#this one is gonna be hefty i can feel it 🥣

[altruisticalastor]

1.2k words into this next part and i’ve already written in 3 povs… ONE BEING HUSK…

[voxofthevoid]

Role Reversal Fem!Goyuu Wednesday #5 🥣

The chapter count...increased again. By one. Welp. But on the bright side, I've finished 7 out of 9 chapters, with the word count at 47k! Chapter 8 may be hefty, but the final one should be a porny epilogue, more or less.

For now, time for some cunt slapping! @nearalways and @cunt-recesses, I think you two in particular were looking forward to this? 👀

CW for under-negotiated kink, specifically punishment, plus all the general goyuu warnings!

“Do you remember how many times you showed me this, Satoru-chan?”

“How many…?” It clicks a second later, independent of Yuuji’s helpful pat on Satoru’s cunt. “Of course not! Do you think I was counting?”

“I was,” Yuuji says. “You did it twenty-seven times.”

“C-creep.”

“Oh? And here I thought you wanted me to pay attention.”

“Sensei,” Satoru whines. She tries, unthinking, to close her legs, but every hand on her body squeezes tight in warning, burning her from tits to cunt, and Satoru freezes, swallowing another whine. “Fucking do something, don’t just keep me like this!”

“Patience,” Yuuji chides. “We can round it up to thirty, don’t you think? Who knows, maybe I missed a few.”

“You’re too much of a pervert to miss shit.”

“I appreciate the faith,” Yuuji says warmly. “If you want to tap out after twenty-seven, you can. But let’s try for an even thirty.”

“Tap out of what?” Satoru asks, immediately wary.

“Punishment, Satoru-chan, for the little show you put on, again and again even after I gave you so many chances to stop.” Yuuji presses her face to Satoru’s cheek, not a kiss so much as warning warmth. “There are consequences for misbehavior, even for the specialist little grades.”

Satoru’s body reacts with rippling heat, heaving into Yuuji’s hands and dripping against her fingers, but she drags in a breath and holds it till she’s sure she can let it out steady and slow, and her voice doesn’t waver when she says, “Punishment this, punishment that—you’re all talk, sensei. I’m not gonna start crying because you’re making me look at my cunt. At least use it.”

“I will,” Yuuji promises again. “Now, count for me.”

“Count wh—ah!”

Satoru’s shriek rends the air, swallowing the wet slap of Yuuji’s hand slamming down on her cunt.

Electric pain radiates from her cunt. Satoru stares down at it. Yuuji’s hand looks so harmless resting there, almost protective with how it’s curled between Satoru’s legs. But the flesh under it is throbbing hot, all shock and hurt.

“D-did you just—” Satoru reaches down to tug on Yuuji’s wrist. It doesn’t budge. “Sensei?”

“Let go,” Yuuji says softly.

“No. No, you’ll do it again.”

“Thirty more,” Yuuji murmurs. “You forgot to count.”

Satoru’s blood burns cold. “That’s not—that’s not fair, I didn’t—you can’t just—”

“I can. I will. Let go, Satoru-chan.” Yuuji nuzzles her temple, the tenderness only threatening. “Don’t make me make you.”

Satoru bares her teeth, and the mirror shows the effect isn’t quite what she wanted, not with how her entire face is one hot blush, but she turns it on Yuuji anyway, snarling, “Fucking make me then.”

Yuuji smiles.

Her fingers detach from Satoru’s cunt; claws press down.

It’s the slightest pressure. Prickling pressure, no pain. More sight than sensation.

Satoru still freezes, all the way down to her lungs.

Yuuji’s claws slice slowly through the air, two pressing to the outer lips, the rest hovering over where Satoru’s wet and pink—and delicate, in a way she’s never felt before.

“Yuuji,” she breathes, “you wouldn’t.”

“Would you like to find out?”

Satoru’s stomach swoops, the sensation almost painful.

She stares at the claws, poised to tear into her.

They’d feel like knives. They’d be worse.

She uncurls her fingers from around Yuuji’s wrist, letting her arm fall limply to the mattress.

“Good girl,” Yuuji praises, and her claws morph back into nails, still pitch black but no longer so wickedly sharp. The kiss Yuuji presses to Satoru’s cheek feels serrated enough to compensate. “Don’t forget to count this time.”

Satoru says nothing. She’s not sure she can speak with her heart a wet throb in her throat.

All she can do is watch, the Six Eyes slowing down every second to an excruciating crawl, as Yuuji raises her hand in the air and brings it down with devastating force.

The impact sets fire to Satoru’s cunt.

