X Male Smut - Blog Posts

if you do pet play , can i request a subtop boothill with dombottom reader? if you dont its okay without petplay too

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐓 boothill x m!reader — 1.2k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: pet play, subtop boothill / dombottom reader, use of a muzzle & leash, boothill being a whiny lil guy, degradation kink (boothill), boothill is a masochist lol, slight choking, master kink (idk what that's called), lmk if i missed any :3

KAI SAYS: hi gang sorry for dying lmao my sister is giving birth in a few months and me and my family have been stressing trying to get everything ready lmao.

Boothill very much valued his dignity. In fact — despite his usually... brash nature, he liked to think he never purposefully embarrassed himself — so, to be found in this position, well, it very much took all of his dignity.

But alas, he liked to think it was worth it, especially with the way you were looking at him. It looked like you’re going to fucking eat him up — which he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to, which is why he practically begged you for it, nuzzling his face against your leg, drool spilling from the corners of his lips as he pants heavily.

“Please.” He whined. He couldn’t exactly do anything with the position he was in — his hands tied behind his back and a muzzle covering his mouth as his sharp teeth chewed at his bottom lip to restrain the moans that would probably be spilling from them. Boothill was kneeling down, fully naked and right infront of the bed that you were sat on the edge of, legs spread and the end of his leash in hand.

You tugged it quickly, a demeaning grin on your lips as you stared down at the cyborg. “Now,” you cooed in such a sickeningly sweet voice that makes Boothill melt even further into your warmth, “what did I say, my pet?”

“Said...” He muttered, “said if I was a ‘good fudgin’ mutt’ you’d reward me.” His head dropped to rest on your knee, the drool dripping down his chin and onto your skin.

You let out a small “tsk” before you pulled his head up by his black and white hair. “But all you’ve been is a stupid mutt, no?” You scoffed, letting go of him to give a quick slap to his cheek. “Now stop drooling over me and actually do something, you dumb mutt.”

You backed away from Boothill, scooting to sit up against the pillows at the back of the bed. You pulled him along by the leash around his neck, Boothill eagerly following you like the precious dog he was. He sat on his knees infront of you, all eager and ready to please.

“Well?” You questioned. “Get to it.” You spread your legs, exposing your tight hole to him.

Boothill barked out an eager “Yes master!” before scooting up to you, throwing your calves over his shoulders to give him full access to one of his favourite things about you.

Your pretty ass — all of it on full display for him. He couldn’t help his drooling, really, how was he supposed to when you looked so... delectable?

He tapped his leaking tip against your puckered hole, just enjoying the feeling of being close to you after so long. Boothill ignored the urge to plunge right into you then and there, knowing full well you’d punish him for ever doing such a thing.

Instead, he slowly eased into you — only to stop halfway in when you tugged harshly at his leash, forcing his muzzle into your cheek.

“Did I tell you to put it in?” You snapped.

Boothill shook his head frantically. “N-No, master.” He grunted out, voice hoarse.

“Then why’d you put it in, hm?” You questioned. Your hand grabbed at his muzzle, pushing his face away. “Well, your already halfway in, mutt, you might as well finish.

Boothill nodded, continuing his slow push into your twitchy hole.

Only when he was all the way in, his balls pressed against your ass, did he look up at you with an eager gaze, eyes wide and pleasing. “I — master, please let me move.” He grunted out in that low voice of his.

“Hm...” You mused, feigning indifference as you tapped a finger against your bottom lip. “Fine.” Boothill felt a relieved sigh escape his lips, his hands going to your hips. “But,” you continued suddenly, “if you mess this up...“ You pulled on his leash harshly, watching in amusement as a choked sound left Boothill’s lips as his neck was tugged forward harshly. “You will be punished accordingly, so do a good job, ok?”

Your hand went to his cheek, gently cupping it — such a harsh contrast to how you had choked him earlier. Admittedly, Boothill had enjoyed it, but he didn’t have the time to tell you because in that next moment he was pulling his hips back before snapping them right back into you.

A loud, hoarse moan left his lips as he thrusted into you with a messy pace, drool slipping through the bars of his muzzle. “O-Oh, fudgin’ — master, shit, ya feel so—” He couldn’t finish that sentence, only thrusting into you feverishly as heaved breaths left his parted lips.

“I know, I know,” you smirked, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing the firm muscle gently. “You’re doing so good for me, puppy, keep this up and I might let you cum inside me tonight.”

Inside.

Inside.

The word rang loudly in Boothill’s head as he looked up at you with a desperate gaze. “Please.” He whined, “Please— I’ll do anything!”

“Oh, I know you will, puppy,” you cooed. “Which is why you’re going to make me cum twice first before you do, got it?” You geave a gentle tug to his leash for extra effect.

“Y-Yes, master,” he whimpered, “anything for you.”

With that, he was quickening his pace, occasionally changing the slight angle of his hips — desperately trying to find that sweet spot inside you. He was working for this. His pelvis met your ass, a lewd ‘plap plap plap’ echoing throughout the empty room, interrupted by only your heavy breathing and Boothill’s loud moans until—

You cried out, your back arching and your nails digging into the cyborg’s shoulders. “Fucking— right there, puppy.” You growled and he whined at the squeeze around his dick. He continued to aim for that certain spot inside you, letting out a loud, pleased moan whenever he felt the tight clench of you whenever he hit it just right.

It wasn’t long until you were cumming, your chest pushed against his as you squirted a load between your bodies, panting heavily.

Boothill didn’t stop, to your obvious pleasure. He kept thrusting, hitting that sweet spot over and over agains until the both of you were nothing but weak, panting messes against the bedsheets.

Aeons — Boothill felt like his dick would’ve exploded if he didn’t cum.

But he couldn’t, so he didn’t, reducing himself to nothing but a crying mess as he pressed his nuzzled face against your cheek. “P-Please...” He whined pathetically. “I — Please take it off, wanna kiss you so bad.”

“A-Aw, puppy wants a kiss?” You questioned. Your hands shakilly pulled the muzzle off his face and the instant it was off he was pressing Boothill was pressing his lips into yours.

The kiss was sloppy and wet — filled with a mix of his tears and drool as his tongue pressed into your mouth gliding over yours. That’s what sent you over the edge for the second time, cumming all over the two of your guys’ chest with a muffled moan.

He pulled back instantly, gasping and heaving at the tightness of your hole. “P-Please, can I—”

“You may.”

And then Boothill was cumming, hard. You felt a thick load fill your insides and Boothill collapsed into you, whining and crying and panting heavily.

“Good boy,” you cooed, and Boothill smiled against your neck lovingly.

Oh, how Boothill adored when you called him a good boy.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @helloanime @kiekole (send ask without anon to be added)

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

boothill,, gunplay. thats the thought,, if ur comfortable writing that ofc ofc

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 boothill x m!reader — 1.4k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: gun play, slight chocking, boothill puts his gun in reader's mouth, boothill kind of bends reader over, boothill also makes reader jerk off, uh boothill kinda mean-ish, he pretends to shoot reader, aftercare is not written but it is given! lmk if i missed anyy :3

KAI SAYS: hello guys,, shorter than usual bc ive landed myself in the er due to multiple reasons haha (chronic hives, low blood pressure, fainting spells, dehydration, etc) and i miiight not be able to post until like next weekend maybe (?) so so soso sorry for the inconvenience aaargh, writing this in the hospital too... not dying tho everything super minor so!!

The first time you ever saw Boothill pull a gun was at a training centre. He said something about wanting to work on his aim, and so he decided to head there, late at night. No one else was there—just the two of you.

Boothill pulls out his gun, flicking a few bullets into the spinning revolver with practiced ease before he pulls the trigger. A loud ‘bang’ fills the room, followed by the sound of his metal bullets clinking to the floor after the shot.

“Well color me stoked.” Boothill grins, showing off his sharp teeth. “Seems I ain’t that bad after all!”

“Well, you were always good with guns, anyway.” You respond, returning Boothill’s grin with a smile of your own. He was indeed good with guns, and it was undoubtedly attractive.

Boothill’s hands spin the revolver, watching the metal clink. It was much too fast for you to see, so you didn’t know which one ended up landing. Boothill is quick to draw his gun again, smirking as he pointed it at you—straight into your chest.

“Boothill?” You question. “What are you—”

You are cut off by the loud sound of his gun shooting. Your eyes shut and you winced instinctively, your body tensing up for the bullet that was about to hit your skin.

…Yet it never happened. 

Cracking one eye open, you peer at Boothill cautiously, only to find him gripping his metal abs, a roaring laugh rolling from his lips. “Oh, darlin’ you know I’d never shoot ya!” He laughs again, though this time it was softer. “C’mon, love, I’d never hurt ya.” He murmurs sweetly as he makes his way closer to you, his gun still in hand.

He presses the muzzle playfully against your chest, trailing it up and down your abdomen. Boothill’s smirk only widened as he slipped his gun—along with the hand holding it—under your shirt. He presses the muzzle right against your nipple, watching you shiver at the cool metal.

“Boothill.” You whisper firmly. “What’re you doing?”

He says nothing, only continuing to drag his gun against your skin, sending shivers of delight across your body.

Eventually, his gun finds its way to the hem of your pants. Boothill gives you a wicked smile before he uses his free hand to yank down your pants and boxers, exposing your half-hard cock. “Well, ain’t that a pretty sight.” He cooes, letting the muzzle of his gun rest against your tip.

