jup1ter33

[jup1ter33]

[jup1ter33]

"Pillow Talk"

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

˚₊‧⁺⋆♱ || The inseparable pair wake up after a night of devotion, finding themself entwined in an embrace of affection. <3 slightly suggestive(mentions of sex), fluff, mild and only a little bit of angst(i cant help myself), lots of cuddles, argenti is a yapper, this made me cry i love them so much ╰┈➤ ❝ 1. 3k wc ! ❞

The ranger grumbles through his sleep, feeling his system boot up as the surge of electricity starts to flow through him. Heavy eyelids struggle to open, heat enveloping him from behind. The soft warmth that pressed against his backside was familiar, the scent of floral musk wafting over him as a gentle hand slid around his waist. On instinct, the fiery cowboy would jolt out of bed from the foreign touch, but a rich, velvety voice keeps him from doing so.

“My silver cowboy…” Argenti mused, pressing his nose and lips into the head of thick, ivory hair. The ranger calmed, realizing that it was just his lover resting behind him. 

Mornings spent together are few and far between. Typically off in pursuit of their own goals, only meeting when their fates pass and the stars align, hence why Boothill was so alarmed to feel a body behind him. For as rare as these moments are, they both cherish them together deeply. They can sleep in each other's arms, revealing the most vulnerable parts of themselves together. 

“How did you sleep, dear?” Argenti speaks once again, voice soft and low near the cowboy's ear. His hand slides up his metal plating, pulling Boothill flush against his broad, warm chest. He sighs in response, letting his hand cover the knight's. 

“Slept well.” He murmured. “How about you, sweetpea?” The knight smiled at the nickname, pressing tender kisses on his shoulders. “I sleep very peacefully when I'm with you, naturally.” Boothill could feel his face growing warmer from his sweet words. 

“Yeah? Well, a Knight of Beauty certainly needs his beauty sleep.” He teases, a grin pulling at his lips as a deep rumble of laughter erupts from said knight behind him. “Dear Boothill, everyone deserves a good night's rest, not just the Knights.” This prompts Boothill to roll over, shuffling the covers as he now faces his lover.

Argenti wore his gentle smile, as usual. Scarlet hair was tousled and frizzy, stray hairs tickling his cheeks as he lay. The ranger's gaze cast downwards, finding his neck and collarbone littered with small blemishes of pink and violet, along with his own shark-like teeth marks. Memories of last night's endeavors came flooding back; all the moments of passion spent together made his face warm in realization. 

The knight pays no mind to it, reaching a hand out to gently brush the hair from the ranger's covered eye. He grumbled, fussing and putting the hair back to cover the eye. Argenti chuckles, muttering out an apology as he leans forward to kiss his lover's forehead.

“How are ya’ feelin’...?” Boothil mumbles, somewhat shy and boyish as he lets his hand trace over the markings. There was a sense of guilt in his voice as if apologizing for the roughness from the night before. The knight smiles deeper, eyes crinkling in affection. “I feel eternally grateful, as our love was shown through blazing affection and countless actions of devotion.” Boothill scoffs from his teasing words, growing quieter and averting his gaze.

“Don't say that. For once I'm tryna help…” Boothill grumbled, pulling away from the knight in slight embarrassment. Argenti only giggled, leaning closer to pull the bashful cowboy closer. He grumbles once again, pretending to be annoyed with these affections, but secretly loving it: he struggles to show affection for his candid lover. After a moment, Argenti pulls back, the warm light casting a soft glow in the room as it filters through the curtains. There's a moment of silence between the pair, nothing awkward, just a peaceful and comfortable ambiance. 

“...You ain’t too sore?” Boothill mumbles out, his steel fingers tracing little lines along his scar-littered arm. Although hes not the best at voicing his true feelings, he deeply cares for his knight and has the instinct to protect him, just like his homeland. Instead of explicitly saying something more lovey-dovey, he’d save himself the embarrassment and ask a simpler question, all the while still giving the same caring actions. “A little, but it's nothing I can't handle.” He frowns, gaze softening ever so slightly, the cybernetic pupil dilating and taking in every detail of his lover. “Where are ya’ sore darlin’?” The knight takes hold of the iron hands before him, guiding them to his hips with a deft, yet gentle motion. Boothill swipes his thumb over his hipbone, eyes casting down his frame and landing on a purply-green bruise, one that was not crafted by Boothill's mouth. 

“What— wait, why are ya’ so bruised here, ‘genti?” The cowboy raises his eyebrows and stares in shock at the sight, his hands sliding down to push his waistband down, revealing the bruise to examine it. It was rather large, discolored with violet and olive undertones, it ranged from his hipbone down to his upper thigh, evidence of the position he had the cocky cyborg in last night. “Oh,” Boothill sighs out in realization at the implications of this bruise, becoming somewhat flustered again, but not enough to stop him from caring for his lover. 

“It's nothing you need to fret over, my ranger. It will fade with time.” Argenti muses, a smile on his face as he lets his waistband move back into its natural position. Boothill frowns. He didn't like that Argenti was brushing this off; he should be more concerned with his current state, should he not? The bruising is nothing dire, but it clearly looks uncomfortable and may bother him under his armor later. “Darlin’, I'm not jus’ gonna let you say that.” The ranger laments, feeling a bit guilty since he caused this. Argenti laughs, his arm around Boothill, bringing him closer. He seemed to be clingy this morning. 

