Aomine was slumped on the locker room bench, listening to the coach's irritating voice echo across the court. The guy talked about defense, discipline, team spirit, things he couldn't care less about. Because at that moment, all that was burning in his head was you. And he didn't care if there was a championship coming up, he didn't care if Kagami was training like his life depended on it. All he could think about was quitting that shitty practice and tasting your nerdy mouth, which he had already decided was the most addictive thing on the planet.

He got up, threw the towel in the corner, and left without looking back. The coach yelled his name, but Aomine didn't even bother to respond. His hands went to his pockets, his entire body too relaxed for someone who was, technically, skipping an important practice.

None of this seemed like a big deal when he remembered you was there, sitting in the library, her face buried in books that probably weighed more than you did. A screwed-up nerd who spent your days solving equations and scribbling in notebooks with notes illegible to any normal human being. And for some reason, he was hopelessly obsessed with you.

It was a crush, but there was nothing naive about it. It was raw, urgent, full of lust and jealousy. Aomine couldn't explain it, maybe it was the contrast, the quiet, studious nerd who, deep down, melted when he pressed you against the wall. Maybe it was the way you looked at him as if he were more than a lazy delinquent. Or maybe it was just the addiction to seeing your mouth all swollen from the desperate kisses he planted on her.

He threw the towel over his shoulder, huffed, and pretended to go to the locker room. But instead, he escaped through the back of the gym, his heart racing not from training, but from anticipation.

"Fuck practice," he muttered, lazily kicking the exit door shut. "Damn, this little nerd is going to kill me."

The walk to the library was quick. The adrenaline of risk made him smile, a dirty, mischievous smile, the kind that always got him into trouble. But the truth was, he loved breaking rules, and this was the best of them: skipping practice to get his hands on the nerdy girl who, for some reason, seemed made just for him.

When he found her, you was exactly as he'd imagined: buried in books, your glasses slipping down your nose, completely oblivious to the world. Aomine didn't ask for permission. He never did. He just dropped his backpack in a corner, pulled out the chair next to you, and leaned in, his mouth already pressed against your neck, ignoring any curious glances from anyone nearby.

"Damn, I almost went crazy without smelling that scent" he whispered against your skin, leaving quick bites that soon stained your neck red. "You know you drive me crazy, right?"

His hands were already on her body, pulling her closer, even with the stack of books trying to separate them. Aomine had no patience for such barriers. He pushed his notebooks aside, the desk creaking with the weight of his movements.

"You're my perfect excuse to skip practice... and, shit, I don't even feel guilty." He chuckled softly, his hot breath trailing down to her collarbone.

His tongue ran slowly along the curve of her neck before sucking hard on a spot he knew would leave a mark. A reminder. A mark of possession.

"I want to see you trying to hide this tomorrow, nerd." His laugh was dirty, mocking, as his hand slipped under your shirt, finding your skin.

Aomine kissed you violently, as if the world would end if he didn't have your mouth right now. Their tongues clashed, her taste mingling with his salty sweat, still lingering from practice. He bit your lower lip, pulling until it came free with a pop.

"I hate how you make me hard just looking at those ridiculous books" he whispered. "I can bet how you feel just feeling my hand here."