#rose chocolat

[webdiggerxxx]

꧁★꧂

[fan-mans]

SHIP GIFS SHIP GIFS

Made here

[universella-blog]

Macarons sans sucre saveur litchi, rose et chocolat blanc.

Pour 6 personnes ; 15 minutes de préparation ; 45 minutes de cuisson.

Ingrédients :

Pour les coques :

75 g de poudre d'amandes

2 blancs d’oeufs

60 g d'édulcorant en poudre

1 c. à café de jus de citron

Quelques gouttes de colorant alimentaire rouge

Pour la garniture :

12 litchis

100 g de chocolat blanc

50 g de crème liquide légère

1 c. à café de rose

Préparation :

Préparez les coques. Tamisez la poudre d'amandes.

Montez les blancs d'oeufs en neige bien fermes avec le jus de citron, à l'aide d'un batteur électrique.

Ajoutez délicatement la poudre d'amandes et l'édulcorant en poudre puis mélangez.

Ajoutez quelques gouttes de colorant alimentaire rouge puis mélangez soigneusement jusqu'à obtenir la coloration rose que vous souhaitez.

Placez la préparation dans une poche à douille et formez les coques sur une plaque de four recouverte de papier cuisson.

Laissez croûter pendant 1 heure.

Préchauffez le four à 160°C.

Enfournez pendant 10 minutes.

Laissez refroidir à la sortie du four.

Préparez la garniture. Faites fondre le chocolat blanc au bain-marie.

Mélangez le chocolat fondu avec la crème liquide et l'eau de rose. Laissez refroidir.

Décortiquez et coupez les litchis en petits morceaux.

Répartissez la crème au chocolat blanc puis les litchis en morceaux sur la moitié des coques refroidies.

Recouvrez les macarons avec le restant des coques vides.

Conservez au frais jusqu'à la dégustation.

Bonne appétit ! 😋

[coconutgirl28]

Happy Valentine's Day 💗

[lauracino]

[onarangel]

A classic pain au chocolat (best enjoyed with a rose latte) in Le Bon Nosh,Atlanta

[shannonofrp]

Contemporary Deck Example of a mid-sized trendy deck container garden design with no cover

[wearetatal]

Contemporary Deck Example of a mid-sized trendy deck container garden design with no cover

[cecilecoutant]

Royal Pat Patrouille pour ma princesse 👑 sucette pop cakes 🐾🦴🐶 Joyeux anniversaire 💜💗 #patpatrouille #patpatrouillecake #anniversaireenfant #rose #blanc #royalchocolat #joyeuxanniversaire #princesse #stella #sucettepatpatrouille #popcake #popcakes #flocage #dessinanimé #patisseriemaison #pastryandtravelchallenge #challengephotographieculinaire #gateaublancrose #chocolat #goodfoods #chocolatblanc #valrona https://www.instagram.com/p/ClHF3nmLZUv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[fernandowelter]

#desserts #testnumberone #chocolat #citron #roses #thanksgod #godisgood #godisnotdead (em Grand Hyatt São Paulo) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cdb_CnOM4zb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[nmjoo-n]

SUGAR MOON 🥐 kim taehyung.

pair. art student! taehyung x fem! reader | genre. paris in the 50’s, arranged marriage, angst, romance, smut | warnings. profanity, smoking, possessiveness, pet names, jealousy, unprotected intercourse, oral sex, masturbation, fingering, age gap, breeding kink, virgin mc | word count. 7.1k

synopsis. “tell me, sweetheart, what will your boyfriend say about me being here in the middle of the night?” or kim taehyung won’t let anyone else have you. you’ve been promised to him, after all.

A small life, a small happiness.

These were the things that had been promised to you by your parents, Taehyung didn’t doubt it one fucking bit. Nothing had been shown to you, nothing he could use, nothing to stimulate that pretty little mind of yours. You were a blank canvas.

Someone he could taint. His womanizer ways had done their rounds across Paris, but no one ever actually thought there would come a time where Kim Taehyung, successor of the Kim’s and their jewelry empire, a business booming since the early 20’s, would settle down. They were wrong, of course.

Taehyung wasn’t planning on getting married and staying married, especially to such an inexperienced girl such as yourself, fresh out of her private academy, and working under her daddy as a typist, a receptionist. At least not at first. Not until he met with you in person.

Then, he couldn’t wait. After that first meeting, witnessing your shaking hands and soft voice as you greeted him—you had his cock leaking in seconds. No other woman had elicited such a reaction out of him, none that mattered. None he could remember the name of. So, naturally, he was attracted. Challenged. Interested.

It was a brief brunch, and an extremely pretentious one. Taehyung’s fingers had been itching for a cigarette the entire time, as your mother went on and on about your excellent grades and general impression. His father, an always serious man, all about his money and good name, had managed to snick cognac in his coffee without anyone noticing—anyone except you.

Taehyung’s eyes had caught your amused ones, as you rose a satin gloved hand to your red lips, pressing two digits against that beautiful mouth to keep you from laughing. He fell back on his chair then, manspreading even further, playing with the serviette in his hand, watching you closely.

You hadn’t touched your food. Out of nervousness, perhaps. He liked his women to eat, to indulge themselves in whatever pleases them most. You’d learn that. What else, then… your pinned hair, perfectly styled to fit the shape of your face, your cute nose, and rosy cheeks. The modest neckline of your dress. Hiding just enough, leaving the rest up to the imagination. Carefully chosen he concludes. By the mother. For this engagement.

What a fucking joke. He hated pretending the most. He was an artist; a free mind, someone that couldn’t be caged, someone that did not do well in circumstances as preposterous as these, so staged, so rehearsed, so—fake. If he had it his way, and his father knows this the best, he’d take you away from this table, away from all this boring talk between parents, a bidding war he’s afraid, for what price you’d be sold to him for. Well, that can’t have you feeling comfortable, and no one would want his fiancée to be dreading her own wedding day, would they?

He’s doing it for your future, he reasons.

“Excuse us, esteemed relatives,” he cuts his mother off, and stands up, mischievous gaze piercing through you. “We have greater matters to attend, don’t we sweetheart?”

You blushed immediately under the attention, clearly never having gone against anything in your life. A rule player, staying inside the box. Taehyung wanted to cut that box open, tear through it like a Christmas present, and pick you up, play with you for hours, steal that virginity, that innocence away.

It was at that first meeting, that he took you to his favorite bakery, bought you pain au chocolat, and watched you eat as he smoked, hot chocolate staining your top lip a delicious dark color. Taehyung chuckled at your child like reaction upon noticing your new bittersweet mustache, and decided he’d kiss you that day. Not then, you’d probably run off on him if he’d done it then.

“Have you no decency to tell me of my state?” You smack him playfully on the arm, and his smirk only deepens.

“And miss that adorable look on your face? Not a chance, sweetheart.”

Later. At his house, maybe, after he’s certain of your hold on him, and wants to explore it more. Explore you more. The fabric of your dress was hugging your waist exquisitely, dangerously, those heels doing nothing for you next to him. Eight years of a difference, yet he’s known of you for so long. Has seen you from afar, a mere girl with pigtails, no one he’d pay any mind to, just a shadowy figure in the background of his life, but always the promise hung; the promise between your families, the inevitable elopement.

But you were a tough woman, weren’t you? You made him fight for you. There had been a shy goodbye and then your back, walking away from him in a hurry, afraid to stick around for any more that you’d already have. That had been for the better, Taehyung mused to himself over another of many, many a cigarette. Tobacco had been a friend of his since the young age of seventeen, a way to fit in with the other teenagers and their self destructing tendencies. He had those too, he convinced himself. He had those too, but he also had his pencils and papers.

