The whole university probably knows of how fervently Aomine (the typical drop-dead sexy athlete on sports scholarship) is pursuing you (the typical smart student with nothing less than an A in your results) as a love interest, thanks to his not-so-subtle methods. You’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since the start of his pursuit because he seems like one of those dangerous boys that is going to give you the greatest time of your life, only to leave you in the dust later on. You’ve been there before—you sure as hell are not going there again.
That proves to be an exceptionally hard task, however. Aomine is the epitome of god-like physique and ensnaring personality. You’re a mere mortal who’s easily seduced by sinful delicacies like him, but your strong will is commendable, at the least. Aomine probably has a strong sense of smell akin to a goddamn beast—he somehow knows you’re attracted to him and that’s probably what keeps him going.
It’s no surprise to the whole student body that you’re pinned against the lockers by said boy one fine day; they’re all used to this kind of events happening ever since Aomine has his eyes on you. You’re also already rather accustomed to being ambushed from behind your back every day or two, and you no longer react with a shocked gasp while dropping your stuff all over the floor like the first time he did this to you. Instead, you sigh, turning to find Aomine with a smug smirk on his face and a hand resting on the locker beside your head.
Funny. Three months ago, other students passing by would’ve gawked in surprise at what’s happening between Aomine and you, but now, after their initial 0.1s shock of his hand slamming against metal, they proceed to go on with their lives. The two of you are ignored.
“How can I help you, Aomine-san?”
“Good morning, ___________,” he purrs, the richness of his voice like dark chocola—NO. YOU DID NOT JUST THINK THAT.
“…good morning.” You begrudgingly reply. “If you’re just dropping by for a greeting, then please excuse me, because—”
“Now, now,” he lightheartedly say as he blocks your attempts of escape. Narrowed eyes stare at him, conveying the well-masked anger you have for him and his behavior. “It’s still early, and your class starts in half an hour, right?”
It slips your mind how he manages to memorize your schedule. You sigh again.
“You know I’m not interested, Aomine-san.”
“I came to meet you to present a new bargain,” he counters.
“Like I said, I’m—”
“Once you’re mine, I’ll treat you just like my homework.”
As if it’s a natural reflex, you scoff at his face. Aomine? Homework? Imagining him talking about homework is something as impossible as putting an elephant into a beer can. Preposterous. Silly!
“Which is what?” You snarkily reply. “Ignoring me for weeks on end and copying from someone else’s when the deadline is close?”
He brings his other hand against the lockers with such agility and power that another loud slam resounds right beside your ear, and this time you are more than surprised. A pinch of fear seeps into your blood as you realize that Aomine has trapped you between his arms and his face is really close. Your breath hitches when he dips his head down to position his lips against your ear.
“No,”he breathes, and at that moment you can feel your legs growing weak at the sensation of cold air against your skin.
“I’ll slam you on the table and do you all night long.”
With that, Aomine leaves a peck on your cheek before pulling away to wink raunchily at you.
“Bye, sweetheart,” he smirks, walking away from the scene to god knows where, leaving you alone in front of the lockers as you watch his retreating back. You’re flushed and your face is red hot in a mix of embarrassment and anger, but for the first time in three months of Aomine’s pursuit, your heart feels like it’s pounding out of your ribcage.