Nov 17, 2025
Daily reminder that Aizawa is apparently "cannonly unattractive"
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder 😻😻😻😻
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Daily reminder that Aizawa is apparently "cannonly unattractive"
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder 😻😻😻😻
⤷ ゛aizawa headcannons ˎˊ˗ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ᝰ mdni
.✦ ݁˖ shouta aizawa absolutely uses you as stress relief after a hard day of teaching and hero work. whether that be just squeezing the flesh of your thighs or pounding into you mercilessly, heavy gruffs falling from his lips near the shell of your ear. he's been through so much, so when he cums inside you with your name on his lips, he needs you to just take it.
.✦ ݁˖ shouta aizawa is very awkward about affection. he's used to the tough love regime, so when you buy him cute little gifts or cook his favourite dish for him without any special occasion, he simply hums and hugs you tight, trying not to lose the last shreds of his dignity by crying in your arms. it'll take some getting used to, but eventually his hand will slip into yours in the grocery store or park, like it belonged there from the start.
.✦ ݁˖ shouta aizawa does not know how to communicate his feelings properly. it frustrates both you and him beyond limits, but when you see him stutter and fumble like a schoolboy, you cant help but smile at the endearing mess he is when he's in love.
.✦ ݁˖ shouta aizawa takes FOREVER to admit his feelings for you. for months you'd see him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, scared that you were doing something wrong or even criminal. but he just loves admiring you, especially because he can't ever bring himself to talk to you for fear of making a fool out of himself. who knew one of the world's greatest heroes was such a scaredy cat when it came to you?
.✦ ݁˖ shouta aizawa is possessive. truly, undeniably possessive. (before you started dating him) he'd see you getting ready to go on a date with some loser and before you know it, you're laying on your back, pretty dress hitched up to your hips and hands tightly bound by his scarf. you didn't even get the chance to call your date and cancel before aizawa was pressing his hungry lips on your neck, determined to leave a mark just to remind that bozo who truly pumped you full every night. before he can stop himself, he's groaning about how you're his, all his, right next to your ear; his unshaven chin tickling your cheek as you orgasmed for the third time around his thick cock.
.✦ ݁˖ shouta aizawa rarely ever displays any emotion other than annoyance, but when you tell him a stupid dad joke or a well seen observation, you'll catch him smirking while trying not to show it. and when you tell him you love him? he's looking at you like you hang up the stars in the sky just for him.
.✦ ݁˖ shouta aizawa has many flaws, and absolutely does not know how to manoeuvre the world of dating. but as long as he's with you, he's going to try his best.
༝༚༝༚ loser [all pictures from pinterest!]
໒꒱ ₊˚ thinking about … clingy aizawa
clingy!aizawa who insists he’s anything but that. he doesn’t hold your hand in public, he doesn’t make a scene, and he definitely doesn’t hunt you down the second he gets home just to fall into your arms. he doesn’t like every post you make—certainly not the second you post it. while he’s busy at work, he won’t send updates every hour either. instead, he just makes up for the lost time later.
so to clingy!aizawa, he’s just a distant boyfriend.
no, instead clingy!aizawa is a different case.
clingy!aizawa always makes sure to sit right next to you whenever possible. on your couch that’s far too small for two people, the two of you end up squished together like sardines. at cafés where most tables have seats facing each other, he’ll somehow find the singular table with chairs side by side.
if you wake up later than him, clingy!aizawa slows his morning routine down just a little. he’ll wait until he hears the familiar rustle of sheets and your footsteps down the hall before meeting you in the bathroom to brush your teeth together. subconsciously, he’ll lean his weight toward you before spitting out his toothpaste and grumbling that he’ll make breakfast.
when your grocery trip takes longer than usual, clingy!aizawa’s knees start bouncing absentmindedly, his lip caught between his teeth. but the second he hears keys slide into the lock, he stops immediately and moves to help you carry the far-too-many bags you’ve brought home.
clingy!aizawa claims he doesn’t care much for a kiss on the cheek before leaving for work. he especially says he doesn’t like it when you pack him lunch. it’s “too domestic,” according to him. still, he can’t help the way his body relaxes afterward, or how the rest of his day feels just a little brighter even when his students are causing more trouble than usual.
and no matter how much he complains, clingy!aizawa can’t actually bring himself to hate when your freezing feet rest on his lap. he’ll grumble about it, sure, but the moment you feel bad and try to pull them away, his hand grabs your ankle and pushes them right back where they were.
still, clingy!aizawa is only human. when he comes back from his nightly patrols, he’ll shower before quietly slipping into bed beside your sleeping form. his hands find your stomach automatically, his body curling close to your warmth.
you’d never know it, though. clingy!aizawa always wakes earlier than you to get ready for the day. but there are expectations on the rare mornings when he sleeps through his alarm.
on those lucky days, you can finally see just how much clingy!aizawa loves you. his head tucked into your neck, legs tangled with yours like a ball of yarn. he’s holding you tighter than he ever would while awake.
and, much to your amusement, you pretend to stay asleep when clingy!aizawa finally stirs muttering under his breath as he realizes he’s probably going to be late.
and the cherry on top is the soft way clingy!aizawa’s lips meet your forehead just as he leaves the bed.
