#why setting boundaries is so difficult

[therefugeofbooks]

brain, can i please stop overthinking every small human interaction i have, please, thank you

[marinecorvid]

blorbos from my brain

[flordemurta]

I love studying alone, and even when attending in-person lectures, I find great comfort in my own company—it simply helps me stay focused and avoid distractions.

However, there are days when the solitude of academic life weights heavier on me, no matter how much I try to rationalise it (and lately, I’ve found myself in precisely such days).

[blue-jester]

Why is setting boundaries and calling out things that make you uncomfortable or upset make you feel like such an asshole .

[anonymousisnotavailable]

Telling someone that you don't want to see them or meet up with them is hard. I have been in contact with L ever since, we ended things. It was fine for a while, but now I get annoyed seeing notifications from him. Some of the things he's said has been out of line. And yet I feel anxious about telling him, that I don't want to see him. I have already sent him a text. He had found a small toilet bag, I had forgotten at his place. I had honestly forgotten about its existence. At first I told him, that I was okay without for now. All he wrote back was 'cool'. I almost didn't, but I ended up replying to his one word message. I have told him, that I don't really need the bag. That to be honest I neither feel the need to or want to meet up. Because I really don't. I don't need the bag. I don't wan to drink coffee. I don't want to hear about how sorry for himself he is. I don't want to anything... and yet. I just got his reply, and all he wrote was, "okay then". So now I worry I should have phrased it better. But I was polite, I didn't insult him in any way, or accuse or blame him for anything. So, yes, it was a very short message. But considering the way he uses Snapchat, it felt okay to do in on there. I mean, the guy uses it to share rather serious stuff. While I may feel like my message was plenty serious, it is not on the top of the list. Still, I worry. I know other people's emotions aren't my responsibilty. Not that I shouldn't or don't care. But I cannot control how they feel, so getting anxious won't make a difference. Maybe he is upset. Maybe he thinks, I am total bitch. A bitch that would reply and sometimes send her own snaps, but then I go on to tell him, that I don't want to see him. Maybe he is trying to figure out why. He will for sure tell his mom, when she picks up Carla. Maybe she will think, that I am an awful, awful person to do that to her son. I don't know. It might as well be none of the above. In the end it comes down to me being afraid, that I might be the cause of someone elses' unhappiness. But I should really focus more on my own happiness. I recently read 'The Promise of Happiness'. It talked precisely about how your happiness will sometimes be the cause of unhappiness - or that was one of many points. Sometimes being happy means being a bitch. If that makes any sense. In the end this is, what is best for me. Worrying how L percieved my message won't change anything. I might never get to know, what his thoughts are. All that matters (no matter how selfish that sounds) is, that I was honest, and that I wasn't rude about it. It was straight to the point. Normally I would prefer being able to see the other person's facial expressions. But my psychologist once told me, that it doesn't matter whether you do it via text, a phone call or face to face. What matters is setting boundaries. People often get upset, when you set boundaries. I get it. It can be uncomfortable as fuck.

[blackmoonoracle]

How can you sustainably & realistically glow up?

Hello lovelies! I wanted to focus today’s reading on self care & nurturing, over here we are ALL about wholeness, healing, & authenticity. So I wanted to give channeled messages to all of you regarding this particular niche. This advice is meant to be flexible and manageable, growth happens and increments and I want you all to be patient with your growth.

pile i

You guys are observers, you may enjoy connecting and love people but just can’t seem to fit in. The problem is that you are focusing too much on trying to mirror and match. Your authenticity is calling, and it’s trying to claw its way out. Some of you may struggle with feeling like you’re in survival mode or have bad relationship trauma. This can be romantic, platonic, familial, etc! It’s giving TRUST ISSUES, y’all have beautiful minds and fiercely loving hearts. Your honesty will set you free, your authenticity will cleanse the pain away. Set boundaries and stand on them, you don’t need them- THEY NEED YOU. You can’t be a pushover forever, stand on your own two feet who cares about rejection. You will find people that accept you for who you are, people who are loving and compassionate who hold space for the contents of your mind & heart without turning it against you.

For some, it may be time to consider therapy and or medication. Health, quality of life- go outside more, exercise (you don’t have to make this stuff a chore, stagnance can be difficult to remove. Why don’t you start by opening the windows, sweeping and saying “by broom and air and with delight I remove this stagnance and make room for life” set your intentions, and what energies you want entering your space)

Make cleaning easier for yourself, find better organizational habits, you DONT need to be spic and span- but just have better general organization and be less harsh on yourself. Maintain your routines to the absolute best of your ability and don’t be afraid of messing up or losing track. It isn’t about being perfect it’s about quality of life

Recommendations: Journaling, music, spending time outside (even if ur on ur phone, it’s better than nothing), stretching and light exercise (u don’t have to lose weight, it’s not about societal standards it’s about loving who YOU are, taking care of your mind, body, heart, and soul)

Signs: seashells, Aphrodite, classical romantic art, drama tv shows & telenovelas, Dolores from encanto, stomach pains from anxiety, trouble sleeping, fear of loss & fear of connection, chronic illness (mental or physical)

Zodiac: Lilith in Capricorn, Sagittarius, and Scorpio, Gemini sun/moon/rising, Capricorn stellium, Uranus 6h, chiron 6h Chiron in Libra chiron in Scorpio Chiron in Sagittarius.

pile ii

In a loving way I’m about to beat ur ass fr omg

You need to be creating, stop avoiding your creativity it’s WHO YOU ARE. When you create unrealistic expectations of your creativity & try to cage yourself in you start to feel drained and tired. You can beat your exhaustion by just being you. There’s a message about teeth, taking care of your teeth, water flossing, going to a dentist, make an appointment asap! They’re still salvageable if you take action and put forth effort. For some a big chop could be in order, or at least a trim & some shaping. You are meant to be putting yourself out there, people actually REALLY admire your beauty and your harsh overly critical nature often blocks you from being satisfied with what you create and what you do. Give yourself the chance to just be. Stop creating stipulations for everything you make, if it flops who fucking cares. You guys don’t trust in your own ideas, and it’s because you block out a LOT. It feels like you struggle to connect with others and the world around you.

You can level up by caring less and investing more into your creative endeavors. You might get so restless and moody because you aren’t actually living in alignment with this part of yourself. You have an incredibly active mind that you’re not stimulating properly, when you’re gifted with such a mind it should be sharpened and exercised! Honed to your liking, the power is in you to make that choice.

Stand in your ideas, and get up and do something with them before they are given to others who will actually do the damn thing.

Recommendations: connect with nature, jot down your ideas, don’t shy away from self expression, dress how you really wanna dress, be bold, be brave, be unapologetically you.

Signs: blackbirds, crows, ravens, Lana del Rey, charmed, whimsy gothic/celestial aesthetic.

Zodiac: Aquarius, Leo, Capricorn, Aries midheaven/cancer rising, Saturn in Taurus ?, Uranus in Scorpio, mars sextile Venus

pile iii

It’s time to stop focusing on image and start focusing on tact, you may have to put your ego on the back burner for a bit but that’s okay. We all have to do it one time or another, you’re being called to re-examine your approach to life and the skills you’ve developed. Have more balance, and think more thoroughly and skillfully. Idk I feel like this pile is genuinely very impulsive and at times an active participant in incredibly foolish behavior. You spend a lot of time justifying your egotistical responses and knee jerk reactions- you can glow up by being more open minded to change. Changing your outlook, changing your approach, etc- perhaps sometimes you treat yourself like a one trick pony. Some of you could have also experienced bullying or othering in school. Feeling like the odd one out, you can glow up by confronting this wound and releasing it. The fixation on the wound is unhealthy & seemingly subconscious. You can also glow up by not reacting so strongly to everything- learn to not crash the fuck out every time you feel triggered. Or learn not to quietly implode every time you feel triggered, aim for flexibility and call in clarity in these moments it WILL be brought to you.

Hmmm pile 3, I’m not sure what’s going on for you my loves- but I see that in order to help further glow up that you would benefit from more privacy and alone time? Perhaps you have a validation seeking issue? I’m not saying all of you aren’t working on this btw! I’m sure some of you are, but I see where spending the foreseeable future in a state of solitude would be super duper beneficial for you. You need to rest and recuperate from something. Perhaps you feel burnt out trying to upkeep an image or upkeep a persona and you’re unable to keep up anymore. I feel like you guys need clarity, and unfortunately you’re only going to find that within right now. Perhaps some of you could even have some kind of obsessive thinking patterns- addiction to tarot or divination- you’re being told to relax. Lean into the healing, allow it to overtake you. You will come out of the other side, but when the darkness beckons. It is not always an invitation but an inevitable occurrence.

Signs: swans, lace & ribbons, ripped fishnets, beat up converse, a densely wooded area, tj maxx (lol??), Ayurveda, denim, cadavers.

Recommendations: thinking before you speak/act, being slow & methodical- not allowing people to push you over the edge but also knowing when to back down and reflect. Surrendering to the change so you don’t get dragged by the hair 😭

Zodiac: Sagittarius rising, cancer moon, black moon Lilith in Aquarius, north node in Libra, Aries moon and mercury, Saturn in the 12th house.

[hawnks]

Takami Keigo doesn't want to see you.

Of course, he's too well trained to say it in so many words, but when he 'forgets' his session this afternoon, you get the message.

Unfortunately for him, you're stubborn. You show up at his apartment in the dormitories, ring his bell until your fingers numb.

Only then does he crack open the door, just enough for you to catch his forbidding smile, a caustic gleam to his eyes. "What can I help you with, this fine evening?"

"You missed our appointment," you say pleasantly. "This is the third time."

"Oh, must have just slipped my mind," he says with a dismissive little wave. "I'll catch you next time."

The door slams in your face.

Being so curtly dismissed by a top ranking officer should probably send you into a panic, but the stats you pulled up for him after his no-show are even more concerning. This is quickly turning into an emergency, and unfortunately it's your job on the line if he succumbs to corruption.

Who would blame the second most powerful Sentinel alive, when there's a feckless guide as a scapegoat.

"I'm going to ring the bell again," you say, loudly.

After a moment of silence, you think he must not have heard you.

Then the door swings open. "Fine," he snaps.

You follow him to the living room, watch as he drops himself on the couch with a sigh, eyes squeezed shut.

You'd never known guiding to be this much of a chore for Sentinels. Most of your roster is rather clingy and covetous of your time. None of them has ever been late to an appointment with you.

"Well?" he prods. "Get on with it."

You hesitate. The tension he seems to be holding will make this a lot more difficult, strenuous for you both. "Do you maybe want to talk for a bit? Or I could put on some white noise."

He opens his eyes just enough to give you a cutting look. "No."

You surrender with a sigh, coming to sit next to him on the couch. Every Sentinel prefers contact a different way; some want you to hug them, pet their hair, a few have even asked you to kiss them, fuck them, though you've never fulfilled that type of request, your boundaries in this job too firm for it.

You want to ask him what would make this easier for him, but you're sure waiting any longer will only set him off. So, delicately, you take his hand.

The first draw is always the hardest, the corrupt energy being nullified by your own. Some outside force reaching in, invasive despite the relief.

Takami flinches.

You go slower, a soft steady ebb, pulling the poison from him in silken thread.

His hand relaxes in yours.

You reach deeper, welcoming the full flood between you, warmth and light suffusing you both. And it feels how it's supposed to -- natural.

When your watch chimes, signaling the sessions end, Takami blinks out of his stupor. He'd melted during the thirty minutes you worked on him, body curled toward yours, face falling onto your shoulder.

He pulls away swiftly, shocked by his own willingness to lean on you.

You rise, marking off the details of your appointment on your tablet. "I can come back tomorrow, to finish up. You haven't been guided in a long time, so I couldn't get it all in one session. Does 2pm work for you?"

He's not prepared for the question. "Um. Yeah?"

You mark that down as well, then see yourself out.

It takes three more sessions for you to fully clear the corrupted energy from his body. In his haze he admits to you the reason he's so standoffish to Guides, why he dodges his sessions with such fervor.

"It's never felt good. Always felt like I'm being held down, trapped. Made me feel antsy, nervous." He buries his face against your throat, inhaling deeply. You'd started off just holding his hand again, but now he hugs your entire arm against his chest, your fingers twined. "It's not like that with you."

"I'm glad, Mr. Takami," you return. "Please don't ignore my emails from now on."

As you make your notes, you ask him his availability for next month.

He blinks at you. "You're not coming back tomorrow?"

You check your calendar. You'd had to push back several of your regular appointments to make room for the past few days. "I'm booked solid for the next two weeks, at least."

