#and that it's more of a performance for your sake

[fear-is-truth]

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 𝑫𝑨𝑫 .ᐟ

𓂃 ꒰ headcanons.꒱ gn!reader x jason (est. relationship) + fluff ⌗ ( 💌 let’s chat ! ) ⋆ ( m.list ) ࿐ ⸝⸝ ⸝⸝

· ❥ 𝐚/n : very rushed; i was sick when i wrote this

first & foremost, jason todd is girl dad through and through. the moment he holds her for the first time, he recalibrates everything—speech, sleep, temper, priorities—without even realising he’s doing it.

he won’t dilute language for her sake. no sing-song voice, no “whoops-a-daisy!” crap. he speaks to her like a small, reasonably intelligent civilian. when she babbles near-nonsense in response, he nods seriously:

“interesting take. but you’re still not eating crayons.”

when she starts talking, she parrots him with terrifying accuracy. says “bullshit” in perfect context. he side-eyes you like “that might’ve been you” but it was 100% him. he starts substituting in dumb phrases like “holy fork” and “crud nuggets” which somehow sound even more offensive in his voice.

his gut wrenches every time he sees her hurt. no matter how small the injury, how quick the recovery .

“it’s okay to cry, you know.” “m’ not crying.” she sniffles hard, mouth twitching. he takes a breath, carefully brushing dirt from her elbow with the sleeve of his shirt. “…good. because if you did, i might have to start too.” her bottom lip quivers. then she throws her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder while he holds her.

he gives her choices. always. because no one gave him any. ‘pink cardigan or the baby blue one? park or zoo? sandwiches cut into triangles or squares?’ she doesn’t know why the questions matter—not yet—but she answers anyway. and he always listens. even when she changes her mind five seconds later.

when she gets scared of the monster under her bed, jason grabs a crowbar from the hallway closet, locks himself in her room, and puts on a full performance. loud bangs, snarls, curses, all muffled through the door. she waits outside clutching your hand, wide-eyed. when he opens the door, slightly sweaty:

“we’re clear. monster’s in pieces. bedtime.”

absolutely watches disney movies with her. you once catch him mouthing along to i’ll make a man out of you with perfect accuracy.

her room is stocked full of high quality toys: watercolor paint sets, pop-up books, wooden animal figurines, everything he would’ve killed to touch when he was little.

when she gets sick, even the most minor of colds send jason into a tailspin. not outwardly though; outwardly he’s calm & reassuring—but he looking up symptoms and staying up beside her bed with one hand on her forehead, watching the rise and fall of her breath like it might stop at any second.

if you’re out for the day, he sends you hourly photo updates: her sitting in her booster seat, her eating grapes, her mid-nap with a book across her lap.

insists she learn how to throw a punch and memorize your phone number before she enters kindergarten.

she mirrors his sarcasm & sass too well.

you and jason have developed a “tag-team” parenting style—he picks up on your cues instinctively. if you’re too tired to argue with a picky toddler, he just whips up grilled cheese without a word and makes her think it was your idea.

and if she’s crying—inconsolably so—you both sit beside her and jason lets you do the talking. she always opens up eventually, even if it’s just, “i didn’t wan’ the poor banana to break.” (???)

she looooooves curling into him. a six-o kind of love, paired with matter-of-fact trust. she’ll press her forehead to his cheek while holding her sippy cup. tug at his sleeve when she wants to sit in his lap.

her vocabulary is way beyond her age. not just because of books; she mimics his cadence. jason once commented she was “morally opposed” to cauliflower. days later, she informed the pediatrician she was “philosophically anti-broccoli.” this had you laughing uncontrollably.

bedtime isn’t “lights out,” it’s literature hour! jason reads her stories with perfect enunciation and blunt dignity. she grows up on peter rabbit, winne-the-pooh, madeleine, and eventually segues to aesop’s fables, abridged dickens. the sound of pages turning becomes part of her core memories.

as her vocabulary progresses in a rapid fashion, jason still reads to her every night without fail: brontë. shelley. woolf. austen. he edits on the fly when needed, replacing death with long naps and violence with “stern talking-tos.”

four years of age, your little girl is already quoting jane eyre in front of her classmates.

she wins the spelling bee every year!

she told her entire kindergarten class that her daddy is an actual zombie, which resulted in an email from her teacher, regarding “concerns about her vivid imagination.” jason’s only response is, “technically, that’s not inaccurate.”

she loves all of her uncles, but it’s clear that uncle dick is her favourite. she likes him so much it’s borderline treason. jason pretends to be grumpy about it but secretly finds it endearing how much she adores his brother.

he can’t stand the thought of her going hungry. she’s never missed a meal, but he still packs too much in her lunchbox when it’s his turn. carries snacks in his glove compartment, keeps fruit cut up and ready in the fridge, just in case. he remembers what it felt like to open the fridge and find nothing but condensation. his little girl won’t ever know that.

꒰ ⠀· ❥  𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐈𝐒-𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content. ꕀ

[pixie-felix]

THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS!

Changbin's softness–emotional and physical–is one of the things that makes him so attractive. He doesn't NEED to be ripped to be sexy. Soft bellys are sexy too.

It's CHANGBIN for fuck sake. He's gorgeous, he's kind, he's got biceps that could crush your skull.

SKZ aren't exactly lacking in the abs aspect: Chan has that covered. And as a Channie girl, I love that–for Chan, because he's said before that it's difficult for him to gain weight. So Chan's abs being super defined makes sense for him. Plus Felix is entering his slut era (love that for him), Han is flashing his tattoo, Hyunjin is a flirt. Jeongin is a menace. Our muscle thirst is more than quenched.

Changbin's body is beautiful. We've all seen him in tight tank tops when he's performing, and if that episode of Gym Jong Kook didn't make you tingle in all the fun places... That sounds like a you problem.

Plus he's healthy and he's strong, and that's what really matters.

The fact that he could snap me like spaghetti is a nice bonus.

dude i hate peoples obsession with thinking changbin has abs. he has a tummy. it is hot. ppl will say oh i love his belly/tummy and yall come RUNNING with "ITS ABS HE HAS A SIX PACK 🤬🤬" you are not being as nice or protective or whatever as you think. you are acting like him having a tummy is an insult. he is not fat, (which also isnt bad either????) he has muscle mass. more muscle means it can be less defined. CHANGBIN HAS A SQUISHY TUMMY AND ITS BEAUTIFUL AND ITS SO HOT!!!!

[fairyyofshampoos]

The contrast between public image vs true self

- or the core theme of the movie «Kpop demon hunters»

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This analysis contains major spoilers for K-pop Demon Hunters, including character arcs and the ending, read at your own risk and thank you for your attention, hopefully this will give you some more insight.

Before diving into how this theme shapes the film's characters and narrative, we first need to understand the K-pop industry itself - an industry built on illusion, perfection, and suppression.

I. The cult of perfection

At the heart of the K-pop industry lies a meticulously curated image of perfection. Idols are expected to look flawless, act politely, remain scandal-free, and constantly exude positivity, regardless of what they're experiencing behind the scenes.

From a young age, they are trained not just in singing and dancing, but in self-policing: how to smile through pain, how to speak without controversy, and how to behave like a product rather than a person.

But behind this shiny exterior lies a reality often hidden from public view. Many idols suffer in silence under the weight of:

Mental health struggles

Burnout and sleep deprivation

Loneliness and isolation

Repression of one's identity (dating bans, hiding sexuality, masking trauma)

The system demands that anything not aligned with perfection be either discarded or hidden - swept under the rug for the sake of image.

In that sense, being a K-pop idol and being a demon hunter in the movie are not so different - both live double lives, expected to protect the world while sacrificing their own truth.

In my perspective, the two major figures in the film that represent this oppressive system are - Celine and Gwi-ma.

Celine - the group's mentor, stands firmly by the "never show weakness" ideology. She instructs Rumi to keep her half-demon identity a secret, even from her closest friends and fellow group members. Celine's intentions may stem from protection, but the effect is the same: Rumi must suppress her truth for the sake of image, reinforcing the idea that authenticity is a liability.

Gwi-ma - the demon king and the villain of the movie, mirrors the darker, more exploitative side of the industry. He doesn't just feed on fear - he weaponizes it. He uses people's deepest insecurities against them, turning them into tools for his own gain.

This can manifest in different ways:

Stripping people of their souls to gain power

Tempting them into soul-binding deals, transforming them into demons

This allegory is chillingly close to reality. In the real world, some artists quite literally sacrifice their lives to the idol system - drained by impossible expectations, endless schedules, and the inability to be human in a world that only values performance.

Gwi-ma's demonic deals feel eerily similar to what some idols go through: giving up pieces of themselves for fame, validation, and survival, only to slowly lose who they are.

But not all control in the industry looks like outright abuse. Sometimes, it comes disguised as guidance, care, or tradition.

In this light, Celine - Rumi’s guardian and mentor represents the conservative face of the industry. She’s not like Gwi-ma, who openly feeds on pain and insecurity. Celine is veiled in good intentions and legacy, believing she’s protecting Rumi by telling her to hide her demon side and uphold the image of perfection. Her motto is simple: “Never show weakness.”

And that’s exactly what makes her so dangerous.

