#aomine

Taiga Kagami

The exams were finally over and life was going to get easier again. Now you only had to focus on one thing: your sport. Over the last few years, you’d become something of a football idol among the younger generation. Hard work had got you there, much to the chagrin of your friends. And your crush, Taiga, too.

But now that you’d passed your exams and there was less sport and training, you’d suggested we let our hair down one evening and go out and have a party. Dancing until the night wore away… that was exactly what you needed right now.

You adjusted the hem of your dress for what felt like the hundredth time. This was so not your usual scene, as you got dressed. Normally, you lived in sportswear—breathable shorts, jerseys, track jackets. Everything about your life revolved around soccer: training, matches, stamina, discipline. Looking “dolled up” had never really been a priority.

But tonight? Tonight you wanted to let loose. To be free and feel alive, after all this hard work of the last few months. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see his reaction. To impress him a little, or more to take his breath away.

The black bodycon dress hugged every curve, sculpting your figure in a way you weren’t used to. The patent leather heels (borrowed from your sister) added just enough height to change your posture completely. You stood more upright, tall and definetly more confident. After all, you had a fir and trained body, that was ready to be shown off. Your decided to curls your hair into loose waves, that fell around your shoulders. A little soft but intentional casual look.

Oh and the red lipstick: A bold and striking cherry color.

You barely recognized yourself, as you looked into the mirror.

“…Okay,” you exhaled,“Too late to back out now. I got this!”

___ _ _ _

When you spotted Taiga outside the club, hands shoved in his pockets, looking mildly annoyed at the line. He’d slipped out of his basketball shorts and paired black jeans with a black shirt. He looked almost elegant. The slightly unbuttoned shirt, showing of his necklace, gave him a certain sexy allure.

Seeing him this was, everything felt normal. That was until he looked up to you. And immediately seemed to choked on air,“…Huh—?!”

You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms,“What’s with that reaction?”

He stared. Actually stared, like he would burn a hole into your body...

From your heels… up your legs… to the way the dress fit your waist… your hair… your lips. His face turned bright red in record time.

“Y-you—what—” he started, completely fumbling,“Since when do you look like that?!”

You raised a brow, trying to stay confident,“Like what?”

“Like—like—” he gestured vaguely, clearly malfunctioning,“That!”

You laughed,“Wow. Real smooth, Kagami. You really know how to compliment a girl.”

“I’m being serious!” he snapped, then immediately looked away, rubbing the back of his neck,“You just—y-you don’t usually—”

“Dress like up? Like a stylish person?” you teased.

“I didn’t say that!” he shot back quickly, even more flustered,“You always look fine, it’s just—this is—”

He glanced at you again, then paused. “…You look really good,” he muttered. That sentence hit you straight into your lovestruck brain.

“Thanks,” you said softly. He cleared his throat, still avoiding direct eye contact,“Yeah. I mean it.”

A small smirk tugged at your lips,“You gonna survive the night?”

“Shut up brat,” he told you.

___ _ _ _

Inside the club however, everything changed. The 2000s music was loud and blasting from every speaker in the room, the colorful lights flashing, the energy completely different from anything you usually let yourself indulge in. And you, you fit right in. It was perfect, you felt free.

At first, Kagami stayed close to you, clearly out of his comfort zone—but the more you relaxed, the more you moved, the more that confident, effortless side of you came out. Your hips swayed naturally with the beat, your movements sharp but fluid—athletic, controlled, but still undeniably fun.

He noticed. Hell he noticed immediatly. Like, how could he not?

From the other side of the dance floor, Taiga watched you, being completely locked in.

“…She moves like that too?” he muttered under his breath. You caught his eye and motioned him over. He hesitated, but then came anyway. Big mistake on his side. Because up close? It was worse, well you were worse...you looked so radiant and sexy.

The music pulsed through the floor, and when you reached for his hand, pulling him into the rhythm, his brain was officially out of office.

“You’re so stiff Taiga. Have some fun!,” you laughed.

“I am not—!”

“You are.”

“I just don’t dance like this!”

“Then learn,”You moved closer, guiding him just slightly—and that’s when it hit him. The proximity. The way the dress moved with you. The way you looked completely different from the version of you he knew on the field. Thinking about this, his face flushed again, but this time...it didn’t fade, like it did when you guys waited in line.

