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#boothill x you
smolmousepotato · 2 days
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Tw: ooc, Boothill x fem!reader, tavern, bad writing ig, cringey i think
Midnight tavern
"What's a pretty lil' thing like ya doin' here eh?"
You can feel a warm waft of air trail the side of your neck as a figure corners you from behind. The night is still young.
You came to this tavern in hopes of drowning the day's fatigue with alcohol, with or without fun, you couldn't care less. But the relieving is a must.
Alone, you sit on a stool by the counter with your usual drink: a blueberry martini.
Your senses can't help but relish in the way the berries and vodka blend and soothe the raging storm within your soul. Everything is washed away, bit by bit along with each sip. By the end of the night, you'd expect a cleansed mood, free of annoyance and exhaust.
But this random guy who had been staring at you from across the counter might just create some more stress for you.
You were talking to the bartender when he rose from your peripheral vision. His tall form caught your attention. You notice the mechanical details on his body and the way he showed them off in a flashingly bold way.
The rim of his hat was overshadowing the half of his face. Gruffly, you see him approach.
The bartender left you with it, being occupied with another client.
And so that leads to you, being pressed against a wall by the man whose name you barely know.
He speaks to you in a low, rough voice with a thick Southern accent, towering his form over you. Chills were sent down your spine, and the alcohol in your system did the effect worse.
It felt hot. Amidst the crowd of the tavern, he traps you in one place, breathing heavily down your neck.
"Tell me."
"Just... for a little relief..." you reply with a quiet voice, looking away from his intense gaze.
"Mm, why do pretty lil' dolls like you need relief eh?"
"Personal stuff. Is it necessary for you to be this nosy?" You grumble, a little annoyed by the close proximity between you two.
"Hm, why, it ain't my business at all, in fact," the man leans back a little, noticing your annoyance. He chuckles, "I was just a lil' curious 'bout this pretty doll right here, so feisty ain't ya?"
"Not your business."
"Of course it ain't, cutie."
"What?"
"What? Got any problems 'bout that nickname I give?"
"Yeah. I don't even know you, and you're throwing nicknames at me."
"Aight, the name's Boothill. Pleasure to know your beautiful name?"
"Why should I even tell you..."
Afterwards, he eventually got your name. He grins and presses a brief little flirty kiss on your lips.
"See ya later, darlin'~"
You wouldn't think of a day you'd see someone's dignity missing like that.
He awaits you the next day you return, flirtatiously gazing at you. You can see him tip his hat.
Day after day, he'd be there, in the same spot you'd found him in since the first day, tipping his hat a little and grinning.
One day you step in to find his absence. A routine image, now you can't help but feel a little empty inside.
You take your seat, order your usual and chillax.
You sigh. Perhaps that flirt was entertaining after all.
Drink after drink, you venture forth beyond your forte, intoxicating yourself by midnight, when the tavern lessens its people.
That is when a certain man walks in, all bloody and staggering. He had a duel with another outlaw and took a bullet in the arm. The blood was the other's.
He sees you, limping over the counter, probably passed out cold. A closer distance; he smells alcohol and a mixed scent of multiple berries.
With a chuckle, he asks the bartender for some bandage and wraps his "wound" up.
His eyes wander back to where you sat, his heart swell with a need to wrap his arms around your form and pick you up.
But that'd be weird if he does, right?
So he tries his best to ignore it and acts casual, walking past you like nothing happened.
——
But she wasn't fully asleep. She can pick up the metallic scent of blood from where she sits, and it alerts her from her slumber.
His steps come to a halt when he felt a light force tugging at his arm. He turns around, a smile gracing his lips.
She, a small little thing who picked up the sense of danger and decided to be awake, though a tad bit sleepy.
"Well, what's this huh?" He chuckles, "clingy all out of a sudden?"
He can hear little grumbles from her, signifying her unclear annoyance towards him.
"Tell me, doll," he swoops in, his arms on the counter, trapping her from above, "would you?"
"Hah?"
"Would you care... if I walk in... this bloody?"
"I mean who doesn't? You look like you were dying."
"Yeaaaah, but still, that's just a side question. Here's the real one dollie, answer it honestly."
"50-50. Depends."
"Stop that."
He leans closer, his lips about to touch the shell of her ear when he whispers, "miss me?"
That sent shivers down her spine, making her weak in the knees and blank in the mind. That caused her heart to race like it's never before.
That makes her realize that she craves his presence.
"No." She spats, feigning annoyance.
———
You hear him chuckle.
"Y'know liars don't get to live so long."
"I wasn't lying."
"Sure thing, hun."
His hand grasps at her chin, pulling it upwards so that her head leans back. Those grey, unique eyes gaze into hers in a certain way that stirs up the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.
"Mmmh... what a sweet lil' thing, ain't ya?"
A pause of silence, where he looks into your eyes and solidifies you with all those feelings.
"Consent?"
"What?"
"A kiss?"
You look hesitantly at him, but your body has a mind of its own to decide on what must be done. Your hand wanders to the collar of his shirt, gripping it and pulling it down until his lips press against yours.
There was a slight halt in his breathing, as his eyes widened and his lips slightly agaped. But that was a brief moment before he dived right in, carrying passion with his kiss.
Your lips lock in a palpable passion, where your hands grip the back of his head and his hand rubs your body all over.
He chuckles as the kiss breaks. His hand grabs you by the collar and yanks you away from the stool.
"Get down 'ere, you sly lil' minx."
The alcohol in your system exposes you to being a little staggering, and an extra bit of flirtatiousness.
You grin, looking up from your height, into his eyes. There was affection and amusement in those eyes.
And then your lips collide in an intense kiss, once again. His arm wraps itself around your waist and tightens, pulling your body into his, and encouraging you to hold onto him.
So your hands do. They grasp onto his shirt, trying to pull him closer.
His hands then snake themselves under your body and pick you up, carrying you to the inn next to the tavern.
———
And then behind doors, each and every one of their kisses further lightens up the passion that has been suppressed within their hearts in fear of rejection. But now they both accept one another's feelings and are already in the same bed, it's clear that the passion blooms into lust and whatever comes afterward.
Perhaps the cowboy has found his place where he belongs, and so has she.
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anantaru · 26 days
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HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT
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— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, dr ratio, sunday, boothill x fem! reader
— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, dom hsr characters, oral (fem! receiving) & fingering, established relationship, hitting it raw, dirty talk, tit play + biting & marking, prone bone ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ
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— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + shamelessly moans into your ears
his moans have that kind of power that attack you with the lightest bit of touch but rumble inside your nerves with an utmost generosity that continued to burn an everlasting need into the rigid twist of your belly. he flips you over to your stomach and kneads the handful of flesh on your ass, greedily as his hands retreat— now, he uses his hand to keep your hips sealed against his aching half, while the other was positioned next to your head to refrain his weight from leaning and crushing against you.
aventurine's mouth was hot against your ear, too hot, in fact, that your body manifests swells of electric jumps on your limbs and muscles, your blood thrumming as you're audibly hissing out petulant sobs through your slacked jaw.
"tell me how it feels, yeah?" he sighs between gritted teeth, savoring the anticipation as his eyes squeeze shut, hips aligned and drawing his oozy tip against your entrance before pressing into your hole.
