#it’s about the ✨codependency✨ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astrobydalia · 5 days

Text

September Observations

This post has a TW I do not allow the repost on any others platform

Something I forgot to mention in this post about 8th house synastry!! I've noticed for some reason this overlay tends to manifest more positively when the house person already has 8th house placements in their natal chart (not a guarantee tho). I feel like its because this makes the house person be more naturally in their power and the planet person no longer feels like they can have control over the house person. In these cases instead of envy the planet person feels admiration and "positive" obsession over the house person like "Im obsessed with you, queen!🥰😍🤩" kinda vibe

If Libra Moons didn’t have the ability to detach fast they could easily pass as water moons 100%. They are such hopeless romantics and love having someone to love be that friends or partners. And yes they can be codependent but only to an extent imo. I’ve seen Libra Moons actually detach surprisingly fast specially if they feel like you don’t match their energy

Im sorry but Libra Suns are not people you can count on imo. They have this very elitist/opportunistic mindset when it comes to people. They treat people based on some kind of unspoken social hierarchy they have in their minds like how successful or intelligent or interesting you appear to be for example. They'll be loyal for as long as they see benefit from associating themselves with you, otherwise they'll be distant, elusive and flighty af. Socially they appear to be super chill but they aren’t like at all, they’re very passive-aggressive and extremely judgmental of others

If you have Venusian MC/10th house (Libra or Taurus MC/10th or Venus in the 10th house), I've noticed people care what you think of them and really feel the need to make a good impression on you, specially the sex you're attracted to romantically. This placement makes people feel like your love and affection is a privilege to have, that’s why a lot of trophy wives have venusian 10th house/MC

Jupiterians (Pisces/Sagittarius but specially Sagittarius placements) are just the best people to be around tbh. Even when they have other toxic placements/energies in their charts, I’ve noticed they are ultimately all about the ✨vibes✨. They detach from negativity quite fast and avoid getting too deep into drama and controversy cause really all they want is to chill and have fun. The “no worries, bro” kinda people. The negative side of this tho is they tend to turn a blind eye when they get called out on their own issues and/or have a tendency to be dismissive when it’s time to take things seriously

^^^You’d say Venusians relate to this peaceful description too but tbh I didn’t include them cause Venusians tend to have a lot of repressed shit and are secretly all about drama (but watching it go down from afar tho)

I’ve noticed water mercury tend to be more diplomatic and charming with their words, the way they speak about things tends to be more soothing yet nebulous/confusing/cryptic. However earth mercuries are more direct and critical which makes them more prone to openly talking shit LMAO

There's a lot of posts victimizing and romanticizing Lilith in the 1st house/conjunct the ASC but I've seen this placement a lot in bullies and genuinely fraudulent people?? I've seen Lilith energy is commonly prominent in the charts of criminals too. Like idk why people act like the hate Lilith gets is ALWAYS unjustified 💀 They can truly be really dark and shady individuals that’s literally what Lilith signifies (this does not apply to everyone of courseeeeee)

Furthermore, I'm sorry to say this but prominent Lilith natives have a habit of living too much in the victim mindset and constantly make everyone else the problem as a way to justify their shitty behaviors

What I’ve noticed with Lilith natives who are not sketchy people (so just normal decent individuals) is that they have huge self-destructive and self-derogatory tendencies. They tend to become very cynical of the world, lose hope in their own value and humiliate themselves behaving in ways that are rebellious to them but make other people think the native has no self-respect

Libra/7th house Lilith tend to assume the worst in others. Envy placement. They struggle finding genuine and healthy relationships

I've noticed MC ruler in the 12th house is common in the charts of sex workers since 12th house is related to bed pleasures, secret affairs, etc

The sign that actually behaves like a child irl is Gemini. That’s why I've noticed Gemini placements always want to be the 'cool and fun parent' just like Phil Dunphy

TW: mentions of c**** abuse and s******.

I've noticed Cancer energy (Leo too but mostly cancer) is very common in the charts of p*dos, gr**mers and s*xual predators. No placement will determine someone being this way!!!

Chiron in the 1st house/conjunct the ASC/Harshly aspecting chart ruler is common in the charts of people who have or have tried to commit s******

End of TW

An underrated god complex indicator is Sun-Mercury conjunction. I can't stress enough how much these people's ego revolve around their intellect. Their entire personality to them is being the smartest person in the room

When it comes to pride and ego (Sun) fixed and mutable suns are the most likely to have a superiority complex

Mutable Suns take the most pride on their own knowledge and judgment, deeply believe they know better or have most if not all the answers. They have a tendency to often dismiss, correct or contradict others

Fixed Suns take pride in their own ‘essence’ if that make sense. They LOVE the idea of being special and irreplaceable. Feeling like there’s something intrinsically unique about them

Cardinal Suns are okay tbh. They can have other negatives but when it comes to ego theirs is usually pretty balanced I noticed. They usually take pride in their ability to level-up and improve themselves which often makes them rather competitive or in extreme cases have this heavily predatory mindset when it comes to what they want

This will not be accurate for everyone of course but when it comes to future children if you have Water/Earth moon you are most likely to have girls whereas if you have Air/Fire moon you're more most likely to have boys

Air Venus people are the most open-minded when it comes to taste in general. I've noticed they're the type to enjoy almost every music and movie genre, they can appreciate different aesthetics.... They're also the most likely to date outside their race I've seen cause they can really find beauty in all sort of features as long as it looks overall good/attractive to them. It's not that they don't have preferences, but they're type be open to being impressed and mentally stimulated

EARTH and Fire Venus people are the most selective when it comes to their taste. They know exactly what they want and like. In the case of earth Venus this can be to the point of strong reluctance to try new things. Fire Venus appear open minded cause they have this attitude of trying everything once but the usually have a very hard-set type of things they will actually commit to

Water Venus people aren't that open about their tastes. They hide or repress them cause they really tend to be into obscure or hidden stuff. If you ask them what they like, they'll give you an evasive and generic answer, specially if it's in the context of small talk

I've noticed Capricorn and Scorpio Moons have an innate understanding of the uglier sides of human nature which is what makes them pretty cynical (scorpio) and pessimistic (cap). They are hyper-aware of how most people can be bought and corrupted. This makes them AMAZING business people tho.

Aries ASC natives embody the active, wild and spontaneous stereotype more than the other aries placements. They come across as pretty chill at first but there's actually very little they won't dare to do, they love adventures

I've noticed Venusians can do really good in anything related to sales or business counseling, because they are good at estimating and promoting the value of things

I know we relate Neptune to otherworldly and glamorous vibe but all the people that I've met who made me go "wow, girl, you don't feel real" were people who had air signs in their big 3. They’re not real people, they’re concepts, I swear that’s the vibe they give me💀💀

Also, air signs in the big 3 is an underrated fame/success indicator imo. Nowadays networking is everything in order to succeed and these natives naturally attract popularity and connections SO easily. They effortlessly use their charm and likeness to gain opportunities

I once saw an observation that said Gemini risings give off dumb blonde energy and Im here to confirm it’s true, specially when Mercury is also in an air sign. This happens cause they're up in their minds all the time but this makes them appear VERY disconnected from their environment so they really just be looking like this 24/7 😀😃😄😁😆🙂 and that's why they come across as empty-headed. They also often have this manic pixie dream girl energy which results in people not taking them seriously. This is enhanced when you see that they have a tendency to get talkative about superficial or random topics but their more intelligent or deep thoughts they keep to themselves for some reason.

Taurus Moons actually are actually very very very strategic??? Other earth moons look messy af beside them. They're so grounded that they know exactly what they want, how they wanna get it and they are so sure of themselves they have no issue taking their sweet ass time with it. Every single step they take is so intentional and "organized" if that makes sense, but they pull it off as natural and spontaneous??

Also this is an obvious thing to say but Taurus Moons are so emotionally stable. They work extremely well under pressure, will literally be the calm person admist a chaos or extreme situation. I've seen Cap/Virgo moons getting triggered many times but Taurus moons???? I've known some of them for years and I've never seen them triggered EVER no matter happened which as a water moon that's fucking insane to me 😭💀💀 Like sure depending on their personality they can be more or less expressive of their feelings but its always on their own terms, they don't let other people or situations just get reactions out of them if that makes sense

I've noticed Mercury in the 4th house creates a divided and scattered family. Just like Mercury in the 10th house indicates traveling for work, Mercury in the 4th indicates traveling because of your family. The people I've seen with this placement have all of their family members scattered around the world living completely different lives

Sun-Neptune harsh aspects are very impressionable people and very easily influenced

Also, a lot of people point out Sun-Pluto aspects have like a hidden dark/toxic side to their personality but I've seen it's actually Sun-Neptune that match this description

Libra placements can potentially be very disciplined and do well in demanding and/or serious occupations like corporate, military or athletes since Saturn is exalted in Libra.

Venus in the 1st house can tend to only value the superficially good things in them (lovable, likabale, beautiful, etc) and are more concerned with the image they present rather than building a real personality deep down. This make them ignore or downplay their flaws thus not reacting well to criticism and/or when someone does not like them.

All the men that I’ve met who were actually providers and had this involved father and husband vibes always had VIRGO, taurus and cancer placements

Men with capricorn placements aren’t providers, they’re just controlling af😭😭 They will also be emotionally distant and manipulative af too if they do not have other energies in the chart to balance it out

Honestly water suns (sun in a water house natives too) fascinate me. They just go around life casually hiding who they really are like they don’t have the most intricate personality deep down. All of them have mysterious and intriguing vibes it's not just scorpio!!!

5th house placements (including vertex) will stay behaving like teenagers regardless of their age. The song "forever young" by alphaville really describes them

Neptune in the 1st house/asc are prone to attracting lots and lots of creepy individuals because they have this aura where people project all sorts of delulu and twisted shit on them. Mentally and/or emotionally unwell people feel very attached to these natives unfortunately

Leo MC/10th house really does indicate a career where you're some kind of performer. That’s why many celebrities (specially ACTORS and singers) are Scorpio risings. This can also apply to careers like politics, public speaker, standup comedian, etc. All of these involve some level of fame ofc

Cancer MC/10th house indicates being some kind of creator (cancer=birthing something new, bringing something to life). This a lot of times relate to some art form of course but it can be other things for example a friend of mine has this placement and she works in science and she told me she works in a lab with substances and materials she created herself (idk how it works but you get the idea)

Pisces Suns have a major in gaslighting from the university of never taking responsibility. This can be the case for any unevolved pisces placement but I’ve noticed the lying to your face and twisting reality is much more blatant in Pisces Suns for some reason. They make arguments in such a way that you can tell something of what they’re saying is off but you can’t exactly prove them wrong either so 🤷🏽‍♀️💀

Mercurial placements (Gemini/Virgo) and Venus in the 3rd house may really love wearing rings or lots of bracelets, big watches, etc. Accessories that bring attention to the hands essentially

Libra placentas may or may not want to be "liked" but Libra Moon is a placement I've seen is genuinely liked by everyone. They have this calming and loving energy to them. Celebrities with this placement are generally unproblematic (Anne Hathaway, Emma Stone) or if they are problematic they can easily recover from backlash (Ariana Grande, Leo DiCaprio)

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia #astrology observations #astro community

691 notes · View notes

comfortless · 5 months

Note

Offering you a prompt because I know you could make it perfect! ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨ You know about Minoan Bull Leaping? What about that with a hybrid Köni?

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. König is a man here!!: ears and a tail and a set of horns but that’s it!, fem (afab) reader, nondescript animal death, codependency and a little possessive behavior, reader gets injured, historical inaccuracies, one-sided worship, mentions of violence, reader is a virgin for three seconds, cunnilingus, smut.

word count: 11.5k.

You’ve practiced this, and still the tension and nervousness bleeds through you, courses like a steady river under skin and curves around bone. The bulls are so much larger than the fallen trees and heavy stones you’ve danced around and over for practice, and the nights spent tempting them with treats had never been enough to prepare. Twigs and jagged edges are nothing in comparison to the horns of very alive and breathing beasts; petting their heads is far simpler than prancing over their horns.

The bulls wait in the field, grazing, sturdy monoliths amidst a sea of green below the warm light of the sun. It kisses every inch of skin, highlights the determination and giddiness on the faces of others and lines your frown in shadow. Three feral bulls for two men and a woman far more practiced than you; a rugged, adolescent thing with his horns barely poking through waits just for you, misplaced from the herd and huffing indignantly some distance from the rest.

You watch the others go, one by one, as they skip and somersault toward their gruffer partners. Your hand rises up the expanse of your robe to brush over the jewels layered along your throat. Their movements are rushing water, fluid and perfect, so elaborate and pretty that you fear even blinking will cause you to miss the most important details.

And then they reach their bulls.

Some huff, one tilts his head in curiosity. An attempt to gore, perhaps, except… these things are not vicious, only happy creatures. They know the importance of the dance just as you do. When the curious one does accept the grasp of a man’s hands over his horns, you feel yourself beginning to walk, possessed by the need to claim your own bull and perform just as they do.

The show that you put on is less graceful, but does not lack heart. A trip on your first somersault that sends you into the grass, righted immediately when you hear your bull huff only paces away. You laugh, coo, and chirp as you approach with more balance. The sparkling jewels dance over your skin just as the others dance over their bulls, leap after leap, and the animals remain calm.

Yours is no different. He allows you to graze your fingertips over the soft fur of his back, does not so much as flinch when your press your palms flat over the sides of his face. The horns poking out of his skull are rounded at their tips, not yet properly grown in. You kiss the dip between his eyes and tell him how special this performance must be. To tame a wild animal is something divine in itself, but to tame a bull takes someone truly virtuous.

The grass tickles along your calves, the sun feels so warm and lovely against your face. You sigh in contentment as your steps lead you back, arms raised in preparation to jump. The others cheer you on, guide you with their voices as they wait next to their animals. The scent of nectar and pine lulls you to comfort, allows you the courage that you lacked initially; knees bend and arms raise, your eyes locked on the sprouting horns.

With your posture immaculate, you take your first leap.

The sun catches on something tar black and glimmering waiting in the trees just out past the pasture. Two tall horns springing from either side of a head, the stature of a man, just as your fingers curl over the calf before you’s much smaller horns.

The heart in your chest ceases its pounding for a moment, and your eyes must have widened the very same as a child’s would when encountering something sweet or shiny to treasure.

There’s a man attached to those horns in the tree line. Though you could not make out his face beneath all of the shade and foliage, you were so certain that it must have been a man.

A man larger than any man in Crete. Impossible and imposing.

The tumble that follows this reverie is what breaks away any hope of this being a lovely day.