“It's nothing to be upset about,” He muses, a hand cradling a head full of ivory hair. “It shows passion. It's a physical marker of our love and intimacy.” Boothill could feel his face growing hot; he scowled while being pulled under Argentis' chin, yet not resisting or pushing back. “It's something beautiful—” 

“Figured you'd say sumthin’ like that…” 

Argenti ignored his comment, only continuing to spout saccharine words. “I am so lucky to have such a mark of devotion on my body: one caused by you. It truly warms my heart.” Boothill felt like putty. Argenti was such a gentle and understanding man, never to be upset with his augmented body. Boothill was no longer made of flesh and blood, he could not give — what he felt — Argenti deserved. It was always a sensitive topic to the ranger. It made him insecure, which is almost a foreign emotion now.

He wished that maybe in another universe, they met under better circumstances. Maybe Boothill didn't have to change his body. Maybe Argenti would have white hair, instead of it being stained by bloodshed. Maybe Boothill's little girl would have a family to come home to, Argenti taking her under his wing as his own. When he thinks about these “maybes,” it wounds him. But there's no need to be sad now, not while being cradled in his lover's arms on a warm sunny morning. 

Boothill withdraws and pulls himself up from the embrace, all the while Argenti is still talking. They lock eyes for a moment, both of them pausing in their tracks as time stands still to admire each other. Its calm and intimate, a moment of blissful serenity to soak up eachothers presence. 

“As much as you talk, yer eyes say a lot ‘bout what yer thinkin’.” The cowboy smirks as he blurts out the tease, watching his lover laugh softly. He leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, brushing the crimson locks away. “Dear, as I was saying, please do not worry about the bruise, as it is a symbol—”

“I get it, I get it,” Boothill sighs, nuzzling his cheek against the other. “I love ya’ too, darlin’.”

Argenti smiles warmly, his strong arms pulling the ranger back down and hearing a string of censored profanities erupt from him. As much as they both wish things could have been different, things right now seem almost perfect.

ty for reading<3 !

๋࣭ ⭑♡♱

[jup1ter33]

💬 Just a Small Update, and a Big Thank You

Dear friends, kind hearts, and everyone who has stood with us,

When I first opened my heart to the world and shared our story, I never imagined the amount of love and solidarity we would receive. Thanks to your incredible support, we’ve now reached $12,837—a milestone that brings real light to some very dark days.

From the deepest corners of my heart, thank you.

💔 A Journey of Loss, but Also of Strength

As many of you know, I’ve lost 25 of my loved ones during this devastating war. That grief lives with me every single day. It’s in the silence that once held laughter, in the empty spaces where we once gathered as a family.

But through your help, I’ve also felt something else: hope. And that hope is priceless.

“21/Oct/2023 Before It Reached Us: The Day Our Neighbor’s House Was Destroyed” A quiet moment of fear, filmed just before everything changed.

“22/Oct/2023 The Morning After: Our Family Home in Ruins” This is what was left behind after the bombing of our home.

🌿 What Life Looks Like for Us Now

Despite everything, we’re still here. Still surviving. Still hoping.

But things have only gotten harder.

The war has returned, more brutal than before—and for over a month now, Gaza has been completely sealed off. No food is coming in. No medical supplies. No aid. No trade. No one is allowed to leave, and no one is allowed to enter.

We’re trapped.

🏚 We live with the fear of tomorrow, every single day. Airstrikes, drones, and the uncertainty of what might happen next. 👨‍👩‍👧 Our family is forever changed—we haven’t just lost people; we’ve lost pieces of ourselves. 📉 Basic needs go unmet—even clean water feels like a luxury now. Medicines, if they exist at all, are unreachable.

And yet…

Your support reminds us that we’re not forgotten. It reminds us that someone, somewhere, is still listening. That someone still cares. That we’re not completely alone in this.

Every message. Every share. Every dollar. It tells us: You’re walking this road with us. And that gives us the strength to keep going.

💖 What You Can Do

If you’ve already donated—thank you beyond words. If you can share our story again, it could reach someone who can help.

Even $5 means warmth, comfort, and a chance to breathe a little easier.

✨ Why It All Matters

This isn’t just about reaching a fundraising goal. It’s about surviving war with dignity. It’s about believing in tomorrow. It’s about making sure my daughter grows up knowing that the world did not look away.

Thank you for your kindness, patience, and belief in our humanity. You’ve helped me find my voice—and I will use it to keep hope alive.

🙏 From the Heart: A Quiet Apology

There’s something I need to say—something that’s been on my heart for some time.

When I first began sharing our story, I didn’t know what the right way was. I was scared, grieving, and trying to protect my family in any way I could. I reached out to many people, hoping someone, anyone, would see us. In that process, I now realize I may have overstepped, and I might have made some feel overwhelmed.

If that happened, I am truly sorry.

Please believe me when I say it was never out of disregard or pushiness. It came from a place of fear—fear of being forgotten, fear of not being able to keep my family safe, fear of watching everything I love slip away in silence.

