He tilted his head, "are you alright, (Name)? You're looking a little flushed," he fussed, stepping forward to press the inside of his wrist to your forehead. "You looked fine at breakfast, but if you weren't feeling well, you should have told me. I could have sent word to Aizawa-sensei and escorted you to Recovery Girl."

You chuckled softly, endeared as he fretted over you in that way that was just so Tenya. You took his hand from your forehead, holding it between your own. "I'm fine, Tenya," you assured him, squeezing his hand before letting it go. You would have loved to have teased him a bit, maybe stolen a few kisses just to give the sudden rush of desire you felt a small outlet, but Tenya wasn't comfortable with too much PDA, and neither were you, to be honest.

Tenya's cheeks reddened in a soft blush and he was about to say something else when Midoriya called to him from across the room. "Ah, excuse me, (Name)," he said and he went to see what his friend wanted, your eyes trailed over his retreating back with interest.

"Simp."

You turned to see Mina and Toru snickering at you.

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes. You could drool over your boyfriend if you wanted to!

And you did.

You found yourself...distracted, during your morning classes. You kept thinking about Tenya, and all of the things you would rather be doing (to and with him) instead of sitting through boring lectures. It had you fidgeting in your seat, so aware of the heat, the ache, between your thighs.

"Are you sure you're alright, (Name)?" Tenya asked again as you both walked to lunch. "It seems like your mind's been elsewhere today, and you're still flushed."

"I'm sure," you said, and if you were a more reckless girl you'd be finding a way to drag him off to an empty classroom or a restroom for some relief. You bit your lip, considering for a moment, "it's not anything bad. I'll tell you after class, okay?" You knew he wouldn't let it go if you didn't give him something, but you weren't about to tell him you'd been having horny thoughts all day. Heaven knows at least one of you needed to be focused today, you were going to have to borrow his notes later as it was.

It was amusing as it was embarrassing to you. You normally weren't this pent up, it wasn't like Tenya neglected you in this respect, but damn if you weren't needy today!

With the promise that he would eventually get answers, Tenya dropped the subject for the rest of the day. He did, however, remain extra considerate of you, putting even more effort into doting on you, staying close to you in between classes and even sneaking (sneaking!) you some snacks. God, you loved him, and you wanted him all the more for it.

After class, you took Tenya by the hand led him back to your room in the dorms. Before he could ask or say anything, you were tugging his tall self into a heated kiss. Tenya was quick to reciprocate, wrapping his arms around you as he angled himself to meld your lips together more completely. His hands pressed into your back, holding you that much closer to himself and for a few moments, you had him thoroughly distracted.

"(N-Name)...?" he sounded so dazed, looking so enticingly ruffled as you both came up for air. His glasses were askew on his handsome face, and you felt the soft thrum of his engines, his entire body buzzing with the subtle vibrations.

You pressed yourself closer to him, your face was red and your desire was stronger than ever. "I have been...so horny all day," you told him shamelessly. Your hands wandered greedily up his sides and over his strong back, his clothes did nothing to hinder the splendid physique beneath them.

"Pardon?" he sounded so surprised and you couldn't help but laugh. The poor thing had been worrying after you all day only to find out that it was something like this that had been plaguing you, you couldn't help but find it funny.

"I've had you on my mind all day, I couldn't focus on anything else, I wanted you so bad," you felt how his breath hitched at your confession, his grip on you growing even tighter.

"It sounds like you've had a long day," Tenya's hand cupped your cheek and you looked up to see him looking back at you with a flustered, yet heated expression. His mouth quirked in an amused little grin, and he wet his lips with an eager tongue.

"You have no idea," you breathed.

"Well, (Name)," he cleared his throat, and you could feel the prodding of his growing erection, "if you'd like, I'd be more than happy to assist you."

MHA-MHA-MHA

"Oh fuck, Tenya."

Tenya was nothing if not efficient, you quickly found yourself naked and sat between Tenya's legs, your back to his chest, one of your legs draped over his knee as he pumped his thick fingers inside of you. He mouthed at your shoulder, his other hand fondling your breast, squeezing the soft mound and rolling your nipple between deft fingers. Tenya had stripped down to the waist, his skin heated and you swore you could feel the beating of his heart between your shoulder blades.