You glance at him, taking in his appearance, his general well being. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes. He startles, first, before leaning into your touch.

"You seem fine," you decide, pulling away, already heading for the door. "I'll contact you later about our next session."

He trails after you, linger at the precipice as you take the elevator back down to your floor.

...

He never ignores you emails, after that.

In fact, he sends many of his own. He gets your phone number, somehow. Some days he shows up with coffee, or snacks, sits with you on the couch while you eat.

He's always touching you during those times, brushing hair behind your ears or straightening your shirt collar. Mostly he just holds your hand, playing with your fingers or clutching it in his own lap.

You don't guide him during any of these impromptu visits, too weary from the rest of your overfull schedule -- but you've heard of this type of attachment from other Guides.

Sentinels tend to imprint on guides they have a decent connection with. Part survival instinct, part status seeking. A Sentinel without a guide is doomed. A Sentinel with a high match-rate is likely to be stronger than their peers.

But that's the thing about un-bonded Sentinels, they're always on the lookout for a better Guide, their perfect mate.

Takami is overly attached to you now, but it will pass.

...

Or so you thought.

You're sent out into the aftermath of a battle that rocks the city. Dozens of Sentinels pushed themselves to the breaking point, on the brink of corruption, about to turn into the very monsters they fight to suppress.

You spot Takami in the midst of the wreckage. Exhausted, but giving you a shakey smile when your eyes meet. He limps toward you, so glad to see you, so ready for the safety and warmth of your arms--

Someone calls your name. Urgent, an emergency. Another Sentinel with no one to take care of them.

You turn away from Takami, and you go.

He'd fought hard, but his body has grown used to the abuse over the years. He's in bad shape, but it's not life-threatening like some of the others you help today.

It's hours before you can see him.

Slumped on a curb, hands folded neatly in his lap. Like he's been waiting so patiently for you this whole time.

You come to your knees before him, letting him take your hands, draw you closer. "Why didn't you go to another Guide?"

Surely he could have found someone else, despite the chaos of the scene. If not you, one of the high ranking Guides, slotted exclusively for S-rank Sentinels.

He looks at you, trembling, confused. "I don't want another Guide."

When he asks if you'll hold him, you do. You take him in your arms, let his weight settle on you. Feel his warmth all around you, his breath against your shoulder.

"And I don't want you to guide anyone else," he murmurs.

You stroke his nape. "I know. I'm sorry. You'll find your Guide soon enough, and then you can have each other all to yourselves."

His grip tightens. He braces you against him -- instead of a heady tightness, you're constricted.

"I already found my Guide," he whispers into your throat.

Then he bites.

[vunblr]

Tangled (#8)

Pairing: Cecaelia! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. Eventual teratophilia.

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Word Count: 4k

note: The chapter I wrote turned out to be too extensive, so I decided to post the first part today, so you guys have something to read while I polish the rest when I can -aka, you know what, you dirty little things-.

Previous Chapter

She arrived a bit later than usual, with a short-sleeved dress brushing her knees. Her basket swung lightly at her side as she picked her way across the familiar rocks, pausing when she spotted him.

“Hey,” she called, a little breathless.

Bucky offered a grunt in response, low and noncommittal.

He hadn’t planned to stay long. Just watch, maybe say a few words. But then the wind shifted.

His nostrils flared. Something foreign. Male. Not him.

It was faint, threaded through the fibers of her dress like smoke. His body tensed, and his pupils darkened, as a flick of something primal rose hard and fast in him.

“You were in town,” he said, more statement than question.

She nodded, crouching to set her basket down. “Yeah, this morning.”

He got a little closer, slightly narrowing his eyes. “Who did you meet?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Who did you meet?” he repeated, voice rougher now.

She tilted her head, with a curious frown pulling between her brows. “Well, Detective,” she said, dryly playful, “the old lady from the yarn shop. Then I grabbed a few groceries.”

He didn’t smile. Instead, he moved closer again, silent and imposing. The way his eyes roved her now were assessing, searching.

“Who is he?” he asked, low and firm.

“Who?”

“The man.”

She stared at him, knitting her brows tighter. “What man?”

His jaw clenched. “The male you let touch you.”

The words dropped like a stone in the water between them.

Her mouth parted in disbelief, the heat of confusion rising in her cheeks. “Excuse me?”

But he was already bristling, the scent clinging to her like a warning was difficult to ignore. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t meant anything by it. His body didn’t understand nuance, only instinct. Only the ache in his chest and the flare of something sharp and unwelcome in his gut.

"You smell like another man."

Her brows shot up at the bluntness of the comment. He was next to her now, silent and solid, with his tendrils half-curled on the rocks around her like restless shadows. Close, but not touching.

“Why would I-” she began, confused, and then her expression cleared. “Oh. Must be… when I was leaving the market, I tripped. Bags and all. Some guy caught me mid-fall.”

She watched his face carefully as she spoke. He didn’t respond, didn’t blink. His pupils were wide, black swallowing blue, and whatever emotion curled in the tight set of his mouth was unreadable.

Something in her bristled. She’d danced around this for too long, his moods, the way he drew close only to retreat again. Sometimes warm, sometimes so distant it left her aching.

And now this?

She lifted her chin, slightly narrowing her eyes. “What is it with you?”

No answer. Just that burning gaze on her.

She took a breath. “Last I checked, I don’t have to report to you about what I do with my time. Or who I meet.”

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t argue. Didn't even look away.

She didn’t either.

“You think it’s about control?” His mouth twitched, not quite a sneer, but something bitter and tight that didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t care who you see.”

A lie, maybe, or something he wanted to believe. “I just didn’t think you’d let someone touch you like that.” He shifted, the coil of his tendrils pulling back slightly, and his jaw was tight like it hurt to speak. “Not when I can’t even let myself.”

“Excuse me?” she snapped, furrowing her brows as she took a step closer. “Elaborate ‘touch me like that’, because stopping me from face-planting into the ground with all my groceries doesn’t exactly sound like some x-rated encounter to me.”

Her finger jabbed lightly against his chest, not hard, but enough to make a point. “And clearly you do care who I see. You wouldn’t be standing here growling questions at me if you didn’t.”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out fast enough.

“And what’s that crap about you don’t let yourself touch me?” she pressed, her voice lower now, more dangerous. “What the hell does that even mean, Bucky? Because from where I’m standing,” she went on, “it’s not that you don’t want to touch me. You did. You held me, curled around me, slept on me like a goddamn cat.”

He flinched, just slightly, but she caught it.

“And then spring came, and suddenly I’m radioactive? You don’t sit close anymore, you barely look at me, and now you’re accusing me of what? Letting some stranger touch me?” She laughed once, bitterly. “I’m not yours.”

That landed. His jaw clenched, and the muscles in his arms flexed before he leaned back a fraction, like her nearness burned. But she didn’t let him retreat.

“You either want me, or you don’t,” she murmured, locking her eyes on his. “But don’t keep treating me like I’m something you’re afraid of and then act possessive the second someone else so much as breathes near me.”

He snapped. Not in anger, but with something raw, tangled in his voice. “I do want you.”

Silence.

His throat bobbed. “I want you so much it hurts. But I don’t know if I’m allowed to. Or what you’d do if I let go.”

There it was. The truth lay bare between them like a wave crashing over the shore, impossible to ignore.

“Why… wouldn’t you be allowed?” she asked softly, with her voice stripped of all bravado. No challenge, only honest curiosity.

He looked at her, and then his gaze dropped low, to the dark, muscular limbs that curled and shifted restlessly around the rock, black and deep blue against the pale stone. They moved like they had a mind of their own, like they were already reaching for her in ways he wouldn’t let them. Wouldn’t let himself.

“I… I don’t mind,” she said softly.

A beat.

Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t take it back. Couldn’t. Not when his expression cracked, just a little. Surprise filtered in his handsome features first, then something else. Hope? No. Something more desperate, more dangerous than that. Like he wanted to believe her, but didn’t dare.

He’d been fighting it. Fighting himself. Telling himself it was unnatural, that he was unnatural for wanting her like that. For needing her with a hunger he’d never allowed before.

Because for someone like him to be wanted, it would take another kind of anomaly.

Another kind of beautiful, impossible aberration.

Someone like her.

He broke.

The restraint he'd clung to like a lifeline slipped through his fingers as he leaned into her, gathering her in his arms and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. His breath hitched as he inhaled her, sharp and deep, like she was the only clean air left in the world. His teeth clicked together once, a small but involuntary sign of the effort it took to keep from losing control.

She didn’t flinch.

Instead, she embraced him without hesitation, one hand firm between his shoulder blades, the other sliding up to cradle the back of his head. Threading her fingers into his damp hair, soothing.

His breathing grew heavier, more erratic.

“I need to touch you,” he said hoarsely, almost pained. “Like… like that time.”

She understood what he meant. She didn’t need him to explain.

“Then… do it,” she murmured into his hair.

He didn’t move for a heartbeat. But the tendrils, those dark limbs already spread over the rocks around her from when he'd first confronted her, began to stir again. Slow, deliberate. They slid from the stone toward her seated form, curling lightly around her calves, her waist, her back. Careful. Testing. Wanting.

She let him.

She exhaled, slow and warm against his temple, with her hands still in his hair, and her posture open. Inviting. Her body reacted to the embrace with something soft and welcoming, and he felt it. The trust.

The acceptance.

And it undid him in ways nothing else ever had.

He let himself sense her again, truly, deeply this time. The tendrils that had curled around her body slid more firmly into place, their rows of soft suckers brushing over her skin with slow, reverent intention. Not bruising. Not even gripping. Just tasting. Reading.

Each shift in her breath, each subtle twitch of muscle or flutter of pulse fed into him like whispers of her truth. Her scent deepened with warmth. Acceptance. Arousal. Not fear.

It overwhelmed him.

He reluctantly drew back from the crook of her neck, pupils wide and chest rising in shallow breaths. He looked at her, unsure what to do with the flood of sensations and the sharp ache of want clawing at his composure.

So she decided for him.

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, soft, fleeting, almost chaste. But it lit something in him like flame to oil. His kind weren’t foreign to oral intimacy. He knew the language of mouths. Knew what it meant when lips met in surrender.

So he kissed her back.

Not softly.

His mouth claimed hers in a way that left no space for doubt. His hand found her waist, basking in her curves. The kiss deepened, and then, his tongue slid past her lips, slow and deliberate, a single fluid motion that mimicked everything his body ached to do if she let him. A promise. A preview.

He kissed her like he wanted to possess her, to imprint his longing on every part of her body. Like he couldn’t help but show her exactly what he meant when he said he needed to touch her. His tendrils pulsed faintly against her skin in reaction, still reverent but no longer shy, until she was left moaning into his mouth, wanting, needing.

And he, finally, allowed himself to want her back.

She gasped softly into his mouth, grabbing his shoulders, then sliding her fingers down the smooth plane of his damp chest. He slowed down and pulled back just enough to breathe, to look at her with half-lidded eyes. Her lips were enticingly swollen, parted in a daze, and he didn’t resist the urge to lean in again, to trace the curve of her lower lip with his tongue before gently sucking it into his mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss, it was the kind of kiss that sent ripples down her spine and made warmth bloom low in her belly. And it wasn’t just the way he held her, tendrils tangled around every patch of exposed skin, suckers gently tasting her, reading her, cradling her.

"Well," she managed, trying to gather a few working brain cells through the haze, “that was-”

"Good?" he offered, in a low and warm voice against her pulse point before pressing a teasing nip where her neck met her shoulder.

"Hey!" she yelped, startled.

But he was already soothing the spot with his tongue, with his hands never leaving her skin.

“Sorry,” he murmured, retreating just a little, sliding his gaze away from hers. “I just…”

He exhaled slowly, and she felt the shift before he spoke again.

“You should probably go back.”

“What? Why?” she asked, breath still uneven. “We just-”

“Because,” he cut in quietly. A sigh. “You asked what was wrong with me.”

She went still.

“What’s wrong,” he continued, finally meeting her gaze, “is that it’s mating season for me. And I’m trying really hard not to just-”

“Oh,” she breathed, the single word thick with realization.

She looked at them, at the surreal embrace they were sharing, her body cradled in his tendrils, his upper half still pressed close. Her voice came quieter now, hesitant.

“And… can we?” Her cheeks burned. “I mean, is it even possible-”

“Yes.” His answer came low. “Nothing will result from what we do, but we are compatible to mate.”

“Oh.” She blinked, processing. “So we can-”

“I can be inside you. I can please you.”

“Don’t say it like that!” she nearly squeaked, burying her face in his shoulder.

He pulled back a little, brow furrowed in confusion. “You don’t want me to please you?”