"ugh, fuck—" he grunts, "you'll mess me up today, hm?" as he moans deeply into your ear, so grateful to you as you shakily exhale through your mouth, your hole melting around his thick shaft before he inches further through your plushy walls.
aventurine was unashamed of gasping out those lecherous noises for you, brazen to the point where he's telling you how you feel as you squeeze him and cloud his mind with your milking compression indulging in him, "aah— you feel so nice, so soft, i'm losing my mind," he cheekily laughs between his whines, feeling elevated.
he kisses your neck as you sob, your walls feeling all of him inside as you exhale between a shaken embrace— but it's telling how much it turned you on when your boyfriend was this vocal with the pleasure you caused on him, his tongue darting across your neck before he loudly groans into the skin, your hole tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go, adding pressure again.
your eyes roll back as he grinds himself in you, always holding against your ass to fondle with the skin as he repeatedly pressures and pulls his cock through your creamy hole, entering all his inches inside an eager cuddle.
the sensation of having him claim your body in such way made your stomach do flips and tumbles, and the hums into your ear only multiplied the ways you responded to him with fizzy tears pulling at your lashes. right there, aventurine spills his brazen moans right against your ear, shamelessly between affectionate words of love, sending your inmost nerves into hard overdrive.
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— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱ + pulls your face to him before you climax
before he advances forward to his original plan, veritas will make you feel like you're mounting off pleasure and ah, your silhouette was charming to look at, no? you're so sweet when you hide your face from him. yet he doesn't understand why you're so embarrassed to show your flustered state? regardless, he loves when you do that, hiding the real taste, doesn't matter if he's suckling on your clit or watching how you suck him off, you're always warding off his enticing gaze.
the tantalizing signs of your embarrassment were enough for dr ratio to focus on all the different regions of your body— not only that, but he inspects your breathing and how it shudders through you, not to mention how it hitches when he grinds into your cunt.
with that, he can determine that you prefer it faster, although mixed in with a couple slow grinds once he's sheathed himself fully inside. a combination of both can do a lot more, and channeling it into one was his speciality. you're making it just that easy for him.
you wonder why? well, it's because you make everything look so sexy that it's so easy to figure you out.
after finding the perfect tempo for the both of you, your warmth clamps around him before losing yourself in each precise, calculated push of his hips overloading from the feeling of being close to you, or ah, being one with you, correct? it's how you're throbbing and creaming his entire base full that he realizes you're right there, feeling an upcoming wave of pleasure making itself visible.
"i'm cumming, i'm, aah, fuck," you moan beneath his hypnotizing pair of eyes as his hips rush through you, spreading your poor, little cunt apart as your hole flexes around his shaft. veritas knew he had to be quick with it, so after hearing you sob and wince, he draws himself off your neck and cups your face roughly, casting his eyes on you.
the man was gorgeous and he knew it, much to your dismay— he could also be a total idiot about how annoyingly handsome he was and that he always knew how to use it to his benefit— although in this moment, his face was soused in his sweat, messed up around his forehead and covered with fizzling lust for you.
a strangled cry rips from your throat and vibrates through his eardrums as your body vividly shakes under him. you're whimpering at the embarrassment of having him look at you while he's forcing the eye contact with his hand bending around the softness of your cheek.
you had no idea how much of a difference it made to look at him and become so, vulnerable.
you squirm under his searing silhouette, crying out the most beautiful sounds as your sore hole twitching around the base, utterly spent as veritas only admires the glow in your eyes, nothing more and nothing else.
the two of you exhale shakily in your afterglow, wet skin clinging to the sheet and relishing in its dirtiness.
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— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱ + kisses your clit before going down on you
he holds himself back, he needs to, because fighting the urge to bury his face where you needed him the most was always worth it— before he latches on your clit, he uses his rough thumbs to push the plushy skin protecting your clit aside to plant his plump lips over it, ghosting his mouth on top as he's almost successful enough to distract you from two digits bumping against your weeping hole.
sunday adjusts his face on your pussy before planting a wet kiss on your clit, his lusting eyes turning dark in the dark light as he roams two fingers inside your cloying hole, "give it to me, i know you can do it," he takes each necessary step to make you arch your back and gush all over him— your bothered silhouette making his cock ache and balls throb in his boxers.
his digits ascend over the slopes of your velvet walls as he presses delirious sensations on your cunt before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, messily grinning against your folds when you wince to every single droplet of his saliva hitting your cunt.
what doesn't come as a surprise is that sunday likes being messy with it— he needs to feel the wetness, the sheer contact of a hot tongue on your throbbing skin that he asks himself, can you feel it too? oh silly, of course you can, there was no room for debate by how you're reacting to it.
he swallows your arousal pooling on his tongue as he laps at your clit while his fingers graze along the sponginess of your walls, your pussy holding and clenching around the two digits. your eyes were half lidded, almost closed, your body so responsive that your cunt pulses at nothing but the tip of his tongue nudging into your clit.
"so obedient you are, my dear," he rasps before your fingers slope around the loose strands of his hair to press him into your heat, your back arching and your cunt spasming as you ride his face.
sunday hums happily, satiated, "what a good girl you are," he praises you enlaced in a wanton voice, thrusting his fingers roughly as you cum inside a silent cry.
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— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱ + teases you with his teeth
your saccharine alike face prompts a menacing grin from him as he settles you on his lap before tilting your head a little— his eyes drizzling into the space on your neck and how he could feel your heart beat from that precious spot. boothill tests the waters, his insatiable hunger for you being so painful as he sighs out excitedly. he grazes into your neck and drags the sharp edges through your sensitive skin— always holding you on his waist with one hand wrapped around while the other toyed with your soft tits.
boothill has everything under his control, okay? you needn't worry— in fact, he always tells you to not torment yourself when all you had to do was trust him with your pleasure.
a smile stretches across his face as he brazenly flattens his tongue against your neck, feeling your pulse thud on the wet muscle before squeezing your tits to mess up your focus. you cling to his strong shoulders as you arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his digits, "you like that, don't you?" he drawls, your moan bending when he pinches your tit again.
your eyes roll back, and ugh, it feels so good, his rough yet precise touches were capable to induce waves of sparks from your breasts to all the way down, hitting your aching pussy. you're humping against his thigh and drool, more so stain your panties with your slick. the swell of his bulge was heavily pressing against your clothed folds, and boothill knew it wouldn't take long until you'll beg him to fuck you.
alongside those mesmerizing touches that marked up your breasts, the man took his time and acted unhurriedly as he sucks on your neck, shielding his eyes as he dips his head right above your collarbones. your skin mists with drops of his saliva as you find his hair beneath your hands, tugging slightly at his strands.
boothill moans into your neck, the vibrations setting a fire on your wet core, "let me consume you..." you hear him murmur playfully, his sharp fangs tauntingly pressing into your neck as you arch your back, "pretty, mh, you're so good, so lovely, so pretty, and ugh," as he stammers, his tongue blazing wildly across the pulsing spot that he's bitten, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he calls your name.
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© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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k9wa · 22 days
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𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.
⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.
⠀ OR
⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.
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⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k
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boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.
a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.
as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.
“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”
you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 
“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”
you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.
“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”
boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.
“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 
“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 
“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”
you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.
“how’d it happen?”
boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.
“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”
boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.
“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”
the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.
“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.
“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”
boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.
“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.
“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”
the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.
(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)
you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.
“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.
“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”
boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 
“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”
that censor really was gonna drive him insane.
“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”
it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.
“feel fine?”
boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.