Taehyung had his art, and his music, and he was never alone. He’d witnessed no death, no poverty, no war, and so for that reason he was an insufferable dreamer, a delicate person. But he tried to see those things, tried to be a part of it all, to help, or to imitate—naturally, those people had taken and taken and taken from him, had used him for his warmth, his money, and reassured future, as they had to, at some point, unfortunately return back to their tiny, freezing apartments to starve and work minimum wage industrial jobs as he remained free to parade around Paris, wearing his expensive tailored suits and leather boots, studying art, not a care in the fucking world.

He was aware of this, too. It made no difference. He came from a family of immigrants, people who put in a great deal of effort to their endeavors. His father alongside his uncle had opened their first jewelry shop in 1922, amidst terrible, dark times, catering exclusively to the rich folk of Paris, investing every last penny they had to them, until the favor was returned. Now, boutiques across France, across Europe. Thirty-four years later.

All the whorehouses in Paris could not have prepared him for what he was about find out. For he’s never been truly jealous of anyone, has had no insecurities, no doubt of who he was. Taehyung was wanted by both men and women, divulged in sexual acts with all who interested him, never particularly caring for gender or class. People were all the same to him—everyone had a price, a reason. But not you, not to him. The more he was away from you, the stronger his feelings grew.

You had a little boyfriend; he learns from the driver he had ordered to follow you around. Someone insignificant, an electrician—so it was honest work you were looking for. A small life, a small happiness. Oh, to see your parents’ faces when they found out about this; how their words had backfired. Kim Taehyung came second to no one, and especially not a country boy trying to make it in the big, scary world. He had his ways of getting exactly what he wanted. That is to say, he hired a friend of his fathers to scare him off, to warn him against you. And if that didn’t work, if there was love involved—well, he couldn’t have that, could he?

You were promised to him first. He wouldn’t let anyone else have you. Especially that tight cunt, those cherry red lips. It went without fucking saying—he had to see you again. Unsupervised. Preferably, naked, underneath him.

So, he goes to your house. Picks up a few pebbles and tries for several windows, cigarette in mouth, dark brown curls falling over his eyes. You’re bound to answer to one. He persists, until he sees light coming from the last window at the corner of the stone building, a familiar shadow through the curtains.

Taehyung waits. It’s well past midnight, and you look terrified, but so, so beautiful. Fuckable, in your pink robe and loose hair. He wants to climb up the wall and fuck you right there, against that very window. He wonders if you’d let him, if you’d let go for him.

“My goodness, what are you doing here, Taehyung?” A protective hand over your chest, you look down at him perplexed, but—excited.

He takes the cig out his mouth, flicks the ashes off. “I can’t stop thinking about you, darling.”

He sees your eyes widen, those kissable lips part in an inaudible gasp. He smiles fondly, the thought of you half asleep, still warm from dreams, stirring because of him and his uncontrollable desires—oh, he’d marry you right then if he could. Such were his feelings for you.

“But you can’t be here! My parents—wait, are you drunk?”

Oops. He stumbled forward, discarding his suit jacket, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his forearms, stick between his lopsided lips.

“Guilty as charged, sweetheart,” he mumbles into the night. “I’m coming up.”

“Good lord, you’re not.”

“I am.”

A pause, as he begins his ascend up the front wall of your house. “You are a lunatic, Kim Taehyung. Absolutely.”

For you, perhaps. He’s climbed before, countless times actually, all involving rebellion and illegal activities, but no matter. This time he’s climbing for love, for a chance to get to know the real you, not the timid girl you are during the day, but the hidden side, the moon of you. He’d get it out of you, he’s good at that. And when he does, Taehyung will have his way with you. His cock stirs in the mere thought of it.

You make way for him to jump inside your bedroom, still shaken from the fact he can even do something like that. To see you. You must be dreaming. But no, that can’t be, because there he stands, in all his handsomeness, smelling of cigarettes and expensive cologne, curls bouncing with his every move. And he’s moving towards you.

“How is my favorite girl doing?”

Taehyung sees the flush on your bare neck, rising higher. He sees your hands coming together in front of you, as you instinctively step back from him, a prey in front of a hunter.

“This is inappropriate,” you mutter to yourself, blinking fast.

His lips curve slightly. “Yet, you let me in.”

Your eyes snap back at his. “I had no choice!”

He ignores this, instead familiarizes himself with your bedroom, the pastel colors, the minimal furniture, the piles of books. Your hairbrush, your mirror. Things you’ve used, things that smell like you. You were killing him, playing with the heartstrings of his goddamn heart. How can a girl so perfect as you, his promised fiancée, have someone else? Be touched by another man, loved by another man?

Jealousy has never felt uglier inside him.

“Tell me, sweetheart, what will your boyfriend say about me being here in the middle of the night?”

Your hip hits the corner of your desk, and you hiss quietly. You’re shocked by his words, and he doesn’t fault you. How could he know, after all. Right?

“Who told you this?” You question, and he grabs the end of your robe’s belt, feeling the lace of it.

“Confidential,” he replies simply. “You should know now, darling, I don’t share well. The woman that I’ll love will be my woman only.”

“Is that right?” You test him, he can see. A look of defiance so different from the submissive girl he met at that restaurant all those weeks ago.

He hums, enjoying your little power play. “That is exactly right, pretty thing. Care to elaborate on this secret of yours?” He kisses two fingers, places them on top of the place where his heart rests. “I promise it will stay with me.”

You don’t look convinced. You squirm and touch your hair. Another habit. You’re transparent to him, so easy to read, to decipher. Honest. Your ways do not betray you. To have someone to trust… it was incredibly valuable to Taehyung. Unheard of in the circles he ran, the family he was raised in. A salvation, then. You came to him as a small bird—what if he taught you how to fly?

“You don’t want to see me angry, sweetheart. Use your words,” he threatened, leaning against your closet, all the way on the other side of your bed, unmade and slept in.

In the dim light of your nightstand lamp, you looked dreamt up. Like a wet dream designed by his subconscious to haunt him, a personal Hell. To look but not to touch. Forbidden fruit, and everyone knows the story…

“I met him a year ago. He came for a routine check up on the power lines,” you started to explain, not moving an inch, afraid that if you did Taehyung would move as well. “I… He was kind to me. I’ve been seeing him secretly ever since.”

“Has he touched you?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question, darling, isn’t it? Has.he.touched.you?”

You huffed an incredulous laugh, as if offended. You answer anyway. “We’ve only kissed, not that it’s any of your business.”

Taehyung nods his head slowly, pointing at the pack he took out of his trousers’ pocket. “May I?” But he doesn’t wait. Lighter on the edge of the cigarette, he inhales the smoke deeply, blowing it towards the ceiling, pondering over the information in his head.

“Kindness,” he says. “Is a tricky thing, isn’t it? Makes you feel guilty if you don’t give it back, if you don’t return it.”

Closing the distance between your bodies, he sees you cowering in the corner, but those eyes are anything but scared. You have a bite, it’s in there. Taehyung wonders how he can bring it out, test it.

“He loves me,” you retort, and you’re trying to sound convincing.

The question is to whom?

“Sweetheart, I do not doubt for one fucking minute that a man could have a pretty little thing like you and not be completely enamored. Only a fool would waste the opportunity.” You stay quiet, watching him stop by the foot of your bed, nothing but a mere two steps separating you now.

“Maybe he does, chances are he doesn’t. It matters little to me,” he pins you down with a strict look. “You’re to stop seeing him. I’m not a charitable person—you belong to me now. Am I making myself clear?”

The mask crumbles, the wounded girl appears. Tears glisten in the faint warm glow of the room, and Taehyung finds himself wanting to wipe them away, make them disappear. He didn’t mean to hurt you, to make you cry. He’s drunk, and he’s jealous, and he’s falling in love.

He’s the bird in the cage, flapping its wings, terrified, starved of genuine affection. His deflecting can only camouflage this truth for so long. It will shoot out like a slap in the face to render him speechless, and it will be soon. But for right now, as he stands in front of you, all he wants is to taste those lips, to try molding them into his own.

“You are cruel, Kim Taehyung. Marrying you would be a tragedy and a punishment,” you mutter, fighting back sobs, chin quivering.

