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trappolia · 29 days

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OLD COWBOY’S REPRIEVE — pre-canon!boothill x gn!reader, 543

the light from your shared room casts boothill’s figure in shadows and angles as it streams through the curtains and spills across the covers — in the silence of the bed, you hear the distant bleating of sheep and mooing of cattle somewhere far in the fields. the sound reminds you of a childhood trip to the countryside that you had long forgotten, lost and muddled somewhere in the back burner of your mind, but with this moment and these sounds it comes rushing back to you.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” beside you, your lover’s foul mouth indicates that he is less than pleased to have forgotten to draw the curtains close last night, again. boothill grunts beside you, stirring in bed and burrowing his head underneath the pillow in effort to hide from the sun.

“mhm,” your own bleary eyes blink in the light that filters in through the gaps between the curtains. deciding that yes, it is indeed much too early for it to be so bright, you turn over and away from the window, burying your face in the broad expanse of boothill’s back.

boothill grumbles tiredly, and you — sweet you, darling you, the love of his life and the fire of his loins — just hum. the tension coiled around his wide shoulders eases when he feels your lips press against an old scar on his back, your softer, uncalloused fingers curling along his pec, where the unshaven scruff of chest hair continues to grow.

“c’mere, ya,” boothill rolls over with a shift of the mattress beneath your bodies as you press against him.

your sweet affection towards him in the morning light never ceases to make him weak, and his heart aches from the tenderness of your touch as you press against him, running your hands over his chest while he grunts softly and pushes himself against your hand. he wants to shift closer, push himself against you till he can make a home in the soft warmth of your skin, and the two of you can forever be one entity so he would never have to part from you.

eh, an old cowboy can have his dreams.

you raise your head so boothill can slip his arm underneath, letting his bicep act as a pillow for your soft head. when you do not open your eyes, he nudges you lightly.

“y’ gon’ wake up, toots?” he rasps, voice still groggy from sleep.

“five more minutes,” you groan, which roughly means it’ll be an hour or two before boothill can properly get you out of bed.

boothill sighs as he lets his arms pull you to him completely, your head laying on his bicep now while you remains with your eyes closed. his own head falls back heavily against the pillows, hair cast over the simple linen in a mess of black and white.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply — it is your perfume now that is an irresistible bouquet, the scent of sunshine and something sweet, and boothill relaxes into the embrace he holds you in, closing his eyes as he too lets sleep overcome him.

his chores out in the ranch can wait a lil’ longer.

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bombiix · 25 days

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Her.

Boothill. Winter was approaching. tw : angst. 2.7k words. NOT a x reader fic!

Winter approached. Wood had to be chopped, house had to be warm, cold had to be kept outside. It was a routine, a simple one he used to follow every years. His long and thin fingers wrapped around the handle of the axe, the polished metal slashing through the deep pine wood, he was preparing himself for winter. Despite the bright sun up in the sky, sun rays sliding across his body, tanning his skin, he could not allow himself to be late. Sweats dripped along his forehead as warmth weighted on his shoulders, his bare arms felt heavier while they rose in the sky to pierce through the wood as heavily as they felt. Few birds sung their arrival to their family, others sung for food and some flew away as the axe chopped through the wood one more time. Ears up in the sky, tilting towards the man loud enough to disturb nature, horses puffed air in curiosity. Disturbance was a big word as they returned to graze, grinding and chewing grass. Tails swinging in the air to chase flies away, their skin twitching at any contact. Sliding a hand on his forehead, he sighed heavily. While he was the only one able to do this job, it was still a tiring one. The sun didn’t help as he felt crushed under it, any movement becoming an extra effort. But the wood had to be chopped, not only for him, but for her. A man of promises keeps his promises, winter would be warm. He rose his arms up in the sky one more time before throwing them down, the metal crashing in the trunk supporting the log of wood. Although it was a beautiful sight for his wife, it became an agony for him. Listening to his body, he started to pack up the cut wood. He knew the crushing sun wouldn’t last for long, he was used to those abrupt change of climate. He learned and had to adapt himself and his cabin, for him. But also for her. Rubbing his hands together, in loud claps, he sighed. Finally, he finished and he could go back inside and enjoy some free time. Hurriedly, he went in the cabin. He made many promises, many that he certainly forgot, but spending time with her was one he would never forget.

She was there. He couldn’t help but feel relieved. A wolf toy in her hand, she made it play with her owl plush. Raising the wolf front paws in the air, to make him stand on his hind legs, a timid howl would leave her mouth.

“Baby, you wanna call wolves?” He said, as calmly as he could, fearful he would scare her. She turned around quickly, leaving her toys to run into his arms. A bright smile appeared on her round face, a laugh escaping her lips. “Do you think we could?” She lifted her head towards him, hope filling her eyes. He took a second, admiring her face. How barbaric of him it would be, to say no. His lips tilted in a smile, his hands sliding in her soft hair. After all, calling a few wolves in the night in the safety of their cabin wouldn’t cause problems. She never had the chance to hear them yet, it was the moment.

“Sure, don’t fall asleep.” She laughed, quickly responding, “Never!”, loud enough to startle birds around the cabin. As quickly as she answered, she went back to her activities. He observed her for anew second before turning to the small wooden kitchen. The wooded floor creaked under his feet, the sole of his boots scraping along the wood. It was a small kitchen with enough cabinets to store food. Few pans were hanging and casseroles were pilled together, all copper. A basket filled with vegetables, such as carrots, tomatoes, onions; vegetables which came from their garden, rested on the kitchen counter. Putting a casserole filled with water on the plates, he lighted up the gas. He took a knife and sat down onto a chair, which squeaked under his weight. Quietly, he peeled potatoes. The knife cut down the skin, his thumb pressed down on the potato and the skin lifted up as the blade slid under it. The scratching of the blade against the potatoes’ skin felt loud, the skin being peeled off buzzed in his ears. He tilted his head up, silence filling his head.

“Where’s mama?” He asked, her absence becoming deafening to him.

“She went to pick mushrooms, papa.” His little girl responded, looking up at him. He put down the knife a moment, his eyes scrutinizing her. He smiled in response, nodding his head. Mushroom stew might not be the best dish but it was the best he could do. A few potatoes, herbs, fresh mushrooms and the dish would be exquisite. He didn’t have the culinary standards of a star chef but the smile of his daughter was enough of a reward. He wanted her to have a belly full of good meat and vegetables. His own belly groaned, hungry like a lion. He didn’t realize that he was late for diner, her wife or his baby used to call him when it was the case. Everyone seemed busy today. Water boiled in the casserole he filled with potatoes, avoiding splashing his hands with the simmering water. A harder task than it was supposed to be, water landing on his hand. He hissed, shaking his hand far from the casserole.

“Are you okay, papa?” His little girl asked, turning to him. He nodded again, cooling his hand under the stream of water in the sink.

“Yeah, papa just burnt his hand a bit.” He sighed. He looked at her. “Y’know how clumsy he can be.” He smiled at her, earning a laugh from her. She hoisted herself on her legs, sore from the playtime on the floor causing her to wobble. It wasn’t rare for her to lose balance, she always had a hard time walking on her legs. It was the reason why her father never liked her leaving the house alone. It took her a few clumsy steps to reach a small cabinet that she opened. Another few clumsy steps to reach her dad to which she handed him the bandages. Her father’s eyes observed her hands, as if she was the one who hurt herself, before thanking her. Sitting down on the squeaking chair, he reached out his hand to her. “You wanna help pa’?” She nodded in response. Holding the bandages in her small hands, she gently unwrapped it around his hand. Soft, quiet, she made sure to not hurt him more than he already was. But pain was already gone when he looked at her. In a world where she was alive, no pain could touch him. Quiet words were exchanged, guiding her to carefully wrap his hand. He looked at his bandaged hand, not hurting as much as he thought it would. Perhaps burn wounds became a habit as he tended to burn his fingers when he filled the fireplace with logs of wood.

