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SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAKCJAJCHAKSJANXJAJSAJXB 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

01:06am || ranpo, bsd. ,,hurt/little comfort.

"Maybe we're not meant for each other. Maybe in another life, but not in this one."

Your smile was forced, fake, accommodating all the tears that slowly trickled down your face. The anguish of your words was masked with a false certainty that came from within your mind, far from your heart.

You felt trapped, cornered, immobilized by your false belief that you weren't worthy of happiness, you weren't worthy of being loved. A huge storm flooded your heart, consuming your emotions in a sea of despair and pain, the impulsiveness of your words shaking your soul.

Why did you say that?

Why did you let such vile words slip from your lips, thirsting for pain, yearning for the hurt you would cause him?

Why did you allow yourself this vulnerability?

"Why?"

Ranpo's question tore your heart, breaking your soul with the tremors in the syllable of the question, the pain trapped in its pronunciation.

He was about to cry.

"Why do you think that?"

It was difficult to understand Ranpo, his words coming out low to contain his pain, his timbre sounding rough from the heat that had formed so quickly in his throat.

"Can't you see that I belong to you?" he looked at you, red eyes holding back tears, the glow in them threatening to fade if you walked out of his life. "Can't you see that everything I got, everything I am!, is because you're by my side? Can't you see that?"

You were listening to Ranpo, his words, although strong and aggressive, sounded calm and precise, charged with the love that came from his soul, driven by the need to have you by his side. Ranpo spoke clearly, angered by your words, hurt by your thoughts, but determined, completely determined, to show you the reality, all the facts of your history.

"I love you. Now and then. Today and tomorrow. It doesn't matter when, or where. I love you. Purely and simply. I don't care about fates or gods. I don't care if our history is written somewhere or if we've lived it in other lifetimes. What matters to me now is the present. And in the present I love you and I want to be with you. Don't you understand that?"

A pause to take a deep breath, carefully, quickly. Ranpo tried to hold back his tears a little longer as he watched you break down a bit more in front of him, his statements sounding blunt when delivered in his typical calm, logical tone.

"How can you say we're not meant to be together when I need you? How can you say such a thing when I know I could have it all, I could be anything, but I'd be nothing if I didn't have you? Can't you see? That we were meant to be together?"

But he couldn't take it.

Ranpo approached you calmly, afraid to see you refuse his embrace, not knowing what reaction you would have. Ranpo held your hand gently, nervous about the outcome of this argument, unsure of what you were going to do next. Ranpo spoke softly again, confident in his feelings, secure in your actions.

"Our souls may not be made of the same dust. Our conscience may have been corrupted in other lives. But I'm sure, I know, that we were made for each other."

Ranpo brought his forehead to yours, the first tear finally falling, easing some of the anguish that screamed inside him. His eyes closed, silence settling between you for the briefest of moments.

A moment of peace.

A moment of clarity.

Ranpo gently brushed his nose against yours with each murmured word of his, his soft lips passing gracefully over yours, like a ghost greeting you, as if wanting to remove all the malice spoken by you moments before, wanting to exchange it for the hope now given by him. "I love you. For me, that's enough. And for you?"

you say dom!ranpo so i raise you this: pegging dom!ranpo while he says things like “i know you can do better than that” & “oh my god you can’t even fuck me right, what CAN you do?”

oh my GOD YES

first of all, pegging ranpo 🥴 secondly, that mini humiliation kink ?? sign me tf up

he would 100% sit there and act unamused by all that you’re doing until you can do it exactly the way he wants. omg imagine he bullies you so much that you start to cry and then he just does it more

“why are you crying? i’m just telling you how to do it right.”

i feel like this would be a situation where he tells you to stop and then tops you just to prove a point

“this is how you fuck somebody y/n. god, how stupid are you?”

YUMMY YUMMY YUMMY UGHHHHH I GOT THE TJNGLES THIS IS SO DELICIOUS LITERALLY HEAVEN GOD WRITTWN SMUT THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD YUMY

"mahou shoujo // trick or treat" Ranpo + fem reader ~2.9k words warnings: 18+ content, minors dni notes: does this count as subby Ranpo? ao3.

“Is Halloween as big a deal here as it is back home?”

Ranpo tilts his head at your question, soft hair brushing his face as he meticulously arranges his Skittles by color. “Yeah, you could say that,” he hums without looking up; he is, as usual, more interested in his candy than a conversation. A smile twitches across his mouth. “Obviously it’s a big deal to me,” he says, stating something that you could’ve guessed on your own. Then he regathers his Skittles back into a rainbow and tosses them all into his mouth.

Your face lights up at that. When you lean back in your desk chair, it rolls across the office’s hardwood floors, wheeling you over to Ranpo’s side at his lone island. “We should do a couples costume!” The closer you get, the further he slouches over his remaining pile of Skittles, a vain attempt to shield them from your sticky fingers. You do manage to snatch at least one before he can hide them.

“Hey!” He sticks his tongue out at you and bats your hand away before you can snatch any more. “Couple’s costumes are stupid,” he grumbles; you can’t tell if he actually means that, or if he’s just trying to get back at you for the stolen Skittle. “—besides, I’ve already got a costume planned.” Resting his chin in the palm of his hand, a smirk lazily floats across his face, a familiar tint of mischief sparkling in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll love it when I show you.”

It’s not uncommon for Ranpo to play games like this; he loves knowing things you don’t, occasionally treating your relationship like a chess game where one unlucky player— often you— doesn’t actually know the rules. All day at work, no matter how much you’d whine or plead or bat your eyes, Ranpo refused to budge, seeming proud of his little secret.

Until you got home.

Rolling a hard candy between his teeth, Ranpo drags you into his bedroom, nudging you to perch yourself on the edge of his mattress. Even on the walk to his apartment he hadn’t given up any information— but now, he’s almost bouncing on his toes the closer he gets to revealing something as simple as a Halloween costume. You can’t help being suspicious when he’s like this. With an order of “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he disappears into his bathroom and shuts the door.

The lock audibly clicks into place. You’re left with nothing but your thoughts and the suspicious rustle of fabric that drifts through the wood.

Of course your mind wanders; he seems more excited about this than you are, and you can’t help but wonder what kind of outfit would have Ranpo Edogawa, of all people, so giddy. In the entire time you’ve known him, he’s never shown even a passing interest in fashion— that’s the entire reason he’s so enamored with his damned cape, after all. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door swinging back open. Ranpo steps out into his bedroom, his eyes studying your face as you study his ‘costume.’

“—oh.”

At your timid reaction, Ranpo’s pretty face curls into a Cheshire-cat grin.

Shoulders bared. A cleavage window for the subtle curve of his flat tits. The skirt, already short enough, made even shorter by the layers of fluffy petticoats underneath. Garter belts on both thighs, held closed by moon-shaped charms, large and reflective enough to betray a glimpse of the lacy fabric just barely hidden beneath his tiny skirt. Thigh-high stockings that dig into the plush of his thighs, such a bright, innocent shade of white that they contrast with the sheer smug on his face. A fucking magical girl outfit.

“Seems like y’like it,” he purrs. Your voice escapes you— as Ranpo makes his way towards your lap, he sways his hips, the fabric of the skirt twirling around his pale thighs like his body is casting a very successful spell. His delicate hands bunch in the petticoats to hike up the skirt as he swings his way into your lap, arms eventually coming to rest around your shoulders to keep himself upright. “—you do like it, right?” He bats his long lashes at you— Ranpo is already well aware of the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. Always gives him a thrill when you confirm his suspicions.

“Looks good on you,” you mumble, eyes continuing to rake up and down his body on display, perched in your lap. Your hands land firmly on his hips, only to dip lower and lower, gently squeezing the soft curves of his ass through the layers of ruffles.

You’re hesitating. Ranpo huffs.

“I didn’t put this on for you t’hold me like a doll, y’know,” he pouts at you, arching his back to press himself further into your touch.

You snicker at his clear impatience and press a quick kiss to his mouth as your hands finally delve underneath the hem of his skirt. Your movements are slow, dragging your nails up his thighs— it makes his skin tingle through the thin fabric of his stockings, and he can’t fight the electric shudder that pulses through him. Your fingers continue their exploration, still moving even lower; the digits slip under the soft silk of his garters and tug them up just a bit before you let go. The elastic snaps back into place, and he squeals at the brief sting. He opens his mouth to tell you off, but doesn’t get the chance— you silence him with another kiss and slip your tongue into his mouth. Ranpo groans, but when your nails graze the thin lace that separates the two of you, you gasp, and it’s his turn to grin against your mouth; all at once you shove his skirt further up his hips to get a proper eyeful.

“Lace?” Your voice is breathy. The panties are already thin enough, but with his precum beginning to drip through and soak the fabric, they’re practically see-through. Ranpo grins and waggles his eyebrows at you until you giggle.

“If you don’t ask any questions, I’ll get you a matching set.” Ranpo lifts his hips enough for you to drag the lacy panties down his thighs, finally freeing his half-hard cock. A contented sigh drifts from his throat as you continue to feel him up, although his mood quickly begins to shift, even as your hands explore, squeeze his thighs or tug his skirt— you’re not touching him enough. 

As if you’d heard his impatient thoughts— or at least, noticed the way his swollen cock was tipped with a painful shade of red— your hand closes around his shaft, and Ranpo moans as you give him a few experimental strokes. You’re just teasing him at this point; your grip on his cock is loose, and when he glares at you, you take the hint. You brush your thumb over his slit as you pump his cock, smearing precum down his shaft and making him shiver.

“Just— ah—” Ranpo lets out a shaky breath as he bucks his hips up into your hand. “Just like that—”

“Awful demanding of you,” your free hand digs into the fullness of his thigh, sharp nails leaving scarlet crescent-moons across his milky skin. Your grip on him begins to loosen up, as if to scold him for mouthing off already.

Ranpo huffs again. One eye slides open, glaring defiantly at you with that gorgeous shade of green, as he brings his own hand to clutch at your wrist and keep you from pulling away. His firm grasp holds your hand in place as his thrusts grow erratic. “Maybe,” snark on his sharp silver tongue, “if you’d give me what I need—”

Ah, a challenge.

Ranpo’s voice cracks before he can finish his insult. His eyelids flutter and he groans softly, his head falling forward, chin to his chest. “‘m gonna—” A full-body shudder races up his spine, and Ranpo is whining as he cums, still sloppily thrusting into your warm hand.

“You’re so pretty,” you hum, pressing open-mouthed kisses up his neck. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t last long; you got a show, and that’s the important part. Ranpo squirms in your lap and grumbles as you continue to gently pump his cock and smear his cum up his shaft.

Ranpo sighs as his eyes flutter back open. The heat that blossoms across his face matches the heat in his gaze. “C’mon,” he says; even as his cock softens in your grasp, he bucks his hips again, his own wandering hands moving to squeeze and grope you through your own clothes. “I know that can’t be the only thing you wanted t’do to me in this outfit.”

“You talk too much.” Your hand leaves his cock, and he groans at the loss as you gather thick drops of his cum on your fingertips. “Open that pretty mouth again, Ranpo.”

It’s in Ranpo’s nature to be defiant. He can see right through your intentions with his crystalline eyes. He scowls, instinctively opening his mouth to tell you no, he doesn’t follow orders— but you know him too well. That’s exactly what you were expecting. You press your fingers into his mouth, against his tongue, and a soft whimper immediately leaves his throat. Ranpo’s eyes slip closed again, the tension visibly leaving his body as he swirls his tongue around the digits, lapping at the pads of your fingers as you press down again.

It’s kinda pathetic, actually.

You nudge against the very back of his tongue and Ranpo gags, throat constricting around your fingers as he instinctively bites down. Can’t really blame him for that one, but you’ll remember it.

Despite being a bit bigger than you, Ranpo is lightweight. Withdrawing your fingers from his mouth— and ignoring his pathetic little whines at the loss— you dip your hands under his plush thighs and tip him backwards into bed.

“I think these might be my favorite,” you sigh, settling yourself between his legs. You press a feather-light kiss to the soft fabric of his stockings, your eyes trained on his face for his reaction. His gaze follows your every movement, watching you press those tantalizing kisses up his thigh, his cock twitching back to life each time you dig your teeth in.

Ranpo’s eyes widen and his face flushes an even deeper shade of red; he’s not sure if he’s embarrassed by your position, or if he’s circling around to being embarrassed he gets flustered that easily. Then he huffs, face twisting in impatience instead. “If you’re between my thighs,” he grumbles, “you’re not on my dick. Where you’re s’pose to be.”

“Oh, is that what you’re wanting, Ranpo?” Your tongue lathes against his thigh to soothe the sting of your teeth— to watch him squirm. “For someone so demanding, you’re not very good at telling me what you want.”

Ranpo groans loudly, an irritated sound that usually pushes you to do what he wants. The greatest detective in the world does not beg. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He does.

“—fuck me already,” he bites out. He tilts his head back and slams his eyes shut; he doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re grinning down smugly at him, and his pride can’t handle that. “Don’t wanna wait tonight. Wanna feel you.”

You just hum, resting against his thigh, teasing him by running your nails against his stockings but refusing to acknowledge his desires. He knows exactly what you’re waiting for.

“—please.” It’s barely a breath out of his mouth. He can feel himself wilting; the first time is always the hardest. After that it becomes natural. “Please,” he whines again, “I just wanna be inside you— can’t stand it, please—”

Even if he is just putting on a show, he always knows exactly what you wanna hear.

“And how hard was that, Ranpo?” You shift until you’re hovering above him, taking as little time as possible to drag your pants off, only shoving your panties to the side enough to tease his swollen cock against your slit.

“Stop teasing,” he demands, pointedly bucking his hips in a vain attempt to feel you. His tip catches on your hole, but you click your tongue and pull back. An exasperated noise leaves his throat before dying into another feeble whine. “Please.”

You hum and lean forward to press a kiss to his chapped lips before granting him any mercy— pumping his slick shaft once, twice, before finally lining him up with your entrance and sinking down on his cock.

Ranpo keens. His eyes roll to the back of his skull, hands scrambling from the bedsheets to your hips, frantic to pull you as close as possible now that he finally gets to feel you. You let out your own shaky sigh, hands splayed across the bright fabric that covers his chest, curling into the expensive satin and feeling it stretch in your grasp. Heat blossoms across Ranpo’s face and spills all the way down his neck. His eyes slide open, and his glassy gaze has warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

You roll your hips flush against his and let out an airy moan. He fills you perfectly, as always.

“I changed my mind,” you mumble, “this is my favorite. Feels like you were built for me.”

Ranpo’s eyes flutter shut again, long lashes dusting against his pretty face as his head lolls back into the pillows. Weight braced against his chest, you slowly lift yourself onto your knees before sinking back down. The sensation of his cock filling you pushes all the air out of your lungs. He groans happily as your gummy walls envelop him, his grip tight on your hips and thighs as he feels himself drowning in your warmth. He’s still sensitive— and with the way you’re already clenching around him, he’s not sure he’ll last.

You’re already positively dripping, and he’s coated in the filthy combination of your wetness and his own cum, each movement up and down his shaft filling the room with slick noises that have his face burning. Ranpo’s cock twitches against your walls and he whimpers.

Giggling at how easy it is to reduce him to such pathetic noises, you lean forward and press yourself chest-to-chest with him, resting your forehead flush against his. The change in position had just been so you could peer into his heart-filled eyes as you split yourself open on his dick— but the change in angle also has his cock hitting deeper, nudging at a sensitive spot inside you, forcing a moan out of your throat. You can feel every inch dragging against your walls.

“Feels so— ah— so good, Ranpo—” your voice shakes as hard as your thighs burn, “y’always fill me so well— and you’re so pretty like this too—”

Even simple praise has Ranpo’s eyes rolling back into his head. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his hips jolting upwards to meet your own thrusts. His arms encircle your waist, intent on holding you still as he sets his own pace now, sloppily thrusting up into your eager cunt. His pretty face is tense with the effort it takes to stave off his impending orgasm. He’s already gotten what he wanted tonight— it’s your turn. He can at least do that much.

“Wanna feel you cum around me,” he breathes out. Ranpo finds himself nuzzling into your neck, nipping and kissing his way across your jaw. When his teeth graze against your pulse, you shudder, and the way your walls squeeze him at that is heavenly. He’ll never get enough; one hand leaves the plush of your hips so he can brush his thumb over your clit, and the resulting mewl paints a lazy smirk across his face. His eyelids drop closed again for a moment as he loses himself in you.

His thrusts are sloppy, and he draws circles against your clit in time with his pace. His other hand squeezes your hips before dipping down to grab a handful of your ass, pulling you down on his shaft at a new angle that presses him deeper than ever. His eyes flicker back open— he’s gazing up at you with sheer adoration in those bright green pools, and the pure love in his eyes has you whimpering, your entire body tense as you finally come. Your warm cunt clenches around Ranpo and he quickly follows; head dropped back against the pillows, his eyes roll as he cums, his deceptively delicate hands holding you firm on his cock as he pumps you full.

You slouch limply against Ranpo’s warm chest. Even with him still sheathed deeply in you, you can already feel his cum starting to drip out and down your thighs, but cleanup is a problem for future you. The racing of his heartbeat against your ear serves to lull you into relaxation. One of his hands comes up to prod at your face, poking your cheek and pulling your hair until he gets you to tiredly look up; as soon as you lift that pretty face of yours, he surges forward and slams his mouth into yours, all tongue and teeth, not ready to let go of you yet. His other hand finds yours, still curled tightly in the fabric of his costume; something seems to cross his mind, and he nudges you upright so he can prop himself up on his elbows.

A frown crosses his swollen lips as he catches sight of the blue satin; it has been stretched out, and the skirt is sopping with the combination of your slick and his cum. “Damn,” he sighs, “I was hopin’ I could save this thing enough for trick-or-treating.”

I started this on his birthday and wanted to have it up by Halloween, and I'm glad I finished it just in time!! thank you for reading, let me know what you think!!