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#parisian nightlife
the-cricket-chirps · 9 months
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Brassaï (Gyula Halász)
"Bijou" of Montmartre
1932
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newwavedream · 5 months
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ba&sh paris
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room in Paris 🗼🌃
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genesisrosebud · 7 months
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night out
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homerus-world · 8 months
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A night out
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oomiya · 11 months
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✉️ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.
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warnings : nanami kento x fem reader, smut (mdni) marriage, penetrative sex, oral (m. and f. receiving), bathing together, alcohol consumption, breast worship, cursing, very cheesy i'm so sorry, repost from my old acc !
word count : 6.5k
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The bright lights from the Eiffel Tower and stars spill through your opened window and a soft breeze dances across the white chiffon curtains. 
You sigh happily, leaning over the edge of the balcony’s iron-casted railing as the faint yellow lights wash over your skin. The cold metal, painted in a muted mossy green, bites into your skin as you crane your gaze to see the Eiffel Tower.
At the feeling of large hands, firm in their grasp as they press against your hips, you let an adoring smile tug at your lips. Tilting your head up, your gaze meets that of your husband’s. 
Nanami Kento swears under his breath, convinced he’s died and gone to heaven. You look like an angel, body caressed in soft, off-white gossamer. It’s as if beautiful magnolias are blooming across your skin, floating along your wedding dress in a way that has Nanami wholly overwhelmed by his love for you.
“Everything okay?” he asks, voice warmed with the euphoric bliss of your vows a mere hours ago. 
Nanami’s arms wind around your waist from behind, pulling your back flush against his front. He ignores the stir of arousal in his groin as you look up at him, all doe-eyed with a light joy glinting in your gaze. Kento is still so much taller than you, fingers brushing over your cheek as he presses a tender kiss to your temple.
His burning touch has you melting into him, a soft sigh falling past your lips as his lips work wonders over your sensitive skin. Kento is a bit more insistent in his touch now, fingers trembling over your body as he smooths over your hips.
“Everything is perfect,” you affirm, voice a bit breathless at his actions. 
Kento can’t help but tighten his fingers around your dress, a large hand splaying across your lower abdomen to push his crotch against you. It is a playful action, yet you feel a bit dizzy when you realize your husband is already half-hard. 
Your husband.
Again, the smile grows on your face, your heart twinging with happiness. The heavy weight of the ring on your finger - its pair, on Kento’s - only serves to further remind you of your marriage to the wonderful man behind you. 
“My husband.” 
You can’t help but remind yourself–the giddy feeling filling your chest as you move to turn around. Your skirt brushes against the ground of the tall balcony as you face Kento, raising your head to meet his purposeful gaze. The tender look on his face is breathtaking, hazel brown eyes softening as he brings a hand to caress your cheek. Kento’s touch has your lashes fluttering shut in contentment, a swelling exhilaration building in your chest. 
“My wife,” Kento agrees, the slightly warm ring on his finger greeting your skin as he continues holding you. With you now facing him, the lights of Parisian nightlife as your background, Kento can finally lean down to kiss you. 
It is a gentle touch, and despite it being the first night of your honeymoon, there is no ulterior motive in how he kisses you. Kento’s lips move affectionately against your own, fingers cradling the back of your neck. A pleased sound escapes his throat as his mouth parts, tongue coming to trace your bottom lip before licking into your mouth. He feels your smaller hands grip onto his hips, smiling into the kiss as you attempt to pull him closer to you. 
You continue kissing like this for a few minutes - the only witness to your love being each other and the stars that shine down on you. The breathless feeling that fills your lungs is contradicting - Kento steals your air while simultaneously filling you with life. 
Kento’s touch is doting, hands smoothing down the pale silks of your wedding gown as his soft lips caress yours. Both of you are smiling - sweet little kisses filled with all the promises in the world. The bustling Parisian nightlife sounds like whispers that brush against your skin, twenty floors below you; Kento and you might as well be in your own world, completely sealed away from real life. 
You finally break away when his nose brushes yours, gently nudging against you to get your attention. Kento’s brown eyes are suddenly blown wide with love and lust, swimming in their dark depths and threatening to swallow you whole. Not immune to his charismatic gaze, you feel a similar bout of desire rising inside of you. 
 “My wife,” Kento reiterates, closing his eyes as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is more searing, with Kento a bit more hurried and insistent in his touches. 
“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he confesses, pressing his hips against yours. His breath is hot against your neck, lips brushing against the curve of your ear in a way that has you shivering against him. Kento’s strong body embraces you, arms wrapped around you protectively as you lean your head to rest against the crook of his neck. 
You feel an immense warmth pool inside you at the feeling of Kento pressing against you. His touch is mouthwatering, causing you to swallow desperately at the sensation of his thick length straining against his dress pants. 
A heady sound escapes from the back of his throat as your fingers trail along his hard shaft, pressing your fingertips gently against where his tip rests. Kento is sure it’s swollen and leaking by now, aroused simply by seeing the diamond ring glittering on your finger. 
As his thoughts begin to roam, Kento keeps touching you, drinking in every soft sigh and delicious giggle that falls past your lips. A sense of satisfaction embraces him at the realization that it turns him on; the knowledge that you’re now his, forever, has his cock stirring in his wedding pants. Of course, you had always reassured him that you would be his forever, even before you were married. However, now that you are standing before him in your wedding dress, a ring resting on your finger to tell others that you’re a taken woman, Kento has an epiphany. 
The rush of arousal that shoots to his cock is a welcome one, and the knowledge that it’s because you’re his wife has Kento feeling quite drunk. 
It is surprising, seeing as he only had one glass of champagne during your wedding ceremony.
He continues littering tender, affectionate kisses against your neck as you melt into his touch. In all honesty, you think he is the one who looks breathtaking – eyes blown wide with a kind of feverish look when he pulls back, lips slightly swollen by his kisses as he holds you with such a gentle love. Kento’s blonde hair is smoothed back, but still somewhat messy due to your touch. You giggle internally, suppressing the thoughts that encourage you to muss it up even further. 
“Do you feel what you do to me?” Kento questions, beginning to guide you away from the balcony. You simply hum in acknowledgment, pointedly gripping his clothed cock through his dress pants. The hiss that escapes Kento’s teeth, gritting together in pleasure at your teasing touch, has you throwing your head back in laughter. 