Night settled in as the sun rested behind horizon. Bird’s melody quieted down for crickets and cicadas to take their turn in the song. Last sun’s rays pierced through pines before disappearing in the darkness of the night. Purple painted over pink hues the sun left on the sky, blue slowly fading his way over it. Despite the crushing darkness of the night, it could never erase the pink his eyes were seeing. A pink faded with orange, as if the day never wanted to stop. The sun was too stubborn to let the moon take place. Perhaps, it was him, who never wanted the day to stop. Time flew by, too fast for him. Days were too short for him to enjoy his time with his daughter. Despite those short days, every morning was a blessing as he was greeted by her face, her smile, her eyes. Despite those quick days, every morning were the same. A routine he settled, for their own good.

Winter was coming, wood had to be chopped, the cabin warmed up and the cold kept outside.

Warmth weighted on him as he slashed his axe through the wood. Horses went grazing farther away, playing and running around. Despite the crushing sun, they were ecstatic. Birds chirped and flew away with each wood’s log being slit in pieces. Sweats dripped along his forehead, muscled arms flexing with each movements. Cutting woods was always a chores, one his wife appreciated as he always did it without his top on. Rare became their intimate moments since their daughter came in their life. He thought about his wife, who left for mushrooms. She would be coming back, for a nice mushroom stew he would prepare. A bit of vegetables, of meat and herbs, and it would be perfect for his daughter. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear little steps behind him.

“Papa?” He jolted, turning his head towards her. A quiet sigh relaxed his shoulders as he placed the axe on the trunk.

“Don’t scare me like that little one.” He whispered, passing his arm on his forehead to wipe sweats away.

“We didn’t call the wolves.” She retorted, quickly. He looked at her, frowning his brows. He felt confused, hands placed on his hips. He tilted his head on the side, as questioning her. He breathed heavily as the heat weighted on him.

“You fell asleep, papa.”

He looked at her an instant. Pinching his lips, he looked down. How dumb he was. A man of promises who couldn’t keep his promises. He wanted to argue, to tell her they did. He was sure of it but how a father could doubt his daughter’s words? Admitting his defeat, his fault, he knelt down to her height. He gently took her hands in his, hers disappearing in his large hands. She felt soft, as smooth as silk, a tad cold. Placing tender kisses above her hands, he looked up at her.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could reply. He felt guilty and couldn’t bring himself to give her a new promise he couldn’t keep. Excusing himself was all he could do. Perhaps they needed more time together. He decided to abandon chopping woods for her, leading her to the house. He tried his best to be the father she deserved, he was learning as much as her and listened to her needs to fulfill her child’s heart. They were growing together. Walking towards the cabin, he led her to the house. She felt hesitant, wanting to walk longer in the garden but she finally gave in. Following her father’s steps was always a safer choice than wandering alone, with her uncoordinated feet.

Entering the house, he had a shiver. He felt cold despite little flames dancing in the fireplace. He sat down next to the fireplace, the sunshine passing through the windows. She sat next to him, holding her toys in her hands. She went back to it, howling with her wolf toy raising its paws in the air. He couldn’t believe she was satisfied with such simple games. A kid like him needed to run, scream and jump everywhere. He was a “little terror”; adults loved to give him nicknames. Perhaps her clumsy feet didn’t help her, he thought. Turning his gaze to the fire, he thought about the next day. He would take her with him and bring her on his horse.

An uncomfortable silence filled him. He frowned as he turned his head to his daughter.

“Where’s mama?”

His daughter raised her head towards him.

“Who’s mama?”

Silence filled the room, as he stared at her.

“What?”

“She went to pick mushrooms, papa.” She smiled at him before playing with her toys again. He didn’t respond as he stared at her. He shook his head, thinking his ears were playing games with him. Or his daughter probably was, kids often says weird stuff after all, he told himself. A sigh left his mouth, his shoulders falling as he relaxed. He couldn’t help but feel his ears buzzing, disturbing the peacefulness of his silence. It probably was due from the heat outside. Hoisting himself on his feet, he walked to the kitchen. Not a long walk as the cabin was pretty small. It had a second floor for a few beds; it was more of an attic. Quietly, as to not disrupt his daughter’s playtime, he put down a pan on the gas, followed by a casserole. He couldn’t help but shiver again, his eyes staring outside the window. How weird, how cold he felt even with the scorching sun outside. Shrugging it off, accusing it on the cabin’s humidity, he sat down on the small table to peel potatoes.

His eyes felt heavy, his hands having a hard time following his movements. He certainly needed some rest, close to his girl. Void filled his head as humming gently flew to his ears. He fought his fatigue, keeping on peeling those potatoes as if it was his last mission. He couldn’t help but listen to this sweet melody, lips ajar. It felt like a voice coming from another world, echoing in his head. He yielded, his heavy eyelids closing.

He found himself cutting wood again. We were already tomorrow? He asked himself, frowning. He didn’t realize how quick time went by. Days became shorter, mornings became rougher. He kept his routine, despite the guilt of not spending time with his daughter. He shook his head in discord with his own mind. He placed the axe down, sitting on the trunk. Perhaps he should go see her, it seemed like forever since he didn’t see her.

“Papa?” He got startled, turning his head to his girl. Hands behind her back, she smiled at him. Her hair seemed even brighter, the sun shining along her hair. He couldn’t help a smile, admiring the little girl who was his daughter. It felt weird, how he didn’t feel his heart beat in happiness, but knew better how grateful he was for the world to give him such a pretty daughter. He would fight men and gods for her.

“Yea, darling?” He bowed his head on the side, to have a better view of her as the sun was blinding him.

“I keep calling for you.”

Silence settled, as their eyes met. A smile twisted his lips, his head shaking in disapproval.

“Wha’ do you mean?” He puffed, putting down his hat. He was met with silence as she looked at him. Silence filled him, filled his mind, lips ajar. His gaze never left hers as he couldn’t even move his brows in a frown. A nervous laugh left his mouth, as if she admitted to have an imaginary friend. He lifted himself from the trunk, quiet steps approaching her. He felt it, his heart beating against his rib cage. It was painful, agonizingly fast. He could feel it in his wrists, his ears, his throat. It was beating everywhere in his body, his blood rushing in his veins. His knees met the floor, icy cold. He reached for her face, his eyes meeting hers.

“Papa.”

He heard it.

Winter was there, his knees buried deep in the snow. Woods was chopped, packed up near the cabin.

Winter was there and it was overwhelmingly hot. Heat weighed down on his body, knees buried deep in the snow. He couldn’t find the strength to stand up, he didn’t have the strength to scream.

Winter was there and her cries were faded in the roaring growls of the fire, her torment silenced by the cruelty of those flames.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her suffering. He didn’t have the courage to see how lonely she is. He thought about her small hands reaching for the sky, asking for her father. He imagined her cries, desperately calling for her father. He realized how lonely she must have been, consumed by those barbaric flames who didn’t have pity for a small soul such as her. Those mornings were only lies, those days never existed because the sun never rested down; he landed a finger to the house he would curse.

