#daiki

pairing: aomine daiki x reader

genre: romance, slice-of-life, fluff, suggestive tones

warnings: body weight/pressure, teasing, sexual tension, suggestive language

synopsis: a lazy afternoon turns into a playful struggle as daiki plops onto you like a human boulder, refusing to get off, suffocating you with his weight

🏀 Aomine Daiki

He saw you wearing his jersey

Made an anime opening for my OCs. Here are some of my favorite shots from it :) Link to animation below!

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𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘈𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7.4k

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 , 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘈𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 !!! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺!

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 (𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒/18+), 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙪𝙣𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩/𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚. 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

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You’d known Daiki Aomine since before either of you could spell your own names. Back in the era of scraped knees and dolls crammed into toy cars. Aomine was always there. No matter what game it was, you were always side by side. Even under the relentless summer heat, Aomine never once faltered. His energetic and carefree nature blooming. Every day he was faster than the previous, sharper, his instincts quickening with a certain basketball talent that made strangers pause by the court just to watch. You admired him even then, though you didn’t quite understand the feeling. You only knew it was something bigger, something constant. And in his own way, Aomine felt something too. From the start, he thought of you as something delicate and beautiful, like a flower. And it pulled him toward you, made him want to protect you, to make sure nothing in the world could ever make you wither. With each day spent side by side, that instinct only grew. But because Aomine could never say things straight, because he always had to twist softness into a joke, that thought turned into a nickname only he would come up with, lion. Why lion one might ask?

Some days you were at the court, playing until the sun dipped low. Other days, he’d follow you into the fields where dandelions bloomed. You were obsessed with them, convinced they were tiny bursts of white magic. You only became more convinced when your mother had told you a story, when the seeds floated away, they carried your wishes and feelings straight to your true love.

One faithful you had clutched a dandelion in your small hand and shoved it at him. “Blow on it! My mom says they carry your feelings to your true love! You can find your princess with these!!”

Aomine huffed, scowling. “True love? That’s fairy tale crap. Doesn’t exist.”

“Come on, stupid! Just blow on it!” you insisted.

He stared at the dandelion for a long second, then sighed. When he finally blew, the seeds didn’t float gracefully. Instead they blasted straight into your face, making you sneeze.

“Why would you do that, you idiot?!” you squealed.

He nearly collapsed with laughter, clutching his stomach seeing your angry expression with dandelion seeds all over you. “I did what you told me! Not my fault your big face got in the way!” You glared, picking seeds out of your hair. “This is hilarious. I'm gonna remember this forever,” and with a wide grin, he added, “You know what just for us both to remember. I’m gonna call you Lion.”

“Lion?” you repeated, unimpressed.

“Yeah. Like dandelion. But lion sounds cooler.”

And so that’s how it stuck. A dumb little joke in a field of dandelions turned into a name that followed you everywhere. Lion. It was supposed to be nothing, just him teasing like always, but somehow it became everything. A word that clung to you both, louder than either of you realized at the time.

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The quiet days of your childhood eventually grew into something louder. Life got heavier with time. University and part time jobs swallowing your hours, late trains dragging you in different directions. But Aomine still remained a constant in your life. And even then the stupid nickname stuck. Lion. Aomine used to tease that it fit you even better now that you were older, feistier, harder to tame. He’d toss it into texts, murmur it when you picked up his calls, use it even in front of others. It was a way of saying that no matter how much the world changed, some things between you didn’t.

Still, plenty did change. Puberty hit Aomine like a storm. The boy you used to chase across the court turned into someone taller, darker, all broad shoulders and a voice that made girls go crazy. His grin sharpened into something dangerous. Basketball carved him making him leaner, muscle over muscle and hands veinier. Aomine had grown into himself and people noticed. Girls. Guys. Him. Everyone noticed, including you.

But you tried to act like you didn't.

For a while you managed. You were the “best friend.” You went to his games, listened to him complain about refs, about coaches, about how defense was boring because nobody could guard him. You were there when he was bored, there when he missed, when he didn’t, when he needed someone. You sat through every breakup, every rebound. You were there for it all.

But something inside you started to crack. Maybe it was the way he talked about girls like they were weather. Met this model at a shoot. Whatever. Some junior from the gym. She’s cute. Always in that flat, bored tone, as if they didn't matter. You’d sit next to him on his couch with takeout, watching him scroll through his phone. When he laughed at a toxic text he’d sent he would show you without thinking, ask What do you think, is that bad? and you’d lie. No. It’s fine. You’re fine. You hated yourself for being so good at lying. The worst nights were the ones he didn’t call at all. You’d check his location and watch the dot drift bar, club, someone’s apartment. You’d put your phone face down and talk yourself off. Like you were your own therapist. You’re not his mother, not his girlfriend, not his keeper.

