Nerd!gojo Always Holds His Hand Over Yours When You Jerk Him Off. He Guides Your Fist Up And Down On

HOW TO MAKE UP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND ♡.ᐟ.ᐟ⸻ still not a guide. (yandere Gojo)

cw✶ yandere Gojo, he is a creep in the shadows, established relationship, they semi break up for a bit, reader with mental health problems, pining on either side if you think about it, fem reader, p in v sex, rough sex, feels like hate sex, but really make up sex, Gojo is lowkey obsessive af, oral sex (f! receiving), biting, spit stuff, cum play, breeding kink, borderline dub-con, but ykw that opens up a new gate for them, they are freaks and they are into that shit, never getting rid of this cock-roach.

<<PART ONE

a/n: again, sorry for late upload, but also not. but big thankies for 1k+ followers<3 have funnnn also oof. that's allllll~

Imagine kissing your girlfriend as you both cum together. And after you clean yourself and your girlfriend, you two cuddle and drift off to sleep, while whispering sweet nothings and imagining a future together. How picture perfect.

Or so it would seem to everyone. 

While Gojo Satoru is too busy buying a ring, getting the perfect plot to build a house—nay, home—with you, and imagining about adopting more cats and a dog maybe, making children with you, who must look like you; you were still trying to run from him.  

But Gojo Satoru is nothing, if not confident, not just in himself but also in his love for you. And if he has kept you tied to him for two whole years, a lifetime together will be plausible as well. Even if it means taking some difficult measures, despite his poor heart. Because he would never do anything to hurt you! How could he? It was as if his own source of life laid in your hands, and harming that vessel would be a foolish attack on himself. 

But when the time came that you stopped your meandering tactics of trying to get rid of him—scheming poorly staged fights could only get you too far—and just told him upfront, “I want to break up.” He almost lost it. 

You did expect at the very least few tears, and at most groveling; holding onto your legs and getting dragged on the floor, while tears and snot ran down his orifices—that type of begging. Yet, all he did was take off his apron, which he always wears while cooking for you, that says ‘husband material’, and silently walked out of the main door. As the soup on the stove boiled down to nothing and the rice became stale in the rice cooker—Satoru did not return.

And day by day his absence was chipping away at your sanity. Maybe it was the lack of delicious and nutritious meals he cooked you; toast and peanut butter with instant coffee for breakfast and take out for dinner, was not the way to keep yourself alive. And the lack of him was more apparent with the creases on your clothes, pile of laundry, the missing coats that went to be dry cleaned. Somehow dishes for one person were piling up in the sink like a huge mountain. And your cat was getting just as anxious as you—all the rivalry he had with Satoru was gone in an instant when he could not see the white fluff of hair being shoved in his belly. 

On top of all that it was as if everyone was out to piss you off. Your parents’ calls to just nag you were getting more annoying than ever, when Satoru was not around to swoop in at just the right time before a fight broke out, and took the phone from you to entertain your parents with his charm. Even they were starting to question the lack of Satoru from miles of distance. And your friend was asking about Satoru’s chocolate cake recipe. So the wisest thing you could do in this situation? Isolate of course.

Maybe the last straw was your colleague commenting on your sunken and dark eye bags. Or maybe it was the overgrown and chipped off nails, on your hand, and the dirt accumulated in the nails of your feet. Or just maybe it was the lack of his sweet whispers and head pats at night, while he held you close to his chest. The sound of his heartbeats always drowned out any worries that dared to come to your mind when you were in his arms. Or maybe it was the absence of how cold he felt to touch compared to your burning hands. 

And now it was just the air conditioner blasting excessively cold air all night long, with no one to turn it off for you when you started to curl up into yourself. All you can do is, just wrap yourself up in the blankets you last used with him, and bury your face in his pillow. Sniffing every last drop of his fading smell, and soaking up the said pillow with your tears.

“It’s ok, sweets. I am right here. Never going anywhere.”

Liar.

You did make sure to not contact him these past few days, and now it was already Saturday. It has been a whole week since you actually broke up with your boyfriend. And on the eighth day, you got drunk enough to black out, not before sending him illegible voice mails of slurred words and aggressive crying. And a wall of equally illegible texts, with occasional voice notes of, more crying. 

It was pathetic. Were you not the one trying to drive him away? And now you're just doing these things to make things harder for not just yourself, but also him. It was the last thing you wanted.

But it is not your fault the thought or him won't leave you alone. Yet he also left you behind. 

He might have already found someone better. Maybe he found someone since you started this whole charade, that is why he walked out so easily without a word. In a year you might receive a mocking invitation to their wedding, and postcards of their kids in Christmas pajamas with their pets. And thinking about all that first thing in the morning after drinking like a fish, was more nauseating than days old milk. 

Rotten and expired.

Maybe that's how he sees you now. Exactly with those disappointed eyes, just as the stares he is giving out to you while sitting on the couch with his legs spread and his hands holding each other. Great. Now you're hallucinating him. Time to actually see a therapist instead of making excuses.