“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 
boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 
“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”
you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 
boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.
the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.
“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”
you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.
“what are you talking about?” 
“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”
boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.
you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.
“make a fist,”
boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.
“open it,”
he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.
“hold up two fingers,”
boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.
“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”
boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.
“least one o’us can say it…” 
“do you want me to fix you or not?”
“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”
you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.
boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.
it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.
“something the matter?”
boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.
“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.
“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”
boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.
yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.
boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.
“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”
each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.
“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”
you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.
boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.
“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”
you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”
this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.
you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.
boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.
“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 
he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 
“just like watching you squirm.”
you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.
“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 
boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.
“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.
you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 
so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 
his own dream, now his downfall. 
boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!
“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”
he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 
as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.
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⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?
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angelltheninth · 20 days
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*SLAMS HANDS ON THE TABLE* I'd like sunday's and boothill dick served on my cunt, separately If possible,thank you.
Well it is possible but... together is even better imo. But to each their own.
Pairing: Sunday, Boothill x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, gentle sex, praise, clit stimulation, rough sex, cuddlefucking, teasing, orgasm denial
A/N: I feel like these two couldn't be more different.
SUNDAY
Cuddlefucking is his favorite way to fuck you, almost every day in fact. Won't go crazy if he doesn't feel your body pressed against his or anything but there is a noticeable dip in his overall mood. Not into quickies unless the two of you really need to fuck some stress out urgently. Otherwise he really prefers to take his sweet time, teasing his cock into you, watching your face adopt that adorable expression when pleasure over takes you and you're oh so good for him, your cunt sucking him in deeper and your arms pulling him into your embrace.
BOOTHILL
Teases you all he desires. He doesn't see you for longer periods of time so all his pent up lust needs to be released somehow and often it's more then you can handle. Which is exactly what he wants, he wants to make sure he fucks you so good you don't even think about anyone else but him, because he sure as hell isn't thinking about anyone but you. Yours is the only pussy he wants to fuck, to lick and to kiss while you beg him to quit being a tease and fuck you hard so every neighbor hears you moaning for him and your pussy remembers the shape of him.
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porcalinecunt · 22 days
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(𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃)𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 ♡︎
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🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ having the body of a cyborg came with it’s perks, including turning boothill into your own personal porn bot a plug away! ~ ♡︎
·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
cw — afab!reader. mean dom!boothill. improper use of usb ports. pornography. manhandling. overstimulation. edging. pussy drunk boothill. no pronouns for reader.
◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : saw someone on tt mention inappropriate use of boothill’s usb ports, and i couldn’t help myself. <33 as usual, enjoy!
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“..and i’m supposed to plug this in?”
Boothill spun the harddrive around his fingers, staring at it with both curiosity yet suspicion. it was a hot pink color with a heart sticker sloppily slapped onto the front. you handed it to him without saying a word, leaving him beyond dumbfounded.
you simply nodded, trying hard not to burst out laughing. despite the glaringly obvious USB ports that were carved into his waist, he swore to have never actually stuck anything in them. by anything, of course, were any harddrives that could’ve been packed with whatever info or footage that would’ve automatically made it’s way into his memory. he didn’t want anyone’s weird porno or stupid memes to burn into his motherboard and live with it.
yet he had a hard time saying no to you. hell, he’d never say no to you unless it’d kill you. then again, it was probably a random assortment of cat videos you came across on your feed. it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek. right?
holding up a reluctant thumbs up, you plugged the harddrive in and awaited his reaction with anticipation. boothill never looked away from your reaction, quickly noticing something was rather…off about your face. your lips curled into a seductive grin, biting down on your lower lip while hearts practically carved your pupils. your cheeks and nose were flushed a slight pink that faded to a hot red color.
yet, it was already too late for him.
his vision suddenly became a hot pink blur, the gears within his body had began to spun widely while the mini fans tried to cool down his heating body. the blood red target in his eye morphed into a pink heart while he spaced out at what was being shown in front of him.
nothing but pure pornography, some of the most explicit, flooding his memory and infecting his circuits with the love virus. boothill felt his head spin from the lewd imagery, bouncing from clip to clip of multiple sex acts all at once. from simple missionary to subs being bent in half by their ridiculously larger doms, there was even one where they were in full nelson. legs high up with thier sopping cunt in full view. it was all too much.
“so this..is what y’want me to do to ya…”
the cyborg chuckled, overwhelmed with his sudden libedo. he looks over at you with hungry eyes, flashing his shark toothed grin the moment you nodded.
“why didn’t ya say so, dollface..?”
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“a-ah! m’sorry! m’sorry boothill..! i-i was only p-playing..ngh!”
your clothes were torn clean off without a damn given, leaving you bare and vulnerable as the cyborg pumped his cock in and out of your sopping pussy. just like how you wanted it, bent in half in full nelson with your legs held high as only boothill’s arms kept you from falling. his pace was unforgiving, hungrily stuffing you full like your his last meal on death row. despite your body already stiffening from the position, boothill showed no sign of stopping. his eyes, bright pink with hearts dialating for pupils, full of burning desire and a greedy lust that clouded his judgement till his mind went blank.
it was as if the cyborg was built for fucking, his only goal being to push you beyind your human limit.
“zip it, sugar. you're gonna take m’dick even when i’m done with ya, you hear?”
boothill hissed in your ear with a mean rasp, shark-like teeth nibbling away at your earlobe. the ticklish feeling only added to the intense overstimulation that turned your brain into mush. you felt the familiar knot in your stomach close to snapping for what seems like the tenth time tonight, until a sudden emptiness snapped you back into reality. looking down, you noticed how boothill pulled himself out, leaving you hanging. a whine came out of your throat almost instinctively at the neglect.
“boothilll..! i was so clo!—“
you’re words were rudely cut off as the ranger threw you onto the bed with you laying on your back. he wasted no time crawling on top of you and pressing his heavy body against yours. trapped, you couldn’t even move an inch as you squirmed under his touch. he practically caged you.
“keep whinin’ like that and I'll leave ya empty. got that?”
as difficult as it was, you pressed your lips together and screwed your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to keep quite. your cunny spasmed around his length as he kept going with his violent pace. even with the harddrive, you could never imagine boothill going this far. you truely underestimated the strength of the virus that infected his mechanical body with such libido, yet you don’t regret it. you continued to cry out as your limbs grew numb, your senses going blank in an orgasmic euphoria. you were teetering towards the fuckin’ edge.
you sobbed out babbles of “‘m gonna cum!~” over and over again like it was automatic. finally, the knot snapped in two as stars filled your vision. if he wasn’t made of metal, you would’ve left some nasty scratch marks.
on the other hand, the ranger watched in pure awe as his pretty baby fell apart on his dick. your fucked out expression, teary eyes and pouty lips covered in spit, only fuled him for more. you couldn’t even get a breath in as you were picked up and flipped onto your stomach, ass high up in the air.
“you think ‘m done yet sugar? hehe, that’s cute.”
you could only sigh in response, unable to do anything about your own mess. lesson learned, never fuck with a machine you know so little about.
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© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.
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nvuy · 30 days
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hijacked — boothill
summary. a mission to retrieve some files from a banquet hall goes wayward south when a galaxy ranger shows up to ruin your night—and score some bonus kisses while he’s at it.
notes. save me space cowboy… save me… remembered his entire body is robotic except his head. the possibilities to hack it and take over……….. ngh
HEY YOU!! there’s a sequel now.
warnings. little bit of threatening, mind control/hacking/hijacking? you take over his body for like a few minutes? is that a warning?