He realized how his mind played him, giving him hopes of living with her. Those days never happened.

Left alone, in front of those blinding flames, he heard them. Wolves howled their despair, trying to reach her ears, never would she be able to hear them with her father.

“She’s gone.”

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kendalzu · 3 months

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RIDE TILL YOU CANT NO MORE.

“just like that my honey— ride them just like that. make yourself feel good.” Boothill hissed into your ear, his sharp teeth threatening to nip at your oh so sweet neck. your moans echoing against the small room you guys were in, he kissed you harshly to shut you up.

“honeybun— shut up, you don’t want to get caught now do ya’?” his fingers curling up into your tight hole. but you had enough of his teasing and ‘mean’ remarks. you found the hole below his back, and managed to stick one of your fingers in the hole.

“hey now— that’s not.. mmgf.” his sweet whimper made you want more from him, so that’s exactly what you did. he was so adorable— putting up a face for you, but touch the right places and he will fold. his humanoid metal figure turing his gears— quite loudly..

“honey, shut up now will ya?” you mocked him while inserting one more finger inside him, making his mouth tremble and fight back his moans, but he just couldn’t help himself. his eyes were telling you everything that you needed to know.

unexpectedly— you started toying with the USB’s to the side of his waist, dragging your finger across the rectangular window of wires. if it was possible for cyborgs to cry, he would be sobbing right now.

the pleasure was all too much for him, he whined and begged you to stop or he would shut down from pure pleasure. “honey, honey please! you can’t do this to meee..” his words extended, legs bucking before his eyes went black— he shut down.

the night ended with some kisses, and you bought him home to recharge him.

#sub hsr #please reblog #boothill hsr #boothill smut #hsr smut #hsr x reader #please like #my writing #my first fic #honkai star rail #honkai smut #nghhhhhh

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 5 days

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a/n: 2.1k w.count- boothill needs a lil tune up [...y'all should've seen this one comin' honestly]

you're not sure why you bother setting an alarm every time you go to sleep. you don't even know when you'll be sleeping for one; it could be in the afternoon, it could be in the morning, it could be for ten minutes at your workbench, and on the rare occasion, you can even go to bed at night like everyone else. although, that last option when blessed upon you, never lasted the whole night.

as for the original dilemma of alarm clocks? who needs 'em! the critters getting into your shop and wrecking your tools around were a surefire way to get your blood pumping with a wild chase around the shop with a hefty, swinging wrench. kids stopping by to see the newest hunk-of-junk thing you've been tinkering with or maybe even bringing you some toy to fix with whimpering chins are always sure to keep you awake- you couldn't send them away with smashed hopes. perhaps it was a good natured older lady or gentlemen just stretching their legs one fine morning after you had pulled an all nighter, but now you have to entertain their gossip well into the morning past the ass-crack of dawn because you can't be a bad host!

this instance, however, just so happens to be the familiar sound of heavy, metal boots clanking their way through the shop's public entrance. the sound of the stomping reverberates around your small little rest room at the back of your shop through the camera feed you keep running at all hours (mostly for those critters previously mentioned). having just fallen asleep on top of being hyperaware of sounds from the feed, your eyes fly open. with a well-overdramatic, one-person show worthy groan evolved to frustrated yell, you were throwing your shabby blanket off your legs.

"wakey, wakey!" the synthetic voice of an overly familiar man projects into your room.

you stomp across the room in two short strides. slamming your palm down on a button attached to a small table with all sorts of other switches and knobs, the small indicator that audio is feeding from your microphone kicks on as red as your temper.

"the hell do you want?" you growl, voice muffled at the end of your exhausted question by your free hand running down your face. you hear his voice chuckle on the other end. peering through your fingers into the video screen, he had moved to stand away from your shop door. his arms are crossed across his metallic chest, chin tilted up so his one eye can gaze into the camera that follows his movements.

"now, now, sugar," he chuckles, "just open the door, would ya'? i could use some fixin' up." as if trying to coax you into letting him in, he waves one of his arms around by the elbow.

you're not sure if he heard you click your tongue before you lifted your hand off the audio feed button, but he chuckles nonetheless as the soft click of disconnection echoes on his end. he knew you'd come racing to the door... well, at the very least you wouldn't leave him out to dry.

the cowboy dips his chin and chuckles under his breath as the brim of his hat shadows his face. he could hear you stomping your way towards him and just imagining your irritated face with a possibly twitching brow was highly amusing to him.

the door in front of his toes swings open inwards and the rush of air as it did so flutters his long bangs that always covered the right side of his face. his chin rises a fraction, and he was right. your face was assuming.

standing in a wrinkled shirt that you no doubt had been trying to sleep in, arms crossed and a crease so deep in your brows he was tempted to push his thumb between them.

"well," he starts, swaying his hunk of metal bodyweight to one of his equally metal legs, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

"what. do you want." you hiss. before he gives you a verbal answer, his arm swings down and swipes something from his pocket before presenting it in front of your face. your eyes nearly go crossed to examine it. then you're looking back up at him, not any more amused than before. "is this supposed to be a bribe?"

the cowboy shrugs playfully, twisting the covered candied sucker between his fingers.

"do ya' want it to be?"

you roll your eyes, bringing your arm up to snatch the small boost of sugar from him. "just get in here, boothill." you sigh, free hand coming to rub your forehead. turning your body to retreat back into your home, the clanking of him following behind echoes at your back.

boothill whistles at the state of the familiar shop he'll find himself in from time to time for quick fix-ups. a workbench loaded with heaps of scrap metal, tools, random bobbles, and screws all littered on top of pages and printed blueprints of projects or repairs. it's even more of a chaotic mess than last time. he sits on the stool he normally snags as his when he's here and, without speaking, you're hooking up a small machine attached to the wall next to the bench and offering him the end of a circular cord.

"need a charge?" you ask with a small lisp from the candy you had already unwrapped and placed in your mouth against your cheek.

"well, why not," he entertains. taking the thick, extendable cord from your hand and plugging it into the port on his lower back.

you flit around a few other places before your snagging a stoll for yourself and placing it in front of his knees. you push some estranged tools around with your forearm and, while moving your sucker from one cheek to the other, you begin to maneuver your hair out of your face.

boothill enjoys watching you in this way. it felt familiar- just seeing someone move around in rather mundane ways. this small sense of domesticity was familiar and comfortable. it calmed him; reminding him of home.

"what's the problem?" you finally ask, looking a tad bit more awake and more or less ready to work on whatever issue he had to present.

his right arm moves to cross his lap and his palm bangs twice on his opposing forearm where his internal revolver barrel is.

"i got myself in quite a fuss with this dang thing. forkin' bullet got jammed in the goose-dud thing and i can't even pop the barrel open to reload it."

you stare at him like he just said the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "you came all the way here. because your arm got jammed by a bullet." the way you spoke sounded exactly how you looked at him.

"this ain't no one-handed fix, sugar." you stay quiet, not willing to admit he had a point. using both hands to not only try and pop open the jam, but also tinker around with what was essentially his whole arm's motion control- that did require a bit more finesse than just slamming his arm on a wall until it gave way... which is precisely what you could imagine him doing.

