#disciplinary bodies

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Although the LCBO's system of panoptic surveillance was an effective social control tool, it was not without problems. Not only did these technologies carry a substantial cost in staffing, equipment, and finances, as annual reports and various circulars reveal, but they carried secondary and unexpected social effects. Along with certain patterns of resistance, the Board's intensive surveillance resulted in political problems both for the Board itself and for the provincial government in 1936-1937 (LCBO 1936). "Hepburn Agrees the Probe Liquor Administration as Opposition Insists,” announced a head line in Toronto's Telegram of May 25, 1937 (referring to Premier Mitchel Hepburn).

Within its first seven years the LCBO began to suffer under the weight of its surveillance apparatus as its budget reached the level of about $2,307,000 annually. Its document-intensive system was time-consuming, and supplies were difficult to maintain (LCBO Circular no. 1783, 1936, no. 3621, 1945, no. S-145, 1956). The weight both in person-power and equipment needed to successfully perform panoptic surveillance across such a wide population was substantial, requiring over two hundred head office staff and hundreds of local vendors buttressed by the large annual budget (LCBO Reports 1927-34). Coupled with the budgetary restraints associated with the Depression of the 1930s, the pressures of the system led to the changes in policy that slowly shifted away from "soul-training" and a surveillance system based on continuous oversight of human performance to one based on the auditing of records, document analysis, and statistical review, with the development of accountability and governance through the reconstruction of purchase histories and store-related events. The LCBO's use of its auditing and reconstructive technologies increased until its panoptic self-reflection and self-control-based systems were officially removed in 1958. By 1943 it had already been spending $13,708.59 in permit printing costs alone (Ontario 1943-1944, Questions 5 and 6).

From 1928, stores had been instructed to retain orders on file, with the exception of those stores in the Greater Toronto area, which submitted their records on a six-month basis until after 1951. The LBCO told vendors that Purchase Order forms were to be "neatly parceled day by day, endorsed plainly with the date, and arranged in order for quick and convenient reference in case of need, and kept under lock and key" (LCBO Instructions, 1927:4).  In 1934 the Board abandoned its policy of reviewing customer purchase orders at head office as part of the daily review of sales. As the Board explained, "Original Purchase Orders covering sales for residence consumption will not be forwarded to head office but will be retained by you on file for a period of 3 months" (LCBO Circular no. 1594, 1934). The Board's new policy centred on the ability to review the records when needed, that is, when other organizations requested purchase history information or when the information was needed in the Board's own investigations into permit holders or employees, or used to refute claims against the Board. Later on these regulations would change: the period in which documents needed to be retained was lengthened to six months for purchase records and one full year, beginning after the end of the fiscal year, for other store documents and reports (LCBO Manual 1951: 2).

After the stipulated period a Store Inspector audited the documents and “the Vendor and Store Inspector" signed a certificate indicating the material had been reviewed for accuracy and approved. The certificate was then awarded to the Chief Inspector of Stores at head office" and the original documents were destroyed. This was standard procedure for all stores across the province except for "stores in the Greater Toronto Area," which "instead of destroying their purchase orders and store records" continued to send them to head office (ibid.). 

Once the documents were not being submitted to a daily review they no longer exercised discipline over employees in a strict panoptic sense. Nonetheless, they remained central in enforcing regulations and exercising surveillance in a discretionary manner. The Board stressed its ability to review these documents upon demand, arguing that the myriad of forms still allowed for oversight through the reconstruction of sale, purchase, and in-store behaviours when considered necessary (LCBO Annual Report 1961-62: 5; LCBO Circular no. 3377, 1943, no. 3503, 1944). As time passed the Board increased its reliance upon this at-need model of control, and the head office decreased its manual oversight-based Permit Department and Store Inspection staff in favour of centralized statistic-oriented and trend-based Store Supervision and Store Auditing departments.

This "just-in-time" disciplinary regime minimized the need for storage space and offered flexibility in the redeployment of staff, reprioritization of tasks, and technological automation. Moreover, the emphasis on "activating" inspectors on-demand created a leaner, more finely tuned, and dynamic investigation system highlighting the significance of the temporal dimension of surveillance, a point that Foucault (1977: 149ff) underlined with respect to "disciplinary time." This disciplinary power occurs in temporal sequences, co-ordinated patterns of events, and regularities such as schedules and routines.

The characteristics of secondary reconstruction - post-panoptic, selective, efficient, at-need, reassigned personnel, non-daily reporting - have the effect of lifting surveillance out of continuous time and into a depthless present that lacked a lived context in events and relations. In essence a documentary fragmentation of the present occurred along with a shift away from the disciplinary fabrication and individualization of social subjects to a system that was somewhat lighter and generally less visible - ephemeral, that is. It was based on reconstructing the social subject through a collage-like revival of the fractures of the present captured by the LCBO's detailed surveillance-based documentation, only when it was needed and the system became activated (targeted, efficient, sensitive, and, in short, super refined). In a sense, then, the shift was none other than the transformation of surveillance by means of its abstraction from an empirical field - to what David Lyon (2001/13) refers to as "disappearing bodies," with surveillance passing from a strategy of place to a strategy of time, speed, and projections of outcomes in a pure anticipation of the results (Bogard 1996; 76); even time no longer suffices to describe in a straightforward way how informaticized and networked surveillance enters into a "forever universe" (Castells 1996: 464). Specifically, as the regulatory forces of surveillance become unbound to a single place where someone is watching, and become able to convert social events and people's actions into captured data, the necessity of the physical presence of the body for surveillance and control loses its previous importance (thus "disappearing bodies"). Previously, when bodies and surveillance were rooted in a particular time and space, social action retained its context and meaning, but with the ability to "capture" these particular moments within data, surveillance becomes freed from its particular moment in time and space; and data can be called into question without its context, allowing for new meanings to be developed through that newly found freedom. As Bogard (1996: 76) notes, this freedom enables the development of socially influencing simulations of predetermined futures, while Castells (1996: 464) notes a time-disrupted "forever universe" in which social action regarding collected data has lost all meaningful sequencing and becomes an indiscriminate jumble of timeless moments.

Although the LCBO effectively employed Purchase Order forms to reconstruct purchase and sale histories, this shift towards lighter, statistical reconstruction-based technologies also applied to Board attempts to identify, gain access to, and control "risk" populations. Specifically, this shift came in the LCBO's relocation of staff to statistical Store Audit and Store Supervision departments, and in the shift from the use of person-power to high-tech solutions of tabulating and sorting machines as a means of assembling cob Cured fragments and elaborating prejudicial discriminatory practices (LCBO Circular no. 3940, 1948; LCBO Manual 1951: 25)."

- Gary Genosko and Scott Thompson, Punched Drunk: Alcohol, Surveillance and the LCBO 1927–1975. Winnipeg and Halifax: Fernwood Press, 2009. p. 78-80

[fennel-tea]

oh my god i forgot to upload this. have Parker (Adoration, they/them) and Basil (Hypocrisy, she/her).

Parker is a former Backstreets-medic-turned-Safety-Team-Captain who is kind of socially inept but good under pressure. Basil is a Nestborn, frankly miserable person who means very well but has such an acerbic personality that really only Parker tolerates her.

But the good news is, Parker really tolerates her.

[favouritedave]

if I was working a job that required me to be a complete and utter piece of shit to the people around me I'd just kill myself but that's just me I guess

[nanaslutt]

i have another toji idea but this time he’s your bodyguard!

readers dad is a really rich businessman or something and reader is basically serena van der woodsen! she’s always out partying doing drugs and sleeping around so her dad hires toji to keep close eye on her. she’s not happy about it obviously!

reader is in college and toji is like i dont know in his late 30s!!

Bodygaurd!Toji x RichBrat!Reader

contains: fem reader, legal age gap, drug use, non con/dub con (not from Toji), voyeurism, exhibitionism, choking, dacraphillia, restraints, rough sex, so much dirty talk, daddy kink (sorry), teasing, sexual tension, brat taming, multiple orgasms, size kink, Toji has a big dick and knows what aftercare is :3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

The club music around the two men was blaring, Toji could feel a headache coming on. "That her?" Toji asked, pointing to a girl who was laughing at some college boy's joke by the bar, swatting his arm playfully. "She's uh.. that one there." Your father spoke, almost too quietly to be heard under the music. He pointed to you, you who were currently adorned in a skimpy black nightgown-esc dress, the fabric being pulled over the curve of your ass and exposing your lacy black thong without a care in the word to the room around you as you sat on a boy's lap, ruffling his hair as you sucked on his tongue, his hands leading your hips as he ground you down on top of him.

Toji turned his head back to your father, an unreadable expression on his face. Your dad held up his hands in the air, waving them in front of him. "S-shes a good girl really, just a little.. misguided." He said defensively. You loved your father, he was the only man in your life who acctually cared about you and didnt use you for your status or body. The two of you had a wonderful relationship, the only problem was you were an only child, and your mom had died early on in your life, resulting in him spoiling you a little too much.

So when you started acting out, wearing skimpier clothes, doing drugs, staying out late, frequenting parties, and bringing a new stranger home to fuck on his couch every night, you didn't exactly take to his words telling you to 'maybe calm down' in the best way. It's not like he had been strict about it when he talked to you, he had been very sweet and understanding when you said you were 'going through something'. Your father's lack of disciplinary skills combined with how much love he had for you and the constant mindset to always keep his sweet little girl happy had resulted in your behavior getting worse and worse.

Which is where Toji came in. You had just finished up a new photoshoot for a major modeling brand and it had brought you even more attention than you had been getting before, meaning you were going out more, and frequently engaged in unsafe sex and use of drugs. Your father couldn't stand to see you like this, so he hired you a body guard without consulting you first, someone he had worked with in the past, someone he knew wouldn't take your shit, because he sure as hell wasn't going to stop you.

Toji stayed quiet, watching your body sway and move in a way that was clear to him you were under the influence of something. The man beneath you looked too sober, and the way he had started to manhandle your drugged out body made his eye twitch. Toji had known you since you were a kid, he started doing business with your dad when he turned seventeen, and he saw you around sometimes too, although you looked quite different back then. "Do whatever you have to do, I just cant stand to see my little girl like this." Your father said, placing his hand on Toji's shoulder before he checked the time on his expensive wristwatch, clicking his teeth.

"I have to go, please don't leave her side, don't let her bring anyone home, and don't let anything enter her mouth that isn't food or water, alright? I'll be back in a week." When your dad had mentioned not letting you ingest anything that wasn't food and water—referring to substances—he couldn't help but think that might include other people's genitals too. He just had a hunch from the way you had started to palm at the man's crotch underneath you. "Right, is it alright if I use force if I gotta?" Toji asked, squinting his eyes as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

"Yeah that's.. that's fine.." Your dad answered hesitantly. Toji averted his gaze from you, turning his head to look at your father, he smiled. "Have a good trip, sir, Don't worry about your daughter, I'll stick around and whip her into shape for as long as you need me to." He reassured, before starting off in your direction.

Upon closer inspection, he could see your eyes were all out of focus, you looked like you didn't even know what was going on around you as the blond-haired boy roughly kissed your neck, starting to slide his hands down your ass, slipping his fingers underneath your panties. God, you really did look so much different from when he used to watch you lay on your stomach on the floor of your living room, watching your cartoons.

This new look didn't suit you quite as much, white powder on the table in front of you, girls and guys alike touching your skin wherever they could get in, drinks scattered around you, your bra peeking out of your dress as the strap slipped down your shoulder, your eyes rolled back in your head. He doubted you even knew the name of the man who was marking your neck. Hell, he doubted you knew any of the people around you. The people around you were too high off their asses to even notice Toji's presence as he stood right behind you, he was so close he could practically feel the heat radiating off your skin.

The boy under you looked up at him, pulling his lips away from your neck. "You wanna taste, get in line old man, 's how this shit works." He giggled, talking about you like you were some disposable inanimate tool. Toji grit his teeth, grabbing the boy's hand and stopping it before he could dip it any lower in your panties. "She's not even fucking here right now, you don't see anything wrong with that?" He asked, referring to how high you were. The boy was taken aback at Toji's sheer strength, "What the- let go of me man-" He tried yanking his hand away from Toji, but to no avail.

"Look- she fucking loves it its fine, ain't that right baby~" He asked, grinning as he took his other hand to grab your jaw, nodding it forcefully. You smiled drunkenly, your eyes all out of focus as he manhandled your head. "Alright, I've seen enough." Toji sighed, leaning down he picked you up with ease from underneath your arms and threw you over his shoulder, your ass being exposed even more—if that was even possible.

"What the fuck~" You slurred, eyes trying to focus on the constantly moving ground underneath you as Toji kept one hand on the small of your back, walking you out of the building. You felt dizzy and sick, the music was too loud, but you still felt the need to kick and scream at the man who was taking you away from the chaos. "Who the fuck are you? 'was fuckin' doing something back there.." You slurred, weakly struggling in his grip.

Toji stayed silent until he reached the exit, pushing the heavy wood open he took in the cool air of the night, the ice-cold oxygen feeling refreshing in both of your lungs. He pulled out his phone from his pocket, shooting a quick text to one of your drivers who was nearby to pick the two of you up, ignoring your 'hey- answer me''s in the backround. He slipped the device back into his pocket, plopping you down on the ground in front of him, making sure to keep a hand on your waist to insure you didn't fall over.

"Was it you I was kissing?" You asked, squinting your eyes at him as you leaned in, standing on your tippy toes you placed your hands on his solid chest to try to get a good look at his face. "I don't think he had black hair.." you slurred, losing your balance on your tippy toes, and falling back onto flat feet. Thanks to Toji's grip you didn't fall flat on your ass. "You don't even care do you?" He asked incredulously, keeping his tone steady as he let you grope his chest.

Toji took the opportunity to fix your appearance up a bit, pulling the strap of your dress back atop your shoulder so your bra was fully covered again; not like it made a huge difference thanks to how low the dress was, but he still wanted to give you some dignity; he used his large hands to slide down your waist, smoothing out your dress so it rested on your thighs once more as it should. His touch felt so good, it was a lot softer than the touches from the college boy's inside, you could work with this.

"Mmm, not really." You smiled up at him, biting your lip between your teeth as you looked him up and down. "You takin' me home to fuck me?" You mumbled, giving him a doped-out grin. "Not exactly." He replied. Seconds after, the car approached, and out came another middle-aged man who walked to the curbside and opened the door for the both of you. Toji held your waist as he walked you towards the open door. You stopped in your tracks, holding the top of the car door when you got close enough to see the driver's face.

You looked at him closely, narrowing your eyes. "Wait.. you're my driver.. why are you here? I'm not going home yet," you said confused, tuning your body to look between the two men. "Yes, you are," Toji replied, using a strong hand to manipulate your weak body as he pressed your shoulder down, pushing you into the car. "No- no wait- what the fuck? You said you were gonna fuck me." You slurred, watching the blurry picture of Toji slide into the car after you, the driver slamming it slut promptly.

Toji gripped your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, "Don't think your dad would like it very much if I fucked his daughter while she was high on coke." You blinked at him, trying to make the fuzziness in your vision go away, "'m not on coke, it's jus' molly, and why the fuck are you bringing up my dad?" You asked, trying to jerk your head away from his hand. "Your father hired me to be your personal cockblock, hope you're ready for rehab," Toji smirked, releasing your face as he bucked you into the seat, your body jolting when the driver pulled out into the street and started driving the two of you home.

—

You woke up with a headache, stomachache— honestly it would take longer to list what wasn't aching in your body. You groaned, stretching your limbs under your own sheets as you tried to wake yourself up. Wait, these are my sheets? How did I get home last night? you wondered. "Fuck.. water." You sat up, sitting on your ass as you curled your legs up to your chest, laying your forehead on your knees. Your throat was dry- like you had been stranded in the dryest desert for months, you tried to swallow, but it just felt like swallowing sandpaper. You didn't care as much about how you got home, too focused on trying not to throw up as you tried to gather the strength to stand.

You always regretted the morning after you went so hard like a night like the last. You always felt like a shell of yourself the morning after, no amount of drugs or sex could make that feeling go away until the next night, but it wasn't awful enough for you to break this little cycle you had going. "Need some water?" A voice rang in your ears, making your body jolt as you held your hand over your chest, scooting back on the bed as you looked in the direction of the voice to the large figure standing in your doorway.

A tall, balck haired and well build man who looked to be around your dad's age walked into your room holding a glass of water, you swore he looked familiar but you couldn't pinpoint where you had seen him before. You sighed, chalking it up to another unwanted one-night stand who had overstayed their welcome, although you didn't quite feel sore down there.. maybe his dick was just small? It's not like you could remember if you tried anyways. "Don't you know you're not supposed to hang around after we fuck? It's called a one-night stand for a reason." You said sharply, rubbing your temples with your fingers.

"Good thing we didn't fuck." Toji smirked, flipping on your light switch, making your face scrunch up in displeasure. You had no time to be confused when the light hit your eyes, making your headache worsen tenfold as you hid your face in your knees once again, pulling the sheets over your head. "Dude, what the fuck! Turn that shit off." You yelled, your voice coming to him muffled as you spoke into the sheets. "Its almost 2pm, you're not going to rot in bed all day, promised your dad I would take care of you, so get up." He said, uncrossing his arms as he started towards you, setting the water down on the bedside table as he stood at the side of your mattress, looking down at you.

His words made a flashback shoot through your brain, one of last night, the two of you in a car together, and this man had just told you he was your bodyguard. You turned your head to the side, squinting your eye at him as you tried to gauge if he looked like the same man in your flashback--unfortunately for you, he did. "Fuuuuuuuuuck." You groaned, half of the word being muffled when you turned your head back to your knees. "Remember me now, princess?" He asked, his deep, usually soothing voice meeting your ears in a grating, annoying way.

You pick your head up, giving him the best snarky smile you could manage while your body fought with the aftereffects of what you did to it last night. "You really think you're gonna stop me from doing what I want?" You raised your eyebrow challengingly at him, keeping your eyes on his darker ones. "I'm not as nice as your daddy, so yes, I do." He said, ripping the comforter off of your frame he grabbed your ankle and yanked you towards him on the bed, your night shorts and t-shirt he had dressed you in last night riding up, showing more of your thighs and midriff.

You stared at him in disbelief, your chest heaving at the sudden manhandling. "Don't touch me." You yanked your foot out of his grip and sat up, sliding off the bed hastily you made quick work of walking past the man, towards the bathroom. Toji winced when you slammed the door shut to the bathroom behind you, the sound echoing through the entire house, he was sure even the neighbors heard it. He sighed, sitting down on your bed, his big hand coming to rub his forehead in annoyance. "He better be paying me fucking good to put up with his little brat," Toji mumbled under his breath.

When his hand dropped into his lap, his vision was unobstructed once more, and under the illumination of the bright lights above your bed, and the absence of your presence distracting him, he could clearly see the bag of white pills on your dresser. "Jesus christ.." Toji whispered, his lip curling in disgust. He stood, pocketing the bag of substances to promptly flush down the toilet later. Something in the back of his head was telling him to check in your bedside table.

The man didn't exactly have the strongest morals, so he didn't think much of going through a college junkie girl's drawer. Just as he expected, when he pulled the drawer open he found three bright orange pill bottles, all labeled with different names. With a curt laugh, he pocketed those as well, he would make sure they were delt with appropriately. Once the drugs were in his pocket, he noticed the bright pink vibrator next to them, along with a baby blue dildo, some condoms he doubted you used, and panties with the crotch cut out.

He laughed, "Your good girl is actually pretty naughty.." He said under his breath, directed to your father. He didn't want to look too long, not because he was afraid of you finding out, he was sure you were going to the moment you came back in here, looking for something to take your pain away from the day before. He didn't want to look too long because he didn't want to imagine his boss's daughter sprawled out on her bed, legs wide as one hand pinched her nipples and the other used the vibrator on her sensitive little clit through the gape in the crotchless panties.

He heard the shower turn on, snapping him out of his thoughts as he shut the drawer, averting his gaze as he did so. He flicked the lights off in your room as he left, making his way down to the living room where your chef was preparing your breakfast, rich people. The old woman behind the counter who was cooking something that smelled devine, looked happy to be there though. He knew how genuinely nice your father was, and he figured you must've treated them with the same kindness for them to stick around.

He must've been sitting on the couch watching the old woman cook for quite some time because your figure emerged from the hallway leading into the open room, adorned in nothing but skimpy panties and a tank top. You were ruffling your hair in a pink towel, trying to dry it the best you could before you discarded the towel on the floor and jumped up on the expensive-looking bar stool in front of the kitchen. You sat on your knees, your ass poking out towards Toji, he watched as you twisted back and forth on the chair, showing off your body like you wanted him to see.

