heyyy girl !! idk if you know this but there's a user copying your drabbles on tiktok
or it's you? i really want to know so I'll report it or not
i saw this user also copying other fics from here (tumblr)
BROOOO OMG ok wait before i get all heated about this ahaha THANK YOU for letting me know. agh this is such a frustrating issue and i rlly appreciate you reporting it to me. the only platform i post my works on is tumblr so if you ever see fics that are mine outside of tumblr they’re definitely not me and i appreciate you reporting it to me right away. thank you for taking the time to lmk.
if you can report them that would be amazing !! tysm !!
IMPORTANT REMINDER THAT THINGS YOU SEE CREATED BY OTHERS ARE NOT YOURS OR MEANT TO BE STOLEN AND USED TO SEEK YOUR OWN CREDIT so to those who even think about plagiarizing other ppl’s hard work, PLEASE learn from these mistakes and don’t ever do it again. it’s so rude and disrespectful, taking others work and using it as your own. and you’ll be caught in the end for it anyways so i don’t see the benefit here tbh 🤷🏻♀️ this plagiarizing behaviour is ridiculous.
before you even think about doing it, put yourself in ppl like me—my shoes and think about how it would feel to get your hard work used to be someone else’s and they get credit for your hard work. this piece was smth i LOVED and it brought sm joy to me making it and seeing you guys love it too. but now, i’m just disgusted.
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𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓮 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓬𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓶𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚
boothill x f!reader . nsfw — mdni . comfort ?? fluff ?? angst ?? i dunnoooo ! ! ! a bit of everything . established relationship ノ implicit mentions of oral sex ノ i am running with the idea that boothill doesn't have a human heart + cannot feel touch on any metal part of his body . . if this is not what is canon i am ! Sorry ! ! ノ things get rather prosy n perhaps pretentiously poetic near the end so i am sorry x 2 ꒱ྀི 855 wc
“so, you can’t feel anything when i touch you here?”
your cheek is nestled comfortably atop of boothill’s shoulder as you sit straddling him, slip your fingers beneath the rolled sleeve of his vest and feel up the smooth contours and edges of his bicep.
it’s rather bittersweet how you ask, when you ask— seemingly every week now, as soon as the two of you can steal for yourselves a moment of reprieve. embracing him by the fire under the quiet of the dark night, holding your entire universe in your arms.
‘i don’t ask because it turns me off, or anything— nothing like that at all, really!’ you’d explained, when first you asked him some new moons ago. ‘i’m just curious, is all… you don’t need to prove your humanity to me.’
“nope, still can’t feel nothin’ below my neck.” he pops the ‘p’, then pops open an eye to gaze down at your frame settled on his lap. “don’t think i’ll ever be able to, for that matter.”
you look soft. sweet. supple. so warm. limbs flushed with blood, heart beating with love, life. and he remembers well how you feel of it, too. the custardy creaminess of your skin from all those times he’s kissed you to sleep— your cheek and neck and the hot swell of your breast— from all those times he’s devoured you out of your dreams with his tongue, your toes curling over his shoulders.
“not even here?” spreading your thighs further atop his hips, you lower your hand to the strong dip of his side, trace your touch along the various ports lining it, down, down, down, until you’re able to curl your fingertips past the waistband of his slacks, palms pressing into his groin.
“wow… first time you’ve been brave enough to touch me there, doll. what’re you playin’ at?”
boothill’s eyes turn feverish and he smirks, sun-blood handsome and toothy and ineffably human.
his hands leave their place behind his head to gently hold your waist, pull you closer into him. “you tryna bewitch me into bed?”
giggling softly, you shake your head, happy to see him smile. happy to see the face you trust, the face you love. “no… just, i was thinking…” you remove his hat, tame the wild tendrils of sleet and onyx hair with a tuck of them behind his ear.
then, you cradle his head within your palms, thumbs smoothing comforting lines over the lift of his cheeks, before you lean in to lay a tender, wet kiss there.
“… thinking that i should probably give you lots of special attention here,” you kiss his cheek again, and again, and again. “also here,” you lay another to his forehead, upon pushing back his bangs, “can’t forget about here, too…” a third and final to the soft curve of his lips.
you melt into his broad frame when he kisses back, obedient as you open your mouth for him, let him lick over your teeth and gums and tongue and stake his claim, greedily take the burgeoning morsels of your heart that you so blithely offer him.
“mm, this special attention— ‘s real nice… do it more often, yeah?” he whispers between kisses, his hands wrapping further around your waist to effectively hug you against him.
when you’re left bereft of oxygen after a mere few moments of intimacy, nodding eagerly is the only thing you can bring yourself to do— because you just want to be good.
wanna be so good, wanna be everything to you, wanna keep you safe, wanna make you happy, wanna be a home for you, wanna make you feel.
“when i kiss you, do you feel it here?” you’re breathless as you break free from boothill’s lips, unzipping his vest with haste and tugging it past his shoulders to expose his torso to you. your palm finds the metal plate of his chest and you press down gently over the spot where his heart is… or rather, where it should be.
your lover’s body is always cool, icy to the touch— an alloy of antimony and silicon and whatever other heavy metals his creators have deemed suitable enough to aid in the formation of an unbreakable shield, indomitable weapon.
and truth be told, boothill does not feel it there— where you hope for a heart to be.
but he does feels something, a jolt of electricity through the wires that take place of sinew, bolts that take place of joints. it may very well be the effect of a placebo on his mind, a wish for wanting to feel in his mechanical heart when you slather your love over him, though it’s all the same, really: the syntax of his binary language.
you don’t need to prove your humanity to me.
perhaps he is made of elemental scraps, but he is still organic, plum-hearted, throat lined with the warmth of the sun. because where do antimony and silicon come from…?
a planet’s crust that its ocean so tenderly covets and little homes in the sand for little sea creatures from millennia past that she keeps close, safe, happy; that she kisses with, well… warm lips.
“i feel it everywhere.”
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