—MHA men reactions to you getting jealous over a fan flirting with them! PT.2
დ .•*”Summary: a fan flirts with your man and you can’t help the jealousy! And some can’t even help but enjoy your jealousy.
˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳ ꒰Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x F!reader ; Shouta Aizawa x f!reader ; Takami Keigo x f!reader ; Enji Todoroki x f!reader
ೃ࿔₊•Tags: Cute ; Jealousy ; Aged!up ; Relationship ; Reassurance ; Loving
∞:｡.｡ Word-count: I think about 8-9k!
꒷‧₊˚A/N: Okay it seems like yall gobbled the last one up WAY too quick in only a day so I thought ‘why not make a part two?’ And here I am, working OVERTIME. Enjoy and love you guys and I wanted to thank you all for the support I’ve gotten over the last few months!
Part 1!!!
Shoto Todoroki — “You Didn’t Have to Worry”
Shoto always insisted he didn’t need a bodyguard, a chauffeur, or a special entrance just because he was a top hero. That was why he still walked home from missions if he wasn’t too exhausted. And today was one of those days — except he wasn’t alone.
You were at his side, fingers loosely interlocked with his. It was late afternoon, the sun throwing soft colors over the sidewalk. Shoto had his hood up, but even that wasn’t enough to hide his unmistakable hair. People whispered as they passed. Some waved. Some stared. Some gathered the courage to approach.
You were used to it.
But today… one particular girl made something ugly twist in your stomach.
“Shoto? Shoto Todoroki?” she squeaked, stepping in front of both of you. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Pretty, too — the type who probably grew up cutting his posters out of magazines. “I’m such a huge fan! I’ve followed you since U.A.!”
Shoto gave a polite, gentle smile — the one he saved for kids and elderly people.
“Thank you. That’s kind of you.”
But her eyes slid past you like you were invisible.
“Oh my god, can I take a picture? Please? You look even better in person.”
She giggled, stepping closer.
“Actually… wait, can I have one without—”
She didn’t finish.
She didn’t need to.
Your hand slipped from Shoto’s before you could stop it.
He felt it immediately.
But the girl didn’t notice as she leaned closer again. “Also, um…” She tucked her hair behind her ear — obviously flirting. “Do you… have someone? Because I’d love to—”
“He does,” you cut sharply.
It slipped out too fast, too sharp.
The girl blinked at you as if noticing you for the first time.
“Oh,” she said flatly. “Are you… like… his assistant?”
Your chest tightened.
Shoto’s eyes widened with offense.
“No,” he said instantly, voice low with that dangerous softness you’d only heard a few times. “She’s my lover.”
The girl deflated.
“Oh… well… lucky you,” she muttered before walking away, clearly irritated she didn’t get a private moment with him.
Shoto watched her go, then turned back to you — but you were already walking ahead.
You weren’t angry. But your throat felt tight, and your heart embarrassed itself by hurting more than it should.
You hated that it got to you.
Hated that Shoto had to see it.
Hated that a stranger had shaken something inside you that you thought was solid.
You kept walking. Quietly. Too quietly.
Shoto followed at your pace, but he didn’t take your hand again — not without permission. He stayed close though, shoulder brushing yours.
“Y/N,” he said finally, soft as warm steam. “Talk to me.”
You didn’t answer.
Not because you wanted to punish him — you simply… didn’t trust your own voice.
He tried again, gentler.
“Are you upset?”
Your eyes stung.
“I’m not upset.”
A pause.
“I’m just— forget it. It’s stupid.”
Shoto stopped walking entirely.
“So it hurts,” he said quietly.
And somehow, that broke you faster than anything.
You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It just… sucks, okay? She acted like I wasn’t even there. Like you couldn’t possibly be with someone like me. And you’re— you’re you. You can have anyone.”
Shoto stared at you, stunned — like someone had told him the sky wasn’t actually blue.
Then his jaw tightened.
And he gently took your wrist, pulling you back toward him.
“Y/N.”
His voice was so steady it made your breath catch.
“Don’t ever say I can have ‘anyone.’ I don’t want anyone.”
His mismatched eyes softened in that way that was only for you.
“I want you.”
You swallowed hard.