Your concentration was broken the very second that the creature showed itself, and it was far too late to stop even when you were no longer a part of what was occurring between you and your sable-furred calf. The animal senses the not-right about the situation, takes it as a cue to move just as you were lifted over him and sends you sprawled out into the blooming wildflowers. The earth at your back, the sky to your front, and the pain takes its time to trickle in like winter chill and crawl up from your soles to the base of your neck.

The thin gold of your necklace must have snapped, because one of the jewels lies over your middle now, and several others have been left for dirt and birds to claim in the grass.

It’s your bull that comes to worry over you first, his wet nose nudges at your cheek when the scent of blood from broken skin taints the air with iron. It’s just a scrape along your palm, sullied by the peak of a jagged rock lying buried just below the soft soil of the pasture. The blood runs in small streams when you marvel at the wound, held up keeping sun from your eyes.

His coarse tongue finds its way to your hair, retrieves the flowers from it as if his stomachs could not wait for the consoling to be done to be fed. In your stupor, you almost want to call the poor thing stupid, but you only tell him that he’s done as well as you hoped.

You’ll dance with him again, you promise.

The injury takes time to recover from, even with the most patient of healers seated at your bedside. He reminds you that a woman of your standing is something special in herself. Proud, noble, and meant to be wed in the coming months each time he layers salve over the scrapes and the expanse of bruising along your back. Your linens are changed by the slaves of your household, new jewels provided in abundance and placed around your neck as though you even need to look presentable now, bruised and stuck in your bed.

No one knows what you saw, not really. You aren’t even certain what that vision was. They whisper of madness when you bring it up. The Minotaur remains in the labyrinth, far away from here and bedded down in the dark. Men don’t possess the horns of bulls, and you must have damaged your head too, because no one believes a word you speak about it, about him.

Your mistake, you learned, was probably what spurred your poor calf to be chosen for sacrifice. A bad omen forfeit, maybe. So young and gentle, and now gone. The soft fur off his ears and the quivering of his nose wouldn’t be felt again, and worse still…What if you were not meant to leap with them at all?

There is fruit and barley served up onto a plate made of bone as you’re ordered to eat by your healer. People can be crueler than bulls, you think to yourself; you haven’t even got the desire to eat after hearing such a thing. You’re bleeding from the heart when the first bite is forced into your mouth, gut twisting and fingernails digging into soft linen.

“I promised…” Your voice is muffled by a particularly fat portion of plum. It goes ignored by the withering old healer that tilts your head back and strokes your jaw with a soft palm to encourage you to swallow.

“Eat.”

And when you don’t, when you spit it back onto the plate, you’re rewarded with another bite and further encouragement as your sobs fill the room. It should be expected, not as hard as bone or as tough as the skin of the fruit when you’re finally offered sweet wine to swallow it down. You shouldn’t be a mess over an animal who served his purpose well and would be heralded as some savior for giving some clumsy woman trust and a chance.

It’s just that there’s so much more to it, for you. Patches of purple and swelling are much easier to spot than guilt and other turmoils.

Your first should have been beautiful, should have left those watching with stars dancing in their irises. You couldn’t even handle a calf, and you feel more pitiful and helpless the longer that you harp on those thoughts.

You rest and have dreamless bouts of slumber. You walk alongside the healer, leaning against the old man for support when you find the pain is still very much there, stinging and vile. The people about the city always smile to you, offer you flowers and sweet fruit and ask when you’ll be well enough to dance again.

Often, it even soothes the ache that they can’t see well enough. Provides some hope that, yes, you can return to what you’ve always hoped to do, display your grace and strength and find some place in a flowery pasture before the day of your wedding. You’ve heard of women tearing a place that makes them bleed on horseback, how getting the pain over and done with then has made consummation far easier when that day comes for them. Maybe that could happen for you too.

You ask to hear the story of the Minotaur more times than should be appropriate from the slaves of your household. Some of them are foreign, not entirely sure of just how it should be told. You find yourself especially fond of one of them who twists her words to make everything seem honey.

“…I like to think that he wasn’t alone down there,” she finishes on her second retelling of the night. The first had ended with a separate possibility altogether, one that saddened you to the core.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she laughs, taking the comb of carved bone to your hair, gently running it through each tangle provided by your pillow from lying in bed for the entire day. “Maybe he had friends or…”

“A wife?,” you question in amusement. Bulls didn’t take wives, even if they were part manâ€¦

“He is a man. Surely he had a woman,” she laughs again, bright and giddy, and follows it with a shrug. “You said that you saw him. Maybe it’s a sign.”

“I didn’t say it was him,” you almost wail in embarrassment. It was true that you had endlessly questioned and pondered for the past few weeks, speculated on what may or may not have been there, beneath the trees when you took your fall. For some odd reason, your fascination with that creature had ignited a flame someplace in your chest, growing ever brighter with each day that passed. “He didn’t have a bull’s head. Only the horns.”

She plucks at your hair with the comb a little longer in silence before setting it aside and casting you an almost fretful glance. “That sounds scary…”

“Oh,” you sigh. She’s right, of course. There were plenty of terrible things described with those attributes. But… if bulls didn’t scare you, then surely bullmen could not be any worse. “He didn’t hurt anyone though.”

“But you did get hurt,” the girl reminds you sympathetically.

You swallow dryly, and at last decide to put these fantasies aside. Your injuries were almost healed in full, and the last thing that you needed was for everyone to think that you were not simply wounded, but crazy too. A mad woman wouldn’t find a husband, and you were not a cow meant to be fantasizing over bullmen. The place you were given since birth was that of noble standing, a woman worth her weight in pearls and gold, not meant for fields and horns.

When morning rises and the yellow-red glow of the sun pokes its way through your window, you find you’re able to stand properly without the old man’s help to keep you upright.

You wash your face with the water from the clay pot in the corner, smile to yourself when you dab carmine onto your cheeks and smear it with the palm of your hand to look the part of some blushing dove.

Your robe is clean and soft when its pulled over you and fastened, delightfully comfortable when there’s no more bruising to irritate. Incense is lit, and you immerse yourself in what is before you rather than in shadow.

There’s a clamoring in the street below your window as you finish preparing for the day, both cheers and shouts of fear that stir both confusion and trepidation in your belly. It takes some time before you can coax yourself into taking a peek, find the strength in your trembling legs to look upon what may very well be the final march for a man deemed worthy of execution or perhaps some other misfortune.

Everything is painted honey and gold over the chalked clay of the buildings and the smooth stones layered over the streets.

There are women fleeing, a few cowardly men accompanying them. Children walk backwards or affix themselves to high walls to stare back at what’s being led by soldiers clutching thick lines of woven rope.

The thing that follows behind them leaves your heart in your throat, because it… he, is no prisoner or omen.

The bullman from your endless daydreaming walks with his arms fastened behind him, thick tail flicking in irritation at his backside, soft auburn ears fold back against his head.

The face, closer now, intrigues you the most, because as you’ve claimed endlessly: he only looks the part of a man. Some rugged barbarian, for certain, but still he does not bare any resemblance to the Minotaur or any other beast from the tales and songs. Though his nose is crooked, and pale scarring layers in abundance over tanned flesh, he looks almost sweet. There’s a gentleness about him that betrays the strangeness of his silhouette from before.

And he bleeds crimson like any other man, from a wound dug out in his shoulder where a spear must have pierced him. The blood along his chest has not even had the time to dry.

The poor man is bleeding and naked, not a scrap of cloth to conceal him any place, not even where his hair curls above his loins.

You imagine what the healer and slave girl must think now, when the subject of your endless ramblings is out on display for the entire city. Whether monster or forgotten god, the bullman is here, and in your haze of thought you will yourself to storm out into the street. There are hisses of confusion and fear all filtered and feathering on the air, many voices, but what is worse are the screams.

He doesn’t even possess it within him to look afraid, only terribly annoyed or maybe even somber. It was difficult to tell by the lack of expression on his face. His eyes are sad, but his lips are pressed into the barest line. The only indication that he feels anything at all is the swishing of his tail, a tell of anger in bulls. Maybe in men baring their resemblance, too.

“Where are you taking him?,” you demand, a shrill cry from your doorstep.

No answer comes your way from the soldiers at his side.

“Please…”

The words fail you as you find yourself stepping in front of this march. Ten soldiers to keep one man in a hold, it was ridiculous. Though he towered over them and possessed horns sharp enough to gore, to see him like this… It all stirred so much emotion within you that you almost think you must have really injured something in your skull, because the city spins around you and your eyes sting fiercely.

Every step halts when you begin to sob right there in the street like a bereaved wife finding out her husband has been tortured or killed in some distant land. Even the bullman seems intrigued by your tears. The quiet blue of his eyes flits from what stands beyond you to your face, puffed and slick with tears. Why cry for a man you do not know?, he seems to ask wordlessly. Why throw yourself out in the midst of danger?

“… my bull is dead, so I would like to…” To dance with this one. To see past the abomination of what he was and maybe cherish him in the way he deserved without deserving.

His ears prick forward, and he huffs something whispering and foreign in his tongue. Just one word that you’re uncertain of the meaning of, probably demeaning considering that you had called him an animal, not man. But he speaks. He speaks and that is enough for the soldiers to exchange cautious glances from the titan they lead to the curious display of the crying woman in front of them.

“You want to dance with this bull?,” one asks, both amusement and disbelief painting each syllable.

You nod your head, weak but fiercely resolute in your wish.

Not “this bull”, but perhaps “this god”.

You’re both stripped bare of any defenses, fates left in the hands of men who only know to kill and fuck. Somehow luck shimmers through, because you’re presented with one of the ropes a soldier carries. It’s offered to you with a stiff, callused hand, dropped unceremoniously into the palm that rises up to wait.

You walk beside your bull, not where you would rather lead him but where the other men urge for you to go. People watch on with curious stares, and you know most assuredly that when your healer hears of this new derangement, you will suffer another fortnight in bed with herbs and prayers over your head.

The bull watches you the entire time with a stare that lacks any emotion. The beast could be grateful, humiliated, or considering ripping you apart the moment his binds were undone and you wouldn’t have the slightest idea of it until he was upon you. What’s stranger still is that you don’t fear him. He looks to you the entire time and your hand clutching the rope does not tremble. Your pulse races, but only with something beyond fear, something an ordinary man has never gifted to you.

The gated pasture is bears a cool breeze when you enter, you watch as one of the men ties your new bull to a post and tells you that he is wicked, but the only crime he’s being accused of is being what he is.

“You’re hurt,” you assess a little dumbly when everyone has paraded away. The grass stains the white linen you wear as you sink to your knees at the titan’s side.

You’ve nothing to tend to his wound with. Dirt is smudged into the divide in his flesh with gentle swipes of your thumb, a strip ripped from your robe when you try to stop the bleeding further. He hisses when you fasten it tight, shoots you a glare that both makes stars fall in your eyes and sets a stampede to rush in your heart. Your heart, you think, but really it’s something else. You feel hot all over and it’s the stupidest thing.

“I know, I know..,” you mumble as you tie the cloth, straighten yourself out and cover the expanse of your thigh that’s been revealed as you settle back into place. “Can you move it?”

“Yes.”

It hardly registers that he’s freed himself somewhat until a massive hand curls tightly around your wrist. The touch is not at all gentle, it’s probing, the tip of each digit leaving small curved indentations in your flesh, intent on keeping you thoroughly in place.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” His voice comes as an odd grumbling, seemingly unused for some time. It isn’t deep, either, which comes as the most jarring thing about all of this. It’s so pleasant, that even with his iron hold you find yourself smiling as a flurry of affection stirs between your breasts.

Because I was right, you yearn to say, but hold your tongue for fear of seeming too brazen and less subservient than you should be, catering to a god you’ve never even heard of. Both man and bull, something divine and strikingly handsome even with his soft features.

“Should I be? Will you curse me..?,” you ask, softening your grin to glance up at him through your lashes. Demure and flirtatious before you even think to catch yourself. A maiden should be more cautious dealing with ordinary men or things not yet known, but even when your expression reverts to one of mere curiosity, it seems too late.

His nostrils flare as he regards you; then, his hand shifts upward to stroke at your bare shoulder, fingertips move to dance over your clavicle. The hand comes to rest beneath your jaw, a thumb carefully brushing over your chin. Then, he withdraws all at once, turns his head with a huff of breath. He doesn’t bellow as the other males in the pasture, does little to seem more cow than man in your presence. Perhaps it’s a practiced courtesy: to appear more human than the additions crowning his head suggest.

“Dummes mädchen.” He doesn’t tell you what that means, and his voice canters off to silence when you push and prod to ask.

He doesn’t budge when you ask where he’s come from, some distant land across the sea you even speculate. You ask him what he is in name, and in turn his ears seem to lower, flatten further, as though he were trying to hide them altogether. There wasn’t much he could do about the horns, though.

The bull barely even returns your shy glances, the only indication that he knows and rather likes that you’re still seated at his side is the flare of pink that rises from his throat to settle upon his cheeks, the way his jaw tightens and loosens when you speak.

“What is your name?,” you ask him when the silence grows too much. You’re starting to feel beads of sweat prick at your skin from the glow of the summer sun above, and more than anything you want some closeness, some proof that maybe your listless life is not a total loss. Earning a god’s favor would only be too lovely, the perfect cure for the unnamed thing that ails you. “So that I might worship you properly?”

That prompts a response.

He turns to you with a forced stoicism, one that does little to subdue the way his eyes widen and his face burns. Being jabbed at and held captive like an animal would make any man more than a little unhappy or wary, but your words dissolve that into smoke in an instant. He tells you his name in a keening sort of voice, one reserved for wolves or agitated horses.

“König.”

You repeat it, once, twice.

It sounds funny and foreign, too simple for what he appears to be. You tell him your own when he doesn’t ask, repeat it just the same so he remembers his only acolyte. Someone so cute for a god of beasts or maybe even good harvests.

You wanted to pry further, have every secret expelled from his tongue, unite in words and quell that horrid, demanding passion. It’s why men run way to brothels, you supposed. Excitement and the allure of something pretty to stake a claim into… but you’re a maiden rather than some feather-headed soldier.

“When you’re better, we will dance,” you declare with a hope that he might understand. “My first offering to you.”

König stirs, rumbles someplace in the expanse of chest. His hair curls there in the widest patch, you note, trails down right to thighs that make brick resemble only soft clay. You’ve never openly ogled a man like this, and it doesn’t feel shameful, not when you’re convinced you already have an understanding here.