As the night went on, something in him shifted. He went from red totmato and shy little baby Tiger to well...less flustered? He was more… intense? You couldnt quite put your finger on it.

His hands settled more confidently at your waist, when the crowd got tighter. His gaze didn’t dart away anymore—it lingered. The gaze was filled, heavy and steamy??

By the time you stepped off the dance floor to catch your breath and maybe grab a drink, he was right behind you. Well he was close, too close one might say, but you didnt mind.

“…You did this on purpose,” he muttered near your ear. You turned slightly,“Did what?”

He leaned in just enough for his voice to drop, rougher now,“Show up like that. Dance like that.”

Your pulse jumped,“Maybe I just wanted to have fun.”

He let out a quiet huff,“…Yeah. Well, it’s working.”

You tilted your head, scooting closer to try to understand was he was saying in the loud atmosphere,“What is?”

His eyes met yours—and there was nothing shy about them now,“…You’re driving me crazy.”

Your breath caught. He hesitated for a split second, like he was deciding how far to go. Then leaned in just a little closer, voice low and heated. “…Didn’t think I could want it even more,” he murmured, “to take you somewhere quieter.”

That sent a sharp wave of heat through you. You swallowed, heart racing,“…Ka...gami”

He straightened slightly, like he’d realized what he said—but he didn’t take it back and he didn’t look away. Just scratched the back of his neck again, a faint flush still there—but his gaze steady.

“…Let’s just—” he cleared his throat,“You know, get some air.”

You nodded, trying to steady yourself,“…Yeah. Good idea.”

But as you walked out together...His hand found yours. A firm and very confident grip. The grip of a man, who definitely was not letting go and had a plan to where this evening was headed.

Daiki Aomine

You were a bit nervous. In a good way – the kind where you get butterflies in your stomach. The sun was slowly setting on that lovely Saturday evening. Lost in thoughts, you double-checked your reflection in the hallway mirror one last time.

The girl staring back wasn’t you. At least, not the "day-to-day" version most people knew.

Most of your time was spend at your school. It wasnt super easy being the top of every class. You wanted to become an engineer and you studied hard to do so. So at school, you were the girl in oversized track pants, plain T-shirts, hair usually tied back, eyes always glued to notes or a book. Lee-Ah, your best friend would say you were invisible. But you wanted to be, it was comfortable and you also liked this more under the radar laid back look.

You glanced at the clock: blimey, only 10 minutes left. You had to get a move on now. One last look in the mirror. Today? Tonight? The girl with the big tees and the trackpants was gone.

You went all out: Baggy charcoal pants hung low on your hips, paired with a sharply fitted cropped top that hugged you just right. A bold belt hung loosely around your hips. A silver chain with the number 3 rested against your collarbone, rings catching the light as you adjusted your Yankees snapback—worn backwards, of course. You looked… different.

Totally confident, you felt sexy and like a total heartthrop. You wouldn’t want to admit it, but you went all out with that outfit more than usual. There was more going on than usual when you were out shopping with Lee-Ah or doing something similar. Because maybe you wanted to see how he would react.

___ _ _ _

Your white and grey Jordans with the light blue soles carried you to the underground as fast as your body would allow. You definitely didn’t want to be late. Or maybe you did? It was like a scene straight out of a film… you were so caught up in daydreaming that you almost missed your stop.

When you spotted Aomine Daiki leaning against the meeting spot, hands in his pockets, looking bored out of his mind, you almost laughed. Some things never changed.

“Oi,” you called.

He glanced up lazily—and then froze. Like actually froze, mid movement. You stopped a few steps away, crossing your arms,“You good?”

No answer. His eyes dragged over you slowly. From your cap… to your top… to the jewelry… and back up again. His usual half-lidded, uninterested stare? Gone.

“…What the hell Y/n,” he muttered. You raised a brow in question,“That bad?”

He scoffed, pushing off the wall, walking closer,“Bad? Nah.” His gaze sharpened, something dangerous and impressed flickering there,“Since when do you dress like this?”

You shrugged casually, even though your heart was doing something embarrassing in your chest,“Since always. I just don’t bother for school.”

“Hah.” He stopped right in front of you now, close enough that you could see the shift in his expression—interest, real interest,“So you’ve been hiding this the whole time?”

