#lanmou
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Jean-Claude Brice - Lanmou (1989) [FLAC]
- Contact me for digital exchange!
#Jean-Claude Brice - Lanmou (1989) [FLAC] Rare Afro Exchange#Funk#Disco#Reggae#Boogie#Highlife#Music#West Africa#South Africa#Nigeria#Ghana#Ivory Coast#Togo#Benin#Cameroon#Antilles
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Sòti nan gran lanmou (From Such Great Love)
Widline Cadet
Archival inkjet print, 2023
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«Lanmou kreyòl », Wadner Peyizan envite n valorize valè ak kilti kreyòl
Pèsòn pa doute de talan jèn atis sa k ap evolye nan endistri mizik ayisyen an depi kèk ane. Samdi premye oktòb 2022, Wadner Peyizan pwopoze ak piblik la nouvo mizik li ki gen pou tit “Lanmou kreyòl”. Yon mòso orijinal ki fè pwomosyon pou valè kiltirèl nou yo.
Jan sa te anonse, «Lanmou kreyòl » sòti ak tout videyo pandan jounen samdi premye oktòb la, kote tout moun kapab gen aksè ak pwojè sa sou…
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curlys not that kinda guy to use SUPER lovey dovey pet names, if anything he more so uses it in like a joking manner???
like curly will literally go behind pony and say “lanmou” or “anmou” to pony and pony just sighs and rolls his eyes as like “what do u WANT this time dawg”
and he says it in kreyol and he rlly only says things he means in kreyòl, so to a degree he means what he says, he does like pony, but he cant take saying it publically like that seriously if that makes sense
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Hullo do you still write for overwatch? I really like your style and would love to read a lifeweaver and Baptiste x male reader story/smut with the reader being a bottom and with some bondage. Ok thank you bai
Lady Liberty
WOWIE, WOWOW, I SAW THIS REQ AND I WAS LIKE GASP !! A LIFEWEAVER *AND* BAPTISTE? YESSSSIRRRR + THE BONDAGE
ci ; Bondage, Threesome, Established relationship, Basically a creampie, Jean and Niran being sweethearts <3
"Testing the waters" was merely an understatement when it came to experimenting sexually with your partners, The more appropriate wording would be "diving head first"
Niran was unsurprisingly the one to suggest binding you, You had all been coddled up in a neat pile on the large bed, Niran laying on his stomach, feet up and kicking as he scrolled away at his laptop.
You had been laying with your back to the headboard, playing meaningless mobile games to pass the time, legs dressed over Niran's back.
Jean had his head on your shoulder, his knees propped up with a small drawing pad on them, taking a graphite pencil to the paper and drawing at random.
"Ooo..."
Niran awed, drumming his fingers on his chin, which the two of you perked up to.
"What'd you find this time?"
You asked with a smirk, cocking a brow up at him.
"Hear me out, we havent tried bondage before..."
Niran hummed, his fingers moving to the quilt, tracing patterns into the fabric, holding his head up with his other hand.
Your gaze drifted over to Jean, who already had his eyes on you, his signature sly smile plastered on his lips.
"I'm not opposed, but who would be the one bound?"
"Draw straws?"
Baptiste suggested, and Niran lit up, nodding his head with vigor, you couldn't help but agree.
It hadn't even been a week before a small package appeared in your mail, a deep black rope nestled inside, which you had left on your queen bed.
Jean had three straws nestled in his fist, hiding their individual length from the rest of you, leaving You and Niran to draw blindly, you receiving the shortest.
You all collected on the bed, you happily stripping all except your boxers, which would have to come off later into the tying.
Niran took your arms behind your back, tying knots precisely and leaving gentle and reassuring kisses to your shoulders, Jean sitting in front of you and helping keep the rope in its place over your chest.
"You know to use the safe word, Yes?"
Jean asked, his thumb stroking your thigh.
"Of course, I know you would never make me do something I don't want, Unless I consented beforehand."
You joked, raising your eyebrows as Jean chuckled, leaving a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, which you leaned into as much as you could without messing up the handiwork.
