πͺ princess β’ she/her β’ 18+
πͺ Weaving dark magic and royal romance into fiction.
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ποΈ Former Wattpad writer setting up a new home.
π 2-year hiatus broken. Stories dropping soon.
π₯ Asks/Requests are open to say hello!
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π βIn the name of the moon, I will write.β
"You play too rough, but under the midnight rain, neither of us is keeping score."
βββ β¦ βββ
Pairing: Aomine Daiki x Reader
Genre: Romance, Steamy Fluff, Established Relationship
Warnings: Kissing, teasing, biting, heavy touching, clothing tugging.
Word Count: ~550 words
The rain had been coming down for hours. Not the dramatic kind that rolled in with thunder and disappeared twenty minutes later. This was the stubborn kind. Heavy enough to blur the city lights beyond your bedroom window into watercolor streaks, steady enough to make the whole apartment feel smaller.
Aomine had invited himself over after practice. Now he was stretched across your bed like he paid rent, one arm tucked beneath his head while the other lazily spun his basketball above him. His shirt was still damp around the collar, and there were faint specks of rainwater darkening your comforter.
"You know," you said without looking up from your desk, "most people wipe themselves off before making themselves at home."
"Hm?"
"My sheets."
"They'll dry."
You sighed. "They're not yours."
"They are while I'm here."
There it was. That ridiculous confidence that somehow managed to sound less like arrogance and more like an undeniable law of nature. The basketball slipped from his fingers, bounced once against the carpet, and rolled somewhere under your desk. Neither of you moved to get it.
When you finally looked over, he was already watching you.
"What?"
"C'mere."
"No."
"C'mere."
"You literally just ordered me."
"And?"
You barely had time to roll your eyes before he reached over, caught your wrist, and tugged. The world tilted. One second you were standing. The next you were sitting sideways across his lap, trying very hard not to laugh at how annoyingly easy he'd made it look.
"Told you."
"You cheated."
"I was faster."
"You always say that."
"'Cause it's true."
His grin spread slow and lazy, all sharp edges softened by exhaustion. The room smelled faintly of rain-soaked pavement and the citrus detergent you'd washed your blankets with. Somewhere outside, tires hissed across wet roads.
His large, calloused hand settled against the back of your neck. Gentle. Almost.
"You talk too much," he murmured.
"So do y..."
The rest disappeared against his mouth. The kiss started warm, lingering, and familiar, but as your fingers found the damp fabric of his collar, the lazy rhythm dissolved. Aomine let out a low, rough growl in the back of his throat, his grip tightening at your nape as he tilted your head back, forcing your lips open to deepen the kiss instantly.
He tasted hot and dizzying, his tongue sliding against yours with a heavy, demanding pressure that made your toes curl. Your chest flushed hot against his broad torso. His free hand didnβt stay still; it slid firmly down your spine, massive fingers hooking underneath the hem of your cropped shirt to grip the bare, warm skin of your waist. He pulled you flush against his lap, obliterating any space left between you.
The heat in the room spiked. You whined softly into his mouth as his thumb dragged hard against your hipbone, his lips bruising yours in a messy, breathless exchange. When he finally pulled back just a fraction for air, his teeth caught your bottom lip in a sharp, playful bite, pulling the sensitive skin taut before releasing it with a slick, quiet pop.
"There you are," he mumbled against your mouth, his breath hitching, dark eyes heavy and dark with a sudden, intense hunger.
Your chest was heaving, your lips tingling and swollen from his grip. You narrowed your eyes, your own hands sliding up his chest to tangle directly into his damp hair. "Oh, you're definitely asking for it."
"What? Another kiss?" He looked entirely too pleased with himself, a cocky smirk pulling at his bruised lips.
Instead of answering, you shifted your weight over his lap, anchoring yourself completely against him, and crashed your lips back onto his. This time, you drove him back into the pillows, your hands tugging at his hair as he wrapped both arms around your waist, pulling you down into the mattress with him.
Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, neither of you cared who won.
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(A tad bit different, I hate constantly using y/n soryyyy.)
βYou smell like gasoline, rain, and cheap convenience store noodles, but you taste like a goodbye I'm not ready to say.β
Pairing: Baji Keisuke x Reader
Genre: Heavy Angst to Soft Comfort (Fluff)
Warnings: Dilapidated knuckles, minor blood, typical delinquent behavior.
Word Count: ~750 words
It was past midnight, and the unrelenting rain outside made the night feel even more gloomy than usual.
