charlie | 22 | she/her | mobile about MINORS DNI, occasional nsfw content constantly rotating steve harrington in my brain writing tag cheministrations on ao3!
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i dont think i posted this here
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happy one year anniversary to boothill's first banner on cn!!! he is the love of my life and i am so grateful for him
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Day45 ブートヒル※女装 by 南条まや [Twitter/X] ※Illustration shared with permission from the artist. If you like this artwork please support the artist by visiting the source.
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Please, tag where you're from 🫶����
#sometimes yes (when the gathering was outdoors) and I sat there#sometimes no (when the gathering was indoors) because there wasn’t room for two separate tables#but the kids would get grouped together down one end when we were all at the one table#so kinda lol
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Party: In Ghoul's defence I did distract him. Ghoul: He's very distracting 😉 Party: Ghoul! 😠I'm okay, Kobra. Jet: You're missing an eyebrow!!! Party: Motherfucker!….It'll grow back. Kobra: YOU'RE ON FIRE! 🔥 Ghoul: He is smoking hot. Party: NOT HELPING GHOUL!!!!
I'm trying to be a bit more expressive and cartoony with this one. Don't know if it worked as my style is too realistic sometimes. I just wish I had a cartoony style some days. One day I'll draw Kobra Kid and Jet Star fully, they're who you can see at the edges.
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a howling ray of light pierces my eyes
the bells of parting toll
the answer born out of the history built by god
tastes like sand
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⟁ 7:14 PM ft BOOTHILL.
⠀ — braiding his hair bc my brain is rotting and i miss him.
⚠︎ fluff, thats really it, mechanic!reader but its not really relevant, suggestive if you squint and cover one eye and hang upside down. gn reader, wc 860.
boothill's head was lulled back between a pair of soft, comfy thighs, eyes a content and lazy half lidded as he felt some familiar calloused and precise fingers detangling little pieces of his hair. the sun was almost down past the horizon, and the last few warm rays peeking out left the room hued a gentle orange colour, its two inhabitants bathing in it..
he felt a slight tug here and there as you worked your magic, taking the knots out of those long white locks with patient fingers.
“you have such pretty hair.”
you mused quietly, combing out another strand with your nails. boothill's lips tugged up lightly in a gentle smirk— a hint of pride washing over him. he was a bigger sucker for praise than he’d ever admit.
“well, it’s gotta look good if it’s gonna match th’rest of me.” he drawled, voice a low rumble filled with a certain ease that rarely surfaced— well, rarely with others, anyway. he received a playful tug of his hair in response.boothill leaned back a bit more, trying to catch a glimpse of your endearing focussed expression.
he was slowly melting against your deft fingertips, silently whirring internals mimicking the quiet purr of a cat as you twirled a piece around your finger.
“can i braid it?” you asked simply, already sectioning out a few strands at the top.
“do whatever you want, sugar.” he granted with a little shrug, smirk still playing on his lips. “reckon a braid’ll help keep it from flyin’ into my eyes so much.”
he felt the rhythmic crossing of each strand as you began to braid, every brush of your nails against his scalp sending a pleasant shiver right through his wires.
“y’know,” he opened, voice still that gravely tone you could never get enough of. “ain’t nobody else i’d sit still for like this.” he admitted, brashness taking a backseat to give way to a tenderness reserved for one person only.
“yeah?” you smiled a bit, continuing to braid. “just for me, huh?”
boothill couldn’t help but let out a scruff, throaty chuckle, vibrations running through his chest.“just for you, darlin’.” he echoed.
“you’ve got a magic touch, i s’ppose,” his eyes shut briefly. “could get used to this.”
the melodic and methodic movements of your fingers were earnestly making him drowsy, a soothing lullaby that laced and weaved around him in the same patterns as his hair.
“like being pampered?” you teased playfully, earning a chuckle from him.
“you just got a way of makin’ a man feel real special. that’s all.”
your fingers kept slowly crossing and twisting strands.
“you should let me curl it some day,” you suggested, amusing yourself with the thought of him dawning a bunch of puffy ringlets. “you’d look like ‘genti.”
boothill's low laughter echoed quietly in the room, a deep sound that harmonised with your own.
“now that’d be somethin’ to see,” he admitted with a playful scoff. “ol’ boothill with curls bouncin’ around like some dandy.”
he shook his head as he pictured it, and you had to flick his cheek to remind him to look straight.
“i'd sport some curls if it meant i get to see you smilin’.”
you smiled fondly at that, taking a small hair tie and wrapping it around the tail of his braid.
“you’re sweeter than you let on.” you reached around to fix his bangs a little bit.
“there.” you tilted his head up a bit to look at him, feigning shock. “well, ain’t you pretty?”
hearing his own southern drawl echoed back to him made the cowboy snort. “ain’t i just the belle of the ball now?”
boothill's hand instinctively reached back to feel your handiwork, prosthetic fingers tracing along the weaves of his hair.
“mighty fine job, sugar plum.” he commended, turning around to face you on his knees, hands sliding up your thighs until they met behind your back in a careful hug around your waist. he looked up at you— really looked at you, that mushy softness in him pushing out through the cracks you always left in his defences.
“thanks, darlin’.” he said quietly, those red cruciform pupils locked in on your own. “means more’en you might know, you spendin’ your time fussin’ over me like this.”
the cyborg’s head fell comfortably down in your lsp, nuzzling into you.
“i think fussing over you is a full time job,” you teased lightly, a smile evident in your voice. “not that i mind.”
one of your hands traced the mechanical connections of his arm, all the way up until your fingers gave a gentle brush to his cheek.
boothill let out a breathy chuckle, some air fanning across your tummy. his fingers, a soothing and smooth cool metal, traced little shapes along your lower back.
“well, i reckon i oughta start payin’ you overtime for such dedication.” he quipped quietly, demeanour playful yet earnest as always.
“paying me to start might be better.” you gave a playful pinch to his cheek.
“i got a few ideas for how i can pay ya,” he teased back, giving a little nip to your thigh.
⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?
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