Tsuyu Asui | My Hero Academia - Fanart

The humid air of the summer evening clung to everything in the quiet training dojo, a heavy, almost suffocating blanket that seemed to amplify the unspoken tension between them. Tsuyu Asui, her distinctive green hair slicked against her forehead with a sheen of sweat, leaned against a worn wooden beam, the flickering lantern light casting dancing shadows across her face. Her large, expressive eyes, usually so calm and observant, held a restless shimmer, a hint of something deeper, something yearning, as she watched him.

Eraserhead, or Aizawa-sensei as she still habitually, if now hesitantly, thought of him, was meticulously cleaning his capture weapon, his movements economical and precise, yet his gaze, when it occasionally flickered towards her, was anything but. It was a gaze that spoke volumes, a silent conversation that had been building for weeks, perhaps even months, in the stolen moments after intense training sessions, in the hushed hushed hallways between classes, in the shared anxieties of a world constantly on the brink. Tonight, the usual professional distance felt more like a fragile dam, on the verge of breaking.

Tsuyu’s throat felt dry, her tongue instinctively flicking out to moisten her lips, a nervous habit that seemed amplified under his scrutiny. She found herself tracing the intricate patterns of the wooden beam with a fingertip, the rough texture a grounding sensation against the swirling emotions within her. She admired his quiet strength, his unwavering dedication, the way his sharp mind could dissect any villain’s strategy with terrifying efficiency. But tonight, it was the subtle signs of his exhaustion, the slight slump of his shoulders, the faint lines etched around his eyes, that tugged at her heart with an unexpected fierceness. He worked so hard, carried so much weight, and she… she felt an overwhelming desire to offer him solace, something more than just a student’s respect.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, barely audible above the chirping of crickets outside. Aizawa-sensei’s head snapped up, his usually impassive face betraying a flicker of surprise, then something akin to concern. He set down his capture weapon, the clatter against the wooden floor unnervingly loud in the stillness. He walked towards her, his steps measured, his black uniform rustling softly. Each step brought him closer, and with each step, Tsuyu’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

“Tsuyu,” his voice was a low rumble, rough around the edges, like a well-worn stone. “Everything alright?”

She met his gaze, her own wide eyes reflecting the lamplight. “Yes, Sensei,” she managed, her voice a little breathy. The use of his formal title felt awkward now, a vestige of a boundary that was rapidly eroding. She wanted to call him by his name, to acknowledge the man beneath the hero, the teacher.

He stopped just inches away from her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, smell the faint, comforting scent of ink and something uniquely him. He reached out, his calloused fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. The touch was feather-light, yet it sent a jolt of pure sensation through her, her skin tingling where he’d made contact. Her breath hitched.

“You seem… troubled,” he observed, his voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. He didn't pull his hand away immediately, his thumb lingering, tracing the curve of her cheekbone. The unspoken question hung in the air between them, a palpable thing.

Tsuyu swallowed, her gaze dropping to his lips. They were firm, set in a perpetual stern line, but she imagined the softness beneath, the kindness they could convey. “I… I just worry about you, Sensei,” she confessed, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “You push yourself too hard. Everyone notices.”

A shadow crossed his face, a mixture of weariness and something she couldn't quite decipher. “It’s my job, Asui. It’s what I do.”

“But it shouldn’t be everything,” she insisted, her voice gaining a quiet strength. She finally dared to meet his eyes again, her own earnestness shining through. “There are… other things. Things that matter too.” Her gaze drifted down to his chin, the slight stubble a rough texture she longed to feel against her skin. She wanted to smooth away his worries, to offer him comfort, to be the source of something other than duty and stress.

He studied her for a long moment, his normally sharp gaze softened by an intense, searching look. He saw not just the capable student, but the young woman, with her quiet intelligence and her surprising depth of feeling. He saw the unspoken desire, the gentle empathy that radiated from her. And in that moment, the carefully constructed walls between them began to crumble, brick by brick.

He let out a soft, almost defeated sigh. “Perhaps you’re right.” His hand moved from her cheek, his fingers finding the nape of her neck, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. He leaned closer, his gaze never leaving hers, and Tsuyu’s heart soared. This was it. The moment she had both anticipated and feared.

“Tsuyu…” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, “you have a way of… seeing things. Things that most people miss.” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for permission, for a sign that she was truly ready. Her breath hitched, and she nodded, a silent affirmation that sent a wave of palpable relief, and something far more potent, through him.

He closed the remaining distance, his lips brushing hers in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of years of unspoken longing, of shared trials and a nascent, forbidden attraction. Tsuyu’s eyes fluttered shut, her hands instinctively rising to cup his face, her fingers tracing the rough stubble, the strong lines of his jaw. The kiss deepened, his mouth growing more confident, his tongue a gentle exploration against hers. She responded with an eagerness that surprised even herself, her own tongue meeting his, intertwining in a dance of newfound passion.

The rough fabric of his uniform felt coarse against her fingertips as she explored the planes of his chest, her body pressed against his, every inch of contact a revelation. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through her. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies molding together as if they had been made for each other. The kiss became more demanding, more urgent, their breaths mingling, growing ragged and hot.

He broke away, his forehead resting against hers, their chests heaving in unison. “This is… complicated, Tsuyu,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “We shouldn’t be…”

“I know,” she whispered back, her voice trembling. But her gaze held his, and in her eyes, he saw no regret, only a fierce, burning desire that mirrored his own. “But… I want this, Sensei.” The endearment felt both familiar and entirely new on her tongue, laden with a new meaning.

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes dark with a mixture of conflict and surrender. Then, with a decisive nod, he gently led her away from the training equipment, towards the worn tatami mats that lay scattered across the floor. The air in the dojo seemed to crackle with anticipation, the lantern light casting a warm, intimate glow on their faces. He knelt, and she followed suit, their knees touching on the soft mats. The professional distance had vanished completely, replaced by a raw, undeniable intimacy.

His gaze swept over her, taking in the simple training clothes she wore, the way they subtly clung to her curves. A slow smile, one she rarely saw, touched his lips. “You’re incredibly beautiful, Tsuyu.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she averted her gaze, a shy smile playing on her lips. “And you… you’re very strong, Sensei.” The compliment felt inadequate, but it was all she could offer in this moment of overwhelming emotion.

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. Then, his expression turned serious again. He reached for the hem of her shirt, his fingers grazing her skin as he began to lift it. Tsuyu’s breath hitched in her throat. She watched his hands, calloused and strong, as they carefully peeled away her clothes, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath. The dim light played across her form, highlighting the subtle curves of her body, the gentle swell of her breasts. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely empowered by his focused attention.

His gaze lingered on her, appreciative and intense. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her collarbone, then moving lower, his touch eliciting a soft gasp from her. His touch was both gentle and possessive, a silent claim. Tsuyu’s eyes fluttered shut again, savoring the sensation, the sheer intimacy of it all. She felt a profound sense of trust, a willingness to be completely open with him.

He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck, his breath warm against her. Tsuyu arched her back, a soft moan escaping her lips. His kisses became more insistent, traveling down her throat, towards the swell of her breasts. She felt a tingling sensation spread through her, a yearning that was both physical and emotional. She wanted to be closer, to feel the full weight of him, to lose herself in the sensations he evoked.

Her hands found his hair, her fingers tangling in its dark strands, pulling him closer. He responded with a low growl, his mouth finding the peak of her breast, his tongue teasing and tormenting her until she cried out his name, a breathless plea. He suckled gently, then harder, drawing her nipple into his mouth, and a wave of pleasure, so intense it was almost painful, washed over her. She dug her nails into his hair, her hips arching instinctively towards him.

He moved between her legs, his rough uniform brushing against her bare thighs. The friction was a torment, an exquisite tease. She parted her legs, a silent invitation, her body trembling with anticipation. He lowered himself, his gaze never leaving hers, and Tsuyu felt a flush of heat rise from her toes to the tips of her ears. He looked at her with an intensity that made her feel utterly seen, utterly desired.

He began to kiss her thighs, his lips warm and wet, his beard rough against her sensitive skin. Tsuyu whimpered, her hands gripping the tatami mat beneath her. His kisses traveled higher, moving towards the very heart of her. When his lips finally found her, she gasped, her entire body convulsing. His tongue was a skilled artist, exploring every sensitive inch, eliciting moans and cries that she never thought she was capable of. She felt herself dissolving, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer bliss.

