Actions

Work Header

Enter the Darkness

Work Text:

Yeah, he was kind of a creep- and an asshole at that too. Vanitas would admit to that. Hell, he wasn’t even a fan of the club scene really; too much pointless noise and that fucking awful excuse for music booming everywhere. No, what he was a fan of was the hunt- the thrill of the pursuit and finally ensnaring his prey. It just so happened that the stupid bitches who frequented this particular establishment were, in more than one way, easy prey. In general, he wasn’t even really into women like that- the only thing that really compared to the hunt was leaving them wanting even more from him.

And tonight’s prey seemed somehow out of place- sure, she fit the early-mid 20s demographic, but that frilly white sundress, flame-red hair, petite frame, and big eyes of hers made the woman look like she was out of some hokey fucking romance novel.

Popping out his collar confidently, Vanitas made his way- none too conspicuously of course, to the woman’s table.

“So what brings a sweet, delicate little thing like you to a place like this?” he inquired pompously.

Fuck, seriously?! “Truth be told, I was waiting for a friend.” the woman lied, listlessly stirring the straw of her untouched drink. “But I seem to have lost track of her.”

The youth chuckled arrogantly. “Well, it doesn’t have to be all bad. Gives us a chance to get to know each other a little better. So what’s your name, gorgeous? Mine’s Vanitas- I’m kinda a big deal around these parts.”

The woman’s eyes rolled briefly before responding with another falsehood. “I’m Melissa.”

Vanitas chuckled sinisterly. “Melissa,’ huh?” he remarked, somewhat less haughtily. “Pretty name, prettier girl. So can I get you anything, Melissa? A drink or something?”

With a dose of roofies while you’re at it, you obnoxious fuckboy? “Actually, I think I’m going to head home.” “Melissa” said truthfully.

“Hey, sounds good to me, babe. Though I kinda prefer my place- it’s a familiarity thing, y’know?”

Rising from the the chair with a huff, “Melissa” turned towards the exit, her steps unusually quick and long for her wearing heeled sandals. Much to the dismay of the would-be charmer. “Come on!” he whined. “Don’t be that way!”

 

As opposed to actual dismay, Vanitas was more angered than anything else; how dare this prissy little dolled-up cunt just blow him off like this! It was inconceivable that she thought herself so much better than her peers, to be completely immune to his charm, made no sense! Was she just a dyke or something? Either way, he would give the bitch a piece of his mind.

Stalking from the club in pursuit of this witch, in spite of her long strides, Vanitas did manage to catch up to the woman outside the abandoned warehouse not far from the establishment, uncomfortably crowding her personal space.

“Hey, bitch!” he spat, unconsciously attempting to make himself seem more physically imposing than he already was. “What were you getting at back there?!”

“Melissa” crooked her head sideways in mock confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”

Slamming his fist into the wall, Vanitas’ expression flared. “You completely fucking humiliated me in that club!”

The redhead looked on him with a blank expression. “I thought that was simply part of the game, little boy.” she remarked. “Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t.”

Reasonably sure there was at least one vein visibly pulsing in his forehead, Vanitas was too angry to think straight, grasping “Melissa’s” dainty wrist tightly. “Now, you listen here, bitch-”

Apparently, this action- actually, physically touching her, set “Melissa” off a good deal. Just from her mere appearance, Vanitas (or anyone truthfully) would not have expected the dexterity to not only deftly escape the grab, but the strength to effortlessly reverse their positions, pinning his arm behind his back and slamming his cheek against the concrete wall.

“No, YOU listen here, boy.” the redhead growled, her voice low and dangerous as she forced the arm further into Vanitas’ back. “You think you’re SO fucking charming, women should just be throwing themselves on you, huh?”

Vanitas managed to get out a grunt of shock and pain at the abrupt impact. “Ngh- you fucking cunt!”

His outburst earned him more discomfort and a probable dislocated left shoulder. “Yeah, I am, what of it?” the woman scowled. “But you? You think you’re so fucking irresistible that you can just do whatever you want, you little bitch? Didn’t your mother or whatever spawned you teach you to keep your hands to yourself?”

Well, no, not really, Vanitas considered; but that was kind of beside the point right now, yet he could not exactly find the presence of mind- whether due to his outrage at being manhandled as such or otherwise- to cognitively protest this. "Fuck you- FUCK YOU!" he raged, struggling against the woman's strength to little avail. "When I get out of this hold-"

"Melissa" kicked the lad in his exposed ankle bone, splaying his legs in a very exaggerated, uncomfortable stance. Hoping it purely an adrenaline-fueled reaction, Vanitas swore profusely to himself at a certain sensation becoming rather...distracting- and downright humiliating were it not a simple largely-involuntary reaction. Even before the shrill, cruel laugh ringing through the warehouse, Vanitas could feel those eyes narrowing into malicious slits, boring into the back of his head as his tormentor took notice.

"Oh, fucking wow!" the redhead exclaimed, a third in contempt, surprise, and disgust respectively. "You're really getting hard off this?! Seriously?! Oh, wow! You men really are all the same! Nothing but stupid...fucking...ugly...beasts."

As befitting such humiliation on top of the taunts, Vanitas, having dragged himself out of the hold on sheer rage and willpower, quickly recovered from the faceplant against the concrete wall, roared in fury. Whatever the fuck he'd come here to do or say, he was now concerned with little more than to tear this...thing limb from limb, rushing at the woman with all the thoughtful abandon of a herd of elephants.

 

Apparently, this had somehow worked against his advantage- seeing as before he could consciously register much of anything, he'd found himself lifted up somehow, his stomach and chest impacting against the desk which he now found himself bent over- still very, very, infuriatingly hard, much to his chagrin. Feeling the presence of the redheaded demon very imminently, Vanitas detected an (relatively speaking) innocent chuckle from her before an exceptionally-strong- borderline-painful grip around his crotch.

"Wow, you really get off on me kicking your ass, don't you, you little sissy?" taunted "Melissa" viciously, Vanitas somehow getting a sense of deja vu from this utterly-transparent cruelty in her tone.

"You fucking CUNT!" growled the lad, his struggling and rage no match for his disorientation and the leverage provided by the desk for the woman's hold. "I'll fucking kill you!"

She was obviously ignoring his invective, but Vanitas felt his blood (?) run cold at the very familiar tapping away- indicating his phone was being used by someone not him, his tormentor giving an chuckle of amusement. "Oh, who's this little blond twink you've got a million pictures of?" she inquired, feigning innocence. "Running, swimming, sleeping, in the bath-"

"He's no one!" spat Vanitas, his face still very flushed. "What the fuck are you doing on that?!"

Painfully grasping the bulge in the crotch of his pants, Vanitas was sure those deceptively-dainty hands could have torn his dick off were their owner so inclined. "Is he your boyfriend or something?" the redhead inquired cruelly. "You getting hard thinking about him, huh? You wishing he could be fucking your ass right now?"

"Shut up!"

It was an awkward maneuver to keep Vanitas in the hold, sure, but the she-demon managed to call his bluff by removing his tight, rather expensive black jeans, exposing most of his lower body to the drafty warehouse air. At her taunts having quite a bit of truth behind them, the woman gave a cruel, haughty laugh. "Oh, fuck! Oh, wow!" she exclaimed, resuming her vise-grip-like grasp around his awkwardly-exposed member, stroking harshly as she hovered over her prey. "You men really WILL get turned on by anything!"

"Fuck you!"

"Say, 'yes, Mistress Dahlia, please fuck my tight little ass with your huge strap-on.'  You can even pretend I'm your boyfriend- no icky lady parts involved."

"Never!"

 

Dahlia, huh, thought Vanitas. It did seem to fit her faux-innocent, hipster cunt act, he admitted to himself. But he couldn't really be getting turned on by being handled like this? That goody-goody Ventus, sure- but this went against every facet of the self-image he'd built up over the years. Hell, the woman was stroking him off harshly not to please him, but hurt him!

Slamming his head against the desk as she continued her painful teasing, the redhead smirked cruelly. "Like I said, don't get a big head." she growled into his ear. "They're not my first choice, true, but I fuck dykes manlier than you pretty regularly."

"Great!" Vanitas exclaimed sincerely. "Go fuck with them then!"

"Well, I WOULD, it's just- I can't understand for the life of me what all these stupid bitches- like my dear sister and her fucking knight-in-shining-armor fantasies- think is so fucking great about this. This ugly little thing you men all seem so proud of. And those diabetes-sweet, do-gooder couples who are so fucking vanilla that 'missionary' may as well be a four letter word? Ugh!"

Vanitas could also sympathize with her disgust at such couples- given both halves of one such couple constantly making his life way more difficult than it needed to be.

"And since fuckboys like you can't take 'no' for an answer-"

Abruptly releasing her grip on his non-arm appendage, Dahlia forced the lad to his feet, awkwardly walking him over to a ratty old couch in the corner. Pushing Vanitas onto the furniture, for whatever reason, he could (or would) do little but watch in fearful awe as the woman slid the dress he'd so derided from her slight frame. True, he had his preferences (namely the blond), but he could not deny that the woman was, nonetheless, stunning- in a vaguely, somehow masturbatory sense.

He'd give her that he could possibly be turned on by by talking dirty, if not outright abusively. Vanitas could accept that- but the ass-kicking part was something he was not quite willing to accept. Not that Dahlia intended to give him much say in the matter, forcing him back onto the couch with that unnatural strength of hers as she lowered himself onto his length with a shudder of pleasure.

"Huh, you like that, you little bitch?" she challenged. "Not so bad, is it you fucking queen?"

No, he could not say that it was, Vanitas admitted. Not unlike her hands, the woman's cunt seemed to grip him to the point of being literally painful- Vanitas, actively attempting not to give her a reaction turned his face away from her with a huff.

Dahlia however, was not especially pleased with this, the slap she delivered to his cheek stinging unusually strongly. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, you little bitch!"

With little other choice than to comply, Vanitas did so, recoiling at the downright demonic mixture of hatred and lust her eyes communicated to him frightened him on a visceral level- and made him even harder than he'd ever been in his life. "Yeah, you LOVE this, don't you?!"

Vanitas, mind still blanked with a heady combination of rage, shame, and arousal, only replied with a moan. Dahlia, on the other hand, damn near cumming herself, drove her fingernails into the lad's chest for good measure, drawing a noticeable amount of blood as she dragged the nails down his body.

 

It was not surprising that “Melissa” was having the time of her fucking life, her fingers coated in blood, clawing further into the wounds she’d created as she came again.

Unsurprisingly, this experience left Vanitas feeling...more than slightly violated. As well as bruised, scratched, terrified for his life- and to add insult to injury, more fucking turned on than he’d ever been in his life, only able to watch the she-demon redress herself in fascinated terror.

“Well, I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson, young man.” Dahlia remarked, smoothing out some of the creases in her dress, the inhuman malice and sadism in her tone removed as though by a light switch. “No. Means. No.”

Normally loathe to let an infantilizing, schoolmarm-like lecture like that pass without a challenge (or at least a few swears in response), Vanitas was too terrified to do anything but to let her turn on her heel to leave the warehouse, abruptly turning around as she approached the exit.

“Oh, and by the by,” she continued, the mischievous smile on her lips rather mild by comparison. “any of my- shall we say, lady friends are FAR superior to you.”

Well, that was certainly the most emasculating experience of his life- Vanitas could process that now. However, he still couldn’t get over the fact that this she-demon had overpowered him so effortlessly AND that he could cut fucking diamonds with his dick right now. The bitch didn’t even let me get off, he thought irritably.

Still laid out on that ratty old couch, the lower half of his outfit scattered across the warehouse floor, Vanitas, now reasonably certain the redheaded terror was not coming back for him, was still rather frustrated sexually. Picking up his phone which had somehow survived the encounter, Vanitas decided to try something reliable to accomplish what “Melissa” had intentionally denied him.

“Hey Ventus. What are you wearing?” his fingers typed, other hand gripping his cock.