You couldn’t imagine he would crawl on his knees for you to prance over him like a yearling deer, bellow like a proper animal when you took his horns in hand. The ugly, ivory prongs about his head looked too dangerous anyhow. One slip… you didn’t want to imagine what would happen then.

“… Richtig.” Then, “What do I give to you?”

His question confuses you fully, because the way he speaks it does not seem curious at all. As if there’s already a resolution in the words. No clothing, no weapons, not even a coin. The only thing present and available is what sits between his thighs, a daunting pillar. He asks only for a consent to what he does not bring out in words, only hinted at from the way his gaze drags up from your throat to your eyes.

The strangest mating rite from the strangest man of all…

You don’t ask him about that.

You let the words hang in the air for a stretch of time. Then, you fetch him some water from the creek just past the field. You untie the binds still shackling him to the fence post as he drinks from the shallow bowl. He laps at it like a dog, furrows his brow a little when you’re caught staring again.

There’s too much to look at to entirely separate yourself from him. And he speaks so oddly it’s difficult to distract him with conversation. So you settle to admire, and he does so in turn. When you find yourself watching the way his chest puffs with each intake of breath, his stare only maps you the same, mimicking or appraising.

He grunts, too; flicks an ear when he stares down at your lap and embarrassment immediately floods you when you realize that his senses are not entirely human, either.

You fold your hands into your lap and part your lips to speak again, to maybe ask him why he came here at all to serve as some distraction from the way he appraised your hips with that dreadful stare.

“When?,” he interrupts immediately, casting his dish aside and straightening up to look down upon you. Exacting some misplaced wrath, you assume. Let a woman leap over him and maybe have his freedom after. He just wants it over with, and you can’t blame him at all.

“I told you… when you’re better.”

That must not have been the right thing to say, because his injured arm is the one he gathers you with, brings you up and over him to press your chest to his and glare down at you. The glow of the setting sun seems dull by comparison to the ember in his eyes.

“I am fine.”

The calendars have been a blur since you fell. You huff and pout in thought, trying to think in spite of the way the closeness has you feeling dumb and dizzy.

“A few days..,” comes your answer, quiet and apologetic. “I’m nearly certain.”

König sighs and you feel it flutter your hair, the warmth on your neck. His arm drifts from around you, as if to signal that you could depart at any moment. Whatever had possessed you now leaves you in place, flustered and miserably infatuated. It pains you that he only seems exasperated by this entire ordeal rather than enthused, but he seems to soften somewhat when you don’t bolt away immediately. The tension leaves his shoulders slowly, and the summer sky of his eyes is placid instead of burning.

He could strike you down at any moment, leave you gored out here in the grass with common bulls, destroy the fence and maybe all of the people in the city too… but he seems intent on just keeping this silly oath and having you seated here.

“They caught me when I came to find you,” he says, blunt and careless, as if seeking out a woman he saw once from across a field is just a common thing to do. The very same as worshiping some creature driven out from the forest. “I saw you. Then you fell.”

“You were looking for me?” Your words are expressed with shaky intakes of breath, nerves alight with both love and caution. Led toward you by want, a thing you both seemed to feel.

He goes utterly stiff at that, but grits his teeth softly as his gaze casts down to where you’re seated in his lap.

A chance meeting… or maybe it was something as wonderful as fate after all.

You looked the part of lovers already, and perhaps that’s made him shy… but bulls don’t get shy, and König is no exception here, because his hand immediately rises to lift the robe covering you, drifts the linen up to reveal the soft fabric of your loincloth.

“Yes,” he grunts, staring down at the prize between your legs. A reward he’s already promised to himself, one you freely give when you don’t give him a smack or shove his hands away.

He smells of the forest: of wispy pine nettles, water from a spring, juniper. Of a man, whose closeness you had yet to have entirely. No bristling comes; you don’t close yourself off. He’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen— sad cow eyes and the bulk that only comes from a life rich with work and fighting, survival and instinct.

Had he ever even had a woman?, you wonder. Did he find you lovely, too?

König huffs appreciatively, lowers his head to your chest to bump his nose against your breasts. You release the breath that was caged unbeknownst to yourself, and your arms come around him naturally, cradle him there. Maybe he had never even been held… So, you pet him, trail your hand along the nape of his neck, up and through the messy strands of hair atop his head.

“You are injured too,” he hums into plushness, breath washing over thin fabric and causing your nipples to rise in answer. He must have felt the scab on your palm, healing, but still coarse and stiff. Even in what you perceive must be some sort of courtesy, worrying over your scrape, he doesn’t peel himself away from what entices him most here. His hands descend to stroke at your sides, trail down lower until both palms are fitted against your backside.

He squeezes, slow and intentional, weighs your flesh in hand. Explorative and further appreciative when another hiss leaves his lips to filter out along your clothed sternum. If he were not seated on his tail, you imagine it would have swayed fiercely, excited by the earlier fight and now the prospect of breeding some silly woman. You don’t have that indicator to read his thoughts, but the throb of the mighty weapon between his legs is enough to know. It’s warm and hard beneath you, gives a slight jump when your fingers dance over the base of his horns.

“I got hurt because of you.”

“Little maiden… I would never hurt you. Only please you,” he declares, sounding prideful. Just as a bull should, even in such a predicament. Like a god, proper and true. Surely this city would be cursed for what they’ve done to him. He will fuck their virgins and leave everything else scorched and ruined. And a part of you is almost giddy to know the very first would be you.

You’ve yet to touch men, but you knew well enough what the wetness down there meant, what his erection meant. Why men grope and fondle just as he does to you now, when a hand rises to tug down the top of your thin dress, when his head lifts just enough to lick at the side of your tit.

The air around you both thrums, pulses as though there are thunder strikes surrounding. And the sky is still clear when your head lolls back to face it in full as a nipple is enveloped by a hungry maw. He suckles at you, pushes his hips upward and strokes at your ass when you whine and pant. The cover of nightfall grants you some mercy, because no one is around to hear those cries or the way he grunts into your flesh, greed pouring from the both of you. No gods or stable hands, only a glassy moon and a blanket of star shine amidst murky sable like sea water.

When he lies you back, viciously lapping at your breasts, sucking your skin to grind between his blunt teeth, you take the horns into your hands again to tug him close. He groans, bellows like a man starved into your chest, drool and bruises layered over your skin. You should be in bed, waiting for some droning dullard to wed you first… not allowing a beast of a man to lower you into grass and dine upon you like this.

The gods would probably find this humorous… even if he might very well be one of them. How easily mortals could be swayed, even virtuous women, at the appeal of some miserable thing to save with an ugly, big cock.

But one or two bullmen was more than enough for this world, surely. No spawn of yours would be sent to a labyrinth deep below the earth, dark and desolate, and you’ve already bled this moon…

It pains you to push back against the face that sends pure fire through your belly with each swipe of his tongue, but you do. König seems both dumbfounded and frustrated when he separates from your flesh, the moon in his eyes eclipsed in full.

“I can’t..,” you try to explain, to tell without telling that you don’t want to push some horned infant from your cunt just because you like him a little. You wet your lips and stare up at him, hopeless and lost here.

“Why?” Your bull doesn’t understand, because of course he doesn’t. He’s trying to give you the only thing that he has to offer. Maybe he’s fucked other women before, women who took him gleefully and sang pretty beneath him, coated that raging thing between his muscular thighs in their essence and left lovely pictures in his memory. You don’t know why that thought alone is enough to make your head feel cloudy with wrath.

He asks again when you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. Bulls may be sacred, but no one’s ever said that they were not stupid.

König only pulls away enough to hover over your sex instead, panting gruffly like something starved and prepared to plunder an unsuspecting hen. Still, he waits for an answer, and you don’t think to spare yourself enough to close your parted thighs.

“I thought we would… after we danced,” you try, and maybe that would have worked if you didn’t have your softness and every treasure laid bare to him like a submissive vixen.

The beast only shakes his head and raises your legs to rest over each of his bare shoulders, corded in muscle and heat. He doesn’t nick you with his horns, careful even as he pushes his face right to your womanhood. The loincloth remains in place, but it’s the most fragile barrier. His breath makes your toes curl as it hits your sex, sends a wave of pure want swooping from your chest right to your cunt.

“You smell..,” he muses quietly, trails off as though drunk on just a whiff of you. When a thick finger tugs the cloth aside, you squirm from panting breath arcing over sensitive flesh. It’s the wettest you’ve ever been: little fantasies did nothing by comparison to the real thing, presented right before you and inspecting you down there.

He flattens his tongue over your entrance and relishes in the way that makes you squeal, draws back just to repeat the motion and watch you with pupils blown when your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly.

“You have not been touched.” His ears flick as he speaks, gaze dragging down, back to the pussy that calls for him.

“No… that’s why- ah-“

The ideas of children and expectations are long forgotten when his tongue presses to a spot that sends you shivering. It circles over it, too warm and heavy to bear. Your back arches, breasts heave, and he laughs into your cunt knowing he’s found the very spot that would make you forsake all but him.

The torture grows delicious and lovely, what he had done to your breasts is exactly what he does there. He suckles at the bud, scrawls his name over it with a wet, lapping tongue. You feel as though you truly have gone mad, fingers curling into the earth to keep you in place, because not even the gods could tear you away from this moment, not now…

It’s when your trembling thighs begin to tense and your voice grows further pitched that König decides to probe at you with a finger, too. It slips in with resistance, and the intrusion is strange… both horrible and ethereal at once. The titan finds a space inside of you, one to curl his finger against. It’s clumsy, uncertain until he finds that that is what makes you cry the loudest.

There’s a blinding white as though the sun has seared its way into your skull, sent the rays of its warmth into your very veins. It brings about a haze, leaves you quivering and panting as bliss rolls over you in steady waves. He gives you another lick, from your slit down to your ass before sitting up. Not an ounce of hesitation is weighed in his stare or his actions when he brushes the thick cockhead through your labia.

“I am going to fuck you,” he declares in a groan, already feeding you a fat inch of him. There’s still lingering resistance, but the honey that drips there now is in abundance, coats him with each shallow thrust.

You choke on the pain of such a sudden stretch, but find yourself only leaking more at the sight of him: a god laying claim to some mortal girl, you, above you, in you. The sounds he makes only ripen the elation. There’s desperation in each grunt, and his eyelids flutter as though he’s found something truly holy.

He drops over you, an arm to either side of your head when he sinks in fully. As if to dull the ache of your womanhood, at the loss of your title of maiden, he licks your cheek, the corner of your mouth, any place to soothe. When you capture him in a real kiss, your taste still lingers there upon his lips.

He seems even more delighted that you would show him affection than what’s occurring between you. The press of his hips comes to a halt, because he savors that display of what is or isn’t love. It’s almost shy, the way his mouth molds over yours, the way a hand drifts to your hair to pet at you. The other lowers to take your thigh and draw it up and keep you pinned in place.

You think to hold him now, too, when he breaks away from the kiss to gaze down at you with a shimmering stare, one that speaks more substance than anything he’s given you in your entire conversation. Your nails stay bedded down with the dirt, though, knowing with a fierce certainty that once he moved again it would be the only tether to dull the ache of a vicious fucking.

Except, he’s only gentle.

The cock inside of you takes a slow drag out, teasing and tentative as though trying to memorize every ridge inside.

It’s agony, because it feels like lovemaking.

Beasts don’t make love, they only have violent ruts and part ways entirely. König fucks like a man devoted. His eyes never stray from your face when he pushes back inside, all too careful. It must feel better than the being amongst his kind in the mountain he descended from, because the sounds he makes are fragile, barely contained whines that seem foreign from a man of his stature.

“I have been… watching you for so long, little..,” he huffs, burying his hand into your hair and dropping his head to press his forehead to your own. The words barely register, hardly make sense when the thick tip of him pushes right into the softest part of you again. It’s better than a finger… better than anything you’ve ever felt, and with everything so doughy and hot what you want to say only comes in a keening whine.

“Gods,” he continues when your sounds are smothered and blanketed by the filthy, sloppy sounds of your own wetness. You must be soaking the very earth you lie upon, dewy and warm. “Better than I dreamed.”

The slowness paves way for a heady, brutal thrust when he realizes that he isn’t hurting you. It only feels better the more that he moves, with each thick vein along his cock felt, with how he repeatedly spears against that spot that brings tears of rapture to the corners of your eyes. That new pace does not relent. You squeeze him the most like this, savoring in how he carves his way inside, molds you to take shape for him in what looks like pure violence but feels like love.

The sounds of impact and the scent of sweat and arousal surround you, the moon above and everything beneath it seem of so little importance now.

König does not silence himself even though you wished that he would. He pants against your face in his mother tongue, babbling endlessly as pleasure spikes for him. It wouldn’t be long until he filled you to the brim with thick spurts of seed, you could feel it in the way he throbbed against your walls, how each thrust was more prolonged and deep. Your mind swims, pleasure so intense its as if you’re drowning in the deepest depths of the sea itself.

“I came from the valley..,” he tells you in a feverish whisper, only now recalling that you didn’t know a thing about him before offering your cunt, maybe even your heart…

“Not a god… not anyone…”

It’s too much when his hips press in faster, when his cock reaches the end of you, over and over in frenzied repetition. Overwhelmed and stuffed to capacity, you sob and quiver, taking him into your arms and clawing at his broad back. The pain only seems to make him more feral, because his hands leave your thigh and your hair to grasp at your face instead, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he bares his teeth and spears into you relentlessly.

“Little one… I want this for the rest of my life,” he growls. “Promise me…”

The words sit on your tongue, fully prepared to surrender yourself to some beast of a faraway valley, chased and poked with spears or fire… Any hope of a cozy life would be forfeit here, already has been the moment you allowed him between your legs. It’s a horrible secret, one surely only Pasiphaë must have known of… how wonderful it felt to be bedded by a man like this. Not old enough to have fathered the Minotaur, but surely bred to be something akin to him.

“…I promise,” you whisper, perhaps desperate for this torturous copulation to end… or continue. Feeling so whole, full, right. Your offering is beating warm and overflowing in your chest, and König only looks as though he’s about to break at your words. The blue of his eyes grows glassy, translucent waves painting over each iris, but those tears don’t shed. They’re only dismissed with more needy rasps.

He growls, hooks his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your throat when his strokes begin to stutter. Your bull comes with a muffled howl, pumps pearly ropes of seed as deeply into you as he can manage. Your hiss of surprise is stifled with a blazing kiss where he moans into your open mouth, delves his tongue as deeply as his cock. He pumps several more times, intent on spilling every last drop inside, none wasted.

It seeps to earth when he parts from you, when he inspects the milk and honey of successful union between your legs. He looks surprised, confused almost when that stare is guided back up towards you as his chest continues to rise and fall swift with exertion.

