#boris x reader

[jammingaround-silly]

"random texts with them"

(Let's ignore the fact that Cuphead can't read)

Based on some pics I saw on Pinterest

Y'all tell me if you want more

[checkeredscarff]

-ˋˏᥕһ᥆ ⍴ᥙᥣᥣᥱძ 𝗍һᥱ ⍴іᥒ ᥆ᥙ𝗍 ᥆𝖿 mᥡ һᥱᥲr𝗍?ˎˊ-

┆The star cast x gn!reader ; how do they kiss you?

-ˋˏWarnings┆Cuphead's section is a little heated but it's nothing crazyˎˊ-

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Reader is gender neutral! hcs cuz I haven't done those in forever :p I probably horribly mischaracterized them I'm so sorry Boris, Cuphead and Shelly were actually the hardest to characterize for me so apologies for that 💔 This is a little gift for reaching 100 followers! I would've done something different and grander but it's a bit hard when requests are closed </3 This post serves as an announcement that motm will officially be available for requesting in the future!! Guys can you tell I like pierce the veil? WHERE ARE THE MYTH BENDY FICS BRO I'M STARVING I'M GENUINELY THINKING I'M THE ONLY BENDY FAN ON EARTH Probably ooc..

Not proofread cuz I suck :c

—♯ᑲᥱᥒძᥡ ; 𝗍һᥱ ⍴ᥲssі᥆ᥒᥲ𝗍ᥱ ᥲᥒძ s᥆𝖿𝗍

⋆ ˚ 🎭 ⁀➴ ꒰ Bendy's kisses are nothing short of passionate and fiery. Every ounce of love he has is poured into every little kiss— no matter how short— like a desperate cry, trying to remind and show you just how much he cares. When he pulls away, it leaves you aching, wishing he'd have let it go on for just a few moments longer.

⋆ ˚ 🎭 ⁀➴ ꒰ Kisses serve as better alternatives to 'I love you's. Don't get me wrong, it's not like he never says it! Bendy simply prefers showing his affection through actions rather than words; he feels that he's much better at expressing himself with his body. He likes to think it's the former performer in him, used to telling the story through lively movement and a sway of his hips.

⋆ ˚ 🎭 ⁀➴ ꒰ Every one of his kisses entails touch to some degree. The shorter ones are often accompanied by hand holding, taking both of your hands in his. Leeching off your warmth, he squeezes them— firm and reassuring. Sometimes, though, a gloved claw reaches up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb traces your cheekbone as the other finds it's place on your forearm, gently massaging away any built up tension in your muscles. His tail flicks behind him and snakes up to wrap around your thigh or waist, the tip gently rubbing against your skin.

⋆ ˚ 🎭 ⁀➴ ꒰ The longer ones call for firm hugs, two cold arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you closer until your bodies are pressed flush against each other; with such closeness, you can feel just how fast his heart beats. Other times, his claws trail down your sides, slow and teasing until they stop at your hips. He takes great care not to dig those talons of his into you as he squeezes, smiling into the kiss as your flesh dips under the pads of his fingers. His tails wraps tighter around you as if attempting to show you how important you are to him.

⋆ ˚ 🎭 ⁀➴ ꒰ Bendy may try to cover any traces of raw, unfiltered emotion out of some inexplicable fear but kisses are near impossible to fake. Earlier into your relationship, his kisses were almost always playful. In more intimate instances, you could catch a slight tremor in his lips and a hesitance in touches.

⋆ ˚ 🎭 ⁀➴ ꒰ Since then, he's gotten far more comfortable. Insecurities you used to inadvertently bring out now fade in your presence. Kisses are no longer something he has to rehearse a hundred times in his head like some stage act. Bendy understands now— to the fullest extent— that you are someone he can fully confide in. You're not a member of the audience. He's not performing, nor does he need to. You're his partner and you'll love him no matter what version of him it may be.

—♯ᑲ᥆rіs ; 𝗍һᥱ ᥣᥲzᥡ ᥲᥒძ ᥣ᥆᥎іᥒg

⋆ ˚ 🦴 ⁀➴ ꒰ Boris's kisses are lazy but not in the way you may think. It's not that he doesn't love you enough to put in the effort, it's quite literally just his style! Unlike Bendy, he doesn't treat every kiss like something sacred to pour his everything into. Instead, he finds comfort in them. Boris melts into every kiss, practically a big, warm puddle in your hands by the time you pull away.