Then why did it hurt this much?

You already knew the answer. It was so obvious it almost embarrassed you. You were in love with Daiki Aomine. Irrevocably, stupidly, helplessly. But you never told a soul. You buried it. You vented into notes on your phone with no titles, scratched words off paper until they tore, sometimes even wet the page so it blurred and dissolved. Anything to erase the evidence. It was the darkest secret you’d ever had.

And nobody, especially him, could ever find it.

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You’d gone to watch him play basketball as you always did. And that was where he shined the brightest. Almost like the lights loved him. He moved the ball the way he always did, in his carefree style of playing. You watched him with the kind of attention you pretended was about basketball. And we don't even need to say who won, because of course the great Daiki Aomine prevailed as always. After, you stood with him in the corridor. He bumped your shoulder with his, knuckles brushing yours like he always did when he didn’t know how to say thanks for coming.

“Hungry Lion?” he asked, already knowing your answer. “Starving,” you said. So right after you ended up at that 24 hour ramen place two stations over. He was in a good mood and it crackled off him like heat. He told you about a brand that wanted him to wear their shoes, how Wakamatsu was annoying as he always was in Highschool and then about a DM he wasn’t going to answer because he already lost interest in her. According to him her personality was land. The last part, you could’ve gone your whole life without hearing.

“You ever gonna slow down?” you said as blew on the noodles, attempting to cool them. He leaned back his chair tilting, grin crooked. “What, the game or the girls?”

“Both?”

“Game? No. Girls? Also no.” He laughed when you rolled your eyes. “C’mon Lion. Don’t look at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?” you asked.

He studied you like he was trying to decide whether the joke was worth it. Then he let the chair slam down and leaned in, elbows on the table. “Like you wanna give me a lecture.”

“Don't feel like it." you said too fast.

“Good,” he said, soft, almost relieved. “Cause shit ain't gon change.”

Later that night, you lay flat on your bed, eyes burning as you stared at the ceiling like it could give you answers. The ache had settled in your chest, heavy and unshakable. You were so, so tired of this, tired of wanting in silence, tired of biting your tongue while he stumbled through one meaningless fling after another. Every laugh, every careless mention of some new girl felt like salt in a wound you couldn’t close. And the worst part? He never even noticed. Not once.

The thing about secrets like yours, though, is that they never stay completely hidden. They bleed into the way you look at someone, into the pauses you take, into the cracks of your voice. They stain the air around you. And people who love you, like really love you, can smell it.

And the only person who ever noticed was your best friend. Ryouta Kise.

Of course, he wasn’t Aomine level. No one could ever be. But Kise was still close to you. Close enough to catch what even Aomine refused to see.

He caught you and Aomine one afternoon outside a shoot and dragged both you along with him. Moral support, he’d said, which usually meant sit there and laugh with me about how dumb the stylist looks. You were lingering by the vending machine, pretending to fuss with the buttons, when Kise glanced over from the makeup chair. His hair was clipped back, his too far pretty smile tugging at his lips like he already knew something.

“You okay, Y/Nchii?” he asked, but his gaze flicked straight to where Aomine was leaning against the water cooler, talking to some girl who laughed too easily at whatever he’d said.

You stiffened. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kise let out a laugh, the kind of laugh said he wasn't buying it. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/Nchii. You get this little crease in your forehead oh! there it is.”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your face. “Kise, shut up.”

He tilted his head, voice dropping softer. “You should tell him, you know.”

Your stomach twisted. “Tell who what?”

He leaned back as the stylist fussed with his hair, golden eyes cutting toward you. “C’mon, don’t make me say it out loud. You’re not exactly subtle, Y/Nchii.”

You forced your mouth into a bright, fake smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kise gave you a look of half pity, half amusement. “You’re seriously gonna play dumb? Around me?” He sighed dramatically. “You forget, I’m basically a professional at seeing fake smiles. It’s part of my job to do it all the time, Y/Nchii.”

“I’m fine.” You said it too quickly.

“Mhmm.” He hummed as if he was humoring a child. “If you say so. But…” His voice softened again, tone serious this time. “I still think you should tell him. Honestly? I wouldn’t even be surprised if he felt the same.”

