The Throne || Darth Vader X GN! Reader

Yooooo that dark Mic anon might be onto smthn...u just know he’d get off to the thought of flipping up his favorite student’s skirt and bending her over his desk while she calls him Mr Yamada

The Mr. Yamada tho ♡♡♡♡

That makes my coochie flutter so much ♡♡♡♡♡

Hold on just a second. Just one itty bitty second. I just- I need to-

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

He thinks about it more often than he should.

He likes to think that you think about it, too.

His favorite little student- so easily flustered and so very sweet, so eager for praise and such a good little girl that gives it all for her beloved teacher. You’re so fuckin’ cute- a real sweetheart- and, god, Yamada loves sweethearts- you’re his true weakness with your innocent face and shy smiles, your soft giggles and sparkling eyes. He loves you and he loves how good you look in your uniform. He loves how soft your thighs look and how hard you work to please him, how you savor his compliments with an eagerness that can’t be faked.

Such a good girl. So genuine. So pure.

He’d love to see the faces you make while grinding on his cock. He’d love to see how sweet you’d look with teary eyes dazed with pleasure and your lips trembling with anxious desire.

He’d love to bend you over his desk and flip your pleated skirt up, get a real good glimpse of your cotton panties.

You’d like it, he knows- you’d like the attention from your sensei and you’d like him teasing you over your wet little pussy and your soft, whiny gasps of “Mr. Yamada!” You’d like him eating your tiny little cunt and you’d like him stuffing you with his cock, making you cum and filling it up and fixing your pretty little panties. You’d like having to sit in your own come for the rest of the school day and you’d like whimpering and rubbing your thighs together, trying not to pant as you wait out the time until you can suck his cock like a good little student and let him fuck and fill you all over again.

A grunt leaves Yamada and he arches up into his fist, bites back a groan as he fucks his hand to the thought of his most favorite little student.

He gets so close to cumming thinking about your tight little peach of a cunt and he gets so close to getting off to your sweet whimpers and mewls as the thought of turning you into his darling little slut.

He gets so close but then-

The bell.

A snarl of a sigh leaves Yamada and he huffs to himself, stuffs his cock back into his pants and wipes his hand down his jacket. He pouts as students begin to file back into the classroom, but a small smile melts it away when he alights his eyes on you.

Yamada licks his lips as he watches you sit down, as he catches a flash of striped panties as you cross your legs.

Maybe he’ll keep you after class today...he knows you wouldn’t mind some one on one time with Mister Yamada.

Lips twitching with a smirk, Yamada picks up and his chalk and begins to teach.

If you're not to bombarded with requests could you do 41# from that quote prompt list with daddy aizawa 👉👈🥺 if you already have too many than just ignore this 💕 (also sorry if this is sent multiple times tumblr is being stupid)

No worries love! ❤️ And I'm sorry this is so short ahhh

41. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

Warnings: Dub-con, bondage, edging, thigh riding

"Don't get too needy, kitten."

You whined, trying desperately to get out of the restraints he had you in. Your wrists were tied behind your back, the capture weapon wrapped around your arms and torso so you couldn't move your arms in any way. "Shouta please! I'm sorry! Please just untie me, I need it!"

He laughed softly as he watched you squirm around on the bed, rubbing your thighs together in a weak attempt to create any since of friction between your legs.

Your eyes never left the tired hero's form as he paced back and forth, shaking his head in mock dissapointment. "Finally had enough of being a little brat? What was it that you said to me? To stay away from you, that you don't want me ever touching you?"

You looked away from him, embarrassed as he threw your own words back at you. It was his fault, you tried to remind yourself. Anyone would break if they went through what he did to you. For hours he got you on the edge of an orgasm. Much to your dismay, he stopped right as you were at your peek.

Then he kept the process going until you unraveled, now a whiny, needy mess for him. It happened so many times it was starting to get painful.

Aizawa sat down and smiled as he picked you up, shifting you so you were straddling him. "Tell me what you want. And don't get shy with me."

"I want you!" You pouted as he stopped you from grinding into his erection, urging you to stay still while you talked to him. "I want you to fuck me, please! I need it!"

Your eyes widened as he chuckled, his hands squeezed your waist. "You think I'm going to reward you after that little stunt you pulled? Oh no, kitten. You want to cum the only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

You were going to protest, but decided against it at the dark look he gave you. You didn't want him to punish you again, some which meant you wouldn't be able to sit right for a couple of days.