“I do! I just-” she groaned softly, hiding her fluster behind a hand, “it’s embarrassing when you say it that bluntly.”

His throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze searching hers. “So… you are willing to mate with me?”

She exhaled slowly and nodded.

“Not today,” she murmured. “But… yes.”

Bucky stilled.

For a moment, he just looked at her, like he hadn’t quite heard right. Like the ground beneath them had shifted, and he was trying to find his footing. His pupils widened again, and the arms encircling her drew her just a little closer, instinctively.

“You mean that,” he said hoarsely. Not a question. A realization.

She gave a nervous smile but nodded again. “Yeah. I mean it.”

A shudder ran through his body. Not of cold, but of tension, finally beginning to ease. He bowed his head, gently pressing his forehead to hers. His hands cupped her face with surprising care, stroking the edges of her jaw with his thumbs. The tendrils around her twitched, clenching briefly before relaxing again.

“I thought…” he started, then stopped. Swallowed. “I thought I’d ruin it if I told you how much I wanted you.”

She felt his breath on her lips, warm and uneven.

“I’ve never wanted someone like this,” he murmured. “Didn’t think I could.”

Her heart gave a painful thump. She cupped the side of his neck, brushing her thumb over the pulse that fluttered quickly under her touch.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she said softly. “You’re just… making it hard to breathe a little.”

That pulled a low sound from him -something between a chuckle and a groan- and he leaned in, brushing his nose against her cheek.

“I won’t rush you,” he promised, though his breath betrayed him, shallow and quick where it fanned over her skin.

But even as the words left his mouth, one of his tendrils traced a slow, deliberate path along the side of her calf. A teasing slide, a test of restraint. It didn’t grip, didn’t urge, it simply lingered there, as if trying to memorize the shape of her body.

She shivered, but not from the cold.

“...But I think you should leave for today.” He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, the blues of his irises dark and troubled. “The urges I have right now… they’re not easy to quell. Not during mating season.”

There was no shame in his tone, only quiet frustration. Honesty. “You’d understand it better if you were one of my kind,” he added, almost apologetically. “I want to respect you.”

Her heart gave a little ache to the conflict written across his features. “I wish I could stay with you a little longer,” she said softly, brushing her fingers along the shell of his ear. “But I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

His arms closed tighter around her in response, and a low sound left his throat, something between a sigh and a groan. “Already are,” he muttered against her throat, just before his teeth grazed her skin. He nipped gently at the crook where her neck met her shoulder again, then soothed it with a slow, wet drag of his tongue.

She gasped, and heat sparked in her lower belly.

“I can smell your readiness,” he murmured, with his voice low and wrecked. “I know what I’d find if I just... gave in.”

She didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. “Oh. Y-you can?”

He nodded once, still pressed against her pulse. “Yes,” he said, “And it’s hard not to act with my instincts.”

The tendril on her calf slid upward, languidly, curling along the curve of her thigh with a gentle squeeze. It stopped just shy of anything indecent -barely intentional-before retreating, as if reluctant to leave her warmth behind.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her cheeks heated. The idea that he could smell her arousal -sense it like some undeniable beacon- was as thrilling as it was mortifying. Her body reacted to him so easily, so instinctively, but now she knew he didn’t even need to guess.

She swallowed hard, trying to clear the fog in her mind. The way his tendril slid up her thigh had made her thighs clench, made her want more, but she also needed to think. To breathe. This -whatever was happening between them- wasn’t just physical, at least not for her.

And as much as she wanted him, she needed clarity.

Was this surge of intimacy between them something real, something he chose? Or was it simply the flood of primal instincts tied to his mating season? Was she just… close and willing? Or did he want her beyond this?

She blinked at the sunlight, suddenly hyper-aware of the time. It was still midday. Bright, open, and exposed. Sure, people tended to avoid this stretch of shore, but anyone walking by could see them. See her, practically curled into his chest, his limbs lazily wrapped around her like some sensual sheath.

Her heart beat a little faster, not just from the embarrassment, but the desire to protect whatever was growing between them.

She exhaled, calming herself, and brushed her fingers along his jaw.

“I’ll go,” she said, gently, not pulling away just yet. “But... we need to talk about this. About you and me. Not now,” she added quickly, “but when you feel more… like yourself.”

Her thumb swept across the line of his cheekbone. “I need to know if this is just… instinct. Or if you’d still want me, even when your season is over.”

His gaze focused on her face, conflicted. She could see it, something sharp and heavy behind his eyes that he still hadn’t named.

“I do want you,” he said at last, his voice low and rough with restraint. “It’s not just the season. It just… makes it harder to hide.”

He didn’t say more, but the silence between them stretched, filled with all the things he wouldn’t -couldn’t- admit yet. The things he thought about himself when he was alone in the dark. That maybe he didn’t deserve closeness. That maybe everything he'd done -regardless of how or why- meant he should stay isolated.

But she made it difficult. She made him hope.

His fingers brushed hers briefly. “We’ll talk,” he murmured. “Another day.”

The tendril curled around her thigh loosened, slowly retreating like a wave drawing back into the sea. The others followed, unwinding from her body with reluctant grace, the soft suction releasing her skin with barely audible pops that made her shiver.

His gaze stayed on her for a breath longer, his jaw clenched like he was holding something back, words, urges, things she couldn’t name. Then he dropped his eyes, and his shoulders shifted subtly, drawing in as if he were pulling armor around himself again.

Without another word, he slid into the water, disappearing in a slow, sinuous motion, the tips of his limbs were the last of him to vanish into the surf. A ghost of warmth remained where he’d held her, but the absence felt colder than the breeze rolling in from the sea.

----

That night, under the hot spray of the shower, she let her head rest against the tiled wall, closing her eyes as the water slid over her skin. The day replayed itself in vivid fragments with startling clarity. So it had taken a silly accident -nearly falling on the street- for the truth to slip free. The reason behind his strange, aching distance these past weeks.

Not disinterest. Not discomfort. He’d been struggling. Holding himself back.

She exhaled, covering her face with wet hands, heat blooming in her chest that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. The gifts he’d left her weren’t just gestures of goodwill. They were offerings.

And in land, during those colder months, when he came to her? He still was protective during their visits to town... she remembered how stiff he’d become when men looked at her too long. How he always stood just a little closer than necessary. People noticed -how not to?- some edged away under his relentless stare. It wasn’t just because he worried for her in a friendly way his kind will be. No. He hadn’t been worried. He’d been possessive. Jealous, maybe. Struggling to be better behaved, to rein it in for her sake. And failing, sometimes.

It was there. It had always been there.

He felt the pull, too.

That simple truth rattled around her chest, knocking loose every excuse she’d made for his distance. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, it was that he did. He’d said so. Had fought himself, tangled in the same storm she had, long before this mating season muddled everything.

She had come to terms with her own desire weeks ago. The tentative glances, the way her body leaned toward him before her mind could stop it. She’d admitted -at least to herself- that what he was didn’t frighten her. That it wasn’t a barrier. If anything, it made her curiosity sharper, and her pull toward him deeper. Maybe there was something objectively wrong with her for that.

But apparently something was wrong with him too, if he felt the same.

Two peculiar -no, let’s say it- two weird beings, each a little off in the eyes of their own kind.

So what was stopping her, then?

----

She had said yes.

Freely. Calmly. Without pressure or fear. She had looked at him and chosen him. And now, Bucky’s body was in overdrive.

It took everything in him not to pounce, not to claim her the second her voice laced with acceptance, the second her body responded with that telltale warmth he could smell, taste, and feel lingering on his skin. He was trembling by the time he pulled away, trembling still hours later as he curled in the dark of his den, panting quietly against the cool stone, trying to calm the storm inside him with nothing but memory and his fucking hand.

He felt like an animal. No, less than one. Unhinged. Fractured by years of solitary mating seasons, of urges swallowed down with saltwater and grit. But this time, it wasn’t just the burn of biology, it was her. The thought of her. The weight of her thighs under his limbs. The way she’d gasped into his mouth, pressed her hands against his skin like she wanted to learn his shape too.

She’d chosen him.

And yet, all he could do was lie there, with ragged breath whispering her name into the dark while the desire and guilt churned in his gut.

Because he still didn’t know if he deserved that yes.

He had told her before he left: it wasn’t just instinct. Not for him. The truth was, he’d been drawn to her from the moment she offered him life. Since he took the form he loathed, and climbed the rocks with legs he barely trusted, just to see if the fragile creature who had shared her essence with him was still breathing.

His kind didn’t attach easily. Didn’t bond unless there was a purpose.

But he had. To her.

And now she had said yes to that thing -the one who had been used, manipulated, made a weapon under human greed- and his heart was caught between euphoria and dread.

She had the right to know.

And more importantly, he had the right to be seen for everything he was, not just the parts he managed to show her through veiled glances and cautious touches.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @civilbucky @thatesqcrush @lonelyghosts-stuff @x-press-it @the-voice-beckons-below @angelilacsworld @dollface-xoxo @mcira @lazyneonrabbitt @vxllys @namjoohnie @sebastians-love @misspendragonsworld @thewriters64 @escapefromrealitylol @hi172826 @wintrsoldrluvr @reddesires @ruexj283 @buckvoidsyy @littlesuniee @kimberly-stocks @pandaxnienke @ladypncl @homiesexuallaj @kulteule @awesompawsum @killerwendigo @princessgriffin1998 @helen-2003 @nynxtea @alagalaska @maryevm

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[prettyobsessed]

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 🪐༘Temptation Whispers Home 🍵‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⁺₊ / pairings: Xavier / fem!reader ✩ / genre: smut [nsfw 18+, mdni] ₊˚ / tags: nsfw, smut with plot, story plot smut, masturbation, mutual attraction, grinding, soft sex, slighty rough sex, cowgirl position, lots of teasing, fingering, lots of kisses, unprotected sex, mouth job, hand job, kissing, nipple stimulation, clit stimulation, neck kink, nipple kink smut, spanking, facial cumshot, mature sexual content ☾ / word count: 6.6k

✧summary✧ *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ Amidst the allure of Xavier's presence and the intoxicating atmosphere, the narrator grapples with their desire for intimacy and the uncertainty that shrouds their relationship. The scene pulses with tension and longing as they navigate the complexities of unspoken desires and emotional boundaries, hinting at a deeper connection waiting to be explored. ﹌﹌﹌

“I couldn’t control myself, and resisting you any longer has become increasingly difficult. It's as if you've cast a spell over me. It feels almost criminal—the effect you have on me."

☄. *. ⋆ Standing before my wardrobe, indecision settled upon my shoulders like an unwelcome guest. Meeting Tara, my best friend, shouldn't have been so complicated, yet there I was, deliberating over my outfit for nearly half an hour.

The events of last Saturday lingered in my thoughts, seemingly crept up on me—the night Xavier and I went to the club and things got… dangerously flirty.

Facing the mirror, I examined myself wearing my pastel blue thong, a reminder of Xavier lingering in my mind. "Am I wearing this intentionally with him in mind?" I paused, questioning my motives. "Stop. I’m not even meeting him today. Why bother?" I murmured to myself, shaking off the distraction, but not wanting to change out of the thong.

I was jolted back to reality when my phone notification bell rang. Glancing up at the screen, I noticed today’s date: Monday, 5th February. 2:28pm. With a resigned sigh, I selected a grey mini skirt paired with a white off-shoulder top, its thin fabric ideal for the anticipated hot day. Gathering my hair into a bun, I applied a spritz of Bare Vanilla to my neck and wrists, relishing in the comforting scent of my current favourite fragrance. Slipping into my trusty black boots and grabbing my bag, I hurried out the door, ensuring I hadn’t left anything behind and securing the automated lock. Venturing further from my apartment, a nagging thought crept into my mind. "Did I forget something?" But with Tara waiting, I pushed the thought aside and continued on my way.

"Today was a blast! Thanks for showing me around,” Tara exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Let’s go out again next week! See ya!” she chirped, waving energetically as she walked away. "Bye, Tara!” I called out with a playful pout. After bidding her farewell, I set off on my journey home, only to be caught off guard by an unexpected downpour. In an instant, I was soaked through from head to toe.

Frantically rummaging through my bag, I realised my oversight. "Damn it, I forgot my umbrella," I muttered, feeling water seep into every crevice. Drenched from head to toe, I cursed my forgetfulness as the heavy rain continued to pour down. I sprinted towards my apartment, each step weighed down by the rain-soaked clothes clinging from my hair to my body. Finally reaching my doorstep, I encountered another setback. Attempting to use my keycard, the electronic lock flashed an ominous "System error. System error." 

