Kaede Hoshina @milabyxz - Tumblr Blog

Just A Click Away

NSFW WARNING

11500 word count

@pixelcafe-network

I wrote this fic for one of my dearest friends for her bday. We’d been talking publicly and privately about me writing the imagine that she wrote into a full fic, and a loooot of time passed and I just never got around to it, BUT IT’S HERE NOW! @ouiouimochi, love, sorry it took me so long to finish this one, but it’s finally done and I hope you like it. Thanks for being one of my most treasured friends, and thanks just for being you, my wonderful, talented, intelligent, and so incredibly creative wife. I have had some of the best times when we’re talking ❤️I hope you have the BEST birthday EVER! Sending my love with lots of smut.

This was a bad idea.

Stupid. Reckless.

You knew it was. You told yourself multiple times that it was. But you were a member of the Defense Force. What was a little extra risk to you when everyday was a gamble? At least, that’s how you decided to justify writing and then posting -lord knows how you ever had the balls to actually hit post- fanfics about your favorite Vice Captain.

At first, it started out somewhat like a diary. You’d write down what Hoshina had done that day to get your heart trumpeting in your chest and you’d keep it completely to yourself. Writing was just a means of venting out the millions of things he made you feel whenever he’d laugh at your jokes or drape his arm across your shoulders or shoot you a wink from across the room. It was never supposed to be something that you shared with the world.

But then, you discovered that the Vice Captain had a massive fan base. And why wouldn’t he? He was always on duty; of course people would come to grow fond of him (fond was an understatement- you once saw a woman on the internet stitching together her own Hoshina body pillow…not that you’d been looking for one). One day, during one of your “Vice Captain Hoshina” internet deep dives (you admitted it was somewhat weird to make googling your superior a pastime of yours, but it wasn’t your fault that the paparazzi had shots of him you’d never seen before; even though you worked with him day in and day out, you were astounded to discover they still captured parts of his life that even you weren’t privy to and they always caught him in just the right lighting- how were you supposed to look away?), you found reading material not unlike what you’d written in your personal journal. And, after reading enough fan fiction to properly rot your brain, and after feeling somewhat like kindred spirits with so many strangers on the internet, you thought to yourself, the internet was an anonymous place. Sure, it was a terrible idea to post what you’d written about a person you knew personally, but how would anyone ever find out it was you writing it? There were so many people writing about him; it couldn’t hurt to post the bits and pieces you’d already written. You’d just have to frame it like it was a fanfiction. Easy enough.

Well, after posting several true stories about him under the guise of “fanfiction,” you were welcomed with quite the reception (one you never could’ve expected to receive). One note turned into hundreds, one follow into thousands. Soon, you had an inbox full of love, and encouragement to write more. And you indulged them (and yourself). You kept pouring your ever-growing feelings into your works and amassed a large fan base in what felt like no time at all. How you managed to post so much with your overflowing work load was beyond you, but the inspiration seemed to just keep coming (as long as it was about Hoshina- you gave Narumi a shot per request and completely flopped).

If you were honest with yourself, the sheer number of followers you had was now a significant point of pride in your life. You never thought you were all that impressive when it came to writing, but several thousands of people were in agreement that you were. You couldn’t see any downside to being so popular. That is, until your dear Vice Captain discovered Tumblr himself.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Okonogi, what’s a thirst trap?”

You coughed up your soda as Hoshina plopped down beside your supervising officer, his ridiculous question hanging in the air. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be overhearing his conversation, but he had to know he was within earshot of you, so he certainly couldn’t fault you for eavesdropping. Could he?

“I am absolutely not explaining what a thirst trap is to you. You’ve clearly been on the internet too much; you know how to use it, so you look it up yourself.” Okonogi crossed her arms, not batting an eye at his antics even for a second.

He gave her a shrug -and you wondered how it was that the stubborn Vice Captain you knew was giving in so easily today- before swiveling around to face you. “How ‘bout you, m’dear? Wanna explain it to me in layman’s terms?”

Ah. So that was why he didn’t push Okonogi for an answer. He had you. Damnit.

You looked up to meet his gaze only to find that he’d already been staring quite intently at you, eagerly awaiting your answer, like you were about to provide him with the winning lottery numbers. You thought to yourself that, in all your years in the service, he’d never looked at you with such intensity before. Of course it had to be over something as ridiculous as this. Damn him and his stupidly mesmerizing eyes.

You swallowed. “You…um…want me to…explain thirst traps…to you…Vice Captain Hoshina?” You squeaked out meekly.

He nodded with gusto. Of course he would.

“Er…well…um… how did you even hear about the term in the first place, if you don’t mind me asking?”

And there it was again- that nonchalant shrug. “Eh, heard some people whispering ‘round the base ‘bout it. Apparently, there’s a lot of thirst traps about me?”

Your eyes dared to roam his figure (as subtly as one possibly could when they were face to face with him). Even hidden beneath his bulky Defense-Force-issued jacket, you glimpsed the rough edges of his muscle piercing through, plain as day. “Wonder why.” You muttered under your breath.

“So? You gonna tell me what it is, or am I gonna have to find out myself?” Without giving you time to answer, he started typing into his search bar, murmuring aloud, “Vice…Captain Hoshina…thiiiiiirst tra-”

“Wait! I’ll tell you! Please, I’ll tell you whatever you want, but you have to put your phone down!”

“Oops. Too late.”

You watched in horror as Hoshina replayed footage of himself jogging around the base shirtless in slow motion. (Although horror eventually turned to curiosity as you’d yet to see this footage before and wondered if he’d ever surrender the video to you willingly).

Hoshina, meanwhile, was bobbing his head in time with the beat. “The song they used in their edit is actually pretty catchy.”

That was his takeaway from this??? If he continued to be so ridiculously innocent, maybe him discovering the internet wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Oh, look- comments.”

Fuuuuuuck. “Wait, Vice Captain, I wouldn’t-”

“I don’t get on my knees for anybody, but for the Vice Captain, I’d kneel, bark, beg, whatever he wanted.”

“That man could put me in a chokehold and I’d thank him.”

“He looks so hot but he’d look even hotter in between my legs.”

Okonogi clapped her hands together loudly. “OOOOKAY, VICE CAPTAIN, I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH.”

Saved by the supervisor.

You let out a relieved exhale. You knew none of those comments belonged to you, as you’d never even seen this video before, but it may as well have been you, if you thought about all the times you’d remarked the same damn things to yourself. Hearing him read the comments aloud brought shame roaring into your cheeks.