He smiles, but it’s all teeth, he’s a wolf, and it’s fake, it’s forced, and his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, fingers clenching into fists, cigarette butt bitten into to keep from lashing out. Not going after the engagement earlier had been a tragedy, having to deal with the aftermath of not trying to get to know his own fiancée the punishment. But you had been young, and he had been too preoccupied with easy pussy and pretentious art to care. Now you hate him, and it feels unfair.

“What if I told you this person was only after your money, darling? Would that make you see?”

“Lies.”

Taehyung exhales through his nose, nostrils flaring. “I don’t lie, sweetheart, if there’s one thing to know about me it’s this. I have proof. He’s been stealing from this family and has been feeding you fairytales.”

You attack then, heading straight for his face. He grabs both your wrists, and immobilizes you instantly, spitting the cigarette out in fear of burning you. You stare at each other for what feels like ages, both panting, neither backing down.

“You’re trying to poison me,” you spit at him, pure hatred spread across your beautiful face. “Lock me up.”

He softens immediately, blinking down at you, snapping out of it. “I fed you hot chocolate, ordered flowers to your house every single day since I met you,” he whispers, trying to make you see reason. “I’ve known you since you were playing hide and seek with my younger sister, a girl no older than nine years of age—I’ve never had a reason to lie to you, to trick you. All I’m doing is trying to protect you. Neither of us had any control over our relationship, (Y/N), and I am truly sorry for that. Be it as it may, I now have a responsibility to you, to keep you out of harm’s way, to be truthful.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, and you look so confused, so fucking split into what you want to believe and what is real, that Taehyung can only pull you into his arms, let you come to terms with the fact. You don’t fight, you don’t even say anything, you just sob into his shirt quietly, overtaken by heartbreak. He sits you both down on the bed, and you fall into his lap—so easily, like you’ve done this a thousand times. His thoughts drift further, and he chastises himself; you’re in a vulnerable position, it’s late. He should leave you alone.

For the life of him, he can’t find the will to do it.

“What I said still stands,” he mumbles into your hair. “I will not apologize for the way I am. For as long as you’re mine, no one else will have you. I will kill anyone who dares to attempt messing with you.”

You sniffle and sigh, tear-stained bloodshot eyes looking back at him. “I had no idea you were like this.”

One side of his mouth curves slightly, hands coming to push hair back from your face. “You’ll get used to me. Give it some time.”

Your gaze moves across his features, studying him. A breath away. If he leaned in just a bit, he could take your mouth in his, devour you whole. He almost does. The hope that you might want anything to do with him is holding him back from doing so.

“Okay,” you say, and he exhales.

“What?”

“Okay,” you repeat, fingers coming to wipe at the wetness on your cheeks. “I’ll give you a chance. Please don’t make me regret it.”

His body physically aches from the effort he puts not to pounce on your right then and there, so instead he settles for a kiss on the forehead, short and painful. Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, begs for you to stop wiggling on him.

“I fucking swear, darling. I’ll be good to you.”

He’s never promised anything to any woman before. He finds himself wanting to keep good on his words this time.

It’s exactly two weeks after his little break and entering fiasco that the preparations for the engagement party begin.

Your mother seemed to know Taehyung had spent majority of that night with you, if he were to judge by her inquisitive looks and overall effort to never leave her daughter unattended around him. That was well enough—he was a creative and innovative man, he always seemed to find a way around rules and indiscreet eyes.

He takes you to a movie screening one afternoon, and stares at your animated expressions the entire time. He smokes twice as much to resist the urge of putting his hands on you. He desperately wants to; he craves having you in his arms again, yearns for that sweet scent, those soft thighs rubbing against his erection, your breasts against his firm chest. Taehyung dreams of you often, dreams of those untouched folds he’s never seen, never tasted—he’s a savage diving headfirst into them, licking every last drop of your wetness, inhaling the smell of your virgin cunt, and imagines your desire to be touched by a man, him, your soon to be husband.

He comes into his hand every morning, wishing his palm was you around his raw cock, allowing him to invade you, to ravage you. He weaves his time, reassuring himself—all in good time. He’ll have you for eternity soon, and no forever will be enough for all he’s planned on doing with you.

“Tell me, sweetheart, do you drink?”

You look at him, eyelashes flattering innocently. “No, not really,” you confess, and you appear so cute to him, then, that he must make a move, it cannot be helped.

Taehyung kisses your temple affectionately, stopping you both in your tracks in the bustling streets of the 7th Arrondissement. You lean in for just a moment, overtaken, and he considers it a triumph, a step towards the right direction. He’ll spend the rest of his life proving himself to you, if that’s what it takes, just so he can kiss you like this.

“We can’t have that, can we?” He rhetorically asks, and takes your hand in his, draping it over his forearm. “You’re with me, now, you must divulge in the few pleasures that life has to offer, my darling.”

“No one has offered to show me,” you confess shyly.

Show you he does. He takes you to the restaurant he frequents at and orders the bottle of wine he loves the most, along with dinner. Taehyung fills your glass and cuts your steak in bite sized pieces when it arrives. He advices you to sniff at the red colored alcohol first, before closing your eyes and having a taste.

You’re the most special kind of angel doing exactly as you’re told, taking a small sip of the aged wine. He watches, breath bated. When you open your eyes, the fascination on your face makes him smile brightly, proudly.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!”

“That’s my girl.”

Your fiancée leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette as you contently chew your food, drink your wine. He stares in awe, mesmerized by your genuine nature. You blush under his intense gaze.

“Won’t you eat?” You ask, biting your pink lips.

Taehyung can’t help but smirk at that. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll eat later, trust me.”

“You say it with such innuendo, I don’t understand—”

“Have you ever touched yourself, (Y/N)? Be honest with me.”

You choke on your food, eyes widening, coughing into your hand. Taehyung chuckles, offering you some water. You take it gratefully, chugging half the glass. He waits, amused, curious. A few people turn to look. He ignores them.

“That is not a proper question to ask a lady, Taehyung,” you scold him after you recover, fingers playing with your pearl necklace.

“You are to be my wife. I believe I can ask whatever I want,” he responds calmly.

You take a while to answer, instead turning to the wine for bravery.

“Why the interest?”

“Purely out of curiosity. I want to know what makes you feel good, sweetheart, for when I go down on that sweet cunt of yours.”

Your knife falls out of your hand and hits the floor at once. More people begin to tune into your conversation, intrigued. You look around, embarrassed and crouch to pick up your utensil. Taehyung turns his head to the side to blow smoke on the nosy woman on the table next to yours. She heaves, waving her hand and quickly minds her business.

“Did I say something to upset you?” He presses.

“You’re ridiculous and vulgar!” You half whisper, urging him to stop his teasing. “No one has ever spoken to me in this way.”

“Your boyfriend must’ve been a bore then, darling. I’m only stating my intentions. I would never dare to offend you.”

“It’s just as so.”

“Don’t be shy with me.”

“Yes!” You exclaim, and down the entire glass of wine. “Of course I have, who hasn’t? Now no more of this or I’m leaving.”

Taehyung shuts the fuck up at once.

He wishes he can say he was nothing but a total gentleman the entire evening, but that would a blatant fucking lie, wouldn’t it, because as soon as you get off the car to go into your house, he grabs you by the arm and kisses you deeply, hands ruining your hair. You moan and refute against his lips, but he holds you tighter, attempts to bruise your mouth so that you’d feel him there for a good fucking while.

He wishes he can say that had been all, but it wasn’t, because he takes you on the side of the building, covering you in shadows, and slips his hand under your dress, feeling your garters, touching the lace of your underwear. He rises your skirts, and fingers you right there, your parents just through the wall, wondering where their sweet little girl is.

You gasp and cling to him, bodies pressed together as he leaves you no room to think, to second guess, to breathe, even. He’s ruthless in his taking, selfish in his ambition to make you come for him, and so his digits curl in your slick, finding out the pleasure spots of you, desperate to have you screaming his name. You’re moving your hips towards his hand in no time, overwhelmed by how good it feels to have something inside you, fucking into you. Taehyung flattens his palm, and rubs your clit with the heel of it, long fingers edging you.