Her legs try to close, but Yuuji’s there, abandoning Satoru’s tits to hold her legs in place, and all she manages is an aborted buck of the hips, the brief rush of air no balm on her burning folds.

Yuuji sighs—

“One!” Satoru gasps out, the word raking her throat and her tongue.

In the mirror, Yuuji’s face split open into a wide, proud smile.

Satoru screws her eyes shut before they can linger on that expression or stray to her exposed cunt.

But—

“No,” Yuuji says gently. “I want you to watch, Satoru-chan.”

“Sensei, don’t—”

“Satoru-chan.”

Satoru sucks in a breath that’s too sharp and too wet and opens her eyes, flinching at the wet-eyed, red-cheeked thing staring out at her from the mirror. Her cunt doesn’t look any different, just wet and pink, but it feels like it should be a bruised red.

Yuuji brings her hand down—a harsh smack.

Satoru jolts, strangling a cry. “T-two.”

Yuuji does it again, her hand narrowed to catch Satoru right on the slit, and Satoru bites out three before she even feels it, and then she does, the ache biting into her deep, and four follows on its heels, a little to the left but still smack on all that raw, wet flesh, and it’s like nothing she’s ever felt, a pain that defies comparison—and a pleasure that’s no better, even as it makes Satoru’s cunt grow wetter and wetter and pulse hotter and hotter.

The next one lands too close to her clit, which throbs as if in preemptive pain.

“Five,” Satoru grits out. Then— “Yuuji.”

“Too much?” Yuuji asks, her hand stilling mid-air to come down in a slow, gentle descent, except that does nothing for the way her touch burns Satoru’s abused folds. “You’re so wet though.”

“Shut up,” Satoru hisses, trying and failing to angle her hips away from that touch. She makes the mistake of looking in the mirror, grimacing at the way her tits sway with even those slight motions, and then it’s worse because she looks at Yuuji’s face and finds those eyes split between Satoru’s chest and cunt, staring shamelessly. Motion down below pulls Satoru’s eyes back there, right in time to see and feel and shudder with the slick slide of Yuuji’s fingers down her cunt and into her hole.

It doesn’t hurt in there, but the absence of Yuuji’s hand just makes her folds burn and burn, even the air hurting them. They’re just so hot, like the blood flushing them has turned into magma.

Yuuji takes her fingers out, a casual spread of the two showing Satoru’s slick clinging to them.

“Stop it,” Satoru protests.

“Okay,” Yuuji says mildly—and hits her again.

Satoru arches her back with a shout: “Six!”

Yuuji yanks her back down with a hand on her chest, the fingers digging meanly into her right breast, and her other hand comes down on Satoru’s cunt again, all fingers spread wide to cover the whole of it, and seven spills from Satoru’s lips as more breath than word, the air she sucks in after searing her throat anew.

Yuuji squeezes her tit as if in approval, and the reflection of her face is worse, all heavy-lidded pleasure.

It’s not until Satoru sees the rippling muscles along Yuuji’s other two arms that she realizes she’s still trying to close her legs, unconsciously pumping cursed energy into her muscles, and Yuuji’s still keeping her open without yielding an inch, but at least Satoru can finally see some effort. It’s not much solace, not when all she can focus on is how small she looks against Yuuji, wrapped up in arms that are holding her open and groping her as they please, her cunt and her tits all bared to that dubious mercy.

It’s so unfair, this cage of flesh and power. How is she supposed to—

A thumb brushes Satoru’s nipple, before digging in nail-first.

She cries out, flattening her back against Yuuji’s chest, crushing her tits between their bodies, but it leaves her own tits exposed for that mean touch, which follows it faithfully, the nail turning into a clamp of thumb and forefinger, pinching and pulling—

“Yuuji!” she shouts.

“Focus,” Yuuji tells her, the admonishment in her voice light and almost friendly, like she’s only breaking up another of Satoru’s spats with Suguru. “Don’t make me start over again, Satoru-chan.”

Satoru freezes, half the heat in her body freezing.

“You can’t—you can’t do that, you didn’t say—” Satoru shuts her mouth, not proud of how the line of it trembles. It’s stupid, isn’t it, to act like she’s got a fucking clue what Yuuji can or can’t do? She’ll do whatever the fuck she wants, and Satoru will fucking let her, but even if she doesn’t, even if she struggles— “You didn’t do it again. There was nothing to count.”

“No,” Yuuji confirms calmly. “I was only warning you. I’d hate to be unfair.”

Satoru laughs; it comes out too thin, too high. “That’s such bullshit.”

Yuuji hums. Behind Satoru, there’s a wet touch, hot and dripping. The belly mouth licking her, she realizes.

Like a dog trying to soothe its human—except who’s the pet here?