Inevitably, your briefs came off and your face flushed at how exposed you felt, in comparison to your two fully clothed partners.
Jean worked on binding your thighs to your lower legs with Niran's Aid, His fingers tracing figure eights on your inner thigh.
"We're done, Sure you're alright Lanmou?"
Jean spoke, his lips curving up in a gentle smile as you nodded, before capturing yours in a tasteful kiss, before inevitably parting for air.
When you gazed up to look up at your other partner from his lap, his shirt had been removed and his golden arm pet your hair tenderly.
Jean had taken the chance to take off his own shirt, You watched with adoration seeing his somewhat muscular shape slip out of the tank he was wearing previously.
"Niran...?"
You whispered, watching your lover perk up and lower down, letting you whisper your desires into his ear before aiding you into a more allowing position.
"As you wish, Thirak."
It had taken him mere seconds to slip out of his sweatpants, pushing down his briefs as his hardening cock slipped out.
Your shoulders rested just barely on Niran's thighs, kissing his cock as he aided it into your mouth, letting out gentle sighs as you took him into your mouth.
"Fuck, Darling..."
He whispered, You had barely noticed Jeans brief disappearance from the bed until you felt his weight behind you once again, only then did you realize what he'd done.
A cock ring sat at the base of your cock, though you couldn't complain as your entire throat was occupied.
You let out a questioning groan as Jeans hands found their way on your ass, his thumb running over your hole teasingly.
Niran helped you pull off, the mixture of drool and precum helplessly spilling out of your mouth as you caught your breath, letting out whines and moans as Jeans lube-slicked fingers prodding into your ass.
"Ah— Ah~ fuck—!"
You gasped, Jean's free hand stroking your hard length half-mindedly, causing your hips to shake and shudder as he curled his fingers into your prostate.
"Jean—! Shi~t Jean~!"
You whined, your back struggling to arch as your movement was constricted, Niran's hand ran through your scalp, reminding you of him.
"S-Sorry~ Ah-"
You whimpered, letting him rub his tip on your lips teasingly before pushing past them, using your head as some twisted form of a Fleshlight as he fucked into you, letting out dainty sighs, his brows knitting together as he came closer to cumming.
Your name teetered on his lips, coming out in an engrossed whine as his cum spilled onto your tongue, bitter and thick.
"Hah... M'sorry love~ got carried away.."
He muttered, pulling his cock away from your mouth, stroking your cheek as you caught your breath, Jeans fingers leaving your softened hole, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness.
"Jean..."
You sighed, your eyes traveling down, Jeans eyes meeting yours, occasionally flickering around your bound figure.
"I know."
he hummed, rising to meet your lips In a gentle and warm kiss, often trailing away to peck your cheeks or neck, leaving small hickeys in his wake.
His hips rolled against yours, pulling a strained whine from your throat, one he understood was out of desperation.
"Up you go."
Niran hummed, pulling your back to his chest, you could feel his cock rutting against you, making you feel almost feverish with anticipation.
Your knees slipped past Jean's hips in an effort to straddle him, his fingers supporting the base of his cock as he teasingly tapped your thighs with his length.
"Don't tease him now darling, give him what he wants."
Niran hummed, a skilled palm cupping Jean's cheek, which he reciprocated by laying a lush kiss on it.
"And what is it that he wants, hm?"
Jean asked, playing into how submissive and helpless you were without them, you were weak, and somehow you felt safe knowing it was them, filling your heart with butterflies.
"I want you both.. to fuck me, please."
You muttered, getting your words out causing a shy blush to spread across your cheeks.
With the aid of Jean, Niran raised your hips over his tip and slowly helped you pull down around Niran's length.
"Oo... ffuck..."
You sighed, eyes fluttering as your body adjusted, leaning into your lovers touch.
"Jean.."
You whispered, letting him bend your legs up and ease into you, your body quivering as he stretched you out.
"Sure you're alright?"
He asked, deep brown eyes scanning your face.
"Mh-Mhm .. just- keep going~"
You shuddered, you could swear your stomach was bulging under the bondage.
