Kinktober Day 21 - Overstimulation

present for his beloved (mafia!dazai osamu)

warning(s): yandere themes, implied physical abuse, intimidation, broken darling

note(s): a little something i wrote for the lovely @vani-ya​, for her birthday 💕 I hope you like it!

You whimpered uncomfortably in his lap, heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

You hated being this close to him. His mere presence around you was suffocating, permeated with the scent of blood and gunpowder, and the scent of his cologne closing in on you from all sides. It made you sick to your stomach.

He was talking to someone across the desk, barking orders at them, as if you weren’t even there. One of his arms was holding your waist in place, while the other harshly gripped one of your frail wrists. That’s going to leave a bruise.

Out of the corner of your eye, you looked at the terrified man standing across from the wide mahogany desk. His skin had gone pale, and he looked ready to bolt at the first opportunity. You didn’t blame him. People don’t realize just how terrifying Dazai’s presence is until they actually face him.

He finished talking, and the man scurried out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving you alone with him once more. You trembled in his arms.

“Now, now, my belladonna. What’s the need to be so afraid?” he murmured into your ear, pulling you even closer, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You didn’t allow yourself to relax, more out of past experience than anything else. And sure enough –

“If you behave yourself, that is.”

An expression of pure, unadulterated fear crossed your face, and he laughed. It was a deep, full laugh, and you could feel it reverberating throughout his chest from where he had you pressed flush against it.

Trying to get a better look at your eyes, he moved a lock of your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. One of the many things you weren’t allowed to do was tie your hair. He liked it loose, framing your face, said it made you look even more angelic. That, and he liked to be able to grip it whenever he wanted.

“Let’s see now…what would my darling like as her present?”

“Present?” you asked meekly.

He laughed, “My, my, do you really not remember what day it is, belladonna?”

When you shook your head, his face lit up with a sadistic grin. Most days, you weren’t even allowed to leave your room, let alone the house you shared with him. You would never call it a home. The only time you did leave was when he took you out, and it was mostly to this dark monstrosity of an office, just so he wouldn’t get bored. There are windows but he always keeps them covered.

Neither his house nor the office have any clocks, so time seems to slip from you often. You’re lucky if you can tell night from day most of the time, and you know that’s exactly what he wants. He likes you that way: disoriented, compliant, and utterly helpless.

“How air-headed you are, my love.” He said in a patronizingly mocking voice, “It’s your birthday.”

“M-my birthday?”

“Mhm, and I want to let the love of my life know, burn it into you, just how much I love you. So, tell me, belladonna. What do you want for your present?”

There was a cigarette dangling from his left hand, and you hoped to God he wouldn’t just put it out on your skin like he always did. Thankfully, he actually used the ashtray resting on his desk this time.

The smile on his face was sickly sweet, completely out of sync with the harsh grip he had on your waist, fingers digging into your hipbones. Oh, well, what’s one more bruise to add to your collection? What do I want?

“I…I d-don’t know.”

He pouted in mock sympathy, “Really, now? Is there nothing you would like me to do for you? How about I loosen the collar?”

Your hand instinctively moved up to touch the metal adorning your neck. It was horribly constricting, and it used to hurt in the beginning too. It still did, but you had kind of gotten used to it.

“Or would you want to lose the cuff on your ankle? That would make your futile attempts to escape easier, wouldn’t it?”

The cuff on your ankle wasn’t attached to anything at the moment, but he never let you take it off either. It was convenient for him, in the way that he could fasten it up to whatever he wanted, and that it also served as a constant reminder to you of your own powerlessness.

Yet, when you looked down at the cold metal harshly gripping your ankle, your gaze was blank. What do I want?

You think you used to want to run, but…now you can’t see the point. Running will not help, because each time you have tried, he has caught in the blink of an eye, and each time he has caught you, he has made it hurt more than the last time. There is nowhere you can run where he won’t find you.

“No…” You whispered, curling up in his arms and trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“What’s that?” he asked, even though you know he heard you perfectly, “Did my belladonna say she doesn’t want to run?”

You shook your head slowly, and Dazai smirked. Forcefully gripping your chin with one hand, he turned your head to face him, “So, what do you want?”

You fumbled frantically through your head for the right answer, something that would satisfy him. You know there’s something specific he wants you to say. You also know what happens if you don’t say it.

“Y-you. I want…to be with you.”