Recalling the maintenance warning, I hadn't anticipated it causing such immediate inconvenience. Frustration bubbled up within me as I futilely tried my security passcode, only to be met with the same error message. Feeling the urgency, I contacted the security of the building regarding the issue. They reassured that the issue would be resolved with a reboot in approximately 2 hours. 

Two hours. What am I going to do? I can't even go anywhere in this heavy downpour.

Just as despair threatened to overwhelm me, I heard the click of a door unlocking behind me. Turning, I saw Xavier, my neighbor and hunting partner, emerging from his apartment. He was clad in a cozy knit sweater, exuding warmth and an irresistible charm. "Ehem. Oh hi, Xavier," I greeted him, attempting to conceal my discomfort, yet pleasantly surprised and blushing at his appearance.

Xavier's expression shifted from surprise to concern as he observed my sodden appearance. Attempting to discreetly cover myself, the sheer fabric of my wet clothes left little to the imagination. "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, moving closer and sensing my distress. With a sheepish smile, I explained the situation, gesturing helplessly at the malfunctioning lock and the relentless rain outside. Xavier's tense expression softened, replaced by empathy. "Ohh… hmm, would you like to come inside first?," Xavier offered, his voice warm with concern. "You need to dry off and warm up. I'll make us some tea."

Gratefully accepting his offer, I stepped into his cozy apartment with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. 

The warmth of the place enveloped me, dispelling the coldness of the rain-soaked evening. Xavier's gaze lingered on me, a mixture of concern and something more primal flickering in his eyes as he took in my drenched attire. His breath deepened, and he swallowed nervously. Quickly averting his eyes, his cheeks flushed slightly. I couldn't help but notice his expression. Was it because of that night? The memory of our encounter hung between us, adding an awkward tension to the air.

Sorry about the inconvenience," I mumbled, attempting to hide my soaked top with my hands, growing increasingly self-conscious. Xavier shook his head, offering a reassuring smile while guiding me further inside. "No need to apologise. I wouldn't want you catching a cold. Let me grab you a towel and some dry clothes," he said as his hand brushed mine for a split second before disappearing into another room.

His touch, feather-light against mine, sent a sudden chill coursing through me in response to this familiar connection. As I waited, I couldn't help but replay the memory of my (not so) drunken encounter with Xavier that night. The thought sent a shiver racing down my spine, kindling a slow, simmering heat within. When Xavier returned with a towel and a set of dry clothes, I accepted them gratefully, retreating to the bathroom to change. As I entered, I carefully place the dry clothes on the countertop.

Glancing into the mirror, I was startled to find myself drenched by the rain, the droplets clinging to my skin like shimmering diamonds. As I reached up to adjust my hair, I noticed the transparency of my top, revealing more than I intended. My heart raced as I realised the shape of my breasts was clearly outlined, a blush creeping up my cheeks at the thought that Xavier might have noticed it. A rush of embarrassment and arousal collided within me. Unable to resist the pull of memory, I tentatively traced the curve of my lips to my body, the touch reminiscent of Xavier's from that unforgettable night. His hands had possessed a magnetic power, leaving an indelible mark on my senses. ☄. *. ⋆ ﹌﹌﹌ Flashback

It was 1 am, and Xavier and I were still in the club. I remember vividly slow dancing to "Alone With You" by Alina Baraz. Xavier stood protectively in front of me, alert to any wandering eyes. "Something 'bout the look on your face, as you feelin’ a way, baby, I feel it too," I mouthed the lyrics to Xavier, my hands roaming over him, on his chest, on his neck—lost in the moment, and I noticed Xavier was smirking, looking at me, seeming to enjoy it. After spending countless hours partnering with Xavier in battle against the Wanderers, it became inevitable that I would begin to harbour feelings for him—admiring his sweetness, his mannerisms, his unwavering protectiveness, and God, that voice of his.

For months, I had been secretly listening to his voice notes, touching myself, feeling aroused by the softness of his tone. It's almost as if I am protected and safe just by listening to him.

I'm convinced that Xavier feels the same way because of all the signals he's been giving me, indicating his affection. However, despite this certainty, a hint of doubt lingers. It felt as if there was an undeniable distance—a boundary he was setting between us.

That night in the club, emboldened by alcohol’s courage, I found myself drawn closer to Xavier, scrutinising his features under the dim lights. His eyes gleamed like distant stars, captivating me with their allure. He was undeniably beautiful. As our gazes met, a mixture of confusion and intrigue danced in his eyes, shrouding him in an enigmatic aura I couldn't quite unravel.

I just want to kiss him so badly. Drawing tantalisingly close, I draped my arm over Xavier's neck as we swayed to the music, our bodies magnetically drawn together. His scent was nearly angelic, with perfume notes reminiscent of grapefruit and bergamot, further adding to his allure. Xavier's gaze lingered on me, intense and wanting, yet unable to voice his desires. Playfully, I nibbled on my lip, feeling the electric tension between us, sensing his arousal. Slyly, I guided his hands to my waist, silently granting permission as we moved to the slow rhythm.

Locked in a flirtatious exchange, I met his gaze, a silent invitation passing between us. Body to body, eye to eye, the tension was palpable. Positioning myself on my back, I purposefully initiated a sensual grind against him, daringly pushing the boundaries of the game. My fingers lingered close to his neck, and there, he reciprocated. Xavier was feeling me—his hands on my body as my hips ground against his clothed erection, causing it to grow harder.

The pulse of his arousal reverberated through me, igniting a fervent craving deep within my core. Both of us were lost in the moment, slowly moving to the rhythm of the music.

Turning my body back to him, I absorbed the expression etched on Xavier’s face. It was one I wished I could freeze forever. His endearing innocence, accentuated by a rosy blush, amplified the allure that made resisting him a futile endeavour. He exuded a captivating blend of bliss and longing, as if silently begging for more. Yet, despite his evident desire, Xavier exercised restraint. "Y/N, please," he implored softly. "You're drunk.”

With an insatiable longing, I took in every detail of his eyes, tracing the soft contours of his lips before locking eyes with him once more. "I'm not drunk...yet," I murmured softly, a breathless neediness creeping into my voice, as if daring him to push the boundaries further.

Should I take the leap and make the first move? Lost in the moment, I couldn't resist the pull any longer. Just as I was about to lean in closer to him, he beat me to it. “Then, can I kiss you...? You look so pretty, I can't resist anymore,” he asked, his tone filled with neediness and helplessness. I knew it. I knew Xavier was into me, but hearing his verbal confession still caught me off guard, filling me with a heady mix of anticipation and delight. With a seductive curl of my lips into a grin, I wordlessly granted him my consent, sealing our mutual desire with a brief but intense kiss upon his lips. The giddy sensation from the kiss lingered, but Xavier's insistence on escorting me home carried a tender urgency, his need to ensure my safety blending seamlessly with the unspoken longing that hung between us.

Did Xavier really think I was that drunk? That I was unaware of my own actions? My heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty as I unlocked the door with my keycard and gently laid myself down on my bed. Xavier's presence beckoned irresistibly, and I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes flickered with a mixture of desire and restraint, mirroring my own conflicting emotions. Craving his touch, I reached for his hand and pulled him down beside me, my fingers trembling with anticipation. We kissed again, our bodies gravitating closer, and his touch on my chin sent a rush of warmth coursing through me, banishing any doubts or hesitations I may have had.

"You have such soft skin," Xavier murmured, his fingers outlining my shoulders to my body. His words ignited a delicious tingle throughout me as we continued to share kisses. Feeling a surge of desire, I decided to intensify the intimacy. With a bold move, I rose from my seated position and straddled him, feeling the heat of his arousal pressing against me. As our bodies aligned, I began to move with a slow, tantalising rhythm, grinding against his clothed erection with increasing fervour. Each motion sent waves of pleasure coursing through us both, heightening the intensity of our connection. Xavier's hands explored every curve of my body, his touch adding fuel to the fire.

Yet, amidst the intoxicating haze of lust, a lingering question nagged at my mind: What was holding him back? Was it fear, responsibility, or perhaps something else entirely? "You make me feel so safe," I whispered into his ear, my hands roaming over his body, eliciting soft whimpers of pleasure with both our clothes still intact.

But just as the intensity peaked, Xavier abruptly halted our exchange, reminding me of the blurred lines in our current situation. He gently grasped both of my wrists, then cupped my cheek in a tender gesture. “Stop,” he whispered, his voice laced with regret. “We can't do this. You're drunk, Y/N.” His words were both a plea and an apology, his gaze filled with admiration yet tinged with sorrow. “My god, look at you,” he continued, his tone filled with longing. “So... so pretty like this. But no, I can't... we can't—not like this. I'm sorry.”

As Xavier's lips brushed against my forehead, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions surged through me, mingling with the warmth of his affectionate gesture. I felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, the lingering echo of our shared desire, and the ache of unfulfilled longing. With each heartbeat, I struggled to reconcile the tenderness of his kiss with the sudden emptiness left in his wake as he quietly slipped out the door, leaving me to grapple with the unresolved tension between us.

The morning sunlight filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as I found myself lost in a whirlwind of memories from the previous night. Each moment replayed in my mind with vivid clarity, revealing truths I hadn't fully grasped in the haze of last night. Amidst the tumult of my thoughts, a simple text message interrupted my reverie, stirring a mix of relief and anticipation within me. 'Hey, U up? how r u feeling?’ The words, though brief, carried a weight of concern and care that warmed my heart. However, amidst the exhaustion and emotional whirlwind of the night before, I succumbed to sleep before replying to Xavier. Flashback ends

﹌﹌﹌ ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

With a shaky exhale, I snapped back to reality and shifted my focus away from the mirror. Peeling off my damp clothes, I slipped into the garments Xavier had passed to me earlier—a cozy grey jumper, white sweatpants and a pair of fuzzy socks. They carried the fresh scent of recently laundered fabric, infused with the comforting aroma of rosy detergent.

Carefully, I hung my wet clothes on an empty rack and used the towel to pat my hair dry. Exiting the bathroom, I spotted Xavier seated on the couch, his eyes heavy with drowsiness. The sound of the bathroom door closing startled him, jolting him awake from the brink of sleep. Squinting against the room light, he offered a warm smile as I approached. "Hey, you're back," he greeted, stretching his arms out in a lazy stretch. I thanked Xavier for the clothes and socks, feeling a rush of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. In response, he gestured towards a steaming cup of honey milk tea he had prepared, knowing it was my favourite. Next to it were a variety of cupcakes from the bakery shop he had visited earlier. I smiled, touched by his effort to please my palate. 

Sitting beside him on the couch, the television hummed softly in the background — casting a soothing ambiance over the room. However, the silence between us grew palpable, prompting me to break the ice. Despite the flickering images on the television screen, neither of us spoke, lost in our own thoughts. "So, any good shows on TV lately?" I ventured, trying to ease the tension with a casual conversation.

Xavier shook his head, his gaze distant as he stared at the screen. Sensing his unease, I shifted closer, determined to bridge the gap between us. "Did you went out today?" I asked gently, hoping to draw him out of his reverie. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I went for a run, just trying to clear my head," he admitted, his voice tinged with exhaustion. Concerned, I reached out to him, offering my support. "Do you need any help? I'm here for you," I reassured him, squeezing his hand comfortingly, at the same time taking a sip of the tea. As I reached out to comfort him, I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in Xavier’s demeanour. Before I could dwell on the intensity of the moment, Xavier broached a topic that caught me off guard.

"Do you remember anything from last Saturday?" he asked suddenly, his tone hesitant.

Startled, I choked on my tea, the liquid spilling onto my shirt in an embarrassing display of clumsiness. "Shit. Umm. I-I don't remember... anything. At all. Um, what happened?" I stammered, my attempt to hide my discomfort only adding to the awkwardness of the moment.  As I fumbled to clean up the mess, a flurry of apologies spilled from my lips, each one a feeble attempt to distract from the truth lingering beneath the surface. In reality, I remembered everything from that night, every touch and detail etched into my memory with perfect clarity. Yet, despite this knowledge, I found myself unable to speak the truth, to acknowledge the undeniable connection that had formed between us. 

Was I denying my own feelings too, or simply afraid to confront them?

Xavier’s observation of my discomfort only added to my embarrassment, leaving me at a loss for words. 

"Sounds like a lie," he teased, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as his eyes twinkled with amusement. I headed to the kitchen to fetch more napkins. Sensing my unease, he too reached to grab for more and gently dabbed at the spilled tea on my shirt. I felt a sudden chill spread through my body, causing both my nipples to harden in response. A faint blush crept onto my cheeks as Xavier's gaze lingered on my reaction. Despite my attempts to conceal my arousal, the unspoken tension between us hung palpably in the air, underscored by the knowing smile tugged at the corners of Xavier’s lips.