“Sensei…” she moaned, her voice a broken whisper, her fingers clenching and unclenching the mat. She felt a pressure building within her, an unbearable, exquisite ache that demanded release. She wanted more, all of him, inside her.

He rose, his eyes burning with a primal need. He shed his own clothes with a swift, practiced motion, revealing a body honed by years of rigorous training. Tsuyu’s breath hitched. He was even more magnificent than she had imagined. She reached out, her fingers tracing the hard planes of his abdomen, the corded muscles of his arms. He was solid, real, and utterly captivating.

He positioned himself above her, his hardened manhood pressing against her most intimate core. Tsuyu’s eyes widened, a mixture of anticipation and a sliver of trepidation. He was so large, so imposing, yet his gaze was filled with tenderness, with a promise of pleasure. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers again, a reassuring whisper. “Just relax, Tsuyu. Let me take care of you.”

With a deep, steady breath, he began to enter her. It was a slow, deliberate invasion, his body pressing into hers with an undeniable force. Tsuyu cried out, her body instinctively clenching. It was a tight fit, a sensation that was both overwhelming and incredibly arousing. He paused, waiting for her to adjust, his eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort. She met his gaze, her own filled with a fierce desire, a silent plea for him to continue.

He began to move, a slow, rhythmic thrust that gradually eased her body into accepting him. Each movement was a symphony of sensations, her skin slick with sweat, their bodies slick with shared arousal. The sounds of their movements, the soft thud of flesh against flesh, the ragged breaths, filled the quiet dojo. Tsuyu clung to him, her nails digging lightly into his back, her hips arching to meet his thrusts. She felt a profound connection to him, a primal intimacy that transcended words.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, his voice strained with exertion. “So damn good.”

“You too, Sensei,” she managed, her voice breathy and choked with pleasure. “You’re… amazing.”

He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming deeper, faster. Tsuyu’s cries grew louder, her body surrendering to the exquisite rhythm. She felt the pressure building within her again, an intense, unbearable wave that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She clung to him, her gaze locked with his, their souls seemingly intertwined in this moment of raw, unadulterated passion.

He pushed into her with a final, deep thrust, his body shuddering. Tsuyu felt a powerful orgasm rip through her, her entire being consumed by a blinding flash of pleasure. She screamed his name, her body arching one last time, a flood of release washing over her. Moments later, she felt him groan, his body tensing as he found his own release within her, his seed spilling into her with a surge that sent shivers down her spine.

They collapsed onto the tatami mats, their bodies tangled, slick with sweat. Tsuyu lay against him, her heart still pounding, her breath slowly returning to normal. His arm was slung protectively around her, his chin resting on her head. The quiet hum of the night insects seemed to be the only sound in the universe.

“Tsuyu,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, “I…” He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. He was a man of few words, but in this moment, his actions, his touch, his shared vulnerability, said more than any confession ever could.

She turned her head, her cheek resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “It’s okay, Sensei,” she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet contentment. “I understand.” She felt a profound sense of peace, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the profound emotional connection they had forged. The boundary between teacher and student had irrevocably blurred, replaced by something far more precious, something that felt like the beginning of a new, deeply intimate chapter.

He shifted, propping himself up on an elbow, and gazed down at her. His eyes, though still tired, held a warmth and a tenderness she had never witnessed before. He gently brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead. “We need to be careful, Tsuyu,” he said, his voice serious. “This… this changes things.”

“I know,” she replied, her gaze meeting his. There was a new understanding between them, a shared secret that bound them tighter than any oath. “But… I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

He smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile that made her heart ache in the best possible way. He leaned down, and this time, their kiss was soft, lingering, a promise of stolen moments and shared intimacy in a world that demanded so much from them. The humid air of the dojo no longer felt heavy and suffocating, but warm and charged with a new, beautiful possibility. As the lantern light flickered, casting long shadows, Tsuyu knew that her world, and his, had just become a great deal more complicated, and a great deal more wonderful.