He smiles and pushes your head down to rest on his shoulder as a lone tear leaks from your eye. Then he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Good girl.”

bitches be like "these are my comfort characters!" and it's a group of murderers

Half-Full, Half-Empty - Chapter 5

Keep reading

everyone always wants aizawa to tie them up with his capture weapon but i’d rather him slap my ass with it until it’s RED. then proceed to bend me over his desk to fuck me with that prof. dick 😫

I imagine that the capture scarf leaves just as much of a sting as a good piece of leather would. If you misbehave in his lecture? You’ll end up bent over his desk, skirt hitched up to show of the swell of your ass. Your panties are already gone and tucked away in his pocket.

He’s not going to lay into you right away, no. He’s going to tease you with his weapon of choice, he’s going to trail it softly along your ass and thighs--making you feel how soft the material actually is. The first swat is going to catch you off guard and that’s exactly what he wanted.

He’s also going to make you count each one for him. If you lose track because your head is fogged over with desire and endorphins? “Now we have to start over, kitty, what a shame we were almost through here.”

Your poor ass is going to be criss-crossed with red welts just a bit wider than a belt would leave, the first ones already puffing up as he runs his calloused fingers gently over them--both soothing and irritating the skin further.

But your legs are shaking and your thighs are slick from the punishment, how could he not fuck you? Your so clearly in need of him. And you’re going to feel more small stings every time his hips smack into the curve of your red, sore ass but you’ll love every god damn second of it because you’re his good little kitty.

Date Night: Part Three (Yandere ErasermicxReader)

Request: I just wanted to say that I love you Date Night Fics a lot! Will there be a part 3 of it? 😊😆😆❤️

Part One Part Two

           Night was falling quickly that evening, and most houses were blended easily into the darkness, their occupants out for a Valentine’s Day celebration. One house though, isolated and outside of the city proper, was alive with light and sound. Inside, two men worked diligently in the kitchen, the whole home filling with the tempting aroma of the dishes they were making.

           “Alright,” said Aizawa, “the chocolate-covered strawberries are in the freezer. What can I help you with?”

           “Well, the lamb still needs a little bit longer in the oven, you want to start putting the broccoli and rice into the dishes?” Hizashi answered as he peered into the oven.

           “Sure thing. Do you know if she’s left work yet?”

“Um, let me check,” Hizashi said, scrolling through his phone for the answer. “The tracker says she’s still at work, but she’s probably going to leave soon. And when she does, we’ll only have like twenty-five minutes before she gets home.”

“We can make it,” Aizawa said with a determined nod.

The next few minutes were pleasantly quiet as the sound of clattering dishes resounded throughout the kitchen, Aizawa moving the steaming sides to their bowls and covering them to ensure that they would still be warm by the time you came back home. He set them down gently on his and Hizashi’s round dining room table, being certain to make sure that they weren’t blocking the vase of pink magnolias and crimson roses that he and his boyfriend had so carefully chosen. The roses had been Aizawa’s idea, as he wanted a flower that would properly set the mood for this holiday dinner, and he found their deep, vibrant color a fitting representation of his feelings. Hizashi, by contrast, had chosen the magnolias, wanting to add something utterly unique and beautiful to match you. And together, he and Aizawa thought, the effect was breathtaking.

           When Aizawa reentered the kitchen, he saw Hizashi with his face practically pressed flat against the oven door. Smiling in amusement, Aizawa silently slunk up behind him, then suddenly darting forward to place a kiss on Hizashi’s neck. The blond jumped slightly at the unexpected touch, having been concentrating too hard to even hear his boyfriend’s approach, but soon melted in his arms.

           “You know,” Aizawa chuckled, “it’s not going to cook any faster if you stare at it.”

           “I know that. I just don’t want it to dry out, so I’m keeping an eye on it.”

           “I’m sure it’s going to be perfect,” Aizawa reassured him. At that, Hizashi turned to him, his eyes wide and anxious.

           “But what if it’s not?” Hizashi asked nervously. “What if we’ve done something wrong? What if she says no?” At the mere mention of that possibility, Aizawa’s stomach clenched and then spiraled downward, all the way down and past the kitchen floor. And even though Hizashi had already had the thought, actually saying it out loud had fishhooks piercing his heart and dragging it up to his throat. Seeing each other like that had both men squeezing the other tightly, just breathing for a moment until Aizawa finally spoke.