Embarrassed, I deflected his words once more, particularly after he had already noticed my body's response to his touch. I turned back to check for any more spills on the couch, but I was stopped when Xavier enveloped me in a comforting hug from behind. I melted into his embrace, his warmth intoxicating as it seeped into mine. "I can't stop thinking about you ever since that night," Xavier confessed softly, his lips brushing against my ear. My heart raced at his words, a dangerous sweetness enveloping me in his proximity—a rush of desire mingled with uncertainty.

As Xavier opened up further, his words poured out in a rush of honesty. He confessed that he had been unable to sleep after sending me home that night, his thoughts consumed by visions of me. He admitted to finding solace only in fantasies of me, even resorting to pleasuring himself while imagining me in his arms. His confession sent a thrill through me, leaving me flushed and craving his touch even more.

"Every time I'm with you, it's like my heart skips a beat," he confessed, his voice heavy with desire and neediness. "I've wanted nothing more than to protect you, keep you safe, be by your side, and to make you happy. So I buried those feelings deep down because I wasn't sure if you felt the same way. But that night, I couldn't fight it anymore. You were so… irresistible. You’re like an addiction I can't shake off, and I don't want to. You drive me crazy in the best way possible, and I can't get enough of you."

As his embrace deepened, Xavier tenderly nuzzled his nose against my neck before trailing his lips to my collarbone.

“I couldn’t control myself, and resisting you any longer has become increasingly difficult. It's as if you've cast a spell over me. It feels almost criminal—the effect you have on me," he continued, a slight laugh in his voice, his arms wrapping tightly around my body as he whispered into my ear. “I find myself craving your presence, your touch, and those mesmerising eyes of yours... I just can’t get you off my mind. I just wanna know if you feel the same way too.”

Feeling unable to hold back any longer, I bare my feelings for him, summoning the courage to confess how I couldn’t resist touching myself to his voice notes every night. I found myself lost in their soothing cadence, a mixture of comfort and arousal intertwining in my mind. But it's not just his voice that ensnares me; it's the tenderness and kindness he exudes, weaving a tapestry of longing and connection that I find impossible to evade.

I felt the atmosphere shift, the tension palpable between us.

Xavier’s voice caught, his tone laced with surprise. “Every night? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have offered more than just… voice notes,” he said. His smile turned playful, revealing a side of him I hadn’t seen before. I playfully nudged his arm, attempting to escape his embrace, but he only tightened his hold, and I could feel his erection growing bigger.

His refusal to release his embrace made my body quiver in anticipation. His hands explored my curves, silently pleading for more as I pressed closer against him. Pausing before speaking again, he exhaled with longing. “Do you want me to continue? Please, please say yes,' he pleaded, his lips grazing my neck before tenderly moving to my cheeks.

Yes. A million times yes. I’ve been waiting for this moment. Are you kidding me?

With a nod of approval and verbally expressing my consent, I closed my eyes, surrendering to his touch. His hands cupped my breasts, easing away the tension with each caress. I savoured his scent mingling with mine as he moaned softly, his fingers finding their way to tease and tantalise my nipples through the fabric of my shirt. Gradually, his hands ventured beneath my shirt, firmly squeezing and grabbing my bare breasts and skin, eliciting an ecstatic moan from me in response. Moved by the urge to reciprocate and heighten Xavier’s pleasure, my hands reached toward his arousal, gently palming his hardness through the fabric of his pants. I slowly ground my ass against his firm erection, deliberately driving him wild. With slow, deliberate movements, I began to rub and stroke him, intent on bringing him the same pleasure he was offering me. As I explored his size, he felt long and slender beneath my touch—leaving my core suddenly feeling empty and wet.

As Xavier's lips pressed tender kisses onto my shoulder, a gentle sigh escaped my lips as he brushed against the subtle fragrance of my Bare Vanilla perfume, very faint, nestled just below my ear. He paused, inhaling deeply, his expression transforming into one of unmistakable pleasure. "I love this scent on you," he whispered, his voice saturated with desire.

“Can't wait to taste you,” he continued, his tone low and dark, brimming with longing and need. Xavier’s movements became more fervent, accompanied by soft moans escaping his lips. In response, his hands found their way to slip into my pants and gently circle my clothed clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of pleasure coursing through my body. With his other arm, he pulled me closer to him, our bodies pressed tightly together. I melted into his touch, arching my back and resting my head on his shoulder, silently conveying my pleasure. His lips continued their exploration, trailing kisses along my neck and intensifying their attention on my shoulders. With a gentle yet decisive movement, Xavier turned me by my waist, now facing him. Our bodies were so close that I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach.

He then showered my neck with more kisses, his hands finding their way to grip my ass and lightly tap it. In response, I teasingly traced my fingers under his shirt, returning his kisses with passion. I love the way Xavier is making me feel. Unable to resist any longer, I halted our playfulness and took his hand, leading him to the living room where we settled onto the couch. With tender care, I nestled onto his lap, sinking into the plush cushions as we enveloped each other in a warm embrace.

As our kisses deepened, Xavier's touch grew insatiable, his fingers eagerly exploring every curve of my body as I straddled him. Each caress heightened my awareness of his growing arousal, fuelling my desire for him to be even more aroused. Yielding to my playful instincts, I decided to tease him further by rising from his lap and treating him to a seductive strip tease. With deliberate grace, I peeled away my shirt and pants, revealing myself in nothing but socks and a pastel blue lace thong, the anticipation hanging thick in the air between us.

"My favourite panties. Mmm," he murmured, his breath deepening as he swallowed, his fingers grazing the thin fabric of the thong, causing the elastic band to snap against my skin. Recollections of our initial meetings flooded my mind, vividly reminding me of the moments when his gaze lingered upon me, captivated by the sight of those particular panties. It was during one such encounter, as I leaned down to retrieve a plushie that had slipped from my grasp, that his eyes seemed unable to stray from the enticing sight. "Thank the lucky stars I have a sixth sense," I replied with a playful twinkle in my eye, savouring the anticipation building between us. He persisted in teasing and pleasuring me, eliciting gasps of desire from my lips as I yearned for more. 

I caught Xavier’s lips curling slightly at my words, a sight that filled with delight at his unbridled desire. The way he looked at me, all heated and giddy, added fuel to the fire of my own arousal. As I stood there, basking in his gaze, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through me, heightened by the contrast of the cool air against my exposed skin, mingling with the warmth radiating from our entwined bodies.

Xavier pulled me back onto his lap, his hands enveloping mine as he peppered soft kisses upon my palm. Moving with a tender yet urgent desire, his lips trailed from my hand to my nipples, where he sucked gently. Meanwhile, his hands eagerly gripped my ass, pulling me closer to him, eliciting a soft moan from me as I watched his lewd act unfold before me. He gasped for air after his arousing exploration of my nipples, feeling his breath hot against my skin. Cupping his face in my hands, I showered him with soft, lingering kisses, starting from his rosy cheeks, then trailing a path to his inviting lips, his cute nose, and finally, his smooth forehead. In response, he reciprocated within seconds, returning my kisses with equal passion which made me giggle due to the ticklish sensation.

My fingers then glide through his beautiful hair, allowing myself to revel in the moment. The warmth of Xavier's embrace enveloping me in a sense of security and passion. As my hands trailed down to his chest, I felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my touch. With a playful glint in my eyes, I deliberately circled my hips, relishing in the pleasure as I teased his arousal through the fabric of his pants with each subtle movement.

Xavier’s hungry eyes devoured my naked body, each glance feeling like a caress. Suddenly, his hand came down on my ass with a sharp spank, a playful punishment for my naughtiness. I gasped in surprise, but the thrill of his touch only made my core throb with anticipation.

There’s something so sexy in being the one who’s stripped down to just panties and socks, while being locked in a heated embrace with a fully clothed man.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he moaned, his eyes growing darker, indicating his eagerness to do more than just kiss and spank me tonight. “You don’t have to listen to my voice notes anymore,” he continued, murmuring huskily with his hands gripping my ass as he held me close. “I can talk you through it anytime you want…from now onwards, every night.” Xavier’s gaze locked with mine.

His words made me blush even more, the heat rising in my cheeks, intensifying my need for him. Xavier offering to talk me through my orgasms? Like? Holy fuck. The mere thought made my mind dance with tantalizing fantasies and wander to all sorts of delicious scenarios, stirring a wild craving that pulsed through every inch of my being, leaving me squirming with anticipation.

“Oh really? You sure you won’t be tired?” I teased, leaning in closer and playfully biting his lower lip, a flirty glint in my eyes as I recalled his tendency to doze off during the day. “For you, I’ll stay awake all night,” he replied, his tone brimming with determination and desire. His hands reached for mine, kissing it tenderly, his expression filled with an ardent longing. I never imagined Xavier could be so utterly infatuated with me. His shy demeanour was nowhere to be found. It's surprising how unabashedly sexy he sounds. Yearning to taste him, my heart raced with anticipation as I gracefully rose from his lap, positioning myself on the ground before him —in a low kneel position. 

Looking into Xavier’s eyes, I began to explore his thighs, running my hands over the fabric of his pants until I reached his undeniable arousal. Slowly, I pulled down his pants slightly, revealing his full glory beneath. His erection stood proudly, a glistening bead of precum at its tip. 

I moaned at the sight of his long and slender erection in my hands, wondering if I could take it all inside me.

As I leaned in closer, I moistened my lips, preparing to take him into my mouth. With a gentle touch, I traced circles along his shaft, feeling him twitch beneath my touch. A low groan escaped his lips, spurring me on. With a deliberate motion, I applied a slick of saliva, ensuring smooth entry as I enveloped Xavier in warmth. Our eyes locked onto each other, maintaining unbroken contact, heightening the intensity between us.

He reached out, his fingers tangling in my hair, holding it in place to make it easier for me to pleasure him with my tongue.

The taste of him was intoxicating, his musky scent filling my senses as I savoured each lick and tease. Despite the difficulty of accommodating his sizeable erection in my mouth because of its length, I persisted. With every moan that escaped his lips, I felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that my efforts were driving him wild. The sound of my gagging only added to the intensity of the moment, sending vibrations of pleasure humming through my throat.

“Yes…just like that. You’re doing so good” Xavier cooed, his moans like music to my ears. He lets me have my way with him, without any resistance or coercion, which only fuels my desire to engage in even more naughty, sinful acts with him.

Deciding to delay climaxing for the moment, Xavier withdraws his erection from my mouth and gently lifts me from my position. With care, he settles me back onto the couch, lying me down on it with tenderness. He shifts my leg, positioning it between his body and mine. As my legs find their place between us, he pauses to admire my beauty, playfully pinching my nipples and tracing kisses along my skin. My body shudders in response to his touch, aching for more with each caress. Xavier then firmly grasps my thighs and gently pushes them down, exposing me completely to his gaze. With my legs draped over my stomach, he continues to explore my body with his hands, his fingers eventually finding their way to my clit, concealed just enough beneath my pastel blue thong.

His voice carries a smooth sweetness, almost velvety—wrapping around me with a seductive undertone as he posed his question. “How long have you been fantasising about me?” his words hung between us, punctuated by soft kisses planted on my thighs before he continued. His relentless teasing drove me to the brink of madness. My throbbing clit yearned for the exquisite touch of his tongue, yet he tantalisingly denied me, his lips lingering maddeningly close but only grazing my trembling thighs, making my clit throb more.

"Ever since I first saw you!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with a hint of moan. Xavier's grin widened, his pride evident as he heard my response. "That night in the club, you were teasing me so hard and grinding on me," he continued, his tone playful yet curious. "Were you intentionally trying to arouse me, or was it simply the influence of alcohol?" Xavier asked again, his gaze searching for the truth as he peppered kisses near my core, teasingly close, tempting me with his seductive proximity.

"I only had two shots of tequila. I just couldn’t resist teasing you," I confessed, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. "You looked so good in that lighting, and I couldn’t help it. I got so horny just thinking about how it would feel to have that dick inside me," I added, feeling a rush of excitement at his attention, my tone teasing and flirtatious.

Xavier moaned in response to my confession, visibly pleased, his hand stroking his erection as he became aroused. He gave a sudden, firm lick against the fabric of my thong, where my clit was hidden, drawing a whimper from me in anticipation. In one swift motion, he grabs the waistband of my panties and pulls them away from me, leaving me exposed to his eager gaze. With unwavering focus, he directed all of his attention to my clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from me. He lavished it with his tongue as though it were his favourite dessert. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, far more intense than anything I could achieve alone, and I couldn't help but moan with pleasure at every lick. 