Your lips shakily smiled as Niran left gentle and reassuring kisses along your neckline, whispering compliments in his mother tongue, not that you'd understand exactly what he was saying, but you knew it was only words of kindness.
It had been a few minutes of gentle silence, before you finally flexed your hips, a signal for them to move, Jean's hips moving first, then Niran's.
They both let out soft moans at first, Niran being more vocal then Jean, letting out soft curses as he gripped onto your hips.
Light sounds left your room, a mix of skin against skin and erotic moans and curses, you'd be sure no one who heard would get the wrong idea.
"Faster~! ah- ple~ase.."
You whined, your wrists wringing in your bindings, the tip of your cock feverishly red and angry, begging to be touched.
As if reading your mind, Jean's soft hand wrapped around your dick, thumb running over your pre-cum spilling slit, prompting you to moan louder than before.
"You're so good, Thirak.. Ah- S~o.. so good."
Niran groaned, nose buried in the crook of your neck as he fucked into you, leaving sloppy kisses.
"I wanna cum~! shit~.. I wanna cu—m"
You mewled, mouth hung open as you could no longer form anything but helpless babbles, your lovers cocks rutting into you.
Your body struck with pleasure, Leaving you panting as you tried to recover, white spilling over you and Jean, Feeling your hips grow tired and heavy as Niran came to his edge, then Jean.
Jeans lips met yours as he came, his non-cum covered hand wrapping around your next to deepen the kiss, tongue teasing over your lips before parting, leaving you more breathless than before.
"Fuck... I loved that.."
You sighed, letting out light gasps as Jean and Niran pulled out of you.
"I did too, You looked so cute in my lap.."
Niran hummed, kissing your cheek.
"I'll get a shower going, Yeah?"
"Mm... thank you babe."
You sighed, watching as Jean walked into your shared bathroom, the sound of water beginning to run taking your thoughts.
eep 😵💫 I take so long to write things I am SO sorry :')
#overwatch smut#male reader#smut#male reader smut#overwatch niran#lifeweaver#baptiste#jean baptiste augustin#baptiste x male reader#lifeweaver x male reader#niran x male reader#i <3 them
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Yich Limiè kouté, lévé nan sonmêy, ouvè zié zot. Vérité ek lanmou kay toujou genyen douvan lalwa
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Jackson Browne sta alla musica come l'intimo e il sussurato sta ai moti del cuore. Una musica di spazi sconfinati, di domande: "dove vanno i sogni nati dall'illusione?". Canzoni che raggiungono l'anima e ci poggiano sopra carichi di poesia. Note malinconiche, fataliste, epiche, piene di mestizia. Si sente il bisogno di amore, uno spazio musicale dove il cielo e la strada collidono; love is love, lanmou se lanmou..
@ilpianistasultetto
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Did you know that Cempedak, a lesser-known tropical fruit, can be hand-pollinated to ensure a bountiful harvest? 🌳🤲✨ Hand-pollinating not only increases the odds of success, but it also allows us to be more in tune with nature and its processes. 🍃🐝 The delicate act of transferring pollen from male to female flowers is a labor of love that brings us closer to the heart of this amazing fruit. 💚🌸 . . Èske w te konnen ke Cempedak, yon fwi twopikal ki pa twò popilè, ka polinize alamen pou asire yon rekòt abondan? 🌳🤲✨ Lè ou polinize alamen, ou pa sèlman ogmante chans pou siksè, men li pèmèt nou konekte plis ak lanati e pwosesis li yo. 🍃🐝 Zak delika transfere polèn soti nan flè gason al nan flè fi se yon travay lanmou ki mennen nou pi pre kè fwi sa a. 💚🌸 . . #GrownInHaiti #Cempedak #HandPollination #Haiti #Ayiti #PolineAlamen https://www.instagram.com/p/CqNj2W9uNJb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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can you make the outsiders trying haitian food headcanons???
i know what u r anon,,,🇭🇹🇭🇹🇭🇹 /j but seriously anon m’ lanmou w paske w mande m sa
ANYWAYS WOOO ANOTHER HAITIAN ASK LETS GOOOOOOOO
•the shepards r literally already haitian so lets just say theres a celebration at their house and they made a shit ton of food
•they made stuff like boulèt (haitian meatballs), pikliz, griot, diri djon djon, diri riz au lait (think of horchata but like pudding form and can be warm or cold) plantains, akra, and some other stuff but if i listed em id b here for a while
•NOW pony hangs out w curly a lot, he knows a good chunk of haitian food so hes chillin and helping everyone w taking what to eat n what not!!!