⋆ ˚ 🦴 ⁀➴ ꒰ Kisses are like mini breaks from life. Every one of them stops time itself, allowing him a moment of peace to unravel in the warmth of his lover. He often ends up hurting his tail, the way it wags and incidentally smacks into everything in it's path. He leans in, sweet and shy, everytime. You end up having to take charge for the most part as he ends up too engrossed and lazy to bring himself to voluntarily pull away.

⋆ ˚ 🦴 ⁀➴ ꒰ Boris isn't all too big on being vulnerable in public, meaning that kisses only take place in the comfort of his home or just generally in a private space. The biggest upside to this is that every touch is far more intimate than it could ever be in public.

⋆ ˚ 🦴 ⁀➴ ꒰ For the most part, kisses may begin with you standing or sitting in your own seperate places. If the kiss runs longer than a few seconds, his gloved hands take yours in them, playing with your nails or rubbing small and slow circles into your knuckles. A few seconds longer and he'll begin to trail them up your arms, right up to the fold. He keeps his thumbs over the veins running through the middle, focusing in on the rhythm of your pulse and how it quickens. About a minute in, he'll find his way to your waist and gently pull you onto his lap if possible. The kiss either ends in a cuddle session or continues until you pull away.

⋆ ˚ 🦴 ⁀➴ ꒰ On the other hand, you'll have already been lying on him. In this case, he simply brings both arms around you and holds you tight. You can feel the muscles beneath his skin flex against your back as he practically attempts to fuse with you. This, however, only really occurs when he's extra clingy, sensitive, or having a jealous streak. More often than not, Boris gently rests his hands on your back, one on the upper and the other on the lower. The hand against the small of your back often presses against and massages the curve.

⋆ ˚ 🦴 ⁀➴ ꒰ To put it bluntly, Boris's kisses are a little sloppy and definitely inexperienced but it's evident that they mean a lot to him. He's gentle with you and almost always takes his sweet time with them to truly express that love. Not joking, he has a dedicated time in his schedule to making out with you; it's essentially his break from whatever he might've been doing before.

—♯ᥴᥙ⍴һᥱᥲძ ; 𝗍һᥱ һᥱᥲ𝗍ᥱძ ᥲᥒძ ᥲᥕkᥕᥲrძ

⋆ ˚ ♦ ⁀➴ ꒰ Cuphead's kisses always leave behind a buzzing warmth on your lips, burning desire carried through to you in every one. He's a little on the rougher side, often yanking you into them or darting out to you rather than slowly leaning in. He tends to live his life fast paced, making slower and more intimate moments few and far between but all the more special.

⋆ ˚ ♦ ⁀➴ ꒰ Cuphead is about as passionate as Bendy. Actually? Scratch that— he's worse. While Bendy is relatively soft and romantic, Cuphead creates a hot, messy desire and he'll leave you to sit with it. He relishes in the thought that every kiss leaves you thinking of him hours after he's gone, craving his attention and presence. But don't worry, he's no monster! He'll give you just what you want if you beg a little, just hope you don't mind being teased about it later..

⋆ ˚ ♦ ⁀➴ ꒰ Cuphead has damn near no shame. Your input is honestly all that's stopping him from having your back pressed against a wall and his tongue practically down your throat. All jokes aside, he really does get way too into it. Public spaces are his favorite places to make out for the sole purpose of showing any and everyone that they have no shot. It starts off simple enough, a few kisses here and there, but it doesn't take long for him to pull you onto his lap. Cuphead loves letting his hands wander during this, gliding over your sides, tracing your spine and rubbing your thighs. He kisses you with fervor; fast, sloppy and intense, as if he were out of time.

⋆ ˚ ♦ ⁀➴ ꒰ Cuphead struggles with genuine intimacy. Being soft— even with you— is difficult. It's really the only reason he tries to keep the quieter moments to a minimum. He wants to be soft, he really does. It's what he believes you deserve most but he's painfully awkward with it. You'd most likely have to be the one to initiate any intimacy. During these special moments, he goes quiet. His jokes spill less confidently and that cocky smile fades. Suddenly, he's uncertain. Your touches are gentle, unfamiliar. You hold him like something precious and it makes his bottom lip tremble, holding back something he can't quite put a name to.

