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dstryvampres · 3 months

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drabble or short fic, where the reader is a ballerina and cillian (or any of his other characters) is her teacher and they start an affair??? please arhgggh i love your fics!

Doll Parts

Cillian Murphy x Ballerina!Reader

Warnings: age gap(reader is 20, cillian is late 30s early 40s), power imbalance, smoking mention, fingering

Word count: 2k

A/N: thank you so so so much for the request ! this honestly was a prompt i’d never thought of but really just ended up loving :)

You had essentially been raised by your ballet studio. Years and years spent in the small confines of the studio, moving from the soft and simple preschool classes to the advanced stages. As you moved up your class sizes became smaller and smaller, and your teacher’s became stricter. Finally, as you prepare to audition for the role of Copelia in your company’s spring ballet production. You have been given the honour of training one on one with one of the studio’s ballet instructors. Unfortunately for you, they had paired you up with Mr. Murphy, a teacher you had during your late teens that you found distracted you far more than he actually helped you. You were infatuated with him ever since you first walked into that class with him at 16, and it stayed that way now as he watched you stretch before practice, four years later. His blue eyes were haunting at points, analysing every inch of you at almost every second you were in this practice space together. At almost every moment he tore you apart with his eyes, and you couldn’t get enough of him.

Every night you left the studio to go back home you continually thought of just him. The small touches on the waist as he adjusted your posture, his smooth voice as he whispered praises in your ear, and how you longed for him to press his lips against yours. God, how you longed for him to do anything to soothe the fire that he lit in your body.

Mr. Murphy clapped his hands together, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Okay. Do you think you’re ready to run through the routine from the top, one last time?” Mr Murphy asks, walking over to stand in front of the mirrors

You nod, picking yourself off from the floor and to the centre of the room. Taking a deep breath in before going into the starting position.

“One, two, three, four,” Mr Murphy counts in, clapping his hands in a steady beat as you move through the routine.

Your legs still ache from practice before your break as you start up the routine, but as any dancer at your level would, you work through it. Focusing elsewhere on your breathing and the steps. Gentle leaps, spins, and footwork move you around the fake stage you’re on to the beat of Mr Murphy’s clapping. You’re doing well enough that he hasn’t stopped you yet, able to make it through 3/4th of the routine before you hear anything.

“Stop!” Mr Murphy shouts, and you freeze with your hands above your head and a foot off the ground.

He walks over, shoes making soft thumps as he approaches you. The sound stops as you feel a hand settle on your waist, you close your eyes as his other hand moves to the thigh of your raised leg.

“I understand that you’re tired,” Mr Murphy sighs out, directly in your ear, “but you can’t start to get sloppy when it’s almost over. Your work needs to be consistent all the way through sweetheart.”

You want to melt at the pet name, but stay still as he pushes your raised leg upwards a little bit more. His breath fans over your ear and cheek, grabbing ahold of your chin lightly and turning your head to face the mirror with the hand that was once on your waist. His touch is soft, light, and warm, something that will keep you up tonight. Now the two of you are cheek to cheek, it’s so intimate that for a second you falter, but are able to gain your composure quickly. He smiles at your falter and clicks his tongue.

“Look at how I’ve positioned you,” Mr Murphy whispers, the movement of his lips tickling your cheek.

He slowly removes himself from you, but his touch still feels like it’s burned under your skin, like it always does after practice.

“Continue,” he demands when he is situated in front of the mirror once again.

You start from where he left you, pushing through the last minute of your routine with as much energy as you could manage. Finishing up in a wilted position on the ground, breathing heavily as you wait for any sort of feedback from your instructor. A couple seconds pass before you hear a slow clapping from him. Slowly you look up to be met with a warm smile from Mr Murphy, a foreign sense of joy peaking through his normally harsh and critical exterior.

“Well, that was quite wonderful. Dare I say one of the best practices we’ve gotten through so far. If you continue improving like this for the next three weeks you could land a sizeable role,” Mr Murphy says, walking over to you. He sticks out a hand to help you up, and you take it gently.