Your panic was starting to become evident with every second so forced a scoff. “You’re imagining things. He doesn’t-"

“Doesn’t what?” Kise asked, eyes narrowing, catching the way you cut yourself off. “Doesn’t care? Please. You know Aominecchi better than anyone. If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t drag you around everywhere. You’re his person, Y/Nchii. That’s obvious to everyone.”

“Not to him,” you muttered.

Kise stared at you for a second then smiled, gentler this time. “Maybe not yet. But one day he’s gonna wake up and realize what’s been right in front of him the whole time. And when that happens, I’ll be the first to say I told you so.”

You shook your head, stomach sinking. “You’re wrong.”

A chuckle left his lips as he leaned back into the chair. “We’ll see, Y/Nchii. We’ll see.”

And as Aomine walked past, you told yourself Kise had to be wrong. Because if he wasn’t, you weren’t sure your heart could handle it.

So you kept moving the way you always did laughing at Aomine’s dumb jokes, showing up to his games, answering his late night calls. Acting normal. Pretending your chest wasn’t caving in a little more each day.

But the thing about pretending? Eventually, something always slips.

And even with all the precautions you took to make sure he never found out, he still did. There was no dramatic confession in the rain, no neat little love story. Instead, it was messy. Stupid. An accident.

You were over at Aomine’s playing video games, and you got up to go to the bathroom.

“Yoo, Lion,” he called from the living room. “I need a verification code from your phone.”

Without thinking, you yelled back, “Yeah, go ahead, you know the password.”

Aomine smirked as he unlocked your phone. He was about to open messages for the code, but his thumb brushed the Notes app instead. Normally, he would’ve closed it your business wasn’t his, and besides, you two practically knew everything about each other. But then he saw the first line with his name. And that was all it took for him to open it carelessly.

“I don’t know what it is about Daiki maybe it’s the way his abs shine after a game, the sweat on his skin making him look like sin walking. God, he’s so fucking sexy. Sometimes I just wish I was one of those random girls he actually wanted to fuck. Instead, he still treats me like some fragile little flower he’s gotta protect. I don't care about that but I know I just want those hands all over me, that stupidly big dick inside me, fucking me until I can’t think. No wonder girls throw themselves at him who wouldn’t? I just want one chance. One night. Just to feel what it’s like. Even if I’m not his type.”

Aomine blinked, eyes widening. His heart slammed in his chest as the words burned into his brain. His little Lion his delicate, feisty dandelion, had written that about him? About his abs, his hands, his dick?

He swallowed hard, cock twitching as he reread the filthy lines over and over. The words you wrote. Wanting to be fucked. By him. Rough. Hard. Like all those random girls he never remembered the names of.

The thought hit him like a punch. In a way he kind of felt a little jab in his chest at the thought of you just wanting to fuck. He didn't even understand it fully because of the way heat rushed through him, his jeans tightening painfully. He dragged a hand over his face, trying to scrub the images away, but it only made him harder. The bathroom door creaked open, making panic jolt through him. He slammed the app shut, and got the verification code like he originally was supposed to.

“You got it?” you asked casually, sitting back down beside him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice flat, forcing a smirk as he threw your phone back.

You didn’t notice anything unusual so you just grabbed your controller and restarted the game. But unfortunately Aomine couldn’t focus. Not when every line of your confession, every dirty word, was seared into his head. His hands gripped the controller too tight, his leg bouncing, heat burning under his skin. His jeans felt far too tight and it was unbearable.

You noticed his uncomfortable shifting. “Why the hell are you moving like that?” you asked. “Your game is shit right now.”

He glanced at you, then away, jaw tight. “Dunno. Guess everything’s just… harder, I guess.” The words slipped out. Then he realized how literally true his words were and cringed at himself. His chest squeezed with panic and something else as your suspicious gaze glared in to him. You sighed assuming maybe the game became boring. So you just opted for Netflix and chill. You put on the anime you two were meaning to continue and then you leaned against his shoulder innocently, like you always did. Except it didn’t feel innocent anymore. Not after what he’d read. Not with the image of you moaning his name as he fucked into you, running through his mind.

His throat went dry. His pulse thudded in his ears. He’d never been this nervous, not even in high school, not even when the whole gym had their eyes on him.

“…Lion,” he muttered, voice low, raw.

You looked up at him, puzzled. “What?”

Aomine’s eyes searched yours, breath getting caught when he saw the way your eyes glistened. He reached up, thumb brushing against your lips before he even thought about it. “Shit, girl…” he breathed. “Were your eyes always this pretty, Lion?”