“Jerk it for me, pretty boy.” Boothill says. You blink up at him, confusion filling your face.

“Huh…?” You question.

“I said.” Boothill groans, pressing the muzzle of his gun harder into your tip. “Jerk it for me, or else I’m gonna be shootin’ this pretty lil’ dick o’ yours.” Boothill wouldn’t really. You knew that. He said it himself. And yet… the fear that he would is still there, forcing small tears to well in your pretty eyes as you looked up at him desperately.

“O-Okay.” You comply, wrapping your hand around your shaft as you slowly start to glide your closed fist up and down.

“Good boy.” Boothill praises, and his voice makes your dick twitch against his gun.

You move your hand, squeezing as you get to your tip and rolling your thumb to spread your precum. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as Boothill rocked the muzzle of his gun in time with your hand.

“Look at ya.” He groans, his free hand going to squeeze at your throat. “Gettin’ off to my gun pointed at ya.” Boothill smirks, rolling the revolver again until the familiar ‘click’ sound resounds around the room. “Pretty thing, d’ya even know what this could do to you? Or are you too dumbed down already?”

“Stop teasin’” You whine, your hand's pace slowing as you turn your gaze away from Boothill’s. “Not that dumb yet…”

“Yet.” He repeats, removing his gun from your dick. “Think I can change that real quick, no?” A sharp laugh escapes Boothill’s lips as he suddenly hoists you up and off the barstool you sat on. He spins your body with only a smidge of grace as he lands you roughly on your stomach against the table, your ass now facing Boothill.

“Aeons, you’re so pretty…” He murmurs, his hands roughly groping the fat of your ass. “Can’t believe yer all mine…”

A whine slips from your lips, high and pathetic as your eyes flutter closed. “Yeah…” You whisper. “All yours…” You feel Boothill drag the muzzle along your back—sliding it under your shirt, before he pulls his arm up, tearing through the thin fabric. You shiver at the newfound cold, goosebumps prickling your exposed skin.

You hear the zipper of his pants as he pulls it down, pulling out his cock and tapping it against your clothed ass before he’s yanking down your shorts. Boothill traces a metal finger around your puckered rim, eyeing you carefully. “Such a cute ‘lil hole…” He whispers out breathlessly. “Can’t wait to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The instant Boothill stops speaking, you feel the tip of his metal cock push past your hole, stretching you out more than you could ever imagine—despite doing this with him before. “Boothill.” You moan out, eyes fluttering as you crane your neck to look at him—only to have your face pushed right back into the table by the shove of his gun against the back of your head,

“Stay still f’me, pretty.” Boothill groans, easing his cock into you. The more he pushes in, the more painful the stretch is… And yet, the more painful it is, the more pleasure your body seems to derive from it. Boothill is only halfway in when you feel like you’ve been stuffed to your limit. A pathetic sound escapes you and you feel his gun press down harder.

Boothill removes his gun from you, using it to force your head to the side. He leans down, spitting a thick glob of spit all over the muzzle, smirking as it gets his gun all messy. “Open.” He taps it against your lips, making sure to smear his spit all over. Boothill’s smirk only widens when you follow, opening your mouth and letting his muzzle sit between your pretty lips. “Atta boy.” He whispers, thrusting with full force his cock into your awaiting hole.

“Boothill…!” You moan out, though it’s muffled by his gun pressing against the flat of your tongue. Your thighs tense at the sudden pleasure. A gurgly whine leaves your throat. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Boothill growls, pressing his gun deeper into your throat. His thumb goes to spin the revolver, making sure it lands on a slot with a bullet before continuing, “and you will. Ya know why, cutie? ‘Cause you're my good boy, and good boys take what they’re given.”

He sets a brutal pace after, thrusting into you relentlessly. It doesn’t matter how you plead, all Boothill does is press his gun further down your throat—until you’re sure your lips will bleed from the stretch. Eventually, his tip knocks against your prostate, sending you over the edge. Your dick squirts a load, all over the table and floor, yet Boothill doesn’t falter.

“Look at you, cummin’ like a slut.” He groans, and his pace seems to increase. He’s suddenly going harder, faster, everything that makes your head spin with the added overstimulation.

You cry against the gun, tears welling in the corner of your eyes. Boothill seems to enjoy the sight, leaning down to kiss softly against the back of your neck, his free hand wrapping around your waist and fisting your spent cock.

“That’s it…” He coos. “You think ya can give me one more?” His hand increases, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he knocks into your prostate again and again and again. “C-C’mon, need t’do it together.” You nod your head eagerly, drool slipping from between the corner of your lips and his gun.

Boothill thrusts harshly, finally sending you over the edge for the second time, and you feel his metal dick twitch in time with you. Your eyes roll back, ecstasy overwhelming you as Boothill pumps a thick, sticky load into your ass, painting your walls white.

“You’re so good f’me…” He coos into your ear, sliding his gun slowly out of your mouth. With a familiar click, the resounding sound of a gunshot echoes throughout the room as he shoots his last bullet into the table—right by your head. “You’re always so good an’ pretty with my gun…”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @helloanime @kiekole (send ask without anon to be added)

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 kazuha x m!reader — 5.1k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: strangers to lovers, mentions and use of alcohol (no drunk sex though), kazuha and reader are roommates, sort of college / modern au, morning sex / sleepy sex, praise, pet names (good boy [?], angel, uh i cant remember sorry), aftercare is not written but it is given, praise teehee, reader rides kazuha, kazuha jerks reader off, lmk if i missed any thanks :3

KAI SAYS: GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!! birthday post im now 20 that sounds so old euugghh

Rent was hell.

Your minimum income, which was mostly spent on necessities and college fees, was barely able to pay last month. And now with inflation, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through another year.

But, there was always hope. It was only the beginning of June after all.

Last week, your friend introduced you to a website to find roommates. Having a roommate would solve a few of my problems, you thought as you scrolled through the site on your computer. For one, the rent would be split between the two of you, which was much more manageable than right now. And, for two, you would get to actually talk to someone every day.

It would be a win-win situation if the two of you got along.

After a few days of thinking everything through, looking at different people’s profiles, because the site was a “Tinder for roommates,” as your friend had put it, you found a man that matched your preferences.

Kaedehara Kazuha.

From what you could tell by his profile, he looked like a sweet man. His profile picture was set to a white cat, and you can see his hand atop its head, gently petting against the cat’s ears. You hadn’t met him in person yet, but through text, you’d managed to get to know him a bit.

The two of you texted about your hobbies and Kauha told you about his life. He was getting a degree in poetry at a college near your house, which is why he selected the area. He told you earlier today about himself. He liked to eat fish and go drinking out. He liked staying with animals he liked warm weather and sunny days, and he liked to spend time with his loved ones and friends.

To be honest, he seemed a bit too good to be true.

But, you think, I suppose some people are just like that.

With a content sigh, you shut your computer. You’d texted Kazuha and the two of you had planned for him to move in today. It seemed a little quick to you, but Kazuha said he didn’t really have anything big to move over. According to him, he’d only be bringing one suitcase and backpack.

Yesterday, you cleaned out the guest room—well, know his room. It was tedious work, something you hoped you wouldn’t have to do again. Ever. But, you supposed it would be worth it in time.

So now here you were, sanding proudly with your hands on your hips smiling at your spotless house. Kazuha better like it here… You think. Your hand goes to run through your hair gently, combing it back. You’re about to flop down onto the couch and maybe take a nap—only for the familiar tune of the doorbell to ring through the house, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

Your head snaps backwards, a nervous smile making its way onto your lips.

You rush to the door, ignoring the slight shake in your step. Your heartbeat quickens and you don’t know why. Kazuha’s a nice man. You remind yourself, though you don’t think that’s why you're nervous.

Slowly, you unlock your door and turn the doorknob with your other hand. And there, standing to greet you is your new roommate. Kaedehara Kazuha.

You greet him with a polite smile, cracking open the door just enough to let him inside. The roll of his suitcase from the sidewalk outside up onto the flooring of your house sends a loud ‘Clunk! Clunk!’ sound and you wince a little.

You shut the door behind you, schooling your expression as you turn back to Kazuha. He trunks to you quickly and smiles gently. “Ah,” he says and his voice is so soft when he speaks, “I’m Kazuha, but I suppose you already know that.”

You introduce yourself, finishing off the same as him with a short, “but I suppose you already knew that too.”

He nods politely a small laugh flitting out of his lips. You lead him to his new bedroom, helping him carry his backpack as he lifts his suitcase, not wanting the wheels to dirty the floor. Kazuha takes a look around, his smile being ever present as you drop his backpack by the door.

“It’s nice here.” He comments, turning his gaze from you to his bedroom.

A bashful grin makes its way to your lips. “Thanks.” You murmur. “Cleaned just for you.”

With that, he’s looking back at you. “Just for me?” He responds, and there’s an edge of playfulness that lies beneath the overlaying gratefulness in his tone. “Thank you.”

You just nod, not fully trusting your voice.

After a moment, Kazuha sits down at the edge of his bed, tracing his hands over the expanse of the duvet. “We should go out sometime.” He says and you blink. You’re face feels warm and you hope Kazuha doesn’t see.

