demonvampire180writes

[demonvampire180writes]

Daddy Knows Best - A Bondage Story

Trigger Warnings:

Inferred childhood abuse

Inferred childhood trauma

It’s dark. I can’t see a thing even as my eyes dart around to and fro beneath the strip of dense black cloth tied around my eyes. I whimper, shifting. A tear slides down my cheek as thick, knotted rope chafes my naked skin. It hurts. I try to wriggle to ease the burn but let out a quiet gasp as my arms are jerked back, tied tightly behind me. I’ve lost all control. I can’t think. Spit dribbles from around the bit tied to my mouth. My head droops. As I kneel there, my legs spread wide so that I can keep my balance, a familiar presence comes up behind me, and I turn my head slightly towards the sound letting out another whimper, nose flaring as hot, tingling, feelings well up deep inside me.

               Unable to see what they’re doing, all I can do is gasp as I feel the drag of a soft, pliant leather strap against my back, and hear the soft rumbled of a deep, resonant voice, “Is my kitty ready to play?”

-x-

               “Arthur, come here.” I sigh deeply as I stare at the papers piled up all across my desk, some stacked higher than the Empire State Building and leaning as bad as the leaning tower of Piza. The company is shifting ownership, being passed down, because dear old daddy has finally decided to retire but that means that much of the work is left to me and, let’s be honest, I’m not exactly ecstatic for it. Leaning into my hand as I grab a chunk of the tawny mess of waves on my head, I grumble once again. I throw the papers in my hand away and close my eyes. It’s hardly eight AM and I’m already wishing I was back home curled up under my downy comforter on my brand new king sized mattress. Anything would be better than this.

               Just as I’m contemplating packing up my things and attempting to sneak away, call it an early weekend even though it’s only Tuesday, the door to my office swings open, and a giant of a man shoulders his way through. He’s so broad that he has to shuffle in at an angle to fit, and he’s so tall that if he doesn’t dip his head at least a little, he’d hit every frame he encounters. Every time I see this, I have to hold back a snicker. I give pity to the woman that had to birth him some thirty odd years ago.

What’s even more amusing is that he holds what would be considered a large serving tray – topped with a French press that most definitely holds freshly brewed coffee, a plate of sweet bread, and a small array of thinly sliced sausages and cheeses – but the tray is dwarfed in his hands. “You called, Master Ray?” His voice, deeper, and richer, than the blackest coffee, does things to my body that I can never speak of. Feeling the familiar heat in my stomach I shove it aside as I sit up straight.

“Lovely. You’ve brought me coffee just when I was hoping that I could sneak away from all of… this.” I gesture at my desk, heaving yet another sigh. I flick my eyes to the only open table space in the room and order, as a small smirk graces his lips, “You can set it there.” He schools his features and nods his head obediently and walks to the glass breakfast table tucked into the corner of the spacious office. Despite his monstrous size, there’s not even the clink of a glass as he deftly arranges what I assume is both breakfast and my afternoon snack. Setting the tray aside he pours me a cup of coffee, left black, and brings it to me.

Setting it directly in front of my left hand he leans in close to my ear and whispers, “Master Ray, I know you’re a bit tied up at the moment, but if you could perhaps give me a spare bit of your time this evening?” He poses it as a question but when he pulls away there’s a knowing smirk on his lips that strips my ability to shove feelings into a lock box to never be looked at again. A shiver runs the length of my body as what’s under my pristine black suit digs into my skin. There’s mirth is those gleaming jade green eyes. I forget to breathe as he steps away, his hand running up the length of my chest, tugging against the binds that hold me. My nipples scream as the rope readjusts.

Gulping, I reach for my drink and with trembling hands, I bring it to my lips and chug it down, ignoring the burn as I choke. Once it’s empty I set it aside and cough. “I-I’ll have to see w-what I can do. I’m quite busy h-here, and I’m sure my father would like to have dinner with the family.” My voice grows stronger even as my body goes weaker. He’s staring at me like a predator with its eyes on its prey… and maybe I am. God fucking dammit, cock, don’t you dare. I try to suppress my loins but find it difficult with Arthur in the same room, breathing the same air as me. He’s supposed to only be a servant, dammit.

He smiles, gently, black hair bouncing as he bows, left arm crossing his chest in respect. “Yes, Master Ray. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I want more coffee.” I hold out the ceramic mug to him, not sure if I’m capable of standing right now. Everything is tight and if I stand, I might just collapse. Rising, he smiles and takes it from me, dark tan fingers brushing against my pale ones in what others might see as a simple gesture but I know is his form of intimacy. We can’t be seen. Ever. If we were to be caught, I’m not sure what would happen, and I needn’t find out. Once my caffeine has been replenished, Arthur leaves the room, and since I’m alone, I unapologetically watch him go, longing for more.

Once he’s gone, and I can feel the heat cooling, I stand and march to the large, castle-esque windows and throw them open, shivering as the chilly winter wind dances over my skin. Breathing deep, I stand there for what could have been ten minutes or an hour, taking in the freshest air I’ve ever tasted, lungs burning. Having the headquarters of our business located in the middle of bumfuck nowhere had its perks once in a while, though I cursed it more often than not. Early morning meetings were a real bitch, but this right here made it worth the headaches. A few deep breaths and whole body shivers later, I close the windows and go back to my desk to tackle the mountain of paperwork calling my name.

Despite my bitching and complaining, the day goes by in the blink of an eye. It’s sick o’ clock and I’m packing up my briefcase, intending to take not a single piece of work home with me regardless of my father’s complaints that I’m not moving fast enough. As I move my arm back and forth across my body, I feel the red rope tied around me in intricate patterns beneath my clothes, rub against my sensitive skin. It didn’t used to be like this. I used to hate the feeling of it chafing against me, especially around my cock, but now it made me want to whimper as it tightens. I could feel the knots digging into the flesh of my thighs and buttocks. I prayed no one could see the beginning of the tent being pitched in my pants.

I wish I could say that I’d been forced into this, but I know this is the only way we can be close when we’re not behind closed doors. There’s some twitching downstairs but it’s inhibited from growing any larger by the ring snapped tightly around it. I lean into the desk, pressing myself against it to try and garner some relief but it’s only made worse, and I hold back a gasp, biting my pink lower lip until it’s red to keep the receptionist I know is still here from hearing me. She asks far too many questions for my liking. I’d have Arthur take care of all the secretarial work and the housework if I could, but that’s not his job and it would draw unwanted attention. After an eternity I allow myself to continue packing. As I expect, father wants me to join them for dinner this evening. Likely to boast to the others, meaning some of his partners and other business execs, that his favorite son is taking over the business and how proud he can be knowing that he’ll be leaving it in good hands. Little does he know that his perfect, prodigal, son is actually a little heathenistic whore who begs for a mere peasant to beat him into submission a few too many nights a week.

“Ray, stop that right this second.” I chide myself, shaking as I remember Sunday evening – an image of a large hand wrapped around my throat as I’m laid out on my back, naked except for a pair of leather handcuffs and a gag in my mouth surfaces. Rather violently I shake the image from my mind. I can’t do that, not right now. Too many questions, too many prying eyes and spying ears. The walls in this place hear everything, sometimes making me believe they even read my thoughts. Giving my desk a once over as I beg my mind to behave, I leave the office with little more than a curt good-bye to the curly haired brunette named Idra. Dinner can’t be over with sooner.

The family home is only about a five-minute drive from headquarters. It was technically still on the same land. My great grandfather had purchased this massive plot of land nearly a hundred years ago, back during the British equivalent of the industrial revolution, and it had been handed down again and again until we’re here. Most of the land had been kept as grassland, my sisters love horses, so we keep about five and they needed space to roam, but we have three residences as well. The main one was my parents mansion, the original of my great grandfather, that was updated every few years as needed. My youngest two twin sisters, Olivia and Liddy, live there when they aren’t at boarding school three hours away. My oldest sister, Maria, stays in a mid-size home with her husband David and my single niece Addie and nephew Jack. I live in a small mansion in the furthest recesses of the compound, the place furthest from the business. Each home was no more than a ten minute drive, giving us our own space but simultaneously keeping us connected. I love and hate it, for what can be considered obvious reasons.

When I arrive at the main house, Arthur greets me at the door with a very faint smile, his teeth slightly yellowed but perfectly straight. It makes his plump red lips seem all the more enticing. When he had asked father to allow him to get braces as an adult, he had obliged. My father is obsessed with image and having a servant, a butler that greets and takes care of all our guests, with crooked and unsightly teeth would be an outrage at minimum, appalling at worst. I hold out my briefcase to him. He unquestioningly takes it as I shrug out of my suit jacket. I feel his eyes on me. He knows what’s under this icy exterior, what waits beneath this perfectly ironed shirt and pleated dress pants. But he knows his place, and he plays his role perfectly. I hand my coat over as well and begin to adjust the buttons of my shirt cuffs so that I can roll them up a bit. The shirt is a tad big on me, one size up from what it should be, so that the small knots are harder to see. It’s hidden under the black silk and thin undershirt I force myself to wear. My nipples are diamond hard right now. I’ve been wearing these all damn day and I feel suffocated. “Where are my parents?” I ask as I finish, smoothing the rolled cuffs out so they’re pristine against my thin wrists. His fingers could practically wrap around them twice. I swallow hard thinking about it.

He gestures further into the house. “They’re awaiting you in the dining hall.”

“Thank you, Arthur. Please bring my bag and my jacket back home. I’ll be there later this evening.”

“Yes, Master Ray.” He gives the slightest bow and it takes all I have to not reach out and run my hand through his hair. I know it’s soft. My fingers tingle as I remember how it feels against me as he – No. I have to stop. Unable to speak, my mouth very dry, I simply nod and begin to step away from him when I’m jerked back. Not by my shoulder. Or my wrist. Or even my waist. No. He grabs hold of the invisible rope and pulls. I stifle a yelp. “Excuse me, sir. I saw a hair and figured you wouldn’t want to meet your father in such a state.” Oh my god how my cock aches as it jumps. He knows what he’s doing, and holy Christ is he cruel. He knows that I’m on lockdown, but he does this to me anyway.

“H-have you got them all?” I ask, squeezing my legs together to hopefully readjust in the most inconspicuous way. “I’d appreciate a warning when you feel the need to touch me, Arthur.” God fucking dammit, that smile. It lets him get away with whatever he wants and he knows it.

“Yes sir, I believe I have. My apologies. I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you when you arrive home.” He gives another bow before turning and leaving through the still open front door. I watch his back and worry my lip. It takes every ounce of self-control to not let my eyes drop. Watching him leave is the highlight of my day no matter how often it happens. Clearing my throat, feeling the ache in my nether regions, I join the stuffy old men in the stuffy old dining hall surrounded my stuffy, old-fashioned parents for a dinner full of bland chicken and unseasoned vegetables. Arthur knows how to cook. He also knows how to eat. I shudder and take my place.

Dinner is as stifling as I expect, and at this point, my body is feeling sore. While this isn’t the first time I’ve worn things to work, it’s the first time in a long while that it’s been all day. By the time we’ve said our hundredth good-bye, my skin itches and I’m sure it’s red with irritation. I can’t wait to be released from these bonds. But it’s never that simple. As soon as I arrive home, a three story building with wrap around porches on both the first and second floor with a huge bay window that looks into my living room, I throw my keys onto the table and shout, “Arthur?” A second later that hand I’ve dreamed about is covering my eyes, his natural heat causing goosebumps to pop up along my arms.

“You’ve been such a good boy today.” His voice sounds different; huskier and dry. It’s still warm but it’s demanding. It makes me want to listen. Unable to see, the sensation of his lips on my scalp is twice as intense. His free hand is roaming my body, dragging the rope he’d tied this morning. I whimper and nod. My knees feel weak as everything I’d been holding back surges forward. I want to feel more. I jerk my hips back knowing he’s directly behind me. My ass comes in contact with his crotch but to my dismay, rather than returning the gesture, I feel a sharp tug from the back of the rope, pulling it up my ass until it dug painfully against my hole. I whine, body shaking. “I compliment you and then you do something naughty. Did I say you could rub on me?” His lips are against my ear, breathing air so hot it burns. His breath smells like spearmint and Jul liquid. He quit smoking about five years back but he switched to vaping, though they were the non-nicotine flavors. It drives me so mad, those scents that are uniquely his. Kissing my neck he says, “You know where to go.” I nod, but he doesn’t remove his hand. I whimper quietly but slowly reach forward as I let memory guide me to where I needed to go.

I travel along the kitchen to a door that leads to the basement. I fumble for the handle and pull it open. Normally one would feel scared to go down the stairs blind, but I’m not. Arthur will never let me fall. Even if I really go blind, he will always be here for me. He has my complete trust, no questions asked. That’s what it means to be my butler. One step at a time we make it downstairs. The air changes. It thrums with energy. It always does. Arthur lets me know when we’ve reached the final step by instructing me, “Close your eyes. Don’t open them. If you open them, you know what will happen.” I nod, bemoaning the loss of heat as he lets me go. I keep my blue eyes closed as instructed, relying only on my ears. I feel the gentle heat of the vents on my skin as I wait.

Arthur steps away from me and I cock my head, listening as he moves around the room. I can tell its dim by the way the light behind my eyes is a dark red versus the searing pink it would be in the sun or fluorescent lights. But I’m not scared. Seconds tick by. Then minutes. I open my mouth to speak. “A-Arthur?” There’s no reply. Instead, I’m hit by a sharp pain in my left asscheek as its struck by the palm of his hand. I squeak.

