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kissatoru · 1 year ago

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𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

content · NSFW MDNI, bratty sub!satoru, afab!satoru, amab!gn!reader, dom!reader, d/s dynamics, restraints, pussyjob, that good old praise-degradation combo, thigh-fucking, pet names (doll, darling, sweetheart), fingering, squirting, oral (f! receiving), overstimuation

wc · 2.4k

Satoru loves punishments.

Overstimulation, edging, spanking... they all wear the same thin veil of the word ‘punishment’ but to Satoru they are anything but. He knows that he shouldn’t be trying to get punished on purpose, but who can blame him when your punishments are always so sweet? You always give him what he wants in the end, which is what you both want, really. That’s why he’s never worried when you threaten to ‘teach him a lesson’ or other such things, because the truth is they never taught him anything except that he loves punishments.

Well, until now, that is.

Because now he’s on his back, wrists secured to the headboard by handcuffs and legs bent all the way up his torso. His head thrashes in different directions, unable to decide whether to look down at the cock sliding between his folds, hoping that he might be able to will it inside of him with his quivering lip and puppy dog eyes or sheer force of will, or squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the sight of you being so close yet so purposely far from where you wants you.

“Ohh my god, please,” Satoru whines, yanking on the cuffs and trying to move his hips up. “Please, just– fuck, just put it in!”

You scoff and dig your nails into the pale flesh of his thighs. “Don’t forget what got you here in the first place, slut,” you snarl. “You’re only getting as much as I want you to get and nothing more.”

Satoru flops his head back, milky white hair sticking in sweat-slick swirls on his forehead. “I know, I’m sorry! I really am, okay?” he mumbles, kneading his pink lips together to fight back a moan, or maybe a sob. “I promise I won’t do it again, just–” A sharp inhale, followed by a soft keen. “Just please put it in. I need it... so bad.”

“You should have thought about that before letting that fan flirt with you,” you say, almost laughing. “Honestly, you’re so fucking shameless sometimes, ‘Toru. You think I don’t know you do that shit on purpose? You really think I believe you when you say you won’t do it again?”

He smirks, as if your questions are a challenge, and opens his mouth to answer — he really doesn’t know when to quit, you think, or maybe he does, and he just enjoys pushing you that bit further anyway — but you let go of one of his legs and seal his lips shut behind your palm before he can speak.

“I know you don’t. I know you just think I’ll play along with your little games as long as you keep giving me the same boring apology and a few pretty crocodile tears.” You lean in close to him, at the same time, pushing your hips forward and grazing Satoru’s clit, making him moan into your hand. “But I’m not in the mood to play anymore, Satoru.” You watch as his expression morphs from dazed to alert, how it falters and his eyes tremble like ripples through water at your dark tone. “I want to make you mean your promises and sorry’s,” you say quietly, your hand sliding down his jaw to rest around his neck as a warning, “I want to give you something to really cry about.”

And then you’re shutting the gap between you with a hard kiss, full of tongue and desperation, so passionate and addictive that it’s nothing short of evil how you break it in mere seconds, leaving behind a breathless, pouty Satoru. You just smile at him and drive your hips slowly forward, the movement smooth and easy with Satoru’s slick.

You set a pace that’s just enough to tilt him in the general direction of pleasure, but never quite bring him there. The head of your cock bumps against the underside of Satoru’s clit on almost every thrust and all he can do is cry out, his back arching weakly and his arms pulling taut in the air against the handcuffs that bind him, at the fleeting spark of euphoria that zaps through him. It’s good yet not nearly enough to get him any closer to coming, and bucking his hips up in search of that spark is not only useless, but surely pathetic, if the way your cruel gaze glints is any indication.

His thighs can only twitch in your grasp like a scared animal; inward, outward, like they can’t decide whether they want to close or spread wider for you. You don’t really give him a choice though; you just bend both of those long legs of his further back, so he’s gently angled toward the ceiling, and each tantalising slide of your cock through his rosy, wet lips causes the head to catch against his entrance. A few times, it even nudges inside for a single blissful second, and Satoru chokes, but never manages to let out anything more before that second is over and that brief feeling of his walls stretching around you vanishes, like a too-good-to-be-true mirage in a neverending desert.

