Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wet pavement splashed with the intensity of his footsteps, a faint hint of wheat from the tall fields on the side of the highway assaulting his senses. His lungs burned with each hard push to just keep going forward. Just a little further…

Freedom was right there and yet so far away. A sudden white-yellow light surrounded him, and it only fueled his body with the right kind of motivation to kick himself into high gear again. He'd been slacking; knowing that, despite his freedom being right within reach, he wasn't out of the clearing yet. 

A cry, a scream of determination, ripped from his throat. The light getting closer and closer left him with one final impulsive choice. He wasn't going back home. He wasn't enduring another minute of those burning fingertips on his flesh.  He made a jump for it, throwing himself off the railing that separated the highway and the wheat field. He knew the risk it would have on his body but seeing the car come to a halt and the distance his quick thinking put between the car and himself motivated Sora to keep pushing onwards. Each step drew out a grunt from his lips, his hands bringing little to no relief to the pain that coursed through his body. Pin-needle like pricks brushed against his entire body the deeper he traversed through the fields.

How much time had passed since his first step, no, his first sprint , away from his home. His prison. Through trembling lips, a single name trickled out like a prayer of hope. 

“Riku…”

How badly he missed him. How much he desperately wanted to run to Riku…his best friend. Riku would’ve held him and kissed away every fear and worry. He was always hailed as the knight in shining armor type—strong and intimidating and perfect. The only problem, Sora reminded himself, was that Riku was an easy target. It would have been the first place they would have looked. 

If life were a game of Hide and Seek, Riku was always location number one for Sora. Joined at the hips, it would always be the most logical spot to find him at. Sora couldn't bring himself the pain of involving Riku in any of this. So, he ran. He ran and never looked back.  

Just off in the distance, another beacon of hope made itself present. Through gritted teeth and tears he pushed onward.  

The gates of the old warehouse carried with it the image of a time long forgotten. The old, neon HEART FACTORY sign hung above the entrance to the warehouse, just barely holding on for dear life. 

Dripping wet, cold, and desperate for shelter, with the last of his strength Sora broke through the locks keeping him from safety. Darkness surrounded him accompanied by the deafening silence the building harbored. Almost like he'd stepped into another dimension entirely. Not even the sound of the downpour could be heard echoing off the concrete walls. Mildew and the smell of old rusty machinery danced through the air around him, punching him repeatedly in the gut. 

Whether it be from the adrenaline or the scent of decrepit machinery that did it, Sora couldn't control his body from heaving out bile from his throat until it eventually came out as watery vomit. The smallest hint of iron coating his throat and tongue as he expelled the last of the fluids. Disoriented didn't even come close to accurately describing how he felt as he pressed his body against the cold surface of the nearest wall to him. Chestnut brown strands of hair blanketed cerulean, wide, dull eyes. Tired, heavy eyelids couldn't stop from threatening to carry him off to a never-ending dream. 

A voice lulled him deeper into the dream. I'll take good care of you. Sora was floating, almost cartoonishly, towards whatever voice beckoned him forward. A lifeline in a raging sea. A voice of reason amidst the chaos. Maybe…could it be? 

Riku…? Riku, I knew you’d save me. Please…please save me. Please just put an end to this.

Blind to reality until it was too late for him, Sora opened his eyes and saw only one thing in the darkness: two golden, glowing eyes.  

5 years later

Soft sounds of pitter patter against the windowsill mixed with a soothing cello rang through the room bringing to life the mountain of blankets on the single person bed. Silver, tousled hair peaked out first before any signs of distinctive human features. Riku knew a haircut was long overdue, he just chose not to care. He didn't particularly care about the length, it didn't get in the way nearly as much as those around him made it seem. 

The bed creaked with his movement, supporting 170 lbs. of pure muscle. Broad shoulders popped, drawing out deep gasps of relief from the sudden release of tension. Down his body more cracks and pops of his bones signaled the beginning of his morning. Another morning, same routine. That was Riku down to the core. Looking at his phone, he clicked his tongue. 

“She’s late again.” 

Right at that moment, the door to his townhouse complex opened. A woman no older than 21 stepped into view, two coffee orders in her hand. “You're ten minutes late.” Riku scolded, walking up to the smaller woman. Her eyes reached his chest, a lovely view according to most; but for her, it was just another horrid reminder of her stature. 

“Oh, stop that, I can't help it that those damned government contractors decided the nearest Starbucks was the ideal place to get their coffee.”  She said, taking one of the large cups, handing it to Riku. A hazelnut latte and vanilla creamer never smelt so amazing as it did at six in the morning. That first velvety sip brought with it the clarity and guilt of expecting the poor woman in front of him to meet him almost every day like this. It was a ritual.  

“Thank you.”

“Don't mention it. Just know that Xi is this close to snapping you in half.” Riku knew that this was more than an inconvenience on his friends’ lives. Naminé was just too soft to express that this was more than a burden on her or her girlfriend. 

“Tell Xion that I'll make it up to both of you in cash.” He said, finally letting Naminé inside, taking her long coat to hang it up on the coat rack. 

‘What you can do is get-"

“Don't.” Riku snapped, his attention focused elsewhere so as not to show his disdain for the idea she was about to suggest to him. “I'm close, I can feel it.” He adds. Naminé’s body tenses seeing the fire in his eyes. Contrasting his fire, she opened her mouth to speak with gentle ease.

“It's been five years since he disappeared, Riku. This is not your place to play detective.” Her words lingered and left Riku's ears like a passing melody. “Yeah, and those bastards handling Sora's case aren't putting in the effort!” Slamming down his coffee, not caring about the mess, Riku bolts back over to her. “And you can tell your scumbag stepbrother that I'm not going to stop interfering with the investigation because, honestly, I'm doing far more than they've done in the five years since he first turned up missing.” 

“Lauriam is doing his job, which takes time! Dammit, Riku, it's eight in the morning and I'm in no mood to try dealing with your bullshit.” Naminé snaps. Such an odd combination of sweet and deadly demeanor her body carried the moment her hand slammed down her own coffee cup against the marble countertop. Riku held his tongue, knowing she was right. Of course, she's gotta be the goddamn rational one here. 

Sitting across from Riku in one of the recliners in his living room, Naminé regained her poise, crossing one delicate leg over the other, her skirt slightly raising up to reveal her thighs. Gently, she brushed the hair that rested on her shoulder behind her, shaking volume back into it. The ends of her hair bounced gently, curling ever so slightly. Riku immediately registered the expression she held and knew whatever was about to leave her lips was not on his list of things he wanted to hear.

“Riku, we need to talk.” 

There it is. Those five cursed words that sent a wave of frustrating emotions from the base of his spine down to his toes. “If by 'talk' you mean about Sora, then yes, we have a lot to talk about.” Naminé stood up from her seat, “No! Not about Sora. Not about him or this case.” Exhaling, she regained her composure, “Riku…this is not good for your health and Xion and I just want you to–”

“To what? Give up? Just go about the rest of my life thinking my best friend just disappeared one day. Accept that he could be dead!” His voice trembled, his anxieties pulsating through the blood in his veins. Grabbing for his head in a futile attempt to stop the sudden pounding there, he steadied his body enough to sit down in the adjacent recliner. “Dammit…” His voice, laced with that lingering frustration, resembled that of a kicked puppy's whimpering. 

Regret and stupidity filled him as he fell into his pathetic mental state. Naminé walked over and knelt beside him, rubbing her delicate hand up and down his back.

“This…isn't what Sora would want.” She said with hesitation in her tone. 

“Don't talk as if you're him…You don't know what Sora would want. No one does.” Head resting in his hands, Riku ignored looking at Naminé, but he could feel her concern heavy in the air. Her hand curled into a ball against his spine, and he knew she was holding back her true frustrations on the matter too. “You don't know him either. You may be his best friend, but so am I. So are Kairi and Lauriam. You're not the only one affected by this, you know.” Getting up to her feet again, Naminé paced towards the kitchen making sure Riku really felt the vibrations of her frustrations deep in his bones with each heavy stomp. Not a single word lingered between them as she helped herself to the mini wine rack.

“It's too early for wine.” Riku muttered, head still in his hands. 

“It's never too early for wine. You need to learn that quickly.” She poured herself, as well as himself, a small glass. “Here.” She walked back over to him, holding out the glass, unmoving until he accepted her offer. Reluctantly, he finally took the glass. “I stopped drinking.” He said, contradicting his statement by putting the glass to his lips and eagerly swallowing the red liquid. With a sudden rush of bitterness, he shivered as the substance hit his gut directly. 

“I can tell. This is the mildest stuff you have and yet your body couldn't handle the hit.” She said, swallowing her own drink in earnest. Not wasting anymore time, she got to asking the real questions. 

“You said you were close. So, tell me, what makes you so sure?” 

Riku leaned back in his seat, collecting his thoughts. “Remember that old factory about an hour away from here?’ He asked. Naminé backtracked through her memories, flipping through the catalog in her mind. “You mean the heart one? The one suspected of—” She stopped, unable to finish her thoughts as her blood ran cold, reminded of a time she learned to bury deep down. Her early teenage years never seem to leave her as memories come flooding back to the surface.

Riku places a comforting hand on her back, consoling her back into a steady mental state. “I know…I didn't mean to bring up old memories, but I asked because,” he paused, getting up to shift for something in one of his kitchen junk drawers. Upon returning in his hand was a flyer. The flyer was crinkled and faded to show its age, “I found this taped to my door the other day.” Handing her the flyer, Riku could feel the color from her skin run pale. Naminé was already fair in complexion, now she looked as though she were decaying. 

Quickly, she handed the flyer back to Riku. “This is a bold claim to be making. Sora…I can't imagine him…” Her voice trailed off as she choked back a sob. Her delicate hand shakily covered her mouth. 

“It's something. Most of the police following Sora's investigation have a perimeter limit, right? They've only been checking around certain locations.” He examines the flyer one more time. “But…no one would think to check in an abandoned factory.” 

“And the rumors are just that…rumors. Not even I could tell you.” Naminé gripped at the ends of her skirt for purchase. “You don't need to. I'm planning on going there this weekend with Yozora to–”

“No! Absolutely not, Riku.” The sheer volume of her voice nearly drove Riku into fight or flight. He towered over her in an attempt to intimidate her, but she stood firm. “Not only are you going to get in trouble for trespassing, but you don't know what or who is residing around that place!” 

“It's the best bet we have on finding something and Yozora's experienced with things like this.” 

“Yozora is a damn urbex with multiple charges of illegal trespassing. Sorry but if you do this, I can only imagine it ending in a disaster.” Her words fell on deaf ears as Riku's attention focused on his phone suddenly ringing. “It's Yozora. He should be here any second.”

Naminé was stunned into silence, left utterly speechless. Riku checked out seconds ago as he threw on his coat and facemask. There's one thing she hated more than Riku getting this way: Riku leaving her alone. You're not the only one that misses him …

She locked the door behind her, making her way over to the couch. Head in her hands, she forces back the tears that threaten to fall. Hidden away in her wallet is a picture of her and Sora when they were in middle school. They were thick as thieves back then and always finding new things to do together. The image captured a moment in time of Sora and her at a class party. Sora's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close into a firm hug. His cheek pressed deeply into hers. Toothy, twin smiles towards the camera her mother was holding. The grainy texture of the photo served to only remind her of a simpler time in her life before puberty stole away her innocence. The warm, comforting embrace of Sora's hands and cheeks from that memory still linger on her skin even after every scorn and torturous imprint she's endured since. 

Only then does a single tear bring on the flood.

“I can't believe I agreed to this.” Riku groaned as he looked out at the never-ending wheat fields passing by. Yozora inhaled more of the nicotine from his cigarette before throwing the butt of it out the window. “You know I hate the smell of that shit. And can you not just throw shit out the window like that?” Riku’s request only pulled a grunt out of his brother. 

“I could turn this car around and drop you back at your shitty apartment.” That shut Riku up real quickly. Leaning back in his seat, avoiding Yozora's inescapable presence, he settled on dealing with the tension between them. “You know, I always knew something was off about you.” Yozora's voice is soft and almost tender in nature. “You and Sora were always joined at the hip, but I should've known there was more to it.” Riku finally faces him with a glaring stare. 

Yozora continued, “How is it that you had it all growing up: spoiled rotten, popular with the other kids, a full ride to a pristine college, and every girl was practically throwing themselves at you and yet…” Yozora paused as if he was expecting to be cut off mid-sentence. He always had a bad habit of doing that as a teen. But when he didn't answer, Yozora focused back on the road ahead. 

“Look, there's nothing wrong with it if you think I'm gonna say anything.” No response came. A long, drawn-out sigh left his lips. I need another goddamn cigarette. The silence of the car ride was starting to annoy him, and maybe it was that annoying younger brother's energy in him, but it compelled Yozora to speak on the matter again. “So, when did it click that you were in love with So–” 

The once silent ticking time bomb sets off with the sudden sound of Riku kicking the passenger side dashboard, sparking a sudden screech of the tires. 

“Hey! Fuckface, you break my goddamn truck and I'm throwing your gay ass out of it!” The adrenaline finally forced Yozora to pull off the road. Riku was seething, trying his best not to show the reddening of his cheeks or the rigid staggering of his breath. The apparent shame written on his older brother's face made it more than clear the answer to his question. Silence lingers between them until Riku mumbles something under his breath, getting Yozora's attention, unclear to what was spoken. 

“There was this one night back when he and I were toddlers, and Sora wanted to sneak out to the playground near our houses. I was stupid and agreed to go with him. And that night, we spent the night star gazing.” Riku recalls the memory as if it happened last week. The crisp autumn night breeze pricked at their small bodies and yet he remembers Sora being warm. He put even the sun to shame with how bright and warming he was. Their tiny bodies pressed far too close next to each other.  Riku recalls to Yozora there being a moment where he realized he wanted to never let go of that bright, blinding light and warmth. 

“I promised that I'd do whatever it took to keep him safe and yet–”

 “It's not your place to take this all on yourself.”  Riku's stubbornness knows no bounds, and Yozora now knows better than to fight him on this. Starting the car back up, they finish the journey in much calmer, comfortable silence. 

The air changed notably upon arriving at the Heart Factory. The legend goes that the toy factory belonged to a wealthy man with a lineage of equally wealthy sons all owning factories that spun practically out of nowhere overnight. The first Heart Factory was built in the late 60s, being built upon the promises of bringing joy and never-ending love to children everywhere.  A very noble, but overdone, concept. It quickly became the talk of sex trafficking rumors in the 80s when children and women started turning up missing only to be found dead miles away from the factory's gates. The rumors died down around the mid 90s when the bodies stopped showing up and the police left it as nothing more than abandoned.  

Opening the car door, Riku nearly felt as if someone was watching him. His eyes darted up to the very top of the factory where his gaze locked in on one window in particular. A ringing picked up in his ear and he swears he feels something nearly possess him. A faint whisper and incohesive jumbling of words he could just barely make out rushed through his veins like some toxic parasite, bringing him nearly to his knees. Yozora had just slipped on his mask and equipped his gear when he noticed Riku's near struggle. 

“What is it?” He asks, suddenly at his brother's side. Riku clung to his shoulders for support, but it did not deter him from getting a grip and getting back up to his feet. “Just got this weird feeling just now. It's nothing important.” To Yozora, that odd sensation was nothing new when it came to urban exploration. “Need the rundown?” He asked, handing Riku a flashlight. 

“Maybe.” Riku responded. 

“Basically, don't touch anything, keep close, and don't stray off any path the building has set for us.” They approach the door, its chains dangling, unlocked and tampered with. Yozora halted Riku from progressing onward. His gaze was sharp, stern and on high alert. Holding his breath, he slowly opened the door so as to not disturb the decay around them. The idea being not to alert anyone in hiding of their presence as well as protect themselves from any potential dangers from above.

 “Squatters plant traps around doors to deter people from trespassing. But with this hobby, you learn to,” he took one massive step forward and it wasn't until he'd pointed it out that Riku noticed the barely visible string, “pace yourself and avoid shit like this.” Riku nodded, understanding the severity of their situation. He followed in his brother's steps and avoided the wire.  

“Stick close just in case there's other hidden traps.”

The brothers traverse through the main corridor of the factory, careful not to trip over the rubble that littered the floor. In the air lingered the scent of decay from the old, heavy machinery. The interior of the factory had not nearly enough crumbling bricks or chunks of the inner workings threatening to come crumbling down on them. Yozora stuck his hand out. 

“Something's not right here…” Suddenly, the roaring of machinery off in the distance breaks the tension causing both men to break off into a sprint back towards the entrance. Heavy footsteps resound throughout the building, and it takes everything in both men to not fuck up and fall. Just as they reached the entrance Riku tripped the wire just barely missing the hidden axe that fell from the ceiling. 

“Move, now!” Yozora dragged Riku out of his terrorized daze and wasted no time getting into his truck and leaving the factory.

Chapter Text

Over the course of the next twelve hours after what happened at the Heart Factory, Riku's mind spiraled. Yozora sat on the couch, trying to take his mind off the pacing back and forth of his older brother behind him. “Careful now, you want that renter's deposit back, right? I don't think putting a hole in the ground via aggressive pacing is gonna guarantee that–”

“Dammit, Yozora! Not the time.” 

“What time? You're freaking out over nothing!” The gentle rambling of the television screen gets overshadowed by the brothers' sudden shouting. Riku’s body is trembling, still shaken by what he witnessed. Something evil had latched itself onto him, possessing his mind with never-ending anxiety. “Yozora, we have to go back. Something is fucked up about that place and I just know that whatever it was that I saw when we first got there, I just know that it has to do with Sora.” Yozora groaned, his annoyance out of this world. 

“STOP TALKING ABOUT SORA!!! Sora is dead .  And if he’s not dead then he's probably somewhere far away from here walking the goddamn streets just to survive.” Just a second of silence passes before the first punch is thrown. Tumbling and crashing into furniture, Riku relentlessly channeled his anger into every blow given to his brother. Damn it all to hell if someone called the cops on him, he was seeing red and more than willing to force the color onto his brother. The two nearly caused broken chaos within the small parameter of the living room space.  

And just as Riku was about to land another blow, an aggressive knock echoed through the room followed by a familiar, deep voice. The voice served as a perfect distraction and even better opportunity for Yozora to throw Riku off him and rush for the door. Lauriam stood on the other side, casually dressed in his civilian clothes. 

“What are you—"

“Got a call. Where's Riku?” The man asks, tapping his foot in a steady rhythm against the pavement. “You not gonna question why the fuck I'm fucked up in the face?” Yozora asked almost mockingly, as if the man in front of him wasn't there because of all the noise from their brawl. “If you let me talk to Riku, we can discuss that shit but I know that asshole is in there and unless he wants actual charges pressed against him–” 

“Lauriam!” A third voice not belonging to either man comes from deep within the apartment. It's surprising Riku nor Yozora even considered Naminé’s existence still in the house. Seeing Yozora's current state has her nearly fainting before harshly calling out for Riku. Knowing things can only get worse from here, he reluctantly steps into view from the kitchen, his hands up and bloody. Lauriam looked as though he wanted to arrest Riku just for doing that . “Put your hands down, Riku. We're just gonna talk.” 

Riku does as he’s told but by no means rushes out to talk with the older man. The humid, late summer night air is almost suffocating and something Riku never truly got accustomed to despite growing up near the coast. Living near the ocean always provided this level of coolness that living in the intense rural heat could never truly provide for him. But that was his mistake for wanting to leave for ‘better things off the islands’ as he'd so graciously put it all those years ago.

Riku never liked talking to Lauriam. Never had much respect for him either. The only reason he stuck around was because he took Naminé off the streets and adopted her after the death of both her parents. He hated him for many things, but that was one thing he could at least show gratitude for. Lauriam’s stature put Riku's to shame at just over 6 feet tall and built like a tree, the man could body slam Riku in a heartbeat if given any reason to.

“So, where do I even begin?” He asked, brushing his hand through his sleek, strawberry blonde hair. When he receives no answer, he continues, mildly annoyed. “If it hadn't been for my sister, you'd be without a brother and being put on trial for first degree murder. And I know you've got a bright future ahead of you.” When Riku still continues to offer the silent treatment to him, he figures he better hit it where it hurts. 

“I can only guess that this is about Sora, isn't it?” As expected, muttering that name brings Riku to a halt. The look on his face at that moment tells Lauriam all he needs to know. Riku spits on the ground next to Lauriam's shoe, glaring daggers into his very soul. “You have no idea what it's like losing someone you care about. Someone who–”

Lauriam grabs Riku's hoodie, pulling him close, “You better watch that goddamn mouth of yours. I'm not here to give you some overdramatic movie monologue. I'm not your damn father and you don't know shit about me or my family.” The faint hint of red wine tingled his nose, assaulting his senses. However, when he was freed from the older man's grip, the tone changed suddenly and Riku was met with an expression he'd never seen before on the man.

Eyes glossed over and watery, Lauriam sternly looked down at the younger man, “She was only thirteen when she went missing…she was around Naminé’s age.” Was.  

Lauriam then took a pause to pull something out of his pants pocket. A box and a lighter. He offered both to Riku, to which he kindly refused. “Oh, stop, just take a damn stick and let's go for a walk. Naminé’s tending to Yozora.”  With one final look at the two Riku agrees, taking the cigarette and lighter, he places the stick between his lips.  Laruiam walks with purpose near the apartment's playground, finding a seat on one of the swings. Riku settles next to him on the accompanying swing. 

“Strel was a bright kid.” Lauriam inhaled more of the nicotine, a deep inhale just to take the stress off. “She was also a bit of a loner, so when she didn't come home from school one afternoon…”  Riku's mind wandered to a familiar memory. The day Riku realized Sora went missing his thoughts were in hysterics. He'd never gone through the stages of grief as fast as he did when he realized the cold, hard, truth of the matter. 

“Strelitzia also wanted to be a florist. She not only knew her stuff about different kinds of flowers and how to arrange them, but she wanted to give back to the community through her bouquets and floral works. She was…this bright light to everyone she met.” Riku could hear the trembling in the older man’s throat as well as see the shaking of his hands until he dropped his barely used cigarette. Though his head was low, long hair covering his facial features, Riku could tell that the man beside him was broken. “Her case must've been really bad then for you to still remember it to this day.” Riku mumbled, now feeling no longer intrigued in his own cigarette. 

“Strel was my sister.” 

The words jackass, prick, asshole, and inconsiderate all immediately came to mind as a means of what to call himself. How is it that he'd gone all this time without even knowing? Naminé hadn't even informed him about all this. Lauriam had never mentioned her, though considering what he knows now, he better understands why. Before he could even muster up the idea of apologizing, Lauriam cut him off, clearly not intending to hear those words of sympathy. 

“I don't need to hear it. Whatever feelings you have for me shouldn't change after this exchange.” He sits up, leaving the swing. 

“But there's always a reason behind what I do. And regarding Sora…just know that he's not just missed by you.” Lifting his head to meet Lauriam's back, a slight breeze picked up carrying with it a heavy tension. 

“When I first saw Sora's picture in his file, my heart sank. That gentle smile was so much like hers. Freckles just like hers too. It was a grim reminder of the past. And ever since, it's been nothing but this source of motivation for me.” He turns back to face Riku, “And I promise you this. No matter what, I'm not giving up on him either. Not on him; not on her.” 

Returning back to the apartment, Lauriam gathers his things while helping Naminé collect her belongings. Despite Yozora's wounds being treated, he still looked for Lauriam to at least punish his brother. Though, with a smirk, Lauriam assured him that Riku still has a punishment for all the disruption to fulfill. 

“$400 fine for disrupting the peace as well as assault.” Yozora almost looked offended at how small of a fee that was. But Lauriam quickly added that he can also pay back all that to Yozora however possible. Riku's turn to share in the offended expressions only resulted in the other three laughing at his expense, though Yozora wishes now that the fee would be marked a tad bit higher. Though, he's not about to complain about getting essentially free money out of his brother. Knowing fully that Riku has the means, Yozora almost seems thrilled now. 

Thoughts regarding what happened at the Heart Factory still race through Riku's mind two weeks after the initial night. For the first three nights after, all he could think about was how eerie that place was in every imaginable way. Urbexing was never his thing—disturbing the peace of what used to be a once thriving establishment only made his skin crawl uncomfortably. The memory of the window then flashed through his mind. He swore he saw amidst the darkness two glowing, golden eyes. 

Yozora had reminded him of squatters and people living within the confines of abandoned buildings, but this…thing—the person in the window, was not homeless. The man staring down at him was dressed to the nines, almost like he was trapped in a time long forgotten. Sharp, narrow gaze that sent the coldest of bone-chills through his entire body. The voices then followed with the memory. 

He's here. He's here. He's here.

Riku! Riku he's here!!!
Is that Riku? Riku. Riku. Riku—Help!
He won't make it—there's no saving him

They're torturing us

Restless, Riku couldn't get the voices out of his head.  The desperation in their words brought forth this ache in his bones. This horrible sense of dread in not knowing what it could all mean. None of the voices were even slightly familiar to him; two boys’ voices mostly rang through him, one sounding eager and desperate—almost angry. The other’s voice was almost similar to the lasts, but he was gentler and pleading. The third voice was perfectly described as somber in nature, quiet and lacking the motivation and drive of the other two. Deep and raspy, it's a voice that stuck out most to Riku. 

The question of who is he?   rang through his mind. The voices all referred to a ‘he’. Hopeful— definitely a clear example of how far off the deep end he's gone, his first and only thought was that this was related to Sora. Days turned to a week then to two before he finally decided, selfishly, that he'd return back to the factory alone. Instead of Yozora, he'd consider bringing Lauriam. Knowing he'd be seen as crazy, as well as insensitive, he didn't have the heart to bring up Strelitzia. Though deep down, deep in his gut, he had a feeling she too had connections to the Heart Factory. His first instinct was to call Naminé and ask if she could get him in contact with Lauriam, but he remembered that weekends were Nami’s ‘detox’ days: No phones or social media activity until Monday morning. These were usually date days for her and Xion starting off with sleeping in. No coffee runs or unhinged ramblings of a broken man. Shame and blatant self-awareness of his unhinged state of handling situations he had no business dabbling in were all that raced through his mind. 

Making breakfast without his morning coffee was at the top of his least favorite things about the weekends. And being $400 dollars short meant he couldn't indulge in his usual grocery spree. Empty, just like his life. The adrenaline was far too much for him. “I’m losing my goddamn mind.” He thought out loud, mindlessly letting the bacon under him sizzle to a burning crisp.

Shortly after the endeavor of keeping his apartment from burning down Riku found comfort in the mundane. Though, despite the comfort, his mind still raced with thoughts of the abandoned factory and the voices that echoed from inside its walls. Those voices…

“Could they mean anything?” A sudden knock at the door draws him out of his daydream and  back to the realm of reality. Eager, his first instinct was to think maybe Naminé or Lauriam came by after all to check in! Until he checked the peep hole. 

Opening the door he's met with no sign of another person in sight, only a massive, life-size box taking up nearly the entire frame of his door. Rarely the victim of pranks or jokes like this, his first instinct was to call the front office to have the box disposed of. That was until his eyes landed on the manila envelope taped to the side of the box. What caught him off guard though was the fact that the envelope was addressed to him by name. 

“Must be some bullshit prank by Yozora.” The box was quite heavy, indicating actual effort went into this prank. Heavy only to indicate that something was indeed inside the box, but easy to  move from outside to inside his apartment. Upon opening the envelope addressed to him, he finds a handwritten note:

Dear Riku,

Congratulations on your brand new, personal, customizable lovedoll! Specially designed with you in mind, this one of a kind doll can be used however you see fit. Made of only the best, most valuable material, this lovedoll is guaranteed to satisfy all your desires. Features with this doll are: Interchangeable genitalia, two handmade outfits made to enhance your dolls features, and one very special, unique accessory . 

Riku had never seen red in more than one context before. On one hand, if this were some kind of sick joke by Yozora, he'd go back for another brawl; this time with the intent to kill. On the other hand, Riku was pathetically lonely…and the focus on looking for Sora did get in the way of his (solo) sex life. The last time he could even recall getting off was back before Sora disappeared. 

Normally, he'd be chewing Yozora's ass out over this, or at least calling him to ask if this was something he thought to be funny. 

But something, some invisible force screaming at him, compelled him to put aside his normal ways and investigate the box. The letter was addressed to him, and he considered his curiosity piqued.  

With a heavy sigh, Riku just went for it. He carefully cut the tape surrounding the edges before slowly lifting the top off. What he was met with was a bunch of red wrapping paper carefully covering the supposed ‘love doll’.  Reaching for the paper to remove it, something catches his attention. A small envelope with his name on it. Now he's starting to think the prank was a little too thoroughly planned out despite recalling the letter mentioning accessories.  

A sudden inner voice practically screams that something is wrong here. That creeping feeling of dread rakes down his spine like a knife until he rips open the envelope without thinking. Another smaller package falls out and onto the floor and it doesn't register until he goes to bend down to retrieve the item that he notices the package is clear and inside lies a familiar pendant. 

Time froze the moment his gaze traced the image of the silver crown pendant he'd given to Sora when they were little. The blood rushed to his ears almost too quickly, his vision blurring. It almost felt like a dream for him to be holding the pendant. It's no longer big enough to fill his entire hand. His eyes darted back to the box, mind blanking as he rips through the wrapper until the first hints of hair begin to peek out. Dark hazel chocolate colored hair peeked out and with each removal of wrapping paper his heart sank further and further into his stomach until finally the box was emptied of the material. 

Perfect round cheeks, painted red and pink with blush, framed by naturally messy, spiked hair. Full, long, black lashes with delicately closed eyes painted with light red eyeshadow and eyeliner gave off this ethereal, porcelain doll look. Freckles dusted tanned skin, covering most of its delicate face and shoulders. The sight before him nauseating. The love doll took on the form of Sora. 

Sora. 

“Oh my God…” 

The first thing Riku did was touch the doll’s face, observing and counting every freckle that dusted those rounded, smooth cheeks. The trembling of his lips as his eyes glanced down only to see the joints and indents in his neck and shoulders. It was only then that he’d noticed the doll’s state of undress, and the objectifying modifications made to what was once a human boy. 

Nipples that were far bigger and obscener than what was normal for a human being. Hips far curvier than what he’d last recalled them being. The many nights Riku spent lusting and envisioning Sora’s body and yet—

This was far more than that. The doll’s proportions certainly were arousing, and it would be a fantasy if not for the doll wearing Sora’s face. A few choked sobs managed to escape him despite trying as hard as he could to keep them at bay. The first thought that came to mind once it all came crashing on top of him was that Sora was indeed dead.

“What else could it be but–” Hazy eyes lingered back to those delicate features. He swore he could count every freckle, and even seeing the same exact pattern that he’d memorized so early on in his life only served to confirm that this was indeed his Sora. Not a fake. 

The second thought that came to his mind fueled something terrifying inside him. Rage and impulsivity rushed through his veins. “That damn factory.” He knew the rumors and knew of the legend surrounding it. He remembers the look of the man in the window. Those golden orbs that pierced through the darkness. Whoever that man was gave Riku this sickening feeling deep down. He knew exactly what he needed to do. 

Just as he begins to throw his jacket on, he hears something rustling. Slowly, he turns his head around only to find nothing there. But for a moment he feels his body move on its own, stepping closer to the box. Again, there comes a rustling noise. What the fuck?

There’s never once been a moment in Riku’s life where he believed in magic or the supernatural. But when he turned the corner of the box and was met with the deepest blue eyes staring back at him—eyes that once provided so much comfort and love now hollow, he nearly felt his blood run cold. 

There in front of him, the doll stared back at him with gentle, half-lidded eyes and a smile that was not there earlier. The…no, surely I’m just dreaming. 

“I’m going insane.” The words slipped out of his lips in a tremble. His hands clammy and his heart racing a mile a second. The doll’s expression morphed into a wider smile. The kind that required his eyes to close completely. And it ached with the fact that it was the same. His smile. Sora’s smile. 

Yet, despite the expression, no words or sounds came out. Not a single word. Just a damn pull of his heartstrings closer to the doll impersonating the boy he used to love. Without a real reason, Riku grabbed the crown necklace. Holding it again only made the pain reemerge tenfold. Yet when he looked back at the doll, its expression had once again changed. Eyes full and wide as his irises moved along with the dangling of the crown pendant. 

This was Sora. Yet the question of how burned into Riku’s mind. “Sora.” His voice, stern despite the trembling of his heartbeat. The doll’s attention went back to Riku, smile still apparent. “You can’t be alive.” It was more of a statement to himself. But perhaps if said with enough conviction, he could make the visions go away. Surely, he’d open his eyes and see that all the expressions and beauty he’d just bared witness to was all in his head. A haunting vision of what could have been. But when the doll started to move its limbs and try to break free from the zip ties restraining him, did it click that the visions were indeed very much real. 

Twenty minutes later, Riku stands in front of his doll—Sora…He stands in front of Sora , who’s now properly dressed in one of the baggy night shirts Riku almost forgot existed. He wasn’t about to consider one of the two ‘hand made clothing items’ that came packaged with him. Immediately the obscenity is reduced tremendously, though it just barely covers his flaccid penis and his nipples still poke through the shirt’s fabric noticeably, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about anyone looking through his window to see…

Shaking off the thoughts that didn’t matter, Riku gets straight to trying to understand the situation. The other accessories from the box provide no help, although upon seeing the multiple array of breasts, as well as graphically detailed and anatomically correct vaginas and assholes, he felt sick. Then the horrors of realizing that…

Riku hadn’t even acknowledged it but Sora’s body could be modified to his liking. The sickening thought that Sora’s body was hollow left him feeling once again horribly nauseous. While being dressed, Riku did notice that Sora was practically weightless but the thought never crossed his mind that it was because he was living without his entrails. A morbid curiosity coursed through him in that moment. A horrid, disgusting desire. 

Approaching Sora, who’d been placed delicately in the accommodating doll stand (they sure thought of everything didn’t they) Riku harshly grabbed for the doll’s arm. The doll was seemingly asleep given his eyes were closed and his gentle expression. But the moment he began to pull at the doll’s arm it became apparent that despite what made up the contents of his body now, Sora was still very much aware of the things happening to him. 

No cries came out, but the pained expression on his face made it crystal clear that he could feel his arm being ripped off. With one good, final yank the arm was disconnected from his body. 

Horrified, Riku observed the arm in his hand, then he noticed that Sora was…

 A small tent formed at the end of the shirt Sora was wearing, now slightly wet with—

“Wait. You…” The horrors would not stop jumping out at him. Sora felt aroused from that. Not only was the sudden wetness from the precum on his shirt a surprise, but so were the tears that silently fell from those wide eyes. Asides from regret, the only other emotion felt in that moment was confusion. For how can a doll with no functioning insides have the capacity to ever get aroused? It’s a thought best saved for later.  Riku knew not the first thing about Ball Joint Dolls or how to assemble them, but he guesses that’s what the internet is for. All day, instead of going back to that cursed factory, he spent his time studying Ball Joint Doll anatomy and how to assemble it. 

The oddity in a sex doll being made to look so delicate and fragile confused him deeply. From what he was aware, sex dolls were usually inflatable and not as…well, pretty. Though, after diving down the small rabbit hole, he’d come to realize there were many aspects of doll collecting that he’d never thought he’d bear witness to. Men collecting life like dolls resembling little girls to be used for—Riku didn’t linger on the thought for much longer.

“What sick asshole thought I’d like this? And to use…” His eyes darted back over to Sora and once again a revolting thought raced through his mind. Flashes of gold burned into his soul and the whispers of something foul spoke in his ear.

All the things you couldn’t say. All the things you fantasized about. They’re right here and all in your control. 

What could he do now that he’s seemingly got his Sora back? A Sora who had no control over his own body. He’d hardly moved a muscle—or rather a limb, since he’d first been unboxed over three hours ago at this point. Arm now completely put back together and wearing a different shirt now, he’d been practically maneuvered around like a puppet on a string. Walking over to the doll, he felt angry. 

Anger not at Sora; or maybe it was at him. 

“What am I now? Your master or something? Your owner?” The question sparked intrigue in the doll as his eyes widened and his lips fell slightly open. Suddenly, small hearts flashed in Sora’s eyes and, dammit, wasn’t that rich? 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me. Fucking hell…” The sudden headache that graced him was too much to handle. He considered drinking again. None of this could be real and yet there he was, hours later, stuck with this sudden bombshell. 

“Why? Why did you…” He choked out his frustrations, “Why did you run away? Fucking get yourself killed.” The doll expressed sadness, yet it was a hollow kind of sadness. Something of a preset emotion. 

Riku was angry at himself. Angry at Sora for not saying anything the night he ran away. They always promised to protect each other and yet…

Sora’s expression at that moment was all too real. A lace of regret and sadness swam in those eyes of his, and for a moment Riku considered this to be nothing more than a dream again. But the harsh reality was just too apparent. His Sora was gone and all that remained was a hollow body. 

“What did they do to you?” The question slipped out in a sob. “What kind of fucked up torture were you put through?” Another sob. Riku knew he looked horrible. He’s just glad that a doll can’t judge him. All this time Sora only managed simple expressions. Falling weakly to his knees in defeat, Riku held onto those delicate hands. 

That night, Riku didn’t sleep. His phone became his favorite thing to stare at. The urge to tell someone while also keeping this all some big secret from the world (for now at least) were the thoughts that plagued him. In the corner, Sora stood, facing away from him. It was creepier, he thought, to have the doll staring at him than away. The thought alone brought with it guilt. Sora wasn’t creepy. And more than anything, Riku wanted to have Sora looking at him. Sleeping in his bed and alive.

On his nightstand the necklace sat, mocking him. The very accessory he’d given to Sora as a vow to protect him now glimmered and laughed in his face for the failure to do just that. Riku can count on one hand the amount of sleep he got before his alarm rang. For once he was not greeted by the rising sun and instead slowly blinking and watching as the sun creeped through the curtains.
Feet hit the floor, but he stayed seated at the edge of his bed, eyes glued to the doll in the corner. 

Finally compelled to move, Riku approached the doll stand and turned him around, greeted with the same soft, gentle expression he’d been greeted with when he first laid eyes on him. Gently caressing the doll’s face forced it awake with a subtle shudder. Surprised that a doll even had the capabilities to do so, he greeted the doll with tender eyes before turning away for a moment. 

“Good morning.” It was hard. Sora used to be the only one Riku could truly hold a conversation with and yet now he stands in front of him and barely able to properly greet him well. Necklace in his pocket, he walked over to his closet. Long shirts would have to do for now. 

Returning back to Sora, he carefully positioned him in a manner that would make stripping him easy. 

Once the shirt was off, for a moment, Riku could only let his eyes sinfully glance over exposed skin. It was odd having Sora be at eye level with him now. “You always said you’d be taller than me one day. I’d always…wished and prayed you’d stay shorter than me forever, though.” Those words struck something inside him. A once innocent, yet selfish desire now felt disgusting to think about. 

Sea-green eyes lingered over glossy, plump lips. Lips that formed a full pout without even trying. Lips that looked like they were built for wrapping perfectly around his thick cock. 

Stop—no don’t think that. Like a boy with catholic guilt Riku pushed down the thought and removed his fingers from Sora’s jawline to retrieve the clean shirt sitting on his bed. He quickly put the shirt on Sora without so much as another word being spoken to him.

Before opening the door, he paused. 

Should I…do dolls eat?

No, he doesn’t have the literal stomach for it. Many things rush through his mind at that moment all while Sora stares back with that still adorable smile that under any other circumstance would make his heart melt. “I…I have to step out for a bit. I’ll return in a few hours.” He said, forcing the tone of his voice to hide the tremble. He shut the door behind him, leaving Sora alone on the doll stand.

Chapter Text

The sounds of clanking metal resounded throughout the darkness of the dimly lit factory, blocking out the sounds of a body being dragged across the metal bridge to a peculiar device. Its kicking and muffled screams were nothing to the person doing the dragging. Its features cloaked in a darkness not even the harsh yellow lighting from the industrial ceiling lights could even define. Sora wasn’t going down without a fight. Not yet at least. Not when he’d been surviving and putting up a good fight back in his hometown and even after the move. His past found him in one form or another. It always did. 

But whatever this thing was, he wanted nothing to do with it. The sudden halting of his body being dragged against the bridge should have been his one and only chance to escape, but instead the immediate pressure on his body forced him to stay still. Sora glared daggers at the cloaked figure until he was forced to meet those glowing, golden eyes. It was like looking into a cauldron filled with liquid flames. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been lifted off the bridge as he only got pulled in deeper into those golden pools. 

Once the restraints had been secured tightly around his wrists did it finally occur to him the current state of his surroundings. Still, Sora could not make out anymore of the person’s features aside from its eyes. But even still, the word predator was written clear as day all over it. If Sora could scream, he would. The cloth gag around his mouth prevented him from screaming his throat raw in hopes that someone, anyone, would hear him. 

The sudden cold, rough texture of the figure’s gloved hand grazed the skin of his cheek, gently caressing his round cheek before moving down to his bottom lip. The subtle hint of leather, the real, authentic kind, not that cheap faux leather he’d been so used to back on the islands, assaulted his senses as the figure removed the cloth from his lips and slowly dragging its thumb across his bottom lip until it was outright prying his mouth open, forcing him to suck on it. 

His cheeks reddened with the humiliation the action brought him, which drew a sound out of the figure. Not so much a laugh, but it certainly sounded mocking. There then came a sudden shimmering noise from just below Sora’s elevated body. And upon seeing the neon blue, glowing whip his body trembled. His chest heaved with the sudden human instinct to fight the restraints holding him and try to survive the hostile situation he’d found himself in. The whip stayed down at the figure’s side, held tightly in its grip as the other hand continued to shove fingers into his now opened mouth.

“I want your heart.” It spoke. The voice sounded surprisingly human. Almost gentle, yet all that washed over him was sheer terror. 

The door opened with Riku returning as he said he would. Sora still left on the doll stand, his smile still on his lips. Eyes closed and hands at his sides and looking like the perfect prize. A display of ideal beauty. Riku scoffed at the concept. Ideal beauty wasn’t that simple. No, this was what they thought he’d like. Disgust and anger still festered deep in his bones. But the moment his gaze landed on Sora, sadness and heartache were all that he could muster. 

“What do I…” What could he do? Taking the doll’s delicate hand into his own, he stepped closer to his best friend. With careful ease, he lowered Sora off the stand and upon being reminded of his stature, smiled at how…real he was. Those eyes opened once more and with it returned that gentle smile that only Sora could wear. Though, the moment he realized he needed to prop Sora up on his bed he felt that familiar sickness pooling in the pit of his stomach; reality, once again, slapping him hard across the face. 

Years of hidden desires and words he couldn’t quite express all came bubbling up to the surface. 

“Sora I…I wish I could’ve been there for you…when you truly needed me.” The pill was becoming harder to swallow. “If I’d known I— I swore to protect you.” Truth be told, he had no idea why he was the one expressing guilt. At the end of the day, no one truly was to blame. Not him for not knowing, nor Sora for not saying anything. For what little it was worth, he expressed his sympathy when he pulled the doll into a tight embrace. 

Not all at once did the emotions hit him like they’d done earlier. It started off small. Feeling the softness of chestnut brown locks brushing up against his face; burying himself into the hollowed-out collarbones only to realize that Sora wouldn’t hold him back. Sora wasn’t moving despite having the capabilities in his face. Haunting him with that damn smile yet not having the physicality to hold him back is where the heaviness of his soul began to become too much. 

Starting off with shaky hands that wrapped tighter around Sora’s small body, then moving up into his chest where his breathing began to pick up with rapid intensity, moving then to his shoulders where, to no surprise, he trembled until he was reduced to nothing more than hard sobs and achingly sharp intakes of air coming out in rigid, quick staggers. Unseen by Riku, Sora’s expression once again changed. A small pout with pleading eyes, eyebrows scrunched up to show his sadness further. Breaking more and more, Riku caved in and squeezed Sora tighter, bringing him and his own body down to a laying position on top of the bed.

“Fuck. Fuck, I miss you. I miss you.” 

The purpose of this love doll was to be a companion of sorts to a beyond broken man. Tired, years of his life searching— a man without faith praying for a reality he knew he was deluding himself with. Sora died five years ago and this is all that remains of him. Not even what remains; a horrid illusion of a desire Riku had long since hidden away. What he’d give to have a daily routine of twos. 

Two pillowcases. Double to laundry and twin coffee mugs on the coffee table. What he’d give to imagine a timeline where he’d have to worry about double the groceries or having arguments over who took the last bag of junk food from the pantry. Or full-blown fights that mellowed out and turned to passionate love making like how it was displayed on all the melodramas his grandparents used to watch.  

Sora would be wearing his shirts as a show of pride for being his. That domesticity and peace of it all and the satisfaction of being able to wake up every day next to not only his best friend, but the boy who saved him time and time again just by existing. And the necklace…

Riku couldn’t think about the necklace. Not for too long at least. Though, seeing Sora’s neck without it struck an unnerving chord in him. A deep, hidden jealousy and possessiveness rumbled deep inside him. But there was also this deep sorrow in having a doll wear what was actually all that was left of Sora. All the memories. All the hurt and laughter and freedom they’d both experienced was all contained within this tiny crown pendant. He couldn’t…the thought was sickening.

What felt like hours had passed since he’d first made contact with the pillow on his bed; now he sits on the edge, feet hard against the floor. Sora’s body lay behind him, once again asleep. He’d fallen completely into the trap set up for him. It was silently decided. No more deluding himself. 

Sitting up, he gathered his bearings and grabbed for the necklace and faced the doll laid out in front of him. There was pure hatred in his eyes the longer he stared at Sora. Pure hatred for the fact that it dared to taunt him with visions of what could have been with the real Sora. Had this been real, and the boy he loved were alive, he’d ravish that sinful body with every ounce of love and lust kept pent up inside him. It was insulting that they’d put him through this hell. This torture. There wasn’t a damn to be given about the logistics of how or why they know him or his connection to Sora. All he knew was that there was someone out there mocking him. Fucking with his mind in twenty different directions and ways. 

“Sora.” He called out to the doll, not surprised when it didn’t respond back to him. Of course it wouldn’t. A meaningless set of holes only built to drive his delusions further into the pit. Fine, so be it then. He’ll fuck and mistreat this meaningless illusion as nothing more than such. 

That’s what’s in your heart? 

Riku knew he was crazy and the voices of his inner conscience berating him wasn’t helping. “Yes, please stop making this harder than it needs to be.” Great, now he’s talking to nothing. Leaving the room served as his best course of action other than getting his dick wet. Suddenly, the vibration of his phone forced him out of his mental breakdown. Yozora; just the man he needed to talk to. Or…well, he wasn’t so sure.

“What.”

“Damn, who pissed in your off-brand Cheerios?” The sound of wind and tires on concrete were heard over the line. 

“Why the fuck are you calling while driving?” Why does he care? He’s not the police. He can hear the sound of Yozora taking in a big intake of air and can only assume he’s smoking. “If you must know, asshole, I’m on my way over.” 

“What the fuck? And you didn’t tell me?” He swears that in that moment his heart felt as though it’d stopped.

“If you’d checked your phone, you would’ve seen the twenty messages I sent you.” Smart ass. Quick to put the phone on speaker, he browsed to see that, indeed, Yozora had tried contacting him. He knew he’d lost it, but he never would have suspected that he’d be this far gone. “How much longer until you get here?” 

“Five minutes. Why? I’m not intruding on any–”

“No! No, I…just need to…” Panic didn’t even begin to describe it. Frantically realizing he wasn’t going to be able to focus, he ended the call and immediately got to decluttering his place of anything that could give away the new guest he was harboring. He threw the box and all of its contents (including the excessive amounts of wrapping paper) into his closet. Now only came Sora and his stand. 

The doll stand felt like an anvil as he tried to move it from the corner to the closet. There’d be no real reason for Yozora to be in his bedroom, but even less of a reason for him to need to look in his closet. Now, all that remained truly was Sora. Gently, he carried his sleeping doll in his arms to his stand. For a moment, it all felt real. Sora, sleeping gently and snoring against his neck. Lips just barely brushing against his collarbone. The action hurt to do, but he caved once again and held the doll closer to his body, placing a soft kiss against his temple before placing him comfortably inside the stand’s holds. “It’s…going to be dark for a while. I’m so sorry.” He’d hoped Yozora’s visit wouldn’t be too long. But he couldn’t risk leaving the light on. Especially if his brother had plans on crashing for longer than intended. Sora used to be scared of the dark. Never once did he brave sleeping without a night light of some kind. 

With the only thing fueling him to actually close the door being the sudden text that his brother was at the front door, he glanced one last time at Sora before shutting the door completely. 

The moment he did, something inside him screamed that it was a mistake. This sudden fear coursed through his veins that was not his own. No time though for questioning. He had a performance to put on. With everything in place, out of sight and mind, he went for the door. “Jesus Christ, you look awful.” One look in the hallway mirror suddenly showed him a ghastly sight, fucking hell he’s right. Red, puffy eyes and a runny nose to match. One way to look as though you’ve aged a whole decade in an instant. Even the redness of his eyes couldn’t distract from the heavy eyebags and creases from the stress. “You gonna let me in, or…?” 

“What are you doing here?” Yozora scoffed at the brashness. “Brother’s intuition; plus, I gotta annoy you in one way or another.” Those tired, red eyes squinted as Yozora let himself in. It’s easier to just let him walk inside than act suspicious. The thought coursed through Riku’s mind just as he nearly makes contact with Yozora’s wrist. He lowers that hand, being sure to keep his mind and his words precise. 

“What do you mean by ‘brother’s intuition’?” The question was one he wished he’d given more thought to, but now that it’d been asked, he awaited an explanation. “Holy shit, can’t a guy worry about his brother?” Riku scoffed at that, “Since when have you had this intuition? It’s not like we’re supernatural twins or whatever.” The couch never looked more comfortable as Yozora lazily flung himself onto the cushions, letting his feet dangle off the edge. Watching as his guest inhaled the fumes from his cig, it took everything in him not to shout once Yozora puffed the smoke in his face. It was written clear as day on his face that he wanted his brother gone. Smoking in his house in a normal situation would be all the grounds he needed for booting him, but he couldn’t afford to let anything spill. Yozora is smart, cunning, but knows when to play stupid. The thought that Yozora already suspects something of him does course through his mind. Through clenched fists he keeps his composure. 

A glint in Yozora’s eyes and then a smile crosses his lips before he’s sitting upright and looking around the room curiously. When did the temperature suddenly become unbearably hot? There’s this sudden desire to douse his face in ice cold water, but it isn’t until Yozora stands up completely and begins to wander in the direction of his bedroom that he breaks his silence.

“You never answered my question.” The venom in his tone is unmissable. One more snarky remark out of him and Riku might actually snap. Another brawl perhaps? No. Not right now. Yozora turns around to stare back at Riku from the hallway leading down to the bedrooms. Riku’s being the first door. “You want a novel’s length explanation since my previous answer wasn’t good enough?” He just can’t help himself, can he? Nostrils flaring out and he swears he sees his brother turn cartoonishly red with smoke coming out his ears as he approaches him. 

“You can stop being a little shit and talk or you can get the fuck out.” 

Oh, since when did Riku get so much bark? Not that he’s ever had the teeth for biting. But with hands held up, Yozora confides his true intentions.

“You know it takes A LOT to get me worried. Never been the kind of guy to…show his fears but…” his voice trails off to barely a whisper and his gaze darts for the wall next to him; the floor and the ceiling but never once can he find it in him to look his brother in the eyes when he opens his mouth to speak again. “It’s just been…hard trying to get you to move on from—”

“From Sora?” The weight of those two words could create a crater right there in that small hallway the two find themselves in. Yozora shifts around in his pocket for something. A card. The pure aggression that passed through Riku’s eyes the moment he figured out what was on the card was palpable. “What makes you think I fucking need this?” The card in question was for a psychiatric facility in the next town over. 

“They take your insurance.” Typical response and yet all Riku heard in that moment was for once his shitty brother being completely serious. “I don’t need psychiatric help. I need the police to–” 

“Shut the FUCK up and listen to yourself!” Yozora’s voice rang through the walls of Riku’s apartment, its reverb so intense that he’s certain he’ll be getting another noise complaint tomorrow morning. Pulling out his lighter, Yozora speaks with less intensity this time, but there’s still this roughness to his tone. “Nami also agrees. You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep trying to look for someone that doesn’t exist anymore. Just…move the fuck on already.” Brashly, he walks back to the door while on the way placing the card on the dining table. Riku stares back silently; just as always, all bark but barely the teeth for biting. 

“You can keep going back to the factory but word of advice—there’s reason urban explorers rarely visit the same place twice. Especially, in our case, with what happened to us.” The sounds of his combat boots against the floor as he approaches the front door resound so much louder than before. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.” Were the parting words Riku was left with. 

Riku is many things. Like an idiot. 

That evening, just as the comforting darkness blankets him and his home he sits out on the balcony and stares up at the stars. He and Sora used to stargaze like it was their calling. At one point, if he recalls correctly, Sora did mention wanting to be an astronaut and see the stars and the moon. He swore he was different and that he’d be the first man on the sun! Yes, the sun. 

‘But…you’ll melt.’

‘Nuh uh! I bet that’s just what grown-ups tell us because they think we’re weak.’ Sora’s small, yet boisterous voice rang through his ears as he recalled the memory. Most kids their age were full of imagination, but Sora was special. Riku envied being a year older sometimes. A full year of gaining more knowledge and figuring things out faster. But that also meant growing out of imagination faster too. Sora never truly outgrew those whimsical fantasies. At fifteen he still believed in Santa, even swore he met him! And to some extent he was almost convinced of Sora’s ramblings. Riku couldn’t quite explain what it was about him, but Sora just had this means of making everything seem so much brighter and full of color. Like it was something only he could make possible. 

Sora had been removed from the closet shortly after Yozora had left, but Riku hadn’t returned back to his room ever since. The card taunted him as he sat out on the balcony, wine glass in hand, as he flicked the card between his fingers on the other. The promise of better mental health lay right between his fingertips and yet…

“I’m not crazy. I don’t…” A long, heavy sigh left his lips instead of the words he wanted to speak. Doubt and fear began to make themselves known. Am I crazy? I have to be if I’m this desperate.

One final glance at the stars was all he could withstand before the dam broke, and the flood washed over him, and he let his heart’s ache fill the once quiet evening air. No single fuck could even be bothered to give as he let his tears stain the wooden deck of his balcony. Fuck the neighbors below him and their peace. Fuck the people beside him and above him. No shame had for a broken man, nor did he want the sympathies of others at this point. 

Returning to his room he’s greeted first with the doll. There he stood, eyes closed and a gentle smile as usual. Riku’s feet carried him not towards the bed despite his brain craving the comfort of his dreams of the real Sora. He can handle the temporary bliss; he tells himself that at least. But instead, there he stood in front of the doll made to look like him, and the moment his fingers even so much as caressed the skin of its perfectly rounded cheeks he let himself fall into delusions as he embraced the doll in his arms once more.

Warmth. 

There’s so much of it enveloping his body as he carries the doll to bed with him, settling him down on the pillow. The dim lighting of his nightstand light hitting Sora’s features almost makes him look real. Soft and gentle and…

Riku feels an intense arousal in seeing him like this and just for a split-second he leans into the idea of forgetting all of his morals. He’s just a doll, remember. Just…you deserve this. Silently, impulsively, it had been decided as Riku quickly adjusted the doll’s posture. One hand resting by its head, the other resting on its stomach. Legs effortlessly spread and adjusted to show quite a view. Riku forgot he’d only dressed the doll in a long shirt, so the view presented to him nearly took his breath away. 

Smaller than what Riku had envisioned Sora having, but the micro-cock suited him well. Cute to be more precise. Sora was very cute in many ways, why not have the smallest, nonfunctional cock known to man? Softest looking balls known to man too. Not that he was expecting silicon body parts to be accurately textured. Running one hand up his thigh until he’d reached the innermost part of Sora, he found it hard to breathe. Every action felt more and more like a dream and when he finally grabbed for Sora’s most vulnerable parts did it all come crashing down on him. All the years of yearning and longing and lusting finally had hit its peak just for Riku to come completely undone. 

Now his pants were too tight, and the fabric of his shirt became too unbearably harsh on his skin. “I can’t…fuck, I need you.” Losing all his inhibitions, he stripped of his modesty and with one final look down at those relaxed features, watching as a few stray tears coated those cheeks, Riku let himself finally violate Sora. 

Darkness.

It was unbearably cold for so long in the never-ending span of darkness. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t so cold anymore. Sora’s body now felt covered in this blanket of familiarity that he could feel and smell and remember its feeling all too well. Sora’s heart, while not connected to his body, yearned and craved for more of that familiar warmth. Then this sudden explosion of warmth hit him! And the first word that came to mind was ‘RIKU!’ yet he couldn’t speak. His voice could not reach him. That warmth was Riku, he was certain of it. He knew that man shrouded in darkness had done something to his body back at the factory. Had taken his heart and cut him limb from limb just to refigure him into something he couldn’t quite explain. But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the warmth he felt was Riku. It had to be. 

The necklace…he knew it was missing from his body, but its presence haunted him. He prayed that Riku somehow found it. 

If…Riku found the necklace and my body then…surely, he can find my heart!

Even in his current state he thought the idea sounded insane. But even in…this weird form of limbo, his whimsical mindset kept him from reaching insanity. 

It’d felt like ages had passed when that familiar darkness crept back in and covered him in its embrace. Then, it got darker. How it’d gotten so dark Sora couldn’t tell. But he felt Riku’s presence again before it faded away like a wandering soul passing him by without so much as a glance. This darkness within darkness…it’d reminded him of his childhood. The dark always scared him growing up. Riku had given him one of his night lights in the shape of a pink and yellow bat. The smile it wore did sometimes freak him out, but it quickly fought off the nightmares. A little beacon of light in the darkness gifted from Riku. 

Loneliness was something Sora quickly grew accustomed to, but now he’d felt less lonely. If Riku had found his body, then surely, he’d be searching for his heart too! Desperately he wished for there to be a way for him to speak with Riku again to tell him he’s alive somehow! The heart no longer connected to him would have the answer.

Another wave of warmth washed over him as his back warmed up with the familiarity of comforting bedsheets that smell so much like the man he loves. Gently, a smile crossed his lips as euphoric bliss made him feel like he was floating. That’s when he felt a hand run up his thigh, then fondle between his legs. Oh , did that feel good. If only he could actually express that further than a few whimpers and moans. 

“I can’t…fuck, I need you.”

That was the closest he’d ever heard Riku’s voice; like it’d been whispered into his ear. The hurt and pain in his voice was also hard to ignore and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and silence his worries. Just for the sudden feeling of penetration to crash straight into him. He was drowning in the waves of pleasure that suddenly filled his entire body and soul as well as…

“Riku~!” 

His heart.

Chapter Text

Silence never sounded as loud as it did now. Riku’s thrusting suddenly halted the moment he heard his own name leave the lips of…no it couldn’t be. 

Looking down, he sees genuine expression . Human emotions dawned on the doll’s face. Eyes wide, pupils blown to near eclipse and his mouth hung open and for a moment all he could feel and hear was the sudden increase of his heart beating as well as…another’s.

“S-Sora—” Embarrassed at how fast he reached his climax, he shot his load inside the doll’s soft insides. It's asshole, he hadn’t even noticed before, was obscenely puffy and easy to penetrate without the use of lubrication. The inside felt much like a pocket pussy (not that—oh, he can’t even hide his shame in knowing what that sensation feels like). When he finally felt the last of his semen leave him, he was filled with an entirely different emotion. 

He knows what he just heard; what he just witnessed. But when his lust-filled haze cleared that expression on Sora’s face shifted back to the empty, beautiful one he’d dawned since first being unwrapped. 

No. No. No. No. No. 

Those gentle, soft features now mocked him and his aching heart. “I–I know what I fucking saw. God DAMMIT!” Adrenaline depleting, Riku flopped down next to the doll, lost in the obsession of seeing those cerulean eyes express deep desire again that he hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten to blink. Yet, for all the ache still in his heart, he couldn’t shed anymore tears. 

Cleaning out the doll served to be a hassle and normally the thought of condoms would be noted for next time, except, “There won’t be a next time.” Despite those words, the opposite mindset seduced him. As he finished up with cleaning out his mess, a single thought popped into his mind. Eyes darting over to the hallway from his spot in the kitchen, his memory recalled the other parts he’d only briefly taken a glance at the first time he’d seen them. Once back in his room, and settled on his closet floor, he observed his many options. 

On their own, each piece was unsettling. He couldn’t shake away the thought that he was holding something incriminating. It's like holding a chopped-up body part. Then there came the realization that none of the options presented to him were considered modest. Each part set out for him only filled his mind with thoughts so lewd he’d need to shower just to cleanse the sinful desires his options provided. 

His choices for cock were circumcised and uncircumcised, both so incredibly small that not even full erection would amount to much in terms of size. Though, the pussies displayed for him were far more diverse in choice. Clean shaven, hairy, “virgin hole” (as it had been oh-so cleverly named), big, small, and so much more. But nothing could mentally prepare him for the options for assholes at his convenience. Never before had he imagined assholes getting this graphic in nature without it reaching full on prolapse. The thought sent a queasy shiver down his spine and just the visions that flashed through his mind were enough to make him nauseous. He never truly could handle most intense graphic imagery when it came to the human body. 

To take his mind off the things that made him uncomfortable, he found himself thinking about what he would do to Sora if he were actually here. He never liked to think high and mighty about himself, but one thing for certain was that he knew what he was packing down there and knew that it was by no means small.
“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He said to no one in particular, but even still, his eyes flew back up to the doll lying on his bed just as he’d left him. Sora’s presence never seemed to leave him. Haunting him every waking second, even now. That hurt and rage bubbled back up to the surface, just to be shoved back down by pain and agony. 

“They don’t understand.” He once again spoke to the air around him. No one to talk to, and yet he found himself staring aimlessly at the figure before him. “They don’t.” For all the good intent his friends tried to show him, it wasn’t—it never would be—enough. Five years of trying to be sober and yet losing every ounce of his sanity because he knew deep down in his core that Sora was not dead…

And yet no one believed him. 

Lauriam’s words echoed through his mind. The last conversation they’d had was about his sister, Strelitzia. If he recalled, she’d also suffered a fate similar to Sora and yet…

He knew it was a stupid idea, but for his own selfish reasons he called Lauriam. 

Hello? 

Exhaling the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding in; he answered back just to suddenly feel his throat go dry. Lauriam’s own exasperated sigh on the other end of the line managed to at least draw out a sound from his throat, but the words, the things that needed to be said, all came to a sudden halt on the very tip of his tongue. 

“I…just needed to call someone.” The words finally escaped him. Never had he felt so much shame and loss of pride upon admitting that to Lauriam of all people. Through the line, he could hear the sudden creaking of an office chair, and the faint sound of fingers tapping on a hard surface. “I suppose that makes two of us.” 

“I just…would it be insensitive to ask if—” The words once again caught in his throat as he tried to force himself to speak, “Your sister. What was she like?” 

The long, drawn-out sigh was enough to make him regret asking, but what he wasn’t expecting was the way he could hear Lauriam’s smile on the other end of the call. “I think I know what this is about.” He said, though Riku could still hear that brokenness in his tone. 

“Closure. Right? You want to exchange sob stories about those we held close but couldn’t save. A one final parting message before leaving behind the past.” The words felt like daggers in his veins. Sharp and unforgiving as it pricked its way up his entire body until he could feel it in his brain. 

No. 

No, he didn’t want closure. But deep down this was what he knew he needed to begin moving on with his life. The past only cannibalized him over and over again, regurgitating his innards just to once again feast on him anew the next day. 

Lauriam’s voice broke into a fit of hysterics before calming down and continuing to speak. 

“She was beautiful and clever and far too compassionate. Reckless too.” The long pause indicated to Riku overwhelming emotions he couldn’t fault the other for having. He let the older man take his time. There was all the time in the world now. 

“She always saw the good in others and never faltered in that undying faith of hers. Her faith in others to be good. But there were people who…wished to hurt her.” 

All that flashed through his mind was how Sora was the same way. Sora never truly pointed out the bad in people. Somehow always managing to make friends with everyone he met. But even with such an astounding track record, there were still people who wished to harm that innocence.

High school especially became an obstacle for the both of them. It wasn’t enough that Sora had a good heart or his willingness to see the good in the bad that made him an easy target.  It was the fact that Sora could never say no. Fear and a sudden wave of anxiety crashed over him when the thought suddenly occurred to him that maybe he had failed at protecting Sora in more ways than one. Sora always came to him, without a real reason, clinging to him like his life depended on it.  Was it all a cry for help? He looked back over to the doll, unwilling to stop himself from caressing its cheek. You…were hurting more than you let on, weren’t you? 

Remembering that he was supposed to be listening, he leaned back into the conversation. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten just who he’d been talking to. “You know, I can’t help but assume you’re not listening to me.” He heard over the line.

“S-Shit, sorry, I was just…” 

“Listen.” He could feel the heaviness of Lauriam’s voice down to the soles of his feet. “I get it that you’re not in a great mental state. And honestly, moving on from all this might just be the thing you—we—both need. But and I hate to get all mushy like this, listen to what you feel is right. What is it that your gut is telling you?” 

Without knowing exactly why, Riku glanced over to the nightstand where the necklace still laid perfectly on display. The necklace that meant so much to both him and Sora. It held so much of what made Sora well…Sora. He even dared to say that it contained the influence to sustain Sora’s life essence. 

“My gut is telling me that I’ve gone far off the deep end. Like I’ve just jumped into shark infested waters.” The knowing laugh on the other end of the line felt oddly reassuring. “Trust me, kid, that feeling’s normal.” 

Few words were exchanged after that before he hung up and faced Sora once again. “I’m not giving up on you. I will save you. And…find a way to return you back to your original body.” Though bold in his words, lingering doubt hung over his head like an aggressive rain cloud.

Three days had passed since the initial phone call. Most of that time Riku had spent rotting in his bed until the pungent scent of natural body musk and sweat began to accumulate in the air and all over his body. He’d missed every phone call and text sent towards him until finally a knock on his door forced him out of bed. Naminé stood before him, audibly shocked upon seeing the current state Riku let himself get to. 

“R-Riku…you…” 

“It's been rough.” He said, voice strained. The first instinctive course of action from Naminé was to try and feel his temperature, just for him to pull away and nearly shut her out. A certain kind of pain made itself known on her expression when she noticed Riku not look her in the eyes. “You…haven’t been answering my calls.” She knew those weren’t the words Riku needed to hear, but it was the start of the real conversation she wanted to have. “I haven’t offed myself obviously if that’s what’s got you all worried.” 

He noticed that glint of pure anger flash in her expression before that subtle bite of her tongue and the motion of her throat swallowing spit came into his view. He knew better than to stoop so low as being a dick to the one person who put up with his bullshit the most, but the part of his brain telling him to be respectful still lied in bed, bundled under a mountain of blankets. 

“I’m assuming Yozora stopped by the other day.” She spoke. Riku then remembered the card, as well as her agreeing with his brother about his mental state. “Yeah.” The silence that followed was suffocating. Riku couldn’t stand to look at the pristine girl in front of him. Her presence mocked and laughed in his face; he was certain of it. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to yell in her face. Not her. Never her.

“We’re through with this by the way.” He said instead, figuring it would be the better option than yelling and slamming doors. Naminé’s knuckles nearly turned blue with how tightly she held onto her purse strap in an attempt not to break in front of her best friend. “You…mean you’re going to take Yozora’s advice?” 

“Yozora’s isn’t the kind of guy to suggest shit like this. Guy barely gives a damn about his own well-being. You put him up to this.” 

“He cares too.” Her voice quivered with the slight raising of her tone. She didn’t deny the accusation, which only served as a final slap to his face. Nothing else was said between them as the door closed off the distance between them and all that could be heard were the sounds of distant footsteps until a message took her out of her shock.

Riku: Sorry to waste your time, but you don’t need to come by anymore. 

No other words could be formed. Silence was her only friend as she returned back to her car. 

Two more days passed before the stench became unbearable and the bed became too stiff for him to comfortably lay in. Each movement brought forth with it an aching sensation as he got used to the feeling of being active again. A few cracks of his neck, the constant popping of his toes as he wiggled blood flow back into them. The haziness of his vision the moment he sat up completely. All the emotions he’d kept buried inside now all emptied from his vessel. For those days in bed were spent feeling numb and attempting to remember what the sensation of not feeling numb was like. 

Sora had been moved to the corner, facing the wall. For despite the neglect to his well-being, he couldn’t let a damn doll see him so weak. But he was tired of being weak. Tired of not having an idea of what comes next. Tired of everything. 

The first step to healing was this. The necklace. Something inside him said that this was right. That this was what he needed to do. But first, he needed to rid himself of the foul stench covering his body. The steam of the shower washed away the stench, yet the anxieties only proceeded to grow in its size. There was this unspeakable fear in moving on. Moving away from his childhood home and family was the closest he’d gotten to moving on from anything in his life. Except that was more like freedom to him. Eighteen years old and full of desire to see the world beyond the island shores. Now he’s uncertain if he can truly begin to move on. Sora’s hold over Riku’s heart was strong, but it kept him in the past. He laughed to himself, “You have no idea how much control you have over me. Now that you’re gone I…I don’t know what to do.”

The shower water now ran ice cold and the only thing that compelled him to leave was the sudden pain that began to prick and prod at his back as each droplet hit the surface of his skin. Dressed in whatever his hand reached for first from the dresser in his room, Riku returned to the doll, turning him forward until he was directly facing him again. The doll’s eyes were closed this time and his expression gentle. “Why is it like you’re actually asleep?”  Suddenly, the doll’s eyes opened as if he heard Riku’s voice. Gentle smirk turned into yet again a full-on smile and even though he should be used to this by now, it still sent a chill down his spine how much this thing looked just like the real deal. 

Deep, steady breath in; firm, slow exhale out. The pattern repeated a few times as Riku grabbed for the necklace on the nightstand, returning to the doll. This was it. Time to let go of the past and—the necklace, now placed delicately around the doll’s thin neck, completed the old image of Sora. What now truly remained of him.
“Guess now all I need to do is…find some way to get rid of you discreetly, huh.” The sudden realization of having to look at Sora as he said that forced his feet to pivot for the door. He couldn’t stay. Just as his hand reached for the door though…

“Riku?”

Another cruel joke, it had to be. Riku's hand trembled around the doorknob, sweat trickling down his skin. No. No, I did everything right. Just leave me alone.

“Riku! Riku, it's you!” Now his eyes are wide open and far too scared to turn around. “H-Hey…um…a little help here? Riku?” There’s no doubt that the voice speaking to him is Sora. The real Sora. Slowly, he turns to confront him and…

Staring back at him, blinking as if he’d never left in the first place. His nose wiggles a bit as if he’d remembered he even had one to begin with. His lips parted slightly but not an inkling of enticement written on them. He moves now with the fluidity of a living, sentient being yet the subtle clicking of his joints when he tried to move in his stand brought forth a terrifying realization. 

“S-Sora…” Many emotions collide together at once, at the forefront of those emotions was disbelief. Surely, he tells himself, Sora couldn’t have been alive this entire time. The remembrance of breaking his arm off, then fixing him back together again, then needing to clean off a removable body part that only Sora is capable of possessing. “You…you’re alive?” The urge to touch him was far too much for him to hold back as he stumbled over to the doll stand. But just a simple touch of Sora’s shoulders and—

Ahh~

That single sound echoed in Riku’s ears as he flinched his hands away. Red faced, he observed the way Sora’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy, head thrown back and legs pressed together intimately, showing off curvaceous hips and squished thighs. The few whimpers that followed took his breath away and made his blood flow straight to his cock.

“Wha–”
“I’m…so-rry…Ri-ku…” His voice trembled with each syllable as he tried to get a hold of his bearings. Scared to touch him again, he stepped back until his feet hit the bed. Sora looked at him with near pleading eyes, desperate for Riku’s touch on his flesh again. “I…I don’t know what’s wrong, but I can’t…” another strain of his voice before suddenly his head lowers and he’s once again silent.

“Sora!” Afraid to touch him again, the panic begins to bubble to the surface. Left with no other option, he gently lifts Sora’s head up by his chin with his index and thumb, greeted with hazy, clouded eyes. His own frantic eyes shift and observe every freckle dawned on those round cheeks, searching for something he couldn’t quite give a name to. A light, perhaps. Another whimper withdrew from Sora’s lips and his eyes closed again with scrunched eyebrows that displayed his pleasure. 

The thought of touching those delicate lips and drawing out more of those delicious sounds ran rampant in Riku’s mind only for him to almost cave into those desires. His lips dangerously close to Sora’s.
“This isn’t a fucked-up dream, right?” The response he got was a genuine attempt on Sora’s part to answer him honestly. “I…I know it sounds crazy but—it's so hard to think…” His words slurred and jumbled together, drunk on ecstasy. “My heart…please...” There. That feeling again in his chest; the tightness and beating of another alongside his. It’s cold then warm then hot, burning hot. That rapid thump thump of blood flowing now intensified through some invisible link. A connection. Sora’s head shot back up, moaning again in the doll stand. A flash of pink shows in his eyes and Riku swears he sees two delicate hearts in the highlights of them before they flash hollow again. A sudden pain is felt between the both of them and it's so hot now.

“Please, Riku, help!” Sora’s cries mixed with this deep lust for intimacy. His body tenses and writhes in the stand aching for something only Riku can provide for him. “Touch me, Riku, please.” His cries turn more desperate, knees looking as if they’d give out without the support of the doll stand. Riku’s stuck looking dumbfounded as Sora begs and pleads for his ‘help’ until his body moves on its own to behind the stand to undo Sora from the restraints keeping him standing. 

Falling to his hands and knees he attempts to stand on his own only to writhe over in more pain and pleasure until he’s on his back, looking up at Riku. The shirt he’s wearing rides up his body, exposing his naked lower half. His eyes shift from Riku to the bed and all he can do is spread his legs shyly in offering. Then it all clicks in both of their minds what’s going on.

Sora finally registers the necklace around his neck and realizes that’s what connects them. The most precious of memories shared between the two of them are all contained within it. Thus, his heart, even while outside of his body, resonates and shares those precious memories with Riku. It all makes sense now why he’s suddenly more alive than ever. Because Riku willed it into existence with the necklace. A collaring ritual.

If he’s smart enough, he might even claim you with this pathetic…trinket. But you won’t be able to find your heart. By then you’ll be nothing more than his personal plaything. 

The words replayed in his head just for a sudden shock to course throughout his body as he spread his legs wider. “R-Riku, please.” All while Riku watches, towering above him. His own body begins to ache with this carnal desire to release this tension inside him. He fears what his body will do to Sora if he keeps looking down at him sprawled out on his floor like that. The least he can do is move Sora to a more comfortable location.

Sora’s back hits the bed before he can even process what’s happening. Eyes blinking out the pink fog in his mind until only visions of Riku are all that he sees. There he is, pinning him into the mattress and panting deeply. Sweaty and red-faced, there’s so much being spoken without any words being uttered as Riku quickly makes haste at pulling down his pants. Stiff and painstakingly hard and only one thing can tame that delicious desire. 

It all felt like a dream come true. The illusions erasing the joints in his limbs and every inch of anatomy was real and true. For now, Riku didn’t see a doll, he only saw the boy he’d waited so long to make love to. Legs thrown over his shoulders as an incredible heat flooded his most sensitive of areas. Sora’s body never felt so good as it did being pressed and folded in half. Hands wrapped around his neck, he praised Riku’s name like he was worshipping a god. The logistics didn’t matter anymore. Not a single thought of how or why crossed his mind as Riku’s cock was sheathed completely inside that soft heat. 

Hours were spent like that. The list of positions done seemed never-ending. Sora now face down in the sheets with his cries muffled as Riku fucked him, balls deep. He’d lost track after round three and it was only now that he began to feel some decrease in his stamina.

 Not sure of when it happened, Sora’s mind shut off completely. Just as he’d been redesigned to do. The perfect love doll was never meant to think or speak. It was considered an earned privilege that he’d even been given the small amount of capacity to think at all. 

Slurred moans and ecstatic sobs were the limitations of his vocabulary as another load of Riku’s seed was spilled into him. Cum stained the sheets, his face, his ass and some had even crusted onto his thighs. One final thrust inside was all it took for the stars to flash behind Riku’s eyelids as he was shrouded in white and black orbs taking over his vision. Dizzy, he grabbed for Sora’s hips to regain his stability before slowly pulling out. His cock never felt so sensitive. Even just the coolness in the air pricked against his flesh. 

Sora’s trembling voice barely registered in Riku’s ears as only the sound of his rapid beating heart became almost too loud to bear until all that he could process was the darkness of the void taking over his mental state before sleep took over completely. 

The light sound of rain against the window drew Riku out of his slumber just to be greeted by a pounding unlike anything he’s ever experienced. His vision was hazy as he looked directly at the doll—no, no as he looked at Sora — asleep next to him. The heavy scent of sex assaulted his senses, and he was greeted with white, dried semen contrasted against a tan canvas. Couldn’t even have the decency to clean him…I’m sorry. Guilt and shame heavy in his gaze as he got lost in the aftermath of whatever it was he’d done. No amount of gaslighting could convince him that this was love. Nor could he label it as assault. 

“What…does he think it was?” The question left him wondering more and more about what it was that took over him. Logic would tell him that it was a ‘heat of the moment’ ordeal. An exchange of intimacy purely based on all the desires he could not hold back any longer. But then there was the voice in his head telling him that all this happened for a reason. The invisible link of their hearts—the bond they shared. This was meant to happen. 

And insanity whispered seductively in his ear that this got him one step closer to saving Sora.

Chapter Text

Down the halls of the rundown factory lies a history of what once used to be a well-off establishment, now all that remains is rubble and cobwebs. Though many have considered the Heart Factory a hot spot for trespassing, no one has yet to truly make it deep inside the factory’s inner workings. 

Pulling up to the factory, Yozora was determined to become the first to see what truly made the Heart Factory such a controversial topic. The rumors intrigued him, but its history was only the tip of the iceberg. Running his fingers through his silver hair and gathering his bearings enough to fully leave his truck he embarked closer to the factory’s doors. One rule for him was to always pack light. He never knew what lied beyond the door once he opened them. Machinery and old, abandoned parts were bound to be in there. But what else creeped in the shadows was his real concern. The first step, he always reminded himself, was to check the door slowly and thoroughly. The first few times he explored on his own he’d return home with cuts and bruises from the traps set up by squatters and from the recklessness his eagerness brought him. 

Stepping in the first thing to hit him was the smell of the factory. Even through the mask he wore (not that it was a proper respiratory mask anyways) the strong scent of mold and rust assaulted him enough to the point of tears forming in his eyes. Still, he persisted deeper into the darkness. 

Leaving Riku’s apartment, he knew for certain that he was hiding something. Riku never was good at keeping secrets for long and it was all thanks to the fact that he wore his heart on his sleeve, Sora’s influence no doubt. He never let it on, but he admired his brother’s dedication to someone special. He knew what that was like. But much like everything else in his life, romance was kept private. Riku hardly came by to visit after Sora vanished, but that quickly became a good thing once Estelle came into the picture. She’s more important to Yozora than his own life. A simple girl with tan skin, brown, medium length hair and blue eyes. They started off as neighbors before one thing led to another and she’s staying over the weekends and sleeping in his bed. 

What are we? 

 He didn’t need to think twice on what that question meant when she first asked it. 

You’re special. This is also special.  

One thing about Estelle was that she was able to read him so well, like they’d known each other their entire lives. With a smile on her face, she was able to register all she needed to know about his sentiment of their relationship. But his true feelings ran deep. Deeper than she could ever imagine. 

Seeing his brother’s hurt eat him alive, cut deep and he knew that if anything happened to Estelle, he’d be in the same exact boat as Riku. 

So that’s how he found himself back here, alone. The further he tracked along inside the building the more unnerved he found himself getting. Rubble kicked with each step and try as he may to traverse silently, something either cracked under his feet or rustled loud enough for a small amount of reverb to sound throughout the quiet building. 

He’d traveled far deeper inside compared to last time as he realized he’d reached a flight of stairs leading up to the second level of the factory. 

The first step he took up the stairs forced him to stop and take a pause. The stairs led to an incredible darkness that not even his flashlight could penetrate. To add to that unnerving feeling, he couldn’t help but sense the eyes watching him from the shadows. That gut feeling was not new to him, but this was different somehow. A sudden ringing in his ears nearly caused him to fall back as it proceeded to get louder and louder. Another step up the stairs and— “ Fuck!” A sharp pain shot through his body, traveling up his spine before hitting a specific nerve that caused him to lose his balance. 

Off in the distance, a choir of crashing and banging of metal resounded throughout the factory, circling him, getting closer and closer. One thing was for certain, Yozora’s plot armor was nonexistent. His first and only instinct was to turn on his heel and run for the exit again. The adrenaline was so high as he pushed his legs to run faster, running into walls and just barely turning corners until he was busting down the doors of the entrance and nearly crashing into his truck. A darkness unlike anything he’d ever felt had been chasing him and he wasn’t about to stick around to become a victim.

From the window of the third story, a figure watches as the familiar truck drives off, nearly blowing a fuse with how fast it veered out of the dirt driveway and out of sight. 

“That’s the same one as last time. That means his brother must have gotten the...gift.” A deep voice spoke, turning back around to face the darkness of the room it was in. Funny, it thought, how little light truly blessed this forsaken building. Symbolic—how damned this rundown old factory truly was. Their own personal prison.

“Indeed.” Another voice spoke as it came into view, most of its features still shrouded in darkness. 

“Why’d you give up your prize like that? And not the others?” The question lingered in the air for a moment, then a moment longer, before an answer could be given. “Because, breaking down and ruining him wasn’t enough to destroy him. His heart’s holding on still.” Stepping closer to the light, the figure lowered its hood to reveal a young man, no more than twenty-five, with a deep olive complexion and white hair that reached just below his shoulders and the most alluring golden eyes.

The other figure, standing much taller than the man before him, scoffed. “Don’t act like you hadn’t developed a bit of a soft spot for the thing.” A smile could be heard in its tone. The young man rolled his eyes, taking another step closer. “My personal feelings are not for the likes of you to be discussing, Ansem” 

“Perhaps both of you need to keep quiet.” A third voice appeared, just as deep as Ansem’s. “Enough about a doll that doesn’t reside here anymore. There are other matters to tend to.” 

The two other figures looked at each other, then back to the third figure now in the room. The young man’s eyes clouded over with disdain as he realized what had happened not but a few moments ago.

“He’s not my responsibility.” He spoke, averting his gaze. 

“Oh, but he is.” 

“Haha. You’re quite the prankster.” Shoving past the third figure, the young man traversed through the darkness, hood back over his head. Deep within the factory, where no light shined through, the figure began to conjure up a ring of intense purple light until he was surrounded by it, and before him opened a secret passage within the walls. There, he made his descent further down until the red lights greeted him and the aroma of metal and roses made itself known. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he stands before a door. Opening it, he’s welcomed by shackles dangling from the walls and ceiling. Walking in deeper, he’s met with another door with the word ♡PROSTITUTE♡ written in a bold font. He opened the door…

Another night out. 

It never seemed to end for him. In his bathroom, that no matter how hard he cleaned could never get it to the pristine level he preferred it at, he gently dabbed on the full coverage foundation to his dull skin, disdain for how easily he bruised. With a low rumble of his stomach, he ignored its plea for any kind of substance; he’d be filling himself up with whatever sleaze he was going home tonight with anyways. 

He kept the dark circles under his eyes; men liked that about him, anyways. He knew quickly what got them going. Got them easily wrapped around his finger before he would be subsequently being shoved into the sheets and raped. The sickness threatened to come up, but he shoved it all down. He’d just brushed his teeth, so vomiting was off the table.  Keys rested on the coffee table in the living room right outside the bathroom of his tiny, rundown apartment, ready to be picked up. With one final glance over in the mirror, he considered his appearance good enough before leaving with his belongings. 

The temperature of the city night was tolerably chilly, a bit of an oddity given it was in the middle of summer, but he much preferred to bundle up rather than suffer in all this leather. Platform boots that boosted his height, tight, low-rise leather pants that’ll be a disaster to get off, and a leather corset was all he donned on his person. The corset was cheap and itchy but a hit with the regulars. 

The same corner of the same street he’d been walking since he was seventeen was his destination. The same street he took to get to school every morning also served as his nightly rendezvous. The good kids at school never got to see this side of him, not that he was friends with any of them. The bad kids however…

He was blessed to only have encountered one group of rowdy boys from his class. But that was still one too many. He walked away from the alley he found them in the same way he’d leave men’s houses two hours before school; limping with his cunt freshly abused. It was always a shame brought upon himself, but he wore the mask well. No forced smiles, but he kept his thoughts and his words short. 

There was only one person who cared to check in with him. His fourth period teacher. A woman with a slender, yet athletic build. Most of the students referred to her as Miss Aqua because of her love of the color blue, and her classroom always had an underwater theme to it. Her eyes matched the color of the deepest, bluest waters. She was stern, but always made sure her students were provided and cared for.
Mild regret always washed over him whenever he thought back on the many times she’d offered to talk, just for him to push her away or lie to her face. Truth be told, his life might actually be different if he’d just told her. But the past is in the past and the sudden halting of a luxury car’s headlights brought him out of his thoughts. Sleek, black and practically brand new, his eyes shot up when he saw the window roll down, signaling for him to approach it. 

“What’s got a man such as yourself wandering these parts of the city? Shouldn’t you be in your penthouse living it up?” The flip had been switched as those words left his lips, and he was now putting on an act. Leaning against the car door, his slender frame curved to show off a false eagerness to get into the backseat. 

The man’s voice reached his ears with a question. 

“My name? Vanitas.” It was the name he’d picked for himself many years ago at the start of his abuse. He not only found it fitting, but to the intellectual, it would stir a small laugh out of them. Just like now, as a croaky chuckle left the dry lips of the older man in front of him. Not the first time Vanitas had found himself pleasuring men three times his age, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

“Quite the fitting name for such a lowly individual.” That almost caused a scene to break out, Vanitas was already imagining the brawl in his mind. But he held his tongue when the man gestured for him to get into the backseat. Quickly, he did as he was told.

“You can call me Vani. Most of my regulars do.” But the man did not answer back. Okay, not the first time he’d been picked up by the silent type either. If anything, it made the throbbing between his legs even more intense. The silent types were the kinds that fucked the hardest. And that’s what made it easy for him to look past the flaws of his past partners. 

Vani’s shock grew even wider when he arrived at the man’s home. Fanciful but empty, almost too pristine. Something was up but oh, did his brain want to let its walls down and indulge in a life of make belief. Once they made it out of the car, he finally saw the old man’s full appearance, a little let down by how surprisingly good he looked for a man his age. There go his plans of pulling through, winning this man over and waiting for him to croak so his inheritance money could be his. Until he feels a sudden grip on his wrist.

A sudden fear passed through him just for it to settle when he saw a soft smile appear on his face. “You remind me of an old…friend I used to spend my nights with.” He pulled Vanitas closer, dragging him into the home. “What, some old golf buddy of yours?” That drew another laughter out of the elder man. 

“You could say that.” He replied before coming to a sudden halt. “How about a drink before we start the fun?” Oh. He was left speechless for a moment; never once was he treated with this much class. “I…I’ve never—” "It's fine, most of the stuff I have is bought from the same liquor store you stand outside of, anyways.” And to his shock, the man actually pulled out a Vodka brand he bought all the time. 

That uncomfortable feeling crept back up his spine, but his nerves were shot as he forced himself to take the glass from the man. He drank from the glass the same way he always did, like shots. The sting felt good. Loosened him up while hitting him hard in the brain enough to get him to stop thinking. Vision blurry now as the intensity slowly fizzled out, he looked back at the man as he drank from his glass more slowly. 

That feeling of something not being right returned and he tried his hardest to push away the fear. Then the anxiety started screaming at him, manifesting as a harsh ringing in his ears. Then the room began to spin. He never got this way after just one hit. His eyes shot up to look at the man only to find him gone.

“Hey! O…Old man…where the—where the fuck—” 

Then everything went black.

The smell of chocolate filled the air once he’d opened the door, then the sight of a barely opened display case came into view. The clear case hosted a lovely sight. A ball-joint doll dressed in leather. Its expression was neutral as it stared back at the young man. The doll stood perfectly still, a beautiful display, behind a desk, its owner nowhere to be seen. 

“I know it was you that knocked over the pile of metal bars.” He spoke to the doll, eyes sharp as he waited for it to move. “You can fight all you’d like. But without him , you’re trapped here. Just like the others; just like us.” Another step closer, then he opened the door completely, leaning inside the case and next to the doll’s ear.

“He can’t save you.” 

Another door to the right of the doll led to another section of the labyrinth. Opening that door, the young man-made haste down the narrow corridor until he’d reached the next room labeled ♡Pretty Boy♡ then, once again, opened the door. 

Inside the room was white, a stark contrast from the last room. With the smell of freshly cleaned linen and powder in the air. A beautiful, matching love seat sat front and center, drawing attention to all who walked inside the room. On one end of the love seat sat, delicately, another life-sized doll. Its features were fair and lithe. Freckles dusted rosy cheeks and full eyelashes rested delicately against them. The other end of the love seat was empty, though it once occupied another beauty. Thinking about it too long made the young man seethe, but he did not come here to dwindle on those thoughts. He turned his attention back to the other doll, getting down to its level. 

The way it appeared so peaceful disgusted him. He knew fully well that behind that calm facade was an expression mocking him. 

“Where is that damn heart of yours?”

“No time for you to be touching the Master’s playthings.” A voice from behind him called out. “Here to play with your own boy toy, Xemnas?” He asked, getting back to his feet. Xemnas scoffed, unamused by the smaller man’s question. “I do not care for such activities.” He refused to believe that Xemnas didn’t get off in his own fucked up kind of way. “I know you’ve got your own soft spot for the model.” 

Choosing to ignore him, Xemnas pushed onwards towards the corridor where the model resided. There was no reason for the young man to continue on with his journey, so he began his ascension back to the main part of the factory. 

Chapter Text

The next room over was sleek and spotless and covered entirely with mannequins. All blank and looking towards the center of the room where, posed and dressed as if it were walking the runway stood one lone, life-like mannequin . Smooth, void of any genuine texture and yet when Xemnas locked eyes with it a wave of uneasiness filled the atmosphere. There was one irrefutable fact when it came to the mannequin and it was that no matter how still it presented itself to him, Xemnas knew that it had the capabilities of moving. Even after months of abuse at the hands of him and the others imprisoned here. 

“The heart is truly a terrifying artifact.” Xemnas strolled up to the doll and sat in front of him on a wooden chair. “You know that far too well, don’t you?” Eyes sharpened, he commended the doll for being so clever. “It takes a strong will and an even stronger lack of shame to throw one’s heart into the palms of another.” Quietly, the mannequin stared back, empty and void of any genuine life. Thinking back on it, Xemnas recalls his little model being nearly impossible to shut up when it first arrived at the factory. So much scream in one small body. He thought it’d be the hardest to crack before Sora came along and claimed that title. Still, the figure in front of him put up a stubborn fight before subsequently becoming another one of their victims.

For most of his young life, Roxas never knew a day of rest. He decided, at the age of four, he wanted to be an idol. His passion for singing and playing the guitar started about a year later, when he begged and pleaded for one of those kid’s acoustic guitars. As he got older, his eagerness to perform—to entice an audience—only grew stronger, deeper everyday. Dedicated to his craft, he put all of his energy into two things in his life: school and performing. 

Six months passed and he’d had everything he ever dreamed of. Singer, actor and now teen model. He did it all as his fame skyrocketed to the top of the charts, remaining in the top 5 for at least a month at a time. He continued to not know a day of rest as his entire day was planned out down to the millisecond. With so much high demand, he never thought he’d make it to eighteen. The crowds, the screaming, the schedules, the demands, the questions…

Too many questions. 

When he was approached for a chance at modeling, he knew it’d be an insanely drastic change in his daily life. But to do this, he had to give up something in return. Acting could be put on hold for a prolonged period of time (he just simply had to refuse a role. Easy enough) and he’d just returned from a European tour two weeks prior. Putting his music on hold seemed nearly blasphemous to him. He couldn’t bear to part with his music, even for a month. Acting it was then.

On the night before he was set to depart, he returned back to his apartment in the big city where his roommate, and girlfriend, Kairi sat waiting for him to return with gifts and many, many kisses. 

“It’s a shame I can’t come with you.” She says with a pout, giving him the widest, most pleading eyes she could. “Who will take care of our little girl while I’m away?” He asks playfully, immediately heading over to pet their puppy, Sea salt. “I still can’t believe you named her after your favorite flavor of ice cream.” Kairi jokes, settling down next to the little yorkie, scooping her into her arms for a gentle kiss on the head. 

“What can I say, Japanese ice cream hits different.” He joins her on the couch, making sure to hold her and their puppy tight.

“Be safe, okay.” Kairi mutters, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“You know I always do. And you be just as careful.” He places a soft kiss on her temple. “I always do.” She replies back, though she doesn’t hold back the deep sigh in her voice. Roxas knows he’s leaving her behind once again, as painful as it is to do so. “I promise that after my contract is done, you and I are going on vacation. Your pick. For as long as you’d like.” He says, sitting up to face her.

With a smile she can’t hold back, she opens her mouth to speak, “The only thing you and I are doing once you get back is staying right here and cuddling for a solid week.” She says, shoving a pillow against him before leaning against him and the pillow, subsequently trapping him against her and the edge of the sofa. Oh, what’s a celebrity to do now? 

Hours pass and before he knows it, it’s 2 am. He and Kairi had passed out on the couch, and in the TV’s glow, Kairi was shining. The blue coloration being a perfect contrast against her pale skin and deep red, shoulder length hair. With one final kiss goodnight to his two girls and a parting love letter from him, as well as a box containing a necklace inside it for Kairi, he silently left the apartment. 

Two months had passed since he first showed up to the modeling agency. In those two months he’d been working tirelessly. A man of his status and stature were more than sought after; he was in HIGH demand. Day in and day out he worked, standing in the same poses for hours on end with little to no breaks in between photoshoots. He was required to eat within a certain calorie deficit, and work off all the calories immediately afterwards. He was even required to do some self-PR to promote certain brands. 

All of it was for her though. Every moment spent in an intensely hot warehouse, sweating and being screamed at, was for her. All the mornings spent getting sick of eating, sick of even having to smell food; every morning shoving fingers into his mouth over the toilet bowl until the smallest taste of blood could fill his senses. It was all for her. Just another day down, and a whole year of his contract to deal with. He was fine. 

He was fine.

Then one morning, something new happened. Just barely able to register his surroundings over the blurry vision and ringing in his ears, he noticed someone new. A tall man stood in the corner of the studio, clipboard and some paperwork in his hands, dressed entirely in black. His stance alone trumped him by double his size. And with muscles that could break him in half. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at the very least bashful of his presence. The thing is, he’d never seen this man before in his life. Not a single time since he’d started working for this agency did he see this man, nor ever catch his name. 

The man must’ve caught him staring, because soon enough he started walking towards him, a friendly smile present on his lips.

“Good morning, Roxas.” His voice was smooth like velvet. Like the finest cloth had been woven from it. But it was also deep; powerful, like it held a secret power to his form. It suited him quite well. It made Roxas want to listen more. 

“You’re not looking too well. Have you eaten today?” He asked.

Roxas swallowed the spit settling on his tongue, “Y-yes…I have, sir.” He lied, he stopped eating proper meals days ago. His diet now consisted mostly of liquid substances. At least he wasn’t needing to promote those. In the back of his mind, he worries that Kairi will see the changes. He stopped wanting to do video calls because of it. Then at some point, they stopped calling all together due to the change in time zones. Now he’s lucky if he’s even able to send her a good morning message. 

“I see.” He responds, yet his eyes linger over the paper in his hands. He studies it, then shifts his gaze back to Roxas, then back to the paper. 

“I’m Xemnas, one of your photographers for this photoshoot. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.” He extends out his hand for Roxas to take, which he does sluggishly. A chill sends down Roxas’ spine for a reason he can’t place, but he notes it to himself to keep an eye out for this man. 

As time goes on, Xemnas takes over Roxas’ mind. Not only did he feel this odd sense of personal invasion whenever he’d snap photos of him, but soon enough he started seeing Xemnas outside of work. Not just on a one-off chance either. It was every time he went out. Xemnas would be there. Stalking. Preying. 

Then, one night, he ends up out at a bar with another model he’d befriended, Axel. Too bad said man ended up blowing him off for someone else. So, without a proper ride home, he begins his walk back to his hotel. 

That chill returned once he turned the corner to see, once again, Xemnas approaching him.

“Out on a work night?” He asked.

“I uh…just got dragged along and then ditched by a coworker.”

“Axel, I presume?” Roxas’ knowing smile gave away the answer. “Yeah. Who else?” He jokes, but then the air gets thick as he walks past the towering man. “Need a ride?” Xemnas’ voice doesn’t sound like he’s offering a suggestion. Roxas finds himself stuttering. “I—you’re too kind but…my hotel is just down the road and—” 

“I know.” 

Those two words did it. He needed to leave. Now. Of course, Xemnas knew where he lived. But the way in which he said those words made him realize that he was not safe. He broke out into a run. The hotel should have been right down the road and yet with each curve he never finds it. Until eventually, he hits a dead end. 

And then, nothing.

As Xemnas observed the mannequin in its current state he can’t help but feel a small hint of frustration in how such a once weakened man could have so much kick to him. Weeks of breaking down and remodeling him did not waver his human instincts to keep fighting, even after he’d been reduced to starving himself. Disgusted with the figure in front of him, he spits on the mannequin’s face. Then, his gaze shifts to the next door to his right. It was the only thing that stood out in the empty, white boxed room. A heavy iron door decorated in thorns and roses. He had no reason to enter the room, nor was it a room he was allowed to enter. Only it had permission to enter that room. Though, the mystery of the Lolita seduced him day in and day out. He takes his leave from the Model room, parting ways with his mannequin and shutting the door with a harsh slam, its sound echoing for minutes after the door had been sealed tight. 

The Lolita. A beautiful vision of innocence; purity that only rarely is seen in dolls these days, lay delicately in a clear, glass coffin surrounded by a variety of flowers. Her room was the most decorated out of all the doll rooms, as well as having the longest corridor to traverse. Love seats surrounded her, a centerpiece for all to gaze upon her beauty. Elegantly made and dressed in the finest silk and lace, she slept in her coffin with pure white roses to cushion her. Her new body, a clean slate. Untouched, unlike the other dolls in the factory. It was forbidden to lay a hand on her. Out of possessiveness, out of greed. Whispers of what she endured before, during, and after the transformation process never get louder than that. Whispers. 

There, in her coffin, she lies. Quiet, trapped in a death-like sleep. It’s rare she gets visitors, but one in particular graces her presence every so often. It lingers ominously over her coffin, staring in silence. Wanting. 

Eager for another chance to touch her. 

But an angel always has the upper hand over a devil.

She’s once again alone.

Chapter Text

Running. 

He’s running but the walls of the factory only greet him with more corners. More running. His chest thumps faster and faster with every step he takes. Iron in his lungs; it’s so hard to breathe. His thoughts overlap and mix together as he pushes harder and harder to find an exit. Right behind him those eyes stalk and prowl his every move, never losing sight of him. 

This made attempt number five. And once again, he’s found.

Pinned to the ground, dust filling his throat as his skull is pressed deeper into the cemented, cold floor. His body trembles and shakes, desperate for freedom. “Let me go! Please, someone help!” Sora’s voice, raw and drawing a fresh taste of iron into his throat as his pleas go unheard once again. Then there’s darkness. 

When he awakens, he’s back in a familiar room. His room. Through the distressing haze, he’d pieced together that this was not part of the factory. A new location, or he swears it feels like a new reality all together. The air is heavier here than in the factory and the scent that fills his senses makes his throat feel numb and the throbbing of his skull hard to ignore.  Curling in on himself, he suddenly feels the heaviness around his wrists and ankles. Panic settles in his bones and he realizes once again what’s about to transpire when the door knob begins to rotate.

His Master comes in, locking the door behind him. He greets him as he usually does, and every time, Sora responds with scorn. Disdain, hatred, loathing. And every time, it’s returned with a subtle grin. 

No food this time, noted by the lack of a food tray on his Master’s person. Sora only wishes he’d offer at least some moldy bread; anything is better than nothing at this point. 

“What are you hoping to gain from all this?” Barely able to slur out the question, Sora gasped on every other word in hopes that maybe this time would be different and the man in front of him, standing tall and ominous at the end of the bed would be remorseful. However…

Snap

And once again he’s met with darkness. When he pulls back through, he feels his Master on top of him and his legs resting on dark, broad shoulders. He feels his eyes open and his consciousness return to him but he feels a soft material against his eyes. He’s blindfolded but he feels the tight restraints on his wrists and cold clamps on his nipples. A cold chain wrapped around his neck, tugging his head up. Numbness in his legs restricts his movement, forcing him into the position he’s in. Then there’s the rough material of pants rubbing up against his exposed asshole, and he feels a sickening gurgle in the pit of his stomach threatening to come up when he realizes his Master’s hardon. 

Then there’s that overwhelming scent again overtaking his senses as it seeps into his skin and through his body from his ears and open mouth, numbing his throat and making every inch of his body far more sensitive than normal. The nipple clamps now feel ten times as arousing, drawing out long moans from his lips as every failed attempt to free himself from the restraints just caused his body more and more pleasure. That sickness he felt inside mixed with his euphoria left him on the verge of tears. The question of when will it end ran rampant in his veins while his brain slowly turned to mush. 

“Haven’t even put it in yet and you’re already on the edge.” Those words leave his lips in a slow, guttural desire. Sure enough, it had been decided the moment he’d laid eyes on him that Sora was a work of beauty. Even with the modesty he displayed, he could tell he was no virgin. A barbaric mindset to have, but he knew just from a glance that the boy below him had dabbled in pleasing others in the past. A boy who couldn’t deny anybody.  And, oh, how pathetic he looked when he first arrived at the factory those many months ago. The name that left his lips before he fully became another victim still echoed in his mind. 

‘Riku.’

The way the name slipped so easily off his tongue like it were the most sacred of names to ever be uttered intrigued him. He did not know who Riku was to the boy in his possession, but he knew that no name gets uttered like that unless they were someone of importance; someone with high value.  The sudden tugging of the chain leash around his neck choked out a sob from him, cutting deep into his skin until the darkness he was already shrouded in became darker and the ringing in his ears got louder and louder until suddenly it stopped, and wind is being forced into his windpipe again. Sobbing until that choking feeling returns, this time in the form of a strong hand wrapping around his throat. 

Soft lips press harshly against his own as he struggles even harder to push his Master off him. Hard to move, he submits so easily as fresh tears roll down his cheeks. His body aches with each touch remaining far after those hands leave him. He leaves Sora’s lips with a messy pop, saliva still keeping them connected. He brings a hand up, unclamping one of Sora’s nipples just to witness him shutter just before he gently blows cold air onto the sensitive skin, reveling in the way Sora’s back arches beautifully as a response to the sweet torture just before his tongue makes contact with that sensitive tit. Swirling his tongue around it before sucking on them with purpose. 

Sora’s voice screams out his shame and humiliation, cutting himself off with aggressive sobs and begging for this all to stop. But it does not stop.
His other nipple is suddenly free of its confines, just to then be replaced by greedy fingers, twisting and poking and pulling on them with less grace than the one in his mouth.

He hates the pleasure his body feels as he can feel the blood flowing straight to his own cock. Twitching helplessly.

“Oh, so needy.” He says with a twisted smile Sora can hear as he lifts himself off Sora finally. Sora’s balls greet him, smooth and vulnerable. Perfectly round and full too. Slowly, he runs his fingers up them, taking in the sweet sight of Sora as he’s unable to kick and scream anymore. But he still sees them, tears staining his cheeks. 

The sound of the door handle jiggling catches his attention and that’s when he turns to see that he isn’t the only one looking for a bit of relief.
In the doorway stands Xemnas and Ansem, both looking directly at Sora. Sora heard it too, the sound of the door opening and the sudden relief upon his body. The sound of footsteps comes closer before the door shuts behind them. And then he’s broken. 

What felt like forever had passed since Sora was able to open his eyes to actual light again. The golden lights bouncing off the red, intricate wallpaper burns at his retinas as he gathers his bearings. Then he sees two men lying between him. His hands tightly concealing their half-hard cocks. The cuffs tightly wrapped around his wrists connected to the cockrings worn by each of them, making it near impossible to move without disturbing them. Even if he wanted nothing more than to rip their cocks off and shove it down their—

The sudden rustling of a third body causes him to stiffen up, eyeing the man next to him as he sat up completely. Left with enough consciousness to play pretend, he shut his eyes and steadied his breathing as best as he could. He hears a grunt come from above him before cold hands slide down his body, still he keeps as still as he possibly can. His legs are being raised up again and he feels those cold hands parting his asscheeks, squeezing them both aggressively, as if testing him to see if he’d react. He can’t hold back the soft sound that escapes his lips, but it’s convincing enough to label it as nothing more than a half-asleep response. He’s nothing more than a whore to these men. So, a whore response he gives. 

Chilling fingers tease the rim, circling it with a slow, agonizing pace. Sora’s body trembles, hoping this ends soon. Then there's shifting and movement on either side of him as the two other men sit up, beginning to run their fingers through his hair as one of them unlocks the cuffs from his wrists, only to firmly grasp that same wrist in a tight grip; as if foolish to believe he’d be completely asleep. Then the same is done with his other wrist as he then feels a warm, wet tongue slide into his ear, the squishing sound making his body squirm and shake against it. Moving in a trail down his cheek and neck then collarbone until finally a nipple is brushed over, forcing his back to once again arch and his voice betrays him. A laugh came from Xemnas as he licked and pinched the nipple between his teeth. 

Fresh tears began to form and trail down his cheeks as he heard a command, “Stop pretending. Let out those screams.” Just as his legs are spread apart and he feels fingers begin to penetrate him, sliding in with minimal preparation. The sting draws out fresh screams from his throat, running it raw as the ring of muscles are stretched out and spread apart. His eyes shoot open once he feels those long fingers press against his prostate, signaling the others that his ‘sweet spot’ had been found. 

“Do you want to share?” Sora hears Ansem ask Xemnas, who only relays back a cold smirk. Though, it’s not him or Ansem who makes the rules. “It isn’t my doll. Why don’t we ask permission before playing with other’s toys?” They turn to face their third companion, who stops his assault on Sora’s ass for a brief moment. 

“I don’t think—” He continues to push another finger in, “he’s quite ready for that.”

Another scream rips from Sora’s throat as he feels not just fingers penetrating him, but a whole fist shove past the ring of sensitive muscles. He’s shouting now, begging and choking out sobs of pain as he feels the hand shove deeper inside him. Then, through watery eyes he watches as Xemnas forces him to look directly at him before a massive cock is pressed against his face. At the same time he feels Ansem force him to wrap his fingers around his dick. He isn’t given any chance to breathe as Xemnas forces himself past Sora’s bruised lips, adding to the roughness of his throat. 

“That should keep him quiet.” Xemnas says with a soft grunt, “And his hand busy too.” 

There’s too much overwhelming his senses as he looks up at the men using him. Through the tears, through the chaos, it happens again. He’s reverted back to the inside of his mind. Deep, deep inside where no one can hurt him. Where he’s back on his home island and it’s just him and Riku playing along the shoreline.  He imagines a universe, a timeline, where he and Riku share their first kiss together on that beach. A timeline where Riku takes him into the old shed on the play island and makes out with him like typical teenagers would. How Riku would be so curious to lay a finger on him; to touch him like he was made of the most fragile glass. How wandering fingers dance over his skin ever so playfully, enticing them both to cross the line. Imagining Riku pinning him down, pressing his hips flush against his own and how sweet their sounds of ecstasy create this bold, daring symphony. 

Just two teenagers in love; two rebellious teens searching for a thrill together. One of many. 

Whenever the three are done with him, he’s left feeling hollow. Blood staining the sheets from the assault on his ass, now ruined and gaped. His throat is wrecked and his mouth hangs open, drool dripping off his tongue. His eyes are cloudy, no color to them. He stares off into nothingness, completely incapable of perceiving a single thought behind those dead eyes.

His Master returns hours later with a new set of restraints and chains. 

“Wake up.” He commands. And with another snap of his fingers, Sora’s under his influence. On wobbly legs he stumbles over to his Master, silently looking down at his feet. “Look up.” And Sora follows the command, staring blankly up at the man in front of him. No praise given for his cooperation.
“Hands out. Feet apart.” The command is militaristic, and once again, he does as he’s told. The chains are placed on him quickly and quietly. He follows every movement until he’s back to looking up at him again. Then, his Master holds out his hand, “Do you recognize this?” 

Ah, his suspicions are true. In his hand, dangling by its chain is a crown necklace. Sora tried to hide it, but there was a brief moment of realization, then fear running wild in those eyes as his hand twitched, cautiously raising up to his neck as if he'd just realized it’d been missing from him. 

“Y-yes…Master.” 

“And does it belong to a person by the name of Riku?” Sora’s whole body went cold. Frozen, he does not respond to the question. “That’s all the proof I need, unless that stupid whore brain of yours—” 

“It’s mine!” 

Sora doesn’t believe his own voice is the one that spoke just now, he stands there in even more shock than before, eyes the size of dinner plates as he slowly looks up at him. Meeting fierce, haunting eyes that strike him right through his very soul. He stutters.

“I-I-I mean…it…it’s mine, R-Riku…gave it to me.” He makes no effort to take back the necklace, but it can be seen in the twitch of his fingers that he wants to grab for that precious lifeline. His Master takes the necklace and shoves it away inside his pocket, watching the hope leave those wide, blue eyes of his. And just like that, he’s got his perfect little doll back. 

“We’re leaving for the doll room.” That voice commands, not giving Sora any opportunity to argue (not that he can anyways). The door closes behind them, and with bated breath, Sora lets himself get escorted to the doll room.

Yozora’s heart feels as though it’s caught in his throat. The road in front of him blurs into a clump of nothingness mixed with the visions of what he’d witnessed back at the factory. Something truly was wrong there. In all his time of visiting abandoned locations, some even claiming to be haunted, nothing came close to the things he felt while in that building. Twice he’s felt that pull of anxiety on his heart, but this sealed the deal for him. 

Pulling over, he needed to collect himself and try and make sense of what it was that he’d just witnessed. The sounds surrounding him, the sudden knocking over of metal pipes, the constant feeling of being watched and stared down. The young man staring back at him; black hair, light brown skin, determined yet scared brown eyes screaming for him to leave, yet begging for him to remember his face. Remember what visceral emotion he felt the moment he laid eyes on him. Uncanny was the only word that came to mind as he recalled what his eyes saw. 

“Something was…off…about him.” Clutching at his head to ease the pounding, he collected his bearings and without thinking, began driving back down the road. He had to get to Riku. 

There’s finally some semblance of understanding for what Riku feels, at least that’s what he chooses to believe. Though, despite that, he still needs Riku to seek help. He knows that the root of the problem runs deeper than he’ll ever know. But for once, he feels this connection to his brother that tells him that Riku might’ve had an inkling of accurate suspicion regarding Sora’s disappearance and its connection to the factory. 

However, when he approached Riku’s apartment something changed the closer he got to his front door. A sickening feeling he couldn’t quite shake. Knocking on the door, he hears what sounds like a sudden thrashing and scurrying of feet before—

“WHAT!” Riku’s face is red hot, and his eyes are shot. Yozora steps back in a stumble, then he notices that Riku’s panting, and his clothes are disheveled, but not in a way that would suggest neglect of his well-being. No; he had something to hide. 

“Let me in. We’ve got to talk.” He lets himself in, ignoring the way Riku nearly falls on his ass trying to stop him. “You can’t just let yourself in! What the fuck?” 

“That damn factory.” Ignoring him, he helps himself to whatever Riku has in his fridge. 

Riku stands before him in an almost defensive stance, ready to stop him at any given moment. He notices in his body language that Riku definitely has something to hide.  “I went back there on my own. That place is harboring something evil. I don’t even believe in shit like that and yet–” Then he takes a pause, looking over Riku’s shoulder and towards the hallway to the bedrooms. An instantaneous feeling punches him straight in the gut when he senses it again. That same uncanny, dark energy.

He makes a run for it, pushing past Riku and straight for his bedroom. It’s a full-on brawl between them. Just like it was when they were smaller. Riku always had the upper hand, but Yozora was resilient. With ragged breath Riku confronted Yozora harder, forcing every action he took to stunt his brother from reaching the bedroom. 

“Why are you so determined to stop me? I thought you wanted to find Sora.” Yozora’s own breathing begins to stagger as he tries to pry himself out of Riku’s grip, ignoring the pain coursing through his body as he’s shoved into walls and corners. “Sora has nothing to do with you coming in uninvited. And why are you barging in without a reason?” Riku slams him to the ground with harsh vigor. Yet, despite all his brother’s efforts, Yozora stands up, wiping away the small amount of blood rushing from his nose. 

“You’ve lost your damn mind. What the fuck is down this hallway—or better yet, what’s in that room of yours that you don’t want me seeing?” Yozora pushed past him, already expecting another brutal slam against the wall and yet…

“I…found Sora.” 

Yozora’s heart stopped, and his eyes shot him an intense glare, focused completely on those words as his hand lingered over the doorknob. “You…what?” His disbelief even surprised him a bit. Riku looked so defeated. He wasn’t cheering with joy or calling up the entire universe to celebrate so…the immediate thought of the worst made his stomach churn. “He’s…in there. He’s sleeping.” Bullshit   was the first word that came to mind for Yozora. All that noise and tumbling around…he knew Sora was a heavy sleeper but surely he would have come running in the moment Riku cried distress. 

“Really?” He asked, unconvinced. 

“Yes. You should leave.” Riku’s voice is cold and his eyes are glued to the hand resting on the doorknob. The moment Yozora realizes this, he looks his brother dead in the face before turning the door and looking inside.

What he finds halts him in his tracks. Slowly, he turns back around to see the defeated look on Riku’s face “S-Sora I’m so sorry, I—”

“What the fuck are you doing? "He watches as his brother displays his insanity. There, life-size and staring blankly at him, is a doll. The resemblance was uncanny. Even the strands of hair flowed like his. But the body…

“What the fuck is this?” He can’t even see his brother anymore. His eyes displayed a level of unhinged he’d only ever seen done in the movies before. 

“He…he showed up on my doorstep one day…and…I–” 

“You’ve lost it. You’ve fucking lost it. And for a goddamn second, I believed you.” He’s so stupid to believe, truthfully, that his spiraling, depressed brother would actually have made sense about something. Lost to his delusions. He begins to laugh that turns into a spiral of tears; he’s brought to his knees. 

“I’m being serious, Yozora. This IS Sora. He…he’s been cursed or something. I…I don’t know how to explain it but please believe me.” 

“What the FUCK are you demanding of me?” He begins to leave the room, Riku in tow. “Yozora I KNOW what it looks like, but I swear it’s not.”

“Oh, so you didn’t fall so deep into your fucking delusions that you ordered a custom-made sex doll based on your best friend. That’s  what I’m hearing?” He does not hide his disgust from him; it’s written clear as day on his face and laced in his tone. “N-No! I’m serious—” 

“Save it. I…I’ve gotta go. Don’t…bother trying to call or contact me until you’ve sought help.” 

The look Riku gave him pulled at his heartstrings. But he was done giving into that kind of enabling. Riku needed help. He needed professional help. Not something that would only enable him deeper into his fantasies. But, if he really needed something to get himself off, he’d rather it be something disposable than another person. God knows the horror stories he’s heard . He leaves Riku’s apartment content to cut him off, but a small glimmer of hope stays buried within him that maybe this will be the wakeup call he needs to get better. He can only hope.

“What…was that about?” Sora’s small voice asks, greeting Riku as he returns to the bedroom. “That was…Yozora, right? It’s been so long since I’ve heard from him.” In the doll stand, Sora tries to leave it the moment he realizes Riku needs his support. With a pathetic smile, he’s helped out of the stand by Riku. Stumbling into his arms, he offers his support the only way he truly can. His hands run down that toned chest, looking up at him through full lashes and dew dropped eyes. 

“He didn’t realize that you were real. He thought that you were…” He chokes down the sob threatening to spill out. “He fucking said I needed help. He thinks I’m insane.” Defeated, he settles on the side of the bed. Sora settled into Riku’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck. “But, I am real. You’re not crazy or insane.” “Then why couldn’t he see that? You were looking right at him; you even tried speaking to him.” Riku recalls, replaying the events in his head.

Sora’s eyes flew open, and he called out his name just to realize that Yozora was the one to enter first. He tried speaking to Yozora, so…what happened? “I can only connect with you. It’s…you that I wanted to run to more than anyone. So…” Eyes dart upwards and Riku’s getting lost in how dazzling and sparkling Sora’s own eyes are. Watching his heart shaped pupils glance over his face, lowering down to his lips. 

He can’t stop how his hands grip the softness of Sora’s hips, moving down to his even softer thighs.  “I never stopped looking for you. I’m still looking.” He welcomes Sora’s lips against his own as he lets Sora take away all those negative thoughts. He lets his thoughts be filled once again with love and lust and just them. All he’d ever wanted; all he’d ever needed settled into his lap, kissing it all away. Sora tears away with one word leaving his lips. 

“ Master .” 

The name feels so right leaving his lips. Like it was always meant to be uttered from his lip and his lips alone. But the name felt sinfully wrong for himself to be called that. The necklace shimmered, reminding him of their ritual. He was Sora’s master now. Whether he liked it or not; though, hearing Sora say it the way he did left his cock aching for release. And the look Sora was giving him told him he was more than happy to indulge in every fantasy of his. 

He didn’t need anything or anyone else. 

Chapter Text

It started off slow this time.

Riku took his time in reveling in his own pleasure. That sudden sensation returned again as he felt his heart beating in sync with another. Sora’s body reacted beautifully to each touch given to him and in response Riku’s gifted low, pathetic moans of approval. Each soft noise sounded needy; more desperate than the last. He knew for the longest time his feelings for Sora were pure and filled with a desire to love and admire. 

But he’d be lying to himself and to the world if he denied his lust. The many nights he’d spent touching himself to the thought of debauching Sora completely and the sinful truth being that such a naturally beautiful boy looked even better on his knees, mouth hung open in eager waiting for that fullness; eyes hazed over with a longing only he could satisfy. 

And now, he had that. 

Kissing Sora wasn’t enough. An insatiable hunger that only left Riku needing more from him. Not enough just to kiss him, no, he needed to use his hands. His hands roamed under the long, modest shirt he’d put him in just to trail up to hard nipples. Despite knowing that parts of Sora weren’t completely his own, he still had that part of himself that was authentic, no matter the expression or changeability of his parts, he could only ever see the love of his life underneath him. 

Those eyes, half-lidded and craving nothing but to be destroyed, told him that Sora needed this too. There, down in the very back of his mind, lingered this horrid question of if Sora actually felt the same way he did. But right now, he didn’t entertain those thoughts. 

Panting and unable to control the aggressive pace his hands squeezed and groped at the softness of Sora’s skin was all he wanted to process. Sliding rough hands down smooth, squishy thighs and squeezing as he spread those legs open. He knew that certain parts of Sora were easily breakable compared to others, so he was careful as he slid one hand back up to Sora’s neck, squeezing gently. The immersion broke slightly when he realized Sora could still look up at him and breathe, though it didn’t matter in the long run. Sora’s voice broke the tension with his gentle submission. 

“How long have you wanted me like this?” 

The question did not fully process in his mind, as he responded almost robotically, “Since forever.” Then he realizes, or maybe he’s overthinking things again, that maybe Sora meant something else with his question. The immersion is broken even further when he blinks and…the mechanics are back. The indents of doll joints and the obscenity of his new body forced him to realize that this wasn’t the kind of impression he wanted to give off to Sora. “I mean…I’ve wanted to let you know my feelings since forever.” He settles his weight on his knees as he towers higher now over Sora. And to him, Riku is a god; this spectacular vision of love personified. 

“I don’t…want you to think that I only see you for…” he trails off, swaying his hand up and down, unable to fully express the elephant in the room. Softly, a small laugh filled the air and he can’t even begin to process how Sora can find the humor in everything; a mystery forever meant to be unsolved. Then, he’s positioning himself up on his elbows, staring into Riku’s eyes. 

“It’s okay to.” Those words processed correctly in his ears, but the emotion left him feeling as if he’d just been punched in the stomach. “I was built for this very purpose. Or…rebuilt.” That sparked Riku’s attention again. It terrified him. 

“Rebuilt? W-What do you mean…? You mean the Heart Factory, right?” A sudden spark, a painful one, shot through his entire body. But not just his body, it seemed. A harsh gasp left Sora’s lips before he settled back down with his head hitting the pillow. 

“Sora!” 

Worry and made itself present fully in his actions as he scooped Sora into his arms, investigating every inch of skin as Sora continued to grip at his head. Then, it stops, and Sora’s opening his eyes again to see Riku looking down with that still present worry on his expression. Then, a smile forms on his lips. 

“I’m trying to say that it’s okay if you only view me for my body, silly.” 

He can’t find a proper means of responding to what just happened. Something present in Sora’s expression—in his eyes—that makes a chill run through his body. Like he’d been factory reset. Now he’s smiling gently up at him, turning to settle on his knees and bringing his hand up to caress his cheek. “I’m whatever you desire.” He leans in closer, so achingly close. “And with everything I am, I worship you.” The gap between them is sealed once again. 

Steady, gentle hands roam down to Riku’s jeans, curiously groping and cupping the hardon contained within them. That devilish smirk makes Riku see stars and his body becomes putty in his doll’s hands. Those fears and worries don’t come close to the haziness that lust and addiction bring him. Like he can’t help but be drawn further into Sora’s waters, drowning in the most intoxicating aphrodisiacs known to man.

“Is that what you need?” Riku asks. He’s not sure how he manages to speak those words with such filth in his tone. He almost sounded condescending, in his own mind at least, but when Sora gave him that playful smirk, he carried on with the desires plaguing him. His movements are limited, Riku caught on quickly to that, so a little help was given as he repositioned Sora to be on the ground and on his knees. 

“Here.” He says as he unzips his jeans, letting more of his indecency present itself. Sora’s eyes practically glow with an undoubting excitement at the mere sight of such dominance. His training—the rebuilding of not just his body, but his entire purpose for living—could not fully prepare him for such a sight. He’s been blessed with the sight of Riku’s cock many times already, but it still leaves him speechless every single time. 

The scent alone was enough to put him in a trance; that natural musk luring him deeper and deeper into a submissive trance. Instinctively he opens his mouth wide, as he’s done so many times before during his training, though, he doesn’t quite recall that time. Seeing all of Riku almost causes a sudden reaction in Sora, just for it to be replaced with a welcoming feeling as he completely submits to him, feeling the thickness and overwhelming scent of dick as it’s shoved down his throat. 

But he's careful, considerate even, of Sora’s needs. His mouth, while realistic in its features, upon slipping inside, did not feel as warm or as…human as he’d anticipated, but not enough to dissuade him from slipping further and deeper inside. Sora’s composure remained calmed, no surprise given his lack of a gag reflex. It came as a surprise to Riku when he felt a hand brush up against his thigh, tingling the area of skin. 

Something he always loved about Sora was how soft his hair was. Despite the unruly state it always seemed to be in, not once would his fingers get caught in the tangles, because it seemed none existed in the first place. Finally feeling deep enough, he gripped the back of Sora’s head and shoved him forward until every inch of himself was deep inside. Despite not needing to, a small gagging sound came out of Sora, and upon seeing his expression, Riku sees that his beloved doll has gone cross eyed. It’s quite a cute look for him. 

Lust and love suddenly rushes through him and all that can be made out through the brain fog is how much of a need it is for Sora to be used completely. Used and loved and worshiped and admired. There’s that familiar tension building up, ready to release any moment unless he stops himself from reaching his own pleasure. He doesn’t want it to stop.
He begins to move at a steady pace, watching as Sora’s expression continues to grow more and more blissed out. Those heart shaped pupils displaying all the emotions he’d ever need to see to know that Sora’s enjoying this just as much as he is. There’s more enthusiasm in the way Sora’s head bobs up and down, taking it balls deep down his throat, and it makes Riku wonder through the haze if perhaps he’s becoming more real now, or if it’s once again his lust playing tricks on him. 

As he reaches closer to his orgasm he sinks deep into his own mind, pondering if maybe, just maybe, this form of intimacy was just the thing needed to get Sora back to his real self. No more doll joints or limitations to their positions. He’s seen enough bizarre and otherworldly things already for this not to be a heavy consideration. And dammit to hell if he never hears from Yozora again, but he doesn’t want to be thinking about him right now. Not him, nor Naminé, or Lauriam, just Sora and Sora alone. He pulls out right at the last second, edging himself right as he feels his limit be reached. Sora’s soft panting reaches his ears and he’s met with a slight look of disappointment as he plops down on the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, he taps his leg, beckoning Sora into his lap. 

Sora does as he’s told, settling into his Master’s lap without any complaint. Riku tugs on the necklace, pulling him forward and closing the gap between them. He can taste his own sweat on Sora’s lips and there’s an aggressive hit of his own scent wafting through his throat, and yet he only deepens their kiss, leaning them both back until their positions have changed and Sora’s back to being pinned against the mattress. 

Big, blue eyes look up with confusion until he speaks, “I want to have a taste.” And that leaves Sora searching for an answer until he realizes exactly what he’s implying. On cue, he spreads his legs as wide as he can, presenting himself in all his glory. 

Even if Sora’s body doesn’t work the same as his, he still revels in seeing what’s between those plush legs. He’s still caught off guard by how small Sora is compared to him, but it’s a welcoming factor. Nothing about Sora is flawed, in his mind at least. Delicately he grabs for that flaccid, small cock, eagerly taking it into his mouth with a low groan; he’s lost in paradise. 

The consideration of an oral fixation never crossed his mind before this, but now, the reality of things makes it clear that if he had just one wish in life, it was to never stop sucking on Sora’s cock. It was like tasting a piece of candy as he let the tiny thing settle on his tongue, occasionally flicking it. And oh the sounds Sora made had him wondering again if maybe he was gaining more of his humanity back, or if it were just an instinctual thing for him at this point. The second that thought crossed his mind, his mood dampened slightly. That’s when he decided he needed a distraction. 

Moving further down, his tongue found just the place he wanted to be. Sora’s asshole was practically begging for him, calling his name as he went right in, rimming and sucking on it like his life depended on it. Sora once again sobbed his pleasure as he lay there, taking all of Riku’s antics without much of a fight. 

The moment his tongue slipped fully inside he knew he had to make this a challenge for himself. His fingers spread open the rim of his ass further just for him to get more of himself inside. If he tried hard enough he could get possibly more than half of his tongue inside. 

For once in his life, he considered himself filthy. Not in the way of shame, but in the sense that his perversion was finally able to reveal itself. The fantasies and teenage desires hidden away now on full display as he pulls out, looking deep inside his doll. Then, he decided on his fingers. The very fingers that helped spread his hole now buried themselves deep inside Sora. Two wasn’t enough though, so he added two more. Almost a whole fist was a lot, but that horrible intrusive thought made itself known.

“I’m trying to say that it’s okay if you only view me for my body, silly.” 

The logical side of himself argued that if Sora’s nothing more than a sex doll, then there’s no need to not push the boundaries. It’s not impossible, and not the most unhinged thing that’s happened this past month , he tries to tell himself. But there’s still that voice that reminds him that even if this were true, Sora was still more than just his body. And, of course, that was still very much the reality of things. Sora is Sora, not his body or an object. 

He looked up at his doll, whose eyes were practically glowing, with his mouth hung open slightly. 

“May I?” He asks, wiggling his fingers inside to further display his wants. Sora leaned his head back at the sensation, but nodded his approval. That’s when Riku knew he needed to breathe. Despite this being Sora’s experience, he still felt this anxiety squeezing his insides like a stress ball. With gentle force, he pushed more and more of himself inside until nearly his entire hand was in. 

Not expecting there to be so much resistance, he faced Sora again to see his back arching beautifully, almost like he was feeling it entirely. “S-Sora?” That fear began to settle in as his hand stopped pushing and he heard what sounded like crying.

“Please, don’t stop.” His response hits Riku hard as he takes in those words. A strange mixture of seeing Sora as both fully real and not complete rushes through him. “Are…you—am I hurting you?” 

Sora shakes his head ‘no’ with a small whimper on his lips. He tries to move his hips in hopes of getting more friction, but what he really wants is more of that hand. So, with his consciousness somewhat clear of any guilt, Riku pushes on and the moment he does Sora’s head hits the pillow once again as he feels that wrist penetrate his insides. He gasps at the fullness, nearly brought to tears at how impressive the act is for him. Riku however, doesn’t move his hand.
“I uh…I’m not sure what to do now.” He admits, a little bashful. He knows he broke the immersion and very much ruined the vibe completely. He knows what fisting is, but that never could’ve prepared him for actually doing it. He begins to slowly pull his fist out, just to stop and sink further inside, just a little past his wrist. 

The pace is set; Sora breathes in with Riku’s thrust and together they experience this new position together. And  it’s more than what both of them could ever imagine it to be. Sora takes him far too well, even if that’s natural by design. That sentimental feeling that Sora was only made for him and him alone, that no matter what, he cannot break when pleasured by him. There’s that familiar build up in the pit of Riku’s gut again and for the first time ever he’s experiencing a near orgasm based purely on the pleasure of someone else. Sora’s body, and how he reacts to his every touch and thrusting in and out leaves him feeling connected to the doll below him. Sora’s pleasure is his pleasure and that simple dose of reality nearly has him reaching climax once more. But, just like before, he pauses just as he’s about to reach his peak and slowly pulls his hand out. 

It’s slicked in his sweat from the warmth of Sora’s insides, and now he’s looking down at the loose overstretch of Sora’s asshole, his debauchery on full display as he gasps and tries his hardest to focus on his Master, and whatever he may have next in store for him. However, what Riku does next is leave the bed, reaching out his hand for Sora to take. 

“Do you…mind a change of scenery?” 

“I don’t. But…are you alright?” Sora’s worried. “You haven’t come yet. Aren’t you…in any sort of discomfort?” Riku smiles at the innocent concern. “No worries about that. I’ll be okay.” He leads Sora back to the doll stand, “It’s only just for a moment, I promise.” He sees the hesitancy in Sora's expression, but soon it dwindles away after his promise is made. 

“What are you thinking, Master?” The metal holder is pressed against either side of his waist as Riku turns around to face his closet. He remembers the accessories that Sora came with and though doubtful of their quality, his curiosity compels him to look anyway. Returning with the two clothing pieces in hand, he holds up a sexy maid dress, along with a pair of stockings and a flimsy headpiece. The second outfit, while a lot less cheap and costumey, was by no means modest; lingerie that showed off every asset Sora had. Leather in material and instead was hung up on a ‘full body’ hanger with the words ‘reverse bunny’ written on it. 

“Like a reverse bunny suit?” Riku pondered. 

Sora’s face went red immediately upon seeing the revealing red leather ‘suit’. It certainly would be a bold choice for that to be chosen (not that he’d have much choice in denying it if it’s what Riku wanted) as his attire for the evening. 

“Red really has always been your color.” Riku’s eyes linger over the reverse bunny suit, then, as he holds it up to Sora’s body, he recalls something from their childhood. The thought lingers and yet he worries about the consequences of bringing up the memory. He’s reminded of an old diving suit that might’ve been a tab bit big on Sora, but, of course, he managed to pull it off with a certain kind of flair that he could only envy. The memory was fond to look back on, but Sora’s concerned tone brought him back to the present.

“Sorry, just lost in a memory.” Riku’s tone is cold, pained slightly just for the mood to change back to the heated intimacy previously shared between them. “I’d love to see you in this.” He says with an eagerness Sora admittingly finds all too precious. “If that is what you wish.” Sora’s smile is genuine, and it pulls at a certain kind of emotion torn between admiration and hot desire inside of Riku as he nods and begins to dress Sora in the material. 

Of course, leather would be a bitch to deal with, but in record time Sora was now fully presented in the revealing material. The top pressed firmly against his pecs, a little tighter than necessary but that was just the intent behind the suit. The squeeze to his hips and ass were just as tight, perking his asscheeks up ever so slightly. Walking in the built in heels served to be a challenge—or rather, Riku made it a challenge by fearing Sora would fall over with each step he took. But eventually, they’d made it to the living room, where Sora glanced around, taking in the details that he’d initially missed when he was first awoken. 

The room was sleek and new, but it felt like a home. A perfect chaos in the form of piled up, dirty dishes, laundry that had yet to be put away, bills piled up on the kitchen table. A living room of a man once broken and isolated. An almost sense of familiarity and nostalgia washed over him the more details he took in. Then it dawned on him that he was beginning to feel something other than servitude. 

That ache returned, and he stumbled right into Riku’s arms. “Woah, careful now.” He said, his voice gentle and oh how that only made the feeling grow even more unbearable. His body was crashing full force until he was left clinging to Riku like a lifeline. Looking up into those gorgeous green eyes he knew he needed to be destroyed again. The pain in his body demanded it. Acting on its own accord, his body pressed firmly against Riku as he leaned up for a passionate kiss. 

“Eager, I see.” 

“Just a little.” 

He smirked at that, with Sora pressed up against him like this, he let his hands roam down that exposed back, tracing his spine with such a delicate slowness that it left the man trembling. Once down to his tailbone, a change was made as he went directly to groping and squeezing a cheek with enough strength to force a yelp out of Sora, just for it to be swallowed as he scoops the brunet into another forceful kiss. Then, another hand meets with the other cheek as they get to work spreading and squeezing the soft flesh there, drawing out more moans just for Riku to swallow. 

Turning him around, Riku takes an arm and wraps it around Sora’s neck while his other hand takes both of Sora’s wrists into his firm grasp. All while his hardening erection pokes between plush cheeks. “I don’t think I can stop myself this time.” To anyone else, it’d be a threat and a sign of warning, but to Sora, it’s an invitation and a satisfying situation to end up in.

Quickly, the arm around Sora’s throat is removed and Riku gets to work undoing his pants again and in no time, he’s sliding his cock between Sora’s ass, teasing and just barely slipping inside the hole he knows is loose. 

“Please, don’t stop.” Hearing those pathetic sobs this time only makes the blood rush quicker to his cock and even he can only tolerate just a few more seconds of teasing before he impatiently lets himself finally slip inside that loose heat. All at once he’s pushed himself inside, bending Sora over the couch and holding him with his chest resting on Sora’s back as he fucks deeper and deeper inside him. 

A sudden change of position has Sora leaning back against Riku’s chest as his nipples are fondled and messed with. He kisses Sora's neck, even if he knows it won’t leave anything, it still makes the experience feel more intimate. With each passing second Riku’s pinches and pulling get more and more aggressive until Sora nearly stumbles forwards, just for him to be caught and fucked even harder and at a brutal pace. 

An hour passes and finally, Riku reaches his climax once more, this time letting himself go all the way and with one final thrust, he spills his seed deep inside his doll. Sora’s moans mix with Riku’s heavy panting until once again their lips meet in a messy, uncoordinated kiss where only their tongues make contact. There’s pure lust and admiration swimming in both of their gazes and the only thing either of them wants is to get lost in is each other. Sora’s hand comes up to meet Riku’s cheek while he keeps him in place on his cock even after he’s spilled all he could supply. 

This was the closeness he’d wanted for a long, long time. He could stay like this forever. He loved being inside Sora; loved that warmth—the connection it brought them. He loved Sora for everything he was and ever will be. 

After cleanup and finally showering, he finds Sora still laid out on the couch where he’d left him, bundled up under the blankets he’d left out for him. The TV was on a soft volume and playing old cartoons from their childhood. He walked over and sat on the floor next to the couch, slowly brushing the bangs out of his face just to get a better peek at those freckles dusting the bridge of his nose and cheeks. 

Still just as beautiful, but with nearly all of his body completely covered, the visions of Sora as a human again haunted him. Now he’s transported back to a time long buried. The many sleepovers he and Sora had that always ended with them falling asleep to the same cartoons every weekend. One of the last sleepovers, Riku recalled, he’d actually wanted to kiss him. Guilt and worry stopped him, but it was something he always thought about before they both stopped seeing each other for weekend get-togethers. Teenage boys weren’t supposed to sleep over together. Not when girls and puberty and an image to uphold was supposed to be the primary focus for boys like himself. 

Him.

He was the kind of boy people wanted to be. The kind of boy who’d have girls flinging themselves onto him and yet…it was always him. Just one boy that he wanted nothing more than to have flung into his arms. 

But now, he has that. He has Sora and no one else was ever going to be able to take him away from him. No one could ever hurt them ever again. 

Chapter Text

Nearly a month.

The thought popped into his head as he ran his fingers through Sora’s hair as the two of them laid peacefully on the couch. One small, delicate arm wrapped around his stomach while the other was snaked around the lower section of his back but not fully wrapped completely around. His own arm held Sora close, running his thumb along the smooth texture of his arm, running over the small indent in his shoulder then back down to the midway point of his upper arm. 

For once things were peaceful. Not a word from Yozora or Naminé and truth be told he worried about them, especially Naminé. He could live without seeing or hearing a word from his brother, but to not hearing from her was a sharp, difficult knife to pull out. The occasional thought to text her always crossed his mind, just for his demons to show up just at the right time, freezing his body as they feed him more fears and doubts until he puts down his phone and turns his brain off. 

Today had been one of those days where the voices compelled him to further isolate himself from the people he once cared about. A firm reminder that they didn’t believe him. How they wanted him locked away and shut out from the rest of the world. He has what’s most important back in his life now, right? And, oh, how beautiful he looks. Shamefully, he distracted himself from the thoughts plaguing his mind. 

The show he was watching long abandoned as he pressed his doll against the couch, raising his hips and fucking him deeper into it. For a few days, Sora was quiet. Barely speaking a word but for the oddest of reasons, he knew that he was okay. A content serenity could be felt in the way his doll smiled at him. 

But as he fucked deeper and deeper into him, he realized how much he missed hearing him.

Each thrust inside wipes away any anxieties he carried inside him until he was finished completely. Pulling out, he realizes he’s not done yet. Those burdensome feelings and emotions still weighed heavy on his heart, and missing Sora’s voice made it harder for those feelings to dissipate.

He kept Sora’s hips raised in place, licking his own release as it dripped out of that ass. Today, Sora was blessed with three holes. His pussy untouched and practically begging to be used. Cunnilingus was just as new to him as realizing he had an oral fixation, but he supposes that if he could use his mouth in any way possible, that he’ll enjoy eating him out just as much as he loves sucking him off.

Moving down from his ass, his tongue slowly and delicately breached those soft folds and fully pushed inside with a low groan as he savored the intense new feeling crashing over him. Then, struck with the sudden reminder, he remembered a recent purchase of his, meant to enhance their time in the bedroom. 

Quick to grab the little, pink, clear bottle from his nightstand he returned back to Sora, lathering some of it onto his hand before flipping Sora onto his back and making quick work at fingering that tight little hole of his. His pussy was plump and full, perfect in Riku’s eyes. His fingers slid between those lips and deep inside, then out, and back inside in a steady rhythm until he was satisfied with himself. 

Then, he brought his mouth back down to get a taste. The edible lubricant made eating Sora out now feel like he’d entered heaven. The strong scent of mixed berries and cream wafted his senses and he gladly welcomed it all as his tongue buried itself deeper and deeper inside his doll. He felt quite proud of himself for what he felt was the correct way to eat pussy out, and it seemed he was on the right track somehow as Sora’s moans filled his ears like a sudden pistol being shot off in the dead of night. 

Riku’s head never lifted faster than it did when he heard that noise. Sora had broken his silence and during the most inconvenient—or well, in this case most convenient—of times. “Y-You’re talking again!” He said, nearly choking on the saliva as he reached up to kiss his beloved on the lips. He was met with eager enthusiasm as Sora reached upwards to caress his cheeks. Once the kiss was broken, Sora looked at him with gentle eyes, heart shaped pupils dazzling. “I was…lost in a nightmare that ended with me being stuck deep in thought.” 

Intrigued, yet worried, Riku settles them both back into a lounging position, taking Sora’s face and lifting it upwards. 

“What do you mean?” 

Sora bit his lip.

“I was trapped in this strange darkness. There was this…sound buzzing all around me as I kept trying to run. Run from what? I’m unsure.” His eyes darkened as he tried to recall the details. “I remember feeling a lot of pain. My body…it felt so real.” The air felt heavier all of the sudden, and the more Sora spoke the more nauseous Riku got.

“My arms and legs,” He hugged himself for comfort, “they would be ripped from me over and over again and the taste of debris and the feeling of cold concrete would be all I’d known for hours after I was done being torn apart. Eyes all on me and all I could feel was their pity.” Then he squeezed his hollow arms. “ I was so scared and alone. Their whispers; I heard the words they said about me.” 

“Wait, who?” Riku interjects, sitting up with a look that could kill. Lips pressed into a firm line and eyes sharp and ready for a name to be given. 

“I couldn’t see their faces but…they all sounded familiar. One of them I swear I know the name of. He was…like an old friend. I don’t…know why I felt the most hurt hearing his pity.” That was the first time he’d noticed the sudden change in Sora’s eyes. Small little cracks appearing in them as if displaying a broken heart. Riku’s hand never moved faster than it did in that moment as he swiftly pressed him close to his chest. “He probably wanted nothing more than to help you.” He says with conviction, and Sora believed him. 

“It went on for what felt like forever. My body was…tormented over and over again. Every part of me was broken and cracked repeatedly.” 

The memory of when he’d ripped Sora’s arm off flashed through his mind and he wonders if perhaps that had triggered the nightmare. His hand ran up his back until it reached his nape, before traveling back down. “I never thought it would end.” Sora’s voice trembled.

“I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine how scary that must’ve been.”

There was a moment of comforting silence between them until Sora lifted his head up, facing Riku. “But then I realized something.” He said as he sat up and repositioned himself in such a manner that he was practically towering over Riku for once. Back arched and arms resting on broad shoulders. “You rescued me. When you put the necklace on me.” Riku’d never heard such a manner in the way Sora’s voice mixed both genuine, heartfelt sentiment and irresistible desire. He was alluring in every sense of the word.

“And there’s this unexplainable feeling I have when I wake up and I see you sleeping. I don’t wake up to the smell of rust or to the sound of clanking and pumping of heavy machinery. I don’t wake up to darkness or red flashing lights. I just feel…warm.” Sora’s lips curl into a soft smile and he leans down to kiss him. For once, the kiss feels different. There’s hurt and aching; love and something human about it. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…thank you for loving this meaningless sex doll.” 

His first instinct was to take Sora back into his arms and kiss the fuck out of him. Slide his tongue deep inside and bring every part of him back to life. He let just a few tears fall before he swallowed them all down and spoke the most honest words he’d ever muttered, “You’re no meaningless sex doll. You’re my best friend and the boy I fell in love with. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars and the whole galaxy placed into one incredible body. You’re my reason for living. I live only for you. I love you.” 

It had been spoken and Riku knew he couldn’t take it back. And between them both, it had been firmly decided. Their dynamic had been made clear now, what exactly they were to one another. 

Another week had passed and for the first time since he’d last spoken to her, Riku shot Naminé a message. Despite the anxiety coursing through his veins she’d messaged him back fairly quickly.

N: Wow, hey! You’re alive! You…been doing well?

R: Yeah, just barely. U? 

N: I suppose I’m living it well. Xion and I just returned from a date, so you reached out at the perfect time.

R: Glad to hear.

N: Lol yeah but…

R: Yes?

N: You…disappeared on all of us. I haven’t even heard from Yozora other than him saying that you weren’t doing much better. Did anything happen between you two?

He knew this would be brought up eventually. He’d been lying in bed with Sora cuddled next to him, sleeping. Quietly, he left the bedroom, placing a quick kiss onto his lover’s cheek before leaving to give her a call. As he slid open the door to his balcony he pressed the number, listening with bated breath as it rang once, twice, three times before the line picked up on the fourth.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing just…missed hearing you I suppose.” He answered flatly, but inside he meant every word. The ache of having to keep so much from her, but needing to hear her voice again clutched at his heart, pulling and twisting it until the ache doubled over and he felt the first few hints of water brimming over, threatening to pour out of him. 

“I missed you too. I’m…sorry for what happened—”

“No, if anyone needs to apologize it’s me. I was…in a rough spot.”

She’s quiet for a moment before speaking once again, this time with a slight hint of hesitancy. 

“You…finally moved on? Let Sora’s memory finally rest.” Of course not, and the moment he realized that once again he’d have to hurt her feelings by lying crept up onto him, he let the tears fall. 

“It…hasn’t been easy.” Truth be told it wasn’t, despite having him now. There was still that determination pumping through his veins but with needing to do this alone now, it felt just as isolating. 

“I know, and while it’s understandable that you’d want to shut yourself out, you also need people who love and care for you.”

“I know. But…just keep waiting for me, please?” 

“Of course. And I’m proud of you. Thank you for calling.” Her tone wasn’t convincing as he listened to the tone of her voice shift into a forced positive. She was always a bad liar. But he couldn’t ruin this, not after going so long without so much as even seeing her face. He was grateful that she even picked up the phone.

“Thank you. I…think I’m going to go. Got some things I need to do.”

She didn’t pry any deeper, saying her farewells and wishing him luck. Once he’d worked up the strength to move from the balcony back to his bedroom he noticed that Sora was awake. Just the person he wanted to see. 

“Where’d you go?”

“Just catching up with an old friend. Remember Naminé?”

Sora’s eyes dazzled at the mention of his old childhood friend. “Oh! Oh, Nami! Is she okay? How is she?”  Charmed once again by that sweet innocence of his, he kissed Sora before answering him. “She’s fine. Living her life with a girl she met about three years ago. You’d like her. Ebony hair, these unique violet eyes, tan skin, and she’s pretty good at a lot of combative stuff.”  Sora listened with absolute wonder as she was described to him, and just by the sound of things he knew he wanted to reunite with Naminé and meet this new girl she was dating! 

“I’d absolutely love to meet her! Just…not like—” He trailed off, covering his body and the obvious parts of himself he knew were different. 

“None of that. I’m still going to get your body back.” Despite those comforting words, something stirred inside him. Anxiety and fear and something else he couldn’t quite explain. 

“Did you want to go watch something? Or maybe we can,” Riku’s hand slid between those soft thighs, luring a gasp out of the brunet, “play for a bit.” There was no denying his Master, not when his purpose was to be touched by him. Used in every way imaginable all for the sake of making him happy. Two fingers slipped inside, massaging his insides with purpose just before sliding out and grabbing for the lubricant and pulling down his sweats with the other free hand. 

Consent was never needed for him as a doll, and yet, every time he was asked anyways. And every time, Sora would simply reply, “If you want me, you have me.” 

Suddenly, the living room seemed far more interesting of a place for a quick fuck. And the couch once again became their mating grounds as he threw Sora down just to quickly penetrate those walls inside him. Thrusting at an almost animalistic pace. Looking down, one of Riku’s favorite things to see was his own cock bulging out that slender stomach, and seeing the way his hands sunk into the softness of those wide, breedable hips. A deadly, but irresistible combination. 

Nothing could ruin this. Until—

The knock at the door was ear splitting for him. The first thing he thought to do was to silence Sora’s sounds with his hand and quickly there was an understanding between them of the situation. Pulling out as carefully as he could, Riku watched Sora’s eyes roll up with that final tug of pleasure before his hand finally left his mouth. The tension in the air grew heavy as his eyes landed on the door just as another knock resonated off it.

“Who could that be?” Sora’s voice was soft, and even still Riku had to remind him to keep his voice low. The closer he got to the door, the more his chest filled with this urgency. Sora trailed close behind until Riku’s hand wrapped around the doorknob. Just before he turned the knob though, he looked through the peephole. 

There stood a man, tall and mysterious.

“Sora, I’m moving you to the kitchen. Do not speak a word until this door is closed and I come back here, okay.” 

He didn’t put up a fight, not when he’d never seen Riku look so serious in his entire life. They share one final kiss before he’s left in the dim lighting of the kitchen corner. From the corner, Sora listens as the door opens.

“Hello?” Riku’s voice resounds in his ears. It's a calming sound that eases the tension until another voice fills the void. Deep, sensual even, and male. His tone sounds casual, but he can’t shake the feeling that the both of them are in some sort of danger, and the quicker the conversation ends, the better. 

“Good afternoon. This is Riku I am speaking to, correct?” The negative energy only gets stronger as the man stares directly into Riku’s very soul, almost as if reading him like an open book, waiting for him to slip up. 

“This is him. What do you need?” His gaze is unwavering as he plays this silent game with the strange man.
“I’m here just to ask you a few simple questions regarding a package that was delivered to this address not too long ago. Just a quick survey, shouldn’t take no more than a few minutes.” He says, tapping lightly at a clipboard with his pen. Riku’s gaze shifts downwards, then back up after a second. “Sorry, but I don’t do surveys.” He goes to shut the door, only for the man to stop him in his tracks. 

“I’d suggest you don’t make this difficult.” The man’s voice is suddenly deeper than before, right in Riku’s ear. 

“Hey, man, back the fuck off. I’ll call security.” His words do not terrorize the man, but he does step back just enough for comfort. Something then takes over Riku. Something he can’t quite explain. He’s frozen in place.

“You’re quite the brute.” He hears the man scowl, and all he can do is grit his teeth. He’s fortunate to still be tightly jammed in the crack of the doorway, preventing the stranger from entering. The briefest thought of Sora flashes through his mind and more than anything, he wishes to keep Sora away from the man in front of him. Especially if he’s someone from the Heart Factory. 

“Hold on.” If this were a horror film, the sudden ominous, dramatic sirens would be playing around them. That tension, that sudden realization of something that should’ve tipped him off way sooner suddenly crashes over him. “You’re asking about a package. A package I didn’t place an order for, yet it was delivered to me at this address. It was from the Heart Factory. The one that’s been run down for ages. The one with all the rumors surrounding it.” 

The man’s gaze grows sharp and observant again. A look that could kill. “Correct.” His response was simple and Riku couldn’t stand the smugness. The blank, almost robotic response given just made him even more pissed off. 

“Just who the hell are you? And what the hell do you want with me? You clearly don’t work at a factory that’s no longer in business.” The hidden anger regarding why they delivered Sora to him remained seething deep in the pit of his stomach. He had to be confrontational, but smart about it.

“Most of our physical locations shut down due to some… mismanagement. But we still have some locations that are still running. Whoever placed the order for you must have thought considerably of you. Down to the very last detail and accessory.” 

Something deep inside him wanted to snap. No one, not even his worst enemy, would stoop this low. Not Yozora, not…

Naminé came to mind for a brief moment. Surely…no, she knew about the Heart Factory just as much as he did and given her past…he shook the thought away. No one close to him could have done this.

“Then where the hell are you from? The nearest factory to me is an hour away and is shut down for good. Damn human trafficking rumors that turned out to be true. I don’t trust you for one goddamn second.” 

“I am simply here on behalf of the company. We’ve always followed up with our customers to ensure that they’re satisfied with their dolls.” 

“I already told you; I don’t do surveys. So, take that however you will and get the fuck out of here.” He manages with full confidence before slamming the door shut, locking it firmly and looking through the peephole until the man is out of sight. 

He huffs, catching his breath before making a beeline for Sora, taking him into his arms and squeezing tight. 

“What was…that—” 

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t let them, or anyone hurt you. I promise. Nothing can hurt you. Nothing…nothing will ever hurt you.” 

For just a second, Sora felt something closely resembling his old self. His limbs weren’t hollow, his body felt warm and full of the rush of blood flowing through his veins, and he remembered what it felt like to be human; to be scared for his life. Riku’s trembling body reminded him of a memory.

His own trembling body as he lay trying to collect his breath after just running through a field escaping his captors. The bits and pieces of the memory came flooding back and it brought with it dread. A feeling so terrifying he almost swore his knees would buckle under the pressure at just remembering the weight and sting of them after such an intense escape. 

But all that faded just as fast as it hit him and he was back to feeling the hollow emptiness he’d become so accustomed to. If only he could feel the sadness he’d just felt. But it too left him. His body had shut down again. 

Silent, he just became an object for Riku to cling to. 

Chapter Text

For as long as the concept has existed, love has taken on many forms and appearances. The mere existence of love as more than just a word or an emotion felt in the heat of vulnerability, however, was rare. Unconditional love is something preached, yet when it’s laid out in front of an audience it becomes abundantly clear how much of a  rarity it actually is.

The words ‘I love you’ only to be followed up by an invisible set of expectations and greed. 

It’s ‘I love you’ until one of them falls out of line of the beautiful illusion the other built up in their head. It’s unconditional until it isn’t.

He was brilliant; full of so many wonderful ideas. Perceptive to the many ways in which his muse would captivate his attention. There was this otherworldly beauty in that gentle, youthful outlook on the world around them. 

Those three little words danced in the air around them with each subtle brush of twin fingertips against olive and sun kissed skin, or gentle glances between them paired with knowing smiles. 

His muse had dimples. Something that, while common, when shown on his complexion, caused his breath to catch in his throat. There was desire there in the details. They were so smart in how they hid from the rest of the world; just them and their love. But, of course, nothing lasts forever and suddenly those conditions present themselves. 

Early morning rays cast through the thin material of window curtains to wake the two sleeping forms peeking out from a mountain of blankets. It was so unlike him to want to stay in bed, but nothing had been the same for him for a while now. Even the sun seemed to shine a bit brighter. And not just because he was waking up with the sun instead of before it. Looking down, Sora’s expression brought with it this gentle, loving light. It reached even the deepest, darkest parts of Riku’s heart. Truly, Sora was love itself. Kindness so meek and gentle yet so loud and boisterous. A contradiction that he seemed to make work in his favor. 

He knew the depths of his love, but something stirred inside him. Something that he couldn’t quite explain. A part of this deeply concealed darkness whispered to him hints of what it was that could be the answer to his mental distress. Settling right on the tip of his tongue. It pissed him off. Sora always knew what to do and say, even before he went missing. 

He was more than certain that the factory was the key. Sora had been trafficked to the factory where he was tortured beyond what his own mind could comprehend. That was at least the narrative he was running with. From what Sora has told him; the visions, the tormented feeling of being ripped apart then put back together, the sounds of others alongside him whispering in the dark, expressing their sympathies. 

He recalls the night he too had heard the sounds of screaming voices yelling that ‘he’s here!’. Were the voices yelling for him? Or for Sora? Were they trying to lure him in deeper into the factory that day because they knew he was connected to Sora? Or was it them trying so hard to motivate Sora to try and run to him? 

The reasoning for not telling Sora this information never could be justifiable. His uncertainty during all this was an ache he put up with if it meant not only strategically getting Sora back but saving multiple lives and exposing the factory for good. 

For now, he revels in admiring his lover like he’s the most perfectly made creature. Running his hand along the obscene curve of his body covered by the blanket, holding in a soft moan as he gently groped the soft covered skin of his asscheek. His dick twitched, eager for a round or two of love making. It was a perfect formula of having the one and only person he’s ever desired in a romantic manner and having years of pent up sexual frustration spill out. 

He started off gentle, as he always did. Kissing at soft tufts of brown, ruffled hair. Moving down to press his lips to the shell of his ear, then moving down to that freckled, slender neck. 

No reaction.

It only hurt a little realizing that he still hadn’t had Sora back entirely. Sora could be shifting under his every touch, pretending to still be asleep just for Riku to catch a glimpse of a smile across those perfectly plump lips. But for now, his lust filled in the cracks of his fantasies. 

Turning Sora onto his stomach, he kissed down until just reaching the small of his back where he’s greeted by two delicate Venus dimples. His thumbs fit perfectly in those two indents of his skin whenever he’d fuck Sora from behind. 

He rose back up, towering over his sleeping doll, pressing his clothed hardon in between those soft cheeks. 

“You’re perfect for me. Built just for me.” He paused, guilt crashing over him at his own words. A double entendre riddled with heavy implications for the latter. No, no he wasn’t built for him. What happened to Sora was not something to take advantage of. No. He couldn’t be another abuser for him. 

With his erection not nearly as much of a burden anymore, he curls up behind Sora’s sleeping body, allowing himself to slip back into the hands of sleep. 

“I’m going out for a bit. Shouldn’t take too long.” Riku says with a hint of boredom in his tone. 

“Alright. Where’re you going?”  Sora’s curious gaze peeks out from behind the kitchen corner, his eyes shifting over Riku’s form in front of the doorway. 

“Just got a few errands to run. Plus, groceries need to be handled.” 

Sora nods at the reasoning before walking over to Riku, albeit with a few tumbles along the way. He’s caught every time though, and he has to swear he’s not doing it on purpose, not that Riku would mind either way. He always flashes him that warm, gentle, and loving smile down at him, and it makes his heart eyes simply sparkle. The moment the door closes behind him though, and he’s left all alone he crumbles. All he can do is settle himself on the couch and curl in on himself until his Master returns. 

The darkness of the apartment is too much. Try as he may to ignore it, the sounds of birds chirping and nearby construction turn into clanking and throbbing of heavy machinery once more. Flashes of red and yellow and orange overtake his mental state and suddenly he’s back in his normal body again. 

He's running. Feet kicking off concrete on the highway, then the metal walkways of the factory. The smell of wheat fields turns to rust and debris and then he’s being seduced by golden orbs dazzling in the dark shadows surrounding him. 

He clings to his body with the mental reminder that he’s here in the present. Riku’s gone but he’s all around him. His shirt draped over his torso, covering him in his scent. The smell of his earthy cologne wafting through the air still. The couch he’s curled up on even has that warming comfort that he relates back to Riku. Riku’s home is where he is at. Where he is safe. 

The anxiety coursing through his veins after leaving Sora home alone caused a near spiral, not even focusing on the road seemed to clear his mind because every distance away from him just piled on yet another paranoid induced scenario. Never in the few years that he’d lived on his own in that complex had a single case of breaking and entering occurred. Of course, all rational thinking just goes out the window the moment he reminds himself that he’s got a full on sex doll laying out in the open. Barely dressed too. 

There’s that sudden guilt again. For once, his mind is taken off the paranoia just for guilt and shame to take over. And yet, for every second of shame he still could not figure out what made him feel compelled to feel that heavy of an emotion upon thinking these things. He could feel the answer was right there until—

The sudden sound of a car horn behind him takes him out of his thoughts. He apologizes silently to the people behind him, wishing he could hide away in shame. Good thing for him his exit was next and just up ahead. 

After the awkward situation with traffic he’s making quick work at getting the needed groceries on his list. It’s both a blessing and a curse that Sora’s body doesn’t need to rely on conventional means of nutrition to sustain a life. Although…that’s not to say he doesn’t get well fed. Riku’s thankful for his high fertility in that matter. Though, it of course came as a shock to find that—well, maybe not so much of a surprise given the context—Sora’s primary source of nutrients derived from his seed.

Shaking away the thought, less he deal with a sudden hardon in public, he turned down the next aisle of food before suddenly stopping. A couple at the other end of the aisle caught his eye. A woman with short, deep sea blue hair and a slender, athletic build; dressed in a simple, modest dress that reached down to her ankles and a simple cardigan over the dress. The man next to her was handsome, even giving Riku a small hint of butterflies in his stomach. Dark tan complexion and the most gorgeous blue eyes (of course not as gorgeous as Sora’s but he’s not about to turn this into a competition). He’s wearing a simple t-shirt that hugged his upper torso just right, giving him quite a view of well-defined abs and pecs that jutted out ever so slightly with…he was not expecting to see jnco jeans, but he supposes he made it work well for his physic. 

He feels a sudden connection between them, and he suspects that they too feel it because suddenly they’re all three making contact with each other and for a split moment he sees what looks like shock on the woman’s face before she’s suddenly approaching him. 

“Excuse me.” Her voice reaches his ears and it’s like an angel speaking to him. Her eyelashes flutter in almost slow motion until he realizes she’s looking over his shoulder at the produce behind him.

 “Oh! I’m so sorry.” As if he couldn’t look anymore embarrassing. She offers him a gentle, unserious laugh as she reaches for the items he’d previously been standing in front of. She faces the man now standing at her side, asking for his opinion between the two items in her hands. They made such a perfect duo. Would Sora and I look this good? He hadn’t even noticed that he’d sunk too deep into his mind until he realized the couple had left him, turning the corner into the next aisle. 

He kicks off into a sprint in hopes of catching the couple again. “Hey, wait!” Just as he’d hoped, the man and woman both turn back to face him with twin expressions. He hears the woman’s cautious “yes?” just before clutching at her tote bag. Then, he sees the man protectively step in front of her without a word. 

“I’m sorry to approach you so suddenly, I just—” panting hard, he takes a moment to collect himself physically. Then, that’s when his eyes land on something in the woman’s tote. It looked like a few flyers loosely placed inside as if ready to pull out at any given moment’s notice. 

He wasn’t expecting for the woman’s gaze to shift from him to the flyers before she looked back at him with almost a glint of hope in her eyes.

“Terra, I think he might know about…” Her voice still carried a soft spoken tone but this time with a more notable joy to it. The man, who he came to know as Terra, nodded before turning his attention back to him. 

He took out one of the flyers, handing it to him. 

“We’ve been…putting these up all over town. He’s been missing for…God it’s been far too long.” 

The image on the flyer was of a young man, possibly a few years older than Sora, with blond hair (just as unruly as Sora’s too). And that’s when he sees those beautiful blueish green eyes. So much like Sora’s again. The boy on the flyer reminded him so much of Sora and it’s only then that he feels this unfamiliar, yet painful tug of his heart as he looks up from the flyer to the couple again. 

A single trail of tears fell down his cheeks as his lips muttered a single name. 

“Aqua?” 

The woman’s eyes went wide and for a moment she quietly observed him before gripping at the straps of her bag. “This is her. Were you…one of my past students?” She stepped closer. 

“No. No, I wasn’t. I just…I saw this flyer and I just…I had this aching feeling in my gut.” Riku answers truthfully, despite his words coming across as insane or uncertain. The couple then give each other this knowing look before compelling Riku to join them on their shopping. 

“It was raining the night he went missing. Ventus always had an eye for adventure. He’d always be the one dragging us out to bars on weekends until he could barely stand and it’d be us dragging him home.” She let a soft, fond laugh escape her lips as if recalling a specific memory. 

“But, he was a brilliant mind. He had so much empathy for those around him. But…” Her words caught in her throat, “There was one night where he didn’t come back home. Terra and I couldn’t join him that night…” 

Riku listened to Aqua’s story as she recalled the details. He’d discovered so much more about the young man on the flyer in his hand. Like how he wasn’t so much of a party animal, rather a social butterfly. Making friends was as easy as breathing for him.

“Sounds like…someone I know.” He let the thought slip unintentionally. Aqua caught that fond, adoring expression gleaming in his eyes. “Then you must love them just as much as we love our Ven.” She spoke with a gentle understanding that it nearly brought forth more of those salty tears. 

“Is Ventus a relative? Sibling?” 

The couples’ faces went flush red, both of them suddenly more than shy about the assumption. 

“Oh! No, no. Ventus is…well, he’s our third.” Clearing his throat, Terra explained. Now it was Riku’s turn to turn as red as the tomatoes he’d found himself standing by. After nearly tripping over his own feet trying to bow in apologies, Terra and Aqua dismissed the honest mistake. “It’s not like it’s all that common around here. You’re more than fine.” 

With the slight curling of his lips, Riku knew that he could trust these two. But there was something else that he didn’t let on to them, not yet that is.

“Exchange numbers?” He suggested. If there’s one thing I’m certain of it’s that Ventus will be found. Without hesitation, they agreed and after all was said and done, he sat in the parking lot staring off into nothingness. 

He felt it. 

That strange tugging of his heart that he’d felt with Sora so many times already. But…this wasn’t Sora. It felt so much like him and yet it wasn’t. He couldn’t explain it but whatever the reasoning was, he needed to get home soon and begin to prepare to return to the Heart Factory to hopefully settle whatever the hell this all was. 

“Sorry I was out later than intended, Sora–” Upon entering his apartment he finds Sora curled in on himself, unresponsive. There’s something haunting in the way Sora’s body laid there, sullen and stiff and unmoving. “Sora?” This time, he’s on high alert. The usual way in which Sora shuts down didn’t seem apparent this time around. Something almost seemed more haunting about the atmosphere now. Maybe it was the darkness of the apartment, or the chilling silence. Or the fact that Sora’s eyes were dull and lifeless.

It’s suddenly too quiet. Too cold. Too eerie. He drops everything in his hands to hold the boy in his arms. He knew it was a bad idea to leave him for as long as he did, and he’s making up for it as best as he can now with gentle cradles of the delicate doll in his hands, rocking him back and forth while trying all he can to bring him back with the sound of his voice alone. Recalling old memories in hopes that maybe it would wake him up. The last resort of fucking him out of this was off the table completely. There was a time and a place and this was not the time for him to try resorting to sex to get them both happy again. 

Or…was it his own happiness? Sora’s asleep, lost in the deepest trenches of his own mind. Was it truly Sora’s happiness that he was doing all this for?

…

…

…

Hours seemed to pass. Sora now laid on the couch, covered in the thickest blanket they had, his expression blank and his body still cold to the touch. When Riku looked at him, he could only see the uncanny valley. 

The doll laying on his couch didn’t feel like Sora. There was no light or love there. The punch to the gut upon even acknowledging that he even thought those things left him feeling sick to his stomach. As Sora laid there, deep in sleep once again, the only thing racing through his mind was the factory and returning to it. Though, he couldn’t be hasty with this no matter how close he felt to solving this mystery and returning Sora back to his old self.

With a soft brush of his fingers through Sora’s hair, he made a silent vow that he wouldn’t give up. 

“Not until I save you.” 

There was then a sudden shuffle underneath the blanket, and then there’s gorgeous, dazzling eyes looking up at him; glassy, with the smallest hearts that practically sparkled. Sora’s smile was still just as gentle, but there was something different. Something almost human, like an emotion was paired up with the smile. Instead of feeling relieved, Riku only felt exhaustion. Sora’s eyes closed again, and he hums sweetly. 

Another guilty feeling and a shaking of his head stirs Riku to sit up, ignoring the dazed doll. It wasn’t anger or shame in Sora, he could never imagine being either of those things towards him. But he knew he couldn’t look at Sora right now. 

The curtains to the window had been drawn earlier and the doors had been locked after he got home, so he left Sora alone on the couch as he crawled under the sheets of his own bed, burying his head under the pillow as he let his frustrations seep into the mattress.