Maybe you wouldn’t post a fic this week after all.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hoshina laughed to himself as Okonogi rushed him out of Operations, lecturing him on and on about what was appropriate in the workplace, right up until she slammed the door in his face. As your supervising officer, she was in charge of your safety and your sanity, and she was not about to let him trample all over it. He respected her professionalism, even if he did tease her for being a stick in the mud at times. He was only trying to have a little fun.

Of course, nothing was more entertaining than seeing the panic-stricken look on your face as you rushed to protect him from the dangers of the internet. When he first learned that there were thirst traps of him, Hoshina was surprised first, then flattered, and eventually amused, but he never thought that the greatest joy he’d get from googling himself would be watching your reactions to it. It only made him want to tease you more. He thought to himself that maybe, next time, he could ask you what it meant to be “the internet’s daddy.” A sly grin spread across his face as he thought about setting his plans into motion. He’d have to do more digging, see what else he could find to bring that beautiful rush of pink back to your face.

He pulled up more edited videos of himself and scrolled through them to find which video would prove the most effective for his goal. At some point, an hour passed, and he was still sifting through content. He knew his original purpose was to accumulate more ammunition for future encounters with you, but he couldn’t help how fascinated and amused he was by his fans. They said things about him he’d never heard said aloud, things he was sure they’d never dare say aloud to anyone they actually knew. It was surprisingly invigorating. He was so used to other members of the Defense Force -particularly his superiors- doubting his usefulness, that he found it refreshing to find so many people in support of who he was. Even if most of the comments were horny, he’d take what he could get.

Speaking of comments, he’d already come across several that mentioned something about fan…fiction? Or something of the sort. He was unclear as to what exactly tags were but apparently several of them had something to do with him. After more research, he discovered that there were actually people who wrote him into stories. Some stories involved him and other people he regularly worked with. Some stories involved him and people he’d barely ever interacted with (he silently saluted shippers of what they called “rare pairs” for their dedication). And some stories involved him and the reader of the story. Now, some of these stories were innocent- a coffee date, a walk on the beach, a trip to the movie theater. Some stories were…decidedly not. At one point, he pulled down his pants just to stare at his own member and ponder if it could actually do the things they wrote him doing, or if it was actually as sizable as they described him being. And then he yanked his pants back up, deciding he could live without the answer.

It was nearly midnight -and now he understood the true meaning of the term bed rotting- before he realized he’d stayed up all night just reading stories about himself. He hoped it didn’t mean he was egotistical. He was simply impressed, or at the very least entertained, by the works he was reading. It couldn’t be helped that he wanted to read more.

He pictured Okonogi scolding him in the morning for neglecting himself and failing to get proper rest, and he knew he should retire for the night, but then he pictured you beside her, and smiled to himself. He’d read one more fic. He just wanted to be able to show you something in the morning. He promised himself it would only be one more fic and whatever fic it was, good or bad, he’d bring it up in conversation when he next saw you.

But he broke his own promise.

The next fic he read was so stunningly accurate that he felt the need to delve through more of this particular writer’s work. Ten fics later and he was sure this writer had to know him better than he knew himself. She wrote mannerisms he hadn’t even noticed he’d had until they’d been pointed out. She wrote manners of speech he hadn’t realized he’d even spoken in until the words were right there before him. At this point, he was simply reading to find a story in which he wasn’t portrayed accurately (and so far, there were none).

Besides being eerily accurate, this writer also wrote his character more eloquently and lovingly than he could’ve ever described even his dearest of friends. He quickly found he was entranced by the language with which she wrote. If he never read a thing again, he was happy to have read her works last. Her stories were so moving, he found himself rooting for the reader to get with him. And when he made an idiot move in the story, he’d scold himself for being so stubborn. And then he’d make a note to be less stubborn in his daily life.

He read so many of her works that he considered calling out of work tomorrow simply due to a lack of sleep (and also because he wanted to keep reading). But then he decided to finally brave one of her smut fics. Now, he’d read smut about him from other writers, but it was sparingly. Some fics made him laugh, some made him question his own reality. But no fic had stopped him dead in his tracks yet. So he clicked on her first link with high hopes.

The story started out as rivetingly as her other stories did, but shortly following the first paragraph of sexual content he laid his eyes on, he clicked his phone off, rolled over in bed, and buried his burning, blushing cheeks into the palms of his hands, gasping for breath.

Yeah. He was going to bed now.

That, or risk heart attack. (And an unyielding boner.)

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hoshina was more energetic than he thought he’d be.

With so little sleep, he was sure he wouldn’t have the strength to face the day, (as embarrassing as that was to admit as a Vice Captain). But upon waking, he discovered his mind was already bustling to and fro.

He brushed his teeth and thought of the writer.

He ate his breakfast and thought of the writer.

He pulled on clean clothes and thought of the writer.

He was so sure she must be immensely adept when it came to matters of literature, psychology, technology, weaponry, and combat. Every story he read was solid proof of her talent and proficiency. Even the way she wrote about buttons on a suit, screws on a machine, clips on a gun, reflected her thorough knowledge of her subject matter. He hadn’t even noticed such miniscule details about walking Defense Force Halls or wearing Defence Force uniforms until she pointed them out, and now he couldn’t stop thinking of her wit when seeing the sheen of polished badges or the scuff marks on tiles in commonly tread paths. He thought to himself, if this writer wasn’t just a prodigy in the field of imagination, then they must be either an extremely dedicated Defense Force fan, an outside source like a reporter leaking information, or a member of the Defense Force themself.

But no matter how creative a writer was, he was sure there was no way they could simply imagine things that only members of the Defense Force, and even more specifically, that only members of the Third Division should know, into every story they wrote. So he surmised that unless they had a reporter sneaking around base (which was a possibility but seeing as they had other outlets to publish their works to, they probably wouldn’t resort to fanfiction websites), it was more likely that this writer was someone he worked with. And, after reading more of her fics throughout his work day, he concluded it had to be someone he worked closely with.

His suspicions were confirmed when he got a notification that she had published a new work -at this point, he wasn’t even the slightest bit embarrassed to admit he had her account set to notify him; she was just that good and he didn’t want to miss a thing- and it aligned a little too conveniently with the events of the last several days. Lines he didn’t remember saying until suddenly they were on the screen before him, nicknames he’d called people, specific words that were steeped in his Kansai accent, it was all there.

Now, it was not uncommon for members of other divisions to pay the Third a visit, either for joint missions, joint training exercises, or simply to rile Hoshina up, but no other division had graced the base as of late so no other division had been privy to the events of the last several days. That meant his favorite writer had to be someone from the Third Division.

It was only a matter of time before he figured out who exactly it was.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hoshina was onto you.

Or, if he wasn’t onto you, he would be very soon. You could feel it.