•darry strikes me as a macaroni kinda guy, partially bc hes autistic and a pretty picky eater, so macaroni is his go to food, so i can def see him liking macaroni au gratin (its basically baked macaroni, but w the shepards they like putting a bit of ground beef in there)
•it was a lil outta his comfort zone but he did rlly like it!!!
•two bit took the plantain and griot and pickliz and made it into a sandwich which i mean hey, whatever floats ya boat mean eat up king🙏🏽🙏🏽
•johnny doesnt even rlly have a big appetite, he was mostly just eating akra and pikliz it was simple but a lil spicy and he was doing cartwheels in his head
•when everyone got to eating diri djon djon i just KNOW dallas, johnny, and soda bit into the actual djon djon and they were having coughing fits
•dallas and soda were coughing bc hello????why is it so spicy for?????? johnny meanwhile, this aint first his rodea with djon djon, hes south asian hes pretty familiar w spicy stuff, its just the fact that it comes out of NO WHERE there is NO WAY to prepare for that shit ur just at the mercy of god atp
•soda would love haitian sodas, particularly the fruit champagne one, a fruity soda for a fruity guy named soda!!
•they all love diri riz au lait, especially darry, he just likes food that isnt crunchy, steve thoight the texture was a lil weird but he got used to it
•tim and darry were talking over kremas the while time, darrys not much of a drinker but he’ll have something to drink here n there he likes it
•curly and angela snuck pony some chocolate kremas lol
•unrelated but angela was in charge of the music the while time and she was mostly paying emeline michel
•haitian food has quite a bit of african influence in it and i hc steve as african so ik he was lookin and eatin this food goin “damn this kinda reminds me of ___” in his head a few times
•after everything was done they all got haitian cake to take home<333
#curly shepard#ponyboy curtis#tim shepard#angela shepard#darry curtis#darrel curtis#dallas winston#sodapop curtis#two bit mathews#steve randle#johnny cade
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❝ mwen ta kite ou ruine mwen. ou p'ap janm konnen yon lòt moun tankou ou konnen mwen. ❞ he climbed over him , threw his leg up over Loux's waist and sat down with all the airs of a king on his throne. ( claim the monster your created )
"Èske ou ta pèmèt mwen...? Sal, sal mwen...? Ya'd let th' mos' worthless sack o' shit drop t'is knees an' repent fer all 'is sins?"
All that sweet mischief drained away the second Saint claimed his lap, a hand instinctively resting on the meat of his thigh, stormy eyes affixed to mirrored depths. Flipping defilement into worship, into ardent declarations dressed up in silver-tongued entendres, freshly licked lips drawing into a perfect bow belying true intent. Woe, to be a hapless member of the congregation traveling the pews to slide his arms around those hips, dips his hands past his waistband and stroke his cock from behind, adoringly nip at the space between his shoulders, cup and squeeze and fondle until curious fingers slipped and dragged along slick, puffy lips. How he'd love to start slow and sweet, so gentle, so befitting a bashful believer - only to baptize himself between his legs in a rush of sighs and delirious moans, in a river parted only by his reverential tongue. Woe, to suckle and hum on tender bundles of nerves, so eager to prove to Saint the sincerity of his devotion, the heat of his palms on thick thighs to etch it into his skin. "Èske ou ta kite yon dyab sou tè apa pou Bondye, kè mwen?"