You raise yourself up on your elbows, draw your legs shut. Not in shame, but… apparent embarrassment, your former courage is diminished when he looks at you as though you’re the most peculiar thing beneath the stars, when you’ve revealed yourself almost entirely and had him fuck and take apart all of it.

Maybe it’s the same for this beast, because his surprise and unshed tears are so evident here. He no longer looks the part of a god, but a lost man.

Not anyone, he had said. Is that what he felt? Or only what he had been told..?

“You’re not a monster,” you whisper. The chill of night settles over your skin, but there’s still warmth here, blooming like a flower in volcanic soil; the sun itself was incomparable to this peculiar thing that had taken root here.

He snorts at that and shakes his head. The ears there are cute and pluming with fluff, a reddish brown that suits him so remarkably. He’s kissed by the sun, even bathed in moonlight here. The prettiest of monsters, if he’s fooled himself into believing he is one.

“You should not have given yourself to me,” he tells you as his eyes narrow. The threat holds no weight, if it were one at all, because he grasps at you and pulls you in close; brings your cheek to his chest, right over his pounding heart. “I will not leave you alone.”

“Good.”

Maybe he’s speaking through the haze of a good fuck after being the cause for screams or raised weapons for so long, but you pray it comes from a truth. You’ve offered him a full meal of you, a treasure that none other has had, left yourself weak and aching all for one. His grip only tightens around you, refusing to let go as if to confirm your belief.

You’re brought back to the earth with your bull curled at your back, two powerful arms snaked around your middle with his nose pressed into your hair.

“After your dance, you will come with me.” There’s no longer a request, only an order. You’ve accepted him as both your man and mate, and it seems to please him greatly. His chest puffs against you, pride and contentment harbored there.

“To where?,” you ask him dreamily. The sea is what you’ve seen the most of, and the foothills and mountains seem a distant place. You imagine that maybe where he’s arrived from must have had others like him, maybe the women there were what he had had before… And maybe that makes you more precious somehow, different and coveted because you hadn’t run, only charmed him with questionable nursing and a request to prance over his back.

“Everywhere,” he answers immediately, stroking at the dip between your breasts. “I will never let you go.”

— — —

You’re separated from your bull come morning. It’s heart wrenching and terrible after a night of such passion, but you couldn’t allow for anyone to see you out there with your clothes in disarray and sperm slick and running down your legs. You had waited for him to sleep, for his dreaming to give way to raucous snoring before you slipped away, casting him a woeful glance. The giggling on the way from the pasture would have been terribly humiliating had anyone been awake to hear, but you were fortunate last night.

Come morning, there’s a pain between your legs and traces of blood in your loincloth. You hastily cast that from your body, hide it beneath your mattress before crawling back into bed with your thoughts a whirl. Candied fruit and precious stone, everything sap sticky and sad all the same… because as much as you would like to venture there, to see him, it was most rational to keep away.

If you were caught, you could only imagine the trial or lack thereof. The spears that would have come then wouldn’t miss their target. He would be deemed something far worse than a monster for daring to touch a lady such as yourself.

You bide your time tending to your duties and praying that your loss of virginity isn’t as apparent as it feels to you; when the thoughts drift back, the warmth upon your face only grows and your thighs immediately press together.

And you ponder his offer of leaving the temples and people behind to haunt someplace else with him, away from all else.

It's mad.

You barely knew him, of even what he was. He didn’t even have the sense to keep secret that he had been stalking you for some time, before you ever even noticed, with his fat cock buried inside of you. His ways of courtship lacked any shame, and maybe that’s why the passing thought of a normal man being in your future seems only lackluster. König could hunt, build, provide far better, you assumed, given his stature… And the gods gave him the knowledge of the most tempting tricks with his tongue.

The days leading up to what would call you back to him pass in a tortuous crawl. Even distracting yourself with thoughts of him in lonely silence with a hand between your thighs seems too little. You’ve even asked every slave woman here just how she gets the thoughts of men out of their heads. The advice is merely that sex does not always lead to marriage and children; they part ways like the animals in the forest and leave little room for love in their dens.

You hoped that he was thinking of you, too.

It would be ridiculous to say you’ve missed him, but seeing him in that field bound by rope again once you return is exactly what you want to shout. The birds call from the trees, singing beautifully and everything seems to glow, all except for König.

There are shadows beneath his eyes, cast long and dark from a lack of sleep. He does not even look your way when you take your place next to the others.

He’s forlorn. Maybe even pissed at having been gifted a warm meal only to have his face tugged away and a rope secured to hold him back from tasting or touching again. You should have warned him, about customs and etiquette, reassured him with your words that a little distance was fine because you’ve already made up your mind… but it seems too little and too late to peep your objections now.

The beast is led toward the other bulls by a man half his size, looking as though he’s on the brink of soiling himself from fear. The screams from before are not present now from onlookers, but König seems far less comfortable here than he did in the streets of your city.

Flowers are brought and tossed to both the hooves of bulls and the feet of dancers, yet none are presented to your partner at all. Even with green springing up below his feet, the area he waits in seems barren by comparison. It’s miserable and sad, all of it, and you once more long for being so winded against him that you two seemed to be the only things alive beneath a night sky.

You call to him when the man holding his lead gives it a sharp tug, and it’s dropped instantly as if you really hold some power over what becomes of him… You only hoped that whatever fate lay in wait for him would be coupled with your own. A passive life in a cave or something like that, where you could call him your husband, even… watch the sweat drip down the muscles of his back as he coaxed a fire to life.

Your bull tilts his head towards you, and though he tries to force the very same indifference from before his inner thoughts betray him. His brow remains furrowed, his expression grim, but his ears perk up and he immediately marches toward you. His gait is more of a charge, and had those horns been pointed to you, peril would await.

Punishment only comes in the form of a large man staring at you as though you’ve just wounded him terribly. You remind him there are no blades here with the gentlest touch of your hand along his bicep, swept down to curl at his wrist. It’s the most you could do here, and you could only pray to Aphrodite that your love would be understood regardless.

“You left,” he gruffs, raises a hand to tilt your chin up just enough to face him, though his gaze averts the second that you lock eyes. Shy, definitely not, but with so many watching, he seems entirely out of his element. The hand that graces beneath your chin even trembles, but it’s not fear you find when you search his eyes again.

Hurt.

It’s unmistakably hurt.

“I’m surprised that you did not,” your answer is a whispered one. He should have freed himself, whisked you away like an unsuspecting bride. You recall the other women’s ramblings from before, of men and how little what you experienced together may have meant.

“I do not wish to be apart from you.” He speaks as though it’s the most common knowledge of all, as though you’re a silly thing for ever believing that your want and his are one in the same. “Come with me.”

He doesn’t belong here, amidst people that cast their judgment yet herald the animals that he bears a small resemblance to.

Neither do you belong, you realize. You haven’t belonged since the day you spotted him amongst the trees.

The odd looks that follow König are cast upon you now, too. They see this peculiar beast with one of their women and think of her as sullied down to the marrow in her bones. You must smell of him, marked without a proper mark at all. He hasn’t branded you with any more than soft bruises from kissing your breasts and fitting the length of himself inside of you.

You take your risks and call them offerings, and he greedily accepts each and every one you bestow. You allow it when the hand cupping your jaw drifts lower, graces your breast with the softest touch before taking your fingers between his own.

“You have to be patient.”

He snorts at that.

Bulls are not patient creatures.

The ceremony has already begun. There are real animals here: beasts even larger than König that chew at the grass below them, flick their tails and ignore all that happens around them. There’s prancing and singing, elaborate acrobatics and leaps that must have taken years of practice.

And when you dance with your bull there is none of it.

He stands in place as you twirl around him, weaving around behind and before him as you bend to collect fallen blooms from the ground. Yellows, blues, flowers with no name or place, scavenged from fields further than the pasture. Your laughter pulls even a smile from his hardened face, a face you’ve found handsome since seeing, but must provoke terror in most men…

He’s so horribly endearing in his own ways. It’s the fastest you’ve ever fallen, or anyone in the whole world has, even… The legends and stories speak of love that shoots straight and strikes true like feathered arrows, singing on the wind until they prick their targets. You honor them just as he seems to, and you would tell them to him if only he asked.

Your head and heart are muddled and sick with love, melted down like precious metal within your body. He twists and brings you back together and whole when you’re taken up in his arms and lifted.

“I could touch the sky,” you laugh, clinging to an ivory horn. Pressing a kiss to the pointed tip of it, you swear you detect the heat from his face on your belly.

“Little one… I will take the sun for you, if you ask.”

“You would burn,” you warn.

He drops you then, cradles your body close to his chest instead and carries you as though you’re nothing more than a small dove with broken wings, something to be cared for.

“You make me burn already.”

“König…”

“No, not…” He shakes his head, smushes your cheeks between a thumb and the rest of his fingers as you’re forced to lock eyes again. The giant’s hand is careful with you, more gentle than his teeth or his…

“Call me something else. Something better.” There’s a keening to his voice, a fervent desperation there. A need to be not simply wanted. Wherever your titan has come from with his constellations of scars, the wound still there on his shoulder and all the pain he masks in behind a forced grimace… it has all led him here.

To the woman he watched practice taming bulls for weeks or months, to the only person he believed could accept what he is.

He only wanted to hear it, to have the most shattered wish answered with a tender chime. To bed you wasn’t enough: it could never be so simple. Your heart has been what he’s after all along; he reassures you in self just in voicing this.

“You’re lovely… my love,” you breathe. “You’re mine.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, and the pools gathered in his eyes do seem to shed. Your face is released as he rubs away anything that may shed. The dark circles are coupled with red rings now, but still no part of him seems weak or broken. He hides that away with everything else, bottles perceived weakness and sets it out to sea and gives you the grin of a proper brute instead.

“Ja… you are mine too.”

You’re set down only as the bull leaping comes to a close, when the people retreat and König seems content in knowing that no one is left to whisk you away. It’s all that he’s waited for, to have you alone after this tradition he did not quite get. He played his part well enough, even if you hadn’t had the chance to climb onto his back as the others had with their bulls.

Only then does he begin to tell you of a life bought and sold without end, of the fighting pits you’ve only heard of and never seen. His tongue does not spare you details of chains and spears, what they do to men like him. There are hundreds of scars, each with a misery attached, some still carrying pain that never heals. Promises were always in abundance to keep him contained, weapons were smithed and placed into his hands since before he could remember…

The life you had imagined for him has never existed. There’s never been love there: he spares you the nature of the women he may have been fortunate enough to touch before, but he whispers that you’re the only one who has ever kissed him.

Your heart breaks for the wounded boy he’s buried inside, and you weep when he tells you he’s only ever prayed for a woman like you. Someone soft and cute, who didn’t run or wail… Who craved him just as terribly if not more, gashes and teeth, horns and all the rest.

And he comforts you when you cry, pulls you in so tightly that your breath catches and the tears do sob. You whisper apologies into the hair on his chest, for all the awful things you would never imagine doing to him, and he scoffs at the pity in your voice.

“Do not cry for me,” he whispers into your hair, leaves a trail of kisses along the crown of your head before dropping to his knees before you and pacifying the best he can by stroking along your back. “I have you now, hm? My little maiden, richtig?”

“Yes. Yes, always,” you promise. Another gift.

You’re led away from the pasture under the veil of nightfall, your arms curled around one of his own. There are men about carrying sharpened steel, thieves and drunkards hiding out in the dark as well, but not an ounce of fear trickles through you to diminish what’s already felt. The stars above are in abundance, brighter somehow on the night you forfeit all.

König speaks unguarded now, each question is met by a response. It’s the first time he’s ever been asked about himself, he tells you this when you express your satisfaction at finally hearing more than a few words at a time. He’s terribly cute when all of the praise and attention cause his face to ripen like summer fruit, red and shimmery with sweat rather than dew.

You’ve brought nothing for a journey, but he swears to you that there is pilfered honey, wine, fruit and furs in his den, some dark place he describes as special. It’s the only place he’s ever called home, so surely it must be.

König doesn’t warn you that the trek takes weeks, nor that the mountains are even more beautiful up close. The foliage is wild, the air fresher and free of the smell of cattle and people, and each climb seems steeper than the last. He doesn’t tell you of the wolves or bears, but you hear them at night when he pulls you even closer to him. The wild things won’t hurt you; the wildest of them all considers himself to be the king here, a ruler that they respect or dread rather than dare to cross.

It isn’t a cave that greets you when you come to rest after days and nights of exertion, but a hut built of cut wood and clay. Built as well and thoroughly as any builder from the city would have done. He tells you of where he learned such things, watching men work after sparring with animals and their own kin in pits; how they would promise to rear families in structures like this, how he hoped in crafting all of this that one day he might have the same.

“It’s wonderful,” you tell him, crossing the threshold to find just what he has already told you was waiting here, so far off from common roads that none of it has been pillaged.

The gifts come aplenty, too: a new comb make of bone for your neglected hair, jarred honey and trinkets from his travels or pulled away from a former captor’s corpse. There’s even a weapon for you here, a blade sleek and shimmering, some foreign sword that astonishingly reminds you of a part of him.

“I will find a prettier one for you,” he says as you examine the blade, heavy even when held in both of your hands. It’s only a mercy that you are not the provider here, because there would be no deer or even rabbits slain when even holding it makes your movements sluggish.

“… I like it. All of it.”

He plucks the blade from your hands with ease and casts it aside. The sound of it tapping, then clattering against the wooden boards rings out loudly before he’s upon you. The trek to the mattress seems an eternity, longer than even the venture here. Cloth and jewelry, the only lasting remnant of your former life follow suit, piling over the sharpened steel.

There’s a bear’s pelt beneath you to soften the stiff straw, less wild and ferocious than it may have been in life, now smothered by the lingering scent of him. The lonely nights spent here must have been terrible and tragic. Did he allow the shield to fall and weep then? In the comfort of bear skin and the calling of night birds outside, tears and wasted seed.

The urgency is a looming beast on the air, prevalent and fierce when you’re pulled into König’s lap. Your bull lacks the patience to prepare you with his mouth or a curled finger now, only pivots your hips to take him with a prod as his head lowers for his mouth to latch onto your breast.

“I am in love with you,” he whispers against your flesh. You’re left at his mercy as he guides you with one large hand placed upon your thigh and an arm curled around your back. It’s slow, always slow when he begins, when he’s drunk on the feel of you surrounding him and every new feeling that floods his head.