“Please, Taehyung… that feels too good, what are you doing to me?”

Your head falls on his shoulder, just as he hikes one of your thighs up his torso. He has half a mind to slam you down on his cock, fuck you in public, unashamed, outside your own fucking house, but he doesn’t, he won’t, because you’re important; because you matter, because he only wants to give you a little taste of what he can do for you.

“I’m stretching that little hole of yours, sweetheart. You’re so fucking wet for me, baby, so eager for my hand.”

Cupping you jaw, his tongue pushes past your lips in an open-mouthed kiss, eliciting more sounds from you, growing hotter, whinier, broken. Your pussy is making sounds too, all wet and filthy, and you seem to hear them as well, trying to pull away from his kiss, hide your face in his chest. He doesn’t let you, opens his eyes to see the pleasure written clearly on your features.

“You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling? All over my fingers? Let me see you, sweet thing, and then let me have a taste of those sweet juices. I bet you taste like pure fucking honey, I wanna bury myself in that cunt, drown in that cream. Won’t you give it to me, baby? C’mon, let go for me, let me see.”

When you come, you don’t seem to understand what you just did, what happened, and Taehyung is truly and completely awestruck by your innocence. He rubs circles on your clit until your body stops convulsing, and when he’s sure you’re okay to stand on your own, he kneels down in front of you on the dewy grass, gripping your hips, and diving in your folds, tongue lapping your slickness, so velvety, so goddamn tasty, before going for your clit, flicking the small bundle of nerves. You jerk away from him, the sensation unfamiliar. He brings you back, growls, grips tighter and does it again. And again. And again.

“Oh my God, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

He moans against your cunt, uses his hand again to provide more friction for you to rub against. You do immediately, your pussy on fire, aching like never before, your stomach in knots. Then he starts mumbling like a mad man—I can feel it, sweetheart, let me have it, come in my mouth, give it to me my filthy fucking girl, my little slut, Heaven on earth on my tongue, I swear, one more, one more baby, come on.

You come again, and this time you see stars; your vision blurs, and you almost collapse on top of him, but Taehyung holds you up whilst not missing a single drop of your release, licking all over, chin coated in your juices, running down his neck. He fucking loves it all, loves you, loves your cunt. Then, he hears it.

Your dad calling out for you. While he’s still buried between your thighs, erection pressing against his trousers, his daughter fucked out and half naked for everyone to see. You panic immediately, pushing your skirt down, looking at the direction of the voice worried, dizzy still from your orgasms.

Taehyung pulls your panties over your core, and gets up quickly, giving you one last kiss before slapping your ass. You hit his chest alarmed, anxiety ridden.

“Go first, darling. I’ll see you later.”

“But—”

He fixes you with a stern look. “Be a good girl.”

You hesitantly go, your hand dropping from his. He hates having to let go of you like this but doesn’t want to get you in trouble with your father, either. He waits a bit for both voices to disappear behind doors, before going back to his car, parked a couple houses back. Taehyung can barely think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock.

He rubs himself like that, with the thought of you coming undone over him, your taste still in his mouth. When he spits into his palm, he imagines your perfect lips wrapping around his shaft, taking his entire length into your small hole, gagging over his girth. He barely cares for anyone passing, or his indecency.

He wants to fuck you raw, fuck you dumb. Put a ring on your finger, and knock some babies in you, then die a happy man.

All in good time.

With guests arriving and gifts piling up, Taehyung hadn’t got a single chance to talk to you. Just a quick hello and peck on the cheek, before your mothers dragged you away to fix your dress and powder your face up to her standards.

You’d grimaced at him as you were taken to the guest room of his house, and he gave you a small smile in return. This day was most important to them, a celebration of two of the most powerful and influential families in all of France, so in that way, you had to look your best, and even then, your best didn’t guarantee perfection.

Taehyung thought you looked fucking stunning in your champagne-colored gown, crystals cascading down your hair. A wish, or a dream, or both. He can only imagine what you’d look like in your wedding dress, walking towards him down the aisle, given to no one but him, his to love, to cherish, to protect, and to fuck. He gets excited with the mere thought, the prospect of having you all to himself, to do whatever he pleases.

His father slaps him on the shoulder once, already more than three glasses of bourbon in; he had a buzz about him, a friendly aura, when he was drunk. It was easier to talk to him, then, in his relaxed state. But Taehyung had nothing to say—not to him, at least. He’d been a pain in the fucking ass all these years, and now when it’s time to do his duty and marry into a good family, all of a sudden, he’s the picture-perfect authority.

Bullshit. He loosens his tie a little, the noose suddenly entirely too tight around his neck, and puts the cigarette back in between his fingers, running a hand through his tidy hair, with the brushed back curls.

At first, greeting people had been easy enough. All he had to do was stand right next to you and shake hands. He doesn’t know when the air got so unbearably stifling, or when the faces all started blurring into each other, smiles melting off as if acid had been thrown onto them. Taehyung squeezes that hand he has around your waist, and you look up in concern. The music is too loud, the lights are too bright, and who the fuck keeps banging on his head?

“Tae?” You ask, delicate hands taking his pale face in them. “You’re overwhelmed,” you conclude, staring into his eyes. Then to your mother, “We’re gonna go get some fresh air.”

“Right now?” She chastises but doesn’t object. Perhaps Taehyung looks worse than he feels. “Be back soon, honey. You need to give your toasts, so we can bring out the cake.”

“Yes, mother.”

Like magic, his migraine disappears the moment you leave the living room. Your soft hand in his, leading him to privacy—all he needed, all he wanted. Your plan is to take him to the garden, have the crispy autumn air hit him, bring him back from his anxiety. But it wasn’t stress that made him unwell; it was those people, the fact that he knew none of them, and yet they got to congratulate him, to stare at his bride as if she’s nothing more than a piece of meat, something with an expiration date.

They think that Kim Taehyung won’t be faithful. That he’ll grow bored, and once he gives you a couple children, will try everything in his power to stay as far away as possible from you. The assumptions of a life he left far behind the moment he bought you that chocolate croissant were haunting him, karma coming to bite him. He was no longer that person they’ve heard so many rumors about it, nor does he wish to ever be, ever again.

You were his future now. His life. He was completely devoted to you. You had to know this.

Before you can reach for the balcony door, he pulls you into the library, locking the door behind him. You let out a gasp as he pushes you against the cold glass of the window that run across the wall, overlooking the majestic garden his mother and housekeepers had built. Taehyung smiles and puts both his arms on either side of you, his thumbs caressing your temples tenderly.

“I thought you weren’t well,” you mutter, blinking up at his handsome face.

“You always make me feel better.” He inches closer.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” And then he kisses you.

Gently, softly. Small feathery pecks, admiring the way you bloomed for him, under his touch. The party was gearing up, he could hear the melody change to something more upbeat, so he figured he could steal a few more moments with you, alone. His mind ran a thousand miles per hour.

“I want you to know, sweetheart, I want you to hear it from me directly, and believe me always when I say—I’ll be a good husband to you. I will always put you first, above my own self, whatever you need. Count on me, let me be a man that’s deserving of an angel like you,” he whispers against your lips, watches as your eyes glisten with tears of joy.

He kisses them away, then kisses your brow. You giggle, a sound holier than church bells. He would give you anything, then. His baby, his darling. Anything.

“I’m going to take advantage of you now— I can’t fucking wait any longer, you have me by the fucking balls, sweetheart.”

Your hands instinctively go for his shoulders, as he roughly pulls your dress up your legs, over your hips, those long fingers dipping underneath your silk panties, feeling that smooth pussy with his open palm. Taehyung groans into your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there. He wanted to mark you, show everyone you’re his, but not now. You’d be too embarrassed to go back out, face all those guests.