Sniffling, you slowly did as he told you to, moaning softly as your hips jerked back as you began to receive the pleasure you were looking for. You arched your back as his large hand wrapped around your throat to keep you guided and making sure you kept your eyes on him. The message was clear.

"Good. Now," He pecked your lips as you began to grind yourself against his thigh some more. "Show me how sorry you are."

𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬.

 pairing. anakin skywalker x f!reader 

synopsis. anakin finds loopholes in the jedi code.

warnings. 18+. this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy my shit, i’ll find out. cock warming, p in v penetration but no movement. whimper-y anakin, if you move i'll leave the jedi order type beat.  

an. just a little something i wrote for the kinktober i never did. I thought i'd post instead of letting it collect dust in my drafts. the prompt was cockwarming! hope i did anakin justice<3 pls comment & reblog.

You find him at the window.

Sitting, with his thighs open and chest bare, staring out into the abyss. The night glints at the beads of sweat sliding down his chest, and his fingers drum endlessly against his thighs.

He heard you wake up, so he’s expecting your company, and has leaned back against the chair – thin black gown falling open – ready for you to climb all over him.

It happens often.

It’s not uncommon to wake up without him.

Most nights, you startle out of your slumber – as if even asleep, you’d sensed a shift – and blink at the space on the mattress beside you.

Finding him was easy.

You pad through the living room and wordlessly reach him in his post-nightmare state. His hair is tousled, sculpted chest is slick with sweat -- there’s an energy vibrating off of him, and you can taste it in the air.

Stepping behind him, you gently run the tips of your fingers over his shoulders, and the whirlpool in Anakin’s belly settles for a second. When you move into frame, it’s gone completely, replaced by a warm heat that has roots. He breathes a smile.

“Like clockwork.”

You give him a sheepish grin in return and fiddle with the fabric of your small nightgown. There’s a moment where Anakin gets to look at you – all sleepy and cuddly – and he’s ready to escape with you off of this forsaken planet.

His will holds strong.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” he asks, raising a scarred brow, and despite your groggy state, you still manage to roll your eyes. Stepping closer, you use his broad shoulders as anchors to slip onto his lap.

“Don’t make that face,” Anakin hushes, and while you settle back onto his thighs, his metal hand comes up. He traces the line of your jaw, “You know I let you do what you want.”

His spare hand steadies your hips, and it’s still warm from his lightsaber. Calloused fingers run over your skin, reminding you of the fight that’s leaving scars – the war that’s brewing, both inside and outside of his mind.

In moments like this, though, there’s a subtle calm.

An impenetrable force that hums over the pair of you.

You lean into his palm and whisper, “Not everything.”

There’s a haunted edge to your gaze, and your words are loaded. Anakin knows what you mean, knows all the intricacies of your subtle dig, and yet, he still manages to smile.

Well, smirk.

“What do you want? Just say the word.”

You wouldn’t, and Anakin knows that. He’s caught your bluff, and you manage a bashful smile before gently leaning forward, dragging your hips against his lap.  

Anakin’s cloth-covered thigh nestles against the thin fabric of your underwear. Your smile falters, lips parting. You push your forehead against his, and whisper, “If I say the words, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I know,” he breathes, “I know.”

I want more.

A life together, not stolen moments when the sun is down.

An attachment. A bond.

But it’s forbidden.

It’s why it can’t go any further than this.

“What’d you dream about?” you wonder. Anakin pulls his eyes away from you, instead looking to where his thigh sits. The silence is your answer.

“I’ll still ask, even if you never tell.”

He takes hold of your bare thighs, rubbing his hands up and down, and you hum his name, reaching out to push his hair behind his ears.

“Pretty boy.”

“Stop it,” he huffs, cheeks reddening.

But how can you? When he’s all sharp lines and long hair. You run your hands up the bare panes of his muscular chest, feeling the deft of his muscles, and the dampness on his skin.

The air changes – hums electric – and it buzzes as you push his gown off his shoulders.

Carefully, you lean forward and place a chaste kiss against his collarbone.

“That’s better.”

Anakin hums a laugh. His hands snake around to your lower back, dig into the fat of your ass, and using the grip there, he gently rocks you forward once, forcing your clothed cunt to drag against his muscular thigh.