“Did you drink last night?” 

Mirage Satoru’s low and demanding voice sure felt like real Satoru huh? But not really. Since you've never heard him speak to you in that tone. Satoru has maintained the most soft and affectionate voice with you since you've met. One time you got close to hearing the real Satoru speak in that tone, you caught him on the phone with someone from his office. And upon your arrival he quickly hung up for some reason and changed back to the sweet Satoru you know.

“I asked you something. Didn't I?”

Your mind sure does work wonders. First at making you feel like the worst living being alive, then making mirage Satoru follow you to the bathroom in the most perfectly matched cadence as real Satoru. You never really knew how much attention you paid to his every little move until now. That saying about only realizing something's worth when it's actually gone, sure hits home.

“Are you still drunk?” Oh shit. 

This was definitely the real Satoru, standing beside you, in front of the sink. Because you have been here before, with a hangover, trying to splash water in your face to somehow alleviate the headache. And Satoru always stood beside you like this, with a smile on his face and asked you the same thing. Difference is that his hands were always on you, instead of in his pockets, like right now. 

“What- why are you-” “I think we have plenty of time to find such unimportant answers. Hmm?” This was very much the real Satoru, but the condescending tone he used to cut off your, granted confused, rambling—that was not your Satoru.

But maybe this is alright. Because you are not sure if you can call him yours anymore.

“Did you think you got rid of me?” He leaned down to come face to face with you, and some more, making you effectively lean away from him and backing down towards the sink. Not a great idea, because it leaves you no option but to be trapped in between both of his arms on either side of you, holding himself to lean into you with a tight grip on the marble, turning his knuckles white. And his eyes were not as usual, but somehow a darker shade of blue, and much out of character, with no shine in them. There was a smirk on his lips, more patronizing than his words, but it did not not reach his eyes.

“Did you think we actually broke up?” you respond with nothing at first, but something about his aura told you it was better to answer him than not, so you quickly nodded a weak yes.

“Right. I did leave you alone for a week. Since that is what you have been trying right? For me to leave you alone.” He finished the sentence by lifting one of his hands off the edge of the sink counter to only squeeze your face and pulled you closer to him by your jaw. “You really tried hard huh? Well. sorry to tell you that it did not work.”

Whether or not you guys are over or not, was not your concern currently. He knew. He knew this entire time.

“How long?” you managed to muffle out, with the inside of your cheeks pushed in, not letting your tongue move freely. 

“Since you started this dumb charade. From your very obvious hints to complaining to your friends.” So he knew all along. Maybe he knew about this longer than you.

“Why?” You asked weakly, already thinking about a thousand ways this could go wrong. “Because I know how you get in your own head. Doesn’t take much huh.” You involuntarily shake your head from side to side. And something about your face squeezed in his hands, and your hand holding onto his wrist, while you shook your head, was too cute for him to hold back a giggle. It was precious, the way he bent down his head, to have his hair cover the crinkles of his eyes, and the stretch of smile across his face. But he could only hide so much. 

“So. Did you like your little single life for a week?” The answer was an instant “no.”

But Satoru really did not have to even ask to know that. After all, even when he was away from you, he was still there. Watching you come in and out of the apartment, the horrible state of the kitchen, watching you struggle with your cat to quiet down his meows, coming back from work and just lying face down on the couch and crying until you fell asleep. Or when your parents pestered you about him, and you got in another fight with them, to ignoring their calls from then on; he heard all of that. He also heard you tip toe around your friends whenever he came up in the conversation, until you finally told your friend and cried in her arms that whole night, and how she struggled to put you to bed. He also saw her take your cat with her for a few days until you got your shit together. 

He was always watching. From the shadows or from the couch in his penthouse, he saw you struggling with even brushing your teeth, ignoring your basic hygiene some days. Afterall he was the one always when things got this bad. But now he was not there. 

He also saw you crying in the shower, or when you squirmed under your blankets trying to find some sort of distraction and pleasure, to maybe forget the situation at hand for some time. He fisted his own cock at you struggling to please yourself like he did, then came to you crying miserably on your pillows. On more than one occasion.

He was tempted at times to come into the apartment while you slept with dried up tears on your face, and cleaned up as much as he could while leaving everything the same as it was to the naked eye. But he never left before sitting somewhere close to you and just watching you sleep. He knew how much of a light sleeper you were, so he could not risk anything, except for a few kisses and cleaning your face with a wet towel.

He was actually watching you while you got shitfaced last night and sent him all those voicemails and texts. 

But maybe these were things best left unknown by you.

“Still want to be single?” He offered as if it was even an option. “No.” 

“Good girl.” Maybe because he has never used such a term with you, or maybe it was the smile on his face that he did not hide away and reached his eyes. Or maybe because the smile felt more threatening than a knife being held to your neck. But it stirred up a storm in your stomach. And just as you thought those waves in your stomach could not get more intense, he lifted you off the floor, on his shoulder, and walked over to your bed with ease.

“A punishment is still due, sweets.” 

Honestly it was hard to tell what exactly had your pussy twitching in your panties—the fact that he was calling you sweets when you thought you would never hear that again, or that this was a completely new side to the Satoru you know and love, or just the sheer force with which he slammed you down on the bed. Either way it was all too fast and all too new for your brain to register anything at an acceptable pace.

“Let’s treat you how you want to be treated.” His body was basically pinning you down to the mattress, holding himself up with the support of his left hand beside your face, while the right hand hiked up your thighs, all the way up to your hips and pinning them further into the mattress. While working hard to not leave a single nook on your neck left unmarked. He has always been so gentle in bed, but this felt like somehow he was more comfortable not trying to treat you like some fine china.

He is kissing you, shoving his tongue in your mouth exploring everything that he has never touched. The next moment you are stripped down to your panties and flipped over to straddle his face. “SATORU!”

“What?” he asked so nonchalantly like he was not in a struggle with your thighs to sit you down on his face. Especially when he is not giving a second to process anything, but too lost into cranking his neck up to kiss you through your panties one moment and just tearing the panties off you, also pocketing them for some unknown reason.

“DID YOU JUST-I cannot!” “Not asking you to do anything sweets. I will be doing everything.” The smile with which he said those words, should be illegal. Because how dare it make you so weak in the knees and more, that you topple down and fall right where he wanted you. “Thank you for the meal.”

It is not that you have never imagined this, in fact quite often you have caught yourself thinking that his face is quite ‘rideable’. If you previously thought that he is a good eater, time to reevaluate his skills. His teeth pulled your lips open, to lick a long and anguished strip down, from your clit to your now twitching hole. After a week away from you, one would expect Gojo Satory to dive in like he is dehydrated, he might as well be, but the sheer will to torment you as a payback was all that was holding him back. 

Even when your thighs were engulfing his entire face, and the weight of you was heavy on him, he was still in control. His tongue, oh so skilled and flexible, laid flat and heavy pressed against your cunt as if it did not know what to do with all that. Even with all the whining and attempts at grinding on his face, maybe getting his nose to press on your clit or having the rough texture of his tongue drive you just where you needed to be—it was all fruitless, in front of his strength holding you still, leaving you to only clutch the headboard for your dear sanity.  

“Please- please, please Satoru, I am so-so s- sorry. Please.”

Maybe it was the apology or just that his self control withering away, but he finally started to work on your folds. Each drag of his tongue was agonizingly visceral, and just the feeling of his tongue pushing into your hole and hardening was enough, to make you consider maybe the slow pace was better than him  giving it his all like a depraved man. It was all sloppy licks and plush lips sucking on your clit. The noises were deafening, not just from your sopping cunt, but also the whines and grunts being muffled by your skin. But really he has always been deprived and hungry for you, it is just that he decided to shield you away from that side of him, for your sake really. He could inhale you entirely and keep wanting more, you were worse than sugar to him.

Everything was a mess, no words of warning could leave you before you came squirting all over his face. He kept holding you down on him, twitching and quivering from the sheer intensity in the air. And he did not shy away from licking away at every drop of saccharine juice dripping off you. When he pulled away to push back the hair in his face, it was wet, not just with sweat but with everything that you squirted all over him. And you could not decide if that was the most embarrassing thing or was it the string of spit still connecting your pussy to his mouth, or maybe the all natural glow he got on his face covered in your juices.

Your boyfriend sure values his time, because he spends no time flipping you back on the mattress, takes off his soaked shirt and situates himself right between your legs. And you would think, this is it. But no, instead he is moving up to forcibly open your mouth with his fingers, and pulling your tongue out to hold it down with his thumb. 

“Ahhhh.” And he is spitting out everything in his mouth on your tongue. His other hand moves up to your throat to squeeze the side and prevent you from swallowing anything that he gives you oh so graciously. All while the hardness of his cock, rubs your overstimulated pussy through the rough denim.

“Spit.” He instructs you as he opens his own mouth and moves his tongue forward for you to give him back what he lent, to take it all back and more with your own saliva mixed into the substance. So you do as asked, pulling yourself slightly off the bed to reach his tongue and roping them together. 

Satoru does all that to only spit it all out of his mouth. But that was the plan from the beginning, to drench your cunt with everything you and him. And that pushes you into some weird space where it feels like you might suffocate or come. It was the second one, you came from the hot liquid flowing down your slit and accumulating around your hole, and dripping further down to your ass. And his fingers spread it all over. Threading them carefully to give just enough but also nothing. 

While you throbbed in white ecstasy, Satoru got to work with the rest of clothes on his body. He gives you no time to flip you back over, and presses you down. This was new, you cannot remember when you were ever fucked by him in any other position than missionary. But you are not granted the time to relax and get used to this, because Satoru is already shoving himself inside you. Not easing into anything, just forcing the length of his cock inside you with no will to get you used to anything.

And with a few stops, because even when he has no intention for you to feel comfortable, he wants you on the edge and overstimulated, but the anger is nothing to your tight walls and warmth. So he staggers a bit, but gets all of him inside you, right up to the base of his cock. Then usually he gives you all the sweet time to get used to the stretch before he starts fucking you. But truly you have taken his nicety for granted, when he spends no time to give you a mean thrust, followed by more, each thrust getting more and more vigorous and sloppy with passing time.

“Yeah, you are taking it all huh. Do you love it? Now that i am fucking you like some slut? Is this what you wanted?” He rapidly slurs all that out, his mind more focused on the view of your ass recoiling with the force of his thrust, and his dick disappearing inside you. “This is what you deserve right? Come one, answer me.” 

“YES. y-yess.”

You are gripping onto the same pillows you cried on last night, and similarly to the past seven days, they were soaked in your tears. Just this time around it was from the amount of pleasure you felt in the pain. For the first time in your life, pain felt sweet, addictive. 

Satoru’s right hand was holding you by the waist, probably leaving an imprint of his callouses from the grip, trying to keep you still from hitting your head on the headboard. His hips however did not stop for a second, they quivers, and staggered, but they never stopped. It was the built up desires he locked away to make you feel like a doll, but since that is not what you wanted, he can surely take you out of the glass display from time to time to play with you. 

Satoru leaned down on your back, to push his chest to your back, and nuzzled in the side of your face. His lips found your ear, biting them to have you turn your head and look at him, to only collide his lips to yours. It was messy and raw, just tongue and teeth, spit dripping to your chin, like you have never been kissed before and he has never kissed before. And more than enough to make you cum again.

“I’m going to fill ya’ up. Fill ya’ full with my cum, until you are too filled to take any more. And I’ll just shove it all back into you. Plug you up.” His thrusts were starting to shatter more and more. “You’ll like that right? Hmm?” Nothing about you makes him think rationally, in fact you quite literally challenge his sanity. But he cannot help but love you, want you, need you even. 

“I’m gonna fill you up with my kids. Breed ya’ full, so you can never run away from me.”

You did not hate that idea. When his breaths are getting heavier with every second, and his nails are digging into your waist, and his face is pushing itself in your hair; you are actually hoping he keeps his word. 

And he does, you can feel every rope of cum he shoots up your walls, how his cock twitches inside you, making you clench around him in return—he is cumming inside you. Filling you up with his seed, shoving his cock further up your tubes, hitting your cervix one too many times to leave you capable of walking tomorrow. And it was all slimy and sloppy, you have never felt this wet, and you liked the feeling and idea of Satoru’s cum gushing inside you, creeping up to your womb and tying you down to him, forever.

While you are too busy hitting a fourth orgasm, and getting lost in the feeling of Satoru’s cum filling up your walls—Satoru’s left hand creeps up to your left hand, and slips the coveted ring that he kept safe with him, on your ring finger. He plops down on you, still connected to you by your cunt, and brings your left hand to his lips and kisses it, before moving to your face and kissing you. 

“Finally.” He wishepers, more to himself than for your ears to pick it up.

“I am not taking a no. I will tie you up if necessary.”

"I love you a lot you know?"

Maybe you have finally gone insane. Because honestly, you would not have it any other way. You might try to run again just to have Satoru chase you down and corner you, and lock you up. Maybe it was the thrill, or just the sheer need to piss him off to the point he shatters into nothing but the most authentic image of himself—but either way you had no plans of leaving your boyfriend. You need Gojo Satoru, you need him more than you need oxygen to breathe.  

"I love you too."

He is essential for your survival, and you are integral to his existence.

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a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources. header (i edited the original to fit the blue theme) by the artist Tony Belobrajdic (this is his insta go follow him or at least check it it is gorgeous)

did not edit it halfway through. please spare me.

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @naomi-main @cuntphoric @nanamiskentos @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @exquisink @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @gojosconsort @alygator77 @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic @infinitatis-ink @theorphicangel @ricecake-mochi @nonamebbsblog @genshingeeksworld @splat1371 @stxrlingpearl @satorushousewife @teyamsjustsleeping (the one and only, planted the seed for part 2)

Yandere!Ranpo x Reader

The clock ticked monotonously in the dim-lit room of the Armed Detective Agency. Edogawa Ranpo sat in his chair, legs crossed, a lollipop hanging lazily from his lips. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, the air was heavy with tension.

You had joined the agency only a few months ago. An average detective at best, you lacked Ranpo’s sharp intuition and quick deductions, but you made up for it with relentless effort and an earnest attitude. Ranpo, however, always seemed to have his eyes on you. At first, you thought it was harmless curiosity. He was, after all, known for his eccentricities. But lately, his gaze lingered a little too long, and his presence loomed a little too close.

It wasn’t until the murder case of a prominent politician landed on your desk that you began to realize just how deep his obsession ran.

The body lay sprawled on the marble floor of a grand estate, a knife protruding from the chest. The politician’s wife sobbed in the corner, surrounded by police officers. You and Ranpo arrived as the agency’s representatives.

While you scrambled to examine the scene, Ranpo remained unbothered, plopping himself down on a nearby chaise lounge.

“Ranpo, aren’t you going to help?” you asked, frustration tinging your voice.

He twirled his lollipop. “Already solved it.”

Your jaw dropped. “You haven’t even looked at the body!”

“I don’t need to,” he said with a grin. “The killer’s obvious. It’s the wife.”

The room fell silent as everyone turned to him. The wife’s sobbing grew louder, her protests more frantic.

“You can’t just accuse someone like that!” you snapped.

Ranpo shrugged, tapping his temple. “Deduction, my dear. Her tears are too perfect. The blood on her sleeve doesn’t match the angle of the wound. It’s staged. She killed him, then called for help to play the grieving widow.”

Despite his confidence, you doubted him. Yet, after a deeper investigation, the evidence confirmed his claims. The wife confessed.

“See?” Ranpo whispered to you as you left the scene. “I’m always right.”

There was something unsettling about the way he said it, as though he reveled in the fact that he was untouchable.

Weeks passed, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. Little things started to go missing: your pen, a photo from your desk, even your favorite scarf. You brushed it off as carelessness, but the growing pile of misplaced items gnawed at your nerves.

One evening, you stayed late at the agency, pouring over case files. When you finally stood to leave, you noticed an envelope on your desk.

Curious, you opened it. Inside was a single piece of paper with the words:

“I know you better than you know yourself.”

Your heart raced. Was this a prank? A threat? You glanced around, but the office was empty.

The next day, Ranpo approached you with a smile. “You look tired” he said. “Stayed up late?”

“How did you-” you stopped mid-sentence.

He chuckled. “I know everything about you, silly. Like how you pace when you’re anxious, or how you prefer your coffee black, even though you pretend to like cream and sugar. It’s adorable, really.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. How could he know so much?

It wasn’t until you stumbled upon an abandoned room in the agency’s basement that the pieces began to fall into place. Dust-covered furniture filled the space, but what caught your attention was a bulletin board on the wall.

Your blood ran cold.

Photos of you, some taken at work, others in your own home, were pinned haphazardly. Notes in Ranpo’s distinct handwriting detailed your habits, your favorite places, even your daily routine.

“Looking for something?”

You spun around to see Ranpo standing in the doorway, his usual playful smile replaced with something darker.

“Ranpo… what is this?” you demanded, voice trembling.

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets. “You weren’t supposed to find this yet. But now that you have, I guess there’s no point in hiding it.”

“You’ve been stalking me,” you accused.

“Such an ugly word,” he said, frowning. “I prefer observing. Watching over you, making sure you’re safe.”

“This is insane!” you shouted.

Ranpo tilted his head, his glasses glinting ominously. “Is it? You need me, Y/N. Don’t you see? Without me, you’d still be chasing shadows. I solve your cases, I protect you, I... love you.”

You stepped back, heart pounding. “This isn’t love, Ranpo. This is obsession.”

He sighed, as if disappointed. “Call it what you want, but you’ll realize soon enough. No one else understands you like I do.”

That night, you packed your things and left the city. You couldn’t stay, not with Ranpo’s eyes constantly on you. But no matter how far you ran, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still watching.

And then, one day, a familiar envelope arrived at your new apartment.

Inside was a single piece of paper.

“You can’t hide from me, Y/N. I’ll always find you.”

In the distance, a figure with glasses and a lollipop stood beneath a streetlamp, smiling.

જ⁀♡⊹｡° he got that boyish look that i like in a man ;)

♡ a/n — first bsd post in a longggg while!!! enjoy this drabble!

♡ word count — 571

♡ content — ranpo edogawa x gn! reader, secret relationship, fluff, not much else to say tbh, not proofread

♡ synopsis — Wrapped in golden sunlight and the shared knowledge of something no one else in the world knows...this is how you and ranpo edogawa like to spend your time.

Ranpo has his head in your lap again.

The blinds in the agency office are tilted just enough to let the late afternoon sunlight spill across the floor, warm and honey-colored. Everyone else has gone — Atsushi and Kunikida wrapped up their case earlier, and even Dazai made his usual theatrical exit an hour ago. You’d stayed behind to finish reports, and Ranpo… 

Well, Ranpo had declared he was “on break from being brilliant.”

Which, in Ranpo terms, meant crawling into the couch, eating two lollipops, and then making himself comfortable with his head in your lap.

Your fingers move instinctively to his hair, brushing through the dark strands, careful not to dislodge his ever-present cap. He hums softly, not quite asleep, not quite awake, utterly content in that lazy, boyish way he always is when it's just the two of you.

“Someone’s going to walk in one day,” you say, voice low and amused. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

Ranpo’s eyes stay closed, but his lips curl into a smirk. “They won’t. I locked the door.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You locked the—Ranpo.”

“Relax,” he mumbles, patting your knee like you’re the one that’s overreacting. “They all think I went home. Besides… it’s more fun this way, right?”

You exhale through a small laugh, shaking your head. “You and your secrets.”

He peeks up at you, one green eye glittering with mischief. “You like it.”

And he’s not wrong.

There’s no real reason your relationship is a secret. It isn’t forbidden, or complicated, or shameful. 

But there’s something intoxicating about having this quiet little world that belongs to only the two of you — something about the way his hand brushes yours in the hallway when no one’s looking, the way he’ll pass you notes folded into candy wrappers, or catch your eye in a meeting and wink like you’re sharing a joke no one else is in on.

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

And it’s yours.

Ranpo stretches like a cat, limbs long and lazy. “You know, if I were anyone else, I’d get tired of hiding,” he muses. “But I’m the greatest detective in the world. I know how to cover my tracks.”

“Mm. Impressive.”

“And I know,” he adds, voice softening, “that you like keeping secrets.”

You glance down. He’s watching you now, gaze open and sharp despite how relaxed he looks. He’s infuriatingly perceptive sometimes, catching emotions you didn’t even realize you were feeling. 

You wonder if he knows how your heart stutters when he looks at you like that — like you’re not just someone he likes, but someone he chooses, again and again.

Your fingers brush along his cheek. “You make it hard not to.”

His grin widens. “Because I’m cute?”

You laugh under your breath. “Because you’re you.”

It’s a simple answer, but it’s the truth. 

You could list a thousand reasons: his genius, his ridiculous sweet tooth, the way he somehow always finds the softest parts of you without even trying. 

But in the end, it’s just… him. All of him. 

The boyish charm, the childlike laziness, the startling flashes of brilliance — you love it all.

Ranpo hums again, content. He pulls your hand into his, weaving your fingers together and resting them on his chest.

And for a little while, you both just stay like that. 

Quiet. 

Hidden. 

Safe. 

Wrapped in golden sunlight and the shared knowledge of something no one else in the world knows.

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I'm literally like geto. He's just like me. We're one and the same.

i miss you summer geto

summary: why doesn't your boyfriend's dad like you?? you're rich, pretty... somewhat nice! and you have amazing fashion sense. whatever, you're not the type to shrink under pressure. and anyway, he’s stuck with you forever.

notes: touya todoroki x spoiled!reader, suggestive, tw: enji todoroki, no quirk au, unedited, reader mentions marriage, she is very bold very diva!

word count: 1.2k

the wind flutters through your open windows, carrying in the scent of salt air and daddy’s money. you grin at the breeze like it’s flirting with you, tugging playfully at your silky pink robe.

"my father doesn't even want you near me let alone on our yacht."

you huff, folding your arms like a spoiled brat. "why not? i'm rich, i'm pretty, i'm.. kind." you hum, fluttering your lashes in faux innocence.

touya smirks, holding up a finger. "doesn't like liars either."

"shut up!" you roll your eyes with a huff. "i'm going." there’s a pout in your tone as you stomp away with the flare of someone used to getting her way.

you ignore his knowing sigh before continuing from inside your barbie dreamhouse closet. "and he'll just haveta suck it up!"

"okay whatever, my brother won't leave you alone though." your boyfriend notes, sitting down at your vanity boredly.

"i don't care!" your voice echoes from somewhere between your shoe wall and color-coded lingerie drawer.

touya grins, lifting some glittery serum bottle to eye level and inspecting it before dropping it back onto the humongous vanity and shamelessly looking through your belongings. skincare, makeup, mess.

"the fuck is too faced?" he squints at the label of a blush cover. "you're not two-faced, you're just a bitch."

you reappear from the walk-in closet, mini skirt in hand as you stare at him with a small grin. "you're one to talk, daddy's boy."

"that doesn't make me a bitch- also ow?" he sasses.

you pad across the pink plush carpet as your lips curl into a grin. "you're my little bitch...!" you coo, blowing him a kiss.

"not cute." he rolls his eyes, unamused.

“very cute,” you correct in singsongy tone, draping the mini skirt over your meticulously made bed before flitting across your extravagantly large room in search of accessories.

“what if i said i don’t want you to come?” he grunts when you pick up some earrings and hold them against your ears, ogling yourself in one of your many mirrors.

“i wouldn’t believe you, duh.”

“right.” he dryly chuckles, fingers tapping against the vanity. “and why is that?”

you twirl a diamond-studded hoop against your ear, admiring the way it sparkles in the afternoon summer sun spilling through your windows. “cuz i'm perfect.”

“you’re insufferable, that’s what.”

the todorokis' yacht gleams smugly as it floats in the private dock’s crystal clear water. your miu miu heels click against the polished deck as you board, phone in hand and already opening the front facing camera.

you hum to yourself, snapping a pouty selfie at the breeze tousling your hair just right.

touya trails behind, dressed in his typical "yeah i've got money but i only hint at it" way. black tee, loose tommy hilfiger shorts, silver chain glinting in the sun.

you flash a sugary smile at a nearby crew member. “can you bring us some champagne? the pink one, not the regular one!”

you stomp toward the upper deck, calling over your shoulder, “i’m going to tan. don’t talk to me unless you’re complimenting my legs or bringing me fruit, kay?”

touya follows with a slow, lazy hum, hands in his pockets. “what happened to being kind, huh?”

“i am kind,” you say, reclining onto one of the cushioned loungers like you were born on it. “i just have standards.”

he leans down to mumble in your ear, probably not even aware of the stir of arousal he brings because if it. “you mean you just like when people worship you.”

your grin is immediate and shameless. “duh. why else do you think i let you stick around?”

“you dragged me here,” he reminds you, recalling the earlier conversation when he told you he didn’t wanna go to his family’s outing.

“and yet,” you coo, tugging him closer by the hem of his shirt, “you’re still standing here. wearing the sunscreen i packed for you cuz i knew you'd forget!”

he sighs, but doesn't pull away. “you’re exhausting.”

“you love me, baby.” you smile, pecking his lips.

“yeah, unfortunately.”

from behind his shades, you catch the way he watches you as you stretch out in your designer bikini, glittering in the sun like a rich little menace. you reach over, snatching his drink without asking.

“my dad’s staring,” touya mutters, going to sit beside you, his hand brushing yours.

“good!” you chirp, sipping from the glass with a pop of your lip gloss. “let him, maybe then he’ll finally realize i don’t care what he thinks.”

there’s a beat of silence between you two as the boat finally begins to move, pulling away from the dock. you tilt your head, watching touya out of the corner of your eye.

“you look pretty in the sunlight,” you say softly.

he smirks, eyes still closed with his head leaned against the chair. “yeah?”

“mhm!” you hum. “almost as good as me.”

he groans, dragging a hand over his face dramatically. “there it is.”

the yacht has only just slipped into deeper water when you start to get annoyed by it. enji's stare. you roll your eyes, clutching the glass of champagne delivered to you with a slight glare at the sound of heavy footsteps coming toward you.

“excuse me,” comes the gravelly, serious voice of enji todoroki. you turn your head with the exaggerated grace of someone expecting paparazzi. he stands in a crisp linen button-down and expensive loafers, looking like a walking tax bracket.

“yes?” you blink sweetly, tipping your sunglasses down your nose.

“you plan to spend the whole afternoon lounging?”

you give him your most dazzling, weaponized grin. “duh! it's a yacht, not a bootcamp.”

“you know, this isn’t your world, little girl.” he says lowly. “you float into things, take space. you don’t understand what it means to actually be needed somewhere.”

the air sharpens like it’s waiting for a very unnecessary fight, but you just hum, smiling to yourself as you pick up a chocolate covered strawberry from a chilled bowl the crew brought over.

you slide your shades up into your hair after taking a bite into the sweet fruit. touya exhales next to you, readjusting his position like he already knows something cheeky is about to leave your mouth.

“mister todoroki, i've tried to get you to like me.” you lick a smudge of chocolate from your thumb as you continue chewing, then sit up straighter, crossing your legs.

"but you're wrong. it is my world." you giggle. "i'm gonna be the first mrs. todoroki of my generation," you say simply, ignoring touya's choking and the widened eyes of enji. "so maybe you should treat me with more respect."

enji doesn’t answer, too ticked off. he just exhales with his eyes closed, like he’s releasing a deep, decades long sigh of regret, and walks off— probably to find a stiff drink and pretend you don’t exist.

you sigh, laying back against your lounge chair like nothing as you slide your shades back down.

"what the hell was that?" touya murmurs, still facing you.

"my announcement."

“baby, you can’t just-”

“you already let me sort your cologne drawer!" you interrupt, tilting your head to him. "i’m already halfway to being your wife.”

touya covers his face with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut. “you are the scariest woman alive.” he mumbles.

you let out a satisfied chirp, taking a sip from your glass with a pop of your lips. “compliment me and maybe i’ll let you kiss me with tongue later.”

“jesus christ.”

꒰ 𑄽𑄺 ⠀you have a new message from dolly!

not proofread, might add more to this later :3

sometimes your baby daddy is a genocidal cult leader and your loved ones should understand and be supportive of that

જ⁀♡⊹｡° he got that boyish look that i like in a man ;)

♡ a/n — first bsd post in a longggg while!!! enjoy this drabble!

♡ word count — 571

♡ content — ranpo edogawa x gn! reader, secret relationship, fluff, not much else to say tbh, not proofread

♡ synopsis — Wrapped in golden sunlight and the shared knowledge of something no one else in the world knows...this is how you and ranpo edogawa like to spend your time.

Ranpo has his head in your lap again.

The blinds in the agency office are tilted just enough to let the late afternoon sunlight spill across the floor, warm and honey-colored. Everyone else has gone — Atsushi and Kunikida wrapped up their case earlier, and even Dazai made his usual theatrical exit an hour ago. You’d stayed behind to finish reports, and Ranpo… 

Well, Ranpo had declared he was “on break from being brilliant.”

Which, in Ranpo terms, meant crawling into the couch, eating two lollipops, and then making himself comfortable with his head in your lap.

Your fingers move instinctively to his hair, brushing through the dark strands, careful not to dislodge his ever-present cap. He hums softly, not quite asleep, not quite awake, utterly content in that lazy, boyish way he always is when it's just the two of you.

“Someone’s going to walk in one day,” you say, voice low and amused. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

Ranpo’s eyes stay closed, but his lips curl into a smirk. “They won’t. I locked the door.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You locked the—Ranpo.”

“Relax,” he mumbles, patting your knee like you’re the one that’s overreacting. “They all think I went home. Besides… it’s more fun this way, right?”

You exhale through a small laugh, shaking your head. “You and your secrets.”

He peeks up at you, one green eye glittering with mischief. “You like it.”

And he’s not wrong.

There’s no real reason your relationship is a secret. It isn’t forbidden, or complicated, or shameful. 

But there’s something intoxicating about having this quiet little world that belongs to only the two of you — something about the way his hand brushes yours in the hallway when no one’s looking, the way he’ll pass you notes folded into candy wrappers, or catch your eye in a meeting and wink like you’re sharing a joke no one else is in on.

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

And it’s yours.

Ranpo stretches like a cat, limbs long and lazy. “You know, if I were anyone else, I’d get tired of hiding,” he muses. “But I’m the greatest detective in the world. I know how to cover my tracks.”

“Mm. Impressive.”

“And I know,” he adds, voice softening, “that you like keeping secrets.”

You glance down. He’s watching you now, gaze open and sharp despite how relaxed he looks. He’s infuriatingly perceptive sometimes, catching emotions you didn’t even realize you were feeling. 

You wonder if he knows how your heart stutters when he looks at you like that — like you’re not just someone he likes, but someone he chooses, again and again.

Your fingers brush along his cheek. “You make it hard not to.”

His grin widens. “Because I’m cute?”

You laugh under your breath. “Because you’re you.”

It’s a simple answer, but it’s the truth. 

You could list a thousand reasons: his genius, his ridiculous sweet tooth, the way he somehow always finds the softest parts of you without even trying. 

But in the end, it’s just… him. All of him. 

The boyish charm, the childlike laziness, the startling flashes of brilliance — you love it all.

Ranpo hums again, content. He pulls your hand into his, weaving your fingers together and resting them on his chest.

And for a little while, you both just stay like that. 

Quiet. 

Hidden. 

Safe. 

Wrapped in golden sunlight and the shared knowledge of something no one else in the world knows.

is the bsd fandom still alive?

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⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

Fractured Desires Masterlist

ꕥ Chapter 1 ꕥ Chapter 2 ꕥ Chapter 3 ꕥ Chapter 4 ꕥ Chapter 5 ꕥ Chapter 6 ꕥ Chapter 7 ꕥ Chapter 8 ꕥ Chapter 9 - Final ꕥ

ꕥ Pairings: Yandere Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader (past Suguru/Reader, past Choso x reader/ suguru x shoko and even some shoko x reader lol - It's a mess tbh)

ꕥ Warnings-MDNI-Toru is TOXIC, Sugu is AWFUL, this story is toxic lol, explicit sexual content, and yandere Gojo behavior. There is some physical description of the readers height/body, don't read if too unimmersive. Threesomes, MMF and FFM, foursomes, blow jobs, cunnilingus, hate sex, toxic behavior, low key infidelity, failed ass plyamory, bdsm, pain play, stalking, obsessive shit... Toru is a yandere psycho (hot tho!?) and Sugu an evil gaslighter hoe (Sorry lol)

ꕥ Word Count 95K FINISHED

ꕥ Summary- You meet Suguru Geto at your work, he is charming, gorgeous, and wants an open relationship. You jump in, and you all share women and have way too much fun. But then it's starting to get serious between you, official even. He can't wait to have you meet his best friend. But... Satoru Gojo hates you. The minute you meet. He gives you no reason, but he's nasty to you, no matter what you try. Suguru finally has enough of Satoru being so mean and brings up the idea - 'let's have you two fuck this frustration out'

Satoru hates you because deep down wants to make you his. He doesn't understand how Suguru could ever want anyone but you. Though it's a bad idea, he agrees to share you with Suguru for a chance at you and... The moment he touches you... Rules are bent and broken, Suguru develops feelings for another girl, and Satoru gets further obsessed with you. Nothing is as it seemed. Will everyone get hurt?

Geto is a gaslighter HOE in this story, Satoru is a TOXIC psycho who sure can fuck. (Reader just here for the dick and emotional damage)

Moodboard for our reader (girlie girl)

Buy me a Coffee ☕️ - Masterlist -Ao3 link