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minomikn · 3 months

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"ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴏᴡꜱ" || ꜱᴀᴍᴘᴏ ᴋᴏꜱᴋɪ, ʙᴏᴏᴛʜɪʟʟ, ᴅʀ. ʀᴀᴛɪᴏ

✭ pairing(s): sampo koski, boothill, veritas ratio (seperate) x gn reader

✩ inspo: recent leaks lol

✧ a/n: i have been grinding out hsr for the past like two months cause i just got back into it and now i'm going into overdrive i need boothill so much (but im also like intent on pulling for acheron and aventurine).

gist of this (for those who don't follow me considering i've writen mainly mk) is they just really like putting their head in your chest. or some of them... and what they'd do/how they'd react if you did it to them. smth silly n fun :P!

🗒 cw: gn reader cause everyone can have boobs, written before 2.1/before boothill release, ooc boothill maybe?, not proofread

✎ wc: 1196

⎯Sampo Koski

Burying his face in your chest isn’t JUST a hobby for Sampo. It’s a lifestyle. It doesn’t matter what time it is, what he did that day, what kind of scheme he got down to, he’s finding a way to shove his face into your chest. He could be out of breath, having just ran for his life from the Silvermane Guards, and still plank into your chest. Doesn’t matter if he can’t breathe.

If you complain, he doesn’t let up. There’s no way to pry him away, so you might as well just accept it. Sometimes, he’ll even pick you up and haul you to bed. It is one of the rare times that he will actually pulls away for air. Mainly because it’s awkward to hold you like that, and he wouldn’t be able to see anything.

You start to wonder if it’s as amazing as he plays it out to be… the way he begs and begs makes you believe that it must be true bliss. It’d be a shame to let those beautiful big naturals go to waste, y’know? So, while Sampo’s out scheming, you’re plotting. How to ambush him, the best tactical position, all the statistics. Unfortunately, he’s cunning and skillful, so it won’t be as easy as you hoped.

Regardless, you won’t let Sampo get away with this unpunished. You spend all day and almost all night waiting by the door, ready to pounce at any moment. And the minute that door cracks, you're on him like a rabid cat. All he can do is yelp as you essentially tackle him, wrapping your arms around him and almost sending you both to the floor. As he steadies the two of you, you push your head into his chest.

It all makes sense now. You understand. You understand everything, it’s as if the universe has just unraveled in front of you. It’s oddly comfortable, something you get lost in easily. You ignore Sampo’s protests, letting your mind melt as you subconsciously push yourself further into your boyfriend’s grasp. And chest. You could stay here forever, comfy, satisfied, happy… until it starts getting hard to breathe. Only for a moment do you pull away, looking at Sampo. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, something that screams ‘I know, right?’

⎯Boothill

You don’t get to see Boothill much, mainly because his first stop after a mission is the mechanics. He may loathe his cyborg body, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let it rust and break down. But on the rare occasion that he does come home to you, he really, really loves skin on skin contact. Or… skin on metal contact, that’s the right term. He doesn’t necessarily get exhausted, but it’s nice to feel human for once.

And yes, half the time he dives right for your chest. Given the fact that the only flesh remaining is his head, it’s just… really nice to him. If it’s not your chest, he’s laying his head down on your thighs and staring up at you with a cheeky grin. Whenever you ask him what’s on his mind, he just says it’s nothing, and urges you to play with his hair. Under all that metal, his (metaphorical) heart still beats, after all!

While you are very familiar with cold metal against your skin, part of you can’t help but think about returning the gesture. Would it be uncomfortable? Yeah, maybe. But you wouldn’t exactly throw yourself at his chest, you’re not looking for a broken nose. Still, curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction brought it back.

It’s quite a while til the next time you see Boothill, but you don’t take it for granted. Every single second you spend with him is taken into account. Even if it’s plotting something as devious as resting your head between his boobs. It could be comfier and all, but something about getting the galaxy ranger to stay still long enough for you to rest your head on his chest gives you butterflies. It’s no easy feat.

Oftentimes, you only get a couple hours with him. This was such a day, and you weren’t going to let it go to waste. When he settles down onto you with an exasperated sigh, prattling on about his latest adventure and how flashy Penacony was, you wrap your arms around him and swing a leg over his, managing to flip your positions. When you place your head to his chest, you can hear the whirring of machinery inside of his body, which feels fantastical in its own right. You’re met with a shocked expression and a bunch of “eh’s!?” thrown your way. You can’t help but laugh and go back to listening. In turn, all Boothill does is poke your sides, trying to get you up. But deep down, he appreciates the gesture, it’s something that makes him feel a little more human.

⎯Dr. Ratio

Veritas doesn’t even dream of putting his head on your chest, or your thighs. He’s a man of dignity, he wouldn’t even be caught doing that. He’ll lean on your shoulder from time to time, but he’s not very big on physical touch in general. It’s a very rare occasion for him to even hold your hand. But he shows his love in other ways. He likes being in the same room as you, doing your own separate things. It brings a sense of closeness, in a way.

However, you can’t help but think about what it would be like to use his chest as a pillow. He’s sculpted, like really well defined, and goddammit, you are no stranger to temptation. Sure, he’s a no-nonsense guy, but there has to be room in the marbled heart for some silliness. And you are going to take your chance, even if it kills you!

So, you devise a plan. You’ll ambush him when he least expects it, right after his bath. If only you could haul him off to the bed or the couch, get a couple of minutes in… but standing will have to do. With Veritas, you gotta be grateful with what you get. Which, you can’t complain at all, you’ve got a beautiful boyfriend.