Celine isn’t trying to destroy Rumi - but she is trying to erase or fix parts of her.

She’s a stand-in for the real-life managers, producers, and executives who claim to “know best,” silencing idols’ identities, emotions, and struggles in the name of professionalism and survival.

While Gwi-ma is the industry’s dark side personified - exploitation, dehumanization, manipulation, Celine is the polished exterior. She is the system trying to preserve its legacy, no matter the human cost. And her belief that Rumi must hide her truth for the sake of the group reflects the way real idols are often discouraged from speaking up about their trauma, sexuality, illness, or dissent.

Celine’s role reminds us that harm isn’t always loud or monstrous. Sometimes, it’s dressed in smiles, and quiet expectations.

Il. Persona vs Reality

In the K-pop world, every idol is assigned a role - sometimes by their company, sometimes by the public, and often both. These personas help make the group more marketable: the cold, mysterious one, the bright bubbly one, the clumsy maknae, the charismatic leader. It's branding - but for a human being.

Over time, these personas start to become cages.

Idols aren't just performing on stage, they're performing off it too, carefully maintaining their image in interviews, on livestreams, and even in private moments caught by hidden cameras or fan interactions. The longer this act is kept up, the harder it becomes to remember who they are beneath it.

The characters opposing the ones that represent the system, and suffering directly under their influence - are the victims: Rumi and Jinu.

Rumi - the Crowned but Caged

Rumi wasn’t just chosen to be a star, she was born into it.

Her mother was a member of the Sunlight Sisters, a past generation of demon hunters whose fame and legacy still cast long shadows. After her mother’s death, Rumi was raised by Celine, her mother’s groupmate, who shaped her into the centerpiece of the next generation: Huntrix.

From the beginning, Rumi was destined to lead. The responsible one. The strong one. Her image, particularly in the mv for Golden, presents her as almost mythical, untouchable - clothed and poised like nobility. She’s not just an idol. She’s a symbol.

Rumi’s persona is not one she chose. It was placed on her like a crown - and like a crown, it’s heavy. She must live up to the memory of her mother, the expectations of her fans, and the control of Celine. And all of this, while hiding the truth of who she really is: half demon.

Even among her closest groupmates, Rumi is taught to hide the parts of herself that don’t fit the image. Because in the world of idols, difference isn’t beautiful - it’s dangerous.

Jinu - the Haunted Performer

400 years ago, he was a poor boy with nothing but a dream and a bipa. Then came the voice: Gwi-ma, the demon king, whispering promises of power, fulfillment, and freedom from suffering. Jinu accepted. And from that moment on, his life was no longer his own, but at the hands of a devil, to do as he pleases.

The truth of what happened is fragmented. Jinu offers Rumi a version in which he lived with his family in a palace until his transformation forced them into exile. Gwi-ma, however, offers another: that Jinu left them behind to feast alone, turning his back on them out of selfishness. The past is uncertain - but what is clear is Jinu’s torment.

In many ways, Jinu is a symbol of the performer who’s lost touch with who they used to be. He’s played the part for so long, he no longer knows what’s real. But something in Rumi starts to crack through the mask.

In my honest perspective, Jinu is a fool.

A fool for believing the sweet words of a devil who dragged him into hell.

A fool for listening to the very voice that shames him, haunts him, and convinces him he’s a monster.

And perhaps most tragically - a fool for hesitating. For spending the entire film suspended between two choices: to keep following Gwi-ma’s orders or to stand beside Rumi and fight back.

He never fully chooses. He deepens his bond with Rumi - they sing together, share moments of quiet understanding, even sing a duet called “Free.” But all the while, he’s still stealing souls, still feeding the very monster that keeps him chained.

And maybe that’s the most painful part of all:

Jinu wants freedom, but he doesn’t believe he deserves it.

He thinks the past owns him. That redemption is for someone stronger, someone purer.

So he stays on the fence - torn between guilt and longing, between who he was and who he could become.

Jinu isn’t the cold villain he pretends to be - he’s a scared, broken boy who made a mistake, and keeps making it again and again.

III. The cost of being authentic

At the heart of the movie lies a painful truth: becoming your true self in a system that profits from illusion demands sacrifice. For both Rumi and Jinu, the path to authenticity is paved with betrayal, guilt, and the loss of everything familiar. Their arcs begin in isolation but end in collision - where honesty, no matter how flawed, becomes the only way forward.

Gwi-ma, the demon king, doesn’t enslave with brute force. He marks his victims with glowing patterns - symbols of repressed fears, insecurities, and shame. These marks are deeply metaphorical: they reflect how the K-pop industry often treats an idol’s humanity as a flaw to be concealed. In the real world, these “patterns” mirror mental illness, trauma, hidden identities, or even the simple fact of growing up - all things that can result in an idol being blacklisted, exiled, or torn apart by public scrutiny.

Gwi-ma weaponizes guilt. He manipulates memory, twists truth, and gaslights his victims into thinking they are the problem.

This is the dark side of K-pop personified: the voice that tells you you’re only loved when you’re perfect - and disposable when you’re not.

Jinu, caught in Gwi-ma’s grasp, spends the entire film torn between two versions of himself: the selfish monster that Gwi-ma insists he is, and the boy Rumi sees - someone capable of change. He listens to the voice that shames him and uses his past as a leash. And in doing so, he keeps hurting the one person trying to free him.

Rumi, on the other hand, is marked too - but hides it. Half-demon by blood, she’s taught to suppress every trace of it. Not just by Gwi-ma, but by Celine, who enforces a “show no weakness” policy, insisting she preserve the perfect idol image at all costs. But when the truth inevitably comes out - on stage, under the lights, in front of her members, Rumi is forced to confront what she’s spent her whole life avoiding: the fact that perfection was never hers to begin with.

The film’s climax doesn’t revolve around a final battle alone - it’s built around music, with each key song symbolizing the emotional journey of its characters.

“Your Idol”, performed by the Saja Boys under Gwi-ma’s control, is a chilling anthem of seduction and consumption. It reframes the idol as savior, obsession, and parasite all at once. With lines like “I’m the only one who’ll love your sins” and “Thank you for the pain, ‘cause it got me going viral”, the song reflects the toxic co-dependence between idols and fans, where personal suffering is exploited for engagement, and authenticity is replaced with spectacle.

By contrast, “This Is What It Sounds Like” is the antidote. Rumi sings not to entertain or seduce, but to confess. It’s a song about brokenness, honesty, and finding strength not in illusion, but in truth. Her voice trembles. She admits her shame, her fear, her failure. But she does it openly and that act alone begins to undo everything Gwi-ma built.

Where “Your Idol” thrives on manipulation, “This Is What It Sounds Like” is liberation.

It’s what happens when someone stops trying to be what the world wants, and simply says: this is me.

The most powerful moment in the movie is not the slaying of Gwi-ma - it’s what precedes it. After everything, it’s Jinu who returns in Rumi’s moment of weakness, not as a hero, but as someone finally choosing to break free from the voice that’s owned him for centuries. He gives her his soul - not because he thinks he deserves redemption, but because she believed in it for him.

Jinu: “You gave me my soul back. And now… I give it to you.”

This act of sacrifice becomes Rumi’s power. With his soul, she defeats Gwi-ma. And from that act of truth, a new honmoon is formed - not golden, polished, and performative like before, but rainbow-hued: multi-coloured, real, and whole.

IV. Conclusion

K-pop Demon Hunters isn’t just a story about fighting demons. It’s about fighting the ones we carry inside us - the ones fed by perfectionism, guilt, fear, and shame. It shows how the K-pop industry, for all its glamour, can often demand silence over truth, masks over identity.

But it also shows that healing doesn’t come from fitting the mold. It comes from breaking it.

Rumi and Jinu’s stories prove that authenticity isn’t free, it costs you everything false.

But in return, it gives you something far more powerful:

A voice that’s finally yours.

A past you no longer have to erase.

This is what it sounds like.

[ruinknight]

@reeces--pieces @lucilleambrose @holeinthehedgerow

There's this thing I used to do (and would like to do it once more) called 16 days 16 bars.

The idea is that you write 16 lines everyday for 16 days.

No matter how crap your writing is. You write.

Even if your emotions aren't displayed well you write.

You write for the sake of it. To get things out. To improve. To elaborate.

Having said this I'd like to share this with you lot.

In the hopes that you'll join me :

Day 1 :

Let's do this shall we, write after a long break

No words come to my mind but I'll try to rhyme

Rewind back to the old days, I'm trying to strive

For excellence but what is required is time.

Not a lot of it I know. I just gotta go with the flow.

Get up every day and perform on repetition

My vision and mission is to reach my prime

After 16 days I'll want to rhyme naturally.

It's after a long time so I'm not writing on a beat.

I'm just writing today to my mind to work freely

I dearly love the art but it's with a heavy heart I say,

Unless I perfect my art I'll have no words to say.

Cause even if I do have them they won't mean a thing.

I need to be of gravity before you can forget my sins.

For, once I'm admirable and have achieved success

They won't look at me with hatred, my case at rest.