He was grateful you had come down here in a better mood than before, you must've not checked your empty dresser drawer yet. "Good morning" You spoke kindly to the old woman, to which she replied her own 'good morning' with a smile. He liked seeing you like this, this was the you he recognized. He could barely tell you were the same person who was letting yourself get manhandled on the lap of a stranger in the middle of a disgusting club high on drugs.

Toji just couldn't help but break the peacefulness of the morning with his deep voice, "Where are your clothes?" He asked, "You have company." You sighed, sitting your butt down on the stool you brought your foot up on the cushion, resting your chin on your knee as you tipped your head as you looked at him. "You're just my handler, right? So why are you talking right now?" Your face was scrunched in disdain, the girl from last night making an appearance, he had a hard time telling which of the two of you was real.

"Just sayin' it's unbecoming for a young lady like you to have your ass out so shamelessly." Toji retorted. "This is my house, I'll do whatever I want old man." You bit back, spinning around as the chef pushed your plate towards you, the colors of the different foods on your plate stimulating your brain that was dulled from last night's drugs. "Oh ma'am, I would be lost without you." You whispered to the chef, placing your hand ontop of her wrinkled one gratefully. You thought the conversation between you and your babysitter was over, so you were shocked when you felt his chest bump against your back, his large hand reaching over yours to grab the other plate the woman had made for him.

"Your daddy spoiled you too much, now you're just a stuck-up brat. You should listen to your elders y'know?" Toji scolded. His voice sent goosebumps down your spine, maybe this could be something, you always did love a good hatefuck. The warmth of his chest was gone as soon as it came as he took the plate back to the sofa, kicking his legs up on the coffee table as he started shoveling the food into his mouth sloppily. "When you stop treating me like a kid, I might." You answered, keeping your back to him to he couldn't see the blush that had spread across your face.

The two of you ate in silence, you were the first to get up, walking your plate over to the sink to clean the food off, when your phone started buzzing on the counter. You abandoned the plate in the sink, walking back over to see who was calling. Toji watched your eyes light up as you answered the phone, probably some college boy you were fucking with at the moment had called you to hook up. It was the middle of the day, students these days were relentless. "Tonight? Send me the address and I'll be there~" You cooed into the receiver.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize you had just been invited out to another party. Toji acted quickly, when you faced your body away from him, leaning against the fridge as you listened to the boy speak, Toji appeared behind you once again, snatching your phone out of your hand, "No she won't." Toji spoke for you, letting him know you would absolutely not be going to any parties under his watch before hanging up the phone. "Stop fucking doing that!" You yelled, your body jolting in surprise as you turned around, glaring at the man just inches from you.

You grabbed his wrist that was holding your phone, with your other you ripped the device out of his hand before digging your sharp nail into his chest and giving him a death stare from under your lashes. "Touch what belongs to me again Ill-" "You'll what? Fire me? Your pretty drugged-up brain keeps forgetting your daddy hired me?" He smirked, crossing his bulging biceps over his chest. You took a step back, shaking your head. "You won't tell me what to do, fucking watch." You spat, walking off to your room. Toji brushed it off as an empty threat, what could you possibly accomplish when he was watching your every move like a hawk?

When you reached the comfort of your bedroom you slammed the door shut, hoping Toji would hear from his place downstairs. Who the fuck was he to come into your life and order you around? And your dad had hired him too? Seriously? These old men needed to stop fucking intervening with you, you didn't need any help. After that thought ran through your head you made a path straight for your drawer, looking for a pill or two to at least make you feel like you weren't cooped up at home if you couldn't actually leave.

Curling your fingers around the handle you pulled it open and- what the fuck? The familiar orange bottles you kept next to your sex toys were nowhere to be seen. Even on your most fucked up nights you had never neglected to put the bottles back where they belonged in your drawer. There was only one person who could've done this. "OLD MAN!!" Toji heard your voice echo, your footsteps getting louder as you marched angrily into the living room. A grin spread across his face when your figure came into view, his feet still kicked up on the coffee table as he barely spared you a glance before he went back to watching his show.

"Do you really not know my name, or are you just being a brat?" Toji asked, keeping his eyes on the screen. You were fuming, you had spent your hard-earned money on those (not like you had a shortage of cash or anything, but you hated your drug guy, he was so pushy and not at all cute.) "Toji, you had no right to go through my drawers like that, seriously, you're more fucked up than you think I am!" You yelled, your face growing hot, veins pumping with adrenaline. Toji decided you were worth the time of day, tilting his head back against the couch cushion he looked at you.

"Your daddy said I could do whatever I wanted, he also said to keep all that nasty shit out of your pretty little body, so that's exactly what I'm going to do." He replied, raising his eyebrows as he looked you up and down, pausing on your crotch, still only clad in those skimpy panties he couldn't stand. You blushed at him calling your body pretty, his words making your brain forget its track of thought for a moment. "W-what I put inside me isn't any of your business." You retorted, placing your hand on your hip.

"It is when your father specifically tells me it is." Toji laughed. "If you want something inside you so bad why don't you put those toys to use? That'll give you some kinda high for sure." Your face heat up even more. You figured he had seen your toy stash in the process of him throwing your pills away, but you didn't think he was going to use them against you like this. "Did my dad tell you to harass me like this too? Fucking pervert." You spat. "You're calling me a pervert when you're walking around in front of me with just those little panties on? There practically fucking see-through."

You were feeling hot in a different place now. You still wanted to punch him so hard he threw up, but another part of you wanted to climb over the cough and straddle his hips, pull his cock out and sit on it, letting him fuck you dumb. You'd never fucked someone his age before, it sounded fun, you bet he had loads more experience than the college guys you were sleeping with. "Why are you looking?" You retorted, your voice losing its edge. "Don't you want me to?" Toji replied. The two of you kept your eyes on one another, the air around you thick, making it hard to breath as neither one of you dared to break the eye contact.

The doorbell ringing snapped you out of it, both of your heads turning to look at the massive entrance doors. Toji stood to get it, but you beat him to it, running over to the door. "I got it." You told him. He stood behind the sofa, watching you open the door in your slutty attire. Pulling open the door, a handsome man around your age came into view, his arms sticking out for a hug as he stepped inside. "Absolutely not," Toji spoke, making haste for the door to shove him out. "Relax, do you think I'm fucking stupid?" Toji raised his eyebrows like you knew what he was going to say, before he crossed his arms and let you finish.

"He's gay, nothing is going to happen. You won't let me go to this fucking party, and I am not staying here alone with you all day." You hissed. The boy behind you nodded, his hand wrapped loosely around your waist. Toji stayed quiet for a while, the boy hadn't said or done anything yet to contrast your words, so even though he was hesitant, he stepped aside, letting the two of you pass as you held his hand and dragged him in the direction of your room. He heard you giggle as you pulled him along with you, his eyes squinting before he shook off the feeling, finding his place once more on the comfortable sofa.

—

About an hour had passed since the boy had arrived and he hadn't heard anything suspicious yet. For having such a massive and expensive home, you sure had some thin fucking walls. Toji was starting to doze off, his show having long ended and now some drama had taken its place, droning on in the background. His eyes were fluttering shut, arms crossed over one another, and that’s when he heard it.

“Ahh!” His eyes shot open, scanning around the room as he tried to figure out if what he heard had been a figment of his imagination or not. “Fuck! Baby~ ngh!” There it was. All he needed to hear. You had fucking lied. He heard your moans echo through the walls, you were so loud it was like you wanted him to hear you. “This fucking bitch.” Toji mumbled under his breath, uncrossing his arms he stood and made haste for your room. The moans and crying began to be accompanied by slaps and squelches the closer he got to your closed door.

"Yeah~ give it to m-meee" you moaned between his thrusts. Truth be told, he wasn't fucking you well at all, you only invited him over because his looks rivaled Toji's, but even then he fell short. His thrusts were sloppy and felt more like he was jabbing around your cunt with a thin stick, but you wanted Toji to know you were in charge here, he wasn't going to come into your home and tell you what you could and couldn't do, so if it took a bad fuck to get that through his head, so be it, it's not like you were going to see this boy after today anyways.

You had a smile on your face, which the boy took as him fucking you good, his annoying moans filling up your ears, "Yeah? You like me fucking dick?" He whined, emphasizing his words with a thrust that made you yell out, not from pleasure; not like he would be able to distinguish the difference anyway, "Love ittt~" You faux moaned, fighting to keep a yawn from spilling through your lips. The boy kept jabbing his dick into your walls, and you got so immersed in listening to your own moans to get you through this, that your soul almost jumped out of your body when your door swung open.

Toji stood in the doorway, the vein on his forehead protruding out from under the skin as he took in your position. You were ass up, face down in the sheets, and he could tell right away you didn't like it as much as you were leading on, he saw right through your little game. It only took a couple steps for Toji to get from your doorway to standing behind the man at the edge of your bed. Faster than you could comprehend, Toji had yanked the boy back from the collar of his shirt, pulling him off the bed and out of you as he stumbled on the floor, awkwardly tucking his cock into his pants.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" You yelled, turning your body around you crawled towards them on the bed, reaching out for the boy like you wanted him to stay. This wasn't exactly what you had in mind, you wanted to rile Toji up and show him you could do whatever you wanted, but you didn't know he would storm in here and throw the boy out forcefully. You should've known he was the type of guy to pull something like this. "You know you're way out right?" He said to the confused boy you had dragged into your mess.

He held him up by the collar, bringing his face close to his own he tipped his head, waiting for the boy to answer. He nodded in fear, still trying to wrap his poor aroused head at what was happening. "Good, be a good boy and let yourself out, would you?" He whispered, throwing him forward and out of your room. The boy stumbled on his feet, trying to grab the wall so he didn't fall over before the door was being slammed shut in his face.

"Fuck! You asshole, Fuck!" You were behind Toji, grabbing at his shirt as you tried to get him to face you so you could yell at him properly. While he was throwing out your fuck, you had slid on your panties and pulled your tanktop back over your tits poorly, the hard buds of your nipples poking through the shirt. Toji wasted no time in turning quick on his heels as he grabbed you by the throat, your hands coming to grip at his wrist as he choked you out, pressing just hard enough that you could barely manage to get a stream of air through your esophagus.

He leaned his face close to yours, looking at how messy you looked with your tangled hair and smeared lipstick. "You really think you can get away with shit like that? Huh?" Toji asked, squinting his eyes at you. You whined, trying to give him a pout, "Aww, don't act like you wanted him to stay, he wasn't even fucking you right, was he? If I wanted to hear someone fake an orgasm I would've gone to pornhub." He said, looking between your glassy eyes and your swollen lips from the boys sloppy kissing.

"You're such a slut you know that? You can't go one fucking day without having a cock inside you, even if it's bad, huh?" He chastised, slowly walking you backward towards the bed, so slow you barely noticed it. "He get you high too? Hmm?" He asked, his other hand coming up to pull your eye down to get a better look at your pupils. "N-no." You whispered through his hand squeezing your throat. "No?" His eyes everted to the side table, where a few white pills sat atop the wood, waiting to be taken.

"But you were gonna let him get you high, weren't you?" He asked, following your face when you yanked it away from his hand that pulled down your eye. "None of your fucking business." You spat through your teeth. It was only then you realized you were back at your bed, your calves bumping into the mattress taking you out of your trance. "How is it none of my business when you were moaning like a pathetic slut just to get my attention?" He asked, tilting his head at you as he slid his massive thigh between your own, his knee pressing against your crotch.

You kept silent, pouting at him as you kept your pretty eyes locked on his, waiting for him to do anything. "You sure you ain't high right now?" He asked, to which you quickly nodded. Toji smirked, huffing out a smile at your unapologetic display of lust, "Ur' pupils that big cos you're horny then?" Your arousal spiked tenfold when he announced your need. You licked your lips, nodding at his words as you shamelessly let your eyes fall on his plump lips, dragging between them and his dark eyes.

Toji was feeling conflicted. On one hand, he could think of no better time to put you in your place and fuck the brat out of you, showing you who was really in charge here, you were sober and so clearly wanted it after all. The more rational side of him was telling him this was his boss's daughter, who was twice his age, so he absolutely should not fuck her. Unluckily for the rational side of his brain, your hard nipples poking through your shirt and the smell of your arousal that was still evident in the room was more than enough to sway him, the primal side of him winning as he listened to his urges.

"You wanna find out how it's supposed to feel to get fucked?" Toji whispered, like if he said the words too loud, your father who was currently in another country might hear. You nodded, pulling your lip between your teeth. He laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation before he pressed his lips to yours, the pair of you instantly groaning into the other's mouth. You don't know if you've ever felt this aroused in your life. Even his kisses made you feel something you've never experienced before, was every kiss supposed to feel like this?

Toji slowly pushed you back on the bed, keeping his knee between your legs as he hovered over you, releasing your neck and instead using one hand to pull your panties off, his other resting by your head so he didn't crush you. You wrapped your hands around his strong neck, whimpering into the kiss. He heard you giggle when you threw your panties somewhere in the room, sliding his hand up your waist as he situated you on the bed, pulling your thighs around his hips. "Whats so funny?" He asked, pulling back from the kiss as he watched you smile underneath him, tilting your head as you loosened your arms around his neck.

"Jus' wondering what my dad would think if he saw what the bodyguard he got to protect his little girl was doing to her right now~" You giggled, biting your lip. Toji shook his head, keeping his eyes on yours as he wordlessly dipped his fingers down to your pussy, teasing up and down your soaked entrance. "Yeah, what would he think about you fucking someone twice your age? Fuckin' brat." He spat, watching your smile fade and your expression be replaced with your slacked jaw and raised eyebrows as your eyes fluttered when he dipped his large fingers into your hole, pressing into it teasingly before pulling away.

"I know he's used to seein' you slut yourself out to those dumb college boys, but this might shock him.. huh?" He cooed, pressing his fingers into your cunt slowly, your walls greedily swallowing up his thick digits. "F-fuck-" You cursed, your eyes falling shut, tipping your head agaisnt the pillow. "That feel good baby? You like feelin' this old man's fingers in your pussy? Fuckin' into your sweet spot?" He whispered, bringing his lips against yours once more, hovering them against you as he inhaled your reactions when he curled his fingers, massaging your g-spot with precision.

"Right there-" You gasped quietly against his lips, wiggling your hips down onto his fingers. "Right here? Yeah? When's the last time someone actually touched you right here, hmm?" He asked, softly kissing your lips before he went back to hovering his lips over yours. "I-I don't know." You whispered, trying to kiss him back but he kept his lips just far enough away from yours that you couldn't manage. "No? That why you're so fucking insatiable huh? Jus' waiting to find the guy who will actually fuck you right?" You were dripping around his fingers. His soft teasing words were a stark contrast to his fingers that now pistoned in and out of you, wet squelching noises bouncing off the walls and echoing into your ears, driving you mad.

"Mhm- mhm-" You replied, nodding your head rapidly, feeling your orgasm come on quickly. "You're not gonna find that with these fuckin' college boys sweet thing, 'ya need a man for that, someone a little.. older." He whispered, making you whine against him as he curled his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot. You abandoned one of your arms around his neck, reaching between you to grab his wrist. Your eyes cracked open, staring up at him as you breathed heavily. "All it takes is a couple fingers and you're a good girl, isn't that right?" He asked, feeling you squeeze around his fingers.

He continued to drill his fingers into you, your back arching against him as moans fell freely from your lips, your nails digging into his wrist as you felt your orgasm creep up on you. "You gonna cum for me, princess?" Toji asked knowingly, smirking when you nodded against him. You felt it, it was right there, well within your grasp when- suddenly the stimulation stopped, your orgasm fizzling out. Your eyes peeled open, eyebrows scrunched together as you looked up at him with a crimson face. "You sure?" He asked, his smirk growing.

Toji abandoned his fingers from your pussy, pulling them out with a pop as he sat back on his heels, replacing his lips with his fingers soaked in your cum as he pressed them against your lips, watching while you eagerly took them into your mouth, moaning around them as you tasted yourself on your tongue. Of course, you were mad Toji had pulled away right before you came but with the way he had rubbed inside your walls so nicely, your brain couldn't think of anything bratty to say as you sucked on his fingers, watching his eyes watch your lips as he unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock in one swift movement.

You moaned around his fingers when your eyes made contact with his girth, it was massive, way bigger than anything you had taken before, even bigger than your dildo. His was prettier than other dicks you'd seen too, a pretty flushed and tripping tip to contrast against a slightly darker color of his length. He jerked his cock steadily, pressing his fingers deeper into your mouth. "You like what you see, brat?" Toji asked, grinning when he felt your tongue slide over his fingers, mimicking the way you sucked a cock.

Toji groaned through a smile when you grabbed his wrist tighter and pushed his fingers into your throat, bobbing your head around them. "Someone trained you before me, huh? Who taught you to suck fingers like a dick?" Toji asked, raising his eyebrows at you. You swallowed your arousal and saliva in your mouth before pulling his fingers from you, a line of spit connecting your lips to his fingers. "I don't remember." You smiled drunkenly, making his cock twitch as he didn't let up his strokes on it. "Such a slut." He said, shaking his head.

You whined at his words, spreading your legs around his thighs to make more room, you dropped your hands down to his cock and wrapped both your hands around the tip, jerking what you could while he kept up his own ministrations on his cock as well. "You gonna slut yourself out for me too? Show me how good you are at taking cock?" He asked, releasing his hand from his dick he leaned over you, placing his forearms around your head as you stroked the entirety of his cock in your hands, wrapping your legs around him.

"Yeah~" You answered, looking between the two of you as you pressed his fat tip against your entrance, his cock leaking against your pussy. "You gonna fuck me raw, daddy?" You whispered against his ear. Toji swore his brain stopped working, his cock throbbed in your hold at the name. He audibly groaned, pressing one of his hands over your mouth, "Don't do that." He warned, swallowing hard as his smile faded from his face, his arousal plastering itself all over his features.

Toji felt a new need, a rawer, more primal one. He knew he shouldn't have felt as aroused as he did when you called him that, but he couldn't fucking help it. He kept replaying your words over in his head, one of your hands came up to pull his down off of your mouth, while the other stayed between your legs, his tip pushing past the ring of your cunt, making the both of you gasp. "You like it when I call you that, huh?" You whispered, watching his jaw go slack and his eyes roll back as he slipped deeper and deeper into your cunt. "Fuck- you're so- haah- so big-" you whined, his cock pressing agaisnt your sweet spot ruining your attempts at being in control for even a second.

"Yeah.." Toji moaned, his eyes peeled open again to watch your expression as you took his cock, "Let's see if you're still runnin' that fuckin' mouth when I'm done with you." He finished, thrusting his cock to the hilt unexpectedly, knocking the wind out of you. The older man started up a brutal pace inside your cunt, his eyes rolling back at how tight and warm you were around him. Both of your hands came down to push against his pelvis, trying to get him to slow down, "Fuck! T-toji w-wait wait-" You whined at the painful stretch.

"Nah, what happened to 'daddy' huh? Though you liked callin' me that shit." He asked, not letting up his hips, ignoring your hands trying to push him away. "Stop fucking whining, you can take it, ur' such a big fuckin' girl who can take anything, right?" Toji smirked, biting down on his teeth when he felt you squeeze around him. Incohearant moans were being fucked out of you, one of your hands starting to circle around your little clit in small circles as you felt yourself rapidly approach your orgasm.

He gripped both of your wrists together, stopping your motions as he pinned your hands above your head, watching your head thrash back and forth against the sheets. "Answer me brat." He spat, picking up the pace of his hips. "Fuck f-fuck D-daddy please-" You wined, letting him hear exactly what he wanted to hear. You've never called anyone other than your father that name; really only calling Toji the nickname in the first place to tease him; so it felt foreign calling Toji that in this setting, but seeing how worked up it got him made you aroused as well.

He groaned once again at the nickname, his hand that wasn't pinning your arms above your head came down to rub at your clit, finding it with pinpoint precision and rubbing it in circles just how you liked it. "Oh fuck me-" you groaned, your eyes rolling back, head tipping back in the sheets, revealing your still marked-up neck to him. He hated the sight, he wanted to lean down and replace the ugly purple marks with his own, darker ones, so that's exactly what he did.

He found the bruises with his eyes first, then made sure his lips were covering them before he started sucking the skin into his mouth, making you gasp. "When's the last time someone touched your clit for you?" Toji asked, noticing how tight you got around him when you rubbed the little bud, your legs squeezing his waist simultaneously. "I- I don't know I- Fuck!" Your head pushed further back into the sheets as Toji kept sucking on your neck. "Feels soo much better when someone else does it huh?" Toji asked knowingly.