It feels a little perverted waiting for him to come out of his bath, but granted, you’ve been in this same position countless times before. Although, you do fidget a lot. It’s hard to keep still, it feels like such a grand crime just waiting for him. But when he steps out of the bath you pounce. He’s warm and comfortable, exactly how you imagined it. It’s like heaven on earth. Oh, Aeons, you could stay here forever…

But he’s quick to reprimand you. Very few times have you seen Veritas blush. Even fewer to see his whole face red, to see him so expressive. He’s got a near disgusted look as he looks down at you, a little shocked, but above all, flustered. All he does is question you– more like, interrogates you. All the questions slip past your mind as you relish in the fleeting feeling of his boobs, so warm and comforting, it’s torture having to part with his chest.

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minomikn · 3 months

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you can only suck one dick and it's kyojuro or shinjuro

😔 why do you do this to me? I was like "pft, Kyojuro, easy" but then imagined Shinjuro looking like a sad dog because he doesn't get his dick sucked.

I'm still gonna have to go Kyojuro and carry the guilt around with me forever.

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minomikn · 3 months

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In the catzai au, is Fyodor an actual rat and Nikolai a dove?

perhaps

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minomikn · 3 months

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Elation

A/N: This is sort of the spiritual successor to Radiance. You don't have to have read it to read this one but it will probably make more sense if you do.

Pairing: Akutagawa x GN!Reader

Content Guidance: Fluff and smut. Akutagawa laughing in front of you for the first time, realizing he's safe with you and letting you ride him. The laughter comes from a sort of fat joke but it isn't mean-spirited. NSFW. Penetrative sex (reader penetrated, hole unspecified) and a lot of kissing. Approx 1.2k words.

The first few times you make Akutagawa smile, you miss it by his design. Like a dog afraid to let his tail wag lest his master take a hatchet to it, he keeps the subtle curve of his lips tucked away out of sight, turning his back on you and walking away with a wave of his hand.

“Until next time,” he says, skulking off toward the night, black coat billowing around his calves.

“Don't let it be too long, Ryūnosuke.”

And with that simple reply comes the increasingly familiar tug at the corner of his lips. Damn you.

Why he feels the need to hide it from you, he isn't quite sure. Or rather, he isn't fully ready to explore it. Not yet.

Certainly he's smiled at others before, hasn't he? Yes, he's sure he has. He must have. You're not the first to catch him off guard with a quip.

But then again, his smile for you isn't simple amusement.

The warm feeling in his chest, your ability to chip and chew away at his defenses… relentless pest that you are. He isn't an idiot, he knows what it means just as surely as he knows that affection, fondness, even happiness aren't for the likes of him.

Still, he finds himself seeking you out even when he warns himself to back away, gravitating toward you and finally understanding the worn-out metaphor of the moth drawn toward a flame. You're warm and bright, welcoming with your glow. Yet straying too close will only result in getting burned. That's just the way it is. So he tries to retreat from you. He tries.

It only takes two days for him to become reacquainted with the all-too-familiar sense of failure.

“It's good to see you again, Ryū,” you say, radiant as ever when you open your door and let him into your home, unaware of the torment you’ve put him through.

“Ryū, now, is it?”

“Is that okay?”

He nods, not daring to look at you just yet. If he does you may well see the glimmer of contentment glinting in their abyss. “It’s okay.”

Your kitchen table has become a familiar haunt of his, the near unbearable heat of your teacup against his palm a strange sort of comfort on cold nights. You no longer bother to ask if he's hungry, correctly assuming his belly is empty and placing food on the table between you. Onigiri stuffed with all manner of things, pork gyoza, sweet ohagi, whatever you have available to feed him. All delicious. All comforting. Always eaten in silence, until tonight.

“I'm beginning to think you're attempting to fatten me up,” he mutters, pinching the corner of a fried dumpling between his slender fingers.

“Well maybe if your clothes were larger it could extend Rashomon's range?”

Your deadpan retort catches him entirely off guard and forces a snort of laughter he's barely able to obstruct with the back of his hand. And once the first splutter escapes, he can't hold them back.

Damn you, you witty thing.

How can it be that his own laugh tumbles from him so easily yet sounds so utterly alien? A flood of heat consumes him as he feels your eyes on him, your own smile spreading, clearly delighted by the fact you've shattered his defense as he falls apart. Shoulders shaking, arms crossed over his stomach, the corners of his eyes creased.

And where he’d expected to feel shame, weakness, fear, he only feels safety. The vulnerability he’d fretted over for goodness knows how long isn’t exploited or punished as he’s come to expect from the world. No, rather it’s celebrated. You’re positively enamored by his lack of composure, your eyes tell him as much even if you don’t say it.

“You’re too much,” he chuckles when he can finally take a breath. And then he waves his statement away, swiping his hand back and forth in mid-air as if to clear it. “No. No, I take that back. You’re enough. You’re always enough.”

“As are you,” you reply.

And he knows his world has irrevocably changed.

Gods, how it’s changed. From a wraith prowling through the cold, dark night, soaked in blood and gnashing his teeth, to a man lost in the softness of your lips. Full and warm and so clumsily, absurdly human. You’ve always kissed him like he’s some precious thing, but everything is different as he reciprocates and smiles against your lips. The entire world is softer and brighter if only for that moment. He clings to it, clings to you and the warmth of your body. The bed creaks beneath you both as he sits back against the headboard, refusing to surrender your lips, fingers molded to the back of your head as you position yourself astride his hips.

Sex has always been pleasant; cathartic, a welcome if brief source of light in his otherwise relentlessly dark world, but as you sink down onto him this time, the sensation is completely overwhelming. New. As if it were the first time he was ever acquainted with your body. Your heat, your softness, the way you kiss him and whisper his name and hold him, all of it magnified. It’s so much. But it’s enough. It’s perfect.

“Don’t stop,” he chokes out when he can no longer resist the compulsion to put his head back and gasp from the pleasure. “Don’t stop kissing me.”