He’d been paying you and Okonogi visits to share stories of his latest adventures in the online world, and you’d been mostly happy to listen, if not also to cringe internally or warn him against specific things, but his most recent admittance was his discovery of fanfiction. Specifically fanfiction about him. Your heart nearly caved in on itself when he brought it up.

You had hoped that you might get lucky and maybe he used a site you didn’t post on, but when he burst into Operations without warning for yet another discussion, you knew you were shit out of luck.

At first, he beat around the bush. Acted like he’d only come to say hi. Talk about the weather. But his knee bounced beneath the desk, his hand stroked his chin thoughtfully, and his gaze seemed to peer into some faraway place as though he were lost in his own mind. You wondered what it was that had stumped him so and Okonogi was halfway through asking him exactly that question when he finally sat up straight in his chair.

“Either of you know Tumblr?”

You froze but he didn’t notice.

Okonogi raised a curious eyebrow at him. “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t personally have the time to indulge in it. Why?”

“Got curious and decided to search how citizens viewed officers of the Defense Force (and boy did I find a treasure trove on the First Division’s brat of a Captain),” He chuckled to himself, thinking about goofy edits of Narumi’s ‘dandelion hair’ before continuing, “anyway, before I knew it, I was looking up myself too. Found some interesting stuff. You guys should try it; it’s fun.”

Okonogi snorted. “Try looking up you?”

“No, silly. Try looking up yourself. I recommend everyone do it at least once in their life. You’ll never believe some of the things people have the guts to say nowadays. Cracks me up.”

“No, thanks. Sounds like something I’m too busy for. Speaking of, where are you finding the time to waste on stuff like this??” Okonogi began lecturing him again, and for a moment, you thought you might be safe.

You listened to her rattle off the list of his responsibilities as Vice Captain, reminding him that he had more important things to be attending to, and you just crossed your fingers, hoping they’d continue to veer further and further off topic. Maybe she would discourage the idea of him reading fanfics entirely and you’d be in the clear. But when was Hoshina ever the type to give in so easily?

“Hey, hey- I’m still working, Okonogi. Cross my heart. I just make time for reading fanfiction on the side. You wouldn’t deprive a guy of his new favorite form of entertainment, now would you?”

You sucked in a breath. Okay. So he was clearly not going to give this up any time soon. You might as well test the waters. “So, uh, Vice Captain…what tag do you read the most?” Please don’t say x reader, please don’t say x reader, please don’t say x reader………

“Excellent question with an easy answer; my favorite so far is Hoshina x reader.”

Of fucking course it was. That’s all you ever wrote.

Oh fuck. Had he been reading your fics???

Your nerves churned in your stomach, your shame rolled down the back of your neck in beads. You swallowed and found your throat dry. You inhaled and felt your lungs tripping over themselves. You needed to get out of this room. NOW.

“Hey. You okay?” Okonogi rested a hand on your shoulder, brows suddenly furrowed in concern.

You mustered up a pathetic excuse for a smile, sweaty palms clinging onto your desk for dear life, “Just having stomach pains…all of a sudden…” Your excuse was weak and you knew it was, but it’d have to do for now. Your brain cells were not currently capable of functioning properly; directing oxygen to continue flowing within your lungs was already taxing enough.

The smile dropped from Hoshina’s face and he was instantly at your side, hands hovering over you, eyes roaming for injuries. “You should really have the nurse check you out. I don’t want to risk this getting worse. Want me to take you, dear?”

“No, sir, I’ll manage. Thank you.”

“Alright, well lemme at least call over so they know you’re on your way. Be careful, okay?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Goddamnit. He was so kind even when you were lying to him. It was this kind of behavior that made you start writing about him in the first place. You wanted to tell him that this was all his fault. That he shouldn’t have been so charming. That he shouldn’t have made you fall so desperately for him that this was what you’d resorted to. But you knew you were the one at fault for hitting post in the first place, and now you shouldered the weight of that blame as you thought up a better excuse to give the doctor when you reached sick bay.

Fuck. Why had you picked stomach pains in the first place? The Vice Captain was extremely astute; sure, he had immediately rushed to your aid when you’d feigned ill, but if you gave him enough time to think about it, wouldn’t he find it suspicious that your so-called ‘stomach pains’ came on at such a pivotal point in the conversation?

The high follower count that you originally thought to be a blessing now felt like a curse, as you were sure the frequent activity on your blog just made it all the more likely for him to find you if he hadn’t already. You contemplated deleting your blog entirely, but decided against it when you thought about just how disappointed your followers would be. You debated finding his account and having your followers spam him so he’d get banned and therefore be unable to access your works, but you felt guilty dragging your followers into this and you also didn’t want to be the reason he got kicked from his favorite platform. So, in the end, you decided to merely change a few details in your fics here and there. You were too lazy to completely rewrite the tons of stories you’d posted by now, but the least you could do was alter a few names, a few locations, a few descriptors. Hopefully, Hoshina was reading leisurely and not perceptively.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hoshina was reading intensely.

Because what else was he supposed to do? His favorite writer hadn’t posted anything new in weeks. That was practically an eternity. So, like any normal fan would do, he resorted to rereading all of her older works while he (im)patiently awaited new material. His second readthrough only further confirmed his suspicions that the writer was someone from the Third Division.

And perhaps it was your fault for not posting anything to distract him, but he was now finding his time -time that he ordinarily would’ve used to catch up on any new fics or new reblogs of yours (he always found your commentary on reblogs entertaining because you were always consistently feral for him)- exceedingly free. Free to theorize exactly who this writer could be.

He ran through the members of his platoon first. They were in the trenches with him, side by side, each and every day. They knew him best. But would any of them truly dare to post such bold things about him? If they were discovered, he was free to dole out whatever punishment he deemed fit and for as long as he deemed fit. He doubted that the officers who had just complained he made them run five laps would risk a punishment even greater than cardio. So, was it possible that the person who wrote these fics was someone not directly under his supervision? While he was the Vice Captain and technically everyone on Third Division grounds was under his supervision (except for Captain Ashiro), he recalled that Okonogi still had discretion over how she handled the members of her Operations team. Was it illogical to assume the fic writer was a member of Operations then?

His mind instantly wandered to you.

Huh. Strange.

Why was he thinking about you in particular? It’s not like he actually thought the fic writer was you. In fact, he was pretty sure there was no way it was you. So was he just thinking about you because he…liked thinking about you? He didn’t know why he felt the way he did whenever you invaded his mind (and it was recently increasingly more times than he could count), but he knew enough to know he wanted to know you better, to know you even more than anyone else did. You were usually so timid, so polite. But he knew better than to underestimate you. He’d heard your confidence surging through his comms on more than one occasion, as you instructed him and his comrades on the best method of engaging their foes. He knew when the time came, you were just as fierce as anyone on the field. And you knew your shit. He understood better than anyone why Okonogi had chosen you as her right hand woman. He admired you for it. Once, you were out sick, and he contemplated delaying his mission until you had recovered. It was already strange enough not to hear your commentary in his ears, but it was also just unsettling to head off to battle without your wisdom in his arsenal.

