Chapter Text
“Pathetic.” Shouta’s words are like a knife in Toshinori’s heart, so much more brutal than the force of the paddle as it lands heavily on the crack of his ass, directly over his coccyx. “What? The former number one hero can’t take a little bit of pain? And to think, I held back that time…”
“M-Master…I’m sorry, I—,” the words die in his throat as the paddle comes down on his tailbone once more, and Toshi’s mind goes blank as his arms buckle underneath him from the pain. “A-Ah! That hurts! It’s too…It’s too much, please…I’ll do whatever it takes, just please stop…”
“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not the magic word.” Shouta sing-songs as he teases the rough wood over the red, blistering globes of Toshi’s ass. He walks around to the front of the couch, where Toshi is spread out so prettily, and takes a fistful of the blond’s hair, yanking his head back so that his Adam’s apple jutted out. “I’ll give you three tries.”
The paddle comes down, this time dangerously close to the scar on Toshi’s chest, “…Red! Red, god, red…” he screams, his words thick from the phlegm and blood that block his throat. “Please…I know I-I’m a bad sub, that I d-deserve to be punished, sir…but please…red…” he finishes, voice meek, as he watches Shouta’s face through a haze of tears.
Shouta begins to walk away, and for a moment, Toshi feels the cold, soothing embrace of relief wash over him. The punishment is o—the paddle lands again, this time on the bottom of his foot. He bites into his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood as Shouta murmurs, “Such a shame I’m not feeling particularly forgiving tonight.”
“W-What?” A burst of panic shoots through him, interrupted only by the heavy thwap, thwap, thwap of the paddle as it cuts into the ball of his foot three times in quick succession. “RED! M-Master, you’re hurting…” thwap, the holes in the paddle, about the size of marbles, cut into his toes and he screams. “Stop! S-Stop, please…”
“You’re going to have to be a bit louder, sunshine. I’m afraid I can’t hear you too well over all that sniveling.” Toshi’s face is covered in blood and snot and tears as the paddle lands again, this time on his ankle. This time, the pain is accompanied by a sickening crack as wood connected with exposed bone.
They’d been at this for the better part of an hour. Toshi had come back to their shared apartment after school, checked on their dinner in the slow cooker, straightened up a bit, and decided to take a short nap while Shouta was out on patrol…He’d woken to the soft sound of rummaging, and had opened his eyes to find Shouta kneeling alongside the bed, sorting through the small, wooden box where they stored their toys. He’d greeted him with a tired smile and an inquiry about his patrol, which had largely been ignored. Instead, Shouta had tossed a few things onto the bed, including a pair of handcuffs (not the soft, fluffy kind they usually used during their sessions – no, these were cold, unforgiving metal, and Toshi’s heart had sank a little at the sight of them) and that godforsaken paddle. Though they owned an assortment of them, they didn’t often use paddles in the bedroom because Toshi was so bony anything more than a hand striking down on his fleshiest bits would cause serious pain.
Without a word, Shouta had motioned for Toshi to present his hands. When the blond had hesitated, he’d grabbed his left wrist with such force he almost yanked the skeleton of a man off the bed and hooked the handcuff around it so tight he could feel the metal cutting into his skin. It hurt, yes, but only if he struggled; if he could just keep his hands still—the thought immediately flew out the window when Shouta clamped the other cuff down just as tight, and used the short stretch of chain between them as a lead, dragging Toshi off of the bed so quickly he actually fell down for a moment. His bare knees scraped along the hardwood floor, and he sucked in a sharp breath as his bones rattled. Shouta mumbled something about how absolutely pathetic he was, before assuring him, with an almost manic smile, that if he wanted to crawl, that was just fine, because he looked so much better down on his knees. Toshi wasn’t entirely sure why, but he’d started crying then and hadn’t stopped.
Shouta had looped the handcuff chain around one of the legs of their couch, so that Toshi was awkwardly contorted over the arm, his ass high in the air and completely exposed. Everything hurt. He hadn’t been in the mood to play tonight, had been rather keen on the idea of curling up with Shouta on the couch and just watching a movie after enjoying a nice, hot meal together…but there was something about Shouta’s demeanor that made him bite his tongue. Shouta was mad. He never entered into a scene without discussing it with Toshi first, and he’d never sincerely tried to hurt Toshi before. This…This was quite clearly a punishment, but for what? What had Toshi done? He opened his mouth to ask, the words on the tip of his tongue, when the paddle came down on his left ass cheek with such force that Toshi’s entire body rocketed forward. He whimpered, desperately trying to scrabble away—but Shouta wouldn’t have it. The raven-haired man grinned as he dragged him back, the rough fabric of the cushions tearing at his knees.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He screams, though he still hasn’t the slightest about what he’s apologizing for. He wants Shouta to stop, but he doesn’t know what to do because Shouta is ignoring his safeword and in this form, in this position, Shouta is definitely the stronger of the two of them. He’s completely at Shouta’s mercy.