You cup his face between your hands, a cool, tingling dew left in the wake of the gentle swipe of your thumbs.

“Are the tears a good thing?” you ask, breath shaking as you rock your hips.

Tears? A cold dart of panic shoots through his heart as he realizes what you mean. His hands dart up to capture your wrists, stopping himself just short of tearing your hands away from his face, stilled by his aversion to ever hurting you and that look in your eyes. Affection.

He swallows against the knot in his throat and finds himself nodding.

“Good,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his brow, then kissing a path down his nose toward his trembling lips.

That’s the only comment you have for them. No guilt, no shame, just concern for his wellbeing, easily sated by his word which you trust implicitly. You don’t mention it again when fresh tears flow down his cheeks and wet your fingers. You simply kiss them away, the salt lingering on your lips when they return to his once more.

You aren’t put off by the sudden flood of emotion pouring from a man whose heart was long since assumed to be a shriveled, ugly thing made of black ice. You’re enraptured by him, besotted, your body quivering with pleasure in response to his. Every kiss, every touch, every gentle sigh; he cherishes them all, wishing he could preserve them, yes, but beginning to believe that the steady flow of them could never end.

And he finds himself laughing for the second time that night, though this time his laughter is not necessarily mirthful. No, this time it’s release, relief, that he’s safe and unquestionably adored. That no matter what you’ll open your door to him, invite him in and give him sanctuary from even the darkest shadows.

And though he isn’t quite ready to explore all that it means, in his own way he knows. He knows he loves you, just as you love him. And so he laughs, quietly, breathlessly, smiling against your lips, kissing you like you’re precious to him. Because you are. Dear God, you are.

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minomikn · 3 months

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Radiance.

Akutagawa x GN!reader. NSFW. Fellatio. Akutagawa has very low self-esteem. Self-loathing. Angst and smut. 1.4k words.

Even on the clearest nights, the city sky is starless. Akutagawa swears the darkness suits him well– pitch black like his heart and as empty as his soul. His eyes are but mirrors, reflecting the void.

But even he needs respite. If he dwells in the dark for too long it’ll suck him down, swallow him whole like a tar pit. On nights like this he’s learned it’s vital to seek a little absolution; your tender touch the perfect dam to hold the abyss at bay. The boss knows by now not to expect Akutagawa to follow orders to the letter. He’ll get to it in his own time.

So he stands on your doorstep, black coat fluttering in the breeze, his pale face illuminated by the light pooling from your front door; a waif, a stray, a butcher, a tired and helpless man desperately seeking a speck of light.

“May I come in tonight?” he asks, expecting to be turned away despite the fact you never have.

“Ryūnosuke…” His name–the one he hears so rarely, sometimes he almost forgets it’s his– is but a sigh of relief on your lips. “Of course.”

Weeks have passed since his last visit. Weeks of you wondering where he is, checking the news for stories of dead mafiosi, which of course would never air– the Port Mafia’s barbs are stuck beneath the skin of almost every press establishment and news corporation covering Yokohama. But still, you check, you read the obituaries, you fret.

You step aside to let him cross the threshold, completely missing the point. It isn’t your home he needs, it isn’t shelter from the cold or the dark beneath your cozy roof. It’s you. It will always be you. But he steps inside regardless, at once feeling at odds in the golden glow.

The tender warmth of your sanctuary itches his skin, the comfortable air tickles his weakened lungs. He should be out there, scurrying down alleyways, tunnels, all the grim places of the city, spreading the plague of death to his targets. Not sitting at your kitchen table with a cup of steaming tea heating his palms while you hang his coat on a hook by the door.

“When was the last time you ate?” you ask, fussy as ever.

“The tea is more than enough.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He takes a sip, signaling an end to the conversation. He isn’t in the mood to bicker.

Neither, apparently, are you. A few minutes later you set a plate of onigiri in front of him. You've always been frustratingly adept at understanding him. You've never flinched from him as if he's venomous. Nor have you ever been afraid of the hollowness beneath his surface; rather determined to fill it somehow, be it with your companionship and affection, or simply by stuffing his empty stomach.

When he's tired of the world you provide him with a soft place to lay his head. When he's overcome with rage you provide the sweetest of releases, converting his wrath to lust. And, like tonight, when he feels unworthy and empty, when the dark he inhabits sinks too deep, you chase it away with soft kisses and that brilliant, blinding light of yours he's certain he's only worthy of in small doses.

But he clings to your gestures like a dying man clutching the fraying thread of his own mortality. He sips your tea, he eats your onigiri, he climbs into bed beside you.

“You're so beautiful,” you whisper, lying through your teeth as usual.

“Let’s not talk,” he replies curtly, in lieu of everything he wants to say. You're mistaken, you are the beauty, he is a rabid beast with flesh between his teeth and blood beneath his claws. A monster, a wraith, diablo.

He braces himself for the tug of knots when your fingertips thread through his hair, but they glide unhindered as if it were silk. Your hands travel down his torso, paying equal reverence to the patches of pale, unblemished skin as the multitude of scars marring his flesh, loving them into a strange state of existing and not. Heat thaws his bone-deep cold as you kiss him over and over.

Dear God, he could quickly grow addicted to the soft sigh of his name on your lips; Ryūnosuke, never Akutagawa, a man, not a butcher. You make it sound so soft and pretty it couldn't possibly be his.

You drip light into the void with every kiss; lips soft and loving against his, then down to his clavicle, his chest, his sluggishly full belly. And there you linger, your tongue flitting against his hip bones as he writhes beneath you, completely unbound and free to put an end to it at any point, yet captive and helpless, teeth bared like a cornered dog.

“What’re you doing?” He bites back the rest. Get it over with. This tenderness is unbearable. Don't stop. Don't stop. “Hurry up and ride m–”

He's rendered mute by the wet heat of your mouth surrounding his cock.