[smahell]

A while ago I found an interesting Reddit thread about the VA’s/ Solmares decision about hiring the obey VA’s

https://www.reddit.com/r/obeyme/s/K8OuEEfdXq

Even though I knew they weren’t popular VA’s or had many/ any works I didn’t think they came from a radio host agency and I’ve been thinking about it for a while ever since

It’s not exactly directly related to the VA’s but what’s your take/ speculation on why Solmare decided to hire VA’s from radio agencies over seiyuu agencies?

I’ve read a bunch of replies on the thread but I think it’d be interesting to have more takes on it

You can answer this only if you’d like to, though! But I’m pretty interested in it and um this is the first blog I think of when I think about asking a question about obey me VA’s (; ´ v `)

thank you so much anon! i'd love to answer your question!

I've seen this thread like, a million times when doing my own personal research about the voice actors, but I don't think I've ever questioned why they got hired in the first place. Finding out that they weren't even professional voice actors in the first place was, well, pretty surprising.. As such lively and entertaining characters they are, I didn't really expect most of them to be invested so much in radio..

However, if you look deeper into some of the voice actors, you can find that some of them (some notable ones include Kada, Sumi and Onishi) have been involved in stage productions and acting! Take a video of Kada Satoshi acting on stage!

(untranslated, of course, but acting doesn't need the boundary of language anyways; look at him go!)

And check this! A video of Sumi and his own acting troupe!

I completely disagree with the statements saying that they were "cheaper to pay" because wouldn't it be just common sense that you should get paid the same as your peers because you're doing the same vocal work? (Besides, I'm not sure how wages should work in Japan but I do think that for the time, skill and patience they deliver behind the microphone that they deserve to get paid as much as even the most prolific voice actors.. they're doing the same work utilizing the same skill...). Most¹ of them have previous experience in stage plays, where many voice actors actually started before moving into individually voice acting.

Genuinely, I think the reason why they got hired is pictured clearly within one of the comments within the thread: people from radio have great voices and big personalities. Watch an episode of Otaku FM, or even Boys in the House, and watch how people from a radio agency can still engage you as much as a regular variety TV show. Listen to how smooth and intertwined segments are, watch how conversation flows so naturally and freely from their microphones and out of your speakers. These are talented people, for god's sake, and I think if you look at them as "cheaper alternatives to the real thing" you are not only discrediting the work that they've done for Obey Me! for past five years, but you view them and their jobs as so replaceable when in fact, if other people voiced these lovable characters, they may have a completely different feel to them. Listen to the TTWF event (fully voice acted, BY THE WAY) and ignore the fact that they may have come from a radio company and watch your favs come to life; it's one of the best for a reason.

Solmare's decision to hire local talents will always ring personally with me as it allowed them to further their careers and build their own personal fanbases.

¹ Yes, Miura Ayme is an outlier, but as is first professional vocal performance Ayme has done an amazing job.

thank you for wanting to hear this ramble, lol... and regarding the end of your ask and being the "first blog I think of when I think about asking a question about obey me vas", i am soooo flattered ^^, i never really thought of myself as the "voice actor guy" but this sort of made my day

^^^^^ like reallyyy made my day :D mini tangent but thank you everyone for your support, i thought i was sorta yelling into the voice with my rambles but jesus christ this blog and the people that surround it make me happy.

[suguwu]

will you guys kill me if i say aventurine + age gap with an older reader

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

One day

One day I hope people realize that Kitsunami already "broke through his programming" back by issue #56 of Idw Sonic

He had an entire mini arc where he dealt with being without Surge for the first time, and in the real world. He met Sonic and his friends directly, tried to work out what his purpose would be without Surge in his life (gave it a shot trying to devote himself to Sonic, seeing him as the next best thing after Surge). And when it was all said and done, he decided after experiencing more that at Surge's side is where he wanted to be.

As of the recent IDW issues, Kit isn't sticking with Surge "because of programming" and "because he just needs for other characters to friend him and turn him into a better person". He is at her side because he wants to be. He protects her and aids her because he cares about her, not just because he's serving the strongest guy in the room. And he's not interacting with others because he's decided not to give a shit about anyone else other than Surge (because from his pov, even the "good guys" are fake. From his pov, everyone is someone trying to lie and manipulate their way into pulling him and Surge to their side)

Kit already has decided what he wants to do with his life. And he decided it on his own. Not because of anyone else's wants or wishes. That's the whole point of his speech at the end of #56.

He's burying whatever his and Surge's past is and moving forward with his conviction to be with Surge because it's what he wants.

[saberdramon]

oh. oh my. i've been racking my brain on what compels majima to get so hung up on magamo the way he does in my current draft but i think he sees a project in her. i think what i already have written is like a block of cheese under a box just for him. a woman who's not being normal at all who tries to severe something out of her life in a familiar manner and you Have to fix that because it gives you Something Else To Do. that's fucking it isn't it goodness gracious

[widevibratobitch]

i am the nicest person ever. practising ensembles with me when you dont fucking know your part even tho you had over a week to learn it is a JOY because i am NICE and KIND and HELPFUL and UNDERSTANDING. but there will come a day when i snap. and today was almost that day.

[jeniffercheck]

shiv in that family photo with mencken

[102ki]

understanding tsuzuri's tsubasa la liberté voice lines such that sachi is the sky

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight Series’)

For the first time in a long time, Simon feels as if he’s walking on eggshells

He’s 6’4”, easily over 200 pounds of bulking muscle, strikes fear into the heart of each and every enemy he comes across (should they live to tell the tale that is), and yet he feels as though he’s tiptoeing, practically dancing around the issue he refuses to address

Yet you make him feel this way

It’s been months now, of this dance you still haven’t realized you’re apart of, shining on centre stage under the constant spotlight of Simon Riley’s attention, rather than one of the background performers as you seem to believe

He feels as though he’s done everything he can to get the point across to you, other than literally getting down on one knee and asking you those four special words he can’t seem to get himself to speak out loud

As easy as it is to pretend you two truly are husband and wife ‘til death do you part, he’s instead having to watch you leave base in exchange for your lonely flat each night, reminded of the fact that he’s not ballsy enough to just come out and say it to you

You make the Lieutenant nervous for fucks sake, something he hasn’t truly felt in so long he’s grasping for straws, searching for a life raft in these uncharted waters to help him stay afloat

That’s part of why he’s so confused when Gaz finally joins him and Soap in the gun range, landing a friendly smack across the taller man’s broad shoulders, saying something about how he’s ‘really happy for you LT, finally properly asked her, aye?’

“What are you goin’ on about?” Ghost practically grunts out, readjusting the weapon against his shoulder as he glances through the scope of his gun, only partly interested in what the Sergeants answer is, that is until he hears him mention your name

“Just saw her at her desk, talkin’ about how she has a wedding this weekend-” Gaz has barely finished his sentence before Ghost is whipping his skull clad head around, shoving his weapon into Soap’s arms, and beelining out of the armoury towards you, leaving a pair of chuckling Sergeants behind him

They’ve never seen their Lieutenant so whipped before. And the fact that you don’t even know you have this beast of a man wrapped around your dainty little finger makes it all the more entertaining for them

They totally haven’t taken bets on how long it takes for him to break and finally confess his feelings, and Price definitely didn’t put money down on it either

Ghost may as well float into the room on a cloud he’s feeling so overjoyed at the idea of finding you sat at your desk all pretty, chit chatting away with colleagues about the wedding you’ve finally realized he intends to give you, taking all the pressure off of him

Instead, he rounds the corner and overhears the last tidbits of your conversation, pretending as though his stomach doesn’t drop out of him and onto the floor when he realizes you’re telling your desk mate about your sisters wedding this weekend

He should’ve know better, it wouldn’t be that easy

“-not that I’m embarrassed to go without someone. That I don’t care so much about.” He hears you explain, failing to have noticed him behind you quite yet. “God knows it’s been ages since I’ve gone on an actual date anyways. But this is the first time I’m a bridesmaid, and my sister keeps saying I’m apparently the only bridesmaid without a date-”

“Well aren’t you going to bring your husband?” Your colleague asks, cutting you off. Just like everyone else on base, she knows thinks you are in fact Mrs Riley, for all intents and purposes. You open your mouth to correct her and tell her you don’t have a husband, when a deep voice comes up behind you and speaks first.

“‘Course she is.” Ghost replies for you, coming to stand behind you in your chair, sneaking a gloved hand onto your shoulder to offer a slight squeeze of acknowledgment. You lean your head back to glance up at him, offering a soft smile that melts his heart more and more each time he’s lucky enough to see it, to be the reason for it. Sensing she’s now the odd one out, your coworker quietly excuses herself and goes to find someone else to talk water cooler gossip with.

“Oh Ghost! Hi!” You say, reaching your own hand up to squeeze his in return, smile widening when you notice the crinkles next to his eyes that you hope mean he’s smiling as well under the mask. “Oh, you really don’t have to. I mean- I wouldn’t want you to waste a day off just to sit through a stranger’s wedding for who knows how many hours. I barely want to go.”

You try to joke about it, but this really has been causing you unnecessary stress. Your sister apparently doesn’t have enough wedding planning on her plate as it is, seeing as she has enough time to constantly pester you about whether you’ve secured a date yet or not, despite your answer always being no. She knows it’s been forever since you’ve dated anyone seriously, and that finding a date will be more of a chore than showing up without one and enduring your relative comments and questions.