“You weren’t permitted to speak.” He presses his finger under my chin and lifts my face until I imagine our eyes meeting. “Don’t speak again.” He lets ago and there’s a soft rustling of cloth as something is secured over my eyes, effectively leaving me sightless. Instantly my other senses are heightened. I can hear the water moving in the pipes, the way the wooden steps creak as they settle. I can hear the wind blowing outside, the rustling of leaves. I smell the old dustiness of the space even though it’s cleaned regularly. It’s just the result of an old space being used anew. “Now, I believe you’re wearing far too much. Strip.” I don’t move immediately and receive another firm swat to my ass and I whimper, bottom lip trembling as I reach up and undo my buttons, one at a time. I feel his eyes on me, slightly narrowed but shining with want. My body aches to feel his skin against mine. I don’t only want to feel his eyes on me.

When I reach the final button, the shirt slides from my shoulders, but he catches it before it hits the ground; always the dutiful servant. “I-is that enough?” I whine, shivering only a little from the rapid temperature change. There’s a brief hesitation as I listen to him fold my shirt with utmost care, to be hand washed later. It’s like I stop breathing as I wait either for punishment, for speaking out of turn, or an answer. The silence drags on as he putzes around the room. I can hear his smooth fingers dragging over various instruments, the wood of certain structures, but I can’t even hear his breaths as he moves. That’s more than answer enough. “A-Arthur?” God it felt so good to call his name, but I know that it will get me in trouble.

He’s by my side again, his hand wrapped around my chin, his lips less than a hair breadths away from my skin. “It’s like you’re asking to be punished tonight, Radford.” He uses my full name knowing I have to obey when he does, like it’s a magic charm. But it only works when he uses it. My body trembles under his touch. “When I tell you to strip, you strip. Is that understood?” I nod as much as I can under his grip. “Good.” His lips brush against my cheek and I can’t even help the moan it elicits. I’m rewarded with a tug of the ropes. I won’t make that mistake again.

When he lets go, I wrap my arms around myself and pull off the sleeveless tank top I’m wearing, finally exposing my white, hairless chest. My nipples, each pierced with small, silver hoops, are rock solid. Each shift of my body causes the precisely tied rope to rub against them, catching once in a while in the fine jewelry. My skin, I’m sure, is slightly red and aggravated, but that’s okay, because Arthur will take care of it. He’ll take care of me. He’ll never do anything to truly hurt me. Slowly I reach to undo my pants, his domineering presence circling me as he watches. As I slide my pants down my legs I feel him press against my back, rough yet smooth, hands tracing up my body from my hips, ghosting over my skin like kisses. When they reach my chest, he grips harder, capturing my nipples between his fingers as he massages me. My knees nearly give out but he catches me, not allowing me to fall; not allowing me to get away.

“Keep going. They’re not off yet.” His teeth graze my neck and I expose it further to him, moaning as he tugs at the rings in my skin. Oh if only father knew what I’d done. Or mother. I’m sure she would drop dead on the spot. His fingers work under the ropes, just tight enough, and plays with my skin, running up and down the length of my torso as I work my slacks off. They’re slightly damp in the front. My underwear is worse. Today he has me in nothing more than a baby pink thong, with white frills around the crotch, the string waistband made of lace; the fabric barely wide enough in the front to keep my package covered when flaccid. It’s soaked through, unsalvageable. “What a naughty boy. I’ll have to go out and buy you some new ones since you’ve ruined these.” His hands sink lower as he runs his nose along the protruding vein in my throat, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake. “Tell me, Radford. Do you need me to punish you for ruining your panties?” I gasp as his fingers dip just beneath the waistband, pulling on the string so hard I swear it’s going to break. I shake my head. “No? How come?” I feel the pull as he runs a single finger around my body, never pulling away from my underwear.

“Please no.” I gasp as I feel him come up to my rear, fingers brushing repeatedly, teasingly, over each half of the globe as I stand there, trembling. My cock hurts so much. I’m certain it’s purple right now, wanting more. That stupid ring. “Please, it’s not my fault.”

He chuckles, low and deep as he brings his lips once more to my ear. “Then whose fault is it? Surely, you’re not blaming me?” The whine that escapes is unnatural. “Well that tells me all I need to know. On your knees.” He says this as he rips the panties straight off my body like they’re nothing, leaving me fully exposed. A second later there’s a light pressure against the back of my knees as he guides me to the floor. Before I can question what’s happening, my arms are brought behind my back as I feel another length of rope tying them together. It’s tighter than the one around my body, but it still doesn’t hurt.

“A-Arthur.” The sound of my own voice sends chills down my spine. The amount of control I let him have over me…

There’s a tug on my arms. “That’s not what you call me.” He breathes, crouching in front of me.

“N-no.”

“Say it.”

“Please, no.”

“Say it.” My nipple rings are pulled harshly.

“D-daddy.”

“Mmmm. That’s good. Again. Until you get it.” He pulls at my skin again and I gasp, whining through gritted teeth. “What do you call me, Radford?”

“D-daddy.”

“Again.”

“Daddy.”

“There’s a good boy.” His husky voice shoots straight down my body to my locked groin, and it hurts so much. So good. “Since you’ve been such a goody boy, besides ruining those nice panties I only just bought you, I’ll give you a present.” I feel his hands as they ghost over my body, down to my nether regions. After a moment there’s a very soft click and the pressure around my cock disappears. I nearly spill my load right then and there, but that would only get me in trouble, so I hold it back. He’ll let me know when it’s okay. “But you’ve been mouthy so I think that deserves some punishment.”

“No Daddy, please. I won’t talk back!” I cry, wriggling on my knees to move closer to him. Feeling his chest in front of me, I lean forward and nuzzle him like a cat, feeling the somewhat bristling chest hair which comforts me. I’m pushed away. “Please Daddy.” I try to push forward but am denied. He stands and moves wordlessly away from me and all I can do is follow him with my blind eyes. “Daddy?”

There’s a soft clinking of chains and I can guess what comes next. Suddenly, there’s a soft leather bit in my mouth as it’s fastened with a metal chain behind my head. It’s not large, my teeth can almost touch, but not quite. It takes only seconds for drool to start gathering, dribbling out from the corners of my lips. I desperately try to suck it back in but I can’t. Not only can I not see, but I can no longer speak. I whimper in vain. “There now. Maybe you’ll learn your lesson about speaking only when spoken to.” He pets my head, keeping his body out of reach so that I can’t keep myself in contact with him. We stay like that for a long while, his fingers threading through my hair leisurely as I try hard to swallow the spit in my mouth. It’s a futile effort, but I can’t just let it flow. “I have to pick up the clothes you’ve so disrespectfully left lying around my home so you kneel there, and think about what you’ve done, is that clear?” I nod, regretting life as he pulls his hand away. I want that warmth, that comfort, touching me at all times. I can’t take it otherwise.

Then there’s absolute silence except for the sound of the house doing its thing. Arthur moves stealthily around the basement space; so much so that even if I strain my ears I can’t hear him. I’m never sure where he learned to move like he does, like an assassin on a job, but if he doesn’t want to be heard, he won’t be. My knees begin to ache. Just when I feel like I can no longer take it, a familiar presence steps up behind me. I cock my head towards the noise, listening for him. My eyes are damp. My body is aching for release. God please, let me have release. That’s when I feel the familiar feel of leather against my back, yanking against my binds and I whimper, knowing what’s to come next.

As he drags the whip across my body, Arthur asks, voice so deep it resonates in the confined space of the basement, “Now then, is my kitty ready to play?” I immediately nod, not caring about anything else. He’s going to let me cum. I can get rid of this ache. “Lean forward. Ass up.” I do so without questions. My shoulders have become so much more pliant since we started this. It doesn’t hurt me at all as I lay my face on the ground and let my back sink into a curve so that my ass is in the air. He gropes me, feeling me up as he pleases. I can’t get enough of it.

Then there’s the sharp pain of the horse whip hitting my rump. I let out a loud yelp and my body quivers. Already I’m leaking cum worse than a broken faucet leaks water. I can feel it pooling between my knees as another sharp prick lands against me. The sound of leather against skin is loud, but it doesn’t hurt. No, not really. Not like when I was a child. Spittle dribbles out of my mouth as I gasp for air. It’s been a long while since I was last gagged and there’s slight panic when I can’t close my mouth to keep from making sound but it doesn’t last long. Arthur likes it when I’m noisy. He gets angry if I hold it back, unlike a certain someone. It’s okay to express my pain. So as the whip hits my bare skin once again I let it all out, nostrils flaring as my cock swells even more. Release is so close.

After five swats total to both cheeks, I’m instructed so stand so I hobble to my feet. The electricity coursing through my body appears as tremors. He runs a hand over my backside, soothing it. After some time like this, I feel his hands against the back of my head and a moment later, the gag falls from my mouth, clanging against the fake wooden floor. Fingers run over my lips and without prompting, I take one into my mouth, suckling at it. His other hand is wrapped around the base of my skull, thumb running soothing circles over an acupoint. I still can’t see, but that’s okay because he’s here with me. “Are you okay?” He asks, lips brushing the crest of my ear before his teeth gently nibble around it as I nod. “Good, kitten. Are you ready to play some more?” The hand at my head ventures lower and seconds later, the ropes tied around me are released, lying limply against my skin. I seem to have lost my ability to speak and can only nod vigorously, craving more. Needing more. “Use your words, kitten. I’m not a mind reader though you constantly seem to think so.” Those beautiful, tantalizing fingers brush over my right nipple as the rope is lifted from me. A relieved sigh escapes and I shudder, feeling almost too free. Unrestricted.

“Please Daddy. Play with me more?” The words slip freely from between my lips, around the finger I still hold in my mouth. Any embarrassment I might’ve felt in the past is eclipsed by the bond between us. By the love we share. Even though this love isn’t allowed… because he is my servant. And I his master.

He hums with contentment. “I knew you would.” Moist fingers pull away and drag along my skin, teasing me. I tremble with bated excitement as he grabs me by the hand and leads me away. His scent washes over me as I follow wordlessly, and it eggs me on. Urges me to follow and obey.

When he stops, I do too. He grabs me by the shoulders and guides me to sit on a soft, over stuffed cushion. I lean back as he grabs one leg and hoists it up into what I know is a stirrup he commandeered some time ago. He straps my ankle in, the faux fur he’d sewn into the leather soft against my heated skin. He won’t stand for any more irritation than strictly necessary. Then he hoists my other leg up, doing the same, I swallow hard but relax, exposed for him to see. All is laid bare for this man, not a single thing left for his imagination, again and again until he’s had enough. He will never have enough. My erection is mad painful, weeping as it calls for more. How much more can it take before I truly lose control? He moves away and I follow him with a tilt of my head. I want to see his face but that’s not in his cards right now. We always play into his cards. When he comes back, the sound of his footsteps heavier when he’s close, I feel the smile on his lips. It’s a bit evil, more of a smirk than a smile, and I know that I’m about to be chewed up. The length of my body tenses in anticipation as I hear the sound of a familiar buzz. A vibration. As its moved close to me the air around it is disturbed, like there’s a wall around it until it comes in contact with me. I howl as he holds it against my already solid nipples, jerking away. He follows, no matter how I twist my body. It distracts me from the sound of a bottle cap popping open.

As he moves the vibrator around my chest, swirling it like a toy, he moves a damp hand down my body towards my groin, getting close but never quite touching it. His fingers move along my thighs, leaving a trail of what I can only assume is lube. This is when he starts with his mouth, sucking one nipple in as he uses the vibrator against the other, his teeth pulling at the small silver ring until my entire body is wracked by pleasure filled tremors. The moans are so loud but I can’t help it. His mouth switches places and I’m overrun by sensations, so much so that I don’t even register as he slips a finger inside of me, pressing in until his knuckles are flush against my ass.

As he fingers me, he trails kisses up my sternum, my neck, peppers my chin with them, before capturing my mouth with bruising passion. I hear the vibrator tick up two notches and what little of my body left that isn’t tensed, tenses. I know what’s coming, because he always does this. When he kisses me, it’s tender. Soft. Slow. But it’s always accompanied by a torturous pleasure. I can’t focus. He’s pressing his tongue against my lips, pushing for entrance knowing he’ll be given permission. It may just take a minute as my mind goes blank as he presses the mini wand vibrator right against the base of my dick, right where it meets my balls. I grit in my teeth in what likely looks like a grimace but it’s only because I’m going to cum otherwise, and I still haven’t been told I can. He smiles against my lips, knowing full well what he’s doing. He moves it in slow circles as cum drips against my lower stomach. God, I want release so bad. So damn bad. Another finger slips inside.

I try to squeeze my legs together, to get away from the incessant vibration but I’m stuck. I dig my nails into the arms of the chair as my mouth is ransacked by this beast of a manservant. He’s such a good kisser as his tongue wraps around mine, dominating me in every sense. He pulls it into his own mouth and suckles on it until I’m gasping for air, the dried drool along my chin replaced by a new round. He releases me just long enough to lick it up before he’s biting at my lips, lapping at them like a dog licking a wound. That’s when I feel his fingers against that spot deep inside me making stars explode in front of my blindfolded eyes and I gasp, hips jerking upwards. I almost lose control. But I hold on.

“Eh heh heh heh. That’s the spot, is it?” He rumbles, chuckling softly as he moves the vibrator around the base of my cock before dragging it slowly upwards until he’s pressing it against the crown, absolutely purple with desire. “I know you want something from me, kitten.” He purrs this against my ear and nibbles at the lobe with the most lecherous grin. “Beg me.” I whimper, unable to find the words even though they’re right there. I’ve wanted this forever but now the words elude me.