“Shoto—”
“You think I didn’t notice you pull your hand away?” he added softly. “You think I didn’t notice the way your shoulders dropped the moment she ignored you? I notice everything when it comes to you.”
Your chest tightened.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t apologize.”
He stepped closer, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you in with quiet, deliberate certainty.
“I don’t think you’re insecure. I think you’re human.”
Your lips parted.
His forehead touched yours.
“And if someone ever talks over you again,” he murmured, “I’ll walk away with you immediately. I’m not interested in making strangers happy.”
You sniffed, just once.
“Really?”
He gave a tiny, almost shy smile.
“You’re the person I love. Not them.”
Your cheeks heated — because Shoto rarely said it aloud unless he meant it with his entire chest.
He lifted your hand and threaded his fingers through yours again, squeezing gently.
“I like when you hold my hand,” he said. “I miss it when you stop.”
You let out a breathy laugh despite the sting in your eyes.
He tilted his head.
“Walk with me? I’d like to finish going home holding you.”
So you nodded.
And when you wrapped your hand around his again, he exhaled — like that simple gesture put the world back into place.
As you walked again, he leaned closer and whispered:
“Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever feel jealous again… tell me.”
He smiled softly.
“I like knowing you care.”
Your face heated. “Shoto!”
He kissed your cheek — a soft, warm brush that made your chest flip.
“I mean it,” he said. “But next time… let me pull you closer instead.”
Your heart nearly stopped.
And he kept you close the whole walk home — fingers tight in yours, steps matching yours perfectly, as if to say without words:
You never had anything to worry about.
Not with me.
Not ever.
Aizawa Shouta— “You Don’t Have to Compete”
Aizawa hated grocery shopping.
He didn’t complain about it — he just sighed the whole time, pushed the cart like it personally offended him, and muttered about how people needed to learn how to walk in a straight line.
But he still went with you.
Because you asked him to.
You were halfway through the produce section, debating which apples were the firmest, when a voice cut in — bright, loud, and way too excited for this hour of the morning.
“Aizawa-sensei?! No way!”
You turned — and there she was. Early twenties. Big eyes. Holding a fitness smoothie like she was in a commercial. Wearing a UA sweater that was definitely on purpose.
Aizawa blinked at her once.
Great. A fan.
You stepped a little closer to him — instinctively — but she didn’t notice.
“Oh my god, it really is you! You saved my cousin’s best friend’s boyfriend like two years ago! I’m such a huge fan!”
Aizawa gave his usual public reply: polite, quiet, neutral.
“…Glad he’s doing well.”
But the girl… stepped closer. Too close.
She leaned in with a bright smile.
“You’re even more handsome in real life. Wow. Do you mind if we take a picture together? Just us?”
You stiffened.
Just us.
Aizawa’s brow twitched — only slightly — but enough that you noticed.
“Actually,” he said slowly, “I’m busy right now.”
“Oh, it won’t take a second!” she insisted, reaching for her phone. “And maybe afterward you could give me your number? Just for… emergencies.”
She giggled.
You felt your stomach twist.
You knew he wouldn’t give her anything.
You knew he wasn’t interested.
But watching someone ignore your existence while openly flirting with your partner?
It still… stung.
You kept your voice calm, polite.
“He’s with someone.”
Aizawa looked at you sharply — because he heard the shift.
The tightness.
The quiet jealousy underneath.
The girl, however, only frowned at you.
“Oh… right. You’re like, his coworker or something?”
You inhaled, insulted beyond belief.
Aizawa’s eyes narrowed.
“She’s my lover,” he said flatly.
“And I’m not taking a picture with anyone alone.”
The girl blinked — stunned.
“Oh,” she said, trying to smile it off. “Well… okay. Maybe next time?”
“There won’t be a next time,” Aizawa said, dead serious.
You almost choked.
She looked like she wanted to melt through the linoleum.
“R-Right. Um. Have a good day…”
She shuffled off with a strangled laugh and way too much speed.
Aizawa watched her disappear around the cereal aisle, then slowly turned to you.
“Y/N.”
Oh no.
He used his Soft Voice™ — the one that meant he cared and was about to dissect your emotions with uncomfortable accuracy.
You turned away quickly, pretending to examine apples again.
“Are you upset?” he asked.
“No,” you said too fast.
He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of him even through his capture weapon.
“Y/N.”
You kept your eyes on the apples.
“You’re a top pro hero. People flirt with you. It’s whatever.”
“That girl wasn’t flirting,” he said dryly.
“She was delusional.”
You snorted — couldn’t help it. But the tightness in your chest stayed.
You mumbled, “She didn’t even see me.”
Aizawa stared at you for a long moment.
