⤷ Shinichi x Ran: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
⤷ Kaito x Aoko: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
⤷ Heiji x Kazuha: Part 1, Part 2
⤷ Takagi x Satou
⤷ Makoto x Sonoko
⤷ Yusaku x Yukiko
⤷ Gin
⤷ Vermouth
⤷ Shiho
⤷ their moans - Shin, Hei, Kai
Non-DCMK:
⤷ NaruHina (upcoming)
✢ Guidelines (Please Read!) ✢
⤷ Drabble requests/suggestions are always open, but completion is under an indefinite period.
⤷ Author reserves the right to delete or ignore asks she is not comfortable answering.
⤷ Please be respectful! Author is generally nice and openminded when it comes to kinks, but if you are rude or crosses her comfort zone she won’t hesitate to block.
⤷ Author’s squicks*: noncon, extreme gore, scat/urine things, futa, anal things, sounding, ascendant x descendant incest, pet play, shota/lolicon, sex under influence (alcohol OK, recreational drugs NOT OK)
-
*squick - any trope, genre, or concept that makes you supremely uncomfortable and you absolutely do not want to read/write/see it
Hiiii. How about some thigh fucking? It's knows that Shinichi loves Ran's legs, so it has got to happen. He can't stop staring and Ran shouldn't really feel this hot and bothered about the way he looks at her but she does. The make-out sessions are no longer enough now, they need more, so they go for it.
The timestamp of this ask is April 10, 2021 I am laughing as I type this. Please anon appreciate me, I tried after 3.5 years HAHAHA
Couldn't get this request out of my head from the moment it entered my inbox three (3) years ago lmao. I labeled this post as mature, for obvious reasons :)
絶対領域 || Absolute Territory (ShinRan)
.
.
Kudou Shinichi has a tendency of blaming the universe for things beyond his control.
It only happens rarely, for Kudou Shinichi doesn’t bow down to fate, fate bows down to Kudou Shinichi. He’ll carve a solution against all odds. How many times has he cheated death?
But at this very moment, he is resigned to the thought that the universe is to blame for everything that led to here.
He blames the universe for having been born Japanese, lived in the same neighborhood, entered the same kindergarten as this girl turned girlfriend a good twelve years later.
He blames the universe for the abnormal surge of cases in Tokyo that consequently robs the girlfriend’s father’s time in the apartment, leaving him and her alone ‘til sunset.
Blames the universe for spring, because flowy skirts.
Blames the universe for summer for limiting her wardrobe choice to nothing but shorts, shorts, and short shorts.
Blames the universe for autumn, because thigh-high stockings.
Blames the universe or whoever created it for creating teenage hormones so rebellious, so perilously out of his control especially when he gets so much a peek of her skin. Just skin, the fuck. How else if more than that.
All these and more run in his mind while the girlfriend nestles between his legs doing homework under the kotatsu.
Naturally, he blames the universe for this moment.
Winter is a bitch, sweaters and heater aren’t enough. Mouri Ran suggests huddling. Now he levels with her nape, long hair conveniently let on one side. She scribbles notes with no care in the world while he inwardly chants a prayer. This is it. This is his demise.
He blames the universe for the aching hard-on in his pants.
But he is Kudou Shinichi, and while he’ll flip the universe off, he'll make absolutely sure to do something about the situation he’s presented. Else, he dies.
There are many ways to deal with this without hurting anybody’s feelings. He can excuse himself and let the rage subside in the toilet. He can request they sit side by side instead. He can offer to get them a takeout snack from Poirot. Literally those ways.
But not pull her closer by the waist.
He really isn’t helping himself. It’s dumb, but at the same time it seems it’s all he can manage to do. He clears his throat, a harmless statement whispered in her ear, “Ran, can we please, uh. Take a break.”
Amidst the impatient rush of blood southwards, he maintains a safe distance, not too close she could hear the erratic beating in his chest, and not too far that when her head swivels sideways their noses brush. Distance still matters to him, lest this - whatever he's doing - startles her.
“Hm? But we just took one fifteen minutes ago.”
Ran catches Shinichi’s eyes drift to the direction of the bed and back. She can't read if that gesture intentionally hints on something, or just a slip of his guilty thoughts. His eyes are so near she catches the details of his blues, blended with a certain kind of struggle.
Her body becomes aware of a bulge against her lower back. Ran's pulse kicks up a step.
“Let’s keep warm over there, please,” Shinichi requests, a hint of mild desperation in his tone.
When it takes her a while to reply, he notices his mistake. So much for devising ways to deal with hormones without offending anyone's feelings. With his last sane braincell, he wills himself to scoot further back, "No worries if you don't wanna! Though I k-kinda need to lie down a bit, Ran, haha, so—"
The disentanglement is halted when she holds his arms firm around her waist. Ran refuses to budge under the kotatsu. Instead, she clings onto the cuffs of his sleeve, startling him.
"Shinichi, um. But we're already quite comfortable here, don't you think?"
Like hell it is. Shinichi needs to break away. He can already sense himself growing by the second, exponentially so with the way she tilts her chin to face him fully, something he hasn’t seen before dancing in her eyes. Half mast, dilated, cozy and— and almost bedroomy.
What! Is she doing!
Shinichi's hands slide down her hips involuntarily. They stay in the kotatsu, plane of her back resting against his pecs through the hoodie. Everything is dangerously still. He gives her hips a light squeeze, she doesn't protest. He inches close, she presses near. "The hell, Ran..." He skims the line of her shoulder with his lips.
What! Is he doing!
He's acting on pure impulse now, the set of sane braincells in his head overpowered by the braincells of another one. A total defeat. God he's such a man.
And it maddens him so because not one bit does Ran seem to mind, whispering a light ‘should be fine here, right?’ when they're eye to eye. Shinichi nods in complete obedience. He swallows his nerves away, then closes the distance between their lips in one swift motion.
Inside his brain, the little Shinichi with pitchforks rejoices.
Perhaps the liplock is too earnest that a few minutes in, Ran finds her hips moving on its own, attention brought once more to the press of that bulge against her back. They part only for Ran to surge in again, denying them a moment to breathe.
Her hand creeps up behind, feeling the stiffness. She squeezes lightly. Shinichi groans in her mouth. No words are said, yet they seem to understand exactly what the other wants to do. She tugs on the garter of his joggers. His hands travel down her skirt, up her thigh. Shinichi loses his mind.
I'm going to hell, he thinks, as he finds his fingers trailing to the most heated part of her body. This isn't the first time. That's why he desires to get away at the earliest opportunity the moment he feels about to succumb to the universe's temptations, certain the day will end with his fingers buried in her, and she gasping in his arms. Exactly right now. Him stroking her above cotton, before slipping past it and slowly sliding in.
It frustrates him to feel this good hearing her moan his name, and it's only ever third base.
Only ever third base.
Shinichi blames the universe that he isn't yet married to Mouri Ran. Dear god, how the universe knows he's dying to fu—
He freezes at the cold touch of her hand slinking inside his boxers. Something inside him stirred. This is a first time. His fingers pause, his breath gets heavy. Ran breaks the kiss to look him in the eye, panting as she pulls his garments further down, "let's do it?"
Fuck.
Surprisingly, it's Shinichi who comes to senses first. "Do what exactly?", genuine inquiry seemingly asked in jest following a heated french in response to her straightforward request. Though clearly aware of what she’s insinuating, he needs to be absolutely certain of what stage they are about to do. Instead of giving verbal confirmation however, Ran doesn't stop stroking him, and Shinichi feels himself about to short circuit, making it worse when she adjusts the way she's seated to give her hand - and his fingers - more working space.
They are about to do it under the kotatsu.
Shinichi should be thanking the heavens right now, yet a part of him screams to save the end for a later time when they're older, readier. The sane side of him awakens, like a dying star in its last bursts of energy before imploding in on itself, just enough seconds to remind himself that he intends to take this step by step. There must be a way they can do it without doing it.
Hoisting Ran by the waist, Shinichi deposits her body slightly below his torso and leans back a bit. "Maybe we can..." The slight shift in position allows Ran to perch snug above him, legs between his outstretched ones. "Like this."
Ran appears reluctant to let go of her grasp, but in the new adjustment, she feels him against the underside of her thighs, rock hard. It only occurs to her what she just requested, and she flushes, suddenly hyperaware of the wild drumbeat inside her chest, the zero personal space. Her skin sensitive to the squeeze of his hand on her hip underneath her hoodie. His twitch beneath when his other hand finds purchase on the area between her skirt and overknee socks and begs her to 'open up a bit' and he groans her name, "Ran."
Dazed, Ran creates an opening. Shinichi slides himself in. Ran tightens the grip of her thighs. Shinichi moves.
It's like all the air is robbed out of his lungs.
How does he describe this sensation? He feels like a present, she the wrapper. "Been wondering 'bout this for a long time," is what he doesn't say aloud, as he looks over at the way her knees linked close, her upper thighs clamp. There is something sacred in the place where he enters her, an absolute territory he's actually been waiting to explore beyond sight. He's only ever stared in loaded silence, when she walks ahead, or climbs the stairs, or gets a book atop the shelf on tiptoes and skirt hiking up. Thoughts spurring in his subconscious going, what does it feel like to be trapped in there.
Unbeknownst to Shinichi, it's the singular best place to ever be. An absolutely fucking addicting territory to be in.
Ran squirms in place, unable to stray her eyes away from the rise and fall happening beneath her skirt. She needs to confirm that this strange hot activity with Shinichi is real. With shaky hands she lifts the hem of her skirt up and sees him. Wet on the tip. Protruding then disappearing. Rhythm synchronizing with the labored breath by her nape.
Overwhelmed by the budding heat in that area they create friction, she begins rolling her hips, matching his timing.
They are doing it under the kotatsu.
It drives Shinichi crazier when Ran requests to rise up to a kneeling position, her palms flat on the tabletop. They stay connected below, allowing him a more comfortable grip, a more open view of him thrusting between her thighs. Ran tips her head back and breathes the cutest moan when he picks up the pace. If he closes his eyes, he may actually believe they're doing it from behind, the sensation perhaps nearly tantamount to fucking her. And he might really seriously get to fuck her. Except that what they're doing now is already so damn hot neither wants to stop.
"Ah. You're—" something wet oozes slowly over him as he continues sliding in and out her thighs. Understanding what it is and what it means for his girlfriend is about enough to give him a heart attack. His hands enclose hers atop the kotatsu, sheathing and unsheathing faster, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he croaks out, "fucking warm, Ran".
He hasn't hung out in her room intending to do anything of this sort with Ran. It's just suddenly happened. And now he's afraid that once he finishes, he'll end up wanting more. The heat in him builds up, ever concentrated at the nerve ends of his shaft, desperately looking for where he can possibly do the unloading in the most respectful way. On the table. The fabric of her skirt. Her socks. Her thighs. He grits his teeth and inwardly curses.
Whatever the case is, he'll make a mess of her.
He blames the universe for how badly that turns him on.
Closing in, he warns Ran by the ear. "S'll be a lot," he says, and Ran, tongue-tied and keening, nods frantically. In a split second, Shinichi makes a decision - spilling over the table will ruin Ran's notes. So the final blow he does, painting the back of Ran's thighs, dribbling down the seam of her socks as he spurts out more, and more, and more, then sliding back again between her thighs, calming himself down with one hand on her hip and the other squeezing her breasts beneath the hoodie.
For Shinichi, everything burns.
"Can I..." Ran speaks first, over quiet gasps of air, "Can I um, remove my socks, I'm..."
"Shit," Shinichi rasps, unable to even out his breathing. "Hold on." Still in a bit of a haze, he slowly releases his grip on Ran's breast, sliding down to join his other hand on her hips. Even in his high, he tries his best to hold her ever so gently. He tries his best, despite the wave of shame that has begun to wash over him.
"Sorry, I couldn't—"
Before Shinichi can finish, Ran turns her head to look at him, and Shinichi knows. The lines of sweat, the slow ragged breaths, the gentle stoke of fire in her eyes, all tell him that for Ran, everything burns, too.
They fall silent for a brief second, holding each other's gaze. Until Ran giggles first.
It surprises him so because she’s giggling. She rolls the socks down one leg and Shinichi assists her in the other, thinking, if only he foresaw the positive feedback he'd get from this, he would’ve done this ages earlier.
“I think,” she begins, after she lets him clean her up with the dry portion of her discarded socks, the pair obviously going straight to the laundry. “That’s such a perverted thing to do.”
“Hey. Tha – !” Shinichi gives his retort a second thought, unable to control the red of his cheeks as he tucks himself inside his joggers. At least he accepts there is no use denying a fact.
“Don’t blame me,” he mutters, abashed, turning her around so she can see him pout. Maybe Shinichi will have to clean himself up too, later, alone, in the shower.
However, he notices that the fire in her eyes hasn’t disappeared.
“Whose fault is it then? Mine?” Ran asks, coy.
Fuck, not again.
Shinichi is supposedly mature enough to own up to his weakness, but until the end, even as he lays sprawled on the bedroom floor drowning in her kisses twice the intensity, even as he finds his hands roaming her backside to flip her so he comes on top, even as he lets her pull him free of his pants the second time that afternoon, the answer that leaves his smirking lips is, ‘definitely the universe’s.’
hey, ive been reading a bunch of your kaiao fics for probably about. a month or two more, constantly. and i must say that they got me real addicted to them. just wondering if youre still writing kaiao smut fics… i really love your writing 🥹❤️🩹
Damn, that is such a high praise anon. Stop- you are making me weak, and making my week 🥹💙
I do have some kaiao smutfic ideas typed in my drafts, but as to paragraph wips? Unforch, none. 🥲 See, you don't know how much I want to bring that fuckbuddy!kaiao idea to life. ;w; Why can't my thoughts write words in air ! ! Life is so unfair ! ! xjhsdjahsd lmao
Hai Sachi. Just wanna tell you that i'm thirsty of shinran smut stories especially your writing xixi sooo just wondering are you gonna write one in the near future?
hope u are in the good condition btw 🧡
xoxo
Re: when to write again, I ask myself the same question 😭😂 Yes I am thirsty for shinran smut ! ! hard same!
Yes anon, I am in good condition, thank you for checking up on me <3
Something just occurred to me. You know how Shinichi and Ran occasionally have telepathic moments? What if Shin's magical cousin helps him hone his skills? And Shin and Ran start communicating somewhat regularly. And leads to... well I don't know if it's OOC, but you heard of phone sex, what about Shinran telepathy sex? :3c
You know what anon that is such a great idea LIKE i am a sucker for the telepathic-longing-look-from-across-a-crowded-room typa situation the kind no one knows about except the both of you hnngggg plus YES make it Shinran— yearning is a given, sure, but see, since this is an R18 blog— maybe imagine during a public interview, Shinichi in front of the camera and Ran watching him behind it. Their eyes meet mid-speak, cue indecent telepathic communication, Shinichi forgets how to speak, Ran disappears from the crowd, Shinichi is left hanging, interviewer is confused.
'he would not fucking say that' maybe he would if he knew he was starring in his very own porn fic for the sole purpose of delighting some freaks on archive of our own dot org. maybe he'd play it up for the cameras. ever consider that
Hiiii. How about some thigh fucking? It's knows that Shinichi loves Ran's legs, so it has got to happen. He can't stop staring and Ran shouldn't really feel this hot and bothered about the way he looks at her but she does. The make-out sessions are no longer enough now, they need more, so they go for it.
The timestamp of this ask is April 10, 2021 I am laughing as I type this. Please anon appreciate me, I tried after 3.5 years HAHAHA
Couldn't get this request out of my head from the moment it entered my inbox three (3) years ago lmao. I labeled this post as mature, for obvious reasons :)
絶対領域 || Absolute Territory (ShinRan)
.
.
Kudou Shinichi has a tendency of blaming the universe for things beyond his control.
It only happens rarely, for Kudou Shinichi doesn’t bow down to fate, fate bows down to Kudou Shinichi. He’ll carve a solution against all odds. How many times has he cheated death?
But at this very moment, he is resigned to the thought that the universe is to blame for everything that led to here.
He blames the universe for having been born Japanese, lived in the same neighborhood, entered the same kindergarten as this girl turned girlfriend a good twelve years later.
He blames the universe for the abnormal surge of cases in Tokyo that consequently robs the girlfriend’s father’s time in the apartment, leaving him and her alone ‘til sunset.
Blames the universe for spring, because flowy skirts.
Blames the universe for summer for limiting her wardrobe choice to nothing but shorts, shorts, and short shorts.
Blames the universe for autumn, because thigh-high stockings.
Blames the universe or whoever created it for creating teenage hormones so rebellious, so perilously out of his control especially when he gets so much a peek of her skin. Just skin, the fuck. How else if more than that.
All these and more run in his mind while the girlfriend nestles between his legs doing homework under the kotatsu.
Naturally, he blames the universe for this moment.
Winter is a bitch, sweaters and heater aren’t enough. Mouri Ran suggests huddling. Now he levels with her nape, long hair conveniently let on one side. She scribbles notes with no care in the world while he inwardly chants a prayer. This is it. This is his demise.
He blames the universe for the aching hard-on in his pants.
But he is Kudou Shinichi, and while he’ll flip the universe off, he'll make absolutely sure to do something about the situation he’s presented. Else, he dies.
There are many ways to deal with this without hurting anybody’s feelings. He can excuse himself and let the rage subside in the toilet. He can request they sit side by side instead. He can offer to get them a takeout snack from Poirot. Literally those ways.
But not pull her closer by the waist.
He really isn’t helping himself. It’s dumb, but at the same time it seems it’s all he can manage to do. He clears his throat, a harmless statement whispered in her ear, “Ran, can we please, uh. Take a break.”
Amidst the impatient rush of blood southwards, he maintains a safe distance, not too close she could hear the erratic beating in his chest, and not too far that when her head swivels sideways their noses brush. Distance still matters to him, lest this - whatever he's doing - startles her.
“Hm? But we just took one fifteen minutes ago.”
Ran catches Shinichi’s eyes drift to the direction of the bed and back. She can't read if that gesture intentionally hints on something, or just a slip of his guilty thoughts. His eyes are so near she catches the details of his blues, blended with a certain kind of struggle.
Her body becomes aware of a bulge against her lower back. Ran's pulse kicks up a step.
“Let’s keep warm over there, please,” Shinichi requests, a hint of mild desperation in his tone.
When it takes her a while to reply, he notices his mistake. So much for devising ways to deal with hormones without offending anyone's feelings. With his last sane braincell, he wills himself to scoot further back, "No worries if you don't wanna! Though I k-kinda need to lie down a bit, Ran, haha, so—"
The disentanglement is halted when she holds his arms firm around her waist. Ran refuses to budge under the kotatsu. Instead, she clings onto the cuffs of his sleeve, startling him.
"Shinichi, um. But we're already quite comfortable here, don't you think?"
Like hell it is. Shinichi needs to break away. He can already sense himself growing by the second, exponentially so with the way she tilts her chin to face him fully, something he hasn’t seen before dancing in her eyes. Half mast, dilated, cozy and— and almost bedroomy.
What! Is she doing!
Shinichi's hands slide down her hips involuntarily. They stay in the kotatsu, plane of her back resting against his pecs through the hoodie. Everything is dangerously still. He gives her hips a light squeeze, she doesn't protest. He inches close, she presses near. "The hell, Ran..." He skims the line of her shoulder with his lips.
What! Is he doing!
He's acting on pure impulse now, the set of sane braincells in his head overpowered by the braincells of another one. A total defeat. God he's such a man.
And it maddens him so because not one bit does Ran seem to mind, whispering a light ‘should be fine here, right?’ when they're eye to eye. Shinichi nods in complete obedience. He swallows his nerves away, then closes the distance between their lips in one swift motion.
Inside his brain, the little Shinichi with pitchforks rejoices.
Perhaps the liplock is too earnest that a few minutes in, Ran finds her hips moving on its own, attention brought once more to the press of that bulge against her back. They part only for Ran to surge in again, denying them a moment to breathe.
Her hand creeps up behind, feeling the stiffness. She squeezes lightly. Shinichi groans in her mouth. No words are said, yet they seem to understand exactly what the other wants to do. She tugs on the garter of his joggers. His hands travel down her skirt, up her thigh. Shinichi loses his mind.
I'm going to hell, he thinks, as he finds his fingers trailing to the most heated part of her body. This isn't the first time. That's why he desires to get away at the earliest opportunity the moment he feels about to succumb to the universe's temptations, certain the day will end with his fingers buried in her, and she gasping in his arms. Exactly right now. Him stroking her above cotton, before slipping past it and slowly sliding in.
It frustrates him to feel this good hearing her moan his name, and it's only ever third base.
Only ever third base.
Shinichi blames the universe that he isn't yet married to Mouri Ran. Dear god, how the universe knows he's dying to fu—
He freezes at the cold touch of her hand slinking inside his boxers. Something inside him stirred. This is a first time. His fingers pause, his breath gets heavy. Ran breaks the kiss to look him in the eye, panting as she pulls his garments further down, "let's do it?"
Fuck.
Surprisingly, it's Shinichi who comes to senses first. "Do what exactly?", genuine inquiry seemingly asked in jest following a heated french in response to her straightforward request. Though clearly aware of what she’s insinuating, he needs to be absolutely certain of what stage they are about to do. Instead of giving verbal confirmation however, Ran doesn't stop stroking him, and Shinichi feels himself about to short circuit, making it worse when she adjusts the way she's seated to give her hand - and his fingers - more working space.
They are about to do it under the kotatsu.
Shinichi should be thanking the heavens right now, yet a part of him screams to save the end for a later time when they're older, readier. The sane side of him awakens, like a dying star in its last bursts of energy before imploding in on itself, just enough seconds to remind himself that he intends to take this step by step. There must be a way they can do it without doing it.
Hoisting Ran by the waist, Shinichi deposits her body slightly below his torso and leans back a bit. "Maybe we can..." The slight shift in position allows Ran to perch snug above him, legs between his outstretched ones. "Like this."
Ran appears reluctant to let go of her grasp, but in the new adjustment, she feels him against the underside of her thighs, rock hard. It only occurs to her what she just requested, and she flushes, suddenly hyperaware of the wild drumbeat inside her chest, the zero personal space. Her skin sensitive to the squeeze of his hand on her hip underneath her hoodie. His twitch beneath when his other hand finds purchase on the area between her skirt and overknee socks and begs her to 'open up a bit' and he groans her name, "Ran."
Dazed, Ran creates an opening. Shinichi slides himself in. Ran tightens the grip of her thighs. Shinichi moves.
It's like all the air is robbed out of his lungs.
How does he describe this sensation? He feels like a present, she the wrapper. "Been wondering 'bout this for a long time," is what he doesn't say aloud, as he looks over at the way her knees linked close, her upper thighs clamp. There is something sacred in the place where he enters her, an absolute territory he's actually been waiting to explore beyond sight. He's only ever stared in loaded silence, when she walks ahead, or climbs the stairs, or gets a book atop the shelf on tiptoes and skirt hiking up. Thoughts spurring in his subconscious going, what does it feel like to be trapped in there.
Unbeknownst to Shinichi, it's the singular best place to ever be. An absolutely fucking addicting territory to be in.
Ran squirms in place, unable to stray her eyes away from the rise and fall happening beneath her skirt. She needs to confirm that this strange hot activity with Shinichi is real. With shaky hands she lifts the hem of her skirt up and sees him. Wet on the tip. Protruding then disappearing. Rhythm synchronizing with the labored breath by her nape.
Overwhelmed by the budding heat in that area they create friction, she begins rolling her hips, matching his timing.
They are doing it under the kotatsu.
It drives Shinichi crazier when Ran requests to rise up to a kneeling position, her palms flat on the tabletop. They stay connected below, allowing him a more comfortable grip, a more open view of him thrusting between her thighs. Ran tips her head back and breathes the cutest moan when he picks up the pace. If he closes his eyes, he may actually believe they're doing it from behind, the sensation perhaps nearly tantamount to fucking her. And he might really seriously get to fuck her. Except that what they're doing now is already so damn hot neither wants to stop.
"Ah. You're—" something wet oozes slowly over him as he continues sliding in and out her thighs. Understanding what it is and what it means for his girlfriend is about enough to give him a heart attack. His hands enclose hers atop the kotatsu, sheathing and unsheathing faster, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he croaks out, "fucking warm, Ran".
He hasn't hung out in her room intending to do anything of this sort with Ran. It's just suddenly happened. And now he's afraid that once he finishes, he'll end up wanting more. The heat in him builds up, ever concentrated at the nerve ends of his shaft, desperately looking for where he can possibly do the unloading in the most respectful way. On the table. The fabric of her skirt. Her socks. Her thighs. He grits his teeth and inwardly curses.
Whatever the case is, he'll make a mess of her.
He blames the universe for how badly that turns him on.
Closing in, he warns Ran by the ear. "S'll be a lot," he says, and Ran, tongue-tied and keening, nods frantically. In a split second, Shinichi makes a decision - spilling over the table will ruin Ran's notes. So the final blow he does, painting the back of Ran's thighs, dribbling down the seam of her socks as he spurts out more, and more, and more, then sliding back again between her thighs, calming himself down with one hand on her hip and the other squeezing her breasts beneath the hoodie.
For Shinichi, everything burns.
"Can I..." Ran speaks first, over quiet gasps of air, "Can I um, remove my socks, I'm..."
"Shit," Shinichi rasps, unable to even out his breathing. "Hold on." Still in a bit of a haze, he slowly releases his grip on Ran's breast, sliding down to join his other hand on her hips. Even in his high, he tries his best to hold her ever so gently. He tries his best, despite the wave of shame that has begun to wash over him.
"Sorry, I couldn't—"
Before Shinichi can finish, Ran turns her head to look at him, and Shinichi knows. The lines of sweat, the slow ragged breaths, the gentle stoke of fire in her eyes, all tell him that for Ran, everything burns, too.
They fall silent for a brief second, holding each other's gaze. Until Ran giggles first.
It surprises him so because she’s giggling. She rolls the socks down one leg and Shinichi assists her in the other, thinking, if only he foresaw the positive feedback he'd get from this, he would’ve done this ages earlier.
“I think,” she begins, after she lets him clean her up with the dry portion of her discarded socks, the pair obviously going straight to the laundry. “That’s such a perverted thing to do.”
“Hey. Tha – !” Shinichi gives his retort a second thought, unable to control the red of his cheeks as he tucks himself inside his joggers. At least he accepts there is no use denying a fact.
“Don’t blame me,” he mutters, abashed, turning her around so she can see him pout. Maybe Shinichi will have to clean himself up too, later, alone, in the shower.
However, he notices that the fire in her eyes hasn’t disappeared.
“Whose fault is it then? Mine?” Ran asks, coy.
Fuck, not again.
Shinichi is supposedly mature enough to own up to his weakness, but until the end, even as he lays sprawled on the bedroom floor drowning in her kisses twice the intensity, even as he finds his hands roaming her backside to flip her so he comes on top, even as he lets her pull him free of his pants the second time that afternoon, the answer that leaves his smirking lips is, ‘definitely the universe’s.’
Hiiii. How about some thigh fucking? It's knows that Shinichi loves Ran's legs, so it has got to happen. He can't stop staring and Ran shouldn't really feel this hot and bothered about the way he looks at her but she does. The make-out sessions are no longer enough now, they need more, so they go for it.
The timestamp of this ask is April 10, 2021 I am laughing as I type this. Please anon appreciate me, I tried after 3.5 years HAHAHA
Couldn't get this request out of my head from the moment it entered my inbox three (3) years ago lmao. I labeled this post as mature, for obvious reasons :)
絶対領域 || Absolute Territory (ShinRan)
.
.
Kudou Shinichi has a tendency of blaming the universe for things beyond his control.
It only happens rarely, for Kudou Shinichi doesn’t bow down to fate, fate bows down to Kudou Shinichi. He’ll carve a solution against all odds. How many times has he cheated death?
But at this very moment, he is resigned to the thought that the universe is to blame for everything that led to here.
He blames the universe for having been born Japanese, lived in the same neighborhood, entered the same kindergarten as this girl turned girlfriend a good twelve years later.
He blames the universe for the abnormal surge of cases in Tokyo that consequently robs the girlfriend’s father’s time in the apartment, leaving him and her alone ‘til sunset.
Blames the universe for spring, because flowy skirts.
Blames the universe for summer for limiting her wardrobe choice to nothing but shorts, shorts, and short shorts.
Blames the universe for autumn, because thigh-high stockings.
Blames the universe or whoever created it for creating teenage hormones so rebellious, so perilously out of his control especially when he gets so much a peek of her skin. Just skin, the fuck. How else if more than that.
All these and more run in his mind while the girlfriend nestles between his legs doing homework under the kotatsu.
Naturally, he blames the universe for this moment.
Winter is a bitch, sweaters and heater aren’t enough. Mouri Ran suggests huddling. Now he levels with her nape, long hair conveniently let on one side. She scribbles notes with no care in the world while he inwardly chants a prayer. This is it. This is his demise.
He blames the universe for the aching hard-on in his pants.
But he is Kudou Shinichi, and while he’ll flip the universe off, he'll make absolutely sure to do something about the situation he’s presented. Else, he dies.
There are many ways to deal with this without hurting anybody’s feelings. He can excuse himself and let the rage subside in the toilet. He can request they sit side by side instead. He can offer to get them a takeout snack from Poirot. Literally those ways.
But not pull her closer by the waist.
He really isn’t helping himself. It’s dumb, but at the same time it seems it’s all he can manage to do. He clears his throat, a harmless statement whispered in her ear, “Ran, can we please, uh. Take a break.”
Amidst the impatient rush of blood southwards, he maintains a safe distance, not too close she could hear the erratic beating in his chest, and not too far that when her head swivels sideways their noses brush. Distance still matters to him, lest this - whatever he's doing - startles her.
“Hm? But we just took one fifteen minutes ago.”
Ran catches Shinichi’s eyes drift to the direction of the bed and back. She can't read if that gesture intentionally hints on something, or just a slip of his guilty thoughts. His eyes are so near she catches the details of his blues, blended with a certain kind of struggle.
Her body becomes aware of a bulge against her lower back. Ran's pulse kicks up a step.
“Let’s keep warm over there, please,” Shinichi requests, a hint of mild desperation in his tone.
When it takes her a while to reply, he notices his mistake. So much for devising ways to deal with hormones without offending anyone's feelings. With his last sane braincell, he wills himself to scoot further back, "No worries if you don't wanna! Though I k-kinda need to lie down a bit, Ran, haha, so—"
The disentanglement is halted when she holds his arms firm around her waist. Ran refuses to budge under the kotatsu. Instead, she clings onto the cuffs of his sleeve, startling him.
"Shinichi, um. But we're already quite comfortable here, don't you think?"
Like hell it is. Shinichi needs to break away. He can already sense himself growing by the second, exponentially so with the way she tilts her chin to face him fully, something he hasn’t seen before dancing in her eyes. Half mast, dilated, cozy and— and almost bedroomy.
What! Is she doing!
Shinichi's hands slide down her hips involuntarily. They stay in the kotatsu, plane of her back resting against his pecs through the hoodie. Everything is dangerously still. He gives her hips a light squeeze, she doesn't protest. He inches close, she presses near. "The hell, Ran..." He skims the line of her shoulder with his lips.
What! Is he doing!
He's acting on pure impulse now, the set of sane braincells in his head overpowered by the braincells of another one. A total defeat. God he's such a man.
And it maddens him so because not one bit does Ran seem to mind, whispering a light ‘should be fine here, right?’ when they're eye to eye. Shinichi nods in complete obedience. He swallows his nerves away, then closes the distance between their lips in one swift motion.
Inside his brain, the little Shinichi with pitchforks rejoices.
Perhaps the liplock is too earnest that a few minutes in, Ran finds her hips moving on its own, attention brought once more to the press of that bulge against her back. They part only for Ran to surge in again, denying them a moment to breathe.
Her hand creeps up behind, feeling the stiffness. She squeezes lightly. Shinichi groans in her mouth. No words are said, yet they seem to understand exactly what the other wants to do. She tugs on the garter of his joggers. His hands travel down her skirt, up her thigh. Shinichi loses his mind.
I'm going to hell, he thinks, as he finds his fingers trailing to the most heated part of her body. This isn't the first time. That's why he desires to get away at the earliest opportunity the moment he feels about to succumb to the universe's temptations, certain the day will end with his fingers buried in her, and she gasping in his arms. Exactly right now. Him stroking her above cotton, before slipping past it and slowly sliding in.
It frustrates him to feel this good hearing her moan his name, and it's only ever third base.
Only ever third base.
Shinichi blames the universe that he isn't yet married to Mouri Ran. Dear god, how the universe knows he's dying to fu—
He freezes at the cold touch of her hand slinking inside his boxers. Something inside him stirred. This is a first time. His fingers pause, his breath gets heavy. Ran breaks the kiss to look him in the eye, panting as she pulls his garments further down, "let's do it?"
Fuck.
Surprisingly, it's Shinichi who comes to senses first. "Do what exactly?", genuine inquiry seemingly asked in jest following a heated french in response to her straightforward request. Though clearly aware of what she’s insinuating, he needs to be absolutely certain of what stage they are about to do. Instead of giving verbal confirmation however, Ran doesn't stop stroking him, and Shinichi feels himself about to short circuit, making it worse when she adjusts the way she's seated to give her hand - and his fingers - more working space.
They are about to do it under the kotatsu.
Shinichi should be thanking the heavens right now, yet a part of him screams to save the end for a later time when they're older, readier. The sane side of him awakens, like a dying star in its last bursts of energy before imploding in on itself, just enough seconds to remind himself that he intends to take this step by step. There must be a way they can do it without doing it.
Hoisting Ran by the waist, Shinichi deposits her body slightly below his torso and leans back a bit. "Maybe we can..." The slight shift in position allows Ran to perch snug above him, legs between his outstretched ones. "Like this."
Ran appears reluctant to let go of her grasp, but in the new adjustment, she feels him against the underside of her thighs, rock hard. It only occurs to her what she just requested, and she flushes, suddenly hyperaware of the wild drumbeat inside her chest, the zero personal space. Her skin sensitive to the squeeze of his hand on her hip underneath her hoodie. His twitch beneath when his other hand finds purchase on the area between her skirt and overknee socks and begs her to 'open up a bit' and he groans her name, "Ran."
Dazed, Ran creates an opening. Shinichi slides himself in. Ran tightens the grip of her thighs. Shinichi moves.
It's like all the air is robbed out of his lungs.
How does he describe this sensation? He feels like a present, she the wrapper. "Been wondering 'bout this for a long time," is what he doesn't say aloud, as he looks over at the way her knees linked close, her upper thighs clamp. There is something sacred in the place where he enters her, an absolute territory he's actually been waiting to explore beyond sight. He's only ever stared in loaded silence, when she walks ahead, or climbs the stairs, or gets a book atop the shelf on tiptoes and skirt hiking up. Thoughts spurring in his subconscious going, what does it feel like to be trapped in there.
Unbeknownst to Shinichi, it's the singular best place to ever be. An absolutely fucking addicting territory to be in.
Ran squirms in place, unable to stray her eyes away from the rise and fall happening beneath her skirt. She needs to confirm that this strange hot activity with Shinichi is real. With shaky hands she lifts the hem of her skirt up and sees him. Wet on the tip. Protruding then disappearing. Rhythm synchronizing with the labored breath by her nape.
Overwhelmed by the budding heat in that area they create friction, she begins rolling her hips, matching his timing.
They are doing it under the kotatsu.
It drives Shinichi crazier when Ran requests to rise up to a kneeling position, her palms flat on the tabletop. They stay connected below, allowing him a more comfortable grip, a more open view of him thrusting between her thighs. Ran tips her head back and breathes the cutest moan when he picks up the pace. If he closes his eyes, he may actually believe they're doing it from behind, the sensation perhaps nearly tantamount to fucking her. And he might really seriously get to fuck her. Except that what they're doing now is already so damn hot neither wants to stop.
"Ah. You're—" something wet oozes slowly over him as he continues sliding in and out her thighs. Understanding what it is and what it means for his girlfriend is about enough to give him a heart attack. His hands enclose hers atop the kotatsu, sheathing and unsheathing faster, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he croaks out, "fucking warm, Ran".
He hasn't hung out in her room intending to do anything of this sort with Ran. It's just suddenly happened. And now he's afraid that once he finishes, he'll end up wanting more. The heat in him builds up, ever concentrated at the nerve ends of his shaft, desperately looking for where he can possibly do the unloading in the most respectful way. On the table. The fabric of her skirt. Her socks. Her thighs. He grits his teeth and inwardly curses.
Whatever the case is, he'll make a mess of her.
He blames the universe for how badly that turns him on.
Closing in, he warns Ran by the ear. "S'll be a lot," he says, and Ran, tongue-tied and keening, nods frantically. In a split second, Shinichi makes a decision - spilling over the table will ruin Ran's notes. So the final blow he does, painting the back of Ran's thighs, dribbling down the seam of her socks as he spurts out more, and more, and more, then sliding back again between her thighs, calming himself down with one hand on her hip and the other squeezing her breasts beneath the hoodie.
For Shinichi, everything burns.
"Can I..." Ran speaks first, over quiet gasps of air, "Can I um, remove my socks, I'm..."
"Shit," Shinichi rasps, unable to even out his breathing. "Hold on." Still in a bit of a haze, he slowly releases his grip on Ran's breast, sliding down to join his other hand on her hips. Even in his high, he tries his best to hold her ever so gently. He tries his best, despite the wave of shame that has begun to wash over him.
"Sorry, I couldn't—"
Before Shinichi can finish, Ran turns her head to look at him, and Shinichi knows. The lines of sweat, the slow ragged breaths, the gentle stoke of fire in her eyes, all tell him that for Ran, everything burns, too.
They fall silent for a brief second, holding each other's gaze. Until Ran giggles first.
It surprises him so because she’s giggling. She rolls the socks down one leg and Shinichi assists her in the other, thinking, if only he foresaw the positive feedback he'd get from this, he would’ve done this ages earlier.
“I think,” she begins, after she lets him clean her up with the dry portion of her discarded socks, the pair obviously going straight to the laundry. “That’s such a perverted thing to do.”
“Hey. Tha – !” Shinichi gives his retort a second thought, unable to control the red of his cheeks as he tucks himself inside his joggers. At least he accepts there is no use denying a fact.
“Don’t blame me,” he mutters, abashed, turning her around so she can see him pout. Maybe Shinichi will have to clean himself up too, later, alone, in the shower.
However, he notices that the fire in her eyes hasn’t disappeared.
“Whose fault is it then? Mine?” Ran asks, coy.
Fuck, not again.
Shinichi is supposedly mature enough to own up to his weakness, but until the end, even as he lays sprawled on the bedroom floor drowning in her kisses twice the intensity, even as he finds his hands roaming her backside to flip her so he comes on top, even as he lets her pull him free of his pants the second time that afternoon, the answer that leaves his smirking lips is, ‘definitely the universe’s.’
How do you feel about the idea of a HeiShinRanKazu foursome?
Kshskahhsajsglfgjss thing is, perhaps because of ani twitter influence and the plentiful 4some art from my other fandom, I would be down to see a real good art of it more than read a fic 😂
Hiiii! I hope I’m not bothering you 🙏🏻 I happened to read your asks and smut and oof you’re good! Like really talented 😍 and I saw your Heizuha smut fic and it was HOT! Do you plan on finishing it one day? Will you please in the spirit of their upcoming confession, Heizuha week, and Hattori day?
Henlo! I haven't received a message like this in a long while, gotta say thank you so much! 🤗
Ahh, the Heizuha fic... yes.... please don't fry me -- I am, honestly and shamefully, self aware. I haven't touched my drafts for 45345546 months and I know I always say I'll try my best to finish soon but because of who I am as a person I just can't fml I should be punished🥲 So obviously I cannot (or couldn't) make it in time for Heizuha week. And their impending confession (pls, is it really going to happen?? is it??). And Hattori day.
I am same as you dear anon, I also pray those smutty Heizuha paragraphs will someday see the light of day...