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“Hey, pretty thing.”
Target locked. Your scanners had already tracked him before you could even realise he was speaking to you.
You swiftly hid away the USB drive in your purse.
Did he know?
It seemed his own eye enhancements—although a lot less subtle than yours—were scanning you down as well. How transactional. You’d hoped the walls you’d put up were enough to keep whatever technology he had at bay. Or at least, not trigger any alarms.
“You looked lonely. Was g’nna buy you a drink. Help you loosen up a bit.” He swished his own drink in your face for good measure. The coupe glass in his hands looked odd. He didn’t seem like a cocktail man. Not at all.
He looked like a whiskey man. Hard whiskey. With ice. In a tumbler with ribbed glass. You could picture it.
He just looked so out of place at the banquet.
He wasn’t even following the dress code. He was wearing boots, and a pair of old pants with zips along the calves. A hat with a white feather woven into the fabric rested on a head of long white hair with splashes of black around his face.
“No thanks,” you said with a wave. You tried to discreetly scan down his body, searching for any sort of hint of how you could get into his system.
His pants and what little material of his jacket hid most of the metal of his body. Internally, you cursed at it. He had no clear openings in his neck or arms. His head seemed entirely organic.
No weak spots.
“N’aww. Shame.”
The front door felt a lot further away now. Even more so, knowing he was most definitely here for you. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet. You had a feeling he knew he didn’t need to.
“Was g’nna ask ya to dance.”
You laughed awkwardly. “I can’t dance in these shoes.”
“Take ‘em off. Who cares?” he bantered playfully. “I’ll watch out for ‘em if they’re expensive.”
“They’re priceless,” you quipped back. “All of me is.”
“Good. You know your worth.”
You were actually worth about fifteen million, as according to your wanted status by the IPC. You weren’t sure if this man was a part of them, though members of the IPC were always very adamant on letting you know that, yes, they did work at the IPC. It was usually the first thing that came out of their mouths.
Questioning if they actually worked at the IPC opened another entire can of worms.
You didn’t feel the need to ask. Not in that moment, at least.
“And what’s yours?” you asked him with a bat of your lashes.
He winked. “Guess.”
You smiled and scanned him down again. “Depends. I’d have to see what you’re made of.”
“Naughty.” He leaned back against the wall with you. “You sure you don’t want that drink? It’s a cosmopolitan.”
Very sure. You were convinced that he’d just taken the drink from one of the server’s trays. You couldn’t imagine he’d walked up to the bar and requested it for himself.
“You strike me as a whiskey man,” you eased. It came past your lips like butter.
He flashed his teeth in warning.
Then, he sipped his drink. “You’re good. Anything else you can read with your fancy eyes?”
You stopped short.
He did know. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all. He wasn’t entirely human. He must have been equipped with similar technology to realise just how advanced yours was.
You realised then with a shaky breath that you had the same vision enhancements as he did. An even match, unable to read through to each other.
He must have had so much more, too. You only had so many enhancements, whereas he was made almost entirely of metal. The thought of amount of different codings and technology he had crammed into every wire of his body gave you a headache.
Bad idea. You shouldn’t have provoked him. You needed to retreat. You needed to get home, preferably safely, with the USB stored nice and snug in your purse.
You tried not to let your nervousness show, but by the way he was staring at you, you knew he could read your face.
“That’s it, then. You’ve figured out my party trick.” You got up from the wall. “Thank you for the offer. The drink, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll be going now.”
“I’m not scaring you off, am I?” He got up off the wall too.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.
“Not at all.” When you turned to face him, he was smiling so wide his eyes had crinkled. “Have a good night.”
“At least let me walk you out,” he insisted. He also offered to hold your purse, to which you quickly declined. That only made him smile impossibly wider. “What sort of man am I to not see a pretty thing like you get home safe?”
You headed towards the hallway, knowing he was right behind you.
The banquet was still in full swing, barely even close to ending. Most of the cast were drunk or getting there. Heels had been discarded, some missing their pair, skewed all over the dancefloor like glitter.
The golden chandelier in the main room was yet to be pulled from the ceiling. You were surprised nobody had tried to swing from it yet.
You dodged chattering groups and couples in the hallway—one of them had decided to put on a full display while right next to an unoccupied bedroom, right there in the centre of the hall.
Another one was gagging dangerously close to your feet.
You shouldered past them. “Stop following me, Ranger.”
“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” You felt his hair brush over your shoulder.
You knew he had a weapon. He wouldn’t have come to threaten you without one.
Before you could reach the door handle, he grabbed your wrist, pulled you backwards, and into the unoccupied guest room that the couple hadn’t bothered to take.
He shut the door with a loud slam, though not before hearing someone whistle out in the corridor.
Your head snapped towards him. He was leaning on the door, his arms crossed, looking almost unbothered.
“We can play this game all day, pumpkin. I got time.” He waved you off with a grin. “Give me the files. I’m askin’ nicely. I won’t force ya to hand ‘em over. Yet.”
You gritted your teeth.
You were so fucking close. So close to getting out of here, and then he had to come—this walking hunk of metal and scrap—and ruin everything.
Nothing ever went your fucking way anyway. You shouldn’t have been shocked something like this would happen.
You held your purse tightly in your hands. All of this was pointless. The dress, the heels, the hair, the nails, the makeup. All of it.
You just hoped by some miracle that he hadn’t found your locator beacon yet. You’d hidden it well; within the bushes outside away from anyone’s line of sight, but he wasn’t just anyone. He could see things a lot of people couldn’t.
“C’mon. You know you wanna…” He smiled sweetly for good measure. It looked like a threat. When he leaned to the side, the golden barrel of a gun flashed beneath his belt.
You could try to make a backup. Right then. You had what you needed in your watch. He’d probably stop you before it was complete.
Or…
Or what? What else could you do?
Your locator beacon wasn’t responding, though it hadn’t been broken. Most likely deactivated temporarily. You bounced on your heels.
You then formed the worst idea of your life.
With shaky hands, you walked towards him slowly. You reached into your purse, feeling for the cold plastic of the black USB he wanted to get his grubby hands on.
“Knew you’d come ‘round.” He held out his hand expectantly.
You fished the USB from your bag.
Then, before you could place it into his palm, you tripped and almost broke your nose on his torso. Your hands splayed desperately onto his chest to keep your face from shattering on impact.
He was quick to grab your arms to steady you with a surprised grunt.
There was a whirring sound, and then the sound of something mechanical and wrong. Foreign. Not from his body, but from yours.
The spaces beneath his joints lit up abright yellow for a moment before his hands loosened from your arms.
You grinned. Gotcha.
When you pulled back, he witnessed you pull a strange light from beneath his skin before you held it along your fingers.
When he blinked, you had an entire copy of his body in the palm of your hand. A hologram formed of his entire artificial makeup. Every crevice of his body, all of the metal that weaved to make him who he was.
All of it in your hand, with puppet strings attached.
It was missing just his head.
He froze. And then, he rushed out a simple, “what did you do?”
You tapped on his holographic arm on the screen. “Hijacked.”
When you moved it, his arm twitched to life.
Against his will, he pulled the gun from his holster and dropped it to the floor. It clattered uselessly onto the carpet.