⋆ ˚ ♦ ⁀➴ ꒰ Cuphead's touches are no longer smooth but shaky as his fingers glide over your arms to your cheek. His eyes flicker from your lovely face to the wall and back again. He's terrified of screwing up and chasing off the only person he's ever known to have seen him for the freak show he is and still believe he's someone to be held so dearly. His kisses cool into something less unbearably hot and needy to something gentle; something slow and sweet. Instead of being the chaotic, dominating force he always tries to be, he let's you take the lead. His strong arms wrap around your waist, tense and sweaty as he pulls you close, desperate to keep you where he needs you. It's selfish but he can't stomach the thought of you abandoning him right now.

⋆ ˚ ♦ ⁀➴ ꒰ In all honesty, he's a softie but you really— and I mean really— have to bring it out of him. Show him he can trust you not to drop and shatter him when he needs to be held. Show him you can handle his wild side and snarky remarks without snapping. It'll take some time but if you stick around and act as his safe space, he'll warm up and you'll get to catch sides of him you likely never knew existed. The farther into your relationship you get, the more comfortable he gets; intimate moments are no longer rare but— similarly to boris— something that happens in the comfort of either of your homes or just somewhere quiet and alone with you.

—♯mᥙgmᥲᥒ ; 𝗍һᥱ sһᥡ ᥲᥒძ sіm⍴ᥣᥱ

⋆ ˚ ♠ ⁀➴ ꒰ Mugman's kisses are almost always stiff, awkward, and to the point. You think it's endearing but he hates it and really wishes he didn't struggle so much. His kisses start tense and nervous but the longer they last and the more you reassure him, they'll eventually melt into something soft and sweet. Every kiss leaves him a blushing mess, cheeks dusted a very visible blue. He'd never tell you something so embarrassing but your kisses run circles in his head until you grant him more, replaying the moment and recalling the softness of your lips whenever they pressed against his.

⋆ ˚ ♠ ⁀➴ ꒰ Unfortunately, Mugman remains tense whenever you kiss in public. It's embarrassing to him— other people being able to catch a glimpse of how terrible he is at this. If you don't grab a hold of him he might pull away faster than either of you would like. Reach out to him, take his hands in yours and squeeze tight. He'll reciprocate, squeezing back and relaxing ever so slightly. Wrap your arms around him and trace his rim lovingly. He'll smile against you.

⋆ ˚ ♠ ⁀➴ ꒰ Mugman always asks; whether he's asking for one or asking to give you one. Sometimes it's a little odd and out of place but it's adorable nonetheless. He'll awkwardly shuffle closer, leaning into you ever so slightly until his warmth starts making you sweat a bit before quietly mumbling. His pinky wraps around yours as he patiently waits for an answer. When you finally lean in and/or give him permission, his hand locks onto yours, fingers intertwined as your lips meet once again. The corners of his lips twitch as he attempts to hold in the giggle and giddy smile before your image of him becomes a blushing schoolgirl with a big fat crush.

⋆ ˚ ♠ ⁀➴ ꒰ Mugman's kisses are very simple! No crazy, over the top gestures but cute little pecks on the cheek or sweet kisses that last just the right amount of time; never too long, never too short. He rarely holds you the way most of our other friends do but he'll always take your hands in his. Though, during summer, he only holds onto your fingers to keep from getting you sweaty. I like to think he's a really warm guy. Cuddles during the summer are unbearable tho..

⋆ ˚ ♠ ⁀➴ ꒰ He tends to kiss you more on the nose. It's almost like a little tradition or secret love language. They're quick and easy but you can tell just how happy it makes him when you kiss him back. A big goofy, lopsided smile spreads everytime you ghost kisses across his nose, cheeks, forehead and anywhere else you can think of. He's pracitically steaming and buzzing with joy by the time you pull away fully. You could argue he gets far more excited from the myriad of kisses than the usual, singular ones on the lips.

⋆ ˚ ♠ ⁀➴ ꒰ He may struggle with intimacy— in the sense of being painfully stiff, awkward, shy and nervous— but despite that tendency to stick to shy simplicity, you can bet that he loves you more than anything in the world. Mugman's love isn't loud, dramatic, grand, or extremely intimate. Mugman's love is domestic, quiet, endearingly dorky, and still just as loving as the rest of the cast— if not more. His excitement and nerves don't stem from 'inexperience jitters' or something of a similar degree but, instead, it's almost as if he still has a big ol' crush on you. You still give him just as many butterflies as when he first laid eyes on you..