The ears prick forward when you sing for him, whimpering as he buries himself further. As though it’s the most pleasant sound he’s ever heard in the span of his life. The only thing more beautiful is the acceptance and surrender you offer. There’s never been a shield in place, no guards to watch over you… he’s the only thing; he’s broken through every gate or wall to steal you away from those perceived defenses.

He knows, too, when your panting mouth repeats his own words.

He bucks into you with more haste, slips his tongue into your mouth and groans when you take it between your teeth. Skyward and earthly with each motion, the sea and the mountain tethered as one. And maybe you’ve never leapt with the cattle from your city, but you dance with this bull so naturally that it vanquishes any doubt of where you’re meant to be. What you’ve yearned for was not the taming of animals, but maybe a man…

Your orgasm comes sudden, a wave of wet heat that drools from your core, aids in the glide of the feverish pace he guides your hips into. König’s head tilts back, bliss painted upon his expression from how you close in around him.

You take your chances and press your face to the column of his throat, biting down on him just as he had you. The salty sweat on his skin leaves its taste on your tongue as you lick over the freshly painted mark. The sounds of his own pleasure are cast away; he goes silent and still, and you almost fear you’ve made some terrible mistake here… But König comes undone at that, desperately gathers you in his hold as he pulses within you, writhes beneath you.

He refuses to release his grip even when his cock grows soft, just rolls you onto your back and covers you like the thickest blanket.

“You didn’t fall this time,” he huffs into your hair.

Though your lips part to try and order him to be quiet, he grinds his hips against your own as if to make the obscenity of his comment even more apparent. It only heightens the warmth you feel sweep up into your cheeks.

“Little dancer…”

And finally he rises above you, another wild grin slowly gracing his scarred face. A thumb brushes against the pulse in your neck until his hand rests right over the heart tucked beneath your breast. It’s better than any promise of a lofty field or a mountaintop, even covered in sweat and come, to see the way that his eyes light up with pure mirth when he feels it’s beating.

“You feel it… you didn’t lie,” he mutters, and you try your best not to allow that comment to claw amongst the others he’s made that left wounds in your heart, gashes that bleed for him.

“Why would I?,” you ask, voice so thin and soft you would think it unheard if not for the flick of his ear.

“I did not think anyone would ever…” He rubs at his face as he falls to your side, only to pull you in close again. The defenses raise in those words, but lower as they do time and time again when you nestle into his chest, pet at the curls of hair there.

“They said no one could ever love me.”

The tears in his eyes finally are laid bare. They roll down his cheeks, and he does nothing to hide them this time. You accept his silent crying without comment, the only indication you share that you know, see, is in the way you press a kiss to his jaw where they gather and spill.

“Fools, they were..,” you whisper to him, just as quietly as before. The sanctity blooms further as his chest rumbles, a contented hum coupled with a squish to bring you even closer to him.

“Ja… just fools,” he answers you in a voice not broken, only softer than it has ever been. “Like you. For this… giving so much.”

“And you are greedy.”

He nods once before reaching for your hand; his own curls over it, still splayed out over his chest. He’s no cocky, rough brute now. He pets at it with a trembling thumb.

“I will never let you go.” He speaks it as though it is a curse, rather than the blessing you’re certain that it is. Most women would fear a lustful beast raised up to kill even gladiators, yet there’s only the sweetest consoling to be found with him for you. “You will suffer me until we both die.”

“I could not imagine a better fate.”

#könig x reader #konig x reader #i did not proofread this if you spot an error do not look at me #steadily going through my inbox i pray this was worth your century long wait lil wisp..!

547 notes · View notes

vedicastrology-thestarsguideyou · 2 months

Text

Planets in 7th house.

The mirror of self

Sun in 7th house

🌻The personality with Sun in 7th house wishes to know itself, it's identity through the mirror of others. It deeply searches for its own identity, essence , value in the definitions , thoughts , feelings of others about them.

🌻It finds completion and true fulfillment in the company of its beloved .

🌻Can be very self sacrificing or can have ego issues . Balancing is the key. Do something creative everyday. So that you are more dependent on yourself.

🌻Looks for a radiant, confident , regal , creative partner , why ? Because he is looking for his unconscious part to become conscious in the material life.

Moon in the 7th House

💚Here the personality desires the reflection & experience of an instinctive , beautiful, intuitive , beautiful, feeling , emotionally intelligent, emotionally attuned , nurturing partner .

💚In her , he finds his reflection of his emotional needs , in her , he learns about his emotions , the care , devotion , emotional attunement he wishes to get is the unconscious reflection of his anima.

💚The unconscious childhood enactment with mother is wished for to reach a sense of completion within.

💚A tendency of neediness and codependence can form sometimes.

💚Moodiness and nourishment happen in waves.

💚Developing a consistent spiritual practice will help beautifully balance this placement.

💚Emotionally attuned soulful relationship can happen if the personality learns to focus his attention of himself, his beloved , his spiritual practice & stays loyal.

💚Moon related business will also bhi helpful.

Mercury in 7th house.

⭐The personality with mercury in 7th house desires a friendly beloved . The one who he can chatter with , funny batter , intellectual stimulation, discuss business ideas .

⭐He searches for a childlike , youthful, logical , analytical partner who can reflect his unconscious so that he feels complete fulfilled within & outside.

Mars in 7th house.

☘️Here the personality finds its vigour , assertiveness, competitive spirit becoming active in its close partnerships, within the company of the other.

☘️He looks for a courageous, bold , dynamic , athletic partner who wakes up or reflects his own courageous dynamic qualities . Thus a sense of completion and fulfillment is felt within & without.

☘️Can have some clashes with partners , but these can be resolved with understanding.

☘️Playing active sports with one's partner will also be helpful in making the use of this energy.

Saturn in 7th house.

🤍The personality with Saturn in 7th finds itself in a dilemma , to be close or far away , to open up or not .

🤍Close relationships have been marked away with restrictions and a sense of emotional coldness.

🤍The personality desires close soulful relationships but finds difficult to be vulnerable with its close partners.

🤍The personality in its earlier formative years is forced to grow up , restrict its inner child so as to act mature for the situations it is placed in to face , experience & deal with.

🤍Thus bringing up the courage to open up , be vulnerable , to let your inner child feel nourished & itself again , & to allow others to see yourself for your needs & desires too .

🤍To accept change & to grow together.

🤍Better relationships happen with time .

🤍Spiritual practice is deeply helpful.

🤍A responsible, mature , sensible , fair partner fills the mirror image . ⭐💗

Jupiter in 7th house.

✨Here the personality aspires to find a wise , guiding, spiritual, religious ,teaching presence in one's partnership.

✨A spiritual relationship where both can be themselves , grow & mature into their true selves.

✨Expansive relationships , soulful connections are searched for.

✨Guard against multiple relationships.

Venus in 7th house

💗The personality with Venus in the 7th house desires the romance , loving , sensual, beautiful experience of a true soul connection.

💗Balance , fairness , negotiation, a penchant for beauty & harmony within and also in relationships is desired .

💗Quality time spent , luxury , beauty , sensuality & heart to heart feelings are desired.

Rahu in 7th house.

💫Personality desires the excitement of close relationships, business avenues wealth . Partners of different origin , culture , background, of exotic origin find his attention. Choose your partners wisely.

💫Never let your close partners take advantage of your yielding nature. Do your spiritual practice.

Ketu in 7th house

☘️Personality is self focused this lifetime & is detached from close relationships , business etc.

☘️A spiritual meditative partner can be a good choice .

☘️Having a spiritual base to the relationships , marriage & business will help chanelise the energy towards its best use.

☘️Regular spiritual practice will also be beneficial.

DM for readings

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #counseling #vedic #vedic astro notes #astro notes #vedic astro observations #astrology blog #astrologer #sidereal zodiac #rohini nakshatra #planets #signs

299 notes · View notes

libra-kirishima · 1 year

Text

Mystic Messenger Characters + Their Toxic Traits ✨

Feat. Zen, Yoosung, Jaehee, Jumin, Seven, and V

Short headcanons inspired by this post I've made about My Hero Academia characters and their toxic traits x

! fem reader, brief mentions of sex !

Zen

Insanely jealous. He's barely able to restrain himself from barking like a dog when he sees you talking to another man

- and he will come up to you mid-conversation and embarrass you in front of this man because Zen wants him to know who you belong to.

Has some mildly sexist views on women

- Speaks for you even if you're right next to him. Will order for you at restaurants without being asked. If someone asks you a question and Zen thinks he knows the answer he'll answer it for you as if you aren't capable of answering for yourself.

- Tends to believe that you're fragile and vulnerable and that he needs to protect you because you're a woman

- Will help you with chores but he believes it's your job to cook

- Doesn't ever let you take control during sex. He thinks that, as the man, he is supposed to be the one on top and in control. He's a pleasure dom but sex is always done his way because he never lets you take the lead.

Canonically homophobic

Lacks self awareness

Yoosung

King of putting things off. Ignores problems in the relationship for as long as he possibly can until one day it all comes to the surface and he bursts into tears

Avoids conflict to the point of concern. He'd rather lie to himself that everything is fine between the two of you than address an issue in your relationship because he doesn't want to start a fight.

Struggles to make time for you. A lot of your dates are hanging out together while he studies in his room or at the library.

Shamelessly codependent

Jaehee

Also terrible at making time for you

Always working. If she's not working under Jumin then she's always working on improving the coffee shop. She doesn't know how to function when she's not working 24/7 and under constant stress

She takes things so personally. She'll never tell you she took something you said personally but you can tell.

Lowkey a grudge holder. If you two get into an argument she'll bring up something you said to hurt her feelings two years ago.

Jumin

Wants to take care of you but "taking care of you" can mean doing things that are very controlling sometimes

- extremely resistant at first to the idea of you having a job or going to college since he can provide for both of you

- hates taking "no" for an answer if he thinks he knows better than you. If you're sick with a cold he'll go against your wishes and call a doctor no matter how many times you insist that you're fine.

- Never learned how to let someone else be in charge of something so he also never lets you take control during sex.

Resistant to change

Makes important decisions without you based on what he thinks you would want

Can come across as very apathetic at times. He thinks he's offering an objective point of view that will help soothe your emotions but instead it can feel like he doesn't care about them because you're being unreasonable.

707

Has gotten into the habit of lying about the dumbest shit, so it can be difficult to tell whether he's being serious or messing with you

Doesn't help with household chores because he doesn't find them mentally stimulating

Gets really bad depressive episodes. He doesn't want Saeran to see him like that so he bottles everything up until he can't anymore and will take all his emotions out on you sometimes.

Has never had to communicate how he feels before meeting you, so he never learned how. A lot of the time you're relying on your intuition because he doesn't talk to you about it. Part of him still believes nobody cares about how he's feeling.

Incredibly passive. Getting him to voice what he wants is like pulling teeth.

Codependent and in denial about it. Thinks he's just really in love with his wife.

Has a tendency to completely ignore how he's feeling because part of him is desperate to please you.

Tends to think in absolutes. Has a very black and white view on most things

Struggles to believe that he deserves you and that makes him crave validation, but he never wants to voice to you that he needs validation.

#no saeran this time because i wanted to make my headers using panels from the webtoon #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger imagines #zen mystic messenger #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #707 #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #v mystic messenger #jihyun kim #zen x reader #yoosung x reader #jaehee x reader #jumin x reader #707 x reader #v x reader

2K notes · View notes

tinalbion · 5 months

Note

Hi! Can I please request a smut fic with Rusty Nail? When I saw that you wrote for him, I was so excited because he is so underrated!

Hey there! I've been thinking about this for so long and I am finally here with good news, I am gracing you with more Rusty smut! Something the world desperately needs, I know I do! Thank you for being patient, I know it was a hell of a wait, but I am back as much as I can be!

Rusty is very underrated and he deserves so much more love than what he gets. So I hope this will suffice for the time being! 💙✨

"I Don't Want To Miss You Like I Do" ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rusty Nail x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Masturbation, vaginal fingering, cowgirl, oral, penetration, creampie

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You had been feeling extra lonely since Rusty had been out doing his job to support the both of you, so with your mind occupied, you figured you'd have some personal one-on-one time. Too bad you didn't know you weren't alone.

Whenever Rusty was gone for weeks at a time, that part didn't bother you in the slightest, it paid the bills and was a necessary trade-off for affording all he could provide for you. You didn’t even think he would give up what he loved doing, and you’d never want him to, but what you hated the most was the loneliness.

You'd grown accustomed to having him around, so when that first time back on the job came around, you were slightly nervous, but living in his larger home was nice and much more peaceful than staying in your city apartment. It gave you things to do with a place so large, new things to discover about Rusty that he had displayed around the walls, but for such a larger place compared to your apartment, it was painfully quiet after a while of living there. Rusty wanted you to feel at home here since you decided to stay with him, so he tried his best to do what he could to bring more of you out within the confines of the walls. He offered to set up a room just for you if you wanted it, sort of like an office or a crafting area, and he'd arrange it to suit your needs. You spent time in there when he was away, fiddling around with whatever you had set up, and you just mostly liked to sit in there and read, but today you were feeling impatient, so you placed the book down and let out an irritable sigh.

You weren't upset with him, far from it, you were upset with yourself for being so codependent on this man. He brought out a side to you that you didn't know existed, and you were starting to feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever you began to think of Rusty. It would lead from missing him and wondering what he was thinking, to wondering if he'd ever let you fuck him in his truck. You sure hoped he would at some point, you needed to ride him while he was in that seat of his–

“Oh god,” you grumbled and stood up from the chair, then you decided it was best to go and take a shower. Wash away your sinful thoughts, that's what you needed to do. You pulled yourself away from the room and weaved your way around to the shared room you had, then rummaged through the closet, your mind desperately trying to bury the thoughts you were having.

The trickling of water felt great as soon as it hit your body, your muscles relaxed under the warmth of it, so you cranked it up just a little more to get the temperature just a bit higher. A smile grew across your face as the water soaked your hair, ran down your back, and you stood there to allow yourself just a few moments to gather your thoughts. But as soon as you closed your eyes, his face was there. You could imagine him walking into the bathroom as soon as he heard the water start running, opening the door, and just leaning against the frame, because he’d know you heard him, so you’d peek out.

“What’re you up to, sugar?”

You’d scoff and look up at him as you peeked through the shower curtain meekly. “Taking a shower, why?”

“Just wonderin’ why you didn’t invite me in.”

Rusty was like that sometimes; he would want to be wherever you were, wanting to touch you in every place he possibly could reach. You weren’t opposed to it, you encouraged it even, but something about his gentle touch when he was in one of those moods always made you feel empty without him here. Your fingertips ghosted over your lips and slid down to your neck -his favorite spot to kiss you- as you stood beneath the running water still, smiling to yourself.

