Tag Archives: nsfw

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At Any Cost || themoonlightthief

themoonlightthief:

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The two detectives froze at the whimpering plea, and while Conan steeled himself for what was to come, it only took 1.37 seconds for Hakuba to know, without a doubt, who the voice belonged to. It was Kid. It was Kuroba Kaito. His Kaito. He’d never heard it like that before, though; not in any of the time he’d known him. It was so broken. And it hurt. 

Taking in the scene didn’t help ease that pain, either. Both of them could smell the blood and sensed the fear, felt the tension in the air, but Hakuba recognized something else that Conan had very little experience with, and it twisted his stomach in knots. The odor of sweat and sex, though nearly impossible to describe, stirred with the evidence of torture and brought unbidden flashes to mind. But the blond detective didn’t stop breathing until he saw his moonlight thief. 

Conan leveled his watch, body tense, muscles coiled and ready to spring, but narrowed his eyes at the figure shivering in the light. Was that figure, bent and bleeding, really Kaitou KID? Was that even possible? He stepped forward, listening for his companion’s actions to dictate his own, but stopped when Hakuba staggered forward. He’d expected a calm and cautious approach, soft words and authority, but this… 

It was all wrong. All so wrong. Hakuba couldn’t see KID, all he could see was Kaito. None of his professionalism and training stood a chance against vivid images that overtook him, crashing through all of his protective walls like the raging sea against a crumbling dam. It was far too personal. It hurt too much.

All at once he was drowning, gasping a ragged breath of his own as he dropped the firearm uselessly to the floor. Numbly, his left hand made for his pocket, digging for the watch in a desperate and reflexive effort to salvage his sanity, but the trembling in his limbs was far too violent to even keep adequate hold. Knees giving way to the crushing emotions, Hakuba sank to the ground, face twisted in agony and horror. Kaito, oh god, Kaito, oh god! 

He couldn’t speak. Could barely think. The shadow cast by his own body in the flashlight stretched over Kaito as the sheepdog over a lamb’s battered form, drawing close despite its resemblance to the offending wolf.

It was the perfect contrast; a tormented knight to the shattered joker, and it disturbed Conan to witness it. It also told him far more than he’d anticipated– Hakuba was no stranger to abuse and he probably knew who Kaitou Kid really was… or they were really close despite. There were very few alternative explanations for how quickly the foreign detective had become emotionally compromised.

In a way, it embarrassed him. Hakuba may care for the thief, but they had work to do. How was losing his shit going to help KID? 

“Oi, Hakuba!” Conan barked, voice hard and scowl firm. “Pull yourself together!" 

The harsh reprimand snapped Hakuba back just enough for him to give a strangled cry. "Kaito!” Reaching, half crawling through the bloody patches toward him, tears building and falling in desperation. 

Fortunately, Conan dismissed the slip for a mistake on that foreign tongue, rolling his eyes as he impatiently collected the gun from the floor. Dammit, Hakuba! 

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japansfamousdetective reblogged your post and added:

She was done attempting to empty her empty stomach by the time she heard Hakuba’s voice, tears stinging her eyes and maybe her mouth a bit of a mess from the attempt alone. This probably wouldn’t have been half as bad if she’d actually managed to empty her stomach of something, but then she could be wrong about that too. Not like she’d know at this point.

Looking up at him as he crouched near by, she took the water and happily downed some of it, relishing the way it smoothed out her throat and washed away the taste of stomach acid. She knew better then to drink too much too quickly at least. Oh but the water had been so nice she had wanted to.

“It’s… I don’t know,” she replied, moving to put a hand against her temple. “It feels a little off, and I think there’s some pain, but I don’t know how much of that is the hang over and how much was the attempt to empty my stomach.” It had gotten pretty bad for a moment there.

“Thank you, for the water." 

"You’re more than welcome, Kudo-kun,” Hakuba said, taking a moment to drink from his own water bottle afterward. Although he kept his tone and pleasant, it was no use trying to hide the guilt that permeated it.

It had been he who had suggested the wine, and he who had commented on her beauty the night before. So inappropriate… and he hadn’t expected her to react the way she had… 

He sat back on his heels a moment later, wanting to rub her back to offer some sort of comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when he didn’t know where they now stood. So instead he cleared his throat with a small cough and gestured to the folded bathrobe. “I’ve brought you a robe; why don’t you put it on while I get some painkillers for you?”

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( ø∑ø)

japansfamousdetective:

Shinori woke in an unfamiliar bed with an odd taste in her mouth, cuddled up to something warm and familiar. Brows knitted together she was aware of only a couple of things which was impressive for her upon waking up. The first thing she was aware of was that the house in which she was in was familiar, as familiar as the blonde she was snuggled up to.

The second thing she was aware of was that she, and the attractive blonde, were stark bare beneath the blanket. Pale cheeks went bright with color, blue eyes snapping open with confused clarity and she found herself wide awake. She was in bed with Hakuba, his bed she presumed from the brief bits of memory of the previous night she could remember. Naked. And they had been happily snuggling together like there hadn’t been anything wrong with the situation.

Not that there was entirely anything wrong with the situation, mind. There were just… It was just…

Moving to roll over, so as to maybe stop staring at the sleeping blonde in deep embarrassment, she found herself squeezing her eyes closed as her stomach lurched. Oh… No no, this couldn’t happen. She hadn’t drank enough to be hungover, right? But she’d obviously drank enough to end up in bed with her friend and crush..

Her embarrassment doubled when she had to slip herself from Hakuba’s hold and rush to the bathroom, attempting to retch though anything that had been in her stomach was long digested. However much she’d had, with nothing really to counter it, had obviously been enough to make her nauseously hung over. He was going to wake up to her naked and attempting to puke.

What a way for one’s crush to find them.

The shifting on the mattress called Hakuba’s attention from sleep, and he stirred reluctantly, clinging to the warmth and comfort of the sheets and the body that- wait. Where was the…? The male detective, vaguely aware of something missing, patted the bed next to him with his eyes closed, lips curving to a frown as the sound of retreating footsteps reached him. 

Still groggy, he clung to the remnants of slumber while recounting his schedule. The exam wasn’t until Monday; that left nearly two days to repair… some thirty-six hours… wait, what time was it? 

Hakuba rolled over, vaguely surprised to find himself without any clothing at all, and squinted at the bedside clock. It was still fairly early, but…  He groped next for his phone, checked the date, then hesitated. The night before- studying with Shinori, a little bit of wine to ease the stress, and… oh. 

That was when the retching caught his attention and he grimaced, quickly pulling himself up and out of bed, stumbling for his trousers and boxers, which he put on as he hopped over toward the bathroom.

“Kudo-kun?” he asked from the doorway, knocking gently on the frame before peeking in. Hakuba winced, remembering only then that not everyone could hold their alcohol as well as he could, and cautiously stepped, barefoot, onto the cold tile to tip-toe over to the closet, pulling out a towel, a clean bathrobe, and a bottle of water which he brought over to her, crouching. “God, I’m sorry…. here, some water. How’s your head?”

The development was admittedly a little sudden, but not exactly startling. After all, they’d kissed before the previous night already. Granted, it had been an oops moment, but they’d recovered well enough and… well, here they were. 

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At Any Cost || themoonlightthief

((Debated, then decided to put it all behind a cut, ha ha ha~))

themoonlightthief:

Ragged, shallow breaths were the only thing filling the silence stretching thickly through the dark, cold room – apart from the faint buzzing deep within one of the corners, but Kaito tried not to think about that, pushing the sound to the back of his mind to the very best of his abilities. If he continued listening, if he focused on that—

He choked on a cry, body stiffening and eyes clenching shut. His fingers, smeared with his own blood, dug into his scalp as he pressed himself further against the wall, another whimper and strangled sob leaving his raw throat at the burning electricity flaring through his nerves as he further agitated his wounds.

Stupid stupid stupid

If only he’d said ‘no’, if only he’d listened to that faint voice in the back of his head, if only he hadn’t been so stupid and naive—

Another shiver wracked through his bloodied frame and he knew he was cold and he knew it was bad and he knew he needed help – help please someone I can’t do this I can’t I can’t I can’t someone help me please – but the voices chanting in his mind, over and over

‘Pathetic’

‘Worthless’

‘Stupid’

‘Whore’

was drowning everything else out, numbing his senses of everything but the hollow feeling spreading through his entire being.

Worthless stupid tainted unworthy pathetic idiot naive fool child what’s the point stay why don’t you stay close your eyes it’s fine it doesn’t matter no one cares they shouldn’t why would they just stay it’s better if you just—

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kaito could hear another buzzing join the first- it was faint, so, so faint and far away – and it sounded once, twice, three, four times, before dying away completely. He knew what it was. He’d heard it a thousand times before and it was enough to make a glimmer of something akin to hope – but it was so incredibly faint, barely visible and there at all unless one knew where and how to look – flicker in his chest along with a cold sense of panic, horror and dread and Kaito slowly opened his eyes, gaze hazily flickering in the direction of where the sound had come.

help me

Never before had Hakuba broken so many traffic laws in one stretch, but he didn’t care. Every time his calls went to voicemail, he added another 3.5 miles per hour to his speed, and it was only his experience and the adrenaline rush that kept him crashing into other cars instead of swerving around them. 

Once on scene, he parked his car – very illegally – as close as he possibly could to the store in question, slapped the ‘official police business’ declaration in the window, and leapt to retrieve his medical field bag. It was then a jog to Conan, who waited at the very edge of the glass store front, staring down any onlookers with extreme prejudice.

It was his presence – the young, innocent child with the death glare – that kept the public mostly at bay. Could they look in on the horrors with a kid there? Especially one intent on snapping if anyone got too close. Not that it didn’t stop them from trying, wanting to lead him away… but, fortunately, Hakuba got there first. 

“He’s with me. Official police business. Please be on your way.” Hakuba’s badge was only a consultant’s, but the seal was legitimate, and worked well enough on the lay person. Heavy duffel over one arm and black police windbreaker on his person, the detective asserted his quasi-authority to take control of the scene. 

Despite his previous statement, Hakuba changed his mind as soon as they found the entry point, glancing into the dark. He heard the rasping breaths, the quiet electric hum, and glanced down at the boy at his side. “Go home, Conan-kun.”

“Like hell." 

Hakuba blinked, brows furrowing at the response. ”…You’ve done your part; I’ll take over.“

"Oi, stop wasting time. Let’s move.”

Conan pushed past Hakuba without another word, leaving the blond to chase after. With a flick of his wrist, he had the flashlight activated on his watch, scanning the area for something, anything – persons, traps, instruments of torture, splashes of blood… 

The tension had them both on edge, and as they ventured further, Hakuba shifted his firearm from left to right hand, ready. He kept watch above, eyes adjusting to the dark while his little companion scoured the floor, both listening, waiting.

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✈

send me a ✈ and I will give your character a memory from mines past.

Dreams of Paris
[to be read after The Belt]

Sometimes scenes had a way of fading in Hakuba’s mind. Crime scenes in particular. They blurred, merged together with others of similar styles, methods, culprits. When he thought of the specifics, it was usually a simple matter to pick them apart and, once compared with his notes, became once again crystal clear in memory.

Everything from the lingering scent of whatever coffee creamer Megure-keibu had used that evening to the precise temperature of the cooling pavement beneath their feet came rushing back. Weather conditions, the particular knot he’d used for his tie, the number of steps from the squad car to the white chalk outline.

It was easier to let them stay buried, filed away until he needed them. Easier, safer, and, often enough at times, critical. But some memories didn’t fade that way. Ones he couldn’t compartmentalize because there were so few instances in which he could shuffle the cards to disguise the impact. Things like dreams of Paris with a former lover, and how it all fell apart. 

It had been two weeks since the incident with the belt. Two long, horrible weeks in which John had refused to look at him, let alone speak. After their month- 42 days, specifically -together, the fourteen year-old couldn’t understand what had happened. Yes, they’d been caught. Yes, John had taken a beating from his father. And, yes, Saguru James had been told to leave, but that didn’t mean that they had to stop seeing each other, did it?

They’d always known it was a risk. Everything they’d done had been in secret. Every moment had been a stolen one; an exercise in rebellious freedom from societal convention and religious oppression. They loved each other, and that was all that mattered. 

Love always won in the end. 

Until then. It was easy for John to avoid him, really; he was two grades ahead and moved in different circles. They didn’t share any classes, and John had rugby practice after school. Hakuba didn’t dare call for fear of alerting John’s parents, and though he wanted to, desperately wanted to, he was far too afraid to walk the seven blocks to the Wells’ flat. All that he could do was wait at his locker, attempt to catch him between classes at the drinking fountain or in the hallways.

And he did try. Every day until he couldn’t stand the pain any longer.  He needed to know. 

“Are we over?" 

John looked at the smaller hand that grasped his wrist, feigning ignorance of the desperation with a cold gaze. “What was that, twit?”

"I need to know… are we over?” 

"Get off of me.” The older boy yanked his arm away, scowling. “I’ve nothing to say to you.”

It stung. But there had to be more to it. He was hiding something; he had to be. “John, please. Talk to me. It’s okay if we’re broken up, but please, I need to know!”

This had John taking stock of the others in the hallway, some looking, most ignoring. Little kids like James were usually teased by the bigger boys; it was nothing unusual at all. Even Hakuba knew that John could have thrown him into the lockers, and no one would have batted an eye.

Would he take that chance? 

“Fine,” John said, rolling his eyes. “Meet me after school by the wall; we’ll talk there.”

The wall was where they’d meet to steal a kiss before school. It was where they’d make out during lunch. And also where they’d wait for the other to be done with the day before heading to John’s flat. It was a place of personal significance, and Hakuba couldn’t help but smile in hopes that things weren’t quite as bad as they seemed. 

They’d always talked things out before, after all. 

There they met. S. James Hakuba arrived first, nervously checking his watch time and time again while he waited the several long minutes for his lover. At least the wall was secluded; he watched the other students leave from his hiding place, heart fluttering. Forty-eight minutes… and he heard footsteps approaching. 

“John?”

“I’m here, James.”

The smile on his face was the same that Hakuba remembered; so easy, so pained. He crept from the wall to reach for his arms and felt instant relief when John let him, stepping after him into the shade. He stood still while Hakuba pushed onto the tips of his toes to kiss him, though he didn’t return it. Disappointed, but forcing that smile, Hakuba settled back on his heels and laughed.

“Are we okay, mate?”

John looked away. “I’m not gay, James.”

What? “John…”

“You heard me. I’m not gay. You remember why we started hanging around together, don’t you? I was curious. That was it. Now I know I’m not. So it’s over.”

It startled him to hear. It didn’t feel right. None of it clicked. The younger boy shook his head, horror creeping in. “That’s not true! We’re in love, John! Remember? It’s your parents telling you not to be who you are, but we can past that! We can run away, just like we talked about!”

“You don’t know anything about love, James. You’re fourteen.”

“Age doesn’t matter! It’s just a social construct meant to-”

“No. You are a fourteen year-old boy who has no fucking clue about life. You and I? Stupid fools. We were raped and beaten at that Academy, James. That’s the truth. That’s why we’re fucked up. There is no happy ending for us; we’ve already been ruined. Tainted. All we can do is try to do what’s right and pray that we’ll be forgiven.”

"What’s right is to be true to ourselves, John!”

“God, you’re so naive.”

"I know you had dreams! I know you! This isn’t you! You can’t let them oppress you! You can’t let them ruin you! It goes against everything that we believe in!”

John reached for the young boy’s shoulder and pushed him to the wall, gaze a mask of conflicted ire. “No. That’s what you believe, James, and I’m through with it. You’ve got to let it go. Don’t ever talk to me again. I don’t love you. I never have.”

With a strangled cry, James pushed from the wall, arms reaching for the other boy, but John held him back. “It’s not true, John! You know it’s not! You’re lying! You did love me! don’t let them ruin you! Don’t let them! Please!”

The older boy sighed. It was so easy to hold him in place. He was so small, so thin. “Everyone is broken one way or the other, James… I guess I’ve got to help you, now.” He paused. “Stop crying.”

"I can’t,” he said, admission through the tears. “You don’t know just what…”   but then he paused, lifting his head in silence at the sound of approaching footsteps. Furiously, Hakuba wiped his eyes. He couldn’t be seen like this. He didn’t want anyone to think that John had done anything to him. “Let go,” he muttered. 

But John didn’t let go. The grip that he had on his shoulder tightened as the others – five boys in total – filed in to join them behind the wall. Hakuba recognized them from John’s rugby team. Big boys. Strong. And all predatory. 

“So this is the little fag?”

“Looks like.”

“Why aren’t you getting the hint, little twit?”

“He doesn’t want you around.”

“God he’s so perverted.”

Hakuba shrank back against the wall, eyes wide as he looked from face to face, and finally back to John, pleading. “Let me go.”

“Yeah, he’s sick,” John said, stepping forward to press his hand to the front of his pants. It only took a gesture to unbutton the younger boy’s pants, hand slipping in to caress him. “He’s already getting hard.”

He was. A reaction to John’s touch. It wasn’t like he could help it. But why? Why in front of the others? James shuddered, shaking his head. “John, please, stop.”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? That’s why you keep following him around school.”

“Sending him love letters.”

“Showing up at his house.”

"It’s disgusting.”

There was a hitch in his breath and Hakuba bent forward, mouth open to gasp. Despite the rough handling, his body responded well, and to his horror, it didn’t take long at all for him to get close. The pressure built and so did the haze. It was different and all too familiar at once. When the priest had done this, it had always been in private. Same, too, for he and John before. But the others watched. Leered. Loomed. 

When he came, it was with a whimpering cry, face red and head hung, so embarrassed and ashamed. He struggled to catch his breath with the others laughing, and kept his eyes held tightly closed when John spread his own seed across his cheek and into his hair. 

“See? I told you he was sick.”

The only fortunate thing was that it was far too easy to remember what it had been like at White Chapel. The ground beneath his knees was concrete instead of stone, but it scraped just the same when he was forced down. They forced themselves into his mouth, and twisted handfuls of his hair whenever he’d start to gag or bite down. And he swallowed, as he’d been conditioned to, each and every time. 

The boys beat him when he threw up. Kicking his stomach, his ribs, and against his arms when they moved to cover his face. He sobbed when they dragged him out of his fetal position by a leg, hands clawing at his pants to expose him. They used a stick to sodomize him, cheering when they drew blood, and left it in as they laughed. 

He couldn’t focus on their words. It wasn’t a hot fire poker, but that hardly seemed to matter. All he could think about was the head master, the fire, and how he was going to Hell for his sins. For being so dirty. For being so sick. 

Trembling, all he could do was cry, burying his face in the sleeves of his wool sweater. They had to be finished soon, whether they got bored or they killed him. There couldn’t be that much more they could do to him. He felt the warmth on his face before he realized what it was; urine, sprayed from one of the larger boys, soon joined by others. The stinking liquid soaked into his hair, his clothing, filling his olfactory with the choking scent of ammonia. He gagged again, curling in on himself, and tried to shut it out. 

They left. Hakuba wasn’t sure when, but he found himself alone as the sun set. How long had they been at it? Where was Baaya? 

He managed to remove the stick and pull his trousers back into place, but that was all that he could do. Everything hurt, inside and out. Words wouldn’t come, only choking sobs as he lay there, waiting, humiliated. 

Baaya did come, eventually, but despite her urging, he couldn’t tell her what happened. Still, the doctor treated him and somehow in the fog, he ended up tucked into his bed, clean, medicated, and safe. 

The boys were suspended, a transfer put in, and S. J. Hakuba stayed far away from John.