“Like…” Your voice trails off, leaving your sentence unfinished. Like a date? You wanted to say, but your lips don’t seem to work.

Kazuha seems to take note of this, chuckling softly. “Just to get to know each other better. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.” He gives you a comforting smile and your nervousness seems to dissipate when you look at him.

“Ok.” You agree. “We can plan something for after you’ve gotten more… settled in.”

Kazuha’s smile widens and he gives you a nod. “Thanks.”

You take a deep breath, before speaking up again. “I’ll leave you to it then.” You turn on your heel before walking out of Kazuha’s new bedroom. You shut the door gently before speed-walking to your room and collapsing onto your bed.

Your breathing comes out in soft puffs as you bury your face into a pillow, curling yourself on your bed. What the fuck was that? You cry mentally. You grip onto the bedsheets tightly. Your heart is beating fast and you think it’d beat tight through your ribs if you don’t calm down soon. You bring your hands to your face, dragging them across your eyes. “I’m fucked.” You curse quietly. Kazuha’s so nice! You know you probably won’t even last a month without developing some sort of feelings for him and that scares you. 

You… don’t want to ruin what little the two of you had managed to build up in the past week. As little as it was, you like what you have with Kazuha. In the back of your mind, though, there’s the nagging feeling for more. You want to get closer to Kazuha, you want to spend time with him.

Maybe that date of his wouldn’t be too bad.

With a heavy sigh, you twist your body to lay like a starfish, sprawled across your bed. You turn your gaze to your window, squinting as the sunlight fans through the glass and into your eyes. If you just ignored any feelings that developed, they would just go away, right?

The first six days with Kazuha were… different from your usual routine, to put it simply.

On Monday (because everyone knows the week starts with Monday and not Sunday!) you awoke to the smell of food wafting through the house. You were instantly up and out of bed, barely managing to throw on a shirt—backwards—before you stumbled into the kitchen.

You were taken aback by the sight that greeted you.

Kazuha, in his pyjamas and an apron, was humming a soft tune as he cooked something on the stove. He turns once he notices you, standing in shock by the doorway. “Ah,” he said, “I see you’re finally awake.” He humed, using the spatula to plate a scrambled egg. He handed you the plate and Archons it smelled good. “I made breakfast. Used some of your food, if you don’t mind.”

You absentmindedly nodded, entranced by the way he moved around the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher, plating his food, and turning off the stove. All of those were such ordinary things, but, for some reason, it just made you more drawn to him.

You brought your plate to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down, still watching Kazuha. “Thanks for breakfast.” You murmured after a few bites. “It’s really good.”

“Well, it’s only natural I repay you somehow.” Kazuha said before sitting down beside you. “You basically lent me your house to live in.” He joked.

“Our house now.” You responded. “Since you’ll be payin’ half the rent.”

Kazuha nods, taking a bite out of his own breakfast. “I plan on spending the week organizing my stuff. Nothing big, just getting everything tidy.” The two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of the summer weather.

Besides that, Monday wasn’t anything eventful.

Tuesday was spent helping Kazuha. Cooped up in his room, the two of you went through his clothes and belongings, organizing them into his closet and drawers. Kazuha had a decent amount of clothes, which were the bulk of what he brought.

You talked and talked and talked with Kazuha. He was so sweet. You swore you’d told yourself that a million times by now, but it was always true. Kazuha’s laugh was soft and kind, he laughed at all your stupid, cheesy jokes, no matter how unfunny they were. He’d help you cook meals—much better than you ever could.

Tuesday was when you had come to realize that maybe you were enjoying his company a little too much. But, you thought, he’s just… fun to be around.

You used that excuse for the rest of the week.

Kazuha was just… nice. Everyone would enjoy his company like this. You were no different!

It was a pathetic excuse, but it was pathetic enough for you to cling onto.

Wednesday you and Kazuha went out and you showed him the neighbourhood as the two of you walked to the store for some groceries. Kazuha took an oddly long time looking through the fruits and vegetables section, eyeing each piece we selected carefully before placing it into the plastic bag we used to carry everything.

It was endearing.

After a good forty-five minutes of walking around the store, the two of you finally decided to head to the cashier for check out. Kazuha was polite as he made idle chatter with them, but you couldn’t help the frown that pulled at your face.

You were right there. If he wanted to talk to someone, why couldn’t it be you? You were sure you were more entertaining than that cashier worker.

But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You pulled out your credit card, expecting to pay, only for Kazuha to gently pull your hand back. “Let me.” He says gently. Your eyes dart to him and your face flushes when you feel his hand graze gently over yours as he pulls it back.

He wanted to pay for you.

Ah, if you hadn’t fallen for him yet, you sure as hell had now.

He taps his card quickly and you barely manage to make it out of the store while avoiding Kazuha’s gaze.

Things only started to set in on Thursday.

You’d woken up with a heavy migraine and a grumpy mood, so it didn’t come as a surprise that you didn’t want to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, that also included Kazuha. And yet, Kazuha didn’t push you when you refused to talk to him while the two of you ate breakfast.

“Good morning,” He had said in greeting. “How’re you?”

You don’t respond, only taking the plate of food he’d set aside for you. You’re swift to finish your food; shovelling it into your mouth and not even bothering to wait for Kazuha.

He, on the other hand, still had that oh-so-sweet smile of his plastered across his pretty lips. “I’ll take it you’re not feeling great, then.” He murmurs. Kazuha gets up from his seat beside you before handing you a glass of water. “You should drink up. Water’s very good for you, so I’m sure it’ll help you a bit.”

You do as he said, chugging the glass of water in one go. “Thanks.” You whisper. Those were the first words you said to him that day, and you could already feel your migraine easing up. Kazuha is like magic, you think, he fixes everything without even trying.

You gave Kazuha a half-hearted smile before placing your plate and utensils in the dishwasher and heading to your room to take a nap. Naps always seemed to ease your headaches.

As you collapsed on your bed, snuggling up under your heavy duvet, your thoughts drifted back to Kazuha. He was sweet, but you’d also come to the realization that he was handsome. His hair was always up into a ponytail, with that little section of red swooping on top of his ear. His eyes are quite pretty, too. You thought. A shimmering red that often matched the clothes he wore, sparkling as he laughed. And his hands, they looked so gentle as he carried things around. His fingers worked effortlessly as he wrote his poetry in that small notebook of his.

“This man,” you whispered to yourself, “is too good to be true.”

On Friday, Kazuha let you have the honour of brushing and tying up his hair.

He’d caught you staring at him as he sat on his bed, his fingers wove through his white locks. With a raised eyebrow, he beckons you over, handing you a red hair tie. “Mind helping me?” He asked softly.

You complied eagerly, scooting behind him. You ran your hand through his hair, gently scooping it behind his shoulders. Kazuha let out a soft hum, as he nodded in content. Carefully, you pull his hair into a ponytail, twisting the thin band to wrap carefully around it a few more times.

“There.” You said. “It’s done.”

Kazuha turned to face you, his knees pressed much too close to yours. “Thank you.” He grinned, grabbing your hand to rest in between his cool ones. “I really appreciate this.”

Your face flushed, an embarrassing warmth coating your cheeks. You brought your free hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of your neck before mumbling out a response. “No problem, Kazuha.”

Saturday was spent planning the two of your guys’ “date” that would be happening on Sunday.

Kazuha suggested a picnic, and you couldn’t help but agree. Maybe it was the thought of spending a day with him, or maybe it was how he wanted to spend a day with you, but you knew you would’ve agreed to anything he said.

The picnic would be on Sunday, in a park the two of you found online.

After a very successful planning session, the two of you spent the rest of the day preparing and packaging food for the picnic.

It was somewhat chaotic—but it was also fun.

Kazuha taught you how to make his favourite sandwich, how to toast the bread perfectly, and how to cut each one into little heart shapes. All with a soft smile dancing on his pretty lips as he guided your hands gently, easing the knife into the bread.

Archons, you were fucked. How’re you supposed to live with him, like this, every day?

And now, it’s Sunday; the day of the picnic.

Your foot taps nervously against the floor of your bedroom. What am I supposed to wear? Yes, you do know you’re probably overthinking this, but you can’t help it! Not when it’s because of Kazuha! You have to make sure you’re always looking your best!

Your cheeks puff out as a heavy sigh leaves your lips, eventually settling on your outfit of the day.

Finally ready, you nervously open the door, heading out to meet Kazuha in the kitchen.

He greets you with a smile and a call of your name. His arms find their way around your waist in a tight hug and you blink. Oh, oh, oh, oh—what do I do!? When did he get so… touchy?! Not that I’m complaining but—You stand frozen, yet Kazuha doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls back with his signature smile. “You’re ready to go?” He questions, taking a step towards the front door.

“Y-Yeah.” You manage to stutter out. “I’m ready.”

“Great!” He grabs your hand, leading you out of your shared home. He doesn’t let go as the two of you walk to the park. With the picnic basket in his free hand, Kazuha still grips yours gently as he leads you. His thumb runs over the skin of your hand absentmindedly. You think it’s supposed to be a calming gesture, but, it only makes your heart beat faster and your face go warm.

You eventually find yourself in a large field, small flowers adorning the grass. Kazuha tugs a blanket out of his bag, laying it over the grass. He plops down on it, patting the space beside him as he does. “Sit with me.” He says.

