Hey! Would You Like To Write Something For Mori And His Female S/o With Bondage? A Scenario Would Be

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..?”

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sources:

link i

link ii

link iii