You miss the wounded look he throws you, but you don’t miss how Kento suddenly sweeps you in his arms. 
“Now you’ve done it,” he states jokingly, a teasing smile coating his words as he holds you against him. 
“K-Kento! Put me down!” you squeal. Despite your words, you cling closer to him, afraid of falling but also wanting to be as close to him as possible. Kento relishes how your arms grip his neck as he crosses the threshold of your luxury hotel room. 
Earlier, when you had first entered the room and set your suitcases to the side, you had given Kento a gaping look at its elegance. All he did was chuckle, a bit surprised at Gojo’s thoughtful wedding gift but overall grateful, before explaining it to you.
Feeling your fingers trace over the hairs on his neck, Kento shivers. He doesn’t bother to shut the double doors of the balcony behind him - you were on the twentieth floor, after all. 
“Sorry, Mrs. Nanami. Don’t think I can do that,” Kento replies to your previous protestations, grinning around the words as he tests out your new title. 
A bright smile also encompasses your face, feeling lightheaded at your new status as Kento gently places you on the plush bed. In front of you, the fireplace blazes, casting warm shadows across the room that greets the brisk breeze from the balcony. 
You lean against the white pillows, feeling your body sink into the luxurious bed as Kento crawls over your body. You keep your gaze glued to him, taking in his every movement as he settles over you. 
“Can I help you, Mr. Nanami?” you tease, a grin on your face as your eyes twinkle up at him. Adoring how your dress fans across the bed, pillows cradling your head like an angel’s halo, Kento can’t help but grind his hips against yours. 
His actions cause you to gasp lightly, fingers tangling around his wrist as it brushes across your eyebrow. 
“I don’t know, Mrs. Nanami. Can you?” Kento retorts, leaning his head down to suck bruising splotches against your skin. Humming as your fingers thread through his blonde hair, briefly thrilled at finally getting to muss it up as you imagined earlier, you give in to him. 
“Let’s try this: can I help you, my husband?” 
Your voice is low, lilting up with a mischievous but adoring tone as Kento works his mouth against you. At your words, he groans, pleasure pooling in his lower abdomen. His kisses turn hungrier, their soft plushness moving almost frantically against your neck and collarbones as his hips jut towards yours. 
Nipping along your neck, the airy gasp you let out as Kento smirking against your skin. 
“Say it again.”
He demands it, the tone in his voice dangerous and heavy with lust but still sparkling with a teasing nature. Your body trembles at his words, pressing your thighs together in a motion your husband doesn’t miss. He lodges a knee between the skirts of your dress, moving so slowly upwards until he’s pressing against your clothed center. While you clutch against him at his actions, Kento continues his slow, teasing kisses along your skin, altogether avoiding your lips in a way that have you succinctly annoyed. 
Deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine, you pull away, letting your lustrous gaze meet Kento’s. His breath hitches as you break the embrace, staring down at you with a heavy-lidded look as you flutter your lashes at him.
Kento allows you to take brief control, letting your hand drag down his chest, teasing against his waist, before lightly cupping his hard cock through his pants. Your actions have him shuddering against you, gripping his fists into the bedsheets as his head falls to the crook of your neck. 
Looking up at him from under your lashes, a desperate feeling overtakes you. While this teasing game of cat-and-mouse is fun, the need to have your husband inside of you, celebrating your marriage, overcomes you. 
Therefore, you let your back arch into Kento, a distressed look overtaking your features as you beg for your husband. 
“My husband, please touch me; I need you.”
Your words come out more tremulous than you had intended, but the visceral reaction they cause in Kento has you feeling less embarrassed. 
“Fuck - anything. Anything for you,” Kento manages to get out, voice strained and body pulled taut with need. 
The desperate need to have each other overcomes that to tease, and Kento’s hands are firm but gentle as they start to pull on the laces of your dress. Quickly sitting up to help him, your motions are agitated as you pull each other’s clothes off. 
“Beautiful,” Kento whispers against you, lips moving against the skin of your neck in a way that has you shivering. His hold on you is so affectionate, and you almost feel like you’re drowning in his love and adoration as the layers of clothing soon disappear. 
Kento stands up to kick off his pants, his body seeming to glow in the warm firelight as he pulls you up with him. He is aching for you, hands moving down and across every inch of skin that is exposed for him. His body yearns for yours as he tugs down your dress, cock twitching in his boxers at the sight of you. When the layers of lace gossamer and pearlescent satin pool at your feet, Kento’s eyes rake across your body, hungrily drinking in the sight of you bare before him. 
You’re sure you look the same, both of you breathing heavily, chests heaving as you take in the sight of your spouse. Desire burns hot through your body, its evidence slicking your inner thighs at your gorgeous husband before you. 
And oh - he is gorgeous. Lean, pale skin displaying smooth muscles, aching for you as his cock throbs in his boxers. His hair is now appropriately messy, blonde strands falling across his forehead in the absence of his glasses. His chest is heaving, pants spilling past his plump, soft lips as they beg to be on your body again. You can see the desire etched across his face, coating his body as his muscles ripple and lower abdomen contracts in pleasure. The soft glow of the night cascade across him, surrounding him in an ethereal glow as his brown eyes burn for you.
“Come here, please,” he pleads, strong arms reaching for you. The desperation threatens to overcome you as you appropriately reach for him, folding your hand in his as he quickly pulls you into his embrace. 
When your breasts meet his bare chest, erect nipples pressing against his, Kento shudders against you. His body welcomes you, holding you gently against him as he breathlessly kisses you. Lips slanting over yours, he openly moans into your mouth, tongue licking into yours as his hands catch on your hips. 
You adore his taste - that of sweet champagne, something minty, and a hint of toothpaste. The sudden intrusion of it - the idea of Kento brushing his teeth repeatedly before he walked down the aisle - has you smiling into the kiss. 
Not missing a beat, Kento smiles as well; of course, he doesn’t know why you’re suddenly grinning against him, but the happiness that spreads through you is contagious, and Kento can’t help but feel it, too.
“I love you,” you tell him, pushing the words out of your chest as his fingers caress the skin of your waist. 
Kento’s lips brush against yours, nudging your nose with his as you lean into his touch. “I love you too, so much,” he returns. 
His gaze is heavy as he leans down, latching his mouth around one of your nipples. Moaning for him, your fingers move to tangle through his blonde hair, thighs pressing together in pleasure. Kento’s warm tongue swirls around your taut nipple, hands tightening around your hips to pull your body closer to him. 