"Does that feel good, love?" his voice was like velvet and it had your walls clenching on his digits, a gush of arousal coming forth and aiding the glide of his touch.

"Mm, yes, it's so good," you practically purred, head tilting back to rest against his shoulder. Oh, this was just what you needed after being so pent up all day. Your hand rested over his, fingertips settling into the space between his fingers as he played with your tit, your thumb brushing over his skin. Your hips moved, angling to match his pace, grinding your clit into his palm, and your chest heaved. You were thoroughly enjoying yourself. "Keep going, Tenya."

Tenya groaned, kissing up your neck until his lips brushed your jaw. He shifted, subtly grinding his clothed erection against your bare ass, "you were already so wet when we started. You must have been in so much need all day," he gently, so gently, pinched your nipple, making you gasp. "I'm sorry darling, had I known sooner..."

"Would you have helped me at school?" you wondered with another roll of your hips, eyes half-lidded and lips curled into a sinful smile. "Whisked me off to a quiet corner and- ah!- fingered me under my skirt?"

His fingers curled then and you moaned loud, mouth hanging open. He curled himself around you, squishing your body to his as he shuddered at your words, "if...if you wanted. You know I'd do anything you asked of me," his words were strained and earnest, coated in lust as you both got further worked up over the fantasy.

"I know," your hand reached back, fingers sifting into his hair. You scritched his scalp fondly, "you're such a good boy for me, Tenya."

"Hahh," his engines revved softly, and he grinded needily against you, the praise obviously getting to him. Not once did he stop his ministrations, and your orgasm was steadily building.

"I'm so close," you told him, gripping his hair. "Oh, oh fuck..."

"Let go, (Name)," he told you, his fingers pumping faster, curling and finding that special spot inside of you. "Please, I've got you."

You came with a squeal, your slick coating his fingers and the bedding. Your long-awaited release was so worth it, especially when Tenya held you tightly against his chest as you slowly came down.

His hand, the one currently not coated in your juices, came up to carefully brush your sweaty hair from your face. "Feeling better, darling?"

"Much better," you panted, feeling all loose and lax. You turned your head, kissing at his jaw until he dipped his head down and met your lips with his own. You shared some soft kisses with him until you felt like you could move again. You turned, rising to your knees between his spread legs and pressing your hands against his broad shoulders. Tenya fell back easily and you looked down at his flushed face and mussed hair, his red eyes dilated as they focused on you and only you.

You licked your lips, "but we're not done yet."

Come early morning, light slowly trickles into the interior of a humble abode, not quite taking over the warm candlelit that spilled nectar-light, but certainly mixing alongside the ember blue rays of a verging sun to create a stellar morning. The lights illuminate our couple for this tale; a stormy tangle of arms and legs wrapped around each other like a Gordian knot. The larger of the two, a sturdy Dusty with an ash gray scale enveloping their entire body in a smoky scent, certainly is sleeping soundly with their partner, a nimble and adorable Mohs bearing a light blue scale and a tendency to shift around in their sleep. Dusty of course retaliated in their sleep by pinning Mohs as still as they could, acting as the big spoon and ensnaring each other in wrappings of arms and legs, exchanging nuzzles along the way.

Every day, the routine goes around the same.

The breeze and the ember blue rays of a verging sun stirs Dusty awake, beckoning their slumbering body to rise against the heavy bones and the gravity of a comfortable bed. No rest for the wicked; Dusty pulls themselves out from Mohs' grasp, careful not to jostle their partner too much. Fortunately, sleep seemed to lull Mohs heavy enough that Dusty was able to escape from the chains of their comfortable prison, getting up onto the edge of their bed.

A light moan wrung itself from Dusty as they stretched, letting their body breathe free and snap a couple of sleeping joints awake across their back. Their ears flap around and eye wax come falling off as Dusty rubbed sleep away from their eyes.