“Didn’t think it was a big deal to be honest,” you simply replied. He let out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck,“Yeah… well, it does. Even more so now.”

You smirked slightly,“You’re the one who never asked me out. So now wonder you never saw this sinde of me. I had to ask you out.”

“Oi, don’t start,” he shot back automatically—but there was no bite to it. If anything, he looked… amused. And still very much distracted.

His eyes flicked to your rings as you adjusted your cap again,“…Damn.”

You blinked,“What?”

He shook his head, a crooked grin forming,“I need to ask you out more often.”

That caught you off guard,“Excuse me?”

He leaned in just a little, hands slipping back into his pockets like he was trying to act casual—but his gaze gave him away. “Cause if this is what I get?” he said, nodding toward you,“I’ve been seriously underestimating you.”

Heat crept up your neck, but you refused to let it show,“Took you long enough Idiot.”

He chuckled, low and lazy,“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky.”

But then—without warning—he reached out, lightly tugging at the chain around your neck, letting it fall back against your skin.

“…It suits you,” he added, quieter this time. That one hit harder than anything else. You looked away, clicking your tongue,“You gonna stand there staring all night, or are we actually going on this date?”

He smirked again, falling into step beside you.

“Relax,” he said,“I’m not wasting this.” As you walked off together, you could feel his gaze linger...completely, undeniably locked on you.

Ryouta Kise

You stared at your reflection, arms crossed,“…This is ridiculous.”

Normally, getting dressed meant pulling on soft shorts, an oversized hoodie, maybe fuzzy socks if you weren’t planning to leave your chair for hours. Comfort was your entire brand—long gaming sessions didn’t exactly call for fashion statements. As a professional gamer, comfort was key.

But tonight? Tonight you wanted to proof your long time friend and crush wrong. Whenever the two of you got onto the subject of fashion, Kise would laugh playfully and claim that you wouldn’t be able to dress well. At least not better than he dresses.

Tonight, you would proof Ryouta wrong. He had practically dragged you out to one of his model events. And somehow, you’d let yourself get talked into this. So this was your chance!

That also meant you had to play with the big guns: The navy blue suit fit like it had been tailored just for you and your georgeous body—sharp lines hugging your waist and hips, the blazer structured but still sleek. Underneath, instead of a blouse, you wore a delicate black lace bralette, barely visible unless someone looked closely… and the subtle glint of a golden body chain beneath it added just enough edge.

The look was elegant, yet it had a dangerous touch. It wasnt you, but that was exactly the point!

“…He better appreciate this,” you muttered.

___ _ _ _

Kise was already there, of course he was. What a swot! He was surrounded by people, a whole ocean of flashing lights and buzzing voices. Completely in his element. A natural celebrity.

You took a breath and stepped into the space. This took some confidence, as you werent used to such big crowds. At you e-sports tournaments, were less people.

It didn’t take long for him to notice you. And when he did, it was well...a very Ryouta reaction.

Mid-conversation, even mid-sentence he shifted all his attention to you. Completly ignoring his conversation partner,“…Eh?”

The person he was talking to blinked,“ Uhm....Kise-kun?”

He wasn’t listening anymore. His golden eyes were locked on you as you walked closer, heels clicking softly against the floor.

“Hey,” you said casually. Silence. Then he went crazy,“WOAH—!!”

Heads turned. You winced,“Too loud—”

“Y/n-CHI?!” he practically yelped, rushing over to you,“IS THAT YOU?!”

You raised a brow,“No, I just broke into this event dressed like this for fun.”

He circled you—actually circled you—eyes wide, sparkling like he’d just discovered something incredible. “WAIT—WAIT—since when do you dress like this?!” he asked, hands flying animatedly,“This is AMAZING! The suit—oh my god, it fits you PERFECTLY—!”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sheer intensity,“I mean, yeah, I—sometimes—”

“And the color? Navy blue?? That’s, like, illegally good on you!” he continued, completely unstoppable,“And—wait—are you wearing—hold on—”

He leaned in slightly, eyes catching the subtle detail beneath your blazer. “…Is that a body chain?” he whispered, like he’d just uncovered a secret.

You smirked a little,“Maybe.”

He clutched his chest dramatically,“Y/n-chi… I think I’m gonna pass out.”

You laughed,“ God Ryouta, you’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious!” he shot back, then immediately beamed,“You look insane! Like—elegant but also super hot? I didn’t even know you had this side! I have to admit you surely know how to dress well....”

Your cheeks warmed slightly,“I just don’t dress like this at home.”

“Tragic,” he said instantly,“Absolutely tragic. I’ve been robbed.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand,“C’mon, c’mon—everyone needs to see this!”

“Wait—what?! Kise—!”

Too late. He was already pulling you along, proudly introducing you to anyone who would listen: “This is Y/n-chi!” // “Look at her outfit, isn’t it amazing?!” // “Right?! I know!!”

You groaned, half embarrassed—but also… weirdly pleased.He wasn’t just showing you off. He was proud. Which meant you had won.

___ _ _ _

Later that evening, you finally escaped to the terrace, the noise of the event fading into a soft hum behind you. You needed to catch a breath.

You leaned against the railing, exhaling,“Well, that was surely a lot.”

“Worth it,” Kise said immediately, stepping beside you. You glanced at him,“You’re still going?”

“Always,” he grinned. But then his expression shifted into something softer. His eyes traced over you again, slower this time. Appreciative, but less chaotic… more focused. “…Seriously, though,” he said, voice dropping just a bit,“You look incredible.”

You held his gaze,“You’ve said that like ten times.”

“I’ll say it eleven times more if I need to,” he shot back easily. You laughed quietly. A small pause settled between you. The night air was cooler out here, calmer—and the way he looked at you now felt different from inside. It made the air more electric between you.

He leaned in slightly, just enough that his voice brushed your ear: “…Damn,” he murmured,“I didn’t think I’d want to leave this event so soon…”

Your breath hitched slightly.

“…but this outfit?” he continued softly, a teasing edge slipping in,“would look even better off.”

Your face heated instantly,“Kise—!” This man was so shameless at times...but you also felt seen. Your friend and longterm crush had just confessed his feelings for you. He pulled back with a bright grin, completely unashamed,“I’m just saying~”

You shook your head, trying to hide your smile,“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re gorgeous,” he shot back instantly.

…Yeah. You definitely weren’t going back inside anytime soon.

Midorima Shintarou

You adjusted the slit of your dress and immediately regretted having legs,“…Why did I ever agree to this?”

Normally, your wardrobe consisted of soft fuzzy lounge pants, oversized sweaters (sometimes the ones Shin forgot at your house), and really whatever was closest to your bed. Being homeschooled had its perks—comfort was one of them. On the other hand, you’re also glad that the study sessions with Shin gave you a bit of a change of pace.

You used to hang out together back when you were still at his school. But since the English stream was discontinued, you’ve had to study on your own. You’d met him, and through him, his friends too. You’d been happy to have a connection in the real world. Until you fell in love with Shin.

Tonight was a theme party. Hosted by Taiga and Tetsuya. Invited were all of the the Generation of Miracles, as well as other team mates and friends. It was going to be huge.

And more importantly....You had decided to be creative.

The red satin dress shimmered under the light, hugging your body just enough to be elegant… and just risky enough to be dangerous and very sexy, yet tasteful. The high slit showed off your toned leg with every step. And your hair was neatly pinned into a bun. You felt like it made everything feel more refined.

Paired with subtle but very intentional accessories and some red heels...it was stunning. You looked like walking temptation.

Or, more accurately a red lotus. And you knew exactly whose lucky item that was today. You smiled to yourself,“…Let’s see how he handles this.”

This was your way of finding out, wether hed also harboured feelings for you.

___ _ _ _

When you arrived at Taigas apartment, it was already buzzing with energy: loud laughter, good music selected by Himuro and lots of chaos. And in between of it all, there he was.

Shintarō...He stood off to the side, posture perfect as always, glasses reflecting the light, holding what looked like a cup of liquid? (This was probably Takaos doing). He wore a rather sleek and trendy outfit, of course a red lotus charm hangs from his belt loop. Of course.

You walked toward him slowly,“…Shin.”

He turned, then paused. He adjusted his glasses, to hide what he was thinking. He opened his mouth, then paused again. Then there was a sound,“…What.”

You tilted your head innocently,“What?”

Silence. His gaze dropped—immediately catching the slit of your dress. Then suddenly snapped back up like he’d been burned.

“…What are you wearing,” he said flatly.

“A costume,” you replied sweetly, doing a small turn,“Do you like it?”

“…No,” he replied straight forward. You blinked,“Wow.”

“It’s highly inappropriate,” he continued, voice tightening,“The slit of that thing is unnecessary. The fabric is—” he cut himself off, clearly refusing to elaborate further,“You should cover yourself.”

You crossed your arms, amused,“You’re staring a lot for someone who doesn’t like it.”

“I am not staring,” he tried to defend himself. “You are,” you teased him. Clearly liking, where this was going.

“I am observing,” he stated. You stepped closer,“…Observing what exactly?”

He stiffened immediately. “…You are dressed as a red lotus,” he said, like that explained everything.

“Yes,” you said, leaning in slightly,“Your lucky item.”

He went still....like completely still,“…That is irrelevant.”

“Is it?” you hummed,“I thought lucky items were important to you.”

“They are,” he admitted.

“Then shouldn’t you… appreciate me a little more?”

A dangerous pause. His grip on his charm tightened,“…You are being troublesome.”

You smiled, slow and teasing,“Or maybe I’m being lucky.”

That did it. He looked at you again—really looked this time—and his composure cracked just a fraction,“…You should not say things like that in public.”

“Why?” you asked, completely shameless,“I’m just stating facts. I’m your lucky item tonight.”

His ears turned red,“…You are not an object.”

“Then treat me like something better.”

Silence. Suddenly, he took a step closer. A step that took him way too close. “…You are playing with probability in a very reckless way,” he muttered, voice lower now.

You raised a brow,“Oh?”

“…And I do not appreciate variables I cannot control.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you said with the biggest grin.

That was the exact moment he snapped. He decisively. grabbed your wrist—firm, controlled—and turned,“We are leaving.”

You blinked, startled but not resisting,“Wait—what?! Shin—what about the party? I just arrived...”

“It has become statistically irrelevant.”

“You also just arrived here!,” you tried to get him to stay, as he dragged you out of the apartment.

“I have seen what I needed to see,” he said, voice lower.

“And what’s that?,”you asked. Now you were ready for war, you loved teasing him to the maximum. He stopped just briefly, glancing back at you—eyes sharp behind his glasses, expression far too intense for someone who usually lectured about horoscopes.

“…That my focus has been compromised.”

Your heart skipped,“…By me?”

“…Obviously.”

You grinned,“So I am your lucky item.”

He clicked his tongue,“Do not push your luck.”

But his grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened slightly as he led you out. And as the noise of the party faded behind you, his voice dropped just enough to make your pulse spike. “…You will be held responsible for the consequences of this,” he muttered.

You laughed softly, stepping closer to him.

“Good,” you said,“I was hoping for that. Hoping I would get lucky tonight Shin.”

He adjusted his glasses again, this time, he didn’t even try to hide the faint flush on his face.

Akashi Seijuro

The ocean breeze felt different from anything you were used to.

The air was lighter, the ground beneath your feet was warmer. You felt free. You stood barefoot in the sand, staring at the reflection in your hotel window, barely recognizing the woman looking back at you.

At work/school, your world was sharp lines and structure—tailored blazers, pressed skirts, neutral tones. Everything about you was polished, controlled, intentional. Just as one would expect from the heiress of a multi-million-pound business.

But here? Everything softened. After the exams, Akashi asked you if you’d like to go on a short holiday to one of the seaside hotels run by the Akashi family. It came at exactly the right time. Between all the studying and working in the family business, there was little time for self-care. Akashi knew you just too well.

Your gaze fell once more on the woman in the window refelction. That woman wore a silky, sheer beach cover up, that flowed around your body. It was catching the wind with every small movement. Beneath it, your silhouette was impossible to ignore—curves outlined just enough to tease, not reveal. Showing hints of your swimwear. Golden body chains traced along your skin, glinting in the sunlight like delicate armor of a godess.

Your hair, usually neat and precise, now fell in loose, voluminous waves, a single flower tucked behind your ear.

You looked… stunning and dangerous, yet soft and elegant. It felt incredible. Like something out of a myth.

“…An ocean goddess,” you murmured under your breath. A small smile tugged at your lips,“Let’s see what he thinks.”

___ _ _ _

When you stepped onto the beach, Akashi was already there. He was never not prepared. Standing tall, composed as ever, the ocean stretching endlessly behind him. Even here, in a place meant for relaxation, he carried that same quiet authority—like the world naturally aligned itself around him.

You walked toward him slowly. When he heard the rustle of the sand, he turned. Not obvious to anyone else, but you, he had a little glitch in his mimic. It was unmistakable, he was taken aback. His sharp gaze swept over you, taking in every detail—the flowing fabric, the gold against your skin, the way you carried yourself so differently from your usual composed, businesslike presence.

Slowly a faint, knowing smile appeared and he approached you. Stopping just close enough.

“…Well, well,” he said, voice smooth as ever,“If this isn’t my goddess.”

Your breath caught—just slightly. You tilted your head,“Your goddess?”

“Mm.” His eyes lingered, not hurried, not careless—deliberate,“I had expected elegance.”

A pause,“…But this exceeds expectation.”

You smiled, stepping just a little closer,“Are you saying you’re surprised?”

“I am saying,” he replied calmly,"that I underestimated the extent of your… versatility.”

His gaze dropped briefly to the gold chains at your waist before returning to your eyes,"And I do not make that mistake often.”

You let out a soft laugh,“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” The breeze shifted, the fabric of your cover brushing lightly against his arm. He didn’t move away. He stepped closer.

“…You look like you belong to the sea,” he added quietly,“An untouchable, dangerous and yet tempting treasure.”

Your heart skipped,“Dangerous?”

“To anyone who underestimates you,”His voice softened—not weaker, but more intimate.

“And perhaps… to me as well.”

That was new. You searched his face, curious,“Since when are you at risk?”

He smiled faintly,“Since you decided to appear before me like this.”

Heat crept into your chest, but you didn’t back down.

“Then what will you do about it?”

A pause. He reached out, fingers brushing lightly against the strand of hair near your face, adjusting the flower just slightly.

“Adapt,” he said simply. Your breath hitched. The moment lingered—charged, quiet, the sound of waves filling the space between words.

But something had shifted. His gaze seemed to darken, not losing its composure, but gaining weight. Intent.

“…This environment is becoming less suitable,” he murmured.

You raised a brow,“The beach?”

“The distractions.”

You smirked,“Am I the distraction?”

“…You are the only one that matters.” That sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could respond, he moved. One arm slipped behind your back, the other beneath your knees—and in one smooth motion, he lifted you effortlessly.

You gasped softly,“Sei what—!”

“Relax,” he said, already turning toward the hotel,“I have no intention of dropping you my little treasure.”

“You could have just asked me to walk!”

“I could have.” A small pause,“…But I prefer this.”

You stared at him, heart racing, the ocean breeze now replaced by the steady rhythm of his steps.

“…You’re being bold.”

“I am being efficient.”

You laughed under your breath,“That’s not what this is.”

His eyes flicked down to you, calm—but unmistakably intent. “No,” he admitted quietly,“…It is not.”

Silence settled between you again—but it wasn’t empty. It was full. Heavy with everything he hadn’t said. As the hotel doors came into view, his hold on you remained steady, unwavering. Like he had already decided, there was nowhere else you were going tonight.

Atsushi Murasakibara

Usually, getting dressed meant grabbing whatever was clean—track pants, a loose T-shirt, maybe a hoodie if it was cold. Functional. Comfortable. Easy to ignore. Your training schedule meant you rarely had to dress up in your day-to-day life. Mornings were packed with school and afternoons with your volleyball training. After all, it wasn’t every day that you were selected for the national youth team.

But today... today was supposed to be special. Your crush had finally asked you out on a date, and you wanted to impress him.

You spent the whole of yesterday evening rummaging through your wardrobe trying to find something to wear. And today, too, there was a lot to think about: the weather, the venue, what you’d be doing… and after a quick call to your best friend Minnie, your outfit was sorted.

You almost didn’t recognize yourself: black ripped skinny jeans hugged you just right, the fabric torn in all the right places, shaping your legs—and yeah, your ass looked really good. The lace top added a soft, delicate contrast, hugging your torso while still feeling like you. The sheer fabric showing a little skin. Silver jewelry layered across your neck and wrists caught the light subtly, and the black arm gloves gave everything a gothic edge.

The kitten heels were the final touch—small, but enough to change how you carried yourself. The skinny jeans flared just enough at the bottom to stage up the heels.

You stared at your reflection for a second longer. “…Okay,” you muttered,“This is fine. I look fine...actually I look hot.”

___ _ _ _

Your crush, favourite little sweetie and snack lover Atsushi nicknamed Mura, was already waiting when you arrived—leaning against the wall of the bar you wanted to go to, lazily snacking on something, as usual.

Some things were predictable. He was predictable.

You took a breath and walked up,“…Hey Mura.”

He glanced over, half-lidded and uninterested like usual—and then paused mid-chew on his pocky stick.

The snack in his hand lowered slowly,“…Eh?”

You shifted your weight slightly,“What?” Shit, he didnt like the outfit? was it too much? Your thoughts ran wild.

He didn’t answer. His eyes moved—slow, heavy, taking you in piece by piece. From your heels… up your legs… lingering just a second too long at your hips… then to your waist, your top, your jewelry…

All the way back to your face.

“…That’s you?” he asked flatly.

You blinked,“Yes?? Who else would it be? Did you ask another girl out on a date????”

He frowned slightly, like he was trying to process something complicated—which, for him, probably meant he was,“…You look different.”

“Good different or weird different?,” you asked, getting nervous. He hummed, still staring. Then he took another slow bite of his snack, chewing thoughtfully,“…Both.”

You groaned,“Mura—”

He cut you off, stepping closer. And closer to you. You stiffened slightly as his shadow fell over you. Sometimes you forgot how towering tall he was. God, going on this date already had the worst start...

His gaze dropped again, more deliberate this time, less confused… more aware. “…Your butt looks nice,” he said bluntly.

You choked,“EXCUSE ME?!”

He tilted his head,“What? It does.”

Your face burned instantly,“Mura, you can’t just say that!”

“Why not?” he replied lazily,“It’s true.”

You covered your face for a second, trying to recover,“Oh my god…”

He leaned down a bit, eyes still fixed on you—but now there was something softer underneath his laziness. “…I didn’t think something sweet could get sweeter,” he added slowly.

You peeked through your fingers,“…What?” God, why was he saying shit like that?? You never had seen him flirt, so get to know this side of him, knowing he was this agressive....was shocking to be honest.

His expression didn’t change much, it never did really—but his voice dropped just enough to make your heart trip,“…and also be this sexy.”

That hit. Hard. Like really hard. Your heart sank deeper, this man was going to be the death of you. You froze completely, your brain short-circuiting for a second,“Y-you—what—since when do you say stuff like that?!”

He shrugged, completely unbothered,“Since now, I guess.”

Your heart was racing, and you hated how easily he’d done that to you.

“…You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.

“Mhm.”

There was a small pause. Then, unexpectedly, he reached down and lightly tugged at the lace sleeve near your wrist, inspecting the fabric between his fingers.

“…This is nice,” he said,“Soft. Like a mochi.”

“…It’s lace,” it just slipped out. Your mind was no longer able to think clearly.

“Mm.” His grip lingered just a second too long before he let go. Then he straightened, popping the last bit of his snack into his mouth,“…Let’s go.”

You blinked,“That’s it??”

He glanced down at you again, eyes still carrying that same quiet intensity,“…If we stay here, I’ll just keep staring.”

You flushed again,“THEN DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT!”

He turned, already starting to walk, completely ignoring your embarrassment.

“…Hurry up,” he mumbled.

You followed—trying (and failing) to calm your heartbeat.

And the whole time, you could feel it, his gaze drifting back to you every few steps.

The smell of stale sweat and floor wax hit you the second the gym door automatically clicked shut behind you. You’d only come back for your forgotten textbook while meeting Satsuki an hour or so ago. Your footsteps echoing in the vast, empty silence. A mistake. A shadow detached itself from the bleachers, moving with a lazy, predatory grace that made your heart slam against your ribs.

Aomine.

He was already on you before you could breathe. He spun you around and clamped your mouth with his big hand, while his other arm snaked around your waist to crush your back against his solid chest. His heat seared through your clothes. “Look what wandered in,” his voice was a low, hungry growl in your ear. “Little mouse in the lion’s den.”

You shuddered, a pathetic whimper escaping against his palm. He just chuckled, the vibration rumbling through you. Fuck, he was strong. His grip was absolute. He half-dragged, half-carried you into the boys’ locker room, kicking the door shut. The sound was like a gunshot in the tiled room.