“Oh,” you moan, eyes flying open wide as he gently nibbles the skin of your breast. All you can do is clutch onto your husband, back arching into his touch as he leans his body over yours, enjoying how his wet tongue feels on your heated skin. 
All you feel is bliss as Kento mouths over the underside of your breast, lips moving salaciously over the tender skin there as his other hand trails down your white panties. 
He thinks it’s adorable that your underwear matches your wedding dress - something he’s sure your bridesmaids insisted on. Kento can picture it - his pretty bride getting embarrassed as your family and friends fawn over you, pushing various lingerie into your hands as you protest profusely. Kento can’t help the smile that coats his face at the picture in his head. 
Kento’s fingers rub soothing circles into your skin, catching slightly at the top in what you’re sure is supposed to be a heart. It causes yours to soar in happiness and tender affection, tugging on his hair as he sucks numerous hickies onto the swell of your breasts. 
When his fingers finally come to pad along your clit, bouncing teasing touches against your aching nub, your hips jut towards him. Kento starts making his lips back up the column of your neck, relishing in your sweet sounds as his wet tongue traces along the curve of your ear. 
“So wet for me, gorgeous?” he teases, fingers swiping through the soaked seam of your lips before rubbing the hood of your clit. 
“All for you, Kento,” you sigh, allowing him to guide you back towards the opulent bed. 
His actions turn impatient, and you squeal as Kento suddenly picks you up again. Gently placing you on the bed, you get a feeling of déjà-vu. 
“For the rest of our lives,” Kento continues, climbing over you to hover his body over yours. His arms come to brace himself, around the sides of your head as his fingers stroke your cheekbone. Kento’s gaze is intense, burrowing into your eyes and causing your heart to beat rapidly against your chest. 
“Forever,” you whisper against him, eyes flitting between his lips and gorgeous eyes that you could drown in. Catching onto your motions, Kento does the same.
His face is so close to yours, noses brushing against each other affectionately as he settles his body on top of yours. He feels so warm, body covering yours to protect you from the harsh breeze that floats through the room. All of your senses are consumed by Kento - your smell is of him, your body feeling sensitive to his every touch as he drags his body against yours, gasping as his blonde hair caresses your cheeks. 
The feeling of love you have for him overwhelms you as Kento leans forward. He captures your lips in another breathless, passionate kiss. It is one that leaves you reeling, has the room spinning around you, and all you can do is grip onto his broad shoulders as his hips press against yours. The need you feel for him clouds your mind, gaze feeling hazy at the addicting drag of his lips against yours. 
“Need you, need my wife so bad,” Kento mumbles against your lips, hesitant to part from you for even a moment. The softness of his kiss has you moaning, fingering strands of his hair as you pull his muscular body against yours. 
Kento hisses at the feeling of your breasts pressing against his chest, head dizzy with arousal as it spins through his head. He begins to move down your body, hands pressing down on your hips to hold you still as his wet lips linger along your body. 
“Need you too, Kento,” you moan, hips jutting up as Kento settles between your thighs. Bringing his arms to wrap around the underside of them, he pulls your hips forward until you’re almost flush against his face. 
You let out a loud cry as Kento immediately buries his face into your clothed cunt, head falling back against the luxurious pillows as he inhales deeply. 
Kento feels inebriated off the heady scent of your arousal, digging his nose into the seam where he knows your aching clit lies. Letting his tongue lave over your clothed core, he relishes in the sounds you let out for him. 
“So pretty,” he mumbles against your, tongue pressing flat against your core and dragging up the fabric. Being able to feel the wet muscle against you, warm in his ministrations, has you pressing your hands into his shoulders. 
“M-more, please,” you beg, eyes blown wide with lust as your husband moves against you. 
He hums, a deep sound that reverberates through his chest and your core. “My pretty wife wants more?” he asks, hands tightening around your thighs as he presses a chaste kiss to your throbbing clit. 
“A-ah! Yes, please! Need you, Kento!” you cry out, fingers grasping through his hair as he teases you. Kento chuckles against you, nuzzling his face between your thighs as your chest heaves. The heat that burns in your core steadily builds as Kento pulls away, slowly dragging down the fabric. When he gets to your ankles, he tosses it away before turning back to you, and you whine when he presses a slow kiss to the skin on your ankle.
The intimate feeling in such a strange place has you whining, reaching out for Kento desperately as he makes his way back up your body. 
Settling between your thighs again, he traces teasing kisses against the insides of them. “Can’t wait to taste you,” he murmurs against your skin, drinking in the taste of you. 
“Please Kento, don’t tease me tonight,” you whisper into the night air, silently begging for the touch of your husband on the night of your wedding. 
Heat fills his heart at your words, memories of the special day flooding his head as he finally leans down to kiss you. 
When his lips meet your core, they are hot, sucking all of your arousal into his mouth. You instantly keen against him, unable to move much due to his tight hold on your hips. Kento eats you out gently, patiently. As if you have all the time in the world.
Again, the intimacy of his actions, now as husband and wife, leaves you reeling. 
All you can do is moan out cries of his name between whimpered breaths, his tongue dipping inside of you to surround himself with your taste. 
Groaning against you, Kento buries his head deeper, his grip harsher as he makes out messily with your cunt. 
“So good,” he slurs against you, lips coming to suck on your outer lip as his tongue greedily laps up all your slickness. Writhing underneath his touch, you let out a shuddering breath as he moans against you. 
When Kento’s lips wrap around your clit, sucking the swollen nub into his mouth as two of his fingers brush against your entrance, you gasp. He suckles against you, moaning into your cunt as his long fingers enter you. Not letting up his ministrations on your clit, Kento lets his spit pool onto it, swirling it around his tongue while simultaneously sucking. 
“You make me feel so good, Kento!” you praise him, eyes squeezing shut in arousal as he moans for you. Tugging on his hair, Kento moves his face down lower, lips brushing against your entrance as he licks up your slit. He sloppily kisses your clit, letting his thumb pull the hood of your clit back before placing sweet kitten licks along it. 
When his fingers brush against that spot that has you seeing stars, Kento begins harshly sucking on your clit, pulling it into his mouth repeatedly as his head swims in thoughts of you. Thoughts of how good you taste, completely surrounding yourself on his tongue. Thoughts of how sweet you sound, moaning into the bedroom for him. Memories of how beautiful you looked today, walking up the aisle to greet him before saying your vows. 