You comply quickly, placing your own basket down and taking a spot beside him. “...Thanks for doing this with me.” You murmur, giving Kazuha a shy glance.

He only grins in response, digging through his bag and handing you one of the sandwiches you prepared yesterday. “It’s nothing, really.” He smiles, and you feel a tingle go through your hand where his finger brushes over yours. “I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too.” You match his expression, your lips pulling into a smile. It hasn’t even been a week, and yet it feels like you’ve known Kazuha for years.

Kazuha grins, reaching into his bag. “Good.” is all he responds before pulling something out. Is that a wine bottle? “Now, would you like a drink?”

You… never took Kazuha as a drinker.

And yet, here he is, drunk out of his mind as slurs slip from his lips. Kazuha calls out your name, his head slipping onto your shoulder as his hands grip the blanket the two of you are sitting on. “Do you…” He trails off. “Do youuu… wanna watch th-the sunset w’me?” He slurs his eyes fixing on yours from his position on your shoulder.

You cough awkwardly. “Kazuha.” You say softly, easing his head off your shoulder. “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon. The sunsets not coming out anytime soon…”

“B-But—” He whines. “It woulda been soooo romantic.” Kazuha grins, his eyes lolling shut as he slumps against your chest this time. “Jus’ you, me, an’ the flowers.”

“Oh, Kazuha.” You sigh. “I’d love to watch the sunset with you, but we have to get you home before dark. It’d be dangerous walking out drunk at night.”

“No!” He cries. “I could… could protect you… from th’danger.”

“Nope.” You say, trying not to let his words affect you. “We’re going home now, okay?”

“Okayyyy.” He whines, dragging out the word as he says it. “But only—only cause you said so.”

“Good.” You wrap an arm around Kazuha, right under his shoulder as you help him stand. You leave him for a bit, turning around to pick up the blanket and his bag. “Kazuha!” You call, and he’s instantly behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing his face into your neck.

“Hm?” He coos. “D’ya need something?”

The warmth of Kazuha’s breath fans over the skin of your neck, goosebumps rising lowly. “N-Need you to carry your stuff.” You mumble. Your hands remove Kazuha’s from your waist, shifting to grab his wrist as you gently drag him off you. “Let’s go home now.”

Carefully, you take Kazuha home, not really minding his drunk ramblings. He goes on and on about the sunset, about how he’d stare into your eyes and giggle while he holds your hand and the sun sets.

It is endearing seeing him drunk out of his mind and yet still so lovey-dovey.

It only takes the two of you a fifteen-minute walk to reach your home and you’re quick to open the door and let Kazuha in, the two of you dropping your stuff as you help him up the stairs, your arm wrapped snugly around his waist. He slurs your name again, his pretty red eyes meeting yours. “C-Can we cuddle…?” He whines and you instantly turn your head, wanting to hide the warmth on your cheeks.

“I…” You whisper. “You’re drunk. Let’s just get you in bed first.”

“Noo!” Kazuha cries, planting his feet on the ground, stopping you. “Y’always make me wait! Made me wait for our date, now you're still makin’ me wait when I jus’ want cuddles!”

“Kazuha, really, maybe we should—” You try to protest, only to be interrupted.

“Please,” Kazuha whines pitifully, “Jus’ for a bit.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out a deep exhale. “You’re still drunk,” you start, “but fine. I guess some cuddles won’t hurt.”

Kazuha grins happily, snaking his arms around you, just under your arms as he lifts you into the air. “You’re th’best!” He slurs. “Come, cuddles time.” With that, he’s lifting you up and carrying you over into his bedroom.

He tosses you gently onto the bed and you land with a quiet: “Oof!” Before you feel the bed dip as Kazuha joins you. His arms find their familiar place around you and his nore presses into the back of your head as he twists your body into a spooning position with his. One of Kazuha’s legs is haphazardly thrown over yours, and you feel completely engulfed in, well, Kazuha.

“You’re so handsome.” Kazuha whispers into your hair. “My handsome boy.” He presses a kiss to the back of your head, and you have to remind yourself that Kazuha is drunk. He won’t remember any of this, nor will he ever act like this again.

Still, you end up leaning into the touch, falling asleep slowly, basking in Kazuha’s comforting warmth and love.

When you wake up, Kazuha’s body is tangled with yours. His head is on your chest and his arms are wound tightly around your waist. One of his legs is positioned between yours, his knee pressing against you.

You tug him closer, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. Kazuha’s head dips between your shoulder and your neck, nuzzling into the spot. You can feel the small puffs of air his lips let out against your skin as he breathes, matching the pattern of your heartbeat as he does.

You grin, pulling yourself to sit up—only to be yanked completely down by Kazuha. “Don’ move, please.” He whispers. “Need t’feel ya.”

“Kazuha.” You complain. “You’re not even drunk anymore—”

“No.” Kazuha murmurs. “Need to feel you.” As the words leave his lips, he shifts his body, pressing his hips flush against your ass. 

Something firm pokes into you from behind and—

Oh.

That’s what he meant by feel you.

Kazuha’s hips start a steady grind against you, pushing his erection into your ass as he murmurs breathless nothings into your ear. A desperate whine slips from his lips as he slowly moves his hands from around you to on you, roaming your chest and up your neck.

“Need you.” Kauzha murmurs slowly. “Need you so bad.”

“I know.” You say, turning onto your side to face Kazuha.

He smiles at you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. “Please let me have you.” He whines.

You smile, leaning into his touch and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “Of course, you can have me. I’ve been all yours from the start.”

Kazuha’s lips press against yours as he gently pushes you to lie on your back against the bed. His hands trace your sides, going from your neck to your hips as he pulls your pants down. He releases you from his kiss, the both of you gasping for air as he yanks down your boxers with impressive speed.

A soft whine slips from your throat, needily grinding your hips into the air. “Kazuha…” You moan, needing his touch desperatley. “C-Can you just—”

“I know.” He coos, trailing his hand to your hard cock. “I know, pretty boy, but I jus’ wanna take my time with you, ‘kay?”

You hesitantly nod, bringing your hand to thread through Kazuha’s hair as he peppers an assortment of kisses all over your cheeks. His hand starts a slow rhythm, gliding up and down the shaft of your cock slowly.

His grip is teasing, the way he squeezes up as he reaches your tip, dragging the pad of his thumb down your dick as he does. Kazuha’s fist moves quicker, watching as your eyes scrunch up in pure ecstasy from his ministrations. “That’s it.” He murmurs encouragingly. “C’mon, I know you’re close…”

A gasp leaves your lips as Kazuha drags his thumb over your slit, rolling it and smearing your precum everywhere, watching with nothing but a pleased smile as your hips frantically twitch in his hold. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your neck—right bellow your ear before giving the spot a teasing lick.

Kazuha’s hands work at your dick again and again, sliding with a steady rhythm up and down until your brain feels muddled and hazy. You grip at his wrist, not knowing if you want him to stop or keep going.

“K-Kazuha,” you whine, “please.”

A soft laugh leaves his lips and he once again kisses your neck. “Shh.” He murmurs. “Be patient, my dear.” With that, he’s pressing a harsh bite into your supple skin, letting his teeth graze over before digging them into you. A loud moan slips from your lips, your dick twitching over and over until your eyes are squeezing shut and thick ropes of milky white shoot from your tip all over your tummy and Kazuha’s hand.

“O-Oh.” You manage to squeak out. “You’re good at this.”

Kazuha smiles, helping the both of you sit up—with you in between his knees with his erection still pressed into the curve of your ass. He rolls you over, bringing your hips ontop of his as he pulls his leaking cock out of his pants, watching intently as you practically drool at the sight.

“Ride me, please.” Kazuha whispers, his desperation clear in his tone. You wrap a hand around his dick, rolling the pad of your thumb against his tip before lifting your hips. You line him up quickly, feeling the head of his cock push against your hole. Your mouth drops open, a low whine leaving your lips.

Slowly, slowly, very slowly, you sink down on his cock, taking him all the way in. You’re about halfway in—from what little you can tell—when Kazuha grabs your hips. His eyes are teary, staring into yours as he grabs the fat of your ass, and pulls you down.

A loud moan slips freely from your lips and you collapse onto Kazuha, the both of you panting heavily.

“A-Archons.” He whispers, his fingers rubbing smooth circles over your hips. “You’re so tight, angel.”

Angel.

He called you angel.

You bury your face into Kazuha’s neck, taking in his scent as you breathe. “Kazu…” You whine. “Need you so bad.”

“I know, pretty.” He whispers. His grip on your hips tightens as you lift your head off him and look into his eyes. His deep, red eyes. “C’mon. I’ll help you, ‘kay?” He smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before leading you to sit up above him. His finger taps against your waist before he starts. “Lift your hips f’me.” Kazuha instructs and you comply quickly, lifting your hips before dropping back down.

As soon as you drop down, Kazuha’s tip knocks against your prostate harshly and you cry out, your hands barely managing to find purchase against his shoulders. “Good boy.” Kazuha whispers sweetly, running his hands over your chest. “Jus’ like that…” He murmurs. “Think you can keep going?” You nod eagerly, lifting your hips again only to drop down.

Your thighs shake but you don’t care! Not when it feels so good to be bouncing on Kazuha’s dick like this. Not when he hits all those good spots that make you see stars as your eyes roll back.

