of the four seasons on the ceiling, to the Muses who appear in the corners of the room, painted on platinum leaf panels.

The room also displays portraits of Cornelius Vanderbilt II by the preeminent American portrait painter, John Singer Sargent, and the Count Laszlo Széchényi and Countess Gladys Széchényi, by the Hungarian artist Philip Alexius De László. Countess Széchényi was born Gladys Vanderbilt, the youngest of Cornelius and Alice's children. In 1908, Gladys married Count Laszlo Széchényi, a member of Hungary's premier aristocratic family and a minister to the Court of St. James in London and, later, to the United States.

When her mother Alice passed away in 1934, Countess Széchényi inherited The Breakers. In 1948, to raise funds for the Preservation Society's restoration of Hunter House, Countess Széchényi opened The Breakers to the public for tours. That same year, she leased The Breakers to the Preservation Society for $1.00 a year and continued to fund the maintenance of the house. The Preservation Society purchased The Breakers in 1972 for approximately $400,000. As an early member and supporter of the Preservation Society, Countess Széchényi made a major contribution to the preservation of Newport's architectural heritage.

——————————————————————————

The Breakers Breakfast / Dining Room —

The BREAKFAST ROOM served as both breakfast room and informal family dining room. The table, which may be extended to seat 16 would have seated the entire family or served as seating for a small, informal dinner or luncheon. One of the premier decorators for America's elite families, Jules Allard et Fils Cules Allard & Sons) of Paris, supplied the Louis XV style furniture for the room and decided on the room's color scheme. The Vanderbilts were surrounded by imagery of the harvest.

Look around to see fruits and vegetables plentifully adorning the walls. The 12 rose-colored stone columns are solid alabaster and draw your eyes upward to the ceiling painting of the goddess Aurora heralding the dawn. The massive chandeliers and wall sconces in the Imperial design are made of French Baccarat crystal, and were piped for gas and wired for electricity at the time the house was built. The crown shaped tops indicate the style, while the rings on the chains were used to adjust the flow of gas.

Allard and Sons of Paris assisted Hunt with furnishings and fixtures, Austro-American sculptor Karl Bitter designed relief sculpture, and Boston architect Ogden Codman decorated the family quarters. The mansion covers nearly an acre of the 13-acre property and has 70 rooms including 48 bedrooms for family and staff. There are 27 fireplaces. It was equipped with electricity – still a novelty in houses during the Gilded Age – as well as gas for lighting.

The Breakers has entertained presidents, royalty and guests from across the world for more than 125 years and today is visited by hundreds of thousands of people each year. It is the flagship of the Newport Mansions and a world-famous iconic image of the City-by-the-Sea. The Breakers was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1994.

[cleolinda]

Threw some Thierry Mugler fashion into the queue on the occasion of writing about my battle with The First Modern Gourmand™ Angel (1992), which was not the sugar bomb I was promised. I have heard that Angel Muse has a Nutella note; maybe I will actually be able to smell that.

I do have samples of Alien and Alien Goddess, and I now realize that all bets are off with Mugler fragrances.

In the meantime, I am continuing to follow the ethyl maltol thread with Pink Sugar and a few of my favorite sugar perfumes. I’ll go into this more, but ideally, you apply gourmands with a light enough hand that the fragrance mingles with your skin chemistry and turns into A Secret Third Thing. I have several other gourmands I can write up, but after two posts in a row, I’ll probably zig towards something else for a moment. Still want to see what wtf Baccarat Rouge 540 is about.

[aranyafm]

            hi  ya’ll  !  i’m  (  finally  !  )  coming  to  you  live  with  khai’s  intro  !  just  to  reiterate  ,  i’m  bloom  !  i’m  twenty  five  ,  reside  in  the  eastern  tz  ,  and  i  use  both  she  /  her  and  they  /  them  .  i  won’t  talk  ya’lls  ears  off  ,  but  i  look  forward  to  plotting  with  everyone  and  getting  to  know  everyone’s  muses  !

             lalisa   manoban.     she/her.     cis   woman.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   khai   aranya   nontanakorn   ,   most   likely   listening   to   conceited   by   sza   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   six   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -doctrinaire   yet   +cosmopolitan   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   honeyed   laughter   echoing   melodiously   through   gala   venue   ,   the   sweetened   scent   of   her   perfume  lingering   behind   to   have   you   craving   more   ,   lithe   silhouette   draped   in   silk   contrasting   amongst   plush   linen   ,   and   a   lipstick   stained   kiss   left   on   your   mirror   in   lieu   of   her   phone   number   ,   followed   by   amyris   femme   by   maison   francis   kurkdjian   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   khai   nontanakoran   spotted   at   the   baccarat   hotel   with   mystery   billionaire’s   son   after   a   long   day   together   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   . 

content  warning(s)  for  abortion  /  mention  of  abortion  .

           the  gifs  of  lalisa  manoban  used  on  this  page  were  created  by  my  friend  icah  (  @fairynuit  !  )  and  i  ask  that  you  do  not  save  any  of  those  gifs  as  they’ve  been  shared  with  me  from  their  private  discord  .  i  will  not  share  the  link  to  the  gif  pack  ,  either  .

            the  start  of  khai’s  life  had  not  been  a  life  that  most  would  assume  for  the  future  socialite  .  initially  ,  it  was  only  khai  and  her  mom  ,  samorn  .  this  isn’t  to  say  that  khai  grew  up  with  a  rough  childhood—  not  by  a  long  shot  ,  but  being  raised  by  a  single  parent  is  never  easy  .  samorn  had  been  born  into  a  middle  class  family  ,  one  where  although  money  was  never  abundant  ,  they  had  enough  to  take  care  of  household  necessities  and  go  on  family  vacations  .  the  family  was  small  ,  consisting  of  her  parents  and  older  brother  ,  but  it  was  a  family  family  and  a  supportive  one  too  .  samorn  was  a  dedicated  student  and  went  on  to  attend  chiang  mai  university  ,  joining  the  faculty  of  education  .

            while  at  chiang  mai  ,  samorn  would  go  on  to  meet  khai’s  father  .  he  was  a  part  of  the  faculty  of  architecture  ,  and  was  a  fairly  popular  student  .  the  two  met  at  a  social  event  ,  and  one  would  want  to  say  that  the  rest  was  history  .  it’s  eight  months  after  they  decided  to  become  official  that  samorn  discovers  that  she’s  pregnant  .  she  takes  an  at  home  test  ,  and  initially  she  thinks  it’s  all  in  her  head  .  it’s  after  a  trip  to  the  doctor  that  confirms  the  pregnancy  ,  and  that  she  was  already  about  two  months  along  .  with  a  clear  mind  ,  samorn  knows  what  she  wants  to  do  ,  so  she  goes  to  her  boyfriend  with  the  news—  she  doesn’t  receive  the  reaction  that  she  was  hoping  for  .

