[✐fanfic] yugioh: tendershipping
Just what the title says. Rough, aimless tendershipping.
Here you go.
tendershipping
“Ring,” murmured the landlord one night, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping a hand across the cool metal; the spirit felt a vague tingle, a sharp pang of alarm: the boy couldn’t have grown suspicious again. What a pain, if so. Having to retrain his host, like the owner of an unruly pet....
Yet instead of taking him off, the boy lifted the Item to his face, nuzzled it gently against cotton-cloud hair. “Ring,” he sighed, and kissed the metal with a faint laugh; the spirit bristled, but made no moves. This...didn’t seem dangerous. Just - bizarre.
Had this boy - in his foolishness, in his simpleton’s pure naivete - believed that the feelings of safety and security the spirit, after this landlord's past defiance, had sought to promote actually were....?
His landlord had brainwashed himself.
The landlord lay back on the couch, running his fingers in newfound awe over the grooves and ornaments upon the Item; the spirit sulked within the object, supposing this too was an opportunity to exploit...but....
“Ring,” sighed the boy, dropping the pendant back to his chest. The spirit, morbidly curious - how low into depravity and codependence had the boy’s mind actually sunk? - dove the Ring’s spindles into the waiting skin.
The landlord jumped, cried - and relaxed, sighing, flushed, a tiny grin forcing itself onto his lips. “You’re here,” he murmured happily. “I knew it....Ring~”
“Landlord,” purred the Spirit, sinking in deep just to feel the boy’s face start with pleasure. “The perfect landlord....”
The boy smiled, closed his eyes, still stroking his precious Item. The spirit within the Ring, relaxing as well, decided this would work out for the best, indeed. He was a thief, and a murderer, and the darkness itself, but to his landlord if no one else, he never lied.
The boy’s mind had, of its own free will, twisted his insinuations and turned them into total, affectionate dependence. He wanted to be controlled!
“Yes,” sighed the spirit, more amused than anything else - amused, and rather absurdly proud. “Yes, you’re the perfect landlord, after all.”
Here you go.
tendershipping
“Ring,” murmured the landlord one night, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping a hand across the cool metal; the spirit felt a vague tingle, a sharp pang of alarm: the boy couldn’t have grown suspicious again. What a pain, if so. Having to retrain his host, like the owner of an unruly pet....
Yet instead of taking him off, the boy lifted the Item to his face, nuzzled it gently against cotton-cloud hair. “Ring,” he sighed, and kissed the metal with a faint laugh; the spirit bristled, but made no moves. This...didn’t seem dangerous. Just - bizarre.
Had this boy - in his foolishness, in his simpleton’s pure naivete - believed that the feelings of safety and security the spirit, after this landlord's past defiance, had sought to promote actually were....?
His landlord had brainwashed himself.
The landlord lay back on the couch, running his fingers in newfound awe over the grooves and ornaments upon the Item; the spirit sulked within the object, supposing this too was an opportunity to exploit...but....
“Ring,” sighed the boy, dropping the pendant back to his chest. The spirit, morbidly curious - how low into depravity and codependence had the boy’s mind actually sunk? - dove the Ring’s spindles into the waiting skin.
The landlord jumped, cried - and relaxed, sighing, flushed, a tiny grin forcing itself onto his lips. “You’re here,” he murmured happily. “I knew it....Ring~”
“Landlord,” purred the Spirit, sinking in deep just to feel the boy’s face start with pleasure. “The perfect landlord....”
The boy smiled, closed his eyes, still stroking his precious Item. The spirit within the Ring, relaxing as well, decided this would work out for the best, indeed. He was a thief, and a murderer, and the darkness itself, but to his landlord if no one else, he never lied.
The boy’s mind had, of its own free will, twisted his insinuations and turned them into total, affectionate dependence. He wanted to be controlled!
“Yes,” sighed the spirit, more amused than anything else - amused, and rather absurdly proud. “Yes, you’re the perfect landlord, after all.”