The realization that you’re now his wife - and it has him almost cumming untouched.
Gasping against you, Kento gently shakes his head, wrapping his plump lips around your clit before suckling again. It has you keening, fingers tugging harshly against his hair to pull him away.
“K-Kento, please, want to cum around your cock,” you beg, aching to have him inside you. While his mouth feels heavenly, you know it would feel so much better to cum around his thick cock. 
Kento pulls himself up your body, grinning cheekily as his hand meets your cheek. Nuzzling into his touch, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. 
It’s the kind of kiss that has you moaning into it, eyes closed and mouth parted in breathy pants as Kento’s fingers squeeze around your hips. It’s the kind of kiss that has Kento rutting his hips against you, achingly hard against your thigh, as the pleasure swims through his head. 
Suddenly feeling a bit mischievous, you sit up on your elbow, pushing Kento down as you hover over him. His eyes are wide, a shocked look painting his face as his mouth falls open in surprise. You tug at his boxers, sliding down his body and pressing wet kisses to his skin as you go. The feeling of your small hand wrapping around the thick base of his cock, running your finger down the edge of his vein, has Kento falling against the bed. 
“G-god,” Kento manages to get out, stuttering in his words as his chest pants with pleasure. You can’t help but grin against him, tongue suddenly laving down the length of his shaft in a way that has him crying out for you.
Gasps of your name spill from Kento’s lips as your warm mouth surrounds him, pressing all the way down until your nose meets his groin. Kento loses all composure when you moan against him, nose nuzzling into the neat blonde curls at the base of his cock. 
“F-fuck, angel,” he moans, throwing an arm to cover his embarrassingly red face as you begin moving up his cock. Your tongue trails down his shaft, mouth coming to the tip of his cock where you start sucking on him. 
The taste is heavy and heady against your tongue, something that causes immense pleasure to creep up your stomach. Swiping against the bitter bead of pre-cum at his tip, you bring your hand to massage the length of his shaft. 
Usually, Kento would be all for letting you go down on him; the warmth of your mouth is addicting. But now, with how your tongue traces over the tip of his cock, coming down to dig into the slit as your fingers brush his heavy balls, he doesn’t know how long he could last. 
Not able to handle the intense pleasure, Kento sits up, abruptly manhandling you as he pulls you off his cock. Smiling as you squeal, Kento quickly manages to place you in the middle of the bed, strong arms enveloping you as he settles on top of you yet again. 
The sheer love and desperation comes off your husband in waves, licking at your insides with a burning heat. 
“Need you,” Kento explains, head tucking into the crook of your neck as he places open-mouthed kisses there. His cock is heavy where he rests between your thighs, the fat tip nudging against your leaking entrance as he begs you for your touch. 
Unable to resist him, your fingers tangle through his blonde hair, pressing a loving kiss to his forehead as he ruts his hips against yours, dragging his cock through your wet folds. 
“Then have me,” you whisper against his skin, tongue coming out to lick against him and take his taste into your mouth. 
Moaning at your words, Kento brings his gaze down as he begins to guide his hard cock inside of you. At the sudden pressure, his swollen, red tip pressing past your tight walls, you wrap your legs around his hips. 
“F-fuck,” Kento moans into your mouth, desperately capturing your lips in a dizzying kiss as he presses his cock further inside of you. 
You moan loudly, overwhelmed with the sheer thickness of Kento as he continues stretching you open. He feels so good, so long and thick as he settles deep inside of you; if you focus hard enough to where the two of you are connected, you can almost feel the throbbing of a vein on the underside of his shaft. 
His hands come to catch against your hips, unable to help himself as he starts pulling out again. 
“F-feels so good, angel,” he moans, pressing his forehead to yours as he rests the tip of his cock inside your wet walls. You were absolutely gushing around him, completely soaked from his previous ministrations and the feeling of his bare cock fucking you open. 
A heat flickers across Kento’s cheeks as he pushes back in, rolling his hips over yours to allow the delicious curve of his cock to fully stretch you open.
Kento is fixated on the feel of the dragging of his cock against your hot, tight walls, unable to help himself as he stops his thrusts. Instead, he fits himself flush inside you, heavy cockhead bruising your cervix as he slowly rolls his hips in a circular motion. The new sensation has your eyes flying open, clutching onto his broad shoulders as Kento sits up slightly.
His hand roves over your hip, holding your leg open to gently rock his cock inside you. When you moan out for him, falling back against the pillows and clamping hard around his cock, Kento almost falls forward. 
“Yes, Kento, just like that, please,” you whine, pressing your cheek into the soft pillow behind your head. Kento simply continues his languid thrusts, pulling out until the tip of his cock is heavy inside you, then lazily pressing his cock into your tight walls. 
His technique has you keening, hips jumping forward every time he grinds his hips against yours. When he thrusts back in, Kento makes sure to stay flush inside you, pressing as deep into you as possible, and then circles his hips. The grinding of his cock inside you has a moan ripping from his chest, pressing his pelvis against your aching clit before pulling out to do it again.
The dragging of his cock along your sensitive walls has you reaching for him, and Kento readily obliges. He leans down, entwining your fingers together and holding hands, and he presses you against the mattress. 
Kento groans against your cheek, eyes fluttering shut at the intense pleasure of your cunt sucking in his cock. He feels as if he could choke with how your tight walls press against his shaft, massaging the base of his cock as he pulls out, before sucking him back in and crushing his swollen head with your gushing cunt. 
“My wife, my wife,” Kento repeats in a daze against your skin, his lazy thrusts inside you turning a bit more desperate as one hand trails down to circle your clit. When you tighten even harder around him, moaning into his mouth as he kisses you deeply, Kento lets curses spill into your mouth. 
“M-my husband,” you repeat, in a daze equal to his own. A pleasured haze overcomes the both of you, overwhelmed by how good the other feels as you fuck each other. Kento drives his hips forward again, obsessed with how your cunt takes him in so readily, his hips shuddering against yours when his leaking head presses against your cervix. 
Amidst your moans, Kento feels your wedding rings press into his skin, and the clenching feeling in his chest threatens to burst. His hips stutter, heart constricting with love as he brings your hand up to his lips. 
Your fucked-out gaze meets his as he presses a sloppy kiss to your wedding ring, hips reaching out for his as he thrusts deeply back inside you. Letting your lips fall open at the intimate way he kisses your wedding ring, you can’t help but clench down even tighter on him. 
