#ITS GETTING REAL! SHIT IS GETTIN REAL!!!

[sorrel-minis]

Heh heh

Yeah let's start with this

[todayisafridaynight]

STOP I OVERPLAYED ODE TO JOY WHILE LEARNING PIANO 😭😭😭😭😭

However! I am happy to share and am so glad you see the vision. Sorry In Advance to you and all your followers for the spam but here is a (mostly corrupted) office tour (please note the "Mine Power"-brand gym equipment):

P.S. I recall really liking The Wings of the Kirin, please enjoy!

EVERYONE OVERPLAYED ODE TO JOY GROWING UP IT CAME WITH YOUR PARENTS FORCING YOU TO LEARN THE PIANO LERKJALEKJ

BUT OH MY GOD NO DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IS LITERALLY PERFECT I thank you again for my life this is so important to me you have no idea

[gurorori]

T_T i hve smth rly shameful 2 admit urgh

[kil9]

aauauauuougghghs i need to move out 👁👁

^^^ [CHEC IT OUT] i need to move out moodboard (available now !!!(

[sleepyjim2]

yap sesh in the tags ! <3 nothing new im just frustrated abt my disordered sleep schedule as always . woke up at 5 pm and i will probably be failing my All Dayer and going to sleep shortly At 8 am and then sleeping for 1 billion years

[maybe-we]

yesterday was so chill. today m fuckin struggling

[irl]

could you imagine, just for a second, the world peace we would have if coworkers and customers alike werent fucking dipshit assholes

[giddybox]

do you ever just get tired of everything around you

[snekdood]

anyways on a semi unrelated note- i just learned about wingless moths???????????????????????????????????????

excuse me???????????

[intheholler]

the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

pervyroomate!Satoru who can't believe his luck when you answer his online ad for a roomate: "What made you seek out a male roommate, honey? Ain't cha scared the big bad wolf is gonna get ya in your sleep?" You scoff with a heavy eye roll. "Fuck no." He can't stop the smile slowly forming on his pretty face. 'Ya should be.' He thinks, already imagining how'd look naked and squirming beneath him as he made you cry on his cock.

pervyroomate!Satoru that despite his amazing mouth-watering muscles, he mostly watched as you move your belongings into his spacious 2 bd apt: "What the fuck, Gojo? You specifically demanded I not hire movers as you're 'stronger than any of those limp dick fuckers.'" You can't see how he leans against the wall amused, arms crossed and intently staring at the way your small cotton shorts gets lost between your plump brown ass cheeks as you struggle takin boxes to your new bedroom. "Sorry, the views just so damn spectacular. Lookin so fuckin good, baby." Your cheeks warm in embarrasment as you abandon the heavy box, rush into the room and slam the door. Satoru only chuckles, fixin his raging boner as he heads downstairs to get the rest of your stuff.

pervyroomate!Satoru does anything he can in the upcoming weeks to rile you up by any means: "Gojo, put on some goddamn clothes for christ sake. My girls are gone be here soon and none of em wanna see that fuckin shit." You grumble as you sit on the couch and turn on the Netflix app. He laughs heartily, dramatically ploppin down next to you. Its impossible not to notice how his naked chest ripples, how low his black briefs sit on his hips. His hypnotic ocean blue eyes linger on your thick cocoa thighs before meeting your gaze. "Fabrications. Your BFF cornered me in our kitchen just the other day.. Damn near begged me to dick her down. Wanted so bad to tell her I'm savin that for you." He leans in close to your stunned face to whisper his last sentence and gets up, heading to his bedroom. Your left starin at his spot on the couch with wide eyes and wet panties.

pervyroomate!Satoru purposely switched out the dark shower curtain a few months into you moving in with a clear one, finding any reason to disturb your alone time: "Hey y/n, need to brush my teeth real fast." Doesn't bother knocking, quickly stepping in before you have time to cover your wet body. His eyes seem a shade darker as he scans up and down your soapy, naked frame. A small 'fuck' escaping his pretty lips as he stares unashamed. "Gojo, what the hell?!" You screech, arms quickly covering your glistening breasts as you cup your other hand over your pussy. You could literally melt on the spot at the way she clenches at his intense gaze. "Get the fuck out!" The damn pervert looks on for a moment longer, actually having the audacity to palm his cock a few times. "Okay okay, baby, damn. Why you gotta be like that? You showed me yours, don't you want me to show you mine?" He asks with pouty lips as he finally backs out the bathroom, arms raised in surrender. You stop shielding your tits to throw a bar of dove soap at his stark white locks. He only chuckles, quickly shutting the door to avoid impact. "Fuckin creep, Gojo!!"

pervyroomate!Satoru flirts with you relentlessly, crossing every boundary and every line over the next few months: "You gettin the snacks, babe?" Satoru calls from the front room. You roll your eyes at the pet name before you feel a stinging SMACK! to your plump behind. "Ow, Gojo! You fuckin asshole. Quit it!" You swat at the childish nuisance but he dodges your attack easily, leaning against the kitchen counter a few feet away. Fuckin guy has spent the better part of the day smackin your ass while yelling 'Smack Ass Friday!' like a damn teenager. "Awe, come on pretty! Love watchin how your ass bounces when I do it." He coos at you before swerving a bag of doritos you quickly chuck his way. "Boy, I don't give a fuck. You touch it again and you're goin down." It's insulting how lightly he takes your threat; walking right up, grabbin a handful of each ass cheek and smashing your hips together. His half hard dick feels chubby as fuck against you, girth of him makin you gasp and clutch as his shoulders. Your insides clench at the feelin of him pressed against you. "Fuck, I been waitin to go down on you. Name the time and place sweetheart." He tells you sweetly, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip, kissing you on the cheek and retreating to the living room. Damn this man must love leaving you speechless, heart and pussy fluttering to his dirty words.

pervyroomate!Satoru notices how much you love how he smells: whether it's his natural scent or cologne. You take his shirts without his permission too often, only wantin the ones he'd previously worn. Loves how he comes home late one night and catches you in one of his stolen white t-shirts. Neckline pulled up to your nose, tittes jiggling wildly underneath as you play with yourself. He stares between the crack of your bedroom door, hand swiftly squeezin at his dick as he watches you mindlessly rub yourself over your underwear. y/e/c eyes shut tight, quietly moaning his name like a fuckin prayer. "Toruuuuu! Fuh-uuuck Satoru, love how you smell. Mmmm, soooo good. Want you so m-much, need you to fuck me Toru!" His mouth hangs wide open as he humps his hand faster atop his light blue jeans, absolutely entranced how you frantically rub at your throbbing lil pearl. "Ahhhh! Oh my god, Toru please!" He's so greatful for a front row seat to witness you cum like a fuckin virgin. Fuck are you one?Can't help his deranged whisper as he commits the scene to memory. "That's it, baby. Cum for me. Fuck.. I know that lil pussy's so gushy for me right now. Can't wait to see it up close, gonna make her cream all over me pretty girl." Head pushed back into your fluffy pink pillow, pretty y/h/c hair splayed out makin you look like a goddess in the throes of passion to him. "Wanna cum on your cock, Satoruuuu!" His shirt rides up on you, showing him how your tummy pudge jiggles as your body convulses into an arch. You bite your lip to muffle the rest of your pleasure. It's okay. The sight is enough for Satoru. He paints the inside of his new jeans immediately, free hand cupped over his mouth as his eyes roll back, his hips repeatedly jerking his clothed spasming cock into the palm of his hand.

pervyroomate!Satoru who asks you the nastiest shit just to see you sexually flustered: You're in bed reading, back against the headboard with Satoru's head in your lap. Your hand carelessly cards through his soft hair, nails lightly scratchin at his scalp. So cute the way he whines at you to continue everytime you accidentally pause as you get to a good part in your book. "Hey baby?" His voice so innocent that you know for a fact the next words outta his mouth are gonna be filthy as fuck. "Yeah?" "How come you only call me Satoru when you're on your back, fingers in that pretty lil pussy?" His tone is laced with the genuine wonder of a child asking a simple question. Your jaw might as well be on the floor. "G-Gojo!" Shocked exclamation half accusatory, half scolding. "What? I really wanna know, y/n. Sound as pretty as you looked in my shirt when you moan it like you did the other night; made me cum so hard listenin." He's lookin up at you upside down but you're absolutely mortified, using your book to hide your face. What do you even say to him right now? "Aww, baby don't be shy. I do it when I think about you too. Cept I usually have a pair of your panties up to my nose." He shares with you happily and unapologetic, pulling the book from your fingers to toss it to the floor. "I wanna hear you say it like that again." Turning on his belly to leer at your clothed pussy through your tiny bottoms. Your breath picks up in anticipation, starin as his fine ass leans foward and gives a slow lick from slit to clit. The urgent, intense sensations has you squealing out his name as you slide both hands into his hair. "Satoruuu!" Slidin your shorts to the side, admiring your moist plump pussy lips. "Fuck baby, say it again. Just like that." He commands you, latching onto your sensitive lil button. All you can do is comply, buckin into his mouth as you wail 'Satoru' over and over to the damn heavens.

[dilfl0v3rss]

im tryna see how ony dealed wit connie😁

nice and slow

continuation of ours

cw: m x m, ony cleaning his gun

word cound: 2.8k words

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

days have went by since ony told connie that he’d be “delt with” and he was starting to feel like he was off the hook. ony would still wake him in the morning with a kiss and he'd still act like his normal self throughout the day. "maybe he forgot" connie thought to himself as he eyed him from the other side of the living room. there he was, quietly cleaning his gun while he watched videos with his phone laid on his lap. his shirt probably on your small figure as he sat in just his pajama pants and durag. "need sum baby?" he didn't even need to move his head to know that his boyfriend was staring.

connies eyes widened a little as he continued to breathlessly stare at his lover. "when somebody say sum to you, its polite to answer." ony sucked his teeth, looking up from his phone with a pointed look that was shot directly at connie. "n-nah...nah m'good pa" a kind smile bloomed on his pink lips to sell the act that he's not panicking in his mind right now. why is he acting so normal? "shouldn't you be gettin ready right now anyways? you said you was gon drop suge off at mikasas for her lil spa day/sleepover shit."

before connie could reply, he was interrupted by your sweet voice. "m'ready papiii" you came down the steps with your duffle bag on your shoulder, letting it plop on the ground before walking to ony and giving him a kiss on the cheek. when your eyes met connie's pajama wearing figure you sucked your teeth. "babyyy why aren't you dressed. i don't wanna be late to miki's because of youuu" you whined, stomping your feet to add exaggeration.

connie gave you a stern look, making you stop instantly before getting up and grabbing his keys from his coat hung up at the door. "cut that shit out or you not going at all. ion need to be dressed if m'just dropping you off and coming back home." you shut up immediately, letting connie give you a kiss before you began walking quietly to the car while he carried your bag. "i can't get a kiss too?" ony mumbled, stopping connie dead in his tracks before he turned around. "my fault pa" he mumbled as he made his way to the couch, leaning down to give his boyfriend a kiss on the forehead.

his dick jumped in excitement when ony grabbed him by the neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on the lips. his long tongue quickly winning dominance over connies as his grip on his neck grew tighter. strings of spit connected the two as ony moved his face back to speak. "drive safe" was all he said before loosening his grip, letting connie stand up straight before he replied. "i will pa, see you" ony's focus was put back on his gun as he listened to the front door close.

the drive to mikasa's was about twenty minutes there and back, but connie made sure to drive real slow so his boyfriend didn't get a notification that he was speeding. "bye babyyyy, see you tomorrowww!" you squealed before giving your boyfriend and quick kiss and practically sprinting out the car before he could reply. he chuckled at your excited little body jumping for joy at you knocked on mikasa's door. connie waited for you to go inside before driving back home.

as he walked in the door he noticed that ony was nowhere to be seen in the living room. his gun cleaning supplies were still laid out on the table as he walked deeper into the house. connie made his way to his room where he saw ony sitting on the edge of the bed. "was looking for you. what you doin?" his dark brown eyes gave connie a bone chilling stare as he toyed with the ring on his middle finger. "waiting for you...c'mere pretty boy lemme talk to you real quick."

ony bent his fingers in a come hither motion, making his lover's body move towards him on instinct. connie stood in between ony's legs as he leaned back on the bed, inked chest on full display for his light brown eyes to ogle. "you know you still in trouble right?" connie nodded his head. he never stopped thinking about what his boyfriend had in store for him, but now he doesn't have to anymore. todays the day he gets what he's been dreading.

"listen, ian mean to-" "sh sh sh...let papa do the talking aight? you just gon get yourself into more trouble and you don't want that now, do you?" connie quickly shook his head as he watched ony rise from his seat on the bed. connie was tall, standing at about 6'2. but ony was a little taller, larger frame standing in front of him as he licked his lips before moving to the side. "take allat shit off and lay down f'me." connie slowly removed his hoodie and tee shirt before toying with the waistband of his pajama pants.

ony grew annoyed at his slow pace, grabbing him by the back of the neck before pulling his ear towards his mouth. "hurry the fuck up or ima rip it." connies hands moved quickly, pulling down his pajama pants and letting his hard dick spring free. he didn't like to sleep with underwear so his boxers were nowhere to be seen. he lied down on his back while watching ony begin to crawl up towards him, sitting in between connies legs as he ran his big hands over his chest, purposely neglecting the leaking red tip near his belly button.

"what you supposed to do when i tell you something?" ony whispered, leaning over connies body with his hand resting right by his head as his free hand played with his nipples. "im 'posed to lis...listen papa...fuck" he stuttered as the large hand wrapped around his dick. ony began slowly stroking him, occasionally rubbing his thumb over his leaking tip as connies back arched off the bed. "mhmm but you aint do that, did you? nahh, you was being greedy." his pace quickened, heat running through connies dick as he thrusted himself into ony's hand to bring his release closer.

"just like you are right now. not being my good boy." connie groaned as the frictions stopped. ony sat on his knees as he freed his dick from his pants. "y-you gon prep me right?" a fearful expression on his light brown face as he looked at his boyfriends girthy dick. ony chuckled as before sticking two of his thick fingers in connies mouth. "m'not a monster, baby." the smaller man sighed in relief as he let his tongue swirl all over his fingers. spit falling down the sides of his mouth as ony continued to thrust them in and out of his wet cavern.

as he removed his fingers from connies mouth with a pop, ony groaned at the sight in front of him. plump spit soaked lips shining in the dim light of the room as his lover lay naked in the middle of the bed. pretty ink dancing along his fit body as his dick leaked precum onto his stomach. "you so sexy baby. making me wanna skip all this shit and fuck you right now." connie didn't get the chance to reply before ony rubbed his wet middle finger on his tight hole.

wetting it before breaching it lightly with half of his middle finger. "f-fuck pa" light brown hand instantly flying towards his wrist to stop his movements. ony's eyes snapped towards connies, giving him and stern look that made a shiver run down his spine. "you know better than t'be doin that, handsome. move or ima cuff you." he slowly moved his hand away, balling them into tight fists before ony decided it was a good time to add a second finger.

spit traveling from ony's mouth down to connie's light brown hole, giving him more lubricant to move his fingers deeper. he dug into connie slowly, giving his boyfriend the time he needs to adjust. "how it feel pretty boy?" connies eyes rolled to the back of his skull, back arching as he moaned at the stretch. "hmm? talk t'me baby...can i fuck you now?" ony was always soft with connie when it came to prepping him. knowing that it is not an easy process and it could be painful if not done correctly. "y-yea daddy go head."

he smiled at the name, knowing that it was only used when his boyfriend was feeling especially vulnerable. "good boy" ony got up to grab a bottle of lube before rubbing it all over his dick, applying some to connies tight hole as well for safe measures. he watched his face closely as he sunk into him inch by inch. light brown hands gripping onto his shoulders as connie moaned from the stretch. "shhittt...fuck fuck fuck." ony started at a slow pace, stroking him deeply while leaving small kisses on the tears that fell from his eyes.

"i know bae. i hear you, but you been bad, remember?" "w-wait da lemme...auughh shi-i-ittt." his pace quickened and before connie knew it he was being pounded into the mattress. all eight inches of ony's dick being shoved in and out of his tight hole. he wrapped his hand around connies neck, other hand wrapping around his dick before jerking him quickly as he fed him hard strokes. "when i tell you t'do sum...move your fuckin hand...you gon listen. aint that right handsome?" connies wrists were now trapped by ony's big hand, arms bound over his head as he continued to take the vigorous strokes from his boyfriend.

"y-YES...i’ll listen daddy furreal." connie’s hips bucked into ony’s hand as he squeezed his dick tighter, continuing to stroke his aching red tip. connie was on the brink of his orgasm, lip tucked behind his teeth as he threw his head back in the sheets. ony felt him twitching in his hand, light sheen of sweat making his light brown chest glisten. as soon as he felt connie getting too close he let him go, pulling out as he whined for him not to stop. "wait m'right ther-" "ion care connie. turn over and put your ass up." he quickly turned around, laying his palms flat on the sheets without complaint in hopes that he'd be rewarded with at least one orgasm.

ony wasted no time thrusting back into him fully, dark brown hand shoving his inked back down as connies arms bent next to his head. "y'know how i like it baby. keep that ass in the air for me while daddy makes you feel good." his brutal pounding made tears fall from connies pretty brown eyes, wetting the sheets directly below his face along with his spit. ony kept his hand on the back of connie's pretty inked neck, pushing his face deeper into to cushion as he spoke lowly from behind him. "ion like punishing you handsome. supposed t'be my good boy so ion have t'be mean."

connies words were muffled before ony pulled him up by his neck, wrapping his hand around the front of his throat as he pulled his lover back towards his chest. "m-m'sorry daddy. ima listen t'you furreal..shit..ima d-do whatever you say" a smirk crept onto his lips at his boyfriends words, other hand sliding to the front of his body and caressing his stomach before jerking his pretty dick quickly. "anything i want?" connie nodded his head instantly as he moaned from the added pleasure. ony's pace quickened, hips slamming so hard that the loud, wet slaps could be heard from all over the house.

ony felt his orgasm approaching so he slowed his thrusts. idea popping up in his head to really teach connie his lesson. "stroke yourself pretty boy. want you t'do it real slow until daddy says you can speed up, understand." he was giving him another chance at following orders and connie hated it. but instead of defying him and getting fucked up even more, he slide ony's hand off his dick before replacing it. stroking himself slowly as his boyfriend matched his pace inside of him.

long dick kissing the deepest parts of him as hot wet tears flowed down his cheeks. "uhh huh. nice and slow" ony watched connie over his shoulder as he stroked himself at a steady pace. singing praises to connie as he obeyed the command he struggled to comply with last time. "such a good boy f'me. just a little longer and ill let you cum baby." his dark brown hand grabbed the bottom of connies face, turning him towards him before giving him a sloppy kiss. spit dribbling down the sides of both of their mouths, leaving connie breathless as he continued his slow pace with his hand. "open up handsome"

pink lips instantly parting as ony's spit slid from his tongue to connie's. "and swallow allat shit." on instinct the spit disappeared down his throat before he opened his mouth to show him that it was truly gone. "mhm good boy. you wanna cum?" moans and begs flew from connies mouth in an instant, the need for release clouding his brain as he fucked himself back on ony's dick slowly. "p-please" ony's hand replaced connies smaller one. quickly stroking him as began snapping his hips into his ass with vigor.

"gon head pretty boy. make a mess f'me" light brown eyes rolled to the back of his skull as connie's hot ropes of cum shot all over the sheets. “ooouuu fuckkk.” the last of it eventually slidding down his shaft and all over ony's hand before he felt his lover pull out of him. jerking himself as he came all over his back. "next time i tell you to do sum you better listen. or youll be right back here, understand me?"

"o-okay pa i hear you."

ony ran connie a hot bath. changing the sheets and making him some tea before having his lover come out and get dressed. "drink this and rest for the night" night? a gasp escaped from connies lips as he noticed that it was already dark outside. "y'hear me?" ony's voice snapped him out of his thoughts before he replied. "huh? yea ill rest pa."

~the next morning~

connie woke up noticing ony wasn't in bed with him. he made his way downstairs to be met with a beautiful sight before him. shirtless chest on full display as his lover drank orange juice straight from the bottle. "man that is so trifling" connie chuckled as his boyfriend jumped in surprise. moving the bottle from his lips before giving him a smirk. "i be spitting in your mouth no problem and you worried about my mouth being on the bottle?"

a blush crept on connies face, shifting his gaze in embarrassment. "that's different" "yea its worse." ony cut him off before walking past him to reclaim his seat in the living room. "suge on her way home right now to grab some shit. she gon stay over there for another night." connie nodded his head as he slowly sat down next to his boyfriend, wincing as he felt the cushion touch his ass. "fuck" ony chuckled before scooting over closer to his pouting boyfriend. "come" he patted his lap for connie to lay his head over.

connie quickly took the invitation, lying his head on his lover's lap and putting his feet on the couch to ease the pressure on his sore lower half. "good morninggggg!!" you squealed as you busted through the door, giving connie a quizzical look before smirking to yourself. "oh he fucked your shit upppp" you giggled as connie rolled his eyes at your teasing. "yea and you next if you don't shut that shit up. leave my big baby alone" you smiled lovingly at the two of them, choosing not to piss ony off before you end up like your other boyfriend. ass hurting and body worn the hell out. you grabbed what you needed before heading out the door. "love y'all! ill be home tomorrowww!!!" with that you closed the door, leaving the two of them alone again.

ony turned on the tv, putting on connie's favorite show as he played with his short hair. "if it still hurts later i can kiss it better for you pretty boy. y'know im real good wit my tongue" connies eyes widened at his boyfriends lewd words, making his stomach tingle at the thought. ony didn't even look away from the tv as he shamelessly spoke to him. he was so nasty. "maybe" connie mumbled, his lover finally looked down at him, dark brown eyes meeting his lighter ones befofe giving him a smile. "i love you" "love you more pa"

[silentmoths]

A lick and a promise

Its been *squints* Seven months since i cooked.

god damn its been seven whole ass months CRIES

Boothill got me so fkn good i cant even BEGIN to explain why he's such a comfort character for me ok he just IS.

Boothill x Reader (fem but it's really only mentioned in regards to anatomy.)

NSFW

Enemies to Lovers (kinda?), Smut, Hurt/comfort (kinda?), Oral sex, fingering, boothill is a gd kendoll (sorry boothill genatalia nation i just...wanted to write this like he was a ken doll LEAVE ME-)

7k words, NOT PROOFREAD

The first time you run into the Galaxy Ranger known as Boothill, you’re not sure what to make of him.

You were just an unsuspecting casualty, the pilot, nothing more. Flying ships for the IPC had to beat minimum wage, right? This was your first real gig with them, something a little more secure.

If you managed to make it off pier point without having a gun aimed at you that is.

A…cowboy. You’d heard about them, of course, but seeing one in this day and age was almost unheard of unless you travelled to planets far out in the west, ones untouched by the IPC and their ‘modernizations’.

Yet this cowboy also seemed to be touched by said modernizations, considering almost all of him was made of metal. Hell, all of him might be synthetic, nanotechnology was a terrifying thing, it could eat away the organic and replace it with the inorganic, mimicking skin and its blemishes, hair and all its different shades, like the curtain of black and white you see before you. 

“Han’s where I can fudgin’ see em.” He warns quietly, pistol pointed directly between your eyes. You do as he asks, why wouldn’t you? You weren’t being paid enough to put your life on the line for…whatever the hell you were carrying, you didn’t know, the IPC didn’t enforce ledger-checks- You tell the cowboy as much when he asks.

“Yeah that tracks.” he mutters with a roll of his visible eye. “Lookit’ you, still wet behind the darned ears.” 

“D-do I get a pardon i-if I told you it was my first day on the job?” you manage to squeak out, a terrible habit really, opening your mouth in times you should really stay silent…but the cowboy cracks a grin, a very sharp-toothed grin.

“Ah heck, really?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he spins his pistol in his hand and tucks it away into its holster. “Look I aint’ got no beef with ya. ya ‘ aint even wearin’ an IPC uniform-” “C-contract work.” You cut in with your explanation, only scolding yourself after the fact for, once again, interrupting the one with the gun. “The IPC really gettin that desperate, huh?” He snorts, his robotic fingers flexing as he himself goes to check the ledger, it was obvious he’d done this a few times…perhaps thats why the IPC had started hiring a third party, someone new for him to kill.

And yet he doesn’t kill you. 

He ties you up, sure, but he’s not an entire ass about it, he even apologises when he pulls the rope a little too tight and you squint.

“S’a formality.” He mumbles as he ties the knot tight “y’understand.”

“I guess…Just…thanks for not killing me I guess, Mr.Cowboy.” You shrug, perhaps you were still in a little bit of shock, perhaps you were coping with humour and ‘funny’ comments…perhaps, inside, you wanted to cry because of course of all the times to be held at gunpoint it was your first day working for the IPC.

“Name’s Boothill.” He corrects. Boothill, huh? You’d read about that…some eons old name for gunslinging cowboys who should have been dead. 

After you had been discovered, set free, and promptly fired, you decide to look up this ‘Boothill’ character; you find little other than his bounty…whoever he was, he kept himself pretty closed off…made sense for a galaxy ranger.

-

The second time you encounter Boothill, you’re working on a satellite array. It’s a shit job, it was freezing cold out here, and the welding masks given to you and your coworkers by your bosses were cheap, low quality, offering little protection from the welding torch and its bright, concentrated glare.

After your firing from pier point, no other freighting company was willing to take you on, and in a desperate attempt to get some damned food into your belly, you’d taken this job on some far out meteorite, repairing this shitty, run down satellite so the IPC could extend their reach further.

If the bosses had bothered to do a background check, they would have seen the unfortunate mark next to your name.

’Banned from all positions within IPC jurisdiction’ 

But considering the shit pay, shit hours, and shit accommodation? The old hand’s out here didn’t really care much for the ‘official’ rules; so long as you weren’t being actively hunted.

There was no sun out here, so every few hours there was a mandatory UV break, in which you all got to return to the little sleeping pods that were nothing but glorified transport containers with a wall sectioning off one third to make a bathroom; just to sit beneath a UV bulb. 

Whoever had lived in this one before you had stuck up a picture of a beach on the wall you had to stare at beneath the lamp, and faintly, you wonder if they ever made it there- or had they just keeled over dead from overwork? That seemed more likely, considering nothing had been cleaned out of your pod when you’d arrived. 

As you bask in your shitty, simulated sun, an explosion wracks the entire facility, sending you toppling to the floor as the world spins, cracks apart, opens like the gnashing teeth of some horrific space creature.

Was it a space creature? Had the meteorite collided with something it shouldn’t have? You didn’t want to find out, but you sure as fuck weren’t about to stay here and probably die once the oxygen field around the place sputtered out. The emergency guide tape’s you’d been forced to watch are nothing to help against the real thing, a real emergency. There are sirens blaring, the stark white light’s had all died, replaced by that infuriatingly anxiety inducing red as you struggle to put your space suit on. 

Just make it to a shuttle, they weren’t far, thats all you had to do.

It’s a mantra you tell yourself as the ceiling above you begins to crack and crumble, your time here was up. 

As you wrench open the door to your pod, you collide with someone. Considering you yourself looked like a glorified marshmallow in the emergency suit, you certainly weren't expecting the person you collided with to be as…hard as they were, solid like steel to the point you’re sent toppling back and unceremoniously onto your back, like a turtle.

A familiar pistol is pointed at your helmet.

No fucking way.

Boothill stands there, grin on his face and a gun in yours as he looks you up and down before howling with laughter. “Now what in the hay is that?” he wheezes as you struggle, only to stop when you push the visor of your helmet up, revealing a face he recalls. “No fudgin’ way-”

“You again!” You screech, flailing your limbs as you attempt to stand in this…ungainly suit. “What the fuck are you doing here now!?”

“I could ask you the same mother forkin’ question!” He barks back, yet despite it all, he withdraws the pistol and even shows some mercy, reaching down to pull you back onto your feet “the fork you doin here?” 

“Well, someone got me fired from my last job!” you snark at him “and now it looks like I'm out of another, what did you do!?” “Blew up tha’ satellite!” He chuckles as if he’d just won at an arcade game and not caused millions of credits in damages. You open your mouth to…you don’t even know- Shout? Scold a wanted criminal? Beg for mercy? When the world tilts again, the sound of rock cracking and metal creaking fills your senses; resulting in you simply screaming out of fear. 

This was it, this was where you died. On a rock, in the middle of space, blown to smithereens by a cowboy. Except, the cowboy reaches down, and for a moment you think he’s going to kill you, just to stop the screaming. Instead, he grabs your arm and yanks you upright without a word, tugging you along behind him like you weighed nothing in this stupid marshmallow safety suit. (perhaps, to a cyborg, you didn’t weigh anything.)

Boothill cares little for the smoke and the flames, and you are just a leaf in his wind, guided through it all with scary precision until there is suddenly nothing and you realise what he’d just done.

This fucking cowboy galaxy ranger had just leaped off of the edge of the meteorite, dragging you along with him. 

Correction; this is how you die, once you left the gravitational field, you’d just be stuck…floating in the void of space forever…no one would ever find your body-

Before your thought can finish, you crash into something hard, a ship, you realise, you had fallen into the open loading hatch of a ship, unlike boothill who landed on his feet, you’re simply a pile on the floor.

You hear the cowboy laugh as he turns to look at you, and you thank the fact that you’re face down from keeping your likely red, teary face from his scrutiny. 

“Y’alright down there?” He asks.

“Peachy.” you mutter back, your muscles ached, but the adrenaline was already beginning to wane, suddenly the suit felt…heavy, impossibly heavy as you listen to the sound of the ship’s hatch closing. “Why’d you save me?”

Boothill thinks on it for a moment. Why had he saved you? It wasn’t really his M.O, saving people, especially when they worked for the IPC…he supposes a part of him felt a little bad… you hadn’t been working for them directly last time…and because of his stunt, you’d lost that job and had resorted to working for them in this backwater shithole of an array. 

“Eh, Y’aint worth killin.” he responds after a moment “S’not like you’re the mother fudger I’m looking for anyways.” 

Something about the way he says it…stings. Not worth killing? 

Slowly you sit up, a terribly ungraceful affair in this stupid space suit as you pull the helmet off entirely and toss it to the floor, there was no point hiding the tears anymore. 

“Wh- hey now! What’s got in yer’ boot?” Boothill balks at your teary face “what’s tha’ matter?”

You hate how stupid you must look, crying, red in the face…embarrassing really. But after the scare you’d just had, you don’t have the forwithall to keep your composure anymore.

“Whats the matter?” you mutter, staring at the cold, metal floor of the ship “what’s the matter is that you have single handedly managed to lose me not one, but TWO JOBS!” 

You don’t mean to shout, really, you should be thanking him for saving your life. 

“I’m BANNED from working for the IPC!” you cry “I wasn’t even meant to be working here! But where else am I meant to go!? EVERY job is somehow overseen by some division of the IPC, I can’t work anywhere else! Now you say I’m not even worth killing!?”

Boothill stares, the gears turning as he simply takes the emotional vitriol thrown his way. It had been…a long time since he’d found himself faced with this kind of problem.

“Aw shirt…” he mutters, realising his words had only worsened the situation. He takes a knee, pulling his hat off as he watches, he sees the way you’re shaking, your fingers flexing; he might be ‘old fashioned’, but he could recognize a panic attack. “C’mere, let's get this great forkin marshmallow suit off ya.” 

You don’t even have the faculties to push him away as cold, robotic fingers begin tugging away at the velcro, the zippers and the straps. Breathing was getting harder, everything ached. Only once the galaxy ranger had pulled you free of the confines of that damned suit could you expand your chest properly. Too small, you realised, the suit you’d been given was way too small.

“Easy, easy, easy.” Boothill mutters as he sits you down “jus’ breathe.” 

Easy for him to say, did a cybernetic cowboy even need to breathe?

He could see the struggle, but what the hell was he meant to do about it? It wasn’t wrong..the IPC had their fingers in so many pies… finding a job untouched by them? That’s like finding a needle in a haystack. 

It wasn’t often Boothill felt…guilty. But somehow…you’d managed it.

“Aw c’mon, don’t gimme the waterworks.” he sighs “Look…ah’ll admit I forked up your job prospects, I’ll fudgin’ take that responsibility… will ya at least lemme see if I can help?”

“What can you do!?” You cry at him “If the IPC catches wind that I’ve somehow been caught up with you again-”

“Lemme take ya to a planet the IPC don’t care ‘bout.” He cuts in suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. “Been there plenty, they’re good folk, they’ll help ya.. Ya just…gotta trust me.” A planet untouched by the IPC? That seemed like a pipe dream…

“Impossible.” you mutter “any planet the IPC finds, it conquers.”

Boothill grins, that same toothy grin you remember from your first encounter with him. “I know, right? But this one? This one’s special.”

Eyama II was a small planet with little in the way of resources the IPC wanted or needed, a dwarf planet no less, nothing but a speck of dust floating through their air filters. It was a self-sufficient, homely type place…if he was being honest with himself, it’s where he would want to retire if he ever saw his goal through…living the simple life he used to know before the IPC had ripped it from him. 

He knows it’s not the most…elegant solution, but he knew some fine folk there, some fine folk who might just be willing to help the poor outcast he’d created. -

It’s a long trip. It had to be if it was out of the IPC’s gaze…but that did mean a long trip with Boothill.

In a tiny two person at most ship.

You didn’t really know what to expect, if he’d just tie you up and put you in the corner…but as it turns out…he’s somewhat hospitable… ok more than somewhat.

After you’d calmed enough to be reasoned with, he’d handed you a bottle of nondescript nature. Without much thinking, you’d taken a swig, eyes widening at the distinctly alcoholic taste. It wasn't anything strong like whiskey, but it was enough of a shock.

“Malt juice.” He clarifies as he takes a seat at the helm, setting the warp drive “figured it’d help calm ya nerves.” You blink down at the bottle before slowly taking another, more temperate sip.

It…wasn’t bad…actually it was pretty good. It burned your throat just enough to keep you in the present.

You both talk…small things, you ask him how he knew of this planet, and tells you about all the planets he’d visited that weren’t under the IPC’s thumb, how all of them were nice, simple places.

He tells you that he thinks you’d like Eymaya II, he thinks everyone would like Eymaya II. It had rolling hills and green valley’s. The people were mostly farmers, ranchers, common folk just going through the motions to get by, but not in the same nihilistic sort of way most did. Good, honest living, as he says.

Part of you wonders if there ever was a time this ranger worked a good honest life, if this whole…cowboy thing was a facade, or if it was real, remnants of a past he couldn’t return to. You’re not sure if it’s his conversation, the malt juice, or both, but you eventually begin to open up, about your home life, about your terrible habit of cutting into conversations when you were nervous, all of it. 

And when you begin to fall asleep? Your head nodding slowly where you sat, you feel a cold, metal hand rest on your shoulder.

“C’mon, you need ta’ rest.” He tells you, guiding you to the cot that looked seldom, if at all used.

For a wanted criminal who had put you out of two jobs and nearly killed you both times…he was surprisingly kind.

-

He wasn’t wrong about this planet. It was beautiful, the air was fresher than you could ever recall, living in the city.

Apparently, the look on your face says as much. Boothill chuckles, tilting his head softly as he watches you take it all in. “Told ya ye’d like it.” He hums, something in his mechanical chest whirring with..pride perhaps? Satisfaction? He wasn’t entirely sure, but seeing a face that, so far, all he’d seen from was fear and upset finally show…wonder…it felt good. He wanted to see it more, perhaps even a smile one day. 

He takes you to the inn, sets you up with Jodie, an elderly woman who had been around the block quite a few times, she didn’t put up with Boothill’s antics, more like…a curmudgeonly aunt at first as she barks at him for not calling in sooner, only for it all to melt away into an almost familial warmth as the cowboy explains himself, explains you.

“now child I know you did not lose this poor thing not one but TWO jobs!” She scolds, hands on her hips. 

There is a lick of satisfaction as you watch boothill shrink beneath the innkeeper’s rage. 

“Donchu’ worry hon, we’ll getcha set up here, somewhere this block for brains can’t accidentally getchu fired. Only thing that’ll do that around here is laziness…you aint lazy, are you?” she asks, turning to you and squinting her beady, aged eyes at you, making you stiffen up as well.

“N-no ma'am!” you bark instantly “I-I promise to work hard and earn my keep!”

This atleast, seems to settle her some, and before you know it, you have a hot meal and an ice cold drink in front of you, and you want to cry again.

You actually feel…somewhat sad when boothill has to leave…anxiety twisting in your gut… would you really be okay here? Would you survive? 

But he pats you on the shoulder and grins, and something about it is…comforting.

Something about it made you want to try.

-

It’s five years until you see Boothill again.

Jodie had grown too old to continue running the inn, and somehow, against all odds, it was you who had taken over. The entire place was yours, and you were happy. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t wonder how you ended up here, but then you recall, the enigmatic cyborg cowboy who had hijacked your ship, and then blown up a satellite array.

Somehow, your outlook on him had turned from disdain to…a strange sort of affection. The frigid anger had melted away, and what replaced it was a sense of…thankfullnes for what he’d done for you. Working here, away from the almost all-encompassing reach of the IPC had opened your eyes to just how…corporate everything felt, and how it so desperately wasn't you. 

It’s a late evening, you’re closing up for the night, the bar had emptied of all it’s usual late-staying regulars, and those who had rooms rented for the evening had already retired. 

You’re polishing a few glasses when the door swings open.

“Well now, there’s a face I ain’t seen in a forkin long time.” 

The voice is familiar, and has you turning, a small smile tugging at your lip. A mixture of feelings racing through your chest.

“Well well, come to let me collect your bounty, Sir?” you snicker, placing the glass you’d just polished beneath the malt juice tap to pour him a glass.

Boothill laughs, sauntering in with the swagger you remember as he drops into the stool closest to you. “How’ve you been, Boothill?” you ask him, setting the glass in front of him and waving away his credits. You owed him one drink, atleast, “what’ve you been up to?”

The galaxy ranger snorts, throwing some of his long hair over his shoulder “How long ya’ got there, sweetheart? S’gonna be a long story.”

“I own the place now, and we’re closed, so all the time in the world.” you hum, deciding to pour yourself a glass as well after locking the door. “Shoot, really? What happened to ol’ jodie?” He asks, voice tinged with legitimate concern as you drop into the barstool beside him.

“She’s fine, she’s fine..just old is all.” You assure him, finding a little comfort in the relief that washes over his features.

“Ah, fork don't scare a guy like that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair “thought Jodie had up n’ left us.”

“Nah, she’s got a while on her yet.” you snort, taking a sip of your drink.

The conversations run long into the night, catching up, listening to the thing’s he’d done, places he’d seen…IPC operations he’d torn apart at the seams. He listens to you too, as you tell him about how things have been here, catching him up on anyone he asked about. It was like talking to an old friend. You weren't sure…what boothill was to you…a friend? An acquaintance? It was…complicated. 

More malt juice enters your systems, you ask if it actually has an affect on him.

“You know…being a cyborg and all..” you mumble, feeling a distinct warm dusting to your cheeks as the malt settles. 

Instead of responding with words, the galaxy ranger reaches out and takes your hand into his. He feels…

Warm.

“You tell me, darlin.” He chuckles after a moment, watching you though half-lidded eyes. You barely even notice, more curious about how the alcohol affected him. Without even thinking, you run your fingers along his exposed arm; you weren’t going crazy, he was warm, almost humanly so. 

Your fingers continue to wander without much thought until they brush along his jawline; the sudden transition from steel to skin is what finally snaps you out of your own thoughts, pulling back with a squeak.

“O-Oh aeons I’m sorry!” you fluster at his face, his eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar. “I-I got carried away I’m-”

His hand reaches out again, clasping yours and pulling it back towards his face as he rests his cheek into your palm.

“Don't.” He murmurs, softly, softer than you’d heard him before. “Keep goin…please.”

A realisation settles across your mind.

“You…you can’t feel most touch…can you?” 

He doesn't look you in the eye, but he does sigh, only burying closer to your warm palm, worn after years of working hard…but still human.

“S’not that I can’t feel…I can…but..s’mtimes it’s so forkin dull I might as well not…but..my face is…”

“One of the few places you can feel.” You finish the sentence for him, feeling a pang of sympathy. You didn’t know how long Boothill had been like this, but you could wager long enough that he was more desperate for a kind touch than he probably even realised.

“Yeh…” he mutters, his lips turning down into a frown “sorry…ah know it’s probably-”

“Shut up.” you mutter, turning to face him fully, your other hand coming to rest on the other cheek as you watch this man, this gunslinging galaxy ranger, falter. His eyes widen before he shuts them entirely, leaning into it, starved of this type of affection.

“F’ya don’t stop this bullshirt m’gonna think you might have some feelin’s for me, darlin’..”

You didn’t know if thats what it was…but you didn’t want to stop either, a part of you wanting to sate you own selfish curiosity…another part wanting to do this for him.

“It must be a lonely existence, living like you do.” the murmur leaves your lips before you even notice you’d spoken out loud, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. Boothill stares at you in silence for a long moment, his gaze calculating, probing. 

“I thought ya’ hated my forkin guts…” He mutters.

“Perhaps once, for a little bit, I did.” You admit “But then you brought me here, and I’ve never been happier..”

A beat passes, then another, and another. Boothill stares at you, the feel of your hands on his face something he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

And then he leans forward, lips crash together and the taste of Malt juice and perhaps a little bit of oil is on your tongue.

You don’t pull back, if anything, you lean into it shamelessly. 

Robotic hands grip your waist as your own finally shift from his face to wrap around his shoulders. At some point his hat goes flying off elsewhere, but neither of you care; too strung tight, too wound up to care.

His teeth are as sharp as they look, but he’s careful with them as he nips at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue over the little beat of blood he manages to draw.

“Shirt-” He mutters against your lips, his eyes shut tight, you can hear his inner mechanics whirring, like a mechanical heart about to rabbit from his chest “fudge, if you don’t stop me now darlin I’m gonna keep taking-”

“Then take.” you mutter back at him, tangling your hands into his surprisingly silky hair and yanking. “Take what you want.”

“Oh trust me, I would but..” Boothill’s growl trails off, and for a moment he looks…embarrassed. You can’t for the life of you figure out why until he steps closer, your knee brushing between his legs- oh.

“Flat as a forkin’ brass tack.” he mumbles. 

You’re not sure why, it might just be the curse of your horrible humour, but your attempt at not giggling only sets you off into laughter that you attempt to muffle into his shoulder.

“Ey, watchu laughin at?” you expect boothill to be…mad at your outburst, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, feel the tremble of his own laughter “t’aint funny.”

“It kinda is.” you snicker out, pulling back to look him in the face. He looks a little sheepish, but thankfully, mostly just amused. “It’s okay…we’ll figure something out..”

His toothy grin settles back into a dangerous little smirk as the moment passes again, the kind of smirk that makes your belly twist a little. “Oh yeah, I got some other tricks up my sleeves.” 

Without much more to say, you find yourself being lifted, thrown over the cowboy’s shoulder- as you open your mouth to say something, you’re interrupted with a harsh slap to your ass, resulting in nothing but a squeak.

“Where’s yer room?” He snickers as you glare at him. 

You consider not telling him, being a brat, but the charming smile he returns to you is… yeah it does something stupid that goes right to your crotch. 

“Upstairs…first door on the left.” you mutter, flustering at the way his grin widens. 

If you didn’t know better you’d almost describe Boothill as practically skipping up the stairs, the angle for you however was a little trepidatious, and you find yourself clinging to him for a little more stability, right up until he carefully tosses you down onto the plush of your bed, landing with a soft thud.

He’s back on you, and your hands are back on him without him needing to ask; you can see the relief it brings, the way his eyelids flutter and his brow pinches as your fingers glide across his cheek, down his chest and along his arms, still warm, you note…

His lips return too, his own hands untucking your shirt just to get under it, metal fingers gliding over the smooth of your belly, up the your sides as he groans into your mouth. You wonder how much he can actually feel, if it was still dull, or if the alcohol had heightened his mechanical touch sensors somehow. You didn’t care, he looked happy, legitimately happy, like a dog being scratched behind the ears as you indulge him. 

His lips move from yours and he begins to nip and taste elsewhere, his nose brushing against your own as he leans in, nuzzling at your cheek, nipping at your jaw, revelling in the little sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you, especially when his wandering hands wrap behind your back and find the clasp of your bra, it comes undone with a surprisingly expert tug and you moan softly at it. 

(Who could blame you? You’d been wearing the damn thing all day.) 

You wished there was something you could do for him, something to pleasure him like he was doing for you, but you forced yourself to be content with touching him, running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at the soft strands; running your thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the shells of his ears.

Boothill however, seemed just as hellbent on touching you, but he had far more room to move, to explore, to play. 

Metal thumbs find your nipples, embarrassingly hard and sensitive after being trapped in the confines of your bra all day, and you moan as he rolls them both, back and forth in a slow, methodical rhythm that leaves your breath light, and your stomach twisting in knots. 

Pointed teeth find your throat, nibbling and worshipping every inch of skin they could catch. You’d have to wear a scarf tomorrow if he kept that up, lest the regulars at the bar notice the strange bruising… but you don’t stop him; you were all in on…whatever this was now. 

A metal hand pulls away long enough to pop the buttons on your shirt, leaving the plane of your torso open and exposed to his gaze, nothing short of hungry as he stares down at you. 

“Fudge…” he mutters, his voice husky “That’s a nice view…” 

“Tease.” you huff.

“Tease? Oh ah’ll show you tease.” He snickers, his mouth returning to your skin, working lower, biting at the junction of neck and shoulder, nibbling along your collarbone before the cowboy shifts further, his tongue darting out to lap at one nipple whilst a hand works the other.

You gasp and moan, a hand quickly coming to muffle your cries, cheeks alight with embarrassment at the sudden outburst. Boothill only chuckles, his eyes trained to your face as he lays, settling between your legs as he rests atop you to continue his work, but at least he doesnt pull your hand away, too engrossed on what he could feel opposed to what he could see and hear. 

He switches breasts while his free hand trails down, over the soft plane of your belly and to your belt, unbuckling it with ease and sending the strap of leather flying across the room before those fingers return, popping the button of your work jeans and dragging the fly down. You groan softly in appreciation at the relief it brings, only to feel those metal fingers working the waistband down.

Just what was he planning? you wonder internally as he gives your nipple one last, harsh suck before releasing it, making you keen beneath your hand. 

“Feelin good, darlin?” he whispers. He sure sounded like he was feeling good as he nuzzles against your skin, nipping at your stomach and trailing lower, hands gripping at your jeans, pulling them and your underwear away in one swoop, leaving you open, exposed, and embarrassingly wet. “Y’sure look it..” he adds with a low whistle “aint that a sight.”

“B-boothill-” You mumble, an attempt at closing your legs out of embarrassment only sandwiching his head betwixt your thighs. He grins at you; it’s such an endearingly handsome thing, it makes you feel like this wasn’t a first time thing between you both, like he knew you, like he was comfortable with you, which only added to the heat in your belly.

“Aw don’t go gettin all fudgin’ coy on me now.” he snickers “After all those drinks’ ya’ gave me downstairs, I’m still kinda thirsty.” 

His metal hands part your measly human thighs with shameful ease as he leans in close; you squeal when you feel his hot tongue lave down your inner thigh, warm breath so achingly close to your cunt it was maddening.

But it seemed Boothill was just as desperate as you were, his mouth attaching to your cunt after only a moment, taking in your squeal as his teeth gently roll your clit, the added danger only serving to make you wetter. 

“F-fuck! Boothill-!” you moan out, forsaking keeping yourself silent as your own hands scramble across the sheets, searching for something, anything to ground yourself as his tongue laps at your folds with fever; they eventually find and settle in his hair before giving it a tug.

Boothill groans, the sting is only arbitrary, but he loves it, he loves being able to feel something. The warm plush of your thighs around his ears, the heat of your cunt as he sucks on your clit, only made sweeter by your cries. He’d missed this, he’d missed this a lot..

“Y’aint seen nothin’ yet, darlin.” He growls low and loving against your thigh in the brief moment of reprieve he gives you. You stare down at him with hooded eyes,your knees already trembling from his vicious onslaught; he nips the soft, sensitive flesh of your thigh with a cheeky smirk, holding up a pair of fingers, watching your face as he slowly drags them through your wet folds, collecting your slick; you gulp. “Like a’ said, I got a few fun lil’ tricks up my sleeves.” His mouth returns, lapping and pulling you right back into the overwhelming, wonderful pleasure as a slick metal finger circles your entrance, slow, methodical, torturous. You nearly sob with relief when he finally presses the digit inside, the metal actually making it easier. He hums his approval at how easily his finger is sucked in, pumping it slowly in and out, in and out; taking things at his pace- perfect.

After a little while, you feel that finger beginning to probe, to prod and search for your G-spot, and before long he finds it, signalled by a loud gasp and a sharp tug at his hair, only pulling his mouth closer, his tongue working away at your clit like he wasn’t driving you absolutely mad with pleasure.

Once he’d found the spot, he retreats, slowly adding the second finger and beginning the cycle again, stretching you, filling you stupidly well; it was an absolute tragedy that he didn’t have a dick…at this point you were so stupidly horny, you would have climbed on top of him just for a chance to ride him.

(somewhere in the back of your mind, the saying ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ reverberates) 

As you’re right at the height, right at the edge, he suddenly stops, his fingers cease their movements and he pulls his head away, resting his chin on your naval as he stares up at you with such a stupidly loving look that it makes your heart twist; his chin was absolutely drenched in your slick, but he looked so very content.

But you weren’t.

“B-boothillllll-” you whimper, tugging at his hair again, why had he stopped!? Now of all times? You could feel his metal fingers pressed against your G-spot, but unmoving, they did little to pleasure you. You clench around them, but that too, yields little results.

“Sorry sweetheart, just wanted to see your face when I did it.” He chuckles, his smile twitching up in the corner.

“D-do whAT-” your question cuts off abruptly when the fingers inside you suddenly burst to life with vibrations, the strength of which you’d never experienced before. Your body coils and you nearly scream as he rams those fingers into your G-spot, stars exploding behind your eyes whilst pleasure cuts through your belly like glass. 

“That.” He hums, satisfied as he returns that sinful mouth of his to your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. His fingers were harsh and rough, crooking into your G-spot one second, and then splaying out the next, dragging rough and harsh against your walls; his tongue however was soft, gentle, slowly and carefully rolling circles around your poor little nub. You were going to go crazy, he was going to drive you insane and you were absolutely letting him. Your body reacts on its own, thighs squeezing hard around his head, spine arched upward; your hips prevented from bucking thanks to one of his arms, wrapped solidly around your thigh and holding you down to the sheets, forcing you to lay there and take it.

You knew the walls here were decently soundproof, but even you began to question if they could muffle out your cries, made worse when Boothill suddenly sits up, pulling you up along with him, practically folding you in half as he continues to feast on your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in centuries, his vibrating fingers plunging somehow deeper.

At first you struggle for air with the new position, your knees almost at your chest, but then he switches the angle of his fingers and aeons-, you didn’t think it could get worse than this. But the pleasure this new angle brings, it’s new, its terrifying and you don’t quite know how to articulate that to the galaxy ranger causing it all. Your hands scramble clawing and tugging at any part of him you could get ahold of, his name falling from your lips along with incoherent babble, desperation and worry all balling into one feeling you couldn’t describe as he continues to piston those fingers into you, hitting your G-spot with such accuracy, the flame in your gut turning from a high heat to a near-volcanic overload as you jerk and struggle.

The final straw is when you crack open an eye, catching sight of him, staring back at you with such…love, such unbridled affection.

You scream his name as you cum, harder than you’ve ever cum in your life. Your faintly feel yourself make an absolute mess of his face, arms, your back and the sheets below you as your world turns white.

–

A soft, damp cloth carefully rubbing over your skin slowly pulls you back into reality, rousing you from the soft and gauzy subspace of post-orgasmic bliss. You try to shift, to sit up…to…something- but a hand carefully manoeuvres you to lay back down on a thankfully, dry patch of sheets.

“Easy, darlin’” Boothill’s familiar southern drawl hushes you down “Nearly done.”

You crack an eye to find him carefully cleaning you off with said damp towel. Methodical but careful. You’re trembling from the exertion, but boothill looks absolutely fine, the bastard. 

In fact, he looks better than fine. A smile plastered on his stupid face as he works away, wiping sweat and other…fluids, off of you. 

When he was done with that, he wraps you in a clean sheet and lifts you, sitting you down on the trunk at the end of your bed, just so he could change the set you’d obliterated with your unexpectedly rough orgasm. You sit there, watching him, half asleep and pleasantly dozy before he pulls you back into bed, pulling you into his side. A glass of water is pressed against your lips as he encourages a few sips into you. 

You spend the night sleeping with him curled around you; the quiet whirr of his mechanical body providing a pleasing, soft white noise while hands stroke through your hair.

–

“Do you have to go so soon?” You ask as he reaches for his hat.

He’d been here a week, and it had been…for lack of a better word; wonderful. 

But all good things had to come to an end you supposed. The look on his face was enough to tell you what you didn’t want to hear.

“I gotta. I ain’t done yet.” He tells you quietly, despite this, he holds out a hand, a silent request for you to walk with him…the inn and the bar would be fine for a little while.

“I’d ask ya t’come with me, but that’d be the biggest forkin mistake I could ever make.” the cowboy admits. He wanted you to, he’d never felt so content as he had in this week, but bringing you meant putting you in danger…aeons know he’d done that enough already.

“Will you…at least come and visit me?” 

Boothill snorts as they meander their way towards his ship “O’course I will.”

“How often?”

“S’often as I forkin can.” 

You both stop beside the ship, it had a few more dings and dents than you remember, but it was still in surprisingly good condition.

“Well…” you mumble “at least you know you’ll always have a room at the inn while I still run it.”

“Y’mean yer’ room?” He snickers. “I forkin hope you intend on running the place as long as possible, I pulled in a good favor from jodie to get ya yer’ start ‘ere.”

You smile at him. Boothill thanks every aeon in existence that his cybernetic eyes had a camera function, so he could save that face and look back on it when he was drifting through the universe.

Slowly, he pulls his hat from his head, holding it to his chest as he leans down to press his lips to yours, one last time for the road.

“I’ll be back as soon and as often as I forkin can…y’hear?” He murmurs, you nod; fighting away the sting behind your eyes as you step back.

“I hear…and…Boothill?” you ask as he turns around to step onto his ship, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[jamiehe4rtsmen]

-> side dish ! : "man shit"

tldr ; seems like someone liked the movie more than he thought he would... -> a / n : i <3 this movie, it's so delusional hopeless romantic core. also sorry its soso short! school is KICKING my ass !! 💌 : mixtape to this fic ; beginning middle end by leah nobel (from the to all the boys i've loved before soundtrack)

,, yo, what're ya watchin' ? "

,, re-watching to all the boys i've loved before, " you chirp, snuggled up on the couch, petting both of the cats as they lay on your chest and stomach. he'd been wondering where the cats were as he streamed, and he'd strolled into the living room watching you with practical heart-eyes as you intently watched your movie, your whole body leaning forward as you hung onto every word.

,, that's such a girl movie. " he scoffs, crossing his arms as jambo hops off the couch, standing at his feet before he picks jambo up, holding the cat to his chest like an overprotective mama bear.

,, nuh-uh! my dad watched it with me growing up! " you argue weakly, mirroring his movements as you crossed your arms as if to prove a point.

,, yeah, and he was probably thinking, 'damn, i can't wait until my kid turns this shit off so i can go watch sunday night football and drink a beer. can we turn on a real movie, like american psycho?"

immediately you grimace, your tongue sticking out childishly. ,, eugh, no! that movie's nasty - there's just blood, blood, blood. there's no way you actually like that movie. "

,, it's a like, take on modern societ- " he started rambling on one of his famous filmbro rants which definitely were 100% not searched up on the internet by him with some version of 'how to look cool' and 'what films to like to impress your partner' and 'do people really like american psycho', unbeknownst to you.

you tried to interject, ,, bullshit- " but schlatt was a man, if not a determined one.

,, - and there's no way you actually like THIS movie! it's basically crack in a romcom, it's so cliché." he finishes, huffing and throwing his arms up, exasperated like a toddler sick of his first day at kindergarten.

,, just give it a chanceee, " you whine.

he grumbled something along the lines of being a man and how american psycho would be so much better, but despite his hatred for the 'girly' movie he stood in front of the tv, his arms crossed, huffing and grumbling - asking questions periodically such as "wait, who's josh again?" or comments such as, "man, this gen gal is a bitch - this is a romcom, right? do they kill people off in romcoms? can we kill her?" and praising peter kavinsky like, "yeah peter, you the man", or "yeah peter gettin' pussy!" ("jay, shut the fuck up!" you exclaimed after the fifth bro-comment along the lines of "get the girl, peter!" & "damn, he's the whole package." "jay, do you have a crush on peter kavinsky?" "shiiit, maybe i do! hey, can peter kavinsky be my hall pass?")

and in the last scene, to your surprise, he laughed, his eyes wide as he shook you back and forth. ,, peter got the girl!"

,, hm, seems like someone was paying attention. did you like the movie?" you tease, smirking, putting your hands behind your head as you kicked your feet up, studying his excited, giddy expression that the movie had a happy ending where his "boy" peter got the girl.

he instantly puts on the tough-guy facade, scoffing and guffawing as if that were ridiculous, but he mumbles under his breath,

,, maybe. dont tell anyone though, it'd ruin my image. "

divider credits to the lovelyyy @strangergraphics-archive. divider makers out here savin' lives 🙌

[creepswrites]

Billy loomis x reader where she’s a very introverted person and it kind of messes up his plans at the party that night everything went down

i tend to write billy a very specific way, which is why i haven't written very much for him, but i hope you enjoy this! he's very interesting to write for! mayb in the future i'll do a story and touch on his mind more, we'll see

BILLY LOOMIS with a F! S/O who is very introverted

“Dude, when’s she gettin’ outta here?” Stu whisper-yelled at Billy, jerking his thumb over in your direction. “We gotta get a move on and you said she’d be gone by now?”

“I know, I know,” Billy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew bringing you along to the party would make his plans with Stu far more complicated than necessary, but it would look bad showing up without you. He cared about you - shockingly, after all he wasn’t exactly fond of most people - and he didn’t want you getting roped into his shit.

He wanted you to go home with some group of girls who left earlier but you had been too terrified to ask them for a ride. So, there you sat in the kitchen, sipping on a vodka lemonade without a care in the world, blissfully oblivious to your boyfriend’s plot to murder.

Billy sighed, turning his head to look at Stu. The two were sat on a couch as Randy talked about some horror movie to the remain few guests. Of course, soon word would reach them about their dead principal and Billy had no doubt they’d take off to go see. This had all been planned meticulously for months in advance.

He knew it wasn’t your fault for screwing it up. You didn’t know, that was the whole point. Problem was how to get you out. “Is Tatum still… around?” Billy asked Stu with a hard look.

Stu blinked once. Twice. “Dude I told you, I didn’t want anything happenin’ to her.” His voice was low. “If you want her gone, dude, that’s on y-“

“No, no, I mean,” Billy huffed, “if she’s still here, maybe she can take my girl home. Two birds, one stone, ya feel?”

Realization dawned on Stu’s face. “Oh, yeah, I getcha! I’ll go find her.” He stood with a dramatic flair, attracting Randy’s attention. “I’ll be right back~” He said, walking backwards towards the stairs, earning laughs from the people around the couch.

Billy just smirked to himself and focused on his red solo cup. Coca Cola wasn’t his favorite but he needed to blend in. As he took a drink, you slipped into Stu’s place. Dark eyes followed your movement as you snuggled closer. “You okay?” He asked softly.

Now, very few people knew Billy beneath his surface level. His real thoughts and feelings. Stu knew more than most people but no one had ever seen him completely. It made him feel safer. Like his disguise was working. Dating Sydney had been a welcome distraction, another piece of his plan perfectly in place. So her dumping him hadn’t been expected.

Finding you wasn’t either. But he was attracted to something about you. Something in his gut that told him he might be able to trust you with his darkness. Let you in on his and Stu’s work one day, when you could all look back on tonight as just a faint memory.

Not now though. Right now, he needed to protect you.

While he’d planned on killing Tatum for a nice, clean finish, Stu had been resistant to the idea. Your very presence may have just spared her from any involvement. Stu liked her and didn’t want to hurt her but, unlike Billy, he was aware he might have to cut his losses.

Your introverted nature may have given Tatum a chance to walk away.

“You okay, doll?” Billy asked you softly, curling an arm around your shoulder.

You slid more into his side, scrunching your face up slightly. “I’m… not a big party person.”

He chuckled, a warm sound he had practiced. “I know. It’s why I’m glad you came with me. I- I know its really outta your comfort zone, but I appreciate you coming with me.” Billy kissed the top of your head, resting his chin there. “Next date, you can pick.”

A soft giggle from you made him smirk. “Is this a date?” You teased, tracing odd patterns on his jeans. “Odd date for an odd guy, hm?”

Oh, if only you knew.

Stu smacked his hands down on the back of the leather couch, making you jump and making Billy shoot him an annoyed look. “Hey, uh, Billy?” Stu bit at his lip nervously, Tatum looking clearly worried over his shoulder. "Sydney's upstairs getting sick in the bathroom."

Billy frowned, scanning Stu's face and noting the ghost of a smile there. While he'd broken up with Sydney weeks ago, they still needed her for the final act. So they'd slipped her something that'd make her throw up but not do any real damage to her. A last minute adjustment to the plan but, sometimes, Stu had good ideas.

Quickly, Billy put on a face of alarm. "Oh shit, did something happen?

Stu shrugged. "Hard to say. Think she might need some help."

Tatum gagged lightly. "I love Syd, but no way. That's gross. I just wanna go home."

"Aww, not stayin' the night?" Stu teased, wrapping an arm around her waist. He kissed her temple as she looked at you.

You and Tatum got along fairly well. Being girlfriends of two best friends meant you two would have an easier time getting along versus hating each other. Besides, Tatum knew it wasn't your fault Syd was paranoid and broke up with Billy.

"Would you mind driving her home for me, Tatum?" Billy asked softly, brushing hair back behind your ear. "I should make sure Syd gets home alright and I don't wanna leave you here alone." Billy kissed your forehead softly.

You frowned slightly. "Are you sure? I don't mind helping."

Billy smiled at you, his perfectly practiced smile reassuring you. "I'm sure. I was gonna leave anyways. How 'bout I head over to your place after I help out Syd?" He asked, a smirk growing on his face.

You blushed as Stu giggled obnoxiously, him and Tatum gagging over the two of you. As if they weren't the king and queen of disgusting couples things.

Tatum took your arm and dragged you off the couch and towards the door. "You better make sure Syd gets home safe." She pointed a delicately painted nail at Billy and Stu.

Billy held up his hands placatingly. "So long as you get my girl home safe. Deal?"

Stu laughed and Tatum rolled her eyes, hooking elbows with you as the two of you marched out of the house. You liked Tatum, since she wasn't afraid to speak her mind and always defended you. She, of course, made sure you got home safe and sound. When you'd finally gotten home, you took a quick shower, changed into pajamas, and fell into bed.

You didn't even notice you'd fallen asleep until you woke up to the sun's harsh rays beaming down on your eyes from your bedroom window. A pang of concern came over you when you realized Billy hadn't come over.

Quietly, you padded down the stairs and saw your mother and father's eyes glued to the television. It looked like whatever had their attention had interrupted your dad heading to work and your mom from cooking breakfast. As you stepped closer to ask what was wrong, you heard the newscaster's voice.

"...police confirmed the killer to be Neil Prescott who broke into the house and killed five people - including his daughter Sydney - and then himself. The only two survivors were Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, whom authorities say are currently hospitalized due to injuries."

You stopped listening, adrenaline coursing through you and your heart pounded as you stared at the screen. Oh god, Sydney's dad killed all those people? His own daughter? You bolted for the door, not even bothering to change out of your pajamas as you made your way to your car. The hospital would no doubt be open, you thought as you backed out of the driveway.

All you could think of was that you needed to see if Billy was okay.

[pumpkinsy0]

i eat up any time and pony interaction PLEASS I BEG give me some hcs of them interacting

ur so real,,,im tired of darry and curly interactions,,,,wheres my tim and pony interaction lovers at,,,hmu,,,

•pony doesnt know it, but tim has a nickname for pony in kreyòl

•nickname a lil too generous, hes lowkey making fun of pony but its not bc hes trynna b a dick, tims just,,,like that,,,,

•tim actually reads a bit and sometimes pony talks to him about books theyve read, curly teases that they have a lil book club

•tim has a tendency to ask curly “hows the curtis kid doin”, just to secretly catch up w him, he also asks this to darry when they catch up at bucks bar

•i think ignoring whatever the fuck darry and tim have, he finds pony to be the most interesting curtis brother, at the very most one of the most interesting person hes met in general cause ponys different from everyone else

•ok so technically tim is still enrolled in school and actually does show up VERY rarely and he has some elective classes w pony (those classes where ppl from different grades r in the same class) and tim always sits w pony

•partially bc ponys the only mf he knows there but also to serve as a bodyguard bc ponys pretty small compared to everyone else

•at some point they started doing fistbumps to great each other and pony felt like he unlocked a character w that😭😭

•tim would see some doodles of curly in ponys sketchbook and he KNEW curly and pony were gettin together at some point, tim was like one of the first ppl to realize, he just gave pony a look of “hmmm” and pony nearly shit himself

•tims saved pony from being jumped and hes just,,,carried pony to the car to get him home, and pony was honestly more astonished at that for a bit than being jumped for a sec

•second time pony ever drank was bc tim told him to bc pony got hurt and tim said it would make it hurt a bit less while he was patching him up which, wasnt TOO off but its not bc the alcohol rlly helped pony was just focused on the taste more than anything

•ik i say pony stares at tim and it freaks tim out at times but tim b starin too and pony feels like tims accessing him, he jokes w curly that tims a walking lie detector

•yknow what i think tim wouldve visited pony at the hospital if he was hurt that badly, maybe even got him a lil gift like a switchblade “to replace the other one” or whatever, hes a fucked up guy what can i say

•nobody rlly knows it, but after everything that happened, tims got some guys watching over pony to make sure no soc’s try to get their “revenge” or whatever