           ‘  you  should  have  an  abortion  .  ’  is  the  first  thing  that  her  boyfriend  says  ,  and  it’s  not  was  samorn  wants  .  it  leads  to  arguments  ,  tense  nights  of  going  to  bed  without  speaking  to  one  another  ,  and  eventually  the  relationship  ends  .  she’s  five  months  along  when  she  makes  the  decision  to  raise  her  baby  on  her  own  ,  no  matter  the  looks  she  gets  from  her  classmates  as  her  bump  grows  bigger  .  samorn  would  see  her  ex  around  campus  ,  but  after  initially  shying  away  from  his  stare  whenever  they  crossed  paths  ,  samorn  slowly  began  to  not  care  .  her  friends  and  her  family  was  by  her  side  ,  and  that  was  all  that  mattered  .

            it’s  near  the  end  of  her  third  year  that  samorn  gives  birth  to  her  healthy  baby  girl  named  aranya  ,  whom  she  affectionately  nicknames  khai  .  she  tried  to  call  her  ex  ,  but  she’s  unsurprised  when  he  doesn’t  make  an  effort  .  samorn  finds  an  apartment  near  chiang  mai’s  campus  ,  and  goes  forth  to  raise  her  daughter  on  her  own  .  samorn  graduates  from  chiang  mai  with  her  daughter  on  her  hip  ,  and  makes  her  family  proud  when  she  lands  her  first  full - time  teaching  position  .  she  takes  care  of  herself  and  her  daughter  well  ,  but  her  life  changes  when  she  meets  arthit  nontanakorn  .

            their  meeting  is  like  something  out  of  a  fairy  tale  ,  but  not  really  ,  considering  that  arthit  is  a  terrible  driver  and  managed  to  cause  a  small  fender  bender  with  samorn  .  they  were  only  supposed  to  exchange  insurance  information  ,  but  exchanged  numbers  as  well  ,  which  led  to  the  two  eventually  going  on  a  date  .  the  only  thing  about  arthit  is  that  he’s  not  just  a  wealthy  man  who  caused  a  car  accident  ,  but  he  happens  to  be  one  of  thailand’s  most  eligible  bachelors  .  a  graduate  of  the  university  of  cambridge  ,  arthit  was  taking  a  small  break  from  school  before  heading  off  to  medical  school  .  he  hailed  from  one  of  thailand’s  most  influential  families  ,  and  it  was  surprising  to  the  local  media  that  he  had  fallen  for  a  teacher  who  was  also  a  single  parent  .

           as  arthit  and  samorn  become  more  official  ,  life  for  mother  and  daughter  seemingly  changes  overnight  .  after  their  first  year  of  dating  ,  samorn  and  khai  move  to  the  luxurious  district  of  phrom  phong  to  live  with  arthit  .  he  loves  four  year  old  khai  as  if  she’s  he’s  own  ,  and  the  relationship  between  her  mom  and  arthit  grows  more  and  more  serious  .  eventually  ,  arthit  manages  to  match  with  a  medical  school  outside  of  the  country  ,  and  decides  to  attend  the  columbia  university  vagelos  college  of  physicians  and  surgeons  .  the  couple  becomes  engaged  shortly  thereafter  ,  and  soon  makes  the  move  to  new  york  .

           with  arthit’s  background  ,  the  family  settles  into  the  upper  west  side  .  before  medical  school  starts  ,  arthit  and  samorn  marry  in  a  luxurious  ceremony  ,  and  samorn  settles  into  her  new  life  as  a  stay  at  home  mom  .  khai’s  life  is  suddenly  fueled  with  mommy  and  daughter  dates  to  afternoon  tea  ,  taking  ballet  lessons  ,  and  attending  the  best  schools  that  money  can  afford  .  when  khai  is  thirteen  ,  she  formally  asks  arthit  to  adopt  her  ,  thus  becoming  khai  aranya  nontanakorn  .  

           as  khai  grew  older  and  she  became  a  part  of  new  york’s  social  scene  ,  she  found  her  footing  in  not  so  elegant  ways  .  she  is  well  known  for  being  spotted  with  various  people  at  any  given  time  ,  often  linked  romantically  to  them  even  if  it’s  not  true  .  khai  has  no  interest  in  doing  anything  aside  from  being  a  socialite  who  happens  to  cover  magazines  sometimes  ,  the  true  definition  of  a  nepotism  baby  .  

headcanons  .

khai  is  most  canon  to  lisa  when  her  hair  is  long  and  black  with  bangs  .  she  does  dye  her  hair  ,  but  not  frequently  .  for  visual  reference  ,  click  here  .

khai’s  family  rose  to  fame  primarily  through  her  mother  being  cast  on  the  real  housewives  of  new  york  when  she  was  sixteen  .  she  wasn’t  on  the  show  very  often  aside  from  a  few  random  appearances  here  and  there  ,  but  samorn  is  a  fan  favorite  considering  her  youth  ,  ability  to  hold  her  own  ,  and  her  overall  personality  .

she  is  very  much  a  Man Hater:tm:  .  okay  ,  she  doesn’t  hate  them  per  say  ,  but  she’s  very  entitled  in  the  sense  that  she  simply  can  do  without  them  unless  they’re  doing  something  for  her  .  i  wouldn’t  put  it  past  her  to  have  a  sugar  daddy  or  two  just  for  the  hell  of  it  /  attention  .

she  enjoys  the  socialite  lifestyle  ,  especially  considering  that  she  doesn’t  really  have  a  job  .  growing  up  in  the  lap  of  luxury  meant  that  she  didn’t  need  one  ,  so  the  ‘  job  ’  of  meeting  up  with  friends  and  enjoying  her  twenties  would  never  convince  her  to  do  otherwise  .

khai  doesn’t  like  to  be  called  anything  other  than  that  .  only  her  mother  calls  her  aranya  ,  but  that  too  is  on  the  rarest  of  occasions  .  if  called  anything  aside  from  khai  ,  she  probably  won’t  answer  .

she  is  extremely  flighty  and  struggles  with  making  lasting  romantic  connections  .  i’m  sure  she’s  had  partners  in  the  past  ,  but  even  then  they  don’t  last  very  long  .  khai  is  sure  to  have  had  a  partner  that  lasted  longer  than  a  year  (  👀  )  ,  but  i’m  sure  she  caught  cold  feet  and  sadly  ended  things  without  explanation  .