Then he reached over, plucked the apple from your hand, dropped it in the cart, and gently hooked a finger under your chin so you’d look at him.
You froze.
His voice dropped to a quiet, gravel-soft whisper.
“Y/N. You don’t seriously think I’d entertain that, do you?”
“No,” you said softly. “I just… didn’t like it.”
He hummed thoughtfully, then leaned down — just enough that his forehead brushed yours.
“It bothered you,” he muttered.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
Your voice cracked a little.
“I didn’t want to seem insecure.”
“You’re not insecure,” he said immediately.
“You’re protective. There’s a difference.”
You blinked up at him.
“And,” he added, thumb brushing your jaw, “I like when you’re protective.”
Your face heated.
Aizawa smirked — only a tiny one, but enough to flip your heart.
“Let me be clear,” he continued quietly. “I don’t care how anyone else looks at me. I care how you look at me. You’re the only person I’m coming home with.”
You swallowed.
“Really?”
He gave you the driest stare imaginable.
“Y/N. I’m thirty-four. I don’t have the energy to flirt with random people in supermarkets.”
You burst into a laugh — loud enough that a grandma picking tomatoes looked over.
Aizawa’s lips twitched in satisfaction.
Then he did something that shocked you even more — he slid his hand around your waist, pulled you close, and kissed your temple in public.
In. Public.
Aizawa Shouta.
Affectionate.
In a grocery store.
Your brain blue-screened.
He murmured against your hair, “If it happens again, tell me. I’d rather deal with your jealousy than let you stand there feeling small.”
“I didn’t feel small…” you muttered weakly.
He leaned back enough to raise a brow.
“Y/N. You looked like you wanted to beat her with a cucumber.”
You covered your face. “Shouta!”
He gently pulled your hands down.
“I’m proud you said something,” he said softly. “I want you to speak up. You never have to compete with anyone.”
You looked at him — really looked — and your chest warmed so deeply it almost hurt.
“…Thank you.”
He kissed your forehead again — slower this time.
“Come on,” he said, voice fond. “Let’s finish shopping so I can take you home.”
You smirked.
“Because you love me?”
He grumbled, pushing the cart again.
“No. Because I hate grocery stores.”
You laughed — and he smirked because you were laughing again.
But as you walked, he reached over and threaded his fingers through yours, making sure everyone could see.
Just in case any delusional fans were still lurking by the yogurt.
Keigo Takami — “Say the Word and I’ll Carry You Out of Here”
You should’ve known taking Hawks anywhere in public would cause problems.
Especially the mall.
He wore a simple black hoodie, hair tied back, sunglasses on — the whole incognito package — but it didn’t matter.
Wings like his were impossible to hide.
Even tucked tight, bright red feathers peeked out, drawing attention like fireworks in a library.
You only wanted to buy new skin care.
Maybe get a smoothie.
But the universe said: No. You’re dating Keigo Takami. Have fun.
It started fine — hand in hand, walking through the cosmetic section. Hawks had been teasing you nonstop.
“You sure you need more lip balm, baby? Your lips already look pretty soft… Wanna test them on me?”
“Keigo. We’re in public.”
“So? I can be discreet.”
“You cannot.”
He grinned, ready to say something else stupid and wonderful — but then a woman’s gasp cut through the air.
“Oh my GOD. Are you— are you Hawks?!”
You internally groaned.
Here we go.
Hawks gave his public smile: flirty, playful, just polite enough.
“Aw, you caught me. The glasses didn’t work, huh?”
The woman looked about your age — dressed cute, makeup perfect, and eyes glued to him like he was the sun and she forgot sunscreen.
She stepped closer than necessary.
“I can’t believe it! You’re even more handsome in person,” she gushed. “Do you — um — do you take pictures with fans?”
Keigo opened his mouth to say yes — he always said yes — but then she leaned in and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“You can put your arm around me if you want.”
Your stomach dropped.
You stood right next to him.
Holding a shopping bag.
Very much visible.
But she didn’t even bother to look at you.
Keigo noticed instantly.
His feathers rustled — subtly — the way they always did when something irritated him.
He kept his smile, but it tightened.
“Well,” he said lightly, “I don’t really do solo pictures when I’m out with my girl.”
Her smile faltered.
“Oh,” she said. “I thought she was like… your assistant or something.”
You blinked.
Your jaw clenched.
And you felt the heat rise in your chest — jealousy, irritation, the sting of being dismissed like background noise.
Keigo saw it.
He felt it.
His wing curled behind you, feather-light but unmistakably possessive, brushing your back in a way that looked accidental to anyone else.
You stayed quiet — but your eyes had gone sharp.
The fan’s gaze flicked to you with a bored once-over, then back to him.