Each time you told her no though, your mind wandered to the tall, dark, muscular man who liked to call himself your husband, imagining the looks on your family’s face if you were to show up with Ghost on your arm. But you never bothered to ask him, not wanting to force him into extending his kindness and charade of a happily married couple outside of work hours.

“I’d be with you for those ‘who knows how many hours?’” Ghost asks, quoting you, watching as you offer him a simple nod in return. “Then that’s the farthest thing from a waste o’ time in my books, love.”

As simple as that, the plan was set. Ghost would be your date to the wedding that weekend.

Now, Ghost was used to not having very much to look forward to in life. He could look forward to a hot shower occasionally, look forward to good pub food instead of mess hall dinners, look forward to a chance to sleep in a little later, simpler things of the sort.

But when you came into his life, he was suddenly looking forward to equally simple, but different things. He looked forward to reading your cute replies to his good morning and good night texts (he still never misses a single one, all these months later), looked forward to seeing your sweet smile greeting him when you arrived to work, looked forward to hearing your pleased hum when you took your first sip of whatever drink he prepared you that day. Essentially, he looked forward to seeing you.

Now though, he feels as if this weekend cannot come soon enough, finding himself practically giddy he’s looking forward to spending more time with you off base so much, feeling like a kid who’s itching to get their hands on their new Christmas gifts.

When he arrives at your flat almost a half hour too early (he just couldn’t wait anymore lovie, you can’t blame the poor man), and you open the door to greet him, he doesn’t think it’s fair to compare this to a gift under the Christmas tree.

No. It’s more like he’s won the goddamn lottery.

Standing before him, is the most beautiful, breathtaking vision he’s ever laid eyes upon in all his years. He half wonders if his knees are legitimately beginning to wobble where he stands, he feels so weak in the knees as he gazes upon you in your doorway. It’s still just you, the same woman he’s been seeing every day and dreaming of each night.

But you don’t look like you have every day these past months. Your hair is styled differently, your make up is a little more done up, and the thing that’s really got his mind reeling, is that instead of your regular work attire, you’re wearing a dress so stunning he half wonders whether or not you are the bride this evening. There’s no possible way someone so beautiful is expected to stand on the sidelines tonight, expected to be anyone apart from the star of the show, the centre of his the world.

You don’t take much notice of the way Ghost fails to greet you properly, standing outside your door and practically gawking at you, seeing as you’re preoccupied doing the same to him. His usual fatigues and black everything have been swapped out for black dress pants, a white button up shirt (your eyes definitely do not linger on the top three buttons being left undone, nope, not at all) and a black blazer, matching black surgical mask in exchange for the typical skeleton mask.

You two blushing, bumbling idiots in secret love manage to pull yourselves together enough to make the drive up to the venue, the car ride filled with laughter, stories, and too many stolen glances to count, each of you wishing you could pull the car over somewhere and jump each others bones instead.

At the venue, you go through the obligatory introductions with your family, simply so they couldn’t say you didn’t say hello at least once throughout the busy night, only partially intent on ignoring them later on. They’re left understandably stunned at the mention that the man beside you is your husband, and when your family members begin unloading question after question, the two of you manage to find a quick excuse each time to dash off, giggling and holding onto the other as you weave the growing crowd of guests, all too proud of your little inside joke.

You regretfully tell him that you’ll have to leave him to sit alone throughout the ceremony, though he insists you shouldn’t worry about it, lifting your spirits momentarily when he jokes that you should focus more on not tripping during your walk down the aisle, before the both of you are left bright red in the face at hearing him talking about you walking down an aisle, as if you don’t pretend to be married every day to begin with.

He truly doesn’t mind having to sit on the tiny foldable chairs that make up the seating for the ceremony, it’s only a small portion of the evening after all. And besides, his eyes certainly aren’t on the couple reciting their vows up at the altar. No, his gaze is on one person and one person only. From the moment the music kicked in and pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen stepped out to walk the aisle in their matching attire and matching smiles, his eyes have been locked on you, just as yours have been locked on his.

His size certainly helped you pick him out of the crowd with more ease, finding him amongst the familiar and unfamiliar faces instantly, as though gravity was pulling your gaze in his direction alone. Later on, neither of you could even correctly point out amongst the groomsmen whose arm you were holding on to as you walked, attention only focused on each other.

Even as you stood up front, listening to your sister and new brother in law profess their love for the other, you tried your best to appear as though you were paying them your full attention, considering you were standing up at the front and all. But it was as though you could literally feel Ghost’s eyes on you the entire ceremony, unable to stop your eyes from straying towards him more times than was surely appropriate, feeling the heat of a blush creep over your cheeks every time you saw how devastatingly handsome he was today.

By the time the newlyweds are marching back down the aisle past their cheering loved ones, wedding party in tow, your eyes are no longer pretending to look anywhere other than at him. And Simon is looking back at you, but his mind is growing preoccupied, thinking of how he can finally ensure you’ll let him walk you down the aisle now.

Because in the glove compartment of the very car he drove you up here in, only inches away from your knees the entire drive, he’s tucked away a small little box, containing the exact ring you chose from the jeweller all those weeks ago. He carries it with him everywhere, eager for the moment, the opportunity to be lucky enough to truly call himself your husband and slip the band over your finger as his wife.

And he’s decided that tonight is the night he tells you.

The night he tells you this has never been a joke to him, never been anything apart from what he really wants to be true from the moment he saw you.

To call you his wife.

[belovedmusings]

Am I Playing All Right Now?

Kento Nanami x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Kento Nanami has been your respectful, loving boyfriend for two months now. All you’ve done so far is kiss, and you want more with him. He refuses for your sake, warning of his roughness. So, you take matters into your own hands and convince him to put in ‘just the tip’. 

Relevant tags: just the tip challenge, dom! Kento Nanami, clothed sex, couch sex, clit slapping, brief use of leather belt, hard and rough sex, doggy-style, hair pulling, manhandling, big dick-Nanami <3, dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, creampie, I don't use "y/n" for immersion

Music recommended while reading: Dollhouse (The Weekend, Lily Rose Depp, …baby one more time (The Marias), Like U (Rosenfeld)

A/N: this is filthy and I love it, my first Nanami piece <3 enjoy!! (Read on Ao3 if you prefer!)

Read below cut:

The night had gone great. You two had a fantastic dinner at a fine restaurant, and now you’re at his house, getting hot and heavy on the couch. You’re sat in his lap, straddling his waist, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs as the fabric gives to accommodate him between your legs. Your hands are running over the muscles of his chest, only the thin layer of his dress shirt between your touch and his skin. His palms are on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you so firmly against him that you can feel the blunt heat of his hard cock beneath the confines of his slacks. 

You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins–tonight is the night. Every time you two get close to having sex, he pulls away, saying he isn’t ready, but right now it feels so different, so electric–

He hums, punctuating the kiss and pulling back, giving you room to breathe. Your stomach sinks, no, this isn’t what you want, you want–

“We should stop here for the night,” He murmurs, and you look into his eyes, a frown tugging your lips down at their corners. 

“But you’re hard,” You protest, “Kento, please…we’ve waited long enough, and you clearly want this…”

His jaw tightens as he takes a breath. “I do…but we can’t.”

Now you’re just confused. “...can’t?”

He sighs heavily, giving you no explanation, but nodding. “Now, let’s m–”

“No, hold on,” You interrupt him, “Kento, tell me why? I-is it me? Do you…not want…?”

“It’s definitely not you,” He dispels quickly, “It’s me, okay?”

“What about you?” You press, searching his eyes. “Is it…are you…worried about your performance?”

That gets him to widen his eyes a fraction in surprise. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s…alright, look, it’s…it’s that I don’t want to hurt you.”

It isn’t enough of an answer for you. “And…what do you mean by that?”

“You…you know me to be this nice, gentlemanly man, don’t you?” He asks, a sort of resigned weight to his eyes. “Which, I am. But not when it comes to sex.”

The wheels turn in your head. “So…you’re…?”

“I’m rough,” He finally states, “And it’s…it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m afraid to hurt you or scare you away. Of course I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but…you just seem so sweet and–”

“Woah,” You stop him in the middle of his sentence. “Do you think you’re the only one with duality? You don’t think I can be different in bed? Do you think I’m some porcelain doll you’ll break if you’re not careful?”

He considers this for a moment before sighing. “You don’t understand.”

“So then make me understand,” You challenge him, running your hands up his chest. “Please, Kento. I can take it.”

“No,” He denies, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Seeing his hesitance, you decide to switch tactics. You reach for his hands on your waist, taking his wrists and raising his palms up to the front of your dress. You guide them to rest over your breasts, allowing him to touch them through the thin cloth. You’d decided not to wear a bra for the night since the article had thin straps, and he immediately can feel that, a flash of desire flitting within his eyes.

Riding the wave of his interest, you tell him, “I want you bad, Kento.”

He inhales forcefully, allowing himself to knead the soft flesh beneath his hands. His thumbs graze over your hardening nipples, your teeth dragging over your bottom lip instinctively. To drive your point home, you grind down on him, the only thing on beneath your dress being the panties you’d hoped he’d see when you had put them on earlier in the day.

