chewtoy | s. gojo
✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+
✮ wc ; 2k (????)
✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this
"The young Master is calling for you."
You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.
"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"
You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.
You put the dream to rest quickly.
"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."
You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.
He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.
You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.
A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.
A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.
"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"
You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.
"Yes, Master?"
"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."
"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."
"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."
You lift your head, but do not look at his face.
"Come closer,"
You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.
He glances at you. "Look at me."
You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.
His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.
"Lift your skirt,"
Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.
You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.
"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."
You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.
You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.
"Look at me."
It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.
He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.
He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.
"Young Master,"
He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.
Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.
There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.
You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.
He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.
He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.
You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.
"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."
You don't have the strength to say anything.
It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.
Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.
Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.
"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"
He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.
"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."
He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.
"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.
He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.
"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."
"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."
He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.
"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"
You don't answer him. He goes on.
"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."
You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."
It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.
He's too fond of you for that.
The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.
His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.
He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.
But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.
To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.
No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.
You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.
"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.
You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.
"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."
Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."
"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."
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SUBTEXT
so I've focused in on Perceval and Bors before, and I've done Perceval and Gender (for more on this specifically, see: Clothes Make The Man: Parzival Dressed and Undressed, Michael D. Amey) and did a whole comic that leaned into some subtext™ on temptation, but actually let's throw out the subtext! let's bring Augustine into this!!
Perceval, de Troyes (trans. Burton Raffel)
introduction to Confessions, Augustine (trans. Sarah Ruden)
so for perceval a knight is both the gender he wants to perform but also something that is expressly compared to god, and if god is a lover that seduces. well. does this not also apply to knights as well?
Homosexuality in the Renaissance: Behavior, Identity, and Artistic Expression, James M. Saslow
and while galahad might be the obvious choice, I think perceval's relationship with bors during the grail quest narrative is more interesting. it's not god that transforms perceval, it's the sight of knights for the first time. something in here specifically is incredibly intriguing to me, but there's a different text I need to finish reading to fully form some thoughts on it.
le Morte d’Arthur
and finally! tentatively. I think I might slowly start turning this idea I had a couple years back into a fully formed comic. we'll see! I had most of it blocked out, but halfway through reading augustine's confessions, I think was when perceval finally clicked for me as a character in a later narrative cycle setting. I think I might have to spend a lot of time doing some visual research first because my god I cannot consistently draw armor to save my life......back when I lived in new england, there was a museum with a wonderful medieval armor collection I could visit.....alas.........I will have to hit the books (literally, I have a collection of books on medieval armor but this is apparently the one thing I can't visualize properly in my imagination. save me, museum collections, you're my only hope)
⭐️ credits for the collage panels! (all open access or public domain, etc.)
-Saint George and the Dragon
-Saint George and the Dragon (different one lmao)
-Pages and Knights, Frontispiece for "The Man at Arms"
-Cloisters
⭐ if you like my comics and have a couple bucks, I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!
⭐ and other places I'm at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app
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❝Uncurable disease... or so they say.❞
┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓
✰ Characters: Neuvillette.
✰ Words: 1k.
✰ SFW ; gn!reader, no mentions of pronouns, but neuvillette uses female pet name towards the reader, I think.
Warnings: slight hurt, but then a lot of comfort. neuvi doesnt know how confessing works and does it his own way.
A/N: NEUVILLETTE BRAINROT NEUVILLETTE BRAINROTKORFKKTGOID GRRRRRR it was supposed to short but oh well 1k words hehe shy emoji
┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛
“You make me ill.”
Neuvillette’s words pierce through your heart like daggers. His orchid eyes stare you down and indicate absolutely nothing; his sudden confession left you in a circle between shock and confusion.
The words spread throughout your body like poison, but in reality you’re only staring back at him. The hurt starts to become visible on your face, but your mouth seems to be unable to let out a noise; yet, the voice in your head yells and begs to know the answer as to why.