The impure thoughts that took over your mind were willing you to slide those fingers lower and lower, smiling as your eyes remained closed until you gently dipped them between your legs. Your vivid memory of the way his large, calloused hands handled you so well flooded back, and the way he curled those two fingers into that sweet spot made you buckle at the knees. Yours weren’t as good as his, but they’d get the job done. You let out a small moan, your breath hitched as you pictured Rusty pinning you against the cold tiles of the shower.

“Easy there, girl, you’re so eager. Gonna take my time with you.”

Just thinking about his deep voice as smooth as pouring a glass of whiskey, it tickled your brain in the right ways when he spoke you through everything he did. Most times he'd tease you, edging you to the point you were a shaking, sobbing mess. Other times, he would talk you through it and watch you as your face contorted from feeling pure bliss to feeling complete frustration.

“Please, Rusty, I wanna cum so bad,” you'd whine.

“Oh you will if I let'cha,” he'd respond smoothly, knowing you couldn't do much to change his mind.

Your head leaned back as the water sprayed down your chest, you couldn't help but grab your breast and squeeze it, playing gently with your hardened nipple. God, you needed him so badly, and you wondered when he'd be back home, back in your bed. You wanted to feel his mouth between your legs, feeling the way his facial hair rubbed against the inside of your thighs sent you into a frenzy every time, and he knew what to do to get you to cum on command.

You wished he was here to pick you up and place you in the bed, but you had to make due until he came back. With a sigh, you removed your fingers from yourself and washed them off, then stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you. The sting of sadness set in a little as you shuffled to the large bed in the center of the master bedroom, seeing how painfully empty his side was. He was already gone for a couple of weeks, and it had been a while since you last called to check on him, so maybe you would do that to ease your loneliness. But you felt so pent up and needed to feel a release in one way or another, so maybe you'd call afterward.

As you crawled into the middle of your bed, you laid on your back and sprawled out, one leg lifted as you placed your fingers between your already slick folds, thinking of the large, rough man of your dreams. He would know how to take care of you, it's like he was easily attuned to your needs and what you preferred, and his fingers fit so well into your hole. You moaned out softly, your body moved as you rolled against your hand, wanting to feel his thick digits stretching you so well. The room was filled with your moans and wet sounds from between your legs, and you pulled those mental images to mind that made you want to descend into your orgasm, already so eager to feel the sweet relief so you could finally relax.

What you hadn't been paying attention to was the front door opening and closing.

Rusty had tried to call you twice, but your phone was still sitting in your office space beside the book you were reading, so you had no indication that Rusty was going to surprise you by coming back a little earlier than expected. He heard your moan from downstairs, his ears perked up and tuned into his surroundings. At first, he was a little worried by your lack of reaching out, but it seemed he'd caught you at the perfect time. He was missing you while he was away, and he already felt the growing excitement in his jeans. Slowly but surely, he made his way up the stairs, making sure he didn't tip you off just yet, and the sounds coming from you only sounded more enticing the closer he’d gotten.

He had finally got to the doorway and he peeked inside, watching as you lay there spread out on your shared bed, touching yourself as your eyes were squeezed shut. You were pumping your fingers in and out, curling into that sweet spot as you moaned out Rusty's name over and over, wishing he was there to take care of you. It was hard for him to keep watching and do nothing, he had to have you, he couldn't wait for much longer.

His large hand slowly pushed the door open as you continued, no sound came from the hinges which would have given away his position. Instead, he stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with one arm keeping him in place while the other slid into his front pocket. Damn, you looked good like this, he was always a watcher, but never to this degree.

“Well, damn, if I woulda known you were havin’ fun without me, I woulda came home sooner,” he said suddenly, his voice still low and deep.

Your eyes snapped open as you removed your fingers from yourself, the sudden shock of the fear of being caught electrified your nerves. But after the initial shock, you stared up at him and smiled with a hint of embarrassment.

“R-Rusty! You're home!” You wanted to run to him to greet him, but your soaked hand kept you from doing so. “You're back early.”

He stepped up toward the bed, his head cocked to the side as his hands managed to find his belt as he began to undo it. “Well, I wanted to surprise you, but it seems you surprised me first. What'chu doin’?”

Your face was most definitely red as you closed your legs, poorly hiding the fact that You were just touching yourself. “Uh, I was just… I was thinking of you all day, I was missing you… and I got caught up…” You confessed with a blush in your cheeks.

“Missin’ me that much means a lot to little ol’ me, sugar.” He stepped up to the edge of the bed and without missing a beat, he grabbed your legs and pulled you toward him, which caused you to yelp out a little in surprise, but you were now face to face with him. He smiled down at you beneath the brim of his aging trucker hat, his eyes bore deep into yours. “Havin’ all the fun without me, ain't you?”

“I wasn't having that much fun, I was wishing you were here with me,” you explained, staring up at the large man. “But… you're here now, and well, I haven't finished…”

“Oh, so you want me to help you with that, huh?” He asked with a smirk, his large hands still resting on your ankles. “And so what if I do help you?” He asked playfully. “What do I get out of this if you finish?”

You knew he wanted you just as bad as you needed him, and he wanted you to work for it now that he caught you in the act.

“Couldn't keep those pretty little fingers away, just had to get impatient, huh?” He chuckled as he lowered his body onto you, massive in size compared to you.

You bit your lip as you reached up for his neck, wanting to play with the hair that peeked out from beneath the hat. He stopped just above you, hovering enough that if you were to lean up, he would be just out of reach. “Rusty, kiss me, please?”

He just chuckled in response, that smile you fell for immediately peeking from beneath the hat. “Oh I don't think so, you gotta earn that, sweetheart.”

You were about to whine in protest, just wanting to dote on the man now that he was back, but you barely had time to recover when he lowered his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing it and biting at your sensitive flesh that was oh-so close to your heat. The gasp that escaped was loud and sharp, but you soon turned into a whining mess the more he teased you.

“Rustyyyyy~” You whined as you tugged at his hair, causing the hat to shift and fall off to the side of the bed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it.”

“You mean you didn't mean to get caught, is that it?”

Your face was flushed at the realization that he was right, you meant to pleasure yourself but wanted to get it out of the way so you could hold off a while longer for him to get home.

“Been so greedy ever since you were fucked,” he huffed and lowered his mouth back onto your thigh. “Give you a taste and now you're fuckin’ cock hungry.”

His lips kissed your slick folds over and over, just missing the mark of paying attention to your throbbing clit, and you swallowed a pathetic whimper that died in your throat as soon as he plunged two of his fingers into you. You hissed at the feeling of those calloused digits, curling into you and causing your walls to flutter around him. Your back arched as you rolled your hips into his hand, feeling that sweet friction that hit you in just the right way, you wanted to cry with how much you've missed him.

“Oh my god, Rusty, please, keep going…” you sighed, your lead lolled off to the side as you removed the towel from your top half, and then you began to massage your breast as he kissed and touched you.

“You better not cum till I tell you to,” he warned in that deep honeyed voice. “Else you ain't gettin’ what you want.”

“I-I don't know if I can hold back–”

“Then you better learn real quick, sweetheart, you ain't gonna like the punishment you get if you don't.”

You loved when he urged you, spoke to you like he did, the gravelly voice he got with you was so sexy that you could have fun just listening to him talk. You shifted and couldn't help but continue to fuck yourself on his hand, whimpering as you were stretched so good with just his fingers. Rusty then slid his tongue around, coating it in your wetness as he continued to finger you, gently playing with your clit. He sucked at it, watching as you went from a whiney mess to a blubbering mess. You twitched and your body jolted, feeling that intense pleasure on your clit, getting the friction you so desperately craved.

“Oh, fuck, Rusty! Please!” you begged, your knees shaking as he held one of your legs up behind your knee.

You urged him to continue, so he obliged and removed his fingers, to which you cried at the loss of feeling him inside of you. But now those had been replaced with that broad tongue, lapping away at your essence, wanting to taste the sweetheart he so desired in his absence. You could feel his facial hair scratch and tickle at your thighs, the overwhelming feeling of his stubble, his tongue, and his large hand gripping at your leg so hard was a lot to handle while your orgasm was building.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck–” You were at a loss for words with how well you were being treated, you'd loved how he got you so sinfully wet.

Rusty smiled as he brought his lips up to your aching nub and began to swirl his tongue around it before he began to suck at it. You cried out and thrust your hips upward, pushing yourself further against his mouth as if you could get him any closer to you, all while your hands were clutching at the comforter beneath you.

You were so close to feeling a sweet release until his mouth harshly pulled away from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching. “Rusty, no! W-Why would you do that?”

“Told you you couldn't cum without my say so, and as much as I wanna taste you, I want you to cum while I'm inside you,” he explained, followed by a dark chuckle.

It didn't take him long to crawl back toward you, one hand guiding himself to push against your folds, his head pushing against your clit. You squirmed and rocked against him, trying to feel him slide against your lips, just wanting anything more than the emptiness you felt right now.

Your eyes closed, your brow furrowed, and you moaned every time he pushed against you just enough to feel just a little relief only to pull away again, and it was driving you insane. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him with a look of pure frustration.

“Rusty, pleaseeeee,” you begged him again, but you regretted doing so as soon as he pulled away from you. “Wait, what are–”

He pushed himself up, then with a quick turn and an arm slung around your waist, you flew up against him, landing against his chest as he quickly positioned himself so you were straddling his lap as he sunk into the mattress.

“Told you, sweetheart, you're gonna work for it.”

Your lips suddenly felt dry as you could feel his hard cock twitch beneath you. He was giving you the chance to ride him, how could you refuse him this? Your hands hold onto his shoulders to gain some leverage as you move yourself a little higher, allowing yourself to line up perfectly with him. Slowly you sunk onto him, the girth of his cock stretched you so well, it made you let out such a low sigh as your entire body shivered with the feeling of how much you needed this.

“Oh my god, Rusty,” you groan out, your hands still placed on his shoulders. “Fuck, missed you so much while you were gone.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a wicked smirk, his hands gripped your waist as he pushed himself deeper inside of you until he bottomed out, and then those calloused fingers slid down to your thighs.

Your hands immediately reached up and snaked through his hair, grabbing and pulling at it as his hands held you by your ass, allowing you to bounce on his cock at your own speed, but he could easily change that in an instant if he decided to. You leaned forward, wanting to kiss him, but he leaned back a little and smiled, chuckling at the disapproval plastered across your face.

“Told you sugar, you gotta earn that. Need you to cum on me first, now start movin’,” he huffed as he leaned back against the pillow, watching you with interest as you began to bounce on him.

He helped a little, lifting you every so often to get you to fall harder into his lap, your skin slapping in a beautiful rhythm as you cried out his name over and over again, but your voice hitched when he slipped his hand between the both of you to rub his thumb against your clit. Your fingers clasped the back of his head and neck, your nails grazing his skin while he continued to gauge your reaction.

“Oh fuck, Rusty-” you gasp.

His thumb rubbed in increasingly tighter albeit sloppy circles, and that only caused the pleasant tingle between your legs to grow with a deeper intensity. Rusty then pressed the pad of his thumb harshly against your throbbing nub while he thrusted his hips upward at the same time, watching you as you were coming undone as he watched you intensely.

“Yeah, you’re doin’ a good job there, wonder if I should let you cum now…” He chuckled as he saw your eyes roll back once he jerked his hips upward, hitting that spot in such a delicious manner.

“Please, oh my god, PLEASE-”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You shivered and bit your lip, wanting to stifle your moan so you could form a singular sentence. “Please, I wanna cum so bad. Please, let me cum…”

Rusty’s grip tightened as his smile widened. “Atta girl, love hearin’ you beg for it.” His hand pulled away from your possibly bruised hip as he reached up, his massive palm now wrapped around your throat as he pounded into you harder, faster, all while still stimulating your clit.

You cried out, your whines and moans drowned out by the blasphemous sounds that came from your slick-soaked pussy. He relished in the sounds you made, you knew he wanted you to be as vocal as you possibly could, even in public when he would make sure you knew who you belonged to. His hands released your throat and moved away from your clit, then slid around to rest on your ass, gripping your cheeks hard as he began to fuck himself into you. He’d give you the release you so desperately craved, and the release he needed to lose himself in being away from you for all that time.

“Rusty, I won’t be able to hold it...” you warned through gritted teeth, your hands resting firmly on his chest as you clawed your nails against his skin.

“Guess I could let you cum on me, then,” Rusty offered through his heaving breath, still smiling up at you.

Several more hard thrusts against your aching cunt and you were going to be ruined in his lap, you cried out while he continued to plow into you, making you take every inch you could of him as your body tensed and finally released that pleasure. You couldn’t even take the time to ride out your orgasm, Rusty was relentless and continued to take you at his unyielding pace, wanting to be able to cum deep inside of you. His thighs tensed with each roll of his hips, his body straining beneath you as your walls clenched around him.

Rusty wrapped his arms around your waist and buried himself to the hilt inside of you, coming hard as spurts of his hot seed coated your insides, his deep honeyed voice released a guttural growl as he gripped you hard. It throbbed as he held you in place, but you were too tired to move much anyway, so you allowed him to use you as he deemed fit as you lay limp in his arms.

You were both straining to catch your breath as you both lay there, your body now collapsed on top of him while his arms released the firm grip on your waist and just draped over you gently. Your head was resting on his shoulder as you attempted to catch your breath, and Rusty just lay there with his hand stroking your hair softly, rewarding you for your good behavior with the softness only you really got to see. He wouldn’t force you off after, he enjoyed the affection you showered him with during moments like these, so he allowed you to remain splayed on top of him.

“That was amazing…” You sighed happily, your eyes closed as you listened to his heart beating. You couldn’t find the heart to pull away from him, even if he’d been gone for a while, you just wanted to enjoy it with him, no matter how brief.

His arms wrapped around you as if to give you a hug that he hadn’t thought of giving you till that very moment, so you moved your head lazily to look up at him, your chin resting against his chest. “You still haven’t given me that kiss yet,” you huffed and pushed out your bottom lip.

Rusty just let out a low chuckle as he always did, but he pushed himself up and slid his hand around your neck, tangling in the sweat-soaked hairs as he pulled you into a heated kiss. When you pulled away, you smiled up at him and felt content with everything in the world now.

“Missed you, too, sugar. Next time you’re feelin’ lonely like that, I suggest you call me up.”

“And how will that help me exactly?”

Rusty just laughed again and slid his hand down to your ass, giving it a firm slap. “Oh, I’ll think of a way.”