—♯sһᥱᥣᥣᥡ ; 𝗍һᥱ ⍴ᥣᥲᥡ𝖿ᥙᥣ ᥲᥒძ sᥱᥒsі𝗍і᥎ᥱ

⋆ ˚ 🐚 ⁀➴ ꒰ Shelly is an energetic and bubbly gal, almost always smiling and skipping around the room. Her kisses very heavily reflect those traits! She giggles into each and every one, the subtle taste of her fruity chapstick left behind on your lips. Each short session is a burst of joy, multiple kisses express that very well for her. Kisses that aren't accompanied by 20 others are uncommon but certainly not rare either!

⋆ ˚ 🐚 ⁀➴ ꒰ Shelly is a very clingy and touchy woman, as if in need of constant reassurance. She brings you as close as possible and squeezes you tight. Oftentimes, you need to tap her back or hip to let her know she's dangerously close to suffocating you. Her hands don't wander, sticking to their usual spots; these said spots being your hair/horns/fur, lower back, cheeks, and hands. The only movement found is gentle caresses, miscellaneous fidgeting, light circles traced on your skin, and squeezes that are just slightly too tight.

⋆ ˚ 🐚 ⁀➴ ꒰ Shelly almost always initiates it first. Whenever you think you're about to catch her off guard, the moment you turn your head, she's already closed half the gap between you. The key word here is almost. Sometimes you do manage to catch her by surprise, leaning in to kiss her just before she could go through with it herself. In moments like this, she tends to lean in a little closer, press into the kiss a little harder, and her once tight holds blur into something far less desperate. Kisses from you mean a lot; to her, it says you really care. You're not here to mess with her, hurt her or neglect her. You actually care..

⋆ ˚ 🐚 ⁀➴ ꒰ Softer, more intimate moments are typically accompanied by quiet sobs. Starting out, she's relatively calm and collected— still cheery and smiley. As the scene stretches on, she starts to tear up. Quiet sniffles reach your ears and you pull away in concern. Shelly will always insist, nearly beg, for you to continue. She'll tell you she's fine and truthfully? Deep down? She's not. Of course she's not. But she doesn't need a lecture and therapy, not at the moment. All she needs is you, your familiarity, safety and comfort; your loving touches, gentle holds and memorized warmth. She'll make her way to therapy later.

⋆ ˚ 🐚 ⁀➴ ꒰ One of Shelly's favorite things to do is curl up somewhere with you and ramble about her studies, recent findings and some gardenview history. You don't let her run on like background noise you hardly regard— you actually listen. You listen and you love her little info dumps. She often peppers kisses across your face, neck and arms as a show of her vast appreciation for your putting up with her yammering. She treasures these moments, albeit mostly out of fear that your well of love will eventually run dry for her and you'll find someone far better.

⋆ ˚ 🐚 ⁀➴ ꒰ Shelly is a ball of sunshine; courageous, bold, and bright. Unfortunately, a single star in the night sky is always looked over in favor of the brighter, colorful ones. She carries the insecurity of her blandness, always on the verge of being entirely forgotten, even by her own friends, into your relationship. You know of this and you try to help but she always refuses to push her burdens onto you. Keep pushing. Show her that you care, that she'll always be the star you look for; your star. She'll open up bit by bit and the anxious squeezes disappear. The moments she treasures won't be held dearly out of fear but out of love. She'll eventually come to understand that you're her safe space and you're not planning on going anywhere.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are appreciated! —🪻

[devotedletters]

Im not the only one that thought of this. Lets be fr

Let me just snuggle this man!

[dream4drift]

Alright.

Imma say this now.

If this doesn't scream "I'm fixated on motm and it's not going away any time soon" then idk what else would

Anywho, yandere, reader insert and ooc yapping incoming under cut here knowing damn well someone would repost with WAY better ideas than mine💔💔

Also did i say it would be ooc? Characterizing them is a little hard but I'll try

________________________________________

In a serious note, having the main cast as yanderes after you gotta either be mildly annoying or medieval torture. Depends on who it is honestly

Starting off with the one character everyone seems to agree on not hating on him, if it wasn't for the fact he's canonically intimidating i would argue that boris would probably be the safest option

I mean- it's pretty obvious that unlike his brother, he holds to his morals deeply and i doubt he'd want to dance around his obsession (metaphorically.) or hurt them, let alone kill. If anything he'll just pull the puppy eyes ngl😭

In fact he'd probably be a little scared to approach you at first, but once you two know eachother or consider eachother close? You automatically gained accidental scary dog privileges

He'd also be pushing the yandere tendencies away, such as stalking, invasion of privacy and boundaries and most importantly killing..