"fine," you yield. "take off that sorry excuse of a 'jacket' unless you want that sleeve covered in oil."

you twist away from him, half-standing at a strange angle to reach across your workbench for something as the satisfying sound of the bottom of his small zipper unlatches. shrugging it off, he tosses it onto your bench, covering a few loose tools and scribblings of paper.

you fully get out of your stool and trot over to the other side of the shop to roll over a smaller table with a metal tub. you wheel it to his left and, without instruction, boothill lays his arm over it.

as you begin to tinker around with his arm, picks, pliers, oil and all working on trying to dislodge the stray bullet that had caused such an issue, boothill has taken to lounging comfortably as he watches.

his right arm, free of any issues or problem fixing, was propped up on the corner of your workbench at his side with his forearm resting along the edge. his metal fingers had snagged a stray nail from the workspace and had been twirling it absent-mindedly between his knuckles like a bullet.

the only words spoken between you both as you worked was the occasional quick apology if something you did prods against a wire that sent a shock up his arm or made his fingers twitch.

"easy. last thing we need ya' doin' is settin' my gun off, sugar," he had told you. just because his arm machinery wasn't properly loaded- ain't nothing was stopping you from accidentally relodging the bullet and sending it through your wall. the sudden discharge coupled with his exposed wires could easily kick his arm back with enough recoil to knock you clean out with how close you were leaning in to see what you were doing.

"okay..!" you whisper to yourself before the sound of something sliding down in his arm is followed by a sensation; one he was almost familiar with. "give me a wrench. heavy," you instruct. on hand was spread across his forearm just at the start of the revolver barrel, the other outstretched towards your bench. grabbing the nearest one, he slaps it into your palm.

with a two, heavy whacks using your newly acquired wrench, you slam the barrel shut and boothill lets out a small breath.

"now, that feels a heck of a lot better," he chuckles. you reach around his forearm, release the tension latch and the barrel swings out successfully. with your pliers, you easily remove one problematic, greasy bullet. "knew i could count on you to get the job done."

"and thanks to you, my hands are gross," you chide. fingers greased in oil. boothill grabs a rag from your workbench drawer and tosses it over your sullied hands. you start working the cloth between your fingers the moment it hits your skin. "i recommend you stick around and charge up before heading out on whatever you got lined up next."

"shucks, you mean it?" you can't tell if he's genuinely thankful you'd allow him to stay or if he was just being facetious. once your hands were at least dry, you start using it to wipe down his arm next.

"course i do. i'll have to give you a quick check again before you go. i'll mess around and try and make it so it doesn't jam like that again. whatever tech-doc you worked with before really needed to focus on the finer details." boothill wondered if you knew that you had lifted his newly repaired limb and started rotating and twisting it like you were admiring your work. like you were admiring him.

"they don't matter no more," he tells you. "i got ya' now, don't i? who needs some random rear shirt-bag, when i got the best in the forkin' business right here?"

"careful now. flattery will get your everywhere."

"no shirt?"

"watch your mouth," you tease before you stand. "i mean it though. stay put and charge."

"i ain't no stupid electronic," he clicks. his body moves and twists so both of his arms are now leaning on the workbench behind him. both elbows supporting him as his arms dangle off the ledge. "but I hear ya'." his eye shuts under the shadow of his hat.

his eye reopened no sooner than it shut when the shadow caused by the brim of his cowboy hat disappeared and the light of your shop flitered through his eyelids. with a clear, open eye, he lifts his chin to see you standing in front of him.

you had pinched the brim of his hat between your fingers, snatching it off his head and revealing the fullness of his long, dual-colored hair and cross-hair-infused eye. you take his hat and nonchalantly toss it behind his right shoulder to avoid getting any residual oil from his left arm on it.

"take your damn hat off inside my shop will you? you don't need it." you turn away from him as he continues to stare at your back, slack jawed. you mutter something about washing your hands and arms before you disappear behind a doorway and around the corner of the wall. he'd been in the entirety of your shop before, so he knows where you went but all he could think about was you flicking his hat off him.

the cowboy let his head fall backward, the hair on the backside of his skull tangling with screws and pencils as his right hand comes to rest over his face. he can hear the water running in the other room.

"ah, son of a nice lady...!"

boothill has really got to tell you not to mess with his hat.

a/n: one day i'll write a flirty hat rule fic. *sigh* one day.

#honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x y/n #boothill fluff #honkai star rail boothill #boothill hsr #hsr boothill #boothill x you #boothill fic #boothill headcanons #boothill #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x y/n #honkai star rail fluff #boothill honkai star rail

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3rosx · 2 months

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Boothill x Fem!Reader, angsty smut headcanons because his lightcone story was leaked and it's kinda sad so of course I had to make something out of it.

Boothill likes kissing you, he likes the feeling of your warm mouth on his. The way his mechanical heart would need to run more power whenever you ask him to lean down so you could place your soft lips wherever you'd like, and the tingly feeling his face gets after you do. Because his head is the only thing left of him that's human, the only part of him that can feel things while the rest of his body is just a big chunk of metal and wires that keeps him functioning.

Boothill likes giving head, likes the feeling of your thighs squishing his cheeks when you squirm. He loves it when they shake right against him when you're close to cummin' and goes even harder on you just too feel those plushy legs suffocate him.

Boothill hates that his body doesn't feel anything, yes he does feel arousal, but it's different from the way normal people with normal parts do. When he get's aroused, his system gets all bugged and runs on more steam than usual. His metal body gets all hot, like a laptop that's been running for days. It didn't bother him that much at first, he just had to take a few breaks when he gets too hot when he's eating you out. It was fine at first.

But times goes on and he starts to wonder if you're fine with how things are, even though you assure him time and time again that you are okay with it. As long as it's him. But even if you're okay with it, there's still a thought in his head that he's not giving you enough. You deserve more than he could give you. You might be fine with it now, but who know? After a few or so years you might think that this arrangement isn't enough for you and leave him for someone who can, someone whole and not broken like him.

#honkai star rail #hsr penacony #penacony #boothill #hsr boothill #hsr boothill smut #boothill x reader #boothill smut #hsr fic #hsr drabbles

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heavenlyraindrops · 1 month

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BOOTHIL X READER PELALSPELLSLS I KNOW NOTHING AB HIM AND ITS BEEN A BIT SINCE I OPENED THE GAME BUT I WANT HIM SO BAD AND I AM SAVING SO MUCH TO GET HIM PSLSOSLSLSL

ʙᴏᴏᴛʜɪʟʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ——> saw this pic in a post by @lynettess then I got this req and I just. I had to

Warnings: profanity, very suggestive, Boothill kinda has an accent or smth idk it’s not bad or anything

A/N: see more of her as in, more often? Or in the other way…? Thanks for the ask Adonis. Sorry this was so short tho :( mayb if it gets enough notes I’ll write a pt. 2…

Your plans for a Friday night definitely weren’t to get drunk in some obscure bar in the middle of nowhere, lost all sight of your friend who had dragged you out for a ‘good night.’ They definitely weren’t to be sitting so close to Boothill, to the point where his metal torso was pressed against your warm one, sending a thrill through your body- but his breath fanning across your face was warm.

The alcohol coursed through your system, making you more sluggish than usual- though you were sober enough. Not sober enough to stop and think about whether or not you should get so close to a stranger, and a cyborg at that- albeit an attractive one. Boothill tilted his head to the side, smirk playing across his lips as you giggled at something he said while taking another sip from your glass.

Your eyes searched your friend out through the crowd of the hot bar, but couldn’t see her anywhere. His hand went to your chin, fixing your gaze back onto his own face.