His hands gripped firmly on both my thighs, pushing them down to spread my folds even more, exposing my bare clit to his eager mouth. Xavier's expert attention had me writhing with desire, every touch sending waves of pleasure through me. I was soaked to the core, and Xavier showed no signs of stopping. His tongue danced over my folds at a rapid pace, driving me wild with each flick. The sensation was so intense that my hands instinctively ran through his hair.

When he fucked my clit repeatedly with his tongue, it sent me over the edge, and I couldn’t help but cum hard, my body shaking with pleasure as my pussy clenched in response. As I trembled from the intense climax, Xavier lifted his head, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "I wanna feel you," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust, each word sending a jolt of excitement through me.

Xavier's demeanour caught me off guard. Despite his angelic appearance, it was clear that he possessed a dark side, prompting me to reassess just how innocent he really was. While I adored both aspects of him, his freaky side held a particularly irresistible allure that turned me on. I push Xavier's face away from my clit, commanding him to get back to his seated position on the couch. The act of asserting control over him seems to intensify his arousal.

With an intense hunger in my core reserved solely for his manhood, I rise to straddle him once more—my favourite position. Perched on his lap, I ensure his throbbing erection aligns perfectly with my clit. With a teasing bounce, I let my breasts jiggle, tempting him further. "Your wish is my command, sir," I whisper, biting my lip, relishing the anticipation of being in control. I coat his shaft with my saliva several times, ensuring it's slick and ready for our pleasure. Each application of saliva is deliberate, my movements slow and teasing as I take my time to ensure he's adequately lubricated for what I have planned next.

His hands and fingers delicately traced the bottom of my feet, moving up to my legs, ensuring I felt stabilised and secure. His protective touch made my head swim with giddiness and my body ache with desire once again.

Deliberately, I glide Xavier's erection against my clit, relishing the pleasure that courses through both of us, evident in his uncontrollable moans. "You feel so good, yeah just like that… don't stop," Xavier gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. It was as if every nerve in his body had been set alight, flooding him with an intense wave of pleasure that left him breathless. The lewdness of my actions only serves to heighten my arousal, matching his fervour. As if guiding him into my pussy, I instead tease his erection with just the outer folds of my clit, luxuriating in the sensation. Xavier responds with lust-filled moans, his hands exploring my body with eager anticipation.I particularly enjoy the sensation of his thumb and index finger pinching my nipples, and I can't resist sucking on his fingers for added pleasure.

Continuing to tease him, I grind on his erection until I'm dripping wet and unable to hold back any longer. The desperate need to feel him inside me consumes me. Finally, I coat my hands with saliva once more before slowly guiding his dick inside me. The initial stretch is overwhelming, his lengthy and slender shaft momentarily causing concern, but soon I find myself accommodating him comfortably. As he fills me, a moan of relief and pleasure escapes my lips, echoing Xavier's own moans of satisfaction.

He praises me for taking all of him, his words stirring a sense of pride and determination within me, fuelling my desire to please him even more. Starting with a slow grind, I gradually increase the pace, bouncing fervently on his cock. The sensation of him filling me up completely ignites a primal need within me, urging me to move faster. With each thrust, I clench my pussy around him, feeling it throb with anticipation, aching for more of him. Xavier takes notice of my escalating desire and grips my ass firmly, his touch sending shivers down my spine. The sharp spanks he delivers heighten my neediness, each one adding a delicious sting to the pleasure coursing through me.

Feeling my fatigue from the vigorous motion, Xavier takes initiative and shifts our rhythm, thrusting into me instead. Xavier's eyes burn with desire as he pins my arms behind my back, his strength and dominance amplifying the intensity of our encounter. With each forceful thrust, he plunges deep into my throbbing pussy, driving me relentlessly towards the brink of ecstasy.

As his pace quickens, tears of pleasure well up in my eyes. 'You're doing so good, taking it in like that." I wriggled free from his grasp and instead placed my hands on his chest, using them to stabilise myself as I adjusted my position. With a subtle shift, I angled myself better, allowing me to bounce on him even more. "I can't hold back anymore, I’m going to cum,' Xavier exclaims. Just before he reaches climax, I release myself from his grip, dropping to my knees, eager for him to cover my mouth and face with his release. He then releases onto my face and tongue, his cum pouring over me in abundance.

I let him cover my face and tongue until there's no more left. With a hint of lingering desire, I decide to prolong his orgasm, swallowing his cum while gently licking his tip. It seems Xavier is overwhelmed by the sensation, almost on the verge of passing out.

"Fuck," he moans explicitly. Despite his satisfaction, he expresses a hint of apology, explaining that he didn’t want to soil my face. I offer a reassuring smile, assuring him that it's alright and that I love it. His eyes soften with gratitude, and a warm sigh escapes him, relieved by my understanding. Gently, I savour some of his warmth from my skin, the sensation still intense and lingering. Rushing to fetch a towel, Xavier wipes my face clean, his touch tender and apologetic, yet filled with care and affection. He quickly moves to support me, wrapping his arms around my waist tenderly. Pressing gentle kisses to my shoulder, he murmurs soothing words of reassurance as he catches his breath. Laying me back onto the couch, he ensures that I’m comfortable and relaxed, his concern for my well-being evident in every gesture. I invite him to join me, and as he settles beside me, I gently stroke his hair and offer him a warm embrace.

Xavier momentarily detaches, his footsteps echoing lightly against the hardwood floor as he made his way to the kitchen, a subtle spring in his step betraying the renewed energy coursing through him. As he returned with a tray of refreshments, a playful glint danced in his eyes, his grin infectious.

"You seem like you've been fully recharged," I remarked, a teasing lilt to my voice as I admired his refreshed appearance. "Did I unknowingly stumble upon the secret to your energy?" Xavier chuckled, setting the tray down with a gentle clink of glasses. "Perhaps you have," he teased in return, his tone tinged with flirtatiousness. "Your place next?" The playful banter between us filled the room, infusing our embrace with an even deeper sense of closeness and intimacy as we basked in the afterglow of our shared passion. As we snuggle once again, this time much closer, Xavier reminds me of how cherished and loved I am, reaffirming our deep connection and the intimacy we share. Throughout the aftercare, his focus remains entirely on me, ensuring my well-being and emotional comfort are prioritised above all else.

—By prettyobsessed. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🧸🐇୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀🧷 P.S: It’s my very first time writing smut! What do you think? xx

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭

—

this content is copyrighted by @prettyobsessed. all rights are reserved. it is prohibited to replicate, imitate, plagiarise, or repost my content on any other platform without authorisation. translations are also not permitted unless proper credit is given🌷

[princessjojo-x]

8th House Mars Synastry

💝 the connection triggers an urgent & primal drive within mars to unveil & conquer house immediately. they become almost supercharged around house, as if they’re pressing bare skin to a live wire, with electrified adrenaline shooting through their body. they have a scorpion-like fixation on house & express random bursts of needing house. they’re consumed by intense infatuation & magnetic attraction, compelled by a desperate urge to capture houses interest, often resorting to impulsive gestures to earn attention - grand surprises, extravagant gifts, dramatic actions, etc. this instant & consuming attraction causes mars to relentlessly pursue house. they push boundaries & rush intimacy without considering consequences. it’s like they’re racing against time, terrified the opportunity will slip away. this sense of urgency pushes mars past their own comfort zones, making them noticeably more assertive & aggressive, even if they’re usually passive & feminine in other rxships. consequently, the connection may be difficult to end bc mars remains persistent in continuing contact.

💝 the weight of mars’ gaze is too much to handle yet impossible to resist. house feels special & chosen in a way they’re never experienced before. they’re both flattered & mesmerised by mars’ raw desire. but mars’ boldness can make house feel scared & hesitant too, leaving house torn between attraction & caution.

💝 there’s confusion & curiosity to why the connection feels inevitable. partners are drawn together for reasons beyond logic or explanation, as if their meeting was preordained by a force greater than themselves. this causes partners to surrender to the connection, even when it defies reason or practicality. the rxship becomes exhausting & turbulent, yet partners refuse to fully cut ties. this aspect generates an undeniable charge & immediate chemistry between partners. this magnetic pull causes them to operate on primal instinct, lacking awareness of basic emotions in the process. theres a strong need for physical closeness, whether it’s gentle touching or outright fighting. their focus on each other is tunnel visioned, even when they’re in a group setting. outsiders are bound to notice their intense chemistry, but the sheer depth will always only exists between the two.

💝 partners can be stimulated or triggered just from hearing & saying each other’s names. their names become charged & symbolic bc there tied to emotional highs & lows.

💝 partners have sex like the world is going to end, possibly in forbidden places or secret spots. sexual intimacy (if ever allowed) becomes a form of escapism bc it feels like a drug. uncomfortable tension builds to unbearable heights & sexual contact is the only way to release it. sex provides a temporary relief, which feels like a fleeting high. but pent up feelings keep rebuilding so sex becomes an addictive cycle.

💝 unspoken wounds & buried traumas are unconsciously reopened during deep conversations & emotional flair ups. sexual intimacy becomes a tool to heal or hurt each other, with encounter carrying the power to either mend or break them further.

💝 they may have heavy & negative feelings for one another, despite being intrigued & excited for each other - one day they’re inseparable, the next day they’re avoidant. quiet resentment builds for reasons neither wants to admit. partners torment each other, but neither take the bait. they don’t want to risk disrupting the fragile bond they’ve developed.

💝 whether this rxship ends beautifully or tragically, it leaves a permanent mark on their psyches. it may feel like a death-&-rebirth cycle that transforms their lives in ways they never anticipated.

have you experienced this aspect? how did it play out for you?

[crowborn666-writes]

malleus/leona/azul with a fem student who has adhd and autism. yet crowley does nothing about it despite being explained over again saying 'you're just not trying hard enough, etc"

(Oh hey, it’s my two biggest brain problems lmao. As hot as I find Crowley (yes he’s a hear me out), just once, I would love to hit him over the head with every broken object in Ramshackle. Just whack him WWE style. I’d probably convince Grim, Ace and Deuce to join in. ANYWAYS—)

(this was actually a bit hard for my AuADHD, explaining ADHD and Autism itself is quite difficult for me without references lol that and I'm horrible with finding the right words)

That’s Not How That Works

Characters: Malleus, Leona, and Azul

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Platonic/Romantic

Summary: No, Crowley, you cannot “just get over it”. Yes, you are trying your hardest. Oh, and your friend wants to “have a word” with you in your office.