Your moans were raising in pitch, the noises coming less frequently as your high crept over you, your breath stuttering in your chest as you came hard, all over his dick, moaning out his name and broken cries of 'daddy' as you did. "Oh- fuck yeahhh~ Cum all over daddy's fucking cock princess, that's fucking right~" He leaned back from your neck, pressing your wrists into the bed harder as he fucked you through your first orgasm, your walls squeezing him like you were trying to milk him for all he was worth. You came down, gasping and crying in overstimulation as Toji kept fucking you, the squelching louder now thanks to your orgasm.

"That feel good baby? Wanna feel that again?" He asked, laughing at how tears had started to fall down your cheeks. "P-please fuck- Your cock feels so- fucking- good-" You praised through his rough thrusts, his hips making your body slide up on the bed from how hard he was fucking you. "Yeah? I bet it feels good, you're fucking shaking." Toji laughed, slowing his thumb against your clit so as to not overstimulate you to the point of passing out, as validating as it would be to see you literally pass out from his cock, he didn't want to deal with that right now.

"You like my p-pussy?" You asked, smirking at him, noticing how his grip on your wrists tightened when you asked him that. His cock twitched as he watched your tits bounce from under your shirt, your nipple occasionally popping out from under the fabric. "Who taught you to speak like that? Such a filthy fucking mouth." Toji chastized, picking up his thumb on your clit once more, wanting to see you fall apart one more time on his dick before he came.

"Y- fuck T-you didn't answer-" You wined, feeling the coil tighten in your stomach once more. Everything about this man was making your entire body feel like it was on fire. How confident he was, how he knew your anatomy like the back of his hand, how he seemed to know every little button on your body that made you twitch and whine, all of it was driving you crazy. "You want me to tell you how much I love fucking you little pussy? Huh?" He stared, groaning against your lips as he leaned down, kissing you between words.

"Want me to tell you how I almost came when I got inside you? How good it feels when you twitch around me?" He whispered, kissing you hungrily, swallowing up your high-pitched moans as his hips lost rhythm. "That what you wanna hear? How you have daddy losing his mind in your tight little cunt?" You pulled off of his lips, practically screaming his name as your high crashed over you once more, his words being the final straw that got you there.

Toji dropped his head to your neck, biting the skin there to keep his groans at bay. "Fuck- fuck- where do you want it?" Toji rushed, hoping you were able to respond through your orgasm, or he was going to cum inside you anyways. "I-inside daddy f-fill me up!" You slurred through your high, riding your orgasm out on his dick as he continued to pull his cock almost completely out before bullying it back inside you. "Yeah? Want me to cum inside you? God- you drive me fucking crazy-" Toji continued to thrust inside your tired cunt, fucking you once more into overstimulation as he groaned loudly into your neck; he never was one to be shy about being loud in bed.

"Fuck- It's coming- gonna fill you up baby, 'n you're gonna take every last fucking drop, right?" He asked. He desperately needed to hear you say it. "Yes baby yes- g-gonna take it all- c-cum inside me pleasee~" You slurred, the pulsing of your walls working him over just right as his breath hitched at the first rope of his hot cum shooting inside your cunt. His teeth dug into your neck when he came, his hips stuttering as he humped them against you every time his cock shot out his cum. "Yessss~ Fucking give it to me daddy~" you slurred against his ear, giggling.

He stilled against you, the aftershocks of his orgasm wracking through his body, his grip had tightened around your wrist almost completely cutting off your circulation, you were sure to have bruises there in the morning. The two of you panted when he finally came down from his high. He sat up, slowly pulling his cock out of your sore and red pussy, his eyes watching as his thick cum spilled out of your hole and down the curve of your ass. "Take a picture if you wanna~" You said, squeezing your calves around his waist.

Toji shook his head, "You should be careful with that, you know who you are, don't you?" Toji said, scooping up his cum he stuffed his fingers back inside you, keeping it all in. You didn't know what to say back, guys usually jumped at the opportunity to take a picture of you all ruined like this, was it weird to say you were almost charmed by Toji looking out for you? "Your legs alright?" He asked, his voice breaking the silence when he noticed how shaky they were.

You weren't used to someone asking how you were after sex either.. this Toji.. he was weird. "Uh, yeah, just a little sore." You said, uncharacteristically shy. His eyes glanced up at your bashful face, before they found your wrists, seeing bright red marks imprint on the skin there, he admit the sight was erotic, but that shit look like it hurt. "Shit, sorry," Toji mumbled, his hand reaching up to your hands on your tummy to rub your wrist softly in his hands. "Didn't mean to fuck your shit up so bad." He laughed. You giggled at his choice of words, "It's fine, it felt good." you replied.

Toji had started to climb off the bed, tucking his cock into his pants a he laughed, walking towards the entrance of your room. Right, he was going to leave now, just because he was a good fuck doesn't mean he was going to stay now. "Don't move," he instructed, making you snap out of your thoughts. You watched Toji exit the room, you heard the skin in the bathroom turn on briefly before the water stopped, soon after the large man entered the room again.

You hadn't moved, just like he told you to. You watched him crawl back on the bed, a damp rag in his hand as he wiped your legs down, starting from your ankles, "I would carry you to the shower, but you wouldn't be able to stand anyway." He laughed. You pulled your leg back, out of his grasp, "What are you doing?" You asked. Toji looked at you like you were dumb, "I'm cleaning you up?" He said like it was obvious, roughly pulling your leg back towards himself so he could wipe you clean again, kissing your ankle before he threw it over his shoulder, scooting forward to wipe down the underside of his thigh.

"You're weird, Toji fushiguro." You said, blushing at his sudden soft treatment of your body. The man laughed, reaching your sore cunt he dragged the towel through your folds, cleaning the mess the two of you made there as you groaned in distain. "Okay, baby." He replied.

[chuluoyi]

found you

- gojo satoru x reader

in a world in which he isn't the strongest and you're the high school's sweetheart, fate brought you to him once again

genre/warnings: reincarnation au, fluff/comfort

notes: a sequel to everything, but not anything

general masterlist

Everyone knows you. You hold most of the popular guys' hearts in your hand and either break them unknowingly or innocently, and despite that, they still don't have it in them to hate you.

And of course, the school's clown, Gojo Satoru, knows you too. He knows you by name and face, but never had the chance to really talk to you directly.

Why? First, he just simply didn't bother, and second, because there was already another girl plaguing him—the girl of his dreams.

And he didn't mean it figuratively... there's indeed a girl haunting him every once in a while in his dreams. A girl whose face was always obscured from his mind, whom he couldn't picture outside the realm of his slumber. Most of the time it was a happy dream, enough to bring a smile to his face every time he woke up.

But sometimes, it was the most disturbing nightmare.

There would be blood, the girl's empty eyes and still body, and him screaming out at her to not die. But then he couldn't do anything—or even see her open her eyes—as he fell into an abyss and awakened in pure terror.

Satoru was convinced someone held this massive grudge on him for pranking them that they resorted to curse him with voodoo or something. Why else would he keep having these dreams about the very same girl? It was clearly a work of something greater.

You were just not interested in romance. At least not with the guys who were after you up until now.

Or perhaps, because there was this guy in your dreams that captivated you so much that you chose to ditch those real guys for him. This imaginary person.

You were going insane. You were sure of it.

When you explained your affliction to your best friend Riko, she shot you a very bombastic side eye but tried to get you to describe the boy in your dreams regardless.

"He..." you faltered. His face was always blurry in your mind's eye. There were little things that you were sure of. "He has a really cute grin? Crinkling eyes? Like he just likes to smile?"

"Y/N, did you hear yourself?" Riko asked you incredulously. "Are you sure it isn't one of the guys in your anime shows? I'm telling you, watching them too much makes you delusional."

And so your girl talk with her ended up with her pushing you to try this hit dating app that guarantees you to go on at least one date due to its many fascinating features. You tried it on sheer whim and didn't even use your real name. You had been swiping right and left, before suddenly stopped when you saw whose profile popped up in your screen.

Gojo Satoru.

He was in your grade, and he was hard to miss. The school's biggest troublemaker who held the highest record of being sent to the disciplinary room. You never got to talk to him, and before today you were sure you wouldn't even look at him twice. So he plays these things too?

Your type definitely wasn't delinquents or attention-seekers. But why is it that the more you gaze at his profile picture—of him with this widest grin and that funny round glasses—the more you are intrigued?

In the end, you swiped right.

Just because he didn't bother to be in a serious relationship or had a girl who held onto him in his dreams, it didn't mean that he was shying away from real life girls. Satoru, as much of a headbanger as he was, was popular. Some girls were into him and he didn't exactly let his chances to fool around pass.

Girls with questionable virtues though. Suguru, whose popularity was as much as him just in the right way, would always say that his tastes were bad. Shoko would straight up mock him as a wimp, for not having the courage to go after the right girl, such as you.

And so when on one of his boring days that he played with a dating app he found a profile who swiped him right with a picture that was you but a name that wasn't, he was taken by surprise and twice as curious.

For one, he knew it was you. And hey, you were interested in him?

Satoru took up on that offer. Taking advantage of it as now he had the chance.

The two of you exchanged messages in the dating app. He'd tell you his thoughts or crack funny jokes, and you'd reply with these many laughing emojis and stickers.

Until one day, when your conversation went like this...

you: really? but girls must be lining up for you and you could've had your pick from them gojo: nah most of ‘em all boring you: what a red flag. after a while surely you'll find me boring too gojo: you? haha no. boring people don't do things you do you: ...what do you mean?

You and him had this texting thing going on for more than a month already, but you still weren't aware that he knew that it was you.

gojo: you're y/n

And he figured that it was time to go face-to-face. Because he wanted to get to know you beyond this phone screen because who knows what more you faked other than your name?

After he busted you not so gently, he demanded that you'd go on a date with him. You could only lament—you couldn't say that you hadn't seen this coming, with how poor your disguise was. Then again, did you even intend on hiding from him in the first place? Now that you thought about it, no. You were quite alright even when he knew who you were.

On the said day, just right after school ended, he went to the agreed place to take out out to a famous cafe in Shibuya. Only to find a guy from basketball team bowing his head before you.

"I really like you!" the guy declared with sincerity and steadfastly. He was tall, quite famous too. By all means, the two of you would've made a fine pair.

Satoru just frowned. Suddenly he didn't like the sight before him. This wasn't the first time he saw someone confessing their feelings for you—you were famous for that. And anyway, the two of you were just friends even though you've been texting for a long time now. He shouldn’t be upset.

"Ah," you let out a small sigh, your face lit with realization. Your voice was soft to Satoru's ears. Too soft. It resembled something someone had told him a long, long time ago.

"Don't ever leave me, okay?" "Of course."

That voice held the same softness as you did just now.

"I'm sorry," you proceeded to say, giving a look of sympathy to your admirer. "I'm very flattered, and I thank you for that. But I have no room for—"

"Y/N-chan!" Satoru didn't know where this immense impulse came from, he just went with it and it terribly spooked you. You jumped and whipped your head at him, eyes widened in total surprise.

But he merely sauntered towards you, only with his winning grin and nothing else, until he was right next to you, staring down the basketball guy with so much mirth in his blue eyes.

"Hello to you." Satoru addressed him, then put his arms on your shoulder, ignoring how you immediately stiffened. "Too bad, today she is going with me."

You couldn't believe what he just said and before you could rectify anything, the guy who just confessed to you bolted away in humiliation. You immediately untangled yourself from his arms, ready to be cross.

Or at least until you stared straight to his cerulean blue eyes.

And he too, saw his reflections in your orbs.

Suddenly everything didn't matter. You were lost into his eyes as he did yours. As the lines of dream and reality twisted and turned.

Suddenly, Satoru could put a face to the girl he'd been seeing on his nightly wonders. Her smile. Your smile.

And you could see the boy who loved you to death in him. The one who took your heart with him, and agreed to go with you for the second time.

All it took was gazing into these eyes of yours to make the connection. Everything seems right. So right.

As if the two of you are destined for this very moment. As if you’re given everything to understand why you should meet him now.

I found you.

As sudden as it came flowing to your brain—all these images that overlapped with your dreams—it ended. You came back to reality.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed at Satoru, pushing away the fog in your mind.

“Am I?” a shit-eating grin formed at his glossy lips. “But it’s true, you’re on a date with me today.”

And so you went to your very first date. Satoru was every bit the same as the guy who messaged you on that dating app. He was outspoken, effortlessly funny, but still, a bit annoying here and there.

It was strange how comfortable you got around him, even though it was practically your first interaction.

Soon the number of dates increased. Two, three, four—and so on. Soon, everyone knows. Riko questioned you if you were sure to pick him out of all fishes you could’ve picked. In a way, you weren’t sure. It depends on this question: what are you to him anyway?

Meanwhile, on Satoru’s side, everyone either cheered for or envied him. Suguru patted him on his back, thinking he finally got the right senses. And he found himself to like you very much. He couldn’t go a day without thinking what you were doing or messing with you. You were kind, cute and pretty, and as he said it himself, he likes pretty things.

So it came as a surprise when you blurted out that burning question, sounding so unsure and overall out of your character, whereas you should already know how he put his heart on his sleeves for you to grab.

“Are you messing with me?” he gawked. But when he saw hurt crossed on your face, he was thrown into panic. “No—I mean…”

He exhaled sharply. He wasn’t used to this confessing thing at all because usually he didn’t need it.

“I really like you, okay? You do know that I like you, at the very least?”

With that, your relief was visibly palpable, like a sun that went out of its hiding. The hopeful gleam in your eyes—Gods, Satoru wanted to protect that forever.

“With that being said…” he wanted to look cool, he didn’t want to mess this up. And so he extended his hand to you, opening his palm.

“Would you go out with me?”

It was probably the first time you saw him so sincere. He was playful, flippant and overall just a menace, but when he asked you this, he looked as if he brought out his heart for you to see.

When you breathed out a “Yes”, and intertwined your fingers in his, he was over the moon, smothering you with kisses.

From that point onwards, your romance book was brimming with moments that sparkled, ranging from the sweet to the passionate. Each experience with him felt like a first, yet there was an inexplicable sense of familiarity, as if you had known him somewhere from a long time ago.

Those dreams of you and him from somewhere at another time brought the two of you together once again. With their purpose fulfilled, you no longer had to traverse the realm of dreams to be with the boy who had always provided you comfort with his presence. Likewise, he was no longer haunted by the recurring vision of you fading away before his eyes.

Because now, you and Gojo Satoru have a new life. A life where both of you can find happiness together.

[kooyabooya]

HIERARCHY

m reader x dahyun // 9k words

(shoutout to @passingnotions for allowing me to adapt this idea <3)

“I have her here waiting at the desk if you’re ready to see her, sir.” 

“Perfect. Send her up.” 

It’s peculiar for these kinds of rumors to circulate given her status - and even when the sounds of her heels click off against the polished tiles and get gradually louder; until she steps past the open door and into the oval office, you still can’t put together why she’s a controversial topic in the first place. 

“I’m glad that we can finally have this arrangement,” you say, glancing over the more she makes her presence known, “Overseer.”  

-

It’s as simple as it sounds: 

She’s the regulator. You’re the higher-up. It’s your job to assess, determine, and take action. 

And the roles exist for a reason, and every system has its necessary balance. Nobody gets out of line, and nobody ever questions the orders that come from the superiors. Everything feels right in its place, between the people and where this institution stands, but there’s one catch that you’ve sought yourself to see out personally, after hearing some peculiar commentary building up with various faculty members.

This very woman standing in your quarters exudes this infectious aura that sweeps up the whole room. In the case of the students, it would send a chill down their spine, get a few beads of sweat to form in the palms of their hands and foreheads - a quick breath beneath their lips as they tense up because despite not being the main person in trouble, and she makes them feel that way regardless. 

“I would like to know why you asked to see me in the first place,” she says, face stoic as she settles into the seat, gaze locked with yours, “Hopefully this isn’t about what we discussed the other time, is it?” 

Something in the way that she sits, and how the two-piece set of her dress rests along the line of her shoulders, how her eyes dart through yours when you’ve caught yourself staring a bit longer than expected. Make the goosebumps along your arms stand up underneath the sleeves. 

“It’s partly that,” you answer, pinching the edge of your cuff, hoping to divert the attention of death staring in your direction. “Among other things.” 

“Meaning what, sir?” 

Breaking eye contact, the formality alone snaps some composure into you. To recap: you’ve been in and out of meetings all day, talking about future plans to implement amongst the student body and faculty; then there was some discrepancies that was dealt with from past incidents brought to your desk, but the common thread from these accounts all pointed to the same thing: 

“It’s about your recent-” the pause alone of the intended word hanging between your lips makes the Overseer puzzled about this discussion (though with the implications through the reports sitting on your desk, tell a different tale). 

“-modes of conduct.” You tell her, which only earns a quirked eyebrow and a nod, signaling that you’re right. “I’m sure you’ve heard what’s been going around between the other staff members and what not, Dahyun.” 

Even the name alone sometimes sends chills to your body. Overseer Kim Dahyun: the academy’s best instructor. Lead figure when it comes to dishing out disciplinary measures to those who were stupid enough to go against the rules. Once she has someone that’s out of order, it’s automatically assured that there won’t be any further incidents coming from them moving on. You’ve looked at the written reports, noticed that there’s nothing worth putting against someone like her with the reputation that she carries, but no one ever really stays perfect for this long. 

“So tell me, Superior,” Dahyun begins, one leg over the other in her chair while you continue with the glacial pacing around the office, “What is it that you have heard about me, circling around with the other staff in the past weeks?” 

“I guess it’s mainly the latter, the ‘forms’ of discipline you’ve been committing with various students.” 

“What about them?” 

“That's the reason why I’m having this discussion with you in the first place.” 

Dahyun tilts her head down, eyes wandering the opposite direction, reflecting almost as her mind tries to piece the different shards of information rummaging about in her head. She’s one to not leave anything unchecked - down to the minute detail possible. Intricate in the way that she does her line of work, and meticulous with how she wants things to be done. She also gets along well with others to which they speak highly of her. You wouldn’t want to call these accounts ‘accusations’; not yet, until you’ve seen both ends of the scope before drawing up a solid conclusion. 

She turns her head around to see you at the tray table next to the door, tending to the two glasses of water before a wave to the keypad locks the deadbolt into place, to ensure privacy and know that someone will eventually knock without even going to the front desk in the first place. “This is a first for me, especially coming from you, questioning my methods.” 

“I don’t see what you mean,” you tell her, making peace with the glass in your left hand to which she accepts, “I’m only aware of the stories that were told in recent weeks.” Dahyun acknowledges with a sip, eyes still trained on you now on the other side of your desk, “Let this be a simple conversation between you and I, please.” 

“Okay then,” she remarks, handing back the empty glass once she’s done with it, “I’ll ask this again: What is it that you’ve heard about me that caused this whole debacle in the first place?” 

Her look shifts up, maintaining her posture, hands resting on her lap. There’s a few strands in her hair that look out of place, but most of it is neatly tied up in the bun hanging low behind her head. She knows that she holds this sort of entitlement, this status - even from the glances alone in all sorts of seriousness tell you not to mess with a woman like her if you were a student. 

But you’re not. 

The lift from her eyebrows, above the upper rims of her glasses, prompting you to answer. It’s all in your head, right there, the only problem is how the delivery is going to hit her. You have every right to feel bad to be the bearer of not-so-good news, but it’s the part of the job, and the more you stand there in silence with her looking up waiting for a reply, adds on the slow building tension in the room. 

You’re reminded however, of the actions she committed. 

“We have an issue, technically it’s not really an issue, yet.” Dahyun’s gaze twists at that, but it isn’t a look of clear confusion, moreso thrown off at the very topic of discussion. She scoffs, slightly amused, and you can’t blame her for giving that reaction. “Though it’s been brought to my attention in the past few days.” 

And in terms of issues, there’s hardly any throughout the academy; thanks to the dedication towards molding the best and brightest students into civilized beings for the real world. Most of these incidents come at a scarce occurrence alone - but it still happens even if it’s an ordinary day throughout the week. 

She blinks twice, maybe thrice, turns her head away, fixated on the edge of the desk still. Her hands mold together with a small unease, but she still looks empathetic with how her eyelids flutter in the small lines of breaking light past the windows. 

“So say it then,” she says, tone flat - like in her lectures or when having a one-on-one conversation with a troubled student outside the hallways, “since you’re always so on top of the loop with the faculty here.” 

The prompting. It’s so on brand for her to be like this - to set someone else up as a way for them to keep their attention, carrying on with the conversation till she finally has that satisfaction with the answer. There’s some admiration for her, in the way that she doesn’t back down from a disagreement, because she’ll always see it through no matter what the circumstance may be. It’s her strength, and also her weakness, but she’s good enough to not let it show on her face. 