You were also just one of the only people who found his antics funny. He was sure you probably didn’t know he’d seen you giggling into your palms on several occasions (disguising it as a coughing fit, no less), but it did wonders for his self esteem. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that, like any other human, he loved when someone appreciated his particular brand of humor. It made him want to make you laugh more. If pressed, he’d confess he was purposely more ridiculous whenever he was in Operations, just to see if he could coax another laugh out of you. God, your laugh. Some days, he loved his job, and other days, he wished there wouldn’t be a need for him anymore. That world peace would just find itself. But when he heard your laughter, it felt like all his hard work was worth it. Like he had already won the war. Like he’d already seen the end of the rainbow. Like he could keep marching on, step by step, as long as you were by his side.

Fuck’s sake- he was used to late nights by now, having spent hours upon hours just reading fanfics, but he was not used to lying awake because he was thinking of you. Was it something about all this romance that he was reading that made him want to think of you? What was he even doing before this? Fuck. He wanted to see you.

He looked over at the clock. There was no way you were awake right now. He laid back down in bed and stared up at the ceiling. Then he sat back up again. It couldn’t hurt to go looking for you, right?

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You shouldn’t have been awake. But maybe it was all the time you spent writing, maybe it was all the time you spent thinking about Hoshina, or maybe it was all the time you tried to stop thinking about Hoshina, that led you to get behind in your reports. You were already one foot out the door, uniform slipping off, hair released from its pony, primed and ready for bed, when Okonogi happened to remind you of your ever-growing stack of paperwork to finish.

So there you sat, head nodding, mind numbing, sifting through all your papers half-asleep. After an hour of this torture, you decided to reward yourself with a break. After all, no one else was awake to scold you for slacking. You may as well check your socials.

Like it was pure reflex, you instantly pulled up your Tumblr feed. Your tension and boredom slowly eased as you scrolled, liking and reblogging fics here and there. You made it a point to comment under every fic that you liked because it always made you feel good when you received a comment too. After reading enough to satisfy you for the time being, you were about to close your laptop. But you didn’t close it soon enough.

“Oh, ya got Tumblr too, m’dear?”

Shit. Only one person called you that.

You froze when you should’ve moved. In hindsight, you could’ve done any number of things at that moment. Could’ve scooped up your laptop, could’ve turned it off, could’ve even just closed it. But no. You froze. And let Hoshina’s eyes wander down to the hundreds of notifications you had before they finally drifted over to your profile picture. The gears hadn’t clicked yet, but they were for damn sure turning.

And THAT was when you slammed your laptop shut.

You barely remembered stammering over an “Excuse me,” before you made a hurried escape to your room, where you screamed your shame and frustration into your pillow. If your pillow could talk, it might’ve recounted how, once you’d finished straining your vocal cords, you repeated to yourself over and over that it was fine, maybe he didn’t see, he probably couldn’t have seen, it was too dark in the room, the tab was too small, there was no possible way for him to have seen, let alone put together the pieces and recognized that it was you writing about him. And then you cried yourself to sleep, thinking that, with your luck, he’d already put together the pieces AND picked out a fitting punishment for you.

You called in sick in the morning and sulked the entire day away. (If Okonogi was suspicious about anything, she didn’t let on. It was fortunate that you had a history of pulling all-nighters when reports were involved).

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Umm, what the fuck?

Hoshina scratched his head so much he was sure his scalp would just erode completely away.

His favorite writer…was in fact…YOU. His favorite writer… that he spent all his free time on… was YOU. His favorite writer… that he checked up on every night before bed…was YOU. His favorite writer… that he…that he…that he…oh god, that he JACKED OFF to was fucking YOU!!! How was he supposed to live this down? How was he supposed to look at you and not picture the saliva dribbling down his chin, the groans rumbling up his throat, his cheeks flushed, his tip flushed, his aching cock fucking itself against a hastily positioned pillow between his legs as his eyes scanned over yet another smut fic?? And how was it even possible that his favorite writer, of all the billions upon billions of people on this planet, was you??

You were the perfect picture of innocence. Of sweetness and goodness and mindfulness. And you wrote him in the most sinful of ways. Did you……….want him in the most sinful of ways???? Or were you just catering to an audience? Did he want you to want him like that?? He was confused beyond belief.

The only thing that soothed him at a time like this was reading your fics. So, even though he knew now that it was you writing, he cautiously, carefully opened Tumblr once more and delved into your works. It was just like he remembered. It was passionate, it was eloquent. And it was beyond flattering. The way you took quirks he had deemed as his own faults and turned them into strengths. The way you took his strengths and turned them into strongholds. The way you portrayed him like you were the first person to ever really see him. Even he hadn’t realized his own impact until reading your words.

Whatever he felt for you, whatever you felt or didn’t feel for him, however embarrassed he was, however shy you were, he had to tell you, he needed to tell you how much he was honored to be your muse. How much he appreciated your words of encouragement. How much he adored the time he’d inadvertently spent with you.

So, like he had done so many times before, he marched his way over to Operations. He wondered if you’d be sitting in your usual chair, drinking your usual drink, looking as cute as you usually did. If you’d be waiting for him, if you’d be avoiding him. He hoped to god you wouldn’t avoid him. He’d never spent a whole lot of time with you all at once before, but he spent enough time with you to wonder how on earth he’d survive without you. Who else would laugh at his jokes? Who else would cover for him when she knew he was doing something Okonogi would kill him over? Who else would teach him the latest trends? Who else would consume his waking days?

Okonogi looked up as he burst through the doors. “Hoshina, if this is about another one of your fanfics, I swear-”

He didn’t even bother to greet her, his eyes were too busy darting all around the room, and with no luck. “Where is she?”

Okonogi raised a brow. “Are you telling me you had something to do with her calling in sick?”

His eyes widened. “She’s sick??”

She shrugged. “I dunno. You tell me, Vice Captain.”

That was enough for him to book it to your room, leaving Okonogi watching curiously down the hallway (before thinking to herself that she was not getting paid nearly enough for this and returning to her daily work). He arrived at your door, poised himself to knock, then paced in front of your door instead. Then he stopped. Fidgeted with his jacket. Wiped the sweat from his brow. Paced a couple more times. And THEN he knocked. Ever so gently.

You waddled to the door, eyes seeped in scarlet, a blanket enveloping your being. “Y-yes?” You asked sleepily, vision still adjusting to the light.