[nepofm]

spotted   at   met   steps   ,   wearing   last   season’s   jimmy   choo  ?   i’d   leave   the   steps   in   the   next   24   hours   before   nepoupdates   catches   them   &   if   it   were   me   ,   i’d   definitely   go   back   to   the   checklist   of   golden   rules  .

safiye   yilmaz   özge  yağiz

renata   “ren”   carrada   selena  gomez

irina   beatrice   wylie   alva  bratt  ,  muse  h

freya  castor   florence  pugh  ,  muse  2i

özge yağiz.     she   /   her.     cis   female.      › spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   safiye   yilmaz   ,   most   likely   listening   to   carmen   by   lana   del   rey   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   four   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -recalcitrant   yet   +enigmatic   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   the   mauve   imprint  of  perfect  pout  decorating  martini  glass   ,   enthralling   all   those   who   met   her   ,   living   life   to   the   fullest   extent   ,   a   lineage   woven   into   high   society   ,   followed   by   their   eden   juicy   apple   by   kayali   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   her   leaving   the   scene   of   an   accident   intoxicated   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .   

selena  gomez.    she/her.     cis   female.      › spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   renata   "ren"  carrada   ,   most   likely   listening   to   running   up   that  hill  by   kate   bush  with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   seven   year  old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -manipulative  ,  snarky   yet   + down  to  earth  ,  compassionate   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   hiding  in  their  old  penthouse  ,  her  engagement  ring  that  she  wears  as  a  necklace  around  her  neck  ,  her  dual  masters  degree  in  nuclear  chemistry  and  mathematics  ,   followed   by   dolce  &  gabbana   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   renata's  much  older  husband  suddenly  dying  under  mystierous  circumstances  and  leaving  her  the  inheritance   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .   

 alva bratt .     she/her.     cis female.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   irina   beatrice   wylie   ,   most   likely   listening   to   nothing   to   regret   by   robinson   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   four   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -disputatious   yet   +dauntless   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about  manors   in   the   countryside   are   lovely   in   the   day   /   full   of   ghosts   at   night   (   the   rich   are   always   haunted   );   mother’s   name   is   a   little   too   heavy,   her   louboutin   a   little   too   big   (   but   it’ll   fit,   it   has   to   fit);   when   you   were   little   they   called   you   a   gift,   an   angel   then   when   you   grew   they   realised   you   had   fallen   (   and   what   do   they   say   about   fallen   angels   ?   )   ,   followed   by   baccarat   rouge   540   eau   de   parfum   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   nyc   socialite   irina   wylie   sets   alight   149   million   family   yacht   after   another   wild   night   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .

florence pugh.     she/her.     cis woman.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   freya  castor   ,   most   likely   listening   to   dumb   blonde   by   avril   lavigne  with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty-six   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -deceitful   yet   +ambitious   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   never   accepting   a   no   for  an  answer,   leaving   a   trail   of   torn   out   hearts   on   their   way,    a   golden   reflection   from   the   sun   bouncing   of   clear   skin    and   blonde   locks,   mastering    deceit   and   always    having   a   mask   over    her   ,   followed   by   electric   cherry   by   tom   ford   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   being   caught   yelling   at   the    servers   at   her   last   party   despite   presenting   herself   as   a   kind    person   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .   

[noblehcart]

✨+ Liesel ✨+ Olga ✨+ Marguerite ✨+ Nina ✨+Stefan. This is an open invitation for you to take the stage and talk to us about perfumes. I hear you are slightly interested in discussing the topic?

If you want to know my muse's fragrance send the ✨ (or sparkle) with a '+' & the muse's name. @lordofthestrix

Liesel is hands DOWN Bibliothèque by Byredo. I don't think she'd BUY this perfume for herself (IDK what she'd acutally buy tbh- maybe Mémoire d'une Odeur by Gucci) but Bibliotheque is what she DOES actually smell like naturally. Its light and fresh but with that paper and ink smell that just transports the senses to an airy monastery or library on a spring day with the sweet breeze coming through. A possibility for her is Paper by Commodity even though I'm not entirely sure because I've never smelled that one and its very tricky to nail the right aesthetic though it has been described as very bookshop like. I would LIKE to include something involving lavender, as many people has said they think Liese wears lavender, but I'm just going to assume she wears a lavender lotion or soap because I don't thinks she'd pick a lavender perfume. Perfume wise, Liese doesn't buy herself perfume? Its like jewelry for her- if someone gifts it she wears it, otherwise she doesn't think to buy herself perfume.

Olga's perfume is ACUTALLY known and its "The Rose" by Coty which is literally JUST rose according to notes and people's reviews so for a modern take I'd wager 'A La Rose' by Maison Francis Kurkdjian. I'm basing this off the reviews for the original which say its a clean pure rose and I'd definitely say MFK's 'A La Rose' is JUST the same and I should know I own a bottle and absolutely adore it.

Marguerite absolutely was one of the FIRST to wear/discover Baccarat Rouge 540 by Maison Francis Kurkdjian but after it hit popularity she stopped wearing it because everyone wore it. She likes a distinctive elegant scent like Portrait of a Lady by Frederic Malle or of course (!!!!) the infamous Delina by Parfums de Marly but again I feel its so popularized that she might not wear it though she does like it. What she MIGHT do is layer both perfumes together, but I do feel like Carnal Flower by Frederic Malle is definitely a Marg.uerite St. Ju.st scent because of the white florals which is the true marguerite at her core beyond the popularity of who society thinks she is. Or maybe even Le Bouquet de la Reine by Guerlain because she loves supporting French perfume houses and this scent is so floral, playful and light that it would just be a fantastic fragrance for her (aka the queen of the people).

Nina has stolen her mother's bottle of Mémoire d'une Odeur by Gucci but she also wears Florence by Tocca which is a green-white floral on a daily basis. Maybe Chloe by Chloe when she's feeling especially feminine or Coco Madmoiselle because its such a classic feminine scent. While Liesel is more dark academia scents then Nina is more Light academia / parisian scents like I could say hands down Nina would wear Chanel N'5 l'eau, not the original, with a rose or lily oil to layer the scent.

Stefan is a difficult one. He's a woodsy-clean-leather scent kind of person, but he's also...a bit stuck-up so I could see him wearing Tom Ford's 'Ombre Leather' as a signature scent or 'Oud for Greatness' by Initio for a date night or when he wants to feel good about himself. Spicebomb Night vision or Hermes Terre d'Hermes as a day to day, light, regular personal errands run.

[sebastianmichaelisslander]

What fragrances my OCs would use

If you couldn’t tell already, this post originated from my own hyperfixation with expanding my ever-growing perfume collection, lol.

Firstly, there’s Marlene. She’d go for something hyper-feminine, head-turning, and that you can smell from a mile away. She’s got a sweet tooth and her preference for heady gourmands reflects that. As for what she’d use, think Guerlain’s Le Petit Robe Noire, Mugler’s Angel Muse, or MFK’s Baccarat Rouge 540.

Then, there’s Annie. She’s not much of a makeup person unlike Marlene, but she does believe that smelling and looking good is integral to professionalism. She’d like fragrances that are sweet - but not overly cloying - and on the fresher side, definitely leaning more unisex. Versace Crystal Noir, Chloè Nomade Absolu de parfum, or Tom Ford’s Neroli Portofino would be up her alley.