Your own eyes went wide. “Daiki?! What are you saying?”

“I… don’t know,” he admitted.

Your breath hitched when his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes were dark, pupils flicking between your mouth and your gaze like he was one second away from losing it.

“Daiki…” you whispered, unsure, your whole body stiff with shock. “God fucking hell… you drive me fucking insane, Lion.”

It wasn’t a confession, not really, but it was enough to make the world feel like it was shaking. Before you could react, his mouth was on yours, hot and desperate. The kiss was nothing like the ones you witnessed with him and other girls, this was hungry, greedy, like he’d been holding back for years without realizing it. Your first instinct was shock, you froze. Your mind screaming what is happening, what is happening?! But your body betrayed you. The ache you’d buried for so long rose up, spilling over, and you kissed him back. Slow at first, then progressively harder, needier, like you were afraid he’d change his mind and slip away.

Aomine groaned into your mouth, one hand sliding to your waist, pulling you closer like he needed you pressed against him to breathe. Every warning in your head told you this was dangerous, that it would ruin everything. But you had loved him quietly for so long, and it was finally happening.

Every line you’d drawn in your head blurred. This was Aomine. Your best friend. But this was also the boy you’d loved for years, the boy you wrote about in hidden notes you prayed he’d never see. And now his hands were roaming your body, his breath hot against your neck, his voice low and wrecked in your ear.

“I can’t fucking stop,” he said as he dragged his lips down to your jaw, then lower to your throat, you tilted your head back without thinking.

“Daiki-"

“Tell me to stop,” he growled, one hand slipping under your shirt, his palm hot and rough against your skin. “Cause if I don't now, I don't plan on doing it later.”

Your chest tightened, words trapped in your throat. You should’ve said something, should’ve pulled away, but instead your silence was an answer in itself.

He smirked, low and sharp, and in the next second your shirt was shoved up, his mouth hot on your collarbone. He kissed you like he wanted to erase every second you’d spent holding back, lips trailing lower, biting at the skin just to hear you gasp.

“Damn Lion,” he muttered against you, voice wrecked. “All those nights I had you next to me, and you were hiding this from me?” His teeth grazed your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra, and you arched against him with a desperate whine.

That was it. That sound. He lost what little patience he had left. His hand slid down between your thighs, rubbing your pussy , fingers pressing down on your aching cunt. “Knew you’d be wet for me,” he rasped, eyes dark as they met yours. “Should’ve figured it out a long time ago.”

“Daiki…” you breathed, half a warning, half a plea. But he wasn’t listening. He slid your shorts down, sliding two fingers over your soaked panties then shoving them to the side, grinning when he looked at how your cunt was glistening with your wetness. “Shit dandelion, your pussy is so pretty."

Your face burned, but the words only made the ache worse. But then he slipped a finger inside you, slowly your voice broke into a moan. “Yeah,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you again, swallowing every sound. “That’s my girl. That’s my pretty little dandelion.”

Your whole body jolted at the name, the way it left his mouth not like a joke this time, but like a claim. His finger curled inside you, finding that spot that made your thighs tremble, and then another joined it, stretching you open until you whimpered.

He smirked against your lips. “So damn tight around my fingers hm… and all this time you were just waiting for me, huh? Sitting next to me on the couch, hiding those dirty little thoughts?” He pressed harder, his thumb dragging lazy circles over your clit until you squirmed. “Say it,” he growled, biting at your jaw. “Say you wanted me to ruin you.”

“I-" your voice cracked into another moan as his pace quickened, fingers thrusting harder, wetter. “I wanted you.”

His grin widened, cock straining against his sweats as he watched you fall apart on just his fingers. “Fuck… hearing you say that might finish me right here. Gonna have the word record for making me cum so fast dandelion." He curled his fingers deep as his mouth finally closed over your breast, tongue flicking at your nipple through your bra before he shoved it aside to taste your bare skin. He sucked hard, teeth grazing, one hand groping greedily while the other fucked you until your back arched off the couch.

“Goddamn,” he panted against your chest, voice rough. “These tits, this pussy… i was never fucking wrong for calling you a flower, your so damn beautiful just like one."

Your head fell back, lips parting in a cry as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“That’s it. That’s my pretty little dandelion. Falling apart just from my fingers.”