He shifted his weight. (Had you been crying? Or were you really sick? Both??)

Even half conscious, you recognized that posture. That build. That height. The way he cleared his throat. The way he adjusted his jacket. Well shit.

You moved to close the door but your movements were sluggish at best and even with your whole weight pressed against the door, one of his hands alone was enough to keep the door from moving any further.

“We need to talk-”

He’s going to fire me. “No, thanks, Vice Captain!!”

“What do ya mean no-?”

In his surprise, he allowed the door to slam closed.

You exhaled, though your relief was very minimal. All you’d done was put the most miniscule of obstacles between the two of you. The door would stall for nothing.

From the other side of the door, you could hear him sigh. “Would ya please let me in? Open the door at least?”

“Again, no thanks.”

“You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re not.”

Silence.

“Now, would you please open the door?”

More silence.

“Dear. Would you pretty please open the door?” He tried again.

You bit back a small smile. You simply couldn’t resist a little tease. “How pretty is this please?”

He laughed. “It’s gorgeous.”

“But does it have a cherry on top?”

“Yes, my gorgeous pretty please has the biggest cherry on top. Now, can I come in, or are you gonna let me freeze to death out here?”

The lock clicked and the door creaked open slowly. “I’m really not in trouble?” Though your tone was lighthearted, he could still hear the trepidation in your voice.

Reassurance was on the tip of his tongue, but his words died in his throat when he finally caught a glimpse of you behind the door, and his beating heart stopped the tick of time. There you were, all puppy-eyed and perfect, looking at him like he held the fate of the world in his hands, and all he could do was stare. What the hell had you reduced him to?

“You can’t take it back once you say it, you know. So you better mean it.” You declared with a slight pout.

His heart squeezed in his chest and time resumed. “Yes, dearest, I mean it.”

Dear. The one thing you were to him. The one thing he called you and you alone. You’d never noticed, but of all the nicknames he bestowed upon his officers, he’d given you the pet name with the most care. And before he’d even noticed, he’d given you all the parts of his heart he didn’t even know existed. For a Vice Captain in the Defense Force, you sure made him defenseless.

You must’ve felt like you could let your guard down around him too, because soon enough, you were stepping aside to let him in. He wanted to say it was just the power of his persuasion that convinced you to allow him entrance, but he knew now that you could -and had always been able to- read him like a book, so you must’ve known that he wouldn’t dare do anything to shatter this moment. You must’ve known he wouldn’t do anything to break your trust. You must’ve known he’d say and do anything to get you to smile even once. And the way you already knew him like this made him feel all the more seen.

He didn’t waste a single second in following you inside.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat on your bed and he sat beside you.

“I’m sick; you shouldn’t sit so close.” You gestured to a nearby chair, intending for him to take that seat instead, but he refused to budge from the bed. Great. So he clearly didn’t believe your excuse of an illness. What now? Should you say something? Would he say something? What were you even supposed to say anyway? Thinking about this was bad for your health. At this point, you might as well actually be sick; you felt feverish enough. You knew Hoshina was a kind soul and you knew that he probably wasn’t meaning to distress you so, but still, you couldn’t help but nearly split your blanket apart, fidgeting with its frayed ends. And it still didn’t help your nerves a single bit.

“Dearest-”

There was that pet name again. You wondered if he knew how it made you feel when he used it. If he knew how his words had the power to both incite storms in your soul and soothe them. You were sure your cheeks were burning a completely undiscovered shade of red at this point. And by gods, he wasn’t getting to the point nearly fast enough for you.

You interrupted him, “I’m-so-sorry-I-don’t-know-what-I-was-even-thinking-when-I-started-writing-I-mean-it’s-not-like-I-thought-I’d-be-a-big-shot-or-anything-I-just-wanted-to-write-you-the-way-I-see-you-and-I-guess-eventually-I-wanted-other-people-to-see- you-the-way-I-see-you-and-it-turned-into-this-whole-big-thing-and-now-I’ve-gone-and-upset-you-and-embarrassed-you-and-”

“I’m not.”

You nearly swallowed your own tongue.

“You’re…not? Not what?” Did you dare to ask? Did you dare to listen to his answer?

“I’m not mad. Not embarrassed. Not anything but immensely flattered, really. I like em. Your stories, I mean.”

“You…like them? You don’t…feel like…like I wrote you like some juicy chunk of meat?” Or like some creeper watching you from a bush?

He laughed at that. “No, I don’t. I feel the opposite actually. I’ve never felt less objectified in my life. I feel honored to know someone pays such great attention to even the most trivial things about me. I feel adored, really.”

That’s because I adore you.

He continued on, “I was surprised at just how accurate your depiction of me was. I felt like I was both relating to this other me so well, and also getting to know myself so much better. You wrote ‘Hoshina’ in such a positive light; who wouldn’t want to get to know him? The guy just sounds so admirable.”

That’s because I admire you.

“You write all your characters with such tenderness and care. I can tell you really love them.”

That’s because I love you.

“Anyway, um…”

Fuck, what now? What else would he say to get your heart seizing in your chest?

“Did you…write me the way you actually view me?” Do you feel for me what the reader feels? “Or is it just to appease your fan base?”

This was it. This was the turning point.

Would he hate you if you told him the truth? Would he love you? Would he find some excuse to never see you again? Would he laugh it off? Should you even tell him the truth? Should you lie? It would be so easy to lie. To tell him it was merely what your readers wanted from you. To tell him the only thing factual about your fiction was that he existed. But was it really fair to the girl who wrote all those stories, hoping that one day her fantasies might leave the pages of her posts and become a reality, to not even attempt to tell him the truth? Maybe you could tell him the truth and play it off because you were sick.

You swallowed and it stuck to your throat. “I…I did write you the way I see you.” You coughed for emphasis.

As if he was the one with a fever, his cheeks burned scarlet.

Before he could properly respond to your confession, you began rambling, “But I knew I had no chance with you, so I resorted to writing it all out, and before I knew it, my imagination just kind of ran wild, but it felt so good just to let all my feelings out. And then, there were people who felt the same way as me, and they encouraged me, they made me feel like I could finally say what I’ve wanted to say all these years. So, in the end, I just couldn’t stop writing about how much I…. How much I…l-like you!” The word “like” was, at this point, far too underwhelming of a word to describe the vastness of heartfelt emotions that he made you feel on a daily basis (which had been, honestly, amplified by how often you wrote of him) but the word would have to do for now. After all, he’d completely put you on the spot.

His jaw dropped. He knew he’d been leading the conversation in the way of a confession, but he hadn’t expected those three words to actually leave your mouth. He had to say something. Had to tell you that he liked you too. That he more than liked you… That he- “Wait, wait, wait, back up, you like me???” Smooth, Soshiro. Real smooth. Fuck.

