Author's notes:

This piece of fiction contains: sexual themes.

You've been warned, read at your own discretion.

If you can't stomach any sort of grammatical incorrectness turn away now. Half-assed complaints about my grammar do not interest me, spare your time and don't write them.

Possessing the Possessor

His hands felt like sandpaper and sometimes like the pages of an old worn book. In her psyche the etched memory was always followed by scalding frostbites on her skin...

That bastard!

Dokugamine Riruka had never known exactly when Tsukishima Shukuro had managed to cut her with that damned sword of his. But she was more than sure that it was long before the whole Karakura mess.

Once to ensnare, twice to undo – that was the constant of the Book of the End. Despite the adamantine law that was believed to be inert, he had managed to break it. And Riruka knew, oh she knew that alright. She'd been intimately acquainted with that aspect of the man's powers. The girl was positive that Ginjo had no knowledge of these transgressions or of the full extent of his pupil's powers... More like pet's, Riruka sneered. Instantly she felt jealous at the thought, a possessiveness she was well accustomed to, but even in the darkest corners of her mind it was all labeled as disgust, never envy.

With the first slash Tsukishima had showed her his full power. And the clone persona of herself which he had inserted felt a naïve blazing ember of pride for it. But maybe it was correct in a crooked way, anyone who had witnessed the full potential of the fullbringer, was either deceased or worse – left mentally unstable. A jab of an icicle ran down her spine – it was only a matter of time until she'd join their ranks. Riruka had become his favorite test-rabbit meant for maiming. However the metaphor held no aspects of 'cute' in her mind...

And so it was engraved into her conscious that the tall man was her lover. Tsukishima's ever-smirking, apathetic face tainted with the barest tints of loathing, had replaced the pretty visage of her first crush. Although Riruka was aware of her senior's ability that would not have been enough to prevent it from taking full-control of her psyche, therefore it meant only one thing – he had left plenty of loopholes for her to abuse, just for his own entertainment.

That sick sadist!

The magenta-haired girl could not discern his motives. It was (grudgingly) more than understandable why he choose to inject his everlasting presence into her, but why had the man branded himself so firmly was lost on her. It was easier to believe that she was an experiment to him, rather than a sick indulgence.

At times his horrid brand was unbearable. Riruka could always discern where his essence was injected into her memories (although the difficulty of this task varied depending on how much Tsukishima pushed it into her mentality, on how much at the moment he was interested in convincing her of its validity) but it wasn't so easy with the memories he created for her. Discerning fact from fiction became routine. And against her better nature sometimes his lies would become reality. The man had made sure that Riruka would know just how much depth of detail and time he invested in it. When the love-obsessed fullbringer would firmly refuse his outrageous scenarios, Tsukishima would pass them off as dreams.

Dreams! As if she would dream about him?!

Riruka's dreams were always filled with bright colors and cute fluffy stuff, her nightmares dark and nonsensical – like frightening dark voids she had to bear. Tsukishima's suggestions fit neither of the categories. But maybe that was the idea, to create another anomaly for her to discern; for the lanky man to test and see how much it would take for her mind to break and fully accept him. Something she would never do.

And with his second slash those false memories had not faded, they were only buried deeper, pushed into her subconscious.

The third slash had not undone them either. And the petite girl would often find herself trying to figure out exactly what had been suggested and what had truly happened.

Her eyelashes were heavy from the thick layer of black mascara on them and just a bit dense from perspiration – but not tears. There'd never been a reason for them – Tsukishima had made sure it would be so. Perhaps only when the assaults of his inputs became too strenuous and maddening to endure. But he was not aware of them – her tears, they were a secret.

Riruka opened her eyes to the visage of him atop of her, just like in the many memories he'd made for her. She lied nude on the bed and found it hard to discern whether it was reality or another one of his scenarios written into her brain with the Book of the End.

At a sharp intrusion her body arched swiftly off the bed. Oh, this was real, alright. His smirking physiognomy just tilted to the side as if inquiring whether this was alright. Riruka didn't need to hear him say anything, she knew his facial expressions well enough to tell what he was asking. His finger slowly moved forward but stilled in its quest. The fully-clothed form of Tsukishima lowered himself over her now slightly relaxed form. The man's mouth quickly found refugee on the side of the girl's neck, where it laid imitations of loving kisses. The creations made by him were pressed more forcefully into her mind, as if in an attempt to assure her that this was not new and that it was acceptable.

"Tsukishima" Riruka hissed in a warning. She needed no assurance, this was not something she was manipulated into (she dreaded the very idea that it could be so). The petite female needed no further prodding of her brain.

The assault had not ceased and the fullbringer's attentions to her jaw were just as nauseatingly sweet.

"Shukuro" the girl never used his name. The way she said it was akin to dripping venom and the threat in the word was not veiled.

He paused for a breath, the hot sigh scalding her collarbone. The pressure on her mind dissolved with the order. A cold hand touched her shoulder. She could feel his refined yet gleeful smirk on her flesh. The silky material beneath her felt cool and combined with the freezing feeling of him on every inch of her skin made her perspire coldly.

The intrusion slowly drew back and at the movement Riruka's head snapped up and rolled uncomfortably deeper into the pillow, changing the scenery from the white ceilings to the painted headboard. Her small hand clutched Tsukishima's arm.

The hurting and exceedingly unpleasant feeling diminished slightly in her core. The tall man drew his face away from her form and looked into her strained angelic face. Some time went by when Riruka's head returned to its original position. He hadn't moved his hand from her. Sweat drenched lashes unveiled and greeted the man that was pursing his lips and wearing a look of concentration. Tsukishima quickly decided to continue with the same tactic, alas this time diving with his slow kisses into the unexplored area of her chest. His long, bony finger resumed its movement inside.

Her magenta colored hair was splayed and tangled beneath her. The tall man's mouth enveloped her small breast. It felt hot and wet, contrasting strongly with Tsukishima's cold hands. The contact was not something Riruka would refer to as pleasurable, but it was not the opposite either, therefore she focused into it. The lanky fullbringer switched from one to the other, lavishing her bosom with attention. When he seemed sated, his lips left and sought her unresponsive mouth. Tsukishima kissed her feather-lightly but the girl didn't open her mouth to his prying tongue. Her ignoring did not sway him. If anything, he seemed to have known it to happen and without a fraction of a second's thinking the man simply diverted his attentions elsewhere.

The false loving all of his actions held was hated by Riruka. She abhorred the way he would always try to become one of the personae from the books he so adored. There was the essence of something individual, something of him, despite the scenarios he wanted to become part of. But that was not enough in the girl's mind to wash away the taste of falsity in everything that Tsukishima did. A perfect author and actor that he was, was insufficient to fool her. Everyone would fall prey to his theatrics but never her. Riruka was the only one to know that he was always wearing a mask, and only she knew what was behind. Beneath the intricate façades he'd put on was nothing, his whole existence was based on fractions of everybody and everything else but himself. However it was not within her knowledge or capacities to decode the reasons of his shallow being. What was it that made him this way: broke him, shattered him or if he even had a persona of his own at one point – she didn't know and it was nihil to try and comprehend. Tsukishima was only a fragment of himself but Riruka couldn't bring herself to care for it, even if she hated him for being completely hollow.

The petite girl was startled by the sudden buck of her hips into his hand. The movement sent his digit deeper into her core. She couldn't stop the involuntary whimper that left her lips, despite having resolved not to show her displeasure. The rhythm stilled instantly and the concerned look on his face was insulting. Her mind felt red-hot in anger at his expression.

After some time the fullbringer continued with the slow, shallow motions of his hand. The girl's purpose was clear: against the great odds of him misunderstanding, she was hell-bent on proving that she was the one using him. But right now she had to concentrate on pressing her hips into the mattress and stopping the reflex of pushing against the man's hand. Riruka's brows were furrowed. She felt him shift his weight and his other hand landed lightly on her hipbone. Stroking in an attempt to soothe and relax her, coax her into following the natural instinct. Her amaranth eyes only glared, her lower body flattening even more into the bed.

And soon, all too soon, he pushed another finger into her. The looming man slowed the movement more, if that was even possible. Riruka mentally hissed. The discomfort strongly heightened and she didn't know whether to feel grateful because it ceased her reflex to buck. It seemed that her body had finally resonated what her mind had been trying to tell it. This was not exactly how it was supposed to proceed but this would do... for now. She had to attune to this.

The time was moving slowly but Tsukishima didn't seem to mind it, he gave no indication that he noticed or cared for it. The tall man appeared impossibly pleased as if this was the crescendo, the most contact he would ever get from her, as if there was nothing else beyond. She would prove him wrong, she would abuse his miscalculations and shove them right back into his pretty face.

A long time was used to adjust but the hurting diminished and all that was left was discomfort and the speck of something else. And it was strengthening. It wasn't something enjoyable or pleasurable for her. The feeling was strange. The fullbringer girl started slowly moving her body in a feline like fashion of a dancer. Swaying sideways, not forward into him. The movement was nothing like the sharp instinctual shove of her body before; it was controlled, precise. And most importantly it increased the bearable aspects of Tsukishima's ministrations. His face immediately molded into something different at the change. Riruka was stumped at what it was, was it satisfaction, glee that marred his features? Whichever and whatever it was, the petite girl did not like it. She had already seen it twice: first when she had disrobed and second when his hands had touched her nude flesh. But this time it was the epitome of it.

Riruka continued her moving until the feeling inside had started increasing fervently. She felt that the culmination of it would occur soon, but she did not wish to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. Her hand had sought out his shirt clad arm and seized it. The lanky man understood and ceased his ministrations, he even removed his questing fingers from her. His behavior stated clearly that he would not have any objections if she dressed and left then and there. Tsukishima already seemed satisfied beyond belief with the act that had transpired. She was not through with him yet.

Her tiny hand grasped the front of his shirt as she uttered a firm command.

"Undress"

Which is what he obediently did as her hand fell back onto the bed. He started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, not as teasingly slow as Riruka had expected. The tall man was in the role of a perfect lover from some damned romance book, although he did not act it on her adamant request. Tsukishima had not wasted a second's thought in complying with her demand, but his actions were different from his confident, smirking expression. The Dollhouse fullbringer was not pleased.

The white shirt was discarded onto the floor and he stopped. His chest was bare except for the black suspenders. He loomed over her, his visage unchanging. Riruka grasped one of the straps and pulled him closer, muttering into his ear.

"All of it"

Tsukishima's impenetrable façade slipped and for a moment he seemed startled and lost. The man put his mask back on instantly and the slip was like a figment of imagination but she knew better. Riruka even smirked back at him, satisfied by his momentary error. If he noticed the change in her demeanor (and she was sure that he did), he didn't show it. And for the first time in the evening his attention was focused into something else – the removal of his clothing and not her. All the while she watched his face intently, feeling pride at his miscalculation. She was truly pleased with the situation.

And with no further hesitations he was finally bare. Riruka's gaze had never left his face. Tsukishima raised his eyes. Obscure hazel met triumphant amaranth.

The motion was ungraceful as the girl's legs swiftly wrapped themselves about his waist and forcefully tugged downwards. His arms had withheld the pull, even if their lower bodies were mashed one into the other. The man did not seem perturbed by it. Tsukishima shifted his weight slightly and pushed more of it into his hands.

He soon met her demands and Riruka felt the pressure of her core. The petite girl fought the pain of the intrusion with fervor. She had let her control fall far too many times and her lover would witness it no more. He wasn't smirking, his mask of indifference was set. Only his heavily labored breathing betrayed the inner turmoil and his lack of experience.

As pitifully compassionate as ever. Fake the lot of it. The fullbringer moved further inhumanly slowly and she hated every second of it. Her insides protested and seemed to tear but she mirrored it with all of the loathing she felt for him. A sharp pain rocked her core, made her body go into over-drive, but there was no gasp or vocal complaint about it. Her mind was set and she didn't even hiss. He stilled. Riruka's nails found leverage on his back, sinking and damaging but not clawing. She'd rather forsake all of her beloved powers but she wouldn't show her mind's agonizing chaos.

Perhaps the animosity radiating drove his gaze away or perhaps something else, but he hid his face from her eyes. Riruka felt his heavy exhales on her shoulder. A brilliant idea struck her then. If it would have been a different situation she would have openly laughed at it. Really such a wonderful thing her brain proved to be! Managing to come up with something so devious and pointing out to her another loophole to abuse. Tsukishima made an error. A mistake, miscalculation, misjudgment, slipup, lapse in judgment... Whichever! The name for it did not matter.

He had a delusion that he could possess the possessor. How foolish... She was the master of this art and the man would not escape from her unscathed, in the literal sense. Oh this was too good to be true, leaving signs of her ownership on Tsukishima was simply the pinnacle of her cunning.

He wanted the picture perfect scene from a masterpiece of a novel. She would demolish his fantasies with the harsh reality she represented. Picture perfect had never been so unattainable. The girl had to be careful though, mistakes were easily made, and she refused to make any faulty choices. Small lithe fingers tangled themselves in the raven hair and yanked unforgivingly. He offered no resistance, his eyes reflecting no confusion, only nonexistent confidence. Riruka lapped at his throat, her maleficent grin embedding itself into his skin. Tsukishima could not feign ignorance at it, he was bound to notice and she would not stop until it was crystal clear to him – you cannot possess the possessor.

The dainty creature beneath him sunk her teeth into his neck. No, it was not to divert her attention from the pain, it was not an act out of lust and he would know it. Riruka bit continuously and pulled at his flesh as if with all the intent to rip out the jugular vein. She didn't stop until her teeth hurt and a dark bleeding bruise formed. The tall fullbringer would have to comprehend himself and no one that would lay their eyes upon that etched mark would assume it a hickey bestowed by a lover. No, it was a sign left by an animal, one wild and unyielding. She smirked maliciously and let her tongue lash out towards the weeping insult to flesh.

Would he hide it? What would the cold man say to anyone who would inquire? Lies, they would surely be. The same lies that would one day be the downfall of his omnipotent figure. Tsukishima had engraved her soul and mind, she marred his skin. Riruka's damage could not be seen, his would be paraded, despite any attempts disguise.

The stalling irked her. She had given in to the luxury of letting her body cope before, its protests now would have to be ignored. And with that thought in mind Riruka pulled the dark haired man's head smashing her mouth into his. The girl violated the man's lips with her teeth, the metallic taste of blood still fresh from before. Her tongue was nothing but shoved into his compliant maw and she let him taste his own sanguine liquid. He didn't respond to the animalistic temper of the kiss but he still reciprocated. The motion not the kind of a man's that had already resigned himself to slavery but of someone who enjoyed the torment and anguish her lips sowed. She abhorred him for it but it was Tsukishima and this kind of approach was not unexpected.

The female fullbringer broke the kiss and pushed her body forcefully against his.

Once. Twice. Trice.

The girl could feel the tension in the muscles of his bony frame. The sign of a relentless battle he had with his instincts to thrust back. She brought agony to both parties unknowingly. There was no intention of ceasing the immensely painful motion.

Tsukishima changed his position and his hands lightly grasped her hips, milk-chocolate eyes hidden behind eyelids, his breathing strained. His touch stole her attention from the set-in messy rhythm of her complaining, porcelain-like body. The breathless man lifted his pleading gaze to her.

Disgusting.

Riruka could hear the imaginary pleas from him to stop hurting herself. Her angry hiss – his feigned ignorance. Grip tightening on her the slightest fraction. She knew that he couldn't even phantom leaving a single mark on her alabaster body. If she truly wanted she could have shaken his hold with little effort. Oddly the girl didn't even attempt to.

Tsukishima removed one of his hands to rest beside her, his resettled weight pressed her to lie fully into the soft mattress of the bed. The spidery appendages of the other hand were left on her hip, they splayed themselves and caressed, but their purpose was clear – to stop any violent outbursts.

The tall man moved finally. Rebelliously compliant – slow. Riruka's physical being was far from a euphoric state, the actual opposite of it.

In the girl's fury encased mind eons and millennia passed until her condition started changing. It was not long after the butterfly wing flutter soft attentions had rained down onto her form when the strange feeling resurfaced. All of her rational thoughts were eradicated and had been drown in the overpowering sensation. The female fullbringer didn't know whether she liked it better, at least the animosity and pain had not clouded her thinking. Now only the thought that was foreign and not like her own remained – the wanting of this not to cease. Riruka's legs wrapped tighter and she moved into him. Her response was quicker and he gave in. Soon the movement synchronized.

Even in the midst of frenzied passion (that was what this was supposed to be) his tempo had never really hastened much. In the girl's hazy mind she had still managed to pick up his sequential attention pattern.

Her lips, her jaw, her neck, her breasts: repeat...

Tsukishima's well trained control over his body and his precision showed. An excellent swordsman, his experiences contributing even to this.

Such an ugly, accurate creature. Disgusting.

Riruka's body was unceasingly pushed unto heights she'd never experienced. Thoughts scattering as she tried to think.

Her lips, her jaw, her neck, her breasts: repeat...

Despite her slim knowledge she knew the pattern to be his attempt to distract himself.

She threw back her head, mouth opening – silence emitting, eyes closed as she was pushed over the cloud. The man leaned back to watch her, to study his glorious achievement. The petite body beneath barely controlled by its owner. The girl's core throbbed unevenly, fingernails digging into his skin.

With the fall's end there was the want to cease, minor discomfort bizarrely lacing itself within her mind. His body allowed no reprieve, rhythm unchanging and forcing her to continue tenderly.

Tsukishima's pattern did not stop.

Her lips, her jaw, her neck, her breasts: repeat...

Her lips, her jaw, her neck, her breasts: repeat...

Riruka's next height was rough and reached unexpectedly, not following the strict mounting crescendo of the previous experience. Her body trembled and shivered erratically, it felt as if an electrifying seizure had conquered her small form. This time she had absolutely no control over her body. Lungs burning – her breaths were stolen. Tsukishima's fiery kiss seemed like a final testament. Her insides clenched in spasms involuntarily, myriad of fluids uncontrollably expelled from her overdriven body. His motions stopped shortly and she could feel jerky shivers of his restrained release. The man's face was hidden in her neck as Riruka's core was overflown. He seemed to fancy hiding there.

Leaning away, he made no attempts to hide his shallow breathing, while hers was made steady with force. After a while, a sound of discomfort left her lips as he untangled his body from hers. Riruka turned to her side and curled into a ball, not wanting to see his expression at it. Tsukishima draped a sheet on them and his arm over her waist. She could feel fluid trickling down from between her legs and she had to repress a shudder.

The tall man nuzzled his face to the back of her neck and her painted nails sunk harshly into his wrist. If he wanted a cuddling session with her he was barking at the wrong tree. Only now the magnitude of the act had struck her. He quickly stopped and rested his head onto the pillow. She let the arm rest on her without removing her own possessive limb atop it.

Had she made her point clear? Fear gripped her terribly. While her body was weak and wished for nothing else but rest, her mind flared in fireworks. She couldn't bring herself to care whether Tsukishima's steady breathing meant that he was slumbering or whether it was just another faux. Riruka spent much more time pondering on how to make him get it. Beyond the grand windows it was dawning when she finalized her plot. Setting a certain time to rise and leave into her subconscious.

Barely after a few hours of rest she acted according to plan and left while her lover was still asleep.

Riruka knew that the man would be awake as she made her way across the freshly rained streets at 10 am. Her body was sore and complaining as she skipped the puddles. It was absolutely not ready and protesting for what was to take place. Her physical being was completely ignored; this would make a clear statement.

She stood at the doorstep of the grand manor and waited annoyed for the master to appear. A few minutes later a fussing Tsukishima opened the door clad in his usual garb with a frilly pink apron atop, hair clipped to the side. He held a bowl in his hands filled with dough, which he was stirring. The look of surprise was momentary and he greeted her with only uttering her name accompanied by an annoying smirk. On the side of his neck was a terrible bruise – good, her brand was still intact.

It was far too early for her body to undergo these transgressions again but she resolved to prove her point no matter what the cost.

Riruka didn't reply to the greeting and went inside as he stepped aside to let her in.

At that very moment Tsukishima had finally realized exactly why he had spontaneously decided to make doughnuts that morning.