Now, for Viola. Much like Annie, she likes to smell very put-together, even if she doesn’t feel like it. She’d definitely use something very classic and ladylike yet youthful. While Marlene is a gourmand girl and Annie isn’t too choosy, Viola loves her florals. She’d probably wear something like the Chloé EDP, Narciso Rodriguez Fleur Musc, or Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle.

[mcmcntomorii-later]

💕 💕💕 💕💕

( by the way, I wanted to let you know that you're so sweet for doing this and seeing the kind words you say to others brings a smile to my face! keep spreading those wonderful, positive vibes! )

@aceparagon

// aaa gosh ;v; thank you for sayin that!!! and oh gosh i’ll try!! ;w ; )

@memoriamexarca - oh gosh pandora is just such a delight to talk to!!!! ;w ; i always love our conversations ( even tho i kinda feel like give too short of an answer to them sometime!!! ;o; but know that I really appreciate and love all our convos and they’re just super fun and delightful and just brighten up my day!! ;w ; ) i love love love the threads we’ve done and have going on ;w ; it’s so much fun to write with you!!!!

@sakanaughty - ahhh we’ve only been following each other for a short time now but!!!! I’m super enjoying the thread we have going on and i can’t wait for it to continue ;w ; ( my reply is queue’d up so it’ll post after i’ve finished moving )  and i’ve had such a great time chatting with you ooc !!! I’m really looking forward to how more interactions between Shinji and Mukuro pan out :3

@casketcat - BINX!!!! ;w; Honestly i love all of their OCs!!! Each one is just so interesting and I honestly am so down to thinking of just how to have their muses interact with Mukuro because I just love writing with them??? Also they’re just a colossal sweetheart???? Like I always just have a great time talking to them ;w ; so ( oh dangit i went to get a bowl of Reese puffs as a snack and totally lost my train of thought lmao ) and I know i sound like a bit of a broken record when I say that i’d like to talk more ooc ;w ; especially when i’m not busy lolol but i do mean it each and every time!! I would really love to talk more, it’s just whenever i’m off work during the week i’m mush brain and go from work mode to ‘heehaw fortnite’ lmao but I’ve really love how Kiwa and Mukuro’s ship has progressed so far and i’m interested to see where Kazu and Mukuro’s go and I’m also just hyped up overall for more interactions with their muses :3

@devotionobsessed - Dia!!! ;w ; she’s helped me through a couple of rough points in my mental health drops in the fall/winter and is just so much fun to write, plot, and chat with!! She’s also helped me get into more series, like I got more into Obey Me and finally got into Amnesia and Code Realize because I really enjoyed writing with her and wanted to know where her muses came from :3 and honestly shipping with dia is so much fun!! from romantic to platonic and even the familial one with kayo and mukuro ;w  ; there’s so much cute stuff happening everywhere really that I just am so happy about it!!!

@xamassed - ariel is so sweet!!!!! ;w ; I absolutely love all the threads we have so far and every time we’ve talked OOC has been an absolute delight !!! I am really loving the threads we have going so far!! they’re all so much fun from the baccarat ones to the venti one!! And I’m really looking forward to interacting with Anita more!! she’s suuuch a cutie!!! and I just can’t wait to see how her and mukuro interact :3

【 Can we get some positivity in the chat?? 】          ♡           【 accepting 】

[omagazineparis]

Éveil artistique : quand la nature devient muse et matériau

Loin de l’effervescence des villes et des studios traditionnels, certains artistes trouvent leur inspiration et leurs outils directement dans le cadre apaisant et foisonnant de la nature. Cet art de la nature, combinant imagination et respect de l'environnement, nous offre une nouvelle perspective sur la culture et la créativité. La nature, une source inépuisable d'inspiration Le souffle du vent, le murmure de l'eau, le cri des animaux sauvages... La nature est une symphonie de sensations qui éveille nos sens et stimule notre créativité. De nombreux artistes ont puisé dans ces sensations pour donner vie à leurs œuvres. Le land art, une forme d'art contemporain qui utilise le paysage et les matériaux naturels comme toile de fond et medium, est un parfait exemple de cette fusion entre art et nature. Le Land Art : quand la nature devient toile de création Imaginez que vous marchez dans une forêt et que vous tombez sur un cercle parfait de feuilles d'automne, ou que vous découvrez une sculpture éphémère faite de pierres sur une plage. Ce sont des œuvres de land art, créées à partir de matériaux naturels et intégrées dans l'environnement. L'artiste britannique Andy Goldsworthy, par exemple, est renommé pour ses œuvres éphémères qui se fondent dans le paysage. La peinture avec des matériaux naturels : une autre approche de l'art Le lien entre art et nature ne s'arrête pas au land art. Certains artistes ont choisi de renouer avec les pratiques anciennes en utilisant des matériaux naturels pour peindre. Terre, charbon, plantes... ces éléments, transformés en pigments, donnent des tableaux à l'aura unique, vibrante et organique. A lire aussi : L’histoire de la cristallerie de Baccarat, un succès français L’art environnemental : un plaidoyer pour la protection de la nature Au-delà de l'esthétique, l'art et la nature peuvent aussi s'unir pour porter un message fort sur la protection de l'environnement. L’art environnemental, à travers des installations monumentales et percutantes, cherche à sensibiliser le public à la fragilité de notre planète. Des artistes comme Agnès Varda avec son installation "La Mer monte" nous invitent à réfléchir sur notre impact sur la nature. Vers une nouvelle culture artistique ? Cet engouement pour l'art et la nature témoigne d'une volonté de revenir à l'essentiel et de (re)découvrir la beauté brute de notre environnement. C'est aussi une occasion de repenser notre relation avec la nature, de la voir non pas comme une ressource à exploiter, mais comme une partenaire créative, source d'inspiration et de matériaux. Alors, pourquoi ne pas prendre le temps lors de votre prochaine promenade en plein air d'observer attentivement la nature autour de vous ? Qui sait, vous pourriez être surpris par la beauté et la complexité des formes, des couleurs et des textures que la nature a à offrir. Vous pourriez même être inspiré pour créer votre propre œuvre d'art naturel. Read the full article

[ugurcifdaloz]