I’m learning as I go. I’ve slowed down. I’m more mindful now, trying to share our journey in a way that feels respectful of the space and hearts of those listening.

If my words ever came at the wrong time, or in the wrong way, I hope you can understand where they came from—and I hope you can forgive me.

Thank you for seeing past my mistakes. Thank you for still being here. It means more than I can ever explain.

Vetted by @gazavetters ( #309 )

With love and endless gratitude, Mosab and family ♥️

[jup1ter33]

🕊️ Please Take a Moment to Read Nadin’s Story

My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.

I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.

My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.

I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.

This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.

If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.

I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.

Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.

[jup1ter33]

My Journey to Escape the War in Gaza

My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.

The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.

I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.

Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.

I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.

Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.

Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.

Vetted by @gazavetters

[jup1ter33]

"I love ya' lots."

Boothill x fem!reader

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

ᯓ ⁺₊ ♱ .ᐟ || Boothill providing some well deserved comfort after you become overwhelmed with your past negative experiences. nsfw!, hurt/comfort, pet names, use of female anatomy, mention of sa, reader was sa'd, reader has trouble with intimacy

╰┈➤ ❝ 1.7 wc ! ❞

please read this before you continue !!!

I wrote this for my comfort and from my experiences, this was not made to invalidate anyone's feelings! as an survivor myself, i often find myself struggling with the topics discussed in this fic. this was made from a survivors perspective, and if you are not a survivor, please do not be disrespectful about it. this is a safe space for all, and like i said, this is based off of my own experiences. navigating life after s'a is a challenging and grueling thing to go through. if you or someone you know have been through this, be patient. i promise you that it will always get better and you will heal.♡ enjoy :)

⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧

This was supposed to be an intimate and gentle experience—Boothill talking you through it—that is. His thick southern drawl makes your knees weak, causing a tingle to spread from the base of your spine. It was gentle, and he was nice and slow, ensuring you a smooth ride with lots of praise.

His hand worked diligently, middle and ring finger pumping out of you with a controlled and moderate pace, your trembling thighs parted with his other hand. He truly wanted you to feel good, to only remember this night as fruitful and ecstasy-filled. His metal frame leaned over your body, face watching your every twitch with a toothy grin, alongside a generous amount of blue blush along his cheeks. Pants and moans, soft praises being whispered, and the sound of your slick being squelched between his fingers; all of this made the ranger shutter, watching his fingers disappear into you before coming back out, glazed in your arousal.

He leans close to your ear, whispering dirty things about how you'd taste or feel, only fueling this burning desire inside. Boothill kissed your jaw, two fingers pumping into you at a smooth pace. He was whispering filthy praises all while he neglected the ache in his pants. In all cases, this would be perfect. But, there's an issue, one not able to be controlled.

It was nothing that Boothill did; in fact, everything hes doing feels perfect, everything hes saying sounds perfect, and everything he wants you to experience is perfect. Hes going beyond what you expected him to do, so why does it still feel wrong? Why can you not separate the pleasure from previous memories? Boothill noticed this struggle but ought not to bring it up in such a vulnerable time. It wasn't appropriate to ask such things, not while he has his fingers lodged in you. 

“How's that feelin’?” He gruffs, voice mumbled against your ear. In all honesty, it felt great. You were surprised at his skilled motions. He was tender and listening to your every beckoning word, not a drop of hesitancy in his actions. 

“Mh— good…” The tone in your voice faltered, showing some underlying weakness. The cowboy was quick to pick up on this, sensing some vulnerability behind your obvious display of arousal. His grey crosshair-like eyes narrowed, trying to pick apart your involuntary movements to find even a hint of what's going on in your mind.

His pace slows, earning a broken whine from you. You could clearly feel his movements, and they felt good, as the lack of them made you squirm: yet, part of you felt thankful for the break of stimulation. He took note of this, withdrawing his fingers and opting to instead rub circles around your core. "What's got you so tense?..." There was no malice in his tone, he wasn't speaking to you in a derogatory way; it was a genuine question asked with a calm tone.

Forcing an exhale from your lungs, your brows only knot together further. It ached. You wanted to feel more and experience these things with the ranger. He asked again after you failed to answer, this time his tone became more gentle and his voice dropped just above a whisper. His concern was growing, as he knew about your struggle with intimacy. "i-i don't know..."

He frowns, leaning over you more and stroking your cheek with his other hand. "Whaddya mean, you 'don't know'? Talk to me sugar." He could physically see the emotion in your eyes, watching it well up and fester. "I'm listenin'. Aint gonna judge ya' if you want sumthin' different." He coos. His prodding only made the struggle worse, causing your trembling hand to push him out from between your legs. His expression dropped, holding back the array of questions starting to formulate in his mind. "Babydoll-" In no way did he want you to feel pressured, so he scooted back, his hands gently lifting your thighs off his hips and closing them. He helped you move so he was no longer slotted so close to you, allowing your legs to rest to the side of him to hopefully help with the vulnerability aspect.

"What happened gorgeous?" He whispered warmly; a stark contrast to the feeling of his cool metal hands pulling your shirt down to cover you. Hearing a sob erupt from your throat, his chest panged with guilt. He watched as you cast an arm over your face, covering your reddening eyes from his view. He wasn't sure if the correct way to soothe you was with touch, as it may only cause you to grow more distant. However, not providing comfort was something he was not going to do.