Your cunt wasn’t shy, though. It coated his fingers with your slick wetness, opened up for him to have his way. So obedient, so fucking sexy—oh, he’d fuck you. Right against this window, for anyone that was outside to see. He didn’t give a fuck. You drove him crazy with how ready you always seemed to be, your body betraying any sort of rebuttal from you.

“Tell me baby, have you touched yourself since I was in between these legs?” As his middle finger slips inside your tight entrance. “Have you thought of me while rubbing this pretty pussy? Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” a breathy moan against his collarbone, as your hand wraps around the nap of his neck. “Yes.”

He’s a gone man, then. A girl as perfect as you, his promised girl, admitting to pleasuring herself with the thought of him? Taehyung almost wants to apologize for who he was about to become.

“Turn around for me, darling.”

You’re scared, overthinking the position, but with one last flick on your clit, you’re drenching his entire hand, rubbing on his forearm like a starved slut.

“I’ll take care of you, baby, I got you, I promise.”

“Will it hurt?” You ask quietly, and he shushes you, kisses away your worry.

“It might, angel. But you’re my strong girl, aren’t you? Bite on my hand if the pain is too much.”

He holds your hips aligned with his erection and unzips his trousers, pumping himself a few times, using your slick to coat his length. Taehyung then puts a hand over your mouth, and you hold onto it with both of your own, inching your ass closer to his cock absentmindedly, your body obviously wanting this as much as he does.

“Fuck me, you’re a fucking dream like this, darling, let me see you. Do that again.”

You do, the white garters and stockings you have on the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his goddamn life. He’s seen a lot of pussy, but nothing compares, could ever compare to yours. Sliding his rock-hard length against your folds, he circles an arm around your waist, your knees already giving out. Taehyung chuckles, kisses your shoulder blade softly. What an adorable girl, so innocent in the ways of pleasure, all the different ways your senses can come alive.

“Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart.”

He enters you at once, what little resistance there was giving way. You scream into his hand, and he presses his chest on your back, fingers pressing against your mouth to keep you quiet. Stilling for a second, brows furrowing, aching to pound into you, to fuck you senseless, he then pulls all the way out, and thrusts back in, the tightness feeling incredible against his girth.

“Christ baby, where have you been my entire fucking life?”

You whimper, and push back, wanting to be as close to him as possible. “Faster, Taehyung, please.”

He needn’t be told twice. He stays inside you, picking up his pace, fucking into the deepest part of you, both arms wrapping around your waist, breathing labored, watching as you place two manicured hands on the glass, trying to keep yourself upright. He praises you, tells you how good you’re doing, how fucking perfect you are for him, taking cock so well, a natural, a good little slut, his baby, so proud of you, so fucking proud.

“Look at you, shameless, getting fucked for the whole world to see. You’re a filthy fucking girl, angel, aren’t you? All you want is to come on my cock, don’t you?”

“Please…”

Taehyung wants to grab you by the hair, drill himself into your hole, shape it to fit his dick exactly, to mark his place there so that you could never leave him, never let any other man in that sweet fucking place. Instead, he watched the crystals bounce, your tits smashed against the glass, corset keeping them in place.

“Please? Use your words, darling. What do you want?” He demands, bending you at the waist more, feeling his release getting closer.

“You, please, more, more!”

When his digits drop down to your clit again, you’re a crying mess, begging to be filled with cum, filled by him, to the brim, until you can’t take no more, and he gives it all to you, he’s generous, he slams one, two, three—your head falls in ecstasy, as he shoots his load inside of your insatiable hole, balls emptying all he’s been holding back for you.

He rests his head on your lower back, sweat dripping into his eyes, stinging. He kisses you over the flashy fabric of your dress, hands resting above your womb, thinking about seeing your swollen belly, carrying his child, a beautiful mommy.

Taehyung helped you get decent, tucking himself back in his pants, straightening his suit vest, passing a hand over his combed hair, and turned you around in his arms for a last kiss. Only this one was more intense; unlike any other kiss he’s ever experienced. It was emotional, carrying the trust and love you’ve grown to have for him, the most precious thing he could ever ask for.

“I’ve loved you since I met you, sweetheart,” he whispers sweetly in your ear, pulling back to see your reaction.

You flushed, hiding on his shoulder. He smiles fondly at your action and keeps you there for a while. Some time has passed since you two supposedly went to the gardens, and he didn’t want your mother to start an entire search party for the both of you, so he halfheartedly suggested to return to the living room.

Admittedly, there was no possible way to hide you two had sex. His mother shook her head as he brought you to stand in front of the two-tiered vanilla frosted cake, attached to your hip.

“I’ll love you til the day I die,” he promises later, in front of everyone, slipping a diamond ring on your finger. “Mine to hold, mine to keep.”

[celestialtrolls-moved]

Aelynn is ready for the ball! The result of blood, sweat and tears (both mine and hers), and now I'm gonna go let my hand collapse and potentially fall off my body!

But that's not all, because I put my whole brain into this design, so click the read more to see ME EXPLAIN NEARLY EVERY SINGLE DESIGN DECISION I MADE AND WIPS

themes that were kept in mind

CARNEVALE CONFECTIONS: A BLOODSTAINED MASQUERADE

Sogno Dell’Arlecchino + Blood & Candy

inspiration focuses were chocolates, vampires (blood and gothic), carnevale (harlequins), decadence and detail, and Italy. just. in general.

DRAFT 1, sketch

writing, from top left to bottom right

makeup is carnevale inspired, maybe jade for vampire/rainbow drinker

ribbon-like chocolate gift decoration (in hair)

drips - blood? chocolate? (necklace)

wavy hair to invoke pouring chocolate

cream filling or icing (around the hem of bust)

rhinestones in hair and in tulle for decadence

tulle (bustle) -> make it lace, more common in carnevale costumes

caramel drizzle, small jewels as 'salt' (decorating the gloves)

corset VERY IMPORTANT for vampiresque vibe

subtle pattern (on the corset)

like little maltesers (on the bustle)

alternating black and white (skirt panels)

the dress shape itself was inspired by several looks from 'salon du chocolat' fashion shows, however this was abandoned

DRAFT 2, lines (attempt 1)

switched to a long skirt for a more classic silhouette, skirt drafts

based on various cake decoration methods, asked in servers which i should go with and then tried to merge the chocolate chips and the icing for maximum decadence, however

chocolate chips were abandoned due to looking somewhat messy

some rhinestones were placed to replace them much later

LINEWORK, attempt 2 (i redrew the entire thing with a thinner lineweight)

as well as the things written here, i switched out the hairpiece from chocolate squares to unturned fangs and roses

i also included the rest of the moodboard i was using in this image so you can see the other things i was inspired by

COLOUR DRAFTS

tried roughly placing colour in this phase, wanted to have a bright lilac main colour to balance out the dark details and hair, since carnevale costumes tend to be extremely bright and eye-catching, tried to avoid using completely desaturated colours

decided to put the gradient at the bottom of the dress because putting it at the top made it look like it wasn't one piece with the bust, wasn't really happen with the contrast between the leg ribbons and the lilac however

part way through colouring i decided i hated the lilac, tried to darken it a little, still didn't like it, turned it black

decided to hand-draw a tonne of embroidery for the corset because most carnevale dresses have heavy detail in texture and lace pattern

the front two panels are paisley/plant-inspired and then the panels on the back which is then echoed for the translucent torso piece are geometric patterns based off of commedia dell'arte costumes for the character trope 'harlequin'

the torso piece also has small unique embroidered flowers in each of the larger empty spaces because seriously these carnevale outfits go so heavy on patterns

more italian gothic architecture, this hatched pattern has a multiply layer depicting the Duomo of Siena onto the fan, which is a fascinating piece of architecture that spanned centuries to finish

[krscblw]

ghoul perfume associations!

i am very into ghost. and i am also very into indie perfumes! so i decided to combine the two and make a list of my scent associations for each of the ghouls, as well as a few indie fragrances that fit them (in my opinion! if y'all have other thoughts i would LOVE to hear them /gen)

i also included all of the perfumes i found that had the same names as the ghouls, even if i didn't think the scent profile worked, and bonus atmospherics that i think are more naturally ghoul-ish and worked well for the various elements!

warning: this is an obscenely long post. i have too many thoughts.

another warning: because this post is so long, some of the text might get cut off on mobile. it should be okay on desktop if that happens (i don't know how to fix it, sorry)

Aeon

Notes: chocolate, linen, lavender. Aeon smells very gentle and pleasant, but not necessarily sweet. He smells like things that he himself finds comfort in.