“Well… maybe you can just step aside for a second?” she asked hopefully.
“I really want one of those photos.”
“Oh?” Keigo hummed. “Do you?”
She nodded eagerly.
He tilted his head.
Smiled lazily.
And said:
“No.”
The girl flinched.
“No?” she repeated, shocked.
“Nope,” he said sweetly. “Not happening.”
“But— why?”
Keigo lifted one wing slightly, creating a soft red shield around you — subtle, protective, a little smug.
“Because my girl’s standing right here.”
His voice dipped, flirtatious but firm.
“And I don’t take pictures with people who can’t even respect her.”
The girl went red — whether from embarrassment or anger, you weren’t sure.
“Well, excuse me. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she snapped.
Keigo smiled — the dangerous one.
“Then maybe lead with that next time.”
The woman muttered something under her breath and stormed off.
You let out the breath you’d been holding.
Keigo immediately turned to you, sunglasses sliding down just enough for you to see his eyes — golden, sharp, studying you with concern.
“Baby.”
You pretended to look at a display of face masks.
“Don’t baby me.”
“Ohhh, you’re jealous,” he said instantly, sounding delighted.
You froze.
“Am not.”
“Are so.”
“Keigo—”
He stepped in front of you, wings partially spreading to block the aisle like a big dramatic feathered fence.
“Y/N.”
You avoided his eyes.
He leaned down, whispering against your ear, voice soft and sinful.
“You think I didn’t notice the way you clenched your fist? Or how your breathing changed? I feel the air move around you. I hear everything.”
You hated how your face warmed.
“Keigo…”
He caught your chin gently, lifting your face to his.
“Talk to me, pretty girl.”
You exhaled shakily.
“I just didn’t like the way she acted. Like I wasn’t even there.”
His expression softened — drastically.
He cupped your cheek, thumb warm and gentle.
“Baby… you don’t have to pretend that didn’t hurt.”
You swallowed.
“It did.”
He leaned his forehead to yours — slow, intimate, grounding.
“She saw me,” he murmured.
“But she didn’t see you. That’s her loss. Not yours.”
You blinked fast.
“Still,” you whispered. “She was really pretty.”
His brow shot up.
“Okay, one— don’t compare yourself to strangers. Two—” he leaned back and gave you the most offended look possible— “you think I haven’t seen a pretty face before?”
You stared at him.
“You think I care about that?” he continued, voice dropping lower.
“You’re the one who gets my real smile. My real voice. My home. My feathers. My stupid jokes. My mornings. My everything.”
Your chest tightened.
He brushed a knuckle along your jaw.
“You think some random girl at Sephora matters to me?”
You looked away.
He gently turned your face back.
“Look at me, Y/N.”
You swallowed and met his gaze.
Keigo smiled — soft, warm, devastatingly sincere.
“I choose you,” he said.
“Every day. Every hour. Every damn minute.”
Your lips parted.
“And if you ever feel jealous,” he added, tapping your chin lightly, “tell me. Don’t swallow it. I’m yours. If someone makes you uncomfortable, I’ll walk away. I’ll fly us out of the building. I’ll shut the whole mall down if that’s what it takes.”
You laughed — finally — and his wings relaxed with relief.
“There she is,” he whispered.
“My girl.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re dramatic.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “I’m Hawks.”
Then he leaned down, kissed you — right there between lip balms and highlighters — soft at first, then deeper when you curled your fingers into his hoodie.
When he pulled back, he smirked.
“Feel better?”
You glared playfully.
“A little.”
“Only a little? Damn. Guess I’ll have to try harder.”
Before you could respond, he slipped an arm around your waist and started walking.
“Where are we going?” you asked.
“To buy you something,” he said casually.
“You deserve a pick-me-up after dealing with delusional fan behavior.”
You snorted.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
He looked at you like you were insane.
“She flirted with me in front of you,” he said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest.
“That’s a crime in all seven prefectures. Look it up.”
You shoved him lightly.
He grinned, feathers fluffing happily.
As you walked, he kept you tucked under his wing — warm, protective, unmistakably his.
And every so often, he glanced down at you with a smile that said:
Mine. Always.
Enji Todoroki — “Say It Clearly, Before I Overthink It”
You always knew dating Enji Todoroki came with attention.
People stared.
People whispered.
People approached him even when he clearly didn’t want them to.
But he usually handled it with that strangely calm, reformed patience he developed over the years.
You were used to it.
Except today.
Today you were not fine.
It was supposed to be simple — grabbing lunch at a quiet, high-end café Enji liked because “the seating is wide enough for my shoulders.”
You had just sat down when a woman — tall, elegant, hair styled perfectly — approached your table.
And worst of all:
She completely ignored your existence.