Then he shifted down, sliding off the couch. You barely had time to register before his mouth was on your pussy. His tongue licked a slow stripe through your folds, then circled your clit. You cried out, hand flying to his hair, gripping tight. His deep chuckle vibrated against you, sending another shudder through your body.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” he muttered against your pussy before diving back in, sucking your clit hard enough to make your hips buck.

“Daiki-oh my god-"

He groaned into you, fingers plunging back inside while his tongue licked at you. Every sound you made only pushed him harder, greedier. He wanted all of it, the taste, the smell, the way you writhed and begged beneath him. God he just couldn't wait to stuff you full. Your legs shook, breath breaking into short, sharp gasps. “I’m- can’t-"

“Yes, you can,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to smirk up at you. “You’re gonna cum for me, Lion. Right on my fingers. Right on my tongue. Do it.”

The command shattered you. With one last curl of his fingers and a flick of his tongue, the coil snapped, pleasure ripping through you. You cried out his name, thighs clamping around his head as you came undone. Aomine groaned like a man starved, licking you through it, swallowing every drop as if he could live off your cum alone. He then hovered over you, grinning like he’d just won the inter high. “You look so fucking pretty when you break, dandelion. Think I could get addicted to this.”

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To say the night ended in pleasure was an understatement.

It was heat, skin and sweat.

Your nails dragging down his back leaving marks.

The couch squeaking beneath you with every thrust of his cock into your pussy.

Your moans and his grunts filling his apartment, muffled only when he kissed you.

Falling asleep in his arms, legs tangled, bodies still sticky with sweat and sex.

When morning arrived, it was quiet. The golden light of dawn shone through his blind. Due to the light you woke, pressed against his chest, his arm heavy around your waist. For a moment, it almost felt like a dream. Aomine, holding you, his breath against your hair. Your heart raced. This was what you always wanted. Aomine stirred first this time, groaning as he stretched, hair sticking up in every direction. He glanced at you, smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned against the headboard. “Shit, Lion… last night was great. Ain't know you had that in you.” He chuckled, voice lazy with tire. “Never took you for someone who’d ride me like that. Damn near wrecked me.”

“That’s all you have to say?” your voice cracked, small.

He blinked at you, confused. “What else am I supposed to say? We had fun, yeah?”

Your stomach dropped. “Fun? Daiki, last night wasn’t just-"

He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing like he already hated where this was going. “Lion… c’mon. I thought you just wanted to fuck. That’s what it was, right?"

You stared at him in disbelief as you sat up . “Just wanted to fuck?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ok so I mean-look. You wanted it, Lion. Hell, you wrote it out in your notes. I gave it to you. I didn’t think it was… anything else.”

Your heart stopped. “Wait.” You stared at him, as realization started to hit. “You read my notes?”

Guilt flickered in his expression for a split second before he said. “Yeah. I didn’t mean to just saw my name in there. Curiosity, whatever.”

“You read them?” you whispered, breath catching. “Daiki, those were private.”

“Yeah, well, I did. And all I saw was how bad you wanted me. So don’t stand here acting like last night wasn’t exactly what you wrote about Lion. Your words, not mine.”

Something inside you went cold yet

You laughed. But it wasn’t a happy sound at all instead it was bitter. “Oh.” You nodded slowly, clutching the blanket tighter around you. “So that’s what this was, huh? You read my notes and figured, why not. Give the little flower what she wants.”

Aomine flinched, his jaw tight. “Why are you making it sound like th-”

But you cut him off, your voice trembling, more hurt than angry now. “God, Daiki. Do you even hear yourself? You think that’s all it was? That’s all I wanted from you?”

“What the hell else was I supposed to think, huh? That if you talk about me like that I'm supposed to assume you’ve been in love with me since we were kids? That this was some fairytale shit?” He scoffed, though it sounded more broken than confident. “Be serious, Lion.”

The words sliced through you, not just because of what he said, but because of how clear it was. He really didn’t know. After all these years, all the looks, the way you were always there, he hadn’t seen it. Not once. You stared at him, your chest tightening. "Wow. You actually didn’t know.”

His brows furrowed, thrown off by the way your voice broke. “Didn’t know what?”

“That I…” You swallowed hard. "Never mind Daiki.." You slid off the bed, the blanket falling away as you bent to grab your clothes from the floor, each piece scattered like the night you’d just ruined. Aomine sat there watching you, still shirtless, his hands gripping the sheets like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or not.

“You ain’t gonna stay longer?” he muttered, voice low, almost casual, but there was a tad bit of edge in the way he asked.