“Please.” I whimper, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. It’s almost too much.

“Please what?” He asks.

“P-Please, Arthur. Please.” Each time I speak my voice gets higher, whinier. I’m simply whimpering at this point as my body thrashes, begging for it. He knows exactly what I want. At my pleading, though, I’m denied once more as he withdraws his fingers and the small toy at the same time, leaving me with nothing but the sensation of the stagnant air against me. “A-Arthur?”

There’s a sharp twang against my mid-section as he hits me with the horse whip. I cry out, more in shock than in pain. When he had grabbed it, I have no idea. Maybe he’s simply been holding onto it? “Now you’re just asking me to be punished.” He strikes me again and I shake my head, violently. The cloth around my eyes is damp with tears. “Why are you shaking your head at me?” Crack.

“I-I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Crack.

“Hm. Are you, though?” Crack.

“Yes, Daddy. I won’t forget again. Please.” Crack. My chest heaves. At least he’s got enough control that he hits me in the exact same place every time. I’m able to explain away any bruises if people ask. But it does sting more getting hit repeatedly like that. He runs his hand through my hair telling me I’m forgiven.

“Now, let’s try this again. Tell me what you want.”

“Let me cum, Daddy. Please. Let me cum.” I don’t hold back, laying it on thick as I plead.

“Now there’s a good boy.” And a moment later his fingers are back inside of me, three this time, stroking that little button of a spot until I scream, cumming hard and fast. It covers my stomach, spurting so far I feel it hit my chin and by the time I finish, I’m in tears. My orgasm has left me completely gassed, my body like a pile of goo as I lay there with my legs still strapped in. I moan quietly as he removes his fingers, my hole twitching at the sudden loss.

Everything is quiet for a moment, but the electricity in the air stills, allowing me to truly bask in this moment. Then I can see again. Arthur removes my blindfold and strokes his large fingers down the side of my face. I reach up and grab his hand, bringing it to my mouth as I kiss him. “Arthur.” I whisper his name, needing to hear him; the real him. No. The other him.

“Yes, Master Ray?” His voice is soft and tender. Though he’s always stern, I love this side of him most.

“Arthur.” I call his name again, having nothing to say. I kiss his knuckles again before turning my blue eyes on him, sending a silent request. Like he can read minds, he leans in and kisses me, unbothered by the mess on my stomach. When he retreats, he begins to undo the binds on my legs. His jade eyes stare at my body, frowning at the amount of irritation left by the ropes. I lean forward as much as I can and cup his face. “It’s okay. I just wore them too long today.”

“I’m sorry.” He replies, gently lowering my leg like it’s made of glass as he reaches for the other one. I finally get to run my hand through that jet black hair.

“Don’t ever apologize. It’s not your fault.” He leans into the touch and I allow it.

“Yes, master.” Lowering my other leg, I sit up straight as he stands. “Wait here a moment.” I nod and watch as he walks to the small porcelain sink at the corner of the room. A small wooden stand, unremarkable in every way, filled to the brim with towels and rags stands next to it. He grabs a rag as he turns on the sink. He’s humming, slightly off-key but it’s lovely all the same. When he comes back he sets to wiping me down, starting from my chin and working his way down, his empty hand ghosting across my skin. He thoroughly cleans my stomach until I’m sure it’s cleaner than before. That’s when I grab his face and pull him in for a kiss. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“I think that’s more than enough.” The words are insinuating. I know that he must be in quite the state himself but he’ll never say it out loud. It makes me want to take care of him. “Arthur. Take me to bed.” He looks into my eyes and nods slowly. Throwing the rag blindly into a basket through a door at the very far end of the room, we can both hear the quietest plop as it lands on top of the other laundry, he stands and before I can say a word, and scoops me into his arms bridal style. I wrap my arms around his neck and lean into his chest, breathing in that oh so savory mint smell. My sense of smell still seems to be in overdrive from my loss of vision, but I’m not complaining.

We climb three sets of stairs until we’re on the third level. This man is so strong that if he’s out of breath, I’m not certain I’d know unless he passed out with me in his arms. He takes me to my room, the only one on this entire floor, and lays me out on my bed. The sheets ware already pulled back; my pillows fluffed. I scoot to the middle, and smile at him, eyes dancing in the light of the single old fashioned lamp on my night stand. His face doesn’t change as he begins to pull at his tie, snug against his throat. I watch without interrupting.

One by one different articles of clothing come off. The tie, which he throws onto my swiveling desk chair I’d gotten for cheap from some office story having a close out sale. It’s a hideous lime yellow, but I love it and I’ll keep it until it breaks. Next, he pulls off his suit coat. I have to watch in silent agony as he hangs it on a hanger that he hooks on the back of my door. Just the visage of his broad chest causes heat in my belly once more, even though I can only admire it through the fabric of his shirt. He unbuttons his dress shirt, a light powder blue, one button at a time. How he doesn’t suffocate with each and every one done up is a mystery I’m not sure I’ll ever solve. At this point I can tell he’s trying not to grin. The muscles of his lips twitch as he slides it off and throws it onto the chair as well. When he reaches for the button of his slacks, I hold up my hand to stop him. Crawling to the edge of the bed, I beckon him closer, and when he’s within reach, I pull him by a belt loop and yank him until his crotch is directly in front of me. I swallow as I take in the bulge. It seems to swell more and more the longer I look and the want inside me surges once again.

With practiced fingers, I get the button undone and yank his pants down, uncaring if they get ruined. His forest green boxer briefs follow immediately after, and I’m greeted by my gift. His cock is enormous, both in length and girth, and it’s currently standing straight up at attention. Pearls of pre-cum leak from the purplish-red tip. He’s clearly been holding back as he takes care of me first and it makes me want to do the same to him. I take it in one hand and give a few solid strokes as I turn my gaze upwards to meet his eyes. As always, he appears uncertain. He has a strange sense of duty to my father, but that duty never included what we’ve become. I won’t let him hold on to that thought for long. Blinking once, I turn my gaze to the mammoth in front of me and swallow it down, lips stretching to accommodate it. My mouth is filled with the bitter taste of him but I love it. My lips work his length, tip to balls, tongue tracing along the protruding vein before I take to just the tip. I swirl around it while using my hand to jerk him, fondling his balls as he grunts with pleasure. He’s thrusting gently into me, but I know he’s holding back. He threads his fingers through the cropped strip of hair running down the center of my head, pulling just enough that it hurts. My own manhood has reared its head once more, so I reach between my legs and begin to jerk myself off as well. I moan against him as my jaw starts to cramp.

Just as I think he’s about to release, he pulls me off of him. I lick my lips as I strain my neck back to look into his eyes. “Ray.” His voice is pleading. I know what he wants, and I want it just as much. Nodding, as I lick the remnants of him from my lips, I crab crawl my way back to the middle of my bed. I watch as he meticulously steps out of his pants, folding them as he sets them on that hideous chair, before he follows me onto the bed. He crawls on top of and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in until our lips meet. I’m sure he can still taste himself in my mouth and that thought is enough to wind me right up. He breaks the kiss and reaches for the side table where he pulls out another bottle of lube and a condom.

“I want to feel you tonight, Arthur. All of you.” I say gently, brushing hair from his eyes. He doesn’t say anything but he lets the condom drop back into the drawer. Then he’s buried back inside of me, fingers probing so deep I’m sure there’s nowhere left for them to go. I moan his name as I grab the hairs at the nape of his neck and pull, showing him my want. My need. My desire. “God fucking dammit, Arthur please. I need you inside of me.” He’s moving too slow. He’s already opened me up, more than I can ever need, and I need it to burn a little.

“Ray.” My name comes out in a breathy whisper. I listen as he pops open the cap and squirts a generous amount into his hand. There’s the familiar schlick schlick schlick as he coats himself, giving his cock a few good tugs as he prepares to enter me. And then he’s pushing inside, my entrance pushing open slowly but surely as he breaches my inner walls. I cry out and instinctively wrap my legs around him, guiding him even though he doesn’t need it. When he’s sheathed inside, we stay that way for a while, allowing both of our bodies to adjust. He leans in and kisses me, slowly, sensually, letting our tongues tangle in a way that neither of us is dominating. His arms support him on either side of my head and I bask in their strength. In the comfort of having them around me, even when they’re not physically touching me. “Can I move?” He finally asks, nipping my chin before resting his forehead against mine. I nod and close my eyes.

He jerks his hips forward and then we’re moving in a rhythm, neither fast nor slow. He knows just where to hit and just how to hit it. He lowers himself until our chests are touching, and I can feel the strength of his heartbeat against me, the way it pitter patters as he thrusts deep inside. Our skin is slick with sweat and I can’t seem to get enough of his lips as we kiss again and again. One large hard is braced against my hip for leverage and I’m breathless. There are no words.

As we’re nearing the edge, he reaches between our bodies and grabs me, large hands jerking me to the rhythm of his thrusts. Since I’ve already come once, I hold on just a little bit longer but he’s soon cumming inside of me, his heat filling me up as he spends his load. The feeling is one of unimagined comfort and that’s what brings me to the edge the second time. I spill once more across my chest, coating him as well this time. When every drop has been coaxed from me, he falls into me, breathing rapid. He leaves lazy kisses against my neck since it’s the closest area to his face. Tiredly, I stroke his hair, relishing in our closeness.

“I want a shower.” I say, even though that’s not really true. I don’t want to lose his warmth on top of me, even though it feels like glue drying between us. Begrudgingly he nods, always following my every whim. “You’ll be joining me won’t you Arthur?” I give him the best puppy dog eyes I can manage. “I’m just so exhausted I might hurt myself and fall down. Then what will my father do?”

“If that’s what my master desires.” Arthur replies, sneaking in another kiss as he stands. I stare at his ass, perfect and round and firm, as he goes to a chest of drawers near the door. He pulls out a pair of black sweats and pulls them on and I stifle a whimper at the loss. If only he never had to wear clothes. If only I could look at him like this all the time. “I’ll be back.” He slips into the bathroom attached to the room, and I hear the sound of the shower. Flopping back, I await for my knight to come and whisk me away.

We shower together, as promised. I take pleasure in sucking him off a second time, down on my knees once more, taking him until he’s weak and has to grab hold of the wall for purchase. After, he takes his time to clean us both thoroughly, not missing even an inch of skin, including deep inside of me. If I wasn’t already exhausted, I’m not sure I could hold back as he gently washes away his evidence. Getting out, I sit on the edge of the tub and allow him to dry me, starting at my feet with a pristine white towel. He carefully pats every part of me dry, hands lingering in certain spots. When he gets to my head, he gently towel dries my hair until it’s damp at best. He then dries himself with the towel he let hang around his waist. I don’t wait for him, walking back to my bed naked. I crawl in and wait.

When he comes out, he’s in his sweats once again but I don’t mind. The shape of his chest is nothing to snuff at and his pants barely cling to his hips. I can see the trail of dark hair leading from his belly button down. I know exactly where that leads and that’s all I need. “Well then, Master Ray. I think that, if you need nothing else of me, I should be retiring for the evening.” He bows slightly, not quite looking at me, and begins to gather his things. I can’t let this stand and I whimper, jutting out my lower lip in a pout. He turns to me, a slight frown on his lips. “Sir?”

“Arthur.” I say his name in that way I know he can’t resist. It’s like a spell is cast every time I call him like this. “Don’t leave.”

He slowly shakes his head, but I can tell he’s having a difficult time. “I’m sorry, Master Ray, but I don’t think that would be acceptable – “

I bark back, “I didn’t ask what’s acceptable. I don’t want you to leave.” I wish there was venom in my words, but I could never be mean to him. “Stay.” The word is halfway between a plea and a command, but I don’t have the power over him to command anything.

He sighs, as though deeply put out by my request, and sets all of his things in the chair as he comes to the bed. “If Master Ray insists, I’ll stay the night.” I scoot over just a little and pat the open space beside me. He’s holding back a smile again as he crawls in, pulling the covers over us both as he settles. I curl in next to him, snuggling as close as our bodies will allow, wishing there was a way we can get even closer. But for now, this will have to do. He puts a broad arm around me and pulls me into him, resting his head on the other arm as a pillow, chin resting against the top of my head. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, appreciating the warmth and comfort I receive from the scent he effuses; the scent that is uniquely his. I feel his body relax but before I can hear the soft snore I’m overly familiar with I’m out like a light.

When I wake the next morning, I’m disappointed, but not surprised to find my bed cold and empty, the bedside lamp that had been left on turned off. My cellphone is plugged in and his clothes are gone. Sighing, I close my eyes for a few more minutes until he’ll come. My bedroom door opens and my eyes flutter in response. I turn to stare at the hulk of the main in my door, dressed in another black suit, his dress shirt a lovely lavender, a silver tray in his hands. His face is cold, expressionless, as he greets me. “Good morning, Master Ray. I hope you slept well.”

I sit and stretch, allowing my sheets to pool in my lap as I respond, “I did, Arthur, thank you. I seemed to have had the most wonderful dream. So much so that I was disappointed that I woke up to a cold bed.”

He comes further into the room to set the tray on my desk, a tea towel hanging over his arm as he arranges things neatly, pouring me a freshly brewed cup of coffee. “That sounds wonderful, sir. May I ask what the dream was about?” The tremble in his hand doesn’t escape me. Reliving it is always one of his favorite parts.

I crawl out of bed and walk to him as I say, “The man of my dreams had his way with me between the sheets, fucking me until I was hoarse from pleasure.” I touch his lower back and go up on my tippy toes so I can whisper in his ear, “It was so real it’s like I can still feel him inside of me.” His façade cracks and he’s forced to smirk a little, but it only takes a second for him to remember his place and rearrange his features back into stoic silence. Taking the coffee, I drink a long drag before saying, “It’s a real shame it was only a dream. I really do hope that I’ll have it again this week.”

He turns to me just as I sit on the edge of my bed, crossing my naked legs with everything still in full view. Like a pro he keeps his eyes on my face. “That sounds like an excellent dream, Master Ray. With your luck, I’m certain the dream will come to you again. Now then, is there anything else I can do for you before I go to see your father?”

“No, Arthur. Thank you. The coffee is delicious.” I raise the cup before I shoo him away, watching his back. I hate to see him go. I wish I could demand that he stay, that he never leave my side. But as much as I desire it, there are always some things that are unattainable. Things that one can want but never fully have. And so they become secret desires that burn until it eats us from the inside out.

#ao3 #archive of our own #original work #original fiction #writing #story #stories #bondage fiction #bdsm fiction #m/m fiction #BL fiction #boys love #mature boys love #BL #Daddy kink #BDSM #Orgasm Denial #MM fiction #M/M #MlM fiction #original writing #kink fic

[demonvampire180writes]

I just thought about how much I'd love to read a story about Akashi watching as his partner pleasured themselves, watching from a chair like a king, head resting against his closed hand, one long leg crossed leisurely over the other, while his partner writhes in self pleasure on the ground before his eyes. Like, I honestly don't even care who the partner is but imaging Kuruko? Yes please. I don't even ship them. Murisakibara? Hell yeah. Aomine? FUCK YES. Kise? Unf. All of them at once? UUUUUUUUUUUUNFFFFFFFF.

#akashi seijirou #BL fanfic ideas #kuroko no basuke #kuroko no basuke fanfic ideas #kuroko's basketball

[demonvampire180writes]

Community Guided Chapter 5

Later that evening, Aomine headed out to a local café for dinner with plans to meet Kagami and Whitney. He’d asked Kaylee if she had wanted to join him but she had refused, saying something about watching her figure. In reality, Aomine knew, it was because she’d just bought a new game and wanted to binge it the rest of the night. Guaranteed tomorrow she would spend about three hours telling him about every single aspect of the game, from lighting effects, to voice acting. Honestly, he had no idea what sort of games she played; he only knew that every once in a while, he’d hear some pretty suggestive noises coming from her switch. He never investigated any further.

He reached the café a few minutes after the arranged meeting time and found the two of them already seated at a table. Ordering a coffee and grabbing a menu, he ambled over to their table and slid in across from them. “Where’s that one girl?” Kagami asked, disinterested.

“Who knows. She’s a freaking otaku, I swear.” Aomine shrugged, taking a long drag of his coffee.

“Otaku?” Whitney blinked at him.

“A loser who spends all their time obsessing over something. In her case, video games.” Kagami clarified. Aomine couldn’t even argue, though the part about being a loser was unnecessary.

“I thought she played sports?”

“She does. She’s super into tennis but once she gets hands a new game she was excited about, I won’t hear from her again until she finishes it. I’m surprised that she even makes it to class.” Aomine rolled his eyes. Whitney laughed. “But whatever. It keeps her out of my hair.”

“Like you even want that.” Kagami scoffed. “Her boobs are freaking huge. I bet you wish you could spend all day every day buried in them.”

“Not if it means I have to listen to her tell me one more time about some ecchi scene in one of her games.” Aomine snorted, making a face. He’d heard about a few games he really wished he hadn’t. Kagami snorted his drink, caught off guard.

“She plays those type of games.” He shuddered. As Whitney turned to ask, he shook his head feverently. “You don’t need to know.” She shrugged and took a long sip of the milk tea she was working on. “Anyway, how are things going? It seems like the guys from the basketball court are leaving you alone.”

He shrugged and leaned back into the seat, draping one long arm over the back of the wicker chair. “I hardly see them at the school and if I do, they leave me alone. I think they’ve finally learned their lesson.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I told you they’re not such bad guys. Just a little… Eccentric.”

Aomine snorted. “I don’t know if eccentric is the right word for a guy like David, the racist prick.”

“Just be thankful you don’t have super prominent Asian features.” Whitney scowled, biting the tip of her straw until she’d imprinted teeth marks. “I don’t know what that guy’s problem is, like for real.”

“Is that super common here? Just today I ran into some other guys like that. I thought people from California were supposed to be super open minded or some shit?” He broached the subject without even thinking about it.

Kagami stared at him. “What are you talking about? What happened?”

Aomine shrugged, surprised that he’d be interested. “I was going to class when I saw this kid being cornered in a classroom by some group of thugs. They were totally surrounding on him.”

“What did you do?” Whitney asked. There was a very subtle shift in her attitude, as if she were expecting a certain answer but she didn’t want to let on that she was. Her fingers curled a little tighter around her cup, but neither of the boys noticed.

“I stopped them, what else? I wasn’t going to just let them beat the piss out of him. He looked so scared he was about to wet his pants.” Aomine took another long drag of his coffee. “There was even a girl in their group. Jordan, I think her name was.” Whitney scowled. “What, you know her?”

“And I wish I didn’t.” She spat, mood souring. She slammed her empty cup on the table. “She just does whatever her boyfriend does. I don’t think that she has even two brain cells to rub together. I don’t even know how she got into college, let alone the one you guys go to.” True enough, their college wasn’t exactly prestigious, but its acceptance rate was lower than the average state or community college.

“Wait, don’t you go to our school? And is her boyfriend a big, buff looking dude? With super short redish-blond hair?”

“Nah, she goes to a business college a little further away.” Kagami replied, biting into a sandwich that had just been dropped off by a waitress. “And that sounds like the guy.”

“You’ve met him?”

Kagami snorted. “Something like that. The dude is trouble, but he’s practically a genius.” Aomine could easily see that. The guy definitely didn’t have the air of a typical meat for brains. There was some intelligence behind his beady little eyes. “So, what were they even ganging up on him for? Just for fun? Was he black? I’ve heard a lot of rumors around here that there are some seriously racist people here that only target black people.”

Aomine shook his head, though hearing Kagami say that it made total sense how they’d reacted to him. He may have been Japanese but his dark skin wasn’t exactly something people could ignore. And, like Whitney had said, it’s not like he, or Kagami, had particularly defined Asian features. If he kept his mouth shut, he could be mistaken for just about anything. “I dunno. They kept accusin’ him of being gay.”

Whitney sucked in a sharp breath but said nothing. “And you stepped in? Did you even know the guy?”

“No, at least I don’t think so.”

“So, what happened?” Whitney spoke again, brushing a piece of fallen hair behind her ear. He sour attitude hadn’t lifted. If anything, it seemed to have gotten worse. “He didn’t get hurt, did he?”

Aomine shook his head. “They didn’t get the chance. I stepped in just as he was about to throw hands.”

“How many of them were there?” Kagami asked, eyes flashing.

“Like five of them? Six maybe.”

“That’s horrible.” Whitney gasped; her bagel she’d been slowly picking at totally forgotten. “I can’t stand people like that. First they gang up on someone and then they pick on them in numbers? How childish.”

“I mean two of them weren’t anywhere near him, just sort of watching, but the big guy and the girl were messing with him with two other guys.” He chugged the rest of his coffee. “I did end up punching him once because he tried to throw hands directly at me but in the end, nothing happened to either of us. The kid was fine and I went to class. It wasn’t anything interesting.”

Kagami sat back and wrapped an arm loosely around his girlfriend’s shoulders, a thoughtful look on his face. “Was he?”

“Was he what?”

“A homo?” Whitney shoved him hard in the shoulder and glared. “What? I’m just curious.”

“He says he wasn’t, but who fucking knows. It’s none of my business.”

“Don’t they make you kind of uncomfortable?” He took another large bite of his sandwich and chewed carefully. “I mean, what if they were looking at you in that way.”

Whitney gaped at him. “How could you say that? You like women, so do you look at all women in that way?” She asked.

“Of course not.” Kagami responded, staring wide eyed back at her. “I only like some types of girls.”

Interjecting Aomine said, “I don’t know. They’ve always just kind existed to me. Since I don’t like dudes, it’s never mattered to me whether they’re lookin’ at me like that because even if they do it’s not like they have a chance.” He sighed. “Plus, I don’t even know any gay guys.”

“Isn’t that Kise kid gay?” Whitney eyed him. “One of his old teammates. He was a model.”

Aomine shook his head. “Who knows. He’s never confirmed nor denied, and honestly, I don’t give a fuck. He was a good player and that’s all I care about.” He contemplated another coffee. “But I guess I kinda get what you mean. I wouldn’t want some dude hitting on me. It just feels kind of wrong.”

Whitney’s bright blue eyes turned sharply on him. “What is it with men?” They stared at her. “It’s like you guys forget that you have preferences, too. Just because a guy likes another guy, or a girl likes another girl, doesn’t suddenly mean that they want every single person they walk past.” She crossed her arms over her chest and moved away from her boyfriend.

“Yeah, but I mean… What if a girl hit on you?”

“Aho, that’s totally different. Girls are constantly flirting with each other-“

“How is that any different?” She demanded. “If a hot girl flirted with me, I’d be over the moon. A compliment is a compliment.”

The two of them looked at each other, then at her, and then shrugged. “It’s just different, okay. I don’t want a guy thinking about what he’d do with me in bed. That’s just weird.” Aomine asserted, rubbing his hair in awkward frustration. “Like, they can be gay if they want to but I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Kagami nodded in agreement. “They don’t need to push it in our faces.”

Whitney let out an exasperated sigh and got to her feet. “I just don’t understand how people can think like that. Like, thank you for stepping in for that guy, but don’t go trying to diminish his existence just because it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“I mean I would’ve stepped in whether he was or wasn’t-“ He tried to clarify but she cut him short.

“But I bet if you knew before, whether he really was or wasn’t, you probably would’ve hesitated, or even shared some of those bullies’ thoughts.” Aomine couldn’t really argue. “I’m going home. I’ve got homework to do. Taiga, I’ll talk to you later.” She didn’t even look at him as she picked up her purse and turned to leave. Watching her leave, they both exhaled in exasperation.

“Man, what was her problem? I don’t understand women. Of course, being hit on by a guy would be uncomfortable.” Kagami scoffed, shoving the rest of his now cold sandwich in his mouth, swallowing it whole. “Guys and girls are totally different.” He licked his fingers one by one. “Anyway, let’s go hit the courts. I haven’t paid you back for last week yet.”

“Shouldn’t you go after her?”

“Nah. Once she gets like this it’s best to leave her alone until she simmers down. I’ll call her before I go to bed tonight.” Kagami replied, reaching for the small duffle bag he’d tucked down at his feet. “Let’s go before it gets too late. The courts don’t have a lot of light.” His friend nodded, eagerly and followed shortly after him, a small part of his mind still bothered by the events from earlier that day.

#aomine x kagami #aokaga #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #completed fanfic #completed story #completed fic

[demonvampire180writes]

Community Guided Chapter 4

*** Once again, this chapter contains some very offensive language ***

Chapter Text

The next day, things went smoothly, as usual, through most of his morning. His first class of the day was canceled, but since he was already up and ready, he decided to head to the library to do some studying. He’d been keeping in contact with Annie, having her send out worksheets every so often, and also utilizing her skills to help him go over his English papers before they were due. He had a report due at the end of the week and she’d sent him back a list of corrections to look over. It was a pretty big paper, and he lacked the confidence to proceed with it, especially given that it was research paper. They’d never been his strong suit, not even in his native language, and navigating the ins and outs was extremely taxing on him. To his pleasant surprise, the paper came back with fewer corrections than he’d anticipated.

“The paper was good overall,” the familiar voice chimed through the headphones, “but you’re still making a lot of the same small grammar mistakes that we’ve gone over countless time. I’ll send you a worksheet that focuses on that grammar point. I want you to go over it before you go through and make the corrections in your paper so that you understand why you’re making them.” He grunted in reply, scanning through the pages quickly, noting every red tick mark or circle he found. “How are things going over all? Are you settling in?”

He nodded, looking up into the camera. “It’s a weird adjustment.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I bet. The cultural differences between our countries is kind of outlandish. Be thankful you’re in a place like Cali. I think you’d have a hard time getting used to southern hospitality, or the mid-west nice. They sure like to talk your ear off, and you won’t leave without at least one goody bag or five to go.”

“Goody bag?” He asked.

“Like stuff to go. Also referred to as a doggy bag.”

“Ah, they do that in Japan, too-“

“Not to the level that midwestners do! They’ll feed you until you’re fat, and then offer you pie for the ride home.” She shuddered. “They’re nice, but don’t let them catch you in their clutches.” He laughed. “I’m not kidding. Even someone as athletic as you would start having problems if you stayed too long.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for it. By the way, when did you say you’re coming here?”

“Hmmm…” She glanced down at the phone in her hand. “The end of January I think.”

“You think? Don’t you make your own schedules and shit?”

“I mean yeah, but it’s not like I’m constantly thinking about my vacation or anything. I’ll just send you a text the week before I’m coming out. You’re saving at least one night for me, right?”

“Why, so I can hear you yapping my ear off the whole time?”

She glared at him. “I should be the one saying that. If I have to hear one more word about basketball, I think I might just cut my ears off. I’m seriously concerned that your brain may one day turn into a basketball.”

“Well, if it does, you have nothing to worry about because then I won’t be able to keep talking about it.” He smirked. “Anyway, it looks like our time is up. Thanks for the corrections.”

“No problem. Make sure you do that worksheet I emailed you. I promise it will help.”

“Like I don’t have enough work to do.” He groused, teasingly. With a quick wave goodbye, she ended the call. Sighing, he closed the lid to his laptop and slumped in his chair. After a long moment, he lifted his phone to his face and opened up the revisions he’d been emailed, as well as the worksheet. Glancing over it, he sent it to the printer and got to work.

Two hours passed in the blink of an eye. His body was abnormally stiff from sitting hunched over in the chair. The sheet he’d been given was incredibly difficult and he’d nearly give up trying to work through it multiple times. He didn’t have the answers immediately in front of him, but at the very least he was beginning to understand some of the corrections he’d been given on his report. Probably. He was incredibly lucky that the professor had a pretty lenient grading system, despite being an English professor, but he had already been stung a few times because of his lack of understanding. Although there was no risk of failing, there was a high risk that his class wouldn’t count towards graduation.

“Whatever. I’ll finish dealing with it later.” His next class was in a different building and he’d be late if he didn’t leave now. Throwing his things into his backpack he headed off towards the math and sciences building. Despite it being quite a distance from the library, it was a nice day out for a stroll, so he hardly minded the time outside, and a large number of students were living it up. A few were throwing a frisbee across the length of the yard. More were gathered in a tight circle under a tree with textbooks flopped open, though they seemed more interested in their phones than whatever was in front of them. More than a few couples were snuggled up to each other as they sprawled out in the sun, acting like children picking out pictures in the sky. Aomine wished, desperately, that he could also stay outside. The thought of being cooped up in another stuffy classroom for an hour and a half was the last thing he wanted to do. Not to mention the fact that this teacher in particular was literally a drone. In fact, she was so monotone, comparing her to a drone was insulting to the drone. Getting through her lecture may as well have been considered a modern-day torture tactic.

“Ugh, I wanna play basketball.” He grunted turning away from the happiness being shoved in his face. He quickened his pace until he was basically jogging and made a beeline for the next building.

This building, in particular, was pretty empty during this time of day. There weren’t a ton of classes that started before ten, so the number of students and faculty was probably a fifth of what it was in the middle of the afternoon. While it was a good thing for Aomine, who hated being around people more than anything – unless it was by a bunch of beautiful, busty, babes – it meant that it was the perfect area to target the weak. On any given day this was a non-issue.  These were college students, or older, and most had learned to mind their own damn business after high school, but there were a select few who couldn’t say anything nice, but couldn’t say nothing at all either. Today happened to be one of the days where saying nothing at all was an impossible task.

As Aomine strolled down the deserted halls, head half way in the clouds, a sound from a supposedly empty, dark, classroom caught his attention. Perking up his ears, his pace slowing to a crawl, he listened. “Where do you think you’re going?” A voice growled; a malice felt even from a hundred feet away resonating deep in its tone. “Don’t think you’re getting away you little fag.”

“I… What do you w-want from me?” Another voice replied, much smaller and meeker.

“So, I heard you’re one of them guys...” A third voice spoke, deeper even than Aomine’s. “A homo.” A chorus of laughter followed. How many guys are there? He thought. He hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped moving as he pricked his ears up to catch more of the conversation. Are they really corning a guy because of some rumour? He wasn’t interested in getting involved but a part of him couldn’t move away. Something deep within his gut clenched, but he had no idea why.

“Where’d you hear that from?”

“Aw Michael, you know we can’t rat out our informants.” The first voice spoke again, his voice poisonously sweet. “But I know that they don’t tell lies.” Their tone switched again, back to the hard malicious venom from before.

“He’s not even denying it.” A fourth voice cackled. This one caused Aomine to stop dead. It was a girl’s voice. “So, like, are you the one that takes it or do you like to give it? You’re totally the one that takes it I bet. What does it feel like when your boyfriend sticks his dick in your ass? Does it come out brown when he pulls out? Oh my God does he like, cum inside you? Or maybe he does it on your face?” A squeal. “Oh my God ewww. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Fuck, Jordan. You’re putting images in my head.” The unidentified first voice let out a over exaggerated gag. At that moment Aomine approached the classroom, stealthy as a mouse and peered in. There were seven people in the room, and four of them were crowded around one individual. The other two were sitting leisurely on top of desks, watching with blank expressions. The basketball player peered at the person, Michael it sounded like, being surrounded.

There was nothing unusual at all about him. He was of average heigh, somewhere between 5’8 and 5’ 10, not any taller or shorter than Akashi at the very least. He had a typical build, too, maybe a little soft around the middle but otherwise nothing that stood out. He had totally neutral brown hair that went down to about his ears and his bangs were brushed back in a soft, stylish, whisp. There were no visible piercings, and not a single tattoo. All in all, this guy didn’t match a single image Aomine had of what he thought a gay man looked like. (Not that he knew any gay men in real life. The only one that even seemed possible was Kise, but that had never been confirmed nor denied, and even then, he was bisexual at most.) Even his clothes were nothing outlandish – a pair of straight legged jeans and a black t-shirt with what looked to be a band logo, and an unzipped sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was nothing about this guy that said, look at me, I’m gay! Pick me, pick me! So how in the world did he end up like this?

“Whoever they were lied this time then. I’m not gay.” Michael insisted, his face a twisted mess of worry and anger. He looked on the verge of tears.

“So, you’re saying he’s a liar?” Jordan scoffed, flipping back her jet-black hair.

“Even if he wasn’t, what does it matter to you guys? I barely even know you.” There was a quiver in his voice and he shrunk back as the one guy stepped forward. The guy was massive, both in height and weight, and even just seeing his back Aomine knew he was trouble.

“Cause all you little fags are crawling around and telling people, even little kids, that it’s okay to fuck other guys.” One beefy arm reached out and grabbed the poor boy by the shirt collar and lifted him until he was forced to stand on his tippy toes. “First you get that bastard president to let you perverts get married, and then they start letting fucking men into the women’s bathroom, so what’s it going to be next, huh?” His white face was getting red with fury. “Pretty soon they’re gonna start lettin’ y’all touch little boys and girls and all you little fucking libtards are gonna start preachin’ about how yer allowed to ‘love who you want’ and how that’s totally natural.” Jordan gagged, reflexively, covering her mouth. The other guys around him were growing visibly angry, and were now advancing on him.

“All you creeps should just be lined up and shot.” The second perpetrator voiced, scowling.

“The sooner we can get rid of you, the better.” Another one chimed in. “Maybe we can start with you. Not like anyone is gonna miss ya if you disappear.” The group chortled, nastily. Aomine was starting to get worried. He sensed a major shift in their demeanor.

He really didn’t want to get involved. And it’s not like he liked gay people. Not that he hated them either but… He wasn’t exactly the type to go around defending their existence… But the kid reminded him a bit of Tetsu, with his defenseless nature, and it was hard to ignore that.

“But I’m not gay!” The brunette cried, struggling with the fingers gripping his clothes. The anger in his eyes was gone and there was raw panic. If Aomine didn’t step in soon…

“Like we’re going to believe ya.” The big guy drew his fist back and just as he was about to sling it forward, a hand grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him. He turned his head, baring every one of his teeth in a wide snarl. “Who the fuck are you?”

The entire group turned to look at him. “Aw, did your little boy toy come to save you?” Jordan mocked, batting her eyelashes. “He’s too pretty for you.” She turned to him. “Why don’t you try a woman, cutie? I bet I could turn you straight.” She leaned a little forward and pushed out her chest.

“With mosquito bites like those you’re not turning anyone into anything.” He deadpanned. Not registering what he said right away, her jaw dropped when it hit her and her entire body ruffled like an angry little bird. “Now does anyone want to explain to me what the fuck is going on, here?” He looked each one of the other men in the eye, his grip not slackening in the least.

“Are you one of them, too?”

“One of what?” He feigned ignorance.

“A homo.”

“Do I look like a homo to you?” He asked, seriously.

“I dunno. You could be one of those perverts that’s really a girl that says they’re a guy. Maybe you’ve got a vagina hiding in your pants.” The guy he was holding on to was struggling to loosen Aomine’s grip on him but was failing. In the meantime, his grip on Michael slackened enough that eventually he was able to shake him off and step away.

“Do you wanna fuck around and find out?” Aomine hissed, turning a heart stopping glare at the one who had spoken. Sensing danger, he rightfully stepped back. Turning his attention back to the big guy he said, “This isn’t elementary school. You mind your business, and he minds his.”

“Like you’re doing right now?” He clearly held back a few words. “Since you’re defending ‘em so hard I bet you are one of them, like gettin’ it up the ass-“

“What is your obsession with the ass? We can’t all be takin’ it up the ass. Someone has to be giving it.”

“Don’t get smart with me, you little bitch.” Finally, the big guy broke free of him and turned to stand toe to toe. Leaning close he jabbed a finger into his chest. “I hope every single one of you fucking fudge packing homo’s dies a horrible, painful, death. I’m gonna be right there with a front row seat and popcorn as I watch you burn.”

Aomine smirked and leaned in until their noses touch. “How are you supposed to watch when you’ll be right there burning, too?” A fist drove forward, but his was faster. He plunged it deep into his gut, pushing until he was nearly touching his ribs and the guy stumbled back, holding his side. His cronies looked on in amazement, mouths hanging open. Jordan ran to his side, shocked mouth hanging agape. “Get the fuck out of here. And don’t let me see you around this kid again, got it? I’ll report you to the school for harassment.”

Furious, the group picked up their bags and stormed out of the room with cries of Watch your back, mother fucker following in their wake. Without saying a word, Aomine turned to leave but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “T-Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugged it off and shouldered his bag a little higher. “Go report them to the dean or something.”

“I-“ A long pause followed. “No. It’s fine.”

“Whatever. It’s not my problem.”

As he stepped away, Michael spoke up once more, his voice so quiet Aomine had to strain to hear him. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“About what?”

“If what they were saying is true?”

He sighed, frustrated, and turned to stare him square in the eye. “Look. I could not care any less if you’re fucking Betty or Joe, it’s not  any of my fucking business. If you’re queer fucking good for you and if not, also good for you. I don’t even know you so who you spend time in the bedroom with is none of my damn concern.”

Another pause. Michael looked up, nervously twisting his fingers together now. “Earlier you said we so… does that mean…” Aomine lifted an eyebrow, confused. The boy stared straight back at him. “Are you… gay?” The shock nearly knocked him backwards.

“Fuck no!” He sputtered. “I don’t want nothing to do with homo’s-“

“But you stepped in-“ He looked a little bit hurt, though not surprised.

Aomine face-palmed, took a deep breath, and replied in the calmest manner he could. “Look, kid.” Who knew if he was even the older one. “You were fighting in a public setting with a bunch of punk ass kids, and I just happened to pass by. You looked so pathetic, and reminded me of a friend back home, that I couldn’t just walk by and let them beat you to a bloody pulp. I don’t care who you sleep with, but it’s not like I make a habit of defending every could be gay man I see.”

“Oh.” His expression darkened. “Well. Thanks… I guess. For stepping in.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Aomine shifted his bag again. He was late for class and finding a seat was going to be a bitch. He supposed he would just sneak in from the back entrance and take one of the seats at the rear of the auditorium. “Maybe just watch out that you’re not alone for a few days if you’re not going to report them to the campus police or the dean.” He turned on his heel and started out.

“Yeah. Sure.” Was the simple reply.

Scowling, he headed for class, unnamed emotions whirling inside him. The entire time he’d been in there, he’d felt something deep inside his chest that he couldn’t put a finger on. Hatred? Loathing? Uncertainty? But about what? It was a mystery that was for neither here nor there, and he’d have to figure it out later. Right now, he had to shut his brain off to try and make it one more day through math.

#aomine x kagami #aokaga #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 author #archive of our own #ao3 fic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic

[demonvampire180writes]

Community Guided Chapter 3

*** This chapter contains blatant sexism ***

The next few months seemed to pass by in a blur. Aomine managed to get his schedule figured out, embarrassed to find that he would be taking a few pre-college college courses before he could take the ones needed to complete his degree because he had done poorly on the placement exams. Somehow, he managed to get into highest level English courses, though they focused mostly on writing papers and comprehension, but it meant that he’d only have to take a couple of those classes to graduate rather than a whole smorgasbord of them. While not high school level, he’d been forced to register for basic science courses since they were the lowest level the school offered. After receiving his scores, he had told no one. He’d torn the print out up and thrown it right in the recycling bin, face beet red as he stormed out of the computer lab. The last one he’d had to suffer through was math, though it ended up being his easiest assessment and he’d passed with flying colours. If he hadn’t needed at least one four credit course to graduate, he would have tested out of math altogether.

Somehow, maybe due to the influence from the Gods of fate, or just sheer luck, he and Kagami wound up in a few of the same classes. The redhead sheepishly told him the first week of classes that he had basically failed all of his assessments except the English one, so he had actually taken the entry level courses over the summer so that he wouldn’t be behind. “I knew you were stupid, Bakagami, but that didn’t mean you had to live up to your name!” Aomine gawked at him, stopped dead in his tracks with amazement.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Ahomine-“

“You don’t even have the right to be calling me that, you shit fer brains-“

“Shut yer mouth wouldja?” The boy got in his face, baring his teeth. “I already heard enough of it from my parents after they told me they wouldn’t pay for remedial classes for such a brain-dead child.” Onlookers walked past quickly, suppressing giggles and speaking in hushed tones. A few suspicious looking guys stopped to try and egg them on, chanting fight, fight, fight from a safe distance. Sparks flew between them.

“Aho, I don’t even speak English and I did better than you. This is American college we’re talking about, here. Are you even fucking trying?” Aomine leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest.

Kagami defiantly closed the gap, ramming his own forehead hard against the other players. “The hell you don’t speak English. Don’t give me that shit.” They shoved each other back and forth, growling like mad dogs as they attempted to assert dominance. “And the fuck you mean this is an American college? Hard subjects are hard no matter where you are.”

“A preschooler could have passed those tests and you managed to fail two out of three areas?”

“Huuuhnnnn?” Their growling intensified as well as their bickering until people half way across campus caught sounds of what could have been rabid wolves on the wind. The boys didn’t speak for a week afterwards.

In the meantime, Aomine settled into student life. His classes were dull, but manageable, and he managed to snag a part time student job helping out a professor with some basic secretarial work. He didn’t have to interact with people, and it helped kill ten hours a week of his time. The professor was amicable, but often buried himself in so much work that he hardly noticed whether the boy was there or not, and didn’t seem to care one way or another about the effort put forth in handling the daily tasks he was given. Aomine liked the guy and most often used this two-hour window to catch up on homework or watching pick-up games on his phone. He couldn’t believe how often games were broadcast live, here. It was a never-ending stream of information and players. He drank in the information like he’d otherwise die of thirst.

At night he found himself going for extended runs, sometimes going as far as ten miles or more, before heading out to the courts near campus. The group of men he’d met his first week there played almost every single night, with a few regulars but mostly an ever-rotating cast of… interesting… members. David, to Aomine’s dismay, was one of the regulars who showed up and his haughty attitude towards him hadn’t changed a bit. Jayron didn’t show up for close to a month and even after he managed to come back, he shrank away from him like a kicked puppy. The bruises left by his fingers took months to heal completely. Not only that but he’d managed to assert some dominance, and despite the bad blood built between them, he often found himself at the center of the matches. They spent a lot of time trying to undermine his skill but failed again and again until they gave up.

One evening, about half way through a game, Kagami showed up with an unfamiliar face in tow. “This is my girlfriend, Whitney.”

She waved, smiling. “I already know most of you. Who’s this newbie?” She looked at Aomine with wide, strikingly blue, eyes. It was a stark contrast to her olive skin, but matched beautifully with the ashy-blonde of her hair.

Wiping sweat off his forehead, Aomine smirked and replied, “Daiki. Aomine Daiki.” Kagami’s been holding out on me. While not nearly as tall as the redhead, she still would have easily towered over the average woman, standing at nearly six feet tall. He had the feeling that had been in sports for most of her life seeing as she was wearing a crop top that barely covered her small chest and exposed her toned midriff. While she didn’t have abs, there was definitely definition there. She probably ran, or did track.

“He’s the one I told you about. The one who followed me from Japan.”

“Hey!” He barked, scowling. “You’re making me sound like a love-sick girlfriend or something. I didn’t follow you specifically. I came here to try and get into the NBA.”

Kagami grimaced. “Love-sick girlfriend? Blech. I don’t even want to think about that. How else am I supposed to say it?”

“Ehh? Use that thick head of yours. We’re rivals, you hear me? Rivals.”

Whitney laughed, a deep and rich sound that came all the way from her belly. “I can see that you two get along. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Get along where?” They asked in union, turning identical flabbergasted gazes on her.

She doubled over in laughter, her long hair falling into her face. “You guys are hilarious. Taiga, I knew you were an idiot but this is too much.” He stared at her with a deer-in-headlights look, trying to calculate where she could have drawn that conclusion. “Well, whatever. Daiki, was it?” He nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, but I seem to have come at a bad time. Do y’all need any more players?”

“You play?” He asked, dumbfounded. “These guys are pretty rough.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and put her hands on her hips. “Would you say that to another guy? Don’t underestimate me.”

“Watch what you say to her.” Another player from behind him said. “She’s violent as fuck.”

“You scared of a woman?” David asked, laughing. “She’s a pussy just like any other bitch.”

“How can you say that after she wiped the floor with you last weekend?”

He sputtered. “I was just off my game-“

“Sure, you were. Just know that if she’s playing, I want to be on her team.”

Aomine looked at them, dumbfounded. “You guys let her play with you?”

They rubbed the backs of their heads, sour looks on their faces. “Cause Taiga makes us. Says that she wants a real challenge once in a while. If I had my way she wouldn’t.”

“Dude, she can hear you.”

“So what? She knows her place.”

“She shouldn’t be playing basketball; she should be at home in the kitchen making sandwiches and babies. That’s all women are good for, anyway.” David growled. “But because y’all are pussies, and are scared of some monkey from the jungle, she gets to play.”

Aomine’s gaze shifted to the woman and was shocked to see that her expression hadn’t changed. She stood her ground as though she hadn’t heard them. American woman are a different breed. He thought, admiringly. Maybe that’s insulting? The thought crossed his mind. He’d been spending a lot of time with Kaylee and had started thinking about how he spoke about women, though it didn’t change much. Turning his gaze back he said to the men, “Oy. Watch what you say.”

“Weren’t you just saying the same thing? Or are you trying to win her over hoping she’ll sleep with you?”

“Watch you mouth.” Kagami spoke just then, fury in his eyes.

Whitney sighed, loudly, in exasperation. “Taiga, down boy. Are you guys going to play or not? I don’t have time to deal with a bunch of man babies tonight. If we’re not playing, I’m heading to the gym.” She put a hand on top of guys head and stroked it like he was a dog as he sat there baring his fangs. Slowly he settled, though the anger in his eyes remained.

“She can play.” Aomine said, chucking the ball he was holding at her. She caught it easily, hands moving from her hips to her chest in one fluid motion. “Kagami, you’re playing too.”

“Of course, I am, Ahomine.” Finally, he smiled - a dark glint in his eye as they approached the court.

“Hey, what about the game we were playing?”

“I was already dragging you through the mud, just accept it as a loss.” Aomine said. “You couldn’t have won if we played five more games.”

“Since there’s three of us, why don’t we play three-on-three?” Whitney offered, spinning the ball on the tip of her finger. It balanced as though it had always been there – like it was an extension of her hand. “I’m sure y’all wouldn’t mind since having me on their team would be giving these guys a handicap… Right?” Aomine shivered as the air around her shifted. She’d already had a strong prescense, but now that she stood on the court, she reminded him a bit of his former teammates. He was getting excited. What sort of basketball is she going to show me, Kagami?

David sneered. “Fine but don’t come crying when you get hurt, bitch.” He reached out to snatch the ball from her but she swiftly stepped around him without the ball every losing its spin. When he reached out again, she dropped the ball to dribble, her body hunched forward as passed the ball from hand to hand, every flick of the wrist effortless. As he reached towards her, again and again, she took a step back, raised her arms, and shot. The ball flew through the air, bounced once on the rim, and then tipped into the basket. The sound of it hitting the court echoed in the evenings silence.

“I’ll make sure that if I need to cry, I’ll do it in Taiga’s shoulder.” She drove a hand through her hair, grinning. “That’s acceptable, right honey?” The sarcasm in her tone oozed like honey, sweet and thick.

Without even noticing the two of them were both grinning; Kagami with pure appreciation, and Aomine excitement and anticipation. He’d never played with a girl of this level before. They’d only just met, but he could easily see what attracted the redhead. He’d found himself a good one. He licked his lips as the tension mounted. “You’d better now hold us back.” A shiver ran up his spine. One similar to when he played with Tetsu. What sorts of unknowns was she going to bring to the table?

She snorted and ran to pick up the ball. Passing it to Kagami, she took the hair tie off her wrist and tied her hair up in a knot at the nape of her neck. “Who says it’s going to be me holding us back?” Both boys shook with joy at the obvious provocation. The game was on.

And it was over before they knew it. The regular players couldn’t hold a candle to Whitney even as they repeatedly checked her, being much more aggressive than they usually wore. With no ref, there was no one to call foul play, but the number of times she got knocked on her ass was uncalled for. Despite this, she scored more points on her own than the entirety of their team together. While not a hundred percent accurate like Midorima, the number of times she swooshed the ball in was unreal. Her footwork was fast, and nimble, and with her small frame even more so. She wove in out and out of players like they weren’t even then, often passing the ball between their legs before shooting down the court like a meteorite. After the first quarter she suddenly had two of the three players guarding her but they were like mice against a vulture. Her sharp eyes let her find the smallest opening and she could pass the ball to either of them without hardly a glance. Unfortunately, like Tetsu, her biggest downfall was her stamina, though she outdid everyone on the opposing team by a long shot. By the end of the match, they had three completely different players than they started with, and although she was gasping for air, her hair and clothes matted with sweat to her body, she was still standing. All the others were collapsed at the picnic table, faces green with nausea as the tried their best to not pass out.

When the final point was scored, she fell to the ground and let out a yell, dropping back onto her hands, head drooping back as if too heavy to hold up. “Fuck I’m tired!” She screamed at no on in particular, though she was still smiling. “You two are animals. Did you grow up in a fucking zoo? Did they do experiments on ya as a child? How the fuck are you still standing?”

Aomine wiped his face of sweat with his t-shirt and extended a hand to her which she took a long, long, moment to take hold of. Helping her to his feet he said, “That’s what happens you play a lot of strong people. If I’m going to be number one, I can’t let a few punks from the streets beat me.”

“Let me know what your parents were feeding ya so that I can give it to my future children.”

“You’re not half bad yourself. What’s with that footwork?”

She eyed him, dubious. “I don’t want to hear that coming from you. Taiga, I get what you were saying now. You played this monster in high school?”

“And won.” He said smugly, coming up and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She made a face. “Oh, sorry, do I smell?” He teased, rubbing his armpit against her arm.

“Ugh that’s disgusting.”

Kagami’s face went serious for just a moment, though, as he added, “Though it wasn’t just me. I had some really awesome upper classmen. Without them I couldn’t have done anything.” He paused. “Not to mention that demon of a coach.” He shuddered as he remembered the beach running he did.

“That shrimp was really something. You guys were so scared of her it was hilarious.”

“Her? Your coach was a girl?”

“Oh yeah, I never told you? She was one of our upper classmen. Her dad was a sports therapist or something so she was super smart about like muscles and stuff.”

She nodded, knowingly. “That would make a lot of sense then why you didn’t brush me off.”

“His coach here is a woman, too.”

“Alex, right? Didn’t she play for the WNBA?”

“Yeah, but now she just coaches street brats like him how to play.” Aomine threw a thumb in Kagami’s direction. He glared at him, but the boy paid him no mind. “Anyway. It was fun to play, Whitney. Next time I look forward to winning.”

Her eyes widened. “We did win, or do you have short term memory loss?”

“I mean against you.” He extended his hand, his usual cocky smirk spreading over his face. She paused but then, saying nothing in reply, took his hand and shook, gripping tight.

#aomine x kagami #aokaga #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3fic #archive of our own #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic

[demonvampire180writes]

Community Guided Chapter 2

*** This chapter contains strong racist and homophobic language ***

Chapter Text

“Holy fuck is it hot.” The plane touched down at LAX around 4:30 PM on a Saturday. Sunlight poured through the plane’s tiny windows, and it didn’t take long for the cabin to heat up despite every single AC vent being turned on max. Turning his phone off airplane mode, the weather updated slowly just to inform him that outside was a sweltering ninety-five degrees. Japan was definitely hot, there was no denying it, but Aomine seriously considered the thought of dying of heat stroke before he’d even stepped foot on US soil.

He wiped at his forehead, uncomfortably, pulling his arm back glistening with sweat. His seatmates looked around blearily as they fanned themselves with their t-shirts. All around him passengers shifted uncomfortably, and he caught snippets of irritated, flustered, conversation. The plane eventually parked itself and the announcement for disembarking sparked cheers of joy and a flurry of people struggling to get out as soon as possible. Aomine thanked his huge build at that moment as he clawed his carry-on luggage out of overhead storage without any hassle at all and managed to stand his ground as people pushed to get off the plane. He helped an older woman get her luggage down, as well as a man that was thin as a sheet of paper, both thanking him profusely through sleepy mouths. Eventually he made it off the plane, no worse for wear.

After collecting his luggage, four large bags in total, he called for a taxi and carted off towards his next destination: the university. Upon arrival, his eyes grew as large as dinner plates as he looked around. The place was absolutely enormous. Building upon building passed by as the driver headed towards his dorm, and large, grassy, yards filled in the empty spaces. Students milled about, though Aomine guessed that it was mostly foreigners and some early arrivals seeing as classes didn’t start for another three weeks and the regular move in date for those living in the dorms wasn’t until next weekend.

The driver pulled up to a building almost as tall as a small scraper and turned on his hazards. “Can I help you with your bags at all, sir?” He asked in a thick, unfamiliar, accent. Aomine shook his head, pulling at the door handle to let himself out. “Are you sure?” The driver gave him a kind, questioning, look. “That’s a lot for one person.”

He shook his head once again. Unfortunately, a lot of the stories that he’d heard about theft in the US had gotten into his head and he was hard pressed to trust someone that he’d only just met, especially some cabbie. “I’ll figure it out.” He hopped out of the cab and dragged one suitcase after another out of the trunk before handing the driver a hundred-dollar bill, letting him keep the change. The mans aged, lined face lit up and he thanked him, repeatedly. “Don’t mention it.” Aomine said, waving him off. As he drove away, the boy set to work figuring out how the hell he was going to get this all upstairs.

He struggled for about fifteen minutes, trying different formations of bags, when a girl appeared before him. Glancing up he frowned. She had a very distinct style, similar to a goth Lolita if he had to put a name to it. She was tiny, shorter than even Tetsu if he had to guess, and very petite though her platform boots had to add an extra three or four inches minimum. Her skin was pale, though it was difficult to tell with the long sleeves, and she had sharp green eyes. At the moment, they were fixed on him as he struggled. “Need some help there, buddy?” She asked, a voice deeper than he would’ve expected coming from her lips. There was no condescension in her tone, though there was no false cheerfulness either. She looked bored, as if she really couldn’t have cared about his response either way. Her green eyes never left his face.

“I’ve got it.” He replied, shifting one of the bags again as it threatened to fall over. “I don’t need a girls help.”

“Ooo, a misogynist, are we?” She mocked, expression not changing a bit.

Aomine searched his brain for a definition but found none. “Misogynist?” The word rolled off his tongue like a lead balloon.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “You don’t think I’ll be helpful because I’m just a girl, right?”

He straightened up, feeling drained physically, and mentally. “I never said that. I just don’t need your help. I’ll figure it out myself.”

She put her thin hips on her waist and huffed impatiently, “Dude. I’ve literally been watching you struggle ever since that cab rolled away. What the hell were you thinking? Did you bring your entire bedroom with you? Where the hell are you from, the planet Jupiter?” She eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you’re actually an alien? Can you not return home so you had to pack your whole life into these-” She counted the suitcases “-five pieces of luggage?”

Her rapid-fire questions hit him one after another and he tried to keep up, though his sleep deprived brain made most of it out to be complete non-sense. He was not ready for this sort of interrogation the moment he arrived here, and if he was his usual self, he would have had something snappy to say in reply, but at the moment it took all he could to translate. “I’m not an alien. I’m from Japan.” Dumb fuck, he wanted to add, but refrained.

“Hah!” She brazenly pointed a finger in his face, though her full reach only got to about chin height. “So, you are an alien!” She smiled triumphantly. “So,  alien, do you want some help moving your alien shit or what? If you don’t do something soon, you’re going to start drawing attention to yourself.” I’m pretty sure you’re drawing more attention than I am, you little shrimp. He swatted away her hand.

“I’m not a fucking alien.” He was about to introduce himself but stopped short. Why should he have to introduce himself first when she was the one who approached him? “What’s your name shrimpy?”

Her pale skin flushed crimson. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”

“I mean you basically called me a woman hater earlier, anyway, so what do you care?”

Caught, she was unable to respond. After a long moment she crossed her arms over her chest and said, confidently, “My name is Kaylee. Kaylee Jones. I’m majoring in economics. What about you, Alien?”

He glared at her, biting back a few choice words. “Daiki. Daiki Aomine. I’m in general studies for now.”

“Pleased to make your formal acquaintance, Daiki.” She held out a small hand and he took it, cautiously. “We don’t get too many aliens here on planet Earth, but if you ever have any questions come find me. I’m up in room 418 but don’t get any funny ideas. I’m family friendly in this household.” Staring in disbelief, Aomine couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from within him. He was caught completely off guard, and this stranger was throwing him off his place. It was hard to keep up his walls around her, even if she didn’t mean to do it.

Awkwardly still standing there holding her hand she eventually let go and grabbed the handle of two of his bags. “Put your carry-on on top of that one. I’ll drag these two. The rest is up to you.” She didn’t wait for a response, heading quickly towards the front entrance.

Surprised, Aomine quickly loaded the bags together and chased after her, unable to utter a word of complaint. Somehow, some way, he’d managed to secure a friend on his very first day on campus. A blessing that he wouldn’t immediately be aware of.

-x-

A few, uneventful days, passed by. Kaylee dropped by his second day and offered to give him a quick tour of the campus, or at least what was near-by and he gladly took her up on the offer. His body was stiff from traveling, and he was hoping to maybe find some outdoor courts within walking distance. He was itching to play.

Despite her short legs she moved quickly, buzzing from building to building and explaining what facilities were in each. She showed him the recreational building which she informed him had a revolving schedule of student lead work out classes that changed each semester. In the same building there was the pool which had free swim Monday through Friday for a few hours in the afternoon, and free swim all day on the weekends after ten since the swim team practiced before that. There were three large gyms, two cordoned off by mesh nets to indicate their boundaries, which were mainly used for the physical education classes, and the main, largest, gym which held bleachers for actual games. Above the double gym was a full-sized track that was surrounded by cardio equipment and a large stretching area. Tucked away in a corner, in its own room, was a large weight room with all sorts of equipment and free weights. It was packed to the gills as they passed by. “We have some sort of health education program here so the weight room is used for classes once in a while.” She explained, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s usually not too busy, though that depends entirely on what time of day you go.” She moved on quickly, speeding through the rest of the building; pickleball courts, tennis courts, a rock-climbing wall, some dance classrooms. It wasn’t interesting she told him. Nothing too special. Japanese universities could never. He thought, idly. Students were too focused on studying and clubs to take much interest in personal activities it seemed like.

They passed through a few courtyards, Kaylee flippantly pointing out the buildings with the food courts and library as though they were of no importance to her. She brought him, briefly, through the main hall building, the one which held all the meeting rooms and even a small movie theater that showed films one week at a time, free, to students. “When you go through orientation that’s where they’ll make you go.” She nodded at the currently empty auditorium. He nodded. They scurried along through some of the different department buildings; he would have most of his classes in the three buildings closet to the dorms, he surmised, seeing as he didn’t have a specific field of study yet. It would make life easy, at least for now.

Finally, they breaked for a snack, his companion guzzling down a can of some off brand energy drink and a nutritional bar. Aomine dug into a cold deli sandwich which, while satiating his appetite, left a lot to be desired. He sipped at a can of coffee, swishing it around a little as he tried to decide whether it was better or worse than back home. The two spoke infrequently between bites, comfortable in the silence, and once finished zipped through just two more buildings before Kaylee declared her exhaustion and demanded that she retreat back to her room. Aomine let her go without a single complaint, his patience meter running close to E. Not to mention that it was even hotter today than yesterday and he had stupidly decided to wear jeans. All he wanted to do was strip down to his birthday suit and lay in bed with the AC blasting.

The next few days were no better in terms of temperature and Aomine found himself channeling his inner hermit as he locked himself up inside, coming out only in time for meals and bathing, as well as the international student orientation he was forced to attend. Around his seventh day there, the air seemed to settle a bit and it felt cool enough to venture out. He’d managed to get his phone line all set up so he felt comfortable to wander a bit since he could Google translate if he needed to, and he had some sort of map on his phone that could get him where he needed to go.

Setting out, his headphones in with music blaring, he set out at a brisk jog to take in the surroundings all the while hoping to stumble upon some courts. After four miles, and no luck, he paused in the shade of a tree and tapped out basketball courts into the map app. It pulled up a huge list of places. He scrolled for a moment before grunting in frustration and adding outdoor to the search because most of the ones that came up were pay-to-play places, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t find the type of basketball he wanted to play at those courts. The list shortened by a wide margin, and after sorting by distance, he found a court that he’d apparently passed, and not noticed, while running. Turning around, he headed back the direction he came.

A half mile up the road a sign for a park came into view and Aomine glanced around. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted a hoop, surrounded by a fence, in the distance. Taking out a headphone he approached, the sound of whooping and shouting growing louder the closer he got. When he was about a hundred or so feet away the players on the court came in to view; tall, gangly, and sun kissed, eight players moved swiftly over the concrete, a familiar speck of orange flashing in and out of view as it was dribbled and passed. He watched their every movement, eyes never coming off the ball. So focused on what was happening behind the chain-link fence, Aomine failed to notice the ninth person in the group who stood off to the side, leaning against a cracked green picnic table. The person watched him with interest as they sucked on the straw of an empty juice pouch.

“Oy.” Finally, they called out. “Oy!” Aomine dragged his eyes from the court, scowling. “This is a private game.” He spoke with a decidedly heavy voice; it wasn’t deep, necessarily, but it sounded as though it dragged its way up from the depths of his chest before he even opened his mouth. His tone was nasally, and if Aomine was honest, unpleasant.

“If you wanted a private game,” Aomine growled, “you should have played in a private place.” His blue eyes narrowed, fists clenching at his sides.

The guy scoffed, eyeing him up and down with disgust. “The fuck?” He rose to his full height. His slumped form was misleading, and Aomine actually had to look up, even at a distance, to look at his face. This guy has to be close to seven feet tall. He gawked, though his face remained stern, sneering. “I said this is a private game so fucking get lost.”

“This is public property; I can be here if I damn well please.” Aomine straightened himself up and took a warning step forward. What was with this guy?

The guy paused, and then burst into laughter. The sound of the ball hitting the court stopped and suddenly all nine pair of eyes were on him as if waiting to consume him. “Public property? Boys. Did you hear that? This is public property.” He mimicked Aomine’s voice and burst into further laughter. “You must be new here, kid.” He hissed. Now it was his turn to step forward, the gesture holding much more weight than his own had.

“Jayron, who is that punk? We’re in the middle of a game.” One of the other players called out, wiping the sweat off the face with the front of his t-shirt.

“I was just about to score, get him the fuck out of here. He’s ruining my pace.” Another jeered, sneering and showing off a mouthful of broken and uneven teeth. There was a tattoo on his bicep and, although he couldn’t see it clearly, Aomine had a feeling he knew what it was and that he really didn’t want to see it clearly.

Standing his ground, he crossed his arms over his chest and replied, loud enough for all to hear, “I’m here to play basketball, kid.” He breathed the word with venom. “Seems like I’d have better luck at a children’s party than I would here.” The taunt was unjustified, but it served its purpose well. An uproar of noise followed the statement and the guy named Jayron closed the gap between them in just a few steps.

“The fuck did you say? You see, chink, this court belongs to us. We use it when we want to, and no fucking slanty eyed bitch is going to stop us.” He grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled up until Aomine was standing on the balls of his feet. He wrapped his hand around the man’s wrist but couldn’t loosen his grip. “You wanna play basketball? Then go back to where you came from. Your third world country doesn’t even know what real basketball is. And while you’re at it, learn to speak English you little faggot.” He carelessly let go of Aomine and shoved him away. “Stupid fucking illegals, coming to this country like they matter. Disgusting.” That was the last straw. The growing anger in him bubbled over and he drew his fist back before swinging with all he had at Jayron’s face. He made contact though the guy moved just in time to avoid any real damage. His knuckles skidded across his skin, drawing blood. Before either of them even registered what had happened Aomine was throwing his other fist after drawing his knee up in the taller man’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Coming back to his senses, Jayron threw his hands up to protect his face before counter attacking with a jab of his own, connecting with Aomine’s ribs. A moment later the younger boy was sent back with a wild side kick aimed at his chest. Growling fiercely Aomine pounced and managed to grab him by the throat, fingers digging him. Jayron wrapped his absurdly long fingers around his own and pulled until he could breathe though Aomine kept pushing back until they toppled to the ground. His aggressor flailed wildly under him, nearly bucking him off a few times but failing. His temple throbbed, and he could feel the prescense of the other men on the court approaching. Derogatory names were being thrown at him left and right but he hardly registered them. All he could think about was choking this man out, watching as the light left his eyes. That was, until, he heard his name.

“Aomine?” The word floated through his brain like a dream. “Aomine, is that you? What are you doing?” It still didn’t click and he dug his fingers deeper into the other man’s flesh. He’d stopped flailing as his strength left him, but he still scrabbled at his fingers, his pale features turning more and more ghostly as his life force tried to leave him. “Ahomine stop, you’re going to kill him for real. What the hell are you thinking?” He was ripped away from the other man. The moment his fingers were torn from his neck, he turned over heaving for air and coughing up bile. A gaze, darker than the midnight sky, glared at him. “Jayron, what the hell man?”

“Ka…ga…mi?” Coming back to his senses, the anger leaving his body like a flood, he turned his head to see an all too familiar figure standing behind him, dressed in a pair of shorts and a plain white t-shirt. “Oy. Bakagami.” Red eyes turned to him.

“Don’t look at me like I’m the ghost of Christmas past. Tell me what the hell is going on here, and why you’re trying to choke this moron out? You were going to kill him.” Kagami switched effortlessly into Japanese, much to the chargin of the other men now standing just a few feet away.

“This fucker attacked Jayron!” Bicep tattoo screamed, pointing an accusing finger at him. “He kept starin’ at us so we tried to get him to leave.” The blond on the ground nodded, still unable to form words. “We weren’t doing nothing wrong.”

“Shut up.” Kagami turned an icy glare on the men, and to Aomine’s surprise, they backed off. Turning his attention back, he held out a hand to Aomine who, after a long hesitation, took it and dragged himself to his feet. Once again in Japanese, Kagami urged, “Dude. What in the actual fuck? Why are you here? And why is this how I find you?”

Aomine brushed himself off, grimacing when his hand brushed over his ribs where the guy had landed a punch. “I just got here. I was looking for some local courts and then these dimwits attacked me. Spoutin’ off some bullshit about this is a private game.”