Now it was your turn to flush completely crimson. You immediately shut up and turned away, eager to escape his penetrating gaze.

Yeah, okay, fair enough. Should not have phrased the question like that. “Hey, wait-” He ducked his head back into your view only for you to evade him. He peered over your shoulder only for you to pull the blanket around you tighter. Brows furrowing, he circled around you until he was in your line of sight again, this time, dipping his head down to meet your gaze, and yet again, just as quickly, you averted your gaze. It was like he was playing a game of tag and just couldn’t quite catch you.

He began to laugh.

Your blush burned even brighter when you heard him laugh. You knew it. You’d said too much. Acted too ridiculous. He was laughing at you. He was oh-so-very-clearly laughing at you and how preposterous you were being. But damnit, why were you so taken by him that you couldn’t even be embarrassed properly without thinking about just how precious his laughter was and just how impossible it was to replicate in a work of writing? God, how were you thinking about writing in a time like this? How were you even functioning at a time like this? Damnit, his laugh…just so cute…it was debilitating, honestly.

As if to reflect your mental state, your shoulders began to sag, your body crumpling in on itself. He sensed your shift in mood and immediately stopped laughing. He gently guided your body to turn towards him, hands resting on your shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He was ready to apologize, ready to confess everything, ready to be at your beck and call. And then he saw your lips puckered into a slight pout, your brows furrowed, your forehead creased. And your eyes, fuck, your eyes, looking up at him so innocently.

“You are insanely, impossibly adorable.” He breathed out.

Your eyes widened.

“I…I said that out loud, huh?” He laughed again, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry, I swear, I’m not laughing at you. I would never laugh at you. I’m laughing cuz I’m an idiot.”

The way you immediately began to reassure him that he wasn’t only made him love you that much more. You deserved a confession, and he would be sure to give you a proper one.

“I never know what to expect in this line of work. Will I make it to the end of the day? Will I wake up the next morning? Will my comrades? I just never know. But the one thing I do know is that you make my heart feel lighter than it’s ever felt before. Like I’m not in the middle of war times, like I’m high on a cloud somewhere.”

“The way you look at me with those big, gorgeous eyes. The way you smile at me with that big, gorgeous smile. Makes me feel like I’d do anything to protect you even if it meant going up against a fortitude 10 Kaiju. Hell, I’d take on a fortitude of 100 if it meant I could keep you safe.”

“You’ve always been special to me, even from the very beginning. There’s certain things I can only talk about with you. Certain places I only want you to know about. I even call you something different than I do everyone else, not that you picked up on it.” He chuckled.

“Honestly? Sure, I was surprised to find out you wrote all those things about me, but it wasn’t a bad surprise. It only made me all the more attached to you. It was like I’d found a treasure that was just for me. I’d found the one person who would support me more than anyone, even if I didn’t always know it. And I felt awful that I couldn’t support you the same way. I felt awful that I let you run away from me that night and that I didn’t stop you, and tell you how wonderful your writing is, how wonderful you are, and how much I-”

Tears began to spill down your cheeks despite your efforts to stop them -and you emphatically attempted to stop them, hands pawing at the droplets (why were you crying so much anyway; was sheer relief this overwhelming? You’d blame it all on the sickness later)- and he immediately threw his arms around you. A hand came up to cradle your head, and he ran his fingers through your hair in attempts to soothe your sobbing.

“-How much I love and adore you,” He finished, whispering the sweet words into your ear, before placing a kiss on your head. “My dearest.”

Before you knew it, you were sighing happily, melting into his embrace, arms coming to wrap tightly around him. If this was a dream, you didn’t want it to end. And if this was real…well, you’d never let him go.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Deeeeeearest, let’s go on a date!”

Hoshina popped his perky, little head into the Operations room like he did everyday at 5 o clock (at least, until you’d begged him to meet you elsewhere for fear of driving your supervising officer to the brinks of insanity and beyond) and, upon hearing his singsongy voice calling out for you once more, the other operations agents began to laugh amongst each other about just how over the top their Vice Captain had become since he’d started dating you and “just how many dates was this now?” You didn’t blame them for talking; even your followers had started to gossip amongst themselves about who this new user was that was constantly reblogging and commenting on all your fics as well sliding into your inbox repeatedly. It was your dear boyfriend expressing his support, as your “number one fan.”

Okonogi pinched the bridge of her nose, veins bulging at her temples. “VICE CAPTAIN HOSHINA- NEED I REMIND YOU WHAT THE POLICY IS ON UNWELCOME FRATERNIZATION IN THE WORKPLACE???”

Hoshina tapped his chin in thought. “Oh, you mean the policy that doesn’t exist, that you made up because you just can’t stand how happy we are? That one?” He grinned cheekily.

Before Okonogi could burst another blood vessel, you quickly blurt out an apology, “I am so, so sorry, ma’am, it won’t happen again!” And then, taking Hoshina’s hand in yours, you made your hasty escape.

Hoshina’s bubbly laughter echoed down the hallway as you dashed away with him in tow. “Hey, baby,” He greeted you cheerfully.

You jabbed him in the arm with a finger. “Don’t ‘hey baby’ me when you almost gave my supervising officer a heart attack! I thought I told you I would start meeting you at your office after I finished up with work.”

“Aww, but that’s no fun. I like seeing the looks on everyone’s faces when I pick you up.”

“And did you get a good look?”

“I did and it was magnificent.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, this boy. He would be the death of you.

Suddenly, he tugged you into his arms. “But you knooow, their faces aren’t nearly as appealing as the faces you’re going to make for me when I’m finished with you, dearest,” He purred, breath hot on your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe. “I read some more fics of yours aaaand, well, I thought it’d be a good chance to put them into practice. See if it’s really as hot as the smut makes it sound. Now, won’t you be a good girl and humor me?”

OH. THIS. BOY. HE. WOULD. REALLY. BE. THE. DEATH. OF. YOU!!!

You were sure your face was so piping hot that you could’ve cooked your dinner on it, but you barely had the time to squeak out his name before he had his arms curled underneath you, and was whisking you away to his room.

He kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot, nearly wasting his efforts to set you down gently when he barreled towards you with a bruising kiss. His saliva spilled onto your tongue, his scent seeping into your pores, as he pressed his body ever closer to yours, commanding your cells to intertwine. Heat burst from his lips as he continued to chase after yours with one fervent kiss after another. The hands that once cradled your face tenderly now began to glide down your sides, his breath stuttering in his lungs as his palms rolled over your hips. His lips followed as greedy a trail as his wandering hands, trailing a ravenous path from your lips to your collarbone, kissing and sucking at the flesh that was always his for the taking. He snagged your zipper in between his teeth, dragging it downwards until he was on his knees, tugging your jacket the rest of the way off.

