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mangostarjam · 24 days ago

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summertime madness — kaiju no. 8, narumi gen x f!reader, "babe" as a petname, sorta rivals to lovers, smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, written for @tetzoro's summer olympics collab, 3.7k words

"Fucking bite me, Narumi."

"I'm trying, dummy!"

You stop your hasty escape abruptly, but luckily Narumi Gen's reflexes are good enough that he catches you around the waist as he stumbles into you, one palm slamming flat on the stucco wall of the alleyway to keep both of you from bouncing into it. His chest heaves against your back as he huffs. He doesn't let go of your waist.

"What did you—? Narumi, you just called the Japanese men's volleyball team ugly. You're the one walking around with shitty dyed hair!"

"My hair's natural, babe, unlike that bleached blonde sitting way too close to you," Gen grumbles. You can feel the summer Parisian air getting stickier with humidity by the second, not at all helped by Gen's body heat so close to your own. "Besides, I can prove it."

You don't even want to think about how he could try proving something like that. You dig your elbow into his side instead. "Get off me, dummy."

His grip loosens, but he doesn't move. You manage to spin around and his hand settles on the dip of your waist, his nose brushing yours as he grins cheekily at your averted gaze. "This is the longest conversation we've had since we got here, y'know."

"It's your own damn fault you're so obnoxious," you mumble, turning your head slightly so his breaths just puff against your cheek. The sticky heat feels hushed. Charged. Your gaze snags on the flex of his arm bracing against the wall behind you.

A distraction. You need a distraction.

"Your mouth is what got you into trouble with the Japanese men's football team yesterday, too. They were going to offer us free tickets to their next home games."

"That sleepy white haired guy was looking at you too much," Gen says flatly. You finally meet his red eyes squarely as the corner of his lips tugs up. "I can get you one of those chocolate muffins you were asking him for. Besides, I was just looking out for you — as your captain." Your cheeks feel hot. "Now why don't you tell me more about what you think of my mouth?"

"I think you need to shut up."

"You can make me?"

Your nose wrinkles before you can stop yourself and Gen laughs. He finally backs off but grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together and tugging you down the alleyway. "Save your shitty pickup lines for all your new social media followers," you bite out, but you let him pull you along anyway.

"Hey," Gen says, glancing at you from beneath his bangs as you catch up to his pace. "How come you never like my thirst traps? I post those for you, y'know?"

You digest this for a moment, torn between wanting to poke fun at him for lying through his teeth (how could they be for you when you're just you? it's gotta be for the thousands of new followers he gets every day now that he's an Olympian) and speaking aloud the admission that could change your relationship forever (but only if he's serious — though it feels rude, to question him, when his hand squeezes yours).

The two of you pause at a crosswalk and he tugs you close as the crowd presses in. Paris is teeming with pedestrians and cars and it's nice, being together in your own little bubble as incomprehensible chatter fills the space around you. Gen's better at navigating the street signs and the many twisting turning side streets, so you let him lead the way and he lets you stick close.

"Where did you even learn about thirst traps, captain?" It's the middle ground, a safe route.

Gen shrugs and you stare as his broad shoulders shift beneath his stupid "Sincere" t-shirt. "I saw some of the other athletes doing it to promote their sports."

"And you think locker room photos where you flash your abs will suddenly make everyone want to join their nearest swim team?"

Red eyes cut to yours and you blink. Gen's smile is lopsided, curled like a kitty cat. You want to smack it off his face. "So you have seen them."

Of course you've seen them. Not that you needed to — a shirtless Narumi Gen is not a rare sight for you, not when you've been training under the same coach for half your lives — but the thirst traps are… different. Whoever taught him to pose so effortlessly needs to get pushed into the Seine.

"What're you talking about?"

"You know I took those pics in the locker rooms," Gen says. He sounds so smug it makes your blood boil.

"It was a lucky guess," you lie through your teeth, "locker rooms are a classic backdrop."

Gen frowns. "How do you know so much about other peoples' thirst traps?"

You're nearing your dorms in the Olympic Village, and your ear catches other languages besides French and English swimming through the air. Athletes of all shapes and sizes and nationalities begin to converge along the path. Gen tucks you closer into his side.

"Uh, I don't live under a rock," you say, only to forget the rest of your thought when someone walking in front of you glances back to meet your eyes.