Kento swears he almost dies when you repeat his actions, bringing your lips to brush over his wedding ring as well. He feels a swell of pleasure gather at the base of his cock, gaze focused intensely where your soft lips move over his ring finger. 
It is a possessive and comforting action - one that reminds you both of the infinite promises made today. 
Kento loves how your body trembles under his touch, crying out for him as your pussy attempts to milk his cock dry. He rocks up against the softness of your body, gentle shudders heaving across his chest as your arms wind around his broad shoulders. Nanami’s wet lips scour your neck; his deep, heavy pants make you squirm as his cock abuses the cushy spot inside your walls. 
The delicious ache between your thighs is something you want – something you need – as his thick cock fits itself snugly inside you. You moan when he pulls out again, burying his cock inside of you at a fast pace. He pushes past your tight walls, a shuddering groan rippling from his chest at the familiar feeling of you tightening around him. 
Knowing he’s about to cum deep inside you, Kento leans down to steal your lips in a sweet kiss, circling your clit with heavy pets as he makes love to you.
“Today - hah - I-I promise you this,” Kento starts, pressing his head to your forehead again as he breaks away from the kiss. Your chest swells with love at realizing that these are his vows - the vows he just shared with you mere hours ago. 
“K-Kento,” you keen, the feeling of his cock burying inside of you causing you to feel dizzy with pleasure. 
“I’ve fallen in love with you again and again,” your husband continues, rubbing hazy circles on your aching nub as the pleasure threatens to snap inside you. 
“Countless times, without reservation,” you continue for him, adoring how his head falls to the crook of your neck when he groans. 
“My heart beats for you. And on this day, the day of our wedding - “ he breaks off his word with a heavy groan, the fat tip of his cock pressing against your bundle of nerves and shaft dragging along your walls. 
“I-I promise to lay my heart in the palm of your hands,” you state, closing your eyes in the memories of his sweet promises. 
He works his cock expertly, thrusting up inside you as your pussy gushes all over him. He has difficulty pulling out, your heavenly cunt attempting to suck him back inside of you and keep him there. 
Kento’s actions have his chest filling with electricity, muscles pulling taut as his arms brace himself beside your head. His usual neat hair hangs in messy, sweaty waves, falling over his features as he looks at you and your pussy, sucking him in with a heavy gaze. 
“I promise you me,” Kento finishes, unable to repress the deep pleasure that starts to overcome him.
“Want you to cum with me, please,” you plead in his ear, biting down lightly on the shell of it. Kento continuously grinds inside your gummy walls in just the right way. His hips adjust their angle, fucking up into you in a way that has his cock pushing against your cervix over and over.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the combined feeling of his cock nudging your sweet spot, thumb expertly nudging your clit with a precision that causes you to finally let go.
All you can do is wrap your arms tightly around him, moaning sweetly into his ear as he fucks you through your high. Your pussy creams around him so good, clamping down tightly on his leaking cockhead in a way that has the coil inside him snapping. 
“Fuck,” Kento exclaims, hissing as his cock continues dragging along your sensitive walls while he pumps you full of his thick cum. The feeling of your pussy milking him, taking all of his load greedily, has Kento feeling lightheaded, arms wrapping around you as he holds you possessively against him.
The weight of him is comfortingly heavy, hips beginning to slow until the both of you are shaking with overstimulation. Kento keeps fucking his cum into you, ensuring you take all of what he has to offer as his gaze follows his cock. The creamy, combined cum coating his cock has him taking a shuddering breath, watching your pussy clench as he pushes back inside of you and finally stills. 
“You. You’re everything,” Kento confesses as he gently lies down next to you, shaking in pleasure. Throwing a heavy arm over your body, he pulls you to him, desperate to feel any inch of skin you give him. 
Later, in the sinking warmth of the large bathtub, Kento wraps his arms around you again. Your rings still rest against your fingers, and Kento gently plays with them through the bubbles. You let your head loll back to rest against his chest, relishing in his sweet gestures. 
Kento’s body is firm and steady against yours, a hand pressing against your lower stomach as he simply touches you. The heat from the bath causes steam to rise among you, caressing the tiled walls in their coolness. The window is open so you can spy glimpses of the Eiffel Tower, soft candlelight flickering shadows across the tiles as Kento presses lazy kisses against your wet skin. 
“You’re everything too, Kento,” you state softly, closing your eyes in pleasure as his soft lips travel to the base of your neck. 
Entwining your fingers together in a sweet embrace, Kento questions you. “What’s that, angel?” 
Your smile is not lost on him as you lean back, Kento’s legs spreading so you can settle between his thighs. 
“What you said earlier. Those were your vows, right?” you tease gently, poking his side underneath the water. A glass of chilled champagne passes through Kento’s lips, and he easily grasps your jaw to draw you closer. Enamored by his actions, you let your husband softy pry your mouth open, pressing a sweet kiss against you and letting you drink the fancy champagne from his mouth. 
You shudder at his sensual actions, not missing how his cock twitches against your backside and his arms tighten around your waist. The sweet champagne is slightly warm as it slips down your throat, the lovely buzz of love filling your veins as you kiss Kento again. 
“Maybe,” he murmurs against your lips, fingers tracing invisible shapes against your skin. 
“Maybe?” you retort, your brow raising in faux suspicion at your husband. Kento simply blushes. 
Chuckling softly, Kento brings his thumb to hook on the bottom of your lip. Pulling it back, he lets it fall back into place, eyes watching your every movement as he leans forward for another passionate kiss.
“Definitely,” Kento rectifies when he pulls away, sighing happily as he sinks back into the blissful water. Scents of vanilla and sugared cashmere waft through the air, the bubbles feeling soft and luxurious against your skin as your fingers thrum over Kento’s body.
“I love you,” is all you can say, melting against his enduring love and affection as the water ripples over your skin. A warmth floods Kento’s chest, causing his heart to drum against his chest at the addicting feel of your love. 
“I love you too,” Kento returns, a giddy, lovesick smile adorning his features as he holds you. 
Yes, this is it. This is the happiness you sought all your life - the love of Nanami Kento. He is everything, just as you are his. And now you would be together forever, bound in the most intimate way as husband and wife.