“Oh my goodness— you’re Endeavor, aren’t you?” she said breathlessly.
Her voice even sounded like diamonds.
Enji stiffened.
Like always.
“Yes,” he said blandly. “Good afternoon.”
She leaned closer to him with a smile you instantly disliked.
“I’ve been a fan of yours since I was a teenager. You look… so much younger in person.”
Enji blinked.
“Ah.”
“You must get that a lot,” she added, resting a manicured hand on the edge of your table.
“But I really mean it. You’re very— intimidatingly handsome.”
You stared.
Intimidatingly handsome?
Really?
Enji, to his credit, did not react.
He simply shifted his massive shoulders and said:
“Thank you. My girlfriend and I are eating.”
“Oh!” she said, pretending to notice you for the first time.
Then giving you a tiny fake smile.
“You’re… with him?”
You felt your eye twitch.
“Yes,” you said tightly. “I am.”
Her eyes slid right back to Enji.
“Well… if you ever do fan photos, I’d love a picture. I know you must be very strong. Do you— train often?”
Enji tried very hard to understand the question.
You could see the way his eyebrows dipped.
He had the expression of a large dog hearing a strange noise.
“I am a pro hero,” he said slowly.
“So… yes?”
You nearly groaned.
She laughed and leaned even closer to him.
“Maybe someday you can show me a few moves,” she said lowly.
That was it.
You stood up a little too fast.
Enji’s head snapped toward you immediately.
“Y/N?”
His deep voice was full of concern.
You forced a tight smile.
“I’m just going to wash my hands.”
You walked off before either of them could say anything else.
________________________________
You splash cold water on your face.
Staring at your reflection, you feel ridiculous.
Jealous.
Over a flirtatious fan.
Over something you should be used to.
But the way she leaned toward him—
The way she ignored you—
The way Enji answered with those stiff, polite sentences —
It stung more than you expected.
Maybe because you loved him more than you expected.
Maybe because Enji didn’t flirt — he didn’t know how — so sometimes it was hard to tell what he was feeling.
Maybe because she was tall and gorgeous and confident and—
“Y/N.”
His voice behind you makes you jump.
You look up in the mirror.
Enji towers in the doorway, shoulders nearly blocking the frame, eyes narrowed in worry.
“Are you unwell?”
You dry your hands.
“I’m fine.”
He stares.
“No,” he says simply. “You’re not.”
You sigh.
“I just needed a second.”
Enji steps inside but keeps distance, like he’s afraid of crowding you.
He always does that when you feel overwhelmed.
It’s weirdly considerate for such a massive man.
“Did something happen?” he asks slowly.
“Was it the woman?”
You tense.
“Well,” you mutter, “she was flirting with you.”
“She was?” he asks, genuinely confused.
You turn fully toward him.
“Enji. She might as well have climbed into your lap.”
He frowns hard, thinking back.
“I didn’t… interpret her comments that way.”
Of course he didn’t.
You drag a hand down your face.
“She complimented your looks, your body, asked if you train often, said you’re intimidatingly handsome—”
He blinks.
Waits.
Processes.
“…Those are flirtatious?”
You stare at him.
“YES.”
He stands frozen, broad shoulders stiff.
“But I told her I was with you.”
You swallow.
“I know. But she ignored me. Completely. And you just— responded. Like you didn’t even notice.”
Enji breathes in deeply.
And takes one slow, heavy step toward you.
His voice rumbles low.
“Y/N.”
You meet his eyes.
“Come here.”
He says it gently — which is rare for him — so you step closer.
He places a hand on your waist, big palm spreading heat through your skin.
“You think I would entertain another woman?” he asks quietly.
“No,” you admit.
“I just hated the way she talked to you. And the way she looked at you. And— and how you didn’t seem bothered by it.”
His brows soften.
“I wasn’t bothered because I wasn’t interested,” he says.
“I don’t… respond to those things. I don’t even notice them.”
He hesitates.
“But I noticed you leave.”
You swallow.
“I was jealous,” you whisper, “okay?”
Enji’s breath catches — very faint, but you hear it.
He lowers his head a little, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse jump.
“Jealous,” he repeats.
“You were jealous over me?”
You try to pull back.
He gently pulls you closer instead.
“No,” you groan. “Forget I said it.”
He shakes his head.
“No. Say it again.”
His thumb brushes your hip, slow and warm.
“Enji—”
“Say it,” he rumbles.
“So I know it clearly. So I don’t misunderstand.”
Your chest tightens.
“I was jealous.”
The words leave your lips small and ashamed.
But Enji…
Enji looks like something has punched the air out of him.
His jaw flexes.
His pupils dilate.
He breathes deeper.
“You…”
Another breath.