#tinalbion writings #rusty nail #rusty nail joy ride #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail imagine #rusty nail headcanons #rusty nail x fem!reader #f!reader #slasher headcanons #slasher community #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #joy ride 2 dead ahead #tinas asks #comfort #smut

152 notes · View notes

celestialtarot11 · 6 months

Text

8h synastry with romantic partners

Hi friends! I wanted to discuss the 8h synastry with romantic partners. It is mixed with my subjective experience, so please keep that in mind! I’ve had this placement twice with two people, so let’s talk about it and misconceptions! ✨💗☮️ Please like comment and reblog to boost 🌹

🌹 Why is 8h synastry so likable in the astrology community?

For many reasons, one being it’s described as a strong sexual desire and tension between two people. It feeds into a fantasy of control. Some people may actually enjoy this synastry and that’s completely okay, no shame here. But this post is meant to go deeper psychologically in this synastry placement.

People may like it because it offers a sense of control from the start. The common enemies to lovers trope can easily start a competition between the two, and it usually leads to behaviors to impress the other person involved, even if both are not used to seeing themselves in this light. Stalking to know ones personal life and every detail is common with this synastry.

People also think it’s a sex placement, ruling things that happen in the bed. But in my previous post I discussed this in detail and provided my thoughts. The 8th house is associated with loss and grief, the metaphysical death of one’s ego and wounding. This does not sound sexy at all and the 8th house has nothing to do with bedtime pleasures. It can talk about our deepest desires that we shame ourselves for, however. See here for more: Discussing the Misconception of Pluto + More

🌹 So, what really is 8h synastry?

According to textbooks and traditional astrology, the 8h is associated with metaphysical death, loss, transformation, and release of the old. In Vedic astrology it’s associated with past lives and karmic debt. All the houses are associated with profection years, but 8th house years are about losing stability to gain stability, and losing what was causing the imbalance in our lives. Including ourselves.

In relationships from subjective experiences, 8h synastry included a false sense of control over each other. Controlling perceptions, manipulating how one saw the other. It also created a feeling of entrapment, being infatuated with the other person that no one else mattered. Or no one else could break the bond. This synastry appealed to our darkest fears and attachments from the start. All abandonment wounds, codependency, triggers slowly unravel itself in the relationship. Usually the connection lasts as long as the two remain infatuated. At some point, it will end with the real authentic truth. The truth that we cannot hide ourselves from, and neither can the other person. It has barely anything to do with the actual connection, and more so our psychology and how we replayed our past.

The point of 8th house synastry is to help break both people away from the past and become a transmuted version of themselves. To release the baggage and narratives controlling them in their relationships. For example if you have been codependent, the 8h relationship will highlight a lot of those patterns to heal it. The 8h relationship is mostly an ending, not a beginning. It’s an end to our pain, our suffering and the shame we experienced in childhood.

A disclaimer not all relationships with 8th house synastry has to end horribly or will end horribly, I’ve known people who have created beautiful lives in this. The two just have to keep healing in the connection.

8h synastry can be so difficult because it involves the parts of us we are ashamed of to come out. It involves rawness, authenticity, and release. Both people can see each other’s triggers in the light and it can make vulnerability difficult. Especially when both people came in wanting to preserve their image to be the best.

In my experience, the people I dealt with had so many triggers and truths come out, things I never expected to see from them. Also from myself. It gave me the opportunity to heal something that kept controlling me. 8h synastry is truly complex. It gives us awareness not everything is as it seems. Not everything can be taken at face value.

I’ve known someone who rather live in denial and delusion than to face reality. It was too difficult for him to acknowledge the healing I had done, especially when I asked him about the truth. Instead of giving me one truth, he gave me many confusing and contradictory ones. The only thing I could trust was my intuition and what I needed to do: heal.

Would I ever want 8h synastry again? No! It did all it needed to do and 5h synastry is better for sex 😭 The 5h is all about fun and pleasure anyway! I never want to romanticize the feeling of control in those partnerships again. Eventually it all came down and crumbled.

Lets not romanticize trauma and false sense of control these relationships may present to us 💅🏻✨ Thank you for coming to my ted talk! Please share and comment or like! 🌹❤️

Paid Readings ☮️💗

157 notes · View notes

403tarot · 11 months

Note

How would seventeen members would want to be loved?

just trying to send a request, tysm for noticing i love your readings. ✨

how seventeen members would want to be loved? 🍀

scoups: he is intense and looks for someone who is the same way. he wants to be loved for who he is, not just for what he can offer. scoups is seeking a balanced and healthy relationship where he and the person are not just lovers but also best friends.

jeonghan: he wants to be loved in a way that revolutionizes everything he thinks about love. he's seeking someone who makes him feel heard, cared for, and loved. jeonghan believes a relationship should symbolize the connection and evolution of two individuals.

joshua: he wants to be loved in a light and healthy manner, likely the type of person who ends up falling in love without realizing. he doesn't want a love that causes heartache or provokes anxiety but rather a mature love that makes him see the sparkle in life's little things every day.

junhui: he wants to be loved unconditionally, by someone who sets his heart on fire, warms his body, and makes his hands tremble. he's the kind of guy who seeks strong emotions and looks for someone who also enjoys bathing in the chaos of their own feelings.

hoshi: he wants someone who connects with him on body, soul, and mind. he needs to be loved in the same way that he's willing to love, and the vastness of care he has to offer is unparalleled. hoshi seeks a love that can be embraced effortlessly and doesn't make him think that the grass is greener on the other side.

wonwoo: he wants to be loved by someone willing to know and accept all facets of his personality, even the bad ones. he's looking for someone with whom he can be vulnerable, genuine, and who understands him, or at least is willing to. someone with whom wonwoo can share life's joys, blessings, frustrations, and sorrows.

woozi: he wants to be loved in a balanced way, without the person placing excessive expectations on him. woozi desires a love where he feels encouraged to be the best version of himself always. additionally, he doesn't like to be pressured in the emotional aspect and seeks someone who's in tune with that.

dk: he wants to be loved in a way that highlights the best aspects of his personality. he's seeking a love that brings color and vibrancy into his life, someone who takes care of him, holds him while sleeping, and truly shows an appreciation for his personality. dk desires someone as organized and methodical as he is.

mingyu: he wants to be loved by someone as enthusiastic about the idea of love as he is. mingyu is romantic and affectionate; he wants to know everything about his partner and desires to feel that interest reciprocated. he seeks someone with whom he can develop hobbies and who stands by his side to discover new things while holding his hand.

minghao: he wants to be loved in a way that is fulfilling and respects the individuality of both in the relationship. at times, he seems to feel the need to be alone, and someone who understands this is crucial. minghao seeks someone who is secure in their relationship, demonstrates maturity, and is capable of living without him. he said NO to codependency.

seungkwan: he wants an electrifying love, one that's different from anything he's ever experienced. he wants to feel that his person is all he needs and to be everything she needs in return. a love without insecurities, without suspicions, that makes him feel life is lighter and more fun. seungkwan seeks someone who delicately cares for his heart and keeps him head over heels, even after a long time.

vernon: he wants someone to love him in a chaotic, intense, and fierce way. he's looking for a feeling of being swept into the eye of the storm, someone who makes his heart almost leap out of his chest. a person willing to laugh in the face of danger alongside him and who locks themselves into a world that belongs only to the two of them.

dino: he wants to be loved in a way that makes him feel valued for who he is. someone who shows this love primarily through a lot of quality time, acts of service, and plenty of physical affection. he desires a calm and healthy love where both feel they are walking together towards the future, without distractions or meaningless arguments.

* based on tarot

#— duckie notes ⪩♡⪨#seventeen tarot #kpop readings #seungcheol #jeonghan #joshua #junhui #hoshi #wonwoo #woozi #dk #vernon #dino #minghao #mingyu #seungkwan #seventeen fluffy imagines #kpop astrology #kpop tarot

228 notes · View notes

chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter · 1 month

Note

can you imagine telling me 'bonten tl harutaku, pretty boyfriends, that's all" and then not immediately saying more? Like, thanks for setting the autism rabbit hole 😔

Well, in my defense I assumed there was not much to say about Bonten HaruTaku for two reasons:

When could they interact if Takuya is having a good future?

Sanzu "has" Mikey there. Big stretch bc Mikey is an empty shell of himself, but yeah, being his right hand is difficult to imagine him not totally focused on Mikey (is his special interest and we all know it✨). Even more with interacting with anyone outside Bonten. He has to keep the depressed twink alive + a whole organization running like it had a functional boss (okay, Koko helps a lot with anything money related, but violence? That's Haru's deal and I'm pretty sure that as much unhinged as he can be, he works himself for 3 people minimum. Is for Mikey, so no more questions your honor 😌)

BUT!

It has been brought to my attention by @fredlikesbreakfast that we don't see Takuya in Pah-chin's wedding or at any point of the "good future" interactions on Toman's side.

(Also, I'm gonna be using his headcanons about Takuya, bc I'm not a Takuya expert and I trust his wisdom on this. Go read them, everyone!)

And.... This.

Just watch this and how I'm about to build sandcastles over fucking nothing, okay?

(Did I wanted an excuse to show choker Takuya in full color? Yeah, sue me xD)

And then, we get Bonten introduced with some random traitors meeting their "fate"...

(Wakui and his realisim, I just noticed the puddle, argh)

(yeah, Haru is talking alone in here, saying nonsense, right? Is he? Is he talking to that random or to the one next to him? 👀)

ARE YOU ALL SEEING IT? WHO THAT RANDOM BLONDE COULD BE?

Okay, first of all, before talking about harutaku I need to put some context in bonten harumai situation, so bear with me, please! (Haru never got to be his own person, this tl is when he's more of a lost cause and erased himself for Mikey more than ever, so... For understanding Haru, we need to look at his (not) relationship with Mikey 😮‍💨)

Canon facts? Wakui told us that Mikey barely tolerates anyone at this point and he can only stand Sanzu 🔥 Oh, and has no libido whatsoever (not surprising, anorexic depressed twink much)

That means their codependency is canon, hell yeah!

But, and that's a big one... Mikey is terrified of love bc that would mean having someone to grieve and he can't go there. Besides, he's trying to build a good future for everyone else, so if he admits having feelings for Sanzu... Where would that leave him? Having to push him away for his own good too? (Like Haru wouldn't stay no matter what but shhh, Mikey is depressed and biased)

So yeah, Mikey needs Sanzu, but at the same time, he can't get too close to him. What leads to a pretty fucked up situation where Haru is forced again and again to have to guess Mikey's moods and whims and to never known if he's gonna be welcomed or not.

(Besides the "small" detail of Haru scars being a reminder of Mikey's darkness and what he could do, so... Yeah, complicated)

My personal hc is that they used to be a thing✨ during Kanto Manji times. Until Haru made the mistake of dropping the word love, what turned out into Mikey stopping it all together. One thing is to lie to himself that this is just casual sex, but love? Yeah, no, that can't be.

Why is all of this important? Because it means we have a Haruchiyo who got to be with Mikey for some months and then lose it. An openly rejected Haruchiyo who still stays glued by Mikey's side (Mikey stopped the sex, but still needed him) and who is the only one Mikey tolerates. Are you seeing it? He is at his most delulu and unrequited version of his obsession love for Mikey. 🙃

The setting is twisted and messed up from the start, even before Takuya appears in here 😭

THEY ARE GONNA BE DOOMED FROM THE START!

(Well, no surprises considering how it ends I guess xD)

Okay, we have a Takuya that is trying to find his own path in live. Or at least, to separate himself from Takemichi and be his own persona. What is the opposite of the old Toman goodies who are trying to build a normal and happy life? Get involved with gangs again, ofc! 🔥

For some reason I think he got involved when it was still Kanto Manji. Probably bc it feels more reachable than Bonten? But also, if we go with the hcs of last teen years starting with weed and mixing stuff? He had to buy it somewhere and teen gangs feels like a good choice. Koko was there too, they didn't share much time on the 1st division, but is also someone he knows (and who unlike Kakucho who joins later, is in that gang from the start)

So Takuya starts dealing with drugs. You need money to maintain addictions, it is what it is. Small dealing that gets more serious as he grows up. His ability to be an npc seems pretty useful to deal with drugs on the street, ngl. So he ends up getting promoted due to the fact that his numbers are good (Koko here looking for people who is good at making money). Not a big promotion, he's not a higher up. But he's not a nobody either anymore.

That's Sanzu's cue to enter. He is a paranoid gremlin, we all know that. No way he won't stalk suspect on Takuya, when he's aware he was one of Takemichi's friends – who Sanzu hates and calls stinky (jealous much 🙄).

I think this will be around Bonten creation, first couple of years? What also means Senju just died, ugh. More unstable Sanzu, yey! (but also, in more need for comfort and he can't find it on his king, so that also adds to the mix)

Sanzu discovers Takuya is actually on his own and doesn't have much contact with the Mizo gang – less and less everyday – no more than someone could have with ex-classmates. What yeah, saves Takuya's ass (for now), but makes him curious. Why did Takuya part ways with the others? What is about this guy and why is he different that Sanzu assumed he will be? How did he managed to separate himself from who used to be the center of his life? (that last question is one Haru would never admit even to himself bc it feels like a betrayal, but is there. Unconsciously floating on his brain, no doubt)

Pretty sure, again, Haru is the one approaching to Takuya (for not work related purposes, they might have interact before). Junkie radar also works here, but well, is more obvious on both sides, so no need for any radar I guess? 🤣

Differences that I clearly see in their relationship here?

Sanzu is his boss, that for starter. The power dynamics are more unbalanced than ever bc here, Haru is the second in command and pretty confident about it (he has reasons to be, let's be real, Bonten would crumble without him or Koko)

What means that vulnerability he showed sometimes in Bad Toman? That morning after care? Takuya being able to see some cracks on his walls? Forget about it. Not happening. He has to be the perfect right hand (for Mikey), so he can't show weakness to an underling. He can't stop and acknowledge his exhaustion or feelings either, has to keep going.

He's high all the damn time, but also miraculously functioning more. So not as easy to have a situation where he calls Takuya in a moment of weakness.

Unsafe rough sex, so many dubious situations plus more marked bdsm dynamics.

Also, this one can sound weird, but at the same time, Haru is gonna be more demanding of affection. Had a terrible meeting or didn't sleep in 48h bc work? "Takuya, come here and pet my hair, I need to be pampered." Clingy as usual but more openly? Probably even more needy and craving of love now that I think about it 🤔 Bc he spends his days by Mikey's side, feeling the constant rejection.

As long as the years keep passing tho, I think Haru starts crumbling. Slowly and just showing lil pieces, but... Have you seeing Bonten Mikey? He looks too much like tl0 Mikey. NO WAY HARU IS NOT GRADUALLY GETTING TRIGGERED WATCHING THE SIMILARITIES GROWING MORE EVERY DAY! *insert screaming cat in here please*

Takuya sees that. He sees that Haru is more burned out every day, but also, that he comes back from his time with Mikey worse and worse every day. More irascible and grumpy, easier to jump and go violent. But also more clingy and a total emotional mess. Nightmares every night? No doubt either. (or at least when he sleeps, ugh)

Where I'm going with this? Welp... We need Takuya getting killed, right? And why? Why did he end up like that? As much as he can be dumb with his friendships, I think Takuya is smart enough to not try to betray Bonten. Especially if he has 💫something💫 with Sanzu. It's a suicide and a way to kill their relationship all at once. Feels odd.

But what if what Takuya did was something different? What if out of worry he started to point out to Haru that he was looking more drained every day? That he should rest from time to time. Small things here and there, that depending on Haru's mood would make him feel touched (someone sees him enough to notice this, someone cares) or annoyed (he can't admit it, he can't stop, remember?)

And Takuya starts feeling a lil confident with saying those things. Bc Sanzu also got softer with the years, more caring in a weird crazy way (he learns to appreciate the only place where he feels seen).

I also have no doubt Takuya has been biting his tongue for years about the fact that Haru runs when Mikey calls or text him. No matter the hour or what he was doing. Literally. Mid sex? Yeah, "sorry Takuya, my king needs me, see you!" (terrible xD)

Maybe one day Sanzu arrives at Takuya more exhausted than usual. He didn't sleep in 3 days, he just want to be hugged and pampered, to not be alone with his own demons. Is painfully obvious that he's so broken, that Takuya feels protective. And oh, Mikey calls Sanzu when he finally fell asleep? And he just answers and says he'll be there in a few minutes? 💀

Takuya explodes. I have a vision of Haru getting dressed and clenching his jaw bc he doesn't have the time to deal with this bullshit, hissing a "careful" as an only warning. While Takuya is saying that this is not normal, that Haru is killing himself for Mikey, for someone who doesn't even appreciate him (will he go as far to say that doesn't deserve it? Unsure, but that is a nice touch, ngl).

That's it. That settles it for Sanzu. Takuya must die, he showed he's not really loyal to Mikey (and what's worse, but Haru won't admit, he told him so truths and put a mirror in front of him)

I can even go further and say the way Sanzu chooses to kill him is totally on purpose. He can't make it personal, can't he? Admit to himself that again, he wanted something of his own? That he craved love and willingly accepted it from someone else that wasn't Mikey? No way, he had that once (Mucho, you'll always hurt 🥲). This time, he kills Takuya with a gun, not katana-chan. And with two other randoms. Because this is not personal, this is business (yeah, keep lying to yourself, Haru)

And the words he says? "Bring down Bonten's hammer of judgment"? Considering Mikey almost never talks and when he does is to Haru.... Yeah, Haru babu, you're Bonten judge and executor. You're the one translating Mikey's will to the rest (what explains why Bonten is so freaking unhinged btw xD).

He is the one judging Takuya. Period.

Also, that "shhh" moment? Pointing out to the three tied people that they should listen to the king, that what Mikey says is law? That feels like a last message to Takuya now.

So, ummmm.... Remember when I said I was about to build a huge harutaku headcanon from nothing? Yeah? Here it was, I hope someone read it until the end and enjoy it xD

(I might add some things later, who knows. But I'm also totally open to others adding to it, let's keep building harutaku together, yey! 💜)

#tokyo revengers #sanzu haruchiyo #takuya yamamoto #harutaku #bonten timeline #bonten sanzu #bonten takuya #bonten harutaku #delulu is the solulu #but sanzu always takes it too far #they are so so so doomed your honor #it went out of hands idk what happened #sorry not sorry

46 notes · View notes

doorp · 1 year

Text

What started out as theories abt when the main cast died but got silly

Annabel + Lenore ✨

This one is pretty straightforward, there’s these Barbie movie redraws flynn did that shows Annabel and Lenore being caught by “NMPD nevermore police department” , with the year 1901 in the corner, implying that’s when they died and got sent to nevermore

This little 1901 in the corner is interesting on like a meta level to me bc 1. in the original Barbie meme theres no date on the slate thingies, so flynn decided to add that piece of info on her own, and 2. this was just after episode 67 came out (on fp I think) and uh little tidbit, before that episode there was a theory that Theo died in like the 1860s or something based on the logo in the newspaper abt his death, the ny daily tribune, and after episode 67 came out and ira mentioned a ship that wasn’t available for public use until 1899 on the discord we were trying to do mental gymnastics to make the 2 dates work but then red came on like “please we accidentally grabbed the wrong logo it’s meant to read new York tribune not New York daily tribune its fixed now we fixed it please” and then a few days later they streamed doing this piece

Anyway, ira talks about the oceanic, which was “the finest ocean liner in the world” the *largest ocean liner in the world* until 1901

The RMS oceanic had its maiden voyage in September of 1899, at the beginning of fall. Annabel says she arrived in New York a fortnight before meeting Lenore, presumably during the spring. Annabel arrives at lenores house in april/may of 1900, spends six months there, and then leaves around the fall, probably somewhere around September or October. Lenore then spends a few months doing her thing and then arrives at her family’s home in either December 1900 or January 1901, during the winter. HERES where it gets interesting. We can assume that Annabel died in the cold, from her spectres chilling atmosphere and all together appearance of corpse in a freezer. She even has frostbite on her fingers and toes, as well as snowflake like glitter in her veil. We can also assume she died on her wedding day, the way she wears her rings on different hands and her wedding dress in spectre form. So if she died in the cold and on her wedding day, then when was her wedding, and how could it be in winter?

heres my 2 theories

1. Lenore beats Annabel at chess just for funsies fairly quickly after arriving, then they try to elope and get caught by their dads

2. Lenore courts Annabel, wins her hand, and they get engaged. Since engagements usually lasted around 6 months to 2 years, their engagement could have been anywhere from however long it takes Lenore to win at chess to December 1901. If their wedding day was in November/December, that means Lenore got away with pretending to be a man for a whole YEAR and they spent that year just being gay and shit/doing schemes.

I personally like option 2 more bc its just sadder that they did get away w it for a while then ultimately got caught - it would also explain why Annabel is just SO into Lenore, if all she remembers is that year they spent being all sneaky and gay and shit, it would explain how she’s just used to flirting and holding onto Lenore in secret. It would also explain why Annabel assumes Lenore is up to scheming at nevermore. if they eloped a few weeks after they reunited it would still be like yeah that makes sense they are such u haul lesbians, but them becoming sneaky codependent gays ripped from each other on their wedding day just hurts more and makes more sense time/character wise

Duke - 1912, maybe even 1912 specifically, idk

Duke has a coin that’s dated to 1912, and Eulalie says it looks brand new. There’s been arguments about wether or not the coin is actually newly minted, but I don’t think we can say for sure. It might not matter either way- I have a theory that the suit cases the students carry aren’t actually random personal items of interest, but a suitcase they packed right before a pivotal event in their lives. Perhaps Duke does have newly minted coins in his suitcase, but he didn’t actually die in 1912. Also! Duke is implied to be a Houdini like figure, so I imagine he’s not later than the 20s.

Pluto - 1914 ish

Plutos spectre wears a British ww1 military uniform, its debated wether or not the jacket was his dads or his, but regardless he couldn’t have died earlier than 1914. Pluto is named after the cat in the short story called The Black Cat by Edgar Allan poe. In the story a cat named Pluto gets its eye slashed out by its drunken owner, eventually getting hung from a tree by the man. Theres obvious references to the story in Plutos design and shit overall, when he manifests a belt snaps around his neck implying he died from strangulation, his spectre has like, a pluming collar/leash of smoke around its neck, his spectre looks like it’s made of ash kinda (someone described him as a burnt rabbit to me once) which is probably a reference to the part in the story where the man’s house burns down, only 1 wall remaining erect, with the image of a black cat scorched into it. Plutos eye is covered by his hair, he walks into a door frame, he’s got spectre abilities called “blink” and “evil eye” so w Pluto until we get more info it’s no earlier than 1914 if you subscribe to the Pluto went to war theory or no earlier than like, say the 20s? if you subscribe to the Plutos dad was a vet theory

Berenice - 1920s

Shes a flapper, cmon. shes from the 1920s. Look at her. We already know she was run over by a cop car after running from some guy, and I tried to look into where the cop car was from but i didn’t have much luck. mostly just confirmed the era, when I searched cop cars of the 1920s pretty similar images to the one that killed bee show up. A few others I think have looked into it more? but im not completely sure. There’s been a lot of theories about where Berenice is from, I’ve seen Louisiana, Chicago, Harlem (Harlem renaissance specifically) but there’s not a lot of conclusive info about Berenice. we know her pearls were real, in the way they scattered, so she had so have some means of affording them. Pearls are held together on a string, but only real pearls have pieces of metal between the pearls to keep them from rubbing against each other. Bees pearls scatter in long strings, not completely all over the place like fake pearls without that structure would.

Eulalie - 1935

The song Eula sings in her death flashback is a Japanese lullaby that was rediscovered in 1935. Its a popular theory that Eulalies death was a hate crime, a fire started because of hate towards Japanese Americans during ww2. She probably died in the forties in america, I don’t think she died in Hiroshima or Nagasaki, the fire that killed her isnt how atomic bombs would have killed her. The kid she sings to asks if someone started the fire on purpose, so imo it was likely a hate crime.

Morella - 1950s - 70s??

Okay so, Morella. we know the least about her. with will we can guess that he was lower class and stuff, but all we know abt Morella is that she’s Irish. Shepards pie and Guinness is pretty timeless. The reason I say 50s to 70s is bc according to Remigoesinsane the clasp to her locket started to be used around that time! that’s all I have on her tbh, a theory of mine is that she died in a factory accident trying to save someone when the machinery went crazy, but that’s mostly it.

Ada - 1930s

Ada’s clothes in her death flashback match those worn by maids in the 1930s, and the lingerie she wears in the manor also matches lingerie worn in the 30s. It would also make sense for Ada’s character to be from the 30s. That decade was called the “somber thirties” bc of how fucked up the economy was after the stock market crash. It was a major time of economic disparity, and Ada’s obsession with trying to seem upper class elite could stem from not having much when she died. She probably sees nevermore as a blank slate, a place where people will see her as more than just “the help” would also make sense that the man that killed her was a rich guy using his power to take advantage of her and get away with the crime. Especially since the poem, Tamerlane, was from the pov of a rich guy lamenting a relationship he had with a lower class girl named Ada.

Prospero ✨

PROSPERO! prospero drinks espresso with his chosen last meal, which was invented in 1901. I think he died from tuberculosis. For a long time a major cause of death has been tuberculosis. So much so that Victorians made it a beauty standard. A major inspiration of Poe himself was tuberculosis, in the masque of red death, along with the grief he was left with after his wife died from it. It rots your lungs, makes you cough up your bloodied respiratory system until you suffocate in it. In the maze, prospero says he felt queasy, like something was crawling under his skin when he died. When prospero cuts his hand, he says he’s going to be sick, and tells Annabel that he’s afraid of blood. (Probably specifically his own blood bc u know he was feeding people to rats like minutes before that) This, coupled with the imagery of blood pouring out from his plague mask when he says the “queasy, like something was crawling under my skin” line, makes me think his death involved a lot of blood! And as I said before tuberculosis was like really gross and bloody and gory. Furthermore, this quote from the writer is SO interesting

In the poem prosperos namesake is in, the masque of red death, the prince prospero, hiding and ignoring a sickness ravaging his country, decides to host a huge party! Everyone’s having a grand old time, the festivities only pausing when the clock strikes, leaving everyone in a dread filled silence, the party picking up almost immediately after and brushing it off. Eventually the plague does get in though and kill them all because they ignored the feeling of dread.

The prince and the party goers die because the prince is blissfully and willfully ignorant of the disease. Bc their hubris didn’t allow them to see the threat of it. Nevermores prospero, however, is obsessed with staying healthy/hygienic as possible. He wears his gloves even when he eats, hates being touched, almost throws up when he cuts his hand. He hallucinates a thousand dirty hands grabbing him and trying to perform an operation on him with disgusting germy tools. He sees the hand he cut amputated, imagining that the wound got so infected that it had to be removed. He stares in horror at his hand before Ada even makes eye contact with him. My theory is Prospero grew up hearing terrible stories of people dying from infection, disease. He heard of people slowly drowning in their own blood. He decided to take every precaution, he simply wouldn’t allow that to be his fate. After Ada attacks him he tells Annabel “you must think me neurotic” for being so upset over the blood on his hand. This feels, so specific and intentional to me. Not just because Annabel dealt with her anxiety and her dad treating her panic attacks like he did, and this is a whole “omg look they’re bonding” moment, but bc, immediately after he tries to assure her that “im not, you know, im perfectly sane” like shit like this has happened before, where ppl called him neurotic for being that sick at the sight of his own blood, or that obsessed with hygiene. The irony being that, he spent his life obsessing over staying healthy, so much so that people called him neurotic, only to die that slow gory death anyway.

That whole, prospero dying from tb tangent aside tho, how it correlates to the time of his death. He probably died in the early 1900s, the earliest being 1901-1906ish, bc again, that’s when espresso started gaining popularity. My guess is he died around the 20s, ik the tb vaccine came out around the 20s, but people still died of it after and are still dying/contracting it today, and in the 20s there were a lot of Italians emigrating to America, and prospero is so aggressively Italian American (eating espresso and cannoli with chocolate chips for his last meal) that it’d make sense. So woo!

Monty - 1910s

Monty is a cowwwwboyyyyyy. The Wild West pretty much tapered out around the early 1900s. He can’t be that recent. He also mentions calamity Jane so that definitely puts him past the 1800s. He seemed to have a pretty wild life, kicked in the head by a horse, tooth knocked out by a human, tied to train tracks and left for dead after calling the pastors daughter loose. crazy guy crazy time

Will ???

Will is so plain i cannot get a read on where hes from im sorry

obligatory thank you for making it to the end, I barely made it myself, this was sitting in my drafts for weeks before I decided to just get it over with. <<333

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #annabel lee nevermore #white raven #ada nevermore #duke nevermore #morella nevermore #prospero nevermore #berenice nevermore #will nevermore #pluto nevermore #eulalie nevermore

377 notes · View notes