#{yamada}

Another stack of paperwork.

You didn’t even hear them come in—not until the classroom door clicked shut, and two very familiar voices cut through the silence.

“Still here?” Aizawa’s voice was dry as ever, but his tone made your spine straighten. “It’s almost 6.”

You didn’t turn. “I just wanted to finish sorting the training assessments—Midoriya’s group submitted late and—”

“And you stayed behind. Again.” Hizashi’s voice was closer. Louder, but laced with concern under the grin. “You know you’re not getting paid for this, right?”

“I don’t mind.” You smiled faintly, still writing. “It’s part of the job.”

“See, that’s the problem,” Aizawa said flatly. “You should mind. Because we do.”

You finally looked up—and immediately regretted it.

Aizawa was standing by the door, arms crossed, that piercing stare locked on you like you were one of his students about to get scolded.

And Hizashi?

Hizashi was already behind your desk, leaning on the surface, eyes flicking over you like he knew every thought in your head.

“I’m fine,” you tried, a little breathless.

“That so?” Aizawa moved closer, deliberate steps. “Then why do you look like you’re about to pass out on your feet?”

“You’re doing too much, sweetheart,” Hizashi added, his voice lower now. “We’ve been watching you run yourself into the ground all week.”

“Class prep. Corrections, Then extra time with the first years.” Aizawa was at your side now, pulling your chair out slightly with his foot. “You don’t even eat lunch half the time.”

“I—”

“Not a request.” Aizawa’s hand gripped your chin. Not rough—but firm. Intent. “Put the pen down.”

You did.

“Good girl,” Hizashi murmured, fingers grazing the back of your neck. “Now let us take care of you for once.”

You barely had time to gasp before Aizawa tilted your head back and kissed you—slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. Like this was inevitable.

Hizashi’s hands were already working your blouse open, whispering praise between soft, maddening kisses against your throat.

“Worked so hard for us all day,” he murmured, lips brushing your collarbone. “Time to relax, baby.”

They moved in sync. Years of partnership showing, in the way they stripped you bare like a ceremony. In the way they touched you, devoured you like they’d been waiting for this moment.

Aizawa sat down in the chair you’d just vacated and pulled you into his lap, your back against his chest.

“Be still,” he said. “Let Hizashi do the work.”

And god, did he.

Hizashi dropped to his knees between your legs like he belonged there, looking up at you with heat and reverence.

“Let’s see how fast we can make that overworked brain melt, huh?” he teased—and then his mouth was on you, hot and relentless.

Your head fell back against Aizawa’s shoulder with a choked moan. He held you steady, one hand sliding up to palm your breast, the other between your thighs, spreading you wider for Hizashi’s mouth.

“Already shaking,” Aizawa muttered into your ear. “Didn’t take much, did it?”

“Sensitive,” Hizashi grinned, slick on his lips. “Bet she’s been needy all week and too damn stubborn to ask.”

“Typical.”

Their voices, their hands, their mouths—everywhere. You couldn’t tell who was touching you more, who was ruining you faster.

His voice brushed against your ear, low and commanding. “Keep them wide. Don’t move unless we say.”

From the floor, Hizashi grinned up at you between your legs. “Damn, what a view.”

Then his mouth was on you—hot, wet, and hungry, tongue gliding over your folds like he knew exactly what you needed. Because he did. He always did.

You cried out, hips jerking instinctively, but Aizawa’s hands were already there—one wrapped around your waist, holding you still, and the other slowly, deliberately sliding up your torso beneath your blouse.

“Easy,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple.

His hand found your breast, cupping it firmly, thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardened beneath his touch. You whimpered, head falling back onto his shoulder as Hizashi groaned into your cunt, tongue fucking you deep before dragging back up to your clit and sucking—hard.

Your thighs trembled, breath hitching in your throat.

“That’s it,” Aizawa muttered, dragging your bra down so he could pinch your nipple between two fingers. “Feel how sloppy you are for him?”

Hizashi moaned approval, the vibrations from his mouth making your whole body jolt.

“She tastes so fuckin’ good,” he said, voice muffled, tongue teasing your clit in slow, maddening circles. “Bet she’s been dripping for this all week.”

“Of course she has.” Aizawa’s other hand was between your legs now too, spreading you open even further. His fingers never got in Hizashi’s way—they worked in perfect sync, as if this wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

“Look at you,” Aizawa murmured, voice like dark velvet in your ear. “Tits in my hands, cunt in his mouth, soaked and shaking like you’re about to fall apart.”

“I—fuck—” You couldn’t even form words anymore.

Hizashi groaned again, messily devouring you as Aizawa rolled your nipple between his fingers and bit your shoulder gently—like a warning.

“You’re not allowed to come yet,” he said flatly. “Not until I say.”

You whimpered, legs trembling as Hizashi’s tongue sped up.

You clawed at Aizawa’s forearms, whimpering, “Please, I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” he murmured in your ear, voice a low growl. “You’ll take it. Give it to us.”

His hand slid from your breast and down your stomach, fingers slipping between your thighs to where Hizashi’s mouth was already working you over. He didn’t push him away. He didn’t slow him down. Instead, he pressed two fingers to your swollen clit and started to circle it in slow, ruthless circles, perfectly in sync with Hizashi’s tongue inside you.

The combination was devastating.

“Oh, fuck—” Your back arched hard against Aizawa’s chest, a sharp cry tearing from your throat.

“That’s it,” he said, voice still calm, still dark. “Let go. Right now.”

Hizashi moaned into you like he was encouraging it, his tongue and lips never breaking rhythm. You felt his fingers dig lightly into your thighs, holding you open as he sucked and licked, devouring every sound you made.

Aizawa’s fingers pressed harder, faster against your clit, and the world went white.

You came with a broken sob, shuddering violently in Aizawa’s lap, hips jerking helplessly against Hizashi’s mouth. He didn’t pull back—he kept licking, kept sucking, swallowing down everything you gave him—until you were gasping, trembling, on the edge of overstimulation.

Aizawa’s free arm banded around your waist, keeping you upright as his fingers slowed just enough to drag out the aftershocks, still circling your throbbing clit.

“Good girl,” he murmured, lips against your ear. “That’s what I wanted. Perfect.”

Hizashi pulled back just enough to grin up at you, his chin glistening, his voice wrecked. “Goddamn, sweetheart. You look so fuckin’ pretty like this.

And still—Aizawa’s fingers on your clit. Still slow, teasing little circles, making you twitch and whine in his lap while Hizashi rubbed his palms up your thighs, clearly ready for another round.

“Don’t think we’re finished,” Aizawa said, voice steady even as you quivered. “We’re just getting started.”

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━ do not copy or translate my work .ᐟ

ּ  ֗ ִ  ּ ۪  mha. ╱ navi. ╱ taglist. ⋆·˚ ༘ *

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ 𐔌 taglist ‎ 𐦯 ‧₊˚. @its-a-snowflake .ᐟ