“Kazuha.” You moan out, rocking your hips tirelessly up and down his dig. You can feel the drag against every vein against your walls, the way he nudges just right against your prostate. Your eyes roll back as your dick twitches against your tummy, drooling pre uselessly as you ride Kazuha up and down, over and over again.

“T-That’s it, pretty.” He whispers. Kazuha’s hands come to grip your ass again, picking up the pace for you as he starts to buck his hips up and into your awaiting hole. “I—holy shit—I’m close.” He whimpers, and you swear there’ll be bruises from how tight he grips your waist. “Need to cum—” He whines, his eyes squeezing shut.

You nod your head eagerly your ass squeezing so tightly around him as he picks up the pace, fucking into you harder. You need to feel him, feel him shoot his load into you. You need it, need Kazuha, need every part of him.

Every time he thrusts, you feel yourself get closer and closer to that sweet release the both of you seek. “Kazu…” You moan out. “Close, close—need you t’k-keep goin’”

“I know.” He whimpers. “I know, ‘m not stopping.” Your eyes rolled back, the familiar warmth building in the pit of your tummy. The way Kazuha’s hands trailed over your thighs—everything he did was begging your body to surrender to the familiar pleasure.

“A-At the same time.” You plead, gripping onto Kazuha’s arm. He only nod, his eyes squeezing shut.

You clench around him and Kazuha throws his head back against the pillows as he buries his dick into you, his hips meeting yours in one final, harsh thrust. He pulls your body close, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he whispers sweet nothings into you.

You feel him cum, a thick load going right into you. You whine, tightening so sweetly around him as your own orgasm hit. “H-Holy…” You whimper, not hvaing the energy to finish your sentence. Your dick twitches between the two of you and you cum. Hard.

Kazuha’s grip around you tightens as he doesn’t even bother to pull out. He grabs the blanket, bringing it over the two of you as he nuzzles your face into his neck, your body still twitching.

Archons. You think, watching Kazuha’s eyes close gently. The sunlight falls onto his face, like a golden halo around his perfect features. How long has it been with him? A week?

Only a week, and you’d managed to fall in love.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @helloanime @kiekole (send ask without anon to be added)

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀 boothill x m!reader — 3.3k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: mechanic!reader, sub!reader, reader gives boothill a dick, reader takes away his censorship, mean dom!boothill, maybe ooc!boothill, fingering, heavy heavy dirty talk, boothill calls reader a whore & slut, boothill steps on reader's dick, blowjobs (boothill receiving), degradation. lmk if i missed anything!!

KAI SAYS: boy am i down bad for this little space cowboy

As a hardworking mechanic, you often pride yourself on your accomplishments. You—like any decent one—had many. From what you worked with to what you managed to fix, there were many things that could be considered impressive to a crowd.

None of them, however, were as impressive as the time you managed to remove Boothill’s censorship and give him back what he called: “a missing piece of his heart.”

Your dimly lit mechanic shop is cluttered with tools amongst other sharp things. Scattered about every flat surface usable is a screw, nail, wire, metal board—anything you could make use of. In the centre of the workshop is the only real space you kept clean.

Sitting in the middle of the room is a large, metallic workbench. It’s impressive, to say the least. Hooked up to an uncountable number of wires, switches and knobs decorating the sides, tools hanging from hooks, everything about it is a sight to behold.

What’s more impressive—even more magnificent—is the man sitting on top of it.

With his legs sprawled out and his head idly lolling from side to side, Boothill himself is a man to bless the eyes. The way his body worked, how each wire and sensor inside his cyborg body worked in tandem with each other to create the masterpiece that was him.

Of course, you only think like that because you’re a mechanic. You know how hard it is to put together a synesthetic body part, let alone a whole human being.

To people who don’t know the complexities of machinery, they might just think he’s a handsome cyborg. And really, they weren’t wrong. Whoever created his body, whether it was Boothill himself or another person, was quite the artist with the way they’d managed to create Boothill as a cyborg and still leave in his human charm.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Boothill grumbles, pulling you very quickly out of your thoughts. “Ya gonna continue starin’ or ya gonna actually help a guy out?” He waved at the dent in his hip, a noticeable cave to the metal plate.

“Yes, yes.” You huff. While you did find the cyborg part of Boothill impressive, his personality… not so much. He was endearing at times, but mostly he could be a pain in the ass.

A lot of the time, he’d get himself scratched and broken just to come back to you only when he’s on the brink of shutting down. Or, he’d either only come to you with the smallest, most irrelevant and easy-to-fix problems known to man.

His current state being the latter.

You make your way carefully over to Boothill, dropping to your knees beside the workbench to inspect the minimal damage done to his hip. “It’s… not even that bad.” You murmur, eyes darting up to his. “You could probably play it off as a hip dip or something.”

“Nope!” Boothill grunts, moving his metallic hand to tap against the metal of his hip. “Not happenin’ cutie. Need this body o’ mine to be in tip-top condition for my next bounty.” He grins widely, stretching his legs in front of him as he rests his arms back behind his head.

You only roll your eyes in response, already pulling out your screwdriver to replace Boothill’s so-called “broken” hip. “Whatever you say then…” You grumble, working away at the screws on the plate.

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.” Boothill hums, absentmindedly picking at the metal of his shoulder.

You wince at the nickname, your eyes shifting from where you’re working to Boothill’s face. “What’s with the nicknames…?” You say, voicing your curiosity. “We’ve known each other for what, six months now?” You raise an eyebrow at him before you continue. “Six months, and we're not even dating yet you always seem to use some form of a nickname.”

“Well,” Boothill hums, “the guy that made this good ol’ body of mine decided I would benefit from losing a thing or two. Those bein’ my ability to swear and of course my clock.”

“Your… clock?” You give him a confused look as you screw the metal back into place, finishing off his new hip.

“No, no, cutie, not an actual clock.” Boothill rolls his eyes. “My, uh, manhood, ya know?”

“Your…” You trail off. “Oh.”

He grins at you, opening his legs widely on the table. “Look if ya want, I got nothin’ to hide down there.” He gives you a wink before leaning further into your workbench.

You glance down at his crotch and see that it is, indeed, very flat. I guess what he said is true then…

You’re about to pick up your tools when you hear Boothill call for you, his name dropping from his lips. “Hey, uh, you don’t happen to have any o’ those synesthetic clocks, do ya?”

You give Boothill a blank look. While you did have a few lying around, as per a customer who was willing to pay a hefty price of seven million credits for one, you didn’t think Boothill would want one.

“Yeah…” You eventually respond. “I do.”

Boothill’s eyes widen as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes. “Oh, mother fudgin’!” He says before eagerly jumping off the workbench. “Please,” he begs, “ya gotta hook me up with one! Haven’t felt it in so long, ‘s like a piece of my heart’s been missing!”

You cringe at his choice of terminology before looking up at the pleading man. “Well, they cost a hefty price—”

“I’m willin’ t’pay!” Boothill cries, the same pleading tone still present in his voice. “Please, anythin’ for my clock back!”

“I—y’know what, fine.” You grumble, not having the energy to think up an argument. You wave your hand at your workbench. “Sit on the edge while I grab one. I’m just gonna assume you want the biggest size.”

You hear the faint rumble of Boothills laugh. “Oh, darlin’ you know me so well!”

You roll your eyes, pulling out a key to unlock a drawer where you kept your synesthetic… manhoods. You eye them all, cautiously taking one on the very left end before closing the drawer and going back up to Boothill.

“So.” You say, holding the synesthetic member awkwardly in front of Boothill. “Eight inches, pretty thick, the colour an’ design of the metal goes pretty well with your cyborg parts, I think it matches you.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Boothill grins, his sharp teeth shining under the light. “Now that's what I’m talking about. Can’t wait to have my fudgin’ shift back.”

You roll your eyes at the censorship before tapping Boothill’s knee. “Spread your legs, gotta get to you if you want me to actually put this on.”

Boothill gives you a teasing look and you already know what he’s about to comment on. “If you wanted to see my new duck in action, ya could’ve jus’ asked.” He grins and you roll your eyes again. Just what you predicted.

“Shut up and spread your legs.” You say, a harsh tone evident in your voice. This time Boothill complies, his knees spreading as you once again take your place, kneeling on the floor—this time between his legs.

Slowly, you unscrew the metal panel on Boohill’s crotch area.

Once it’s fully out, you take a peek into the hole you just opened, trying to grasp what you’re working with. You puff out your cheeks, sighing as you peer into the hole between Boothill’s legs.

There’s an assortment of jumbled wires, a few switches, and—is that a remote control? With two fingers, you manage to pry your way into the cavity in Boothill’s crotch. Lithly and carefully, you pull the remote from the little clasp it was stuck in before sliding it out.

You inspect it cautiosly, taking note of how there’s only one singular switch on the flat of it. You contemplate flipping it, but then it crosses your mind that touching random things that came from inside Boothill’s body wasn’t the best idea.

Setting the remote to the side for later, you continue your work with Boothill’s new member.

Carefully, very, very carefully, you attach each wire to the base of Boothill’s new appendage, making sure everything is kept neat and tidy. With a quick glance up at Boothill, you can instantly tell he’s at least somewhat relaxed.

“Boothill.” You call, tapping the inside of his metal thigh. “I’m gonna connect the synesthesia now, so you might get a bit…” You cough awkwardly. “Aroused… But just ignore it and try not to like—y’know, cum all over my face.”