Perfumes:

Chocolatine -- Fyrinnae

“Also known as Pain au Chocolat, these flaky croissant-like pastries are filled with pieces of dark or semi-sweet chocolate. This is not a very sweet fragrance.”

TELEGRAMA – Imaginary Authors  

talc, lavender absolute, black pepper, teak, amyris, vanilla powder, fresh linens

Bonus:

Phantom -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab 

Aether

Notes: bourbon, amber, vanilla. Aether smells sophisticated, but with a warm, golden edge. He smells like comfort, like unconditional love- but also a little bit like sex.

Perfumes:

Quintessence of Debauchery -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A distillation of raw, bawdy sexiness without regard for gender - Bourbon vanilla, tonka, dark florals, peach brandy, coriander, mock orange, spiced pumpkin, fresh ginger root, rock rose, long leaf tobacco, black opium infused amber, patchouli, oakmoss, and cruelty-free (vegan) castoreum.”

Morosexual -- Treading Water Perfume  

“Morosexual - The sexual attraction to stupid people. Treat yourself and read your partner at the same time with a scent that is as classy as it is stupid. The earthy combo of vanilla, fresh tobacco and star anise combine with spicy nutmeg to create a warm soft blanket to dull the mind.”

tobacco, vanilla, patchouli, jasmine, star anise, nutmeg

Alpha

Notes: leather, smoke, gunpowder. Alpha smells.. off-putting, to most people. He has an intense personality, and it's reflected in his scent.

Perfumes:

Industrial Sabotage -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A cataclysmic wreckage of burnt wires; twisted melted steel; shattered machinery, and gunpowder.”

Night Shift -- PULP Fragrance  

“Black frankincense, engine grease from a long late shift, smoke, ash, blackened wood, and a hint of leather.”

Cirrus

Notes: dark fruits, musk. Cirrus smells sophisticated in a dark, sensual way. She smells.. hypnotic, almost. She smells like you want her, but she doesn't even know you exist.

Perfumes:

Venus Black -- Possets 

“A grand and very very sensual scent. Black in the most sophisticated way. Considered one of the colors, its working name was Mars' Black but it is so wonderfully feminine that there is no way that it could be named after the god of war, it should be named after the goddess of love. The Blackest musk flirts with a float of black pepper, a shot of dark sweet pear, and the smallest amount of sage and non-stinky narcissus for tingle. One not to be missed. Dry, musky, spicy.”

(i have this one. it's VERY attractive (i had to stop wearing it because i was confusing myself lmao) and now that i associate it with cirrus. i might have a problem)

Salomé -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“An overture of not so innocent magnolia underscored with a sly caress of Queen of the Night, a fulsomeness of nubile black grapes and plums, skin musk bathed in spilled cognac, and ruthless twist of bitter orange, blended with an ancient Arabian love philtre of crushed vanilla and tonka bean, sandalwood, vetiver, cedar, and red oud.”

Bonus: 

Cirrus -- Osmofolia 

Cumulus

Notes: lilac, magnolia, jasmine, sugar. Cumulus smells sweet and cloying. You smell her once and the scent haunts you all day like the most enchanting ghost.

Perfumes:

Alabama -- Possets

“Floral perfume lovers rejoice! This one is the essence of a hot sticky Southern night at the height of passion with the one you love. What a treat! Alabama weaves pink fizzy mimosa, thick white magnolia, canebrake jasmine, Mexican tuberose, and Martinique gardenia. The effect is eternally woman, unabashedly sexy, and in command. These are all knit together with precious Sacred Frankincense to concoct a bombshell of a fragrance, deep white floral with deep incense leanings. A hypnotic fragrance. So very sweet, so very profound. Feminine, floral, devastating.”

Sweet Mother -- Little And Grim  

“‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave --/ slender Aphrodite has overcome me/ with longing for a girl.’ -Sappho. Notes of lush moss, blooming lilac, French lavender, rose, jasmine, mandarin and lemon zest, warm musk, and lily of the valley.”

Bonus:

Cumulus -- Osmofolia 

Skiing On Europa -- Fyrinnae 

“The atmosphere of a distant moon, not as habitable for mammals as Earth, the thin air reminiscent of high mountain elevations before snowfall. Cold, and ozonic like petrichor.”

Dewdrop

Notes: berries, smoke, wood. Dew smells like resinous woodsmoke, with an unexpected berry undertone. (Just like his personality: brash outside, sweet inside.)

Perfumes:

Ignis -- PULP Fragrance

“Raspberries, fresh ginger, smoky aloeswood, pale blond tobacco leaves & fiery red musk.”

A CITY ON FIRE – Imaginary Authors

“The refined smoke accord makes this an austere and luxurious scent for evenings on the town, whether with a special someone or alone and looking for trouble.”

cade oil, spikenard, cardamom, clearwood, dark berries, labdanum, burnt match

Bonus: 

The Center of the Universe -- Alkemia Perfumes   

“The center of our universe is raspberries and rum? In a vast dust cloud at the center of the Milky Way there is an abundance of ethyl formate, a simple aliphatic ester found in the smell of rum and raspberries. To these elements, we've added notes from astronauts' descriptions of the smell of their suits when they return from space walks - freshly welded metal, gun powder, seared steak in an iron pan, burnt almond cookies, charcoal, and ozone.”

Ifrit

Notes: black tea, incense. Ifrit smells heavy and dark in a way that makes you want more. Very mysterious, even though his personality doesn't really match.

Perfumes:

Black Tea -- Possets 

“The most dark and the most tannic of teas. Somehow that puckery quality becomes addictive. Just right for a seductive night deep in July or August where humidity makes itself into a sexy accessory. Not subtle but very alluring. Pure and beautiful, incense floats over it all and the effect is so much like the vapor lines of a mirage. Tea-like but not sweet.”

(this is one of my favorite fragrances EVER, i wear it like every day)

O, UNKNOWN! – Imaginary Authors 

“At the risk of sounding bleak, this night could be your last. Splash on O, Unknown! and plunge forth into prosperity and joy. Repeat as often as you are able.”

black tea, lapsang souchong tincture, orris butter, kyoto moss, musk balsam, sandalwood

Bonus:

The Ifrit -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab 

Mist

Notes: water, herbs. Mist smells aquatic and green, like spring rain or a pond full of plants. There's an icy, aloof edge to her scent.

Perfumes:

Taste of Rain -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“A primordially vernal chypre consecrated by silver rain, green ivy, holy basil, lilacs, moss, and wisteria.”

Diaphanous Dress -- Possets 

“If the lovely Primavera would wear a gown, she might be dressed in a garment made of snow crystals and flowers. Even into April, spring can get cold even while the flowers we all love press upward. Spring displays irony in her variability. Deepest and richest Mexican vanilla troupes bravely with the chill aquatic of snow falling in heavy doses and melting almost on contact. A tuft of chlorophyll is in the background and a hint of the flowers it all overtakes for just a while. This is an enchanting fragrance, a hypnotic springtime blend which is more about the atmosphere than the real flowers themselves.”

Bonus: 

Ammil -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“An olfactory journey that morphs like melting ice... starting cold and aloof with distinct elements of wet snow and ice then gradually unfolding to reveal an indescribably unique velvety skin warmth.”

