#. TIME-WASTING || DASH GAMES. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diamonddaze01 · 1 month ago

Text

second servings

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader genre: smut, fluff, a dash of humor bc im fun like that | wc: 3.7k Warnings: unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), drinking rating: r a/n: happy thanksgiving! or as ivy (my beloved @c-oupsie ) aptly put it, dicksgiving // huge thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for the beta!!! //MINORS DNI

It’s safe to say that this Thanksgiving has been a rousing success.

Your mother had nothing but praise for the way you pulled off her famous sweet potato casserole (even though she was hovering behind you the entire time, making "suggestions"), and your father was borderline drunk on Mingyu’s whiskey-infused turkey. Sure, he’d proudly claimed it was an old family recipe, but you’d seen him frantically Googling “best Thanksgiving turkey recipes” at 2 a.m. the night before. No harm, no foul—especially since your parents didn’t need to know about his panic or how the entire kitchen had nearly gone up in flames during the basting process.

For his part, Mingyu had charmed everyone effortlessly. Between pulling your chair out at dinner, teasing your father about how he could totally outdrink him (a dangerous game, considering how much whiskey had been consumed), and sheepishly admitting he’d practiced making pie crust for weeks, it was clear your parents were absolutely smitten with your boyfriend. By the time your mom hugged you both goodbye at the door, whispering that you’d “picked a good one,” you thought your heart might burst with pride.

But now, the house is quiet. The only sounds are the low hum of the dishwasher and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you wander through the dining room, stacking dishes and tidying up. The scent of roasted herbs and pumpkin pie still lingers in the air, but you’re already beginning to unwind.

Mingyu is... well, not unwinding. Not in the slightest. You can hear him singing—no, yelling—off-key in the kitchen as he polishes off the last of the whiskey your dad left behind. When you poke your head in to scold him for leaving you to do all the cleaning, you find him leaning against the counter, a lazy, lopsided grin lighting up his face. His tie is loose, and the top buttons of his shirt have been undone, showing off that smooth stretch of skin you always find it impossible to resist.

“You’re wasted,” you accuse, trying not to smile at how disheveled he looks.

“Wasted?” he echoes, incredulous, though the way he wobbles slightly when he stands says otherwise. “Nah, baby, I’m just... grateful. It’s Thanksgiving! And I’m thankful for you.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his nose nuzzling your temple. His voice drops, low and teasing. “And the way you look in this dress... God, how did I keep my hands to myself all night?”

You roll your eyes, even as your heart stutters in your chest. “Because my parents were right there, and you were busy trying to impress them?”

Mingyu hums, the sound reverberating against your skin. “Impressed them so much they probably think I’m an angel, huh?” His fingers press lightly against the small of your back, pulling you closer until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. “Guess I shouldn’t ruin that image.”

When you laugh, the sound barely leaves your lips before he has you pinned against the nearest wall. Your shriek of surprise is muffled by Mingyu’s mouth on yours, warm and insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey and the pumpkin pie he’d wolfed down before your parents left. His hands bracket your waist, firm and steady, but there’s nothing restrained about the way he presses into you.

“Shhh,” he murmurs against your lips when you try to protest, his voice dark and teasing. “Can’t let them know their soon-to-be son-in-law isn’t the perfect golden boy they think he is.”

Your laugh bubbles up despite yourself, but you manage to shove at his chest just enough to put some space between you. “Mingyu, stop! There are dishes everywhere—”

“Don’t care,” he growls, already pulling you back toward him.

“Mingyu!”

He only grins as you slip out of his grasp, retreating into the dining room, muttering about someone needing to be responsible. But he’s not far behind. You feel his presence before you even hear him—the deliberate slowness of his footsteps, the quiet huff of his breath as he watches you stack plates.

You turn to scold him, but the words catch in your throat the moment you see his expression. His pupils are blown wide, gaze dark and intent, like he’s just barely holding himself back.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, a little breathless.

He takes a step closer.

“Like what?”