           “That’s not going to happen. We saved her. We’ve taken care of her for weeks now, protected her from Dabi and anyone else who would try to hurt her. We’ve shown her the love she really deserves. She can’t say no.”

           Hizashi sighed and gave a nervous grin.

           “You’re right, you’re always right, babe,” he said with a shaky nod. “I mean, really she’s already our sweetheart. We’re just making it official tonight.”

           It was true, both men thought to themselves. You were already theirs, they just needed to tell you that. So later that night, when the three of were finally sitting down to dinner, Aizawa and Hizashi forgot their worries in their lovesick excitement.

           “So how was work today?” Aizawa asked as he scooped some more rice onto your plate.

           “Oh, it was fine, just average,” you said with a tired smile.

           “I still can’t believe that they made you work on Valentine’s Day,” Hizashi muttered.

           “Well,” you laughed, “it’s not exactly a national holiday. And it’s not like I have a Valentine anyway.” At that, Aizawa flashed a stern look at his lover, warning him not to correct you just yet.

           “You haven’t seen any sign of Dabi, have you?” Aizawa asked, noting the way your eyes dimmed at your question. Now, he understood that everything that had happened was traumatic for you, but really, you should be glad that they had gotten that villain out of your life for you.

           “No, thankfully not,” you answered. “I don’t know if he actually cares enough about me to risk it.”

           “Well,” Aizawa said, “I’m glad he’s not mixing you up in his shit. You deserve so much better than that.” Hizashi nodded in agreement, and your cheeks heated at their concern. Really, these past few weeks had been so emotionally exhausting, you didn’t think you could have gotten through it without the two of them. They had opened up their home to you, had made you feel safe. They practically doted on you, providing everything that you could ever possibly want or need. And now—now they were even letting you intrude on their Valentine’s Day date. You hadn’t wanted to force yourself into their celebration, but they had insisted. In all honesty, Aizawa and Hizashi were probably the best friends you ever had.

           “Speaking of that though, I was thinking it’s about time for me to go home.”

           For a moment, Hizashi and Aizawa could only stare at you with disbelieving eyes.

           “What?” Hizashi finally responded with pure shock. “Why?”

           “It’s just that, well, it’s been weeks now. I haven’t seen the slightest sign of Dabi, and neither have either of you. I don’t think he’s going to try to contact me. And anyway, I feel bad about intruding into your home.”

           “You are not intruding!” Hizashi insisted as Aizawa took his hand.

           “Besides,” Aizawa added. “Dabi might just be waiting for you to leave.”

           “But—”

           “And we’d miss you!” Hizashi shouted over you.

           “I’d miss you guys too, but it’s not like we can’t see each other,” you reasoned. “We’d still be friends, right?”

           When you said that word—friend—Aizawa and Hizashi simultaneously squeezed each other’s hands tightly enough to make them go numb. Flashing a quick look towards each other, they made a silent lovers’ agreement.

           “But that’s the thing, sweetheart,” Aizawa started to say. “We don’t want to be your friends.”

           “What?”

           “We don’t want to be your friends,” Hizashi continued. “We want to be more than that with you. We love you.”

           Now it was your turn to be silent as their confession looped around and around in your mind. But with the two of them gazing at you so hopefully, it wasn’t long before you forced yourself to speak.

           “I—I’m sorry,” you began softly. “But I just can’t feel that way about anybody right now. What happened with Dabi, it—it really got to me, you saw how much it hurt me.”

           “We would never hurt you though,” Aizawa told you.

           “But I’m just not ready to be that vulnerable yet.”

           “Sure you are,” Aizawa said. “You have two men here who love you, who love you more than anyone else ever has. That’s all you need to be ready.”

           “I decide when I’m ready.”

           “Songbird, you’re just confused,” Hizashi said as Aizawa quietly slipped into the kitchen. “We know that this is a lot to take in, but taking this next step together is what’s right for all of us. We need to love you, and you need to let us.”

           “You’re not—”

           “Shouta and I can take care of you, we want to take care of you! You’ll never have to worry about anything again with us: not work, not bills, not villains, not anything! You would finally have the love that you deserve.”

           “I already said no,” you told as you began to stand from your chair. “I’m not going to say it again.”

           “And where are you going?” Aizawa suddenly asked from the dining room doorway.

           “I’m going to go back to my apartment and give you two a chance to cool down. Neither of you is making any sense.”

           “Really? Because you’re the one rejecting your soulmates.”

           “The two of you are not my soulmates.”

           “Of course we are,” Hizashi argued, tears beginning to fill his eyes at your stubbornness. When Aizawa spotted his boyfriend’s tears he frowned, extracting a syringe from his pocket and started to move towards you slowly and cautiously, the way one might with a spooked animal. As soon as you saw what he held in his hand, you tried to run for the door, only for Hizashi to immediately capture you in his arms. You writhed in his grip while Aizawa continued to approach you, and Hizashi nuzzled you comfortingly.

           “It’s alright, sweetheart,” Aizawa reassured you. “You’re just tired, you’re exhausted from work so you aren’t in your right mind.”

           “I told you that job was bad for you,” Hizashi grumbled into your neck.

           “Let me go!” you yelled. “Let me go or I swear—”

           “Ah, ah, songbird,” Hizashi lectured you as he held his hand over your mouth. “That’s no way to treat your lovers.”

           “Exactly,” Aizawa agreed. “So you’re going to have a little rest, and then hopefully in the morning you’ll realize just how foolishly you’ve been acting.”

           With that, Aizawa plunged the needle into your skin, both he and Hizashi ignoring your muffled pleas. The effects didn’t hit immediately, but soon enough you were melting into your captors’ arms, their touch the last thing you felt.

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Yandere Mr Compress (Part 1?)

My first ever fanfiction, enjoy and please let me know if you want more! I may be continuing this.

TW Kidnapping

—————————————————————————————————-

It starts off very innocent. You’re walking back to your apartment after a long day at work and you find a bouquet of flowers sitting at your doorstep. Puzzled, but somewhat excited, you pick them up and take them inside, setting them on your kitchen counter. You check the card “Your beauty is like the waves of the ocean, relentless, wondrous, and potentially disastrous to a poor, lost soul like mine.” It isn’t signed. You could, of course, take this note the wrong way, how could beauty be disastrous? But you figure it just came from an especially stricken admirer. You haven’t had an admirer since high school, how could you not find it sweet? Smiling, you set the card to the side and arrange the flowers on your dinner table. It’s a nice gesture, you assure yourself.

A few days pass and you’re unconcerned about this “admirer”. In fact, it puts a little pep in your step, so to speak. So far, you’ve received the flowers, a teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and of course the usual unsigned notes. Nothing too strange or alarming. But today was a little different. You come home to find a small red box waiting for you. You take it inside, eagerly rip it open, and find a gold necklace with a heart pendant. Your stomach drops a little. This is expensive. Not only that, but you were just eyeing it the other day, thinking about buying it for yourself for your birthday next week. But it’s not like anyone would have noticed that, right? Whoever the admirer is, he must have just seen it and figured it would be nice, right? You set it aside, pour yourself a glass of wine, and put it out of your mind.

The week passes without any more gifts. You’re a little disappointed, but also somewhat relieved. Maybe the admirer just lost interest. Anyway, it’s your birthday and you’re going out tonight, so you’re excited. You go on your usual lunch break to your usual coffee shop, order your usual cappuccino extra foam, and walk outside. You always take an alley back to work, it’s quick and it’s not even a dangerous area, there are heroes everywhere. You’re so absorbed in thinking about your work, the proposal is due today, you don’t even notice the man standing in the shadows with a Rorschach mask and yellow trench coat. But his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“You’re not wearing it.”

You stop in your tracks. “E-excuse me?” you ask, without turning around.

“The necklace.”

Your heart stops.

“You haven’t worn it at all. I thought you’d like it. I saw you looking at it and smiling.”

Run. You have to run. Or call for a hero, just DO something. You open your mouth, but by the time you even think to scream for help, you’re breathing in a chemical-soaked rag. And you’re out.

—————————————————————————————————-

When you wake up, you have a headache. You don’t really remember what happened, did you have a bad dream? Did you end up going out with your friends? You look around for some water, aspirin… your phone? Anything? Your mind finally clears and you realize, this is not your room. The bed is huge, probably a king. The sheets are regal, red satin with a maroon fleur de lis pattern. Where the fuck are you? You begin to panic and try to get up, before realizing you’ve been tied to the dark, oak bed frame. Shit.

The events of earlier today begin to return to you. The coffee, the alleyway, the man. He was the one. The admirer. He WAS watching you. You look around frantically, looking for anything to cut the restraints. The room offers no solution. No way out. You can feel the tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes as the bedroom door opens.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

You turn your head to meet the voice, a tall man wearing an orange button up shirt with a bolo tie, black vest, and black dress pants. Even after having the audacity to kidnap you, he still hides his face underneath a black balaclava mask.

“I do apologize for the restraints, but I’m afraid I just can not let you run off. Not when I’ve gone to all this trouble to acquire you.”

“Acquire me?” you spit. “What am I, a Picasso?”

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh, like you’re on stage at open mic night. “A Picasso? Oh dear, no, you are so much more beautiful than that.”

You blush, despite yourself, but continue to glare at the man. Who does he think he is? You don’t expect a real answer, but you do ask him, “Who are you?”

“Forgive me, where are my manners?” He says with a smile. He flourishes his hand down into a deep bow, “Some call me Mr. Compress, but you, my dear, may call me Atsuhiro.”

hi hello m also here to leave a smol hc for your event ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

nanami who frequents a specific bakery, tells everyone that it’s for this new stuffed pastry he likes when they ask, but little do they know that his favorite pastry is the new ‘n sweet little baker in town that he personally gets to stuff<33 - 🍡

nanamin's guilty pleasure

400 follower event entry #1

pairing: nanami kento x reader

genre: smut

warnings: f!reader. age gap. smut! semi-public (bakery backroom). sloppy quickie. creampie. slight!breeding kink. pet name (baby). slight!cumplay.

"hey, nanamin," gojo calls after his blonde colleague, eyes training on the latter as he sits behind a desk, "what do you like so much about that bakery?"

nanami's head lifts up, glancing at gojo who's so comfortably leaning against the doorframe, and he knows that his coworker can't see the irritation in his eyes behind his glasses, but he wishes he could.

"just curious," gojo chuckles, "i stopped by the other day, and it doesn't seem all that interesting to –"

"pastries," nanami replies, cutting the other male short, and the lie slips off his tongue so well, like he's practiced it a thousand times, "stuffed pastries are my… guilty pleasure."

stuffed pastries. sure. the pastries are good, great even – but the pastries are nothing compared to you, when you're bent over and dripping with his cum over in the bakery's back room.

he's got two fingers – index and middle – shoved into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue and vibrating as you mewl and groan with every delicious thrust of his hips into yours, every rut of his aching cock into your plush heat.

"feels so good for me," he praises you, and you try to smile around his fingers, blissed out and so grateful to be his fuck-toy, to help him through his daily frustrations. you're whining, tears streaming down your pretty face and dripping off your chin and onto his warm hand that holds your face in place.

"mmmh – 'namin, s'good!"

you're slurring his name, spewing absolute nonsense as you clench around his length and drip down into the dainty lace panties that dangle around your thighs, panties you bought to show off to him. he's sweating more than he sweats in battle as he fucks into you, groaning with every time your walls contract around him, and you whimper incoherently as he fucks you stupid. he can feel every flutter of your walls, every squeeze that means you're getting a little closer, and he ruts harder and harder against that good, sweet spot that makes you cry out and see stars.

"c'mon, baby," he urges you weakly, because he knows you're so, so close, and he knows he is, too, and he's praying you'll cum around his cock before he cums inside of you, "cum for me, know you want to, can feel it."

"w'nna cum, 'namin, w'nna cum s'bad – oh, fuck, please, please, please, lemme cum!"

you yelp, choking as his huge hand wraps around your throat, tugs you up higher and bullies his hard cock deeper into you, fucking you harder and faster, chasing the high that he can feel building up in his belly, and you're gasping and whimpering as your back hits his chest, head buried in his shoulder, and his heavy balls slap against your clit with every rut.

"so good for me," nanami whispers, words of praise sending waves of pleasure all the way through your slicked-up cunt that squelches with every thrust, the sounds and smells of sex occupying each and every one of your senses, "gonna fill you up as a reward, baby, nice and full of my cum."

the waves are crashing harder, the pleasure hitting you over and over, taking over your vision and sending your eyes rolling back into your head, and you squeal –

"ooh, f-fuck, 'namin –"

and then the bough breaks, your two-man ship colliding with the shore and shattering on impact, and you're gaping like a fish out of water, mouth open in a silent scream – and as you cum, cunt fluttering around him and milking him for all he's worth, so does he; spurts of pearly white cum shooting into your pussy and dripping, lewd squelching sounds filling the room, as he thrusts into you, fucking you through your orgasm and gently pressing you down on the break table before you, drowning in your whines.

"f-fuck," you whimper out, and nanami chuckles as he waits for your cunt to stop clenching around him, waits for you to breathe evenly, before he slowly pulls his cock out of your cunt – and then he stares.

the sight is enough to make him hard all over again, watching your cunt flutter, dripping his cum so lewdly, and he can't help running a finger down your slit, collecting the cum and using a single digit to push the sticky mess back into you.

"n-no, 's sore, 'namin –"

"i know, baby, i know," he chuckles, leaning down to tug your panties back up your thighs, "can't help it, 's so cute, hmm?"

you chuckle at the sweetness of his tone, glance up weakly to see him staring down at you the same way as he adjusts his pants, buckles his belt, and he smiles softly, whispers hoarsely, "need a coffee?"

"that would be nice, yeah," you say meekly, and he nods. "coffee machine's –"

"in the front, i know," nanami chuckles, reaching for his glasses that he keeps in his blazer pocket, "not our first rodeo."

you giggle at that, thank him quietly as he helps you stand up straight, kisses your forehead, and gently sits you down on a chair. you watch him leave the backroom with his shirt untucked, looking oh-so untidy, and you smile tenderly.

nanami, however, enters the front room and stills as he stands behind the counter. his mouth goes dry, and he frowns.

"stuffed pastries," gojo, leaning against the counter with a wide, devilish grin on his face, "i get it now."

bunny's taglist: @bihwhatever2 @mssuguru @feral-creep @thechroniclesofawriter @xsmilesx @amethyst-bunny @kageyama-i-want-tobiors

What is Aizawa taking to his grave? Thank you!

Ah yes, the character I originally made the TTTG post for in hopes of luring in one of you unsuspecting Aizawa fucking FOOLS

He’s got a real nasty daddy kink and a penchant for taking ex-students out for drinks 🤫

It’s always surprising what a difference just a few years can make. Even more surprising is how little he cares about the student-teacher relationship that existed prior to meeting again as adults. He’s always had a soft spot for the quiet ones, the ones desperate for praise and in obvious need of a father figure despite how hard they try to hide it. 

The transition from reminiscing over drinks to getting you back to his apartment takes time. He takes things slow, throws out feelers to see how you react and maintains control over the conversation. He’ll order your drinks for you and take your glass from your hand when he thinks you’ve had enough. He makes you feel like a student again, only ever responding professionally and brushing off jokes at his expense in favor of telling his own. Teasing you with stories about how clingy you used to be in hopes of getting you to own up to a crush that may or may not be resurfacing with every reassuring pat to your fidgeting hands. 

It’s only when you’re drunk that he starts pressing. You look tired. How’s patrolling been for you? You look like you could use a break. How’s your family? If you ever need someone to talk to, he’s here for you. It’s easy to get distracted by well-spoken people. You hardly notice his hand resting on your thigh or how he’s taken up calling you kitten in between calling you sweet pea and baby, but nothing goes unnoticed by him. Your nervous laughter after accidentally calling him Aizawa-sensei and the subsequent blush that dusts your cheeks tells him everything he needs to know.

You leave together. He makes you hold his hand whenever you cross the street. He gets the door for you when you arrive at his apartment, and scolds you for trying to get the next one. He’s not forceful by any means, but by the time you’ve gotten comfortable he’s already thinking about how you’d look crawling into his bed at night just looking to get your pussy played with before you go to sleep. 

He’s only got one thing in mind for you and that’s to see you in your most vulnerable state, crying out for daddy to taste you or love you or fill you with whatever makes that empty feeling go away. He’s so kind too, really knows how to treat his princess without spoiling or smothering her. Aizawa gives you everything you never had and then some and in return you pretend not to notice when he doesn’t correct anybody that tells him he has such a beautiful daughter.

He’s in love with the power imbalance. You’ll always think he’s smarter than you, that you need him more than he needs you, that you deserve to be punished for hours on end when you mouth off to him because you owe it to your daddy to always be his submissive little girl.  

Im sorry that I choose my favs with my pussy and not my moral compass. Wish I could be as boring as the rest of you

i dont want the mean guy who’s soft only for me i want the psychopath with no moral compass who’s moral compass becomes even more skewed for my sake bc i’m just the shit like that