“Thank you. All my progress is thanks to you,” you reply meekly, not able to look into your instructor's face now. He’s far too close than what is professional, but it’s not like you mind.

“Would you want to go out and get a drink? Just a small celebration, on me,” Mr Murphy asks, whispering it into your ear. A secret you know that if you take in, you won’t be able to back out.

“Yes,” you whisper back, face getting warm with excitement.

He pats you on the shoulder, tracing his hand down your arm and to your hand before squeezing it. Your chest feels tingly and heavy at the action.

“I’ll meet you outside the studio then,” his hand is slowly pulled away from your own before he leaves the room.

You know why Mr Murphy wants to take you out of the studio tonight. It’s the same reason he looks at you with his icy blue eyes in that way, it’s the same reason why his touch lingers on you for far longer than necessary, and why it’s only you he ever praises and compliments. Still, you wonder if you’re right about your hunch as you meet your instructor outside your studio tonight. He stands leaned up under a light post in the snow, a cigarette between his lips. As soon as he sees you he takes one last puff before squashing it on the ground.

“Hello,” He greets, offering a sly smile to you. His cheeks and ear tips are red from the cold, you almost feel guilty about making him wait for you out here.

“Hi.” You don’t voice your guilt to him, too worried about embarrassing yourself.

“You’re one of my best students,” Mr Murphy states, stepping closer as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think you’re one of the best dancers at the studio.”

Now he’s so close that the condensation of your breath is mixing together with his. Forming a big cloud above your heads each time either of you take a breath. You stare into his eyes for a couple seconds, searching for what he means by any of this. He smells of cigarette smoke and vanilla. A hand cups your cheek.

“Are you cold?” He offers as a horrible excuse for his close proximity and the hand on your cheek. You both know this, so he leans in slowly, and your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are pressed against your own, softly, gently, like if he pushes any harder against you you’ll shatter. Slowly he pulls away, eyes scanning your face for any discomfort. This time it’s you that pulls him into a kiss, hungrier and harder than the last one. You both pull away.

“I am a pretty good bartender myself,” is all Mr Murphy has to say to get you to follow him back to his apartment.

You walk with haste beside him, arms brushing against one another, almost, the whole way there. Once you get into the elevator he’s already unzipping your jacket and kissing you again, hot and passionate. You know years of longing for him are being released on your end tonight.

Soon enough you’re sitting criss cross on your dance instructors couch, taking in the fairly nice space. Mr Murphy comes to sit beside you after he’a put away your coat. His hand comes to rest on your upper thigh, rubbing it softly and slowly. You bat your eyelashes at him and he leans in to kiss you again, this time you get enough courage to slip your tongue into his mouth. His hands settle on your waist and direct you into his lap to sit. Pulling back from the kiss just so he can stare at you for a brief second, perched upon his lap, before bringing you back into the kiss.

His kisses alternate between your lips and your neck, filling you with hot desire as you trace up and down his torso with your hands. In return Mr Murphy slides his hands under your skirt, toying at your panties underneath.

“Do you want me to finger you baby?” He prys, biting at your ear to punctuate the sentence.

“Yes,” you breath out, grinding down against his lap.

His lips are back on yours once again, pushing you off his lap and into the cushions of his couch. You shudder as he starts to trace your slit through your panties, only able to release now just how wet you are. Spreading your legs open to try to tell him to start fingering you already. The message seems to come across, as he flips the front of your skirt up and pulls your panties down your legs.

Mr Murphy breaks from the kiss to stare at your pussy, spreading it open with his fingers and toying around your wet hole. You whine, bucking your hips up demanding more. He clicks his tongue as he looks back up at you, but still goes back to kissing you. Sliding a digit up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness before sliding a finger in.

You gasp into his mouth at the finger, feeling him smile at your reaction. He pumps it lazily in and out of your wet hot cunt. Not going deep enough, it makes you want so much more. He slides in a second finger, earning him a moan from you. Now with two fingers inside of you, he finger fucks you properly.