Mountain

Notes: vetiver, greenery, earth, mushrooms. Mountain smells very green and earthy, almost like he was recently underground, or maybe like he spent all day tending to a fragrant garden (he did).

Perfumes:

Hedale Wood -- Little And Grim

“This fragrance is dark and a bit mysterious, while staying green enough to be worn without smelling too villainous.”

vetiver, cedar trees, bergamot, dense foliage, coriander, musk, sandalwood, frankincense, a touch of lavender, amber

Heirloom Tomato Leaf -- Fyrinnae

“Rows of tomato plants on a humid day, their unmistakable heavy green fragrance filling the air and clinging to your hands as you touch the leaves. This is not a solitary note perfume, but includes significant notes of damp soil and humid air.”

Bonus:

Beneath The Forest -- Fyrinnae  

“Beneath the trees, where scant sunlight ever reaches and few green plants grow, mushrooms (and decay) flourish in the ever-damp soil, surrounded by darkness. Step carefully, there could be traps.”

Nimbus*

Notes: peach, rose, wood. Nimbus smells sweet and slightly earthy, with an overwhelming ripe peach heart and a floral edge. Very pretty, very cheerful, but not childish.

Perfumes:

South Star -- PULP Fragrance 

“Sweet creamy peach, vanilla beans, liatrix, & a woody-ambrette accord, all topped off with a hint of cinnamon.”

Someone Tell Lady Luck -- Little And Grim 

lemongrass, bright fresh ginger, verbena, sweet peaches, bamboo, and clean rain on city streets

Bonus: 

Aurora -- Alkemia Perfumes 

Armenian Rose -- Fyrinnae 

“The fragrance of dark red rose petals and sweeter pink roses with the earthy scent of native lilies.”

*i headcanon nimbus as a earth/air multi

Omega

Notes: wood, amber, tobacco. Omega smells warm, but not quite comforting. He smells like he knows more than you (he does) and like he's a little bit disappointed in you (he might be). He smells like he COULD be comforting, if you managed to earn his approval.

Perfumes:

Bibliotheca -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A vintage elegance of leatherbound books, plush club chairs, vintage vinyl records, polished mahogany tables, fountain pen ink, black tea, dark plum brandy, vetiver, rosewood, artemesia, white carnation, lavender water, citron, tweedy woolens, and oakmoss.”

(i have this one! it's surprisingly woody)

Bronze and Blaze -- Alkemia Perfumes

“Autumnal bronze amber aged with cognac barrel staves, red oak leaves, Perique pipe tobacco, raw wool, ripe pumpkin, opoponax (sweet myrrh), and soft suede gloves warmed by a creamy steamy cup of Bourbon vanilla coffee.”

Rain

Notes: seawater, ozone. Rain smells like the ocean, or more accurately, like a siren that wants to lure you out to sea and kill you. Wet, a little bit green, sweet and salty.

Perfumes:

Mermaids in the Basement -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A siren song of seawater soaked linen, aquatic incense, white ginger, pomelo, limoncello, dry moss, clary sage, cactus flower, prickly pear, loquat, fir resin, cedar needles, mesquite pods, Hinoki wood, Guaiac wood, and Elemi resin.”

EVERY STORM A SERENADE – Imaginary Authors 

danish spruce, eucalyptus, vetiver, calone, ambergris, baltic sea mist

Bonus:

Black Squall -- Fyrinnae 

“Open waters of the deepest blue, eerily calm before the looming arcus cloud in the distance bears down, revealing the wrath of the storm behind it. There was little left to do now but watch and wait. Cold and clean-smelling seawater, ozonic air, now and then a little olive oil from the lamps.”

Sunshine/Stratus**

Notes: strawberries, citrus, vanilla, spices. Sunny smells like summer. She smells like ripe fruit, sweet cold drinks, and sun, with a little bit of unexpected spice.

Perfumes:

Strawberry Lemonade -- PULP Fragrance 

“Fresh strawberries, lemonade, and a bowl of strawberry-vanilla ice cream.”

Lola -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“A dramatic splash of Coca-cola trailed by an adoration of blood orange, pink peppercorns, caviar lime, orange blossom, tonka, spicy nutmeg dancing sinuously across a base of warm Brazilian cherrywood.”

Bonus:

Stratus -- Osmofolia 

Prairie 66 -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“The smell of an old cement-paved road in the desert just before dawn when the cement is cold and almost, but not quite damp. Flowering desert sage, aldehydes, grapefruit, Linden blossoms, bergamot, saffron, gray amber, yucca, yuzu, and cool concrete. ”

**i headcanon sunny as a fire/air multi

Swiss***

Notes: smoke, musk, patchouli. Swiss smells dark but welcoming, unpredictable but attractive. He smells the way velvet feels: sweet, smoky, decadent.

Perfumes:

Smoke & Mirrors -- Alkemia Perfumes

“An elusive, smokey blend of burning wood, Madagascar Vanilla, and Tonka. We find this one to be elementally simple, but unusually mercurial and highly responsive to different skin chemistries… the vanilla and the smoke dance with each other almost continuously… sometimes the foreground is smoky, then sweet, then returns with sweetly smoky, then smoky.”

Allen Ginsberg - Howl -- Possets  

“Possets' interpretation of Howl is unabashedly sexy, driven mad by welling passions. Black, red and amber musks wrestle furiously with sandalwood and opium tar resin. There is nothing light or gentle about this scent. A burning incense backs it up, black patchouli stands in the forefront. Dark, musky, resinous. Tremendously savage, dark and sweet like molasses rather than sugar. ...and yet, there is something innocent about it all.”

(i have howl and it's SO good and so perfect for swiss)

***i headcanon swiss as a fire/water multi

Zephyr

Notes: dust, ozone. Zephyr smells like the air where something once was, or maybe where something is and has been too long. Dusty, faintly sweet, slightly melancholic.

Perfumes:

Dustsceawung -- Alkemia Perfumes

“The scent of forbidden explorations and an olfactory meditation on dust... attic air, the inside of old trunks, abandoned haylofts, library stacks, and abandoned buildings. Dustsceawung is the contemplation of dust, worldly desires, and the ephemerality of all things... raspings that were once a tree, ruins that were once cities, bones that were once lovers. Dust is always the ultimate destination on our journey.”

 Hauntology -- PULP Fragrance 

“Ozone, olibanum, the air in a closed up kitchen cupboard that might once have held raisins and dried apricots, ambergris, burled briarwood, & the lost futures of a home abandoned.”

Bonus:

Zephyr -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

if you made it to the end of this i admire your dedication. and i would love to hear what you think!

[actuallysaiyan]

IM SO EXCITED!!

Okay so Yamcha x male!saiyan!reader. For the prompt where everything kinda falls through and I want Yamcha to be the one that has to improvise pleaseee 💖💖💖

warnings: male reader, mentions of sparring/violence, kissing, Yamcha has to beg Bulma for help word count: 1.1k pairings: Yamcha x Male!Saiyan!Reader summary: Yamcha is desperately trying to give you a good first Valentine's Day as a couple, but it all falls through. with a little help from Bulma and the prince of Saiyans himself, Yamcha succeeds.

Yamcha is tearing his hair out. He can’t believe everything is falling through and it’s the first time in years that he actually has a date for Valentine’s day. Worse thing is, this is your first Valentine’s day since you weren’t from earth. You had the others explain it to you, and Yamcha had promised you such a romantic and sweet night to show you just how good the holiday could be.

He’s no slouch about it either, he gets right on it before you can even think too hard on it. A month ahead of time, he’s got the reservation at the fanciest restaurant. He’s called the florist for the biggest bouquet of roses. Even if you aren’t a woman nor are you a human, Yamcha is giddy with the idea of wooing through the usual human advances. He wants you to experience romance through the ways earthlings are accustomed to.

And yet, here he is, the day of Valentine’s and he’s fucking empty handed. Things are falling through left and right, and he’s got no time to make it right. The restaurant called to tell him that because of an incident that happened the night before they had to close the place for three whole days. And he’s not going to be able to make any kind of reservation today. Every place in town was going to be booked solid.