(Malleus covers both p equally, while Leona leans more to ADHD, and Azul more to Autism!)

~~~~~~

Malleus

He didn’t get it at first. I doubt ANY of the cast would know what the proper terms for your mental conditions meant. But once you sit down with him, trying to find the right words to explain in a way he would understand, he catches on quickly.

For the ADHD side, once you explain what dopamine is, and how your brain doesn't register or create enough of it, he understands why you find difficulty in completing long term tasks, and why you wait until the last minute.

He catches on quite quicker when you explain Autism. While obviously its more than just a hyperfixation, but all you really have to start with is "kinda like how you obsess over gargoyles" for his eyes to widen in mutual understanding.

You hear a storm rolling in the distance when you go on to explain how Crowley wouldn't listen, and kept pushing you to do things that would surely lead to a massive burnout.

"I'll take care of it." He speaks those words so calmly, you almost fear for Crowley's life. But when Malleus speaks again, his tone now matches the bright smile on his face. "You said autistic people bond through... what was that term again? Infodumping??? Right, why don't you share your most recent interests with me, I can carve a new gargoyle in the while I listen."

Leona

Was already pissed off with Crowley's general treatment towards you. Suddenly has the urge to de-feather a bird when you get into the topic.

It comes up when he stops by to visit, watching you try to clean up around your dusty dorm. You had suddenly stopped in the middle of what you were doing, looking between the cups on the table, to the dishes in the sink, and then the mess on the counters and-

He asks you what was up, and without thinking you explain.

"Well, I want to clean the cups off the table, but the sink is full. I can't clean the sink out because the counter's messy and the dishwasher doesn't work, but I can't clean the counter cause the trash needs taken out and we're low on trash bags and-"

He stops you before your tongue flies out of you mouth, gently soothing you before you could work yourself frantic.

So, while he's helping find a solution to the seemingly endless cycle of tasks, you explain the difficulties you have with your ADHD and Autism in this world. You explain all the little tricks you had set up at home, how each one helped a task become more manageable, and how hard it was to get them set up and built into your routine.

While he doesn't personally experience your struggle, he can only imagine how hard you're having it. He looks out for your signs of stress now, stepping in to help fix or assist with things, maybe even wordlessly pass you a bracelet of his to fidget with.

Azul

Honestly, I would NOT be surprised if he has had his fair share of experience with ADHD and Autism. Not personally, but through the twins.

Floyd is, well, a walking bomb ready to explode. That eel can almost never sit still, seemingly unaware of personal boundaries and able to switch moods at the drop of a hat.

Jade is more subtle, oftentimes so quiet most don't realize he's there until he speaks. But if he's in a mood or someone asks about mushrooms, it's nearly impossible getting him to shut up.

So, it's safe to say Azul recognized those things when getting to know you. What he wasn't expecting, was the way you seemingly recoil in pain when you encounter an odd texture.

That wasn't the only thing either. You struggled with discerning lefts from rights, which made for some funny interactions between the twins. You struggled with remember to care for yourself when you fell too deep into a hobby or task, seemingly not feeling the signals for, say hunger, until someone else brings it up.

Finally, he had to ask you about it.

You do your best to explain it to him, but once you do, he lets out a soft, understanding "Ohhh..."

You run off on a tangent then, frowning as you start to talk about Crowley and the fact he refused to even try to understand. It was nice having a routine to follow, sure, but not when there's so much being thrown at you on top of the lack of support.

Azul's blood boils, and he almost whips out his phone to contact the twins for... information.

He offers to write up a contract for you then and there, detailing you receive better treatment from Crowley, giving you some ease of mind and body against all the overwhelming sensations you deal with on the daily.

He'll even let you admire his coin collection while he writes it.

[theambitiouswoman]

Your standards reflect your self esteem

Sometimes the moment you raise your standards, you realize you’ve been asking for the bare minimum. You start to see how much you’ve tolerated, excused, accepted out of fear—fear of being alone, fear of being too much, fear of seeming unreasonable. Your standards are not a punishment. They will only be presented that way by people who see being with themselves as a punitive experience

When you start moving differently, setting boundaries, & requiring more, the pushback is inevitable. People who benefited from your silence will label you difficult. Those who relied on your lack of discernment will suddenly demand “empathy.” But aggressive verbiage is never an indicator of applied knowledge. Most people who throw empathy around only do so when someone stops enabling the very behaviors that show they lack it

This is why you have to know the history of how you move before you allow someone to convince you otherwise. If you’ve been the one who always gives, always forgives & always bends, then understand that the discomfort you feel when you stop is not a sign that you’re being unreasonable but a sign that you’re finally choosing yourself

Standards require discipline, discernment and dependability. Discipline to uphold them when it’s inconvenient. Discernment to recognize when someone is testing them. Dependability to ensure that you don’t just set them for others but that you embody them yourself

Your standards are not an act of selfishness. They are an act of self respect. And when you honor them, the right people—those who value what you value—will honor them too

[onekeii]

Would I ever hurt you?

Day 12: Feast Baldur's Gate 3: Astarion x Fem Virgin Reader Warnings/Genre: smut, pet names, blood sucking, oral (f receiving), piv sex, not proof read Word count: 1.6k Summary: You let Astarion drink your blood, but his feast quickly turns into something else. AN: first time posting a full on smut please be gentle ALSO happy new year!

Read on AO3

Letting Astarion drink your blood had become a regular occurrence, one that developed its own routine. He’d let you get comfortable on your bedroll, crawling over your tense body with his sweet touch and even sweeter words encouraging you to relax. Then his fangs puncture the sensitive skin on your neck, pain coursing through your veins as your blood leaves your body. Astarion strokes your hair, runs his hands gently through it, bringing you back to the mortal fold. But you want more.

You want to feel his arms graze your bare skin. You want to feel his fangs on other parts of your body, his tongue lapping at more tender areas… You blink fast as if that would banish such thoughts. It’s scarier, somehow scarier than trusting a vampire to not drink you dry, so you leave it.

Yet Astarion seems to be able to read your mind, for his hands move from your hair to your waist, tracing the outline of your body, they travel first down to your hips and back up to the sides of your breasts. Something ignites within you and you lean into his touch, satiating that yearning in your belly. Then you place a hand on his chest and gently push him away, careful not to use so much force that he might rip your throat out. 

Astarion releases you and pushes himself back onto his knees. He’s towering over you, kneeling between your legs, but his eyes are soft, free from their usual malice or glint of mischief. He sucks in a breath before he speaks, “It seems I’ve crossed a boundary…” he sighs, “I apologise.”

He shifts his weight, moves to stand up, but you sit up with such speed that you nearly knock your forehead against his. Your vision splinters, scattered with sparks and stars as your heart works to pump more blood around your body. Astarion holds you up by the shoulders, taken aback by your foolish and sudden movement, “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t- I, uh, I-” pausing at the mess of words streaming from your mouth, you look down and frown. Why was this so difficult? You bite your tongue, think it through, and look at him again with determination. His eyes, blood red, flicker in the nearby firelight. They’re searching your face for an answer, and you nearly choke on your words again at their beauty, but you push through, “I-I want to, but, you know,” your cheeks were uncomfortably hot now but you refuse to let your eyes wander, “I’ve never done it before.”

Astarion’s eyebrows jump, his eyes blown wide and reflecting your face clearly back at you, “You haven’t?!”

“Um…” This was definitely not the reaction you were expecting, “...No?”

He smiles. A genuine smile; it’s faint and small and disappears in an instant, but it was there. “My darling, you are so beautiful, I thought you would have used it much to your advantage, but…” Astarion leans forward, threatening to push you back into the bedroll if it weren’t for one strong arm wrapped around your back and holding you in place. Your heart stutters at how close his face is to yours now. He continues, “I don’t think I deserve it, but the thought of being your first is exciting. To hear what vulgar sounds might come from your mouth, or how you might react if I touched you elsewhere.”

They were only words, but you could feel his touch already, his cold hands setting your body on fire. You needed him tonight, you were ready, “You do deserve it, but…” there was one small problem, “I’m just, I don’t know, scared?”

“You? Of pain?” he chuckles, his free hand brushing against the fresh wound on your neck still dribbling blood. Astarion brings his now bloodied fingers to his mouth, sucking up the remainders of his feast without breaking eye contact. Then he pulls his fingers away with a pop and says, “Would I ever hurt you, dear?”

When you shake your head - no, you could never hurt me, truly - he pushes you the rest of the way into the bedroll and adjusts the flat pillow behind you, making sure you’re comfortable.

And then his hands slip under your shirt, his ice cold touch sending shivers through your body as he travels further up. One finger traces a circle around your nipple, the other hand cups your breast and plays with it gently. You’re unsure what to do with your hands at first, so you place one at the back of Astarion’s neck and pull him close, kissing him gently.

His hands travel even further up, wrapping around your back and lifting you off the ground for a moment, breaking your kiss to pull your shirt over your head. Before the fabric is even on the ground, your lips are crashing against his again and your tongue is begging to go deeper. Astarion lets you in, and you’re so lost in your kiss that you don’t have time to shy your now bare torso from him. 

When Astarion breaks away again, he makes up for it by leaving a scattered trail of kisses, bruises, and shallow bites down your neck and then your chest. He’s planted his knees either side of one of your legs now, and when he latches onto your nipple with his mouth, he pushes his thigh into you at the same time. You let out a weak groan, but with each swish of his tongue against your tit, Astarion has you whimpering. 

He wants to hear you more, so he drags his tongue further down, his lips meeting the band of your trousers. When he looks up at you through dishevelled white locks, you don’t hesitate to nod your approval. He’s pulling your pants and underwear off in an instant, peeling them from your legs and letting you kick them off your ankles. You freeze up for a moment when you realise that you’re now fully naked and powerless before him, while he remains fully clothed. But there’s nothing you can do or say before he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing the other to the side as he descends upon your needy clit.

You immediately feel a pressure building in your core, only much more intense than anything you’ve experienced before. You decide you want more and roll your hips forward in an attempt to feel more of him on you. Astarion obliges, parting your already sick folds as he pushes his tongue into you. The feeling is budding, it threatens to spill, wash over you and drown you. Astarion pulls away.

Cool air taunts your aching core, the pleasure you were chasing now regrettably subsiding. You grab at the fabric of Astarion’s shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer, and whine “Please…”. But he just smirks at you.

“You were so nervous just moments ago,” he teases, “but you’ve forgotten it all from just a few flicks of my tongue,” he’s toying with you, but he still pulls his shirt over his head and finally reveals himself to you. You get busy roaming his skin with your hands, exploring as much as possible, while he continues to taunt you, “You’re so beautiful when you writhe around underneath me like that.”

His lips are on yours again, his tongue fighting and beating yours in a futile game of dominance. Your face burns even hotter when you realise you can taste yourself on him, but you’re distracted again when you feel Astarion tugging at the drawstrings of his pants and pulling them down just enough that his already hard member springs free. He bites your lower lip playfully and drags it out as he breaks the kiss, shifting his weight to line up his dick with your entrance. It takes all your self-control not to push yourself onto him. 

“Are you ready, my love?” he asks. 

You nod. Astarion holds himself up with his arms either side of your face, eyes trained only on you as he pushes himself into you. You wrap your arms around his neck for support while he watches in admiration as your face twists in pain and pleasure. He stops when you let out a sharp gasp, watching you bite at your lip so hard you taste blood. Astarion stays completely still inside you, giving you time to adjust as he leans down and laps at the traces of blood pooling in your lower lip.

When you finally relax a little - welcoming him - he slips in further, groaning into your ear as he bottoms out in you. And when he begins to move, the feeling is strange at first: the pain of his cock stretching you open sets you on fire and leaves you wanting more, melting into tasteful pleasure. Everytime he pulls out, you moan into his lips, not wanting to lose him from you. 

Sounds tumble from your mouth, spurring Astarion to move faster and harder with each whisper of his name. You feel that tight pressure returning to your stomach, your walls clenching around him and drawing a grunt from him as he continues to thrust into you. He’s chasing his own high still as every part of you crescendos, pleasure crashing through your body in waves. Your body falls limp as you feel Astarion finish, too, inside of you, his cock twitching once, twice, three times in your cunt.

Astarion makes no effort to move, collapsing on top of you and burying his face in your shoulder. After a few moments of silence, punctured only by the dying fireplace and your harmonising and desperate pants, he mumbles into your ear, “You feel amazing.”

@12daysofchristmas

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[lazycats-stuff]

Could you do batfam x baby bat reader? Where reader is a tiny force of chaos who likes to run around and cause mischief, and the only person he’s perfectly behaved with (aside from Alfred) is Damian, and while the rest of the family is trying to figure out why, Damian is just being smug cause even as an infant his little brother obviously knows who his superior brother is

Oh that would totally happen. I mean, Alfred already has authority, but Damian? Bruce would definitely be confused.

Summary: (Y/N) knows that Damian is not to be messed with. Bruce is about to give up parenting.

Warnings: family fluff, Damian is a cocky one, but in a good way.

Amongst Bruce's children, Damian was the only one who was biological. Was is the most important part. Bruce was notified one night that he had a son and that the mom passed away during childbirth. Bruce was shocked to hear it, but made a paternity test to make sure that (Y/N) is his.

After a few minutes over the Batcomputer, Bruce confirmed it and quickly took his son back to the manor. (Y/N) was a small bundle, born as a premature baby, but he wasn't in a danger zone. Thankfully. However, he had to eat every few hours and both Alfred and Bruce made sure he ate to grow.

Of course, there was no abundance of shock and overall jealousy. A baby takes up a lot of time away from the other kids and it was just a complete mess for a few months. But all of them grew to like the little boy, but Damian was the one who had the hardest time doing it.

Damian enjoyed being the only biological son and more importantly, he loved throwing it in his brother's faces that he is superior to all of them. Of course, with another biological son, that went south and he was mad. He didn't want anything to do with the little boy, but (Y/N) grew on him.