Satoru’s mind and body go numb with the endlessness of it all. He begs and wails for a while, but those moments of fruitless pleading have long passed. Now, he is all quiet pants and throaty moans that grow louder with every small wave of flickering ecstasy. Damp stains paint the pillows a darker shade on either side of Satoru’s face, where he’s been tucking away his drool and tear-soaked face. He feels like a toy, an object for your pleasure, and he’d love it if it wasn’t for the fact that he isn’t getting anything from it.

Suddenly, you grab his knees and hoist them over your shoulder, which abruptly snaps your pliant boyfriend out of his trance. His head turns to look at you, the haze clearing up, now replaced with hope and an eager desire twinkling in his owlish blue eyes.

“Don’t get too excited now, sweetheart,” you say, smirking and patting the side of his ass. “Squeeze your thighs together, alright? Nice and tight.”

And despite everything, despite all you’ve put him through already, Satoru still manages to find the courage, the audacity to grin right then, toothy and daring and insufferable. “And if I do, will you finally put that cock to some use and fuck–”

You pinch his clit and immediately, his words melt into nonsense and his thighs clamp shut around your hand.

“There you go.” You hum and push your cock through a small gap between his full thighs, which is easy enough with how drenched both you and him are. “Good boy. Keep them together for me, just like that, that’s perfect.”

Satoru lets out a breathy whimper as you start to fuck his thighs. He grows delirious with every thrust, the way your length rubs across his swollen clit ever so slightly. He’s so pent up at this point that it might be enough to make him come, he thinks, but as you keep going, increasing your pace and the grip around his legs, he only ever gets as far as halfway. He’s wet and hot and shaking but by the time you’re coming, Satoru is closer to tears than he is to an orgasm.

Your hands tighten around Satoru’s legs for a moment, as your high seizes your body and the last of your cum sputters across his belly, before finally loosening and letting go. His legs drop and fall open, giving you a perfect view of Satoru’s messy pussy and the little puddle on the sheets under it. Beneath your heavy gaze, it seems to pulse and blush, and Satoru’s legs attempt to shut and hide it, but with a single push they’re falling back down and staying there, likely too weak to try again. It almost makes you hard again.

“Should’ve been inside,” Satoru grumbles.

You roll your eyes. “Could have, ‘Toru. Not should, could,” you correct. “I could have fucked you and came inside, had you not been such a fucking brat.” You emphasise your words with a light, playful flick to his inner thigh.

Satoru ignores you and pouts, not meeting your eyes. “You’re mean,” he says under his breath, but the blush spilling from his cheeks to his neck says that he might not be complaining.

You chuckle and lean over him, running your hands up his thighs. “Only when you’re bad, darling,” you whisper, trailing kisses up his ribs and nuzzling the soft skin. For a moment, you don’t say anything else. Just lay there, listening to Satoru’s still rabbit-fast heartbeat.

“Though I suppose,” you say, one hand sliding up to his chest, “you’ve been quite good at taking your punishment...”

Electricity runs down to Satoru’s core and his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t dare to say anything, in case you change your mind.

You sit up, and your eyes are on him as you drag your fingers through the ropes of cum painted on his abdomen, collecting it and leaving satoru’s muscles trembling in suspense. He watches you pull away your fingers while your other hand tugs on his folds. The cool air on his warm cunt makes it twitch. You languidly wipe your cum on it and spread it, down to his hole. The movement and its implications are enough to have Satoru’s breathing stutter and his legs jump.

His head tosses back when you finally slip a finger inside him. You start pumping quickly after and he moans in time with your steady pace. A second digit soon joins the first, and Satoru begins to aid your motions with his own, rolling his hips down, gasping, desperate, frantic.

“Slow down, baby,” you coo, but Satoru doesn’t listen, too lost in the throes of his pleasure, and only bucks his hips more violently. Your other hand grabs and presses it into the mattress, but when that doesn’t stop him, you pull your fingers out entirely.

“Nooo, no, no,” Satoru cries. “I was close, please, hurry! Put them back in, please–”

“Just because I’m being nice, doesn’t mean you can ignore me,” you interrupt. “It would be a shame if after all this, you didn’t get to come, don’t you think, ‘Toru?”

The realisation seems to materialise in his eyes and he rushes to nod his head.