“You were jealous because a woman flirted with me.”
“Yes,” you whisper.
Suddenly he moves — not fast, but deliberate — placing both hands on your waist and lifting you just slightly so your feet slide closer between his.
His voice is low.
“Good.”
You freeze.
“G—good?!”
He nods, forehead nearly touching yours.
“Yes. It means you care.”
Your ears burn.
“I care,” you say quietly.
“Obviously.”
His chest rises with another deep breath.
Then, slowly, he rests his forehead against yours — a rare show of vulnerability for a man like him.
“I don’t want anyone else,” he murmurs.
“Ever.”
Your breath stops.
His hand cups your lower back.
“You are the one I come home to,” he says.
“The one I think about. The one I want beside me. I may not talk like other men, but understand this: I choose you.”
Your eyes sting at the sincerity.
“And if someone disrespects you again,” he adds, “tell me. I will remove us from the situation. Immediately.”
You laugh softly.
“You’d just… pick me up and carry me out?”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“I’ve done it before.”
True.
He had.
You sigh and lean into him, resting your head against his chest.
He wraps those massive arms around you slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile and precious.
After a moment, he speaks again.
Quiet.
“If you want me to handle flirting differently… tell me how.”
You blink.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t understand subtle signals,” he admits.
“I only understand what you say directly. So if it bothers you… say so.”
Your chest warms.
“That’s why I love you, Enji,” you whisper.
“You’re honest.”
He holds your face gently between his palms.
“I am only honest for you.”
He presses a kiss to your temple — rare, soft, and full of emotion he can’t express with words.
“Let’s finish lunch,” he says quietly.
“I will sit closer. So there is no doubt that you are with me.”
You smile.
“Okay.”
“And if another person flirts,” he adds, eyes narrowing…
“I will make it very clear that I belong to you.”
You blush so hard he smirks — actually smirks — and leads you out of the bathroom with a warm, steady hand at your back.
"can you just try?" your boyfriend gruffs, his tone gentle as he folds his arms. sitting across from you at a quiet cafe, his fingers lightly caress the back of your hand, sending a flutter through your chest. he's asking you— again— to order for yourself, just this once. he promised, "it'll feel good, trust me," but the thought of speaking up sends a shiver down your spine. you can't even remember the last time you asked for something from anyone.
"yeah, but it's their job to serve you..." he grunted with a tiny chuckle when you'd told him this the last time.
"i know, but i still feel bad..!" you muttered, twisting the hem of your maxi skirt around your fingers. he had grinned, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and let it go.
until now, of course.
he remembers when you were rambling to him one night, frustrated with how you could never speak up for yourself in any situation. you'd felt like a loser. (you are, but he refrained from saying so at the moment hehe)
"just try." he repeats, offering a rare, almost tender smile. you nod, a tiny smile pulling at your lips in response. the waitress comes back, notepad in hand as she asks for your orders, starting with your boyfriend.
"mapu tofu— please." he says, closing his menu with a small nod as she takes it from him.
she smiles, turning her attention to you. your gaze drops back to the menu, but it feels like you’re studying it for the first time. “what would you like?” she hums.
"umm," you mumble breathily. you blink at the many food choices, even though you already know what you want.
"i'll have the.. kimbap, please." you speak lowly, your voice quiet and tentative. your hands cling to the fabric of your skirt, shoulders slightly hunched as you unintentionally try to make yourself smaller.
the waitress leans in slightly, smiling sweetly. "i'm sorry, what was that?"
you feel them both watching you and shrivel in your seat. you inhale sharply, looking up to meet the waitress's gaze before quickly looking back down. "kimbap." you repeat, your voice a little steadier now, though your nerves still tangle in your chest.
she nods, jotting it down before walking away, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. you can't help but feel a little proud of yourself.
"jesus christ, felt like i was catching your introvertness." your boyfriend teases.
"shut up," you giggle, sliding your drink towards you.
"wasn't so bad, right?"
you shake your head, taking a sip of your drink as if it might help calm your racing heart.
"told ya so." he smirks, nudging your foot with his under the table
bakugou, aizawa, toji, zuko, eren, kuroo, + your favs !
eraser head reads… thirst tweets?
Series Masterlist
summary: pro-hero eraser head is invited to read some tweets from his fans, but they are not ordinary tweets;
warnings: suggestive language, cursing, implied sexual content, mdni;
wc: 1k
a/n: hope you like it guys! reblogs, comments and likes are always welcomed!
The camera light blinks on.
Shota Aizawa— known as the Pro-Hero Eraser Head— sits slouched in his chair, scarf draped loosely around his shoulders, hair kept as usual.
His eyes scan the studio for a second, then turn towards the camera.
