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mod-kisa-blog · 4 days

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⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.

⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….

from this request !

it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time.

and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.

boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.

you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes.

“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”

you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.

“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.

“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”

he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?”

you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.

now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit.

“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help.

he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”

fine, you thought. two can play that game.

you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.

you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red.

then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.

his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.

you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.

boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.

“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?”

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.

“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.

“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—”

“all done.”

all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.

“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”

boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol.

“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.”

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

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mod-kisa-blog · 17 days

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𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳

Dr. Veritas Ratio x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your stuck-up philosophy professor is impossible and makes your class incredibly difficult, so to get your grade up there's only one thing left that you can do.

Warnings: slight age gap (dr. ratio is probs late 20s-early 30s and reader is early 20s), dubcon, dom!dr ratio, sub!reader, blowjobs, petnames (darling, slut), cum swallowing, praise kink, degradation kink, doggy style, missionary, vaginal sex, sir kink, cervix fucking lowkey, and creampie

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Is this basically literary porn (especially with a title like this)? Yes. Yes, it is. I do not regret anything. Lmao, I put a LOT of effort into this (more than I thought I would)

Your philosophy professor is among the most conceited and arrogant people you have ever met. Whenever he gives a lecture, he refuses to slow down when asked and expects everyone in the class to understand what he just taught everyone. He’s an impossible teacher. At first, you were excited to take his class since it’s hard to get into (given you need special permission to attend). Not to mention his striking good looks, which at first captivated everyone. However, his personality did not make up for his good looks.

Your grade is not good, and you need a way to change it. Dr. Ratio didn’t give any extra credit opportunities, but maybe if you meet with him, he’ll change his mind.

So, you wait until after one class so you can corner him. Usually, you would email him, but he’s not the most reliable with that, meaning cornering is the only practical way.

As everyone files out of the lecture hall, you walk over to him. His deep eyes look over the notes he showed earlier as he huffs a bit. His long fingers grip the thin paper as if he’s handling a soft feather. You’re starting to rethink your decision, but by then, Dr. Ratio had noticed you staring at him.

“Miss Y/N?” he asks. You look at his face, and his eyes watch your face change to one of embarrassment and insecurity. “Is there something you need?”

“Uh, I…wanted to ask…” your nerves make it difficult for you to speak up. His expression shows one of boredom. His eyes tell you that time is precious. You take a breath, trying to gain some confidence. “I wanted to ask if we could meet to discuss some things.” Your voice was faulty, but you made your point. Dr. Ratio gives you a small smile.

“Is that right?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say more confidently. “I’m willing to meet at any point whenever we both have the time.”

“I see,” he says and leans back away from you. He thinks for a bit before saying something. “How about now?”

“Huh?” you’re shocked by his presumptiousness.

“I have nothing more today, so we talk in my office now. If you’re free, I’d hate for you to miss your other classes,” he says. His eyes burned bright under his shaggy blue hair.

“I’m free now,” you reply almost meekly.

“Perfect. Why don’t we head to my office then?” he suggests. You nod and become flustered while walking behind him, following him. You didn’t expect him to agree just like that, not to mention you’re going to be alone with him in his office. He leads you up to his office and opens it to reveal a quaint little space. There are two bookshelves on the back wall across from the door, a desk with two chairs that lean against the window, and a small sofa on the other side of the room across the windows. He uses his hand to gesture inside, which you do. You hug your bookbag and softly sit on the chair that faces the windows. Dr. Ratio closes the door before sitting across from you at his desk.

“So, what would you like to discuss?” he asks, his hands clasped together on the desk.

“Well,” you start. “I wanted to ask if I can get some extra–” he cuts you off.

“I don’t give extra credit. I said that on the first day,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I-I know, but I really want to get my grade up and pass with a decent grade,” you plea. “I don’t want my GPA to drag down.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but–” you cut him off this time.

“Please, I’ll do anything. I really need to pass this class,” you plea still. He chuckles.

“You really should not use the phrase ‘I’ll do anything,’” he tells you. “It might give someone the wrong impression.” Your face grows hot when you realize the implications he’s talking about. You think about it briefly, concluding that there is no way that would even work.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things…” you trail off, making the awkward silence even worse. You look down at the desk, contemplating how to drop his class without making it affect your transcript. Dr. Ratio eyes you for a bit; your innocence intrigues him. Your presumptuousness not only caught him off guard initially (in a good way), but now your lack of expertise in conversation in his presence is amusing in some way. He laughs again.

“How about this…” he gets up from his desk and walks closer to you. He stands right beside you before continuing. “You can try with everything you have to try and really convince why you deserve a higher grade, hmm?” Your eyes widen largely at his proposal. “And I mean everything.”

“I…” you can’t the shakiness of your words.

“Of course, you don’t have to, but who’s to say you’ll get a better grade?” he says, half joking. Everything up til now seemingly has been happening so fast. However, you do need this grade desperately. You look up at him, and his frame seems much taller now that he’s so close. Your embarrassment and cute demeanor really are quite something.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask. His gold eyes stare down at you, the cogs in his mind turning to figure out what he would like you to do first. After some deliberation, he figures it out.

“Why don’t you use that cute mouth of yours?” he asks. You look up at him with surprise.

“Al-Alright,” you agree, put aside your bag, and slowly slide off the chair onto the floor. You make eye contact with him again, and he gestures to you with his chin for you to do what to prepare. “Professor?” you ask meekly.

“Yes?” he replies.

“Shouldn’t we lock the door?” you ask.

“Smart idea, Miss Y/N,” he compliments, making you grow warm. He swiftly moves to the door and turns the latch on the lock. He notices your reaction to his compliment. “Oh? Like being praised?” Even warmer now. “How cute.”

He returns to you, and the tent in his pants makes you a bit nervous, but you are not turning back now. You take his belt off and unzip his dark blue pants, revealing his boxers. You cup his bulge and prepare yourself. Your professor huskily breathes out when he feels your hand touch him. You move his cock out from his boxers and let his clothing fall to the floor. His cock leaks tiny beads of precum, and you lick your lips. You shift in your position, your thighs clenching. You look up at him as you begin to lick the tip. His gold eyes look down at you, his dark hair almost covering his eyes.

You swirl the tip with your tongue and watch his face grow red and his eyes close.

“Don’t tease me,” he mutters. “You got to earn that good grade.” You hum in response, and the vibration of your mouth makes your professor shudder a bit. You open your mouth more and take his cock farther into your mouth. Your eyes prickle with tears as his cock reaches deep into your throat. You motion back, and his tip is at your tongue again, causing you to tease the tip again. You use your hand to jerk him off while your tongue is preoccupied. Your professor smiles darkly and clicks his tongue.

“You’re not going fast enough, darling,” he tells you. The petname makes you wince. “Don’t make me fuck your mouth myself. I won’t be as gentle.” With his words, you find a new confidence and once again lower your mouth so his cock goes deeper. “That’s a good girl.” You moan at his words again and use your hand and mouth to begin a rhythm of going up and down his cock. His husk is breathing, and low moans are urging you on. The sound of his cock reaching your throat makes your head spin. You can’t help the moans that are coming from you.

“Jesus, fuck,” your professor curses. “Talented aren’t you?” His head tilts back, and his hand grips the edge of his desk. You don’t stop your motions even when your spit begins to leak from your mouth and onto the floor. His cock begins to twitch within your mouth, and you know he’s about to cum. He grabs your chin and stops your mouth. He motions for you to open your mouth while you spit strings along his wet cock. Your hand pumps his shaft as he shoots his load into your eager mouth. His smile is dark as he inspects his cum in your mouth. “Swallow it,” he commands. You do so without any more prompting. Your throat stings while your seating position makes your thighs burn.

You catch your breath as you stand up. Your professor clicks his tongue again.

“You’re not done, you know,” he says. “I intend to take you in more ways than just one.” You didn’t expect him to say that. “Turn around and lean against the desk.”

You do as he says and lean your palms against the cold desk with your plush butt out for him. He fondles you before grabbing your shorts and panties and swiftly pulling them down.

“You take direction so easily, don’t you?” he asks from behind you, his words beside your ear. “Maybe you’re dirtier than I initially thought.” He moves his hand to the front of your body, traveling down to your exposed pussy. He rubs two fingers over your pussy lips, finding it dripping with wetness. He kisses your neck and holds your hip with his other hand, and thrusts his cock into you. You knock slightly forward from the shock, but your professor’s strong arms hold you steady. “My darling little slut.”

You moan, feeling his cock inside you and his hand on your clit.

“Pro-Professor,” you moan.