Even tho it probably won't happen, i would like to imagine him realizing a tad too late that he let the tendencies lead him on, and as a result? there's a bleeding corpse lying right in front of him.

Over all this mf is chill, it's lowk hard to write him as a yan💔💔

Shelly's next here, she's the type of yandere that's the LEAST expected person, she's optimistic, she's giddy, passionate and has a problem with social cues

HOWEVER, I'm using the social cues part for my advantage in this one

Perhaps you were one of the very few people that looked at her and didn't ignore her? After all she's on the verge of being forgotten by her own friends and peers

So it's fair that she'd be at least a little clingy, if you're not here she'd be yapping to pebble about you, she giggles like a highschool girl with a crush everytime you pop into her head

Second safest yandere after boris, since imma use the yandere dw shelly fanart I'll imagine she's willing to be violent or perhaps murderous? And win too, after all she had dug, dragged, researched and picked up many MANY stuff, hell she's canonically the strongest out of the entire group

Overall you're safe AS LONG you don't brush her off

Moving on to the terminally ill demon that the whole au is revolving around, while I don't see bendy as the absolute worst, i can still see him be annoying in the clingy way, basically he'd be attached to you like gum and glaring at anyone who's directly trying to make a move on you, tail wrapped around your thigh or waist and all

Would use manipulation and sabotage as two main tactics, along with gaslighting in hopes of luring you to a false sense of security, dancing around and messing with his obsession's head a little just enough to make you think about it hours after he's gone

That's his plan after all, to make you love him

I can also see him have a mental crisis over if he should go as far as killing, while holding off morals he still killed dyle, showing that he'll do anything to live, so imagine what he'll do if you had the absolute misfortune to catch his eye

After all, demons don't really like when someone takes away what they like, ranked third

Now getting to the "medieval torture" part, the cupbros.

To be honest, I'll start with Cuphead since i think he's slightly easier to deal with than mugman. Fourth in the group.

Why? Because anyone CAN see he's not exactly in the right state in his mind, anyone can point a murderer when they see one

Which he is! Both him and hus twin are hitmen that can revive eachother after all

So you're basically cooked, in case mugman isn't he'd help his bro at getting you, after all brothers help eachother out right? But he'd have to hear the endless yap about you from him.

I would say that he's shameless when it comes to his obsession? His way of telling others they have no chance because he'd just shoot them and waste his ammo on them

You cannot escape bro, he WILL somehow find you, one wrong move and you're done for

While knowing damn well you deserve better than getting dragged to the mud he's in, he just can't help but ya know, the thought of you alone would make him giddy and triggered those yaps i mentioned before

Last AND worst to have as a yandere, mugman.

YES I'm willing to argue on this one too.

Because unlike Cuphead, it would be impossible to convince someone he's after you, i mean look at bro for a sec💔

At the start it would be just an inno crush k? Everytime he catches a glimpse of you he basically forgets how to function like a normal toon being

Later on it would develop into a silent, controlled and growing obsession, i can imagine him hugging his obsession while having his gun out at whatever's out there

"my brother only misses his shots on purpose." I'm using this and no one will stop me, ty mr. i-cant-read for this info. You already know where this is going

He'd also get jealous of people around you? Not technically everyone, but anyone who's a little too close for his liking or god forbid- try to wow you

Yea next second you're just seeing the corpse of said person

Unironically, while being brutal and cruel, he's uncharacteristically a little soft and lovesickned to you, it's a pretty much a terrifying opposite trait in someone if you think about it honestly

Honestly i have nothing to add ngl💔💔

Have this for now as i feel a few of my followers and anons having me on gunhold

[elltournesoll]

He'll Always Be My Man — MOTM

Summary: In a small, oil-scented garage tucked away from a harsh and uncaring world, love grows in quiet ways. While Boris works with the same care he gives everything fragile, the reader sees what he cannot — a good man carrying too much weight alone.