You hum. “Then be good and listen.” And with that, your fingers are sliding back into him. He keens when you move them, trembling from head to toe with the effort of staying still. It’s slow, at first, but increasing in pace. It doesn’t take long at all for satoru to return to where he was, that teetering edge, the one weakness, the one thing that can break the strongest sorcerer in the world.

His pale skin and even paler hair both shimmer with sweat like moonlight while his feathery white lashes sit on his flushed cheeks like freshly fallen snow. Lips the same shade as his cheeks part around melodic notes that flow as if in an endless song.

“So pretty,” you whisper in awe, but Satoru doesn’t process the praise, too focused on wanting to come.

“I’m close, I’m close! Please, don’t stop, please!” he begs, his voice all high and strained. He’s always been loud in bed, but he’s most vocal in moments like this one, where he’s finally given what he’s been starved of and wanting since the beginning.

You smile and curl your fingers, bullying that tender spot inside him with short, harsh rubs, in rapid succession of every pump. The cuffs jingle and clink. Your arched fingertips squelch in his pussy while your thumb massages his clit. One, two, a few more harsh circles later and he’s squirting all over your hand. His body tenses like a bow string and shakes with the force of his orgasm. A few last spurts of fluid gush out his pussy before he finally collapses on the bed, panting and boneless.

While he floats down from his high, you keep yourself occupied with his pussy, sliding your drenched fingers in and out of his abused hole and watching how it clenches around the digits, like it’s still hungry for more.

The heel of Satoru’s foot finds your chest, digging into it, albeit not very strongly. “Ngh, st– stop... it’s too much,” he mumbles.

“Yeah but you like it when it’s too much, don’t you?” you tease, pressing down on that puffy bump inside him and making his weak leg spasm in the air for a moment before falling on top of your shoulder.

A sinister idea flares up in your mind.

You raise him up by his knees and throw his legs over your shoulders, his body almost vertical.

Satoru blinks and frowns at you sluggishly. “What are you–”

He gasps, so suddenly that you’d think he had the wind knocked out of him — because your lips are latching onto him and your tongue is lapping up all of his and what’s left of your juices. His ankles lock around the back of your head and his moans wobble like they can barely make it out of his chest in one piece.

“Ahh, fuck, wait, wait– please, it’s– ahh, stop, stop, I can’t–”

When you don’t hear the word, the one that would actually stop all this, should he really want it, you continue to eat him out like a man starved. You weave your tongue through his folds, over his throbbing clit, dipping into his still-oozing hole. Satoru ruts against your mouth as best he can in this position, completely betraying his own pleas. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying from the pleasure-pain until your voice is vibrating through him — a slurred, “Eyes on me, doll,” — and all he sees when he opens his eyes is a wavering blur and a silhouette that sharpens and reveals more of your features the more he blinks.

He comes almost instantly after your dark gaze comes into focus, slightly less violently than before, but still enough that he goes limp and completely motionless, save for the involuntary spasms that pass through him every so often. You set him down tenderly. His chest rises and falls and as you’re unlocking the cuffs around his wrists, he’s smiling to himself with all the energy he has left, because despite how hard you try to change it, to ‘teach him a lesson’...

Satoru still loves his punishments.

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

#this shifts gender so much bc it actually affects everyone #yes it's a gendered phenomenon. i have written a LOT about how different genders experience it. that's for a different post.#writeblr #ps my comments about seeing someone cry -- this is not to shame any person #and on this blog we support workers.#at the same time it's a really hard experience to see someone that looks like you. clearly in agony. and have them forced to keep going.#when you're young it doesn't necessarily look like acting. it looks scary. and that's what this is about - the fact that teens #have likely already been exposed to that definition of things. because the internet exists #and without the context of healthy education. THAT is the image burned into their minds about what it looks like.#it's also just one of those personal nuanced biases -#at 19 i thought it was normal to be in pain. to cry. to not-like-it. that it should be perfunctory.#it was what i had seen.#and it didn't help that my religious upbringing was like . 'yeah that's what you get for premarital. but also for the reference #we do think you should never actually enjoy it lol'#so like the point im making is that ppl get exposed to that stuff without the context of something more tender #and assume .... 'oh. so it's fine i am not enjoying myself'. and i know they do because I DID.#he was my first boyfriend. how was i supposed to know any different #i didn't even have the mental wherewithal to realize im a lesbian . like THAT used to suffering.

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