“Call me Veritas,” he whispers.

“Veritas,” you repeat. Hearing his name fall from your lips is almost like the perfect aria.

“That’s a good slut,” he says, and the combination of words makes you quiver. He moves his cock out of you and slams back into you with his waist clapping against your ass. You whimper at the feeling. Veritas wanted to get you used to his cock, but he wanted to fuck you so badly and make you his. He grips you tightly and begins his fast assault of thrusts. You cry out, feeling his cock going in and out of you at such a rapid pace. The sound of his snaps snapping into you becomes louder with every thrust.

As you moan loudly, Veritas curses behind you.

“Fuck,” he says. “You’re so hot and tight, shit.” He can’t help the moans that slip from his mouth either. “You feel so fucking good.” His fingers begin to circle your clit almost to a similar rhythm to his thrusts.

“Ah! Ve-Veritas,” you moan. Your thighs start to spread to give his cock and hand more access to you. You seem to love his cock as much as he loves your pussy.

“Feels good?” he asks, amused.

“Mm! Fuck, yes!” you cry. He circles your clit faster, expert fingers playing the bundle of nerves easily as if he’s playing an instrument he’s all too familiar with.

“Want to cum, darling?” he asks. His thrusts shift, and he can hit a spot within you that weakens your knees.

“Ye-Yes! Please! Please let me cum!” you beg. His chuckle feathered your neck.

“Then cum all over my cock,” he tells you. His fingers pinch your clit, and your elbows shake. You quickly cum all around his cock, coating it sweetly. You loosen from his grip and fall to the desk under you. Your heart is beating a mile a minute with heavy breaths, and your pussy is still gushing your orgasm. Veritas admires your fucked out self. You shift your body so your back presses against the desk and see your professor’s expression. He is obsessed with how he made you feel and how you made him feel. You notice his hand is gripping his still-hard cock that is covered in your essence. His hair sticking to his forehead, giving him a glow. You want him even more.

You grab your top and force it off yourself. He watches you remove your clothing, eyeing you like his prey. You remove your bra just as fast, and he loves that you’re so willing. He leans down and kisses you for the first time. His fingers find your nipples and rub them, making you moan into his mouth. He breaks the kiss and begins to kiss your neck and shoulder. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling on his button-down shirt.

“Dirty, dirty girl,” he whispers. His cock slowly pushes into you like before. Your pussy quivers at the feeling of cock pushing through it’s overstimulated walls. He kisses you as he moves his cock to pick up a rhythm for you both. His kisses are wet and needy as his tongue explores your mouth with precision. You hum and moan as you feel Veritas reach deep into your pussy. His hands continue to grope your chest and pinch your nipples. He’s so good at everything. One of your hands finds his blue locks and clutches them desperately. You feel your body heat up from everything. He breaks the kiss once again as he moans in your ear.

“Ah, shit, you’re pussy’s so hot,” he says. “Fucking Christ.” You hug your legs around his waist, keeping him close.

“It’s all for you, sir,” you say between broken moans.

Oh. Sir? That changes everything.

“Call me that again,” he commands, his thrusts cease immediately.

“S-Sir,” you mutter. He kisses you again. His hips move back up again, and every thrust kisses your cervix, knocking you back. The sound of your hips meeting and the sound of your wet pussy getting fucked fills your ears. More than your or Veritas’ moans. His pace becomes erratic, and his cock begins to twitch within you. His hands grip your body tighter as he chases his orgasm. He bucks his hips deep into you once more and cums hard inside you. His low moan resonates despite his mouth being preoccupied.

You both pull apart from the kiss to bask in each other’s afterglow. Both looking into each other’s eyes. Still hardly believing what just transpired truly transpired.

After a few minutes, your professor pulls his cock out of your pussy, making you both wince from the loss. His cum drips and drools out of you when his cock is entirely out of you. He caresses your thighs and hips.

“Did I do well?” you ask. He chuckles before answering.

“Most certainly,” he replies. “Though if I’m being honest, I think a few more private sessions like this would benefit your grade highly.” You giggle.

“I am certainly willing to do that,” you answer.

‧̍̊˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙‧̍̊ ‧̍̊˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙‧̍̊ ‧̍̊˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙‧̍̊ ‧̍̊˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙‧̍̊ ‧̍̊˙��˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙‧̍̊

#hsr smut #nsfw 🔞

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