“You’re playing dangerous,” He warns, voice thin and strained. 

“Maybe I want dangerous.”

He finally lets out a groan, surging forward and capturing your lips in another kiss. It’s more forceful this time, and all you can do is give complete control to him. 

He flips your positions so smoothly, you hardly feel it; you just suddenly feel your back hit the cushion of his couch, a gasp pushed from your mouth. His hands make quick work sliding up your dress, fingers hooking underneath your waistband.

Kento speaks against your mouth lowly. “Lace?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Expensive?”

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, no, not r–”

A swift, harsh tug and the sound of fabric ripping later, he holds the scrap lace in his hand, now mangled and unusable. He just tore them clean off.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, now suddenly aware of how bare you are beneath your dress. He must become aware of that fact too, because without a moment to spare, he’s pushing the article up to your waist, exposing you to his eyes. A rosy flush spreads over the bridge of your nose as he looks at your naked lower half unabashedly, a type of hunger you have never seen before nor known he was capable of in his eyes.

He tosses your ruined panties to the floor and fiddles with his belt, undoing the buckle. Your gaze follows his movements, watching his hands expertly tug the leather strap from its loops in his pants.

Then, he surprises you by holding the edge without the buckle and running it along your inner thigh. You shiver, observing him and wondering what his next move will be. He runs it all the way up, reaching the apex of your leg and placing it right over your mound. The cool leather feels unfamiliar there.

“Can I?”

Your attention is pulled to his voice, and for a moment you aren’t sure what he means. Then it dawns on you.

Oh.

No one’s ever done that to you. But…you aren’t opposed. You’re curious.

You nod.

“Words.”

Oh, damn.

“Yes, you can.”

“Good girl.”

You don’t have time to pay attention to the rush of hormones that praise gives you, because a harsh sting of pleasure suddenly hits your senses as he brings the end of the belt down, slapping your clit with it.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, shock, arousal, and fascination flooding you all at once.

“How was that?” He asks, watching you carefully. You take stock of yourself…and are intrigued to find that you liked it. As soon as you realize that, you understand that Kento is about to show you an entire new world previously unexplored to you.

Your eyes lock with his. “It was good.”

A mixture of relief and desire swarm his gaze. “You liked that?”

“Yeah.”

Without warning, he does it again, a little harder, and you cry out this time, unused to the strangely welcome sensation.

“Still good?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Your next breath is shaky. “More.”

He wastes no time in delivering exactly what you want. Over and over again, until your pearl is red and swollen and the folds beneath are glistening with need, belt shiny with a bit of it. He stops once you reach this state, making sure you see as he licks it off the belt. Your lips part, entranced, and he drops the accessory, instead moving to undo the front of his slacks. Your heart begins racing–but then he pauses, seeming to deflate slightly.

“I’m not gonna go all the way,” He states, “I don’t have condoms.”

“What?” Your voice is more than a little indignant. “But…how?”

“I wasn’t planning to do this tonight.”

He pulls his cock from its restriction in his briefs, pushing his waistbands down to the tops of his thighs, and the sight of the thick, red shaft as your mouth watering and your core pulsing around nothing. 

You think he’s changed his mind as he lines it up, but then he just glides it against your folds, coating it in your essence and using it to rub against you, the feeling intense due to the sensitivity of your previously abused clit, but not what you crave.

“Kento,” You whimper, watching him rub himself off as he plays with you using his cock. “Please…”

“We’re not risking a pregnancy,” He maintains, “It’s not wise.”

You are beyond frustrated at this point, entrance weeping for attention, and you swear the desire is so bad you can feel your entire core sore and empty, vying to be filled and stretched.

What can you say that will get him to do it, even just a little bit?

Wait. Just a little bit.

“What about just the tip?”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“Just the tip,” it comes out needier than you had intended, but god damn it you’re horny and all out of shame twice over.

Kento takes a good look at you, at himself and the position you’re in, sucking in a controlled breath for the umpth time that night.

Then, he lines up again, cockhead pressing against your entrance. “You’re going to regret asking for it.”

Is he challenging you? Whatever. What. Ever. You’ve reached a point where if you don’t get his cock soon your heart may actually give out. 

“Let me decide that.”

His jaw sets tightly before finally, finally, he cants his hips forward, pushing the tip of his shaft inside of you. 

As soon as it’s in, your head falls back on the couch, hips starting to roll without your permission. Your body wants him all on its own, and you’re no longer in command of it. He groans, pulling out and then pushing it back in, only the tip again, and you whimper in half bliss and half frustration.

You want more. 

You understand the true meaning of temptation now. You’ve had the first bite of the proverbial apple, and it’s shocking how eager you are to devour the rest to its core.

Everytime he pushes in, never going past the smooth head of his cock, you moan, wordlessly begging for more. There’s a worry in his brow and a tenseness to his jaw that indicates just how much self-control he’s exercising, and as you look up at him, you realize he’s still pretty much fully clothed—his tie is pristine around his neck, shirt fully buttoned up, only his dick out and vulnerable to your eyes. 

It’s unfair, and you seek to change that.

Your hand loops into his tie and yanks him down by it, taking him by surprise. He has to catch himself on his hands to avoid falling on you, a grunt escaping his lips as it causes him to slide further into you.

In a lowered hiss, he asks you, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The tone is so vindictive it has any words dying on your tongue. All it takes is a moment before he’s forcefully breathing out and lifting himself off of you, cock withdrawing from between your legs.

You open your mouth to protest, and that’s when your world spins. 

You were face up, but now you’re on your hands and knees on the couch, having to brace yourself as he manhandles you silently. There’s not even a moment for you to acclimate to your new position before you feel his fingers loop through your hair as you’d done to his belt, and in one motion, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams all the way into you, pulling your hair back hard to make you arch for him.

A loud cry splits through the air and it’s only when he starts repeatedly fucking hard and fast into you with the entirety of his monstrous size that you realize the sound was from you.

“See what happens when you push me?” His voice is hoarse and gritty, more like a growl than a whisper, a dull ache inside of you where he’s currently remolding the shape of your walls.

All you can do is make incoherent noises, and you aren’t sure whether they’re from pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both. His grip on your hair isn’t letting up and it hurts, but you’ve also never felt so completely out of control of yourself and somehow it just feels freeing to you. 

“Huh?” He asks, and it’s then you realize you never replies to him verbally. You muster up the strength to speak.

“Y-yeah…” it sounds breathy and whiney, completely foreign in the contours of your voice.

“You happy now? Happy you got me to fuck you like the greedy whore you are?”

The harsh word ripples through you hotly and you moan, nodding as good as you can. “Yes…”

“Yes?” He asks, breathless, and he lets go of your hair in favor of wrapping his hand around your neck from behind. “You like being screwed like a whore?”

Apparently, you do. This is new information to you as well. You nod, gasping as he grabs your hand and presses it over your abdomen, where you can feel the flesh rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Feel that?” He asks, “that’s me inside of you.”

“Oh god,” You rasp, the knowledge of him so deep inside your body going right to your head. You can feel your mound weeping all over yours and his thighs, the wet slap tell-tale of just how much you’re enjoying this. Just the realization has you fluttering around him, a sensation that isn’t lost on him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You really do like this, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, yes, Kento…”

He groans, leaning forward and kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, brushing your hair out of the way. 

“Such a good girl for me…my good little slut.”

You shudder, eyes squeezing shut as he speeds his movements up, the hand that was pressing yours to your stomach moving down to the slippery mess that is your swollen clit.

The big palm of his on your neck slides the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders and dips into the neckline of it, grasping your breast as if to claim ownership of it. 

“Oh my god,” You breathe again, hips twitching at all of the stimulation, face hot, entrance thoroughly fucked open and sloppy, debauched by Kento like a destructive form of artwork.

His middle finger massages circles into your sensitive pearl as he continues the grueling pace of his hips, lips pressed to the back of your neck, and all at once it becomes too much.

It crashes into you like the unforgiving wave of the raging ocean, sweeping you into the depths of pleasure.

You cum so hard on his cock he physically has to stop moving, your hold on him so tight he’s locked inside of you. That’s the moment that he follows, spilling his pent up, heavy load into you with a hiss of pleasure. 

Your arms and knees feel like jelly. Your walls are sore and throbbing, completely exhausted from his ravaging. But all you feel is feather-light. Finally, finally you did it. And it was better than your wildest imagination.

Lips place a tender kiss on your shoulder, his labored breaths slowing back to regulation. You feel his cheek rest upon the skin of your upper back. Both of his hands massaging along the sides of your hips.

“I’m sorry we waited so long. I just figured it would be too intense for you.”

You shake your head, turning it to look back at him as he straightens up and carefully pulls out. 

“Don’t do that again.”

The corner of his lips turns up slightly. “Oh no, I won’t make that mistake twice. In fact…there’s something else I want to do now.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to test your limits.”

__

A/N: here's my Nanami masterlist :) this is the first piece but lmk what else you want me to write for him! Hope you enjoyed.