“Like—like you’re going to—”

Mingyu doesn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, he’s at your side, spinning you around and lifting you effortlessly onto the dining table. Plates clatter around you, some teetering dangerously close to the edge as you gasp in shock.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, holding up a hand. His gaze flicks to the plates beneath you, then back to your face. “Are these gonna break if I—”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure. “If you what?”

He flashes you a devilish grin, and before you can stop him, he swipes an arm across the table, sending the rest of the dishes clattering to the floor.

“Mingyu!” you gasp, clutching his shirt as you gape at the mess.

“It’s fine,” he says, far too casually for someone who’s just created a potential disaster. His voice is rough, his breath coming quick as he leans in close, pressing you back against the table. “They’re not ceramic. They won’t break.”

Your protest dies on your lips as his mouth finds yours again, hands already working to undo the buttons of your dress. The table creaks beneath you as he presses his weight into you, his kisses growing more heated, more desperate with every passing second.

“You’re insane,” you murmur against his lips, though your fingers are already threading through his hair, tugging lightly just the way you know he likes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin unmistakable even as his lips move to your jaw, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

“Not if I kill you for breaking half our dishes,” you tease, though the sharp intake of breath you can’t quite suppress gives you away.

“Then you’ll have to explain to your parents why their perfect golden boy is gone,” he counters, his voice a low rumble against your skin.

"And we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, tilting your head to give him better access.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your throat. "Definitely not. I've worked too hard to impress them."

His hands slide down your sides, bunching up the fabric of your dress as they go. You shiver at the feeling of his fingers against your bare thighs, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Mingyu's touch is warm, his fingers leaving trails of heat in their wake.

"Speaking of impressing," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as his touch wanders higher, "I can't believe you actually learned to make pie crust."

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, that? I lied. I bought it pre-made."

You gasp in mock outrage. "You fraud!"

"Hey, your mom loves me,” Mingyu bites the junction where your shoulder meets your neck, just enough to hurt, and you whine. “You can’t call me a fraud when her love is real, baby.” His tongue carves a path back up to your mouth.

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, tugging him closer by his loosened tie.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your neck as he continues his trail of kisses.

"You know," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, "I wasn't lying earlier. About being grateful for you."

The sincerity in his eyes catches you off guard, making your breath hitch. Even with his hair mussed and his shirt half-unbuttoned, there's an earnestness to him that makes your heart swell. But then he kneels in front of you, and your heart starts to stutter.

“And what better way to show you how…grateful I am,” he starts, fingers brushing against the wet spot on your panties, so soft it makes you gasp. “Than to kneel in front of you?”

His words make your back arch, shivers running down your spine. He hums softly, fingers brushing the edge of your panties.

“My baby’s so pretty,” he breathes, pressing open-mouthed kisses against thighs as you shiver.

"Mingyu," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair as he slowly drags your panties down your legs. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver.

He looks up at you through his lashes, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "Yes, baby?"

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a breathy moan as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound low and rough. "So eager," he murmurs against your skin. "But I want to savor this. Show you just how thankful I am."

His tongue traces lazy patterns on your thigh, inching closer and closer to your center with each pass. You squirm on the table, plates clattering softly around you as you try to press closer to his mouth. But Mingyu's hands on your hips hold you firmly in place.

"Patience," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

You whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. "Mingyu, please..."

He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Please what?"

"Touch me," you breathe. "I need you to—"

Your words dissolve into a gasp as Mingyu finally, finally presses his mouth against you. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and exploring. You throw your head back, a low moan escaping your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Mingyu hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves of sensation up your spine. His hands slide from your hips to your thighs, gently urging them further apart. You comply eagerly, desperate for more of his touch. Mingyu takes advantage of the new angle, his tongue delving deeper, circling your clit with practiced precision.

"God, you taste amazing," he murmurs against you, the words sending vibrations through your core. “Better than my pie, baby.”

You can't help the breathy moan that escapes you, your hips rolling against his face as you chase the building pleasure. Mingyu matches your rhythm, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your sensitive clit.