He could only simply stare as his body moved against his will. There was no way to even twitch a finger with all his might.
It was like you had shut down all of his systems and replaced them with your own.
He should’ve seen this coming.
You whistled as you studied the model of him in your hands. When you tapped onto his neck, it zoomed in to show every single wire and thread of metal, as well as an accompanying string of coding.
“I don’t need any special enhancements to read you. What sort of cyborg comes in alone to try and stop me? You know who I am, don’t you?”
He wasn’t able to move his body. He said not a word.
“Somebody clearly doesn’t understand their body.” You patted his chest. His fans had kicked in. You could hear them whirring.
He was glaring at you.
“Did the IPC send you?”
After a moment, he scoffed. “Hardly. I don’t work for those… people.” It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it.
“Huh.” You didn’t think he was lying. “So… you’re not concerned about my bounty?”
“You said yourself you were priceless,” he countered easily. Despite his position, he was still grinning. “And besides, I’m sure my bounty is heaps bigger than yours.”
You almost snapped. He’d come to gloat, even at a disadvantage.
“You look better with your mouth shut,” you spat. You shoved the lining of code in his face for him to see, making the holographic blue screen as large as you possibly could. “I could make you tear yourself apart. I could make you forget who you are. I could alter whatever sort of brain you have in there. Watch yourself.”
Still glaring, but this time his lips sealed almost instantly.
You made him stand ram rod straight as you turned around, now eyeing a golden vanity next to the bed. The bedroom was surprisingly clean, save for a few empty glasses strewn about. No stains, no messes.
You sat down in the chair and angled the mirror so you could keep your eye on him.
You breathed out, trying not to stare at him for too long. You could feel your irritation growing, and it was showing on your face. If you stared at him for any longer, you feared you’d pull his limbs off with your own bare hands.
You fished out the powder from your purse and leaned closer to the mirror.
Maybe if you looked better, you’d feel better.
“You’re seriously dollin’ yourself up right now?” he asked, briskly annoyed.
You dabbed the sponge beneath your eyes. “Can’t let anyone think I let you put your hands on me. I have standards.”
He had nice hair. You weren’t sure if it was real, though. You weren’t sure if he could even grow hair. He was almost entirely artificial, save for his head.
He didn’t seem to age—his face, at least. You weren’t sure how old he was supposed to be, but his organic skin still looked fresh, as if left untouched and well taken care of.
Maybe it’s because that was all he had left of him.
You snapped the powder shut.
The ranger sneered. “Yeah, yeah. I’d beat you in a fight anyway.”
“‘Course you would,” you answered easily. You pulled a stick of gloss from your bag. You swiped the lipgloss over your lips, fixing it with the tip of your nail. “That’s not what I’m talking about, though.”
You stood from the chair, placing the gloss back in your purse.
“You’d never hit me, would you?”
His face almost lit up with fury.
It was absolutely hilarious.
“You’re so lucky I can't move,” he threatened. “You wouldn’t recognise your pretty face in the mirror.”
“Such a gentleman.” You stood on the tips of your toes to press your lips to his cheek. You hoped the sticky gloss bothered him, knowing he would be unable to wipe it off of him. You hoped it stained his milky skin a nice glittery bubblegum pink.
You hoped the scent of your perfume lingered on his skin, and he never forgot your name.
“Of course, gorgeous.” That same mocking tone. “Anything for you.”
You held the USB up to his lips. “Open.”
Begrudgingly, he did so.
You slipped the stick past his lips until his teeth caught onto the plastic and held it still.
“You can have it. I already got what I needed anyway.”
You kissed his other cheek for good measure, lingering for a moment before you pulled away. Two pink glittering stains on his face now; perfectly symmetrical.
“I’ll be thinking of you.” And that you would. You winked at him. “Bye, Boothill.”
Then, with sudden grid lines of yellow forming over your figure, the locator beacon buzzed to life, and you disappeared.
In the blink of an eye, you were outside in the cold night air. There were few people out in the front garden of the building, and none had spotted you.
You picked up the gadget and quickly left. A copy of his body and the USB were now a collection in your own personal belongings.
As soon as you vanished, Boothill regained control of his limbs and fell to the floor, trembling with the after effects of your invasion. His teeth were gritted as he pulled himself up onto the guest bed.
He spat the USB out before he could bite down and damage it.
He held it between his thumb and index finger.
There was a smear of your lipgloss on the side of the USB stick.
Mission accomplished, he supposed.
He also had two matching lipgloss stains on his skin as a trophy. He could see how stupid he looked in the vanity mirror.
He snickered with clenched, shaking fists.
You smelled like strawberry.
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gay-dorito-dust · 23 days
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How they’d react to you kissing their cheek unexpectedly…
Boothill: seeing as how his face is the only part of him that could actually feel your touch, something he had disclosed with you in confidence and away from preying eyes.
So the moment you pressed a kiss to his cheek, Boothill melts, it was in this moment where he realised how truly touch starved he was ever since acquiring a new body. It made him hate it even more then he already did for he couldn’t experience the joy of holding your hand, having you pressed up against his chest, nothing.
He couldn’t feel none of that and he hates it so fucking much.
He hated the fact that he couldn’t feel you kiss his fingers or feel you press yourself again his back in a hug, nor the kisses that he could only imagine being pressed there, not to mention the times where you would nuzzle your face into his neck for he couldn’t feel that either.
‘Please.’ He pleads when he felt that you were about to pull away, desperately grasping at your waist that he couldn’t feel the flesh of, pulling you back into him. ‘Spare another one of your sweetest kisses for me darlin’?’ He asks in dire need of you and your kisses.
‘I’d happily give you all the kisses you could ever want.’ You replied and Boothill truly believed that you must be a saint or something because how could someone like you be with someone like him? It just doesn’t make sense.
‘Then we’ll be here for a long while sweetheart because I want them all, so don’t you go given them to anyone else, ya hear?’ He says and you only gave him another lingering kiss to his cheek, making him tighten his hold on you.
‘Then shall we get started?’ You asked with a smile.
Aventurine: ‘oh. What’s this? Kissing my cheek without warning me beforehand.’ He gasps as he holds a hand to his heart. ‘How scandalous of you.’
He’d act like your affection has no real effect on him but the faint blush scattered across his cheeks told a very different story. A story that said that he wasn’t use to your tenderness and affection towards him, that he doesn’t deserve you nor your love and that hurt you deeply.
‘It maybe scandalous to you but to me, I just want to show that you’re more than worth every bit of my affection, and just know that nothing anyone will say can persuade me into thinking otherwise.’ You told him and cheeky smirk upon his lips softened with the rest of his face.
‘You…you mean that?’ He says meekly. ‘You’re not joking…are you?’
You pressed another kiss to his cheek, letting it linger there before pulling away. ‘I’d never joke about how much you mean to me, I’m not that heartless or cruel. I adore you my darling, sweet Kakavasha.’ You answered him truthfully. ‘So if you allow me, I can show you just how much I adore you.’
Aventurine didn’t say anything at first, still wondering after all this time if he was really worth everything you’ve done for him, but one look in your eyes and the blonde knew he had his definitive answer. ‘Please show me just how much you love me, make me forget about the voices in my head that make me second guess my worth and just make me yours with every kiss.’
Argenti: thanks you for the cheek kiss before reciprocating with one of his own.
You pout. ‘I’m meant to be spoiling you in affection right now.’