NICHE SERİSİ MONALISA (BLACK OPIUM NUIT BLANCHE) MADAM THE ROMAN NIGHT (BVLGARI GOLDEA ABSOLUTE) MADAM AMOUR (TIZIANA TERENZI TYL ABSOLUTE) MAD MADAM (MODERN MUSE VEYA YVES ROCHER EVIDENCE) HOT PASSION (CREED AVENTUS) BY BRUNO DETOX (TIZIANA TERENZI DELOX) NARCOTIC (EX NIHILO FLEUR NARCOTIC) NO:47 (TIZIANA TERENZI SIRRAH) BY BRUNO CASANOVA (TIZIANA TERENZI CASANOVA) MAD ABSOLUTELY (MODERN MUSE NOIT) TRONO (PARFUM DE MARLEY LAYTON) BY BRUNO GOLD (TIZIANA TERENZI KIRKE) OUD 1 MALAKİ (CHOPARD OD MALAKİ) OUD 2 SATEEN (KURKDJIAN OUD MOOD) OUD 3 WONDERWOOD (COMME DES GARCONS) ROUGE NIGHT (SOSPIRO ERBA PURA) ROUGE EMPRESSA (PENGALIGON'S EMPRESSA) LOVE ME (KILLIAN LOVE DONT BE SHY) M.101 (EQUSESTRIAN 01) M.102 (EQUSESTRIAN 02) MAD ROUGE (KURKDIJAN BACCARAT ROUGE 540) BY BRUNO EXOTIC (KURKDIJIAN AMYRIS HOMME) MAD MAN (CREE D SILVER MOINTAIN) CHARISMA 1881 (XERJOFF MEFISTO) SECRET NIGHT (PARFUM DE MARLEY ATHALIA) SWEET BOUQUET (DELINA) INVITING (YSL SUPREME BOUQUET) DIVINE DESIRE (JEAN PAUL LA BELLE) INSPIRATION (CREED SPRING FLOWER) MAD PREVAIL (MEMO MARFA) MAD SENSE (XERJOFF APOLLANIA) MAD AFFECT (INTIO SIDE EFFECT) DEPENDENCE (TOM FORD BITTER PEACH) DIVINE TOUGH (JEAN PAUL LE BEAU) DIVERSE EXPLORATION (MEMO ITALIAN LEATHER) MAD PERA (MAD SPECIAL) MAD EGO (XERJOFF MORE THAN WORDS) MAD GUMIN (TIZIANA TERENZI GUMIN) BRUNO GOLD INTENSE (MAD SPECIAL) MAD SHAH (MAD SPECIAL WHISKEY) MAD DESERTO (KALEMAT ARABIAN OUD) MAD GRANDE NOTTE (FRANSIS KURKDJIAN GRAND SOIR) MAD FORZA (XERJOFF ALEXSANDRIA II) MAD OPUS (AJMAL AMBER WOOD) MAD GOLDEN GLORY (GUARLAIN IDDYLE) MAD GOLDEN SOUL (ARMANI PRIVE ROUGE) MAD GOLDEN FEEL (LANCOME OUD BOUQUET) MAD GOLDEN AGE (SOSPIRO ACCENTO) MAD LADY (FREDERIC MALLE PORTRAIT OF LADY) MAD MARE (ORTO PARISI MEGAMARE) MAD OUD SUPREME (MAD SPECIAL) MAD DEVIL'S TRICK (DEVIL'S INTRIGUE)

[severefarteagle]

Golden Wealth Baccarat

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[xmenageriie]

↕ + 6'8" ! ( for Sanji or Baccarat or both -- jaskldas ))

— height comparison / @zahraalgernon

“Tall piece’a——!” He clicked his tongue and stepped away, feeling entirely inferior compared to the taller stranger.

“Well, now~ You’re going to be a hard one to lose, even in this crowd.”

[yeojaa]

finders keep hers, ii.

read parts one and three!  continued because i have zero self-control and i love/hate these idiots and like ... i just wanna give people what they want.  ty to @hobi-gif​​ for always beta reading and you (yes, you!) for normal reading.  i lob you!  xo

ps.  picture these versions of jimin, tae, yoongi, and jungkook.  

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.  rating.  still explicit, lolz.  tags.  smut!  a lil bit of pining!  jealousy!  also, cameos from the other boys, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex (be safe luvs!), and a bunch of other semi-vanilla things.  wc.  4.3k.

“Who’s that?”  Jimin means the pretty blonde that’s attached to your best friend, snug against his hip like some kind of conjoined monster - a distant relative to the thing that’s rearing its own ugly green head from its slumber in your chest.

“I don’t know.”  Lie.

Because Jungkook’s been talking your ear off about her for the past three weeks, regaling you with details you’d rather not know.  Like how she does yoga at the crack of dawn and he picks her up from every class.  She, apparently, looks incredible in spandex and loves her green smoothies.  Or how she went to private school in Belgium and she’s got - in his words - the cutest accent.  He’s mimicked it once or twice, demonstrating how her vowels don’t round like a local’s would.

You’ve heard too much about her and it’s driving you crazy.  

The angel at your side - because that’s what Jimin is, with his feather grey hair and rounded Cupid’s bow - takes a sip of his drink, studying you curiously over the Baccarat rim.  You can see the curiosity swimming in his eyes, painted across his features in broad strokes.

You return his stare without blinking, silently daring him to say something.  He knows better - considering he’s been your shoulder to cry on more than one weak-kneed, booze-laden occasion.

“Do you want to go upstairs?”  Meaning the rooftop, away from the crowd that dominates the 44th floor penthouse.  

You shake your head - a little motion that wiggles your bangs free from behind your ears - and take a generous sip of the Veuve that bubbles about in your champagne flute.  You’re not celebrating anything - this is just how Jungkook parties.  With bottles and strangers and deep bass thrumming so loudly you can feel it chatter your teeth. 

Another sip and your glass is empty.  “No.”  You seize another from the bar you’re both leaning against, wondering idly whether it’s your third or fourth or maybe even seventh glass.  You’d lost count about thirty minutes ago when Jungkook had strolled in with her on his arm, clothes dishevelled and that stupid grin on his face.  

Of course he’d been late to his own party and of course he was sporting a lipstick stain on the collar of his otherwise pristine white Oxford.

“You sure?”  You know Jimin means well but you can’t stand the heat of his stare or how it feels like pity digging itself beneath your bones.  You don’t need - nor want - his sympathy.  Not now. 

“Yes,”  you snap more harshly than you mean to.  A wounded animal lashing out, biting the hand that feeds it. 

Luckily, Jimin knows you - has, for nearly the last decade - and he takes it in stride.  Chin bounces, the smallest of smiles offered in penance for his pushiness.  He doesn’t need to apologize and really, he shouldn’t, but he’s Park Jimin and he’s far too kind so he does it anyway.

“I’m going to hunt down some snacks.  If you need me, just come find me.”  

It feels infinitely worse when he presses a kiss to your temple and disappears into the throng of people, leaving you alone with the thoughts that buzz around in your head (or maybe that’s just from the liquor).

“Replaced, huh?”  You’d recognize that voice anywhere.  It rings in your ears when you’re trying to work, forcing its way into your skull when you’re twenty sheets deep in Excel fixing some junior’s mistake.  You hear it more often than you like, both in the office and when you least expect it.