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version toji version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[asapeveryday]

ALL NIGHT -P.B

one night. one apartment. two people. enhanced stamina.

warnings: fingering, oral sex, strap-on sex, vibrator use, face riding, degradation, dirty talk, slight food play, overstimulation, slight/unintentional somno, drug use

tldr: you guys take drugs and then fuck like rabbits. like, seriously it’s kinda cray

PLEASE READ: i honestly know nothing about honey packs or ANY libido enhancer. from my research honey packs only work on men(?) but for the sake of this fic they work on women too.

i have no idea what it feels like to be on an aphrodisiac/performance enhancing drug or how it affects anything so please go into this knowing i am utterly freeballing in hopes of pleasing the anon who requested this as best as i can.

11pm

rain pitter-patters the floor to ceiling glass window of your apartment as a movie plays in your living room. The tv screen paints your light-lacking home with faint colour. Aside from the rain, soft moans ring out all through the air.

Her arm is slung over your shoulder, her body warm and pressed against you. She shivers as your finger tips dance between the hem of her hoodie and the skin of her toned stomach, you try not squeak when she tugs at your hair in return.

Nights like these are the best, snuggled under blankets and dim lights in front of the tv, Netflix on full volume, Paige by your side.

“You picked the horniest movie possible.” Paige snorts, her words buzz in your ear since your head is on her chest.

“I knew there were sex scenes…just not this many.” You sigh, biting a lip as the main character moans loudly again as the main love interest smacks her ass. “What is this, the third one?”

“Second. But this one is long,” Paige tuts, clicking her tongue as the fucking on screen gets more aggressive, “goddamn, how does he have the stamina for that?”

“I know!” You laugh. “And look, it’s getting light outside.” You point to the tv, where one of the windows in the movie shows the changing time. “When they started it was dark.”

“Went all night, huh.” Paige whistles. “Lucky guy.”

“Lucky?” You sit up, turning to face her. She immediately raises both her hands in surrender, eyes wide.

“Not because of her,” she groans, talking about the main character, “but they’re going for hours like it’s no problem.”

“You’d think as an athlete you’d have the stamina.” You laugh, though it’s cut short when her brow raises in that challenging way that always pisses you off. Her mouth opens, then closes.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head, but her face says otherwise.

“What is it!” You hiss. “Tell me.”

“It’s not me who doesn’t have the stamina.” She says, expression a mixture of superiority and guilt. “You can take like, two rounds max before passing the hell out.”

“Oh, what the fuck.” You frown. “Since when have you wanted to go for longer? What, do I go to bed and you’re just laying awake at night horny?”

“Psh, no.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m fine with two. Two is good, it’s enough.” She reassures you, hand on your waist. “But if you’d ever ask to keep going…”

“You’d have it in you.” You finish, understanding it’s no fault of your own. “I’d like to try, but honestly after cumming twice I’m tired.”

“I know, baby.” Paige shrugs. “S’not a big deal, I was just thinking. I can go for a while, but I dunno about all night anyways.”

“Yeah.” You settle, though sometimes tugs at your mind as you focus back on the movie. You watch as the girl is flipped from position to position, location to location, sexy music over the scene.

Paige shifts in her seat. You tense as it gets kinkier by the minute. And then the scene is over, and they’re laying in bed as morning sun fills the room.

And you suddenly have an idea.

“Where are you going?” Paige asks, eyes following you closely as you move her hand from your body and slip off the couch.

“Wait here.” You mumble, sending her a coy smile as you walk out of the living room. You know she’s watching your ass as you walk away like she always does. She loves the pyjama shorts you’re wearing, says they do you justice.

After rummaging through the back of the closet in your bedroom, you finally reach a large shoebox. You’d bought a really sexy pair of heels for Paige’s first wnba after-party a while back, and kept the box to commemorate that…as well as a few other things related to you and Paige.

When she sees you walk back into the living room, shoebox in hand, she immediately straightens. Paige recognizes it, of course. She’s practically been a Pavlovian experiment, you can see it as she licks her lips with eager flourish as you stand in front of the couch, tossing the lid of the box off to the side.

“What’re we doing?” She says, smile evident in her tone. She even takes the blanket off of her, and you almost laugh and how ready she’s willing to be.

“Chill.” You hum. You take out the the few dildos you have, leather components for the strap, and a huge bottle of lube that’s half empty, before tipping the box upside down and watching as the contents spill all over the coffee table in front of the couch.

Dental dams, ripped fishnets, mints that make you salivate like crazy, fuzzy handcuffs, the batteries you use for your toys, and a lot of little plastic packets.

Paige just takes everything in for a moment, brows slightly taught in uncertainty. Her eyes catch on the plastic packets, and she picks one up for inspection just as you’d hoped.

“The fuck is this?” She murmurs, squinting to read the small text on the plastic. “Oh, shit.” She adds, meeting your gaze.

You simply smile. “Well?”

“Where’d you even get these?”

“A few weeks back when me n’ the girls went clubbing. The place was handing them out, and I decided to keep them for later.” You admit.

“Oh, so you’ve been plotting, huh.” She quirks a brow, clearly amused.

“Not really!” You whine. “I was just curious, I guess. I heard they give you crazy stamina….and like, uhm…”

Her stare is heavy on you, head cocked, grinning sly as a fox. “And what?”

“They make you like, super horny.” You finish, unable to hold her gaze. “And stuff.”

“Right.” She nods, attempting to hide her smile beneath her hand. She rubs her mouth in thought as she reads the packet again. “This is so sketchy.” She murmurs. “But if it works, we could probably go all night.”

“Probably.” You nod.

Her eyes meet yours again. “Would you…wanna?”

You take a packet for yourself, attempting to mull over the small text written over the plastic. It sounds like gibberish, but it’s late and she’s already looking at you with sheer excitement, so your answer is obvious.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Let’s try.”

-★彡

What started as making out on the couch turned into you leading her to your room by the hand, not even bothering to close the door before she’s on you again.

There’s no urgency, no burst of energy like what you expected. It’s fairly normal, slow and sweet as she dips her head opposite yours to kiss you.

Her hands swim under the crewneck you wear, settling firmly on the crook of your waist with warm, rubbing thumbs grazing over your skin. Meanwhile you make quick work of her mouth, your tongue darting in to meet hers, tasting her.

You stumble around the room stuck to her like glue before your legs hit the foot of your bed and you topple over back-first, giggling as she follows.

Her legs cage yours in, hands arms settle on either side of you, and her mouth trails sweet kisses all over your face, jaw and neck. It’s loving and gentle, even when one hand leaves your side and carefully tugs your pyjamas pants down. You lift your hips to help her as she takes them off, before spreading your legs a little wider for her on the bed.

“Thank you, baby.” She mumbles against your skin, sucking pretty bruises onto your neck as her fingers pull your panties to the side, and tentatively slide between your folds.

“You’re so wet already.” Paige chirps, and you feel her teeth bared in a smile with a shiver. “How do I know it’s not the packets?” She adds.

“It’s not.” You hum, sliding your hands under her hoodie to feel at her abdomen. “Just you.”

She’s satisfied with that answer, because her fingers go from teasing your entrance to actually being inside you. One finger at first, before she realizes you’re loose enough for another.

You let your breath hitch as she pumps in and out of you, a gentle rhythm of pleasure humming through your body with every thrust of her hand. She whispers sweet nothings, pretty baby’s and so good’s until you’re squirming against her.

You kiss her again, half to shut her up and half to keep any whimpers from spilling out—because those will only feed her ego. Her pace quickens, her kisses turn sloppy, and your stomach tightens as your high begins and ends. She doesn’t let up, not until you’re panting too much to kiss back, and with a jolt you cum all over her fingers.

You feel her start to pull back from you before you grab her hand, holding it inside of you. “Don’t stop.” You plead, not thinking in the slightest.

Paige falters. “You sure? You just-“

“I know.” You whine, spreading your legs. You did cum, but you just weren’t done, the buzz wasn’t enough, you wanted it to keep going. “Just, please.”

“Okay.” She kisses your face. “You’re spoiled, you know that?” Paige grins, though her fingers start pumping again and you can’t help but genuinely flinch at the sensation, it’s unlike before.

Your stomach is tight again, your core is tingling. The stimulation is too much, too soon, but you need it. Even when you struggle to hold your legs open, when you beg her to do it for you. She obliges, wedging her knee between your thighs so she can keep going, lips bitten as she watches her fingers disappear and reappear by the second.

When you cum again it’s drawn out, fingers clenching the sheets of your bed as you finish.

“Whoa.” Paige hums. “That was- that was good.”

“Mhm.” You mumble, pulling her back in for another kiss by the fabric of her hoodie. You came for the second time, but instead of feeling ready to pass out, you’re surprisingly energized.

She pulls away, still close to your face. You watch her eyes as they dart from your clenched fists around her clothes to your lips.

And you feel yourself twitch down there again.

In a burst of energy you roll over, taking her with you. The positions are reversed now, you on top and her caged in against the ruffled sheets of your bed. You make quick work of straddling her torso, and when your already swollen clit brushes against her shorts you let out a little sigh.

This sensitivity is definitely new.

Paige is watching your every move, licking her lips as you throw the remainder of your clothes off and onto the ground.

And then you slide off of her.

“Take everything off.” You hum, crawling towards the nightstand by your bed.

