Here Are Some Pictures Of One Of My Cat (+2 Where We Can See My Sister). I Felt Like I Needed To Share

I love you nvr stop making Boothill content

⟁ TOUCH. ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — yearning for sensations long forgotten behind cool steel and blue blood.

⠀ OR

⠀ — you two can get along every once in a while.

⚠︎ mechanic!reader, rev comfort, boothill is a bit of a yearner, can you guys just fucking kiss already. gn reader wc 1.5k.

“you’re less obnoxious than usual,”

your voice snaps boothill out of his daze, eyes blinking quickly as he re-registers your hands in his torso messing with a few wires.

“you sick or something?”

the cyborg keeps his gaze down, watching the careful and precise movements of your hands, actions long practiced and refined. 

it's a little surprising when a flirt or some quick quip doesn't follow your comment— only a small huff of air through his nose as boothill leans further back onto his palms.

“nah. i'm fit as a fiddle.”

you spare a glance up, right eyebrow raising just a tad. you don’t believe him, and boothill’s too clocked out to notice your distrust.

though you don’t comment– not until the cavity in his stomach is closed up and all his pieces are back in place.

“that should be better,” you wipe the oil off your hands with an old rag hung from one of your belt loops. “how's that scratch healing up?”

boothill again is pulled from his thoughts by your voice, cybernetic hand subconsciously moving to the mostly scabbed and healed over cut on his jaw— the one you patched and gave him an earful for getting in the first place.

“‘s fine,” he runs his fingers over it as if he could feel the roughened skin. they linger over it just a little too long. “barely there anymore. we all done here?”

it's another comment that leaves you with a weird feeling in your gut— he always hung around, dragged out his repairs longer than they needed to take just to spend more time with you. to mess with you, ruffle your feathers while you pretend you don’t know exactly what he’s doing. it's almost disappointing when he expresses his eagerness to leave. not to mention the lack of his usual vibrato or high energy is a tad unsettling.

he tries to sit up from your work bench, but your palm against his chest pushes him carefully back down and keeps him seated. unbeknownst to you, boothill actively chokes down the simultaneous urges to swat your hand away and clutch onto it. did you know how insane your touch that he couldn’t even feel was driving him? did you know that he’d had his teeth grit since stepping one boot into your shop— the shop that he was only able to enter after giving himself a firm slap to his own forehead?

“what's with you?”

you folded your arms over your chest, eyes focussed calculatingly on the cowboy sitting in front of you. though the brim of his hat covers a good portion of his face, and his head doesn’t seem too keen on lifting. 

“what’s that s’posed t’mean?'' boothill doesn’t bother looking up, as expected.

“you look like a kicked dog.” 

boothill scoffs. “ain’t no sugar coatin’ it with you, is there?” 

“cmon,” you sigh, unfolding your arms to place them down on your table, caging either side of the cyborg’s hips. you give a slight lean forward as you put your weight down on them, and once more boothill’s caught between pushing you away or grabbing your shirt and pulling you closer. 

“talk to me, it’s weird seeing you all quiet.”

“ain’t you the one always tellin’ me to shut up?”

“boothill.”

he tilted his head back with a quiet groan, steel thumb rubbing at one of his temples. it's embarrassing, really, what he’s so hung up about. 

his thoughts drift to your hands on either side of him, that although calloused and stained with oil you’ll never be able to quite fully get out from under your fingernails, are still soft. human. not exactly delicate but not…clunky. or heavy.

he’s never really been one for vulnerability. where would he even begin? he’d hardened his interior to match the abrupt loss of his fleshy exterior. he didn’t feel he had a choice to do otherwise. now he’s left with the hyper awareness of just how bulky and inelegant he is— it’s not who he was before, not what he had. it never will be. 

“…just missin’ the way i used to be, i s’pose. i dunno.”

his eyes still dodge yours, pulling the brim of his hat down to block out your face from his peripherals. 