Argenti cocks his head to the side, confused. ‘Why should I allow you to bless me with your kisses and not reciprocate them? Wouldn’t that seem…selfish of me.’ He asks.
‘No it wouldn’t.’ You tell him as you held his face within your hands. ‘I want you to be selfish and let me smother you in affection without feeling the need to do the same becuase you do that enough as it is on a daily basis.’ You stopped to rest your forehead against his forehead, rubbing your nose softly against his own. ‘So please just let me show you how much I care for you and thank you for being you, my sweet knight.’
Argenti sighs, allowing himself to think it over in his head. He didn’t like being selfish, it felt wrong for him to be self-indulgent when he could be the one giving you the affection, but after some time he has finally come to a conclusion. ‘Alright, I willingly concede to your wishes my star, I shall be selfish with your love.’
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kiwicopia · 1 month
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🔞 MDNI | Boothill x Fem!Reader (blurb AU) 🔞
TW: sex in a barn, slight choking, love bites, prosthetic limbs, slight overstimulation, licking, creampie.
Edit: This got way more attention than I honestly thought it would. So, if it hits 2k, I'll make part two. 😉 Or! Perhaps a full fic of this blurb?
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Things weren't supposed to end like this, but you couldn't be blamed. A handsome stranger paid your esteemed ranch a visit, hoping to get one of your finest Thoroughbreds, only to end up with something far better.
One hand firmly gripped the fat of your hip, the metallic fingers digging slightly into your skin while the other was wrapped around your throat, tilting your head back just enough for him to kiss along the side of it. Your thighs trembled with the way his thick cock bullied your slick cunt, dragging yet another moan from your pretty lips.
Boothill's lips curled into a slight smirk at the sound before letting his tongue slide up your neck. It was hot and wet, and your hands gripped the stall door, causing the wood to chip ever so gently with the way your nails dug into it. "Dirty girl," he teased. His chest pressed against your back a bit more as his hips smacked into the back of yours harshly, his pace remaining merciless. "I came for a stallion, not a broodmare." The hand around your throat squeezed a little harder, causing you to let out a pitiful whine. "But I can make a new deal."
You already knew what the new deal was, but you remained silent, too focused on the pleasure that coursed through your veins with each thrust of his meaty cock. He filled your gummy walls, shaping your pussy all for himself as he brought you orgasm after orgasm. It had been a while since you had a good fuck, and with a customer of all people. Still, you had to hand it to him. Boothill had the stamina of a Thoroughbred, plowing into you repeatedly without so much as a break, and he hadn't even come yet.
Your head lolled to the side, allowing him another chance at kissing your neck, though he soon bit down on the soft flesh, causing you to moan at the sudden feeling. One final thrust had your body up against the stable door, pinned as he finally came, painting your walls in thick, white ropes of his cum. The hand gripping your neck only tightened, yet he made sure to at least let you breathe.
Boothill kept your body pinned against the stable door as he panted hard, his breath hitting the back of your neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to the nape. "Fuck," he breathed out, "haven't had this good a time in a while." His hand on your hip loosened as his metallic thumb rubbed gentle circles against your soft skin. "Now," he chuckled, "how 'bout we discuss the new deal?"
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ilyhaitanii · 25 days
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can you stay up all night? ft. boothill
nsfw. the galaxy ranger assigned to protect you as you make your way back to your planet seems to have other plans with you when you both get stuck at a hotel in penacony.
cw: vibrating body parts, cyborg dick, overstimulation, he's sort of mean </3
a/n: knocked this out in like 15 mins. if this isnt good, blame my ovulating brain
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for a robot who is programmed to be kind to others, boothill is so mean-- brutal even. he doesn't curse, but aeons his mouth is filthy. that sultry, southern voice of his makes your brain go dizzy, melt into a pile of mush. it's like you're putty in his hands, molding your body however he sees fit.
the quiet whirring of his cock nestled deep in you, hitting at just the right angle has you seeing stars for hours. your legs slung over his wide shoulders, trembling. the hefty sobs that fall from your swollen lips fall onto deaf ears as boothill's thumb is rubbing against your sensitive clit, vibrating against the bundle of nerves.
you don't think you've ever felt so many different things at once. on one hand you want him to stop, allow you to curl into yourself and tremble off his vibrations, but the other is marinating, adoring the feeling of this never ending high.
"look you, baby~" boothill coos, thrusting his cock in and out of your sopping cunt. your eyes try to open, crossing in the process. you try to open your mouth to say something, but you're greeted by the taste of iron and your own slick. boothill's fingers gag you, pressing your left leg to your chest. "you feel that, cutie? im right here," his hand presses down on your tummy as the whirring on your clit increases.
you pulse and clench around him, hips shaking and begging for release. he can't help but laugh at the pathetic way you whine and kick at him. with your hands tied above your head, boohill turns you onto your tummy. he pounds into your from behind, making sure to press down on your lower back.
his fingers on your clit don't lose their place, making sure to swirl the bud to intensify the pleasure. all of it is mind numbing. you find yourself zoning out, only to be greeted by boothill's thumb rubbing at your sore nipples.
"oh please, i cant!" he hums against your hair, kissing down your spine. he tuts, shaking his head. boothill's arms wrap around your torso, pressing your hot sweaty back to the cold metal of his chest. the drastic temperature change has you experiencing whiplash. jaw slackened, boothill kisses your jaw, nipping at some of the skin with his teeth. this drags down to your neck and shoulders.
"you can, dolly, come on. cum for me, pretty thing. i know you want to," with a heavy hand, he presses down onto your pelvis, making sure the vibrating on your clit goes as fast as it can, twirling the bud. splotches of white, hot light flash before your eyes as your entire body trembles for the umpteenth time.
"there 'ya go. you're so good for me, arent 'ya, cutie?" boothill chuckles against your cheek, kissing your lips. you groan, trying to move, but he readjusts you onto his lap. "you can't tap out on me, dolly. we still got hours before daylight. come on, ride me, baby~"
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© ilyhaitanii - do not repost, translate, plagarize or repost it to any other sites
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ineylesian · 13 days
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thinking about the hat rule w boothill…
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In a crowd full of flashing lights and dancing people, Boothill allows you to take his hat off.
Albeit, he’s extremely drunk. The scent of bourbon trails off of his breath as you lean in, swiping the black leather off of his head, spinning its brim between your fingers. His voice is tinged with a daze as he grumbles at you to give it back to him, but doesn’t stop your admiration of the medallion fastened to the red ribbon that matches his eye.
He’s especially silent when you slip the hat onto your head, coy smile plastered on your face. His brain nearly short circuits at your bravery, and, while he would normally tease you for being this bold to a ranger, all rational reasoning is cut off by the alcohol.
So, Boothill thrusts his drink into a stranger’s hands, and grabs you by the top of his hat before you can run.
“Come here, you little minx. You know what you did.”
The rasp of his mechanical voice box meets your ears, and you can do nothing but stare at him sheepishly as he tilts your chin upward. Wordlessly, he dives forward, lips crashing into yours, teeth poking at your tongue as you embarrassingly try to scurry away. A slight crowd gathers as you drag Boothill out of the bar, all whilst he nips at your neck and starts to loosen his clothes without shame.
You remind yourself to try again when he’s not drunk.
