—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!
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.
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—”
Your hand slipped from Shoto’s before you could stop it.
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?”
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.”
“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.”
Not because you wanted to punish him — you simply… didn’t trust your own voice.
“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.
And he gently took your wrist, pulling you back toward him.
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.
“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.”
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.”
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.”
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.
“Walk with me? I’d like to finish going home holding you.”
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:
“If you ever feel jealous again… tell me.”
“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.
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.
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.
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?”
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.”
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?
You kept your voice calm, polite.
Aizawa looked at you sharply — because he heard the shift.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of him even through his capture weapon.
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.
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.
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.”
“And,” he added, thumb brushing your jaw, “I like when you’re protective.”
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.”
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.
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.
He kissed your forehead again — slower this time.
“Come on,” he said, voice fond. “Let’s finish shopping so I can take you home.”
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.
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.
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.”
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?!”
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.”
You stood right next to him.
But she didn’t even bother to look at you.
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.”
“Oh,” she said. “I thought she was like… your assistant or something.”
And you felt the heat rise in your chest — jealousy, irritation, the sting of being dismissed like background noise.
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?”
“No?” she repeated, shocked.
“Nope,” he said sweetly. “Not happening.”
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.
You pretended to look at a display of face masks.
“Ohhh, you’re jealous,” he said instantly, sounding delighted.
He stepped in front of you, wings partially spreading to block the aisle like a big dramatic feathered fence.
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.
He caught your chin gently, lifting your face to his.
“Talk to me, pretty girl.”
“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.”
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.”
“Still,” you whispered. “She was really pretty.”
“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 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.”
He brushed a knuckle along your jaw.
“You think some random girl at Sephora matters to me?”
He gently turned your face back.
You swallowed and met his gaze.
Keigo smiled — soft, warm, devastatingly sincere.
“Every day. Every hour. Every damn minute.”
“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.
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.
“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.”
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.”
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:
Enji Todoroki — “Say It Clearly, Before I Overthink It”
You always knew dating Enji Todoroki came with attention.
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.
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.
She completely ignored your existence.
“Oh my goodness— you’re Endeavor, aren’t you?” she said breathlessly.
Her voice even sounded like diamonds.
“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.”
“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.”
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 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.
She laughed and leaned even closer to him.
“Maybe someday you can show me a few moves,” she said lowly.
You stood up a little too fast.
Enji’s head snapped toward you immediately.
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.
Over something you should be used to.
But the way she leaned toward him—
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—
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.
“No,” he says simply. “You’re not.”
“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.
“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.”
You drag a hand down your face.
“She complimented your looks, your body, asked if you train often, said you’re intimidatingly handsome—”
“…Those are flirtatious?”
He stands frozen, broad shoulders stiff.
“But I told her I was with you.”
“I know. But she ignored me. Completely. And you just— responded. Like you didn’t even notice.”
And takes one slow, heavy step toward you.
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.
“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.”
“I wasn’t bothered because I wasn’t interested,” he says.
“I don’t… respond to those things. I don’t even notice them.”
“But I noticed you leave.”
“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.
“You were jealous over me?”
He gently pulls you closer instead.
“No,” you groan. “Forget I said it.”
His thumb brushes your hip, slow and warm.
“So I know it clearly. So I don’t misunderstand.”
The words leave your lips small and ashamed.
Enji looks like something has punched the air out of him.
“You were jealous because a woman flirted with me.”
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.
He nods, forehead nearly touching yours.
“Yes. It means you care.”
“I care,” you say quietly.
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.
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’d just… pick me up and carry me out?”
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.
“If you want me to handle flirting differently… tell me how.”
“I don’t understand subtle signals,” he admits.
“I only understand what you say directly. So if it bothers you… say so.”
“That’s why I love you, Enji,” you whisper.
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.”
“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.
