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‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ shota aizawa ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
- word count: 3043 -
RECENTLY, aizawa-sensei has been keeping a lingering eye on you. when you train with all might and work physically with your quirk, he can't seem to keep his eyes off of you. not to mention the small touches he manages to leave on your body while in class.
when he needs to walk past you in the hallway, he'll place his hand on the small of your back and guide himself past you. when you do a good job on an assignment, he'll place his hand on your shoulder, make direct eye contact with you and tell you what a good student you are. when he hands you a piece of paper, his fingers will lightly brush yours and you can't help but blush.
you had grown to fall in love with your teacher and everything he did. it didn't help that you had always been an eraserhead fan, even though he wasn't as popular as some of the other mainstream heroes. you always idolized him because he had a stereotypical villain quirk, yet still stayed a hero.
you adored him.
it had all gotten to be too much for you at this point. you were undoubtedly in love with the man and you were sure he had feelings for you too.
and that is what had led you to be standing in front of his dorm door at two o'clock in the morning. you fiddled with the bottom hem of your oversized t-shirt, contemplating knocking on the wooden door. you swallowed thickly, shuddering as a cool breeze hit your exposed legs.
you inhaled deeply, biting the bullet and knocking on his door twice. even though the sound was soft, you could hear some shuffling on the other side. everyone knows that aizawa has trouble sleeping, so you knew he would be awake at this hour.
you were a nervous wreck, sweating from every crevice of your body as you stared at the door. there was some more movement from the other side before the door slowly opened. everyone else was fast asleep in their dorms; nothing could go wrong, right?
a tired-looking mr. aizawa stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob while the other rubbed the sleep from his eyes. his hair was up in a bun, some shorter strands having fallen in his face. he looked so good, tired eyes and all.
once his eyes met yours, he gulped, looking at you up and down as you stood outside his doorway. you were just in pajama shorts and a shirt, but it was very obvious that you weren't wearing a bra, and most likely not wearing underwear either.
"h-hello, y/n. what can i do for you?" he asked, his voice rough with lack of sleep. your heart fluttered at the sound of his low voice, clenching your fists at your sides as you looked up at him.