You clutch the rainbow rose he brought you close to your chest, being the first to take your eyes off him. You look at the ground, feeling the familiar clump in your throat that starts to form.
Neuvillette has been feeling sick as of late. Or at least, that’s what he thought - well, what else could explain that he feels his temperature rise, his heart beating so fast it could escape his chest, making even his voice tremble? “No, this cannot be-“ Neuvillette thought frantically, massaging his temples, “It’s time for a professional to evaluate.”
Though, as expected - the doctor was of no help. She giggled to herself, “I apologize, monsieur Neuvillette, I’m afraid I can’t help in this case. I can assure you however, you’re perfectly healthy.” The chief of justice felt the uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment, but thanked the doctor and left the room.
After yet another trial where Neuvillette seemed to be somewhere else with his thoughts, Furina confronted him with a tinge of annoyance in her voice. The white haired man could only mutter a thing, that he does not feel well; at the sound of his pathetic excuse, Furina stood up from her seat furiously, throwing her hands in the air, “You aren’t sick, fool! You’re in love!”The hydro archon’s cheeks flushed a slight pink at her own statement, but she was no match for her subordinate; she pushed the sudden bashfulness away, “n-now, do something about it immediately! I will not tolerate it in the courtroom any longer!” Furina crossed her arms and sat down again, furrowing her brows and watching the empty seats below her.
Seeing you divert your eyes away, Neuvillette’s expression softened significantly, his line of sight mimicking yours and shifting to a nearby bench.
“Why?”
Neuvillette blinks quickly, his eyelashes batting at you in surprise, “Come again? What do you mean?”
“Why do you hate me?”
He could feel the boiling hot feeling spreading through his body, although not a pleasant one. His eyes widened at you and his lips parted ever so slightly - but Neuvillette could only hear his heart beating so fast, beating to the rhythm of worry and uncertainty.
Before he could react properly, he saw a small tear dripping down your cheek, onto the cold pavement.
But his body moved without thinking.
He cups your cheeks gently with his gloved hands and moves your head up, just enough so you could look at him. His thumbs wipe your tears off your face, sighing deeply and finally speaking the real deal.
“You�� make my heart race. It beats ungodly fast whenever I lay my eyes on you. You’ve been occupying my thoughts for many months, and even if I try to think about anything else - I cannot bring myself to do it, because it all comes back to you. I can’t… stop thinking about you, I can’t stop myself from admiring your ravishing beauty, I want you-“
“Wait!” You yell just enough to make him stop, both of you avoiding each other’s gazes and blushing bright red, but his hands stayed firmly on your face, no longer drying off tears, but caressing the apples of your cheeks he gently, “if that’s how you feel, then why…? Why did you say it like that?” For what it feels like first time in forever, you look into his gorgeous eyes that resemble the finest amethyst.
“I… I apologize, I didn’t want you to misunderstand me,” Neuvillette gasps slightly when he feels your delicate palms on his own hands, “but I truly mean it - I…”
Your breath hitches in your throat; the butterflies in your stomach don’t seem to help, but the anticipation has you almost shaking.
“I love you.”
Neuvillette can’t describe the weight that’s been lifted off his shoulders; but the sinking sensation in his stomach of not knowing what will happen next is making him nervous more than anything. When more tears meet his hands yet again, he fears for the worst.
“It’s alright, please do not shed any more tears because of me. I’m happy enough to have said it,” except, he doesn’t. He feels his heart break in half, getting filled by nothing but a void of emptiness.
The clouds become gloomy - looks like it’s going to rain later.
Just as his hands slide down and he begins to turn away, you reach out for his arm and grab it, causing him to spare you one, last look.
“Wait! I’m sorry, don’t go… I love you too, silly.” You manage to murmur the last few words loud enough that he could hear.
Neuvillette can’t believe it’s actually happening. He appears stunned for a minute, watching you in disbelief, but then a genuine smile graces his lips; his hands play with your fingers and silently ask to be intertwined with yours. When your interlaced hands give him a small squeeze, he gives you the softest, most lovesick look with his eyes that no one could ever imagine.
He places a quick kiss on your forehead and leans against it. Neuvillette’s eyes close for a moment, absorbing the fleeting moment.
It doesn’t take long before the chief of justice pushes your chin up with his fingers, his thumb brushing your lower lip, awaiting for your answer, “Can I, ma chérie?”
It only takes seconds for him to finally lock your lips together, and he wishes to feel that tenderness forever from this day forward.
Neuvillette certainly has to learn a bit more about expressing feelings - now, with your help.
The golden sun returns to adorn the clear skies once more.
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observations on aquarius
artwork by jules pierre van biesbroek
aquarius moons, like other air moons, can treat their emotions kind of like a puzzle; they turn them over in their hands and really break down and analyse their thoughts and feelings. aquarius moons in particular tend to be very focused on the wider impact of their actions and emotions, which, while a testament to their kind and caring nature, can get in the way of them experiencing their full emotional range and the insight that comes with that.
a lot of people with aquarius dominance can go through life feeling dreadfully lonely. though (depending on individual placements) they often pride themselves on being different, or not needing to follow the crowd, deep down they can feel they don't belong, or aren't 'normal'. really, their uniqueness is what makes them beautiful, and while their journey isn't always predictable, they generally find their tribe along the way, and become people with a strong sense of self and steady values that guide them and their relationships.
aquarius on the ascendant tends to have a reputation for looking 'alien-like' or asymmetric, and while the second one especially can be true, my opinion is that a lot of aquarius risings have a doll-like beauty, with very fine and neat features, not unlike virgo risings actually. what sets them apart is that they are more expressive with their style, more congruent and more open to showing their true selves through their clothing. they are prouder and stronger that way, almost more dramatic.
mars in aquarius is a placement that has a strange relationship with anger and assertiveness. they tend to be very cool people, in that they're stoic, relaxed, grounded and pragmatic; they aren't as controlling or fearful as a fixed mars tends to be. but they can be quite detached from their anger and agency, and so if they aren't self-reflective, they don't see how it can affect those around them when they are angry. they are prone to anger at the state of the world and are sensitive to justice - or injustice, rather - but can be erratic in how they display this, at times seeming uncaring.
jupiter in aquarius is a placement that brings a lot of kindness, a lot of generosity, but a strict will and a clear vision. they are dreamers at heart, like a lot of aquarian placements, but if it's channeled properly, jupiter in aquarius gives the native the power and confidence to succeed. the other interesting thing about this placement is that the native tends to love to work; as long as the work means something to them, as long as it does good. they absolutely cannot work just to make money, it's bad for their souls.
aquarius in the sixth house can bring health issues that appear suddenly, are hard to diagnose or treat, or come and go. they may have unusual symptoms or reactions to things, and the phrase 'when you hear hoofbeats, think horses' doesn't tend to apply so well to them. somewhat nervous individuals, aquarius in the sixth house natives can be sensitive to lifestyle factors that help or hinder their health, and so they need a solid (if maybe a little unconventional) routine to really flourish.
aquarius suns are some of the funniest people i've ever met. they have a real deadpan, dry sense of humour and their serious delivery just makes the joke land better. although they may have unconventional taste in material, they don't tend towards the inappropriate and in fact are very even and fair in their roasts. maybe for this reason, they aren't the best roasters, but at least you know you won't be traumatised if an aquarius roasts you...
venus in aquarius gets a reputation for being distant, 'away with the fairies', even unromantic, but i don't think that's true at all. while they are a more grounded and cerebral placement for venus to be in, these natives are incredibly sweet. when they love someone, they will tell them so in a thousand tiny ways. they're the type to take their time getting to know every part of you, down to your microexpressions and innermost worries and favourites.
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