Lost in a fantasy, but never more keenly aware of the richness of Saint's skin, the definition of his face, and the gaze boring into him as though every descending thought had been read, seen, heard. And oh, in any other moment, he might've hated that, but here and now - he could grin. A wolf in puppydog disguise, arms curling under Saint as he changed positions, guiding his other leg around his waist in turn and pushing up, up, up- Warm, achingly hard flesh bubbled and shifted to life, one becoming two and straining so awfully in his pants, thick, tingling with anticipation and excitement. Trotting around like a fox in the henhouse, all but ready bury his teeth into sleek fabric and tear it clean from Saint's body, bury his nose into muscle and soft skin, ghost his tongue along curves and planes awash with goosebumps. What hungry, starved breaths shook out of him then, something carnally predatory shining in his eyes - nothing so sinister, but wholly ravenouse nonetheless, all that desperation burning and burning. So easy a decision to make, to bend his his knee and pray at the altar of Saint's ever so desirous divinity. So delicate beneath him, wrapped around him in wait, what beautiful eyes do watch him as he moves.
What a blessing it would be to have him spread wide open and demanding his cocks, yanking on that leash.
"Mwen ta ruine ou, ma cheri... Avek plezi. Avek lanmou..." Kisses pressed to collarbones, teeth catching on smooth skin. So pleasant and inviting a scent drawing him ever further toward the brink, heart pounding in his chest. Oh, to be nervous when at last seizing his opportunity to show Saint how pathetic and foul in his affections he could be, was. How on earth could he stand to be anxious in being his truest self, as much a declaration of his being as it was his love? Between kisses, bites, between kisses and firm grinding, explorative hands and sloppy swipes of his tongue when at last he pushed Saint's legs aside, spread, away, traveling lower and lower where nose and mouth would find a home in damp fabric, so so eager to please--
"Mwen ta kite ou toutouni ak dezespere pou plis nan mwen. I would 'ave ya... I would have you."
#☿ || Asks.#✘ // Ever and Always On My Knees; Saint.#vaillain-he#nsft /#/ he is being deliberately slow about this#/ and also fantasizing so he has an excuse to wax poetic about it#/ it's all love and affection but it is most certainly Filthy
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Gwiyad o ka - 5 lanné pou Kachouké. #pawtaj #lanmou #kilti #gwadloup #militan (à La Plage Bleue Valenton) https://www.instagram.com/p/CiXLmN1gvVc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Bapzo Propaganda | Day 19: Psychological |
(I know I’m a day behind but I was exhausted - I plan on posting twice today, hopefully)
“You never did teach me how to carve wood.”
Hanzo doesn’t glance up. He keeps his eyes firmly on the knife in his hand as he works away at the wood. The beginning of a face can be seen, but not much else. From the desk he can feel Baptiste’s eyes on him. Heavy, causing a tingle to slide along Hanzo’s back. It slows the pace of his knife before Hanzo makes himself focus. Wood-carving is a delicate act. One slip up can cause him to either foolishly injure himself, or mess up the wood itself. Of course, he can always get himself a new piece of wood. But, Hanzo has had trouble making himself move from his room as of late. There was a bone deep weariness that had settled deep within his skin.
“I shall one day.” Hanzo promises. Flakes of wood fall to the ground where there already exists a pile - the result of multiple wooden carvings he’d done.
“No you won’t.” Hanzo can practically hear Baptiste’s eyes. “You were always forgetting to, just like how you keep forgetting to leave your room.”
“You’re being dramatic. I’m not forgetting to leave my room.” Hanzo mutters. He pauses and eyes the pile of wood chippings distastefully. Then, he looks around his room, carefully avoiding Baptiste and his knowing eyes. The bed remained unmade, clothes littered the floor, and his desk was littered with wooden carvings of the same thing. He needs to clean, and yet he makes no move to.
“It’s not healthy. Look at you. When was the last time you got some sun? A propers nights sleep? A meal? A full meal. Because a few bites of something Cassidy left at your door doesn’t count.”
“Jean,” he pleads quietly. Hanzo’s voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. “Please.”
“I worry about you.” Is the last thing Hanzo hears Baptiste say before falling quiet the rest of the night. Hanzo hates it.
–
“Will you not critique my meal choices?”
“What? The fact that you’re eating pancakes? It’s ridiculous but you’re eating.”