Boothill grins down at you, once again flashing you his sharp teeth. “Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’ve got some self-control.”

You nod your head, cautiously pushing the two wires together. The instant you twist them into place, you hear Boothill let out a loud groan. “Fudge, I missed this.” He murmurs, his dick twitching to life right in front of your face.

The sight, being able to watch as the new tip of his metal cock twitches and lifts, sends a shiver down your spine—one you chose to ignore as much as possible. Your hands go back to his shaft, gently pressing a screw in and Boothill lets out a loud hiss, his dick twitching in your hand.

“Darlin’ you’re teasin’ me.” He grunts before peering down at you through half-lidded eyes.

You don’t say anything, making sure to work carefully at his dick, making sure everything is functioning. As you trail your hand along the underside of his shaft, Boothill’s thigh twitches, pushing against your head and forcing your face closer to his cock.

You let out a squeal of surprise, eyes darting up to Boothill, whose face is flushed a warm pink with his teeth pulled between his lips. “Didn’t know this would affect you this much.” You murmur, a playful edge in your voice. You hate to admit it, but you’re already half-hard from being so close to Boothill and working on him in such an… intimate way.

“Shut it, darling.’” The cyborg grunts, and you laugh at the way his hands curl into fists beside him. “Haven’t felt like this in a while.”

“I can tell.” You hum, tapping his tip a few times and smirking at the loud groan that leaves his lips.

“Fudging—” Boothill grunts, his hand grabbing tightly at your shoulder as you stand up. “Such a fudgin’ tease, aren’t ya, sweetie?”

“Dunno what you're talking about Boothill.” You say, feigning innocence. Sitting up from your kneeling position you grab the remote. “Any idea what this is?” You question, showing it to Boothill.

He eyes it carefully before shrugging. “Nah, got no clue.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” You huff. “Cause I found it inside you.”

Boothill gapes at you, his jaw going slack. “Inside me!?” He roars. “And you just—just took it out!? What if I need that to live?!”

“Relax, cowboy,” you groan, his loud voice getting on your nerves slightly, “it wasn’t connected to anything, and you seem pretty fine now.”

Boothill glares at you seemingly having forgotten about his rock-hard erection standing tall against his metal abs. “Give it here.” He says, making a ‘give’ motion with his fingers. He practically snatches it from your hand the instant you’re within arm's reach, his hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer as he grabs at the remote. “Hmm…” He hums, inspecting it in his hands. Slowly, he slides the panel down, revealing two short words that make the two of you gasp.

“Censorship… Control.” Boothill reads, and you instantly snatch the remote into your hands.

“Hey!” Boothill yells! “Wait a darn minute—I need that!”

“No,” you respond flatly, “you don’t. Whoever built in that censorship must’ve done it for a reason—”

“Yeah!” Boothill grunts. “To annoy the fudge outa me!” He growls again, desperately trying to reach for the remote again. “Oh, fudgin’ give it! What’ll it take for you to give me the darn thing?!”

You grin.

Finally, he asked.

“I think a good enough payment would be to test out this new dick of yours.”

Boothill’s expression turns from anger and annoyance to a smirk in the blink of an eye. His hands are no longer grabbing at the remote, and instead resting on your waist. “Oh?” He coos. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.” He smirks, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “But a test drive would be so much more fun if I had my swearin’ back. Think of all the dirty lil’ things I could say to you, hm?”

Your face flushes as you feel Boothill’s cool breath fan over your ear. “I bet you'd really like if I turned it off, be able to swear to your heart’s content” You do your best to stand your ground, ignoring the blood that rushes to your cock and the way your pants grow tight. “But I think I can think of a better way to put your mouth to use.”

Boothill growls lowly, his grip moving from your waist to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze. “Turn it off and I might just show you what this mouth of mine is capable of.”

“Hmph.” You grunt. “Fine. Let's see how dirty this mouth of yours can get, Boothill." You whisper, your warm breath fanning over his chest. With that, you’re flicking his censorship off, once again leaving Boothill free to say whatever he wants.

“Atta boy.” He growls.

Boothill’s eyes narrow as you flick the remote, effectively ending his censorship. Your face flushes, watching his lips pull into a wide grin as he grips your ass, tugging down your pants and leaving them dropped at your ankles. “Don’t worry whore, I’ll show you just how good I am.” Boothill growls, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ll have you screaming my name while you’re wrapped ‘round my cock.”

You don’t say anything, only moving to press your face further into his neck.

“I’ll tell you every dirty word, every filthy thought that crosses my mind while I pound into your tight fuckin’ hole.” Boothill groans, starting to tug down your boxers too.

And suddenly, like he only now could process the extent that he could speak, Boothill is tugging you away from him only to press his lips harshly into you, murmuring into the kiss as he does. “You little slut, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re stuffed fuckin’ full of my dick. You’ll be drenched in your own cum, worshiping my cock, begging for more.” He lets out a loud groan, pulling away. “And don’t think you can fuckin’ hide, ‘cause I’ll take you right here an’ now, on your stupid workbench.”

A wicked grin spreads across his face, watching the sight of your absolute arousal dripping down your dick.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ hard.” He wraps his palm around your cock, giving it a sharp tug before pulling his hand away only to return with a sharp slap against your tip. “Bet you’d pull your pants down for anyone on the street, like a common whore.”

You whine, knees buckling at the slap. You collapse onto Boothill’s chest, letting out a plethora of pathetic sounds as you do.

“Aww.” Boothill coos, lifting your chin to face him. “This weak already?”

He grips your body, getting off your workbench only to lay you on top of it. You lay flat on your tummy, with you face pressed into the thin padding of the workbench.

“You’re gonna be a good boy now, an’ take what I give you, ‘kay?” Boothil says, bending your knees to push your ass into the air. His finger teases your puckered hole, tracing your rim, but never pushing anything in,

“Boothill.” You whine. “Put it in already!”

“What’d I say?” Boothill growls, bringing down a hand against your ass in a harsh spank. “That you’re gonna take what?”

“T-Take what you give me!” You whine, pressing your face into the cushion in embarrassment.

You can’t believe what’s currently happening. Here you are, face down and your ass in the air as Boothill eases a finger into your tight hole, occasionally giving mean spanks against your balls and ass.

Eventually, Boothill presses his first finger in. The feeling makes you gasp out, your back arching against the workbench. His fingers are so thick. You whine out, instinctively rocking your hips against his fingers.

“That’s it.” Boothill praises, bringing a hand to rub your back gently. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, like a good lil’ slut.” He presses in another finger, beginning to match the pace of your hips as he curls them.

He thrusts them in and out, and in and out until you’re seeing stars. Your eyes are rolled back, drool slipping from your lips as you moan and writhe against Boothill’s hand. He curls his fingers, easily finding your prostate and laughing cruelly when your dick twitches.

“Fuck, you’re so easy.” He moans, watching you fuck against his fingers. Slowly, he grabs his new metal dick, dragging the cool tip across the crack of your ass. You whine, your eyes squeezing shut at the cold sensation.

“Boothill!” You moan out. “D-Don’t stop, I—I’m so close!”

“Oh?” He questions. “And who told you that you had any right to tell me what to do?”

Just like that, he’s pulling his fingers away from you. You’re a whining, crying mess at that. Sobbing about how you needed his fingers, his dick, his anything to make you come. “Please!” You beg. “Need t’cum so badly!”

“Really?” Boothill smirks. “If that’s really what you want…” He tugs you off the workbench, watching you fall to the floor into a pathetic heap. “Then beg me for it.”

You nod eagerly, instantly getting on your knees and kissing against Boothill’s hard cock. The rough concrete of the floor is painful against your bare knees, but you can make due.

You’re quick to take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the cool metal before pressing your lips slightly lower. Your tongue presses down, forced to drag along his underside the more you take him in.

You blink up at Boothill, tears welling in your eyes as you plead with him to help you. Help you. Use you. It didn’t matter.

Boothill lets out a tsk before grabbing your hair harshly. “What happened to my smart mechanic I knew so well? When’d he get replaced by this cock-hungry bitch who can’t even suck dick to save his life?”

At that, Boothill’s pressing your face all the way down. Your nose pokes at the cold metal of his pelvis before he’s pulling you back and thrusting his dick deep down your throat. He sets a quick pace, fucking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a fleshlight for him to use and throw away at his disposal.

Your jaw hangs slack, tongue forcefully dragging along the metal of his cock. Drool slips from your lips but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when your mouth is being stuffed so full. Boothill’s pace quickens and you moan weakly around his cock, feeling something poke at your own.

From what you manage to see through the corner of your eye, Boothill is stepping on your dick, rubbing the sole of his dirty shoe against your tip as it leaks precum all over the rough concrete. The feeling of his shoe on your dick, his cock stuffing your mouth—it’s all enough to send you over the edge.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your cock twitching pathetically under Boothill’s shoe as you shoot ropes of cum from your tip. Some of it sticks to the bottom of his shoe, and some squirts farther. Boothill laughs, rubbing his shoe harder into your dick, watching you whine around his cock.