“Or what?” Paige teases.

You don’t respond, simply opening the drawer of your nightstand and taking out your favourite vibrator wand.

The minute she catches sight of it her amused smile drops. You haven’t used this one on her—you haven’t used any on her at all.

“You don’t wanna?” You ask, shrugging.

She frowns, clearly unhappy at your false disinterest, but she holds your eyes as she slips her shorts off of her legs, her underwear with it.

“And the hoodie.” You add, gleefully at that. “And lay down.”

Paige grunts, but pulls her hoodie over her head regardless. She’s not wearing a bra, to your delight.

“Good.” You purr. You crawl over to her, swinging your leg over her head so that your pussy is hovering over her face. Her hands grab at your ass, already knowing what to do.

You shiver when she forces you down, her tongue licking an agonizingly slow strip across your folds. Before she can get too frantic, you lean forward enough to place the vibrator between her parted legs, turning it on once it’s settled correctly.

The whimper she udders at the start of the machine vibrates through your body.

She struggles to find routine at first, jolting as you toy around with the settings of the vibrator, but before you know it she’s holding your pussy down like she depends on it, lapping and panting against your ultra-sensitive skin.

The stimulation is one thing, but the sound of her breathy moans from beneath you rile you up on an entirely new level. You’re absolutely buzzing with sensation, grinding frantically against her parted mouth trying to chase that high.

“You’re so good, baby.” You mew, rocking your hips on her face. “So good Paige.” You add, upping the intensity on the vibrator as a reward for her. She lets out a strangled moan at that, hands gripping the skin of your ass hard enough to leave fingernail indents. You try to rise a little, unsure if it’s too much for her, but she forces you right back down, her tongue swirling around your clit and nuzzling into you with feverish energy.

Her legs are squeezing tight now, soaking wet at the core thanks to the wand wedged between them. You feel it too, practically shaking atop her. Before you know it, a huge feeling of release washes over you in big, sobering waves. You can’t help but cry out as you cum, the feeling of her mouth lapping it up engulfing you wholly. In turn she starts grinding against the vibrator, and then she cums too.

You turn the vibrator off and lazily crawl off of her, collapsing by her side and into her open arms. You’re both hard-breathing, flushed messes, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide.

“Holy shit.” Is all Paige can utter, her face glistening with what’s left of you. You can’t help but laugh, and she starts to laugh too, kissing your nose, forehead and lips with a smile.

Then the both of you are grinning and kissing, tumbling all over the bed like frantic teenagers. You thought you were exhausted till her teeth playfully pulled at your lip, and that burning spark in your gut came right back.

“Jesus,” you hum, sighing as her lips suck dark marks into your collarbone. “I could keep going.”

“So let’s keep going.” Paige murmurs.

“Mmh, seriously?” You sigh.

Her hands find your breasts, the calloused pads of her fingers brushing over your nipples. “We could go all night?” Paige smiles, eyes dangerously bright, full of energy again. “If you want.”

You hold her gaze as her mouth latches onto your chest, kissing all over the skin of your breasts in worship.

All night doesn’t sound too bad.

-★彡

1am

The next hour or so is filled with mindless making out, limbs tangled and shoulders bumping you suck every possible crevice of her face. It’s a break, in a sense, but a distracting one none the less. You’re both so incredibly sensitive, even the brush of her knee between your thighs sends waves of feeling through your body.

Paige’s lips struggle to part from you even when you both leave your room, stumbling around your apartment in an intimately naked scene, like she’s so obsessed that everything else has faded away. Even when she parts to grab another packet and the strap from the coffee table, her pinky finger stays lovingly entwined in yours.

You fasten it on her, adjusting every aspect with rigorous intent and bubbling excitement. Then you’re both stumbling through the place again, lips entwined with more ferocity.

It’s all in Paige’s control now, not that you mind. She’s leading with her tongue, her hands are groping whatever skin she can reach till you feel your back hit the surface of your kitchen counter. She lifts you up like you’re a doll, sitting you on the marble and pushing you to lie back against the cold material.

“What’re you doing?” You laugh, back arched to avoid the chill of your skin against the counter.

“Watch.” She orders.

She’s standing between your dangling legs as she rips the packet open with her teeth, drizzling the drugged-honey from your navel all the way to the valley between your breasts before tossing the plastic away.

You watch in excitement as her hands settle on either side of you, as she leans in and licks a clean stripe across your body, following the line of honey she drew till it’s all gone. The hairs on your arms stand up straight, goosebumps covering the expanse of your skin as her tongue cleans up the mess. Then she kisses you, and you taste it on her before she pulls away.

“Paige,” you whine, parting your legs, “please, please just fuck me.”

“I hear you, ma.” She rasps, fondling the silicone attached to her till the tip is grazing your slit. “You’re so fucking wet, I can tell you want it.”

“I want it so bad.” You nod vigorously. “C’mon.”

She pushes in, not nearly enough, then pulls back again. Then her hands are on your waist, pulling you forward and lifting your pelvis up just enough so that she can push into you at a better angle. You suck in a breath when she bottoms out, then bite out a whimper after the first thrust.

Then she sets her pace.

“Fuck,” you moan, “fuck, oh, Paige.” You cry out, hands trying to grip for anything you can on the flat surface of the counter. Slapping noises fill the room as her hips snap back and forth, lip bitten and eyes stark on the way you look splayed out on the kitchen counter like a meal. Your tits bounce with every shift of your body as she rocks against you.

“Just last week you could barely handle round two.” She grunts out. “Now look at you, moaning all over my dick. How many times are you gonna cum for me tonight, huh?”

The feeling of her filling you up makes you even more turned on. You can hear the noises of your slick against the silicon, the proof of your pleasure. It just feels so mindlessly good.

You reach for something, anything, but all you end up doing is knocking shit over. The sound of steel hitting the ground reverbs throughout the kitchen as an empty bowl and some cutlery fly off of the counter. You wince at the volume, but Paige leans in to grip your face.

“You’re a slut, you know that?” She bites, fully bottomed out, fingers around your face.

“Don’t stop.” You whine, shifting your hips. “Please, p.”

“You’re making a big fucking mess, moaning so damn loud and pushing things off the table.” Paige hisses, shoving your face slightly as she starts thrusting again. “Like a slut.”

“Maybe I am.” You choke out, feeling your core tense with every word. “I just need you so bad, need you to fill me up.”

“You don’t deserve it.” Paige grunts, grasping your skin so tight as her hips stutter agains you. “But I give you whatever you want, right? You just wanna get fucked.”

“Please, baby.” You moan, once again gripping nothing in attempt to smooth the pleasure. “Paige, please.”

She pulls your legs fully off of the counter now, roughly flipping you around and bending you over the cold expanse of the counter.

You’re breathless as one of her hands holds your back down while the other slaps your ass. Then she enters you again, slowly building up to the same rigorous pace as before.

The noises are louder now as your ass claps against her strap. You’re pushed forward against the counter with every thrust, your face smushed against the marble, lips choking out broken cries of satisfaction as she fucks you.

“Take it.” She mumbles, “You take my cock so good, baby.”

You cum with a full-body shiver, feeling the way it spills at she pulls out of you, the emptiness apparent.

It’s only a moments rest before you’re kissing her again, your back now meeting the wall before she picks you up. Her hands settle on your ass as you wrap her legs around her, and before you know it she’s fucking you all over again.

-★彡

3am

“Baby,” She moans, “Oh fuck, slow down.”

You can’t, or more accurately you won’t. You’re on a high, tits pressed against her back as her own are flush against the glass of your floor to ceiling windows. Rain hammers on one side of the glass as you fuck her against the other, skin sticky with sweat and arousal.

You can feel her legs shaking, you can see how her palms press against the window, or occasionally clench when you roll your hips just right. You rarely had the energy to use the strap on her, but thanks to your drug-induced heat, having the instrument was a blessing.

“Or what?” You breath against her neck, licking the spot where you left a hickey a few moments earlier, relishing how her shoulders raise in sensitivity. “Gonna cum like a little bitch?” You grin. The high of talking dirty felt good, you understood why she was so prone to it now.

“Yes.” Paige whines, voice raspy. “Fuck, yes.”

“You were calling me a slut earlier.” You bite, whispering into the shell of her ear. “But look at you now. What would happen to you if someone in the building across saw? Imagine the headlines.“

You grip her hips hard, forcing her into you, using her for your gain. She can’t even fathom your words, too drunk off of the sensations to formulate an answer.

“See? You don’t care.” You hum. “That’s why you’re not gonna cum yet.”

“What?” She finally snaps out of her daze, head whipping to meet your gaze as you slip out of her.

“No…” she bites her lip. “Wait, don’t stop.”

“Don’t be a baby.” You scoff, loosening the strap and stepping out of it. “Get on the floor. Legs spread.”

She’s a little confused, peeling herself off of the glass and stumbling around a bit, before you literally guide her to the hardwood and pry her legs apart with your hands.

The gasp Paige lets out when you lay down, lips against her pussy, is like music to your ears.

She’s already soaked from your strap, you can taste it as you press your tongue flat against her, sloppily kissing the mess between her legs as she throws her head back, hands gripping the hair on your head.