“Sorry for what, darling?” Shouta coos, and there’s an unsettling gentleness in his voice that directly contradicts the pain that tears through him as the paddle lands again and again – he’s amazed that he can still feel anything, that the sheer force of Shouta’s blows hasn’t rendered him numb. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Please, p-please, whatever I did…” that clearly wasn’t the correct answer, as the paddle collides with his tailbone again and he chokes out a broken sob. “I’m not…Shou—sir, it hurts so bad…please stop. Red…Red…RED!” He’s screamed himself hoarse, and he can barely breathe around the phlegm and blood that clog his throat, and yet he still begs for even the slightest sliver of mercy.
“Look at you, a pitiful excuse for a former hero. You’re nothing more than a waste of space, have been ever since I met you.” He teases the paddle along the length of Toshi’s shivering spine, “The Symbol of Peace, fallen from grace, broken and bloody on my couch…begging for my mercy because he’s too weak to save anyone, even himself.”
Is that what Shouta really thinks…? That he’s…Toshi’s body lists to the side, the pain momentarily taking a backseat as his brain attempted to process this new information. He…He was being punished for his failure as a hero…His mind immediately latches onto the USJ incident. Shouta had endured a beating meant for him, had almost died because he’d wasted so much of his time on the way to school. If Shouta had died—he shudders to think about it, even as Shouta lands another blow, this time catching the edge of his scar and causing Toshi to hack up a mouthful of blood—then all of the kids…it wouldn’t have mattered how fast Iida had run, how quickly the other teachers had mobilized. The paddle lands again, and Toshi’s mind grows fuzzy, imaging the way that the Nomu had slammed Shouta’s broken body into the ground over and over, until his face was caked in blood and his limbs were bent out of shape. This…This was nothing in comparison. This…He could endure it, he could, if it meant…
Briefly, he wonders if Shouta hated him. A sob tears from his throat for an entirely different reason, knowing that he’d endure any level of pain if it meant that his boyfriend wouldn’t look at him with such absolute revulsion in his eyes. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind, a little voice tells him that Shouta loves him, that this—none of this—is right. But a larger, more vocal part is tired of fighting, of crying out for help and being utterly ignored. If this is what Shouta wants, what he needs, to remind himself that Toshi loves him and would do anything for him, even at the risk of jeopardizing his own health and well-being, he won’t fight it anymore. Shouta takes a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back again, and Toshi stares up at him through tear-filled blue eyes and bites his bottom lip. It’s more of a reflex than a conscious movement, his normally vibrant blue eyes dull and listless and not quite meeting Shouta’s…the raven-haired man doesn’t seem to care as he crashes their lips together roughly.
“Mmm…but I guess even broken toys have their uses.” Shouta muses, pulling back and unceremoniously dropping Toshi back down to the couch. “I’d tell you to count, but you’re so useless you’d probably find a way to fuck up something as simple as that, too.” He sighs, “Think you can manage to keep your ass in the air like a good little pet?”
Toshi can’t answer, can’t even really hear what Shouta is saying. He knows that he’s still being struck, can feel his body jolt as the paddle lands on his back, his ass, his thighs…one time, it even struck him across the face. It feels like an eternity until the paddle falls down alongside the couch and the handcuffs are opened with a soft click. Toshi remains in place, body rigid, terrified that if he moves before he’s allowed it will only make his boyfriend angrier. But Shouta seems to have completely forgotten about him, humming softly underneath his breath as he makes his way into the kitchen to dish himself up some dinner. Toshi stares after him for a moment, heart breaking just a bit more when he realizes that Shouta had no intention of coming back and…he shakily climbs to his feet, his entire body screaming in pain and his wrists worn bloody from the cuffs. At first, his legs don’t seem to want to cooperate, but after a few tries he manages to make it to their bedroom, gripping nearby furniture for support.
He thinks he might be bleeding. His suspicions are confirmed when he stumbles into the bathroom and falls, barely catching himself on the side of the tub before he has an even more serious problem—he delicately lowers himself down onto the white bathmat, the soft pressure against his ruined ass making him see stars. The fabric slowly turns a dark, unforgiving red, and somewhere in the back of his mind he recognizes that that isn’t good. He needs the antiseptic cream…the bruise salve…the bandages…they store their first-aid kit under the sink, but it seems so far away and he’s just so cold. It feels like his body is slowly shutting down, the horrific pain that he’d long since drowned out being swallowed by an all-encompassing nothingness. He is nothing. He is worth nothing. Even his absolute best wasn’t enough to convince Shouta to forgive him. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. He didn’t deserve Shouta. If he’d ever doubted it before, there was no longer any question…
“I-I’m sorry…” he croaks, as tears begin to pour from his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, so very s-sorry…” the words fall from his lips like a broken prayer as he leans back against the tub and stares at the door with lifeless blue eyes, waiting for Shouta to come back and finish what he started.