“C’mon slut, you can take it. This is the payment you wanted, so don’t go crying on me now.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 tartaglia x m!reader — 3.8k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: amab reader, reader is a dom at first then switches halfway through, reader is mentioned to be wearing lingerie, light feminization (childe says pussy once), use of good boy amongst other pet names, light degradation, praise (for both reader and childe), childe sucks reader's dick, childe also eats reader's ass, cockwarming (childe can't take it LMAO), no aftercare written but it is given, childe licks ur fingers to clean them, mating press, dirty talk. lmk if i missed any!

KAI SAYS: almost 4k words of pure smut haha but like omg i wrote this so late at night with my tip so pls spare me AND!!! this is my return post so...

Tartaglia knows you’re doing it on purpose now, because how can you not be? He whimpers, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink as he feels you clench around him. “Baby, please.” He whines out, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I-I can’t—baby, it’s been thirty minutes.” Thirty minutes he’d been buried to the hilt in you; his dick hard and twitching as it stuffes you full.

Tartaglia whines. He could faintly hear the sound of you taking a deep breath, but that’s not what he was focusing on. No, he was focusing more on the way you squeeze him as you inhale. It was on purpose, he knew you couldn’t just be faking this.

With a deep breath, doing his best to steel his nerves, Tartaglia pressed his thumbs into the joysticks of his console again. “I…” He murmurs softly into the skin of your neck. “I don’ think I can beat this level.”

“No.” You coo in that sickeningly sweet voice of yours. “You can.”

Tartaglia nods his head, your encouragement helping lift his mood somewhat. But, true to his word, he dies yet again. Tartaglia lets out a pathetic whine when he’s greeted with the ‘You Died!’ Screen for the nth time tonight. This bet was made specifically with his torture in mind. You knew he would never beat this level, so to “motivate” him, as you put it, you would sit nice and still on his sensitive cock until he beat it.

“Can’t you move just a little, please.” Tartaglia begs, his dignity long gone. You’re evil for this, he thinks, but all of that is lost when you shift your hips slightly, his mind going blank at just the smallest friction.

He feels his tip bump your prostate, and Tartaglia knows he’s hit it when you moan out, your mouth right by his ear as his fingers press harshly against the buttons of his game console. “P-please!” He whines again. “I-I need you t’move, just a little, just a little, please.”

“Maybe, if you last another thirty minutes, I’ll consider it.” You hum, and Archons Tartaglia thinks he's losing his mind with the way your breath trickles over his ear. “But, if you make it through the level…” Your voice trails off, but Tartaglia knows what you meant.

If he makes it through the level, Tartaglia could finally fuck you. Push you against the bed, wipe that stupid smirk off your face, maybe make you sit on his face until you cry. The options, at least to him, are endless.

You trail your hand over the neck of his shirt, and Tartaglia’s eyes dart from the screen to you. You, all dressed up in your white lace panties and thigh highs, with your chest arched against his chest and here he was, still fully clothed.

Well, only thanks to you.

You, like the cruel man you are, wouldn’t let Tartaglia strip. You’d forced him to watch as you changed, stripping off your pyjamas and slipping on the lace lingerie while he sat there, half sure he was drooling. And then you’d gone and pressed him to the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit as you pulled out his leaking dick, not even bothering to pull his sweats all the way down. Then you sat your pretty hole on his dick, and Tartaglia couldn’t pull his eyes away from the way your ass practically swallowed him whole.

And then, began this whole ordeal of pure torture.

You’re sat on his lap, facing Tartaglia as his arms wrap around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he looks over your body and behind you to the console gripped tightly in his hands.

Tartaglia’s eyes dart to you, and they widen as he watches you shift on his dick, your tip forcing its way over the hem of your panties, now drooling pre all over his shirt. Tartaglia squeezes his eyes shut. You press a kiss right under his ear and Tartaglia twitches inside you. You let out a lewd moan and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore.

Not another thirty minutes, or another five.

Tartaglia’s hands shake, and he’s forced to watch his in-game character die again. “Fuck…” He whispers, trying not to roll his hips into your heat. “I… You’re torturing me. Can’t take this.” He whines.

You shake your head. “C’mon, baby.” You coo, using the nickname Tartaglia always uses for you. It sounds almost mocking the way it slips from your pretty lips, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “You might wanna hurry up, or I’ll have to pull out my old dildo to help me…”

No! Tartaglia thinks, and he voices such thoughts with the aggressive shake of his head against you. I can do better than a stupid dildo!

“P-Please don’t.” he says weakly. “I’m trying, I’m trying.” Tartaglia starts to concentrate on his console once again, doing his best to ignore the squeeze of your ass and the warmth of your walls.

Your tip drools pre across his shirt, twitching gently against the fabric. Tartaglia’s mouth waters. He wants to taste you, wants to bury his face between your thighs and lick every drop up. It’s an indulgence he wants to become reality more than anything.

“Can I at least touch you, please?" he asks desperately, gaze not leaving your tip. Tartaglia wants to be closer to you, to have a hand on your soft skin, to play with your dick that was so close to the cumming. He’s ready to do anything in order to make you cum, to feel you pulse around his dick. He’s losing his mind, and the game was the least of his worries. Tartaglia wants you.

"Touch me before you finish the level, and there'll be consequences." You hum. "And trust me, if you think this is bad, just wait until you see what I have in mind." you press your lips gently against Tartaglia’s neck, trailing from his adam's apple to that sweet spot right under his ear. "I'm sure you'd deprive some sick form of enjoyment from that, though."

Tartaglia whimpers at the threat. He doesn’t know what would be worse: the current situation or the punishment you offer. Sick form of enjoyment… His mind echoes. He would most likely enjoy anything you gave him right now.

And like an answer to his prayers, you shift on his dick again. Tartaglia watches as your tip pokes above the fabric of your lace panties, even higher than before. The used-to-be white was now a dark grey with the way your pre had stained and wet through the fabric. Your panties were completely soaked through, the bulge from your dick covered in pre from your leaking tip, poking just above the hem.

Slowly, you tug your dick out of the panties, making sure to slather your fingers in your precum before pressing them against Tartaglia’s lips. "Clean them up." You whisper, and the sound of your voice almost makes him melt.

The instant your fingers press against his lips, Tartaglia is eagerly licking them into his mouth, his tongue swirling your digits around and coating them in his spit. He didn’t hesitate to continue sucking on your fingers, despite knowing they were already clean enough.

“Such an eager boy,” You murmur as you yank your fingers from Tartaglia's lips. There’s a string of drool that connects your hand to his pouty lips as he gives you another pleading look.

“Will you let me touch you now?” He begs, “Please, I’ve been so good for you!” Tartaglia licks his lips, savouring the faint taste of you. He wants more, he wants to grab you by the waist and bury his face between your thighs and suck you off until you’re nothing but a mess inside his mouth.

You bring your fingers back down to your dick, swiping them over your tip and harshly pressing them against Tartaglia’s mouth. “Suck.” You command in a harsh voice, completely ignoring his previous question.

Tartaglia’s lips go back around your fingers again. He doesn’t need to be told twice when you’re the one telling him. He easterly laps at your fingers, ignoring the drool that threatens to spill from the corner of his lips. You press your fingers down against his tongue and he chokes lightly, lifting his blue eyes to meet yours,

When you finally pull your fingers out of his mouth, Tartaglia buries his head into your neck about to ask to touch you again—only for you to beat him to it. “You get two minutes to touch me, but you can only use your hands.” You start. “And, we have to stay in this position. No pulling out or thrusting." You press a kiss against Tartaglia’s lips. "Think of it as... encouragement to finish the level faster."

Tartaglia nods happily at your words, pulling off your neck to get a better view of you. “Thank you—thank you, baby, needed this.” He slurs as his eyes rake down your exposed body before honing in on your sensitive cock. He wishes you’d let him lick that instead of your fingers, but you were clear on your rules for the two minutes.

Tartaglia has two minutes, a whole two minutes to make you feel good. There’s no way he’s let them go to waste.

He wastes no time when the game is finally paused. Tartaglia cups your balls gently, feeling the weight of them in his palm. He massages them slowly, his thumb rubbing up and down the underside of your dick, feeling the warmth and the leaking pre that slipps down your shaft. Tartaglia knows nothing can make you cum in this position, but he can make you squirm, he can tease you.

His other hand wanders up, his fingers ghosting over your skin, drawing circles around your nipples before pinching them gently. He wants to hear you moan, to see you writhe. Tartaglia needs to know he was pleasing you. He gazes at your face, waiting to see a reaction, anything to show that he’s making you feel good.

Your eyes roll back and your dick twitches hard against Tartaglia’s hand. “T-Tartaglia…!” You moan out, your back arching into his chest. Tartaglia’s fingers pull gently at you nipples, tweaking and twisting the nubs between his thumb and pointer finger. Your eyes roll back and Tartaglia whines at the sight, sliding his thumb faster up and down your dick, rolling it over your tip before sliding it against your slit.

He feels your hole clench around his dick, and Tartaglia has to squeeze his eyes shut in concentration to stop himself from bucking into you. He’s about to roll his hand again when it’s suddenly pushed away from your leaking dick. You yank his hands off your nipples too, panting as you do. “Two minutes have passed.” You mumble.

Tartaglia knows you were close from the way you sounded to the way you jerked your hips into his hand. “I’m sorry.” He whines, sounding like he’s carrying the weight of the world in his heart.

With a deep breath, Tartaglia focuses back on the game again, he hopes that this time he’ll finally beat the level. He’s determined, he wants to make you cum, to please you. He needs to win.