He's tall, with wavy brown hair and a pretty face. Something about his build reminds you of the volleyball team you just left earlier. "Are you two Japanese?" he asks, in perfect Japanese. He's also wearing a jacket with the Argentina flag on it.

"Yes," you respond automatically.

The guy's polite smile breaks out into a wide grin. "Perfect! What sport are you here for?"

"Swimming," Gen says shortly. "Excuse me, she's having a meeting with her team captain."

"Oho? And who's that?"

"Me," Gen says. The Argentinian Japanese guy gives you a sly grin and an eyebrow wiggle. It kind of makes you want to hit him.

Gen steers you away before either of you can say anything else. Goosebumps erupt along your skin as the blast of air conditioning washes over you upon entry into the dorms and you valiantly try to suppress a shiver. The lobby is practically empty compared to outside, but a few athletes look up and eye the two of you with blatant interest.

"There are too many goddamn hot people here," Gen complains. He leads you down a hallway and flashes you a smirk. "Good thing I'm the hottest one around."

You stifle the urge to roll your eyes, well used to Gen's bursts of ego. He is hot — you won't deny that, not now — but the thing you've always been drawn to the most is how he cares. It isn't obvious, like with any of your previous relationships. Gen just works extra hard out of sight — long practices late at night when he says he stayed up gaming, not knowing that you spotted him hoisting himself out of the pool under the moonlight, droplets glistening along every dip and plane of his muscled back.

Gen also doesn't interact much with the rest of Team Japan, but they all rally around him as their captain. Everyone is aware that they can depend on him to anchor their relays or direct them to the right venues because he's seemingly picked up a lot of useful phrases in those international video game lobbies (and in the quick study language books you've spotted hidden beneath the mess of his rooms).

You don't think he knows that you know any of this about him.

You don't know if it matters.

Gen ushers you into a room as you ruminate, shutting the door behind you and quickly shoving the mess on the floor aside so there's a clear path to his bed. You stare at him.

"Narumi… how is your dorm so messy," you ask helplessly. "We've only been here for three days."

"I have a gift," he shrugs. You can't help the laugh that bubbles up, but Gen watches you, pleased.

You shiver a little as another blast of cold air fills the room. "So what did we need to talk about, captain?"

Gen picks up a hoodie and offers it to you, watching wordlessly as you accept it and pull it on. It's oversized on you, dropping heavily to your thighs and covering your hands completely, so you shove up the sleeves as best as you can. "Thanks."

Gen turns around and crouches on the floor. "I can't do this. Fuck."

Uh, oh. Is the stress of competing at the Olympics getting to him?

"Um…" you crouch next to him and hesitate a second before resting your palm on his back. He's warm through his t-shirt, the shift and bunch of his muscles annoyingly attractive even as worry bubbles up in your chest. "Are you… good?"

"You'resofuckingcuteIwannadie."

You rub his back a little harder. "Narumi-kun?"

"I wanna eat you out."

Your hand freezes. Gen shoves his hands roughly through his hair and peeks over at you, a tiny frown on his lips. Red eyes skip over your face — pausing on your softly parted lips, your eyes wide with shock, the way your cheeks puff with a stuttered breath. You don't know if you should bolt or play it off as a joke. Years of a (mostly) friendly rivalry stack up in the back of your mind like weights.

You've always been rivals and teammates. Never competing directly against each other in the pool, but always there, ready to egg each other on to faster and better times. Supporting each other through muscle cramps and plateaus and practices beginning before sunrise.

But you haven't talked to him in the three days since coming to Paris.

"I want you," he says clearly, twisting his body to catch your hands in his own, "to cum all over my face wearing nothing but my hoodie."

"Narumi…"

"Just one chance," Gen says. He brings your hands to his chest and flattens your palms against his heart, so that you can feel the rabbit fast beat thundering away. "Give me one shot, and if you don't fall for me or my dick, I'll leave you alone and you can flirt with all the other Japanese athletes."

"You're lying," you mutter. You can't quite look him in the eye, so you focus on the pout of his lips instead. "There's no way you'd leave me alone. And I wasn't flirting, I was trying to get as many freebies and tickets as possible."

Gen keeps both of your hands pressed to his chest as he reaches up to tilt your face towards him. You squeeze your eyes shut. "I wouldn't leave you alone because there's no way you'd leave me after I'm done with you."

You can feel his thumb brush lightly along the soft skin beneath your eye. This conversation feels incomprehensible. You can barely hear yourself over the thundering of your own heartbeat. "You'd be done with me?"

