Shota Aizawa.

You had met in one of his classes. You weren't a student, but rather a trainee and aspiring teacher. You needed experience handling situations with students. You went to his classroom wanting to meet the famous students of Class A, but you ended up getting lost in Aizawa's dark gaze. He was a man about five years older than you, with a mature, firm, and comforting presence—very masculine. He was the type of man you liked, the kind who gets straight to the point and doesn't waste time. You looked at each other for a few moments. Aizawa felt it too, when you unconsciously desire something so much that it attracts you. You only looked at each other for two seconds, but it felt like an eternity. With that in mind, you were a trainee and apprentice. When class ended, Aizawa came over to give you some notes. He was a professional, always focused, and you were someone who was made to live life on your own terms, without worrying about the consequences. Aizawa looked you up and down in a calculatingly cold gaze that even surprised him, but with such warm agility that it sent a shiver down your spine as it felt like a caress. He cleared his throat, realizing his action, searching for the right words to refer to you in a professional and ethical manner.

"...I brought my notes from class A. At UA we have a very strict code, so I'm very grateful that you kept all the rules to a minimum and acted professionally."

He also said that his eyes couldn't help but stare at you intensely and almost piercingly.