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doumadono · 17 days
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Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem!Reader, metal dick, oral (f & m receiving)
Synopsis: after a tough mission, you and Boothill have a drink in his room. Little do you know, this drink will lead you to uncovering all of his secrets
OTHER FANDOMS MASTERLIST
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Boothill's cybernetic body is large and imposing, and you can't help but feel small and fragile in his presence. But despite his intimidating appearance, he has a certain charm that you find irresistible.
That night, as you're sharing a drink in Boothill's quarters after a tough mission, you can't help but stare at his metal-plated chest and powerful arms more than you ever allowed yourself to before.
Boothill notices your gaze and smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I see you're checkin' me out, honey," he says, his voice deep and gravelly. "Would ya like to see more?"
You nod, your heart racing with excitement as you set your drink aside. You can't help but stare, your mouth slightly agape.
"You're pretty much obsessed with me, ain't ya?" Boothill chuckles and gets up from his seat, setting his glass down. He saunters towards you with a mischievous grin on his face. He knows exactly what he's doing as he slowly begins to unbuckle his thick leather belt.
His metallic fingers clink against the cold steel of the buckle, sending shivers down your spine as you bite your lower lip, sucking it in your mouth. With a flick of his wrist, the belt comes undone, and Boothill lets it drop to the floor with a thud. His pants are oh so tight, revealing the tantalizing curve of his metal pelvis. He takes his time, savoring the anticipation in your eyes as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his tight material pants. Inch by inch, he reveals the smooth, polished metal of his metallic hips. The muscles in his thighs ripple and flex with the movement, causing the intricate circuitry beneath his metallic skin to gleam in the dim light. The metallic dick springs up free. It has a polished steel surface. The shaft is smooth and thick, made of titanium, and there's a line of circuits running along the underside, imitating the prominent vein that would be present on a human penis. The mushroom-shaped head is plump. Boothill's testicles, too, are a marvel to behold. Made of the same sleek titanium as the rest of his manhood, they hang heavy and full. He steps out of his pants, his metal dick bobbing with each movement. Then Boothill chuckles, a deep rumble that seems to emanate from the very core of his being. "Like what ya see, honey?” he asks, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.
You can't help but reach out to touch his testicles. "Gosh," you gasp.
"I take it for yes," he says, his voice full of confidence.
You nod again, unable to speak.
He takes your hand and places it on his cock, encouraging you to touch him.
You wrap your fingers around his metallic shaft, feeling its coldness and hardness.
Boothill lets out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward as you begin to stroke him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he says, his voice strained with pleasure. "I've been dreamin' of buryin' my cock deep inside your tiny cunt, makin' ya scream my name as I fill you with my seed."
Your heart races at the thought of Boothill's cock inside you. You're already wet with anticipation, your pussy aching to be filled.
Boothill must sense your desire because he suddenly picks you up and carries you to his little cot. He lays you down gently and begins to kiss you, his narrow lips hot and demanding.
You respond eagerly, your tongue exploring his mouth and sharp teeth as you taste the whiskey on his breath.
Boothill's metallic hand reaches out, caressing your cheek. "Ever been with a cyborg before?" he asks simply after making sure to leave a hickey on the side of your neck.
You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. "No, I haven't…"
Boothill's grin is wide and wild. "Well, then, darlin', it's about time you did." He pulls you closer, his lips crashing down on yours yet again. His tongue explores your mouth, tasting and teasing.
You can feel the coolness of his metal body against yours, and you moan into the kiss.
Meantime, Boothill's hands roam over your body, his touch setting you on fire. He cups your breasts with one strong palm, his fingers tweaking your nipples through your bra until they're hard and sensitive. Boothill's other hand slips down, directly inside your pants. His cold, metallic fingers find your clit, and he starts to rub slow circles around it through your panties, grinning as he feels the damp spot in the middle of the fabric. "Naughty."
You gasp, your hips bucking against his hand.
With a quick movement, he rips your shirt and bra, and opens your trousers, swiftly pulling them down, tugging them off your legs. He reaches your breasts and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting gently with his sharp, shark-like teeth.
You cry out, your back arching as he continues to pleasure you.
His hand travels down your body, his fingers finding your wet pussy. He strokes your clit, causing you to gasp with pleasure. "You're so wet for me," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. "I can't wait to taste you, and to feel you wrapped around my cock." He drops to his knees in front of the cot, pulling you to the edge. He spreads your legs wide, exposing your pussy to him. His tongue darts out, licking your clit.
"Oh, fuck," you moan, your hands going to his two-colour hair, holding him in place.
Boothill starts to lick and suck, his tongue delving deeper and deeper into your slick wetness. He eats your cunny out in earnest, flicking his tongue against your clitoris in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath. From time to time, he makes sure to stick his tongue into your warm entrance, eagerly drinking all of juices that are dribbling out of you. Sometimes he gives kitten-like licks, while other times he licks in a single stripe, starting from your entrance, through your slit, and directly to your clitoris; his tongue flexing.
Soon, a cold, metallic finger prods your entrance too, quickly joined by a second as it slides in. The cyborg grinds the heel of his hand against your swollen clit as he works his fingers in and out of you.
"Don't stop," you beg, your hips moving in sync with his fingers.
And Boothill doesn't stop. He keeps going, his other hand slapping your clitoris lightly. He attached his mouth to the swollen bud yet again, sucking hardly. And then, with one final lick, you come, your moans filling the air as your runny juices cover his chin after you grind your pussy against his face a few times.
Eagerly and quickly, you drop to your knees, the wooden floorboards digging into your skin. You lick your lips, savoring the anticipation, and then lean in, pressing your mouth to his iron cock.
Boothill's fingers tangle in your hair as you begin to work the metal, your tongue gliding along its length. The taste is foreign, yet enticing, and you find yourself growing more and more aroused with each passing moment. Your own desire is pooling between your legs and thick juices are dribbling down your thighs as you suck the metallic dick.
The sounds of your moans and the wet slurping of your mouth on the iron fills the room.
You continue to lick and tease the plump head of his iron dick, your tongue tracing the intricate design of the metal.
Boothill's breathing grows heavier, and you can sense his growing need for release. You open your mouth and take the head of his cock between your lips. You slide further down the shaft, your lips tight around the steel as you deepthroat him.
Boothill groans, his hips bucking involuntarily as you work your magic. "Fuck, honey, just like that, you're doin' such a good job down there."
Your hands roam his body, exploring the hard, cold contours of his chest and abs as you keep on sucking his cock, looking up at him with your best doe eyes.
With a loud groan, he yanks your head off his cock and forces you back on the cot. He continues to stroke your clit as he positions himself at your entrance, his cock nudging against your slick pussy lips. He pushes in, slowly at first, but then with more force.
You moan as you sense him filling you up to the brim, your pussy stretching painfully to accommodate his thick girth. "Oh, fuck!"
Boothill pauses, giving you time to adjust to his size. "Fuuuuck. You feel amazing," he says, his voice strained with pleasure. "So tight and hot, warmin' my dick up." He begins to move, his hips thrusting forward as he fucks you. Boothill starts to thrust harder, his hips slapping against yours.
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You can feel another orgasm building up inside of you, and you know it's going to be huge.
Boothill's thrusts become more urgent, his cock hitting your G-spot with each stroke. The cyborg pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath.
Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto his strong forearms. The wet slap of Boothill's hips against your pussy, the obscene squelching from your dripping wet pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you make you arch your back and moan like a whore. Your pussy is clenching painfully around Boothill's cock as if trying to milk his cock right on the spot.
He must feel it too because he begins to thrust harder and faster, his balls slapping against your slit. "Come for me, sweetheart," he urges, his voice strained with pleasure. "I want to feel you cum all over my cock."
With a few more thrusts of his, you explode, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure. The walls of your pussy clamp down on the cyborg's cock.
Boothill follows soon after, his cock twitching as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you, filling you with a thick seed. "Yee-haw! Fuuuuck, fuuuuuck! Yeees!" He gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then he finally pulls out with a groan.
The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene, so is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the mushroom-shaped tip of his metallic cock until he withdraws completely.
You lay there, panting and spent, covered in a cold sweat as Boothill lays down beside you, his strong arm draped over your waist. "That was amazing, honey," he says, his voice soft and satisfied as he place small kisses to your bare shoulder.
You nod, still unable to speak. You've never experienced anything like this before, and you know that you'll never forget it. "I think I fell in love with your metal rod," you chuckle quietly, your cheeks going beet red.
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special tags: @shonen-brainrot @crystalwolfblog @hornydynamight @doumaslotus @bakugoscunny
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anantaru · 29 days
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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ cw. teasing + dirty talk // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡ whiny boothill <3, fem! reader ♡
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"just the tip, please," with boothill but he's lying, "i swear," he whines shamelessly then goes, "really, jus’ the tip, baby," as he slowly lines himself up and rubs circles on your hole before guiding you on his dripping cock.
he could lose himself in you forever, "that's… it, so- so good, ugh," as his hips stutter in an attempt to behave. boothill doesn't think he'll manage to keep himself quiet this time, not when you're making it painfully aware that you want more of it too, more of him— always swaying your hips from left to right so his tip would end up coating your folds with clear pre.
you're teasing— on purpose, making him go through the pain and loss, the want and need of your walls sucking up to his shaft, "one more…" he breathes, "i can feel you get tighter," as he moves one hand down to trail over your clit, "one more inch, then i'll stop, ugh— please, please baby please," he assures, his teeth slowly prancing over the skin on your neck.
boothill loves how you squeeze him, how wet you were and sounded like, it turns him even harder and more desperate, fuck, he wants to cum so fast he can barely take it anymore, "inside.." his brows twist when you gently throb around his shaft, "wanna feel you better so badly,"
as you may have noticed, boothill cannot get enough of you, it's truly in vain, what a pathetic man that drove you absolutely crazy— because, as much as you loved playing this game with him, you can't wait until he buries it all into your addicting cunt.
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©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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k9wa · 18 days
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⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.
⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.
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⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….
from this request !
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it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time. 
and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.  
boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.
you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes. 
“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”
you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.
“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.
“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”
he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?” 
you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.
now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit. 
“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help. 
he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”
fine, you thought. two can play that game.
you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.
you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red. 
then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.
his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.
you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.
boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.
“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?” 
“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.
“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.
“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—” 
“all done.”
all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.
“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”
boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol. 
“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.” 
“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”
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⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?
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angelltheninth · 16 days
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Could I so kindly ask your view on BoothHill and his dick. You know that headcanon going around that he probably can't feel anything on his body besides his head, and that his is detachable.. Imagine just getting it on with him and he starts vibrating inside of the reader bajadjdkaka
I'm brainrotting about this a bit ngl
I have so many thoughts about this!
Pairing: Boothill x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, creampie, vibrating dick, cock ridding, robotic dick, cum eating
A/N: The whole HSR fandom has been foaming at the mouth about this.
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Knows what pussy feels like because he fucked a lot before becoming part machine
Swears yours is better, don't ask him how he knows, you're special so you're better
Now he can't feel you but he can imagine what it would feel
Visual stimulation can go a long way for him
Seeing you sucking his cock or seeing it go into your pussy makes his eyes roll
Flavored cum, your favorite taste so you eat and lick it all up from his length
Can make his dick vibrate
Not just when he's inside you, although that does seem to be your favorite way to ride him
Also making the tip pulse against your clit, just like your favorite toy
In fact he often jokes that he's your best toy
Creampies are still just as fun for him
Perhaps even more now cause there's no chance of accidental pregnancy no matter how much cum there is
Able to change the length but not the girth
Daily blowjobs are like his maintenance
Boothill swears he needs them, you think he's not telling the truth but when it's so fun and tastes so good you can't have a good argument against it
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porcalinecunt · 25 days
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what if boothill can’t even curse using his hands? ♡
boothill already having to deal with the inability to curse was bad enough. too many times when he tried to even be sarcastic with you results in the sweetest petnames and compliments in replacement of his vulgarity. however, what if it reached to the point where he can’t even flip you off?
the both of you engage in a semi playful back n forth, eventually his responses were littered with terms like “cutie”, “baby” and you’re personal favorite, “honeybun”. finally reaching his last straw, he sticks his fist up and sticks up his middle finger.
or so he tries!
his metal finger immediately locks up, rendering it stuck in place with loud clicks! as he tries again and again. not even pulling it up with his other hand works, leaving you to watch while trying your damn hardest not to laugh.
“what’s wrong? need a little help ‘honeybun’?”
“you have a really cute smile!~ ♡” (i’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth out.)
he grits, still struggling to get the damn thing up. oh how you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, even if he was a vulgure ranger made of metal. ♡
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veliamore · 29 days
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just thinking about Boothill while on a 8 hours car ride . . :3
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So i was randomly thinking about the fact that, as we all know his whole body is made out of metal and overall cold and freezing material.
Now imagine sleeping with him, while it’s autumn / winter, and it’s freezing outside, heck you could turn into a cube of ice if you’d stand out there for more than 3 minutes; so of course you try to cover yourself up with as much blankets as possible, in your comfy bed, shared with your loving boyfriend boothill. . the thing is, he doesn’t suffer the cold, so he doesn’t use blankets, he doesn’t see the point in doing so and they just make him feel trapped and uncomfortable, so his whole body keeps on getting cold each minute.
As the clingy partner as he is, he wants to feel your body against his, cuddling up next to you, pressing long kiss against your shoulder. . how is he supposed to do that when you’re covered from head to toe ?? He slowly raises the blankets and slides himself in with you, making his way beside you, careful on not to wake you up. But as soon as his metallic hands touch your back, you swore you never jumped out of your bed so fast, shivers running up and down your whole body
“Boothill what the heck !? Why are you so damn cold !” you scream and look at him as if you’ve just seen a ghost. He whines in response after you got away from his grasp “darliiing. . come back to bed with me, i missed your warmth all night. .” a pout forms on his lips. “well, i did not miss your coldness, now go back to your side of the bed !” he gasps a little, in a too dramatic way “i didn’t think you could be so mean, to your own lover too. . !” “yeah yeah, whatever, i just wanna get some more sleep” you mumble as a yawn escapes your lips “well, we can continue on sleeping together against eachother” he’s trying to persuade you “no can do, mister, im not trying to freeze to death” you lay down, your back facing him. He lets out a long sigh before giving up, but he doesn’t move, he stares at your back a couple of minutes before falling asleep again, this time covered by the blankets.
The next thing you know, as soon as you wake up again, you find yourself on top of your boyfriend, his harms around your waist not letting you get away another time while still sleeping; but he’s not cold anymore, he’s oddly warm, but it’s nice. You make yourself more comfortable, head on his chest, before eventually you fall asleep, again.
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he’s oh so pretty i can’t do this
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