The florist was next, and this one made him sad. There had been a death in the family, so of course they weren’t going to be able to complete any of their orders today. He calls up a few other places, but they are all sold out. He’s literally this close to crying at this point. You were definitely going to think he was an idiot.

This leaves him little choice, so he heads over to Bulma’s. He’s practically on his hands and knees, begging her to help him. She’s rolling his eyes, but she lets him in and begins to make arrangements for him. All the while, the prince of all Saiyans is listening in. He thinks Yamcha is usually pathetic, but knowing that the man wants to do good by one of his own men, he knows he has to intervene and help out somehow.

He pulls Yamcha aside as Bulma makes calls and begins getting in touch with some of her connections.

“Listen to me,” Vegeta starts. “You’re trying to woo a Saiyan. Just challenge him to a battle.”

Yamcha laughs nervously, “Are you fucking crazy?”

“No! Well— that’s not the point! Just listen to me and do as I say. I’m an expert on all things Saiyan, after all.”

Yamcha takes Vegeta’s words to heart as he gets ready for his date with you. Bulma found a restaurant that would be willing to take you two on this last minute request. And she promised to keep the gravity room open so if you did want to have a fight, it would be somewhere a bit more concealed. She couldn’t do anything about the flowers, but she was able to convince one of her own private bakers to whip up a batch of homemade chocolates.

So with a box of homemade chocolates and his favorite suit on, Yamcha goes to where you’ve been staying with the Son family and he nervously knocks on the door. You look equally as nervous, unsure of how such a holiday would roll out. You smile when you see Yamcha all dressed up for you.

“You look good,” he says, noticing you’re wearing a montsuki that Yamcha is sure Chi-Chi had dressed you in.

You chuckle, “You think so? I don’t know about these earthling garments.”

Yamcha offers you his arm, and you two walk out towards his flying car. He closes the door behind you, hoping to seem like the sweet gentleman he is. Once inside the car, he offers you the box of chocolates. And as the Saiyan you are, you end up devouring all of them after the very first taste. It’s addictive and sweet, making you feel so bubbly inside.

The restaurant greets you both with amiable smiles and professionalism oozing off of them. You were really wowed by this, seeing as you haven’t been on Earth for so long. It was all new and exciting, and it really was warming your cold heart that Yamcha was able to show you all of this.

The wine flows as well as steak dinner after steak dinner. Yamcha is still so surprised to watch a Saiyan’s appetite in action. One would think that years of hanging out with Goku would have him used to this sort of thing, but he is in awe at how much you can eat. Thankfully, Bulma had managed to pull some strings for her friend and the bill was taken care of.

The last thing Yamcha had to offer you was a sparring session. This got your blood pumping, as you knew you’d be able to show him a good time this way. He drives you both back to Capsule Corp, and he leads you towards the Gravity Chamber. You had heard of it whenever Vegeta was talking about it, but now you get to witness it for yourself.

“After you,” Yamcha says, opening the door. He’s got some trauma from this place, but he is letting himself overcome this fear. It’s for you, after all.

You both enter and the door closes. Then Yamcha guides you towards the control panel. He explains how everything works, and the two of you decide on a gravity to start with. Nothing too crazy, as this was just meant to be a fun activity for you. 

Blow for blow, Yamcha is able to match you for the most part. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find you completely sexy. You’re in your element this way, your muscles rippling and your masculine energy is filling the chamber. He is thrown off guard when you kick him down, and he lands on the ground with a loud thump.

“Shit! Are you alright?” You make your way over to him, cradling him in your arms.

Yamcha laughs, “Can’t complain.”

You notice the flush on his cheeks. Your nose is beginning to pick up the scent of musky arousal. This makes your own cheeks burn. Was Yamcha really turned on by your display of power? Was he horny because you bested him in battle? You smirk at him, soothing back some hair from his face.

“Oh little human…” you coo softly before kissing him. “You are so adorable.”

Yamcha groans, “Don’t call me adorable!”

You quiet him with another kiss, your tail wrapping around him to pull him even closer to you. Suddenly, Yamcha’s mind is blank as you begin making out. Your tongue feels so soft against his own, and his cock is beginning to strain against the dress pants he decided to wear for this occasion.

“What’s wrong with being adorable?” You ask, a purring lilt to your voice.

“Mmmm I guess nothing if you’re going to keep kissing me.”

[pompadourpink]

L’alphabet phonétique

Les voyelles

[a] open front unrounded vowel - cinéma (cinema, m); hat

[ɑ] open back unrounded vowel - château (castle, m); hot

[e] close-mid front unrounded vowel - clé (key, f); may

[ɛ] open-mid front unrounded vowel - père (father, m), chêne (oak, m); bed

[ə] mid central vowel/schwa - jeu (game, m); bird

[i] close front unrounded vowel - souris (mouse, f); free

[o] close-mid back rounded vowel - rose (rose, f); UK yawn

[ɔ] open-mid back rounded vowel - océan (ocean, m); thought

[ø] close-mid front rounded vowel - jeudi (thursday)

[œ] open-mid front rounded vowel - peur (fear, f)

[u] close back rounded vowel - chou (cabbage, m); boot

[y] close front rounded vowel - tu (you); UK few

This vowel diagram shows the inside of the throat from the left side (pronounce /i/ "eee" and /ɑ/ "aaa" to feel the difference). Antérieur: front, postérieur: back, aperture: opening of the lips.

Les voyelles nasales (when followed by a consonant except -h- or ending a word)

[ɑ̃] > am, an, (é)en, em, aon - temps (time, m)

[ɛ̃] > aim, ain, eim, ein, em, (i)en, im, in, um, un, ym, yn - pain (bread, m)

[ɔ̃] > om, on - ombre (shadow, f), bonjour (hello)

[œ̃] > um, un - humble, un (one, m); dying, turning into [ɛ̃] 

N.B. When a nasal sound is produced, despite being made of two letters, they are to be pronounced as their own sound: in Bonjour, the /o/ and the /n/ shouldn't be heard at all since they are followed by the consonant /j/, as opposed to the usual dragging of /o/ then /n/ like in Bonne journée.

Les semi-voyelles

[j] voiced palatal approximant - lieu (place, m); you

[ɥ] voiced labial–palatal approximant - huile (oil, f); wall

[w] voiced labial–velar approximant - oui (yes); witch

Les consonnes

[b] voiced bilabial plosive - bête (beast, f)

[d] voiced dental and alveolar plosive - déjeuner (lunch, m)

[f] voiceless labiodental fricative - faim (hunger, f)

[g] voiced velar plosive - gâteau (cake, m)

[ʒ] voiced postalveolar fricative - ange (angel, m); vision

[k] voiceless velar plosive - cadeau (gift, m)

[l] voiced apical alveolar approximant - lait (milk, m)

[p] voiceless bilabial plosive - pain (bread, m)

[ʁ] voiced uvular fricative - roi (king, m)

[s] voiceless alveolar fricative - sel (salt, m); nonsense

[t] voiceless denti-alveolar plosive - table (table, f)

[v] voiced labiodental fricative - violon (violin, m)

[z] voiced alveolar fricative - maison (house, f)

[ʃ] voiceless postalveolar fricative - chocolat (chocolate, m)

Les consonnes nasales

[m] voiced bilabial nasal - miel (honey, m)

[n] voiced denti-alveolar nasal - nez (nose, m)

[ɲ] voiced palatal nasal - montagne (mountain, f)

[ŋ] voiced velar nasal - connexion (connection, f); sing 

Voiced sounds are those that make our vocal chords vibrate when they are produced; voiceless sounds are produced from air passing through the mouth at different points. Fricatives are consonants with the characteristic that when they are produced, air escaped through a small passage and make a hissing sound; plosives are a type of consonant produced by forming a complete obstruction to the flow air out of the mouth.

Movie: Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain - Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2001