Looking back, the pair of orange eyes looked so fondly at their sleeping partner as Mohs, laid on their side and sleeping so soundly, had their body splayed over the crumpled quilt and their face lightly mushed by the pillow. Gentle rises and falls from their chest as Mohs breathed, their oversized shirt that reads "Sleep like a rock" tugged enough to reveal a shoulder of theirs, and the subtle lighting chiseled on top of the sleeping boulder had Dusty's heart already turned to butter.

No matter how many times Dusty had seen this exact sight, in the long days they had slept together, it never grew old.

And like always, Dusty couldn't resist but lean forward, nearly falling for temptation of sleeping again, but raising themselves just enough to land a small kiss onto Mohs' cheek. Their tadpole whiskers gently brush and graze over the sleeping beauty, eliciting a giggle from Mohs.

"Love you, Mohs." Dusty gently whispered, and Mohs merely gave a murmur as a response. It seemed today the overly ecstatic Hearthian had stayed up a wee moment's too late, and their energy had all but spent up.

The rest of Dusty's routine panned out the same; they get their face washed up with cold crystal water, letting the wind dry them out as they strap on a flannel with a red bandana, worn jeans with patchwork stitched all over, long boots, and a cowboy's hat to complete the attire. By the time they had left, Mohs was next to awaken, the bed already empty.

As the waking sun was already glistening, now a golden beam that harassed Mohs' golden eyes as they squinted, taking time for themselves as their body slowly awakened itself. Rolling off the bed, Mohs dragged their feet to the bathroom and got their body cleaned up. Being alone in their house gave Mohs ample opportunity to help Dusty even if they cannot see each other; whilst tending to their own needs, the boiler for a nice and warm shower for Dusty is already prepared, and a plate of pipping breakfast and coffee waiting on an empty seat as Mohs is scarfing down their load. Feeling a little cheeky for the day, Mohs grabbed a sticky note and a pen, placing one down next to the plate while writing down a note.

Hope you enjoy some nice helping of sweetberry pie and hazelnut coffee to get along with your day! I didn't get much of a chance to say I love you yesterday, so I'm writing it down now. I love you hehe

The geologist let out a small giggle to themselves, trying to imagine what Dusty's reaction would be. But alas, work calls out to them, and whatever the rancher says will have to wait until they get back home within their partner's embrace. Mohs stepped a foot out the door, wearing their pink flannel and vest, concluding their morning routine.

Come a few hours later, and Dusty walked back home, the first thing on their mind was the delicious smell of breakfast reeling them in, the rancher raising their head and taking a whiff of the aroma circling around. They were drawn to the table, the warm and delicious looking sweetberry pie greeting them alongside the note. A gentle hand plucked the note from the table as Dusty's eye scanned through the note, a brief guffaw coming out their nose.

"Oh my stars, Mohs…" They commented, smiling ear to ear as the note was read a few times over. Then just beneath the text, Dusty wrote a reply:

Thanks a plenty, they taste real good as always. I can always make it up with you on the bed when you're back home, if ya like.

"Hope yer'll like that." The rancher places a hand on their mouth to cover a toothy grin, surely looking forward to their moment together. Sitting down with a fork on their hand, the rancher doesn't hold back in taking large bites out of the pie, savoring the taste melting into their tongue and sating their gnawing appetite.

Midnight

You bought a bottle of her latest perfume, spritzing some on before going to meet her for your date.

She recognizes the scent immediately when you hug her, her nose teasingly brushing against your neck with interest. "Well don't you smell delicious?" she purrs, delighted at just how well the perfume suits you, how it pairs so nicely with your natural scent.

Little do you know she designed it with you in mind.

Eraserhead

First of all, Aizawa doesn't have merch, so where on earth did you find this Eraserhead themed t-shirt?

You declare that it's one-of-a-kind, an impish grin on your face that lets him know you're not going to be giving him any more details.

He groans, exasperated, but it's only a front to hide just how flustered he feels, seeing his hero name emblazoned across your chest. He doesn't want fans, the adoration of strangers. Your adoration, however, he'll gladly, greedily take.