You barely turn to acknowledge the broodingly handsome brunet who has seemingly materialized out of thin air.  You don’t need to turn to him to see how good he looks, all carefully tousled hair and that self-assured smile.  

“What’re you talking about?”  It’s easier to play dumb than to play directly into his hand.  You’d learnt that ages ago.  Kim Taehyung was a force to be reckoned with.  

“Look.”  A hand lands on your jaw, none-too-subtly guiding your stare in the direction you’d been so adamantly turned away from.  Jungkook and his flavour of the week are locked in a fight to see who can eat each other’s face more thoroughly, tongues so far down the other’s throat that you feel your own gag reflex kick up.  “Shouldn’t you be over there?”

Concern flares, streaking heat across your cheeks.  How did he know?  “What?”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes, mischief dancing in his irises as he studies you, fingers burning impossibly warmer over your skin.  “You’re best friends, aren’t you?  Why’re you standing here by yourself?”

You almost laugh, relief crashing over you with enough force to knock a breath from your lungs. 

“Tae, leave her alone.”  It’s your knight in shining armour - or finely woven Saint Laurent cashmere, in this case - a Manhattan in hand and a scowl on his face.  You thank your lucky stars, not bothering to conceal the smirk you shoot at the reprimanded playboy. 

“Yeah, Tae.  Leave me alone.” 

He doesn’t need to be told a third time, though he levels both you and your saviour with a narrowed stare.  It stirs something uncomfortable in the pit of your stomach, like a snake uncoiling and preparing to strike.  You think he might say something - you can see him playing through the scenarios in his head - but he thinks better of it at the last second, draining his beer and turning away without another word.

You watch Taehyung’s crown of inky hair disappear among the crowd.  It’s only once his loudly patterned Burberry shirt is out of sight that you swivel your gaze to the man at your side.  “Thanks.”  

“Don’t mention it.”  That distinct gummy smile fills his expression.  It looks good on him - but then again, most things do.  With his perfectly mused strands - currently a flattering shade of teddy bear brown and honey blonde - and observant feline features, Min Yoongi is handsome in a way that sneaks up on you, dressing himself in shadows and presenting it at the strangest times.

Like now, for instance, when you’re growing tired of watching your best friend act like a high school freshman. 

“You okay, though?”  

“Why - do I not look like it?”  

You don’t miss the way his attention drags lazily over your features and then, almost pointedly, down the lissome column of your frame.  How he pauses appreciatively where wine spills over cream, the mulberry silk of your wrap dress standing in stark contrast to the porcelain of your skin.  It ties neatly at the smallest point of your waist - a gift begging to be torn apart.

Something crackles between you.  You’re not sure where it is or where it starts but it fizzles, bright white and dangerous.  A livewire you’re suddenly very eager to inspect.

“I’d say you look more than okay,”  he returns dryly, in that low timbre of his. 

You feign surprise, lashes fluttering like a schoolgirl.  “Are you flirting with me, Yoongi?”

It’s a testament to his confidence - that lazy swagger that fits itself into the slope of his jaw, the soft shape of his mouth, the inescapable focus of his stare - when he advances a step.  There’s already hardly any space between you but he eats it up like a starved predator, crowding you with ease. 

“Do you want me to be?”  The bitterness of whiskey fans across your face, creeping heat over your cheek and up the delicate shell of your ear.  The scent of his cologne follows - distinctly masculine and reminiscent of the sea.  

“Are you answering a question with a question?”  You know it isn’t what he’s looking for but you offer it anyway, paired with a taunting smile and a coquettish turn of your head.  

His jaw pulls almost imperceptibly;  it’s only your close proximity that gives away the thrumming muscle.  Something entices you to reach out - frustration or, more likely, the bottomless champagne - and you do, the pad of your thumb soothing over the tension.  You don’t expect him to lean into your touch and you nearly retreat when he does. 

The flat of his own hand rises, piano-honed fingers threading easily between yours.  There’s a different kind of smile presenting itself now, reckless at the edges and dressed in an unspoken challenge.  He presses it wordlessly into your palm, edge of enamel catching on the baby soft underside of your hand.

You feel the livewire now.  It’s a flash of lightning, searing a billion volts through every limb.

It’s a surprise that you find your voice so easily, though it comes reedy and vaguely out of breath.  “That’s a yes.”  You’re mimicking the motion of his mouth, dragging your own lip through the cage of your teeth.  He watches, unblinking.

Crystal rim replaces the warmth of your hand as he drains the amber liquid in a single motion, nearly slamming the glass down beside you.  You’d turn to make sure it’s not in a million little pieces - but you’re far too distracted by the softness of his lips, how he tastes strongly herbaceous and smokey.

The first thought to your mind is that Min Yoongi kisses nothing like Jeon Jungkook.

The second, well - that’s stolen away, disappearing into a haze of desire when he sweeps the wet muscle of his tongue across your bottom lip.  He does it once then repeats the motion with an addendum of enamel, turning his polite request into a gentle demand you’re all too willing to meet.

Broad, soft palms find the shape of you beneath your dress, one gliding easily over silk to rest comfortably across the swell of your hip while the other ascends in tandem, finding a home over the column of your throat. There’s no aggression in the way he moves and claims you.  He trades force for grace, threading passion where his tongue swipes and his teeth mark.  

It’s a slow burn rather than a raging inferno - scorched earth following a thunderstorm.

Yoongi’s touch is deliberate, each stroke of skin over skin meant to entice you.  He does it well, with practiced ease - a sweep of his thumb over the hidden lace of your bra, the press of his fingers into the sensitive softness of your neck.  

Even how he devours you whole is measured, calculated.  He isn’t an overeager teenager looking for a quick fuck;  he wants to indulge like a king at his last feast.  

“You taste good,”  he hums against your lips, bitten cherry red and glossy with his spit.  “Look so pretty, too.”  

Praise from Yoongi doesn’t come often so you bask in it, delirium and liquor painting your smile unabashed.  It pulls low and slow, spilling like stars into the darkness of your eyes, the black of your pupils that devour the iris whole.  

“You haven’t even tasted the sweetest part.”  

It comes crashing out of your mouth like a freight train, dressed in champagne-fueled salaciousness and paired with fluttering lashes.  A part of you wonders whether you’re being too forward but at this point, you can’t bring yourself to care.  Between the alcohol and his touch, you’re drunk in more ways than one. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, though.  Not if his grin says anything, framed in danger and delight.  It’s a heady mixture - an aphrodisiac in the form of a person’s smile.  “Have to fix that then, don’t we?”  

You’re ready to take him up on it - ready to do a lot of things, frankly - when a voice presents itself just beyond Yoongi’s shoulder.  

“Fix what?”

Of course it’d be Jungkook.  

You turn your attention to him first - you can feel Yoongi’s heavy-lidded stare trained on you when you pull away, when the warmth of your body retreats just enough that you can focus on something other than the overwhelming desire that sparks between the two of you.  