You whimper. It’s quiet, but Anakin can hear it, even if it’s muffled by his shoulder.

“’ S’what you came out here for, huh?” he whispers. The electric flooding through the walls hums, but the room is still eerily silent. Anakin’s voice is a roar.

You lick your lips and drag your face up to see him. “No,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss against his top lip, “I like being with you, even if we don’t do this.”

Anakin has to close his eyes. Words like those are fuel to the fire brimming in his chest, and it doesn’t help that you wrap your arms around his neck and fiddle with the tail end of his hair.

Arching your back, you slowly roll backwards, then forward, teasing the bulge between his legs.

Releasing a shaky breath, you repeat the motion, again, and again, near humping his leg.  

A familiar ache begins to swell, coiling between your thighs and up into your belly. It makes you clench around nothing, and you mewl quietly, wishing for more – always wishing for more.

Still, you continue, slick pooling into your underwear and against his thigh.

Anakin can’t look at you. If he sees your face, his resolve will falter.

His nerves are shot. If he couldn’t feel how wet you are, he could smell it, and it makes a groan bristle behind his teeth.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck and busies himself with kissing at the soft shell of your throat, careful not to leave marks.

Once, you left a mouth-shaped mark against his stomach, and he looked at it every day for a week.

Caught himself with his top up in the mirror looking at the reflection, eyeing the way the mark sat on the firm lines of muscle, fading away with time.

A dark part of him wanted the mark on the slope of his neck.

“Wanna be inside of you.”

His admission rests heavily against your throat, and you’re thankful that he can’t see the way you clench your eyes closed.

Though, he does feel you tighten your grip on the back of his head. Feels you shift up against his thigh, and the warmth pooling in your underwear burns against him.  

He can sense you’re hesitant.

“’ can be like last time. Just – Just --” he stutters, licking his lips and struggling to release the words from the back of his throat. Finally, he manages. “--Sit on it.”

“Anakin.”

He pulls away from your neck and looks up at you.

“We can use it as an exercise.”

A laugh bursts from your throat, “To test your will?”

He smiles, and because you have to, you push your cunt against his crotch, uttering, “Want me to make It difficult for you?” and white flashes through Anakin’s eyes.

He grabs your hips to steady you, tensely pushing his fingers into your skin.

“Hardest challenge I’ll ever encounter.”

“You eager to impress?”

He kisses your jaw, “Don’t I always?”

“Mm,” you hum, cradling his chin. You shift back so he can pull his trousers down, and when you take his cock in your hand, he melts. His commanding aura switches for a moment, and you watch Anakin still his breathing.

You push your underwear to the side, and as you lift yourself to sink onto him, Anakin breathes, “Just the tip – just a little bit, j-just—” and he chokes on his words, gasping as you brush the leaking head of his cock through your folds.

You halt. Whimper. Have to grip his shoulder to steady yourself, or you’ll push him inside of you all at once and hurt yourself.

You inhale steadily.

“Have to – have to go slow,” you spurt, trying to calm your tremors.  

“It’s been a while since…”

You don’t have to finish your sentence. Anakin knows, and he feels a mix of pride and guilt. Only me, he thinks, and then, like a flash, only me, he swallows. And I can’t give her everything.

This. This is as far as it’ll go. He knows he’s pushing it. Knows that he’s come up with some convoluted rule to both have his cake and eat it too.

If he fucks you the way he wants to, he’ll fall in love with you. As if it hasn’t happened already.

Anakin has made lying to himself a speciality.

You push against him once more, and the tip of his cock nudges between your folds, forcing an ache to shoot through your clit and make you dizzy. You stop. Pause and curse yourself.

A slow burn builds in your thighs, and you clench down to try and mediate the burn. Anakin grunts.

“Maker,” he utters. “Sorry—” you splutter, sucking in a tight breath.

Anakin wraps his metal arm around the back of your hips, hoping to steady you. “Lemme,” he mumbles, and gently, he flexes his hips up, slowly feeding his cock into your soaked pussy.  

Your lower abdomen immediately burns.  

He’s being calm about it – using all his training – but there’s nothing calm about the words trickling out of his mouth.

“Oh stars,” he groans, voice wrecked, “You gonna take all of me, sweet girl? Gonna let me fill you up?”

When you finally sink to the hilt, your resolve snaps. The pair of you moan out in unison, loud and high-pitched.