At some point you were afraid of her, something that you can admit to yourself from a long while ago. Not a lot of people at the academy even really liked her because she’s extremely intimidating, and that still seems to be the case now. Though, with all of the different events spread out across the place, some of the roses were given in her effort to come out of her shell which she takes your encouragement. It’s in those rare moments where she laughs or smiles, like a blue moon passing in the night sky. 

You remember the task at hand, what needs to be done. 

“It’s about the students,” you tell her, air slipping through your upper lip as a way of preparation, “I’ve been told by a few individuals that you’ve been having an affair with one of them.” 

“What!?” 

“This is all just speculation,” you say, settling into your chair as Dahyun keeps her posture upright and composed, “Hence you being here to tell me your side of the story so that we can try to line up the two different perspectives together.” 

“That’s what this is about?” 

“Dahyun.” That sense of professionalism has to be cared for. An eye to the desk to the few different reports that insinuate a wrongful framing; some of them were just verbal accounts and had to be on the record, but the whistleblower tip in the form of a post-it note already caused quite a stir around the teachers lounge. 

“All of this is unbelievable.” She plucks her glasses away from her face, catching a few wisps fall out from their spot on the top of her head, clearly irritated. “I have- I have not. In no way those accusations are true.” 

You pull your lips inward, trying to be sympathetic as much as possible in addition to being transparent. Her eyes darted back at yours, fully interested as to what you might say next. She expects an answer, and you’ll give it to her, but all you do is raise an eyebrow to where she scrunches her eyes in response. 

“Are you sure?” To that, Dahyun rolls her eyes. You notice a quick pull from one of the corners of her lip, shuffling the small stack of files off to the side, leaning closer with both elbows on the wood. “I hope you realize that if you are withholding information from me, it can lead to harsher consequences.” 

Dahyun clasps her hand to a fist, face still as stone as you watch her eyes sweep across the floor. A heavy bundle of air leaves your chest, keeping your gaze locked to her, waiting for an answer within the next moments or so. She knows that she can’t shy away from this, and she knows that the only direction to take is the one where truth is the sole passage. It’s also very interesting the way she doesn’t falter, sheltering her emotions inside. You’ve only seen her be the opposite of that - only once, a spell ago, and you were convinced that it was only a one time thing. The silence seems to get louder in the room, and she finally shifts her eyes back to you. 

“Well?” you ask, to break the tension a bit, “You’re not my enemy here. I just want you to be as open and honest as possible.” 

You can see the slightest clench at the bottom of her jaw, gritting her teeth behind her lips. There’s that thought of clear common sense, telling you that what she did was wrong, but that’s just one side of the story. Sure, that someone who created the rumor might’ve done it out of spite, or maybe they wanted to see Dahyun in a state of panic just for the fun of it. Some will say one thing, and others will say another. The only way that you’ll know for sure to make all of this go away is the personal statement directly from her. 

“Overseer.” You huff, sighing out of pure annoyance.

Her brows crunch in response to the title. 

“I need to know. That’s all I’m requesting of you right now.” 

She sets herself square on the seat, facing you; she’s matching your height now in a sitting position, but despite the lack in length is replaced with the demeanor that she carries. There’s been some sort of competition thrown around by the students, talking about how Dahyun’s figure comes second to none with the likes of Jihyo or Mina to name a few. Gawking at the fellow staff members who caught wind of the conversation is what you give them, and it would take a metric fuck-ton of persuading to spill an answer out of your lips. 

Still no answer from her as of this second. 

“Overseer Dahyun,” voice now in a much lower register than usual to punctuate the gravity of the situation, “We don’t have all day; so either you fess up now, or I’ll carry on this conversation tomorrow if I’m not going to get it out of you today.” 

Running her upper lip inward, you carry on with the scattered paperworks spread across the desk as she contemplates, unwilling to make eye contact with her while she keeps her eyes focused on you. By all expectations, you were hoping that this meeting would be quick and easy; just get the required information before writing up a report and be on your way. Still, you can’t help but think as to why she’s being so reluctant about saving her status let alone her job - all because she didn't do something that had very little significance to her and became such a big deal. 

“Fine,” you say, slapping the pen lightly on the desk before beginning to stand up from the chair, “Just forget that I asked and you can-” 

“One.” she finally says, after what felt like an eternity it seems. And then again, “One.” 

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” you start, falling back onto the seat; Dahyun collects herself with the subtle rise and fall of her chest, breathing carefully. That crucial first step was already taken, and the plan in your mind to diminish this whole controversy is slowly scaffolding into place. “So I’ll ask this once again in a different way: Are you having an affair with one of the students in the academy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is it…just the one?” 

“Just the one.” 

Despite how this information may be shocking to a degree, composure has to be kept from this point on. You’re just simply doing your job as the superior, and if this doesn’t get solved quickly, there’s more people in higher places than you that will do what you couldn’t. 

“So,” you set yourself up for the next connecting inquiry, “I want a full explanation for this, as to when and how all of this came to be.” 

Dahyun licks her lips, unsure if what she’ll say next will either be her saving grace or a shortsighted opportunity breeding on disappointment. You can easily tell that she’s uneasy, and it’s very impressive at how she’s able to keep an expressionless face for an instance like this. Put anyone else that works here in her seat and situation, they’d all panic or break a sweat pleading for an appeal to save their own skin. To hell with the fading wish for an interesting day every few weeks or so - because this potential scandal might make the whole week or even the whole year. 

“Alright,” she relaxes, finally letting her body release all of the tension while she flutters her eyes back to you, “For the record, he came to me. It was-” a quick look to the side before subduing the sudden impulse coursing through her neck, “It was supposed to be a simple form of disciplinary action. A one time thing. Had him serve the correction and be on his way. Though, you’re very familiar with, well- you know, the methodology.” 

“I see, and it took you that long to tell your side of the story??” Swallowing the small lump in your throat growing as her eyes fail to leave yours. “But let me guess, he-” 

“He wanted to see me. Actually, he wanted to keep seeing me. I asked him as to why one day, and he was just fascinated with the approach that I do; he just wanted the pleasure for himself and as for me, I reveled in the satisfaction of taking advantage of him.” 

“And you found it to be completely appropriate for this little entanglement to keep on happening?” 

Dahyun then leans forward, and thank Christ you managed to save your wandering eyes from leering a second too late at the overflowing swarm of pale thighs ballooning on the cushion as more and more skin is revealed at the help of that tight light blue dress getting hiked up with the press of her legs. The inquisitive angle of her head at the given question, letting a stray wisp of her hair fall from the side before she drags it back behind the cuff of her ear. “So what are you saying?”

“Well, I’m the one who asked you first,” you answer, twiddling the pen around your fingers, maintaining eye contact with her. “Besides, I’m also not the one stuck in the middle of this debacle in the first place anyway.” 

She sighs, head cocked back, almost vexed that this meeting has gone way longer than intended. You could’ve waited until after hours once all of the students had left the campus, but this was also the best possible convenient time because of the gap in her schedule during the regular day. Her lips stay shut, the soft tick of the clock mounted on the wall keeps on going. Maybe raising a white flag in the means of things might be better for today, and you’ll pick up where you left off tomorrow. 

Most days don’t often go this way. Aside from the usual responsibilities throughout the typical day whether it would be out your desk or out and about peeping in different classrooms, you’re slightly ecstatic for the sudden change in pace around these halls. “I digress,” you say, leaning forward before finally carrying on,  “So as your superior, Overseer, I’ll leave it off with this. Do you have anything else left to say before I draft up a report for all of the parties affected?” 

Dahyun crosses her left leg over the other, clutching the glasses in her hand, her head tilts at that same right angle as earlier. The gaze she has is unchanging, staring at you right in the face while you’re quickly examining the two sheets of paper placed next to each other on the desk, sliding them away into the pile as you stand up off the chair. You’ll take this meeting as a win, at least some of the information was suitable enough to your liking for now. With all that done and over with–

“Still no answer?” You ask, fingers dancing along the button of your cuff, carefully threading it through the small slit, “Don’t make me ask this again–” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“I told you. No.” 

“Really now?” 

“I have already made my case with you, sir. There’s nothing else left for me to say for the time being.” she answers with a shrug to her shoulders. 

Dahyun’s throat tenses when she sees the once needling eyes from you become quickly disinterested with her return. Incompetence was a sheer rarity with the way you operate your role, let alone a hindrance that you see in other people. Like the rest, it wouldn’t be long for everyone to get whipped into the ‘new regime’ all those years ago; some stimulating commentary at the time, but everyone understood once the policies were put into place. 

Though, this meeting has gone long enough, and keeping her here wouldn’t really do anyone good at this point. 

“Consider this conversation to be over, then,” you say, turning your body to the window panes set behind your desk, looking out at the moving trees in the breeze. “You’ll hear from me within the next few days so, carry on until you’re notified.” 

She then stands too, hand clasping to her wrist, subjectively giving you a nod with your back turned, seeing  her out of your peripheral vision. The emotionless look that’s her only mask, unimpressed and cold, as if nothing ever phases her in the tiniest of mishaps. You know that she’s just like the rest, despite wearing that facade like if life were to depend on it, part of you wants to break her- to tear up that infuriating fray of nothingness, spark some kind of fear into her core that would have her screaming, beg for a twinge of mercy. 

Reading those accounts of what she did with that student, wasn’t supposed to make you interested, but it is. A worthy head-scratcher for someone like her to have a few screws loose every now and then. It just didn't add up, for her to treat this so pointlessly. 

Even when she starts to bundle her feet together, swiveling them across the tile, she still carries this peculiar gracefulness in her step as her profile sweeps out of the picture - her back coming into view. She’s put up with that facade against you for so long, you know that it’ll be easy for her to comply in her case because it’s not in her nature for her to defy orders. 

A turn of the head signifies a chance out of desperation; a lifeline, and you’ll give her the luxury of deciding her fate. 

“And one more thing,” you setup, rolling the sleeves of your shirt to the elbow, to where Dahyun turns her body the long way round, hands behind her back, waiting for the next thing to leave your lips, “I’ll be perfectly blunt with you because I know that you clearly know better.”

Her forehead twitches at the cause of her brows bridging against each other. You see the small nick of her head that also shows the acknowledgement she’s willing to give you, both ears and eyes trained on you once the spread of your fingertips rest on the polished bark. 

“You’re aware of this academy’s policies when it comes to relationships among peers, it’s basically frowned upon,” you tell her lowly, “Let alone of the fact that you’ve been having this intolerable amount of behavior out of the false guise of indignancy.” She starts to internalize this short reproachment you’re dishing out on her, watching as her eyes expand by the passing second, “Now, I’ve could’ve let this be handled by the high council, but they’ve gave the chance to me in order to see if I can get this incident resolved without having any further escalating conflicts.” 

She parts her lips, wanting to take the opportunity at clearing her name, but she holds back since there’s that hanging impression of ‘what’s there left to be said once everything is put on the table?’ And even so, would anything serve to be better in the good graces of innocence for her case?

So she says nothing. Forever holding her peace while you audibly scoff at her. “I expected better from you, Overseer, I really did.” 

It takes the next few seconds to re-organize your workstation, she hangs herself in limbo, gathering her thoughts as the window to save herself starts to close smaller and smaller, and she finally takes the sealed fate into her hands. 

“If I may,” she says, diverting your attention from the desk back to her - hesitant to the point where you can rightfully assume that she’s eager to finally set everything straight: “I’d like to formally tender my resignation here at the Academy.” 

A bold move, Overseer, but a surprise one too- 

“On what grounds?” you ask, clearly taken aback with the sudden course of action by her own admission. “I don’t really see to understand while you would go to such lengths for this little incident-” 

“Because I will admit to you, Superior, that I saw that student out of my own volition. I’ve made the effort to set time aside from my schedule so that he and I could have our private meetings in my office; for the sake of his pleasure and for my sake of being able to satisfy those kinds of requests for him.” 

This tidbit of honesty coming out serves as a great reaction to your scolding, and not a lot of people get the credit they deserve trying to convince a person like Dahyun, but luckily you’re the one - if not the only one to have that ability in advising her. You always believed that she’d come around in some way or another, considering that this was the very first big fuck up from her too. 

“Superior.” The name alone brings you back. “Please, consider my resignation. And I’ll make all of this go away.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Why can’t you?” Her voice is strained, a fist at the side of her thigh, nails deep into her palm enough to draw blood, “I have to do this. I need to do this, sir. Please, let me-” 

You can see the desperation start to break through the cracks of her stoic persona, inching closer to where you want her to be. She can play the cool, level-headed teacher all she wants, but you know that this whole fiasco was her doing; like anyone else, they’ll do anything to make things right, no matter the cost. Then the getting ahead starts to seep through your frontal lobe: what she’ll start asking for next, the kinds of lengths she’ll commit to if you’re not the one to throw the figurative lifeline at her. 

Not just yet, guiding her into the right mindset will fall into place if you let the inner workings of panic do their thing. 

“Overseer Kim.” You slowly navigate closer to her, rounding the desk with every moving step across the room. “Even if you were to leave, you can’t. I’ve taken the liberty of locking the door here because I knew that this would happen: the way that you’re acting, we can’t have this.” 

It’s amazing at how she’s at ease, despite having the mini breakdown just an instant before. 

Because her act is rapidly deteriorating. 

“Sir, I don’t follow-” 

“Dahyun.” With a hand to her shoulder, her face freezes right when she flashes a look of suspicion, tensing up at the touch before she locks eyes with you again, the unsureness diminishing with a singular eyebrow raise. “I’m giving you an opportunity to have all of this resolved without any loose repercussions.” You can feel the heart rate within her start to calm down the way her breathing stabilizes, tension along the line of her shoulders releasing with every pass of air, “There would be no need to resign, and we would find a workaround to prevent this from ever happening again.”

“And how would you suggest that, Superior?” 

“By granting you amnesty. Without the word from anyone else but me.” 

You can see that same sweep of her eyes moving left and right, unable to meet yours. The offer alone is taking her a significant amount of time to consider, a mistake that she’s willing to undo. She then looks up with a wistful gaze, the small spark dashing through her irises - as if she had just made the discovery of fire. Her mind starts to work and it’s so easy to tell, reflecting on this potential choice that she’s able to make. “You don’t mean-”

“Mean what?” Letting a sly grin break through your lips. 

“By amnesty,” she adds, tilting her chin up, bearing your arms across your chest, “What would I have to do in order to achieve this?” 

She has a general idea of the term itself, and maybe you think she’s also heard of the many things thrown around with this specific practice or policy of yours. This occurrence has happened a few times, whipping up a few notable individuals into shape - some much more needed than others, but the commonality between all of them: they’d always submit themselves to you. 

“Do you admit and accept the responsibilities of your actions, Overseer?” You formally request with hands reaching to the fine creases of her dress to which she accepts. 

There’s a brief pause of consideration again, and you’re watching her eyes never leave yours, thinking about the whole reason that you two are in this position in the first place. It may be a little hard to believe still; knowing what Dahyun will do not only for herself, but for the academy. Then there’s the logged report from your desk, in detail of what she did with that student, makes you realize that she’s got a screw loose in her head. 

“Yes, sir.” She answers, looking up with a delighted smile, fully realizing the opportunity and taking it with no regret. “I do.” 

“Good.” With a sigh of relief,  a hand escalates to the back of her neck. “Because your punishment begins now.” And she’s in awe of the shimmer in your eyes, slowly grinning when you’re dipping your head down lower, minimizing the distance. It lights a fire within you, a motive of what will entail from this point going forward. 

This is what amnesty is, Dahyun would think, be oh- she has no idea what she just got herself into. 

You learn that she’s receptive, the way that she takes your lips with hers so well, hands flying freely, breath clashing with yours. It’s messy, the way more slick starts so spread on the lower half of both of your faces, wanting more. Her tongue weaves its way past your mouth, a leg hiked up that you greatly take the hint for, channeling the hum of approval coming from her down your throat. She grips tight on the back of your shirt, adamant on taking this chance to build a clean slate, a perfect rush of gasps followed with even more kissing. Her hands are well into your hair when you pull away, a pause to probably call a stop and- 

“So it is true,” she admits against your cheek, “About this little policy?” 

You lift an eyebrow unimpressed at her. 

“What do- you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” you mumble, grip getting tighter on the fine part of her ass, chest heaving slightly, breaths getting uneven. 

“I thought it was just some legend here, around these halls.” Dahyun answers, letting her wrists relax while swooping under her legs, instinctively wrapping them around the small of your back. “Maybe you can show me if that’s actually a real thing.” 

She doesn’t see the flared nostrils you’re giving her, “I’d like to thank you, Overseer,” setting her on the desk nicely when the clack of her heels fall onto the floor, echoing the room as she removes the top piece of her dress, tossing it over to the chair she was previously sitting at, “For reminding me what I was doing.” 

“And that is?” She asks, naively. 

There’s a bit of a shock when you force her body to the desk, a flushed reaction covered with a gasp when you have one hand fastened to her wrist, the other lightly on her neck with the grip on the fingers getting delicately tighter. She tries to read your expression, map out the crinkles falling towards a cross or a devilish smile, feeling your breath graze along the line of her neck in these soft hitches. 

“Allow me to show you,” you whisper, flipping her small body to where her back is facing the ceiling, toe tips nearly grazing the floor but just barely. The same hand to her wrist is now shifted to her back, the other set flat; searching for something to take hold, she peeks over her shoulder, watching you study the way her dress hugs along the shape of her waist and hips. 

Doing this kind of practice was no surprise to you, and it doesn’t happen as often as you would’ve liked. Ryujin took three tries before she’d agree to not be a bother to you, Haewon probably took a few days or more to finally come around, and even Mina just recently. This revolving door into your office and form of chastising was the last resort of necessary actions for your fellow colleagues, some willing to challenge your authority, others were willing to submit. 

“What do you think this treatment entails?” you ask vaguely, raising the lower part of her dress to reveal more and more of her ass into the light, taking note of the noticeable choice of lace as she hikes it up with her free hand. “I sure hope that this should help you learn a thing or two. Though, it’s entirely up to you.” 

Dahyun’s side profile is amazingly flawless to see when you’re gently kneading her soft ass with your hand, palm moving graciously along the fine skin, fluttering her eyes shut, her breathing begins to become irregular, a small tremble to her hips as you press down lightly on the waistband, tugging on the elastic before letting go. The potential is right there at your hips - at your fingertips, to ruin, break skin, a perfect canvas for you to mutilate in any way you see fit. 

You laugh and admittedly, out of spite. “I’m sorry, if this meeting didn’t occur, you were going to invite him over for another one of your private sessions?” 

She seethes, but in anticipation, drawing a sharp inhale of air when your hand slides up her back. Part of you wants to put her back onto the wood, but you let it slide when she lifts herself off to meet your cheek, getting a bit selfish when she’s refusing to pull away. Her swollen lips and lidded eyes are too tempting to stop yourself- as if she’s the one pulling you into her spell. 

“Had I not been found out, I would’ve,” she murmurs, clutching onto a bit more of her hiked up dress, revealing her bare ass to the open air, unveiling a strike point. 

A fast hand tends to hers, placing it with her other hand still pressed behind her back. She writhes at the uncomfortable position but the tension passes through her body once you adjust. 

“You know what I would say to that, Overseer?” 

“What-” 

Nothing is said, but all is shown with a harsh slap to her ass. A statement. 

Strike one. 

Dahyun quietly yelps at the sudden hit to her backside, everything from the waist down clenching from the contact. The rough palm on your hand stings to the point where you’d have to flick your wrist a bit to subdue the burn. Her breathing starts to become irregular, wiggling her legs hanging from the side of the desk. 

“Superior, ah-” 

“I should’ve also mentioned that I’m permitting you to use expletives, but you’re already ahead of the curve as it is,” you tell her, massaging the crimson mark now apparent across the breadth of her ass, feeling the bits of heat emulating across the rough creases of your palm. “You’re now free to speak your mind.” 

“God, f-fuck. I can’t bel-” 

Another rough hit cracks an echo in the room. Earning a high-pitched whine from her. Strike two. 

“Choose your words more carefully.” Fighting the urge to smile at the sight this woman splayed across the table, letting out these heaves of desperation, body tightening and untightening on the surface as she’s hiding her face from you. “I don’t plan on easing up after what you did.” 

“Sir, please. I just need to-” 

You press her deeper into the table, hike up more of that insanely tight dress to her waist, letting her struggle under your grasp. The sounds leaving her pretty little lips would drive anyone else drastically crazy, watching as this uncrowned beauty crack under the weight of your touches with a third slap. Strike three.  

What sets Dahyun apart from the rest that has gone under your specified practices of treatment is the appeal she possesses. At least everyone from the faculty to the students have shared their thoughts about her: few envying and others fantasizing. You’re somewhere between the two, impossible to really tell for yourself, but what’s rest assured: 

There's more than a boatload of things to discover with Dahyun that’s already a list growing by the second. Dragging your fingertips along her thighs, pressing and pinching in spots where you’re trying to assess how nimble she can get, the way you can twist and mangle her limbs into a plethora of ways that’s drawing up with the imagination running through your head. How she shudders when you’re pulling on the elastic of her panties down her luscious legs, drinking in the sight of her glistening pussy lips hanging off the rim of your desk, clearly having an enjoyable time with the slick soaking her undergarments as well. 

“Have we had enough? Or are you willing to take more?” you ask, letting Dahyun keep her own hands behind her back with yours fastened over the curve of her hips, sliding down to her red cheeks, handprints visible as you're soothing the damage. “I definitely think that you can handle more, shall we continue?” 

She shivers, the slightest grasp to her ass gives another hitched breath, caressing it briefly as you’re plotting the next move in your head. 

“You can answer me, Dahyun,” you tell her, leaning down over her back, nose tangling within the threads of her hair, brushing the cuff of her ear before planting a kiss right below it, “But from these sounds I’m hearing tells me that you’re enjoying it.” 

A small twist from her singular eyebrow, lids still sewn shut, “You’re ecstatic, that I m-misbehaved.” 

“Can you tell?” Another slap to her ass and a tug to the soft skin. 

“Y-yes sir, I-” 

And another. 

“I’m not convinced yet.” 

Then another strike. 

“F-fuck sir-” 

One more hit to bring the tally up to seven. 

“Makes me wonder what you were going to do with that poor student if this carried on without my interference.” And at this point her ass has morphed into this ruby shade with every strike that follows. Her shoulders roll back, you’re keeping her in place, wrists still stacked on top of each other, hands opening and closing in response to the pain the more slaps you dish out.  

Dahyun struggles to keep her breathing stable, one firm grab to her asscheek as you’re planting a few scattered kisses down the column of her throat, teetering along the bridge of her collarbone. “Tell me, would this be on your mind with him also?” 

She doesn’t open her voice to tell, but a simple nod is all she gives. “My, my, Overseer. You really are something.” 

You could be satisfied with the way things transpired in this very room, content with the message sent and the warning laced between the lines. A momentary pause, hushing her whimpers, tending to the red tint of her ass, easing the ache of pain mixed with pleasure. Her eyes are scrunched along with the bridge of her nose, gnawing on her bottom lip as your fingertips continue to dance along the sensitive skin. 

“Are you ready for the next part?” you murmur into her ear as your hand trails down to the space between her legs, dragging a pointer finger across the warmth of her leaking slit, listening to the sharp breath passing through her lips again. 

“Mmmm…” Her legs buck against the drawers, dipping the two pads into her walls. The corner of her lip wobbles as she throbs around your fingers, dragging and sliding in a form of trial and error; seeing what she likes and what doesn’t, the light in her eyes filling with lust. “Sir, please, yes, God-” 

She sees another idea spark in your irises, drawing away from the warmth of her pussy temporarily, hands fast to undo the belt around your waist. Dahyun could only watch as you’ve got the leather wrapped around, creating a loose hoop at the end before lightly placing it across the two divots in her back resting above her ass. 

You test the pliancy of the looped belt on your other hand, ensuring that the article rebounds nicely across your palm. “I’ve got one more thing to do, consider this to be a test of some sorts.” 

“What do you mean, Superio–” 

Her voice screeches when you strike the leather in the same spot where your hand hit on her ass cheek; entire body tensing from the sharp pain before breaking down into broken down sobs. She tries to resist by getting up, but you keep her in place as she whines, adamant in believing that she can’t handle it any more. 

“Oh no, we’re not through yet,” you hiss, not paying any attention to the stray heel hitting your thigh in retaliation. “Not until you tell me that this won’t happen again going forward.”

“Just for the record, sir,” Her hand grips the underside of your forearm at the same time your weight begins to stack along her back, furrowing her brows and gritting her teeth. “I wanted this.” 

“So are we going to have a problem like this again next time?” 

“Absolu-” 

The leather belt finds her ass again, the crack in the atmosphere strong enough to mistake for the clap of lightning. 

“No,” she pleads, twisting her head back and forth, sounding off another thwap to make a point. “No sir, we’re not going to have another problem with this ever again.” 

“Good,” you say, the formality alone shortly returning, hands hovering over to her wrists, slackening the belt as you begin to wrap it around her. You’re keeping focus, maintaining your thoughts meticulously, fighting your cock that’s beginning to ache in your trousers. “I’m gonna take good care of you now.” 

Once you’ve got the leather fastened around her wrists, there’s another fill to be satisfied when you slip your fingers back into her cunt, throbbing at the way you curl them inside, earning a few harmonious sounds as her back arches to the touch. She’s melting by the second, “Yes, yes, please sir, I want-” 

“Speak up,” you breathe, sinking down to your knees, hands resting at the rise of her hips, glistening lips into view. Everything about her is a new learning curve, and the way her lower half is still hung over the edge, ankles neatly crossed together like her bound wrists, you almost feel bad for enacting this onto her. 

Keyword almost, and you put your mouth on her other set of lips. Unsure, testing, getting those first savoring seconds up her wet cunt. Her whole body pulls inward, choking down a cry, and you realize, this woman is filled with surprises. 

But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself, the shivers she dishes out, the string of hums continue to leave her mouth. This wasn’t the time to keep the niceties - shoving your whole face and tongue into her pussy, tongue slipping through her opening in these strokes, body contracting and relaxing. The fingers also come into play, tapping along her clit and eventually dipping in to where your tongue can’t reach, the wetness soaking your fingers, the short grasps letting you know of that beautiful high fast approaching. 

“I’m gonna-” she says, voice peaking in a higher pitch than the last, the balls of her feet hitting your chest, holding her down at the bottom of her thigh and ass. “Sir, I’m gonna fucking-” 

“That fast?” you ask, gaze glassy, drunk on the sweet slick that’s all over your lips. Biting down the laugh from the top of your throat, “And here I thought you’d hold out a bit longer for me there.” 

She pulls her body up with what little strength she has while being tied up. Panting. Heaving. You’re content with the structured appearance of her face completely ruined, tense, letting her eyelids flutter when she feels your finger slip inside her once more, because another feeling like this wouldn’t really hurt anyone. 

“Final question. Are you going to be good for me from here on out?” 

There’s a silver lining with the sense of humiliation you’re giving her, nearly sympathetic when your knuckle finds its way deeper. It’s wrong, you think, to be like this, but you’ve learned with the years of experience of being in this place that people will only listen when backed to a corner with no other way out. Everyone here is aware of the rapport you have with others, the kind of power that shouldn’t be really shown until it’s a desperate call to make to ensure everyone’s on the same page as you. This time isn’t really different. 

But still, it’s a first with her, and you’ll take this grand opportunity to pressure her into not making another issue for the next time. 

“Dahyun,” you’re telling her again, because she’s just staring at you in awe. The way you’ve been handling her; professional at the surface level, finding a pressure point to the things that she’s been accused of committing, drawing that out of her by any means necessary, until you’ve managed to break her. “Answer me, darling.” 

She comes back to her senses when her body shifts more inward to the wood, resting right at the bending point of her hips, listening to the zip from your pants. The most evil thing she’s done all day: a sly smile breaking across her face, watching you tease the head of your cock along her wet lips. This will be a problem, but a welcome one. You’re hoping that you’ve done your part to the best of your ability. 

“Yes sir,” she answers, shimmying her hips to tease. “I’ll be really good for you. I promise.” 

“I hope so.” you retort, “I can be very convincing.” 

A slip inside, a slow push. It’s electric. Further. Deeper. Filling her cunt up, her walls leisurely stretch around you. The heat alone is euphoric, coming to you in a fast rush. You hold yourself in for as long as possible, but it’s futile; she may have a few screws loose in the head, but you’re not far off the mark as well. 

“God,” she mumurus again, and you drag yourself out slightly. Back in nicely, smoothly into that heat, until Dahyun nods her head in approval. She gasps again when you move past the previous spot your cock was inside her, nearly to the base. 

“Oh, my fucking-” 

A shared gluttal moan parts from your chest and hers, eyes fixated on the sight of your slicked up cock carefully impaling Dahyun, the friction becoming more and more addicting. The muscles in her back start to freeze up along with her clenched hands, fighting against the leather around them. You make it easier for her case, lifting her chest up at the breast, leaning down to seize her lips on yours, holding her steady, cock carving up her walls with every building thrust. 

Nose against her cheek, “This cunt,” you utter, pushing yourself deep as this girl is faltering moans with every hit your hips make with her sore, red ass, “I can’t believe how tight this grips me, god- fucking, no wonder he wanted to keep seeing you in the first place,” and you lean down the line of her back, letting her pussy clench around your cock, feeling the clutch of her walls, all wet and aching for more. 

The thrusting starts to pick up, unrestrained and unrelenting now. You’re not even sure what to do with your hands, alternating between holding at the endpoint of her waist where her hips meet or press her unbelievable thighs together, to make the press around your cock that much better. A premature call to make, in comparison to the other’s that have preceded Dahyun: her pussy takes it in so well, you could bury yourself inside her for what feels like forever. 

“Sir,” she groans out, the sentence being cut off with another slap to her ass, following up with the crash of your hips into hers, holding on to her binded wrists. “Please, please, please-” 

“Please what, hmm?” You can’t really conjure up the proper thoughts to put in conversation, heaving out scattered spells of air with every stroke into her. “You’ve gotta help me out here.” 

“Need more.” It’s a request for sure, and not a vague one. “Please keep fucking me.” 

You do give her more, and nothing less. With every passing second you dive deep into her cunt, the beating in your heart accelerates just that teeny bit faster. The thoughts are out the window at this point, the only thing keeping you from figuratively passing out is the sopping wetness of her cunt every time you pull out and drive back in. The pace gets a bit faster, then you dial it back, watch as her upper body convulses across the desk, mouth hung open for all the moans to be let out, getting louder, more higher, and needier. 

She gasps when you hold yourself inside, thrown off guard with the firm hit you give her, a moment to catch her breath. “Wait, no, fuck, why did you-” 

Dahyun had managed to do something to you that the others couldn’t in this short span of time: break you. Even after all this time, it’s really interesting how the very person you’ve been wanting to see out for an instance like this is the one that’s managed to make you go all out into setting them right. She’s spearheading this thing, and not you. When it should be the other way around. 

A fistful of her hair is grabbed, and her body is raised up, hips flush with hers. “If I hear another question leave your sultry lips, I’ll tape it up so that nobody can hear you screaming down the hallways.” 

She bites her wobbling bottom lip, assuring you that’s exactly what she wants to happen, and it will. Her half-open eyes sees your head go sideways, planting a kiss down her neck, inching your cock deeper into her cunt past the hilt and her body shudders at it. 

“Want me to fuck some sense into you now? Properly? Fuck this pretty little pussy that it’ll make you think right?” 

She nods desperately, “Yes sir. Please.” 

You bend her over across the desk again, hand still tangled into her hair with the other resting at her hips. The pace deliberate at first, savoring the sensation of how her body takes you, parting her folds with every inch of your shaft. She shivers when you tease her still, not going all the way, but making her earn it. 

Now wasn’t the time for easygoing now, the sight of her backside is an eighth wonder of the world to admire, sliding out and dragging your cock back into her, gradually increasing as the additional slaps to her ass again, fucking her deep. You eventually decided that she’s served her punishment long enough, untying the belt at her hands and discarding it somewhere in the office, putting her hands up to the other end of the desk for her to hold on as you mercilessly bury your cock into her. 

“Sir, I can’t keep- fuck!” she cries out, the litany of lovely whines and sounds the more you fill her up. She also takes the liberty of letting you take a breather, moving her hips back, bouncing her ass with you just standing there, watching as her perfect ass does this little ripple effect on the skin, jiggling with an endless movement. 

It was getting all too much, and Dahyun herself was enjoying it as well, smiling with every groan that rips from your throat, hand floating over her hips, piercing your cock roughly back into her again and again, unwilling to yield the remaining bits of pleasure before either you or her reach that point-

“I’m gonna fucking- god, sir, keep going, so close-” she strains, gripping your wrists and tight enough for her to rip them off. 

“Don’t fight me,” you spit, voice leaning towards something primal, “Cum all over this cock.” And she does. 

Your muscles should be spent at this rate, but they hold out long enough as your ears are picking up the endless babbles and whimpers, mixed in with the sloppy strokes of your hips hitting hers. The mind is overloaded with so much, but your hands find rest at her ass again, burying yourself deep. And then it hits you in a flash. 

One firm hit sheathing your cock into her cunt, and you pull out, cumming all over the fine plane of her ass. You’ll need to take a mental image to save for eternity - the way you’re painting in these lovely slashes with your release, all over her ass, her back - because you learn that she looks amazingly good like that. A fine figure, waiting to be defiled and tarnished, and it happens. 

“God, would you look at-” you’re also left in disbelief, the grip around your cock loosening, eyes on leaking pussy lips, she’s hung down, face off to the side, eyes closed, steadily breathing. The words coming out of her mouth are inconceivable, but she’s thankful, praising you, giving thanks. Judging from how content she looks, proves that your hard work is done.

“S-sir,” she tries to say, still left speechless. 

A kiss to the temple of her head, and a ruffle with your hand sliding down to her back. “So, are we satisfied with your conversation?” 

Dahyun takes a minute or two, maybe more, to process everything that’s happened just now. She’s still on your desk, and you’re getting right back to it, slipping on your slacks, picking up the tossed belt that you used as a makeshift rope. Your ears pick up on the heavy breathing from her as she slowly gets up, hands giving her support on the desk, dazed and astounded once things start returning back to normal. 

You fix up the rolled up sleeves of your shirt; Dahyun blankly stares out in space, fixing up her dress and placing some of the various items hit in the crossfire back in their right spot, off the floor and somewhere where you’ll fix soon. 

“Dahyun?” you ask again, watching as she starts to make her way out the door. “Overseer.” 

She turns at the title, realizing she left behind a vital piece to her appearance, dipping her head down in embarrassment, but you can already see the blush breaking through her cheeks. Her breathing is also irregular, but it’s a lot calmer than before. 

“Sorry,” she says, squaring her shoulders, a hand taking the heels in yours. “Thank you, for- uhm, the persuasion.” 

An inquisitive look is what you give her. Meeting your gaze, you notice a few stray strands out of place in her hair, take it upon yourself to use the tip of your pinky to move it away from her forehead. Not much is left said between the two of you, probably just small talk or the comfort of silence finally setting in like before. You can’t really seem to get over the wistful constellations behind the lenses in her eyes - and it’s something that you want to study more about. 

“Right,” you tell her, patting her shoulder before guiding her to the doorway, fingers fast to the touchpad and the quick clicks of the deadbolt finally opens it. “I’m happy enough to see you again, without the intent of correcting your little issue.” 

Dahyun nods in agreement, pulling both of her lips inward to force back the smile, but you see right through her. She begins to make her way out, bare feet on the floor, heels in her hand - a solid lasting impression after today.

“Before I forget Dahyun,” you’re calling out again, and she twists her head around to meet your eyes, “Let’s speak again sometime soon okay? My door will be open for you if needed.” 

She squints, smiling a bit to where you see the bottom bits of her teeth. You give her a nod to emphasize your point. “Count on it sir. I guess I’ll be coming around more often, then.” 

[gremlingottoosilly]

how would monster! könig care for the reader now that she’s pregnant with his eggs? if she gets sick, hungry, or even through labor?

-anon!

Konig needs to carve some time for you out of his busy schedule - and he is doing so, albeit a but roughly. You always feel like he is just one step away from snapping and killing everyone around you - you're always on edge, even as he carefully holds you in his hands and takes care of your frail, weak body. If you're hungry, he will sent at least three different soldiers to bring you food. Sweets, meat, something healthy - whatever you want. He might not understand the cravings of a pregnant human woman, but he sees how disrupt you are through your inner mate connection, and he has the natural urge to provide for you. He would bring you something himself - but that would often require leaving you alone, which he hates. You're just so...vulnerable. He can't help but coo at you, abandoning his cold exterior so he can smile at how pathetic you look, with your round tummy and softness around your body, how you crave his touch even more. Hormones are making you horny and active - you're craving him and his tentacles, the sensation of your body being filled is something that you finally started to seek out...and Konig adores giving it to you. If you're good enough, he won't even push you around too much - if your pregnancy is making you soft and sleepy, he'd make sure to provide you the best sleeping spaces around him. If you're irritated and agitated, he would pick out the recruits he likes least and allow you to get your anger off them - maybe even contribute to some disciplinary actions for the slackers. Base had learned to respect you

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ c.bg; six nights ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

summary: six nights of emo boy gyu sneaking into your room without your daddy knowing. aberrational catholic guilt ridden catcher in the rye wannabe porn document. afab reader x softdom!beomgyu. warnings: everything, unfortunately. minors dni. heavy smut ahead. lots of pretentious writing, too. catholic guilt and imagery. abusive behaviour, parental neglect. drug use. violence. everyone is sad. i’ll keep on updating part-specific tags. index: prologue: the house of god, first night, second night, third night, fourth night, fifth night, sixth night, dawn of the seventh.

prologue: the house of god

when daddy wanted to hide something from you, he would turn to his beloved bible. and ever since you turned fourteen, he had been holding on to a passage that he would repeat to you every night before going to sleep: 

"let no one say when tempted, "i am being tempted by god," for god tempts no one. but each person is tempted when lured by his own desire. then desire gives birth to sin, and sin brings forth death."

that is the only sex talk your daddy ever gave you. it was more of a sex mantra than a talk, or a warning, or even a prohibition. just a rule of nature that he wanted you to have engraved in your mind: desire is sin, and sin is death.

when daddy didn't want you to do something, he'd blame the rule on god. and there's little you could say against that. 

as you grew up, you realised that god might not be real, but daddy most certainly was. a punitive, disciplinary god. and one feels much more compelled to obey divine rule when god lives under your roof. when you can touch him, and he can touch you.

when god lives in your house and his wrath can tear your flesh apart not in hell, not in heaven, but in this life; you become more cautious than the most devoted of christians. so even when everyone in your grade started drinking, dating, having sex; you had it very clear that the priority was to protect yourself. not from the dangers of drinking, dating, or sex; but from daddy, that is to say, from god.

none of your friends from school understood it, that the fear of god was not irrational. you had scars and bruises that god had given you which you could perfectly show them. but then daddy would get in trouble. besides, he wouldn't like you showing your body around. 

none of them could ever understand what living with god was like, so they were the kind of people who would ask that stupid question; if god loves us, why does he hurt us? 

the first person to understand god was a boy called choi soobin. 

daddy had remarried choi soobin’s mom the year before you started college. she was a beautiful woman, lively and hopeful to start a second life after becoming a widow. it must be thrilling to get a chance at a second life when your first one has gone wrong. soobin’s mom could have been very happy in another universe. you felt sorry that she had stepped into daddy‘s trap. 

you had always wondered how daddy had managed to get a woman like her. bright, cultured and affectionate. but then you figured that maybe, as he was god, he didn't necessarily need to be yahweh, or elohim. he could also be zeus and disguise himself as a swan to kidnap and rape leda. 

you found out later that soobin‘s mom had never fully recovered from the passing of her first husband, and she often suffered from major depressive episodes. daddy saw that void in her, and her urgency to fill it. he forced himself into the hollowness of the void, and obstructed her veins, bones, and heart with the word of god.

soon enough, soobin’s mom had no limb or internal organ she controlled herself. she had once had colours, you remembered; rosy cheeks, a hazel head of hair, lips tinted with vibrant red. but daddy had turned her grey. 

soobin’s mom had been kind enough to see the good sides of daddy, you had liked her for that. but you regretted that she hadn't learned to hide her colors so that daddy couldn't steal them away, like you did. 

she became a shadow of herself, an almost non-verbal phantom trapped between the real world –that is, the confines of daddy's house– and the world of hopeful prayers and the salvation of soul.

the boy called choi soobin would never forgive daddy for that. but it was alright. you understood. in a sense, he had killed his mom. you had to love daddy because he had created you, but you didn't think choi soobin was obliged to. 

people said choi soobin had changed, too. that he used to be a gentle kid, polite and sweet, but he had turned hostile. that, like most teens, he had become self-absorbed and belligerent without a cause or that he had gotten those adolescent mood changes so late in his life because he was an attention seeker. people say things like that when they don't understand what living with god is like.

you were the only one who didn't believe daddy when he said that soobin had a demon inside. you knew better than that, you knew that daddy saw demons everywhere. but soobin’s own mom believed it. when daddy tried to exorcise the demon away from soobin with fist and blood, she looked away.

all that soobin had wanted by acting up against daddy was to save his mom. to bring her back from the dead. but after that betrayal, he stopped trying. 

soobin had never been violent towards you, though. not once. not even mean. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who told him he wasn't evil. you knew that god's tyrannical rule could break a person, fill them with hate. and so soobin and you became close, often talking against god. every whispered defamation, every blasphemy, the danger of it felt so exciting. not because of the mischievous sin, or because of the disobedience, but because you felt like you could speak your mind at last.

your first kiss was soobin. you felt loved when it happened, something you realised you weren't used to. the feeling bloomed throughout the following week as you hid from god's watchful eye to be together.

soobin told you a hundred times that you were the most beautiful girl in the world, kissing all over your face, clasping you as close to him as he humanly could. he would sneak his hand under your skirt and whisper, "don't think about him right now. it's just you and me." and though his touch never went very far in the magnitude scale of sin and punishment, it was enough to breathe a new life into you.

you sensed that a big part of why soobin wanted you so bad was because he got turned on at the idea of defying daddy, and groping his holy daughter was the greatest offence he could commit. but that was alright. you felt the same way. and you hoped that that hate-induced lust would turn into love, in time. you could then be happier, even in the house of god. 

or you could have been happier. because god is omnipresent. and he would soon act to see you separated. the blossoming flower was brutally ripped from the soil.

when daddy found out, he locked himself into the master bedroom with soobin one morning and didn't let him go until the sun began to hide. soobin left that room broken and dead in life, just like his mom, but he didn't have one single bruise. maybe daddy really was god, after all.

soobin never talked to you again. spoken, yes, but it was hollow. you never felt loved again. you learned a lesson that day: your pleasure brings pain to everyone around. the mantra became true. desire is sin, and sin is death.

so if there was any need left in your body to touch, to kiss, to lick, to possess or be possessed; you confined it to the darkest pit of your ribcage, way past your heart, never to be accessed again. 

until choi beomgyu came around.

he was the second person to understand god. but he had brought his lesson learned from home. he knew god’s ways even before he met daddy. he had a god of his own. you called yours daddy, he called his ‘that narcissistic sadist’. but strangely enough, you felt like they meant the same thing. 

choi beomgyu was sort of soobin's friend, if you could even call it that. they never labeled each other as such, never sought out each other's company for the sake of friendship. they just wanted to live through their loneliness while sitting in the same room.

beomgyu’s dad was a dealer. he made a living out of ruining people's lives, as beomgyu saw it. growing up, he had promised himself that he would never be like that, the kind of person who doesn't care about poisoning someone's body if that meant keeping the cash flowing. but as he grew up, he learned that it wasn't all black or white. that all of those fools kept showing at his father’s doorstep, like they had no other choice. like they enjoyed hurting themselves. 

beomgyu, like soobin, had become hateful. one of the things that bothered him the most was the "why me?" question. how unlucky he could have been to be born of such a father. but then again, he could run away. he could sort his shit out, get a job, never see his father again. but he kept going back. like he had no choice. like he, too, enjoyed hurting himself.

his dad barely knew he existed, and if beomgyu ever tried to make himself heard, he would silence him in cold blood. so any semblance of love or validation beomgyu could aspire to, he sought out with mathematically strategised plans. he craved the drug of attention and knew exactly where to get it.

he'd linger around fancy schools and church events, scoping out a certain type of girl. there was always a few of them going through a rebellious phase, desperate to go out with a bad boy and piss off their high-official dad. 

it didn't take much effort for him to get what he wanted. he was handsome enough to make it easy, and even though he was a spiteful nihilist, he could be charming on command. just a smirk, a tousle of the hair, and some cheesy lines like, "i'm messed up, but with you, i feel like maybe i could be better," or "you're too beautiful for a screw-up like me." and he would have them wrapped around his finger. 

he would bring them over to his place and fuck them rough on his drug-money-bought mattress. if there was shouting, or a gunshot coming from another part of the house, he'd fuck into them harder, muffling their fear with a rough kiss, using their panic to fuel his own twisted thrill. you fucking scared? i've gone through this crap every day since i was a kid. 

if he could crack the shell of a privileged princess, dragging someone along with him down to his mud, his pain would slightly numb out.

for just a little, but never enough.

that pattern of behavior didn't lead to happiness. not even to satisfaction. it was a vindictive way of muffling his pain with the aching moans of someone who had it easier. but in reality, it only pierced what was left of his soul, making him even more hollow. it was soobin who made him realize that.

until that day, beomgyu saw soobin as almost a kid—pitifully weak and too sheltered. but when he told him about his exploits of going after posh girls, soobin didn't applaud in shared bitterness as he often did.

beomgyu explained to him how hard he got seeing the fear in their eyes as they realised that the life he led, that freedom of the rebel, wasn't as cute and bohemian as they had romanticised.

soobin responded curtly. "and then what? you cum, the spell wears off and you stare at the ceiling in silence, thinking of how miserable you are." he said. "and then you feel guilty for being a piece of shit and using that girl as a blow-up doll. and because of that you feel even worse about yourself, which means becoming more hateful and ruining more people. its not a you thing, you're not that special. that loop has been said and done. probably how your dad feels after beating on you."

beomgyu was taken aback. he didn’t even find it in himself to get offended. he remained pensive for a while before saying, "hyung. do you think i'm a bad person?"

soobin replied; "i think you can choose not to be."

and beomgyu took the advice. he put an end to the hunter-gathering of rich girls. he respected soobin from then on, too. soobin had therefore been a good influence, one could say. or at least an influence beomgyu was willing to accept. he started hanging around your house more, to the point of almost never leaving.

you learned about him as if he were a mythological figure—someone everyone talked about but whose existence you couldn't confirm. as a friend of soobin, beomgyu was bound from the start by an unspoken rule to maintain the least possible contact with you.

beomgyu was made aware of that rule very early on. what he didn't know, because he had been misled, was your age. that's why he didn't think much of it at first; he thought you were a kid. so, whatever—he couldn't talk to soobin’s annoying little stepsister. big deal. he didn't care about kids anyway.

this, combined with the prison-like structure of daily life in that house—minimal time in common areas and endless hours rotting in your own cell—fulfilled daddy's command to keep your life and soobin's, and therefore boemgyu’s, completely separate.

but even though you hadn't seen choi beomgyu in person, you had been able to construct a fairly accurate forensic portrait of him, pieced together from your father's warnings about people like him.

about the piercings, daddy believed that the body is holy, and anyone capable of mutilating within sin. about the music they played when locked up for whole afternoons in soobin’s room, he believed that god is serene, and disturbing that peace is a sign of the devil. he considered long hair on a man an abomination, and much like the eccentric clothes, a mark of a sodomite.

daddy didn't approve of him, and saw him as no more than a threat to the sanctity of his home. but beomgyu was quick to remedy the situation.

beomgyu was most acquainted to the ways of gods. he knew they were capricious, proud and pathologically narcissistic. so he made sure daddy could see he was a troubled young man and played the role of the lamb seeking guidance. he convinced daddy that he could abduct him, like he had done with soobin and his mother.

when soobin recounted the scene to you, his voice had sounded more hopeful, more full of admiration than you had ever heard. "he went to your dad and talked to him as if he was the buddha. said that he was lost and needed someone to guide him on the right path." soobin said. "he had some quotes from the prodigal son parabole learned, and he just delivered so naturally. not a trace of shame because when he lied to his face like that. it was like watching a play. your dad bought everything."

from then on, beomgyu became an unsung hero in your eyes. the boy who had outmanipulated daddy into having it his way. the boy who had defeated god.

around halloween that year, beomgyu and his dad had a terminal fight. it ended on a threat so destructive that beomgyu thought it was for the better if he stayed away from his father's place for a couple days. maybe a week. soobin, knower of the impotence and humiliation of having to sleep under the roof of the one who lacerated you and torn you to pieces, offered him shelter.

daddy's eyes lit up with greed. he saw the definitive chance to welcome a prodigal son into the fold. for beomgyu it was almost a joke. he was amused at how fast daddy allowed him in. so clueless and hasty, like one of the girls he used to charm into his bed.

in truth, beomgyu wasn't even to blame when he inevitably bumped into you. it had been daddy's mistake, he had let him in himself. you thought maybe that made daddy more human, somehow. that he forgot to close the back door to the prison and the devil strolled in.

but it wasn't really a matter of having let his guard down. daddy was still as stern, still as disciplinary, still as paranoid as he had always been. choi beomgyu was just much smarter than daddy.

he was a demigod, he was a promise. he was soon to make you his.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ please let me know if you think reading about booty sex is gross (i'm doing market research)

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"These Six Women War Workers Are Husky and Proud of It," Windsor Star. June 23, 1943. Page 5. ----- WHILE every one of Windsor's thousands of women war workers is determined to do her part in turning out the tools of victory, not all of them can boast the physical attributes of the above six employes of the Gotfredson, Limited, plant. These husky young ladies were snapped as they were taking a stroll during the luncheon period. They are workers on bodies for military vehicles. Left to right above are: Stella Turner, Stephani Metrofanik, Wanda Yunka, Jennie Kondruk, Rose Cabola and Gertrude Pare. They are proud of the contribution they are able to make to the war effort.

[dark-konohagakure2]

How about Sebastian nonconing a new maid?

tw: noncon, power imbalance, age difference, punishment, light degradation, manhandling

All characters depicted are 18+

While the gentleman doesn't show it on the outside, whenever he sees an incompetent servant, he just wants to wring their neck. Sebastian was already reaching the limit of his patience when it was just Mey-Rin tripping and breaking the fine china, but now that the estate has recently hired a second clumsy maid, Sebastian doesn't feel the need to hold back with the new hire.

He truly does attempt to keep up his suave butler facade in the face of her bumbling incompetence, going easy on her because she's new and only gently reprimanding her mistakes, but Sebastian's patience doesn't last very long.

Any pretense of patience is completely shattered however when she trips and knocks over a priceless vase that has been in the Phantomhive family for generations, now completely shattered due to one maid's idiocy. It's hard to tell that Sebastian is mad, he simply gives his usual closed eyed smile, the vein throbbing in his forehead only concealed by his dark bangs.

He'll maintain his sweet fake smile when he gently leads her away under the pretense of a normal punishment, such as a literal smack on the wrist, but instead of a fairly normal disciplinary measure like she expected, she pushed her into the broom closet and locks the door behind him, and she can swear that his amber eyes are now a glowing red color.

"There are limits to how much idiocy I can allow, little miss. Thanks to your foolishness I'm going to be scolded by our Young Master. I'll have to teach you a lesson..."

Sebastian won't fully expose his true nature to her, at least not physically, but he'll be truly demonic when he has his way with her, his sharp claw-like nails will dig into her hips through his gloves as he forces his cock into her quivering hole, having his way with her where anyone could overhear, being the distinguished butler he is, Sebastian won't make too many lewd noises.

He'll only occasionally make noises if he's feeling especially pleasured or if he wants to scold her again, chastising her for making him lose his composure and forcing him to discipline her in such a manner, while simultaneously acting like him using her body is just him going about his obligations as the head butler of the household, one of said duties being to keep unruly servants in line.

While not a quick shot by any stretch of the imagination, Sebastian doesn't want to dawdle for too long, she's little more than a distraction from his chores, so he's going to be rather quick with her, his bigger body pounding against her slight frame as he fills her up with his throbbing cock and demonic essence without any mercy or remorse.

Sebastian hates to make a mess, so he'll cum directly inside of her, not wanting to leave any unsightly stains or evidence of their encounter on her maid uniform, so he'll make sure that she doesn't spill a single drop of his seed before he pulls out and sends her on her not so merry way.

"There we go, maybe that will teach you to watch where you're going in the future. Now you're dismissed, go back to your duties, little one."

Sebastian's opinion on her will take a much different turn after their lovely little 'talk', while she's still his least favorite fellow servant, she is now his absolute new favorite toy.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ᗪEᔕTᖇOY ᗰE ♰

♰ Pairing: dom!energy vampire!yunho x sub!chubby!fem!human!reader

♰ Genre: smut/angst/vampire au/horror

♰ Summary: Life as a human pet to your vampire master means that feeding time is always a special occasion but you've been acting particularly bratty lately so your owner decides to make tonight's dinner one you won't soon forget.

♰ Word Count: 1.5k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's your master so you call him that, he's also feral for you, pet names (my pet, princess, good girl, little human, etc), not so pet names (you get called a fuck toy and a whore. fun times), a sprinkle of degradation if you squint, he's literally draining you of your life force, bondage, strong language, dirty talk, body suspension, unprotected sex, creampie, a lil cum play, blink & you miss it breeding kink, reader's ultra wet, sub space, nipple play, tit sucking, edging, fingering, vaginal penetration w/ vibrator, major Yunie hand kink, rough/deep sex, he also kinda overdoes it on the feeding and thinks he killed you but girl you're fine.

♰ A/N: I'm a horror whore so honestly this is roughly 1.5k worth of vampire smut that exists for the sole reason that I wanna bang vampires and apparently I wanna bang Yunho too. Someone confiscate my laptop ASAP so I can stop being so unhinged. Thanks xoxo ♡

Your master’s favorite room in this sprawling gothic manor you’ve come to call home will always and forever be the dining room...

A dining room that only qualifies as one by way of being a place in which he consumes his food. Between these four walls, upholstered in dark scarlet velvet, you’ll find no table and chair set. No wholesome family photos adorning the walls. No plates or forks or spoons.

Though there may be the occasional knife depending on what your master’s in the mood for. But tonight it isn’t about the blood—something he draws from you on only the rarest of occasions. Tonight it’s about feasting on your energy, devouring the very essence of your soul, and the room is brimming with it.

Ornate light fixtures in each corner illuminate the darkness in an erotic red that seems to pulse around the center of the room where you dangle 4ft from the ground, suspended only by the intricately knotted rope your master’s decorated your naked body in. At your feet a tall figure looms, his presence dominant and imposing. He watches you intently, admiring the meal laid out before him.

You’ve pinned your hair up for him, making it perfect for tugging should you require any disciplinary measures. Your makeup is simple yet alluring, highlighting your features without overpowering them. The rope fashioned around your chest is a corset of sorts that binds your arms behind you, curving back around your breasts to lay them bare for him to see.

Your plush thighs are spread giving him a direct view of the vibrator humming away in your dripping core. The room is silent besides this and, of course, your mindless whimpering. You aren’t allowed to speak, you know better than to disobey this rule, but you can make all the noise you want as long as you control your volume. But that’s so hard isn’t it? When your master’s been edging you for this long—much longer than your ruined little brain can remember—it’s easy to lose control. 

“My pet isn’t forgetting her manners, is she?” Yunho asks, stepping between your legs. Hands gloved in black leather stroke the ropes extending from your ankles up to the ceiling, the vibration of your trembling body quaking through his own. You can see him better now, your handsomely dressed master feasting upon you with those shimmering sapphire pools he calls eyes. All you want in this realm is to be good for him. To be rewarded with his love, his praise, and his touch.

Reaching between your thighs, Yunho spreads the petal soft folds of your pussy, sliding the hood of your clit back to expose the sensitive bundle of nerves. He brushes it with his thumb and your body rushes with a heat that radiates onto him like the rays of the sun.

“Mmm, you feed your master so well” he hums, licking his lips, salivating, “Such a sensitive little cunt.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you choke your moans down deep in your throat, your stomach tightening at the stimulation. You raise your hips, desperate to truly feel his touch but the gloves won’t let you. That is the mortal torture of this night. 

All week you’ve been acting like a brat, disobeying his orders and throwing tantrums to get his attention. You understand how powerful Yunho is, how important his duties to the vampire council are, but he’s been far busier than usual lately and all those long nights home alone became unbearable.

Yunho can tell how much you’ve missed him by how tightly your pussy clings around the vibrator. “Look at her, so greedy. I really have neglected her. Forgive me, little one” he coos, pushing it into you until your eyes are watering and your head’s thrown back in ecstasy.

Yunho slips the vibrator out at an agonizingly slow pace, stopping at the tip. He groans in delight at the unique taste of the energy you give off as he rotates it in small circles.

“You love when your master punishes you, hmm? Like having this gorgeous pussy tortured until you can’t take it?” he grins, stretching you wide to watch your juices drip to the floor. “That is why you’ve been acting up, isn’t it?”

You respond with broken, honeyed moans and drawn out breaths. Yunho’s draining you, your essence flowing from you like a fountain that feels deceivingly good as it leaves your body. Yunho’s eyes travel up your figure, stopping every now and again to lust after the tender flesh peaking through the ropes. His gaze settles where your breasts bounce against your chest, the rope pushing them up in such a way that your stiffened nipples are begging for his attention.

Yunho leans in, applying delicate kitten licks to your nipple, and hears how frantically your heart beats in your chest. “No coming yet, little one” he hums, taking more of your pillowy breast into his mouth. The bud hardens more against the texture of his tongue and Yunho takes it between his teeth, pinching it just to watch you squirm.

He shoves the vibrator back into you, angling it against your sweet spot, “That’s it, mmph, shit, keep feeding me. Give it all to me.”

The room begins to darken, the minimal lighting doing nothing to keep you from drifting into the shadows. Your bindings seem to fall away and with it the limits of your mortal form. You’re left floating in a space too euphoric for words, completely at Yunho’s mercy.

Yunho raises his head, your spit drenched nipple suctioned between his lips, and finds himself spellbound by your beauty. You are a work of art unable to be replicated by any other woman, human or otherwise, and you’re his. Forever his. Just knowing his claim to you is eternal makes his hunger for you reach ravenous heights and he’s baring his fangs, tearing his gloves off to feel your bare body in his palms.

Tossing the vibrator aside, he frees his cock from the dress pants it was nearly tearing through to get to you. With one thrust he’s buried within your walls, rolling his hips to feel the delicious ridges of your pussy around him. Your body tenses, unintentionally causing you to pull away, but he won’t let you get away that easily. 

“You know the rules, pet. No running” he growls, grabbing your hips and slamming you back down onto him, “You’ll be a good little human whore and, ah, take my cock like the fuck toy that you are.” Keeping one hand at your waist, his other hand ventures around you activating every pleasure point.

Your body reacts with maddening excitement to the worship being poured into you by those large, marvelously veined hands. They're like magic, tiny sparks of electricity dancing along your skin at every brush of his fingers. Lacing his long fingers around the back of your neck, he licks the delectable tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Say my name" he whispers, fangs skimming your jawline, "And maybe I'll take mercy on you."

The next moan that escapes you is more fractured than the others as your orgasm tears you to pieces. You repeat his name over and over, “Yunho. Yunho. Yun…”

“No, no, that won't do. Louder. Scream it" he commands and you obey, screaming your throat raw with his name all over your tongue.

Yunho stills his movements, groaning as you ride him in midair, his cock glistening in your slick. You’re coming for what feels like an eternity when your lower belly swells full with his seed, warm and satisfying. When Yunho pulls back it’s overflowing, trickling from your core and down your immaculate ass. He takes two fingers, gathering his come and feeding it back into you, “You did well, my pet. I’m so proud of you.“

Gradually you come back from that otherworldly place, your awareness of your body returning little by little. Opening your eyes you realize that you aren’t strung up in the dining room anymore. Instead you’re submerged in water of some sort, a floral scent filling your nostrils. You wiggle your toes and they swish around in the water, bubbles dancing on the tips of them. Your vision balances out and you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sight of your bathroom.

“Thank hell you’re up” Yunho cheers from behind you in the tub, wrapping you in the tightest hug. “I must’ve fed too much. I’m so sorry, princess. I could’ve killed you. I don’t know what I’d do if…” 

“Master, I’m fine, really.” you swear, lighting up at the sloppy kisses he plants on your cheek. “I may not be like you but I’m still strong.” 

Yunho rests a hand on your chest, his fingers making figure eights on your collarbone. “That you are. My strong, beautiful little human. I’m so sorry I neglected you,” he apologizes, hoping with all his heart that you believe him. “Your master loves you, you trust that don't you?”

You nod, smiling back at him, feeling safe and cared for in his embrace. “And my master is loved.” 

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Hi hii, I've seen your requests are open and I was wondering if I could request somewhat one-sided Astarion x reader/Tav/he catches feelings first kinda situation??? Pretty please, love your writing 🙏

Too Generous Too Kind

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : astarion has travelled by your side for weeks and it makes his stomach churn when he grows to trust you, the trust turns into something more and he feels even worse.

warnings : astarion's scars, reader is injured.

For weeks Astarion had been travelling by your side. And for weeks he was under the impression he was only using you to get to Baldur's Gate safely. You were a powerful ally, an asset to his plan of revenge. 

He would stand by your side, of course, and watch your back as you had always watched his. But he couldn’t hold back how aggravating you were, you didn’t care whether he approved of your decisions or not. You made your own, walked your own street, and he was forced to follow it if he wanted to keep you around. 

And for weeks he had watched you talk your way out of situations, or convince a trader to give you free supplies. A master with your words. He watched as you lied and manipulated, and it made his faith in you soar. 

But then you would turn around and help a helpless child or a person that meant nothing to you, and his respect for you waivered. Why did they deserve any of your help? It’s not like they helped you in any way. And they definitely wouldn’t help you the same way you chose to help them if it were you stranded on the side of the road with no help. They would leave you, he was sure of it. He would, just like everyone had done to him, no one was deserving of your help if they had nothing to give you in return. 

So constantly you would find yourself in front of him, as he yelled at you and glared down at you with fire burning behind his eyes. He was tired of wasting time with people who didn’t matter. “Must you stop to help every worthless person we find on the side of the road?” His voice is venomous and unimpressed. It’s not the first time he has made a complaint, and him continuing to be unacknowledged was becoming more and more irritating each time he tried.

“You’d regret saying that if it was you on the side of the road, and we left you to grovel in your own misery.” Your arms are crossed, disciplinary stare on your face like he’s a child. He hates it. 

It’s not like anyone ever stopped to help him in the past.

Too generous. Too kind. 

Sure it gave you allies, and more often than not they would reward you for your good deed. But still, you could’ve killed them and taken it from their cold, dead body. Or he could’ve pickpocketed them for you, no time wasted. 

Astarion only feels his opinion change when your actions begin to affect him and not just the strangers you pass by through your travels. 

Suddenly he feels himself growing overwhelmingly close to you. Close enough that he feels he’s safe to tell you about Cazador and the threat he may play in your life in the future, and in a moment of privacy, just you and him, he offers to show you the scars on your back. You're not sure what to say at first, you just stare and it makes his skin crawl with insecurity. 

He shivers when your fingers meet his back to trace along the lines, “He did this?” He can only nod, embarrassed by this moment of transparency and weakness. God forbid he try to speak and all that comes out is a wobbly, pathetic cry where a snide comment laced with sarcasm should be.

You grab his shoulder to turn him around, holding both his hands in your own with a tightness that has his skin crawling in a different way. “I won’t let him hurt you again, we won’t, all of us, you'll never have to fight him alone. We’ll help you, no matter what,” Your thumbs swipe across the skin of his pale and shaky fingers and it sends heat up his cold arm,  “I’ll help you.” 

It’s so genuine and so sincere, it almost makes the air catch in his lungs. 

His eyes widen, and he has to force himself to hide how grateful he is to hear the words leave your mouth. He hadn’t realized that he’d forgotten what it was like to feel safe. To have someone who cares for him so much that they would put their life in danger to protect him. You were always kind to the helpless and needy, he just never thought he would allow himself to fit that description again, especially not in front of you.

You barely know him. You barely know his story, you’ve only seen his scars once and briefly heard of his former master's cruelty. But you’re ready to lay your life down for his cause. For him. To protect him. He feels lighter, holding the weight of Cazadors power on two pairs of shoulders instead of his alone..

Too generous. Too kind. 

For a while, he finds himself to be less annoyed by the way you stop to help. He doesn't mind as much when it inevitably slows the journey down. It still bothers him but finds it easier to manage when he sees the satisfactory smile you wear after. The sight almost makes a proud smile appear on his own face, smile lines subtly deepening before he wipes the evidence away.

You impress him, through it all. You hold your own while managing to deal with everyone else’s problems on your back, and while he hates the way you try to help everyone, he admires the way you handle it all.

Again his opinion changes when you reach Moonrise Towers. Whilst exploring, you meet a woman named  Araj, a drow, who offers a potion of immense power in exchange for Astarions teeth sinking into her skin. The mere idea has you scoffing, the potion would be nice but you would never jeopardize Astarions freedom in exchange for something that would only benefit yourself. 

But she pushes, even after Astarion declines. He is clearly uncomfortable and her continuous attempt to convince him has your blood boiling, face beginning to develop a red tinge from frustration.

“Excuse me if I’m mistaken but I’m sure I just heard him say no..”

“And I’m sure you can tell him to change his mind, he is yours, correct? I assume he follows your orders.” Your eyebrow raises at the suggestion that Astarion was anything but his own being. Your party is murmuring behind you, Karlach’s hand finding a place on your shoulder to tell you to calm down before things get out of hand. 

Even Astarion feels himself becoming concerned for how this would pan out. He’d never seen you so angry. A part of him was touched that you could be so angry on his behalf. But the majority of his mind is conflicted on if he should step in before you rip this woman's head clean off her shoulders. 

You feel your mouth open to shout at the drow in front of you but Astarions fingers slip within your own, squeezing in warning. Your mind clears a little, and you take a deep breath to calm your breathing. Karlach and Shadowheart stare at the scene in silence, but Karlach’s fingers give your shoulder another reassuring squeeze before slipping away. 

“I don’t own him, if that’s what you're trying to imply. He’s his own person. Who can make his own decisions, and he said no. That’s the last I’ll hear of the matter.”

A vampire spawn, a slave to Cazador for so many years, suddenly with the ability to act on his own and think for himself. His heart swells. He can’t think of any other word to describe how he feels but grateful. But maybe something else is lingering deeper underneath? Whatever the feeling is, it clouds his mind and puts a weight on his chest.

Later at camp he dwells on it, it’s hard not to see how your tired eyes consistently meet him. What could you be thinking? He can’t stop focusing on the way you speak to everyone but him, and jealousy is beginning to fester around his tent. What did he do to make you ignore him? When you finally reach him to say goodnight, his jealousy from earlier returns and he wants to send you away, but he can’t. 

“Thank you..” He’s cut you off before you can say goodnight and walk away from him, and you're stunned. His voice is soft, much softer then he wanted it to be, but he allows his tone to stay the same. Trust. Trusting you without realizing. 

“For what exactly?”

“For what you did at Moonrise. You could’ve forced me to go through with that..but you didn’t,” Astarion feels his eyes soften, stomach turning, “And I’m grateful.”

He gets anxious in front of your eyes when you don’t say anything. But his body becomes lighter when your arms wrap around him. He is certain it’s not a hug for your own comfort, but for his. And going against every instinct in his body that tells him to push you away, he hugs you back, wrapping his arms around you.. 

“I want you to know I will never put you in a position where you don’t have free will. You control yourself, Astarion, I will never jeopardize your freedom for my own benefit. You're a member of my party..you're my friend. I could never do that to you.” 

Friend? He couldn’t remember the last time he had someone to call a friend. If ever. But the words have him squeezing you closer to his body, face slipping into the crevice of your neck. 

“I was worried you might’ve been mad at me for refusing her, you were ignoring me. I wasn’t sure what I had done..” His words pull at your heart, you hadn’t meant to make him feel that way..

“Astarion..” 

“Hm?” He doesn’t move, he’s not sure if he wants to. Astarion is sure that he could hold you like this for as long as you would let him. 

“I didn’t mean to ignore you.. I was actually deciding how I should apologize..” 

“Apologize for what, dear?” He scoffs in your ear, he’s so close and the pet name flows with ease from his lips. If it were any other man you wouldn’t have noticed.

“For how I handled her today. I should’ve stayed calm. I just..I got so angry and she kept pushing and I was scared that she would do something to you..” 

The feeling is back in his chest, heavy and heating his face. His arms tighten and it silences your rambling, “Don’t apologize for being angry. You did nothing wrong… I actually quite appreciate your anger on my behalf. You didn’t have to but I appreciate that you denied her. I was certain you were going to kill her.” A chuckle stumbles from his lips, breath heavy on your ear. 

“I might’ve if you didn’t step in.” He pulls away from you, hands still resting on your arms, and disappointment fills your body. 

Astarion feels it again when your eyes look up into his with comfort painted across your face, a jab at his heart, and he is certain. He’s smitten and he can’t help the way his eyes fill with adoration. 

You wear a small smile on your face, filling him with comfort, but a sadness lingers in his mind. The fact is , you don’t feel the same and it causes his heart to become heavier. His hands fall from your arms, waving you off with a gentle goodnight before entering his tent. You stay standing in confusion, it sends your thoughts spiraling as you leave towards your own tent. 

Too generous. Too kind.

The next few days he is dazed, distracted and it shows. He misses his shots, when you speak to him his mind is elsewhere and the words you deliver slip through his ears. Everyone is clearly annoyed. 

But he cannot see it. He truly can’t see or hear anything, his thoughts are screaming at him about you. He cares for someone other than himself. He is depending on someone who is not himself.  He’s worried for your well-being, and he knows you’d be better without him by your side. He’s a burden with his mission to defeat Cazador, and he thinks about leaving.

And he thinks about you again. Every time he draws his bow, the thought of losing you fills his head and his fingers slip, arrow flying with unfocused aim. You trip and his previously unattentive eyes fly to your body, catching your arm in his tight grip to keep you from falling. The only words he speaks are soft, “I’ve got you.” He doesn't wait for your acknowledgement before he slips back into his clouded mind. 

He is unaware of his surroundings. He isn’t paying attention. Even when you’re fighting and he is tasked with shooting, he isn’t fully there. 

But when a cry leaves your mouth, hand clutching your side where you’ve been stabbed, he suddenly sees all. He’s breathing heavily as he rushes to your side to hold his hand on your wound, putting pressure on it. “I’ve got you..I've got you. please..you're gonna be okay..”

His eyes don’t leave yours as Karlach lifts you. He holds your fingers in his own as she carries you to camp for the night. He doesn't leave your side , even after everyone has gone to sleep, and your eyes have closed he remains. 

“Astarion?” 

Eyes wide, he looks up tiredly from where his eyes were staring at your wound. “Oh..gods. I’m so sorry..” His forehead falls onto your thigh in a huff.

“W..what?” You let your hand fall onto his head, concerned and not fully awake yet. 

“I’m so sorry..I..I let you get hurt. I was distracted and you got hurt because of me, my love.” 

“Astarion, what are you talking about? What..” You wince as you try to sit up, Astarion lifting his head from your lap instantly when he hears the hiss leave your mouth. 

He slips his fingers into your hand, squeezing tightly. “I..I couldn’t stop thinking..and I wasn’t paying attention. If I was..you never would’ve been hurt.” 

His words would almost make you laugh if they weren’t so somber, “Astarion please..this is not your fault.” 

“I knew this would happen..”

“What?” 

“I’m only putting you in danger, being in this group, I’ll only be a burden on you. This will keep happening..” 

Your heart sinks, “Astarion..”

“No..”, His eyes won't meet yours, “I can’t stay any longer. I need to find Cazador.” You open your mouth to speak but he already knows what you're about to say, “Without you.” 

“No..no way!”

“Please..just..” His fingers squeeze around yours again, “I can’t keep hurting the person I love. I can’t do it..not to the only person who's ever allowed me to feel safe.” 

“Astarion..” You place your other hand over his, sitting up straighter to put your face in his, “If you think for a minute that you can get away with telling me you love me, just to run away and leave me, you’re mistaken.” Your foreheads meet, head falling to touch his while lifting your head to cup his cheek in your palm, thumb rubbing over a dried patch of blood on his face. 

He stayed by your side when he could’ve gone to rest and clean himself off, and it makes your heart swell in your chest. You figured you would be alone when you woke up but here Astarion sits in front of you with dried blood covering his face and making his strands of his hair hard under your fingers, eyes tired but still open. 

“Besides I told you, you’d never have to fight him alone..ever again.” 

“I can’t do this to you.” His eyes close, lips pursing. 

“You're not doing anything to me, we're in this together. I promise. ”

“I..”

“Astarion. I said we're in this together. You can leave but you better believe I will follow you until the end to keep you safe. Just like you keep me safe..”

Too Generous. Too Kind.

He opens his eyes to look into yours. They’re so soft, searching your eyes for genuinity. He is unsure whether you mean everything you're saying. But Astarion is sure then as he searches, you’ve never been more truthful in your life. You mean everything. His barricade is broken and he slowly moves in to plant his lips softly to yours, hands shaking against your skin. 

It's soft and unsure. Just like he is. And he doesn’t stay there long in fear of making you uncomfortable, or god forbid he irritates your injury. You can’t help but smile at the genuine smile that peeks out at his lips. 

“So..the person you love?”

“Careful..I can still take it back.” 

[taviamoth]

14 Princeton University students have begun an open-ended hunger strike in solidarity with Gaza, which they will only end once their demands of the administration are met.

Using their bodies as a weapons and inspired by the long tradition of Palestinian prisoners and fighters, they declare: "We struggle together in solidarity with the people of Palestine. We commit our bodies to their liberation."

This comes as the administration refuses to engage with student demands to divest from the zionist entity. "We refuse to be silenced by the university administration's intimidation and repression tactics."

Their demands from the administration are:

- To meet with students to discuss their demands for disclosure and divestment of investments, as well as a full academic and cultural boycott of the zionist entity.

- Complete amnesty from all criminal and disciplinary charges for students.

- Reverse all campus bans and evictions of students.

[abtrusion]

Tranny Tango

There's a man on the sidewalk, looking over, then up to see me walking past. He stops in his tracks and stutters back and forth, his read || reaction to me flickering between upstart woman // taller man || hold ground // make space, glitching him in place. When I step off the sidewalk and into the grass, he sheepishly passes me by without a word.

I'm interested in the everyday glitches, the double-takes, the way "everybody is just a little bit disgusted by you," what Susan Stryker calls 'monstrosity' and more than that, the casual experience of being a gaping hole in the gendered world. Stryker attributes this monstrosity to the idea that medical transsexuality, more than any other form of transgenderism, "represents the prospect of destabilizing the foundational presupposition of fixed genders." She takes anti-trans feminists at their word, assuming that their hate stems from some abstract gender trouble that transsexuals pose to female spaces, and her solution is a near-complete identification with that trouble. We can do better. This monstrosity, this glitching, is not just a downstream consequence of spectacular interruptions to some abstract 'fixed genders.' It is certainly not dependent on some unique threat posed by medicalization. It exists through instinctive disgust and constant little glitches in the social infrastructure that is gender, an uneasy response to an uncanny bricolage of the building blocks of gendered life.

Escaping the Cisgender Gaze

The classic trans encounter is to see a visibly transfeminine person out on the street, or as an escort, or in some carefully-curated performance piece, and to realize that gender is a lie. This is part of the utility of transmisogyny, which renders people both constantly accessible and utterly exemplary, and in turn this casts transmisogyny itself as spectacular exclusion instead of a slow social and economic death that sometimes spikes, particularly with multiply marginalized subjects, into horrific violence.

This singularization of transfeminine life and oppression (particularly with trans women of color) through suicide and murder statistics renders both trans life and pain spectacular and implicitly places one as a 'natural' consequence of the other. We need to seriously inspect the many interactions between non-passing transfem people and cis people which do not end with one of them dead. One way to start is Sandra Lee Bartky's understanding of hegemonic femininity as a disciplinary practice.

Femininity as Disciplinary Practice

As the lesbian separatists of the 1970s and 80s intensified the work of rooting out patriarchy from their spaces, they began to discover that nothing was sacred: nearly all everyday social activities were shaped by gender. As Bartky argues, the 'imposition of such discipline on female identity' influences every second of every day:

Iris Young observes that a space seems to surround women in imagination that they are hesitant to move beyond: this manifests itself both in a reluctance to reach, stretch, and extend the body to meet resistances of matter in motion—as in sport or in the performance of physical tasks—and in a typically constricted posture and general style of movement. In an extraordinary series of over two thousand photographs, many candid shots taken in the street, the German photographer Marianne Wex has documented differences in typical masculine and feminine body posture. Women sit waiting for trains with arms close to the body, hands folded together in their laps, toes pointing straight ahead or turned inward, and legs pressed together. The women in these photographs make themselves small and narrow, harmless; they seem tense; they take up little space. Men, on the other hand, expand into the available space; they sit with legs far apart and arms flung out at some distance from the body. Most common in these sitting male figures is what Wex calls the “proffering position”: the men sit with legs thrown wide apart, crotch visible, feet pointing outward, often with an arm and a casually dangling hand resting comfortably on an open, spread thigh. …in a way that normally goes unnoticed, males in couples may literally steer a woman everywhere she goes: down the street, around corners, into elevators, through doorways, into her chair at the dinner table, around the dance floor. The man’s movement “is not necessarily heavy and pushy or physical in an ugly way; it is light and gentle but firm in the way of the most confident equestrians with the best trained horses.”

Bartky concludes that, between behavior and makeup and skin-care, these disciplinary practices "produce a 'practiced and subjected' body, that is, a body on which an inferior status has been inscribed,” and that "the practices that construct this body have an overt aim and character far removed, indeed, radically distinct, from their covert function;" that is, she claims that gender is everywhere, that it is power, and that cisgender women are structurally made unaware of this connection.

What does this mean for transfeminine experience? First, as seen in the sidewalk example we started with (so chosen precisely because of how fucking boring it is), the abstract 'genderfuck' of transfeminine existence congeals into actual examples in the context of gender-as-infrastructure. Gender is a crossing-guard, a gatekeeper, a reviewer -- it performs social functions, all the time, which glitch and shake in our presence. Transmisogyny is not necessarily vitriolic rage at 'boundary-breakers,' it can also just be the passive exclusion of a person whose existence causes a few too many little frictions.

As we've noted, the singularization of transfeminine life makes non-spectacular trans life impossible for cis people to understand, leading to a constant current of disgust/disdain that accompanies their more exciting bouts of transmisogyny. One major inlet to this current is social friction, the way that non-passing transfems are structurally prevented from using social/visual gender infrastructures to do everyday things. The second inlet, which I will discuss in the next section, is the unease provoked by the negotiations transfems take to navigate gendered systems despite this breakage, making small corrections which are ignored, must be ignored, leaving only the horrible lingering fear that they're better at this gender thing than you.

Gender work

Because transfemininity makes no sense from a vulgar gender-power perspective, cis people generally view transfeminine people as either unwitting 'dupes' of gender or as spectacular hyper-aware gender predators, as seen across the HSTS/AGP split, the dead tranny/serial killer media split, the 'scheming eunuch' archetype, and the binarization of transfem identity in queer spaces. But because cis people also generally want to assume that they're talking to someone that isn't an evil serial manipulator, personal interactions encourage and enforce the good tranny archetype, which demands absolute suppression of any sort of informed gender negotiation. This archetype is impossible to fulfill because of the systematic failure of social gender-power infrastructure to account for transfeminine people, which demands some degree of semi-intentional gender work to fill in the gaps.

Fortunately, this work will basically never be understood as such by well-meaning cis people because of transmisogyny, so you don't have to be /super/ subtle about it. Unfortunately, ignoring this transfeminine gender work takes a lot of effort on the part of cis people, particularly if they also have had to perform reparative gender work because of trans-adjacent conditions (divorce, infertility, lesbianism, PCOS). The invisible work cis people must make to keep themselves separate from transfeminine people is then associated with our presence, most clearly articulated in Janice Raymond's lament that transsexual lesbians are feeding "off woman’s true energy source, i.e., her woman-identified self" -- our proximity alone demands intense effort to keep cis gender negotiations distinct from trans ones, growing frustrations that feed the slow current of transmisogyny.

Even if a cis person successfully suppresses their understanding of transfeminine gender work, for folks within queer & women's spaces, this itself leads to a horrible looming anxiety because people in these spaces usually pride themselves on having a full consciousness of gender, and we're a pretty notable exception to that. These anxieties are then channeled into a constant fear of the bad tranny, manifested in the horrible trans woman that your cis queer initiators will tell you to stay far away from. But there is really not much of a difference between the shadowy machinations of the bad tranny and the gender work transfeminine people have to constantly perform to even exist within queer spaces, so transfeminine people are rendered constantly precarious.

What's so deliciously ironic about all this is that this is just a shallow repetition of the cis man // cis woman dyad! Archetypes like 'the poisoner witch' or 'the gossip' or 'the slut' have always been used as a reaction to negotiating power gained via the kitchen, or cloistered social activity, or sex, all routes that men could never understand as a direct consequence of their own gendered power -- so in response to this fear, these roles pilloried exemplary women to structurally terrify the population, but just as importantly to exonerate the rest of the female population, to let men pretend that these weren't tools that everyone was using, to pretend that heterosexual relationships were pure! Just as transfems serve the role of gay best friend^2 in gay mens' films, they serve the role of women^2 in queer spaces, constantly performing gender work which is simultaneously unknowable and terrifying to the cis majority, forcing periodic purges to pick out 'the bad ones' which temporarily exonerate the rest, letting the majority believe that the 'good tranny' actually exists: that mythical trans woman who is not semi-intentionally managing their gender presentation around you, the one you can fuck without worrying if she's just faking it, the one who is good and pure and radical and really, really boring. I have never met a non-passing trans woman like this, but I'm sure plenty of queer people have.