Everything in him stills if only for a moment; the pleasure immense, deafening, blinding, terrifying, wonderful. Oh God. How could you? He almost instinctively pushes you away, because what could you possibly get from it, you fool? Why suffer for his undeserved pleasure? You surely can't enjoy it.

Surely you taste the unbearable bitterness. Surely you despise every pathetic twitch against your tongue. And he knows he needs to put a stop to it. He must. Pleasure like this is not meant for the likes of him.

But then you moan. And his mind momentarily empties.

Night presses against the glass, unable to reach him as he lies trembling in your glow. You kiss his cock like you kiss his lips; so tender, adoring, but hungry. And your hands, god your hands… one securely, possessively, lovingly holding his waist, the other wrapped around the base of his shaft, stroking him as your tongue laps and flutters voraciously.

All he can do is clamp his hand over his mouth and cry out, catching glimpses of you in the rare moments he’s able to pry open his eyes. And you are so utterly, painfully beautiful. So focused, so intent on pulling him apart, strand by fraying strand. You kiss, you lick, you suck, and moan, and God it feels so good he can’t stand it.

He’s vaguely aware of the way his legs tremble, but as if he’s watching some other wretch lost in bliss below him while he can only gulp down air to keep himself from drowning in ecstasy.

“I’m there… I’m there…”

You don’t heed his warning. In fact, it only spurs you on. Pleasure sinks its claws into his core, overwhelming, devouring, pulling cries of bliss from between his lips as he spills his seed across your tongue. He comes a second time when he feels you swallow it down, his pleasure barely subsiding after the first before he finds himself ravaged by it again.

And in the aftermath, you hold him, tender kisses landing on his thighs, his hips, his belly. So loving. You’re always so much softer with him than he deserves.

His face grows hot, tears welling on his waterline, then spilling, soaking the skin of his wrist as he covers his eyes and hopes– futilely– that you don't notice.

You raise your head, your expression maddeningly concerned. “Ryūnosuke?”

“Don't.”

But you do, of course you do. You shift to lay beside him and hold him in your arms, letting him bury his face in the curve of your shoulder as he reins in the words he so longs to whisper to your ear: don't send me back out into the dark.

“Stay with me, Ryūnosuke,” you answer as if hearing the deepest secrets of his soul.

So he kisses you in lieu of all the things he longs to say.

And as his breaths grow calm, his heart begins to ache, overwhelmed by the knowledge that you want him. He's wanted. He could stay if he would only allow it; if he could resist the night’s ceaseless pull on his leash and the constant urge to prove his strength. But he can’t, you both know it. No matter how tempting.

Akutagawa wasn't meant for your world. But in your arms, for a little while at least, he isn’t the night or the starless void, but the moon who inhabits it, full and celestial, and reflecting your light.

Thanks for reading! If you liked this please consider reblogging! It helps readers find stories and helps writers reach readers.

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minomikn · 3 months

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Wan Ranpo, you mean the world to me 🥺

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minomikn · 3 months

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HE'S SO CUTE!!!

WHAT THE FREAK???

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minomikn · 3 months

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Closer

Pairings: Veritas Ratio x fem!reader

Synopsis: kissing your boyfriend for the first time turned to a makeout session. (Suggestive towards the end)

Wc: 1.5k

⊰⊹ฺnotes: idk what possessed me to write this but i think abt kissing ratio stupid atleast 69 times a day.

Amidst the hushed comfortable space and flickering candles in the living room, Veritas Ratio rests serenely on the sofa with his legs crossed as he holds a book he occupies himself with, reading it silently and carefully, focusing on each word with absolute preoccupation before he feels the empty space next to him sink with a familiar figure.

He hums in acknowledgement at your presence, although his eyes still not prying away from the book.

But then Veritas feels like his brain went short circuit for a brief second when he felt you leaning ever so closely to him on the couch. Your hands drawing closer and closer until your fingers slowly start intertwining with his, and he accepts it. Naturally. It's just holding hands with his partner.

But then you move closer to him, thighs already making contact, and how he is certain you want something from him. So he diverts his eyes away from the book, giving you a quick glance of his eyebrow raised and you just smile innocently in return. He blinks twice before returning back to the book.

Maybe you just wanted his attention as usual, perhaps tell him about your day or--Oh, but then your other unoccupied hand takes his chin with your thumb and index, turning his head back towards your attention.

He's surprised, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowing and before he could ask, you beat him to it.

"Y'know we've been dating for quite a while. Right, Veritas?" You mutter his name oh so softly that when it reaches his ears, his heart begins beating a tad bit faster than usual.

You start caressing his cheek, your thumb brushing over the apples of his cheek before sliding it down to his lower lip while you study his tensed expression that slowly starts relaxing.

Ratio's eyes flutter shut as you caress his cheek, his mouth trembles underneath the gentle, languid touch of your fingers against his lips, betraying a subtle shiver of desire he can scarcely suppress.

Finally opening his eyes to meet yours, a touch of vulnerability is faintly detectable in his gaze, a display of uncertainty that he hurriedly conceals behind a half-lidded gaze.

"Yes..." Ratio responds quietly. "...We have."

"And you know how much i like you," you carry on, eyes no longer focused on his gaze but instead watching at the way his lips part slightly.

Ratio's gaze darkens as you fixate on his lips, his breath hitching slightly in response.

"I am aware," he murmured quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching faintly as he attempted to maintain his composed façade.

You can't find anything more to say because you are so focused on the shape of his lips, studying every breath he takes that only makes your lips curl.

Your eyes find his again, leaning in further, your keen eyes searching for his consent.

Ratio's usual self-assuredness returns, a sly flicker in his eyes as he gives a slight nod, consenting to your silent question.

You tilt your head, eyes focusing on his lips before closing them when your lips press together for the first time, testing the waters of the kiss, trying to hesitantly feel your lips together.

There is a flicker of surprise in his eyes, his composure momentarily faltering as he leans into the kiss. Ratio's lips mold against yours, hesitant and testing at first, a slow and languid movement as he explores the feeling of your lips on his.

You squeeze his hand nervously that was still interlaced with yours. After all, it was you who tried initiating the kiss on a random evening.

A soft exhale escapes his lips against yours, the book long forgotten as it drops from his hand and to the ground with a thid thay both of you don't seem to care about. His now free hand moves to cup your jaw with gentleness, yet the touch also firm.

You feel encouraged at the touch, it makes your shoulders relax, allowing yourself to melt into this first shared kiss.

He senses the change in your body, the tension leaving your frame and being replaced by a gentle surrender. Emboldened by this, he deepens the kiss, his hand on your jaw moving up to hold the back of your neck, firm yet gentle. Guiding you even closer to him.

You were caught off guard by the sudden eagerness. Your blood was quick to rush through your face, reaching to your ears before both of your part with a deep breath.

You give him slightly wide eyes, his half-lidded eyes dropping back to your lips. And just when you thought the kiss has ended, he brings his hand back to your jaw, his thumb now imitating your previous actions, brushing against your lips before parting them gently.

You pray that he doesn't notice just how red your cheeks have gotten.

Veritas was quick to take advantage of your parted lips, his tongue delving into your mouth with deliberate intent, his hand slithering it's way back to the back of your neck.

The air around you thickens with a charge of electricity, his breathing becoming more ragged as the kiss heats up, a low, guttural sound emanates from deep in his throat, his fingers curling into your hair, their grip firm though not painful. Veritas's usual composure is discarded, replaced by a passionate fervour to which you welcomed, arms wrapping around his shoulders for further closeness between them.

He responds to your action with a low groan, his hand that was holding yours now snaking around your waist, the kiss deepens further, his tongue sliding against yours in a sensual dance, his body practically trembling with raw and unbridled hunger. His lips moving more urgently against yours to which a soft gasp escapes from you when he confidently pulls you to straddle his lap, your lips pulling away from his with flushed cheeks.

"I didn't mean--we can go slow--" you stammer, but you are met with eyes dark, full of desire as he gently maneuvers you into his lap, a shiver of excitement coursing through him at your proximity. He tightens his grip on your waist, holding you firmly in place, his muscles taut with tension as he fights to restrain himself.

"How come we've never kissed before? Is it that you're perhaps nervous because of me?" You manage to tease. Chuckling quietly as you looked down at him, admiring the way he was panting softly. His cheeks flush slightly, embarrassed that his earlier vulnerability is now made known.

"I was not nervous," your beloved protests, though the slight shakiness in his voice betrays him, though your hands now caresse his cheeks before leaning in to pepper soft pecks on his face.

"I was just... careful. I didn't want to overwhelm you."

"Would you like to kiss me again?"

He snaps his eyes back at yours in response, his eyes darkening with a primal want as he gazes up at you.

"I would be an idiot to say no," he replies, his voice low and tinged with hunger. "I want to kiss you more. I want to kiss you until you can hardly breathe. I want the feel of you, the taste of you. I want you." His fingers grip your thighs, their grip tight as he struggles to restrain himself, while your breath is caught in your throat when you sense that hunger in the tone of his voice. One unfamiliar but you can get used to.

You instantly crash your lips eagerly against his this time, and he responds to the kiss with a ferocity that borders on desperation, his lips moving against yours with a frenzied and unrestrained desire as he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lower lip in a silent command for more.

And you respond by slowly grinding your hips further into his lap, a guttural groan rumbling in his chest at the slow grind, and it was enough for him to break the kiss momentarily, gasping for breath as he looks up at you with dark and dilated pupils.

"Do you have any idea," Ratio grits out between clenched teeth, his voice deep and strained, "what you're doing to me right now?"

Before you could even get the chance to answer, his lips find the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth grazing the soft skin and sucking on the flesh there as he attempts to regain his composure. A soft moan emits from your throat as your hips find a slow pace of grinding against his clothed cock that you could've sworn you felt it throb and twitch under the fabrics of his pants before he firmly and tightly grasped your hips to halt your any other sorts of movements.

"Don't start something you can't finish." He gives you a sharp look and your lips curl upwards in return.

"Who said i wanted to stop, doctor?"

(doctor, you're huge-!)

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minomikn · 4 months

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Dr. Ratio (another one)!✨

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minomikn · 4 months

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pride and prejudice au w dr ratio.... please.... it would be so yummy omg where ratio (as mr darcy) didn't hesitate to announce his contempt for your mediocrity to his friends that fateful day in the ballroom- and lived to regret it...where he began to gain a newfound appreciation for your quick wits and clever antics, and finds himself thinking about you more and more often... where he finally realized how great of a blunder he'd made and spends his days thinking of ways to redeem himself in your eyes... where his eyes follow your elegant figure wherever you went...and where he felt a pang of disappointment whenever you turn around and gaze him with that distasteful look on your face... where he comes up with a plan for you to forgive him, only to fail disastrously... and where he finally puts down his faulty pride and confessed to you that it was he who was wrong all this time.

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minomikn · 4 months

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#dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #dr ratio x you #hsr drabbles #pride and prejudice #hsr au

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minomikn · 4 months

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🤣.

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minomikn · 5 months

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Confronting Veritas Ratio (about his boob window)

You've been staring at his alabaster head for quite a while. And his annoyingly symmetric boob window on his attire. Your eyes keep ogling him like he's some kind of rare artifact displayed in a museum. The Doctor starts to regret letting you sit with him while he's grading his student's paper.

“If you're here just to stare at me like some kind of zoo animal, I'll have to force you to leave immediately,” your eyes trails down to his exposed chest, much to his dismay.

“Are you even listening?”

“Say, Veritas, why do you insist on wearing that obnoxious stone head?” he sighed at your seemingly stupid question.

“I thought we've been over this. It's because it will help me focus and it won't let other people get distracted by my… face. I've been pointed out that my face will most likely gain unwanted attention from idiots,” You raised one of your eyebrows at his answers.

“Is that so?”

“If you keep repeating that attitude I might as well wear this alabaster head when I'm around you back at home too.”

“Is just that, your face is the last of your concern if being ogled at is your main problem,” He knows that you're up to something so he lets you talk.

“Having your chest displayed like this will gain way more attention than your mere face,” You reached to the dangling chain in front of his bust, letting it rattle around fingers.

“In what kind of academic situation do you need to wear this kind of clothes? Won't it actually make people focus on your exposed tit rather than what you have to say? Look, it's not like I'm trying to diss your taste in fashion, I'm just… . Wondering,” your head wanders back to Veritas’ closet. He has a regular shirt and vests too, right? So why is he wearing this one?

If only you can see his face right now, his face is as red as it can be. Veritas Ratio is utterly speechless as you do have a point. Maybe you aren't that stupid at all for an idiot.

---

I'm just bored ok

#why tibby window #like why #i lowk do not think he's the type to show it all #so why #not complaining tho #love the fanservice slash hj

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minomikn · 5 months

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here's a small thing to celebrate Dr ratio. i don't think i mentioned any gendered pronouns for reader. reader is said to be a professor though. that's it! enjoy!

it's a known fact Dr veritas ratio wears an alabaster head so as to not be exposed to idiots. anyone who he interacts with while not wearing it is considered to be extremely lucky and smart. sadly that was not the case for you. despite knowing him for a long time, he never graced you the pleasure of seeing his actual face. you asked yourself why a lot of times. did he find you stupid? no, he usually attends your lectures and chooses works with you whenever he needs someone. you just brushed it off as your friend being a bit of weird guy.

oh, but how could you ever guess the true reason of him never taking his sculpted accessory. beneath the cool and calm looking stone face is hidden his blushing face. he can't bear to let you see him looking so unpresentable. no, absolutely not. never in his life would he let someone he holds in such high esteem see him looking like a fool. god forbid, if you also find out that you were his inspiration. his face will combust. he can't look at you without seeming like the fool in love he is. so until he's finally ready to confess, get used to the alabaster head.

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minomikn · 5 months

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everyone talks about how veritas ratio loves bathing with you — intimate or not — but what about afterwards?

how he would gently dry you both off with a towel and drape silk robes upon your shoulders as a way to not get cold.

the way he would allow you to push his hair back with a cute headband to do his skincare, a routine he had taught you when you had offered to do it for him on a particularly tiring day.

how he would offer to do your own skincare routine for you for the first time and would shock you on how he knew the exact steps to take while doing so; merely brushing off your shock and confusion on his extensive knowledge about your skincare routine.

“I simply enjoy studying and admiring every aspect of you, now close your eyes, alright?”

veritas who would do face masks with you and reluctantly let’s you take mirror pictures of you both, but only for your eyes to see despite you making it your new lock screen.

you who would steal his phone while he was going to get a glass of water and set up both of your lock screens to match with that silly face mask photo — his being you; yours being him.

he would sigh at the realization of what you did and chastises you but never changed it since that night.

just how lovely it would be with veritas after a bath <3

a/n: i wrote this while i was in a fluffy bath robe

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minomikn · 5 months

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Dr Ratio nsfw alphabet

tw: female reader, protected sex, edging, body worship, semi-public sex, kinda power play, Veritas is a switch

word count: 3.3k+ words

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is aware he can go a little harsh sometimes. So the first thing he always does is move you from whatever position you are in into the one where you face him, bringing your foreheads close and making you match your breath with his to calm down. He is usually on a quieter side, but will ask if you need anything specific, different from your usual aftercare routine. Which never goes without taking a bath. He either lets you laze in bed or brings you to the bathroom with him while filling up the tube - depending on how badly he’s exhausted you. Once in the water, he thoroughly washes you, then lets you do the same to him - and it really shows how much he loves you, otherwise he wouldn’t have trusted you with the process of cleaning his body.

After or before the sessions where he is on a more subbing side, he’d really appreciate it if you'd give him a small massage - the man is stressed, even though he doesn’t show it, knowing he will be taken care off, soothes his mind.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Is it a surprise that it is the brain? This man is literally attracted to intelligence. Close second is your lips. It’s astonishing to him how your mouth can both speak out of brilliance and spew out the stupidest nonsense there is. And it’s incredibly satisfying to shut you up with a firm kiss on your lips with his fingers holding your face in place. Or vice versa when you hook your thumbs into the chest window to grab his shirt and drag him closer to smash your lips into his because he talks too much.

On himself… I’d say the brain too. Plus I feel like his arms. He is well-built, and has strong muscular arms - he literally shows off one of them, unclothed. Not to mention the statues he summons - their poses bring attention to the arms immediately. Besides, such physical strength allows him to maneuver your body however he desires, especially when his patience runs thin and words are not enough anymore.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As much as Veritas doesn’t like messiness, while having sex it’s very hard to avoid. He’s got accustomed to two sweaty bodies held close together (the touch-starved side of him simply won), he even stopped complaining about the sheets that have to be changed every time you end up in bed, but when it comes to cum…

While railing you he’d prefer finishing in a condom, but with enough convenience and your endurance of him rolling his pretty eyes, he might go raw and finish on your backside/thighs. In oral he’d rather hold back once you bring him close to orgasm and finish after thoroughly fucking you, or, if you are willing, in your mouth.

In your case though, he is more gracious, fully aware that you might not have the same control over your body, just don’t be surprised when after he’s eaten you out or your juices drenched his pelvis from your orgasm, he reaches for a towel to wipe himselfs.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You know boudoir photography, right? This man thinks bigger. Not even a huge oil painting, no. A statue. A statue that depicts an intimate moment of yours, your intertwined bodies, every curve of the body and fold on the sheets covering some parts of your body carved in marble perfectly…

He doesn’t bring it up because it might require posing and you might not be ready for this. And because he has a tiiiny fear at the back of his head about expressing openly this side of him that’s reserved for you only. Oh, and maybe because he thinks those intertwined stone bodies of yours might look better with the wedding rings…

Big chance he’ll eventually bring it up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

If you are his partner and came as far as having sex, it means he is very serious about your relationship and that you are his first. Veritas, most likely, didn’t even entertain the thought of getting into the relationship. But even the brightest minds may face their own miscalculations and here he is, with the best woman, whose body he’ll get to explore. Yes, at the beginning of your relationship he was lacking practice when it came to intimacy, but he is an extremely quick learner with the right theory. His natural observance and phenomenal memory made it easy for him to find and remember all of your erogenous zones (more than you were aware of) and become a master in yet another field.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has a preference for ones where he gets to claim your lips whenever he wants. He fancies being in control, but doesn’t mind passing the reins to you. Lotus flower and missionary are usually his ways to go for slower times, perfect for closeness and staying in once finished; for the times with more tension in the air, he’d pin you to the wall, completely lifting you off the ground and drilling his dick into your warm walls or would provoke you to push him in his chair and ride that attitude out of him right there in his office.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is serious, no doubt. More often than not, for him sex is proving a point to you, relieving the tension, getting rid of stress and these things are not to be joked about. If anything, if you were to joke in the middle of it, he’d scoff, giving you an incredulous look, but ultimately decide to shut you up with a kiss or fingers, or shove his spit-covered cock back into your mouth.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Completely clean. He prefers it all shaved off. On a rare occasion you manage to catch a glimpse of his sleeping pants hanging a bit low, revealing a patch of hair he hasn’t yet had an opportunity to get rid of, and you are assured that violet is his hair’s natural color.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

To a man of Veritas’s world perception romance and all these feelings can be explained by science. Yes, he is probably not the man who’d throw rose petals on top of some extremely fancy sheets or won’t declare his love every single thrust of his hips, but one thing is certain - when he is with you, his whole attention is only on you. His eyes are on you, his lips are on you, his hands, his chest, his everything. You are the center of his world in the moment and he expects the same treatment in return.

However, when it comes to taking baths together - either after sex or it being what started sex in the first place - he goes a little extra. There might be some candles to help you both relax, bubbles, nice oils. But also taking care of each other, taking turns with hair, body and everything. Might also read to you in that deep soothing voice of his while you laze with you head on his chest.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Like every healthy man Veritas masturbates. It doesn’t happen often and now there is you, should he need to take the edge off, yet it is the fact. There was a period when you had a hate-tolerable relationship and you managed to drive him so insane with that smart mouth of yours that he felt both repulsed and attracted. And as his hand fisted his hard, leaking cock, he couldn’t push away the fantasies of putting his irritating lovely colleague in place.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Voice kink. Surprisingly, he has it, but only for the sound of your voice specifically. Since he is with you, obviously he mainly enjoys the things you have to say. Then comes the realization that he also enjoys the way you say them. And then, when sex finally becomes a part of your relationship, he can’t help but fuck you a bit harder whenever a particularly delicious moan escapes your parted lips. Plus it sends the blood to his dick whenever you praise him, gently combing your fingers through his hair and whispering into his ear how amazing he is.

Edging. Since this man is a little shit, and sex can be a result of your prior argument, he’d be torturing you with intense stimulation until he sees the telltale signs of your nearing orgasm and stops altogether just to rile you up more. When the tables are turned he performs colossal patience, lying through his greeted teeth that no, he is not annoyed you denied him relief, after all, it’d be unnecessary mess (meanwhile you with your stupid all-knowing smirk gaze at his twitching cock with an angry red tip).

Body worship. During the slower intimate moments Veritas can’t lie to himself that he doesn’t like the way your palms slide over his shoulders and arms, kneading tense muscles. That his breath doesn’t hitch when you kiss the side of his jaw and then trail pecks down his strong neck, and then lower. That his pride doesn’t stir when you have that look in your eyes as you are gazing at his body. Though he might ask tauntingly if your brain stopped working when you stay silent for too long. Won’t blush once you start worshiping him verbally too, but satisfaction will be obvious.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Home, it’s the most comfortable and logical place. Bed, bath, sofa, table - as long as it works, it’s alright.

But it’s not uncommon to happen in his office at the Intelligentsia Guild. Luckily for both of you, Veritas happened to be very forward-thinking and the room is pretty much soundproof and can’t be unlocked that easily. But then again, not many people would be brave enough to bother him. Sure, it’ll leave you both breathless and messy, but Dr Ratio would grumble about it afterwards, while fixing himself. Right in the moment all his thoughts channel to just one thing - you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Concentration. I’m not joking - the look of utter concentration and dedication on your face is basically the equivalent of sexy for him. Also then you argue with him. Like a whole oral battle, defending your own opinion on the matter, providing him proofs that back up your point. It just all goes to the moment where the tension is so thick and your mutual stubbornness is making it impossible to bend the scales in either direction, that it becomes dire to resolve it through physical contact.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Won’t harm you. Well, putting some strain on your muscles in one of the positions, or smacking your ass/hip are alright, but nothing that involves heavily beating or cutting you.

Also nothing filthily messy. Like watersports.

Won’t share you with anyone. Yes, no one deserves someone like you, and no, he is not potentially jealous.

And please, for the sake of Nous, don’t call him Doctor or Sir while fucking. He deals with stupid students of his and other people on a daily basis and these titles are associated with very unpleasant encounters to him. He’d rather be called by his name or whatever sappy nickname you came up with for your lover.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Doesn’t have a preference, but would appreciate it if you were the one to take care of him. Would also love it slow, with your tongue lapping at the tip of his length, lips wrapping around the girth and thumb and index finger wrapping around the base, while the fingers of your free hand play with your pussy, stretching yourself for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on what sparked the love-making. His thrust can be powerful, precise and deep. He doesn’t need to be fast to prove his point, he can drive you insane with the same stone-like resolve. You can cling and scratch at his back all you want, you can keep moaning and whining underneath or even on top of him - he knows it’ll be his way in any case.

When you are in charge, his response is slower and more sensual, even if it’s just a rhythmic clench of his fingers on your hip. If you are riding him he rarely complains about the pace you decide to proceed with, both leisurely drag of your walls up and down his cock and quick loud smacking of skin to skin have the same finale.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He wants to say he doesn't like them, because the consequences are messy, but… they do happen. He'd blame you for causing it, but, well, if he really didn't want this to happen, he would've put his foot down. Yet he willingly accepted and succumbed to it and now has to do something with his puffy lips and messy hair before his next class starts.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

In the beginning you both experimented to find the middle ground on what your intimate life is most favorable like, he probably has something akin to a list of what kind of sexual intercourse is most efficient for the exact situation in his head.

Quickies in his office are a risk, true, but the amount of precaution taken is amazing. After all, he’d never do anything that would ruin his or your image. Even if he could care less of what those surrounding him have to say, it’s such a headache to resolve the consequences of being caught getting freaky.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has great stamina, but usually doesn’t go beyond 1, rarely 2 rounds. Why would he exert himself? Instead of additional “exercise” you could spend this time more productively.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Skeptical about them being used on him, but if you own or use any, he wouldn’t mind. After all, sometimes your schedules might not match and you are just one horny human.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually it’s not on purpose, he is just an annoying man and his attitude tend to slip into the bedroom, but sometimes it is his intentions to torture you, edging and denying you further pleasure to test your limits (and patience).

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud. Satisfied sighs, rushed pants and breathy moans. Hums when you do something he particularly likes. Gets louder when he is relaxed and not the one doing all the work, but it also means there will be some Dr Ratio-style teasing remarks and attempts to hold a full ass conversation. You can always just shut him up with a kiss though.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Lone water drops fall from the tips of violet locks, hitting wide shoulders, strong chest and back and running in small trails down to disappear in the plush of the white towel, hanging on chiseled hips. Veritas’s body was truly sculpted by the higher powers, because no man can be this perfect and mouth-watering in image.

When the man clears his throat, you realize that you are staring at the abs you love so much, with his sleeping pants he asked to pass still clenched in your hands. Your eyes meet his vibrant ones, and with the way his dark eyebrow arches it’s apparent that he’s expecting an explanation, and why would you deny him one?

“You are handsome,” shrugging your shoulders, you speak the truth, finally moving into his direction again. “And I love how enticing you look after a bath.”

“Is that so?” A low hum vibrates in his throat, his expression unchanging and eyes still boring into your frame when he gets a hold on his clothes. “Or are you just horny?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I am not,” you smile, finding the twitch of his lips so funny. “It’s not like you are going to find out. You’ve just taken a bath.”

“There is no harm in taking one more,” a hand is on your waist, fingers crumpling the fabric of your chemise. “But before even assuming that this conversation might take a turn, I would rather have this question answered by you properly. So… Are you horny?”

You think it’s unnecessary to ask again, given the fact that your hard nipples poke through the thin material and thighs are clenched together, and that shiver that ran down your spine when he grabbed you… But Veritas wouldn’t be himself, if he wasn’t like this.

“I am,” you admit, putting your palms onto his pectorals, groping them softly and biting back a laugh at how quickly the slither of repulse appeared and disappeared on his face. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Should I do anything?” Yet he takes a step back, using the hand holding pants to push the door behind him open; the other hand still laying on your waist makes you take a step too. “It’s not my fault you can’t control your urges.”

“Isn’t it though? It’s you who are making me all hot and bothered,” this time you take the first step forward and he is the one to follow until you both are in the bathroom. “Don’t you think that taking responsibility is the right thing you should do? Come on, love…” your smile turns teasing and voice acquires that taunting lilt that rarely fails to excite him. “Admit you want it too.”

Your lover remains silent, though the pants are tossed onto the vanity and the second hand joins its twin on your waist. He leans down and you catch the dearly familiar scent of his body wash and shampoo, before his head dips and your lips are claimed by his. To shut you up, of course.

Not a minute later your nightwear ends up on the vanity too, soon followed by his towel and your panties.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Around 6.2 inches when erect, quite thick with a nice vein running on the left side, curves to the left a little. Looks as good as the rest of the man.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Isn’t really high, can easily go a couple of weeks without it as long as there is at least some physical contact with you (taking baths together, sitting on the sofa together with your legs thrown over his and his palm resting on your knee, as you both are nose deep in your books/laptops, gentle pat on his elbow when you sense his annoyance, fingers touching as you sleep, etc.)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Has his own ritual of reading a little before he ultimately goes to sleep. Can stay in one position for long, so he won’t mind if you fall asleep on his shoulder or chest while he is still awake.

If cuddling, he doesn’t have a preference between a big and a small spoon, he can do both. It really depends on the mood and doesn’t happen every night.

Oh, and by the way, it really isn’t uncommon for you to fall asleep on the respective sides of the bed with just your fingers touching in the middle or not having contact at all.

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