Anakin buries his face in your chest, and the heat of his mouth against your breasts adds to the tension coiling in your belly.

“Don’t – don’t move,” he grunts, and you shake your head, “I won’t – I’ll come on your cock if I do,” and you don’t mean to say it like that, don’t mean for the words to come out like that, but you feel Anakin pulse from inside of you, warm and hard and wet.

He manages to laugh.

“Tryna kill me,” he shakily breathes, shaking his head. His wet lips brush against your breasts, and you want more – want all that he can give you – so you clutch the back of his head, pulling him closer, hoping he gets the message.

His wet kisses make your skin prickle.

You’re full up. Can feel him stretching you out, this feeling something that’s only happened a few times before.

“If you move,” Anakin begins, out of breath, “I’ll leave the Jedi order and spend my days inside of you.”

“Don’t t-tempt me.”

He laughs, and you accidentally clench around him, causing him to groan deep and long against your tits.

“If you do that again, I’ll come inside of you.”

You imagine it. Imagine him spilling out, the wet white of it dripping out of your cunt and back onto his cock, and the mere image of it has your clit throbbing.

Keep still. Don’t move.

But he wraps his tongue around your nipple and begins to suck.

You cry out, and all of your muscles tighten, forcing you to clench tight around his cock. Anakin jolts and whines your name against your tits.

“S’your fault,” you mewl, moaning. You hang your head back, “Stars, Anakin.”

“Try and stay still,” he mumbles, and you stutter a laugh, “Impossible.”

“It can’t be,” he responds, and while he speaks in jest, his words are sincere. The line between love and lust runs thin, and if Anakin is being honest with himself, it’s close to snapping.

i'm not just an "apologist" for that fictional character i'm his defence lawyer

um men who are bigger than you and tower over you in every way possible but he's obsessed with the overwhelming intimacy of missionary sex. his whole entire body covers yours, and he loves the way it's almost like he's shielding you from the world, that the wanton expressions you're making and the way your body reacts is all for his eyes only. he can control how deep he fucks into you, can carefully watch the faces you make to see if he's hitting all the right spots. loves the way he can hold your hand as he thrusts into you; especially loves the feeling of every cell in his body going weak from how overwhelmed with his love for you he gets. the eye contact is the best and worst part for him; best because he loves looking at you, to know you feel the same, but worst because you always make him go weak in the knees. his arms can barely keep him upright, and he has to bury his face into the hollow of your neck and shoulder and-

Fluffy Hizashi Yamada HCs

Idk I just needed it T^T

Media and characters not mine. 

He insists that you play with his hair if you’re cuddling. He’ll nudge against you like a cat when you stop, looking up at you with big, pleading eyes until you start up again.

One of his fondest memories is explaining his tattoos as you lay beside him, tracing each piece delicately with your fingers. He couldn’t hold back tears when you said the tattoo for Shirakumo was your favorite (Before he even told you what it meant). If you ever ask, he’ll tell you that’s the moment he fell in love with you.

Hizashi loves western food. When you cook him fried chicken and mashed potatoes you can practically see hearts in his eyes. His favorite thing cook is pancakes. And yes, he makes faces with the fruit and butter.

When hero work knocks him down you’re the only one he wants to see. Despite his extroverted nature, he shuts down when life becomes overwhelming. At times like that, he wants you to hold him from behind, whispering encouragement while you soothe him. 

Holidays, birthdays and anniversaries are HUGE for the hero. He goes all out to ensure you have the best day possible. Even when you return the favor, he seems to enjoy your reactions more than anything. Ironically, his reactions to your reactions are the best part for you. Dorks. 

Hizashi plays the fuck out of multiple instruments, but he woos you with the violin and piano every chance he gets.

He loves it when you’re feeling clingy. Attach to him at the hip while he moves around the house. If he has to work on the computer and you need attention, he’ll sit you on his lap and let you rest your chin on his shoulder, giving you soft kisses to the neck as you coo for him. 

Coolest date with Hizashi? He took you to the Grand Canyon and screamed “I LOVE (Y/N)” into it. When you blushed and giggled at the way his quirk echoed off the rocks he practically melted inside. He’s so damn embarrassing, and you love every second of it. 