Damian became especially protective of his little baby brother and he has swore to himself that he would kill again if necessary. Just for his brother. Damian was sure that Jason has swore the same thing too, especially since the incident at the gala when he was taken for ransom.

It was painful to see (Y/N) in the kidnapper's arms, crying out to his family to save him. Damian got a few hits when (Y/N) was secured and it took his brothers and about 3 more GCPD officers to contain him. Of course, the officers allowed him to get a few hits. If there is one thing you don't do in the justice system, more so if you know what happens to people who are in jail for messing with children and that one thing would be messing with children.

Especially with babies and slightly older children. They are the most defenseless ones out there and if you hurt them, well, you are in a world of hurt and pain.

Without a doubt.

Damian is the first one to act on it, right after inmates. Inmates were making sure that the bastards got what they deserved. After that evening, Damian held (Y/N) the entire night, just being there, making sure that his brother is safe.

He woke up at the slightest suspicious sound from (Y/N), observing and listening to the sounds.

As years have passed, (Y/N) has become chaotic and overall just mischievous child. There was never a dull moment with (Y/N) and Damian smiled every time that (Y/N) did something,

Bruce and the rest didn't want to stop (Y/N) and punish him for it, but they had to set firm boundaries, otherwise there would be a problem in the future and taming that problem would be difficult beyond belief.

(Y/N)'s mischievous side was first discovered when he was in kindergartens. It has started innocently and then it turned into watch out type of situation.

It was more than harmless, but still enough to scold the little boy. Scold may be too harsh, but they they had to put up firm boundaries. But (Y/N) still did it and it was something nice to see. Children should be children and Bruce wanted (Y/N) to be a child.

But still, boundaries had to be made.

But there was something about it all that made (Y/N) not want really behave. Bruce had no authority, Jason had no authority, Dick had no authority and Tim had no authority. None of it. (Y/N) often laughed at whatever they had to say.

Alfred had authority, but lets be honest, Alfred has all of the authority in the household and over the people living in it. That is an unspoken rule and Alfred could make (Y/N) behave quickly and efficiently. It made everyone feel like they were the ones being scolded.

And besides, without Alfred this house would crumble. Lets be honest, there is no Wayne Manor without Alfred. He just has that silent authority and nobody dared to defy the man.

If Alfred says, you have to go to sleep and eat, you are going to sleep and eat. Of course, (Y/N) felt it and has always behaved for Alfred.

But Damian was a whole another phenomenon in the house. It was shown when Alfred wasn't home and there was no one with enough authority to keep (Y/N) in line. However, there was Damian and Bruce saw it.

(Y/N) was being mischievous and Bruce has kept his eye on him, but he must have turned around for just a moment and (Y/N) was gone. Bruce freaked out a little bit when he couldn't find his son. He looked around everywhere and felt a little bit scared when he saw that the doors leading to the garden were open.

Bruce quickly ran outside and stopped when he heard Damian scolding (Y/N). Bruce could hear something about trying to climb a tall tree and something about being seriously hurt. Bruce watched from afar and (Y/N) looked genuinely apologetic.

Damian wasn't harsh in his scolding, but (Y/N) looked sad and Damian gave him a hug to comfort him and made him promise that the two would play later today. (Y/N) loved puzzles and Bruce always made sure to buy more puzzles for (Y/N).

His brain is better without all the excessive technology either way.

Bruce asked Damian how he did it, but Damian refused to answer, simply leaving with a smirk. Bruce sighed quietly as he stood in the garden alone, trying to process it all.

That wasn't the only incident that Bruce witnessed and it soon involved his brothers too and Alfred.

Little by little, everyone started seeing that (Y/N) was slowly behaving when Damian simply called his name out. It looked like Damian has developed a great sense for when (Y/N) was going to do something that would either hurt him or just somebody else and (Y/N) listened.

Alfred was thoroughly impressed with how a single word, (Y/N) would calm down. Alfred also had the same thing with (Y/N). A simple call out of his name and the boy would settle, knowing exactly that Alfred is not messing around.

But then again, (Y/N) knows who is the boss.

And Damian had his own theory why (Y/N) listened to him. There is a little thing called a superior brother. And a biological connection too and yes, Bruce has argued that he is the father, but Damian has simply said that he is superior.

Of course, his brothers weren't safe from the superior remarks.

Jason was ready to deck Damian every time he has heard that remark, but still remained curious as to how (Y/N) listens to Damian and not him. He is a better brother.

Tim didn't care, happy that there was someone other than Alfred could keep (Y/N) in line and safe. Even if that someone is Damian with whom he isn't in a great relationship, but he is trying to be civil because of (Y/N). And it was working, sort off at least.

Dick was just jealous that (Y/N) listened to Damian. Don't get him wrong, he loves Damian with all of his heart and is happy that he isn't mad anymore about being the other biological sibling, but it was still painful for his heart.

What did just Damian have that they didn't, excluding Alfred of course.

Well, Damian has an answer for all of them, with his signature smirk inherited from his father, the infamous 'batsmirk.'

" He actually knows who is his superior brother, no? "

Damian said with so much smugness and Jason wanted nothing more than to deck his brother with so much force that would removed Damian's head from his body.

Bruce choose to observe instead and Dick was just plane sad at the mere authority that Damian seemed to exude. Silent authority, just like Alfred.

Tim was curious too and he is just going to wait to see how the situation unfolds in the following years. This is going to make an interesting case and observation of (Y/N)'s growing up.

[springtrappd]

kellen goff (voice of glamrock freddy, the daycare attendant/sun/moon and funtime freddy) has spoken out on twitter re: ai replicas of his voice. if you continue to produce or consume ai reproductions of his work, you are not only explicitly violating his boundaries, but you are contributing to a culture that will make it more difficult for him to continue to gain sustainable work in the future. now that he's made them known, let's please respect his wishes regarding the matter.

full text of thread beneath the cut for brevity:

I do not consent to any AI reproduction of my voice. I respectfully ask any who provide AI TTS services to delete the voices of those who didn't consent. Will that stop anyone? Hell no. Why would it? It's not illegal. It should be, but it's not. Hopefully someday, but not yet. People are a-ok violating others. They'll justify it any way they can. We've seen it time and time again, and we've seen that again today. I'm so sorry, Erica. You did not deserve the onslaught that came from setting up a boundary. Maybe one day, we'll get legislation on it. Maybe not. In the meantime, let me make this clear: If you use AI text to speech that originated from a VA that never consented to it, my opinion of you will lower significantly. If that doesn't matter to you, oh well. Can't stop you. But if you respect what we do and how hard we had and have to work to get here and keep it going, please reconsider. It really makes us uncomfortable, and encourages companies to devalue what we do more and more. Look at Secret Invasion. It's already happening. You can say no. I already see Glamrock Freddy covers of songs on YouTube and TikTok. You may think it's harmless fun, but in the long run, you're going to see more and more VAs disappear. If that's your goal, well done. You found the way. If it isn't, I encourage you to help us push against it. Anyway, that's my word on it. I tried to state it respectfully as I could. I'm a firm believer in treating others the way you want to be treated. We'll see how many hold that same principle I guess.

[juicedaloe]

Mithrun and brain damage

I'm not sure if anyone is interested in this, but I wanted to make a post talking about why I think that Mithrun has brain damage from a traumatic brain injury instead of him being a representation of other neurological disorders or mental illness. I'm not that involved in the dunmesh fandom so I don't know how common this headcanon is, though I've seen a few people mention it here and there.

This is just my own opinion so if you disagree then that's fine. Some of this is just speculation and I can't say what Kui's intentions were. This post isn't meant to be that serious. I just wanted to talk about it and hopefully inform about how brain damage can affect some people in a way that I hope is interesting and relevant.

This will be kind of long because I like to talk so it will be under the cut. Apologies for the length and how much I ramble. Feel free to give input especially if I got anything wrong or if this is too confusing.

Okay let's go

Traumatic brain injury (TBI) is incredibly complex. The long-term effects of a TBI include a wide array of symptoms. Each injury is different, and some people can completely recover rather quickly while others can become permanently disabled, even for seemingly "minor" injuries. What I'll cover here isn't a definitive representation of the experiences of all those who have long-term effects from TBI, nor do I speak for everyone with brain damage.

Here are some long term symptoms relevant to this post:

Alexithymia (inability to process and name emotions)

Inability to process and name physical perceptions

Mood swings and emotional regulation difficulties

Communication difficulties

Social impairment

Apathy about caring for oneself

Lack of motivation

Alexithymia and inability to process physical perceptions

This one is rather obvious. While Mithrun is shown to feel emotions and have physical sensations (for instance, describing his location when he gets lost in the dungeon as "a cold place"), he is also apathetic to how this affects him. This means that his physical and emotional perceptions are reduced in some way. He says that becoming lord of the dungeon will leave someone "empty", showing he is aware of his dulled emotional state.

A good example of this is can be seen here in a bonus comic where he doesn't give much of a reaction to burning his mouth on hot food.

(I love these two a lot, by the way. Pattadol is really under appreciated.)

He is also not able to recognize bodily signals, such as hunger or when he is tired. Despite collapsing from exhaustion and not eating for long periods of time, he still insists he is not tired or hungry.

Mood swings

Mood swings in combination with alexithymia can be an especially disorientating experience. Those who struggle to perceive their own emotions can still feel them even if they don't know how to recognize it.

Individuals with brain injuries often experience drastic mood swings, particularly anger. To those around them, they can appear to go from 0 to 100 in an instant.

This is more speculation/headcanon on my part, as the strongest emotion Mithrun has for most of his appearances is anger. However one could interpret this as being unrelated as he is seeking revenge for a traumatic experience.

Communication difficulties and social impairment

Not only can naming personal experiences be incredibly difficult with a brain injury, but other areas of communication are often affected as well.

Mithrun is not able to set boundaries for himself even if someone is doing something he would not actually want them to do, which can leave him in a vulnerable position.

People with brain injuries can sometimes have a paradoxical experience when it comes to communicating with others. They can go from being very quiet to speaking at length about one topic, seemingly without regard for the importance of each bit of information. (I see it like Newton's first law of motion. It is hard to start speaking and it can be just as hard to stop.)

I really like this aspect of Mithrun's characterization. Usually, he is very quiet because he has no reason to speak. However, once he starts talking he is shown to be overly specific and goes on for long periods of time. Kabru has to spend multiple days figuring out his story.

In a side comic, Kabru tells Mithrun he should condense some of the personal details that Kabru finds irrelevant to the topic of the dungeon.

Mithrun shares many details about himself because his desire not to do so is gone. This mirrors the experience of many people who have brain damage to overshare and not understand how their words will come across to others. Sometimes they say or do things that are insensitive or inappropriate for the situation.

Caring for oneself and motivation

In the dungeon, Mithrun becomes reliant on others for self care. He also seems especially incapable of motivating himself to take care of his body when he is particularly focused on his goals.

In these panels, thus far he had been fairly receptive of Kabru trying to take care of him. However, he could sense that the demon was close and was too focused on that to care to eat.

Refusal of care and treatment is often an effect of traumatic brain injury. This can be for seemingly no reason, even if the person knows that this will help them. Sometimes people will lie about receiving treatment or doing things to take care of themselves, either so they can avoid it or avoid having someone take care of them.

He knows that eating regularly and not pushing himself too much will help him - he's been told multiple times on-screen - but he still has to be continuously told by others to give him that motivation to take care of himself. He's very apathetic to his physical state, even if it seems his only desire is for revenge and he should be doing anything he can to achieve that.

Other things of note

I wasn't sure where to put this, but while Mithrun's sense of direction is speculated by Kabru to be left over from his time as lord of an ever-changing, confusing dungeon, having poor sense of direction in the way he does could also be indicative of brain injury as well.

While the dungeon is confusing and illogical, he is known to have a poor sense of direction and to get frequently lost by those around him, even trying to exit an entrance he just came through. He is shown to be very intelligent, but memory is greatly impacted by brain injuries which affects a person's sense of direction and location.

Something that really stands out to me about Mithrun is how much the things that help him are particularly helpful to those with brain damage. He is physically capable of performing tasks, but he needs an outside source to remind him and get him started. He relies entirely on routine, and when that regularity is taken away he shows extreme difficulty taking care of himself.

Sometimes, the care that some people need is simply someone else to encourage them or to tell them when to do things. The care that he needs is pretty consistent with a person with a brain injury who does not need a full time caretaker and would prefer to have some independence.

Also, healing magic is specified to not work with brain injury unless the person is killed and revived. Mithrun had not been revived after his injuries, so it is entirely possible for him to have sustained a TBI. I don't think this matters that much because one is still allowed to have headcanons even if there is a magical explanation or isn't really possible in canon, but I thought it was an interesting detail.

In conclusion

Because of all this I don't believe that his lack of self care is due solely to mental illness. While mental illnesses like depression or PTSD can cause a decline in self care, the reasons why the affected individual is avoidant of these tasks differs. These disorders can also cause cognitive difficulties and emotional regulation issues, but not to the same extent or in the same way that brain damage would. I think that he does have both depression and PTSD (both are common after a TBI) but those are not his only disabilities.

And on a personal note, I just think that having a character with brain damage is really cool. Most of the time I've seen it the characters are not given very much respect and they are treated as comic relief and a joke. Regardless of whether you agree with this post or not, it is still nice to see a character with a disability like this.

Thank you if you read all of this. I hope it was easy to understand and I did not ramble too much. I don't have anything else to say but I've been wanting to write this out for a while.

Okay bye