He spun you around again and shoved you back against the cold metal of a locker, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. His eyes, dark and burning with something possessive and mean, scanned your terrified face. “You’ve been watching me during practice,” he accused, his voice dropping to a filthy whisper. “All those shy little glances. You think I didn’t notice? You wanted this.”

You shook your head, a denial that was a lie even to you. His smirk was vicious. He didn’t bother with a rebuttal. His mouth crashed down on yours, not a kiss but a claiming. It was hard and desperate, all teeth and dominating tongue. You moaned, your body betraying you, melting against the cold locker as he plundered your mouth. His hands were everywhere, groping your tits through your shirt, squeezing your ass, pulling you hard against the thick ridge of his cock straining against his sweats.

“You feel that?” he snarled against your lips, grinding his hard-on into your stomach. “That’s what you do to me. This is all your fucking fault.” His fingers hooked into the neckline of your shirt and tore. Buttons pinged against the lockers as your top fell open. His greedy eyes devoured the sight of your bra-clad tits. “Fuck, look at you.”

He didn’t give you a second. His hand shoved into your bra, cupping your breast, his rough thumb circling your nipple through the fabric until it was a hard, aching pebble. He pinched it, and a sharp, exquisite pain made you cry out. “You like that, you fucking tease? You like it rough?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He spun you around a third time, pushing your face firm against the locker, his body a furnace at your uplifted back. One hand fumbled with your skirt hem, yanking them up and pulling your panties down to your thighs in one rough motion. The cold air hit your wet cunt and you gasped. His fingers didn’t even tease, just plunged two thick digits inside you without warning.

Your eyes went wide as you tried to support yourself with your hands, holding the locker handles.

“So fucking wet for me already,” he grunted in your ear, his voice thick with lust. He fucked you with his fingers, a brutal, satisfying rhythm that made your knees buckle. “This pretty little cunt is dripping. You were just walking around campus, thinking about my dick, weren’t you?”

You could only moan, pushing back against his hand, your hips moving on their own. He curled his fingers, hitting a spot deep inside that made you see stars. Oh god. You thought.

He withdrew his slick fingers and you heard the rustle of his clothes, the sound of his zipper. A second later, the broad, insistent head of his cock was pressing against your entrance. He was huge. You tensed.

“Relax,” he commanded, a note of dark promise in his tone. “You’re gonna take every fucking inch of me.” He didn’t ask. He pushed, a slow, brutal invasion that stretched you impossibly wide, making you sob with the overwhelming fullness. Fuck, he was so big. He bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, his body blanketing yours. He stayed there for a second, both of you panting, you pinned between the cold locker and his burning heat.

Then he started moving. No, thrusting. Hard.

He set a punishing pace from the beginning, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into your soaking cunt. Each thrust jarred you against the locker, a metronome of pleasure and power. His grip on your hips was bruising, holding you in place for his use. The sound of skin slapping against skin, his ragged grunts, your own helpless moans and cries—it was all so fucking nasty and perfect.

“This my cunt now,” he growled, his breath hot on your neck. “You understand? This tight, wet little hole belongs to my dick.” He punctuated each word with a deep, vicious thrust. “You come to my games, you wear those little skirts, you get this. You get fucked raw in the locker room like a cheap slut.”

His words were filthy, degrading, and they sent another wave of molten heat straight to your core. You were close, so close, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter with every brutal plunge of his cock.

“That’s it,” he rasped, feeling your inner muscles start to flutter around him. “Come on. Squeeze my cock with that pretty cunt. Come for me.”

He snaked a hand around your front, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough, frantic circles. It was too much. Your vision whited out as your orgasm ripped through you, a silent scream, muffled by his hand again, tearing from your throat as your body convulsed around his pounding dick.

The violent clenching of your cunt pushed him over the edge. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he emptied his hot cum deep inside you, pulsing again and again. He held you there, impaled, for a long moment, both of you breathless and shaking.

Slowly, he pulled out, a wet, lewd sound echoing in the quiet. He turned you to face him, his eyes still dark with possession. He brought his fingers, slick with his own release, to your lips.

“Clean it up,” he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t waste a single fucking drop.”

This was the moment which made you realize that you belong to Aomine. And nobody else could even look at you.

A/N