#BootHill x You

[vxnuslogy]

𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder. 

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[yandere-wishes]

These two pictures were right next to each other on Pintrest XD you CAN'T convince me Boothill wouldn't say that!!

[sentoooo]

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ 'ʀᴏᴅᴇᴏ'

✭ pairing(s): boothill x afab reader

✩ inspo: need him

★ summary: you can't help but notice how hot your boyfriend is at the rodeo...

✧ a/n: mmghhfhh robocock

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn! afab reader (no use of breasts), porn with plot, dry humping, cunnilingus, manhandling, overstimulation, edging, facesitting, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.8k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Dates with Boothill were few and far between, and when you two are able to have one, it’s not necessarily the most glamorous. Case in point, you were at a dingy rodeo, standing near the railings as you watched some poor soul get tossed around like a ragdoll on the bull, clutching on for dear life for only 2 seconds. As spectators cheered and hollered around you, the wranglers did their best to calm the beast down and usher it out of the ring, the announcers chatting about the performance in a language you don’t understand. Due to the rodeo’s clearly small budget, no gear had been provided for the riders, you can’t help but cringe at the thought of the possible back pain of the rider, but that fades quickly as you finally start paying attention. You could care less about the other riders, and most likely, after the next, you’d probably leave.

The next rider being Boothill. You don’t have to worry about Boothill and his gear; he’s a big boy, and he can deal. If anything were to happen, he’d just have to ask his mechanics to buff it out. It’s the last ride, and the crowd is antsy. Chatting reaches a peak around you, as the smell of alcohol becomes more prominent. Your eyes fall to the stall below you, where Boothill’s stationed, hand on the railing, chatting away with the handlers. His attention is broken for just a second, looking up at you with a cocky grin, and a tip of his hat. His eyes linger, met with a soft smile from you.

The eye contact is fleeting, however, and the announcers pull him back to focus on what’s next. They rile the crowd up, talking so fast it makes your head spin, as if you were at an auction. The only word you catch is ‘Boothill’, of course, and when you look back down at him, he’s raring to go. The minute that gate opens, he lets go of the bar, his right hand up.

The bull bucks, left, then right, right again, and into a full circle. It’s miraculous how his hat has stayed atop his head with how violently the bull is throwing him around. His chin is tucked to his chest, knees pressed against the bull, spurs digging into the bull’s ribs. Beneath the rim of his hat, you can see that cocky grin, in fact, you can almost hear his laughter under all the cheering and muttering as he makes it past 2 seconds. The wranglers pace back and forth around the bull as it jumps, another left spin. It has to be the longest 8 seconds of your life, every time the bull’s hooves touch or kick up dust, your stomach tightens. You’re undoubtedly more nervous than he is, but that feeling is soon replaced with something else.

You don’t understand why, but watching him steady while the bull thrashes about, toothy grin unwavering, heel and knees tight, something stirs within you. The whole world goes quiet as you watch intently, biting at your lip as you try and fathom how you are attracted to this. Your face flushes, the people around you are too rowdy to notice how you’ve squeezed your legs, to abate the heat forming. Luckily, that action snaps you back to reality, and as the horn sounds above you, signaling that Boothill has made it to 8 seconds, he rides out a couple more. Finally, after about another second and a half, he lets go, falling to the ground and rolling back on his feet. The bull continues to buck, and the wranglers usher it back out of the ring.

The crowd cheers and hollers as he climbs up the railings, taking his hat off and waving with a triumphant grin. Some people around you grumble and move away while the announcers try to end off the show. Boothill looks directly towards you, and you must’ve given him the look, because he gives you a sultry smirk, one that screams ‘I'm gonna get my reward’. You can even hear him say it in your head, as you try and tear your gaze away. Alas, it’s futile, cause he shoots a wink at you, before putting his hat back on and tipping it towards you again. You can’t help but stare, really. It’s only when he walks out of the ring with the wranglers that you can look away.

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

You meet Boothill outside of the ring, the stars above dulled by the shabby street lamps that flickered weakly. As he walks up to you, he’s thumbing through the money he’s got, grumbling something about being scammed. Yet, when he sees you, he beams, as if he hadn’t been annoyed at how little he won.

“What’s the payout?” You ask, trying to look over the cash.

“Enough for a motel,” Boothill replies quickly, moving his hands away from you as if to hide the money. “That’s all that matters.”

Despite his complaining, his tone is heavy with implications. Truth is, he could care less about the cash. He’s never around one place long enough to really need their currency; save for enough for a round of drinks or two. He was much more interested in the adrenaline rush, or the substitute of it. Boothill has always been rough n’ rowdy, he didn’t mind being thrown around, especially now. He enjoys pushing his body to his limits. But, since you’ve come into his life, there’s a new thrill added to the list. Who cares about the money when he could have his head pressed between your thighs? You knew exactly where this was going. And it’s not like you mind.

“C’mon,” Boothill jerks his head in the direction of the motel he’s got in mind, that grin never leaving his face. “There’s one close to here.” You can tell he’s eager, as much as he does his best to hide it. His hand slips around your waist, squeezing your hip gently as he ushers you away from the venue. He’s quick to pull you away from the crowd forming outside, perhaps it is to slip away from any sore losers.

You follow his lead without complaint, after all, why not indulge? A date with Boothill is rare, a night with him even rarer. You can’t reel your mind in once it’s wandered back to the sight of Boothill on the bull. You have no idea why you were entranced and why it stoked the fire low in your belly, but it’d be quelled soon enough.

As honest and sometimes discrete Boothill may be, the quick walk to the motel is filled with all sorts of lingering touches. He hooks his thumb into the waistband of your pants, teasing lightly at your hip bone. He presses himself up against your side, whispering all sorts of sweet nothings and dirty words, or what he can, at least. His goal is to make you squirm, and squirm you do. Every heavy-lidded look, every breath, it serves to fan the flames of want, of need. And by the Aeons, he’s doing it. And doing it well, at that.

By the time you two make it to the motel, you’re essentially whipped. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, and it’s hard to keep your composure for much longer. You’re a blushing mess, and you can only hope the clerk doesn’t take notice of the way you’re clinging to Boothill, the way that you avert your gaze from anyone else, even the cowboy himself. It’s not that you’re embarrassed, it’s just… a while without his touch and his time, you’ve been left empty for a long time. It’s a hunger that you can’t satiate with your hands or even toys– which feels ironic, considering the definition of Boothill’s dick was essentially a toy. But you weren’t after his dick. No, it’s his mouth you missed.

As you reminisced, you hadn’t realized he had whisked you away to the room. But, he brings you back to reality with a bruising kiss, pushing you further into the room and slamming the door behind him. His eyes are shut tight, it seems he’s more keen on satiating the heat within him then you are. He cups your face as your hands find his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Out of instinct, he begins to grind against you, even if it does nothing to abate his own desire. Regardless, he moans into the kiss. Perhaps it was some sort of phantom feeling, chasing after something he can’t quite feel. But that didn’t matter, no, not at all. What mattered was the feeling of your lips pressed against his, the way his hands tangle into your hair and pull ever so lightly, and the way you give him another moan in response.

As you begin to lose your breath, he finally pulls away. With a half-lidded gaze, his hands drift down to your waist. Wordlessly, he pushes himself closer once more, bending down ever so slightly and wrapping his arms underneath the curve of your ass, before essentially throwing you onto the bed. You yelp when your back meets the plush mattress, bouncing back slightly as the springs squeak underneath you.

Everything he does is hasty, it’s not that he’s rushing the moment, he’s just hungry… starved. He snakes his way in between your legs, arms caging you in, placed by your waist as he finally leans back down. Boothill’s face is flushed, lips parted as he pants slightly. He takes in another heavy breath before he closes the distance between you two again. He allows no room for words, only breathy moans and whimpers. This kiss is a lot shorter, it is more like an act of devouring your lips then anything, short ragged breaths escaping from the both of you in the split seconds that your lips part. Eventually, his lips make their way from your lips, down your chin, to your neck. His teeth graze your throat, causing you to sigh softly.

Oh, how you’ve missed this feeling. The sense of desperation that fills the air as you two rut against each other, the gasps and breaths that fill the space around you. As much as the space between you two feels like it could kill you, and how those nights wishing– even praying– to have Boothill in bed with you again are agonizing, these nights where desperation reigned supreme made up for it. Where you two could be at eachothers throats, ripping each other apart, exploring every inch of skin and metal once more. The nights where Boothill sinks his teeth into every inch of skin he can see, where you’re putty in his hands. It’s wonderful, letting everything go, allowing yourself to unravel. The touch you so desperately craved, metal and skin alike, honeyed words lost into a sea of bliss.

His cold hands slide up your shirt, anchoring you back into reality for a second time. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck, letting out a low hum as you whine. You arch your hips, but he pushes them back down, running his tongue along the definition of his bite. He murmurs something against your skin, the first words since you two have entered the room, and you can’t exactly make out what it is. Something like ‘stay put’, which you oblige to, regardless. His hands knead at the flesh, trailing his tongue along your shoulder where his teeth find home once more. He groans this time, as you close your eyes and roll your head back. He doesn’t even have your shirt off and you are soaked. You try to close your legs to stave off the heat build between them, however, his legs prevent you from doing that. You whimper slightly at this, which finally draws Boothill’s attention away from your neck and shoulders. He looks down between you with a smirk, and for a moment you swear you could see his eyes lock on.

“This what ya want?” Boothill asks, pressing his body closer, grinding his groin against yours. The friction makes you groan, arching your back once more. The friction is delicious, every press of his hips against yours fanning the flames of tension. It only serves as a temporary reprieve, but it feels good. You can only nod and babble out something that sounds like a ‘yeah’, pressing your hips up against his every moment they pull away.

It’s wonderful, the way that his cock slots in between your legs, and presses up against your clit, despite the barrier. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, locking him closer. In your hazy dance, you feel as if you mourn every split second his cock doesn’t press against you. He can only chuckle at your desperation, pressing increasingly more feverish kisses against your neck, sometimes sucking, sometimes biting.

Boothill is drunk off all the little sounds you make, picking up the pace of his grinding, pressing you back into the mattress. He just can’t get enough, the way you raise your hips into him, wordlessly begging for more, the taste of your skin… Aeons, you’re addicting. He could care less about how little physical gratification he gets, to have you undone beneath him already is reward enough. Every moan from you earns a grunt of appreciation from him, throwing his head back. While you miss the warmth of his mouth against your skin, you aren’t necessarily disappointed with the view from below…

The heat in between your legs hits a fever pitch as you feel a coil tighten below your stomach. Your legs squeeze against Boothill’s, shutting your eyes tight and letting out a high pitched ‘mmh!’ as a warning. Boothill takes this as a sign to stop, to toy with you. Just as you feel like you’re about to unravel, he pulls away, leaving you feeling empty. You groan and reach up for him, wiggling a little underneath him as an attempt to allow yourself to finish.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Boothill tuts, stepping back. Before you can press your legs together, he catches your thigh with his hand, squeezing and the flesh. “Gotta wait. You can do that, yeah?”

All you manage is a weak nod, wanting so desperately to beg him to let you cum. That doesn’t mean you’ll be complacent though, you know he’s missed you just as much as you have, and you know he’s rather… impulsive. All you have to do is moan a little louder, say his name in a sweeter way, and you’ll have him weak in the knees. You’re so sure of it.

As you hatch your plan, Boothill takes his sweet time getting himself ready. He takes off his hat, setting it on the bedside table, before climbing up onto the bed. His knees pressed against your hips, stradling you. He’s got his cocky grin plastered to his face once more, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he looks down at your flushed face. You prop yourself up on your elbows, a silent challenge as you shift beneath him. His grin turns sultry, leaning his head down and meeting your lips. It’s a chaste kiss, somehow softer from the hungry kisses from early, and he pulls away all too soon.

He doesn’t leave you wanting this time, though. You can tell by the way his eyebrows are barely furrowed, the way he starts chewing on his lip, and the slight narrow in his eyes that, good Aeons, he just cannot wait. That, and, the very obvious tent in his pants. Sure, he’s not adorned with the most ‘human’ bits, but he told the mechanic to make sure ‘it worked juuuust right’. But that’s not the focus here, no, the way he’s sliding down between your body, practically drooling as his head rests on your thigh.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Boothill grumbles as he fumbles with the button on your jeans. It takes him a full second to undo them, sliding them down to your ankles. You wiggle them off, just as he decides he’s too impatient and presses his mouth to your underwear, tongue flat against your pussy. You let out a stifled moan, hand instinctively tangling within his hair.

Boothill’s eyes flicker up to you, then close, his hands sliding up and anchoring you in place by your hips. He noses at your clit, lapping up whatever he can between your legs. He could care less about the barrier, really, you can feel his teeth grazing your clit every once in a while, which adds a whole new thrill to this experience as is. He wouldn’t bite, as he is prone to, he knows better.

In between hurried licks and sloppy sucks, getting what he can even through the barrier, he presses gentle kisses to your thighs, sometimes licking along your stretch marks. He does this to prolong the experience, granting himself some restraint, no matter how badly he wants to make you cum over and over and over in his mouth. You can tell how hard he’s trying to hold back, his fingertips digging into the plush of your hips, small exasperated grunts found their way in between his ministrations.

You tug on his hair softly, thighs pressed against either side of his face. He looks beautiful like this, face squished between your thighs, eyes closed, mouth open as he laps at your clothed folds. It’s a sight to behold, truly. Every lick causes you to whine, the rough feeling of your underwear pressing against you, pushing just a little further. His breath fans against your pussy, soft grunts and groans escaping his lips, providing a delicious vibrating sensation against your heat.

You feel the coil tightening once more, and silently pray to Lan that he won’t stop in your hazy mind. Your moans increase, letting out soft, high-pitched noises, tugging at his hair slightly. Boothill lets out a low, raspy laugh, hands pulling you closer harshly as if you weren’t close enough. He doesn’t pull away this time, lapping at your underwear at a near crazed pace, like he needs you to cum. And cum you do, your body arching as you dig your nails into his scalp, whimpering out his name.

He laps up your release, or what he can, growing increasingly agitated at what little he can taste through your underwear. Only then does he finally peel away the barrier, his fingers almost too quick. If he was still human, he’d be shaking. He is too quick to claim his place back at your pussy, his licks sloppy and greedy as he claims his prize. Each stripe licked up against your drooling pussy sends a tingling feeling up your spine, making you whine and try and push his head away. But he doesn’t stop.

When your thighs squeeze against his face, as if trying to block him away from such a precious well of ambrosia, his hands fall from your hips, snaking in between your thighs and pushing them open. He pants against your pussy, his warm breath fanning over it, causing you to shiver. You feel like you are… at his mercy, even if you’ve only came once. It is not a bad feeling, you yourself know you are putty in his hands, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

However, it seems Boothill is now unsatisfied with this position. He pulls away from you reluctantly, pushing you up further on the bed, and shimmying his way up onto the bed fully. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he grabs you by the hips and rolls you over so you were on top of him, hauling you down easily. His mouth finds purchase on your pussy so easily, lapping at it eagerly.

You don’t dare to even move, simply arching your back as you press your hands into his abdomen to keep yourself up. All sorts of lewd noises come from his throat as he continues his ministrations, staring right up at you with a near challenging look. He alternates between licking and suckling on your clit, hungry growls filling the space in between grunts as if having you press flush against his mouth was not enough.

You can feel overstimulation creep up on you, while his actions don’t hurt, it’s starting to tingle a little, providing a comfortably numb feeling alongside the pleasure that wells between your legs once more. Your body heats up more than you thought it could, and slowly your hips follow Boothill’s tongue. It’s not long until you start to grind against his mouth fully, his nose notching against your clit when he wasn’t sucking on it.

“Ya forkin’ like that?” Boothill asks, muffled, before diving back in once more, his hands pulling your hips down even more, pressing you into his mouth. “F-Fudge… So gosh dang good…”

You’d be poking fun at his censorship, but you just can’t help the moans that roll off your tongue. You can’t help but chase after it, your orgasm already gripping you. Your thighs tense and you groan, rolling your head back and cumming onto Boothill’s tongue once more. But he wasn’t done. Your hips jolt as his eating becomes even more hungry, sloppy, the need to ravage you taking hold. What a beautiful aphrodisiac you are, how he would love to drown in between your thighs.

But you stop him from that dream, unfortunately. The numb feeling gave way to an odd hurt, something that felt almost electric. Your hips buck as your body tenses, doing what you can to pull away from Boothill’s iron grip. Eventually, he loosens, his hands coming down onto your thighs, and you raise your pussy from his lips. Slimy tendrils of spit and slick connect his mouth to you, his chin covered in your slick. He grins up at you, eyes practically sparkling.

“M’sorry,” He starts, squeezing your thighs. “Taste too good. Got ahead of m’self.”

You can’t help but admire the sight beneath you, Boothill’s flushed face, happy as can be, as if he had just won the world. Before he lets you go, he leans in, pressing a heated kiss to your clit, pulling back. He changes his mind quickly though, now peppering your folds with more kisses until you shuffle off of him. At that, he lets out a low, mock annoyed groan, before sitting back up.

You sit on his stomach, your slick painting his abdomen, your ass pressed up against the erection pressing against his tight jeans. He doesn’t move to relieve it, he could really care less about it. He’d already taken what he wanted– more like what he deserved– and he was sated. Unless you were game to give him more…

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[purple-plum-petals]

⊱ You Can Do Better Than Me ⊰ || Boothill X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮        Character(s): Boothill (Honkai: Star Rail)        Reader Type: Human, Not the Trailblazer (Gender-Neutral Pronouns)        Warning(s): Break-up (Miscommunication/Assumptions… Not Permanent), Negative Body Image/Self-talk (Regarding Boothill), Use of Petnames (Boothill calls Reader “darlin’” and “sweets” and Reader calls Boothill “honey” and “love”), Slightly Suggestive Ending.        Genre: Drabble, Angst, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Pre-Established Romantic Relationship        Word Count: ~2500 words       Prompt: “What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”        Author’s Note: Hello everyone, I come back to you briefly with a random Boothill drabble because this cowboy has been on my brain for the past three months and I needed to get something written for him ASAP. I actually got both him and his lightcone on release day, so I’m still hyped about that (didn’t even need to break my F2P status either hehehe 😎). I will get around to writing a multi-chapter fic for him as soon as my summer semester is over and all of the current requests in the ask box have been answered. I’ve been managing the workload relatively well so far, but it’s genuinely been so overwhelming in terms of content/information that my brain can barely form coherent sentences after class and work. 😭 Anyways, have some self-conscious Boothill and my beloved hurt/comfort. Maybe instead of saving the horse, we should save the cowboy. Also… let me know if anyone is interested in a part two, and I’ll be happy to write it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)             Tag-List: @anonima-2 – I know you wanted me to tag you if I got around to writing a Boothill X Reader fic, so here it is! It may not be a multi-chapter one, but I hope you enjoy this little drabble.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You had known Boothill for quite some time now. You had crossed paths with the elusive Galaxy Ranger throughout the years, so many times that you eventually lost count. Three times was uncommon, five times was rare, but over twenty times? That was absolutely unheard of given the vast expanse of space. It got to the point where you both noticed how frequently you would meet, the two of you making jokes that the universe was pushing you together.

Boothill had thought for a while you were sent to capture and/or kill him by the IPC but, after a particularly intense “discussion” (where he proceeded to hold you at gunpoint, as he frequently did with most people), you were able to confirm that all of the times you two had met were indeed just an exceedingly rare coincidence. It was something you would occasionally bring up to tease him about nowadays, poking fun at the fact he had literally held his future partner at gunpoint. It was a memorable event to reminisce on when asked by others ‘how did you two meet?’.

Years had passed since that unforgettable interaction, and both you and Boothill were happy and content in your current relationship. All of that time together with him had given you insight into how the cowboy typically behaved. He could be brash and rush into trouble head-first, but he was also immensely intelligent and could think of a plan on the fly to get himself out of even the stickiest situations. He was the type of person who frequently spoke his mind, not allowing his tampered-with Synesthesia Beacon to completely censor what he wanted to say… which is why you were as worried as you were lately.

Your boyfriend hadn’t been as talkative as he usually was. He had returned from a three-month-long trek around the galaxy a few days ago, and he had been distant ever since he came back. His replies had been clipped, and he had a strange look in his eye whenever he glanced your way; he hadn’t even looked at you for more than a few seconds since his return.

Tentatively, you made your way over to where he was sitting by an open window in your home, the breeze gently blowing the strands of his black-and-white hair to and fro. You stepped closer to stand next to him as you asked, voice tender as you spoke, “Boothill, honey, what’s wrong? You’ve been more reserved than usual these past few days, and I just want to check to see if you’re ok–…”

Then, he spoke, his voice firm as he cut off the rest of what you were going to say, “…I wanna break up.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach at his words, and you felt your palms begin to clam up with sweat as you whispered, “W… What?” You swallowed harshly, stepping closer to him as you asked, double-checking to see if you had heard him correctly, “What did you just say?”

“I said I wanna break up.” He says once more, voice rough as he turns his head ever-so-slightly to watch you from his peripheral. It felt like the world had stopped moving when he confirmed what you had always hoped you would never have to hear, and you feel your eyes begin to water. He finally, after so many days, looks at you directly after what has felt like eons. Whatever expression was on your face caused him to flinch before he looked away once more, staring at his hat on the nearby table.

Boothill sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he continues to speak, his voice gentler than usual as he tells you, “I don’t think this,” He pauses, taking his hand and gesturing toward himself before finishing his thought, “…is good fer you.”

Your emotions were fluctuating so quickly that your mind didn’t know what to do with all of them. First, you were worried about your boyfriend, then you were heartbroken when he said he wanted you two to go your separate ways, and now? Now you were angry, a sudden burst of frustration filling your veins at his reasoning behind wanting to end your relationship. Your heart aches as you exclaim, trying not to pay attention to the wetness forming along your lashes, “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

Boothill is back to refusing to look at you, so you try to move into his line of sight as you ask, your hands flailing about as you speak in a desperation-laced tone, “What, exactly, isn’t ‘good for me’ Boothill?”

He turns his head to look at you, standing up from where he had been sitting as he holds his hands out, trying to placate you as he says hastily, “Listen don’t – don’t get the wrong idea, alright?”

“How can I not get the wrong idea when you suddenly tell me you want to end our relationship!?” You yell back, feeling the tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. You were angry, sure, but the soul-crushing feeling of separating from the man you loved so deeply pierced your heart like a knife. Your frustration quickly began to be tainted with sorrow, your voice coming out softly as you ask him, your mind desperate for some kind of answer as you place a hand on your chest, “Did I… Did I do something for you to come to this decision?”

Panic floods his expression immediately as he reaches out, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to look at your face. He quickly tells you, one of his hands coming up to gently cup your cheek as his thumb brushes away your tears, “No, no, no, no – you didn’t do anythin’, darlin’. You’ve been perfect in every way, I just…”

He pauses, gaze traveling to the ground as he thinks of what to say. His cold, metallic fingers against your skin are comforting to you in a way you couldn’t describe – comforting in a way no one else would be able to understand. Boothill’s eyes meet with yours once more as he continues speaking with a bittersweet smile, “You could do so much better than me, sweets. I don’t want to hold you back.”

The anger you had felt was suddenly back in full force as you asked him, brows furrowed as you questioned, “How?”

Your hands come up to hold onto his, the one that was still lovingly cupping your face as you ask, leaning forward toward him as you speak, “How could I do better than you? What are you holding me back from?”

Boothill shakes his head, saying with a frown, “There’s so many things I can’t give you… I can’t give ya a peaceful life, I can’t give ya a family…” His voice cracks slightly at the word, but he continues to speak as he begins to pull his hand away from your face, “You deserve someone who’s around more often – someone who can be there for ya whenever you need ‘em.”

Boothill chuckles bitterly, removing his hand from your grasp as walks over to grab his hat off of the nearby table, and you’ve never felt so cold and empty in your entire life. You watch helplessly as he places the hat on his head, staring as he begins to make his way toward the front door as he tells you, “You deserve someone who doesn’t cause you to jump every time their freezin’ cold hands touch ya – someone who can actually feel ya.”

You step toward him, reaching out to take his hand in yours and effectively stopping him in his tracks as you say firmly, “Boothill, shut the fuck up. Aren’t you going to at least ask me what I think about this?”

Boothill sighs, turning back around to look at you as he speaks. He doesn’t do anything to remove his hand from your grasp, instead gently squeezing it in a comforting manner as he tells you, “Listen, sweets, I just think it’s for the better that–…”

“No, it’s not.” You say, your voice strong despite the tears that had begun to flow down your face. You look up at him, bringing his hand to place on your chest as you tightly hold it over your heart, telling him firmly and genuinely despite the way your voice cracks, “I don’t care if you can’t give me those things. When did I even say that’s what I wanted in life?”

“Why wouldn’t you want that?” Boothill asks, looking down at you as if you had grown a second head, as if everything he said he couldn’t give you was something that everyone would want. He looks conflicted as he tells you, trying to take his hand back as he steps away from you and closer to the front door, “You deserve to be happy – you deserve to have someone who’s there for you.”

“What if all I want is you, huh?” You tell him, refusing to let go of his hand – refusing to let him leave your life in such a way. Your hold on Boothill’s hand was tight because you knew, deep down, if you let his hand slide out of yours, you’d never see him again. You look up at him as you speak, a spark of determination in your eyes which causes Boothill’s cheeks to flush a light shade of blue, “No one else can give me you. You’re the one that makes me happy – not some dream life, not some perfect family – just you.”

“You don’t want me, darlin’ – I promise, once I’m gone, you’ll move on an’ another lucky fella will have the honor of being able to love ya.” Boothill tells you with furrowed brows and a smile, his sharp teeth peeking out from behind his lips as he tries to convince you he’s not what you want. You could feel your eyebrow twitch in frustration at his words, your tears slowing down as you refute his claim.

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” You ask him, a tinge of hurt and frustration mixed in your voice as you reach out to firmly hold both of his hands in your own. Boothill allows you to do so with no fanfare, a conflicted expression on his face; his fingers twitch in your hold. He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before once again looking at him as you whisper, “Listen, if you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you or hold you back, but…” You pause, smiling warmly at him before continuing, “but I want you. I want to be with you, not this hypothetical ‘fella’ you’ve envisioned who would give me a perfect life.”

Before Boothill could open his mouth to try and argue again, you quickly add on as you bring one of his hands to your lips, pressing a light kiss to his digits as you tell him, “I don’t care that you’re cold to the touch – I don’t care that we won’t have a picture-perfect life together…” You feel the tears beginning to form on your lashes again as you run your thumbs along his knuckles, telling him sincerely, “I’ve never imagined a future without you in it, love.”

Boothill looks down at you, his expression a clash between his adoration for you and the heaviness of the situation. He shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips as he presses a kiss to the back of it as he tells you, voice uncharacteristically quiet as he admits, “I… I don’t want to leave, sweets. I just…” He hesitates as he makes eye contact with you, raising a brow as he once again gestures to himself as he asks, “Are you sure this is what ya want?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” You tell him, letting go of his hands as you instead wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as your bodies press against one another. His arms wrap around your waist on instinct, pulling you close to him as you press your foreheads together. You stare into his eyes and bring a hand to his cheek, placing your palm against his face as you run your thumb along the skin under his eye. He leans into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm as you tell him with a smile, “Rain or shine, good or bad… I want to be beside you throughout it all.”

“Heh, well… I’m glad I get to be by yer side.” Boothill says, opening his eyes once more to look at you. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your temple as he whispers, almost as if he didn’t want the world to hear him – to keep this tender moment a secret between the two of you, “…Thank you for choosin’ me out of the rest of the blokes in the galaxy, darlin’. I’m a real lucky guy to have someone as wonderful as you.”

“I’d choose you in every universe, Boothill. That’s a promise.” You reply with a smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, almost as if you were teasing him.

He smirks at both your words and your actions, saying with a raised brow as he leans back, tilting his hat up with one finger as he speaks, “That’s quite a big promise there, darlin’. Sure you can keep it?”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You reply, matching his expression as you huff, “Don’t doubt me, cowboy.”

“I won’t, I won’t…” Boothill says with a chuckle. He pauses, his smile faltering slightly as he looks down at you. Your eyes were still slightly red, and the stains your tears had left on your cheeks were still present. He pulls you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck as he takes a deep breath in, muttering against your skin, “Aeons, I love ya… I love ya so fudgin’ much.”

“I love you, too, honey.” You reply softly, running your hand up and down his back when an idea pops into your mind. It was a mischievous one, and the mere thought of it causes a smirk to grow on your lips. You reach up and grab the hat from his head as you instead place it on yours, asking him flirtatiously, “Why don’t I show you just how much I love you?”

“Well… I certainly like the sound of that.” Boothill replies lowly, his eyes half-lidded as he gently caresses your face, smirking at his hat now resting atop your head. He leans down and kisses you, whispering against your lips in a sultry tone, “Plus, I’d like to apologize for makin’ you cry… Can I, darlin’?”

The tone of his voice was enough to make your heart start beating faster, and you could feel your cheeks begin to warm as you replied quickly with a simple, “Please do.”

[gojoidyll]

Denting Boothill and/or scratching his paint by complete accident without him noticing (or not knowing it was you who did it).

You feel absolutely terrible.

It weighs on your mind 24/7

Anytime you see the dent/scratch you internally scream

And every time he starts cussing out whoever did it, you find yourself shrinking away from him (and even though his cuss words are sensored now, you know what he's actually saying...)

You try to act cool whenever he asks you about it

But in the end you turn into a blubbering mess.

You're doing the whole deal.

Lips quivering, eyes watering, your tears turning into fat alligator tears, your nose gets all stuffy and starts to run, your head starts to ache, and you get all sweaty too

Your spewing out apologies by this point

And boothill, though acknowledging that you were, in fact, the culprit, decides to ignore your declaration

Instead he blames it on the IPC

But let's face it, he just wanted a reason to mess up those fudgeheads heh

[koishiro]

haiiii soo i was wondering if u can do a boothill moodboard?

Dating Boothill <3

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ : hopefully this is okay!! 💕

[sagebrush-and-sadness]

Whoever was the first person to think 'Hm, Boothill should definitely have a golden tooth', I owe them my life because now I literally cannot imagine him without one. Like, it's almost a physical reaction, it just feels right to see Boothill having a golden canine tooth in my mind's eye, see it shining in his cocky grin... or him deliberately biting the bullet in half with it... He's so endearing.

[cloudluvrrr]

Boothill headcannons. 💭

A PROMISE IS A PROMISE 🤞🤞🤞 and I delivered 😍💪 srry ab being mia been busy playing splatoon

My bootyhill is almost MAXXED out yall 😛😛

—

a/n: Boothill gives me Adrianne Lenkee vibes yk I can’t be the only one help anyways enjoy this 😛 long asf and I don’t believe in proof reading

— Precyborg: Boothill x g/n reader

tw warning : fluff and sad ending bc we can’t have a happy one according to hoyoverse !! 💕

—

ingyadar - Adrianne Lenker

my kind of women - Mac de Marco

The hitchhikers guide to the galaxy - ARTMS

-

-I feel like you and Boothill would be childhood lovers yk? Like you two were close friends and ended up catching feelings (I would too) always hanging around each other and getting into trouble l together.

-because to me he grew up in a small town with a big family (I think of like those towns in cowboy movies 😭)

-especially in highschool, but not for long. I’d think Boothill dropped out during freshman year(?) to help with his dads but you continued your studies.

-when confronted about it he scoffed and said ‘don’t need no fancy algebra or biology.’ He’d say.

-he’d see you at school (during lunch) and you two would usually hang out after school. Or during festivals or parties.

-scenario-

You two would always sneak away to the lake when it would get boring, giggling and laughing along the way. This time it was during a town festival, everyone in town went so of course no one would notice if two highschools went missing.

So off you two went giggling as you stumbled behind him holding his hand (in a platonic way ofc). “Boothill wait up!” You’d giggle as you slid down the hill. “Hurry or the sheriff will get us!” He’d shout as he helped you up, and the two of you began to splash water on each other. Up until night and his dads caught him with you again

—

-things like that would often happen, anytime one was missing they’d always assume the other would tag along

-your families of course always shipped you two. And knew eventually you’d date (spoilers you do)

- he’d confess to you on a random summer afternoon. While you two sat on his bed in his room

— you two sat on his bed looking around nervously and awkwardly. It was never like this, Boothill would usually say something but he didn’t, he’s open his mouth but nothing came out. His mouth felt dry, unable to confess. But he mustered up the courage.

‘hey.. I, uh” he began before sighing “I really.. really REALLY like you” he finished with a red face as he looked you in the eyes. As you’d giggle nervously and soon turned into a good laugh. “I really like you too Boothill” you said softly kissing his cheek. As he nearly fainted and tackled you into a hug. ‘Finally’ he’d think to himself

-

- now that you two are dating nothing much has changed. Other than kisses and leaving the door open when you two hang out (his dads are concerned about him doing funny stuff to you)

-not a day went by that you wouldn’t be with him, at his house or yours.

-he liked pet names mostly using ‘baby’ or your name.

-he knew how to play guitar they taught him in school, but he learned it on his own and would often serenade to you.

-he’d love cuddling though, in his bed specifically. Yours is too crowed for his liking. (He has one pillow). And play a few records he managed to snag that were imported from a different planet

- the sun painted the sky a pink and orange hue, as your laid in boothills arms dozing off to the soft music in the background. As he whispered sweet nothings to you and some jokes that kept you up giggling. “Your cute you know” he chuckled kissing you temple as she squeezed you

-

-an example of how you’d spend your days, other than teasing and bullying each other 😜

-he was dirt poor. So often he’d ask you for money, which would end up in you hitting his head. But giving in as long as he got you something (most of the time it was burgers 😔)

— up until your graduated, he’d always say how he wanted to leave his dads and live alone with you. So secretly (somehow I don’t know) he’d built a small house with his buddies. ( I feel like you’d move until you were like 20 ig)

-so you’d pack up everything and moved in to the small Cabin. It was small a two small rooms and bathrooms with a big enough kitchen. Also including a farm (of fucking course). Housing his horse, two cows, and a chick coop. A barn dog and cat :3

-you lived comfortably and happily, you’d stay at home and he’s venture off to help others or sell your farm goods.

-he couldn’t propose, he barely had any savings left after buying your couch. So it often got postponed, you didn’t mind (your parents did)

—

-it was a winter night. Boothill was god knows where and you worked in the kitchen making a simple stew. As your pregnant house cat meowed for a piece of beef, you were scolding the cat as Boothill entered the home with a small bundle of blankets in his arms as he closed the door. “Your home.. what’s that?” You’d asked before he walked over showing you the small girl.

“WHOS KID DID YOU KIDNAP” you shouted, startling the little who began to fuss “you idiot I found her..!” He hissed “we don’t have anything for a baby boothill, you know that” you said sighing “I know.. but I couldn’t leave her out there! That’s how my dads found me ya know, aren’t you glad they didn’t leave me to die?” He asked huffing “..sometimes” you shrugged.

—

— there began your journey as parents, you’d sew dresses and onesies for her. As well as ask both of your parents for old baby things, Boothill had a rough time setting up basically everything

‘You can build a house but not a crib’

‘Shut up nerd’

—

You stood outside putting the laundry out to dry on the clothesline. And watched from the corner of your eye the little one and Boothill. As he sat in the shade holding her small guitar he’d made for her, as she sat in the middle and giggled at the kittens playing around her. She’d grown, about 8 months and beginning to walk.

“Da” she said pointing to a certain kitten “yup that’s a kitty” he chuckled watching her gently touch the fluffy ball of fur and giggled. Eventually waddling up to him and falling into his lap as she snuggled him and fell asleep. The sight tugging at your heart strings.

-

-most of your days were spent like that, her playing with the cats. Her waddling around the home or her touching her guitar Boothill made her.

- up until that fateful day, he’d planned to propose to you before he overheard the damn ipc officers joking about burning the town. He didn’t believe it until he saw it. Everything covered in flames, making sure to leave no survivors. And all he could do was watch as the tears fell from his eyes.

- after

he’d often lay in a run down hotel room, in his own head. Admiring the cheap ring he’d finally gotten you, and one you’d never get to wear. Fiddling with it with his metal fingers as he returned it to the small box.

‘I miss you baby’

-

_ 😜😜

STREAM ARTMS 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

THIA IS CHAOTIC BUT these r my thoughts

comment like and subscribe 😘😘

I’m not ready for Ruan mei & Argenti rerun 😔💔

my requests open 🤞 look at my pinned post for rules and who I write for 😈😈

- sent from my iPhone 💔

[anantaru]

HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, dr ratio, sunday, boothill x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, dom hsr characters, oral (fem! receiving) & fingering, established relationship, hitting it raw, dirty talk, tit play + biting & marking, prone bone ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ

— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + shamelessly moans into your ears

his moans have that kind of power that attack you with the lightest bit of touch but rumble inside your nerves with an utmost generosity that continued to burn an everlasting need into the rigid twist of your belly. he flips you over to your stomach and kneads the handful of flesh on your ass, greedily as his hands retreat— now, he uses his hand to keep your hips sealed against his aching half, while the other was positioned next to your head to refrain his weight from leaning and crushing against you.

aventurine's mouth was hot against your ear, too hot, in fact, that your body manifests swells of electric jumps on your limbs and muscles, your blood thrumming as you're audibly hissing out petulant sobs through your slacked jaw.

"tell me how it feels, yeah?" he sighs between gritted teeth, savoring the anticipation as his eyes squeeze shut, hips aligned and drawing his oozy tip against your entrance before pressing into your hole.

"ugh, fuck—" he grunts, "you'll mess me up today, hm?" as he moans deeply into your ear, so grateful to you as you shakily exhale through your mouth, your hole melting around his thick shaft before he inches further through your plushy walls.

aventurine was unashamed of gasping out those lecherous noises for you, brazen to the point where he's telling you how you feel as you squeeze him and cloud his mind with your milking compression indulging in him, "aah— you feel so nice, so soft, i'm losing my mind," he cheekily laughs between his whines, feeling elevated.

he kisses your neck as you sob, your walls feeling all of him inside as you exhale between a shaken embrace— but it's telling how much it turned you on when your boyfriend was this vocal with the pleasure you caused on him, his tongue darting across your neck before he loudly groans into the skin, your hole tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go, adding pressure again.

your eyes roll back as he grinds himself in you, always holding against your ass to fondle with the skin as he repeatedly pressures and pulls his cock through your creamy hole, entering all his inches inside an eager cuddle.

the sensation of having him claim your body in such way made your stomach do flips and tumbles, and the hums into your ear only multiplied the ways you responded to him with fizzy tears pulling at your lashes. right there, aventurine spills his brazen moans right against your ear, shamelessly between affectionate words of love, sending your inmost nerves into hard overdrive.

— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱ + pulls your face to him before you climax

before he advances forward to his original plan, veritas will make you feel like you're mounting off pleasure and ah, your silhouette was charming to look at, no? you're so sweet when you hide your face from him. yet he doesn't understand why you're so embarrassed to show your flustered state? regardless, he loves when you do that, hiding the real taste, doesn't matter if he's suckling on your clit or watching how you suck him off, you're always warding off his enticing gaze.

the tantalizing signs of your embarrassment were enough for dr ratio to focus on all the different regions of your body— not only that, but he inspects your breathing and how it shudders through you, not to mention how it hitches when he grinds into your cunt.

with that, he can determine that you prefer it faster, although mixed in with a couple slow grinds once he's sheathed himself fully inside. a combination of both can do a lot more, and channeling it into one was his speciality. you're making it just that easy for him.

you wonder why? well, it's because you make everything look so sexy that it's so easy to figure you out.

after finding the perfect tempo for the both of you, your warmth clamps around him before losing yourself in each precise, calculated push of his hips overloading from the feeling of being close to you, or ah, being one with you, correct? it's how you're throbbing and creaming his entire base full that he realizes you're right there, feeling an upcoming wave of pleasure making itself visible.

"i'm cumming, i'm, aah, fuck," you moan beneath his hypnotizing pair of eyes as his hips rush through you, spreading your poor, little cunt apart as your hole flexes around his shaft. veritas knew he had to be quick with it, so after hearing you sob and wince, he draws himself off your neck and cups your face roughly, casting his eyes on you.

the man was gorgeous and he knew it, much to your dismay— he could also be a total idiot about how annoyingly handsome he was and that he always knew how to use it to his benefit— although in this moment, his face was soused in his sweat, messed up around his forehead and covered with fizzling lust for you.

a strangled cry rips from your throat and vibrates through his eardrums as your body vividly shakes under him. you're whimpering at the embarrassment of having him look at you while he's forcing the eye contact with his hand bending around the softness of your cheek.

you had no idea how much of a difference it made to look at him and become so, vulnerable.

you squirm under his searing silhouette, crying out the most beautiful sounds as your sore hole twitching around the base, utterly spent as veritas only admires the glow in your eyes, nothing more and nothing else.

the two of you exhale shakily in your afterglow, wet skin clinging to the sheet and relishing in its dirtiness.

— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱ + kisses your clit before going down on you

he holds himself back, he needs to, because fighting the urge to bury his face where you needed him the most was always worth it— before he latches on your clit, he uses his rough thumbs to push the plushy skin protecting your clit aside to plant his plump lips over it, ghosting his mouth on top as he's almost successful enough to distract you from two digits bumping against your weeping hole.

sunday adjusts his face on your pussy before planting a wet kiss on your clit, his lusting eyes turning dark in the dark light as he roams two fingers inside your cloying hole, "give it to me, i know you can do it," he takes each necessary step to make you arch your back and gush all over him— your bothered silhouette making his cock ache and balls throb in his boxers.

his digits ascend over the slopes of your velvet walls as he presses delirious sensations on your cunt before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, messily grinning against your folds when you wince to every single droplet of his saliva hitting your cunt.

what doesn't come as a surprise is that sunday likes being messy with it— he needs to feel the wetness, the sheer contact of a hot tongue on your throbbing skin that he asks himself, can you feel it too? oh silly, of course you can, there was no room for debate by how you're reacting to it.

he swallows your arousal pooling on his tongue as he laps at your clit while his fingers graze along the sponginess of your walls, your pussy holding and clenching around the two digits. your eyes were half lidded, almost closed, your body so responsive that your cunt pulses at nothing but the tip of his tongue nudging into your clit.

"so obedient you are, my dear," he rasps before your fingers slope around the loose strands of his hair to press him into your heat, your back arching and your cunt spasming as you ride his face.

sunday hums happily, satiated, "what a good girl you are," he praises you enlaced in a wanton voice, thrusting his fingers roughly as you cum inside a silent cry.

— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱ + teases you with his teeth

your saccharine alike face prompts a menacing grin from him as he settles you on his lap before tilting your head a little— his eyes drizzling into the space on your neck and how he could feel your heart beat from that precious spot. boothill tests the waters, his insatiable hunger for you being so painful as he sighs out excitedly. he grazes into your neck and drags the sharp edges through your sensitive skin— always holding you on his waist with one hand wrapped around while the other toyed with your soft tits.

boothill has everything under his control, okay? you needn't worry— in fact, he always tells you to not torment yourself when all you had to do was trust him with your pleasure.

a smile stretches across his face as he brazenly flattens his tongue against your neck, feeling your pulse thud on the wet muscle before squeezing your tits to mess up your focus. you cling to his strong shoulders as you arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his digits, "you like that, don't you?" he drawls, your moan bending when he pinches your tit again.

your eyes roll back, and ugh, it feels so good, his rough yet precise touches were capable to induce waves of sparks from your breasts to all the way down, hitting your aching pussy. you're humping against his thigh and drool, more so stain your panties with your slick. the swell of his bulge was heavily pressing against your clothed folds, and boothill knew it wouldn't take long until you'll beg him to fuck you.

alongside those mesmerizing touches that marked up your breasts, the man took his time and acted unhurriedly as he sucks on your neck, shielding his eyes as he dips his head right above your collarbones. your skin mists with drops of his saliva as you find his hair beneath your hands, tugging slightly at his strands.

boothill moans into your neck, the vibrations setting a fire on your wet core, "let me consume you..." you hear him murmur playfully, his sharp fangs tauntingly pressing into your neck as you arch your back, "pretty, mh, you're so good, so lovely, so pretty, and ugh," as he stammers, his tongue blazing wildly across the pulsing spot that he's bitten, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he calls your name.

© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[porcalinecunt]

(𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃)𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 ♡︎

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ having the body of a cyborg came with it’s perks, including turning boothill into your own personal porn bot a plug away! ~ ♡︎

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — afab!reader. mean dom!boothill. improper use of usb ports. pornography. manhandling. overstimulation. edging. pussy drunk boothill. no pronouns for reader.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : saw someone on tt mention inappropriate use of boothill’s usb ports, and i couldn’t help myself. <33 as usual, enjoy!

“..and i’m supposed to plug this in?”

Boothill spun the harddrive around his fingers, staring at it with both curiosity yet suspicion. it was a hot pink color with a heart sticker sloppily slapped onto the front. you handed it to him without saying a word, leaving him beyond dumbfounded.

you simply nodded, trying hard not to burst out laughing. despite the glaringly obvious USB ports that were carved into his waist, he swore to have never actually stuck anything in them. by anything, of course, were any harddrives that could’ve been packed with whatever info or footage that would’ve automatically made it’s way into his memory. he didn’t want anyone’s weird porno or stupid memes to burn into his motherboard and live with it.

yet he had a hard time saying no to you. hell, he’d never say no to you unless it’d kill you. then again, it was probably a random assortment of cat videos you came across on your feed. it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek. right?

holding up a reluctant thumbs up, you plugged the harddrive in and awaited his reaction with anticipation. boothill never looked away from your reaction, quickly noticing something was rather…off about your face. your lips curled into a seductive grin, biting down on your lower lip while hearts practically carved your pupils. your cheeks and nose were flushed a slight pink that faded to a hot red color.

yet, it was already too late for him.

his vision suddenly became a hot pink blur, the gears within his body had began to spun widely while the mini fans tried to cool down his heating body. the blood red target in his eye morphed into a pink heart while he spaced out at what was being shown in front of him.

nothing but pure pornography, some of the most explicit, flooding his memory and infecting his circuits with the love virus. boothill felt his head spin from the lewd imagery, bouncing from clip to clip of multiple sex acts all at once. from simple missionary to subs being bent in half by their ridiculously larger doms, there was even one where they were in full nelson. legs high up with thier sopping cunt in full view. it was all too much.

“so this..is what y’want me to do to ya…”

the cyborg chuckled, overwhelmed with his sudden libedo. he looks over at you with hungry eyes, flashing his shark toothed grin the moment you nodded.

“why didn’t ya say so, dollface..?”

“a-ah! m’sorry! m’sorry boothill..! i-i was only p-playing..ngh!”

your clothes were torn clean off without a damn given, leaving you bare and vulnerable as the cyborg pumped his cock in and out of your sopping pussy. just like how you wanted it, bent in half in full nelson with your legs held high as only boothill’s arms kept you from falling. his pace was unforgiving, hungrily stuffing you full like your his last meal on death row. despite your body already stiffening from the position, boothill showed no sign of stopping. his eyes, bright pink with hearts dialating for pupils, full of burning desire and a greedy lust that clouded his judgement till his mind went blank.

it was as if the cyborg was built for fucking, his only goal being to push you beyind your human limit.

“zip it, sugar. you're gonna take m’dick even when i’m done with ya, you hear?”

boothill hissed in your ear with a mean rasp, shark-like teeth nibbling away at your earlobe. the ticklish feeling only added to the intense overstimulation that turned your brain into mush. you felt the familiar knot in your stomach close to snapping for what seems like the tenth time tonight, until a sudden emptiness snapped you back into reality. looking down, you noticed how boothill pulled himself out, leaving you hanging. a whine came out of your throat almost instinctively at the neglect.

“boothilll..! i was so clo!—“

you’re words were rudely cut off as the ranger threw you onto the bed with you laying on your back. he wasted no time crawling on top of you and pressing his heavy body against yours. trapped, you couldn’t even move an inch as you squirmed under his touch. he practically caged you.

“keep whinin’ like that and I'll leave ya empty. got that?”

as difficult as it was, you pressed your lips together and screwed your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to keep quite. your cunny spasmed around his length as he kept going with his violent pace. even with the harddrive, you could never imagine boothill going this far. you truely underestimated the strength of the virus that infected his mechanical body with such libido, yet you don’t regret it. you continued to cry out as your limbs grew numb, your senses going blank in an orgasmic euphoria. you were teetering towards the fuckin’ edge.

you sobbed out babbles of “‘m gonna cum!~” over and over again like it was automatic. finally, the knot snapped in two as stars filled your vision. if he wasn’t made of metal, you would’ve left some nasty scratch marks.

on the other hand, the ranger watched in pure awe as his pretty baby fell apart on his dick. your fucked out expression, teary eyes and pouty lips covered in spit, only fuled him for more. you couldn’t even get a breath in as you were picked up and flipped onto your stomach, ass high up in the air.

“you think ‘m done yet sugar? hehe, that’s cute.”

you could only sigh in response, unable to do anything about your own mess. lesson learned, never fuck with a machine you know so little about.

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[lowkeyren]

reverse dating tropes w hsr men!

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — boothill, jing yuan, blade (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 1.5k, used up half my brain for this (the other half is for pt2 w aven sunday geppie!!), lovesick boothill + clingy jy + jealous blade fr, anyway pls enjoy! reblogs r appreciated <3

gepard aven sunday vers here!

boothill ꩜ .ᐟ

love at many sights with boothill whose memory card was tinkered with, and every time you meet, he thinks he's seeing you for the first time, so he falls for you over and over again. 

when boothill returned from a dangerous mission, it was evident that he had endured significant damage. his once sleek and polished exterior was now marred by dents and scratches, and his mechanical limbs were either partially missing or severely damaged. the exposed wiring, usually neatly tucked away beneath scraps of metals, now hung in tangled strands, sparking occasionally with residual energy.

he looked barely salvageable. it's safe to say that the mechanics had a hell of a time fixing him.

though they were skilled enough to piece him back together, his memory card wasn’t as lucky. a tinkering in his system left him incapable of recalling or retaining information in his synthetic brain, temporarily —leaving the mechanics scrambling to find a solution.

weeks later, you find yourself walking down the familiar corridors of the laboratory where your favourite cyborg is being held for reparation.

boothill’s eyes immediately land on yours when you enter the lab. “well ain’t this a surprise! haven’t seen ya in a good long while.” boothill drawls, tipping his hat your way, his voice carrying a metallic twang. 

"i heard you took a bit of a tumble, figured someone should come make sure you didn’t lose all your screws." you shrug nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips.

boothill's eyes flicker for a moment, taking in the curve forming on your lips. he thinks you’re adorable with that infectious smile of yours. 

“heh, nothin’ bad, just had a r-r-run in with some cuties" he says, failing to hide the glitch that caused his voice to stutter. (and that damn synesthesia beacon! he swears he’ll get it fixed this time around…)

“guess you took more than a tumble huh...” you lean casually against the workbench, the sterile scent of machinery and the hum of various devices filled the air; your gaze sweeps over the freshly repaired parts of boothill's metallic frame, “anyway, glad to see that you’re mostly fine now." 

“aww! do ya care ‘bout me?” he teases, his grin widening, revealing his pointy teeth peeking out mischievously. you don’t reply, your eyes glinting with the faintest hint of amusement dancing in them.

"boothill, we go through this every time, your memory card's still damaged. you forget things sometimes, so for the 5th time this week, yes i do care about you.”

boothill's expression shifts, a mixture of realization and sheepishness crossing his features. "right, right," he murmurs, scratching the back of his head with his metallic hand. "sorry 'bout that, sugar. guess i just keep forgettin'."

you chuckle and shake your head, finding the situation amusing. he feels like he might overheat from the sheer warmth radiating from your smile.

“you’re beautiful, date me.” (he didn’t mean to blurt that outloud)

you raise your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, “why thank you,” a surprised laugh escapes your lips.

“—and we’re already dating, silly.”

a shower of sparks erupts from his circuits, you can particularly hear the fans inside him sputter and whir. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face.

“wh- are you okay?! you’re short circuiting again!”

and this happens every time his memory lapses. you offer an apology to the mechanic on the next shift for the extra work required to fix yet another damaged wire after your visits. perhaps they should ban you from getting too close to boothill, lest he completely breaks down again like that one time where you told him, yes you actually kissed before.

jing yuan ୭ ˚.

"secret relationship" with jing yuan but he is completely unaware of how his public displays of affection towards you keep revealing the supposed secrecy of your relationship.

on the rare case that the general is found in his office, you are there too, beside him.

“pleeeease? just one kiss, really really miss you, darling”

“no jing yuan, not now…”

he wraps his arms around you as he leans in, caging you from the back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, “then how about a kiss on the cheeks?” he murmurs in your ear. you try to push him away, but he just chuckles softly against your neck, his arms still secure around you.

“no, and get off me before someone sees!” you protest, feeling your face flush from the close proximity, and the tightening of his arms suggests that he has no intention of releasing you just yet.

this stubborn man… you swear you’re gonna burst a blood vessel someday.

as if to echo your exasperation; he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, peppering it with nibbles and gentle kisses. jing yuan certainly knows how to test your limits, yet his affectionate gestures never fail to chip away at your resolve.

suddenly, a series of loud knocks come from the door, you freeze, and immediately attempt to wiggle your way out of his grasp. but he remains unfazed, his hold on you firm, and seemingly unbothered by the interruption.

the door bursts open, “general! there’s a situation at starskiff ha—ven...”  yanqing trails off as his eyes widen at your position. the room falls into a momentary silence as yanqing's gaze shifts between you and his general, his expression reflecting a blend of shock and embarrassment.

clearing his throat awkwardly, yanqing stammers, "i-im sorry for interrupting... i’ll t-take my leave now!” with a hurried nod, he practically sprints out of the room.

oh bless that kid’s poor eyes… 

you shoot a glare at jing yuan from the corner of your eyes, you just know that he has a shit eating grin on his face right now. nowadays, it’s probably common knowledge that the general’s most treasured person is you, evidently shown by how he latches himself onto you every time you’re within his vicinity. you wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of xianzhou knows about your supposed “secret” relationship.

“so… can i have my kiss now?” 

aeons, he’s insufferable. (you love him tho!!!!!)

blade ؛ ଓ

"fake dating" with blade but you are actually dating —somehow everyone is convinced you aren't.

“blink twice if you need help.” march whispers-shout; dan heng leans against the doorway, blocking the way into your room, nods in agreement.

“this is absurd… i’m alright guys, really!” you try to reassure your friends, frustration edging into your voice. though no matter how many times you insist that no blade isn't holding you hostage and that you are indeed in a relationship with him, they seem convinced otherwise, somehow deducing that you're not able to speak freely.

you sigh in resignation, knowing that they aren’t going to relent anytime soon, and with blade idling in your room, you can't afford to keep him waiting any longer. “dan heng please, let me through, he’s been waiting for me for the past 10 minutes now…”

“good, let him wait.” dan heng responds curtly. (what a guy)

march takes hold of your hands, “do you owe the stellaron hunters something, and him out of everyone?! he looks scary…and totally not your type!” 

“not their type?” a low voice rings out from behind dan heng, the three of you turn immediately and see blade looming at your doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“stellaron hunter. stay back.” dan heng furrows his eyebrows, his stance defensive as he pulls out his weapon, positioning himself to block you and march. sensing the growing tension, you step forward, reaching out to gently grasp at dan heng’s shoulder. 

(blade’s expression darkens at your hand resting on him)

“it’s okay dan heng, he means no harm.” dan heng hesitates, his grip on his weapon remains tight, but he doesn't move to strike. so you slowly move between him and blade, “see? i’m fine… he’s not gonna hurt me.” you smile reassuringly at your friends. 

just then, as if to further aggravate dan heng, blade settles his hand on your waist. dan heng’s hand is visibly twitching now. “what? can’t i touch what’s mine?”

dan heng’s eyes narrow, “...we still don’t believe you, leave now. before it’s too late.”

before you can interject, blade grabs your chin, silencing any words of protest with a sudden kiss. caught off guard, your eyes widen as the unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily stunned. but you soon reciprocate his kiss, his intensity drawing you in.

(march quickly covers her eyes with her hands)

“there. now leave us alone.” and with that, he pulls you into your room, slamming the door shut behind, pinning you against it. 

it’s just the both of you now, finally.

“did you really have to touch him.” his voice tinged with possessiveness. “blade, he would’ve hurt you, i didn’t mean—” he shuts you up with another kiss, more desperate this time, welp guess you’re stuck with him for the night.

though your friends might not believe that a person like you would “be in cahoots” with someone as dangerous as him; convincing them otherwise is a task for another time. tonight, he wants your attention focused solely on him, and him only.

✧.*

masterlist gepard aven sunday vers here!

[nvuy]

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO THE BOOTHILL COMMUNITY I'm eating very well this week salute for your contribution 🫡🫡🫡 I also like the idea of sappy boothill he's the type to say "my girlfriend hates me I hope I die" and the Jessica and Roger rabbit dynamic is so!!!

he’s your ride or die. it’s most definitely a case of somebody asking “what do you see in him?” to which you reply “he makes me laugh.”

he’s so whipped to the point he’ll be in a serious debacle with somebody, guns drawn, throwing threats, but as soon as he hears the custom ringtone he’s set up that indicates that it’s you calling, he holds up a finger to his opponent and answers the call.

example: “oh, keep talking.” his gun is aimed directly in the centre of his opponent’s forehead. “one more word and i’ll blow a nice hole through yo–”

his pocket vibrates and chimes a ridiculous tune.

gun disappears back in its holster, the red targets in his irides fade and he turns his body away to answer the phone. “hey sweetie!”

his opponent is stunned. “wh–”

boothill holds up a finger. “of course i can buy dinner on the way home! what do you want to eat?” his opponent just barely hears a voice speaking on the other side of the phone. “mhm… i can get that… no problem… hey, you’re not working on friday, right? i’ll take ya out for dinner. there’s a nice little restaurant on the xianzhou luofu i think you’d like… sound good? i’ll see you tonight… love ya lots.”

probably makes kissy noises before he hangs up.

“seriously? are you–”

whoops. trigger finger’s a bit too itchy today.

adding onto what you said, he’s so sad when you’re upset with him. to me, he seems very disorganised and more of a risk taker. he’s got a body of steel; lots of risks won’t even leave a dent on him. he’s constantly running late to things, constantly leaving tasks unfinished to start something he finds more interesting. he’s in for the thrill of the ride.

one time, he forgot a date he himself had set up.

not only did he come home to find you clearly upset over it, but he was absolutely fuming at himself. apologised one million times to you, two million kisses, probably got on his knees, and he can’t ever forgive himself.

even if you’ve already forgiven him, you’re laughing and trying to get him to stand up because “you’re a grown man acting like this.” he latches onto you like a koala bear.

it’s not even that deep either. it’s just a lunch. it’s not like it was a special occasion. speaking of which, he’d never forget a birthday, valentine’s day, whatever traditional holidays you celebrate. never ever.

he’s actually such a sappy gooey loser it’s so sweet. his favourite thing to do is bury his face in your neck or your chest or your lap. he’s all over you like sticky sweet honey, and you can’t get rid of him that easily.

[gojoidyll]

Boothill doesn't understand that he wears revealing clothing. So you take it up in yourself to show him by wearing an outfit similar to his own when you both plan on going out one night. (fem!reader implied)

"The fudge are you wearing, darling?"

You smirked a little. It wasn't an exact copy of his clothing. The colors were different, and you didn't have any extra accessories like he had on his jacket, but it sure got the point across.

"Nothing much, just thought I would copy you is all."

"Trying to prove a point or something?"

"Something like that," as you twirled a strand of your hair between your fingers, "you like?"

He did like it, but didn't like how everyone else would be getting the same view two. He could see your pretty hips, the way both your stomach and back were on bare display. Not to mention how the small crop top jacket hugged your tits.

You tipped your hat to him, "then let's get going, partner."

Just as you turned to walk out the door, Boothill grabbed your wrist and tugged you back against his hard chest, "alright, alright. You win. So if I was fully human then I admit my dress ware is exactly pg13."

Your eyes sparkled, "oh? The great Galaxy Ranger Boothill is admitting I'm right?"

He pinched one of your exposed hips, "don't push it, darling. Now, you have two options. You go change or I change you myself."

You couldn't help but giggle as you slipped out of his grasp and grabbed his hand, "these tight jeans are kind of hard to get off, so I guess you'll be helping me~ ♡"

[akutasoda]

in the morning light

synopsis - what it's like sharing a bed with them

includes - aventurine, gallagher, sunday, robin, boothill

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, i have no clue what im doing, might be ooc, wc - 1.2k

a/n: i have absolutely no clue what this is... im trying to write requests but i feel weirdly rusty and so i needed to do something random and well... this is it i guess?

aventurine ★↷

↪he has settled for a very long time to have bare minimum as his bed, practically nothing in some cases, and so now he over indulges himself. we've all seen the official art and the animation, he has one of the comfiest beds known.

↪anything you need, he's got it for you no questions asked or thought about. he does care quite abit about how he presents himself so he has quite the nightly routine but it's not that extensive, so if you wish to do yours alongside he wouldn't mind one bit.

↪naturally a light sleeper - the slightest sound or movement can wake him. aventurine is also quite prone to frequent nightmares which cause him to wake up in a cold sweat everytime. he doesn't wish to burden you however and so he tries to keep his movements to a minimum when your beside him.

↪he doesn't say anything but he always loves it when you wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your chest. it's very comforting to him. he feels safe in your arms and listening to your heartbeat brings him that reassurance that you are real and there for him.

↪unfortunately due to his work he can get very early morning calls which cause him to wake up early and begrudgingly leave you behind - he'd never wake you but places a kiss on your forehead before leaving. however if he has the day off, he becomes extremely clingly and refuses to move and further intertwines his body with yours.

gallagher ★↷

↪as a bloodhound, he doesn't normally stay the whole night as he might be called out to deal with whatever problem penacony has then. this can feed into a reluctance to join you in bed as he knows he wouldn't be able to leave if he did so.

↪he isn't one that cared about comfort or a good night sleep, so his bed was always bare minimum with one or two pillows and a blanket. although if you're one for more than he wouldn't mind buying anything you wanted to add.

↪doesn't really have a bedtime routine. most of the time he gets straight home from work and is very content to just collapse onto the bed beside you without even changing. most of his routine is spent in the morning trying to make himself look a bit more presentable for the day - he is very prone to drastic bed hair.

↪if he knows he wont be called out or has the next day off, he will happily join you in bed and becomes dead to the world. can be a very heavy sleeper if he knows he can allow himself to be.

↪gallagher can also be extremely clingy - on purpose. he enjoys holding you in his arms knowing that he can protect you and keep you close. so good luck if you have places to be because gallagher will have you in a tight bear hug which he won't let up any time soon.

sunday ★↷

↪he is normally very busy as the head of the oak family but he knows how important it is to keep up with things like sleeping to be able to actually function, so he tries his hardest but does has a tendency to put work first.

↪that being said, he does have a very high standard when it comes to his actual bed - he's sort of a mix because he likes having the comfiest things but he wouldn't complain otherwise. therefore he can be very accommodating to your needs.

↪he cares about his public appearance very much and so he has a very quick but efficient nightime and morning routine, he doesn't like spending time on such trivial matters but he needs to look pristine. sometimes if you're lucky enough you can see his wings looking very disheveled in the morning.

↪he probably didn't like the idea of sharing a bed to start with but he'd warm up to the idea much further into the relationship. although he isn't exactly one for cuddles, he much prefers that you have your own seperate sides of the bed - he'd be rather insistent on having his space.

↪sometimes you'd forget he's sleeping beside you. he barely moves at all and stays way too still to the point that you get a little weirded out, the only sign that he's still loving is the occasional flutter of his wings.

↪gets up super early. like way too early but he doesn't press you to get up at the same time unless you have somewhere to be. even if he doesn't have anywhere to be he gets up early because it's a habit for him.

robin ★↷

↪she can be equally as busy as her brother but most of the time she'd love nothing more than to end her day cuddled up beside you - her daily schedule can be much more accommodating to having a healthy sleep schedule.

↪as a very popular singer, she does need to keep up her appearance and so she has a very extensive and detailed nightime routine that she doesn't mind you joing her for if you wished. same goes for her morning routine.

↪robin is quite used to having many things and that translates into her bed as it has very fluffy blankets and lots of pillows. although she doesn't mind changing a few things if that isn't exactly your style.

↪a surprisingly light sleeper but she can move around quite a bit in her sleep. not exactly drastic movements but more small scale actions to readjust herself very often. she can be a massive cuddle bug so sometimes she does accidentally move you around with her.

boothill ★↷

↪chasing one bounty after another doesn't leave much room for somebody to lay low and have a proper rest. being a cyborg doesn't really help that case either as he doesn't exactly need to sleep to function - does he even need to recharge?

↪boothill really only started caring about sleep or 'recharging' when you came along. that being said, he doesn't exactly have a permanent place to stay so you might have to accommodate a cyborg into your room - but he is very adaptable and respectful of your space.

↪it becomes a moment for you two just to relax and unwind, he no longer has to worry about anything and can spend his time holding you. he probably can 'sleep' as a way to recharge but he becomes like a log and doesn't move at all until he's ready to go.

↪he does have a love hate relationship with having care routines, i do believe that he probably values his hair alot as it's the only remaining part of him from his life as a human but other than that he only looks after the rest of himself to make sure he doesn't malfunction.

↪he doesn't dare wake you unless you've specifically asked him too. so sometimes you may wake up to see him staring at you but you would learn to deal with that...

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @teddirika, @frankiesteinn

[freyito]

ꜱᴘᴀʀᴋꜱ ꜰʟʏ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ inspo: BOOTHILL DAY!!!

★ summary: Boothill tends to be a little clingy when he's charging, cause he has nothing to do! C'mon, kiss him! Nothing'll happen, he promises!

✧ a/n: happy belated boothill day :')... i currently have him e5s1 but im going for e6, i might try and get s2... if you havent gotten boothill yet, may you all be boothill havers!!!!

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, short n sweet, proofread

✎ wc: 1k

Boothill has nothing to do when he’s charging, especially when he’s at home. Which should be a blessing, he doesn’t have to sit in the middle of nowhere for at least two hours. You could get him all sorts of things to keep himself occupied at home, cards, board games, pull up some old western, and he’d still complain about how bored he is.  Not to mention, he’s especially clingy. He protests if you leave his sight for a second.

You had gotten home after a long day of work, tired out and aching. Boothill was on the couch, face down, grumbling about something while charging. He just looks sooooo miserable, hair cascading over his face, messy, as if he had just woken up from a nap. He kicks his feet like a kid, the motion occupying him.

Yet when he hears you come home, his head pops up like a dog, and if he was one, his tail would be wagging. His face lights up immediately and pushes his hair to the side, running his fingers through it and petting it down to make sure he doesn’t look like too much of a mess. You don’t get a chance to complain about your day before he’s beckoning you closer, cursed by the distance between you two and his damn charging cable.

“C’mere,” Boothill’s sheepish smile is quickly replaced with that confident toothy grin you’ve come to know as home. “I’ve been soooo lonely, buttercup…”

Boothill could support you on his own easily, you wouldn’t have to work a day in your life, but you still chose to work, to give you some semblance of normalcy. There was nothing wrong with some extra cash in your pocket, anyways. Even if Boothill had complained that sitting still in one place would set the IPC off on him and probably you, too. He was never home much, anyways, so you felt as if there was no need to worry.

You saunter over to Boothill, sitting down in his lap, the cowboy wrapping his arms around you near immediately. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, letting out a low hum of content. His hands roam your body, no idea what he was searching for, he just had the need to feel. He himself visibly relaxes as he does so, content to have you home and in his arms once more. You don’t have much to say– not that you need to– and simply enjoy the moment, watching as his hands glide from your hips to your stomach, before pulling you impossibly closer and squeezing you like you were a teddy bear.

“Missed you…” He mumbles once more, leaning over your shoulder and trailing kisses down your cheek, enjoying the warmth of human skin once more. If you were to point out how clingy he was, he’d adamantly deny the fact, yet would still find a way to get all up in your DNA.

Slowly, he trails the kisses from your cheek to your lips, and when your lips meet, sparks fly, literally. Or atleast, it feels like it. You pull away abruptly with a small ‘ow’, placing a hand over your mouth. Boothill gives you a confused and dejected look, before the lightbulb goes off in his head.

“What? Am I… electrifyin’?” He asks with a heavy voice, laden with exhaustion (can he even feel that?) and mirth. You can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at the silly pun, and he leans in for another kiss. You try to avoid it, but he catches you, and places another shocking kiss on your lips. After several more, you manage to wrench yourself free from his grip pushing yourself off of him. “Awh, c’mon! Don’t just–”

“Nuh uh,” You shush him, crossing your arms, turning your head, and pouting. “I’ll kiss you after you finish charging.”

“Wait, c’mooon!” Boothill starts, sitting up from the couch and reaching for you. His hands graze over your shoulder, yet he was unable to move further due to the limits of his charging cable. You took one teeny tiny step back so you were just out of reach. “Don’t do this, baby! Pleaaase!”

Boothill begs you like you were breaking up with him, he’s one step away from getting on his knees and groveling for you to come back… as in step closer. He does his best to give you puppy eyes, but the most that does is unsettle you a little, the way his eye locks on with you and glowing a faint red. All you do is stand there and watch, taking another step back.

“Fudge…. c’mon, c’mon, c’mon…! Ain’t I just the sweetest?” He desperately pleads his case, as if you being in his arms is the only way he could possibly live. “I won’t kiss you ‘til I’m done charging! I swear! Just let me hold you? Pretty pretty muddle-fudgin’ please?”

His pleas fall on deaf ears as you turn on your heels to leave him whining and grumbling, deciding that you would like to make dinner. Perhaps wind down a little after work, maybe read a book… all things Boothill tried to protest, but ultimately, after ten minutes of you in the kitchen making yourself food, he finally went quiet.

When you come out of the kitchen, bowl of pasta in hand, he’s sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, pouting like a child. He was muttering things to himself, some that you caught which were curses, sometimes your name, and other words. When you come into the living room, he turns his head and gives you the silent treatment for once. You don’t mind this, sitting down on an armchair across from him, eating your food in silence.

Boothill can’t stay silent forever, nor can he wallow forever. Only after five minutes of you being there, he breaks, staring you down with his attempt at puppy eyes once more. Charging takes forever, and he wants to have you in his arms now. He can run on 40% battery for a little while, anyways. He unlatches the charging cable and practically runs over to you (over such a short distance…), cupping your cheek and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“One more kiss? Pretty pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

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