@cherrycolabomb​ @practisewhatyoupeach​ @thewheezingwyvern​ @the-angriestpineapple​ @queensynderella​ @deadassqueeraf​

touch starved shigaraki who gets hard at the slightest brush of hands, at your thigh pressed against his on the couch, at the heat radiating off your body. touch starved shigaraki who can’t help it, he needs it, it’s all he can fucking think about, who loses all semblance of rational thought and restraint the instant your bare skin touches his, the instant your fingers run though his fluffy hair or your palm sits hot and heavy on his thigh or knee. touch starved shigaraki who becomes insatiable the moment you give him an ounce of affection. touch starved shigaraki who cums within seconds of you stroking his cock. touch starved shigaraki who wants more, more, more, who gets overwhelmed easily but is too stubborn to stop. touch starved shigaraki who’s growling at you through full body shudders and tears in his eyes to keep going, goddamn it, who just can’t seem to get enough, who seemingly has endless loads of cum, who can’t control himself, who pushes his hips against you and just humps whenever he can. touch starved shigaraki who wants your hands on him, his hands on you, at all times, even when it’s inappropriate—especially when it’s inappropriate. touch starved shigaraki who becomes obsessed with the idea of leaving marks—scratches, bite marks, bruises, hickeys—little visual reminders of his touch on your body, of your touch on his, proof of your combined presence. just touch starved shigaraki.

I’LL SPILL MY GUTS IF YOU FOLLOW MY LEAD

You make the mistake of asking Shigaraki about those hands he carries around, and he decides the best way to make you understand his ‘family’ is to show you. Real love means sharing everything, right?

» pairing: shigaraki tomura x afab!reader » word count: 4.8k » notes: My piece for @get-shiggy-with-it​’s Don’t Go Breaking My Heart collab! » contains: angst, heavy noncon, implied kidnapping, mild violence, Shigaraki getting weird with the hands, arguable necrophilia courtesy of ‘Father’, fingering, forced orgasm, penetrative sex, dissociation, mindbreak. 18+, minors DNI.

“Tomura, please. I don’t want to do this.”

He’s heard those words from you before. More than once, though less and less often as the weeks and months have passed. He ignores it, usually. Follows Sensei’s advice and doesn’t concern himself with those protests, because the older man has said it more than once, hasn’t he? They’ll come around, Tomura, so long as you persist. And Tomura’s nothing if not persistent.

Keep reading

Look Inside

Pairing: Overhaul X Reader

Warnings: Dubcon-noncon, medical kink, drugged sex, mention of needles, mentions of blood, bondage, fingering, this is dark! 

Word Count: 3.8k 

A/N: I decided to try some creepy themes and give second person a try. So we’ll see how it goes. This piece is dark so please mind the warnings!

Huge shoutout to @present-mel for making the beautiful banner and reading over my fic you precious gem! Also thank you @thisisthehardestthing and @hisoknen for your feedback it’s so greatly appreciated! 💜

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Hey! Would you like to write something for mori and his female s/o with bondage? A scenario would be amazing! Maybe was sie trying to tease him the whole day!

➽─{uwu i would love to ~ the doctor is in ❤️☠️}─❥

warning(s): nsfw, bdsm, oral (receiving)

You’re restless, hungry, agitated on the lookout for slick black hair and white wrist-length gloves. A group of young mafiosos pass you, all eyes cautiously averted. Pleased, you relish in your hastily planned attire: one of Mori’s white button-ups, and not much else underneath. If anyone was caught leering at the boss’s plaything, they would surely be punished––though the word “punishment” barely even begins to describe it.

Sighing as you round another dead end, you ponder your options. Either wait in Mori’s office, or try the room you saved for last. It’s the one place you’d normally have the good sense to steer clear of, but your desperation is reaching new heights. Waiting is simply out of the question. You make a beeline for the main meeting room, as you’ve passed it dozens of times by now.

Oversized walnut doors loom over you as you stand outside of your final destination. The voices inside are dampened, but not muted; the room is soundproofed, but not completely. When you reach out to grab the handle, the heft of the door resists your pull as if asking, “are you sure about this?” You prop it open anyway, just wide enough to slip through, grazing the polished wood as you enter.

Inside, a pack of mobsters surround a long rectangular table, at the end of which your lover eyes you calmly––but is that a hint of a disapproval you see? Many heads turn towards you, but few linger. The most daring of the group shoot quizzical looks at Mori, but his expression reveals little to nothing. Back bathed in sunlight, face hidden in shadow, he continues to lead the discussion as if nothing peculiar is happening. A professional as always. Your visit is largely ignored.