Present Mic

The "Put Your Hands Up Radio!" jacket is your new favorite item of clothing. It's durable, comfy, and it goes with just about everything in your closet.

Hizashi can't help the absolute giddiness of seeing you strut your stuff in the jacket, turning this way and that while admiring your assembled outfit in the mirror. Not only does he get to see you rocking his merch, but you're feeling loud and proud while doing it! He couldn't ask for more.

Dabi

The thing about you is that you're so damn unpredictable. Sweet one second, drawing blood the next.

Dabi kind of loves it. It keeps things from becoming boring, getting stale. And you're so hot when your eyes are ablaze with whatever emotion is overcoming you.

Just like right now, in the middle of some pointless, bullshit argument, when something he says makes you snap. You tackle him to the ground, your hands fisting into his jacket as you yell in his face. All he can do is grin up at you dangerously, just as angry, but equally as enticed by just how vibrant you look in this moment.

Then something even sweeter happens.

Big, fat tears begin to drip from your wild eyes, and Dabi sucks in a breath. You sob, frustrated and overwhelmed, and his cold, little heart warms at the sight.

"Oh, pretty girl..."

His arms wrap around you as you cry into his chest, cursing his name all the while. He strokes your hair, twisted affection squirming in his chest like a nest of spiders.

Always so unpredictable and entertaining.

Aizawa

"(Name), I-" Shouta falters, all the anger and frustration from your argument washed away by cold, all-consuming guilt at the sight of the tears slipping down your face.

You hurriedly wipe them away, stepping back, away from him, and the guilt deepens.

He knows you hate crying in front of him, even when it isn't his fault. It makes you feel weak, and he knows you worry he'll think less of you, that he'll find your more emotional way of being "irrational."

You turn, hiding your face as you try to walk away, but he stops you, gently catching you by the arm.

"Wait," he pleads, his voice gentle, "I'm sorry." Because no argument is worth making you cry.

"I don't want you to see me like this," you mutter, your head down. But at least you're not pulling away from him. He takes that as a good sign.

"Don't hide from me," he urges. He takes you by the chin and tilts your head up so he can look at you properly. He brushes your tears away, regretful that they're there in the first place. "Let's talk about this, okay?"

He's always so stubborn, set in his ways. But he'll try to meet you in the middle, to understand your perspective. You're worth it.

Shigaraki

Tomura feels no guilt at the sight of your tears, only vindictive satisfaction. Good. He'd been aiming to hurt you when he said those words to you. He really can't stand the way you make him feel sometimes, so he's happy to return the favor.

"You're seriously crying?" he taunts with a cruel smirk, poking at your cheek with a mocking finger.

You smack his hand away, "fuck you, Tomura, you fucking prick," you hiss, trying not to cry even more in front of him. You turn and storm away from him before things get even worse.

"You're so pathetic!" he calls after you, making sure you can hear him before you slam the door behind you.

He huffs, standing there and scratching at his neck. You're so damn overdramatic, a pain in his ass. You deserve to cry a little for the shit you put him through.

The image of your tear-filled face flashes through his mind. He ignores the way it makes his stomach twist with discomfort.

Midoriya

Izuku feels his own eyes fill with tears, watching you hug yourself and cry in front of him.

"(N-Name)... please don't cry..." he begs, his hands brushing up and own your arms, trying to console you.

"I thought I was never going to see you again," you cry, your words making his heart ache. You scrub a shaking hand over your eyes, "I was so s-scared for you!"

"I'm sorry, (Name)," he pulls you into a hug, his own tears running free. He really scared you this time. It was a close call. "It's okay, I'm okay. I'm here."

He shushes you gently, guilt spreading through his chest at the distress he's caused you. His job is always going to cause you to worry, the only thing he can do is try his best to come home to you at the end of the day.

He views you as helpless and weak (regardless of whether or not that's true). Aizawa is a man that's scared of losing those he cares about, and what drives him as a yandere is just how fragile you are, at how easily you could be hurt, or worse. He's aware that his obsession with you is unhealthy, but he keeps finding ways to justify his mindset. Who knows what could happen to you out in that dangerous world? You would be so much better off with someone like him to protect you. You would be so much better off if he just...kept you all to himself.