Kagami sighed and dropped his head into his hands. In English he sighed, “You guys are fucking idiots, all of you.” They jumped to respond but a single look had them backing off once more. “All of you,” he eyed the group, then the ringleader still huddled on the ground, and finally Aomine, “picked fights with the wrong people.” Groaning, he threw his head back, placed his hands on his hips, took a deep breath, and then finally looked at all of them. “This here,” he jabbed a thumb at the other boy, “is a friend… a rival… from high school. Those fools,” he indicated the mass of players with his chin, “are other students at the college that I play with once in a while.”

“They’re racist pieces of dog shit.” Aomine spit in Japanese, glaring without pause at them. They sneered back, baring their would-be fangs.

“Whatever your beef is, you should settle it how we all know to best. On the court.” A chorus of disapproval sprung up.

“I’m not playing with no little chink that can’t even speak English good.” A different member muttered. A few others rose up in agreement.

“No worries. I’ll play with him. Us against you.”

“Two against eight? Are you making fun of us?”

“Two against six. Eights too many on the court. You can switch out players whenever you want.”

“Taiga, are you on his side cause you’re from the same shithole place?”

“So what if I am? Are you afraid to lose to a person of color?” Kagami taunted.

“There’s no way you’ll win. Not a chance in hell. Let’s do this, boys. Jayron, you sit out.” He couldn’t even bring himself to nod.

“Kagami-“

“I’ll explain later. For now, get ready. This is real streetball.”

-x-

Aomine returned home a few hours later. Needless to say, he and Kagami won the game in the end, but the struggle was real. They played a lot more aggressively than he had expected, probably more so because of what he’d done, and their footwork was on a different level. Afterwards, Kagami spent some time explaining to both sides, and the men agreed to let Aomine play with them, acknowledging his skills in the game. He then explained to Aomine why he hung out with them, and informed him that the only one he really had to worry about was David, or bicep tattoo, and even then, as long as he kept his head down, he was in the free and clear.

Dropping into bed, Aomine breathed deeply and let the exhausting take over him.  His reunion hadn’t gone exactly to plan, though in reality there really hadn’t been one in the first place, but now Kagami knew that he was here and they could start playing together, again. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Aomine was looking forward to that more than anything else. Taking one long breath of air, he breathed out slowly, letting himself sink into sleep, not caring one bit about how dirty he had become.

#aomine x kagami #aokaga #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #archive of our own

[demonvampire180writes]

Community Guided Chapter 1

Aomine decides that in order to get even better at basketball that his best option would be to follow in Kagami's footsteps and head to the states. After graduating high school, and spending six months having English beaten in to his head by a tutor, he heads off to California. Enrolling in the same university, he and Kagami strike up friendship once again until one night, after a few too many drinks and a drunken game of one on one, the two kiss on the court. Now they're torn, unsure of how to proceed. They're not gay. There's no way. And it feels like everyone around them is homophobic except maybe their respective partners. Is there even any meaning behind the kiss in the first place? Can they traverse this new territory or will their relationship, even as friends, simply fall apart at the seams?

*** This story contains very harsh language including homophobic, transphobic, sexist and racist slurs ***

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

<Six months before high school graduation>

“Hello Daiki, my name is Annie. I’m glad to meet you.” An unfamiliar face, with an unfamiliar voice, and unfamiliar accent greeted him through the glowing computer monitor. She was friendly, and bright, and wore a gentle smile as she gazed at him. And he stared back frozen like a baby dear.

“H-hello A-A-“ He stuttered, cursing himself.

“Annie.” She finished for him, speaking slowly, enunciating carefully.

“Annie.” He parroted. She nodded. “N-nice to meet you.” His tongue felt so heavy as the words fell from his lips. He wished he could rewind time so that he could go back to middle school and take his classes more seriously. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to take basketball even more seriously, and follow in Kagami’s footsteps, he knew that he would have to start focusing on developing his English skills. He’d always thought it was a waste of time, it’s not like he needed it to play basketball, but if he was going to move stateside, his basic tourist levels of the language weren’t going to cut it. So, he’d done what anyone would do and searched far and wide on the web for a tutor, trying hard to find one that was a native speaker that was also from the US. He could’ve used anyone, even someone who spoke it fluently as a second language, but he wanted to sound as natural as possible. He didn’t want to pick up on any weird vocab from someone that lived in England or Australia. Their idiosyncrasies were just too different, and he was having a hard enough time.

“Nice to meet you, too.” She spoke clearly. “Can you tell me about your experience with English?” Aomine tried hard to keep a neutral face as he listened, but he really couldn’t keep up.

“I’m sorry? Please again.” He said hopelessly.

“Of course.” She repeated the question. When he still couldn’t reply and stared blankly at her, she effortlessly switched gears and asked in perfectly fluent Japanese, “Daiki, would it be easier for you if we maybe started off with me teaching you in Japanese? There’s no problem either way. What is the extent of your English skills?” There was absolutely no judgement in her voice. A little shocked at her fluency, and complete lack of accent he couldn’t respond right away, but eventually he found his voice.

Grumbling at his own incompetence he muttered, “Isn’t it better to teach with complete immersion?”

She laughed. “That is true, but it can also be really difficult for the person learning. When I was learning Japanese, I was tossed into a classroom with almost no knowledge of the language at all. I would return to my host family every night nearly in tears because I couldn’t understand! My classmates were kind, but I would still get made fun of a lot, and I’m old enough that I didn’t have as many resources as language learners do today. I spent so much time cursing my exchange program for not having more options for those of us that were still learning. I went to language classes three nights a week, but it took me my entire three years living there to really feel like I could call myself fluent.” Aomine made a face. She put her hands up, smiling. “Don’t worry! Like I said, my resources were extremely limited and because of that, total immersion was basically the only way I could learn. You have the advantage of having access to the language 24/7. There are so many apps on your phone, and so may websites you can use for grammar help, and you can even get a tutor, like me, to teach you one-on-one!”

“I think it would be better for you to teach me in English.” He muttered, face turning pink as he rubbed at the back of his head. “I’m pretty stupid so the more I’m exposed to it the better it will be, I think.” Annie chuckled; her expression soft.

Switching back to English she replied, “You’re not stupid, Daiki. English is hard. Language is hard. So <let’s try our best.>” She pumped her first and nodded her head once in encouragement. Aomine nodded back despite only catching about a fifth of what she had said. Damn this shit is going to suck.

<Three months before high school graduation>

“Annie, I got into the college.” Aomine beamed, holding up the acceptance letter to the camera. Dear Daiki Aomine, we happy to inform you that you have been accepted to XXXX University and look forward to the coming years- Her eyes scanned the first few lines as the smile spread across her face. “Thanks to you I was able to get through the application process. Now I’ve got to get my student VISA.”

She clapped her hands. “That’s amazing, Daiki! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks.” He grinned back, puffing out his chest with confidence.

“Now I wonder if you can show that same amount of determination on today’s quiz.” She grinned devilishly, a light glinting in her grey-blue eyes. Aomine swallowed hard, though he tried hard to hold onto the façade of confidence.

“Easy as pie.” He said, hoping she didn’t hear the quiver in his voice. A reply never came. Instead, his screen shifted and a quiz popped up. Unable to answer even the first question, the basketball star questioned what he had gotten himself into.

Needless to say, he never spoke about that quiz again.

<One month until graduation>

Aomine rarely got nervous, and even more so did he get visibly nervous. Today was an exception as he logged into the web browser for his lesson. Annie had sent him an online quiz that went over everything they had talked about in the last five months, but he hadn’t been graded on the spot. She had told him that she wanted him to really take his time and not rush things, and to think through questions that were giving him trouble. She speculated that, if the quiz had given him his grade right away at the end, he’d have gotten nervous and rushed. Well now he was nervous for a completely different reason.

Right on time, as usual, Annie’s face appeared in the right-hand corner of the screen and she could not hide her expression if she had tried. It was like she’d eaten the sun she was shining so bright, her eyes glittering like precious jewels in their sockets, a smile threatening to rip her face apart. “Daiki!” She exclaimed excitedly, slapping her hands against the desk and forgetting her composure. “Daiki, Daiki, Daiki!”

“W-what?” So startled he slipped and spoke in Japanese.

She thrust a stack of papers at the screen, so excited she could hardly hold them still enough for Aomine to see that it was his test answers. “Daiki, I think you might be some kind of genius!” She could hardly contain herself, her neutral teaching accent slipping so much that her far northern accent came out, making her difficult to understand.

“I know that, but excuse me?” He couldn’t help the jab.

She laughed, snorting. “You’re so confident in everything except your English.” She drew the papers back to reveal her face once more. “Do you know what you got on this quiz?”

“Of course not. You wouldn’t let me see it.” He huffed, scowling.

She jittered in her seat, shaking. “Guess.”

“No.”

“Guess.” She pressed.

“No.” He hated stupid games like guessing more than anything. They were a waste of time and energy.

“Ugh, you are such the spoil sport!” She grumped. “You got an eighty-seven percent. Eighty-seven. Do you even know how good that is?”

He gawked at her. Eighty-seven was a horrible score. Sure, it was passing, but that meant that he could barely hold a conversation in English. Where had he screwed up the most? He wracked his brain, trying to pull test questions from memory, but couldn’t come up with anything. There were sections that were extremely difficult but nothing that stuck out more than anything else. “Sensei, have you lost it?” He slipped in Japanese again in his disbelief.

She was grinning, wildly, at him. “Do you want to know a secret, Daiki?” He frowned, nodding. “The quiz I gave you was two levels higher than I would normally give students at what should be your level.” His eyes about fell out of his head. “We haven’t even been working together for half a year and you started off at essentially zero. You’ve grown so much in that amount of time. If I had given you the correct test, you’d have thought it was so easy that you would accuse me of looking down on you.” He flapped his mouth a few times. “Don’t try to deny it. Your attitude when you’re speaking in Japanese is like reading an open book. Your confidence is out of this world.”

He was flabbergasted. His eyes hurt from holding them open, but he was so shocked he couldn’t get them to close. His mouth gaped as he reached for words but found himself speechless. All of his struggle, all his time and effort, was coming to fruition. His hard work was paying off in big ways.

Annie spoke again, her gentle demeanor back in place. “Daiki, the test that I gave you would be something I’d give someone who had typically been studying with me for two years or more. There’s grammar on that test that I can guarantee you a majority of American students wouldn’t have gotten right. Granted, grammar was by and far your worst area, the best being vocabulary, but you still scored almost sixty-five percent on that alone. That’s why I think you might actually be a genius. Did you even realize that you can follow along in lessons perfectly fine now? I almost never have to explain things to you in Japanese anymore, even really difficult concepts.” He shook his head. “Ugh, I’m just so proud of you!” She gushed. “You’re going to be just fine over here, I know it. Until then, let’s keep studying hard, okay?” He simply nodded. Something, a sense of pride maybe, swelled in his chest. Suddenly his move stateside seemed just a little less scary.

<Graduation>

Unsurprisingly, there were no tears. Not from him at least. Girls flocked around him as they pestered him for his Line information and email address, claiming that they wanted to keep in touch. He staved them off with bullshit excuses for awhile until he finally exploded at them, yelling that he was moving to California to pursue basketball and that he didn’t want anything to do with any of them as soon as the ceremony was over. While a few of them backed off, a few of his hardcore fans clung on, claiming that his tsundere attitude wasn’t enough to dissuade them. Finally, after God knows how long, Satsuki came to his rescue, dragging him far away from the hoards of onlookers. “Ugh, so annoying.” He grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “All of them thinking they’re hot shit. None of them are even that sexy.” His friend laughed, wrapping herself around his arm. “Oy, get your tits off of me.”

“Nuh-uh.” She pressed her chest harder against him. “I know that you’re a boob guy.”

He retched. “It’s like having my sister’s tits on me. I’m going to throw up.” He pretended like he was going to, covering his mouth with a hand. She squeezed herself extra close one last time before letting go, her expression all smiles. “I’m going to tell Tetsuya that you cheated on him.”

“As if he’ll believe you.” She stretched her arms out behind her back, leaning forward. “So. How long do I have you for?” He heard a few soft pops as her spine aligned itself.

“Until the end of July.”

“Well then. I’ll have to get my fill of you before then.” Satsuki slapped him heavily on the shoulder before turning on her heel and heading back into the throng of students filing out of the gym, diplomas in hand.

Later that evening Annie congratulated him. “Good job, Daiki. You’re officially an adult.”

“I’m still only seventeen.”

“Close enough. How as the ceremony?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Did you cry?”

“Of course not.” He glared at her, nostrils flaring in annoyance. She laughed, throwing her head back. “It wasn’t that funny.” He huffed.

“You’re right. But seriously, congrats. It’s so strange that you guys graduate in March. I guess it just means that you’re going to have plenty of time to study. Are you going to work in the mean time?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“What are you planning to do?” He shrugged. He’d thought about getting a part time job for awhile but he’d never bothered to look. Now that he had the time, he didn’t have a clue what he wanted to do. “You should look for something where your English will be really helpful. Something in a tourist-y area would be great.”

“You think I have the composure to work with people?” He eyed her, dubiously. She laughed again.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Think about jobs where you can use it without having to talk to people, then. I’m sure there’s something. Maybe a basic translating job. I can give you a recommendation if you need it.”

“I’ll think about it.” All he knew for sure was that the next few months were going to be long, and difficult, but deep inside his gut he felt an overwhelming sense of excitement. A new chapter was about to begin.

“Well then. Let’s get started.” Annie’s chirper voice cut through the inner monologue and their lessons began.

#aomine x kagami #aokaga #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 writer