His hands hesitantly grasped at your shoulders, rubbing circles as he heard your hiccups and soft cries. He ached at the thought of what was going through your mind, he didn't even know if it was something he did. He was left in the dark, but he knew and understood why you couldn't speak about it openly; so he waited.

"Shhh... shhh...." He shushed you softly, a hand stroking your hair while the other stayed planted on your shoulder with a gentle grip. "I'm not gonna do anythin' you don't want, darlin'... I love ya' lots." All these complicated emotions were too much for you to handle- the lust for each other, the waves of pleasure that had hit you with every plunge of his fingers, the anxiety of being so open and raw, the vulnerability that took so much trust, the terror of reliving past experiences, the excitement of having this shared experience that soon turned sour from fear.

It was fear that held you back. Fear of showing the most vulnerable parts of yourself to another. It struck you like lighting, hitting at the most unexpected and vulnerable times. Even after countless conversations and trying to recount memories to pinpoint the cause of this terror, it only exhausted you and made things more difficult. Boothill listened every time it bothered you. He'd sit and hold your hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles as you opened up: which is rare. He'd always be mindful of his touch even with his teasing, ensuring that he never crossed a boundary you had set.

When the nightmares attacked, he was there. He'd ask before he held you, letting you sob into his chest as he placed kisses upon your hairline. He'd listen to every word you had to say, rubbing up and down your back and helping you navigate your emotions to help prevent you from losing too much sleep. When you were all tuckered out from crying, he would cradle you in his arms, some of his fatherly instincts taking over as he helped coax you to sleep. Even after you fell asleep he'd watch your face to ensure the nightmare hadn't returned, waking you up with soft kisses and playing it off as if he accidentally woke you up.

With every part of your being, you knew you could trust him, you knew that there was nothing to be afraid of with him. So why were you still so horrified to be intimate? Neither one of you could come to a reasonable conclusion except that the trauma hadn't healed enough to delve into sexual acts yet, which was disappointing as attempts kept going unfinished. But, Boothill didn't mind. He found his pleasure in making you happy and comfortable.

Yet, no matter how much he tries you still feel that dirty and twisted feeling when things start to feel good, just like what happened tonight. Softly pressing his lips to your forehead, he hopes to calm you down some. His hand on your shoulder continues the circular patterns, his raspy voice now smooth as he shushes you.

"Oh darlin'," He murmurs against your hair. "...Did it happen again?" He questions in the softest voice he can muster, marginally pulling away to glance at you. When you nodded and the hiccups grew intense, he knew.

With great care, he gently removed the arm covering your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead as your hands fumbled to tug your shirt as far down as it could go. He helped tug it down, his eyes not daring to venture past your shoulders. When you opened your mouth to talk, he listened attentively, watching your expression and keeping his soothing touches.

"I-Im sorry, I can't-"

The hiccups break your sentence up. "It happened-"

"Shhh... everything is alright. You don't have to apologize sugar, I ain't mad- I'll never be mad at you for this."

His comfort only causes you to sob more, your arms desperately reaching out to pull him into a hug. He immediately complies. "Oh, baby." Cooing softly he hugs you back with the same intensity, your upper body sitting up a bit more as he holds you tightly against him, his arms protectively squeezed around your back. His hand brought your face into the crook of his neck, letting you tuck yourself away into the depths of his arms.

Holding you for what felt like an eternity, he waited for your tears to dry up; all the while whispering praises and sweet nothings into your ear. Once your breathing had turned steady and your body was no longer being wracked with trembles, he loosened his grip, allowing you to rest against the bed comfortably. No words were shared yet, as he tenderly brushed the hair that was stuck to your tear-stained face away.

"You're real beautiful," His iron fingers fixed up your face, wiping away stray tears and whatnot. You lay there, still struck with a bit of insecurity, but feeling better than you did before. "Can I clean my princess up now? Or does she needa moment to herself?" His tone is lighthearted, and his joke still keeps boundaries while offering comfort and care. A soft smile pulls at his lips as he presses a kiss to your cheek. The action helps relieve the tension and ache in your chest, causing a slight smile to grace your features despite the sadness still etched in them.

"You can do it..." Your voice is rusty and scratchy, but now there is a hint of elation in your tone. He chuckles, the sound reverberating from his chest and bringing a familiar sense of warm comfort. His dedication to you stems further than just silly jokes, going as far as to do whatever is necessary to cheer you up; even if that does include some funny remarks.

⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧

ty for reading! <3

[jup1ter33]

[jup1ter33]

"Silence"

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

ᯓ ⁺₊ ♱ .ᐟ || Where the dhampir finds himself yearning for something more with you, navigating his complicated feelings and doing so in a rather quiet way. <3 gn!Reader, mostly fluff, yearning, very mild angst, undetermined relationship,

╰┈➤ ❝ 1.5 wc ! ❞

The leaves glimmer with rainwater and moonlight, making the foliage appear like tiny fae had scattered fairy dust around. A bright waxing moon rests high in the sky, watching over sleeping creatures in a motherly fashion. It was silent, aside from the shuffling behind you. The dhampir shuts the carved wooden door behind him, taking faint steps towards where you're seated. He need not say a word, for he knows you'll recognize him through his rustling alone. As if mimicking you, he seats himself next to you on the damp step, bodies juxtaposed against each other. 