Your best friend is standing not three feet away, arms folded over his chest in a way that reads like a surly nightclub bouncer or a begrudging boss.  It’s nothing like the sunny radiance he normally wears - a byproduct of being rich and handsome and far too charming for his own good.  You’re curious whether it’s the alcohol - you can see it still, swimming in his eyes and turning them hazy - or the fact that blondie isn’t at his side.  Had she left him to fend for himself and now he was taking it out on you?

He repeats himself when neither you nor Yoongi answer, an edge to his voice you don’t expect.

“Nothing.”  You, again, speak first.  You don’t miss the way your answer sounds more like coddling, sweeping reassurance off your tongue.  

Yoongi retreats a step, turning on his heel enough to position himself partially facing both you and Jungkook.  At this angle, you study his profile, trying to find the ways emotion fits among his features.  It’s a lost cause, though - he’s always had an incredible poker face. 

“I was just saying her belt was a bit—”  You catch the mischief that pulls the corner of his mouth high, revealing pink gums.  “—loose.”

A sharp inhale follows immediately after.  You don’t even realize it’s you until Jungkook is speaking, expression set and muscle pumping in his jaw.  You’d think it was hot if it weren’t so goddamn uncomfortable.  “Yeah?”

Sweet Yoongi is utterly unbothered, nonplussed as he adjusts the timepiece on his wrist.  “Yeah.”

Watching the two interact is akin to sitting front-row at Wimbledon, your gaze bouncing between the two men like they’re whipping a fluorescent yellow ball between them.  It’s so unbearable you have to remind yourself that they’ve been friends for years.  

“I’m heading out,”  Yoongi says, rather abruptly.  He sounds almost bored, training his focus back on you for these last few moments.  “Call me.”

You nod dumbly, watching his retreating back with an equally dumb look on your face. 

“What the hell was that?”  Jungkook’s taken up his hyung’s place, dangerously close and with a sour expression on his face.  You almost want to make fun of him for it - how he looks like he’s just sucked on an underripe lemon.  When he levels you with that look, though, you think better of it.  Time and place and all that.

You don’t meet his eyes.  “Was what?”  

“That.”  

The same edge presents itself again.  It mixes with something you can’t place, colouring his words an alarming shade of red that has your brow furrowing and mouth following suit.  You don’t appreciate the tone and you say as much, finally meeting his stare with defiance burning away the residual liquor in your system.  “None of your business.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, this isn’t it.  Brows shoot high, tongue rounding the interior of his cheek.  You’d recognize that look anywhere.  It’s the look that always gets him what he wants.

Which is why, once he’s abruptly kicked all of his guests out - to a chorus of boos and what the hells!  - you’re on your back in the middle of his living room.  Your dress - the poor, beautiful thing - lies in a heap somewhere in the kitchen, possibly caught across the back of one of his bar stools, and his clothes act like a trail of breadcrumbs leading from the front door.  Shirt, pants, socks.  

All he’s left in is black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.  It complements your own La Perla bra well - all delicate lace and macrame.  

“Say it again,”  he demands from between your legs, knees hooked over his shoulders as he coaxes you to another orgasm.  One shapely forearm rests across your hip, pressure heavy on your abdomen as you clench pathetically around his fingers.  He’s tapping a near brutal rhythm against your g-spot, curling two fingers within you until you’re seeing stars and too fucked-out to remember what you’re supposed to be saying.

Jungkook has no sympathy, though.  

He repeats himself with gravel in his throat, pad of his thumb ghosting over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.  You tremble with each pass, seeking more friction;  your back is arching with delirious need, hips rolling of their own accord.  It’s almost inconsequential against the weight of him.  

“Say it,”  he barks - a petulant child demanding a toy.  

“You’re better!”  It’s more a broken shriek, a sob that wrenches forth and fits lamely with the words he so desires.  It almost isn’t good enough but he thinks he’s dragged this on long enough.  He hasn’t even had his fun yet and you’re already shaking with oversensitivity. 

“Better than who?”  The question comes in a warm breath that has you bucking toward the source - or trying to, at least.  You’re so needy he can’t help but laugh - a far cry from your usual too-good-for-cuddling self - the sound muffled by the slick that coats your thighs and drips down your slit, making the sweetest mess.  

“Than anyone.” 

He tuts, withdraws his fingers from your obscenely wet walls, and studies the strands that connect them.  Pink tongue glides over his index before he’s slotting both digits against his cheek, indulging in the taste of you.  If he weren’t so focused on the conversation at hand, he’d be drinking directly from the source.  “Not just anyone, baby.”

You look almost shy - or at least as shy as you can look with your throat and shoulders painted with bruises and bites, chest heaving. 

“Than Yoongi.”  

“Don’t you forget it, sweetheart,”  he coos, so kindly you almost forget about the merciless edging he’s just done, bringing you to the precipice of bliss before ripping it away.  

You seek him out - the kiss-swollen shape of his mouth, the unyielding contours of his back - like you need him, like your trembling touch might coerce him into giving you what you want.  You kiss him as if you’re hoping to distract him, granting him a sexpot moan when you lose the hard fought war of tongue and teeth.  He thinks you think he won’t notice when you begin rutting against him, desperately seeking relief against the hard curve of his cock.  

The devilish side of him wants to call you out on it but it feels a little too good, your cunt soaking through the thin cotton of his briefs. 

“Someone’s needy.”  He bows above you, shoulders rounded to crowd you deeper into the couch cushions, and purrs the words directly into your ear, punctuating them with sharp, unrelenting glides of his teeth.  

You snap with far less malice than you intend and far more desperation than you want.  “Shut up.” 

“Watch it.”  This time, it’s punctuated by a sharp slap against your clit.  You jolt beneath him, a long drawn out whine his reward.  “Don’t you want me to let you come, baby?”

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole about it.”  He’d probably believe you more if you weren’t breathless and still, perhaps subconsciously, grinding yourself up against him. 

“I’m the asshole?”  The way Jungkook says it makes you bristle.  “You were the one making out with one of my friends.”

“I’m not your girlfriend!”

“So what?  Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do that.”

And that’s when it hits you like a ton of bricks.  It crashes into your feeble rib cage, a fast ball meeting its mark with perfect precision.  Your heart thumps pathetically before folding in on itself - a catcher’s mitt for his cruel words. 

You don’t know what you’d expected.  You know your relationship and all the things it isn’t. 

(You still hadn’t asked where his latest playmate had disappeared off too - you’d been too busy with his head buried between your legs.)

So you try to ignore the tears that block your vision, how suddenly all you can taste is saltwater.  The most you can do is squeeze your eyes shut, grinding your molars into a fine powder with the tension in your jaw.  Now is not the time. 

“Fuck you.”

He laughs, dismissive and amused.  The Calvin Klein band now sits halfway down his thighs, his swollen head tapping experimentally on your equally swollen clit.  He’s not even looking at you - far too interested in the way your essence coats his length. 

“That’s what we’re doing, baby.”  

Even when he speaks, he’s still staring down at the apex of your thighs, pressing the tip of his aching cock between your lips.  You take him so well, your walls burning around the unrelenting, slow press of his hips.  He’d fuck you every day if you’d let him.  You’d actually tried it once, for a week, when your office had a round of layoffs and your stress was at an all-time high. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet.”  It’s praise he offers often, always far too pleased with the way you ruin your underwear.  “Is this all for me?”

It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s filling you up like this.  Still, you try, holding hostage the sounds you know he likes to hear.  You swallow them, biting down so hard on your bottom lip that it throbs.

He doesn’t like that very much - burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust to elicit some sort of response.  “I asked you a question.”

You can’t deny him.  

A moan bounces around in your mouth, forced out when he pulls out nearly all the way and snaps back in, balls smacking lewdly against your ass.  He’s got your legs propped up over his shoulders, thighs spread wide as he watches your pussy stretch around his cock.  You’re folded nearly in half and his palms span your hips - perfect for him to hold you in place and fuck into you at a relentless pace. 

At this angle, his cock brushes the sensitive spot against your pelvic wall.  It’d be too much on its own, but he knows this position well and grinds down against you every time he pistons in.  The stimulation against your clit is otherworldly, bringing you right back to the edge like flipping a switch. 

“What was that?”  

“I-i-it’s all for you.”  You’re stuttering either because he’s bouncing you on his dick so well or because you’re about to come.  Maybe both.  He likes that. 

“That’s right.”  He maintains a firm grip on your side with a single hand, the other reaching to palm roughly at your breast.  You’re already straining against the delicate fabric of your bra - he hardly has to do anything but tweak and pinch your bud and you’re clawing at his own chest, manicured nails seeking to do the same to him. 

You miss your mark once or twice - you’re having troubles keeping your attention focused on anything but the tension in your core - but when you do, you’re rewarded with a stutter of Jungkook’s hips. 

“Do that again,”  he pants, resuming his unrelenting pace. 

You tweak his nipple sharply, soothing one then the other with a pass of your thumb.  The sensation starts in his belly, an electroshock in his groin that has him growling, the sound reverberating out of his chest with great need. He shifts, reclining back on his muscular calves as he peers down at your blissed out face and pretty, messy cunt. 

He’s desperate for release, your fluttering walls far too wet and warm around him.  “You wanna come, sweetheart?”  While he asks, he doesn’t need an answer - he’ll get you there anyway. 

Subtly adjusting his position, he drags one of your legs to join the other, both now propped against his left shoulder.  He keeps a commanding grip on your hip with that same hand;  his right snakes between your legs, seeking out the pearl of pleasure that’s all of a sudden assaulted with far too much pressure (from his hand and your own clenching thighs and what feels like a million other things). 

He can feel the tremors before they present themselves in your legs, the tightening in your pussy mimicking the way your hand fists over his heart.  There’ll be angry red lines for days to come - a literal x marks the spot on his otherwise unblemished honey skin. 

“Come on, baby,”  he croons, encouraging as always as he thumbs your clit in gentle, repetitive motions and fucks into you so hard and deep you can hardly breathe.  

Your face screws into an expression of euphoria, mouth rounding as the coil snaps and ecstasy surges through your veins.  It’s like an explosion of colour - fireworks igniting you from the inside out - and you’re crying, the fourth orgasm of the night swallowing you whole.  You’re squeezing him so tight it almost hurts. 

It’s so utterly hot that he finds his own high effortlessly, your walls milking him for all he’s worth.   He spills inside you - thank fucking god for IUDs - and fucks his cum deeper, riding out his release until he feels himself softening.  He gently removes your legs from his shoulders, pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to your ankle as he pulls out and settles beside you. 

Even your little mewl of displeasure can’t deter him when he pushes two fingers past your swollen lips, gathering up the cum that’s spilling out and pushing it back in.  At least he’s gentle, offering another kiss - this time to your hip bone. 

“Stay the night?”  He seldom asks.  You always say no. 

This time you don’t and he carries you to his bedroom, your face hidden against his neck.  You’re left on his neatly made bed as he draws a bath - something he’s done a handful of times throughout the decade and a half friendship you’ve shared, knees pressed together and exhausted. 

When he comes back and picks you up, you nearly miss what he says.  It’s almost lost to the soothing scent of lavender and the sound of running water.  

“Don’t do it again.”  

You’re not sure what he means when he says that.  You’re too afraid to ask so you say nothing.  He doesn’t repeat himself either, instead leaving you on the edge of his tub with a fluffy white bathrobe and a kiss to your forehead. 

Somehow, that’s even worse.

[nepofm]

spotted      at      met      steps      ,      bret      van       sant        timothee         chalamet      ,         east         harvey         harry         styles         ,         parker         dela         cruz         evan         mock         ,     muse       y       wearing      last      season’s      jimmy      choo      ?      i’d      leave      the      steps      in      the      next     24      hours      before      nepoupdates      catches      them      &      if      it      were      me     ,     i’d      definitely      go      back      to      the     checklist    of      golden      rules     .      

timothee chalamet.     he/him.     cismale.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   bret   van   sant   ,   most   likely   listening   to   all  mine  by  brent  faiyaz   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty  two  year  old  gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -temperamental  yet   +creative   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   spilled  cognac  on saint  laurent  suits  /  longing  for  something  you  cannot  receive  /  trashed  hotel  rooms  &  drug-fueled  bad  decisions   ,   followed   by   baccarat rouge 540   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   bret  being  charged  with  a  DUI  after  a  night  of  partying  &  now  he  must  do  fifty  hours  of  community  service   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .

harry  styles.     he / him.     cismale.      › spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   east  harvey   ,   most   likely   listening   to   crocodile  rock   by   elton  john   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty - six  year  old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -ditzy   yet   +saccharine   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   the  sun  setting  over  a  sunflower  field,  gold  heeled  boots,  a  crackly  beatles  record,  &  a  messy  penthouse  that  reeks  of  weed   ,   followed   by   mémoire  d'une  odeur  by  gucci   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about  how  he  was  spotted  leaving  a  star - studded  orgy   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .

evan   mock.     he/him.     cis   male.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   parker   dela   cruz   ,   most   likely   listening   to   16    by   baby   keem   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   four   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -erratic   yet   +vehement  to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   late   night   skating   the   city   ,   black   and   white   checkered   vans   that   are   slightly   scuffed   ,   and   the   helplessness   of   being   alone   ,   followed   by   tobacco   vanille   by   tom   ford   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   how   he   was   found   lashing   out   at   someone  ,   which   quickly   turned   into   a   physical   altercation   at   the   local   convenience   store   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .