#dr ratio dividers

[staincastle]

⠀⠀⠀⋆ ୨♡୧ ⋆ rina's message is here! hsr line dividers

[maopll]

HSR HEADCANNONS

Dr. Ratio has a cupboard dedicated to all kinds of plushies, ranging from rubber ducks to merchandise of even Owlbert. Obviously, his most favourite and cherishable one is a handcrafted plush made from the softest is of...yours.

General Jing Yuan has a coat made from a lions mane. White hue akin the moonlight. He whispered to you "It is my most prized possession and...a very memorable one. Keep it for me in my stead"

Robin is actually a metal fan in case you didn't know. She has a series of dvds of Metallica, Black Sabbath, Linkin Park and many more. Oh and don't forget those gothic clothes that she is only willing to show to you.

Kafka composes pieces for you during the days she is feeling down or angry. This is just the way she pours her heart out. Perhaps you'd be willing to listen to her masterpieces.

Dan Heng has an album made up of all the moments spent in different regions, silly pictured of the whole Astral Express family, landscape photography, and yours in a certain corner solely for him and only him.

Blade being the girl dad he is, he always sends a portion of his allowances to Silver Wolf, Firefly and you. You all know it but you guys would rather keep it down. "We got more money for our next party night !!"

Sunday enjoys homecooked foods more than those of the fancy restaurants. The way you cook the steak has easily made its way to one of his all-time favourites. He enjoys cooking with you and for you.

Boothill has a tattered wallet about a few years old with torn leather and patches that he clumsily patched himself. Inside are two pictures. One of you and one of his late daughter. It had always been his dream to give his daughter another parent whom she'll have the most fun with. But sometimes dreams can stay as dreams.

guess who's back !

[semification]

- DIE WITH A SMILE . . . VERITAS RATIO ✧.*

Veritas comes to realize that he loves you, but perhaps he comes to that realization far too late.

content: fem reader, death, penacony quest spoilers, angst with comfort (?), blood & injuries, veritas is a meanie (but he INSTANTLY regrets it!1!), friends to (grins evilly) …lovers

authors note: first fic on this account i hope you guys like it <3 i ran out of motivation while writing this halfway can u tell. anyways go stream die with a smile by bruno mars and lady gaga because i was listening to that song on loop while making this fic and i think its a super fitting song for this hehe

wc: 5.9k (its a quick read i promise)

masterlist

“You’re being ridiculous, Veritas.”

Bickering with Dr. Veritas Ratio was not out of the ordinary. In fact, it was a pastime for the two of you, engaging in various academic debates to see which party presented a better argument. It was seen as a great deal of praise to be able to do such a thing with an esteemed man like Veritas. It made it seem like you two stood on the same ground–the same ground of a man who felt so out of reach.

“Oh, really now? I’m the one being ridiculous? I am ‘ridiculous’ simply because I am looking out for your safety, Y/N?”

This… however, this was not normal. This quarrel felt personal, stemming from your feelings instead of facts and objective data. This felt like an attack on your friendship–but from the amount of vile he’s spitting from his mouth, you wonder if Veritas has ever considered you as a friend in the first place.

The more he speaks, the more you are reminded that you didn’t stand on the same ground as him. You felt terrifyingly inferior, and even though he was right in front of you, you felt like you were miles away from him. 

“No, I’m saying you’re ridiculous for calling me weak and incapable because apparently, I’m not good enough to go on this expedition when it’s my fucking job.”

However, you mostly felt like a fool.

You felt like such a fool for falling in love with a man like him. You fell in love with him because of his neverending thirst for knowledge. You fell in love with him because you were just as much of a bibliophile as he was. You fell in love with him because you wanted to spread your knowledge around the universe as much as he wished to. You fell in love with him because, for a moment, you thought he saw you differently from everyone else, and that he truly enjoyed being in your presence.

You turn away from him, tears forming in your eyes. You stubbornly blink them away, because you think back to what started this argument in the first place.

You had just finished detailing your mission to Veritas, which was your routine every time the Intelligentsia Guild dispatched you on some kind of research expedition. This mission was different, however. You would be gone for three months, longer than usual–and the mission was very combat-oriented and dangerous, which wasn’t like your usual expeditions. Despite the warnings, you still accepted it, thinking of it as something new, but nothing that you couldn’t handle.

Veritas seemed to think otherwise, however, because when you peer over to look at his reaction, he looked very displeased. 

(It wasn’t a very uncommon look to see on his face, but you could tell he seemed more serious–like how the frown lines on his face were deeper than usual.)

You weren’t particularly surprised by the expression on his face. What surprised you the most was the first thing that came out of his mouth after hearing your expedition’s rundown. “Are you sure you’ll be able to go on that mission?”

You look at him incredulously, surprised at the amount of distaste in his voice. His displeasure was directed at… you? “What is that supposed to mean, Veritas?”

“I’m saying that you’re too weak and incapable to go on that expedition, Y/N. I do not know why the Guild would assign you such a difficult mission. They truly are overestimating your power.” The words came out of his mouth so casually, like you had just asked him about the weather. Is this how his students feel when they take his infamous course with a passing rate of a mere three percent? How his students feel whenever they get scolded by him?

You just can’t believe it. He said those words like it were a fact—straight from the myriad of encyclopedias that he’s read. Maybe because it was a fact in his head: he saw you as nothing but “weak” and “incapable”.

A stray tear manages to escape from your eye, and you quickly wipe it away angrily before turning back to Veritas with a sniffle. No. You cannot cry in front of his face. Crying is an expression of weakness–of vulnerability. And what you are trying to prove to Veritas is that you are not “weak”. You are not “incapable” either, and you are going to prove that to him by going on this mission and making him eat his words. 

“I will be leaving in three system hours. Do not bother showing up during my departure.”

You cringe at the way your voice shakes at the end, but you stand firm. Those words were the last thing you said to him before leaving his office with a bitter heart. When you exit his room, you finally let your emotions run free, letting the tears stream down your face without end. You quietly sob as you retreat to your own office, closing the door and letting out a shaky exhale, escaping all the nosy whispers and chatter of the Guild members.

You sob at the heartbreaking realization that just when you think you’ve gotten close to the “untouchable” Veritas Ratio, he pushes you away just like how he does to everyone else… because that’s just simply what you are to him. 

Another person who fades into the background, and nothing more.

Dr. Veritas Ratio is a man who exhibits prestige and greatness like no other. Throughout his academic career, he obtained eight PhDs and graduated with the First Class Honors Degree, which hadn’t been awarded to anyone for two Amber Eras. He was gifted with knowledge, and now he uses that knowledge and spreads it far across the cosmos to “cure idiocy”, treating it like a disease that needs to be treated.

And yet, for once in his life, he refuses to admit it out loud, but he’s acted like the one thing that he completely loathed. The very thing that he was trying to exterminate.

An idiot. He was an idiot, and it was all because he could not word himself correctly when he spoke to you. He has written hundreds of papers, essays, and dissertations, but time and time again, he could not seem to think—to be able to formulate the proper words to say when it came to you.

And now, Veritas has royally messed up, and for once in life, he has no idea what to do.

He was just genuinely concerned for your safety. It was all he thought about once you had finished detailing your expedition to him. He wanted to convince you—to pick the right words to say so he could persuade you not to go, but it seems that his fear of being seen as vulnerable shone through first. It reminded him of the days when you two weren’t close; the days he spoke to you while wearing his alabaster head.

He only wears that head because he “can’t bear to see idiots,” but given how he just called you “weak” and “incapable” in the argument that just transpired, one could almost laugh at the hypocrisy of it all. Veritas may as well talk to himself while wearing the alabaster head.

Because only idiots would address you with those terms. 

You were an enigma to Veritas from the very beginning. People from the Intelligentsia Guild rarely stood out to him, but you were different—sticking out like a sore thumb the moment he laid his eyes on you. 

That’s because your presence utterly enchanted him—you had similar tastes in literary works, you matched his sarcasm and topped it off with even wittier replies, and you also wanted to use your knowledge for other people to learn.

You were not weak and incapable. He saw you as anything but that, in fact. He was at fault for the argument, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud, for Aeon’s sake.

He knows that he owes you an apology, it’s the least he could do... He just needs to apologize, then convince you to not go on that expedition. You’re scheduled to leave soon—approximately two and a half system hours—he still has time.

And yet, his mind is being stubborn. He knows that he needs to apologize, but he just can’t bring himself to. He can’t remember the last time he’s genuinely apologized to someone—an apology without a trace of sarcasm at that.

“Trouble in paradise, doctor?”

He could recognize the esteemed gambler’s voice from miles away, and it irks him how he always seemed to show up at the worst times. Aventurine’s got a knowing gaze on him—a stare that can pierce through any poker face so he could see exactly what they’re thinking. “I suggest not meddling in any business that doesn’t concern you, gambler.”

Except he’s already got him. “This is about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Hook, line, and sinker.

Aventurine believes that one’s eyes are the windows to the soul–and he doesn’t miss the way Veritas’ eyes soften when he says your name, smiling at the unintentional answer to his question. He definitely doesn’t have the best poker face in town. For such a stoic man, he surely cannot put himself together when it comes to anything that has to do with you.

Aeons. Just what were you doing to him?

There was no use hiding it from him, so he just silently nodded, with Aventurine clicking his tongue. “Rumors fly fast in the guild, especially when Dr. Ratio’s dear friend Y/N was seen walking out of his office crying. I just had to see what this was really about, you know?” 

You were crying when you left?

He doesn’t voice his concern out loud, of course. Instead, Veritas just sighs heavily. “All I wanted to do was convince her to not go on that mission that she’s currently dispatched on. It just seems… far too dangerous.”

Aventurine’s got an idea of what happened next considering how you ran out of this room crying, but he decides to ask anyway. “Oh? And how did that work out for you?”

Veritas refuses to meet his gaze, his heart sinking when he simply thinks about what happened earlier. “…”

“At least humor me, doctor.”

He turns away from Aventurine completely, a deep shade of red coating his cheeks. Was it out of embarrassment? Shame? Whatever it was, he didn’t need him to see it. “…I called her weak and incapable.”

When Aventurine doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, Veritas speaks to fill the silence. “I admit, I did not know what was going through my head when I addressed her with those words.”

The uncomfortable silence drags on for a little longer until it’s interrupted by the piercing sound of Aventurine’s laughter. His laugh makes the red spread across Veritas’ cheeks even more—uncharacteristically so, especially since he’s normally so put together. He doesn’t even have the heart to tell Aventurine to stop laughing, because a small huge part of him feels that he deserves this.

He deserves to sit through this feeling because he knows you faced the same humiliation when he shut you out.

“Hahaha! I can’t—“ Aventurine’s nearly keeling over in laughter, and the gambler swears he could feel tears build up in his eyes. “Oh, please! You have such a way with words, don’t you?”

Aventurine continues, failing to conceal his hysteria. “Weak and incapable? If anything, that’ll only fuel the fire. She’d want to go on that mission just to prove you wrong.”

“I’m well aware. It is exactly what happened after all.” You’re leaving soon. The thought of you leaving makes Veritas’ stomach churn, and he has no idea why. Out of all the many expeditions you’ve been sent on, this is the first time he’s felt this way–been filled with so much dread.

“Well,” Aventurine pretends to think for a moment, putting his hand on his chin. “It won’t hurt to sacrifice a little bit of your already enormous ego to apologize to her, no? There’s enough of your pride to go around.” 

I don’t know if I can bring myself to.

Veritas doesn’t say those words out loud. Instead, he masks his worries with a scoff. Aventurine doesn’t have to know. “Watch your mouth, gambler.”

“Oh my, I really struck a nerve there, did I?”

“Researcher Y/N? I’m sorry sir, she just departed a few minutes ago.”

You left.

The three system hours hadn’t even passed yet—there were still two hours before your scheduled departure—and you left early.

You left, and he didn’t even get the opportunity to apologize. 

The researcher could only watch as the great Veritas Ratio, normally so composed, looks away from him wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape. He’s utterly dumbfounded, a look that is never seen on his face. What is he supposed to do now?

You’re too late.

For the next several weeks, Veritas could only wait anxiously for your return. Worry follows him like a cloud, and even his students pick up on his weird behavior. It’s all so grueling—waiting for you without so much of an idea of how you’re doing or if your expedition is going well. 

While waiting for your return, he plans out his actions for the next time he sees you. He doesn’t want to apologize over text–Veritas sees it as inappropriate and prefers to show his sincerity in person. Face-to-face is how he is going to do it, and he sends you a message in preparation for that. “I’d like for us to talk when you’re back. Please message me immediately upon your arrival.”

…Except an error message stares at him back when he presses the send button. It’s almost mocking him in a sense, like the universe is doing everything in its power to prevent him from atoning for his mistakes. Of course you weren’t going to have signal when you’re so far away from him. Just what was he expecting?

You were scheduled to return after another few weeks, and Veritas could only prepare for the days to pass by excruciatingly slowly. Until then, he thinks over what he’s going to say for his apology. Maybe he could give you something too. He thinks that finding a way to get your favorite flowers is a nice start.

You’re tired.

Exhaustion envelops you like a blanket, and after trying your hardest to resist, you just can’t anymore.

You’re so tired. 

You finally succumb to the fatigue, falling onto the ground as your sword clatters with a thud. You lay there, lying in a pool of your own blood, accepting that this was the cruel fate that the great Aeons above bestowed upon you in the end. You laugh at the absurdity of it all, but it only comes out as a weak cough, which quickly transitions into a fit of hacking up crimson droplets—lighting your throat on fire.

It was a fragmentum monster ambush. The planet you were exploring contained a lot of them–mainly due to the Stellaron corrosion that it was experiencing. After three weeks of exploring, it was supposed to be just another day of collecting data and extracting information for the guild. You’ve done this countless times already–anything out of the ordinary happening was beyond you.

The ambush had occurred when you least expected it–you barely even had the time to draw out your sword. One thing led to another, and at some point, there were just too many of them that leaving the battle unscathed was out of the question. And at the end of it, you were a mess, standing in a field of bodies with blood sticking to your clothes–a mix of the fragmentum and your own. The worst part was that it was mainly your own, with the source coming from a deep gash in your abdomen. You were losing blood at a terrifying rate.

Panic fills your veins once you fully process the gravity of the situation. Heart thumping, you realize that you’re going to die–and you are going to die alone.

What a pitiful end this was.

You’ve sent a distress call to the guild, but you know that your fate has been sealed already. You’ll be long gone before anyone will be here to help you, and they’d just be here to clean up your remains. You hope that the guild would at least grant you a proper funeral.

It’s truly comical how fate works. People your age are usually too busy thinking about marriage, or deciding how many kids they want to have in the near future. And yet, here you are, on the precipice of reaching death’s door, thinking about your funeral. 

Your vision turns blurry, and you sniffle as hot tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Fuck, you don’t want to die. There are far too many things that you haven’t done. And yet, you can’t find the strength to continue on either. You’re just so, so tired.

In the midst of your cries, you softly mumble out a name. A name that you love, hate, and everything in between with a passion.

“…Veritas.”

You initially wanted to go on this mission with the intent of exploring this planet, but after the argument, you know you went mainly because you wanted to prove him wrong.

You wonder if he truly meant those words. Even if he didn’t, maybe he was right, because look at what your determination had cost you–lying in a pool of your own blood, all because you wanted Veritas to see that you weren’t weak and incapable.

Even though you went on this expedition angry at him, (a part of you still is angry) you’ve never wanted to see him so badly in your life. You were going to die with many regrets–perhaps the biggest one was that you never got to tell Veritas how you truly feel about him.

You just want to see him once last time. Is it selfish to ask for one more day with him? One more hour… or to engage in at least one more heated debate. Hell, you’d even take one more minute with him. And in that minute, maybe you’d slap him in the face for what happened. But maybe you’d tell him you love him and kiss him over and over, apologizing for even thinking about slapping his stupidly perfect face. 

Despite how much of an asshole he can be at times, you love Veritas Ratio. You love his snark and sarcasm and everything about him, and you’re going to die without even knowing if he loves you back. This is your biggest regret.

No, you can’t die like this. You need to tell him. You have to.

As darkness starts to cloud your vision, you use all of your remaining strength to pull your phone out from your pocket despite the wound in your abdomen screaming in protest. Your fingers shakily make their way to Veritas’ contact, and with a pained breath, you begin to type.

“Take me to where she sent the distress call, now.”

There was a bunch of commotion in the guild—too much commotion considering how early it was. Veritas could only wonder what all the clamor was about, but he froze once he heard your name leave one of the researcher’s mouths. 

And his biggest nightmare is now a reality once someone finally fills him in on the situation: Your signal had disappeared off the radar, but not after you sent a distress call to the guild. You needed help, yet you were so far from his grasp. “But Doctor, we-“

“I need not repeat myself. Her life is in grave danger, and yet here you are, arguing with me and wasting precious time when this time could be used saving her.” His words surprised both himself and the guild member, who shakily nodded at his request. Veritas was certain that if you were just anybody else, he could have less of a care about your distress signal. But no, this was you—and he needed to make sure that you were okay.

Veritas looked calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside, he was falling apart. Calm yourself, you need to be the strong one in this situation. She’s the one in danger here.

Aeons, all he had to do was convince you to not go on this expedition. Instead, he made everything worse with his poor choice of words, and now he’s paying the price for it. He could only hope that he wasn’t too late.

Wait for me Y/N. Please. That’s all I ask.

In his office, there’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers resting on his desk, and they’ve slowly begun to wither away.

When Veritas finally arrived at where you were last seen on the signal, there were bodies littered everywhere, and he could only hope that none of them were yours. Paired with those bodies was the color red—crimson was scattered all over, and it was practically all he could see. Did you take all of these fragmentum down by yourself?

As Veritas inspected all of the fragmentum bodies, all slain by a single blade, one of the researchers accompanying him pointed out a trail of blood leaving the site. It makes him freeze, because it might be…

“Y/N.”

Shit.

He immediately goes after the trail without an ounce of hesitation. The scene laid before him is something that has only haunted him in his nightmares, yet at this very moment, it lies before him as a terrifying reality. 

His blood runs cold, and for the first time in his life, Veritas Ratio is rendered speechless.

Your limp body lies in front of him, in a pool of so much blood that just seeing it sickens him to his stomach. He can’t feel his own body as he falls to his knees, paying no mind to the other researchers around him. No, right now, it was just you and Veritas. Nobody else.

“No,” With trembling hands, he pulls your body close to his own as your blood taints his clothing. Even though he knows you’re too far gone already, he can’t help but try to feel your pulse, because there’s a part of him that just refuses to believe that he’s too late. “No, no, no—“

There was nothing.

It probably hasn’t been beating for a while, and that thought leaves him utterly empty, with a single stray tear rolling down his cheek.

If he were just a little bit faster, maybe he could’ve saved you. If he could’ve just formulated his words correctly so he could convince you not to go on this expedition. If he could’ve just apologized…

If he could’ve just been… a better friend.

All these could haves, yet Veritas didn’t act on any of them.

Pathetic.

Your phone is beside you, and Veritas gingerly picks it up. The screen was still lit, despite it being shattered to oblivion. It was open to the messaging app—specifically his contact.

It was never sent due to poor signal, but you were messaging him before you died. He was your last thought.

“I’m sorry Veritas. I just don’t want you to think I’m weak and incapable.”

“Still, I want you to remember that”

You were the one apologizing to him, even after everything was said and done. He can’t even fathom that.

And weak and incapable, huh. You were anything but that. If anything, Veritas was the weak and incapable one. He was weak for not being able to swallow his pride even if he was the one in the wrong—and he was incapable of simply apologizing to you.

And the last message… What is it supposed to mean? 

What do you want him to remember?

When Veritas was sent to Penacony and matters with the head of the Oak family, Sunday, had been dealt with, he was finally allowed to leave. It was the first mission the guild had assigned him since you left, and his efforts to prevent Aventurine from going on an all-out suicide mission helped Veritas take his thoughts away from you, even if it was just for a moment.

And yet, you always find your way back to haunt him. Not even the Land of Dreams could prevent that.

Still, he had done his part, sorted out his deals in Penacony as a representative sent by the guild, and it was time to go.

It’s been a few months since your death, and Veritas thinks that living without you is like living without the sun. It’s funny how he’s only realized how much you’ve changed his life only after you’ve gone. You lit up his life, both metaphorically and physically—and now, everything feels so dull, and he constantly longs for your presence in the darkness. 

But now you’re gone, and he feels so terribly lost, even now as he does paperwork in his office. Life became way more monotonous after you had left. The quiet is suffocating, because Veritas can only think about the times that the quiet office was filled with your voice instead. 

Even now, in the rare moments that Veritas picks up a book nowadays, he thinks about how much you would have enjoyed it as well.

Paperwork is one of the few things that he finds solace in anymore, as it helps him drown out his thoughts so they don’t end up drifting back to you.

…You.

His eyes land on your sword before he can even do anything about it, and he swallows thickly. Your blade is displayed on his wall, another way for Veritas to show his honor for you. 

The blade you singlehandedly used to defeat all those monsters, and the blade you’ll never be able to wield again.

He tears his eyes away from it before his thoughts can spiral again. He can feel his vision start to blur, and he blinks the tears away before they escape. He wonders how many tears he’s shed for you since you’ve been gone.

Veritas tries and fails to focus on his paperwork once more until he’s interrupted by a knock at the door.

He thinks a walk will do him good.

He stands up from his desk and slowly walks over to his office door, wondering who it could be. He rarely gets visitors nowadays, unless it’s something that’s of utmost importance. Everyone else is afraid to talk to him, as Veritas became… colder after your death.

If anyone were to ask why—it’s because when you died, a part of Veritas did too.

He turns the door’s handle, only to see…

You.

You were standing right in front of him, in the same outfit that you were in the day you left for your mission. Except this time, you were alive, and Veritas has no idea what to think.

You’re the first one to break the silence, whispering his name. “Veritas?”

Hearing you say his name feels like he can finally breathe again. “Y/N? Is it really you?”

Before you can even answer his question, he engulfs you in a tight hug, breathing in your scent. Veritas held you like his life depended on it—because at this moment, it felt like it did. He says the words that hve been on his mind for the past few months. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry darling. If only I hadn’t-“

You pull back from the hug, putting your pointer finger against his lips as a signal for him to stop talking. Barely even registering the endearing name that he called you, you smile, cupping his cheeks before sighing tenderly. “I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, Veritas.”

He only hugs you tighter, coming to a revelation that only makes the pain in his heart ever worsen. He saw your lifeless body himself, he paid respects to your body at your funeral… and he laid your favorite flowers on top of your gravesite where your body rested, even though those flowers were supposed to be an apology gift. “You’re… not real.”

“I’m still in Penacony, right? This is all a dream.”

You smile, nodding in conformation. “Nothing truly gets past you, does it? You’re dreaming what you desire the most right now.”

“I promise you that we will meet again, Veritas. it will not be today, but the day will eventually come, and I’ll be waiting for you every step of the way.” You breathe in deeply. “But right now, you need to wake up from this dream, before it's too late.”

He’s not sure if he wants to wake up, though.

“But what if… I just want to stay here with you?”

“We both know it’s not what you really want.” You can see right through him. “If you stay with me in this dream, you’ll be living nothing but a simulated life. I may be here with you, but you’ll never truly fill that hole in your heart, because I am not Y/N. I’m just a creation of your deepest desires, and you know that I’ll never be her. That is not a life worth living.”

“I know she would want you to live your life to the fullest, to truly experience things, to teach your students unforgettable lessons… so they become great people like you.” You pause, looking right into his eyes. They’re filled with pain, sorrow, and the desire to cling on to the past. “And when your time comes eventually, she will be waiting for you. You will apologize once again, because you never got to apologize to her before she died, but she has forgiven you long ago, and it’s all because…”

Despite that, you have to teach him that it’s time to let go. “She wants you to remember that she loves you, Veritas Ratio.”

“Still, I want you to remember that… I love you.”

A tear rolls down his cheek at your words, and then another…. and another. “Even if I don’t know how to apologize?”

You let out a watery laugh, nodding your head. “Even if you don’t know how to apologize.”

“Then… I will do as she asks. It is the least I can do to make up for what I’ve done.” He says, and he takes a deep breath before his next words. “Can I… hug you one last time? Even though you aren’t… actually her.”

“Go ahead, Veritas. But I’m afraid that after this, you have to let go.”

You need to let go.

He nods before wrapping his arms around your figure. It was such a vulnerable act, like a man putting the entirety of his heart and soul out for you to take. He breathes in your scent, wanting to take it in once last time before he has to bid you goodbye. You feel a few of his tears staining your clothing, but you pay it no mind. 

How many tears has he shed for you since you’ve been gone? Not enough. He doesn’t feel that it’ll ever be enough.

When he opens his eyes, you’re slowly fading away from him. There’s a melancholic smile on your face, your eyes meeting his—filled with pain, sorrow, a desire to cling onto the past, and yet… a hint of acceptance.

“Still, I want you to remember that… I love you.”

Yes, he remembers. And he’ll remember your words for the rest of his life, until the moment that he leaves this cosmos on his deathbed. He’s just hoping that you’ll wait long enough for him to say it back.

Before you’re about to fade away completely, you lean in one last time and whisper to him…

“It’s time to wake up, Veritas.”

He wakes up from the dream pool with a gasp. The water splashes around him, and a few stray tears roll down his cheeks. 

The rest of his actual Penacony trip went by surprisingly smoothly, and he doesn’t mention the dream that he had to anyone. It was like a secret shared between you and Veritas–and he was going to treasure that secret forever. 

And now, the Charmony Festival has commenced, and the fireworks have begun. As he watches the sparks explode into thousands of dazzling rays of light above, he pulls out his phone to text you. Almost like one final goodbye, because he knows it’s what you would’ve wanted.

“I love you too, Y/N. I will love you my entire lifetime–past beyond the boundaries of eternity, even after all the stars long die out in the cosmos.

I long for the day that we will meet again… because then, I’ll finally be able to tell you this confession in person. For now, I hope you can continue to find the patience to keep waiting for me. 

…Until the stars align, and we’re able to see each other once again.”

He looks up to the endless bursts of blazing rays lighting up the night, mixed with the eternal shine of the cosmos. It was truly a sight to behold. And for a split second, he could feel someone by his side watching the fireworks with him. It warmed his heart, even if it were just for a moment. 

“Aren’t these fireworks beautiful, Veritas?”

“They will never be as enchanting as you, Y/N.”

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ HOW THEY WOULD REACT TO YOU FALLING ASLEEP FIRST DURING A MOVIE — Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio, Jing Yuan + GN reader.

Word count: 1.6K

Aventurine:

Booking out a cinema for a date was something you had gotten used to. Whenever there’s a new movie out that piques your interest, he makes a reservation in the snap of two fingers. Now in the secluded cinema room, you sit in the recliner seats and beam at the big screen while the ads play.

“My drink is here if you want it.” Aventurine pats the cup holder and you nod, shoving your tub of candy his way.

“Take some.”

“I’m okay. Slow down though, you’ll end up with a stomach ache.” 

“Won’t.” You murmur, snatching your tub back and cradling it to your chest.

“Will.” He responds quietly, grinning from ear to ear. Both of you know he’s right. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done it. 

The lights illuminating the walkways dim, the room silent. A flash of colour pops back onto the screen, followed by the opening of the soundtrack. You slide your hand over the armrest and link your fingers with his, giving his hand a firm squeeze before devoting your attention span to the beginning scene. 

Nearing an hour into the movie, the sound of your breath picks up in volume, casting Aventurine’s attention to your sleeping body. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and pinches your skin, waking you from your slumber. 

“Come. Sit here.” He speaks in a soft tone, patting the space between his legs when your eyes eventually peel open.

Blade:

“Well?” Blade glances at you, pointing the TV remote towards you as if it was a sword.

“You want me to pick something?”

“I don’t typically indulge in things like this.” Blade passes ownership of the remote and rests back on the sofa, his feet resting on the coffee table. 

Since Blade had been going through a tough time, you insisted that you’d be the one to take care of him. As long as he had some company, that’s all that was necessary. Selecting a random movie from the top 100, you slump beside him, your eyes keenly flicking from the screen to his figure. 

Twiddling with his bandages, his attention was directed elsewhere. He had no idea what the demand was with these videos of people pretending to be someone they’re not. It’s more likely to entertain a toddler with a low attention span than it is an unamused adult. 

Rolling his head to face you, he recognises the way your body is slumped—you always wind up sleeping in strange positions like this. He doesn’t care to wake you, he’d much rather sit in silence with you by his side. Switching the TV off, he places the remote on the arm of the sofa and lies you down, your head resting on his lap.

It was refreshing to be vulnerable for a change when he knew no prying eyes were lurking on him. Everything hurts, from his physical body to the thoughts he yearns to rid of—he just learned how to live with it, yet numbing the pain doesn’t remove it. You try your best, and that effort doesn’t go unappreciated.

“How can you be so peaceful?” Blade mumbles, the sensation of his body beginning to relax kicking in. “I almost envy you.”

Boothill:

Throwing on one of his old favourites, Boothill cosies up with you on the sofa. He rests his head against yours, completely entranced by the scenes playing before him despite already watching the movie countless times. He finds that sharing his favourites of the past with you would give them new meaning, allowing him to continue enjoying what he used to without feeling the guilt he’s used to. 

Even though you want to entertain him by speaking about it after the credits roll, you couldn’t make it to the end, your eyelids are too heavy to remain open. You had fallen asleep during the last half an hour, not even the obnoxious noise of the guns could startle you. 

“That’s right! Get that motherfudger!” Boothill exclaims, pointing to the TV screen. “He’s the real bad guy. ‘Shame how he had so much potential.”

Eventually, the cowboy manages to de-arm his rival, pressing him against the floor with a gun pressed to his temple. They remained in that position, continuing their squabble until the sheriff arrived. Boothill was sure to inform you of all the small details you may not have picked up on, completely unaware you were no longer conscious.

As the end credits finally hit, he rotates his head side to side and lets out a yawn, brushing up your arm with his icy, metallic hand. 

“You’ve been quiet. What do you think, hey?” He taps your cheek, receiving a whine in response. 

Squinting his eyes, he turns to face you and sees your peaceful state. Your eyes are closed tightly and your hand is still wrapped around his index finger, entirely knocked out. Now realising he had been talking to himself for the entire time, he snickers and takes you in his arms, redirecting himself from the sofa to the staircase.

“Let’s get you to bed now. We can talk about it tomorrow instead.” 

Dan Heng:

The archive room was always a serene environment. Dimly lit, warm, and strangely comforting. Resting on the makeshift bed, you hug your knees to your chest and observe as the projector plays. Dan Heng often shied away from taking breaks, but after some extensive begging, you managed to reach middle ground. 

“This won’t be as exciting as you’d hoped it would be,” Dan warns, cracking his knuckles before resting back against the pillows. He had been extremely busy all day, the exhaustion now catching up on him. 

“I don’t mind. As long as we get to spend some time together, I’m happy.”

While it’s not the type of movie you would personally choose to watch, he claims that it would greatly assist him with his research if you’re going to persist in pestering him about spending time with you. 

Seeing him in loungewear was almost an eerie sight; you’re so used to seeing him in his daily attire. Growing uncomfortable from your original position, you lie down on your side, accidentally slipping away into a dream before you knew it. 

Not long after you, Dan’s body grew weak, his head sliding down your shoulder with an arm loosely wrapped around you. Both of you were fast asleep, the rest of the movie playing on mute.

Dr. Ratio:

The documentary intro music sounds out from the speakers, the therapeutic sound of rain thudding against the windows in the background. Veritas was fond of educational pieces of media, though he has a strict selection that he engages in. Before he watches anything with you, he skims through it first himself to fact-check if the information it contains is valid. Those who post outdated research get under his skin; it’s often a reason for common misconceptions in society because of how many people watch things like this without a second doubt. 

In the armchair, you curled up between his legs, your head snuggled against his chest. The two of you were in nothing but your nightwear, the crackle of the fireplace burning to keep the living room warm. Veritas himself was like a heater, providing a perfect temperature for you to close your eyes and…

Fall asleep—which is exactly what you wound up doing. Less than ten minutes in and you were out like a light. His strong arms held you tightly, his lips curving up as your breathing pattern became slower. 

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” He muttered, rubbing your shoulders gently before placing his lips on your forehead. “It’s nonsense anyway. You’re not missing out.”

“What type of fool makes a documentary on something so useless?” He grunts, turning off the TV and rising to his feet, your body clung to him. “Perhaps we should’ve watched your choice.”

Jing Yuan:

“You? Want to watch a movie with me?” Jing Yuan muses, placing his hand over his heart. “I’m flattered. It must be something extremely special considering how desperate you are to get me—”

“Shush! It’s going to start now! Hurry up and get in.” You pat his side of the mattress and he dramatically sighs, slinging his shirt to the other side of the room. 

It’s safe to say that you and Jing Yuan have an extremely different taste in movies. While you adore movies which contain thrill, he prefers to sleep through them and then claim he was awake when the ending scene finally arrives. He’s notorious for it. Judging by the way he wrapped the blanket around himself and the way he’s rubbing his face against your hair, you can practically predict the outcome. 

That’s until you realise how awful the movie you picked out was. The plot was absurd, and the CGI itself was a tragedy—never mind the script. After watching the family cat transform into an alien, you briefly closed your eyes and drifted off into a nap. 

Jing Yuan, on the other hand, was horrified at the acting on the screen. Having to ensure himself this was not the result of some twisted dream, he clears his throat and pinches your cheek. When he receives no response, he lets out a scoff. A smirk dances onto his face as he kisses your exposed neck, just enough attention to stir you from your slumber. 

“Congratulations. Were you truly that eager to beat me at something that you put on this piece of rubbish?” Jing Yuan points towards the TV, the mutant alien cat currently doubling in size and seizing the city. “I suppose this makes us even. You slept first.”

“… It had 5% on rotten tomatoes. It was meant to be good.”

“My love, having a percentage that low is not a “good” thing. The higher the percentage, the better the reviews.” Jing Yuan’s low rumble of laughter emerges due to your misunderstanding, now draping a section of the blanket over you to keep you close. 

[yinyuedijun]

CORRUPTIVE | ratiorine x masc reader

Ratio has been running himself ragged on a project. His blood pressure has been catastrophic, and his mood even worse. Aventurine offers a convenient outlet for his stress. (Or: You new boyfriend is a corrupting influence on you.)

3.2k words. written for @ficsforgaza's kinktober — prompt was double penetration (2 holes). reader is masc + afab (no surgery, explicit terms used), addressed as "boyfriend", "good boy", "baby". soft degradation, praise, 1 instance of name calling. pre-established romantic relationships with aventurine and dr ratio. divider by @/cafekitsune!

Ratio doesn't know why or how you ended up so besotted with Aventurine.

It isn't a matter of your intellect (of which you have in spades) nor your good-hearted nature (which is vastly different from the disposition of the gambler), though both make it puzzling that you would be so interested in the Stoneheart. It is simply that Ratio has never met a man as shy as you, and to this day he can’t fathom how you ever manage to entertain the gambler’s overt degeneracy both in and out of bed. When you’d first asked Ratio whether he would be comfortable with sharing you with the man, Aventurine’s arm hanging off your shoulder and a wicked smile on his face, he had been hardly able to believe it. Ratio even wondered if his synesthesia beacon was malfunctioning, and if by ‘sharing with’ you actually meant ‘rescuing from’.

“Don't worry, Doctor,” Aventurine had purred. “If you ever get jealous, you're free to join in on the fun.”

Ratio had bristled. Jealousy, at the time, implied to Ratio that he was irrational enough to fear that Aventurine might somehow steal you away from him if he did not choose to mutually participate in the relationship. But looking at the facts and at your behavioural history, it was simply inconceivable that Aventurine would be capable of ruining your bond. Logic dictated that your relationship with Ratio was too secure for it to dissolve simply because you were separately engaging in romantic relations with another man.

“Do what you want,” Ratio had said dispassionately and without hesitation. “It doesn't change anything between us. Do try your best to survive that insufferable attitude of his, though. You are free to come to me if you ever need a break from the gambler.”

Since you’ve begun seeing Aventurine, though, Ratio has begun to suspect that Aventurine had meant something else by jealousy. Something less related to the emotional dimension of sharing you and more to do with the physicality of it. Something about seeing you in the mornings-after and noticing the marks that Aventurine likes to litter across your neck. Something about how you seem more and more shameless every time you sleep with Ratio—how you seem able to take him deeper into your throat each time, how you seem to moan louder every time Ratio slides into you, how you now openly whine and beg to be filled by Ratio even though your cheeks are always hot with the embarrassment of doing so.

Something about how Aventurine seems to be training you to become unrepentantly needy for cock.

You are, again, a shy person. Your sex life with Ratio is largely reserved, fairly vanilla, and—and as far as he can tell—so satisfying that you never ask for anything else when he suggests it. I’m not very adventurous, you’d once laughed at him, more than a little sheepish. But dating Aventurine has clearly had a corruptive influence on you, and it had only become fully clear to Ratio the other day when he had moved to gently prep you, only for you to shake your head and reach between your legs, spreading yourself open for him.

“I-it's okay,” you’d panted, barely able to talk through the haze of your lust. “Aventurine already stretched me out earlier—see?”

When Ratio saw that your hole was not only gaping, but still dripping with Aventurine’s cum—he’d nearly passed out.

And now, as Ratio sits in his office, trying desperately to focus on revising the latest RFP from the Intelligentsia Guild while he listens to the rhythmic creak of your bed in the other room, the obscene noise of Aventurine’s hips slapping against your own as he pounds into you—

Well. Ratio admits that it should not have taken him so long to understand the meaning of ‘Join in on the fun’. He supposes he should acknowledge his own idiocy when he is guilty of it.

He would rather die than acknowledge that he does want to join the two of you, though.

Ratio is, for the millionth time, revisiting the blasted black hole information paradox: his least favourite problem in the entire field of quantum mechanics. He has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but he does sometimes wish to have less knowledge about this specific problem. Despite the fact that humanity has now colonised countless planets, asteroid belts, and moons, the exact properties of black holes remain an unknown that Ratio intends to eventually characterise. It's only a matter of time and effort—a great deal of which he's already spent, to no avail. Irritating, as it is a roadblock for a critical and time-sensitive project at the moment.

“Veritas,” you say, bringing him a bowl of hearty goulash that Aventurine had leisurely cooked during the time that Ratio had been slaving over these blasted equations, “you should take a break. You’ve hardly gotten any sleep for the past week.”

“Sleep can wait,” Ratio replies. His back aches, his wrists hurt, and his head is throbbing. His jaw aches from how much he's been grinding his teeth. “I am on the verge of a breakthrough—I will not rest until I’ve solved this.”

“But I'm worried about you,” you argue.

“I have no need for your worry,” he dismisses—snaps—and he knows he’s gone too far when he sees your brow furrow.

Aventurine, of course, manages to somehow be there. Why he's emerged from the kitchen to spectate on the two of you is a mystery to Ratio, but the Stoneheart appears to be openly and genuinely displeased at the interaction. It is a rarity for him, as Ratio has observed a trend in which Aventurine is least likely to show distress when he's actually hurt, and most likely to feign hurt when he's in control. A negative correlation, so to speak. The man does not like to reveal his emotions. But Ratio can generally get a good read on the Stoneheart, and he can tell that Aventurine’s current frown is genuine.

The concern on his expression fades when you roll your eyes at Ratio. “Okay, you should sleep and eat. Someone’s hangry.”

Ratio clears his throat. Always quick to own his errors as soon as he recognises them, he says, “My apologies. That was beneath me.”

“It's fine.” You stand behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders. As soon as you begin to knead your hands, Ratio becomes acutely aware of a knot at the base of his neck that your fingers are quickly undoing. “I know you're just stressed. You’ve run yourself ragged, Veritas—you’re going to get sick at this rate. Can I help you relax?”

Ratio closes his eyes, tries not to melt at your touch. You aren't wrong, he thinks. Prolonged stress compromises the immune system, and falling ill would hardly do anything for his overtaxed mind. He should do something to relax. He thinks about stepping away from the desk for the first time in hours, sinking into a warm bath… with you there, obviously—so he may wash your back, run his hands along your hot skin, kiss your shoulder amidst all the steam and fragra—

“I have an idea of what may fix the Doctor’s worsening health,” Aventurine says, his sly voice shattering Ratio's pleasant fantasy. The academician scowls.

“I have no need for your ideas,” Ratio snipes in revenge.

“Are you sure, Doctor? Because it seems you're running short on them.” Aventurine’s neon gaze roves over the several monitors in front of Ratio, all of which display his failed models. Ratio is startled.

“You understand the work here?”

“Not at all,” Aventurine replies breezily. “It was just a lucky guess. Or maybe an obvious one.” He slinks closer, wearing a grin that is both familiar and gratingly handsome. Ratio might have even found it charming if he didn't have such an outrageous headache. “Either way, it's clear to me that you need a break, plus a way to work off some of that stress.”

“Neither of which require your assistance.”

“Perhaps not mine,” Aventurine agrees. He's smiling when he adds, “But maybe our boyfriend’s?”

Ratio’s eyes narrow. He decides that he doesn’t like the cunning in his voice. “What do you mean?”

Aventurine’s mouth curls in a wicked, wicked way. He gives you a quick glance, as if asking you for permission, but you don't say anything to stop him—even though you can't look at either of them in the eye.

“Well,” the gambler says, “the two of us have been talking, and it turns out that your boyfriend’s been having some very interesting daydreams involving you…”

Ratio can't believe that this is happening.

In the first place, he'd hardly been able to process Aventurine’s suggestion. Ratio has long deduced that that you’re now much more open in bed, more transparent in your lust, but a fantasy like this one is still unprecedented based on his prior experiences with you. He hangs onto his disbelief right until the moment that you’re nude in front of him, face pressed into his pillows, ass up while you present yourself to both men. Aventurine has expertly teased your holes, so both of them are clenching and pulsing, needing to be filled. You're keeping yourself spread for them both obediently, so Ratio can see perfectly the way your cunt begins to drool when Aventurine eases his fingers into your other hole.

“Did you know, Doctor,” Aventurine drawled, “how much your boyfriend enjoys having both of his holes fucked at the same time?”

Ratio swallows. Can't take his eyes away from your glistening cunt, the way it twitches each time Aventurine moves his fingers inside you. “We—we have never tried.”

“Huh. Guess I can't blame you—it took a while for us to get him there.” His eyes almost gleam, the strange violet of his irises filled with cunning. “We had to go real slow with the toys, you know. I trained him pretty well, but”—Aventurine’s gaze flicks down to where Ratio is hard and throbbing—“he’s still never taken something as big as you. Not while I'm already inside him, anyway.”

You let out a whimper at the observation. “Are you excited?” Aventurine coos. You squirm, as if trying to push your hips toward them, and Aventurine laughs. “So needy. I’ve turned you into quite the cockslut, haven't I? But don't worry, baby. We’ll give you what you need soon enough—right, Doctor?”

Ratio struggles with a reply. He’s not talkative during sex beyond reassurances and encouragement, and perhaps the occasional curse. He doesn’t have a disposition for theatrics, and he certainly doesn’t have any inclination toward degrading ones. But Aventurine performs sex and decadence easily, his tongue silver and deft around his filthy words, his expressions nearly made for it. Ratio’s gut tightens when the gambler smirks at him, his cock twitching in his hand. I know what I'm doing to you, his face seems to say, and it leaves Ratio feeling at once irritated, out of his depth, and alarmingly horny.

For the sake of his blood pressure, Ratio turns his attention to you. The state that Aventurine has you in is obscene, panting and writhing as he eases a third finger into the tight ring of muscle that he’s trying to tease open. You moan a little, then whimper when Aventurine’s other hand finds your cunt. Ratio’s cock throbs at the noise that your pussy makes when Aventurine begins to tease it, dripping wet and embarrassing.

This is when you start to beg: “Please. Please, I'm ready, I promise. You don’t need to go slow, Aventurine, I promise, I can take—”

Your voice cuts out as Aventurine removes his fingers. Your holes are left empty, and Ratio can tell how badly you need them to be filled from the frustrated noise you make. Aventurine guides you into sitting, takes the opportunity to kiss you. “Since you asked so nicely,” Aventurine accedes, his lips moving against yours. He glances at Ratio after pulling away. “Well, then, Doctor—which of his holes would you prefer?”

Ratio swallows. He glances at your pleading expression, then at the space between your legs. At his hesitation, the corner of Aventurine’s mouth lifts. “Wait,” he says, “don’t tell me you’ve never tried anal?”

“Of course we have,” Ratio says curtly, almost defensive. Then he hesitates. “But we usually have… trouble.”

Ratio is large. It isn't a boast, but a factual statement, at least according to the statistics you once rattled off at him. It's challenging enough to make himself fit into your pussy; it’s an even longer process with your ass. He isn't sure from the way that you're begging that you can wait so long—and frankly, he isn't sure if he can either.

But gods, seeing Aventurine work you open for him like that…

Ratio’s concerns seem to have the opposite effect on Aventurine. He looks almost gleeful when he says, “Trouble? Oh, well, that settles it.” He cups your cheek, looks fond. “What do you think, baby? Can I use your cunt while Ratio fucks you from behind?”

You look deeply flustered, but you nod anyway. “Y-yes.” Your voice is trembling with excitement.

“Good boy,” Aventurine replies. He gives Ratio an appraising look, his eyes as hungry on him as they were on you. His gaze hardly strays from Ratio’s, even as he sits back and prompts you into straddling him. The position gives Ratio a maddening view of Aventurine’s length between your slick thighs. “Wanna give us a hand, Doctor?”

“You may run your mouth the whole night if I don't,” Ratio says dryly, and Aventurine laughs as the larger man places his hands on your hips. Aventurine pumps his length, lines himself up with your entrance. Ratio hears it when he nudges himself between your dripping folds, teasing you with the head of his cock.

“What, you don’t like my banter? Will you find other uses for my mouth later?” Aventurine teases, and Ratio is suddenly torn between thoughts of shoving his cock deep into Aventurine’s throat or making you ride Aventurine’s face. Both make for tantalizing images, and he decides he’ll revisit them later. He can already tell that the Stoneheart would find them equally appealing.

“We’ll see. For now”—Ratio begins to guide your hips down—“I’m sure there are other ways to get you quiet.”

Any witty retort dies on Aventurine’s tongue. He throws his head back as you sink onto his cock, overwhelmed, and Ratio can hardly blame him—he knows firsthand how good your cunt feels, always so tight and welcoming. You take Aventurine with more ease than you do Ratio, but not by much: it’s still an agonisingly slow and sweet process, getting your cunt to swallow the whole of him. Given complete control of your motions, Ratio guides your hips up and down, forcing you to take more of Aventurine’s length with each motion. He’s rewarded with the mesmerizing view of your pussy stretching out around the other man’s cock, leaving it glistening and creamy white with slick and pre.

When Ratio finally has you bottom out, Aventurine’s balls dripping with your arousal and pressed flush against you, the both of you let out strangled, broken groans. He lets you catch your breath before pulling you back so that Aventurine is pressed against your front walls, then pushes your belly for good measure. From the gasp you let out, Ratio can tell he's just forced the other man’s cock against your g-spot.

Aventurine’s eyes rove up and down your body, drinking in the sight of you. “Very good,” he purrs. “Are you ready to take Ratio now?”

“I—I think so,” you pant.

“I'll go slowly,” Ratio promises, and Aventurine watches carefully as he reaches for the lube.

“Don’t feel bad if you can't last,” he drawls, and Ratio tries not to scowl. How juvenile. The gambler must sense his disdain, because he shows his teeth in an almost-smile. “I'm being serious, Doctor. It feels very different from fucking someone by yourself, you know.”

“I’m certain I'll survive it,” Ratio says flatly. He pumps his cock once, twice, and Aventurine grabs your ass to spread you for him. Ratio starts pushing into you, begins stretching your tight hole around his girth. It has you shifting and squirming on Aventurine’s cock until Aventurine is forced to still you with his hands, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Be good now,” he says. “Stay still until we’re both inside you.”

“O-okay,” you say, voice watery, and Ratio almost feels bad at the whimper you let out when he pushes another inch inside you. Almost.

He can't help but mentally curse the other man as he slides into you. He hadn’t been lying. On a normal day, you're barely able to accommodate Ratio, but with Aventurine’s cock already deep in your cunt, sliding into you is even more difficult than usual. You feel almost unbearably tight and hot around him, and every time Aventurine moves inside you, Ratio can feel it—every twitch and press of the other man’s cock, barely separated by your walls. It's maddening.

It must be overwhelming for you, too. From the noises you're making, Ratio can tell you feel nearly at your limit. You’re choking by the time that Ratio is halfway inside you, your face thrown into Aventurine’s neck.

“I—I’m so full,” you gasp, and Aventurine hums soothingly as he kisses your nape.

“You can do it.” His eyes flicker to Ratio, who nods and keeps pushing. In a bid to help you relax, Ratio reaches between your legs and finds your sex. Your clit is swollen, neglected, and your hips jolt as soon as he starts rubbing it. Unwittingly grinding against Aventurine’s hips, you make the gambler groan at the motion, and the noise goes straight to Ratio's aching cock. He can hardly believe it when he finally manages to bottom out—leaking and twitching inside you, his balls heavy and tight against Aventurine’s.

“There,” Aventurine says, sounding fully in control even while breathless, “such a good boy, taking us both… we’re going to use your holes now, okay?”

Ratio knows that it's probably the praise that does it. As soon as you hear the words, you let out a familiar kind of whimper—pitched, frantic. “O-oh fuck,” you choke out, and suddenly Ratio feels your walls clenching hard around him, pulsing as your body tries to milk them both. He hisses and manages to hold back from his climax, but Aventurine is shameless about letting you drag him over the edge with you—Ratio can feel him twitching and spurting ropes of cum inside you, the pump of his cock as he begins to fuck you through your orgasm. Ratio can't tell if it's Aventurine’s cum or your squirt that's dripping onto him right now, only that the mess is making him throb inside you, and—

“Fuck,” he snarls, and he pulls out of you so that he can grab the base of his cock. He needs to cum so bad that it nearly hurts, but he doesn't allow himself to finish. Not yet.

You're incoherent with pleasure for a long while, your body a wanton mess between them, but Aventurine—never one to stay quiet for long—quickly recovers and regains control. He pulls out with ease, and Ratio is treated to the obscene sight of your empty holes, both gaping and leaking into their thighs, a mess of cum and pre and lube.

“See?” he pants, grinning at Ratio. “Hard not to cum, isn't it?”

Ratio has to breathe deeply to calm himself. “It did feel… different from usual,” he acknowledges.

“I'm sure,” Aventurine purrs. He glances at you, smiles fondly. “How do you feel?”

You make a euphoric, exhausted noise, and both of your partners understand it to mean that you’ve enjoyed yourself.

“Was that too much?” Ratio asks.

You make a noise that sounds like a No. Aventurine’s grin is sly; he glances at Ratio’s cock, still swollen and aching, and he kisses your forehead.

“Good,” he murmurs. Ratio can hardly believe it, but he can see Aventurine starting to stroke himself, already hardening again. “It looks like the good doctor is still in need of release. You won't mind helping him out for a little longer, will you?”

end

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[agent-aventurine]

₊˚ʚ ⚡ ₊˚✧ ﾟ

yunli, eighteen, s!her, nsfw stuff here? minors dni. writing account: @etherealunae !!

₊˚ʚ 💓 ₊˚✧ ﾟ

who I write for! genshin: neuvillette, wirothesly, ather, piamon, dulic, kaeya, amber, aether. honkai star rail: aventurine, argenti, boothill, dr. ratio, dan heng, (IL too) gallagher, sampo, jing yuan, blade, yanqing.

₊˚ʚ ⚡ ₊˚✧ ﾟ

things to note!

I only write with my fem ocs/or xfemreaders, as I'm not well versed in writing anything other than that, so I apologise, this page may not be for you! 💓

There will be discussions and topics about mental health, and such so please read with caution (?) Trigger warnings will be put!

Feel free to send me requests! I'll try my best to make your wishes come to life however please note I am a full time college student so I might not always be able to check my inbox. Also, I have the right to deny your request if, there is not enough detail for me to use as a basis to start on, the request at hand makes me uncomfortable to read it simply I do not feel like I'm good enough to do your request justice. :(

Thank you for understanding!

Yunli x

[generalsdiary]

A name written in water

Aventurine x Dr. Ratio

warnings: mention of blood

word count: 1.2k

description: aventurine pov, poetic processing of his own feelings about his life leading to an unspoken love confession

A name written in water.

My name was written in water. In a passing by invisible surface. Not lasting long enough to remember even the first letter. Carried away, meaningless with the current, taken away by the waves. Swallowed by the depths and forgotten. For it didn't even get a chance to be remembered. To be seen. To be taken.

My name was written in water when all around me was sand and dust. A cradle of white and my mother's smile. “May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you, keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful, and your schemes forever concealed…” her hopes spoken in the rustle of the unthinkable rain and the name she bestowed upon me.

Wrapped in a sheen of gold and stars, a blanket of luck gifted upon me, from which even the goddess herself doesn't remember my name. No matter which one I wear. The one of the innocent boy. The one of the overly confident man. The white shirt that has turned a muddy brown or the white fur of a once free animal. The rain that fell on the day of my birth created concentric circles on the surface of the water. Not allowing even the letter K to stay visible.

It was meant to be swallowed down with the depths of the seas, drowning in the everlasting abyss, just like my people in the pools of blood. The same river of blood my sister and I swam over. Hidden by those same people. Not living… people. A name not meant to be seen on the fragile water surface. A name plunged down, choked by the stream before it got a chance to get wings and fly away.

I have forgotten it. Forsaken it. Cursed it. Hidden it. The only thing that ever mattered to the ones around me, while I lacked any freedom, was my physical form. A name is never physical. It never mattered. I abandoned it, rejected it. Leaving no room for prayer. … I… have hidden it. Tucked it deeply far away inside. Somewhere, only out of memory, respect, and love for my people. My mother. My father. My big sister. Seemingly, to never see the light of day again. …

My name was written in water.

If only my name was written in wind. To be carried by song, by a kind word, by an old story, an ancient legend, a mere folk tale. It could have danced with many other, be adored, be worshipped, be hated, be loved. Never forgotten. Memories turn into stories. And stories, eventually, turn into songs. If it was written in the storm winds of Sigonia it could have been sung. The wind would have given me freedom. Given me wings. If only.

Yet… His name was written in wind. It travels through the flow of the cosmos, flowing amongst the stars even through the atmosphere of no air. It is sung with praise and cursed with tears. His name falls off of lips of those who worship him for the people he saved. His name is sung, his name is adored, his name is hated, loathed, spat, kissed, danced, uttered, prayed. The man, whose name swings off of the lips of more and many, sits beside me. And he speaks my name. He forces the river to freeze the surface so my name may be written in the thin ice. He commands the ocean to turn solid so that my name may be written in the snow that falls atop it. “The ice will melt”, I tell him. “The snow will evaporate”, I assure him.

Alas, he shakes his head.

Even if my name were written in the sands of my homeland, the same wind that carries his name would blow mine away. The dust particles of my name would dance in the wind, however the wind would not carry it like it does his. “But it would remain visible for a period of time”, He tells me. “It would be seen, remembered”, He reassures me.

Only the sweetest of names fall from those lips. “My love, my darling, my beloved, my precious, my treasure, my heart, my stars, my moon, my sun, my air, my, mine.” Liquid honey poured off of his tongue and found solace on his lips, dancing amongst his vocal cords. Sending vibrations upon which they caress my ears. Fireflies that fly around us reflect in his dusk-colored eyes and I swear the only stars I ever want to see are the ones in his eyes. Why does he look at me like that? It hurts. It makes me want to cry and fall into the deepest pit. It hurts to be looked at like… like I’m loved. Appreciated. More than what I pretend to be for the audience of the world. Less than what I deem myself worthy of. The gaze with which he holds me immobile, incapable of turning away, despite that I’m still a breath away from the tears rolling down my face. Can love truly feel this way? Can it ache my heart so much that I cannot bear it? That it feels too much when in fact I feel unworthy of it.

I’d relive my whole life again sooner than- it is fear. The corner of a dark room. The person throwing glances at the bar. I am afraid. Loving means being there, staying here, living here, having a reason, having someone to come back home to. It means respecting my own life. To love is to yearn, to bleed, to yell and shout and whisper and utter and plead and, and… to love him I am frightened. Terrified to speak it out to the universe. To dare imagine a world where I could be happy. Reluctant to care so deeply when it could all be taken away.

In spite of all that, oh Goddess, I love him. I love his name written in wind. I love him. I love him. I love him. And it hurts. The dread of losing him. Nonetheless, the hope in his eyes steadies me. Grounds me in the dark, cool soils of the earth. So I may one day, once again, allow my roots to find the dirt and grow my leaves again. To let them turn green. To stop being a dried down, branch naked tree with decorations thrown on top to hide the rotting insides. His eyes tell all I need to know. That we are worth it. The fear. That we will overcome it. That we will be alright. Although, I will need to also hear it aloud. Often. The soft smile on his face convinces me he will say it aloud. The love I see in him confirms that he finds no weight in it. No issue in saying what I need to hear.

And only when we are alone. When it is just the two of us. Does he hold my face gingerly in his hands, as if I'll break from too strong of a touch... as if I was something fragile. Someone precious. In the space with just the two of us, he speaks the words too intimate and personal, not meant for anyone's ears because they mean too much. They hold too much weight.

“Your name was written in water. And it courses through my veins. Every day. Every waking hour. My blood creates pressure against the thin walls and with each beat, it is your name” his next word is softer than what I'd imagine touching a butterfly's wings would be. 

“Kakavasha”

[milklemondrop]

more hsr dividers

Dr. Ratio

Aventurine

Sunday

✏ likes/reblogs are appreciated

✏ give credit (on the post or in the tags) if you use

[ourrosette]

Fortuity.

Relationship: Aventurine/Dr. Ratio

WC: 2300

Summary: Aventurine has a nightmare about his past and the horrors he faced as a child, Dr. Ratio comforts him after. A peak into Aventurine's backstory.

Warnings: Mature, Some Violence, Child Forced into Slavery, Branding, Implications of Sexual Slavery

[itafushigf]

 ִ   ⠀ׂ ੯  崩坏: 星穹铁道  𐙚   ִ  𝐻 𝑆 𝑅 𝑥 𝐹 𝑒 𝑚 𝑈 𝑠 𝑒 𝑟

— 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪. 𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦. 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘥𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘨. 𝘥𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘨. 𝘥𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰. 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘨𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘫𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘢𝘯. 𝘭𝘶𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘢. 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘰. 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘹𝘪𝘯𝘨.

cw: bots tagged dead dove on janitor include dark/nsfw themes and their warnings will be in the intro. characters over the age of 18 include sexual traits in their settings, but all initial messages are sfw.

Blade

JAI | CAI. Meeting his first love again.

Sampo

JAI | CAI. In which you’re hiding together.

© itafushigf — do not copy or steal.

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ A (FAKE) DOCTOR’S ORDER — “It’s just a cough.” Aventurine x Dr. Ratio (MLM)

Word count: 1.3k

Contains: MLM, Aventurine x Dr. Ratio, ill Ratio, Aventurine caring for Ratio, not-so-subtle flirting, affection, kissing, cuddles, caresses + more.

A/N: The Aventio/Ratiorine brain worm made me write this. Art cred: @/meronppaii (X)

It was a usual day for Aventurine. After all, he’s always willing to push his luck to see how far he can get. Forcing open the handle of Ratio’s office, he prepares to chime his usual greeting until his eyes meet with a seemingly unconscious torso resting atop the somewhat cluttered desk.

“What the— Are you—” Aventurine pauses, immediately looking around to assess the situation. “Veritas. It’s not funny.”

Despite several attempts of communication, there was still no response. Not even a murmur. Rushing over to the body, his hands fumble as he searches for a pulse. Ratio stirs, a low grumble escaping his lips. Aventurine scoffs, instinctively retracting his hands as Ratio forces himself up straight. 

“Well? What was all that about? I thought you were dead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m—” Before he could finish his sentence, he began uncontrollably coughing, spluttering on his words.

“You look awful. Should you be working like this?”

“It’s just a cough.”

“A cough. Right. There’s no colour on your face. I’ve never seen you look so sick before.” Aventurine leans against the desk, moving the scattered paperwork into the correct piles. “You should get some rest.”

“I don’t need you telling me what to do.” Ratio sneers, snatching away the work documents from Aventurine who was likely to have already destroyed their order.

“I’ll get you some tea then.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m sure that wouldn’t help anyone.”

“You know I’m capable of doing things, don’t you? I’ve taken care of myself from a young age. Who do you think looks after me when I get ill?”

“…” Ratio rubs his forehead, recognising his wording may have come across as too snarky. “I don’t like sugar in my tea.”

“I wasn’t putting sugar in it anyway.” Aventurine sighs, a lengthy exhale as he heads towards Ratio’s kitchen. While he won’t directly admit it, the occasional belittlement does sting—like a gash straight across a bare chest. All he wanted to do was help, after all.

An herbal tea intended to soothe clogged sinuses was in the process of being concocted. Whether it be the flu or a cold, it should help ease his airways and prevent further mucus buildup. The tea was steaming, perfected to the best of his ability. Taking the mug, he returns to Ratio’s office, placing it on the desk.

“Thank you.”

“I thought I’d never see the day.” Aventurine snickers, pulling a spare chair to the opposite side.

“This doesn’t—” With the mug hovering by his mouth, Ratio hesitates to take a sip.

“I know. It doesn’t smell good—it doesn’t taste good either. It’s not supposed to.”

With Aventurine’s eyes glued to him, he takes a deep breath and sips the tea. Unbeknownst to him, it wasn’t as bad as he was anticipating. It was drinkable, to say the least. Despite the warm liquid soothing his throat, the chesty cough persists, making the dull ache in his throat grow stronger.

“I was coming to ask you if you wanted to go out for a drink, but it looks like that will have to wait for another time. Shame.” Aventurine taps a pen against the desk, revealing the doodles left in the corner of Ratio’s notebook. 

“Were you? Or was that part of something you had planned?”

“Oh, how hurtful, Veritas. Can I not take a good friend out for fun anymore?”

“You always have something planned. Do not act coy.”

“Fine. But, the offer for drinks is still on the table. When you’re feeling better, of course.”

“I’ll consider it.” Ratio places the mug down, rising to his feet. His hands clutch the desk, veins protruding as his grip hardens.

“Do you need any—” Aventurine stands, reaching out to stabilise Ratio’s hunched body. A hand swats him away, leaving him standing there unamused.

“Look down.” Ratio speaks, suddenly dishing ominous orders out.

“Where exactly?” Aventurine’s eyes scan Ratio’s lower half, darting from his crotch to his sandals.

“Do you see?”

“See…?” Aventurine cocks his head aside, still unsure of what he’s intended to be looking at.

“I have a pair of functioning legs. I don’t need any assistance with walking.” Ratio brushes past Aventurine as he hobbles towards the door, his forehead pressed against the frame when he eventually makes it.

“You…” Aventurine pinches the skin between his brows, placing his hand in the middle of Ratio’s aching shoulder blades. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Lacking the energy to protest, he grants Aventurine permission to guide him to the bedroom. Now inside of the elegant room after navigating through the winding hallway, Aventurine strides towards the bed, unwrapping Ratio’s arm from around his neck. That’s until he was met with a slight issue. No matter the amount of strength he exerted in trying to pry Ratio’s arm from around him, it wouldn’t budge.

Suddenly, the two bodies topple down onto the mattress. Flustered by the abrupt tumble, Aventurine attempts to scramble from atop Ratio’s body, but the arm remains locking him in place.

“You’re not talking. Do you want me to play doctor or something?” Aventurine gazes down at Ratio whose expression remains unchanged. Somehow, that sight heightens his nerves.

“I feel unwell.” Ratio’s finger twirls around the longer strands of Aventurine’s hair before travelling down his face, cupping his cheek.

“Here, let me check your temperature.” Sweeping back Ratio’s hair, he plants his palm flat against his forehead. “You’re warm.”

“That doesn’t work when your hands are cold. I’m bound to feel warm.” Ratio chuckles, a sweet sound carrying no malice. Redirecting Aventurine’s hand, he leaves it resting on his chest. “You aren’t doing bad. It was a fair try.” 

“You’re being too kind. Are you sure you’re not the one with a secret plan?”

“There is no plan. All that I’m stating is simply the truth.”

Aventurine’s eyes glimmer, his lips curving up as Ratio’s sincere praise replays in his mind. Though they often butt heads, it’s hard to deny that the connection between them exists. Neither one of them is that unintelligent. The ability to suppress their emotions, however, is something they both lack. A force too powerful to combat.

Much like the gem, Aventurine had a beautiful glow to him. His facial features create a composition that works in perfect harmony. Ratio would never admit that though, not outwardly. Perhaps he’ll make him work harder if he wishes to find that information out. He knows he is far more than capable.

Drawing closer, Ratio’s breath ghosts Aventurine’s face. His eyes are locked onto his lips which had been freshly moistened. He wasn’t stupid at all. Closing the distance, their mouths join. Ratio’s breath hitches, readjusting his position as Aventurine leans all of his body weight down. It was always so intense with him; nothing ever starts slow.

Nipping at Ratio’s bottom lip, Aventurine’s tongue meets with his, deepening the kiss drastically. If Ratio wasn’t hot previously, he certainly was now. The heat was radiating from him, causing Aventurine to tug at his own clothes for some air.

Eventually pulling away, Aventurine’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his pupils blown out from the intimate experience shared. His eyes travel down to Ratio’s hands which are gently massaging his hips, thumbs swirling circles across his skin as they slipped under his clothes. A cough sounds out, snapping them both back to reality.

“Wait. Won’t I get sick too?” Aventurine wipes his lips clean, although the action is already irreversible. 

“It’s likely. I’ll take care of you if that’s the case.” Tugging him down by the arm, Ratio traps Aventurine in an embrace, one of his legs wrapped over his. Within seconds, he senses his body relax, his cheek resting on the mess of blond hair on top of him. Aventurine’s heartbeat slows—all feelings and thoughts are overwhelmed by burning compassion. Although he cannot see his face, Ratio can picture the soft expression, regardless of the lack of evidence. “Stay with me tonight.”

[sweet-honey-fruit]

Happy Valentine’s Day ❤️

Surprising Star Rail men with a lingerie on the most romantic day of the year

w/: Aventurine, Blade, Dr. Ratio, afab!reader

Genshin version here 🫶

Warnings: NSFW minors DNI, face fucking (Blade), called ‘good pet’ (Blade), hints of possessiveness (Blade), blowjob (Blade), hints of dom/sub (all of them), vaginal fingering (Aventurine), called ‘babydoll’ (Aventurine), d in v (Dr. Ratio), creampie (Dr. Ratio)

Got carried away with Aventurine, whoops.

Masterlist: xxx

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Aventurine ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - Aventurine was normally the one pulling out the surprises. Especially on special days like Valentine’s Day. Taking you out to a fancy restaurant, taking you to all of your favorite places, and especially taking you to bed to show just how much he loves you. It’s not often that he’s the one who gets surprised. So when you stopped him when he closed the bedroom door, and you stripped out of your clothes, revealing the erotic lingerie that hung on your body; he was as surprised as he could be. He wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste.

He’s quick to push you back onto the bed, crawling on top and giving you a dazed look. The mere sight of you is enough to turn him into a needy disaster. His hands caress your plush thighs. Just enough pressure to tease you, and to make you throb with need. It’s, frankly, annoying. You gave him a gift and he has the nerve to mess around like this? Not even letting you feel a hint of his cock against your soaking hole. You fight back a scowl. Yet as attentive as he is, he notices, and he can’t help but to laugh.

“You’re the one who wanted to play this game, don’t tell me you’re getting heart broken because you’re losing,” He spreads your legs apart with a form of desperation that he’s trying so hard to hide. Although it’s obvious with the way his fingers dig into your skin, leaving behind a bruising pain that causes you to buck your hips up for any kind of friction. His breathing shakes at the sight of the thin fabric clinging to your wetness at the movement, emphasizing the shape your pussy.

He dips down, leaving feather-light kisses up and down your neck while his body encases yours under him. It’s addicting, the feeling of his lips against your hot neck. It leaves you dizzy, hand gripping onto his head, grinding your hips against his own.

“Ah ah ah,” His hand forces your waist back down, a strong hold held as a warning, “Don’t think just because you caught me off guard with such an eye-catching thing that you’re the one who gets to call the shots babydoll.”

The low, teasing laugh against your ear was enough to make you cum on the spot. The way he was holding you down so effortlessly, the way his other hand teased your soaked slit, it was all so subtle yet was driving you mad with a desperate desire. Then when his fingers plunge inside of you, fucking you in all the right spots and making your vision black out just from how good it feels. Aventurine doesn’t let up either, oh no. He likes seeing you wither under him like this. Especially when you had the audacity to believe that you were on the good end of the deal.

Blade ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - If life itself is punishment, then dear god he doesn’t want to spend it any other way. Not when you’re kneeling before him in a lingerie that leaves so little to the imagination that it’s ethereal. Not when you’re leaving feather-light kisses over his growing bulge, muttering ‘I love you’ and ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ with a love-stricken look. He’ll happily take this life with you.

His hand finds its way into your hair as your mouth finds its way around his cock. His touch is gentler than what it normally is. The way his fingers massage into your scalp feels more like a caress than anything else. He’s cherishing the celebration, the display that you happily allowed him to see. Only him, only for him. That mere thought elicits a soft moan out of him. Your tongue swirls around his tip, whimpering at the sweet taste of his precum. He hums appreciatively, pressing your head back down agaisnt his growing hardness. Despite the surprise from the sudden switch of demeanor, your eyes are glazed over with desire. Yet his hold tightens nonetheless, pushing you down even further till your nose is pressed up agaisnt the base. You take it all the way, sucking harder like the good pet you are. His hips rut up against your mouth, drawing his dick in and out in a slow yet rough pace. Your eyes remain locked with his, moaning and drooling and impatiently touching yourself through the lingerie.

“You’re so pretty,” He moans out, his other hand reaching down to cup your face, “For me. So pretty for me, only me.”

Dr. Ratio ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - Usually a man with great composure, that title was long lost the moment he saw you in the revealing, skin tight lingerie. He practically tore your panties away the moment he had you on the bed, only leaving on the bra that encases your sensitive breasts. He wanted you so bad, and that's evident with how he's rubbing the head of his cock up and down your soaked hole, letting your slick drip down the base.

Ever so slowly he pushes his dick in, a heavenly groan mixing with your pornographic moan. His lips trail up your body, leaving goosebumps behind. They're slow and calculating, kissing the most sensitive of places just so he can feel you clench around his cock. With a soft sigh he thrusts in. It's gradual, sensational and loving. It's so loving the way he holds your hand, kisses your lips, rub gentle circles on your thighs as he fucks into your needy hole.

He's throwing every ounce of love and appreciation he can with every touch, ever thrust, and moan and groan that he can force out of you; he may not be good with expressing how he feels about you, but he won't waste this opportunity to properly show you. Not when you went through the effort to please him like this.

"There you go, relax," He shushes your babbling, loving the way your erotic noises mix with his hips snapping against yours, "Let me show you how much I love you."

He doesn't stop, not when you cum over and over, leaving you a squirming, cock-drunken mess. Not when he spills his seed into you so much that it's spilling out of you, coating his cock in a mixture of your wetness and his semen. Not when he glides his finger over the mixture and presses it into your mouth to lick clean. He loves you, he's going to make sure you're taught that.

[anantaru]

do you have any spicy dr ratio headcanons?? 👀👀

cw. [ex]plicit, the man the myth deserves it all, spits on your cunt, he calls you pathetic once, fem! reader

dr ratio purses his lips together in anticipation, through his eyes watching the grace in your every move as he pulls a low, graveling groan from above you when he slowly brushes his swollen tip all against your puffy cunt— without surprise taking his time, of course, smirking when he repeatedly smacks his cock-head on the sensitive skin, catching your quivering legs threatening to give up on you.

"open, don't close your legs again, you understand?" he commands sternly before letting go of one big, filthy globule of saliva to drizzle on your folds, turning your body into a hefty shivering masterpiece.

and you do as he says, with pleasure, attempting to divide your thighs for him further while desperately anticipating his member to fill you up already— it's almost embarrassing by how much you wanted this, and with a man of his caliber, it was like a lightning strike when he touches you, kisses and toys with your clit.

a sudden realization shakes you to your core when you notice just how deeply you were drawn to him already.

before you know it, veritas slopes his body against yours as he grunts out through a snagged jaw, feeling your soft walls mold around his shaft as he drags his cock in you— not only making you feel good, but scratching at the most sensitive spots you never believed he would be able to find, immediately causing you to shadow your fingernails over his muscular back as you mark faint, red lines over his pale skin.

"ugh, you make it feel real good," veritas shoots you a grin, grinding his hips into you, "real good indeed,"

your walls were tightening and twitching around him, squeezing around his throbbing shaft like you're supposed to make him cum now, like your pussy was trying to milk him for all he's worth— you're responding to his utters with your cunt instead of words as it pulls him into you through harsh sucks, the slight ache of being split apart making you gulp down the assembled saliva in your mouth as you moan in little sobs and cries.

"what's that? you look so pathetic, dear," for one hot and sizzling second, veritas halts his hips before tenderly sweeping a thumb against your bottom lip while locking his gaze deep into your eyes.

"so pretty, yet so pathetic," he grunts again when you pout your lips at him, cursing through a rasping voice when you tighten around him once more.

his lips find yours like a blazing fire, burning brightly and fiercely, fighting for entrance with his tongue as unspoken words of love manifest in every kiss.

a filthy look plaits his face, lust burning in his gaze— and veritas hips draw back each time before pistoling his length into you harder, so hard your tits were beginning to motion the pace he had on you, with his thick shaft being concealed down your sore walls as he forces you to feel and taste each throb and thickness of his veins pumping around the underside of his cock.

"yes, take it like that," veritas mumbles into your mouth, "can't take it like this m-much longer," before pushing and pulling into you until at last, you finally clicked into place.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[maririna]

✧˚ · .Cat Got Your Tongue?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Dr. Ratio x Reader

> In which you bring home a stray.

Word Count: 1.7k

Mari's Note: So I had this dream with him and a cat and I felt compelled to write something with it lol. Surprisingly, it came out sorta cute than I thought <3

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"No. Absolutely not, I would not agree to such a proposal."

"Aww, why not?" You raise its paw waving it as if saying hello towards a certain grumpy lover while you support the feline with your free hand, keeping it close to your chest. "I think it'll be beneficial to keep it."

Minutes prior to your arrival, you had overheard high pitched whines directing from a secluded alleyway that was surrounded by stagnant puddles as a result of the dreary rain that just occurred.

Discovering the source, you were met with a surprising sight of a cat in a box, finding solace in the warmth of a battered newspaper, eyes wide and seemingly clueless from the situation it was in. You ofcourse had fallen in love and before you came to your senses, you were already in front of the door with said cat. 

It's rather unusual for you to make a grandiose request to Veritas, being satisfied with what you have and had been given, you are never used to asking for anything more. Perhaps it was intuition that struck you and you decided to stick with it.

"What a preposterous idea. I do not need some creature's mouth to feed." Veritas sighs, his hand rubbing his forehead. "Such a despicable thing would have the potential to create chaos and disruption to my work and research."

You raise your eyebrows, "Oh? Who said you'll take care of it? I'll fully take responsibility."

"Please?" You press, "The poor thing must have been starving and besides, we need a friend at home." 

"Good grief, have you even acknowledged the fact that the Felis catus species possess only an average IQ of 2?" He sighs as you shoot him a pleading gaze, the cat mewling in your arms, unaware of the doctor's insult.

With a hard look, he huffs and finally gives in. 

"Fine, only if you were to provide adequate training, necessities, complete supervision and most significantly, establish proper behavior, I may allow your preposition. However!" he halts. "If it interferes with my research and our house conditions, it's out."

You cheer, scurrying your feet to give a peck on his cheek, following with a stretch of your arms for the cat to do the same except it was met with a palm of his hand. "Oh no, no. Not the animal." 

You wont lie, having a new family to the household made things livelier, especially on the days where Veritas had been absent due to the Intelligentsia Guild. The cat had quite a calming effect, you were able to indulge into your work and daily schedule without the rush of anxiety on those same days. With dedicating your free time towards bonding and training the cat, you had also set aside its own space in your humble abode far Veritas's work desk and absolutely further from the intricate stone carvings in the shape of your lover. 

You also discovered that your new companion is a lovely and polite tom cat.

Veritas so far (and so good) did not seem to mind, letting the animal even roam around the living room frequently since it was a portion of the home that contained none of his papers and nor does he seem to mind the soft meows requesting for attention or inquiries of the food bowl being filled.

You are currently settled down on your couch with your darling joined with you. His eyes concentrate at a book on hand, the gentle sound of pages being flipped by the featherlight touches of his fingers fills the room alongside the occasional soft purrs of your feline friend who is nestled comfortably onto your lap. Its rhythmic breathing soothes you as you hum in content, nothing but peace and tranquility envelopes the space.

You were interrupted from your thoughts with the sound of Veritas’s book slam shut.

“Have you gotten accustomed to the new addition to our household? I am not one who engages nor enjoys the affection and sentimentality derived from owning a domesticated animal, however in your case, you seem to say otherwise.”

“Does it seem obvious?” 

You focus on feeling the softness of the cat’s fur as you carefully thread it with your fingers. His ears twitch from your intrusion, eyes shot open like he was not asleep just a second ago, he lets out a yawn, flexing his back into a wide stretch with a flick of a tail. He jumps from your lap to the couch, kneading it. You grin, muttering a totally unapologetic ‘sorry’.

The cat strolls over, a faint purr rumbling from his chest as he begins nuzzling against Veritas's thigh who visibly flinches. You notice his hand almost ready to raise, only to have it actually end up meeting upon the animal’s head which meows in delight, pressing his muzzle to the palm of your significant other’s hand, rubbing against it.

You see him cringe and tense up but you still credit his effort and beam at the sight. To see him be physically affectionate with the animal was unexpected, deep down you assumed he might have disliked the cat. Maybe he is still foreign with the change. 

“I guess so, the cat has been very therapeutic to me if I'm being honest,” you add.

He scoffs, "Although that is something I can never relate to," you don't see it, but his eyes soften a bit. 

A hand rests on top of your hair, "If it refines your cognitive performance and brain activity then I would have no objections and no reason not to accept the animal."

Veritas removes his hand and you almost miss the warmth. "Regardless, if he does not come aligned with my terms and conditions–"

"I know I know, geez. The cat has been nothing but a sweetheart." You cut him off and pout, "Isn't that right...?”

You pause.

“Uhm…”

Your partner raises a brow, "...are you implying you had never designated a name for him until now?"

You sweat, "...I haven't"

"Ridiculous."

"Well, it's hard to think of one!" you retort.

"Nonsense. You had already established a bond with him, although I would not necessarily care but I assumed it would have been natural to issue him a name.”

“You think of one then!” you puff your cheeks.

Veritas places his hand under his chin, absorbed in thought. Wait, Is he actually considering it?

“I would rather not. I am in no way having the slightest care over it as I deem it not crucial.”

You stick a tongue out to him, so much for having the tiniest belief from your heart in him. You can't help but deflate, feeling dejected that he doesn't fully welcome the cat as you expected.

For the next few days, you have been brainstorming, stubbornly attempting to choose a name, basking in countless research and books.

"Hmm, I don't like any of these." You groan in exasperation, rummaging through the pages of a book for a potential fit of a name, only to prove you no luck. Cursing under your breath, your face falls flat on the surface of a page.

A name is crucial for a pet, one to call out to, to get attached to, and to bond with, he deserves to have one like every other being. You have asked Veritas for any suggestions or if he can at least help but your actions bear no results.

With heavy defeat, you are forced to drag yourself towards the shelves for the cat's lunch. Geez you can't keep calling him just ‘cat’ forever, can you?

You spot the animal mewling over from the corner of your eye, trying to catch your attention to fulfill his hunger but notice something out of the ordinary.

Huh?

You see that he is wearing...a collar?

He tilts his head curiously, looking at you with doe eyes, meowing once more. You don't recall ever giving him one, only toys and cardboard boxes he seemed to like to conceal himself in all the time.

As you take a closer look, you discover something even more odd. A silver metal hanging around the edges of the leather–a name tag.

Your fingers glaze over the tag, feeling the sturdiness of the material, seeing a word engraved on it.

'Archimedes'.

You couldn't contain the smile that goes up to your face, your heart starts to race with happiness and relief. Only one person would come up with a certain name like this.

It seemed perfect for you, to think that he chose this name seems undoubtedly much like him. 

"Just so you are aware, I had scientifically engineered the collar to be a precise fit for him, including the exact millimeters alongside taking consideration of the feline's anatomy and measurements." 

Following the sound of a voice, you see the man himself, holding a piece of graph paper of what you assume is a detailed illustration of his creation as he carries himself with elegance and confidence.

"I created it to be comfortable, durable, and lightweight. In addition to that, I installed features that can accurately measure his vitals, from heartbeat to temperature with a built-in system that will notify us if there exists any malfunctions to his vitals."

As much as you are filled with joy and gratitude you couldn’t help but feel the need to go for the tease. 

"Oh? I thought you didn't want to keep him? Hm?" your tone is mischievous but playful.

You feign being in deep thought, resting a thumb underneath your chin. "Why is there a collar in him which by the way was specifically made for him by you and named him yourself if you wanted to get rid of him oh so badly?" 

"Research indicates having a feline cultivates a productive space for effective studying. I am simply experimenting with Archimedes. It would be favorable in my end to conduct my hypothesis if there is a word for him to respond to." He crosses his arms, his eyes suddenly interested in one of his many statues from the corner of the room.

"Right. Whatever floats your boat.” 

“That is known as buoyancy.”

...this man.

You lightly flick his forehead, trying to stop him from speaking any further as to save yourself from being trapped into another one of his hours-long lectures. 

“You are a dummy, y’know?” Before he could reply, you wrap your arms around him, his body relaxes, a silent invite for you to continue, feeling the tenderness and warmth of his skin. You brushed off strands of purple locks from his face, giving him a loving kiss. 

“Thank you, Veritas."

His eyes refuse to meet yours as he is rendered speechless.

"...Idiot"

"...But honestly, Veritas, you should have just opted for a normal collar."