He sets a steady pace, hitting different spots inside you each time until he finally hits the spot that has you moaning into his mouth with every push of his fingers. His fingers are long and thick, something you’ve craved for so long to be inside of you. Nights of dreaming about gagging on his fingers, and about him making you cum on them has now come true.

“Do you like this sweetheart? You like how I finger your dirty wet hole?” Mr Murphy asks, speeding up his pace.

You let out a moan in response, nodding your head as your eyes roll back. Your hands look for purchase somewhere, one lands on the couch and the other on his bicep. Mr Murphy’s fingers feel so nice inside you, the way he fingers you brings you to as close to heaven as you’ll get. You squirm around as he speeds up, feeling the heat in your lower stomach increase with every pump on his fingers into your cunt. His heavy breathing just pushes you further to your release.

Mr Murphy’s thumb reaches up to your clit, rubbing small fast circles into the bundle of nerves. As soon as his thumb came to brush your clit, you knew you had seconds to go before you were tumbling over the edge.

“Cum for me sweetheart,” Mr Murphy says, looking at your face contorted in pleasure.

His words finally push you over the edge as you cum all over your dance instructor's fingers. Gasping and moaning loudly, as your hips buck upwards a couple times. You lay on his couch for a couple seconds, breathing heavily as you try to compose yourself. Mr Murphy removes his fingers slowly from you, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table to wipe his hands off. The embarrassment of the situation comes back to you as you try to cover your pussy with your hands.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed by now,” Mr Murphy lets out a dry chuckle.

#.dstryreq #dstryvampres #cillian murphy #fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian smut #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy x y/n

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suashii · 3 months

Text

— 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 3.8k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ a few suggestive bits ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ pet names ( darlin’ ) ﾉ brief mentions of food

previous part ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ the end!

we have come to the of of little miss city girl, the farmhand boothill series :') thank u so much for the support u have shown on these fics! i could not have ever imagined one of my silly little thoughts entertaining so many people. while this is wraps up the plot, i will continue to write little extras of fh!boothill, just in ways that aren't linear to the main series ❤︎

your room looks like a hurricane ripped through it—all the clothes from your closet scattered messily over your bed, makeup products and hair appliances strewn across your vanity, and at the center of it all is you. your fingers are tangled in the roots of your hair and a groan that sounds like it came from another person penetrates the air. unlike a hurricane, there’s no calm in the eye of this storm. you thought your stress was supposed to be subsided by now—the hard part has passed, so what the hell is this?

the date hasn’t even started and everything seems to be going wrong. you have no idea what to wear and boothill has been absolutely no help on that front, not budging even an inch when you asked for a hint as to where he was taking you. the answer you got was, “patience, darlin’,'' accompanied by his signature smirk and wink before he left you to continue with work for the day.

just as you consider tracking the farmhand down to ask him again and force him to give you something a little helpful, your phone dings. you ignore it for a second and then another before you remember that you recruited help from meg a little while ago. you practically dive for the device, quickly unlocking it so that you can read over her long-awaited advice.

go with the white babydoll dress!!!

the one she’s referring to and a few other options lay atop the mound of clothes that you’ll have to put back later. it caught your eye earlier but you had wondered if it would be too dressy for the occasion. there’s only so much to do in town and half of those things involve getting dirty but if you and meg both have your eyes on it, then the dress must be the one.

thank you, love you!

with one less thing to worry about, you hop in the shower a little more carefree than you have been since waking up this morning. the nerves that have had you on edge for most of the day are slowly but surely turning into ones that are itching for time to move quicker.

the rest of your preparation is considerably less taxing with meg’s input and your gradual decline of overthinking. you’re able to style your hair and paint on some makeup without any trouble, your foot mindlessly bouncing up and down as you hum the melody to the last song you listened to. soon, the only sign that you had experienced any turmoil at all is the state of your room. you’ll deal with that later.

you’re packing your bag with the essentials—chapstick, mints, hair ties—when there’s a knock at your door. the sound makes you jump and suddenly the nerves come rushing back. you can’t let boothill see your room like this. luckily for you, he’s content talking through the door.

“i’ll be waiting for you outside, darlin’. no rush.” his voice is a little muffled but despite the obstruction, you can still hear the smile in his tone. you can see it in your head—soft pink lips curling up at the corners, a little higher on the left, and sharp, pearly white canines of display. the sight once ignited annoyance in you but that feeling has all but died down, replaced with something closer to fondness.

“okay!” you yell back.

he assured you that it was no rush but you find yourself hastily gathering the rest of your things. before you tuck your phone away in the bag, you shoot meg a text that you’re about to head out. the device buzzes with a notification before you’re able to put it away and you quickly read over meg’s reply.

have fun and be safe! update me as soon as you get home… or not ;)

your lips part in surprise at her thinly veiled implication. the thought alone of anything even remotely intimate like she’s suggesting is enough to make your cheeks burn and the tips of your ears heat up. you put the screen of your phone to sleep and shove it into your bag, hoping the thought will disappear with it.

you make your way down the stairs and stop at the doorway to slip on your boots before you pull the door open to meet boothill at his truck. the vehicle is pulled up right in front of the porch. he leisurely leans against the passenger door, legs crossed at the ankle and arms crossed over his chest. he looks like a still taken from a romance movie and the corners of your lips turn up as you wonder if that was his intention.

he’s never struck you as the type to watch those kinds of movies but as you look at him, you realize that there’s a lot you still don’t know about boothill. you bite back a smile at the thought that a little part of you is looking forward to learning more.

“well,” boothill starts, standing up straight and stuffing his hands away in his pockets. irises like stormy clouds look you over from head to toe before finally stopping at their destination—your eyes. “you look mighty pretty—as usual.”

“thanks.” you suck in your cheeks to stop yourself from puckering your lips in embarrassment. it’s nothing you haven’t heard before but the compliment feels different when you’ve put in the effort to look nice, and for him, at that. you clear your throat and gesture to his figure, moreso the outfit he’s dressed in. “you clean up nice.”

his outfit is simple, a plain white t-shirt paired with jeans and the pair of boots he reserves for occasions outside of work at the ranch. there’s a red bandana tied around his neck and one of his favorite hats, a brown beige, sits atop his hair that’s pulled back into a ponytail. it’s nothing out of the norm for him, though, the dirt and sweat that typically stain his attire is absent. he’s clearly put in a bit of effort for the experience.

boothill grins at the courtesy. he could get used to receiving a little bit of praise from you. even such a simple statement makes him feel like he’s on top of the world. all his patience seems to have paid off. “i hoped you’d think so.”

a strange sense of ease overwhelms you knowing that the farmhand also had you in mind while he was getting ready, was compelled to try and impress you. though, you’re sure his room didn’t end up looking anything like yours in his pursuit of the goal.

thankfully, boothill doesn’t allow much time for your mind to wander and for you to get self-conscious all over again. he’s moving before you, spinning on his heel to open the passenger’s door of his truck. he turns to face you once more.

“your chariot, m’lady,” he swings his arm out in a gesture full of flourish that makes you hide a laugh behind your hand. your suspicion that boothill may have taken some inspiration from a film only grows stronger with the motion but you play along, not minding feeling like the main character of a romantic story as you walk down the couple of steps from the porch to meet boothill.

you catch a whiff of him as you slide past to take your seat, clean with soap and the subtle scent of earthy sandalwood. it’s a heady smell that drifts away too soon as he cautiously closes your door and rounds the vehicle to join you on the driver's side.

your head is practically swimming with the pleasant scent of him when boothill takes his spot beside you and even more so when he turns on the air conditioning. your thoughts are bound to roam if you continue to focus on it so you close your eyes and shake your head before turning to boothill. “so, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”

“nope,” he tells you as he pulls out of the driveway and onto the main road. the man spares you a quick glance with his next words. “you’ll find out when we get there.”

you force out a dramatic sigh that earns a chuckle from boothill. despite your theatrics, you don’t push the issue. he seems hellbent on keeping it a secret and maybe the surprise will have been worth it not being spoiled by your curiosity.

so, while boothill drives, you settle for fiddling with the knob of his radio, switching between stations until you land on one that’s playing a song you like. boothill playfully ridicules you for skipping past so many decent songs but you stand your ground, arguing that the radio is the one thing you have control over since he insists on being so secretive.

he can only smile and agree.

one full song plays before boothill pulls off to the side of the road. a crease forms between your eyebrows, confusion written on your face. other than a house a little farther down the road, there’s not a building in sight. what around here is worth stopping for? “what are we doing here?”

“quick pit stop,” he tells you, unbuckling his seat belt and pushing the door open. cluelessness must be evident in your expression because boothill tips his head down to laugh. he explains once he lifts his head. “stay here, i won’t take long—promise.”

you don’t question him, you just let your eyes follow his figure as he sets out to the field beside the road. you have no idea what business he has in the grass but you don’t question it, choosing instead to change the song playing over the speakers. warm air from outside the truck flows into the vehicle through the door boothill left open and while it’s not hot enough to make you sweat, you lean closer toward the vent. with your attention focused on a multitude of other things, you barely notice boothill’s return, not taking note of his presence at the open door until he clears his throat.

your head whips in his direction and you find him bent over the seat, his feet planted outside the truck and his arms resting on the seat. it takes you a moment to register that there’s a bunch of something colorful in his hands—flowers. they’re wildflowers, a pretty blend of orange and yellow, not nearly as neat as a professional bouquet but just as thoughtful.

“for you.” he holds the homemade bouquet out to you. it reminds you of a time a little while ago when he said those exact same words. he was handing you flowers from miss alma then but the more you thought about it after the fact, the less sense it made that the lady didn’t give you the flowers herself—you were right there, after all. the thought had nagged at you—the possibility that they may have really been from boothill—but you paid it little mind, choosing not to read too deeply into the gesture for your own peace of mind.

unlike then, you don’t hesitate to take them. the bunch is held together with a hair tie and it’s only then that you realize boothill’s ponytail has been freed from its confines, hair flowing freely over his shoulders and down his back. “from you this time?”

“of course.” he smiles. if he picks up on the fact that you’re onto him, he doesn’t show it, simply boosting himself back into the truck and closing the door behind him. you gently run the pads of your fingers over the soft petals as boothill makes his way back onto the road. a soft smile pulls at your lips, one the boothill catches out of the corner of his eye. he doesn’t mention it, just cherishes the short glimpse of the sight he’s beginning to think he’d move mountains for.

several minutes pass before the environment shifts, the tires of boothill’s truck going from riding smoothly on the pavement to roughly over uneven dirt. it makes for a bumpy ride. that paired with the fact that you’re unsure where the two of you could be heading is enough for you to speak up. “are we allowed to drive down here?”

boothill shrugs, keeping his eyes ahead. “what’s a broken rule here and there?”

you frown at that. it’s doubtful that anyone will see you out here—it’s secluded enough—but you can’t help but wonder if you’ll end up getting in any trouble. sure, it would make for a memorable first date but you’d rather the occasion go off without a hitch. “you didn’t say we’d be partaking in illegal activities.”

“it’s not illegal,” he tells you with a laugh, one that he tries to conceal under his breath but is loud enough for you to hear. “just frowned upon, maybe.”

you click your tongue in response.

“wow, a city girl and goody two shoes. i’ve got my work cut out for me with you.”

“oh, shut it.” you slap his shoulder which earns an entertained chuckle from the farmhand. your annoyance at yet another nickname is short-lived as you look out your window. boothill is driving down what you imagine is meant to be a hiking path, far too narrow to have been intended for anything larger than a park ranger’s utility vehicle. the only thing you’re passing by is trees, and plenty of them. “what the hell could possibly be out here?”

boothill grins—partly at you swearing but mostly because his goal of surprising you can now be considered a success. “you’re looking at it, sweetheart.”

you send him a questioning look but he only points ahead in answer. following the direction of his finger, you peer straight ahead through the windshield. underneath the sun’s glowing rays, the soft waves of a creek glisten. the densely wooded area has thinned out to make way for a clearing, one of dusty dirt and tiny pebbles that crunch beneath the tires as boothill maneuvers the truck so that the rear faces the body of water.

he turns the key in the ignition, the engine dying with the motion. gray eyes flit to his right to catch your gaze. “meet me in the back?”

you nod, unbuckling your seatbelt, opening the door, and hopping down to the ground. the slam of the door alerts two birds and sends them flying. you watch their wings flap as they flee while you make your way to the back.

boothill is busy opening the trunk when you arrive, pulling down the horizontal door and peeling back the topper that covers the bed. once it’s open, he rounds the back and effortlessly climbs onto the open space. he looks down at you and offers his hand. his fingers wiggle in invitation before you take hold of him. with his support and the step on the bumper, you’re able to join him in the bed.

at the new height, you see that the bed looks different than it did when you last saw it. instead of being lined with the protective mat and filled with groceries, a blanket covers the surface. there are pillows propped against each other, a wicker basket filled to the brim with an assortment of snacks and boothill’s guitar is even laid out amongst the things he brought.

“didn’t wanna overwhelm you with anything fancy or nothin’,” boothill explains upon taking note of your silence.

you think about how awkward it would have been to share a meal with boothill alone. though, the thought of boothill dressing up in something more formal than his typical attire and hating every second of it is a humorous one. despite missing out on the opportunity to see a whole new side of the man, you’re grateful he had your comfort in mind when it came to planning this. “no, no, this is nice. this is great.”

you take a seat on the cushioned bed, not-so-subtly eyeing the spot next to you in a silent gesture for boothill to do the same. he follows your lead and sits down with his legs crossed. your shoulders bump in his attempt to get comfortable and the accidental movement reminds you that there’s no center console separating the two of you now. without the air conditioning, your closeness makes it much easier to feel the heat radiating from boothill. it’s not unpleasant but, just like his scent, it makes you a bit lightheaded.

“so,” you start, tilting your head toward him so you can get a better look at the farmhand from the corner of your eye, “what are we doing besides taking in the scenery with snacks and music?”

“talkin’.”

you turn your head fully so you’re facing him, waiting patiently for the rest of his sentence. the subject never comes. “about what?”

“well, you haven't really jumped at the opportunity to tell me about yourself.”

you can’t argue with that—you’ve been fairly private in terms of your life when it comes to boothill. other than the little bits your grandpa has let slip and the few things he’s picked up during your interactions together, there’s a lot boothill doesn’t know about you. first dates are all about getting well acquainted with each other, right? “okay… what do you want to know?”

he smiles a soft smile at your willingness to share. “whatever you wanna tell me.”

it’s a broad ask—lets you keep certain things to yourself and expand freely on others. so you do. you tell him about your summers on the farm—how you’d pester your parents to drive you down practically the second school let out for summer break. you tell him about the tree climbing, the horse rides, the fruit picking—everything you got up to during those warm months off. you tell him about your summers at the ranch coming to an end, traded in for internships and job interviews. you tell him about how all the stress you tried to ignore over those years caught up to you, how you finally bit the bullet and came back to find some solace.

boothill listens intently, nodding along to your stories, smiling at the parts where you find yourself speaking through giggles, hanging off your every word. he says it's a bummer that something so crummy led you back here but that he’s glad it did—otherwise, he wouldn’t have met you.

that part makes you bite your cheek in a failed attempt to hold back a smile. being the sole subject of his stare is intimidating. it feels as though he’s seeing you—really seeing you, beyond the walls you put up that he’s actively tearing down brick by brick. it feels almost selfish that the spotlight has been shining on you all night. you take the break in conversation as an opportunity to turn the focus on boothill, to ask him what he asked of you; to talk.

he tells you about his days in high school—how he used to help his dad out at his auto repair shop and how he took up guitar at his mother’s insistence. he plays a song his mom used to like—the first one he learned—for you before opening the floor for requests. you ask for “a crazy little thing called love” by queen. the implication of the song’s title doesn’t hit you until boothill’s eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise. your mouth opens to explain but he cuts you off with a little ah-ah-ah, fingers finding their place on the strings and beginning to strum.

you lose track of how many songs he plays, how many pieces of popcorn you’re able to toss into his mouth, how much time has passed in this peaceful little bubble boothill created just for the two of you. by the time you question any of it, the sun has bid you goodnight and left you with its glowing white counterpart. bright stars speckle the sky and crickets chirp amongst blades of grass when boothill finally checks the watch on his wrist.

“gettin’ pretty late,” he informs you, wiping the palms of his hands on his thighs. he turns to you with what looks like a sleepy grin—he must have woken up for the day a while ago. “about time i get you home. if that’s alright with you, of course.”

you nod. as nice as these few hours have been, it wouldn’t be fair of you to keep him out here because you’re not ready for the night to end.

he stands up with a grunt, offering you a hand to help you do the same. you accept it and let him pull you to your feet. the warmth of his hand disappears as he lets go to hop down from the bed. he beckons you forward with two fingers, holding his arm out to help you down.

such a gentleman, you think, smiling and shaking your head as you take a couple of steps toward the edge. before you make it, the toe of your boot catches on the blanket. the mishap sends you forward with a shocked squeal but your shins don’t scrape the bed and you don’t hit the ground with an ungraceful thud.

you’re safe in boothill’s hold, his arms wrapped around your thighs, your chests pressed closely together. it’s a compromising position, though, despite the frantic beating of your heart, you don’t bother telling him to put you down or fighting your way out of his grasp. you simply look down at him and swallow the nervous lump in your throat.

he smirks. “you alright?”

“fine,” you tell him. the reassurance comes out a bit breathy.

“good.” he doesn’t put you down. “did you have a nice time?”

“yes.” you nod. “i did.”

bathed in the dim moonlight, you gaze into boothill’s eyes. he stares back into yours. neither of you make any effort to move. it’s like you’re frozen in time, or maybe it’s moving slower, you’re not sure, but there’s only one thought circling in your mind at the moment.

you have no idea where it came from but you act on it before you can think any better of it, leaning down, your nose bumping his. you’d barely consider it a kiss—more like your lips gently brushing against his, but the shockwave that courses through your body at the contact hits all the same.

boothill’s lips stretch into a smile underneath yours but he chooses to keep them sealed, not teasing, not escalating.

you don’t go back for another, nothing deeper, nothing more passionate, nothing more raw. you’ll have plenty of time for that after tonight. instead, you bring your hand up to run your thumb over his lower lip. your next words come out as a whisper. “how about i plan the next one?”

you can feel his chuckle against your finger. “i expect you’ll show me a good time, little miss city girl.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: honkai star rail #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill fluff #hsr fluff #boothill drabbles #hsr drabbles #honkai star rail drabbles

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kai-ni · 3 months

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HEY GUYS CONTACT YOUR SENATORS/REPRESENTATIVES VIA THIS EASY TOOL ON PET ADVOCACY NETWORK TO BRING TO THEIR ATTENTION THE BAN ON (CERTAIN) REPTILE HEAT LAMPS AND UVB BULBS

This is disastrous for reptile keepers.

Due to a regulation enacted by the Department of Energy (DOE) back in 2022 that aimed at improving energy efficiency for lightbulbs found in the average American home, companies that make essential pet products like heat lamps for reptiles, are now being told to remove them from shelves across America because of the light bulbs they contain. That means removing access to vital lamp products that pet owners need to make sure their pets stay healthy and thriving.

Also remember to customize the message so it's not just the same endless emails to their offices, I changed the subject and wrote a personal message at the top.

#reptiblr #leopard gecko #crested gecko #bearded dragon #reptile #reptile keeping #snake keeping #snake #ball python #gecko

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intuitively-her · 7 months

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(Knight of pentacles, 6 of wands, 5 of swords rx, Queen of swords rx, Strength rx, 10 of wands, The Lovers rx, The Moon, 8 of swords rx, Judgement)

You're taking your power back and making your dreams come true. This year will be very rewarding for you. You've been putting in endless work, and your spirit guides/ancestors can see this. You will allow yourself to be more vulnerable and ask others for help, especially at work. You're putting your ego to rest and doing what's needed for you. Someone here may start going to therapy. You're finally starting to realize that you don't have to carry life's burdens on your own. You're leaving behind petty issues and distractions that have been holding you back. Self-love is the theme for you this year. Doing less of what you want, and more of what you need. You will spend more time discovering yourself and figuring out what you truly want out of a relationship. This year, you will step into your divine feminine/masculine energy and become a softer version of yourself.

☎️Angel messages: Helpful people, Opportunity, Get more information

(Knight of wands, Knight of pentacles, Knight of cups, The Magician, 5 of wands, Death rx, 8 of wands rx, 6 of cups)

This year, you'll be living large and taking charge! You're going after what you want. Someone here will start a new job soon. Or you're switching career fields. This is the perfect time. You could be starting a new project, or you're finishing one. Expect a successful outcome from this. Someone here could have an online business, or you could be a content creator. This year will push you out of your comfort zone in so many ways. Someone here will take a solo trip somewhere. I heard "bungee jumping" lol. Someone here will have to do a public speech for a big event, or a performance. You will put yourself out into the dating world again. I see you having fun on dates and not taking anything too seriously. This year is going to make you slow down and live in the moment.

☎️Angel messages: Caution is warranted. Look deeper into this situation before pertaining further. Yoga and exercise are essential to your well-being, peace of mind, and spiritual growth at this time. You have a special bond with animals. Your pets on Earth and in heaven are watched over by angles.

(Queen of pentacles, 10 of pentacles, Queen of swords, Page of swords, 6 of cups, The Emperor, Ace of swords, 7 of swords, Judgement rx)

This year will be very abundant. There's a lot of big wins in store for you. Someone here is getting a promotion at work. You should play the lottery more often this year. Luck is on your side. Someone here could be getting their own apartment/house. Or you could be redecorating your home. You're finally receiving what you've envisioned and dreamed for. Someone here creates vision boards to help them manifest. You will tend to your inner child a lot more this year. Doing the things that you've always wanted to do. Someone will go to an amusement park. Or you've been wanting to. It would benefit you to reflect on your childhood and do some of the things that you did for fun back then. Arts and crafts? Scrapbooking? You might make a drastic change to your appearance this year. I see someone here changing their style completely. New hair/makeup? This year will teach you to stand up for yourself and what you believe in. Be careful not to self-sabotage a good opportunity for yourself. Know that you deserve good things!

☎️Angel messages: Trust, Big & Happy changes, Ask for help from others

(The Sun, 3 of wands rx, 3 of cups rx, King of wands rx, Ace of swords, 7 of cups rx, The Fool, 2 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, The Star)

This year will be a reality check. It seems like you've been feeling unmotivated, or you're not as productive as you could be. There will be some obstacles and disruptions thrown at you this year. This is all to make you see the bigger picture in situations. For some, you can be naive at times, and this causes you to set impossible expectations for yourself/others. And then when those expectations can't be met, you act like it's the end of the world. That needs to change.🤷🏽‍♀️ You will spend more time alone this year. This is needed for your growth. You'll learn to balance your life and become more adaptable to new ways of being. Heavy on the self-improvement. This year is going to test your faith in many ways. Someone here will start a diet routine or get back into the gym. Someone here could be working on starting a new business. Family business? You will gain more recognition as the year goes on. The more you focus on yourself and mind your business, the more attention you gain from others.

☎️Angel messages: Forgiveness, Reconsider, Communicate clearly, Recovery

💗Please DO NOT repost, copy, or steal my work. Thanks!💗

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a card #paid readings #pick an image #zodiac reading

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