Hanzo sighs and takes another bite of pancakes. It feels like mush in his mouth and seems to lack any flavor. But, all food tastes like that nowadays - Hanzo has grown used to it. The kitchen is dark and quiet. He’d set the lights on dim to save his eyesight. And, because darkness makes Hanzo feel some form of comfort, no matter how small. Baptiste sits near him, his own plate sitting on the counter in front him. He’d insisted on not needing it, but Hanzo had prepared him some anyway.
“Don’t lie,” Hanzo chides. “You loved pancakes.”
“...You’re right,” Baptiste says, humming quietly next to him. Hanzo wants to shut his eyes and just listen, but he mechanically keeps eating. “Don’t you want another cup of tea?”
“No I -” Hanzo pauses, blinking as he reaches for his cup only to stop. The cup of tea is empty, but he doesn’t remember drinking it. “...When did I finish it?”
“A few minutes ago, do you want me to make you another cup, Lan?”
“Wasn’t it Lanmou?” The pronunciation is choppy at best, but the laugh Baptiste gives him makes him feel less embarrassed.
It’s short lived by the door behind them sliding open. A nervousness Hanzo can’t place grips his throat, and Baptiste goes quiet. Hanzo stares down at his plate of as the person remains quiet before finally rounding the table.
“What’re you doin’ out here Han?” Cassidy asks. Hanzo looks at the man and notices the worry that lines his face.
“...Eating breakfast,” Hanzo mutters. “Baptiste would not stop pestering me until I did so.”
“...I see.” Cassidy takes off his hat and scrubs his hand through his hair, eyes scanning the room. For a moment his eyes focus on the extra plate of pancakes before he flashes Hanzo a small smile. “‘S good seein’ you up ‘n movin’. Why don’t we train together later, yeah?”
“No.” There’s a budding irritation blossoming within Hanzo. An irrational thing seeing as Cassidy has done nothing wrong. But, still, it grips Hanzo and leaves him holding his fork tighter than normal. Baptiste will not speak with Cassidy around and Cassidy will not mention Baptiste around Hanzo. Cassidy had known Baptiste longer than Hanzo had, and yet he is taking things better. It leaves Hanzo with a gaping loneliness welling up within him, taking a place beside the anger. “I wish to be alone. “
“You’re brothers worries sick ‘bout you y’know,” Cassidy continues softly. “We all are. Han-”
“I SAID -” Hanzo stabs his fork into the table, staring at it instead of Cassidy as his body shakes. “I want. To be. Alone.”
“....” Cassidy is quiet as he makes his way back to the door. “...You know Baptiste wouldn’t have wanted this darlin’.”
Then he leaves and the kitchen seems oddly colder. Even when he feels Baptiste’s eyes on him, Hanzo refuses to look away from his hand that shakes around the fork. The anger flees him and in its place is the overwhelming exhaustion once again.
“You know he’s just worried about you, Hanzo.” Baptiste mutters and the words seem to surround him and hold him in a cold embrace.
Hanzo breathes heavily, vision blurring. He releases the fork, covering his face with one hand as tears slip through. There is no ugly sobbing or screaming, as he had done before and wanted to do again. Hanzo has cried too much leading up to today and drank too little. As much as he feels regret, he can’t help but feel justified. Was it too much to ask for some time alone? Why did they insist on checking on him?
“I know,” He whispers. “I know he is. But, is it too much to ask for a little more time with you?”
“Would it feel better if you avenged me?” Baptiste asks, the tone of his voice disapproving. “Even if you know I wouldn’t have approved? They’re dangerous people. You’ll get hurt.”
“I am used to being hurt.” Hanzo says through grit teeth. At the mention of revenge, his mind latches onto it. His fingers ache for his bow as his sadness simmers into a cold anger. If he avenged Baptiste, he could bring rest to him and himself. “I shall do what I must.”
Baptiste’s silence as Hanzo storms out the kitchen is judgment enough. But, the dead cannot truly judge the actions of the living.
#jean baptiste augustin#overwatch#overwatch 2#hanzo shimada#whumptober 2023#fanfic#cole cassidy#no.19#psychological#hallucinations#deppresion#revenge
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