“Oh, god.” She whines.

“Shut up.” You snap, gripping the soft skin of her thighs. Her fingers tug at strands of your hair as you nuzzle into her heat, tongue swirling around her clit.

She’s grinding against your face, thighs shaking from the earlier denied orgasm and now your face between her legs. It’s almost too much when two of your fingers slip inside, tentatively pumping before they curl inside her.

“Shit.” She whines again, voice breathy. “Let me cum.”

You stop at that demand, smiling against her skin, fingers unmoving, and she groans in dissatisfaction.

“Beg for it.” You hum. “If you want it so bad.”

“Fuck, no.” She snaps, lips pouty as she looks at you. “Just—just keep going.”

You just raise a brow, slipping your fingers out of her.

“Beg.” You repeat, and you watch her mull the idea over. She’s never begged in her life, you can tell. Sex is easy currency for someone so sought after. “C’mon, begging never hurt anyone.” You add, licking a circle around her clit, to which she instantly screws her eyes shut in response to.

“Just beg for me, Paige.” You grin, kissing between her thighs. “Beg.” You tease her slit with your fingertips.

You can see her breaking, you can see it in the way her chest heaves, how her lip wobbles.

“Please.” She finally mumbles. “Please, baby. Please fuck me, please let me cum.” She moans pathetically.

Who are you to deny someone who asks so nicely?

-★彡

5am

You’re not sure what happened between ruining Paige on the floor of your living room to now, but you wake up groggy on your bed, sheets half off the mattress, legs tangled with hers.

You’re sticky between your legs, covered in sweat and god knows what else in general, hair totally a mess, lips swollen, ass sore—presumably from her hands getting a little too aggressive. She’s beside you, back pressed to your chest, her body rising and falling in shallow breaths of light sleep.

It’s still dark out. You cant’ve be asleep for long.

It takes great effort to untangle yourself from her and slip out of the bedroom. A hot shower is much needed, and the moment that steaming water hits your skin it’s like you’ve been regifted all of your energy.

You let your fingers dance all over the skin Paige had marked hours earlier, hickeys and bite marks tattering the expanse of your thighs, breasts, chest and neck. You think back to the start of the night—and everything that happened afterwards, and to your surprise, still have it in you to be turned on.

“What the hell is in those packets.” You mumble to yourself, letting your fingertips trail from your tits to your stomach, then lower, to the pulse between your legs.

Carefully, you let your fingers pull the hood of your clit back, rubbing the sensitive bud in slow circles. It feels good—not as good as Paige—but good enough. You can’t tell if you’re wet from the shower water or your own arousal, but it doesn’t matter. You speed up your hands anyways.

Soon enough your soft mewls fill the bathroom. You assume the sound of the shower covers them up a bit, now aggressively rubbing your clit in a pathetic chase for what must be your 5th orgasm that night.

And then you hear the click of the bathroom door, and you stop.

There’s a few quaint steps, they pause in front of the shower, and then continue. When the fogged-over shower door opens, you’re met with a freshly awoken Paige.

“Move.” She grumbles, stepping in with you. You oblige.

She’s covered in marks too, you can see it now that she’s showing off in front of you, wetting her hair and closing her eyes as her hands run over her tits, her stomach, the beginning of her thighs. Her neck is littered with pink and red hickeys, and her muscular back has long marks from your nails.

Her body is perfect. Breasts that fit in your hands like you were made for them, abs firm enough to ride on, legs strong and sturdy. Her back ripples as she runs her fingers through her hair. Her hands are personally your favourite, with her long fingers and veins.

You can’t help but slide behind her, running your hands all over her, gripping her ass and giving it a little playful smack.

“You’re so needy.” She scoffs, turning around and grabbing your hands, stopping you from touching her. “Calm down.”

“I can’t.” You frown. “You interrupted me. Now you have to deal with it.”

“Fucking whore.” She shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. It’s aggressive, teeth clashing and lips bitten. Her hands grip your face, turning you to move against her the way she wants. “You jus cleaned off, now you wanna be dirty again.”

“You wanted all night.” You smile against her lips, letting your hands trail down to her pussy. “So I’m just giving what you asked for.”

“Don’t act like this is all for me.” She snorts, one hand leaving your face to graze your folds. “You’re selfish.”

“You’ve orgasmed more than I have.” You challenge, fingers toying with her.

“That’s such a fucking lie!” Paige groans, slipping a finger in you with ease.

“Maybe we’re even.” You shrug, biting your lip as she starts to pump in and out of you. Similarly, her lips part as you do the same.

“So—“ she murmurs, breathless already, “we keeping it even?”

“Yeah.” You nod vigorously, looking down to watch as your fingers disappear inside her—and as hers disappear inside you.

“Shit.” She sighs, watching the sight herself. “S’good.”

“Mhm.” You huff, throwing your head back. You can feel your stomach tensing already, skin hot and buzzing from her hands and the hot water. She adds another finger, you do the same. In no time you’re both heavy breathing messes, hands cramped and mouths entwined. She cums a little before you, but you keep going till you follow soon after.

She opens the shower door in a hurry, practically stumbling out with you alongside her.

The bathroom is full of fog, so you manage to turn the fan on before she tugs you out by the hand, right back into the bedroom.

Then you’re kissing again, slower, mumbling unintelligible words between breaths, parting to catch each other staring. Her eyes can barely stay open, and at one point you’re not sure if you’re kissing back. The ache in your gut, the one that’s been saying more, more, is dulling. You’re reduced to an exhausted hum, brain as foggy as your bathroom.

“M’ so fucking tired.” Paige whispers between little kisses on your face, hands holding you loosely against her.

You catch a glimpse of your bedroom window, and you’re surprised to see the beginning of morning, red hues mixing with the dark leftovers of the night.

She notices too, you meet her eyes as they part from the sky. She kisses you again, closed mouth, hands wandering.

“Good morning.” You mumble, lazily laughing.

“Good fucking morning.” She huffs back, holding you close. “That was something.”

You nod. “What is even in those packets?”

“Don’t wanna know.” Paige mumbles. You’re not sure if she says anything else, because your eyes shut right after.

That sleep in her arms is the best you’ve ever had in your life.

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Say what you will about Van Helsing 2004; hate it, love it, be indifferent, But the All-Hallow's masquerade ball went sooooo hard and it had zero right to do so! It's a fun, campy, monster mash movie with wonderfully dated ( and expensive) cgi and non-stop action meant to be a popcorn flick one takes out to watch around spooky season. And it has this* chef's kiss* GORGEOUS 6 minute sequence plopped arbitrarily in the second act, which unexpectedly surpasses nearly every other ball in the last 30+ years of film( notable exception being the Cinderella 2015 ball) for literally no reason other than to be dramatic af.

Like feast your eyes on this Gothic masterpiece!!! Who doesn't want to immediately live in this picture?!??

They used those candles with oil in them so that they would have real candles, real string orchestra( I believe), probably around 100 real life extras( something which is tragically absent in modern film), said extras are all in beautiful fully decked-out costumes( which are in luxuriously dark colours, but nearly no fully black, another thing you cannot say for much modern cinema), REAL CIRQUE DU SOLEIL PERFORMERS for all the acrobatics!!!! Hell, instead of filming in a sound stage, where they could control the reverb and the acoustics and the size of the set and the bloody lighting ( they apparently had a heck of a time emulating the firelight for this sequence) and the temperature( it's very cold in stone churches!) better, they filmed in a Baroque church in Prague! As I said, peak dramatic splendour, jfc...

Think about that a second...They filmed a vampire masquerade in a Baroque Catholic Church( St. Nicholas' in Lesser Town, if you were curious) with amazing over-the-top acoustics and marble statues and real, tiled floors and marble pillars and a choir loft which they very much utilized, covered the pipe organ and the altar with a grand brocade curtain so it wouldn't be so obviously a, you know, a church! And there's a gold gilt elevated and canopied pulpit into which they put two vampire kiddies for, again, the sake of being dramatic.

And the costumes! They remind me of the 25th anniversary Phantom of the Opera Masquerade costumes. Same quality, like they're old, well-cared-for costumes pulled out of a warehouse, instead of fast industry churn-outs. With lots of trim and colour and masks and lace and feathers and..just...ugh.. they are all perfect! Just look at all the head pieces on the ladies and the hats on all the gentleman ( save Dracula of course) and the powdered wigs on the musicians. ANNNNDD! The dresses are historically correct!!!!!! It's the 80's bustle era! Nobody does the 80's bustle era in film anymore and it's a bummer. Oh and one other thing! Anna's ( and other women's) hair, at least here in the ball, is also historically accurate because it's all pinned up! None of those fucken modern beachwaves at a ball! Everybody's got updo's!

Gah, I swear, Dracula in his gold cloak really does things to me in this scene!

By the way, the acrobatics are bonkers in here for just background stuff!! Especially the random guys on unicycles and the dude playing the violin whilst standing on a ball...Like....WHAT?

Anyways, all this to say, that this masquerade ball feels sooo real and tangible and because of that it blows every other film out of the water, and no, I will not change my mind!!!!!

Here's a few more gifs, bcuz, why the hell not, this scene is sexy as fuu*ck?

Alright I need to go to bed now.