You paused, tugging your shirt over your head before looking back at him with a sad, tired smile. “Why should I? You don’t spend the next day with any of the whores you sleep with. Why should it be different for me?” The words hit like a slap, and you saw it in the way his expression changed. Shock first, then guilt, then anger rising too fast for him to hold back.

“The fuck are you-" he started, voice rough, but the rest of his question was swallowed by the slam of the door behind you. The sound echoed through his apartment, leaving him sitting there in the silence.

“Never mind, Daiki.”

The words replayed in his head, louder than the slam of the door. What the hell did you mean by that? Didn’t know what? He’d asked, and you’d cut yourself off. That wasn’t nothing. He knew you, you didn’t just drop your voice like that unless it was something important. Something that mattered. He dragged his hands down his face, groaning.

And then the other words hit him.

“You don’t spend the next day with any of the whores you sleep with. Why should it be different for me?”

He wanted to be mad, wanted to curse and call you dramatic. But the sting underneath it all was guilt. Because you weren’t wrong. You weren’t wrong at all. Except fuck. You weren’t just some girl. He’d known that since you were kids. That was the whole problem. He leaned forward, pulling at his hair in frustration. “Shit,” he muttered, voice rough. His chest ached in a way it never did. A way it ached only with you.

He pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to push the ache out. “What the hell did you mean, Lion…” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “What didn’t I know?”

Images hit him all at once

You, in the stands during every game.

You, rolling your eyes when he bragged about another girl but still listening anyway.

You, standing in the middle of the dandelion field, clutching a flower and insisting he blow on it, back when you were both kids.

The memory was so vivid he almost smelled it. He’d teased you then. He’d blown the seeds straight into your face, making you sneeze. You’d been furious, but you’d smiled anyway. And suddenly, for the first time, he wondered what would’ve happened if he’d believed you about the myth. If he’d actually thought about where the seeds went.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “They went to her. They always went to her.” The realization burned through him. You weren’t just a friend. You weren’t just a girl he’d accidentally slept with. You were the only constant he’d ever had, the only person who’d ever been there before the talent, before the fame, before everything. The only one who could make him nervous without trying. But wait. What was he trying to say right now? What was he thinking?!

It wasn’t simple, that much he knew. Lust burned hot and quick, easy to satisfy and easier to forget. This wasn’t that.This was slower, heavier. A weight in his chest that didn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to breathe through it. It had always been there. Aomine knew, if he had a weakness, or a soft spot for anyone, the one person he felt this vulnerability for is you. His stomach twisted as he tried to pin point it down, but there was not a clean word for it. But there was one thing for certain. Maybe the myth of the dandelions weren't bogus after all.

➽──────────────❥➽

Meanwhile with you, you walked home from his apartment. It was slightly chilly out but the sun was out, laying a little warmth on you. Yet somehow you felt cold with sting in your chest, the ache behind your eyes, the weight in your stomach.

You pulled out your phone with shaking hands, unlocking it fast, and scrolled to the note. The one that was yet to be deleted. The one he must’ve opened. Your heart dropped as your eyes skimmed the lines. Shame burnt hot beneath your skin.

Of course it was that entry. Not the quiet confessions you’d buried in others, like the ones about how much you adore him when he plays basketball, or how being with him feels like coming home. No. It had to be the one where frustration and lust was vented. The one written too late at night when your sexual desires were fueled. You sighed as you facepalmed. Maybe it really was a misunderstanding. Aomine was slow, he always had been. He missed hints unless you shoved them straight in his face. But looking at the words now, you couldn’t even blame him. Lust. That’s all he’d see. That’s all he could’ve seen.

How could you ever even look him in the eye after this. If it had been any other situation, it would’ve been easy to talk to him. After all, it was Daiki.With him, words had always been simple.

But now?

After your bodies had been tangled together, after his mouth had traced every place you never thought he’d touch, after you’d heard him moan your name.

The words that should’ve come easy caught in your throat. And instead of saying what you wanted to, you let silence stretch between you. Because admitting it out loud felt harder than anything else you’d ever done.

➽──────────────❥➽

When Aomine first spotted you in the courtyard, his sighed of relief. Two days of silence had felt longer than anything, and seeing you again, even in the middle of the crowded university grounds, was like catching air after drowning. His hand twitched at his side. He half lifted it, about to wave, about to call out, because that was easy, right? You and him, it had always been easy. Just one word, one look, and it would snap back to normal. But then your eyes found his. And for the briefest moment, something lit there. Recognition, habit, maybe even that old familiarity.