"Mingyu," you gasp, tugging at his hair. "I'm close, I'm—"

Your words trail off into a strangled moan as Mingyu redoubles his efforts, his tongue working faster, more insistently against you. One of his hands leaves your thigh, and you feel his fingers teasing at your sopping entrance before slowly sliding inside. The dual sensation of his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling inside you makes you arch against the table, fingers finding purchase on the tablecloth and holding on for dear life.

"That's it, baby," Mingyu murmurs against you, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

His words, combined with the relentless attention of his mouth and fingers, push you over the edge. Your back arches off the table as waves of pleasure crash over you, Mingyu's name falling from your lips in a breathless cry. He works you through your orgasm, his movements slowing gradually as your body relaxes.

When the last tremors of pleasure subside, Mingyu presses a final, gentle kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. His hair is a mess from your fingers, his lips swollen and glistening. The sight of him looking so thoroughly debauched makes your heart race all over again.

"Come here," you murmur, reaching for him.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it sends a renewed spark of arousal through you. His hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers on the thoroughly christened tablecloth. You bring your joined hands to your mouth and suck on his fingers as Mingyu looks on in dazed fascination.

Mingyu groans, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. "God, you're gonna be the death of me," he murmurs, voice rough with want.

You release his fingers with a soft pop, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. "I thought you were showing me how thankful you were," you tease, running your free hand down his chest. "Seems like you might have more gratitude to express, love."

His answering grin is downright predatory. "Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he growls, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I've got all night to show you exactly how thankful I am." Without warning, his fingers find your sopping cunt again, and you squeal.

Two, then three, fingers bully their way into your weeping pussy, and you groan, wanton, as Mingyu’s free hand yanks the sleeves of your dress off your shoulder.

“Don’t-” your words are cut off with a keen when Mingyu’s fingers go even deeper, back arching off the table. “Don’t rip my dress Mingyu-ah! There! Right there- don’t stop, please please-”

Mingyu chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your neck as he continues to work his fingers inside you. "Wouldn't dream of ripping this dress, baby. I love how you look in it too much." His teeth graze your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. You're caught between the pleasure of his fingers and the slight pain of his teeth, overwhelmed by sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your skin. "You're so wet for me. So tight."

You can only whimper in response, your hips rocking against his hand as you chase another peak. The table creaks beneath you, the remaining dishes clattering with each thrust of Mingyu's fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice low and husky. "Take what you need. Take it all, baby."

His thumb finds your clit, circling it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. You cry out, hips bucking off the table. Mingyu's free hand slides up to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

"Oh god," you moan, your head falling back against the table, hands gripping his bicep. You’re not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. "Mingyu, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," he growls, curling his fingers inside you. "Let me feel you, baby."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. He works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping as aftershocks ripple through you.

When you finally come down, panting and boneless, Mingyu withdraws his hand and brings his glistening fingers to his mouth. He sucks them clean, his eyes locked on yours; you moan, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Your fingers grapple helplessly with the buttons. He lets you struggle for a little, forehead pressed against yours as his deft fingers work to push your dress off of you, leaving you bare before him on the dining room table. The cool air pebbles your skin, but Mingyu's heated gaze makes you feel like you're on fire.

"You’re delicious," he murmurs, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "But I'm not done with you yet."

He decides to put you out of your misery, pushing away to roughly yank his shirt off and throw it across the room. His hands yank at his belt, and his pants and boxers follow soon after, joining his shirt god knows where. Your eyes rake over Mingyu's exposed body, drinking in the sight of his toned chest and abs. Your gaze travels lower, lingering on his erect cock, already glistening with precum. The sight makes your mouth water, and you unconsciously lick your lips.

Mingyu catches the gesture and smirks. "See something you like, baby?"

You nod, unable to form words as he steps closer, his hands running up your thighs. He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your sensitive folds. You whimper at the contact, your hips jerking involuntarily.

"Tell me what you want," Mingyu murmurs, his voice low and husky. He rocks his hips slightly, teasing you with just the barest hint of pressure.

"You," you breathe, reaching for him. "I want you, Mingyu. Don’t make me beg.”