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verysium · 5 months
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if you had to associate a city from the world w any bllk character of your liking which cities with who and why? sorry for the odd question lmao it just crossed my mind. love ur works btw!💗
i love unconventional questions like these cus then i have to really think hard to come up with a good answer. i will admit i am slightly biased because i feel that the current teams they play for already represent them well, so some of these might be a repeat. also i am not that well-travelled (wish i could if i had the money), so i'm merely going off the reputed description of each city.
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rin would be paris. i know it sounds unoriginal, but pxg rin has already grown 10x prettier than he was during the u-20 arc, so something in that city air must be doing him right. also i feel like he just dresses like a stereotypical european lol. the winter coat and scarf combo plus the perpetual scowl on his face. he probably walks super quickly down the metro too. i have this fic in the drafts where rin and reader meet up at his shitty parisian apartment and eat hotpot and smoke cigs on a random sidewalk in winter. rin is also high class. it just comes naturally to him. like if u ever take a walk near place charles de gaulle (the arc de triomphe area), there's this quiet luxury that is prominent in the fancy hotels and brand stores that make up the vicinity. even better if u go during christmas time because they have these intricately detailed light fixtures. i remember seeing this one cartier store with a giant glittering jaguar on the front. not to mention their swarovski christmas tree. rin's like that. i feel like in a few years once he goes fully professional, the media would go wild over his poise and refined grace. he just has that subtly enticing aura, like a silent glamour.
sae would be madrid. not just because it's canon but also because i feel like the city is just the polar opposite of him. madrid is one of the hottest cities in europe, and sae's just perpetually cold. even in the literal sense, i feel like he would have cold hands and feet too. if u see those wes anderson style travel commercials of madrid, it's always some variation of pastel houses, sunshine, and bikini beaches. that is exactly what sae is not like. i also chose this for...*ahem* spoiler reasons in my upcoming fic chapter which i'm not going to delve too much into. but the gist is that the contrast is why sae fits so well in madrid and also why it's a bit tragic to see how drastically he has to change in order to adapt to a new environment. if not spain, i feel like he'd still end up somewhere with a large coastline because of how fundamental the sea is to him throughout his childhood. it's sort of his safe space. if i had the choice to assign two cities, i'd also include his hometown of kamakura since he seems like the type to be secretly sentimental. i picture sae as someone who values his roots even though he constantly says he has bigger and better places to be. like he would tell everyone that he was born in the wrong country but then proceed to sigh melodramatically whenever he actually misses home.
kaiser is a weird mix of munich, new york, and las vegas. i chose munich largely because of his german roots. i also picture him as bavarian. new york and las vegas are mostly attributed to the duality of his character. when we first see kaiser, he's this figure of flamboyance. his entrance was hands-down the most theatrically dramatic one, and there are theatre motifs throughout his dialogue (eg. roles on a stage, rejecting yoichi's script/play). i feel like this would fit well with the extravagant nightlife las vegas is known for and, of course, broadway in NYC. furthermore, kaiser is this prime example of clawing your way to the top. he seems charismatic and welcoming at first, but then we see his internal motives and well...it's something. he is cutthroat when it comes to competition, and he's not afraid of using others in his ascent to the top. i mean...he literally holds people by the hair as if they're mere objects. that seems pretty ruthless and machiavellian to me. i doubt he even humanizes any of his rivals; rather, he views them as opponents to his ideology. there's also a reason why they say if you make it in new york, you can make it anywhere. there's a highly individualistic mindset, and if you really want something, the resources are there for you to achieve it. kaiser is like that in the sense he is willing to put his all into getting something he desires, even up to an obsessive degree.
yukimiya is london. like u know what taylor swift said about the english? that's yukimiya for you. he treats his mother right, sleeps 8 hours a day, and said his first love was when his friend's 16-year-old sister kissed him on the forehead. he cannot be any more perfect. not to mention he's a literal model. like hello? IMG is calling.
shidou is somewhere in ohio. i'm not going to elaborate. the man's just weird.
isagi is somewhere rural. idk why but he strikes me as a country boy. probably helps his parents on the rice farm and bikes long distances to school. i found a lot of parallels between him and hinata shoyo from haikyu mostly because they're both from a smaller, lesser known neighborhood, have a pretty ordinary childhood, and become inspired by this influential role model. my secondary reason is just that isagi doesn't seem like he'd even be familiar with the urban landscape. he's lived his life in humble origins, so i think there might be some culture shock once he actually gets to the city. like...boy was genuinely amazed when he entered that blue lock facility. never seen so much high-end equipment and technology in his life.
ego lives in a sewer. i cannot tell u his precise location just that he probably hasn't washed his hair in 45 days and is still surviving off processed ramen noodles. please pray for him.
barou is los angeles and if not socal, then he's from the bay area. i took one good look at his artificially dyed red hair and the answer was clear. he is not immune to trends guys. it's almost embarrassing. furthermore, i think the general silicon valley area is known to be hardworking, and that encapsulates barou pretty well. he is disciplined to the core, and he knows that success is not going to come to him without him actively trying to reach it. he's also...(let's be real guys)...just a teensy weensy bit arrogant. he calls himself a king, as in a literal monarch. and he says this in the most serious tone too. now he rightfully earned that title, but it doesn't erase the secondhand cringe i felt from reading that dialogue LOL.
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escapismsworld · 2 months
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Part 1
Jean Béraud (1849–1935) was a French painterrenowned for his numerous paintings depicting the life of Paris, and the nightlife of Paris society. Pictures of the Champs Elysees, cafés, Montmartre and the banks of the Seine are precisely detailed illustrations of everyday Parisian life during the "Belle Époque". He also painted religious subjects in a contemporary setting.
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Steve's Favourite Paintings, Part 4.
part 1 // part 2 // part 3
Having already said Steve might be a fan of Van Gogh, it occurred to me recently that someone like Steve...
who grew up small and disabled, in Brooklyn,
frequenting the big nightlife hubs (of downtown, Sands St. BK and Coney Island)
who later worked with the kind of showgirls who would've been around in those areas ^
and/or who may have been a commercial artist himself
...would really vibe with someone like Toulouse Lautrec.
He was himself a visibly disabled artist, did commercial art (art nouveau, a style the Nazis hated), embraced queer imagery (in his famous 'bed' series), and was a big fan of working class Parisian showgirls and what Terry Pratchett calls 'Ladies of Negotiable Affection'. 😂
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I also think Steve would like the social realism of (husband of Frida Kahlo) Diego Rivera. But particularly the fresco Man at the Crossroads:
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Which was originally slated to be installed in the lobby of RCA Rockefeller Center in New York City in 1933.
It was criticised for having 'anti-capitalist propaganda' imagery in it (to which Rivera added a portrait of Lenin, LOL) ...and the Rockefellers decided to have it sabotaged / covered up before it could be finished.
There was a big public protest about this, in the New York art community. Steve would've been 15 at the time, but I imagine he might have participated, and would be delighted to find that the piece had been reproduced by Rivera, and that he still gets to see it in the future.
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thedemonofcat · 6 months
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A Moulin Rouge AU: Geralt, a mysterious and battle-worn man, was captivated by the enchanting melodies and charismatic stage presence of Jaskier, the captivating singer at the renowned Moulin Rouge. It wasn't just Jaskier's musical talents that drew Geralt in, but the spark of charisma that ignited between them during one fateful night at the bustling cabaret.
However, Geralt's newfound infatuation was plagued by a bitter twist of fate. The Moulin Rouge's manager, an intelligent and calculating individual, had promised Jaskier to a wealthy and powerful Duke in exchange for the funds required to stage the next grand production at the lounge. Unbeknownst to the passionate lovers, the web of politics and deception spun behind the scenes of the glittering Parisian nightlife.
As the forbidden romance blossomed in the shadows, Jaskier's wedding day drew closer, and the weight of secrecy hung heavily upon his heart. He harboured a dangerous secret that threatened to shatter not only his own life but the lives of everyone entangled in the intricate dance of love, desire, and ambition.
Geralt, a man of action, was determined to unravel the truth. However, little did he know that the revelation of Jaskier's concealed secret would unleash a storm of emotions, betrayal, and danger that would challenge the essence of their love.
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misscromwellsmonocle · 9 months
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Woman's Head (1899) by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec
Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the gentle soul of Parisian nightlife, partied excessively. It is rumored that he contracted syphilis from his beloved model, Carmen Gaudin. This slowly advancing illness, along with his well-nurtured alcoholism and other health related issues, took a toll on him. Consequently, his illustrations and paintings took on a darker and more introspective tone. Shortly after experiencing a stroke, he passed away in 1901, at the age of 36.
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silverfishcrackr · 1 year
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Henri Toulouse Lautrec’s life makes me go insane because his whole family shunned him and he was ostracized from higher society and pushed into the Parisian nightlife for why you may ask?
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HE WAS SHORT. HE WAS 5’0 THATS NOT EVEN CRAZY SHORT. THATS IT THATS ALL IT TOOK ABLEISM IS INSANE
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dankusner · 1 month
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Starck contrast
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The year was 1984.
A rich kid from Preston Hollow created a Studio 54 for the landlocked on a dicey stretch of McKinney Avenue.
The stories were legendary: People had sex in the bathroom. They did ecstasy, which was legal, and cocaine, which was not. The place was designed by Philippe Starck, aFrench architect who’d given his name to cool chairs that were wildly uncomfortable (the place had a few).
Stevie Nicks was part owner, though people rarely saw her during the club’s five-year run.
They did see Prince, Oliver Stone and Rob Lowe.
Clubgoers lined up to get inside. They wanted the scene, but they needed the music.
Punk, post-punk and new wave, spun on vinyl by real, living humans who knew more about obscure artists and B-sides than Casey Kasem could ever hope to learn.
The live shows were epic: Australian noise band SPK, New York art monster Grace Jones, the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Video was projected onto the walls, because avirtual dreamworld still felt like a novelty.
Nobody knew screens and media would rise up like atidal wave and swallow us whole. You should have been there. And for one night only, May 12, you (sort of) can be when the Starck Club returns for a 40th anniversary party, thanks to the good folks behind the Longhorn Ballroom and the Kessler Theater, which is the far more civilized setting for this bash.
Of course, the event is already sold out, giving wannabe clubgoers the familiar experience of getting shut out ofthe best party in town.
Details: 6-11 p.m. May 12 at the Kessler Theater,1230 W. Davis St., Dallas.
Stalling for time FROM THE ARCHIVES In 1985, the now-acclaimed Texas Monthly writer Skip Hollandsworth contributed astory toThe Dallas Morning News about how men's rooms in Dallas were having amoment—avery opulent moment. He noted the upholstered walls ($70 per square yard) inside the gentlemen's lounge atCafe Pacific inHighland Park Village. He praised The Mansion on Turtle Creek's "hand-cast sink fixtures and commodes with comfy seats."Buthewas most gobsmacked by the facilities at the city's hottest dance spot: "The newly opened Starck Club downtown may be the only nightclub in Western civilization that has gotten national attention for its bathrooms. The facilities look like a combination video game, church parlor, hair salon and somebody's idea of a great practical joke. "The mirror-encased lobbies of both themen's andwomen's rooms arecoed. Everybody sits around high-tech couches and talks and smokes cigarettes. Occasionally,someone may get up to actually use the facilities. "There is a television monitor abovethecathedral-likedoor thatleads to the stalls.Likearrival-departure screens at the airport, the monitor tells you which stall is occupied. Each stall is setoff in its own separateroom large enough to startan impromptu game of handball." Hollandsworth spoke with valet attendant Herman Babers, 60, who worked the men's lounge at another showy nightclub, Mistral, inside the then-Loews Anatole Hotel. "I always thought you were supposed to pop inand out of abathroom," Babers told him. "But these men today like to come in and brush their hair and think about things, I guess." Christopher Wynn"The facilities look like a combination videogame, church parlor, hair salon and somebody's idea of a great practical joke."
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For One Night Only, the Kessler Theater Turns Into the Starck Club The infamous night club in the West End opened its doors 40 years ago. The Kessler Theater is bringing it back to life, briefly. The scene at the Starck Club during its peak.