“Eyes here,” he said. You grinned, again, face burning, although you couldn’t tell if it was from the heat or from his actions as you swept a couple of strands of hair from your own face. “Didn’t anyone tell ya it’s rude to not look at someone when they’re talkin’?”

You leaned precariously on your elbow, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. “Apologies,” you teased, hand pressed to your chest. His eyes followed the action. “How ever could I make it up to you?”

He leaned back, away from you, and you leaned into him again, and his grin only widened. Your eyes traced the marks under his eye and your heart thrummed against your chest. “A favour? From a pretty thing like you? I could never accept that.”

You held up your hand. “Hey, when did I offer you a favour?” You complained, trying to fight the colour rising to your cheeks at his little remark. He tipped his head back to laugh and the sinful thoughts filling your head as you looked at him were definitely not seeing you through to the pearly gates.

The past hour had been a blur, from when he had slid into the seat next to you, smoothly talking you into flirtatious conversation, up until now, where the tension was tugging at your fervently. And you were so, so close to grabbing him and simply begging him to-

“What’s wrong, sugar? Can’t handle a little compliment?”

No, no, I can’t. Not when it comes from you. Great, now I’m fucking wet. You smiled coolly and took another sip of your drink. “Not when it comes from you,” you shot back, echoing your previous thought.

“Nice to know I have that sort of effect on ya, sweetheart,” he murmured, and the metal tip of his finger tracing a path along your collarbone. You froze at the provocative touch, hands tightening around your glass, growing more and more restless.

“Is it?” You stuttered, fighting to keep your voice level. He chuckled, hand dropping down to your waist.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and suddenly moved back. Your muscles tightened with apprehension- anticipation? You couldn’t tell.

And then he took his hat off and set it on your head.

You burned at the thought of the implications of the action as his finger traced the rim of the accessory. “I’m assumin’ ya don’t have any specific plans for the rest of the night?” You took off his hat, setting it in your lap.

“Well, I didn’t.” You locked eyes with him.

He raised an eyebrow.

“But I do now.”

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beloved-blaiddyd · 1 month

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Yandere rancher!Gallagher vs Yandere cowboy!Boothill over a mail order bride!reader fic when? When I'm done with the event probably-

Tentative fic title: Holding A Wedding On Top Of His Funeral

“Let my spouse go.”

“Or what, eh? Send a herd on my way? Chuck that flimsy shot in my direction? Don't act tuff when I can put a bullet on your skull.”

“You know nothin' about Penacony. Let (Y/n) go. Now.”

“Ha. Well I'll be. Time to get serious.”

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Can I request headcanons for Boothill react to his gn s/o telling him that they can't sleep in the same bed as him because they will cling onto him like a koala bear in their sleep?

‘Don’t be ridiculous sugar, I’d love me a clingy koala bear.’ Boothill said cheekily before his face became a somber. ‘And besides I won’t be able to feel you clinging onto me anyway.’ He adds with a shrug but you could tell it was something that deeply affected him.

If Boothill could make a deal with the gods to allow his body to feel the slightest touch, he’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant he could feel you cling on to him like you claim you would.

But he wasn’t blessed with that opportunity just yet and until then he’d had to make do with the fact that the only part of his body that could feel was his face.

Only in his wildest dreams could it be achieved where he would be able to feel you pressed up against his side, face pressed against his chest as your limbs went whether they felt and locking him in, but he wouldn’t care because he could feel you.

He hated everything about his body and its inability to feel but you loved him nonetheless and made sure to express your affection however you could and he loved you all the more for it.

‘Well I’ll just have to sleep like this then.’ You said as you cupped his cheeks in your hands and pulled his forehead so that it was pressed against your own and your noses were touching. ‘If that’s okay with you.’ You added in a whisper, looking into his eyes.

‘It’s more than okay with me sweetheart.’ He tells you softly, pressing his face further into your hold the moment your thumbs caressed under his eyes. ‘It’s more than okay.’ He repeats, feeling himself melt further into your touch when your fingers ran through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

He was in heaven, he must be. Was all he think as he drifted of to sleep, the lingering warmth of your hands guided him to the land of dreams where you would be there, waiting for him with outstretched arms.

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grimm-writings · 1 month

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don’t you repeat that!

…ft! boothill x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, but gets kind of sad at the end there, established relationship, inspired by boothill leaks, cursing

…wc! 394

…notes! trying to scavenge back some writing motivation so a tiny lil bootsy drabble while i manifest for him LMAO. speedrunning penacony quests rn i must see the cowboy by any means necessary…

Your boyfriend knows some colourful language.

How he comes up with such a unique string of curses and insults confounds you. Even now you can hear the unfortunate sound of him stubbing his toe, the loud hiss as he draws in breath and…

“Fucking dumb shit riding on horseback in the middle of the God damn night!”

There it is.

“Language,” you call out. You look down at the little girl sitting on your lap and shake your head at her, as if to communicate to her how irresponsible her old man is being, especially when she’s nearby.

Finally, your boyfriend’s head peeks out from behind the doorway, as if about to retort that his poor toe has been painfully attacked by the edge of a table. Instead, he sees you, crossing your little girl’s arms disappointingly at his action.

He sighs and strides forward, dramatically overselling a limp, before crouching into a squat. He points at the little baby with a pout. “Don’t you go repeating what I say. Or else this one here’ll never forgive me.”

A toothy grin is shot your way and you can’t help but scoff. “She can only babble so far. Though, under your wing? I wouldn’t be surprised if her first words happen to be a curse at an Aeon.”

“I’d be quite proud if that was the case,” he returns, picking up the baby from your lap. You let him. Despite his foul mouth, your partner has proven himself very capable of handling a newborn child. From the very day he entered your shared home with her in his arms, you knew she carved something new and special out of the cowboy you lived with.

Almost made you feel like a real family.

“Let’s get you to sleep, eh?” He speaks to her as if she can understand full length sentences. “Can’t have you driftin’ off when I’m trying t’ introduce you to our steeds, princess.”

For a second, you really considered asking then and there. Seeing how the little girl reaches up and tries to brush dark hair away from your boyfriend’s eye makes your heart melt. This could be your future. Your forever. A family with your favourite people.

Though, as you watch him, maybe you’ll wait.

Or, maybe, you won’t even get that opportunity at all.

It’s not like Boothill ever knew anyway.

#✮ grimm's fics!#honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #boothill #boothill x reader #boothill imagines #boothill leaks

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sincerelyakilljoy · 2 months

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YOU WANT IT WHERE?

pairing - boothill x fem!reader length - 1.6k words warnings - nsfw/18+ content, gun play (fucks you with his gun..), slight dacryphilia, choking, biting, slight degradation, pet names (darling, angel, pretty girl, doll..), mirror sex (brought up briefly), semi public sex (in a bar bathroom)

summary - boothill uses his revolver in ways you couldnt even imagine.

NOTES

sorry if some stuff sounds fucking dumb or something, its decently proofread...but once again thank you for reading! (Formatting mayyyy be weird because I uploaded it off my phone, I’ll fix it once I’m home!)

“C’mon doll, use them words f’me.” The cowboy tuts, gray eyes glinting in the light as he stares down at you, toothy grin revealing his sharp teeth.

He has your hands pressed against the bathroom wall of a random bar, hands stretched out in front of you as you spread your legs for him, dress and panties pooled around your ankles. You gasp as you feel the cold steel of his revolver dragging up your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you want it.