Conclusion

So there are two main forms of everyday experience that express and constitute transmisogyny. The first is the social friction inherent in being freak-gendered in a world that relies on gender to make people move and talk and shit correctly. The second is the friction between the gender awareness demanded of transfeminine people (none) and the practical result of transgendered living in the world. If you want to take some of this back to cis womanhood, I've been trying to reframe the marginalized position of womanhood in terms of articulation work -- that while women have always worked, that work has generally been rendered unreal, always carried out with a dream of not existing, turned into stage-setting for the real boys to grow up and come in and be breadwinners. In this context, our components look like 1) do gender work and 2) don't let it show, and the framing of transfeminine people as socially useless outcasts despite their constitutive role in social life via flexible labor starts to sound a lot like the making of a super-woman, like the mujerísima sometimes invoked in Latin American travesti activism. That sounds just about right. I will become a witch of witches, the lurking terror that eats astrologers, always and ever a little bit too real.

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 12

✩°｡ ⋆ the most twisted curse

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, drama, heavy angst, description of major injury and blood, hurt/comfort (or no comfort?), there is one fluff scene! :))

notes: next chapter will be the last <3

series masterlist | next. seize your happiness

Megumi stopped in his tracks in horror.

Blood. There was so much blood. It was everywhere, painting everything in angry scarlet―

And you. In the middle of it.

"Sena..." The pounding of his heart was deafening, drowning anything else. It started from his hands, and slowly but unmistakably, his entire body began to tremble with terror— "Sena!"

He was late. When he arrived to the Zen’in mansion, everything was in shambles. The disciplinary chamber reeked of blood and destruction, Naoya’s pallid corpse and—

He quickly made his way to where you were, and felt his throat closing in.

Your face was battered and bruised, your lips were torn and blood streamed down your torso as if it were a cascading waterfall. Your right leg was twisted into an unnatural angle, and everything else was simply—

You looked absolutely broken.

"Damn it, fuck—"

With panic seeping in, Megumi couldn't think straight. He brought you to his arms, and with the movement, he could feel the stickiness of your blood staining him, the stench filling his lungs, and he almost wheezed as a result.

“You… why…” the hands that were holding you trembled, both with fear and genuine fury.

Fear, because he was losing you with each second he wasn’t able to get you to the help faster. Fury, because he had left you so unprotected that you ended up in this state.

It was more towards himself. All things prior this day be damned. Megumi hated himself with each second. He would be able to stand against Naoya, and in case he couldn’t then he still had his final card through Mahoraga, but you?

You couldn’t go against him and he didn’t mean it in belittling way. Naoya was known for his speed and offensive prowess, and you weren’t built for that. He would totally wreck you first before you could unleash your fatal technique—which he assumed what happened since you were able to take him out in the end.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Not when you were dying like this, before Megumi was able to say anything to you.

Last time he saw you, you were crying for him not to go. He tried many times to banish that image away from his mind because it was so vivid. He remembered how sobs wracked your body as he left you with the most hurtful parting words:

“It’s done. We’re done. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

It was almost like a curse. He really never saw you again before now. And now, he wasn’t even sure if you were still alive at all.

No, that was indeed a curse.

The voice in his mind whispered many things he tried to mute the past few weeks. He had cursed you—and perhaps, himself too—and now he was left with the consequences.

“No, no...” he said in a broken whisper as he had a look over your state. "I'm begging you—"

In his arms was the only girl he had loved. He never wanted any harm to come to you, despite everything that had gone down. That decision to pull out the divorce papers too—a part of him had hoped that with cutting all ties with you, it would free you from all of this mess too.

“Hang in there—!”

But you weren’t responsive at all. He couldn’t even feel you breathing. He felt like picking up a doll, a destroyed one, with the way your head lolled lifelessly in his arms.

Megumi didn’t really know what was worse—the guilt or the pain in his chest. But he kept trekking forward even as the his eyes burned with tears, with your bloodied form in his hold.

Because for all he knew, no matter what happened onwards, his world had ended right where you were.

When he handed you over to the emergency room, he was struck once more by just how vividly red everything was.

His hands, arm, and shirt were drenched in your blood. Megumi stood numbly before the sliding doors, ears still ringing from Ieiri Shoko’s harsh barks to her assistants, the sight of you being taken away again beyond the door left a burning sensation in his throat.

You had shed so much blood, would you still pull through?

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he brought you here. It felt like a long of time, and he knew it to be true when Gojo arrived at Shoko's clinic with the sun already dipping low on the horizon. He didn’t know why though, perhaps his longtime friend was the one contacting him.

“Megumi, are you okay?” he immediately asked upon seeing him on sight, slumped with his head low. He grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face him directly.

Megumi looked up to his former mentor slowly, almost as if he was paralyzed. Eyes empty, with your blood still covering him—he hadn't made any attempt to wash it off.

“Megumi, come on. You have to clean yourself—”

“Gojo-sensei…” he suddenly croaked, throat dry. “I have to be here…”

“Go wash yourself first—”

Those words were the tipping point. His pent-up fury suddenly exploded at that moment—

“Get off me!”

Megumi pushed him away with such strength that Gojo nearly fell onto his backside, only managing to stay upright because of his good reflexes.

"Why does it matter to you?" Megumi spat out, anger seething between his clenched teeth. "How can I possibly think about cleaning up when—when, she’s i-inside… and I can't even tell if she's still alive or not?!”

“Megumi—”

“Why… why do you have to agree to that binding vow?” right now Megumi just wanted to blame anything—anyone, everyone, this accursed world, and even himself. The burning in his chest was scalding, making his voice tight with emotion. “Why do you agree to something that could make her put her life in danger?!”

“...”

"Why! Just why!" The tears he'd been holding back finally broke free, cascading down his cheeks as he let out a howl that echoed through the deserted hospital corridor.

Gojo could only stare at him in silence, pondering the irony of the situation. You, who wanted to end everything out of your love for him, and Megumi, who wanted to cut you out of this mess and never wanted you to be involved in the first place. Both of you meant the best for each other—protecting each other through your own ways.

Gojo wouldn't be able to go against any of Megumi's wishes from now on. Because once again, he knew what it was.

How love is the most twisted curse of all.

You... are always so pretty.

In your sorcerer's uniform. In the morning when you just woke up. The night you cried.

In each and every image Megumi had of you, you were always beautiful. But there was one poignant sight that stood out, where you were most breathtaking... and that was during your wedding day.

You were the very picture of a dream bride. Wrapped in that white silk kimono, brushed by the traditional make up and hairdo—he could've sworn he had never seen anyone so stunning before you in his entire life. And the fact that you had appeared out of nowhere in his life one day, only to become his bride, filled him with even greater wonder.

You were beautiful then... but there was something about you he didn't quite like still.

You appeared ashen, almost as though you were ill. You looked like someone would hound you if you weren't there. And above all, you looked unhappy.

—which was hauntingly similar to your appearance now. Beneath the pristine, unblemished hospital blanket, you looked exceedingly pale and lifeless, with the beeping of the machine serving as the only assurance he had that you were still here.

You appeared as though you were merely sleeping, but when he reached out to grasp your hand in his, it felt chillingly cold. It didn't feel like you—an eerie sensation as foreign as the stab of pain he felt in his chest.

"Hey..." his voice came out in a faint whisper as his eyes quietly looked you over. "Are you... still there?"

Beep… Beep… Beep…

"You're not in pain anymore... right?" he asked into the empty, thin air.

It was cruel to him that you looked absolutely at peace, with how your eyes tightly shut and your eyelashes not even once fluttered. If this was your way of punishing him for leaving you, then it was incredibly, irrevocably cruel.

But you wouldn't. Megumi knew you wouldn't. Because you trusted him, until the very end. Even when he left.

He gritted his teeth, feeling his heart break once again. "If you're there... then please... just wake up."

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you—I'm sorry... for..."

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"—for letting you get hurt..."

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"You... shouldn't. But why—you—" The lump in his throat choked off his words. "...damn—"

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"I love you."

He pushed through to utter those words, a tear trailing down his cheek, because in that moment, he truly didn't know what else there was to say.

"I love you... so please... just wake up already. I want to say sorry—and that this time for sure... I won't leave you ever again. I will protect you... I w-will... protect you with everything I've got, so just—!"

It hurts so much. Seeing you like this, not responding to anything he said. You were just there, suspended between life and death, and he couldn't do anything about it.

And so, in that hollow, silent hospital room, he released all his cries, hopelessness, and regrets— with no one there to witness his anguish.

Upon learning what had happened, Hana's immediate instinct was to reach Megumi's side.

She dashed through the bustling hospital corridors, disregarding anything and everything in her way—even when she bumped into people, she only muttered a brisk apology and went on her way.

She didn't really know what she was looking for. Her naivety merely spurred her to search for him. It didn't really register to her that you were hurt to the point of possibly dying. For one, she just couldn't really believe it was from the warning you left her, and another part of her was overwhelmed with fear at the thought of Megumi venturing into that barred area.

"Aww, don't trip, miss."

Hana halted on the spot, quickly turning her head towards the source—and came the second most shocking event that happened to her today.

Everyone knows this person. The pinnacle of jujutsu society. Someone so elusive and jarring that it was a wonder that he took in a disgraced Zen'in in the first place.

Gojo Satoru's lips curled into a crude smile. "No one inside is going anywhere you know. Might be better if you slow down and catch your breath."

"Where's Megumi?" she asked almost immediately, and yet to her surprise, he only chuckled.

"He's absolutely fine, you know. Anyone hearing will mistake him for being the one in a near-death situation."

So it's true. You didn't seem to be faring well at all. "Did you see him just now?"

"Ha." Gojo let out a snort. "Miss, are you really sure you want to see him right now?"

Okay, even Hana couldn't pretend to be amiable anymore. Gojo really and truly lived up to his outrageous reputation of being a public annoyance. "What are you trying to say? I'm just worried for him. Where is he?"

"He's inside, here." he gestured towards the door next to him with a tilt of his chin. "But honestly, I'd recommend you not go in."

"And why should I listen to you?"

"Because I know things best? Heh."

Hana wasn't having this any longer. He went past Gojo and turned the knob open, stalking inside—

And then, suddenly, she felt numb.

Megumi was asleep in an uncomfortable position at the edge of your bed—his face marked by dried tears, and his grip tight around your hand. Once again, Kurusu Hana felt her heart sink, reminiscent of the first day she encountered him in that small café, seeing him dragging you by your hand.

Deep down, she knew it. That it's stupid to hope for more—to hope for your marriage to utterly fail to make space for her in his life.

...because no matter how, even when everything crumbled into dust, she never really stood a chance, did she?

"Megumi! Show me your rabbits!"

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. On one night after he just went back from work, all he wanted was to have a rest, not using more cursed energy. "For what?"

You pouted. "They're cute, I want to play with them!"

"...no. I'm tired."

"You..." you widened your eyes in surprise. "It's me! Your very dutiful wife, how can you not fulfill her wish?!"

"Dutiful? Nah. I can think of 10 instances in which you are anything but obedient."

There was something about you pleading with him that made his heart soft. He was a goner the very moment you pursed your lips. But messing with you always brought a smile to his face, and for the sake of teasing, he declined you. At least, until you turned away from him with an indignant "Hmph!"

Megumi let out a small chuckle. "Look here."

"Don't want to!"

"Oh? You won't see them then."

You quickly snapped your head back towards him, and right before you—voila!—there appeared a swarm of his rabbits.

"Whoa!" your eyes shone with excitement, like a kid. "Whoa, whoa! Come here! Cute rabbits, come to meee~"

And in that moment, as his chest swelled with warmth, he thought that if all it took to see your smile was to conjure rabbits, then he was willing to do just that for the rest of his life.

. . .

Megumi woke up with a jerk.

The first sensation he registered was the coldness of his feet. Following that realization, it hit him—there were no rabbits, none of your smile, he was in your room, and the coolness from your hand still clung to his skin.

He glanced over at you, and his heart bled once more.

You still looked as serene as before.

You had a nostalgic dream.

Everything you saw in those fragmented scenes were your real memories. Your childhood. Grimmer days you'd much prefer to keep away.

You were never the favored child, and your mother—a mistress—was in a less favorable situation.

It was always the same routine that you didn't really feel hurt anymore. Your stepsisters were born entitled—they never really treated you that kindly, and with your father being the passive being he was, you never really tried to voice your grievance.

"Mama, when will we move out of here?" you inquired one day, your head resting in her lap while she gently stroked your hair. You were barely fourteen back then, still struggling with newfound knowledge of curses and how they exist in your already muddled world.

Your only friend, your only supporter who made everything bearable—who taught you love... was your mother, who loved you with everything she had.

"Hmm? Do you not like it here?" she asked you with a small smile, as if to encourage you to elaborate more.

"I hate it here," you stressed, biting your lower lip. "Everything is cursed."

"Hush, Sena! You have to be careful with your words."

You looked away, not really guilty though. You might not be able to bash your shitty father, but you could definitely curse some things.

"Are you happy living like this, Mama?" you found yourself asking, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. It seemed so unjust that you and your mother were treated as lesser individuals on a daily basis. Why did you have to endure this fate?

"Me?" she seemed to ponder a bit before nodding. "Of course. You're here, of course I'm happy."

"Even when they are awful to us?"

"Mm-hmm. Don't pay them any mind. Being here is better then out there."

"I don't think so. I think out there is most likely far better than this."

Your mother didn't answer, but she kept her thin smile, still combing her hands through your hair fondly.

At that stage in your life, you believed your mother had simply resigned herself to her circumstances. She needed the Hara clan to survive, and you too as much as you wanted to deny it—a fact that irritated you to some degree.

It would take many years and much reflection for you to understand that the bigger part that played in her decision to stay, enduring all the unpleasantness that came with being a mistress, was for your sake—to give you the best.

"One day," your voice was a little louder than a whisper, but carried a certain resolve that your mother couldn't help but notice. "I'll take both of us away from this hellhole, and only then will we truly be happy."

You really thought she'd finally drop the facade and go along with your idea, so her rebuke left you speechless. "No," she said firmly.

"Why?!"

"That must not be your only goal in life, Sena," her smile faded. "You... need to have other plans, not just to escape from here and then be left with nothing afterwards."

"But—!"

"Maybe you're too young to understand this, but please always keep this in mind, from now onwards," your mother sighed softly. "You... must not live your life for me. You need to be your own person. And most importantly, you can't turn out like me."

"Mama, you're—" you shot up into a sitting position. "Why—"

"You have to lead a better life than me." Her smile returned as she spoke her next words. "Freer. Happier. With more love. When the time comes when you can freely choose how you want to live your life, I want you to use that chance to the fullest."

You didn't really understand. Not really, back then.

But now...

“I want you to chase after what makes you happy the most. Seize your happiness.” She was impossibly gentle that it brought tears to your eyes. “In whatever form it might be, regardless of how I am in that moment, please choose only for yourself.”

Seize your happiness… now that you thought about it. It finally made sense.

When your father was about to sell you off to Naoya, your mother tried so many ways to ward you off. She wanted to remove the obstacle for you—namely herself, with fervent hope you would be free even when she had to be stuck in that hell you called home.

And so, now… is this finally the chance for you to chase after your happiness? But how? What does ‘happiness’ mean to you now that you were left with nothing and that even Megumi hates you?

Still those three words resonated deep within you. If they said that curses are born of human’s strong emotions, then most likely your mother too could manifest a curse. She wanted you to live.

. . .

Against all odds out there, finally—

You blinked your eyes open slowly.

And the first thing that entered your eyesight is —

next : seize your happiness

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[brewed-pangolin]

Oh Captain, My Captain

Captain Soap MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+MDNI Pegging

John MacTavish was not a man you would ever describe as being submissive.

He had a way about him. Could silence a room with a single glance. Muster a regiment to their feet with barely an edge of disciplinary enthusiasm. And woo you to the edge of coherent consciousness while his hands molded you into a new plain of existence.

However, it was here, with synthetic leather wrapped tightly around your waist and him propped on his hands and knees that you truly saw the man John MacTavish had become.

-

"John", you murmured, the slightest hint of concern rolling off your tongue as your hand ghosted up ever so slowly up the curve of his spine.

"John," you repeated. "What's the safeword?"

"Cornflower." He responded with a slight head tilt and that same cool headedness you'd had become so accustomed to.

"Good. Now just relax for me."

Your hand traversed down the thick flesh of back and found itself perfectly at home in the curve of his hip. Positioning yourself behind him with the stiff rubber tip pressed gently between the flesh of his ass.

A glint of light catching your eye refracted off the abundant amount of lube along its textured length while ever so gently applying just enough pressure to glide in.

You felt him tense up underneath the pads of your fingers the moment the rubber tip punctured through his tight flesh. Halting your progression to allow him a moment to regain himself before pushing forward once more in one languid, gradual motion.

"Fuckin hell," he crooned. Shoulders rolling forward to meet your intrusion only to lull back as your hips patiently retracted.

"You good, baby?" You asked, the subtle vibration of concern thrumbing off your tongue as you again pushed forward into him.

He responded first with a gentle nod, letting his body mold into your langourous movement.

"Aye. I'm good."

"Good. We're gonna take this nice and slow."

"I'd advise so - fuck."

Your hands landed on the curve of his hips as he abruptly jolted forward. Rippling muscles undulating underneath taut flesh. A muffled hiss escaping your clenched jaw as you imaged the tightness you'd feel if the roles were somehow reversed.

"Easy, John. Move with me." Your gentle coax aiding to his sudden overstimulation. Feeling his stiff torso relax under your touch as you found a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and easy for you to maintain.

You had up until now avoided the sight of the rubber shaft disappearing into his flesh. Focusing more on his body language for any tangible signs of distress, willing to halt at any moment if it became abundantly too much for him.

Yet that moment never came.

Reluctantly you moved your sights down to the thick synthetic cock strapped to your waist and reveled in the ease as it moved in and out of his puckering hole. The motion of his flesh barely visible, only on your gradual withdrawals could you notice the subtle flutter as it synced perfectly with his robust inhalations.

"Talk to me, John. How you feelin?" You hummed, quietly letting your words hang in air and merge with the muffled groans emanating from his lips.

"Like I'm bein'- fucked in the ass."

"Hm. Always the ever observant one."

Soap's hushed yet jeering retort pulled a smile into the corners of your lips.

Unable to see his face, yet you imagined that familiar smug curl etched into the corner of his mouth.

Eyes branding the sight of him being so willing and compliant into the back of your mind, treating the vision like an erotic Shakespearean spectacle that would forever be for your eyes only.

Gliding your hands along the curve of his back, feeling his muscles move in tandem with your steady thrusts as your bodies molded together into a seamless and blissful rhythm.

Gingerly, you began to lay your front down against the length of his back. Hips slow, methodical. Easing into him for one push, slightly more forceful than the others while simultaneously seating the rubber shaft in its entirety as your chest made contact the scarred flesh of his shoulders.

"Fuckin hell, lass" he breathed on the most sinful whimper that had ever graced your ears.

Pressing your body firmly against his trembling musculature, molding into the curve of his spine while your lips caressed the sensitive length of his neck.

"Happy birthday, Captain." You purred into his flesh, mouth puckering along the curve of his shoulder as he lulled his head forward with a grunting moan.

Aided once more by the subtle rolling of your hips as you pulled back. Fingers finding their place in the deep crevice of his hips, one hand withdrawing into the air to plant a firm smack onto the flesh of his ass.

"Jesus, fuck!" He bellowed out on a thunderous roar.

Your hands clawing into his flesh as he thrusted forward, keeping the rubber shaft buried to the hilt to let your body move with him.

"C'mon, Soap. Let's test that will of yours. See if it's a strong as we all think it is."

Soap's head slowly turned to all him to glance over his shoulder, that all to familiar glare creeping into the darkness of his eyes as a deep snarl etched into his lips.

"Careful, lass. Or you're gonna regret tha' smart-ass mouth a'yers."

Your hand was halfway in the air as his whispered threat made entry into your ears. Connecting to his flesh once more with a smacking ricochet that reverberated off the walls around you.

"Carefull, Captain. Or I must just break you."

You'd bask in the pornographic retaliation he'd thrust upon once the tide had turned. For now, you bathed in the dominance he allowed you to absolve in.

Meeting his glare with a forceful snap of your hips, rendering him into nothing more than a whimpering mess of a man. Breaking him so beautifully by the end, you'd thought he might shatter with anything above a strained whisper as you withdrew from his body and held his soul within the palms of your hands.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

Like and comment all you want, but do not feel obligated to reblog. This is purely a self-indulgent piece that I've been wanting to do for years. And I finally found the will to do it. I'm aware this will not pull to everyone's liking, and I'm at peace with that. Thank you all for your love and support as always.

-💛