#this sucks butt

[mj-thrush-gxn]

Change

[ludaantilles]

Bounce for me sexy / bouge pour moi sexy 🖖🏾🤤🥹👅

[mariamarias-stuff]

[bossbambino]

Breast feeding equipment

[sarahmesstuff]

Happy weekend guys💦

[n64cloud]

I deserved the love I got because it was the love I gave. I am deeply sorry for trauma reacting and being stupid with how I handled things it was a lot and holding onto everything only furthered how volatile I became and the further I pushed to be righteous and pure the more I turned into everything blowing up. I keep trying to re-find my passion and put it into that but it ends up with her absence being felt in whatever I'm doing. I want to let go but how I feel and the trauma that caused my actions just keep me in solitude trying to be okay with any of it but I'm just not. I'm glad that there's more people coming out and putting a light on things. Turning red and encanto both touch on it but generational stuff is hard to beat. And naturally it's something that experienced you want to know how to handle it from the get go and feel like it's impossible for you to slip into but suddenly that's where you're exactly at and everything you've been scared of is right there but that doesn't mean it's you it doesn't mean that you're stuck there or need to fall further

[hwaitham]

𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚

boothill x f!reader . unspecified relationship ﾉ unspoken confessions (?) ﾉ reader is implied to be his engineer ﾉ he calls you poppet ﾉ something short and hopefully sweet for our dashing ranger (〃ω〃) ꒱ྀི 912 wc

“you know, i’m most jealous of people who have houses to live in.”

your muscles tense upon hearing boothill’s words and the crack to his voice as he speaks them. he sounds more human than ever. 

the metal plates of his chest are turned open, outwards, baring all his inner workings for you to inspect for errors. tangled wire and frayed heart. a cold, lorn ancestor pumping blue blood.

“why?”

“i mean, it’d sure be nice to have a place to come back to at the end of the day. kick my feet up ‘nd pop open a bottle of bart 17 years… strum some tunes ‘nd sing to the moon. fudge, having a bed to lay down in don’t sound so bad, either.” he scoffs, takes a swig of the malt juice sitting next to him on the lab bench. sets it back down, smiles at the floor— a wistful smile at that, you notice. one that doesn’t near reach his bionic eyes, one that crackles and decays at the edges of his lips like oxidising iron.

the grip on the soldering gun in your hands slackens the slightest of bits, your smile mirroring his own. “that sounds rather lovely.”

“y’know what else would be rather lovely? a pretty little lady to make that house a home.”

there’s a hitch to your breath when you realise how boothill has leaned in to invade your space, broad shadow looming over you and diesel oil laying thickly on the membrane of your nostrils. some feeling bordering the line between trepidation and earnest expectation fills your gut as you sense his gaze on you, and you do your best to avoid it, fighting the urge to hold the man you’ve grown so terribly fond of to your chest, as tender as your own heart.

(you would let him live there, in your heart, if he so desired. you would wish for it, even.)

“perhaps she’d be an engineer of sorts— patch me up when my missions go awry, put all of my broken pieces back together again…”

“oh… yeah?” your voice wavers, yet your hands remain as steady as ever, welding two wires together.

“mhm,” boothill drawls, leaning into you further. the space between the tip of his nose and your forehead feels infinitesimal. “i’d have her back, just as she’d have mine. i’d take care of her, just as she does me… kiss her ‘nd love on her, make her the happiest woman in all the galaxy.”

his voice melts into something nectary and bedroom-soft the more he speaks of this woman, so cloyingly sweet that it gives your lungs and limbs a warm ache, warmer than silica from the sweetest of sands. you find your sinews loosening at the feeling, heart slowing— his shoulder looks to be an enticing spot to rest your head. 

you yearn to share this warmth with him.

so, finally, you allow yourself to meet the ranger’s eyes, blinking in surprise when you realise just how close he’d gotten over the past minutes. close enough to be able to make out the yawn of craters and mountains decorating his slate irises, the near faded freckles over pale meat that you long to brush your thumbs over. boothill, too, seems to startle as you look up at him, the little smirk once etched on his lips falling into a small pout of awe.

“and… and she’d have these eyes, the most darlin’ dewy eyes that’d just— gosh— they may as well have gone and knocked my heart straight outta whack.”

these eyes, your eyes, chocolate sweet eyes that are teeming with about the same paradoxical innocence and percipience as a doe’s— boothill doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to them. how looking into them rouses his mechanical heart like no other, seizes his entire being with such a voracity that he thinks he just may blow a fuse.

the cyborg nearly remembers what it feels like to be hungry.

and born from the longing that chokes you is a generosity wherein you’re ready to offer anything, everything to him; you’d let him indulge in that hunger and have you without question.

there’s no hesitation in your response as you whisper, near inaudibly— he’s sure he wouldn’t have picked up on your mousy voice if it weren’t for prior enhancements you’ve made to his neuro chip. “maybe you should try asking her if she’ll join you. maybe… she’ll say yes.”

you finish your soldering job on his wires and seal shut the metal plates of his chest, letting your gloved hands linger there momentarily before bringing them up to cradle his face.

an odd sensation works its way under his flesh at the contact, sweet little tingles beneath his cheek, like cinnamon powder dusting over frothy milk. he’s quick to find a place of rest within your palms, the respite you give him with a tender smile, and boothill realises that this is more than enough.

he doesn’t need a house, when he’s already found a home in you.

“well, then,” huffing out a quiet laugh, he gently takes you by the waist with chromium fingers, soft lips finding the crown of your head. his body is of both hard and soft parts; metal and meat. “what say you, poppet?” 

his hunger, too, has both hard and soft parts. head and heart, an immortal soul and human happiness.

“would’ja ride with this lone ranger ’til the end of the line?”

[pleasureville]

Juicy and delicious

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

alcina dimitrescu KILLS her maids and drinks their blood

karl heisenberg tried to use a BABY as a weapon

ethan winters is WHITE

mother miranda tries to STEAL someones daughter

at the end of the day, your favorite resident evil 8 characters are terrible people

[sarahmesstuff]

Samurai tiddies😱💦

[beverlyjalllen]

Say yes if you seen it 😸Follow me

Sannipi_- beveralln

[mewvore]

I have so many friends who are into muscular women I'm basically drowning in positivity for beefcakes. So much so that my neck nearly snaps from the whiplash I get coming across irl rancid opinions from folks who think women shouldn't be built like brick houses, and get scared whenever a lady has a strong jawline

[pleasureville]

Give it a kiss

[key2220]