Up close, he’s actually quite stiff and awkward with you, so overwhelmed with his feelings for you that he reverts to a more stern, perhaps intimidating, demeanor. This isn’t a yandere that can charm his way naturally into your life, but that’s not to say he isn’t capable of manipulation. Once he has you in his clutches, he’ll do whatever’s necessary to keep you there. He’s not above blackmailing you to keep you in line. For example, say you’re a vigilante or a villain, he has no problem suggesting a harsh prison sentence awaits you should you try to escape. “Logical ruses” and all that.

While he won’t ever hurt you or even threaten violence to keep you in line, Aizawa will restrain you if he deems it necessary. He doesn’t have a problem with being seen as the “bad guy” if it means keeping you safe. Expect locked doors at every turn, being chained to the bed by your ankle or even more restrictively should you prove to be unruly enough. He’ll even hold you down himself if it means getting the point across. You’re not going anywhere.

It does ultimately end in captivity with him. His attempts at justification only go so far until Aizawa decides he doesn’t care, he’s going to commit to keeping you anyway. Even if it goes against everything he stands for, even if it makes him a villain in every sense of the word, it’ll keep you safe, and that’s what matters to him.

He does try to be a good captor (if something like that is even possible). His actions towards you are out of care and not meant to be a punishment. He tries to keep you happy and entertained, providing you with whatever you ask for, so long as it’s not your freedom. If he thinks he can trust you, he might even take you for (very limited) outings. The life he offers you is one of a well-cherished pet, which could be its own kind of hell when all is said and done.

NSFW

His decision to keep you is far from pure. Yes, his desire to keep you safe is the main driving force, but it’s not the only desire he feels for you. No one’s ever caught his attention quite like you have. Before he found you, his life was consumed by his work as a hero and a teacher. He sometimes spared time for his few close friends, but rarely for romance or sex. Then you came along and he finds himself fantasizing, hungering, for the first time in ages.

He has to admit, once he has you in his clutches, he’s glad to have you away from the eyes of others, that he’s the only one that has access to you now. There’s no doubt in him now that he’s a bad man, a good man wouldn’t do what he’s done to you, but how bad of a man is he? He has you protected and safe from the rest of the world, but are you safe from him?

Aizawa can’t help but get closer, indulge himself a little. He gets in your personal space, even if it makes you nervous, just to feel your body heat. He pats your head, squeezes your waist as he walks by, rests a hand on your knee, trying to get you used to his touch. He has enough decency left to not take too much, to not simply force his way past that final line. He hopes you’ll one day ask for more from him, banking on the fact that he’s the only company you have now, and everyone has needs, don’t they?

But give an inch, and he’ll take a mile. If you, in your isolation and loneliness, seek intimacy with him, you’ll never be rid of him. He’ll make a home for himself between your thighs, content to pleasure you for hours, your thoughts turning to mush as he unravels you on his tongue over and over. Yes, he takes great enjoyment in satisfying you, but it’s also a way to ease his own guilt. When you’re calling his name so sweetly, you must not completely hate him, right? Your captivity can’t be so bad for you if you’re clinging to him, your pussy gripping his cock so greedily. You must see something positive in this, in him.

From then on, Aizawa sees sex as a means of placation, of apology, of distraction, a way to keep you content amidst the suffocation of your life with him. He’s always been a man of action rather than words, after all. He’s never been able to talk you into accepting your circumstances, but maybe his body can convince you.

You blink, sluggish and bleary, studying his surprisingly peaceful expression as you sort through your muddy memories of the night before. Your eyes drift down to his mouth and you're struck, suddenly and vividly, by the memory of that mouth between your legs as he drunkenly, sloppily, ravenously ate you out with an enthusiasm that you rarely saw the man show anything.

"Holy fuck..." you breathe, reaching up to rub your forehead as your memories solidify even further, and you become aware of the delicious soreness in your body. A couple lingering licks of arousal stir low in your belly at the images and phantom sensations flashing through your mind's eye, though you're much too hungover for it to build into anything substantial.

"Mm..." you hear Aizawa grumble softly as he stirs, his arm unconsciously tightening around your middle as those dark eyes blink awake. It takes a moment before his eyes focus in on you and he pauses, looking at you with an almost confused squint like he didn't know why you were there. A mirror of the expression you wore just moments before. You see the moment he remembers, the slight, nearly concealed intake of breath, the faintest blush on his face that was only visible because you were so close to him, "oh."

It takes a lot to ruffle the stoic underground hero, but yeah, this would do it.

"Morning..." you say softly, because you don't know what else to say.

"...morning," he returns stiffly, it looks like he doesn't know what to say either. He's studying your face intently, his eyes searching yours. Idly, you remember the molten heat his eyes carried the night before as he held you close and fucked you, gazing down at you as if you were the most erotic, heavenly being he'd ever laid eyes upon.

He shifts, his arm loosening around you. He's pulling away but you can't allow it, your hand catches his wrist to keep it in place. He stops, and there's a moment of hesitation before he allows you to wrap his arm around you again. You feel his body relax against the mattress again, his head right in front of yours.

You look at him, your hand drifting up his arm. "...I'm still sleepy," you tell him as you wrap your arm around him, wriggling just a bit closer until your noses are nearly touching.

Something in Aizawa's gaze softens and he holds you closer, "right..."

You close your eyes and the two of you slowly begin to drift back to sleep. You'll figure out what to say once the hangover wears off.

He meddles in your affairs. He views you as helpless (regardless of how competent you actually are) and finds ways to take tasks away from you, discouraging you from taking on too many (if any) responsibilities, insisting that it's for your own good, and he truly believes it. You might find yourself gradually losing more of your agency.

If you're also a hero, the absolute, white hot rage he feels when a villain manages to hurt you is hard for him to contain. He barely manages to stop himself from hunting the villain down (reminding himself, over and over, what he promised himself after the Stain incident). If he's on the scene with you, he's brutal with his interference, his engines roaring as he takes the villain down quickly and with excessive force so he can reach your side. His blood rushes in his ears and you look so frighteningly fragile to him. Why did you choose this life? It's not suited to you at all, it's much too dangerous. He wants to hide you away more than ever, lock you away from everything that can even think of hurting you.

Iida eventually spirals further down into his obsession with you, and it's tragic. This isn't the person he wanted to be. But as he takes away more of your agency, isolates you more, and eventually steals you away completely, he becomes almost resigned to it. Because the other option is letting you go, and he can't do that, selfish as that is.

If you grow scared of him, become angry with him or disgusted by his possessive nature, he feels awful about it, but he only clings to you tighter, fruitlessly begging for your love and forgiveness.

NSFW

Iida's almost frantic when he fucks you, holding you tight, engines revving, thrusting quick and deep. It's like he thinks you'll disappear on him if he lets you go. He whispers apologies into your skin, eyes misty. He feels like a pervert how much he wants you, the lust you inspire in him.

He wants to bite and mark you, paint your skin with his claim on you, but he can never bring himself to do so, not wanting to maul you like a beast. However, he leaves bruises from his grip sometimes, around your wrists as he holds you down, pressing you into the mattress as his hard body bears down flush against you. Or when he grips your hips and pulls you insistently onto his cock. He always feels bad when he sees them, but deep down it's satisfying, they're proof that you're his.

If it reaches the point where you know about Iida's possessive nature, where he stops denying it and he takes you away, he'd never force you to do anything in the bedroom. But it doesn't stop him from wanting you, so much that it hurts, so much that he can't hide it. The littlest things about you arouse him, and though he'd keep his distance, you're constantly aware of the heated stares he sends your way, the tent in his pants as he hurriedly excuses himself from the room. You hear him in the bathroom sometimes, the undeniable sound of him pleasuring himself, your name on his lips. Your dirty clothes disappear sometimes, returning to you freshly washed and neatly folded, and you know what they've been through.