As danger echoes outside and doubt lingers between them, a simple truth is spoken: he doesn’t have to face the world by himself anymore. A soft, grounding moment of devotion unfolds — not loud, not dramatic, but deeply certain.

Pairing: Myth Boris x Reader

Genre: Romance, Hurt / Comfort and Slice of Life

Trope: “He’s My Person” / Claimed Love, Gentle Giant, Quiet Devotion, Emotional Reassurance, Love as Anchor, Soft Touch Healing, “You Don’t Have to Carry It Alone”, Moral Man in a Harsh World and Pre-Tragedy Warmth

Rating: G (General)

The garage always smelled like oil, metal, and something warm underneath it all — like worn fabric, engine heat, and the faintest trace of soap that never quite beat the grease.

You liked that smell.

It meant he was there.

The low hum of a radio played somewhere in the back, half static, half music, the signal fading in and out like the world itself couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay. Some old love song drifted through the interference, the singer’s voice distant and scratchy, like it had traveled a long way just to reach this little pocket of quiet.

You leaned against the doorway, shoulder to the frame, watching him from across the room.

Boris didn’t notice you at first.

He was hunched over an engine block, sleeves rolled up, dark fur smudged with grease, broad back curved like he was trying to make himself smaller than he actually was. His tail lay heavy and still behind him, the tip twitching every now and then when a bolt resisted him. Big hands moved with slow, careful precision — not the hurried, frustrated movements of someone trying to get a job done, but the patient touch of someone who believed things deserved the chance to work right.

He worked like everything mattered.

Like every bolt he tightened was a promise he didn’t say out loud.

Quiet. Focused. Gentle with machines the way some people were with animals.

You’d learned that about him fast.

He treated everything fragile like it deserved protection.

Even if he didn’t think he did.

“You’re staring,” he muttered without looking up.

You smiled. “You like it.”

A pause. A tiny ear twitch.

“…Don’t start.”

But his voice had already softened, rough edges worn down just from knowing you were there.

You pushed off the doorway and walked in fully, footsteps echoing faintly on the concrete. The world outside the garage was loud, sharp, cruel in that dull, constant way — people cutting corners, stepping on others to survive, pretending not to see when things went bad.

Boris never pretended.

That’s what made him different. That’s what made him dangerous. A good man in a place that didn’t reward goodness.

You came up beside him, hip brushing his arm. He stilled for just a second, like your touch rewired something inside him — like his whole nervous system had to pause and recalibrate around you.

“You been at this all day?” you asked, peering into the engine.

“Mm.” Tightening a bolt. “Car won’t run right if I rush it.”

“You say that about everything.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s true.”

You tilted your head, watching his profile — the permanent tiredness in his eyes, the faint crease between his brows that never fully left, like he was always bracing for something. For the world to take one more thing from him. For someone to need help he wouldn’t be able to give in time.

“You don’t rush people either,” you said quietly.

That made him look at you.

And there it was — that look. Like he didn’t understand why you were here. Like he was waiting for the punchline, for you to realize you could’ve picked someone easier. Someone lighter.

“I’m not good with people,” he said.

“You’re good with me.”

His ears lowered slightly, shy. Defensive. Vulnerable in that way he hated being.

“You just don’t know better.”

You snorted. “I know exactly what I’m choosing.”

His jaw tightened. His gaze dropped back to the engine, but he wasn’t seeing it anymore.

Boris didn’t like when you said things like that. Not because he didn’t feel it back — but because he did. Deep. Heavy. Permanent. And permanence scared him more than bullets ever could.

Outside, someone shouted. A crash echoed down the street — metal hitting metal, then voices rising, sharp and panicked. The kind of noise that usually made people pretend they didn’t hear.

Boris froze.

You felt it — the shift. His whole body went alert, shoulders tense, ears angled toward the sound. Instinct pulling him toward the door before thought could catch up.

“Don’t,” you said softly, touching his wrist.

His eyes flicked to you. Torn. Guilt already forming for something he hadn’t even done yet.

“Someone could be hurt.”

“I know,” you said. “And I know you. You’ll help if it’s needed. But you don’t have to throw yourself into every fire alone.”

His ears dipped. He hated that you saw through him. Hated that you knew he carried the weight of a broken world like it was his personal failure.

“…Can’t just stand by,” he muttered.

“I’m not asking you to stop being you.” Your thumb brushed over his knuckles, wiping away a smear of grease. “I’m asking you to remember you’re not by yourself anymore.”

That hit him harder than anything.

You saw it in the way his breath caught. In the way his hand turned, slowly, carefully, until his fingers curled around yours instead.

Big hand. Careful grip. Like you were something he was scared to break.

“You shouldn’t stick with someone like me,” he said, voice low and rough, like the words had scraped on the way out. “I got too much baggage. Too many… things.”

You stepped closer, until your chest brushed his arm.

“Too bad,” you said, soft but certain. “He’s my man.”

The words landed between you, simple and steady.

Not dramatic. Not loud.

Just true.

Boris stared at you like you’d just handed him something priceless he didn’t know how to hold. His ears went red at the tips, tail giving a small, betrayed flick behind him.

“…You’re stubborn,” he muttered.

“Learned from the best.”

He huffed — almost a laugh. It rumbled low in his chest, warm and surprised, like he hadn’t meant to let it out.

Then, after a second, he leaned forward.

Carefully.

Like approaching something sacred.

His forehead rested against yours, eyes closing. His hands came up to your arms, big and warm and steady, thumbs rubbing slow, absent lines like he was grounding himself through you.

“I don’t know how to be… what you deserve,” he said.

You tilted your head slightly, brushing your nose against his.

“You already are.”

Silence filled the garage, but it wasn’t empty. It was thick, safe, shared. The radio crackled. A car drove past outside. Somewhere, a dog barked.

The world kept being loud, unfair, messy.

But in here?

It was just oil-stained hands, quiet breathing, and a man who refused to lose his morals even when the world lost its own.

A man who thought he wasn’t worth choosing.

You reached up, brushing your fingers through the fur at the back of his neck. He stiffened for half a second — still not used to being touched gently — then melted, shoulders dropping, a quiet breath leaving him that sounded almost like relief.

“I mean it,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His grip tightened just a little.

“…Stay a while?” he asked, voice softer than the radio static. Like he was afraid the question itself might be too much.

You smiled, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth — warm, lingering, real.

“Not going anywhere.”

And for once, Boris let himself believe it.

He didn’t rush back to the engine.

He didn’t go running toward the noise outside.

He just stood there, holding you in the middle of a grease-stained garage, while an old love song fought through the static — and for the first time in a long time, he let the world be someone else’s problem for a minute.

Just one.

Just enough to breathe.

Just enough to feel what it was like to be chosen — and stay.

Author's note: In January, while I was still traveling, I asked the server which character they would like me to write a fanfic about inspired by the song "He's My Man," and everyone chose Boris.

So, here it is, after so long.

I hope you guys enjoyed it <3

[reareaotaku1]

Mean! Boris Pavlikovsky Headcanons

Taglist: @fxchild

If there was one thing Boris was good at, it was being mean

He didn't always do it on purpose, but it was a way to keep people out. He was scared if people got over his walls and saw him for how he truly was

But he also did it as a way to flirt, so there was no winning with him

You never knew how he truly felt about you

He's also bipolar. One minute you think he likes you and the next he's calling you a 'Fucking Bitch'

Calls you degrading names and thinks it's funny when you get mad

He just wants to see how far he can go with you

He kind of likes when you cry. It does something to him

Something about tears streaming down your face as you stare up at him

Makes him want to tease you more

He's not physically aggressive with you, but at least then it would prove that he's hurting you

Words are just words and people tell you to get over it

Laughs and calls you a cry baby

"Oh, stop being a baby. It was just a joke."

"You're such a jerk."

"Aww, boo hoo. Want me to call you a wambulance?"

He's so mean. Hell even Theo thinks Boris is meaner than usual to you

[finniebae]

Yandere! Boris Pavlikovsky Headcanons

TW: Suicidal Thoughts/Actions/Threats

You have your hands full with him

He speaks to you in a strange language that you don't quite understand

Actually- he speaks to you in multiple languages; None of which you can understand

He likes when you get frustrated

"Why can't you just speak in English?"

"What's the fun in that, doll?"

He usually speaks in another language when he either doesn't want you to understand what he's saying or when he's being vulnerable, but is also scared of you judging him, so he speaks in his native tongue. Vulnerable= Native tongue/ Wants to annoy you= Polish

You start to learn some of his words, especially the ones he uses frequently

You decide to try and at least learn native language and maybe later Polish

Imagine his surprise when you respond back to him in his language

He was taken by surprise and flustered

But then he was angry, because how long have you been able to understand him? He feels like you've made a fool out of him

You have to reassure him that was never your intention

He was still mad, but then there's a slight part of him that finds it kind of hot when you speak in Russian- Though with your American accent, it isn't perfect, but still kind of hot

He'll begin to innate conversation in Russian just to hear you speak it

^ Gets upset when you respond in English

Teaches you Russian Nursey Rhymes/Stories/and songs, just so you can repeat them to him

He doesn't have many women in his life, especially ones that care about him/look out for his better interest, so when he does something bad and you reprimand him ["You could have gotten hurt! What were you thinking??"], he's confused. You care about him? The thought never occurred to him that someone would actually care about him

He holds you extremely close to his heart

You are the only person who could hurt him and the thought scares him. You mean so much to him and he's afraid of you finding someone better

Will threaten to off himself if you ever leave. He knows it's evil, but he can't lose you. He needs you. He loves you

[flutterp4p]

Stay with me, I don't want you to leave. - K. by cigarettes after sex.

Pairings; Boris pavlikovsky x gn!reader

Content warnings; Underage drinking and smoking, uses of drugs, mentions of trauma of abuse, reader getting a vivid nightmare, google tranlated russian and polish, slightly broken english boris, angst to comfort. (Inform me if i missed anything.)

It was late, late in this deserted part of the country. You and boris are on the rooftop of your house, parents were too knocked out to give a shit about 2 young adults getting high and drunk on their roofs.

Boris rolls to his side and starts poking yours, making a groan escape your lips. "What is it, boris?" You turned to looked at him, right after downing your shot of vodka that he had brought with him.

"I think it's time for bed, popchyk is uhhh.. усталый. (tired.) " He replied, gesturing to the borrowed dog he got from theo for tonight, he then finishes his shot and inhaled the rest of the white ash-like from the plate.

"And what does that mean?" You raised an eyebrow, going forth to grab the bottles and plate. "Uhm.." He thinks for a moment and then snaps his fingers, "Tired. Popchyk is tired."

"Uh huh, c'mon then." You both stood up with the stuff in hand while the white dog was carried by boris. You threw away the bottles and cigarette butts while placing the used plate in the sink, turning on the tap to wetten it so no traces are found.

You head up to your bedroom which boris followed you in with popchyk in hand. You lock your door and windows before turning on the ceiling fan hanging over your white plain bed.

Boris climbed in first, removing his boots and jacket in the process as he proceeds to lay down with popchyk coming to sleep by his feet. You follow suit and got under the covers.

Sleep engulfed all three of you that night...

"Why is it so low?!" Your mother yelled, seeing your grades. Though you passed, It wasn't a good average. "God you're a failure." A rough hand hits the back of your head, making you stumble to your knees. You look up to see your father with a disappointed gaze that reflected your mother's. "It's those friends of yours, they're distracting you!" She yells, you try to yell back but you couldn't speak. Tears brimmed your eyes as another blow hits your head. "Tsk, you're grounded for a week... useless brat." They walk away, the area that surrounds you slowly turns into void before figures appeared. They seem to represent people but you can't tell. They point at you and wide smiles appeared on their faces as they started to laugh, laughing at you, at your failures. They kept multiplying, becoming bigger, coming closer to you until!-

You woke up. Breathing heavily, tears rolling down your face. You clutched the covers before a body presses against you.

Boris wraps his arms around you, pulling you in while rubbing your sweat covered back. "It's just a nightmare.. shhh..."

You hiccupped, hand gripping on his forearm as you try to take in everything. He kisses your forehead. "Wszystko w porządku, jestem tutaj. Nikt cię nie skrzywdzi, mój skarbie. Cii.. śpij. (It's ok, I'm here. No one's gonna hurt you my precious. Shh.. sleep.)

You take in deep breaths as he continues to chant words you can't understand but found comfort in them somehow. Your eyes grew heavy.

You went closer and hugged him, your bodies entangled in each others for comfort. Boris gives you one final kiss on the forehead before you drifted once to sleep once more.

Reblogs, comments and criticism are highly appreciated, thank you for reading.