“…Eraser Here,” he says simply, voice low and tired. “Apparently, I was invitied to read… fan tweets.”
The producer clears their throat.
“Thirst tweets, actually.”
Aizawa lets out a deep sigh.
A staff member approaches him with a stack of boards.
He takes them without much interest, glancing down at the first one.
“am i boring? do i bore you?”
aizawa’s lips twist into repulsion. displeasure reads so clearly on his face. “why would you bore me? what made you ask that?”
“it’s just—“ you sound like a teenager whining to their not quite boyfriend. “we go on dates, but we barely say a word. we hold hands, you stand so close, you keep looking at my face for some reason, but we can barely hold a conversation.”
“so you think i think you’re boring because we don’t say much?”
your nod is meek.
“i’m quiet. you’re also quiet. as quiet people, we both know very well we don’t need to fill every second with noise.” aizawa’s hand inches towards yours on the cafe table. “but i also see what you mean. i don’t mean to make you feel insecure with my silence. no, you don’t bore me.”
your hand reaches his, finger tips brushing one another. his hands look better today. no cuts or broken cuticles; nails trimmed and nicely rounded. did he take your advice to file them rather than cut?
“thank you. thank you. that makes me feel better.” your head is bowed, lips slightly jutting out. “but i’d like to talk more. we spend so much time together, but i still feel like i don’t know you.”
in a smaller voice, barely there, the cursed words leave you: “i want to know you.”
aizawa laces his fingers with yours, giving a tight squeeze.
“what do you want to know?”
masterlist
Hai, could you make pervert Aizawa but not pervert stalker but touchy pervert, pretty please with a cherry on top
Touchy Pervert Aizawa
nsfw
Aizawa who is really overly touchy for someone as aloof as him. But specifically touchy with you. Only with you. It’s been like this pretty much since you’d met him, though it did take him a little time to work up to where he is now. How comfortable he is. And truly it’s a miracle he’s getting away with it, because surely you’d be repulsed by literally anyone else doing it.
Aizawa who will playfully wrap you up in his capture weapon, though it’s a rare event. Seeing you, “struggling” against it, trying to free yourself, really turns him on. He imagines having you tied up in his bed, having his way with you. The sounds you’d make for him, begging for him to fasten his pace, to go harder, all while you struggle to take him.
Aizawa who’s very unaware of the fact you actually like his sly touches. When he’s protectively wrapped an arm around you, but his hand just so happens to be right on your ass. He’s unaware of the fact you’re consciously leaning into his touch, arching your back just a bit more so he can really get a handful. He’s unaware that every squeeze he gives you makes the heat between your thighs so much worse. There's been more than one occasion of him waking up, with his pillow clenched in his hand all because he’d been dreaming about getting a handful of you all over again.
Aizawa who’ll pull you slightly onto his lap when you’re out drinking with your friends. Your ass is pressed against his lap; one of his legs between your own, his dick getting just the right amount of attention from you, the pressure of your weight pushing down on it; making it almost impossible to not blow his load then and there. He’ll subtly bounce the leg you’re sat upon, angling the two of you so that it’s rubbing right against your clit. The breathy whimpers leaving your mouth are killing him.
Aizawa who’ll lean in way too close for comfort. Your senses are completely fried, the only thing you can even recognise is the scent of the cologne he’s wearing. And god it smells good. He’d specifically picked it out after having Midnight ask you about it; best wing woman out there. That's not entirely why he did it though. Sure, he also had Midnight ask about the type of perfume you used, had her ask for the specific brand and scent, just so he could buy a bottle for his own personal use. Though it didn’t stop him from needing to smell it mixed with your own natural scent. Nothing can ever beat the real thing.
Aizawa who absolutely tackled you to the ground during missions, for safety of course. Though he’ll do it even when it’s not entirely necessary, the blast could be rooms away and he’ll still do it “just in case” It gives him the perfect excuse to feel you up, to rub himself on you. And you’d be none the wiser, purely thinking he’s doing it because he’s worried for your safety. He’s got no clue you know better.
Aizawa who’s the first person to volunteer to drive you home. With help from midnight of course, you don’t even notice the glare she gives everyone in the room the second you announce you’re heading out for the night. He’s the only one that gets to enjoy you. The entire ride is spent with his hand on your thigh, giving squeezes whenever he sees fit, preferably during turns where he likes to try and play it off as simple reflexes. He’s hoping you're tired enough to not notice the way his hand will slowly inch closer to your core. And you do notice, but why would you say anything? If he’s feeling especially bold, and of course your clothing choice permits it, he’ll slide a finger or two in, simply letting them hook onto the clothing and rest there. It’s nothing crazy, but to him it feels so intimate to be so close.