“Please…j…just…put it…” You can barely get the words out, sputtering needily as he teases you.

You don’t even know how long it’s been since he first dragged you into the bathroom, feeling like he’s been teasing you forever now, body littered with bite marks and hickies from earlier. Thighs feeling weak and wobbly as you stay standing, shaking and twitching as you let shaky whines slip from your lips.

“P-please, what? Spit it out, girl...” He mocks you, wolfish grin plastered on his face as he looks down at you. “Where you wan’ it? Right here, sweetheart?” He smirks, pressing the muzzle of the gun against your aching clit, rubbing the freezing metal against it in a harsh circular motion while he leans in, running his tongue from your jawline to the skin of your neck before roughly nipping at your pulse point.

You let out a pretty sob at the feeling, hips bucking back towards him as you slump forward, arms folding against the wall as you press your forehead against them. You try to position yourself so that all your weight isn't completely settled on your legs.

He steps back slightly, boots clicking against the concrete floor, shaking his head as you shift your position. “Uh, uh, arms straight out, angel.” He tuts, one of his metal hands moving to put your arms back to the previous position from before while keeping his revolver pressed to your throbbing clit. “Stay still, girl.”

You whine as he puts you back in place, arms outstretched in front of you once again. He slides a hand up your spine, humming with a smirk as he watches you shiver from the cold metal grazing your skin. He hums to himself as he presses his hand to the middle of your back, pushing you down to put you in a more arched position.

Boothill starts to drag the barrel of his gun between your wet folds, grinning as he sees the metal shine in the light from your slick. “Y’er so wet… Such a filthy little thing, aren’t ya’?”

He starts to slide the barrel back and forth between your drenched folds, muzzle nudging and bumping against your clit as you whine, thighs twitching and shaking from the dizzying feeling. Your hands balled into fists against the wall as your hips buck against the cold weapon in a stuttering rhythm.

Boothill stares down at you with a lazy smile, admiring the way you’re so needy, getting all hot and bothered just from his revolver pressing against your pussy. The way you’re moaning and whining sounding like music to his ears.

Absolutely filthy.

He leans in, his metal chest pressing against your back, settling his weight on you. He presses a wet kiss to your shoulder before biting down, his sharp teeth pressing into your skin, making you let out a loud yelp at the feeling.

He smirks at your yelp before lolling out his tongue to lave over the stinging bite mark, lapping up the small droplets of blood that bubbles from the wound. He continues to thrust the barrel of his revolver against your slick folds, your hips needily moving in tandem with the gun as lewd moans and gasps fall from your pretty lips.

Boothill slides the revolver along your folds one last time before pulling it away, looking at how your sticky juices drip down the barrel with a grin, a thin line of slick connecting your pussy to the gun's muzzle. “Such a needy girl, you want some more? Yeah?” Toothy grin evident in his voice as he sneers into your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

You gasp and nod your head needily, whining as he pulls the gun away from you soaking folds, leaving you keening for more. “Mhm… Need so’more…” You babble, gazing at him from one your shoulder once again, eyes silently begging him.

Boothill grew smug as he heard your whining and begging, his hand sliding from your hip to your throat, gripping it tightly as he roughly yanks you back towards him, making you gasp and stand up straight with your back pressed against his cold, steel chest.

He tightens his grip around your throat, squeezing with just enough force to have you gasping. He turns the both of you around so you’re looking into the bathroom mirror, seeing your flushed face and sticky thighs.

You look away in embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut as you breathe shakily, head tilted back against his shoulder as his hand stays on your throat.

“C’mon, Angel. Take a look at yer’self...” Boothill grins, hand coming up to roughly grab your jaw, forcing your head in the direction of the mirror. “Open those eyes, girl. Don’t make me ask again.”

You look at yourself in the mirror, bite marks decorating your skin. The faint bruises from where his hands gripped your hips a little too tight, body looking disheveled like you’ve been through hell and back.

He slides his hand back to your throat, gripping it just as tightly as before while his other hand starts to drag his revolver up your stomach to your chest, harshly pressing the muzzle against the swell of your breast, making you let out a shuddering moan.

“Look at y’er face…lookin’ all pretty just f’me…” Boothill murmurs into your ear, running his wet tongue along the shell of your ear. Dragging the barrel of the gun over your breasts, freezing metal running over your sensitive nipples, making you gasp and squirm against him.

A pretty whine falls from your lips as you feel his tongue against your ear. Your eyes fall into a squint, looking at yourself in the mirror with bleary eyes, feeling yourself grow wetter. Your back arching hard against his steel body. His gun presses against your sternum as he drags the revolver down your stomach, back down to your needy pussy. Pressing the muzzle against your slick folds.

“Just look at how soaked you are… Just from me rubbing my gun against that pretty little cunt of yours.” He whispers into your ear, rubbing the revolver against your clit before sliding it to press it right against your entrance, making you gasp loudly.

“I bet I can just slide this ol’thing right into your soaked pussy…you want that, darlin’?” He murmurs, starting to press the muzzle into your cunt.

A shrill moan, one that can probably be heard from outside the bathroom, slips from your lips. You’re quickly quieted by Boothills hand moving from your throat to clasp around your mouth tightly, shutting you up as he pushes the barrel of his revolver further into your cunt, the cold metal stretching you wider.

“Need ya’ to keep quiet, gorgeous.” He hums, slowly starting to thrust the barrel in and out of you, making you squirm against him. Your sobs drowned out by his hand clamped tightly over your mouth.

“Just look at how your cunt’s swallowing my gun, such a dirty girl.” Boothill sneered, pushing the revolver's barrel in and out of you faster with a dirty smirk playing on his lips.

Your hands move to grip onto his steel forearms, holding onto him as tightly as you can as your hips buck in time with the shallow thrusts of his gun. You cry and whimper against his hand that muffles you, warm tears starting to roll down your cheeks as you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, walls twitching around the metal barrel.

It's foul, downright disgusting the way your pussy squelches with each movement of the revolver. Arousal dripping down your thighs while your eyes squeeze shut, hips needily rolling in tandem with the weapons thrusts, desperately chasing your orgasm.

“You ‘boutta cum already, pretty?” Boothill grins as he leans in to run his tongue along your flushed cheek, licking up the salty tears rolling down your pretty face. “Go ahead, sweetheart, squirt on my gun like the filthy little thing you are.”

And just like that you do.

Loud, broken sobs and moans of his name falling from your lips, muffled by his hand clamped over your mouth. Your hips bucking pathetically as you cum, juices gushing out of you like a faucet. Drenching your inner thighs and the revolver’s barrel as it stays pushed deep inside of you. Your legs feeling weak and ready to give out as you slump back against him, whimpering as he fucks you with his revolver through your orgasm.

Boothill’s hand leaves to grab your jaw, forcing your head to look up as he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. His long, black and white hair falling over his shoulders as he towers over you. His lips swallow your lewd gasps and whimpers, tongue licking the seam of your lips before forcing it’s way into your mouth. He groans quietly against your lips before pulling away slightly to nip at your bottom lip just to dive in once again, sliding his tongue with yours messily.

Once you start to calm down he starts to slowly slide his revolver’s barrel from your spent cunt, making you whine into his mouth from the loss of that full feeling, walls spasming around nothing as it slides out of you completley.