New York City had Studio 54, London had the Hippodrome, and Dallas had The Starck Club. The West End venue, named for its Parisian designer Philippe Starck, defined the nightlife scene in Dallas throughout the 80s and reveled in the excesses of the decadent decade, powered by a new and curious drug called ecstasy. DJ Mark Ridlen says there’s more to The Starck Club than meets history’s narrow eye, a cultural touchstone that meant far more than the unchecked libido of the clubgoers. “All they talk about is the drug busts, ‘Who shot J.R.?,’ and the 80s but you’ve never seen a club with such an eclectic lineup over the years whether it was a band, fashion shows, plays, performance art,” Ridlen says. “You name it. They had it.” The Kessler is bringing back The Starck Club for its 40th anniversary reunion by transforming into the venue for five hours on Sunday May 12 into a new version of the influential Dallas nightclub. Kessler Artistic Director Jeff Liles said the event sold quickly: it took less than a week to sell out. It is not dissimilar to the venue’s tribute to the long-gone Video Bar, a room that was influential in the avant-garde scene of the 1980s. “We love paying homage to the venues that made Dallas culture what it was,” Liles says. “It was happening right at the same time as the emergence of the Deep Ellum scene.” Club founder Blake Woodall opened his vision of a hip, technology-filled nightlife spot in 1984 under a Woodall Rodgers overpass near the West End in a converted warehouse space. The first official show for the club’s investors brought Grace Jones and Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks to its stage. They were the first of many celebrities to walk through its doors, early adopters before Rob Lowe and Princess Stephanie of Monaco. Talking Heads’ David Byrne dropped in while in town to film his movie True Stories. Members of the famed Brat Pack who starred in movies like The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink spent evenings there. Prince even hosted an after party at Starck one night that went “well into the morning,” according to David Hynds, who ran the club’s video and art department with his then wife, Suzie Riddle. Word of mouth spread mostly by hairdressers to their clients helped build the club’s reputation as a fashion hot spot for the late-night partier. The Starck Club’s popularity started with some exclusivity but eventually, it wasn’t a place where you had to argue with a bouncer to convince them you were important enough to go past the velvet rope. “Initially, it seemed to have an upper-end feel to it but as time went on, we attracted a much broader range of customers,” Hynds says. “Part of the design and desire was to have a complete mix of all spectrums of people.” The space wasn’t just used for live music, dancing, and the occasional hit of what we now call Molly. The Starck Club was one giant canvas that a got a new coat of paint every evening. “We had these funky theme parties,” Ridlen says. “We would make it look like a grocery store or we would make it look like a rodeo. We’d have these fun themes with appropriate music. We’d always have video exhibits, people showing their art videos. We had events just for that.” ADVERTISEMENT
The club’s first theme party took on the psychedelic. Hynds asked Ridlen if he would create a band that fit its far-out theme. Ridlen’s band was named Lithium X-Mas and the group stayed together long after the club’s closing. “It was only meant to be a one-time deal but a few months down the road, they decided they would carry it forward under that name,” Hynds says. The Starck Club served as a kind of zeitgeist thermometer for its time that reflected changing trends and new sounds. “It was the beginning of the DJ culture in Dallas,” Liles says. The events on the club’s calendar weren’t just concerts. The Starck Club would host fashion shows, plays, and all kinds of performance art. “It was a hotbed of all kinds of just really cool activities under one roof,” Ridlen says. “You would come and see that and then, of course, stick around the music.” No ideas was too off the wall for the Starck Club. Hynds had everyone on the staff pitch ideas for shows, theme nights, and artistic expressions. “One of the things we did was a furniture fashion show,” Hynds says. “It had the basic design of a fashion show instead of clothing, we had people dressed as furniture movers bringing up furniture. Me and Suzie and [Greg Snyodis] from Lithium X-Mas had the idea of doing a band but instead of audio or music, it was visual. Instead of musical instruments, we used visual instruments.” So no recreation of the Starck Club would be complete without a reconstruction of its eclectic style. Camron Ware, the owner and founder of Lightware Labs who provided the visual tech for The Kessler’s recreation of the Video Bar, will work with Hines to turn the Kessler into a visual recreation of the Starck Club. “It’s going to feel like it’s all really immersive when you come in,” Liles says. “There’s going to be a red carpet and everything. We’re really gonna trick out The Kessler that night.” The Kessler turns into the Starck Club for one night only, from 6 p.m. to 11 p.m. on May 12. Tickets are sold out, but keep your eye on this page. 1230 W. Davis St.
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byneddiedingo · 10 months
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José Ferrer and Zsa Zsa Gabor in Moulin Rouge (John Huston, 1952)
Cast: José Ferrer, Colette Marchand, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Suzanne Flon, Claude Nollier, Katherine Kath, Muriel Smith, Theodore Bikel, Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee. Screenplay: Anthony Veiller, John Huston, based on a novel by Pierre La Mure. Cinematography: Oswald Morris. Production design: Marcel Vertès. Film editing: Ralph Kemplen. Music: Georges Auric. 
If Moulin Rouge had a screenplay worthy of its visuals, it would be a classic. As it is, it's still worth seeing, thanks to a stellar effort to bring to life Toulouse-Lautrec's paintings and sketches of Parisian nightlife in the 1890s. The screenplay, by Anthony Veiller and director Huston, is based on a novel by Pierre La Mure, the rights to which José Ferrer had purchased with a view to playing Lautrec. He does so capably, subjecting himself to some real physical pain: Ferrer was 5-foot-10 and Lautrec was at least a foot shorter, owing to a childhood accident that shattered both his legs, so Ferrer performed many scenes on his knees, sometimes with an apparatus that concealed his lower legs from the camera. But that is one of the least interesting things about the movie, as is the rather conventional story of the struggles of a self-hating, alcoholic artist. What distinguishes the film is the extraordinary production design and art direction of Marcel Vertès and Paul Sheriff, and the dazzling Technicolor cinematography of Oswald Morris. Vertès and Sheriff won Oscars for their work, but Morris shockingly went unnominated. The most plausible theory for that oversight is that Sheriff clashed with the Technicolor consultants over his desire for a palette that reproduced the colors of Lautrec's art: The Technicolor corporation was notoriously persnickety about maintaining control over the way its process was used. It's possible that the cinematography branch wanted to avoid future hassles with Technicolor by denying Morris the nomination. (Ironically, one of the more interesting incidents from Lautrec's life depicted in the film involves his clashes with the lithographer over the colors used in posters made from his work.) The extraordinary beauty of the film and some lively dance sequences that bring to life performers such as La Goulue (Katherine Kath) and Chocolat (Rupert John) make it memorable. There are also good performances from Colette Marchand as Marie Charlet and Suzanne Flon as Myriamme Hayam. And less impressive work from Zsa Zsa Gabor, playing herself more than Jane Avril, and lipsynching poorly to Muriel Smith's voice in two songs by Georges Auric.
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