Those calloused hands of his could command entire fleets, could compel entire crowds of Kaiju to crumble, and now, they found strength in laying your skin bare, coaxing your camisole up your abdomen, until it bunched beneath your bra. His lips pressed their adoration repeatedly against your stomach, love and lust driving him lower. His fingers began to occupy themselves, unfastening buckles and belts and buttons.

Anticipation hummed in your chest, warmth pooling between your legs. The line between desire and desperation began to blur as his feather-light touch began to flit across the edge of your pants, fidgeting with the fabric, easing it down your thighs ever so slowly (he kissed you like he was a man starved, yet he had the audacity to strip you like he had nothing but time??), until you had half a mind to command him to just tear your pants off. You were sure someone somewhere would get a laugh out of you, an operations officer, giving orders to the Vice Captain of the Third Division.

Hoshina could feel your impatience crackling in the air, and he smirked as he began to plant teasing kisses along your v-line. “I thought I read somewhere that you liked being teased.”

”I was writing for the reader!”

”Are you not the reader too?”

”No, I’m the writer!”

”But I thought you said you wrote me how you view me. So you wrote that you wanted me to tease you, you wrote that you wanted me to-” His fingers brushed slow, sensual stripes along your clothed slit, your arousal seeping through your panties and onto his skin, “-touch you like this-” His fingers curled slightly, knuckles rocking back and forth as he kneaded the fabric between your slicked folds, “-but you didn’t actually mean it?”

You inhaled sharply. He was already dangerous enough; you did not need to give him more ammunition. “N-No…I-I didn’t!”

He dipped his head down, teeth hooking onto your panties, pulling them to the side. “And when you wrote that you wanted me to-” He flicked his tongue over your clit ever so lightly, “-taste you like this, you didn’t mean it either?”

You bit back a moan. “N-not like…”

His tongue began to languidly swirl around the rosy bud, his saliva coating it with a glossy sheen, like he was polishing a pearl. “Not like what, love? Use your words.”

“Not like this! You’re such a…well…tease!”

He clicked his tongue in disapproval and pulled away. “And here I thought you wrote what you wanted.”

You let out an aggravated whine. ”I’ve written other smut fics, ya know!!”

His amethyst eyes turned onyx, lips twitching at the edges, like a weather vane signaling a change in the wind, an incoming storm. “Ohh? You have, haven’t you?” He rose to his feet, hands making quick work of his belt before leaving his pants and boxers in a bundle at his feet. If you weren’t so busy staring at the sheer impressive length of his member (because when did it get so aggrievedly erect?), you might’ve noticed the cum stains in his boxers. But you didn’t notice. Didn’t notice that he’d completely already gotten off, solely on teasing you. The way you felt, the way you tasted, the way you smelled, it was all more perfection than he ever felt he deserved. But the way you squirmed for him made his cock pound in his pants, and he couldn’t ever get enough of it.

“I think I’m starting to get it now.” He wrapped a single arm around your waist and began carrying you over to what you thought was the bedroom before he kicked open the bathroom door and bent you over the sink. “What you really meant,” He sunk his teeth into the junction between your neck and shoulder before pressing a soothing kiss to the indentation of his bite, “Was that you wanted it rough, yeah?”

His voice was low, purring, reassuring. But the snap of his hips in the blink of an eye said otherwise. Before your lungs had time to contract, he had himself sheathed up to his base, hand around your throat, thumb tilting your chin towards your flustered reflection. And there, behind you, he stood smirking in the mirror.

Scarlet seeped into your cheeks, heat dancing across your skin. You quickly tucked your chin into your shoulder.

An amused hum rumbled in Hoshina’s throat. “You tellin me you have no shame writing about getting dicked down all the live long day, but you get embarrassed watching it happen?”

“M-maybe…” You mumbled meekly, gaze still averted.

His thumb caressed your chin tenderly. “But what if I want you to watch? What if I want you to see what I see? See how good you are for me. You can do that for me, can’t you, dearest?”

You bit your lip and he tugged it free. “None of that now. Come on, darling. Just for a little bit. You’re so beautiful; it’d be such a waste to not even acknowledge it.”

This man sweet-talked like his tongue was made of sugar, and you fell for it every time. Fuck. You shyly turned your gaze back to the mirror, shocked at what you saw. Was that really you? He’d only thrust into you once, he’d been kind enough to let you breath (or evil enough to let the torment you were about to endure dawn on you), and your knuckles were already white with strain, hands bracing against the bathroom counter, sweat forming on your forehead, cheeks flushed like it was mid July. This was what he wanted you to see?

”Better.” He began to roll his hips forward, his speed building. “Now, don’t look away until you’ve come on my cock.”

Whimpers fluttered up your throat as he set a punishing pace, his cock barreling through your walls, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other resting around your neck like a collar. Pressure and pleasure built up in your core, welcoming and overwhelming at the same time. The filthy squelch of his cock fucking through rivers of your arousal had you flushing even darker. In the mirror, your expression was reflected, eyes half closed, hazed over with delirium, drool running down your chin, lips stuttering out a series of never ending moans.

Hoshina leaned forward to thumb the drool back into your mouth, and when you began to suck on the digit, he groaned. “You didn’t tell me your fucked-out face was so gorgeous, babe. I could watch it-“ He punctuated another thrust, “-for hours.”

Your eyes widened. Surely, he exaggerated. Surely, he didn’t actually mean…that he would fuck you for hours??? You summoned what little brain cells you had that were still functioning, and began to sift through all the smut you’d ever written in your mind, hoping to get some clue as to what he would do next. Did you have a fic where they fucked for hours? Or was he planning to spend the next few hours roleplaying every single one? Or was it a figure of speech, did he not really mean hours?

His saliva coated thumb reached down to stroke sparks of ecstasy into your clit as he continued to ram his cock through your cunt. You were sure, at this point, that he’d branded himself into your anatomy, that he’d made a permanent imprint of his swollen tip on your cervix, but he continued to show no signs of stopping. Was he trying to spill himself into your stomach? Was he trying to spear himself into your lungs??

Suddenly, something lurched in your chest. You’d like to say you were feeling the butterflies, but it was more like stampeding elephants about to escape. You thanked god you were standing over a sink. Feeling a familiar heat swirl through your gut and curl up in your core, you began to look away again, not wanting to see what expression you’d make this time.

