Dark and Creepy: These will blow your mind.

Rhea-sama · Dark and Creepy: These will blow your mind.

These fics are not for the faint of heart. I have warned you. No happy endings here. The best you can hope for is bittersweet--and that's on the light end of the scale.

Stories

Restraint

Straightjacket

Rhea-sama · Restraint

Restraint

It had often been noted that underneath the baggy turtlenecks, flowing labcoats, and long overcoats, Watari wore snug, restrictive clothing.

Granted, the birth of the internet, cyberpunk fashion, and excess of free time may have morphed it into some sort of kink over the years, but even before then, Watari had always worn tight clothes, hidden under two or three layers of other fabric. He had always done so.

He was perpetually cold so he wrapped himself in layers and layers of fabric, desperately hoping to keep himself warm.

He was afraid of people and their capacity to hurt others, so he put on armor in the guise of cloth, shielding himself from their touch.

He enjoyed the play of light against shiny latex and PVC, he loved the smell and soft, raw feel of leather. He liked that they were close and tangible, in no danger of leaving him.

However, what Watari really needed from his layers upon layers of clothes, was restraint.

He had none himself, and he needed some sort of reminder to curb his exuberance, to still his tongue, to stop and think things through.

He needed that self-imposed restriction. He needed that constant bar in order to still his thoughts, to slow his mind which was churning with ever-flowing thought.
Why were his thoughts so out of control lately? It didn't used to be this bad...

One day Watari showed up to work with studded armbands, cutting into his skin like a tourniquet. Nobody noticed until he took off his labcoat for a moment, accidentally revealing it. Tatsumi made him take it off.

The next day Watari returned and his fingertips were purple.

Furious, Tatsumi ripped back his layers of sleeves to reveal more constrictive bands, three on each arm.

When asked about it the only thing Watari would mutter was 'deceleration.'

The process repeated itself for twelve days in a row. The other Shinigami became disturbed. Watari wasn't behaving like himself.

His mouth kept on running, and so did his voice. Comically the sounds and motions were almost out of sync. Watari talked himself hoarse, voice reduced to a grunting whisper. He would start laughing at random, for no reason and couldn't stop himself for hours. The same thing happened with crying.

He couldn't sit still. He didn't sit down. He paced throughout the office, running when he could get away with it.

His fingertips were purple again, bruised and ugly. He had stopped sleeping, mind refusing to shut off, too many ideas running through his head. He couldn't keep track of them all.

Tatsumi wrote a report to the King of Hades, begging him to look at Watari and lock away the madness that was eating away at the scientist.

He started wearing some kind of modified corset beneath his clothes, steel boning stitched into the sides, cracking his ribs.
Suddenly papers followed Watari like rain. Too many ideas. Too many. He had to write them down or else, or else, or else, or else...

A steady supply of paper and ballpoint pens were set up around the office at strategic points. They'd come in one morning to discover a filled notebook on the floor. On the walls there were streaks of ink and then blood, where Watari walked past them, pressing bleeding fingertips against them, leaving behind a trail of bloodied plaster. He'd run out out of pen so he'd resorted to his fingers.

At the end of the day the papers would be gathered and amid the disjointed, structureless thoughts a recurring plea was seen to interrupt all his messages, a cyclic pattern of thought. "Help, help, restraint, restraint." The last word kept appearing more and more, becoming larger and shakier, as if becoming more desperate and less sure in its meaning. Finally the word completely dissipated, the strokes only marginally coming together to form a word.

Enma was still looking over Watari's appeal, the plea Tatsumi had sent to the monarch to help his friend and employee.

Watari was a mad, mad creature. No longer resembling the man he once was. His hands were withered and destroyed from repeated motion and dramatic cut to blood flow. There was a track in the carpet that he had created, wearing out the fibers completely. His ribs had broken, healed, and broken again and now had healed back wrong, twisting his posture, deforming his chest cavity.
No one said anything when Enma denied Tatsumi's request.

They averted their gazes when the hawk-faced attendants came and put him in shackles and chains, twisting his useless arms behind his back and binding them at the wrist, dislocating his shoulders in their movements.

They pretended they couldn't hear the blond's sigh of temporary relief, restraint at last...

No one mentioned it when Tatsumi went into a rage and destroyed the lab, ripping everything apart with his shadows.

Everyone behaved quite normally as the lab continued to go unrepaired and unreplaced.

Watari had always needed a little restraint.

pyro_o

ooh. Watari. Bondage-ish. *giggles*

*bats eyelashes* I demand you write a ficcage for me. :3

Rhea-sama

pyro_o

"Bright is the ring of words
When the right man rings them
Fair the fall of songs
When the singer sings them

Still they are carolled and said
On wings they are carried.."

there's my prompt. I demand Tsusoka. Like.. now. *pouts*

Rhea-sama

Okay XD (Oy, get yourself in the chatroom!!)

But first I have to write that straight jacket story o.o

pyro_o

fine. fine. I'm getting there. XD

Rhea-sama · Straightjacket.

Contains adult action. Use proper discretion.

Straightjacket

Watari Yutaka was insane.

Not the cute, friendly, funny sort of insane that people were used to associating with him, no. This was, unsafe around self and others sort of crazy. A malady of the mind so strong, his body, soul, and mind were all but disconnected, tethered together by the merest of threads.

Tatsumi stopped outside of Watari's cell. The secretary didn't even know why he came anymore. It was a habit long in the forming, and he hated every minute of it. Hated it because each time he saw this new Watari, he would forget the old one a little bit more. He looked in through the bars on the steel door. He was sitting in the corner hunched over like usual hair obscuring his face, wrapped and bound in his black straightjacket. Black with lightning-yellow stripes.

Black for the rotting of his mind.

Yellow for the warning he was dangerous. Like a wild, venemous beast, "don't touch me."

The door clicked and swung forward on its hinges.

Tatsumi knew that was his invitation. Gods he hated this.

He stepped forward into the padded room. Chains rattled as Watari lifted his head to look at Tatsumi, color leeched from his eyes entirely. Gray, gray, vapid and gray. What color had Watari's eyes been? Hadn't they been gold like the sun at one time? Brown like honey? Didn't they used to flash and shine with every thought and feeling?

The sheer amount of magic put into Watari's chains made Tatsumi's teeth ache a little, like he'd been clenching his jaw for too long.

The kagetsukai held his breath, maybe Watari wouldn't notice him today. He felt so .. responsible. He knew it wasn't his fault, he knew who had done this to the man, but he still felt culpable.

Those blank eyes stared at him and a desperate voice that was too tonally flat called to him, "Tatsumiiiiii...." Was it wrong to wish the man wasn't in a talkative mood? (And yet somehow Tatsumi wanted to give everything and anything to have the endless droning of that Kansai accent back.) "Tatsumiiii..." How could madness take away even that? That Kansai-ben he was so proud of? "Tatsumiiii.. I need you. I want you Tatsumi." It was as if Watari had forgotten he'd made these decelerations before.

He shook his lank hair out of his face, "Tatsumi...where are you? I want you.. I want you to distraction...I'm so lonely in here..." Tatsumi felt wetness on his cheeks. Why? Hadn't his heart acclimated itself to this by now?

"I'm right here Watari." That head tilted back and those unreadable eyes reflected something like disbelief,

"..Really?"

"Of course. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Would I lie to me?"

"Watari.. you're not imagining me."

"Easy for you to say," hallucination. Was the unspoken epitaph.

There was a long silence. Tatsumi almost considered leaving.

Then,

"Screw me." Take me, fuck me, fill me, feel me, do me. Just let me borrow your sanity!

It was awkward, as it always was, there were too many restraints, but at least the chains were long enough for Watari to roll over and scoot away from the wall. Tatsumi fumbled with the straps. It was too dark in here, but light would have made the situation even more unbearable. Because that would mean he'd have to see what he was doing. Without semblance of intimacy and with near-offensive haste Tatsumi shed his tie, jacket, and pants. Watari moaned in a parody of anticipation, voice oddly flat. Tatsumi didn't even have to strip Watari. He loosened the strap between the man's leg so that it could be moved aside, and then he simply slid the man's pants partway down his thighs. He left the arm straps secure, even binding them a little tighter, as they had loosened since the time he came last. (The first time he had given into Watari's request, he'd almost killed them both. Tatsumi didn't even consider freeing his arms anymore.)

He summoned his shadows, covering the windows, plunging the room further into darkness. Watari's body responded to the familiar stimuli, arching up against Tatsumi's form. The secretary did away with his briefs, disgusted to find himself hard as a rock. Even this watered down, phantom version of Watari still had that power over him. "Watari.."

"Fuck me Tatsumi, fuck me hard. I want to see stars.. I never see them anymore." The secretary reached down around those hips to play at that erection, brisk and business-like in motions. Another almost moan, as if Watari wished for it to be genuine. "Tatsumi screw me. Screw me through the floor, I want out of here.." Oh gods he hated this.. times like now when Watari was lucid, or near enough to it, that he was aware of his situation. At least most of the time he wasn't aware he was crazy. Or at least it was claimed...

But if sex was the only escape he could over, then sex he would give.

Watari's body writhed, even if vocally he was off and disconnected from what was going on. And those hip bones, those straps, those cheeks rubbing flush against his pelvis were driving up his body heat, seducing him into wanting more against his will.

Somewhere from the floor Watari's indifferent voice floated up to him, "Tatsumi..." The secretary understood and put his shadows to use again, trendils snaking under that coat, going places he couldn't, caressing and tickling those hands that weren't allowed to move. He guided himself to Watari's enterence, disquieted by the notion that anyone could use Watari as a receptacle for his or her desire, and then banished that thought away. He used another shadow to shield his skin from direct contact, earning a true groan of protest from Watari.

"Noooooo..." Tatsumi frowned,

"It hurts any other way.. for me too." Watari's voice sounded bitter as he shot back,

"So? So what if it hurts! Everything hurts, existing hurts, I hurt.. all I want to do is be with you and you won't even let yourself touch me... I just want to feel you.." Tatsumi half-cursed and reached down around those hips again and coated his fingers in the liquid gathered there. Using his own pre-cum he did his best to form a makeshift lubricant before placing himself at the ring of Watari's enterence again.

"Better?" A nod, and Tatsumi could see, even in the darkness, the wet glimmer of tears.

Gods how he hated this. Their bodies sliding against each other in the dark, Watari's off-key, out of place screams of desire, his own need for the action, the fact that he liked how it felt.. everything. Everything about this was wrong and it continued to be wrong and it rankled Tatsumi. Each thrust cut into the man beneath him deeply and keener than the edge of any knife. And for a scant moment as he came, and when Tatsumi followed just behind him, his achromatic eyes flickered gold.

Again in haste Tatsumi cleaned himself off and fixed Watari's straps and pants as they had been. He dressed himself both swiftly and reluctantly, not wanting the feelings of 'sullied' to transfer themselves onto his clothes.

He had to go home now. Had to. He would go home, change, shower, jerk off, shower again and then hide under the covers for the rest of the day. That's how it went. He raced to the door. Watari already curled up in his corner again. But it seemed no matter how fast he moved, no matter how quickly he fled, Tatsumi always heard the sigh of...

"Muraki..." With inordinate pleasure. Tatsumi knew if he turned back he would see Watari, staring vacantly with too-familiar silver eyes, unaware of his presence, heedless to the fact that he had spoken. Tears ran down Tatsumi's cheeks again as he exited the room. Oh gods he hated this. He hated that doctor for what he had done.

Vengeance rights and honor vows be damned.

Tatsumi would kill that doctor one day, for everything he had done.

End.

pyro_o

ugh. I had to scroll down past the graphic part, or else I'd be scarred for life. 8DD

but. omg. my angst story isn't going to get written anytime soon, I'm afraid- considering that fluff is expanding my repertoire.. and my angst muse has gone to Guam instead. XP

Watari IS insane. Just not like this. 8DD

oh, goodness. do write more- perhaps it'll convince my angst muse to come back from Guam. >_>;

Rhea-sama

pyro_o

I got the general idea, and that's pretty good enough for me. XDD

uhm.. I do hope so. I'm not paying her ticket back, that's for sure. XP

Paurie

*cires* Well, it wasn't so much that it broke my heart. ^^; Then you'd be in trouble. >3

Very good... But.... I loves my fluff. ;_; *walks into a corner singing of love*

Otome no Shichiyou · I hurt for them.

I hurt for both Watari and Tatsumi. You did a wonderful job writing this. I could feel their pain and need so keenly. It was if I was looking into their souls. You did good my Rhea-chan. *hugs*

Dark and Creepy: These will blow your mind.

Restraint

Straightjacket.

I hurt for them.