He cups your face with his hand and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. "Never."

The first time Gen kisses you, it's soft and hesitant, like he still expects you to pull away even after all this time. His lips are careful against yours, his tongue gentle as he swipes along the seam of your lips. You part them with a quiet gasp, an unspoken agreement, and his next kiss is a little hungrier, a little harsher. Heat bubbles up in your ribcage as he brings you into his lap, manhandling you in a way that makes your head rush, his hands heavy on your hips.

You clutch at his shoulders and sink your hand into his hair when he nips at your lip, drawing out a startled little sound and jerking in his lap. The movement brings you right up against the thick, hot bulge of him in his gray sweatpants. Gen pants into your mouth as he carefully, slowly rolls his hips up into yours, watching with hooded eyes when your head falls back at the feeling.

"You're so fucking hot," he mumbles, leaning up to suck a bruise into the sensitive skin of your neck. You feel the sharp nip of teeth and flinch, but he soothes the spot with his tongue before you can protest. "You've got a qualifying swim tomorrow, yeah? Hold on, let me loosen you up for it."

Gen reaches up and snags the blanket off his bed, spreading it out behind you before laying you down on it like something precious. He stays close, pressing his body along yours as he kisses his way along your neck, drinking in your stuttered breaths and quiet little gasps like he's been waiting his whole life to hear them. "N-Narumi —"

"Here, babe, let me —" Gen's ears are bright red, but he drags your pants and undies off in one movement, tugging when they snag at your knees and ankles and tossing them aside impatiently. "Fuck, is all this for me?"

Rough hands shove your thighs apart and you squirm, hot beneath the thick plush of his hoodie. Gen kisses along your bare legs, his touch feather soft at the bend of your knee and the curve of your thigh, so you get no warning when his tongue swipes broadly up your center.

You choke.

"Ha — oh, fuck — Narumi —"

"Quit calling me that," Gen huffs, diving back in like a man starved. He moans right into your pussy and you squirm, eyes clenching shut as every nerve ending lights up and dances like sparks to your core. His tongue is relentless, dipping and digging into every fold, circling your clit and tugging it into his lips so he can suck on it lightly, sending all of your thoughts spiraling into a crash of pleasure. Gen yanks your hips closer to his face as you begin to ride his tongue, chasing the overwhelming ache between your legs and throwing your arm over your face as you sob.

"Oh, please, please Narumi fuck," you yelp as he sucks particularly harshly at your clit. You peer shakily down and meet his eyes — darkened with lust — as he raises one eyebrow at you in wordless command.

Gen slides one finger into your clenching walls and crooks it, massaging a spot that makes you gush around him until you feel tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. You're so — so close —

"Gen, please," you moan.

He hums and resumes the lightning fast flick of his tongue against your clit, the pattern and pressure somehow exactly right to send you diving over the edge of your orgasm with a cry. Oh — wow. Pleasure whites out your vision for a moment and dances at the edges as you blink helplessly at the ceiling afterwards.

"You've gotta be naked when we fuck, come on, babe," Gen mutters roughly, his hands haphazard as he pulls the hoodie off and takes the rest of your clothes with it. There's a brief moment of closeness as he reaches around you to fumble at your bra, his chin glistening with your essence as he scrunches his nose in concentration.

Gen notices your look. He wipes off his chin clumsily with the back of his arm and finally tosses your bra aside, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he eyes your tits. "You have no idea," he says, gaze flicking to yours and softening. "You've got no fucking idea how much you've haunted me."

"Your clothes," you remind him petulantly, reaching for the edge of his shirt. Gen gets the hint and immediately starts stripping, cursing under his breath when his foot gets caught in his briefs and grinning when you giggle at him. Miles of smooth, strong muscle are revealed inch by inch. You reach up to brush your hands along the divots of his abs. "I think your thirst traps are going to get flagged, by the way."

Gen covers you with his body again, interrupting your blatant ogling. The heat and weight of him is welcome. You whine at the brush of his cock against your thighs. "You totally saw them."

"They're practically nudes, Gen," you complain, nose wrinkling at the taste of yourself on his tongue when he dips down to kiss you. "You can't share your v-line on social media."

He's so warm and solid and strong against you, his hand cupping your tit and squeezing as he watches you twitch in his hold. "I need you to cum on my cock," he says, his tone low and desperate. "I've wanted this for so long —"

You reach between your bodies and slide your hand along his dick, smearing precum along the shaft and shivering at the silky length of him. "Get inside me, then."

Gen groans as the head of his cock prods against your entrance, his face falling into your neck as he pushes just the tip inside. You can't help but clench at the feeling, fingers digging into his shoulders at the sudden stretch. It's a little bit painful, but in a good way, a pleasant, aching sort of way.

He pulls back just enough to push in a little further, short, aborted little thrusts that only serve to wind the coil in your gut tighter with every sharp grunt from his lips. Gen's cock is thick, stretching you just right and prodding against your insides until he's finally sheathed fully in your welcoming heat.

"Quit that," he mumbles, his breaths hot at your ear. "Are you trying to make me spill early?"

"Gen," you say suddenly, the thought piercing through the pleasure filled haze of your mind like an arrow, "what about a condom?"

"I'll pull out," he promises. Gen lifts his head enough to meet your eyes. "I'm clean. I got tested before we flew out."

"I did, too," you remind him. "We all did."

"Well, I've only wanted you, and you were ignoring me for three days…"

You stare up at him. "Are you seriously pouting about that with your dick inside me?"

Gen snorts and takes that moment to roll his hips, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he bites down a groan. You shiver, heat flaring hot up your spine at the messy, wet noises coming from where the two of you are joined. He gives you an expectant look.

"I'm clean, Gen, I've been too busy trying not to get run over by a car to sleep with anybody and besides, why would I want to when I couldn't stop thinking about you — oh you bastard," your voice trails off with a moan as he begins fucking you in earnest, his hips rolling perfectly to hit every soft spot inside you.

Your hands slide from his shoulders to his arms as he fucks you into the thick blanket and the floor, grabbing on for dear life as the shivering coil tightens and aches inside you. Gen huffs when you wrap your legs around his trim waist, grabbing at your ankle after a few thrusts and propping it up on his shoulder. The new angle makes you sob breathlessly, clenching around him desperately, and when he props your other ankle up you snap.

"Gen, Gen, Gen, fuck —"

The strong, relentless slap of his hips against the backs of your thighs fill your ears, the bounce and jiggle of your tits a mere afterthought of discomfort as he throws you over the edge with every perfect nudge of his cock against your inner walls. Gen curses under his breath but watches every expression flash across your face, bullying his cock through your orgasm as your pussy tries to suck him in for good.

"You're so fucking hot, babe, so fucking good for me I'm gonna — gonna cum, fuck."

You feel his cock throb inside you an instant before he pulls out, head hanging low as he spills all over your stomach up to your chest. Warm, wet seed smears along your skin as he leans against your propped up legs to breathe, a stretch you'd normally complain about except you can't quite feel your legs, anyway.

You glance down and squint at the hair between his legs. "Gen…"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Did you dye your pubes?"

Gen laughs and carefully removes your ankles from his shoulders, snagging a towel from the floor to wipe your body clean. "I told you I could prove it."

"I can't believe you," you laugh. You feel boneless. Satiated. Warm. "And you did bite me, you dummy. I'll still have marks during my race tomorrow."

"Good," Gen says smugly, pulling you up to drag his hoodie back over your body. You snuggle into the warmth willingly, yanking him down with you until his head rests against your chest and his legs tangle with yours. "I'm not done with you, anyway. How are your legs? And your back?"

"Will you massage them for me?" you ask sleepily. It's nice, combing your fingers through his hair with his arms wrapped around you. Gen folds into you like he fits, even though he's bigger than you. It makes your chest ache. "I'm not stiff right now, but maybe later."

"I'll give you a chocolate muffin, too," he mumbles. "The filling would taste pretty good on your skin."

"That's a waste of a perfectly good muffin," you frown. "Gen, promise you won't waste the muffin like that."

Gen leans into your hands as you scratch gently at his scalp and the soft, fluffy strands. "I promise the muffins are safe. No promises on ever letting you go, though."

You can't keep the silly smile from spreading across your face. Thank goodness he can't see you grinning like a fool. "That works for me."

Bonus:

"Babe! Babe," the anguished yell makes you flinch, but you'd recognize that voice anywhere. The area around the pool is crowded with swimmers getting ready for the next event, though neither of you are competing in this round.

"What the hell, Gen?" you yank him aside, hiding behind a few obnoxiously tall swimmers in case any cameras are trained your way. "We're supposed to be supporting our kouhai! What's wrong?"

"My account got banned," Gen says. You want to kiss the pout off his lips. Red eyes flick up to meet yours and his pout curls into a smarmy grin. "Lookin' good in the suit, babe."

"Shut up," you shove his face away and he laughs, catching your hand and lacing your fingers together. You turn away to hide your grin but he kisses your temple and you know he sees the curve of your lips.

"What? Can't a guy compliment his girl?"

"I reported your account for indecent exposure."

"HAH?!"

#narumi gen x reader #kn8 x reader #kn8 writing #kaiju no. 8 x reader #narumi gen #fuji writes fic #peep the cameos hehe #no chocolate muffins were harmed in the making of this fic

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willowsnook · 22 days ago

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Whisky sprite in a wine glass please!! 💖💖

josh allen x riccardo!sister

you're mine, end of discussion

-----------------------------------------------------

Accepting your dream job was one of the best days of your life, but it came with one catch: you had to relocate to Buffalo, NY. Having lived in Australia your entire life, the move was daunting. Luckily, your brother Daniel had a good friend in Buffalo who offered to help you move in.

Daniel didn’t say much about his friend—just that his name was Josh and they’d met through work. So, you were taken by surprise when a truck full of three giant men pulled up outside your building, ready to help. “Josh” turned out to be Josh Allen, quarterback for the Buffalo Bills.

He and his teammates were a huge help moving your things, and before leaving, Josh insisted on giving you his number "just in case" you needed anything.

It turned out you did need him—quite a lot. From restaurant recommendations to navigating the healthcare system and learning the ins and outs of American football, Josh had been your go-to guy. He even invited you to a Bills game, where you spent most of the time confused about the rules. That led to a weekly ritual of Josh coming over to watch old football games or movies to educate you.

After five months, the two of you had grown close, and you'd developed feelings for him. Too scared to risk your friendship, you kept your crush to yourself. Josh was in his offseason now, meaning he had more free time to hang out, which only made your feelings harder to ignore.

"By the way," you said casually one evening as you lounged together on your couch watching a movie, "I booked our plane tickets for the Miami Grand Prix next weekend."

Josh looked over at you, confused. "You got me a ticket?"

"Well, yeah," you replied, unsure why he was surprised. "I thought you’d want to see Daniel."

A grin spread across his face. "Just figured you’d ask first."

"You spend every weekend with me, dummy, so I knew you were free."

"Are you saying I don’t have a life?" he teased.

"If the shoe fits," you shot back with a smirk, and before you knew it, Josh had launched himself over the couch to tickle you. You squealed, trying to push him off, both of you laughing until he paused, realizing the compromising position you were in. He quickly moved away, his cheeks slightly red.

"Well, I am excited to see your brother race," he finally said, and you smiled.

----------------------------------------------

Race day at the Miami Grand Prix was electric, and you were thrilled to be back in the paddock. Josh’s eyes lit up as he took in the sights, clearly fascinated by the behind-the-scenes of Formula 1.

"Y/N!" someone called out, and you were soon enveloped in a big hug from Lando Norris.

"Hi Lando," you said into his chest. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said grinning before looking to Josh who was just happy to be there. "Going to introduce me to your boyfriend?"

"This is my non-boyfriend Josh, Josh this is Lando," you introduced and Josh shook his hand.

"Non-boyfriend?" Lando teased in a whisper. "That’s not what the press thinks."

You rolled your eyes, well aware of the photos circulating online that speculated about you and Josh. Being Daniel Ricciardo’s sister meant you were used to media attention, but this was new territory.

Shoving Lando playfully, you glanced over to see Josh chatting with your brother, who was pulling you into a hug as soon as he noticed.

"My beautiful sister has returned!" Daniel announced loudly, causing you to bury your head in his chest in embarrassment. He didn’t stop talking, though, dragging Josh along to the RB garage while catching up with him.

Later, as you walked through the paddock, more drivers greeted you, some eyeing Josh with curiosity.

"I feel like Daniel’s not the only older brother I should be worried about," Josh muttered as you two found a quiet moment.

You laughed. "Please, you’re twice the size of all of them."

After the race, Josh wandered off to talk to another NFL player while you waited for Daniel. When he emerged from the garage, you hugged him tightly.

"Are we going to talk about how I sent him to be your friend, and now he looks at you like you’re the center of the universe?" Daniel teased, making you blush. "You know how many drivers asked if I was okay with your ‘boyfriend’?"

"I don’t even know if he likes me like that," you admitted, voice small. "He’s so nice to everyone, it’s hard to tell."

"Trust me, he does," Daniel said sighing.

"It's your fault buddy, you basically asked him to fall in love with me," you teased and Daniel groaned. Josh was waiting up ahead and you returned his big smile, thinking about what Daniel had said.

"I have to go do interviews, but I'll see you guys later tonight," Daniel said and you waved goodbye as he left.

"Hungry?" you asked Josh as you walked toward the exit.

"Starving," he replied.

Ten minutes later, you were seated across from each other at a casual burger place. As you scrolled through your phone, you asked, "Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah, it was awesome. Really cool to see how everything works behind the scenes. Do you miss going to races?"

"Sometimes," you said thoughtfully. "I’ve known a lot of the drivers for years, so I miss seeing them."

Josh nodded. "I could tell how much they care about you—especially by the way they treated me."

You giggled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, we’re definitely not beating those ‘more than friends’ allegations."

"I don’t think I want to," he said casually, and your jaw dropped.

"What?"

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "I like you a lot, Y/N. After getting your darling brother’s blessing, I feel pretty confident saying that you’re mine. End of discussion."

"And you didn’t think to ask what I thought?" you teased, feigning outrage.

"Well, you’re with me all the time, dummy," he said, throwing your words back at you with a playful grin. "I figured you’d be okay with it."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Touché."

#josh allen imagine #josh allen #nfl imagines

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sakustars · 2 years ago

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HQ!! BOYS WITH AN S/O IN A BAND

sfw; fluff; established relationships; gn!reader; reader is a drummer in lev’s and a guitarist in atsumu’s

ft: suna, hinata, lev, atsumu, yachi, bokuto

you know how small bands often hire photographers so they can post good pictures on social media for publicity? yeah, suna’s got you covered.

this man makes sure he’s right at the front and centre of every one of your gigs, snapping away, somehow managing to get the best angles and lighting every time.

he shares the photos with you afterwards in the greenroom, pulling you onto his lap and pointing out all his favourites — “you look so pretty leaning back like that, you should do it more often”.

you honestly didn’t know how hinata managed to balance his schedule so well — you could have sworn he had volleyball practice that night, but there he was, hopping about in the crowd.

he did have practice that night.

volleyball was super important to him, but so were you, so as soon as practice finished, he packed his bag as fast as possible and gunned it across town, mach twenty. lets just say the ticket guy was confused why a tiny ginger kid, horribly out of breath, was holding his ticket out to him like it was his only salvation.

what can he say, he’s a die hard fan.

having a tall boyfriend has it’s perks — knowing that lev can see you even though you were right at the back of the stage always boosted your motivation to perform well.

every gig he attended, you would make sure to do a little drumstick flip, just because you knew he thought it was the coolest thing in the world.

and not to mention videos — it was so rare for you to get any good ones, but with his height, lev could catch all your awesome moments, albeit you couldn’t really hear the drums over his excited cheering.

atsumu is determined to learn guitar for you — “we could be one of those cute couples on the internet, doin’ duets an’ shit, serious, babe”.

if you buy him a guitar for dummies book for christmas, expect lots of kisses in return, though prepare for even more whining for you to be the one to teach him.

love love loves when you sit him down to plaster cute hello kitty band aids over the blisters forming on his finger tips, gazing up at you with heart eyes as you scold him — “this could affect your setting you know?” — but you are touched that he would do this all for you.

you don’t need to provide free tickets for yachi — she works part time at the venue your band frequently performs at.

imagine her serving people drinks at the bar, occasionally throwing them off guard as she suddenly yells “yeah baby!” when your solo starts.

almost faints when you blow her a kiss from all the way over on stage, and a fellow coworker has to start fanning her with a dishcloth. it’s worth it though, to see the flustered expression on her face.

bokuto is very conflicted at your gigs. on one hand, he desperately wants to jump around and dance to your music. on the other, he’s very aware how big he is, and doesn’t want to accidentally crush someone.

half the time he can’t even pay attention, profusely apologising to the people behind him for blocking their view, despite them reassuring him multiple times that really, it’s okay.

after your gig has finished, he always manages to find you, picking you up and twirling around, showering you with compliments of how wonderful you are, as you blush at the crowd he’s drawing — some fans pulling out there phones to post about how cute their favourite band member is with their boyfriend.

🪐a/n: reblogs, likes and comments r very appreciated <3

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dummticket · 3 months ago

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dummyticketsnet · 1 year ago

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stlispenard · 4 months ago

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CONTINUED FROM HERE / @monstroum

he strode across the stage as if it belonged to him and lestat de lioncourt was but a mere guest ( perhaps not even that ) . santiago held in his hand the script . though he followed the directions written down by the coven's maître , the vampire appeared to be more concerned about everyone's positions within the macabre scene . " -ㅤ─ ㅤwelcome , first play during day time , blah , blah , blah , enter the three defendants who'll kneel before the court in a neat little row just like ... oh ! " when the englishman glanced to his left , he realised that one VERY IMPORTANT member of tomorrow's performance was missing . two hay-filled dummies leaned pathetically against each other , half-sewn and half-finishedㅤ─ ㅤ but where was the third one ? santiago lifted his head , searching for a fellow coven member which ought to be up somewhere in one of the theatre's boxes . " sam ! it appears we're missing a dummy . " the other vampire shrugged and santiago , exasperated by his coven's lack of professionalism , turned to his scene partner ㅤ─ ㅤ oh , and how honoured he should be ! for he was face to face with lestat de lioncourt himself ! santiago had been told so much about the man and now that he saw him in the flesh , he found him profoundly DISAPPOINTING ; all of the bravado and wit he had been told about seemed like nothing more than the protests of a moody teenager . lestat did not wish to be there , that much was clear . hell , he had hardly memorised his lines ! but still , santiago pressed a hand to his chest and approached the other vampire with a small sheepish smile . " monsieur lioncourt , i'm so terribly embarrassed to even ask ㅤ─ but would you be so kind as to fill in for louis du lac ? just for this bit of the rehearsal ? " such a cruel request ㅤ─ ㅤ but santiago had been hurt by his acting partner's disdain for ( himself ) the craft ! and watching a glint of discomfort flash behind those pretty blue eyes of his would bring santiago a sick sense of joy . " if you could kneel down right ... " his free hand rested upon lestat's shoulder . " here . " suddenly he pushed the other down with so much force that all of the stage's floorboards shivered . oh , how his fingers lingered there , his nails threatening to rip through the fabric of the other's shirt if he were to tighten his grip . but santiago merely tilted his head , admiring lestat's unhappy compliance before muttering a small sarcastic " lovely " .

santiago’s pompous strides, the click-clacking on the stage’s greasy floorboards, hits a surprising nerve in him. like a dog pissing up a tree! ha! lestat wants to laugh at his hubris and squash him under the heel of his shoe. the great laws this and the great law that, all so unconvincing from the mouth of a self-important vampire child. everything about his being is irritating but not intimidating. in fact, if they were not there to discuss the crime of vampires killing vampires, well then, perhaps, lestat might have jumped at the chance to relieve his excessive hunger by draining him for sport.

and lestat does fantasize about it as he recites the condemning lines written for him. he lets them eat away at him and he dances lifelessly to armand’s tune. that is his one-way ticket inside. the performance of a lifetime, lestat! lestat complies as lestat can comply to anything; he has never quite mastered the art of controlling his temper, it only takes so much humiliation to provoke it. the dummieshad nearly done the trick the second they had been brought on stage and now here it is again.

that smile he would pry off with his bare hands. what a hideous thing.and then that same mouth saying louis name like it is the ugliest word in the world. it is sacrilegious. he corrects him and sneers as he feels santiago’s fingers bury themselves deep into his shoulder and himself sink onto his knees: “louis. de pointe. du lac.”

lestat feels the strong vibration through his legs. he knows his quads shiver enough for all of them to see, but he is not well enough to stop it. curtesy of armand, who he turns his head to see, “the power dynamic here is…well, strange. you let your pet pretend he can do what he pleases?” he doesn’t wait for an answer before looks back to santiago hovering above him, “or perhaps you can and armand has lost his touch, hmm?” who of you are taking their lives?

he straightens his back and smiles his most devilish smile. he gets back on his while maintaining the lack of distance between them, “chéri, i know how tempting the idea of me on my knees can be, but it is in bad taste to not wait for my consent.” lestat clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth and leans to his ear: “you put louis on his knees like that i will not continue to play nice.”

#this fucked up your formatting a bit im sorry #i mean at least santi is distracting lestat from all the pain by making him furious #monstroum #IC RESPONSE.#LESTAT.

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