He breaks the kiss, intense eyes boring into yours as you pant breathlessly. His arm moves to wrap around your waist, holding you up against him as he leans in to rest his chin on your shoulder, peering down at you as he looks down at his revolver, drenched with your sticky arousal.

He smirks at the sight, his hand moving to bring his revolver to your lips, pressing the slick coated muzzle against them. “What a mess you've made...” He tuts, gently pushing the gun between your lips.

“Think you should clean it up like a good girl.”

#boothill honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr boothill #hsr x reader #boothill hsr #boothill x you #boothill #boothill x reader #fan fiction #fan fic author #smut fanfiction

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venusandsaturnsrings · 2 months

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boothill thinks it’s fun to play around with his synesthesia beacon. turn it to a million different pitches or inflects just to see what irritates you most. sometimes, he’ll even do his best to recreate the voices of your boss and coworkers to watch you jolt out of your skin. to him, it’s hilarious and a worthwhile endeavour.

but your favourite is when he keeps it closest to his voice. when he tunes it just right to sound like himself after he’s done messing around. you like it when he’s himself as he hums and sings along to different songs, his favourites to sing being ‘Tiffany Blews’ mindlessly, ‘Before He Cheats’ when he feels like being annoying, and ‘Something About You’ while he’s playing with your hair (you introduced him to bedroom pop one night to break his whole only country and rock mindset and it surprisingly grew on him).

he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and perch his head on your shoulder as he twirls a couple strands, “she looks just like a dream, the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen,” with his sweet southern accent and smile. it’s almost enough for you to forget that he’s a wanted man and stole the last piece of bread that morning… maybe next time, boothill.

#chattering on soft boothill #idk i think getting all domestic with him would be real sweet #imagine drinking iced tea on a wrap around deck with him lawl…#sobs… why can’t i have it…#i’ll post a whole nasty boothill fic soon i promise im sawwy #boothill x reader #boothill x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you

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endlesslytired · 2 months

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bledmouth · 25 days

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boothill brain rot ! cw for injury.

“aw heck..not you.” boothill cringes- his body squeaks and scrapes as he limps toward the operating table.

you shrug a carefree shoulder, “be glad i’m the one treating you, if it were somebody else..they'd be happy to scrap your ass till you're out of order.”

boothill tries to remain calm, one of his fist clenches as he directly looks at you with narrowed eyes.

you were highly aware of the fact that his synesthesia beacon was indeed tampered with, so you entertained yourself by saying a few cuss words here and there, making sure he heard it all.

“you keep yourself safe..” (kill yourself) his voice is low with irritation- and you find it funny how his threats almost sound empty because you know that he knows you're right.

“go on, sit.” you gesture to the flat space of the operating table, boothill grunting as he struggles to sit on the table.

“those vermin.. i coulda beaten ‘em,” boothill seethes under his breath, you could feel the tension in the air as he talks about the incident.

“left me no choice, my arm disconnected- dumb thing, it wouldn't move even though i budged-” he sighs, long and tired as he slumps in defeat.

your gloved fingers touched the apple of his cheek and he grunts when you graze at a particularly deep cut.

the ‘blood’ was blue, it emmited a slightly foul smell but it wasn't anything you weren't used to already.

“it's amazing how you can feel like an actual person,” you say automatically, “no offense.” boothill just chuckled, low and mocking, “no comment.”

“a relief they didn't damage your brain, it would've been such a problem to put you back together hm?” you clean the wound on his cheek, as it begins to look smaller now.

after the clean up, you move to his right arm- it was limp and damaged, almost as if it was hit with a sledgehammer repeatedly.

“this arm needs replacing,” you grab one of the chargers that's compatible for his other arm and plug it in its port- and you pay your attention back to his right one.

“body makeover! i’m gonna need your consent so i can shut you down for…uh..” a finger on your chin, “an hour or two?”

boothill gives you a look you've never seen before, although it was gone instantly and he feigns nonchalance.

“yeah, yeah. just be quick with it,” his brows furrow with his eyes on the ground, “i still have a job to finish.”

you nod, understanding, “don't worry, this is only protocol for ‘humane’ tampering, i don't want you to experience any type of ‘pain’.”

he scoffs at your obvious choice of words, beating around the bush to even call him anything remotely human. nonetheless he nods and that gives you all the confirmation you need before you lower the operating table so you could plug the large charger that's gonna be attached to his back.

“hang tight cyborg, you'll be awake in a few.”

"testing, testing-" you say aloud as you wait for boothill to respond. his eyes open first, then he twitches his fingers- the mechanic whirring of his body was steadily optimizing as you wait for an open response.

"a..am i fixed?" boothill groans as he suddenly feels his head spinning, his mind blank as he tries to look around with his eyeballs- although he feels as if they've been ripped from their sockets.

"welcome back to the human world!" you say with enthusiasm- and boothill feels like ripping his ears from his head.

"get me outta this thing," he tries to sit up, but the heavy charger plug prevents him from moving, and his back stays flat on the table.

he picks up another voice in the room- his ears alert as he hears you talk to someone, "quite the specimen.." incoherent mumbling in the distance that he couldn't make into a full sentence.

"don't move," boothill hears you shuffling toward him now, your white coat finally in his peripheral vision as you remove the holter monitor that stuck on his face, "you're immobilized," your face is now in front of his, your body blocking out the blinding light of the artificial lamp. "for now at least."

"when are you gonna release me." boothill demands, the crack in his voice goes noticable by you- but you remain stoic, or rather, professional.

"shh..m’ busy with an invigilator right now, i'll release you once he leaves. he's kind of a big shot, so it'll take a while. you finally show some emotion with a small, genuine frown. "trust me, it'll be over soon."

"oh fuck you. didn't i say i had somewhere to be?" he whisper-yelled at you, the computers behind him that recorded his current emotion state has increased.

you were taken aback by his sudden change of demeanor, but it didn't phase you as you gave him a knowing look.

"feel different yet?" the question made his eyebrow raise, although he seemed to realize it a second later as he gasps in shock.

"d-did i just.. CUSS? OUT LOUD? DID I JUST SAY FUCK- OH MY FUCK- SON OF A BITCH! THAT WAS ME WASN'T IT?" boothill laughs in disbelief, his grumble echoes in the laboratory.

you smile proud, "oh yeah," you pretend to think thoughtfully, "i fixed your synesthesia beacon just ‘cause." you shrug.

"yer not so useless after all." boothill praises, sending a once in a lifetime smile your way.

you roll your eyes- "maybe..shut up?" it was heartfelt though.

#all i do is write silly boothill fics till his banner #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill x you #hsr boothill #hsr x gn reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you

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heavenlyraindrops · 25 days

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ʙᴏᴏᴛʜɪʟʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ——> ᴘᴛ. 2

warnings: sexual content, dry humping, fingering, afab!reader, female anatomy reader

A/N: I wrote this ages ago and I was just horny, that was literally my only motivation so here take this ig

You scrambled at Boothill’s shoulders for support as you sat in his lap, panting as his lips trailed down your neck. Your underwear was drenched, slick with your juices as you desperately humped him, soft whimpers and moans escaping you as he watched you with a half-lidded, amused smile.

“Why don’t you,” you gasped in between feverish kisses to his jaw, “M-move?”

He chuckled, and your core burned. He tipped his head back, eyes following your every movement and making you tense with self-consciousness.

“Nah.” His gaze traveled up and down your body, slowly undressing you with his eyes as you squirmed in his lap. “I prefer watching.”

You bit your lip to suppress a whimper.

His hands slid to your waist, then your hips, burning cold through the fabric of your clothes. “Plus,” he murmured, moving you subtly against his crotch and making you shudder, “I’m sure a pretty girl like you could make yourself cum without my help.” You caught a glimpse of his tongue run over his teeth, hungrily. His hands fell away and he sat back again. “Go on, sweetheart. Make yourself cum.”

You shivered again, slowly rutting into him as he grinned, murmuring praises, metal fingers tangling through your hair. He was hard metal underneath. It didn’t faze you.

Your hand traveled up again, towards his jaw, and he flushed before pulling it away. “No hands, sugar.”

His hands grabbed your hips again, repositioning you on his thigh. You tore your shirt off, pulling it away from your heated body hastily as you bucked your hips again, pace quickening. Desire pulsated through you in waves, intensifying as he pressed his forehead to yours, letting out a soft huff of laughter that tickled your face. “You wanna be good for me?” His voice was low, husky, even.

“Y-yeah,” you managed to choke out.

“Then do what I told you,” and pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

A few thrusts later, his name whispered from your lips amongst pants and moans- “Ngh, Boothill, please-“ and you came undone, whimpering into his neck as waves of pleasure rocked through you, body turning limp yet still quaking from the pleasure. You looked up at him.

“Was I good?” Your voice shook. He bit his lip.

“Perfect,” came the reply.

He pushed you off, and you stood up before he pulled you back in. Your legs shook in the half-light as he clutched the back of your thighs, looking up at you. “Glad I saw you in that bar,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Lookin’ so prettyâ€¦” he peppered a few more kisses, going lower. A hand slipped between your thighs, teasing the damp fabric of your panties. You flinched at the touch and buried your hands in his hair as his fingers skilfully pushed the cloth aside, stroking a path along your entrance. You seized up, whimpering as a cold finger delved in, sensations swirling through your heat and down your legs. Droplets of your own arousal dripped down your inner thighs, and you tried to clench them together but Boothill’s grip tightened like a warning.

“Relax,” he hushed, but you couldn’t as another finger pushed it’s way inside, the first one curling. You flinched, jerking your hips against his hand and he smiled at your reaction, a deft flick of his digits inside you making your knees buckle.

“One more time?”

You nodded breathlessly.

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nervocat · 2 months

Text

Boothill gives cat vibes honestly.. like he'd be the cat to follow you around and stay attached to your hip when he doesn't have anything to do.

Very affectionate as well. Since his head is the only thing he can feel your touch from, he'll nuzzle into the crook of your neck like a cat would bump it's head against you asking for affection.

Boothill likes to put his weight on you as well. He'll lay on your chest, when your standing he'll hug your wait from the back and lean on you (which makes you stumble bc of his heavy metal body, but you manage to (maybe) stay standing. Maybe you'd fall).

On the other side though, he's very sassy. Pobably. Like Boothill would bite you (playfully + spitefully, depending), keep you from moving, say (silly) snarky remarks, you get it. Maybe.

But yeah um. I'm tired and ik I have more thoughts on this specificly but I can post more later.. gn reader btw and didn't proofread this.

#💭 — ⌗nervo rambles . ★#my tired mind decided to make a little smth for him #so #boothill x reader #not formatting with how I do when I write my fics..#I'm tired still 😞😞#eepy #this my my way of writting for him tho guys #I've gotta do chores tho I'm so overdue me cats are probably hungry #also for my mutuals I based some of this off of my cat..#so ya....#might delete later tho bc I don't rlly like this #I just think he's a silly little cat #like my little fella Tuxiedo 🫶🫶

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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haii! :33

can i request boothill and argenti (seperately) with a shy gn!reader who gets flustered easily? whether it would be through words, physical touch or stuff like that

thank youu!! ^_^

Jing yuan:

Smug bastard.

Acts like he wasn’t the reason you were flustered to the high heavens from brushing his hand across your waist.

‘Are you alright my dear?’ He’d say, faking innocence as he intentionally held your face in his hands, softly caressing your cheeks as he felt them gradually grow warmer with every stroke of his thumbs. ‘You’re feeling rather warm here, should I get you to a doctor?’ He adds with a knowing smile.

‘N-no. I’m fine.’ You’d say, unable to form actual thoughts as your mind was heavily focused on a plethora of things, from the way that his hands held your face as though it were porcelain, to the way he caresses your skin felt like kisses in their own right.

The acclaimed dozing general raised an eyebrow as his smile only grew more mischievous. ‘Are you sure? You’re really heating up my dear, I wouldn’t want you to faint on me now,’ he then leaned in close, chuckling upon hearing you gasp a the close proximity, whispering. ‘Unless that’s your intention.’

Jing Yuan thoroughly enjoyed being the reason you were flustered and found your reactions addictive, so much that he would start doing things where he got to see that reaction as much as possible.

Touching your hand

Brushing shoulders

Sitting really close to you/ ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on you, etc.

However if you were to ever express that you wanted him to stop, he will as he understands that you might not want to be made to fluster all the time. He’s not a dickhead and respects you greatly for giving him the ability to start living life again.

Argenti:

This man speaks from the bottom of his heart, there’s not a single lie to be found in his words, and it was due to that undeniable truthfulness that left you more flustered then not.

‘I only speak the truth my beloved rose.’ He says softly as he held your hands in his own all the while maintaining eye contact, which didn’t help you in any way shape or form as you felt your face practically burst into flames and your heart going at a mile an hour the longer you stay in close proximity to him.

He smelt of roses and chivalry, which was odd as you didn’t think chivalry could have a smell, but with Arenti anything was seemingly possible.

‘You are the beauty that I’ve been seeking and now that I have you, I have no doubt that I will love you for eternity should it be allowed of me.’

Boom, you’re dead and on the floor as you stare up at the ceiling as Argenti was quick to move to kneel at your side, face full of concern as his face hovers over you all the while his hair acted as ruby red curtains, forcing you to solely focus on his extremely pretty face. He looked like an angel in that moment and you somehow still found it in you to get even more flustered upon gazing at his face.

He’s genuinely concerned about you whenever you got flustered, his heart and soul were just so pure that he wasn’t really clicking onto the fact that he was the reason you were constantly flustered.

‘My dear flower, what’s wrong? Have I hurt you somehow? Should I seek medical attention?’ - him.

‘No, I’m okay. Just give me a few minutes…or an hour.’ -you, flustered to the high heavens and embarrassment for making him worry.

Boothill:

Smug bastard 2.0

The moment you shown him how easily flustered you could get, it’s over for you as you’ve given Boothill ammunition to keep finding new ways to flustered you on the daily.

Your reactions were his drug and he’d gladly overdoes on them if he could but that might be going a bit too far, however he didn’t care because you being flustered from almost anything he did had become everything to him.

So he would nuzzle his cheek to yours.

Playfully nibbles on your earlobe, shoulder, neck, arms, lips and takes enjoyment in your squeals and attempts to get away from him, only to be pulled back in.

Kissing your lips constantly, even more so in public.

The teasing is never ending with Boothill.

He’s relentless, unyielding and extremely brutal in his teasings that you may as well be permanently flustered. However if you were to shyly give this gremlin a taste of his own medicine by boldly kissing his cheek, he’s suddenly silent and a little fluttered.

He just loves smothering you in love and will continue to do so as nothing else mattered to him in that moment more than you and the effects he had over you.

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