“just…forgettin’ things. how things feel against my fingers ‘n whatnot.” his words are half murmured, hesitant behind his lips.

if boothill had a stomach, it would have tightened and churned at your lack of a response. now he just feels silly, like you’re about to laugh in his face for the little bit of himself he’d just bared to you.

“not that i’m moppin’ about it or nothin’,” he quickly tries to save with a clear of his throat. “i mean, this ol’ hunk’a metal come in handy now and again, don’t it?” boothill straightens up a little bit, voice evening out. 

he’s still waiting for you to say something. literally anything— to give a half assed acknowledgement and let him go or call him an idiot. he eagerly awaits for you to just get either over with.

but rather than option a, or b, or even c to z, what he receives is your hand on his cheek, guiding his head to look back forward at you. 

…huh?

he feels frozen. your hand is so warm, it’s making his head feel fuzzy. it’s different than the occasional touch to his face from you, one to tilt his head up so you can see his neck or a lift of his eyelid to check on his eye.

it stays in place, long enough to make the area of his face you’re touching begin to warm as well. his eyes are locked with yours now, slightly wide and filled with uncertainty. he silently prays his cheeks aren’t blue.

“you can still feel here, right?” your question is so…innocent. it’s as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. your thumb slowly smoothing over his cheekbone is enough to make him feel utterly weak.

“…yeah. yeah, i can.”

he’s daring enough to put his hand overtop yours, keeping it in place. you smile slightly at that— not a teasing grin like usual, but a genuine one.

“you know,” your other hand brushes his bangs out of his eyes. boothill’s never been touched like this before, like he’s fragile.

“you don’t have to hide stuff from me.” right now, your voice is the most comforting thing he’s ever heard. he's blanking– you’re the only thing filling his senses. the smell of oil mixed with your body wash, the way you look at him as you speak, every part of it is so…grounding. it’s almost foreign, a sensation long forgotten behind layers of metal and code.

“i ain’t hiding things from ya, sugar plum.”

“quit it with that, okay?” 

your brows furrow lightly as you lean dangerously close. boothill can feel your slow, calm breaths fanning his upper lip. he resists the urge to gulp.

“i know you. probably more than you think.” you tilt the brim of his hat up gently, keeping it out of the way. it’s true, no one’s ever seen him in the ways that you have. comfortable, a little smitten, on and off malfunctioning.

“i don’t like seeing you upset,” boothill’s circuits stutter once your forehead rested against his. “so just talk to me next time.”

it’s not a request, but it’s not a demand either. perhaps “invitation” is a more fitting term.

“can we…” boothill clears his throat softly again, fingers lightly tightening around your hand. “do you reckon we can stay like this for a lil’ while then?” 

you nod.

“okay.”

you pull him a little closer, enough to place your cheek against his and give it a gentle nuzzle.

you’re warm. you’re soft. you smell good, feel good. he doesn’t want to let go.

one of boothill's arms snakes carefully around your waist, and slowly your chest is pulled flush against his while you’re stood between his legs. his face finds itself comfortably hidden in the crook of your neck, all while your thumb gently tracing the shell of his ear is enough to have him purring like a cat.

“you feel nice,” boothill says quietly, voice a bit rough. the rasp is endearing as always. “real nice, sugar.”

neither of you are sure how long you stay there, nor does boothill know when his hand began clutching your shirt as if he was afraid you would pull away. but the gentle whirl and hum of his internals are oddly soothing– like a built in white noise machine that puts your mind at ease.

boothill could have sat there forever, really. nudging his nose against the smooth skin of your neck and gripping tightly at what little physical feeling he had left.

you silently ponder kissing his temple, boothill silently ponders kissing your cheek. neither of you act.

“thank ya.” boothill's voice is nothing above a whisper. “been a while since…y’know.” 

you nod slowly, fingers idly twirling a piece of hair that hangs over his ear.

“you’re sweet when you wanna be.” you can’t help but tease him just a little.

“cmon now, i’m always sweet for you, ain’t i?” and he can’t help but throw a flirt back.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

Errm guys my Xiao is looking a lil different 🧍‍♀️

(Genuinely about to start tweaking bc I thought I got him but it's just Jean...)

{Hello!! I've had this in my drafts for awhile and just kinda wanted to post it, originally it's set with a one of my genshin ocs but idk if anybody would be into that so I easily just replaced it with reader}

* * *

"Dumbass! Why did you do that?! ", [Reader] shouts as she sprints as fast as she can down the rocky trail. Itto runs a few ways in front of her having the most dopey grin ever. Both running from the guards for something this big idiotic oaf did. Which happened to be him having a dance battle with some rich kid that cried out that this wanted criminal tried hurting him. Itto was so proud that he "won" against some snot nosed brat.

   "Was so worth it tho! ", he laughs looking back at her. [Reader] rolls her eyes, huffing she saw they were nearing a cliff and Itto was gonna run straight into it. "Itto wait! " She said, raising her voice and grabbing a hold of his coat from the back. Making them both come to an abrupt stop at the end of the cliff. To make it to the other side would have to be way too big of a jump for any of them. Turning around [Reader] could see the guards catching up to them. "We have to jump", is the one thing that the oni says looking down. "Wait what!?", She sharply looked at him in bewilderment. Taking out his claymore magically from his back he raises it up above his head, scooping her off the ground. "We jump! " he shouts, slamming down his claymore to stop the guards from reaching them, rocks and debris scattering everywhere. 

   The force of the impact from his claymore pushed the both completely off the edge. Gripping onto his shoulders as she felt the world start going sideways, both falling into the depth. "ITTOOOOOOO YOU IDIOT", [Reader] screams as they plunge downwards. Feeling the breeze roughly push her hair out of view, she summons her polearm. "Aw damn! The wind is gonna ruin my awesome hair! ", Itto whines out still having her carried. 

   " Not what you should be worrying about right now!" [Reader] yelled out, slamming the polearm against the rock of the cliff as hard as she could. The weapon wedged itself into the rock, getting stuck for the meanwhile. Causing their fall to end abruptly, ending in them both just dangling. "Hey, nice one! Now we won't be lost in some unknown hole" the oni exclaims, like this wasn't his fault to begin with. "Yea, wonder why that would have happened!" She glared down at him. 

   He simply chuckles awkwardly, looking down into the crevice below. "Sooo, what now? ", Itto inquired, still very tightly holding onto her legs. Lilith sighed while looking around, trying to think of something. Only coming up with one conclusion to their situation. "We climb" looking up and seeing the distance from the top. "Climb? Well if you say so", Itto just shrugs at the suggestion. Once he finds a good spot to stabilize himself, he goes off from there. Climbing upwards like if this was some god damn playground.

   "You beast!", she shouts. Itto laughed out loud, as he started climbing faster "I'll race ya to the top!", he said in response. [Reader] growls under her breath, yanking her polearm forcefully from the gravel. "Oh you're on, you oversized child", she says while following him in tow. Both eventually made it to the top, completely out of breath. 

   The guards now nowhere in sight, probably deciding to leave them to their demise. Laying on the grassy plains trying to catch their breaths. " I-i win," Itto says in between gasps. Too tired to argue with him, she simply pats his bare chest to "congratulate" him. "You sure did Itto, you sure did" [Reader] sighs out, resting her sore limbs and tired self beside him. 

all I can think about every time I see this post is toji 💀

😩

WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN

Your last used emoji is how your week is gonna go

⚠️

Uh oh

Yea don't matter what fandom ur in it's a little unhinged 🧍‍♀️this ain't my first rodeo dw

Guys I've been getting into alien stage but have no moots that are in the Fandom 😔💔anyone willing??

MY MALNOURISHED SCHOLAR IS HERE

It was me n my 60 golden tickets against the world

I kinda wanna make this a writing blog for fandoms 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

some of my favourite diasomnia art

If I posted more oc art or stuff would anyone like it? I just have to know