You maintain your gaze as he talks shop, but you bore instantly. Twirling your hair and nibbling your lips from across the room hardly evokes the reaction you came to spark. Though he never takes his eyes off of you, he otherwise acts as if you aren’t there. No choice but to get closer.

Grabbing the nearest chair, you walk Mori’s way as his eyes narrow, still focused on you. Your gait is as unwavering as you can manage in front of a criminal syndicate. Some of the executive board shift uncomfortably in their seats, and as you near the windows, Mori realizes why. You prop your chair up next to him, leaning into his ear:

“I just thought you should know that I’m dripping wet.”

The boss of the Port Mafia is the very last to get a clear view of your bare thighs, their innermost surfaces gleaming in nature’s lube. He simply nods his head, trying his best to maintain the illusion of control––but when you sit yourself down, putting your hands on his legs, he immediately cuts his losses.

“We’ll stop here for today. This meeting is adjourned until further notice,” his voice booms, teetering on the edge of annoyance. Good; you want him just as worked up as you are.

As the last of the Mafia members filter out, not so heedless as to glance back, Mori turns to face you. Hands fumbling with his clothes, he folds his trench coat over his chair and slips something out of its pockets. Its metallic glint threatens to blind you with natural light. When your senses adjust, you realize it’s a pair of handcuffs, but not before a loud clinking reaches your ears. Your hands––they’re locked together now, cuffs fastened shut behind your back.

“Rintaro?” you protest, but your voice falls upon deaf ears. He hoists you up by the waist and sets you on the meeting table, eyes undressing your already scantily dressed form. You smirk. “You like?”

“I like?” he says back, mockingly. “Such a disobedient, troublesome girl like you? I wonder about that.” Gloved fingers unbutton your (well, his) shirt, but your restraints prevent the garment from completely coming off. Starched fabric bunches at your wrists. The chains jingle behind you as you test your strength against the stainless steel, but not unnoticed by your lover.

Mori’s voice drops a notch: “I swiped them off of a police officer this morning. He was getting in the way of a business transaction, making my job very… difficult.” A certain iciness laces his words, sending shivers down your spine. “Perfect for a slut who doesn’t know her place, no?”

Hands awkwardly positioned, you struggle to keep yourself upright under his smoldering gaze. You’ve barely gotten comfortable when he starts to go down on you.

A small yelp escapes you as Mori greets your clit, spreading the wide of his tongue across it. His tongue flicks upwards as one, two fingers slide past your drenched slit, and you’re quick to realize that he hasn’t even bothered to take off his gloves. The silky fabric introduces an effortless glide to each Mori’s slow, drawn-out dips into your pulsing pussy. His fingers rock back and forth inside of you, continuously curling towards your g-spot with leisure. 

Just when you’re getting used to the rhythm, Mori’s tongue begins to rub circles upon your swollen clit. Your legs buckle beneath you when he pushes them back for easy access. It’s hard not to quiver under his hold, but it’s even harder not to let your voice out. Soft mewls overflow into melting moans. His methodical motions almost get you shaking when he suddenly stops, and you can’t help but whine in response.

The gloves come off, soaked through and through, and he moves to loosen his tie next. Your anticipation grows almost tangible as more and more clothing comes off, but he stops at his belt buckle, flashing a wicked smile at you.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You wanna know what I do to loud and impatient girls?” Before you have a chance to answer, your lips are forced open, a thick cloth slipping between your teeth. His red scarf stuffs your mouth, restricting your breathing somewhat. You are virtually silenced, unable to speak properly. Muffled noises substitute your every word, something that obviously brings great pleasure to the sadistic doctor. 

“I make them take responsibility,” he continues, edge in his tone. He releases his bulging cock from black trousers, stroking it to your wide-eyed form. “It’s all your fault. Just look what you’ve done to me.” His free hand flutters at your waist, tracing your curves. You’re pulled from the table and bent over it, the cold metal cuffs cutting into your skin, certain to leave red marks. You feel the scarf tighten, pressing against your cheeks.

“If you want me to stop, you’ll have to scream.” Mori pauses to admire his handiwork, perhaps a beat too long.

“I wonder what sorts of sounds you’ll make when I use you..?”

--

sources:

link i

link ii

link iii