Then you turned away.

No smile. No eye roll. No “hey what’s up, Daiki.” Just the turn of your head, the shift of your shoulders, your feet carrying you in the opposite direction.

The air left his lungs all at once. His hand dropped useless at his side.

It was ridiculous, but he swore he felt it. The crack of something inside his chest. His throat went tight, eyes stinging hot, and he had to blink hard just to keep the world from blurring.

She ignored me.

He repeated it over and over, each time heavier, crueler. She ignored me. You, the one person he thought never would.

The rest of the day blurred. He sat in his lectures with wide eyes, blank notebook pages open in front of him, professors voices fading into mumbling he could not comprehend. He didn’t hear a word. Couldn’t. All he could see was you turning away, the way it hurt him way more than any loss on the court, deeper than any bruise or injury.

And the guilt, fuck, the guilt was unbearable.

He cursed himself, dragging a hand through his hair as everyone else scribbled notes from the lecture. How had he let it get this far? How had he been so blind? He’d always been reckless, selfish, careless but he never thought it would rub off on you. Never thought he’d be the one to hurt your feelings. At one point he swore to ward off that with everything he had.

Aomine ruined a lot of things in life. Ruin defenses, ruin rivals, ruin nights with girls whose names he never remembered. But not you. Never you. He wanted to protect you, keep you soft, keep you untouched by the mess he carried. He didn’t want to stain the prettiest flower in the field.

And yet, that’s exactly what he’d done.

By the time the sun dipped low, he couldn’t stand the walls of the university anymore. He walked without thinking, feet dragging him down streets, until grass brushed against his ankles and the city noise faded to crickets.

The field.

The one place that still smelled like childhood, like summers that stretched too long, like you. He sank down in the middle of the field as the sky darkened above, stars beginning to prick through the fading light. He sat there in silence, looking up at the sky until the tears finally fell quiet, stubborn things he wiped away with his palm.

“Shit,” he muttered into the air, voice raw. “I’m such a fuckin idiot.”

The field stayed quiet. The only answer came from the rustle of grass, the whisper of the breeze. After a long while, he lifted his head and looked down at the many dandelions that swayed in front of him, tall and delicate, its white head glowing in the dusk. The memory hit him. Your voice, younger, brighter, shoving one into his hand. "Blow on it, Daiki. My mommy says they carry feelings to your true love." His laugh. Your glare. The sneeze. The nickname.

Despite himself, a smile tugged weakly at his lips. He plucked the dandelion, twirling it between his fingers.

“Maybe you weren’t full of shit after all, Lion,” he whispered.

Then he blew.

The seeds scattered into the air, caught by the wind, spinning and dancing in the fading light. He watched them, chest aching, until something shifted.

They didn’t drift away like before. They curved, slow and sure, carried behind him.

He frowned, turning and froze.

The seeds had landed at your feet.

You stood just a few paces away, your eyes wide, lips parted, the dying light of the sun shining down on you.

And for the first time that day, for the first time since you’d walked past him without a word, Daiki Aomine let himself believe in myths.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked a little as he said your name. He wiped his face quickly with the sleeve of his hoodie, as if that could hide anything. “Shit, why are you here?”

You shrugged, shifting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder. “I checked your loco and saw you were here… thought I might join you.”

He blinked, surprised, but didn’t push. Just nodded once. You walked closer, the grass brushing against your ankles, and came to a stop beside him. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood shoulder to shoulder, watching as the sky progressively darkened

Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head softly, a small smile tugging at your lips even as your chest felt heavy. “No, Daiki. I can’t blame you. Not after I saw what you rea-.”

“No,” he cut in, sharper than you expected, making you look at him. “Even if it were that case and you just wanted fun...Y/N…” He shifted, turning fully toward you now, eyes searching yours. “…I would’ve been bullshitting if I said I didnt take that shit seriously. Even if I don’t say it out loud. Even if I act like I don’t care."

The air hung heavy between you, thick with all the things unsaid. He dragged a hand through his hair. “But you know how much I fuckin care about you Y/N..to do that shit with you was the greatest honor I've ever had in my life." he said, voice low and sincere. You reached out before you could stop yourself, fingers brushing the tense line of his shoulder. “I know that you care Daiki...,” you murmured as you smiled hearing his last words. It went quiet again. Only the sound of the dandelions softly swaying around you could be heard.