“Did you come outside to enjoy the scenery, D?” Your voice broke the silence, whispered and soft like a petal. His gaze did not leave the rain-covered lawn, blinking as he exasperated a faint sigh, only noticeable through the expanding of his chest.  “I came to see you.” His voice contrasted against yours, yet, it still held the softness he always carries. The few words he spoke held significant weight in your heart, knowing the dhampir's tendencies are solitude and tough walls covering his underlying vulnerability. “Why so?” Finally, he lowered his gaze onto you, watching how your skin appeared to have a cool tint from the faint twilight. He stares for a moment, thin lips sealed shut as his pupil flicks over your face, taking in the features now accentuated by the scenery. There was hesitation, you could see by the way his lips parted before immediately closing again, turning away from you. After a moment of internal contemplation, he decided it was best not to speak: per usual.

This didn't hurt you, as you knew D was not fond of using his voice for much of anything. Instead of trying to bait him into giving you an answer, like you used to, you opted for silence as well, gaze casting down to your hands where you adjust the cuffs of your attire. While you were distracted with yourself, he stole another glance at you, applying all your features to his memory to ensure he’d never forget your beauty, even when he was to outlive you. 

Before anything else could progress, you heard a small but rather obnoxious voice start to taunt the man next to you. “Really D? C’mon, why don't yo—” D’s brows furrow together as he squeezed his left hand into a fist, effectively stopping the parasite from causing him any more embarrassment. Your laughter is what brings him out of his state of annoyance, the sound much more delightful than Left-Hands. He turns his head to face you now, featuring softening into a pleased look. He’s glad you find it humorous rather than bothersome. 

“Left-Hand certainly likes to talk more than you do.” Your laughter fizzles out, a smile gracing your features now. D could feel the way his heart hammered in his ribcage, fearful you be able to see the sapphire-colored pendant throbbing against his chest from the intensity of his emotion. He knew what he was feeling, yet it felt so terribly wrong to do so. A human and a dhampir. He contemplated if this was as bad a vampire and a human many times, weighing the differences to try to perhaps justify himself. However, his brain could not come to a reasonable conclusion, as his heart had seemingly taken over. He felt incredibly drawn to you. Your presence, your beauty, your talent, your rarity— something about you was irresistible to him. Yet, he was able to conclude that these feelings were not from the vampiric side of him, but the human. He did not chase after you with the intent to feed or with lust, it was far different. This was the type of love humans felt. 

“I suppose he does,” D remarked, lips threatening to tilt up into a smile. The urge to reach out and caress your cheek took over him, imagining the softness of your skin, along with with warmth beneath his cold hand. “I apologize.” The words came suddenly, causing you to let out a puff of air, chuckling while you rested your face in your palm. “There's no need to apologize for that, he can be funny sometimes.” D’s brows lower, eyes thinning as he lowers his head a bit. He felt guilt creep up into his throat. He shouldn't let your palace of a body be tainted with his beastly nature, or so he thought. “No,” He interrupts you. His silence after speaking left you to decode his words, sifting through the phrases as you gazed at him with an attentive expression. 

As you realize this, you let out a soft sigh. “Oh, but there’s no reason to apologize for not talking.” His gaze drops to you, observing the way you speak so softly as if you were trying to lull him to sleep with a gentle lullaby. He wets his lips. “I don’t mind, D.” The stoic expression remains on his face, with the gentle breeze fluttering his hair being the only indication that he hasn’t turned into a statue. Once again, he remains silent.

Observing the steady drips of rainwater off of a cupped leaf, it falls quiet once more. This leaves the poor dhampir back with these raging thoughts, his heart aching to have something more with you, yet according to his morals, this is the exact opposite of something he should be doing. He is to prevent the spread of vampirism, to put a stop to the “disgusting” creatures. However, you didn't hold these same views as D. Always speaking about how you think the nature of vampires is something beautiful and romantic even, not disgusting. But with your opposing views on the topic, you would not try to stop his bounty hunting, as it is what he does. 

During the moment of peace, he recalls the time you had expressed interest in his fangs. He didn't understand why you would be so interested in something that alienates him from you, shouldn’t that be frightening for you? He allowed you to gawk and pry into his mouth, looking at the shape of his fangs and mumbling out questions akin to “Have you ever bitten someone?” As usual, he would not answer and let you continue. However, something about that was endearing to him. You simply were not scared of him. There was no fear in your heart for the daunting and rather tall dhampir, only genuine emotions that bordered on something more than friends. His introverted nature makes it hard for him to make sense of his feelings. He doesn't have many friends, or companions even. Before you started tagging along he was alone, with only his steed and Left hand. Coming to the conclusion he did was certainly a great achievement for him. 

He found himself yearning to be by your side, an ache in his chest when he thinks of you. Although he was more than capable by himself and had no problem being alone, his thoughts periodically drifted to what his life could be like with you. What would it be like waking up next to you? Would Left hand bother you too much? But the main question was always how do you feel that he is not human, but dhampir? Maybe this is how Charlotte and Meier felt. No— he mustn't think like that. 

His chest expands again as he sighs, the breath drawn from his lips as his deep umber hair falls over his shoulder, a little curl tickling his face. Hesitantly, his hand lifts off his lap, ever so gently placing on the back of your skull. You didn't flinch, nor act surprised, it was as if this was completely natural for you both. The cold, gloved hand tenderly slid down to the base of your neck, cradling your head with his large hand. Your gaze turned to him, lingering on the drip of the raindrops before meeting his dark eyes. His lashes were visible, his sclera pure and contrasting against the rich color of his iris. Coaxing you closer with his hand, his broad body leaned in carefully, his scent wafting over you at the proximity. He wasn't thinking clearly, it felt like Left hand had spread to his entire body. There was a slight pause before he closed the space, his lips resting against the crown of your head with a tender and light touch. You stayed perfectly still, relishing in the moment of his scarce affections. Eyes fluttering shut, he stayed there for a moment longer than he should've. This small, yet golden act of affection had you smiling under him, wanting to reciprocate your fondness. 

“D.”

His lashes fluttered open, just enough to meet your eyes while his hand rested at the base of your neck. You felt warmth in your face against the misty chill of the night, and D noticed the softness in your gaze. Tenderly, your warm hand reached up to cup his cheek, the coolness of his skin grounding you amidst the heat you felt. “Aren't you sweet?” Your teasing words made him shut his eyes, leaning his face into your hand. You gently swiped a curl away from his cheek, allowing your palm to rest flat against the plane of his face.

“I try.”

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⊹˚˙♱˙˚⊹

ty for reading ! <3

[jup1ter33]

Boothill x Honkai Star Rail

[jup1ter33]

BOOTHILL ❖ COWBOY'S GOT BUSINESS

Just kiddin', fudgehead.

[jup1ter33]

Chargin' port

Synopsis ➫ Boothills charging port gets dirty. You, being his mechanic, help him clean it out. cw: nsfw, sub(ish) boothill, gn!reader, no established relationship, reader basically fingers him lol

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"Boothill! How did this even happen!!???!" Anyone could take one good look at Boothills charging port and realize that it's nasty. It looks like the charging port of an old phone, dust and crumbs crammed in the tiny slot.

"H-Hey! 'm a workin' man!" He shouts and turns over his shoulder to catch a glance of you. Boothill was seated backward in a chair, his arms resting on the backrest. You stood close behind him; originally, this was just supposed to be a quick visit to your mechanic shop, but after further investigation, it was clear that he needed a cleaning.

Boothill was a regular, often coming in to get calibrated or to get an upgrade on his system. This visit was going as planned, checking his wires and asking all your typical questions. However, Boothill voiced his complaint about charging slowly and that his cord might need to be replaced. Well, now that's easily debunked.

You giggle, how did he manage to miss this. "Well -" You trail off. "It's time to clean you up, and then you won't have a problem charging anymore."

He sighs in defeat, sinking into his chair. He's always been opposed to you from cleaning him up. He didn't like it when you tried to clean the funk out of the thin groves on his arms or remove built-up oil stains inbetweem his fingers. He always came back with the work done, so you didn't really mind either way. I mean- hey- he's staying clean. So you were certainly surprised when he accepted your offer. It was mostly likely that he couldn't reach his lower back easily to clean it, so he had no choice but to let you do it.

He grumbled, pulling his cowboy hat lower on his face. "Fine. But you better make it quick, darlin'. I don't want to sit here for ages and have to wait for you to finish pickin' at my parts."

You walked away to grab his cleaning supplies, brushing the hair out of your face. "I'll hurry with it." Your tone was caring and sweet; it made you happy that he was finally letting you tidy him up after all these years.

As you arrived, Boothill was resting his head on his arms, his long and healthy hair cascading down.

"Hey, have I ever told you that you've got really nice hair?" You compliment him, removing his hat off his head as he flips his head to the other side to look at you, grey eyes watching you.

A cheeky smirk pulls at his mouth, pointy teeth peeking through his lips.

"Oh yeah? this pretty ol' thing likes the cowboys hair now, huh? Shouldn't that be the other way 'round sweetpea." He teases you like usual, always finding a way to let his sultry words slip out.

"Oh? I can't appreciate someone's beauty? Boo hoo." You mock, placing the solution and swabs on the table next to him. He laughs in response.

"Nah, i'm not sayin' that," he pauses, "But, certainly you'd have higher standards than this chunk o' metal."

"Pffttt- what's that even supposed to mean?" The two of you bickered for a moment longer before you sat down on a small stool behind him, a sigh leaving your lips as you adjusted your shirt.

"Ready?" You get your tools set as Boothill just grumbles in response, his head resting on his arms once again.

Carefully, you start to wipe the dust out, the cotton swaps tediously picking the debris out. Eventually, you begin to zone out, losing track of time as you meticulously pick the crap out of his system. The napkin on the table was growing a pile of dust, all wiped off of your tools.

"ngh...." Your focus was broken by a sudden noise. Your eyes peer up boothills body just to find nothing out of the usual. Tilting your head, you look back down at your tools.

"Did I poke you?" You inquire, dousing a new cotton swaps in the solution. He shifts, straightening his back for a moment before slouching back over.

"M' all good...." His tone was dismissive and monotone, but he still had that raspy-ness in his voice.

With a confused face, you ignore whatever just happened and continue your cleaning. It was looking better, but it was still funky.

As you're working, Boothills fans kick on, the gentle whirrling used to keep himself from overheating. Pausing, your hands touch his sides to feel if he's starting to get too hot.

He flinches, his back straightening as his hands cover his mouth. His eyes were lidded, pink starting to cover his cheeks.

"You're getting hot. Do you want me to turn the AC down?" You question, your hands leaving phantom touches on him. "N-No......I'm all good, just- peachy.."

"You say that, but you're acting weird. What's with the fans?" You question, leaning back for a second. "I promise I'm all good... 'm just gettin' impatient." You shrug, and for the 3rd time, you resume your work.

Time felt as it was moving incredibly slow for Boothill. Your hands prying into his charging port was stimulating him in ways that he didn't know could happen. He would get the feeling pleasure well up in his fake tummy, the bulge and damp spot on his pants becoming more apparent with every passing second.

Boothill removed his hat and placed it on his lap in hopes of hiding his secret. It didn't help that you were moving so slow, almost like you knew it was affecting him like this. He was getting his limits pushed every time your cotton swab would reach a little farther than before, touching the back of the port. He would struggle to keep his voicebox from making a noise, biting his lip as he held his breath.

"Hah.....f-fudge.." Boothills head drooped between his arms. He was starting to lose his composure and now melting from the feelings. You were definitely suspicious now.

"Sugar, 'm gonna need ya to hurry it up...please." He huffed out in a low voice, his head leaning back slightly as he spoke to you behind him.

You stayed silent. The tension was thick and awkward. His body would twitch in ways you've never seen. Those metallic hands would switch from gripping the wood of the chair to covering his mouth.

"Am...am I making you... -" His words cut yours short.

"Hurry..." Deciding to shut up and listen, you start to move fast. His port was almost clean, so maybe this could be avoided.

"Darlin'...o-oh my god-" He rambled, spewing pleas from his lips. "Holy f-fork... I-I need..."

"I-Im going Boothill. I'm sorry..." He then breathed through his sharp teeth, back arching as he started to blatantly moan and whimper.

He'd lost all his dignity, bucking his hips up into nothing, wishing that maybe you'd be right there to take his thrusts.

And now, after all of this, his port was finally clean. However, you couldn't just leave him hanging like that. I mean, he's dry humping the chair at this point.

"P-Please don' stop..." He whined rather loudly. "I wan' more...ugh- pleaseee..." His dick strained in his pants, begging to be touched.

"A-Are you sure? I-I don't wanna leave you hanging bu-"

"Buttercup...y-you best keep your hands movin'." And that was all you needed to know.

Your tools were long forgotten now. Two fingers slip into his port and he moans. Albeit, you were nervous as hell, but with Boothill so vulnerable and begging for your touch, you couldn't deny him.

"Is this good for you..?" You questioned him, digits rubbing the walls of his port. His voice was gruff as he arched his back in pleasure. "Y-Yeah....oh- f-fudge...!"

Your free hand held onto his waist, trying to keep his squirming body from wriggling around too much. His hips jolted forwards, intense pleasure building up like a fog in his mind.

"Hahh....i-im so close, darlin'..." his voice shook. He let out a throaty groan as he leaned forward, head sinking between his shoulders as he let the pleasure consume him.

"It's alright, I want you to feel good." Praises spew from your lips as he melts under your touch. It was obvious that he was teetering the edge of relief.

"I-I can't...! can't, can't, mhm....! fudge- i-im cummin'..!"

He cried out as his body jerked and shook. As you pulled his orgasm out of him, he moaned your name, metallic hands gripped intensely hard on the chair. His eyes squeezed shut as his jaw slacked. His pants were now soiled with his release as he slowly relaxed into the chair. Fans on max speed, and his body is still sensitive.

Heavy pants left his lips as he groaned, his eyes fluttering open as he came back to reality. Within moments, regret flashed in his mind as he realized what he had

just made you do. It was wrong of him to make his mechanic do his dirty work for him.

"M' sorry...." his voice was quiet, yet genuine. your hands left his body, and he felt a sense of loneliness. He was too embarrassed to even turn around.

"No, it's ok...I mean- it was my fault." You shuffle, the tension was still thick.

"No its-...." he rambled on and on, his words not even making sense as he rubbed his temples before he finally came to his conclusion. "That was selfish of me...m' really sorry for that." He slouched in his chair, his head rested on his arms pathetically.

"Don't worry about it." You stated, "Now, do you need me to clean up your other mess now, or do you got this one?"

"Well, I'll be damned..."

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art credits ➫ mieillee

jup1ter33 ➫ all rights reserved

[jup1ter33]

List of Boothill's "swear" words so far:

fudge, fudgin'

fork

shirtbag

son of a nice lady

holy forkeroni

screwubbaboo

[jup1ter33]

Boothill headcannons

sfw + nsfw! 🔞 brings up his past so be prepared to hear about that😥

sfw

he is so goofy with you, always bickering and starting something just to get on your nerves.

he means no harm though, just playful banter.

he's a wee bit touch starved, so he adores it when he can hold you and kiss you

no body better try and hurt you unless they'd like a bullet between the eyes from him.

he has no problem firing his gun at anyone who dares to hurt you, whats a few more credits on his bounty??

when you first learned about what happened on his home planet, you didn't know how to respond. you could see the pain in his eyes, but he would try and dismiss it.

that same night, he ended up bawling his eyes out on your shoulder. the words "I miss my baby... my daughter." spouted from his lips. he was sure that he couldn't cry anymore, but with you, he felt such security, a safe haven for himself.

he'd have nightmares often. he'd abandon his charging station to come lay with you clutching you to his chest in fear that he'd loose you too.

but moments with boothill are rarely sad. In fact, he's typically enthusiastic and playful with you.

he's a charmer, calling you cute names and what-not.

he'd remove his hat and place it on your head while he kisses you.

being a galaxy ranger, he would often have to leave for weeks at a time. he'd give you a piece of his clothes, or a pin off his jacket, or some flowers before he left. he'd give you a deep hug, resting his head ontop of yours and taking in your scent before he has to leave.

on his trips he'd send you photos of the scenery, or some cool monuments, or anything he'd think would interest you.

he'd text you good morning and good night every day, saying how he misses you

on those days where he gets back in the middle of the night, he'd find you sleeping in the bed on his side, the blankets pulled up to your chin.

he's quietly snuggle his way in, cradling you in his arms.

buttttt, when he gets back in the morning, you better be ready to go out and have some fun.

he'll give you a gift he picked out for you, take you out drinking or to some random restaurant. sure, he'd get stares, but he didn't care.

he's so good with kids, he plays with them all the time and scolds them when they've been naughty.

he used to play guitar with his little girl, but now that his hands are metal, he has trouble getting his fingers to press on the fret board correctly:(

nsfw

oh boy, be prepared to hear this man

he's so whiny, he whimpers and moans so loud.

one of his absolute favorite things is to eat you out. the only human part of him left is his face, so being burried in between your thigh, your warm cunt pressed against his mouth, he can feel so much of it. it sends his fans whirling from the feeling of skin-to-skin.

and the pet names, he never runs out of them. darlin', sweetheart, buttercup, the list goes on and on.

because of his synestheisa beacon, it's hard for him to give you really any degrading words.

"T-take it like the cutie you are..."

he ends up getting frustrated and decides that maybe until he can get that solved, he won't use those words on you.

wondering how his dick works? yeah me too.

he'd probably have a silicone skin layer underneath his metal "armor" so I'd assume that his girth would be made of that. (there's no way it's metal that would be torture 😭)

boothills hair is sensitive, like before, his head is the only human part of him left. giving him a good tug makes him groan and jolt.

manhandles you. not exactly intentionally, but because of his cyborg body, it's hard for him to remember that he's alot tougher than you are, and he doesn't mean it in a way that your weak, (because your not) but because he simply gets so worked up he accidently will toss you around a bit.

he's had his fair share of experience, mostly before be was a cyborg, so he'll test things out on you.

he'll watch and see if your reaction to his metallic fingers prodding at your hole, would his fingers be too hard for your liking? would they be too big? he'd be observant in the way he works thru things with you.

until he met you, he didn't know that this charging port was a little sensitive.

he was being rough with you, as a result, your arms wrapped around his body in pleasure, clawing at his back. on accident, your fingers slipped into the charging port on his lower back, and he came on the spot.

he was soooooooo embarrassed.

"i-i...darlin' I didn't know that could even happen to me..." You assured him that it was fine, and that it was rather hot.

he'll find himself on his hands and knees, his port being teased from your Skillful hands and he melts. he whimpers and moans so loud, already on his 3 orgasm.

kinda hard to overstim him, he doesn't feel alot through his metallic skin, but if you make him cum a few times, he gets so whiny and needy.

he's mostly a top, he prefers to have you wrapped around his finger. literally.

but in the case that he decided to be a bottom, he cries your name, telling you how good it feels, how much he loves you, all the things he wants to do to you. he really can't shut up.

after you two finish, he lays next to you for a moment, allowing his fans to cool his overheating body down, and for you to regain your breath.

"so...how'd I do?" He'd ask with a cheek grin on his face. he knows he did good, but he wants to hear it straight from you.

he'll run you a shower or bath, whichever you prefer. but since he doesn't exactly need to shower (and it makes him rust) he'll stay on the outside. helping you with whatever you'd need.

and while your busy washing up, he'll clean off himself with his cleaning kit, oil his fingers and joints, make sure he didn't screw up his alignment.

once you're done, he won't allow you to lift a finger. he'll change the sheets, get you food or a drink, dress you, help you with your skincare, everything. since his body is robotic, he can just charge and won't get sore. he wants to make sure that he didn't mess you up too badly.

once everything is done, he'll lay you in bed ever-so gently.

he'll cuddle up next to you, burrowing his face into your chest, listening for your heartbeat. yes, it brings him pain that he no longer has a beating heart, but as long as he can lay with you and hear yours, to know you're safe, all is well.

[jup1ter33]