"Never, baby," he growls, voice rough with desire. "I want you too much."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Then take me," you breathe, nails raking down his back.

Mingyu doesn't need to be told twice. With one smooth thrust, he buries himself inside you, both of you groaning at the sensation. He stills for a moment, forehead pressed against yours as you adjust to his size.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, his arms trembling slightly as he holds himself above you. "You feel so good."

You roll your hips experimentally, drawing a strangled moan from Mingyu. "Move," you urge. Mingyu obeys, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in. The force of his thrust sends a few more plates clattering to the floor, but neither of you pay them any mind. Your focus narrows to the feeling of Mingyu moving inside you, the delicious friction as he sets a punishing pace.

"God, yes," you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Just like that, Mingyu."

He grunts in response, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. One hand grips your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, while the other braces against the table. The wood creaks beneath you with each thrust, but you can barely hear it over the sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans. He whines, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you relentlessly.

"You're so fucking tight," Mingyu groans, his voice strained. "So perfect for me, baby. Only for me."

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your walls clenching around him. Mingyu groans, his hips stuttering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He lifts his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he drives into you.

"Oh god," you cry out, your back arching off the table. "Right there, Mingyu. Don't stop!"

"Fuck," he grunts, his movements becoming more erratic. "I'm close, baby. So close."

You can feel your own orgasm building, a coiling tension in your lower belly. "Me too," you pant, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Mingyu, please."

Mingyu knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly what you need to send you over the edge - his hand leaves your hip, sliding between your bodies to rub rough circles against your clit with his thumb. Mingyu shifts slightly, hitting that spot that convinces you that you’re in heaven - your mouth drops open in a low whine, and he savors every reaction you give him.

Your entire body tenses as the pleasure makes spots dance in your vision. Mingyu's movements grow more frantic, his breathing ragged against your neck.

"Come for me," he growls, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Let go, baby. I've got you."

His words are the final push you need. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your back arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper.

The sensation of you pulsing around him pushes Mingyu over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you with a final thrust, groaning your name as he comes.

For a long moment, you both stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath. The table creaks again, as Mingyu presses loving kisses against your lips, hands rubbing gentle circles on your sides.

“I love you,” he whispers, equal parts adoring and reverent. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

He sounds so genuine, so lovelorn, that it almost brings tears to your eyes. “I love you too,” you breathe, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. “I’ll never stop thanking fate for bringing you to me.”

“It wasn’t fate,” he grumbles half-heartedly. “It was your shitty cocktails that almost gave me alcohol poisoning at Jeonghan’s graduation party.”

You sigh, pulling back enough to stick your tongue out at him. “And just when I was starting to wax poetic about you, Kim Mingyu.”

“Oh, by all means, continue-”

The table decides then that it has had enough of the both of you, and the leg gives out with a deafening splinter. The sudden tilt of the table sends you both sliding towards the floor in an undignified heap. Mingyu manages to catch you, cushioning your fall with his body as you land on top of him with a soft "oof." For a moment, you both lie there in stunned silence, the broken table leg jutting out at an awkward angle beside you.

Then, almost simultaneously, you burst into laughter.

Mingyu joins in, his body shaking with mirth against yours. "Oh my god," he wheezes, lifting himself up on his elbows to look at you. "Are you okay?"

You nod, still giggling. "I'm fine. You?"

"Never better," he grins, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. "Although I think we might need a new dining table."

You groan, finally taking in the full extent of the damage. Plates litter the floor, and your poor tablecloth lies in a heap near Mingyu’s feet.

"Oh no," you moan, burying your face in Mingyu's chest. "My parents gave us that table as a housewarming gift."

Mingyu winces, his hand coming up to stroke your hair soothingly. "We'll figure something out. Maybe we can fix it?"

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. "Fix it? Mingyu, the leg is completely broken off."

He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, I managed to convince your parents I'm a master pie baker. I'm sure I can convince them I'm an expert carpenter too."

You can't help but laugh, swatting his chest playfully. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," he grins, pulling you down for a kiss.

"God help me, I do," you murmur against his lips.

664 notes · View notes

takes1 · 21 days ago

Note

Hi theree!! If you dont mind, can you write iwa, kuroo, akaashi having a major crush on cool reader who is very good in hiding her feeling

kuroo x hard to get!reader p. 1

hey!! thanks for the request! this was originally meant to be all one part, but had to split it because of word count/pacing. nsfw to follow, reply to be tagged in next part pls!

warnings. lite!nsfw, minors DNI

details. kuroo crushing on reader / player!kuroo / hard to get!reader / kinda fuckboy!kuroo / kuroo pining / cool!reader / karasuno manager!reader / flirty!kuroo / future smut / a dash of whiny kuroo / vague feelings / noncommunicative!reader / failed?courtship / 2.2k words - reply to be tagged in next part

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. part two here. part three here. requests OPEN.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a training camp?"

That was yet another version of a weak line you heard often. Emphasis on weak. The Nekoma captain lost your attention before he could even begin; made plain as day in a quiet sigh and the way you squeezed your clipboard closer to you.

All Kuroo noticed was how it pressed your chest up, real pretty in that tank top. It was the first time in days he felt an ounce of gratitude for the still heat of this summer, the lack of circulation in the gymnasium.

"What's the matter?" He chuckled, puffing his collar to get some air on his warm skin, "You shy?"

Guys that drooled over you, obsessive but ultimately bitter, made it so hard for themselves. There was nothing more attractive to you than a guy who just told you straight up what he wanted, what he liked about you, how it made him feel. But they always found it necessary to add extra steps.

You didn't have the time.

He followed your eyeline for a second, towards your team warming up, and threw a glance at his own. When he first saw you, he thought this would be quicker. The game would start soon and he needed your number, fast.

"That's alright if you are," Kuroo kept at this line of reasoning -surely the only reason you wouldn't look or speak to him- and leaned closer, "I'm into that."

The assumption was a little ridiculous.

You turned your chin away from him as if he wasn't there, then took a step forward, closer to the court, with a resigned hum.

A surprised, breathy laugh at the action. His brow furrowed a moment, not at all used to navigating around this kind of reaction, and finally understood that something was off. Yet, it still didn't occur to him that it was disinterest that motivated your avoidance.

A squeakity-squeak of shoes approaching, quick but heavy, didn't help at thawing your icy demeanor. He did notice that you at least looked at the captain of Karasuno.

Kuroo straightened up to his full height, shoulders squared at his mirrored rival.

"Kuroo."

"Sawamura."

"Is there a problem over here?" The subtle squint in his eyes let Kuroo know that he was suspicious of this bullshit right away.

They were a step away from whipping the measuring tape out. You rolled your eyes but it went vastly ignored.

"Don't know- you should go ask your team." Kuroo tilted his head, eyes low- threatening.

He didn't have the patience here to keep up appearances. Rival school was enough. Now he was cockblocking? There was simply no time to waste when he could already tell you wouldn't be so easy to crack. He liked your challenge, not Daichi's.

"Oh, okay-," Daichi's fake smile fell away to reveal a chilling scowl, "It's like that?"

Kuroo didn't miss a beat.

"Yeah, it's like that."

You cleared your throat, a successful interruption and deterrent: "He was trying to ask for my number."

His jaw almost hit the floor. He couldn't believe how blunt you were.

Daichi, delighted, laughed at Kuroo's shitty, rushed cover-up to hide how surprised he was.

He couldn't stay to keep throwing digs; there was a game to get to and he only had a minute to spare in the first place.

After you waved him goodbye, you turned around and walked towards the side wall for Karasuno's gear, all strewn about and disorganized. You began tidying up before the game.

Kuroo remained.

He stood still, dumbfounded that you walked away from him, at how easily you could speak, and shook his head full of growing doubts. He couldn't believe you didn't want him just yet.

Eyes locked on your pretty figure from behind, bent over while you gathered Karasuno's half-full bottles into the hefty carrier, he ran his fingers through his hair and prepared himself.

He was next to you, squatted down to help you collect every bottle.

For a minute he said nothing. He simply helped you clean up. You appreciated it only to an extent, because you knew it came with conditions.

One of the last bottles sported a message, scribbled in capital letters across some tape, 'DO NOT TOUCH' signed, 'TSUKIshima.'

The corners of your mouth tugged up at how quick he found the means to designate his own bottle. He really did hate it when the other guys drank from 'his' bottle. You sympathized with him, backing him up when he got uppity about the germs.

While they were supposed to share, part of that understanding was that they also shouldn't touch the mouth of the bottle with their lips (and most of them did, anyway).

As you placed it into the upper left corner of the carrier, where he often liked to put it, you smirked again at how the name scrunched up where he couldn't fit all the letters onto the tape.

"So you can smile."

You frowned. He was nothing if not persistent.

Sure, that alone was a turn-on, but it was obvious that he was ill-intentioned and misguided in his thought processes.

You didn't want him to feel like he won you over. You wanted a guy like him to beg a little. Step off the high-horse, get his hands dirty, work for something.

He clearly wasn't used to having to use his brain when it came to women. Guys like him pride themselves on how easy it is; they walk with a certain confidence, a coolness because there's no pressure to make accommodations in their behavior for girls they like. They can spend all their time playing shirtless sand volleyball and wait for girls to get in line.

When you stood, you slid the box of extra rags towards the water case with marked effort. He didn't help you with something so difficult- he was still reeling in the fact that you ignored him again, after he helped you.

If he chose not to chase after you, you could at least be the first time he got turned down so harshly. Both outcomes served in your favor.

He came to his senses a bit late. You both stood, and you had to dodge his unnecessary grab for your team's equipment.

"Let me help you with that, babe--,"

A scoff made him freeze again.

You shouldered the box of rags and balanced the heavy water case on your hip without so much as a word. You made your way outside to go fill the water case and dry out the rags in the sun.

His chest felt... tight.

Why did that hurt so bad? Fuck, what was he doing? Frustrated, he shook his head and walked back towards his team, at the end of their warm-up. He never had to work this hard for some chick's number, or even a laugh. In fact, since he never got turned down, he felt a sense of entitlement to -at the very least- your attention.

The fact that you wouldn't look at him was a unfamiliar mixture of sexy and cruel.

"Having some trouble?" Yaku's suggestive tone grated his nerves like nails on glass.

"Fuck off," Was a defeated sigh rolling off his tongue.

He sounded so gloomy that Yaku found the explicit discourtesy funny.

In your absence, he was able to focus on getting himself and his team ready-- he needed to worry about winning this game. He got the impression you didn't settle for losers.

They were all in position at the start. He took a breath to center himself.

"Let's go!" You shouted. Innocent, encouraging, with two thumbs up towards your team.

It was hardly audible over the constant noise level of the other games going on, but a sharp look still shot over to you.

He was able to dial back that momentary weakness by forcing himself to watch Suga instead, up to serve- literally anything, anyone else, but discovered his own unfortunate reality was that he could not tear his eyes off of you.

It made for a tough time. He had to balance his mind's bias (checking out just how soaked your little white tank top got from filling up the bottles outside) and the objectively greater value of keeping his head in the game.

Yet, his failure to stay focused didn't hinder his team's performance. He was able to translate his desire to an easier task; giving you a good performance.

You didn't have any distraction from it, the way he did.

So, the distance that the game called for made your heart grow fonder of him.

He couldn't keep digging his grave from so far away by opening his mouth, to put it simply. And more importantly, you could recognize how gorgeous he actually was.

Tall, tan, handsome- yeah sure, whatever. That tall, straight nose bridge? His high cheekbones? That dark, messy hair that just kept getting fucked up because he ran his hands through it when he was nervous? The way his jaw flexed, more defined, when the ball went back over the net? How the veins in his forearms grew plumper the longer the time ran? Anytime he touched the ball, really, and the sounds that left his mouth with each impact?

It got hot, pretty fast.

As you scribbled notes for your team's plays, the observations about how an opponent like Nekoma operated became increasingly more impressive. Kuroo wasn't the peacock-superstar you had assumed him to be.

He made room for his little blond friend, and facilitated his team with a kind of responsibility and restraint that you found yourself getting absorbed in. Your clipboard was the only presence grounding you for the last round, usually pulled towards your chest or covering half of your face.

Pearls of hot, dripping sweat made little wet spots on his shirt as he waited for the ball to come to him, completely immersed in the game. God, was he good.

It wasn't the most groundbreaking realization of all time, but it helped your opinion of him shift favorably. Your vendetta against his sly confidence began to chip and crack with every save, every slam, every hasty wipe of perspiration from his face.

The ball once seemed to find its way to you close to the end of the match, in a sneaky curve around the antennae.

You stutter-stepped back as three Nekoma players chased after it. Kuroo dove for it, slamming onto his side-- right where you were standing seconds ago.

He hit the ground with a loud and labored groan.

You watched the ball as it soared through the air, still in play thanks to his sacrifice. He scampered back up and joined the court again all too fast- it made you wish the ball had hit you so he would've stayed for longer.

The final score wasn't even close. Karasuno lost the second round 15 to 25. They were too scattered, trying out too many new things at once.

It didn't even feel like a real win to Kuroo, until he spared his thousandth passing glance to the sidelines.

And there you were. Finally looking at him.

A big grin overtook his face and he had to displace his excitement by running both of his hands through his sweaty hair. It's not like you were obvious, shit you still looked at him like he was the dirt beneath your shoe, but at least you noticed him.

It was brief, but it was enough.

You understood your slip-up just as much and broke away, growing warm at how one tiny moment could be so telling. You moved towards your team.

It took your knowledge of where Karasuno came from to understand that it wasn't a genuine loss, it was only an investment; getting the chance to work out these kinks with real competitors would serve them in the future. That's why you weren't upset with any of your guys when they jogged off-court. You held out their bottles and spoke only to the seniors when they looked like they wanted your commentary.

"You're all getting better. Hang in there," You patted Asahi on the back, who needed the extra reassurance, and nodded to Suga, who barely needed it at all.

Daichi clapped and rounded up the rest of the guys with a motivational shout, the third-years leading the way for their drills, but he made a brief stop to skim your notes.

"Keep your head up," You muttered, focused on the trouble you found in his expression.

He quickly grinned and thanked you- as he faced the exit, the concern was back almost right away. It didn't help having to move past Nekoma's huddle on the way out.

"Oooh, shocker!" Kuroo snickered, still giddy with pride, as Daichi walked by.

He wiggled his fingers at him with a jovial smile. They were almost nose-to-nose for a moment.

Your keen eyes caught Kuroo mouth a sweet and saccharine 'Bye-bye.'

Evil, silly sounding giggles under a bitten lip amused you, but you didn't make it known.

He was funny, quick-witted, and so pretty. You wanted to see how long you could drag this out. Ideally you'd string a guy like him along for the whole camp, if possible. Or break him. Whatever came first- all you knew at the moment was that you were down to entertain this.

☆VIP☆

@integers @yuchacco

please send: requests!

*i'm bout to crash out if i don't get something new in my inbox (aka; pack up and move to my ao3)

*reply to be added for next part

my masterlist

472 notes · View notes

sadnymi · 9 months ago

Text

「 ✦ Slytherin Boys' Reaction to Another Boy asking you to the yule ball : ✦ 」

[Mattheo Riddle / theodore Nott / lorenzo berkshire]

Mattheo Riddle :

Mattheo had been waiting for the right moment to ask you to the Yule Ball, rehearsing his words and planning the perfect approach. However, his plans were dashed when he heard that someone else had beaten him to it. Frustration and possessiveness surged through him, but he decided to take a mischievous yet playful approach to address the situation.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Mattheo orchestrated a playful kidnapping of the boy who had asked you to the Yule Ball before him. Confronting the boy, Mattheo made his feelings clear.

"So, I hear you've asked her to the Yule Ball. A bold move, I'll give you that," Mattheo started, his voice carrying a warning tone. "But let me make something very clear to you. She's not yours to take. She's mine. You've stepped into a game you don't understand, and trust me, you don't want to be on the losing side."

The boy, startled by the sudden turn of events, stammered out an explanation, but his gaze remained firm.

he spotted you across the ballroom, and with a contrite expression, he approached you, a single red rose in his hand.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked you to the ball first. You deserve better than the way I handled things," he admitted, his eyes filled with regret.

You smiled softly, accepting the rose. "If you had asked me first, I wouldn't have said yes to him."

His determination shone through as he promised, "I will make it up to you, baby. I promise."

Dancing under the shimmering lights, the tension between you melted away as you talked and laughed, reconnecting in a way that felt natural and comforting.

Stepping out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air, Mattheo gazed into your eyes. "The moon is so beautiful tonight," you remarked, your eyes fixed on the sky.

"Yeah, very beautiful," Mattheo whispered, his gaze shifting from the moon to you. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, soft kiss under the moonlit sky—a kiss you had been waiting for, a moment of clarity and realization of mutual feelings that had been brewing for years.

theodore Nott ;

Theodore Nott's dark smirk intensified as he processed the news, his competitive spirit igniting a fire within him. He wasted no time and confronted the boy who dared to ask you to the Yule Ball, his aura exuding authority and a hint of danger.

"I hear you've extended an invitation to her for the Yule Ball. Interesting choice," Theodore began, his voice carrying a veiled threat. "But let's get something straight. She's not just any girl you can whisk away for a night. She's special, and she's mine to protect."

The boy, trying to defend himself, replied, "That’s for her to decide. I just thought she might want to go with me."

Theodore's eyes flashed with warning, his patience wearing thin. "Think again. You're treading on dangerous ground. If you know what's good for you, you'll rescind that invitation before things get messy."

The next day, when Theodore discovered that the boy hadn't complied, he took matters into his own hands. He arranged for the boy to have an unexpected "vacation" under Madam Pomfrey's care in the hospital wing, ensuring he wouldn't be attending the Yule Ball.

Approaching you at the ball with a sheepish smile, Theodore revealed, "He's not coming, love."

Confused, you asked, "What—why?"

"I made sure he won't be able to walk for a week," Theodore admitted, his tone apologetic. "I owe you an apology. I should have been the one to ask you to the ball first."

Surprised by his confession, you started to speak, but he gently cut you off. "No, I was just nervous to ask you."

"You—nervous?" you echoed in disbelief.

"Imagine that? Yeah, me too. I'm still trying to figure out what you have done to me, love," Theodore admitted, a genuine smile breaking through his earlier intensity.

Later that night, as you found a quiet corner of the ballroom, Theodore took your hand, apologizing again. Without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his emotions laid bare in the passionate embrace.

Lorenzo berkshire :

Lorenzo watched from afar as the boy approached you, asking you to the Yule Ball. His jaw clenched as he felt a surge of jealousy and possessiveness. Determined to make his feelings known, he waited for the right moment to act.

During a Quidditch match, Lorenzo saw an opportunity. As the boy flew past, Lorenzo angled his broomstick just right, causing a collision that sent the boy tumbling. Everyone else thought it was an accident, but you knew better.

That night, Lorenzo sought you out, his expression dark with intensity. "You say yes to any other boy, and God help me for what I will do," he said, his eyes locked onto yours.

You smiled softly, meeting his gaze. "If you had asked me, I would have never said yes to him from the start, Enzo."

On the day of the ball, Lorenzo didn't leave your side, his hands possessively on your waist as you danced. "Call down, Enzo," you said gently, trying to soothe his intense emotions.

"I can't, not when I can't get the face of that stupid boy asking you first out of my mind. I'm sorry," Lorenzo admitted, his voice filled with regret.

You continued dancing, trying to distract him. As the music swirled around you, Lorenzo suddenly pulled you towards a secluded area, his hunger and desire evident in his eyes. Pressed against a tree, he kissed you passionately, his emotions overflowing.

You gently reminded him that you were there with him and no one else, calming him down from his intense emotions from time to time throughout the night.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

1K notes · View notes