He tugged your chin back to the mirror. “Naughty girl, what did I say? You’re going to keep watching until you make a mess for me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to arch your head back. Instead, you did as he said. You shyly brought your gaze back to your reflection. And then, he thumbed at your clit again, cock rumbling through your clenching walls, and you watched yourself squirt all over the sink, cursing and crying out his name. You shuddered as the pleasure slammed into you, ripping through your lungs, exploding in bursts of white light in your vision.

“Fuuuuuck, love, look at you-“ He let out a strangled groan, “-You’re squeezin me so goddamn-“ He collapsed on top of you, chest pressing to your back tightly, as he buried himself balls deep, and released his milky load into your cunt.

You gasped for breath, and in your desperation for oxygen, instead choked on your own saliva. Your legs began to quake, and you rested your weight on the bathroom counter to support yourself.

He pressed his warm lips to your shoulder and trailed his kisses down your back until shivers ran down your spine. “What a woman,” He whistled.

“This woman is officially tired.” You declared, attempting to make a beeline for the shower, your wobbly legs caving in the process.

He caught you and turned you towards him, hoisting you up on his hips, cock settling itself back in your cunt, before getting in the shower and turning on the hot water.

”Umm, what are you doing?”

He grinned wolvishly. “Getting you cleaned up, duh.”

”You’re still inside me though. And are you, fuck’s sake, are you hard again??”

“Didn’t you write a fic about shower fucking? I’m pretty sure you did,” He teased, lips already finding your neck.

”I said I was tired though!” You protested.

“So I’ll carry you. Duh.” He shifted you in his arms to prove his point.

He knew that you could’ve hopped right off of him. You could’ve told him to stop and he would’ve stopped. You could’ve pushed him away, said enough was enough. But you didn’t.

You felt the familiar flood of euphoria rush through your veins, as his cock ran over all the right grooves, touched all the right nerves, his voice whispering all the right words, and you let the pleasure take over, squeezing your legs around his waist even tighter.

“My perfect girl…still so wet for me…”

”A guy could get addicted to the way you milk him dry…”

”Fuck, baby, that’s it, take all of me. So good…”

He braced you against the shower wall, lips suctioning to any patch of skin that was within reach, his marks branding themselves into your flesh. The scalding water rained down retribution on his back, causing scarlet blemishes to spill across his skin, but he didn’t care. All he could feel was you- your cunt spasming around his dick, your saliva sticking to his tongue, your hips rocking to match his pace, your body heat simmering against him. It was all so intoxicating. He wanted to drown himself in you.

You had the same thought as him. You weren’t sure what kind of spell he’d placed on your body, but it was as if you’d completely forgotten just how rough he’d been with you not two minutes ago. Now you were clinging onto him for dear life, palms buried into his shoulders, hips knocking against his, chasing the high that he had hooked you on. Just a little deeper, just a little longer. That was all you needed.

This new angle had your stomach tightening, your nails piercing skin, your coherent thoughts evaporating into the steam. He’d fucked you completely dumb, and you bounded up and down on his dick, gratitude on your lips.

You were certain that you remembered the water pressure in his shower being much more effective at washing away grime than it currently was, but as it stood now, your thighs were still splattered with his cum and yours, his pelvis still slicked in a thick coat of your arousal. And when your gaze met his, you could tell this filthy boy was absolutely loving it. The look in his eyes said it’d been his goal from the very beginning to make you leave the shower even messier than you were when you went in. Stupid, sexy, sadistic bastard.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” You accused.

His lips curled into a dark smirk. “Who says I am?”

”The look on your face that says you want to see me as wrecked as possible.”

“I’m just trying to get my darling girlfriend cleaned up,” He reached over and squirted some bodywash on your tits to support his statement, before grinning and nuzzling closer to nip at your ear, “But seeing you wrecked is a bonus.”

You leaned forward to bite his bottom lip. “Menace.”

He chuckled. “But you love it, all the same.”

Before you could make your false accusations that you did not, his lips collided with yours, ingraining his urgency into you with every spit soaked kiss, your moans intermingling on your intertwined tongues. The scent of his bodywash lingered in the air, bleeding into the steam. You inhaled a large whiff of it -when he finally allowed you a respite to breathe-and it made you dizzy. Or maybe it was his relentless onslaught that made the room feel like it was spinning. Maybe it was the way you were losing yourself in him, with every kiss and with every touch. And maybe the way he split you open right now, so precisely, so intently, so ardently, was what had you feeling like the fabric of your universe was splintering apart at the seams.

He’d lift you up in his arms, until only his tip remained sheathed within you, twitching at your entrance, before slamming you back down, his cock reacquainting itself with your most delicate bundle of nerves, and then he’d repeat the cycle, over and over. You were sure your legs must be cutting off circulation to his waist with how tightly you were squeezing around him, but it wasn’t as though his waist needed the blood flow right now anyway. It appeared that it’d all been directed into a single organ, because you felt a fullness in your stomach that wasn’t there before. Did he get even harder while he’d been fucking the breath out of you? You were right; he was completely getting off on reducing you to a pathetic, whining mess in his hands.

As if to answer your train of thought, he ran a wet hand up your side before cupping your boob, thumb brushing circles across the dark, pebbled skin. “I can tell just how badly you want to come for me,” He gave your breast a squeeze, “So go on then.”

Desire resounded in your chest, your pussy aching between your legs. Every flick of his finger over your peaked nipple had you throbbing with need. You held your breath, clenching your legs stubbornly, but you were shaking. You were one foot off the edge already, a tiptoe away from falling.

He could tell you were holding back. His lips scorched another blazing trail up your neck, before he murmured against your jaw, “Come for your Vice Captain.”

He plunged his cock deeper with an emphatic thrust, and you lurched forward, moans muffled against his shoulder as you sagged onto him. Thick, hot air seeped into your lungs and tears stung at the edges of your eyes. Another persistent thrust or two later, his hand still toying with your tit, and your release barreled into you like a bowling ball. Pressure slammed against your ribcage and trickled out in waves. Your limbs twitched against him as you shuddered your way through the mind numbing bliss.

After the feeling passed, Hoshina set your feet down on the floor gently, sitting you down at the edge of the tub. You steadied yourself on the rim, before trying to blink back the haze and find his gaze.

You caught a split second of his lips separating to release a throaty groan, his eyes squeezed shut, before your unsuspecting face was painted with thick coats of his hot, sticky cum. You felt it ooze down your chin and splatter across your tits, and you sighed. This was what he’d been waiting for, wasn’t it?

”Menace,” You repeated again, using your thumb to flick globs of cum off your cheeks and lids.

He grinned. “Oh, baby. You haven’t seen a damn thing yet. Don’t forget; I read all of your fics.” He shot you a playful wink, a testament to his next move.

”Every. Single. One. And what do ya know, we’ve got all night to test each of them out.”

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