After a few moments you asked quietly, “That was really the greatest honor you’ve had?” He nodded without hesitation. “Yes, Lion. You are…” He paused as he searched for the words, “… gorgeous. I didn’t think a guy like me could get so lucky.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You can’t say that shit to me, Daiki…”

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “And why the fuck not?”

You sighed, staring down at your fingers where they twisted the hem of your sleeve. “Are you that slow, Daiki…”

He blinked, still not catching up. “Slow about what?” You lifted your gaze to him. Every inch of you wanted to look away, but you didn’t. Not this time.

“The only reason I’d ever feel so heartbroken over the fact that you thought it was fun and nothing more,” you said, your voice trembling as you forced each word out, “is because…” You faltered for a moment, swallowing.

“Because what?” he asked softly, but there was an edge to it, a tension like a bowstring about to snap.

“Because…” Your throat felt dry, but you pushed it out. “I’ve been in love with you for years.”

The world went very still.

His eyes widened, stunned. His whole body seemed to stiffen, breath caught, his heartbeat so loud he could hear it in his own ears. Once the shock faded, Aomine laughed. “Shit, Lion,” he said, shaking his head, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth. “You’re callin me slow?”

You frowned, thrown off. “Daiki… what the hell is so funny?” He bent down suddenly, plucking a dandelion from the grass, holding it between his long fingers. He then looked at you with a look that made your pulse skip. “I think you’re slower, to be honest,” he muttered, stepping a little closer as he offered it to you. You stared at it, then back at him. “…What?”

“Remember years ago?” His grin softened just slightly. “When we were kids, and I blew one of these right in your face?”

A small laugh slipped out of you. “I’d never forget. That’s where the stupid nickname came from.”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking down to the dandelion, then back to yours. “And your mom said that crap about how the seeds go to your one true love, right?”

You nodded slowly, smiling a little at the memory. “Yeah… she did.”

He exhaled, jaw tight. “Well, the seeds didn’t just float away. They went straight to you.” You froze, blinking. "What-"

Your eyes widened, the world tilting for a second as heat crawled up your neck and into your cheeks. The field, the sky, the air between you blurred until there was nothing but him. “Not as a friend,” he said quickly, like he needed to stamp it out before you could misunderstand. “Not as a friend at all.” He stepped closer, so close you could see the way his chest rose and fell, the way his fingers tightened on the stem of the dandelion. “I don’t see any other girl in my future besides you. Not a single one.” “You’re it. My dandelion.”

The word landed between you like a heartbeat. My dandelion.

All the years, all the jokes, all the silences, it all flooded back in an instant. The little boy who blew seeds into your face. The teenager who made you roll your eyes. The man standing in front of you now, finally saying the thing you’d always wanted to hear, but never believed he’d say.

"You're serious?"

“You’re serious,” you whispered, like you still didn’t dare believe it.

His gaze didn’t waver. “Dead serious, Lion. I don’t joke about you. Never did.”

Tears stung your eyes before you could stop them, slipping hot down your cheeks as you laughed, soft and shaky. “Daiki, you’re such an idiot.” He grinned relieved, and before you could wipe your face, his hand was cupping your jaw, pulling you closer. You tilted up into him, and when his lips met yours, it wasn’t frantic and desperate anymore. It was perfect

When you finally pulled away, your forehead still resting against his, you glanced down at your hand. The dandelion was still there.

“Can I try something?” you asked softly.

He blinked at you, still a bit dazed from the kiss, and nodded. “Yeah, Lion. Go ahead.”

You lifted the dandelion between the two of you. Then, without breaking eye contact, you blew. The seeds lifted, swirled, and similar it blew straight into his face.

“Shit,” he muttered, sneezing as a few stuck to his hoodie.

You burst out laughing, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath. “Yeah, you asshole. Not so fun, is it?”

He smiled as he chuckled wiping his nose with his hoodie. Then he reached for you, sliding his arm around your waist and tugging you against him until your laughter fell quiet.

“Hey,” he murmured, eyes warm as they searched yours. “At least now I know I’m your one true love.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile wouldn’t leave. “Yeah, Daiki. Guess you are.”

And so, the myth of the dandelions lived on. Not as some silly story your mother once told, but as the truth that had been waiting for you both all along.

The seeds had always known where to go.

Straight to him.

Daiki Aomine who definitely notices when your eyes aren't on him, jealousy brewing in his chest. He isn't loud and flashy like Ryota, no, but he is a silent death that reaps through the court like toxic gas.

Daiki Aomine who loves seeing his number on you wherever, but mostly only where his and only his eyes can wander (👀)