Y/N was laying in her bedroom, her body clad in a pair of navy blue lounge pants and a matching cropped shirt. She was sprawled out across her mattress, her lower half lazily buried beneath a fluffy blanket. Her hazy E/C eyes were locked onto her phone screen, entirely engrossed in whatever layout she was looking at on MySpace. She was so exhausted that the steady thrum of raindrops against the glass completely drowned out the worldβuntil a loud, metallic banging rattled her fire escape.
It took her a solid five minutes to snap out of her daze. A loud, exasperated groan left her lips as she slid out of bed, the cold air hitting her skin.
"...Here comes this jackass," she muttered under her breath, walking toward the rain-fogged window.
She slowly slid the glass frame upward, only to find Baji Keisuke crouching on the iron grating. His Tokyo Manji Gang uniform was torn at the shoulder, his knuckles were split raw, and a steady stream of crimson was dripping down his temple. Yet, despite looking like heβd just fought half of Shinjuku, he flashed her that classic, sharp fang-toothed grin. As if nothing was wrong. As if bleeding out on her balcony was just another regular Saturday night.
He didn't argue when she roughly grabbed his arm, hauling him inside the warmth of her apartment. He could tell she was pissed offβhe always knew, but he just smirked through the mud on his face. Without a word, he marched straight toward her bathroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints.
For nearly twenty minutes, the sound of a steaming hot shower echoed through the flat. When Baji finally stepped back into the bedroom, he was changed into a pair of her oversized sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. His long, black locks hung damp around his shoulders, a small towel perched haphazardly on top of his head. He threw himself onto her bed, his dark eyes instantly darting to the plastic first-aid kit clutched in her hand.
Y/N sat down beside him, popping the latch open with a sharp snap. Her fingers wrapped firmly around his jaw, her grip significantly rougher than usual to prove a point.
"...Are you stupid?" she spat out, staring directly into his unbothered gaze. "You're gonna get yourself killed one of these days."
She dabbed a peroxide-soaked pad onto his forehead. Baji winced, his nose crinkling, but he immediately covered it up by snorting and sliding a heavy, scarred arm around her waist to pull her flush against his chest.
"Stop nagging," he muttered, his tone dripping with a complete lack of remorse. "You should see the other guys. Ran 'em right into the asphalt. Things happen."
He stayed quiet after that, letting his head tilt back as she patched him up. The bedroom was silent save for the rain and the sound of his steady breathing. She wrapped clean bandages around his forehead, then leaned down to gently wipe away the dried blood from his knuckles. When she pressed a bit too hard against a split bruise, a low, guttural hiss escaped his teeth. Her E/C eyes flicked up to glare at him, but his expression had softened, his thumb idly tracing the hem of her cropped shirt.
Eventually, she slid off the mattress, gathering the bloody tissues and empty alcohol pads. She walked out to the kitchen, dumping the trash with a loud thud.
Behind her, Baji lost no time making himself comfortable. He tossed his flip-phone onto her nightstand, slid his tall frame underneath her blankets, and stared up at the ceiling tiles in silence. He didn't even look over when he heard her walk back in, but his eyes tracked her silhouette as she stopped at the edge of the bed. When she poked her hip outβthe universal sign that she was about to launch into a full lectureβBaji let out a low groan and sat straight up.
"Fuck's sake... c'mon," he grumbled, his voice rough with exhaustion as he reached out and snatched her wrist, effortlessly yanking her down onto the mattress. "Don't start. You can scream at me tomorrow, alright? Not tonight. Just... shut up and lay down."
Before she could snap back, he pulled her flush against his chest, burying his face deep into her H/C hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo. His calloused, bandaged hands slid underneath the edge of her cropped shirt, his fingertips lightly tracing random, nonsensical shapes and letters against the bare skin of her back.
Y/N was still furious, her chest tight with anxiety over his lifestyle, but the sheer warmth of his body wore her down. She let out a heavy sigh, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face into his shirt. Within minutes, the fatigue won, and her body went completely limp against him.
Baji continued tracing patterns on her skin for another thirty minutes, watching her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. A rare, genuinely soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at her sleeping face. He leaned down, pressing a few rough, affectionate kisses to her temple and cheek. Squeezing her tighter, he threw his heavy leg completely over her hip, locking her into his embrace so she couldn't pull away even if she wanted to. Finally, his own eyelids fluttered shut, his breathing syncing with hers against the backdrop of the storm.
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