You slump against his shoulder, clearly needy. Tartaglia sucks in a breath. You were so close. He thinks. His focus turns back to the game, moving the joystick and pressing the rounded buttons as skillfully as he can manage with you taking his cock to the hilt,

Tartaglia feels you lean forward, your hands dipping under the hem of his shirt. “I wanna see you…” You whine and his face flushes. Tartaglia doesn’t have time to respond before the game console is slipping from his hands and you’re tugging his shirt off his figure.

Another eternity passes as Tartaglia picks up the console once again, doing his best to beat the level. He closes his eyes—just about to give up when the victory music blasts throughout the bedroom. “Finally—fuck, fuck, baby.” Tartaglia groans, tossing the console and pouncing on you.

His lips press against yours, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. Tartaglia is kissing you harshly, his lips flush against yours as your tongue gently swirls with his.

He pulls away after a minute, both of your faces flushed and panting. “I-I’m sorry it took me so long.” Tartaglia apologizes. He wants to please you, make you cum, see you lose control just because of him. He was desperate to feel you squirm against him, he wants to see the way your face would twist in pleasure when he fucks you just right.

Tartaglia slowly pulls out, hissing as he leaves your comforting warmth and is met with the harsh, cold outside air.

“Let me take you, please…” He begs, his eyes filled with desire and the need to have you. Tartaglia wanted you—no, needed you. His hand wanders back to your dick, wrapping his palm around your shaft and quickly jerking you up and down at a messy pace.

Tartaglia would do anything to have you come undone on his dick.

“Uh-huh.” You whine, and Tartaglia thinks it’s cute how all your confidence diminishes the instant you're offered some dick.

He watches you twist your body to lay flat against the bed on your back. Slowly, your legs splay into the air before you pull them back and bend them at your knees. Your ass, all empty and clenching around nothing, is now fully exposed to Tartaglia. Your hole is stretched already, from the much too long of a time you spent just sitting on his dick. Your own cock lays across your tummy, twitching and drooling uselessly,

Tartaglia sucks in a breath at the sight of your hole. His dick is throbbing at the sight, pressing angrily against his tummy, so hard and needy. He wants to do nothing more than bury himself inside you, to feel your warm muscle clench around him once more.

Slowly, he lowers himself into a kneeling position right in front of you. Tartaglia dips his head to your ass, pressing light kisses across the curve of your thighs. He trails his mouth down to your dick, taking the tip into his mouth. His eyes roll back at the feeling of finally having you in his mouth. Tartaglia sucks harshly, bobbing his head up and down your length. He runs his tongue over the underside of your shaft.

Tartaglia swirls his tongue around your overly sensitive tip, watching and depriving pure enjoyment of the way your hips buck into his mouth messily. You throw an arm over your face, trying to muffle your breathless moans and flushed face. Tartaglia gives you a harsh suck for warning, letting you know that if you don’t remove your hand now, things would get worse.

You, of course, comply, pushing your hand to the sheets and clenching them in your fist.

Tartaglia hums happily, the vibrations travelling across your shaft. He feels you twitch in his mouth and your legs thrash beside his head, squeezing and pulsing by his ears as he goes faster, making sure to let the drool spill from his lips as he moves his head.

Tartaglia pushes his lips down to your base bringing a hand to fondle your balls gently and you whine, your back arching off the bed. Your hand goes to tangle itself into Tartaglia’s hair, pushing your dick deeper down his throat. “I—holy shit—I’m c-close!” You whine, and that was enough of a signal to pull off your dick.

Tartaglia smears kisses across your ass, ignoring your desperate whines and cries, before eventually leading to your puffy hole, all nice and stretched for him. He’s quick to bury his mouth against you, already feeling his brain go mushy at the feeling. His tongue slips into you easily, and you whine at the feeling.

Tartaglia fucks his tongue into you with great fervour, not even caring for his hard dick. All he can think about is the taste of you on his tongue, the way your hole clenches down so nicely against his mouth and those sweet, sweet moans of: “M-More, please, need you so bad!” That slip from your lips and get his hips rocking his dick into the side of the mattress.

Tartaglia’s tongue pushes and prods into you, again and again until he hears you moan loudly. His eyes dart up, barely able to catch the way your back arches. Your legs shake around him yet again, your thighs squeezing around his ears, which only drives him to thrust his tongue into you further. Drool slips down his chin, but he doesn’t care, all he wants is to taste you again, and again, because, fuck, if he died right here, between your thighs, he would die a happy man.

“Right there!” You cry, Your legs threatening to squeeze tightly on Tartaglia’s head. He pushes his tongue in again, thrusting it in and out of your hole with a scary precision, making sure he hits your prostate every time.

“O-Oh, my—fuck, can’t take it!” You whine and he smirks against your tightening hole. “I need you, please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease!” You’re a complete mess, babbling nonsense as he eats you out, eyes rolling back and legs shaking in ecstasy,

All it took was him shoving a finger in, curling it in time with his tongue, for you to cum. Tartaglia eagerly pulls off your ass, watching as your dick twitches against your tummy and ropes of cum shoot from your member. He waits until you're finished before pressing his face against the mess you just made and licking it clean.

Tartaglia looks up at you from his position against your belly. “I….” He whines. “I’m still hard.” He gives an apologetic smile before going back to his first position in front of the bed, this time standing up. He lifts your collapsed legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he slaps his cock beside your limp one.

As quickly as he can, Tartaglia grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and smears it all over his shaft. “Help me out, pretty boy.” He whines and you whimper at the nickname. Slowly, you push yourself onto your elbows just enough to push your hand to his dick and help him spread the lube.

Tartaglia doesn’t even bother to continue once you start, only throwing his head back with a loud groan. “That’s it, o-oh, archons you’re good at this.” His eyes squeeze shut and Tartaglia has to stop himself from cumming on the spot for the nth time tonight. He doesn’t even bother to lube your hole, only murmuring a sweet, “This pussies wet enough for me, right?” before he’s pressing a messy kiss to your neck.

“Not a pussy.” You slur, but he doesn't take any mind.

“D-Don’t worry, baby.” Tartaglia coos as he presses his thick tip against your weak hole. “Promise it’ll feel so good…” He wants to be inside you, to make you come again and again.

And suddenly, he’s halfway in, the thick of Tartaglia’s shaft being swallowed almost whole by your pretty ass was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. You whine lowly, back instinctively arching into him, forcing yourself deeper onto his dick.

“Fuck, baby, look what you do t’me.” He groans, pulling out so it’s just his tip stuck in your pretty, clenching hole. Tartaglia fucks his tip into you, watching it messily slide out then in, then out then in, over and over again until he can’t take it anymore and can’t help but want more.

Tartaglia—like the pathetic man he knows he is—can’t take it anymore. He pushes in fully, but just before he does, spits a large glob of drool from his lips to the tip of your spent cock watching it twitch under the feeling. He laughs, watching your dick twitch back to life. “And to think you get off to me spitting on you.” He murmurs, before finally thrusting in fully, in one, harsh movement.

The moan you let out is so pretty and high, and Tartaglia can feel his balls grow heavy at the sound. Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the lewd squelch of his dick pressing in, in, in and against your prostate, his tip knocking easily at it.

Tartaglia pistons his hips into you, basking in the moans and pleas for “more, more, more!” that slipped from your pretty lips. He’s pounding into you, and Tartaglia watches your head fall back against the pillow. Your hands shake as you desperately reach out to grab onto the sheets for leverage as he pushes your legs up, leaning down onto your body as he forces you into a mating press.

And, oh, Tartaglia feels like he just slipped so much deeper into you, and with the way your walls squeeze and clench and you moan his name like a mantra—Tartaglia is sure he’s just died and reached heaven.

His thrusts start to lose their rhythm, but they still manage to fill you up so much that, before Tartaglia can process what’s happening, you're crying out, your ass clenching so tightly against him he thinks he sees stars.

“I—I’m close, ‘m so close!” You cry and Tartaglia can’t help but bury his face into your neck as he thrust into your ass.

“Me too, baby.” He whimpers out. Tartaglia reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his much larger ones, before letting out a loud moan. “Together, please, baby, cum together.”

And you’re eagerly nodding your head, a mix of “yes” and “please” leaving your lips. Tartaglia isn’t even pulling out anymore, just knocking his hips against yours—no rhythm or pattern, just instinct as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Cummin’ o-oh—fuck!” You whine and Tartaglia instantly does too, feeling the way your dick spurts thick ropes of white onto your chest and his only drives him to the edge. He buries himself as deep as he can before collapsing onto you, pressing his full weight onto his hips. Tartaglia shoots a thick load of his seed into your awaiting hole, whining in content as he feels you milk his cock, squeezing down on him.

You’re panting, laying on the bed with Tartaglia pressed on top of you. His arms snake around your waist, tugging and twisting your connected bodies so that he’s spooning you, his chin resting on top of you’re head.

After a minute of rest, Tartaglia’s arms squeeze around your waist. “Love you, so much.” He murmurs tiredly.

“Promise?” You giggle back, despite the feeling of your exhaustion weighing heavy on your eyelids.

“Always an’ forever.” Tartaglia whispers sweetly. His arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer as the two of you bask in the afterglow in each other’s arms. “I’ll love you, always and forever.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost