MJ !

you and zuko had finally gotten home after a long dinner party at the fire palace.

though you were both in entirely different moods; a big, satisfied smile on your face, and a deeply frustrated frown on zuko’s.

you opened the door, hand splayed on the wall for support as you lazily undid the tight straps of your heels, hyper aware of your fuming boyfriend glaring daggers into the back of your head.

you shoot him an innocent glance over your shoulder, your smile bordering on taunting, “is everything okay, my darling? you don’t seem so well.”

amber eyes pierce through your very soul, blazing with irritation. any normal person would be cowering and pleading for forgiveness by now, facing such obvious anger from the fire lord— but you could see past that front.

despite his royal status and gruff appearance pointing towards the opposite, zuko was actually a very gentle lover in private.

he’d never laid a hand on you, no matter what you did. were you a little mean for exploiting that to unleash your maximum brattiness? maybe.

but the sight of him so worked up and helpless always turned you on so badly, and his attempts at getting you to behave were just so fun each and every time.

your feet slip into your fuzzy slippers as you step further into the house, and an exasperated groan escapes zuko’s throat.

“why? seriously, why do you do this, my love?” he pinches his nose bridge, trying to even out his breathing. “i’ve told you time and time again that i do not tolerate misbehavior at formal gatherings.”

you hum, in the kitchen now, opening the fridge for something to eat, “i did nothing wrong, zu.”

he huffs, quickly closing the distance and brutally shoving the fridge door shut, his bulk towering over you. “nothing? you call teasing my attendants, purposefully hiking up your dress in front of everyone, flirting with most of the guests — nothing? that’s all nothing to you, my love? i had to personally apologize to so many people for your weird behavior tonight.”

puffs of steam hit your face as he rants, but all that does is make you more smug. you bat your lashes up at him, “i’ve just had one too many drinks, zu. i didn’t mean to.”

his brows furrow, “i watched your wine glass the entire time. you didn’t drink enough to act like that, sweetheart.”

you also liked how the terms of endearment never left his mouth, even when scolding you.

you shrug, grabbing a nearby water bottle and walking off again. “whoops, then.”

“you—you’re impossible!” his voice almost cracks, and you hide your victory grin behind your bottle, heading towards the stairs.

you take a refreshing sip, soothing the slight scratchiness of your throat from the alcohol.

“having a hard time with her again, sparky?”

you choke on your water, followed suit by an intense coughing fit as you trip over yourself, the liquid spilling everywhere.

you scramble up on your knees, hesitantly twisting your head behind you.

oh no.

no no no.

“she’s been a nightmare,” zuko sighs in defeat when toph walks over from where she was quietly seated in the living room the entire time.

her arm snakes around his strong waist, a delighted grin plastered on her face as she looks down at you, gaze accurately pinning you down from the sound of your now erratic breathing. “yeah? well, you’re the one who enables her, zuko.”

your eyes nervously dart between them both, extremely puzzled. why was she here?

it was thursday. in your arrangement, thursdays were for you and zuko only.

toph wasn’t supposed to be here.

she gives him a pat on the back before stepping over to where you were, gait slow and assured.

you crawl back in panic, but your movements are quickly halted when she earthbends the ground under you to lock your limbs into place.

“confused?” she kneels down to your height, tilting her head mockingly. “it’s past midnight, princess. which means, it’s friday now. and oh, remind me, who’s in charge of you in fridays again?”

she smiles, and it’s pure evil.

you immediately break out into a cold sweat, your trembling lips rendering you a stammering mess. “n—no wait, this doesn’t count! i—i was with zuko all day, i didn’t—”

he scoffs, throwing his arms up in the air. “now, you’re scared? do my words and warnings mean nothing to you at all?”

you’re about to take it all back and apologize to him when she cuts you off with a loud cackle, “don’t be jealous, sparky.”

you flinch when her rough hand comes down to ruffle your hair thoroughly, like you were some misbehaving dog. she grins, all teeth, “you’re just too gentle on her. but don’t worry, i’ll take good care of that for you.”

zuko sighs again, coming to stand next to toph as he brushes his thick, disheveled hair back, staring you down with suffocating disappointment. “i just hoped she’d be more cooperative. you know i don’t like using violence, toph.”

“violence’s too strong a word..” she coos, patting your cheek softly and you almost melt into her touch, before the pat quickly morphs into a head-whipping slap, her palm striking you so hard your face slams against the floor in a crashing thud and your ears begin to ring.

a sharp cry erupts from your throat and she smiles sweetly, dusting her hands before getting up. “mhm. i’d just call it.. light discipline.”

she leans down to lift your head up by your roots, like you were some grocery bag, then casually turns back to a flabbergasted zuko who can’t tear his eyes off the blooming bruise on your soft cheek.

“this,” she gives your hair another tug, relishing the pathetic yelp it coaxes from you, “is how you tame a brat, my dear zuko.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

toph forces you to crawl all the way to your bedroom, the sole of her foot nudging your ass if your pace slackens, and you want to die from the sheer embarrassment.

nothing about this was fair. at all.

you hadn’t taken toph into account. you only did as you pleased because you were sure she wouldn’t be here.

fucking midnight — that didn’t count!! it was still not her day!

she had you on a tight leash since the beginning of your relationship, and having learned your lesson the hard way a few times, you knew better than to test her.

she was ruthless.

so unlike sweet, gentle zuko. zuko who pampered and spoiled you rotten, zuko who indulged your brattiness most of the time, zuko who you were now immensely regretting taking for granted.

“faster,” she yawns, giving your backside a light kick and feeling it jerk up against her foot. you flush harder at the utter humiliation, face as red as your bruise.

“see, zu?” she gives him a proud grin as they walk behind you. “not a word of rebuttal. i keep telling you, she can be very good if you beat some sense into her little pea brain. you just gotta show her who’s boss.”

he stays silent, but you can feel his heavy gaze on you. and you wished the ground would split open and swallow you up already.

being punished by toph was one thing — having zuko watch you get punished was a whole other one.

it was too humiliating; he was the partner you felt cockier with.

you were so smug and catty with him, and now your entire act was crumbling apart right before his very eyes.

your self-esteem was taking a huge, huge hit. one you weren’t sure how to recover from.

you’re snapped out of your self-pitying with a startled squeal, her foot coming to slot itself between your thighs this time, spreading them open as she brings the top of it up to rub against your clothed cunt.

“t—toph!” you can’t help but shamefully moan, back arching further at the friction against your damp panties, and she laughs even louder. “what the hell, you’re so filthy. what the fuck’s got you so wet already, you disgusting whore? ew, you’re getting my foot all dirty.”

and with that, she pulls it away to give your ass another kick forward.

zuko looks away, embarrassed for your own sake, though his painfully hard cock tells another story.

toph sighs, wiping the excess slick that seeped onto her foot on the back of your thighs, and you could cry from how degraded you felt and how there was nothing you could do but take it.

and the fact that this still had you a dripping mess only made shame curdle deep in your stomach.

“can’t behave,” she spits out, swiping her foot across the floor. “and can’t crawl properly. what can you even do?”

you don’t see her assume her stance until the earth under you rumbles and folds into a rippling wave that sends you straight to your shared bedroom, where you land with a squeak.

“toph,” zuko glares at her as they march forward. “don’t use rash bending on her like that.”

she merely tuts, sliding off her clothes before even reaching you, “you’re soft. this is why she disobeys you.”

“i’m not soft.” he argues, crossing his arms, and toph is already lifting your dazed self up onto the bed. “you are. you can’t even spank her.”

“hitting isn’t always the answer.”

she lays you down, your hair pooling so prettily around your head like a halo, then gives your thigh a smack to feel you jolt back into attention.

she shoots him a smug grin and shrugs, “works just fine to me.”

you swallow thickly, her nimble fingers ridding you of the expensive silks, exposing your pretty, naked body for her to mark and bruise as she pleased.

toph notices the trembling of your limbs under her, and her smile turns fond, her voice soft as her face lowers to closely hover over yours. “don’t be scared, sweet girl.”

tears prick at your eyes, and you let out a tiny whimper. “i-i didn’t do anything to you, toph.”

“you’re right,” she captures your lips into a warm, sloppy kiss — so sweet you would think her bipolar. “that’s why i’ll be gentle on you.”

her words reek of lies, but what can you do other than cling to them?

you nuzzle her calloused hand resting on your blemished cheek, allowing tears to fall down and soak her fingers, “y-you know i’d never disobey you, toph.”

“i know.” she agrees, caressing your face as her smirk grows wider, more condescending. “you fear mommy the most, don’t you?”

her hands drift to your bare breasts to cup them, and you nod eagerly, not thinking much of the question.

then zuko — who you almost forgot was even there — barks out an irritated scoff, stripping himself off his robes too. “is that how it is? out of the two of us, i’m the one who treats you best, the one who has you drenched in gold and fancy silk, the one who has never so much as raised their voice at you. and yet, i’m the one you don’t listen to?”

you wince at his harsh tone, unused to seeing him so visibly angry with you, guilt pooling in your gut. “n-no i—”

toph laughs, licking a stripe up your neck. “suck it up, sparky. i’m just that much better than you. you’re mommy’s girl through and through, aren’t you baby?”

you don’t even know who to look at, glancing between a cocky and deceptively sweet toph, and a deeply disappointed zuko, who had now joined you both on the bed, all of you only left in your underwear.

toph was usually the angry one— you didn’t know how to navigate this.

her punishment was worse, but zuko was now a highly unpredictable variable in your situation.

you never once doubted his soft spot for you, but it was hard to stay confident under such a terrifying, boiling hot man.

“my my, you’re steaming, zu.” toph lifts herself up from you to capture zuko’s lips into a filthy kiss, wisps of smoke escaping through the gaps of their mouths.

an easy moan slips out of your lips when she kneads your tits, reminding you that she was still there with you.

the kiss keeps growing more heated, less tongue and more teeth, both of them fighting for dominance.

when you see a bit of blood trickle down zuko’s lip to his chin, you frown in worry and poke at toph’s side. “g-guys i think you’re taking it too—”

both of them immediately turn to glare at you and all your words die on your tongue, their heaving chests and angry eyes sending sparks of fear and pleasure down to your throbbing clit.

“go away, toph.” zuko nudges her off, crawling over you. “this concerns me. i’ll take over.”

“suit yourself,” she sits by your head, lazily leaning back against the headboard as zuko spreads your legs open.

the motion isn’t gentle, and that’s when you realize this isn’t the usual sweet, soft zuko you know.

no no no, this wasn’t like him at all—

“i always defended you,” he spits it like venom, not bothering to look up from your puffy folds, neatly outlined through your wet panties. “i always thought toph’s methods were uncivilized, savage, undignified to use on a smart girl like you.”

a wail is ripped out of your throat when his hand cups the entirety of your cunt, heating it up just enough to warn, shy of burning you.

you’re already crying again, and you want to apologize but he decides he isn’t done speaking.

“no no, don’t bother, your words mean nothing to me anymore. time and time again, i’ve tolerated your actions and opted for gentler, more humane treatment. thought i could talk sense into your stubborn head. and what does that get me? a royal fuck-up at an important dinner. you know, maybe toph’s right. maybe you’re just a fucking mutt who needs a rough hand to actually listen.”

tears freely stream down your face, and you want to deny it all so badly. you want to defend yourself, speak up, tell him that he has it all wrong and you’ll listen — but he’s past entertaining your nonsense now.

you don’t even see his hand move until your entire body jerks up in shock as you cry out, a harsh spank landing on your swollen pussy lips.

you sob loudly, writhing and reaching for his arms to hold onto.

“well, i’ll be damned,” toph perks up next to you, pleasantly surprised, like she was commenting on a football match. “didn’t know you had it in you, sparky.”

“shut up, toph.” he glares down at you, panting, and through your teary half-lidded eyes, you swore you saw a flicker of hesitation in his blazing ones, like he wasn’t sure whether to really go through with this.

you allow yourself to soak in that brief moment, holding eye contact in hopes that you’d butter him up.

remind him you were just his princess.

that you were the girl he never laid a hand on.

zuko feels conflicted.

he wants to stop this.

he wants to hold you in his arms and litter apologetic kisses all over your fragile body.

this isn’t like him.

but he also likes this.

when he ignores the small bit of guilt prodding at the back of his mind, he really, unexpectedly, likes this.

he likes seeing those quivering lips, that hint of fear in your usually fierce eyes.

that meekness that you usually reserved for toph only.

you were vulnerable now.

you were actually listening.

no back talk, no smug remarks, no teasing — just obediently waiting for his next move.

fuck.

the sight of you so wrecked and fearful under him has his cock effortlessly straining against the thin fabric of his boxers.

it felt deranged but he couldn’t resist it anymore — he’d make it up to you later.

your hope for the soft zuko vanishes when he suddenly grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as he frees his rock hard cock, tip flushed and already leaking with too much pre-cum.

even in your state, you can’t help but drool when it slaps back against his abdomen, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

well that “nothing” was about to become something, and way sooner than expected.

zuko always fingered you before fucking you, gently stretched you bit by bit because he knew he was too big for you, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his pretty, pretty girl.

but that zuko was long gone and now you scream, nails drawing blood against his delts as his thick cock bullies its way inside your tight walls with no prep at all.

“z—zuko! i-it hurts— nngh!”

“you’ll take it.” he snaps with finality, and you can’t get used to this new, mean tone of his — though your pussy clearly can. “you take toph all the time.”

“yeah, and i’m bigger.” she adds with a proud grin, casually twirling a strand of your sweat-damp hair like you weren’t almost bouncing off the bed with the force of zuko’s thrusts.

his huge hands find the back of your thighs, folding you into a mating press and you choke on your moans at the deeper angle, his fat tip kissing your cervix.

“ahh zuko!” you mewl through your cries, drool and tears soaking the pillow under you, mouth agape as he fucks you stupid, and another smack! lands on your ass.

“is this what it takes?” his palms grow hotter against the sweaty skin of your thighs, steam wafting off his body. “do i have to treat you like an animal for you to listen to me? do i have to be as savage as toph?”

she lets out a booming laugh, slapping her knee, “that’s me! you’re welcome, sparky.”

“answer me,” he orders you, ignoring toph.

you want to, but all you can do is moan like a bitch in heat and admire how beautiful he is, even with the ugly emotions stirring in his heart.

it was unfair how pretty he was — face scrunched up in anger and concentration, sweat collecting on his forehead and around his bangs, lips as red as his scar, parted open for puffs of hot air to hit your face.

maybe it was because he was the fire lord, but even in his ruthlessness, there was some sort of grace, refinement.

while toph doled out insane, crass punishment, terrifying enough to set you straight for life — zuko seemed more.. reasonable, for lack of a better word.

how even at his worst, with his control lost, he still managed to hold a level of composure you could only dream of toph possessing at her best.

cruel, cruel toph.

toph who had been awfully, oddly patient, now that you thought about it.

as if she read your mind, she suddenly groans, stretching her limbs. “okay, this isn’t that fun anymore. let me in too.”

zuko huffs, dragging a particularly high pitched yelp out of you when his dick strikes your g-spot, “it’s my night.”

“well it’s technically friday, so it’s actually mine.”

“toph.”

she sneers and grabs his shoulder, cocking an eye brow. “now now, sparky. i know you just grew a backbone, but don’t forget who still tops both of you, yeah?”

toph interrupts his reluctant grumbling, pushing him away from your face so her fingers can find you. she traces your pretty features, smudging your tears and sweat all over them, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “you always look your best when you’re fucked out. now, let me have my fun.”

her words don’t even register in your brain, too focused on her beautiful tits and bulging abs and zuko’s cock still ramming into you hard and fast.

with zuko’s head pushed further back now, she doesn’t waste time in using up the free space, and your eyes widen when she lifts herself up, her knees sinking on either side of your head.

she looks down at you, and the eye contact makes you spasm around zuko’s dick, which in turn twitches inside you.

she grins, hips hovering over your face as teasing fingers slowly tug her panties to the side, “i’m sure all that crying got you hungry, yeah?”

she leaves you no opportunity to answer — not that you could anyway, only able to mewl at your boyfriend’s furious pounding — before lowering herself on you, the smell of her gorgeous, wet pussy clouding all your other senses.

you can barely breathe, but you know better than to reject a beifong’s gift. you were very grateful.

she scoffs, giving your hair a harsh pull, “eat up, bitch. if i just wanted to sit, i’d pick a fucking sofa.”

a sharp thrust from zuko elicits a loud moan from you, which reverberates through her core and pulls a similar noise out of her.

“good,” her hips begin to rock against your face, and you start lapping at her soaked folds, drinking in her moans of pleasure mixed with zuko’s satisfied grunts, both of them about to stuff your holes soon enough.

“faster!” her grip on your hair is so tight it puts zuko’s on your hips to shame, and you find yourself crying harder as you moan and eat her out, overwhelmed by the amount of sensations engulfing your body.

your hands weakly slide up to grab toph’s waist to help please her, but they’re quickly smacked off.

“don’t touch me until i cum, slut.” she barks, fucking your face harder, and your choking only causes you to tighten around zuko, who moans and picks up the pace at the feel of your fluttering walls, his heavy balls smacking against the bruised skin of your ass.

“fuck,” she breathes out a raspy laugh, reveling in your completely wrecked noises. “no way this pathetic girl actually gives you trouble, sparky. that’s kinda embarrassing for you.”

“shut up— haah..” he trails off, his pace stuttering for a second and the next thing you feel is absurdly strong, hot gushes of white cum painting your insides white, filling you up to the brim, and your eyes cross and roll back so hard you thought you’d gone blind.

his slow rocking as he ensures you’re stuffed well and full of him has you close to cumming yourself, but just as you’re about to let go, toph quickly throws her arm behind her to push zuko off, “pull out!”

even with only one of her strong hands, he’s already pushed half out of you, and with a muffled cry from you against toph’s cunt, he pulls out as ordered, urged by the urgency in her voice.

he frowns, gently fisting himself, puzzled. “the hell, toph? what was that for?”

toph grins, resuming your face-fucking, “she was about to cum. i heard all her blood rush faster south, and of course, good girls don’t cum before their mommies, right?”

your poor pussy spams uselessly, milky pearls of zuko’s cum trickling down your slit to dampen the sheets, and he feels his cock already harden again at the sight.

toph’s moans grow louder as you sob against her, helplessly suckling and slurping at her clit, and her orgasm soon follows.

it was just like what you said earlier; toph was disgusting.

these were her methods.

your face was a mix of tears, snot, drool, and now cum. and yet, if she was allowed sight for only one moment, she’d pick this one with zero hesitation.

“good girl.” with another filthy squelch of her cunt against your mouth, she forces you to swallow all her slick, two fingers pressed against your slender throat to feel the ripple of it.

she finally lifts herself up, and you suck in a desperate breath, dragging air back into your lungs like a drowning woman.

she snickers at that, sitting on your abdomen instead, listening to your frantic, frenzied panting.

“aw,” she croons, sliding her hands up the curve of your waist to your chest again, coaxing broken whimpers out of you when she toys with your peaked nipples. “baby wants an orgasm, huh?”

you sniffle and nod, back arching as she pulls and twists your sensitive buds.

her smirk widens and it’s wicked. “well, i’m not the one you pissed off, so this isn’t up to me.”

“do you forgive her, zuko? think she deserves to cum?” one of her hands drifts behind her, past your navel and inching closer to your perked up clit.

you look up at zuko, and he’s never seen you this pitiful.

he sighs, laying by your side as he cups your bruised, tear-stained cheek, your face a filthy mess of different fluids.

you press shaky, apologetic kisses to his palm, and his thumb gently swipes under your eyelid. “are you really sorry?”

you nod desperately and he shakes his head, “i want to hear you. speak.”

toph gives your clit a warning flick, and words spill out of your lips in a flurry, “i—i’m sorry! p—please, i really am. i-i’m so sorry zuko, i swear i’ll—”

“not zuko,” he interrupts you, and now of all times, a blush tints his cheeks. “daddy.”

you blink through your daze, confused at the request. zuko never had you use titles before.

“don’t look at me like that,” he quickly huffs out, defensive. “you always call toph mommy.”

“oh please.” toph cackles, her weight heavy on your tummy. “i’m hot enough to pull it off. you can’t.”

“fuck off.” he flushes harder, and you’d find it adorable if not for your current predicament. his gaze is back on you, his grip on your face more insistent. “say it.”

“i..” your blush mimics his, and you wipe some of your tears with the back of your hand. “i-i’m sorry, daddy. i promise i won’t do it again.”

he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “good girl. you know i don’t like seeing you hurt like this.”

you sniffle, clinging to him as much as toph’s body on your middle can allow, “y-yes. i’m so sorry, daddy. please forgive me.”

“wow, what do you know,” toph whistles playfully, like you weren’t hanging on by a thread. “you can pull it off, sparky. good job.”

he scoffs, scowling at her, “fuck you.”

“maybe on saturday.”

“daddy,” you cut them off, really not in the mood for their bickering when your orgasm was only a few touches away. you weakly tilt zuko’s face back your way, more tears pricking at your eyes. “please— i need to cum, so badly. d-do you forgive me?”

he stares at you, his gaze softening at how destroyed you look and sound.

toph hums a song, her index tapping against the very edge of your clit, carefully avoiding it, and you feel like a defendant awaiting verdict.

relief floods your entire body when he presses a chaste kiss to your quivering lips, pulling back with a small smile. “of course i forgive you.”

“cute,” toph smirks, and her touch finally, mercifully, lands on your puffy bud, and your eyes squeeze shut with joyful anticipation.

though she stops after two measly rubs, zuko’s words cutting through your haze like a guillotine. “but you won’t cum tonight.”

what?

“no!” you cry out when toph gets off you with a delighted guffaw, and you don’t know who to beg anymore. “p-please, you can’t do this to me, i’m begging—”

“shhh,” he shushes you with another soft kiss, but this one doesn’t feel as sweet anymore. it feels cruel, even.

toph, on the other hand, starts clapping, like she’d just watched an award-winning movie. “what a twist! good going, sparky. didn’t know you could be so mean to your lovely princess.”

he gets up as well, both of them leaving you an edged, ruined mess on the bed, and you can’t stop the flood of tears streaming down your face.

ignoring your repeated calls, toph’s hand finds his warm lower back as they start walking away, “see, zuko? now you’re never gonna have to deal with bad dinners again, trust me.”

you helplessly watch their retreating figures, hiccuping a sob, and though you know it won’t be nearly as good, you decide to at least relieve yourself instead, the need unbearable.

anything was better than whatever the fuck they just did to you.

but just as your pathetic fingers slide down to your slit, you hear a snap of fingers and metal suddenly wraps around your wrists before roughly bringing them both up over your head, slamming the back of your hands against the headboard, a loud wail escaping your throat.

you look up to see toph by the entrance, her fingers up in a twirly motion, zuko having left ahead for the bathroom first.

she gives you a taunting grin, “nice try. better luck next time.”

then she closes the door after her, and you’re left crying and thrashing uselessly against the binds until your throat’s hoarse and your wrists are marred.

not only that, but they also decide to take the torture further by having nasty, sloppy sex in the shower, their moans resounding so loudly through the walls you couldn’t tell who was topping who this time, your imagination running wild with nothing to soothe the burning heat in your drooling, aching pussy.

all over a fucking dinner party.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

* i have a similar zutoph x reader work (one of my favs) with more focus on toph, so feel free to check it out here if you haven’t already!

man it’s so hard to write a brat taming fic without spanking, i tried giving it a break since i shove it in almost every fic smh😞

she hums, finally reaching your dripping slit, “where are your manners?”

a shaky moan slips out of your lips when her middle and ring finger finally graze your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, your pace growing more frantic.

you lift your hips to sink down on them, but they keep slightly slipping to either side. your brows furrow in frustration at your repeated attempts, believing it to be due to your trembling or how wet and slippery you were, until you briefly catch a small smirk tugging at toph’s lips.

“toph!” you whine, nails digging into her thigh, “what the hell are you doing!?”

“nothing,” she whistles, coaxing another moan out of you when long fingers part your puffy lips open, feeling you clench around nothing. “i just think you could be more polite.”

“toph, are you serious right n—”

“never been more serious.” she cuts you off with a mocking peck to your cheek, her other hand still squeezing the fat of your tit. “go on. be good, baby. say please.”

you scoff, torn between anger and arousal, “i fucking hate you, you’re so— no no no!” you cry out, quickly grabbing her wrist when she begins to pull away.

“doesn’t sound like begging to me.”

“you— i’m gonna— ugh!” you groan loudly, trying to pull her hand back to you but it refuses to budge an inch, “why are you so— just— ugh… p-please.”

she smirks, and you hate how it gets you wetter.

“aw, there we go. such a good girl.” she coos, tauntingly patting the entirety of your pussy. the embarrassment doesn’t get to settle fully before all your thoughts are flung out of your head, a startled moan leaving your lips when she firmly flicks your clit, following it immediately with toe-curling rubs.

your eyes roll back, feeling two of her thick digits finally prod at your entrance, stretching your gummy walls as she scissors you open.

you mewl, desperately riding her hand and thigh all while her thumb deliciously presses and circles around your puffy bud.

“what the fuck,” you hear her sputter, but you’re honestly far too gone to care about what caught her attention, eyes squeezed shut as your hips roll and snap with incredible rhythm.

your eyes are forced open in surprise though, her previously busy hand leaving your breast to roughly grip your jaw. you stare at her, confused and kind of hornier at whatever the gleam in her eyes meant.

she lets out a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “fucking hell, you’re even pierced here?”

huh?

oh.

oh!

you blush, feeling her thumb fiddle with the metal above your clit, “well.. yeah.”

“and literally why would you do that?” she gives it another tap, “does it give you extra pleasure?”

“well, no.” you state matter-of-factly, slowing down your erratic finger-riding to educate her, “christina piercings are ornamental, so it doesn’t touch my clit or anything.”

she scoffs, her gaze almost demeaning, “then why?”

you hum, and she feels you spasm around her fingers. “ ‘cause it’s hot. and people’s reactions to it also turn me on.. but yours could use a little work.”

“i’m sure you slept with your piercer right after, you whore.” she spits out, to which you huff, “you’re just jealous, bitch. unlike you, i’m not some sex-crazed slut who fucks anybody who speaks to me.”

she laughs and you can hear the cockiness dripping off each of the syllables, “oh, clearly. not desperate at all, fucking the leg of a girl you met a few hours ago.”

your eye twitches and before you can argue back, svelte fingers finally plunge into your velvety walls, your garbled sounds music to her ears. she smiles filthily, “yeah, that’s right, just shut up and moan like the horny whore you are. you being angry only makes you tighter for me.”

you’d love to snap back at her, you really would. but unfortunately that would have to wait because oh my god, her fingers and disgusting mouth alone had you closer to cumming than most of your previous partners ever did.

your mouth crashes back on hers again, drool leaking out of your lips that she eagerly licks up and swallows, heavy tongue entwined with yours as your sopping cunt sucks her in like quicksand.

“mmh, take off,” you mumble dazedly between kisses, panting against her cheek. you tug at the material of her pants, “o-off, please.”

she chuckles, gaze heated, “so polite.”

her fingers continue pounding your needy pussy, her other hand coming to tug at her waistband, and you practically clench at her exposed v-line, defined like an arrow pointing to your gradually appearing prize.

your impatient hands join her useless one, pulling harder at the material and she laughs, lifting her hips to indulge you and you waste no time in discarding the fabric.

“ugh, this is uncomfortable.” she shifts, her sweat-slick thighs sticking to the chair, “need a bigger surface.”

her big hand supports your back, pulling you flush against her and you wrap your arms around her neck immediately. her other one leaves your poor, aching slit, but the promise of what’s to come makes the wait worth it as she stands up, hiking your thighs up to loop around her naked waist.

“guide me,” she murmurs, and the command is so oddly intimate your breath slightly hitches. you nod, flustered, whispering the directions into her ear.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

she drops you down on the bed with a small “oof”, and her fingers lazily hook around the sides of her panties, sliding them off so tauntingly you whimper at the sight.

she only grins, crawling over you to pry your legs open, “like what you see?”

your skirt is easily ripped in a quick move you can’t even begin to comprehend, and you whine as she busies herself between your thighs, “tophh! that skirt cost me an arm and a leg, you could have just taken it off!”

she ignores you, repeating the same thing to your damp panties, “it’s like four inches of fabric. i’ll pay you back the three dollars, jingle bells.”

you groan, “you know nothing about fashion! you just— mngh!” a dirty moan leaves your lips and so does any concern over your clothes, her fingers slipping back into you so naturally like your pussy was home.

“you’re right, i know nothing about fashion. kinda hard to when you’re blind,” she crosses your plush thigh over hers, stretching you out a little more just to hear the filthy squelch, “what i do know, though, is how to fuck a whiny ass girl like you.”

that strikes a nerve again. but your protests, once more, die on the tip of your tongue when you feel her folds smush against yours, her fingers giving way to her warm, slick pussy rutting up feverishly against your own.

you make no effort to be quiet, loudly mewling at the delicious bumping of your clits together, the grunts and moans it earns from her only heightening your arousal.

“fuck,” her voice breaks into a shaky whine, her fingers tightening around your waist as her pace increases, “fuck! so good, you’re so good. your pussy’s so sweet, so perfect. oh, so fucking good. i’m sure it must look so pretty, all soaked and dripping with my wetness and yours.”

you didn’t expect toph to be so.. vocal. taunts and degrading jokes, you expected, but this weirdly adorable display of her desperation came as a not so unwelcome shock.

if anything, the duality only served to tighten the big knot in your lower abdomen.

her voice may crack and her praise may be sweet as syrup, but the way she was fucking you was anything but.

you never knew how flexible you were until today, her hands easily manhandling you into different positions to ensure every inch of your pussy was thoroughly soaked with her slick, your hamstrings threatening to snap at the pressure of her strong palms against the back of your thighs, stretching your legs open into the worst of splits.

“mmph— tophh.. g—gonna cummmm..” you drawled, eyes rolled so far back, saliva trickling down the side of your cheek as you let her scissor you in whichever way she wanted.

the pad of her thumb would occasionally join in to add to the pressure of your swollen clit against hers, and it would send sparks of pleasure up your spine, all of it pooling deep into your gut and threatening to spill over.

“i know. i know you will,” she groans, one hand pinning your thigh to your torso while the other found your pierced nipple to roll and pinch, her rhythm unrelenting.

“come for me,” two fingers slide between where you two were joined, effortlessly sinking into your overly wet cunt, curling against your spongy spot with terrifying precision that leaves your thighs spasming and your breath knocked out of your lungs, “now.”

you don’t keep her waiting, your vision flashing white as thick gushes of cum spray over her swollen pussy. she uses the extra slick to fuck you faster, chasing her own release, your folds sticking together in a mess of arousal and slight sweat, the hot smell of sex filling the room.

when she cums soon after you, you already feel heat pooling in your stomach again at the sight of her so wrecked and spent on top of you.

her tank top had long since joined the pile of torn clothes on the floor, your eyes travelling up her bulging abs to set on her heaving, sweaty chest, pebbled nipples resting on the swells of well-toned breasts.

you made a note to ask her if she was an athlete later.

you were both panting, neither of you moving off each other yet, and you let your hands slowly slide up her abdomen to her tits. you give them a tentative squeeze, cupping the soft flesh, looking at her face to gauge her reaction.

when no refusal was uttered, your thumbs found the peaked buds, gently swiping over them to hear her breath hitch. “beautiful,” you whisper lowly, splaying your hands to fully grab them, “you’re very beautiful, toph.”

“really?” the question is just as gentle as your praise, milky eyes half lidded and set on some spot next to your ear.

“yes,” you answer without delay, one of your hands finding its way to her hair to pull her closer to you. with her chest more lowered now, you press a soft kiss to the top of her right breast, “very beautiful.”

for once, toph didn’t feel like ruining the moment with her snarkiness. she simply stayed quiet, indulging you a bit more before finally untangling your limbs and laying by your side.

she rolls over on her back, folding her flexed arms behind her head. “that was great.”

“yeah,” you turn on your side, your back facing her. “you’re good.”

“just good?” you hear the rustling of sheets behind you, then a hand soon finds the curve of your hip. “i deserve better than that, i think.”

you bite back a smile, nuzzling your pillow, “yeah yeah. you’re really good.”

“oh come on,” she shakes you by the hip, scooting closer until you feel her pout against your nape. “be honest, am i not the best sex you’ve ever had?”

the claim isn’t ridiculous, but the last thing you want to do right now is stroke her ego. you hum pensively before shrugging, “.. eh. i’ve had better.”

“you’re lying,” she barks, giving your thigh a light smack. “i can sense it.”

you sigh dramatically, rubbing the spanked spot, “jeez, toph. it’s okay! you don’t have to best for everyone. i’m sure many people think you’re the best sex they’ve ever had. don’t take it personally, it’s just a matter of preference.”

“stop lying!” she groans and you giggle, another smack landing on your ass this time. “admit it! say i’m the best sex you’ve ever had.”

you sigh again, shaking your head, “is your ego that fragile, toph? that it hangs on being someone’s best fuck? that’s a little pathetic, even for you.”

you tense in preparation for the coming spank, and then burst into laughter when it predictably arrives. she scoffs, “you’re very tickled for someone who was humping my leg like a cheap whore earlier.”

and that wipes the smile clean off your face.

you blush, rolling over to face her with a matching pout, “shut up, don’t bring that up.”

she grins, “ ‘oh, toph! please, more! give it to me, tophh! ahhh!’” you whine loudly, pushing her face off yours as she delightfully mocks your sex noises, increasing them in pitch. “fuck off! you were just as loud!”

“as loud as you?” she laughs, taking your hand off her face to smirk all up in your face, “please, i could barely hear myself over your screams and your fucking jewelry’s banging.”

you flush a deeper shade of red, “stop ittt!”

“see?” she pokes your nose, the biggest of smiles tugging at her mouth. “even outside of sex, you’re so fucking noisy.”

you huff and roll over again, refusing to face her as your hand reaches for the sheets to cover yourself. “whatever. good night.”

“but it’s not even night.”

you pinch your nose bridge, squeezing your eyes shut, “did i seriously just sleep with you?”

she chuckles, patting your hip, “and you loved every second of it. here’s to a good friendship,” she cups your face, tilting it back her way to press a kiss to your lips, “nice to meet you.”

you blink, very slowly. “.. nice to meet you too.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

your banter eventually melted into an oddly pleasant conversation you couldn’t believe you were having with such an annoying woman. you asked each other questions, gradually finding out stuff about yourselves, which was always a nice bonding activity after scissoring a stranger!

you found out she was indeed an athlete; and a wrestler at that. it did make a lot of sense, since most of the other sports required some level of sight, while wrestling — she stated — was more hands-on and physical, hence why she excelled at it.

she even invited you to come watch sometime, to which you obviously agreed, very curious on how she fought. wasn’t her blindness still a big handicap? wasn’t it still much harder for her to predict her opponent’s moves? you were aching to see it all for yourself.

you also found out she uses a white cane, that she somehow forgot in the bus after your outburst.

“how the hell do you forget that?” you frowned, puzzled.

she shrugged, “after that scene you caused, i wanted to catch you before you disappeared, so i kind of rushed and forgot it. i had it under the seat by my feet, so i didn’t feel it.”

you huffed, “that cane is literally how you see, you can’t be that dumb.”

“it’s because i don’t use it that much,” she continued, and that piqued your attention. “i suppose it’s because i fight without it, so i also learnt to do more stuff without it from there on. i can get around my neighborhood just fine since i remember all the roads here, so i basically only use it when i go out somewhere else i’m not familiar with.”

“oh,” you nodded understandingly, then looked down. “well.. i’m sorry for making you forget it, i guess it’s kind of my fault. so allow me to pay you back for it, yeah?”

“awww, such a sweetheart. that’s so kind and generous of you. truly.” she coos, pinching your cheek.

“nevermind, i hope you fall over.”

your gaze flitted to the window, noticing the now starry dark sky. you quickly sat up, eyes widening when you saw the clock on the wall read eight pm.

you’d been talking for almost five hours?

“oh god, it’s so late. and we haven’t even showered yet, ew.” you grimace, getting off the bed to limp towards your bathroom.

she chuckles, smelling herself, “yeah, we reek.”

“you get happy about very fucking weird stuff, toph.”

after a much needed shower, you ended up suggesting for her to stay the night, finding it to be the safer option since she didn’t have her cane. to which she eagerly acquiesced, though for way less innocent motives than yours.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

as the days went by, you two proved to be a much better match than expected. she’d quickly become one of your closest friends, often crashing at each other’s places to either spill tea or get drunk — and the latter often ended in tainted sheets and melted makeup.

your ankle had gotten better too, and you could finally go back to wearing your cherished heels.

toph had just asked you to wait for her outside this shop, she told you she’d be quick and you didn’t need to follow her in, so there you were; leaning against a nearby lamp post as you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone.

after a few minutes, you were snapped out of your doomscrolling by someone poking your shoulder. you lifted your head, only for an incredibly hot woman to meet your gaze. you immediately straightened up, patting your skirt down to look more presentable.

shit, you didn’t like being caught off guard by a hot woman hitting on you.

“sorry for disturbing you,” she starts, and her voice has that low distinct rasp, just like toph’s, that never fails to make your stomach flip. she smiles, leaning down to your height, “i just wanted to tell you you’re very beautiful, you look unreal.”

“oh,” you smile back, sweet yet purposeful, “you’re too kind, thank you. you’re quite attractive yourself.”

you didn’t break eye contact, and the implied message was clear as day.

“a pretty girl like you must be taken,” she looks at the shop you’re waiting in front of, then back at you. “waiting for your partner?”

“oh, no no,” you wave your hand dismissively, stepping more into her space. “i’m just waiting for my friend. i don’t have a girlfriend.”

her smile widens, emboldened by your confirmation and your body language. her hand finds your chin, thumb swiping across your pierced lip, “i see. and do you think there’s any chance my friend over there could get your number?”

she points at some empty spot over her shoulder, and you chuckle, leaning into her touch. “totally. i think your friend’s pretty cute.”

“sweet,” she fiddles with the labret, and your glossy lips playfully pucker up to peck her finger. you notice the flicker in her expression, and of course, you know exactly what you’re doing.

she clears her throat, flustered, letting go of you to fish out her phone.

you smile and take it, long nails tapping against the screen, when a very familiar hand suddenly lands on your ass with a soft smack, giving it a rough squeeze right after.

you’d tensed for a second before groaning, resuming your typing, “tophiee, i told you to stop doing that in public. i keep thinking it’s a creep.”

“my bad,” her arm slides up to hang low around your waist, face scrunching in confusion when she senses the person in front of her. “who is this? are they bothering you?”

“not at all,” you chuckle, putting in the last digits. “she just asked for my info. she’s real smooth with it, i gotta tell you.”

“... huh. interesting.” you don’t pay attention to her grip tightening around your hip in warning, until the phone is abruptly snatched out of your hands the moment you were about to press ‘save contact’.

“sorry buddy,” she deletes the number, sightless eyes set with insane accuracy on the baffled girl in front of you. she tosses the phone at her, making her scramble to catch it in a panic, “she doesn’t have a number.”

you’re just as dumbfounded as the poor girl, who breaks the silence first. “but she was just typi—”

“chop chop.” toph cuts her off, snapping her fingers. “mhm. sorry, no can do. better luck next time. a shame, really. bye.”

you scoff at her, brows raised in shock and anger, “toph? what the fuck do you think you’re—”

“be quiet,” she glares down at you, and it’s deadly. “i’ll get to you later.”

you can’t find any hint of her usual sarcasm or her playful teasing — just a terrifying pair of teal eyes freezing you into place.

it effectively shuts you up, so she focuses back on the very unlucky soul who had the sole misfortune of crossing paths with you today. “what? just leave already.”

her eyes dart in confusion between you and toph, and you can only shamefully look down, giving her a small apologetic wave to end this humiliating interaction sooner. this was so fucking embarrassing.

“what the fuck??” is the last thing you hear from her as she walks away, and you’re genuinely just as confused as her.

when she leaves, you finally glare up at toph properly, pretty features twisted into a frustrated frown. “now, do you wanna explain whatever the hell just— ah!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence before a calloused hand wraps around your wrist, dragging you off with steps as angry as the thudding of her cane against the ground.

you stumble behind her, trying not to trip over your heels at her brisk pace. “t-toph!” you call out to her but she doesn’t answer, and you can only watch her dark hair whip in the air, a hint of fear mixing with your anger.

“toph, where are we g—”

“my place,” she cuts you off, her steps growing faster. “i forgot something.”

your brow raises, questioning. “that’s it? then why the fuck did you interfere with the girl getting my n— oof!”

she stops abruptly and your forehead bumps against her back. you rub it soothingly, “geez, toph. what’s—”

“did you want her to be your girlfriend?” she turns to face you, so close you felt her hot breath hit your cheek. “do you see yourself dating that woman?”

you blink, then you scoff, incredulous. “what? i don’t know, i just met her. i’m not really looking for a serious relationship so—”

“then what?” she spits it like venom and you flinch back. she glares deep into your eyes, “what were you being so sweet and giggly for? for sex? do i not fuck you good enough?”

you stammer, heat creeping up your cheeks. “w-what the fuck, toph?? what does that have to do with—”

“nobody can fuck you better than i do.” she doesn’t let up, invading your space further when you try to step back. “nobody, and certainly not that whore.”

okay, okay. what the hell was going on? perplexed wasn’t good enough a word to even begin to describe how utterly lost you were.

“toph, what the fuck is wrong with you today?” you manage to spit back, returning her glare. “who do you think you are, deciding who can or can’t get my number?”

“i just think it’s stupid of you to pursue sex with someone else when i’m right here.”

you throw your arms up in the air, exasperated, “what?? toph, me sleeping with you doesn’t make you entitled to mess with my love or sex life. with the way you’re speaking, it’s almost like you want me to be your girlfrien—”

“fuck no,” she barks, too quickly, brows furrowing in disgust. “not at all. i just don’t get the point.”

“and you don’t have to get it! you can just fucking suck it up.” you snap, and you immediately regret it with the way her gaze goes cold.

you let out a shaky sigh, trying to rein yourself in. “toph, what i’m trying to say is—”

“stop talking.” her grip tightens around your wrist, and the next thing you know is that you’re being pulled again, too focused on not falling over to argue back.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

you’re both panting when you get to her apartment, and while she fumbles with the key, you take the small opportunity to resume your lecture. “seriously toph, you had no right to butt in. that girl could have possibly been a great match for me. what if i did want her to eventually become my girlfriend?”

“you just said you weren’t looking,” she scoffs, the key repeatedly missing the hole.

you roll your eyes, “that’s not the point. you still can’t butt in, you never know what the future holds. it’s my life, toph.”

the door opens with a click, and it’s instantly shoved open as she barges in, her fingers around your wrist like a cuff.

you sigh, “like i said, you can’t just— mmph!” you’re interrupted by a brutal kiss, all teeth, the force of it making you stagger back until your back hits the wall.

the cane hits the floor and her hands feel you up in a frenzy, mapping out every inch of exposed skin as she sucks the very oxygen out of your lungs.

“it’s because you dress like that,” she pants against your lips between heated kisses. “you’re just begging for attention.”

she swallows the angry protests bubbling up in your throat, her tongue swiping over your palate and teeth and everything in between, and you hate that you can’t help but moan into her mouth.

“these bare legs,” she runs her hands up the back of your thighs, ditching your lips to press wet kisses on your neck, “too exposed. that’s why they hit on you.”

and once again, right when your face scrunched up in irritation, she quashes down any objections by trailing her hand up to your clothed cunt, possessively cupping it.

you uselessly mewl, heat pooling in your gut as you grind on her hand before she swiftly picks you up, taking you to her room.

how were you expected to conjure up any proper argument when this unfairly hot woman was already positioning you to her liking, wordlessly pushing your face into the pillows and adjusting the arch of your back?

“wait right here,” she whispers raspily into your ear, patting your waist to excuse herself, leaving you bent and exposed.

you huff into the pillows. what could you possibly do other than ‘wait here’?

this was ridiculous, you thought to yourself. all your arguments ended like this — unfinished, with your pussy full. you knew better than to keep letting her get away with this, thinking she can win you over by simply fucking you into oblivion and never addressing these accumulating issues.

you will stand your ground.

the bed dips under her weight, and you let out a soft moan when her hands return to your hips, lifting your skirt up.

you will stand your ground, tomorrow.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

sex with toph was always mind-blowing. but this time — on your great grandmother’s grave — you swore you felt your tailbone crack.

“t—toph!! oh my fucking— tophhh!!” you uselessly cry out, leaving sweat-damp marks on the sheets you were clinging to for dear life.

“take it,” her fingers are so tight around your hips you knew they’d bruise the next day.

she hikes them up even higher, earning a pained scream from you that quickly morphs into a pleasured string of moans, the tip of her strap striking your g-spot like a dart to a bullseye.

she leans down to take your ear between her teeth, her pounding relentless. “you’ll take it, my stupid whore. maybe this’ll remind you who this greedy pussy belongs to.”

you’d always hated claims of ownership. they irked you out to no end, and not only did you find them demeaning, they also never failed to make you feel so trapped and helpless.

but right now? with tears and drool soaking your pillows, you wanted nothing but to be thoroughly owned by her.

you don’t feel the words slip out of your mouth until they do, “y—yours. it’s all yours.”

her hips stutter for a second before she moans, loudly. her hand comes down on your ass in a sharp smack, appreciating the ripple and your startled gasp, “say it again.” it’s almost desperate, with the way she pants against your damp nape, “say it.”

you swallow your pooling saliva, “i—it belongs to you, toph.”

“does anybody else fuck you like this?” she spits against your ear with punishing thrusts against your abused walls.

you shake your head, sniffling, “n-no. nobody. mngh!”

her head had left its spot behind your nape, lifting herself up to spread your cheeks wider, and she wished she could see your creamy slick coating the pumping toy.

the wet squelches of your cunt were an auditory tease that made her yearn for sight more than anything else in the world.

with the next rough thrusts, and her hand sliding down to rub circles on your neglected clit, your eyes cross and roll back as you gush all over her strap.

her furious pounding calms down, the rocking of her hips more gentle while your orgasm sends pleasant tingles to the ends of your limbs.

you slowly relax, blissed out, letting yourself enjoy the sweet thrusts to ride out your high.

then a startled squeal escapes your lips, eyes blowing wide open when the sting registers.

did she just—

“ah!” you yelp again, flushing with need and embarrassment at the realization. she was biting your ass!

“shh,” she fondles the fat of your plump backside, alternating between right and left as she bites down on it, leaving angry red marks in her wake. “need to mark you.”

she slips out of you with a filthy pop, casually fingering some of your own cum back into you, then her sticky hands are on your hips again.

you feel the brush of her hair as her kisses and bites descend further down the back of your thighs, littering the canvas of your soft skin with twin markings on each side.

“toph..” you swallow a whimper when she goes back up, coaxing your legs further apart to get to your inner thighs as well, repeating the same process.

she stops at your still spasming pussy, then presses a long, deceptively sweet kiss to your sensitive folds before spitting on them. and your knees immediately give out.

she smiles, pulling back as if to look at your entire spent form. her fingers brush over the dented traces of her teeth on your ass, and she sighs softly, pleased. “now, they’ll know.”

who were “they”? know what? you had no energy left in you to ask, so you only laid limp on her bed, eyes fluttering shut. you felt her weight leave the bed as she walked away, the toy hitting the ground with a wet thud.

awful, awful cramps set in the next morning, dull painful throbbing from all your bones and muscles, and you couldn’t walk for six days.

and while you didn’t want to doubt toph’s goodness since she did stay by your side this whole week, helping you out and pampering you until the pain subsided, you almost felt like she reveled in your inability to leave the house.

or maybe not. maybe she just happened to be very happy to spend time with you.

after all, a friend wouldn’t be that cruel, right?

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The fluorescent lights of the Third Division office hummed quietly as you signed the final document with a flourish. Five hours of mind-numbing paperwork finally complete. You flexed your cramping fingers, the pen leaving a slight indentation on your skin where you'd gripped it too tightly. The stack of completed forms—mission reports, resource requisitions, personnel evaluations—sat neatly organized before you, a testament to your punishment duty. A week of administrative hell for what Vice-Captain Hoshina had officially termed "excessive initiative in the field" but was really just you ignoring a direct order because you'd seen a better tactical approach. You'd been right, of course, but chain of command was chain of command.

You glanced up at Vice-Captain Hoshina, who was sprawled comfortably on the leather sofa across the room. His long legs were stretched out, his standard Defense Force after-hours uniform somehow looking immaculate despite his relaxed posture. His dark purple hair fell in that perfect bob around his face, not a strand out of place even after a full day. The bandage on his cheek from a recent mission was the only thing marring his appearance. Those perpetually half-lidded eyes were fixed on his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen as they had been for the past five hours. The soft blue glow illuminated his sharp features in the dimming light of the office.

For someone so deadly with a sword, he certainly knew how to waste time. You wondered what was so engrossing—a game? Messages? You'd never know. He'd barely spoken ten words to you during each punishment session, just sliding the stack of papers across the desk with that infuriating little smirk when you arrived each evening.

"I'm finished," you announced, the first words spoken in at least two hours. Your voice sounded oddly loud in the quiet room.

Hoshina didn't look up immediately. He tapped his screen a few more times before his eyes flicked toward you. "Are you now?" His voice was smooth, with that ever-present hint of amusement. He stretched, his broad shoulders rolling beneath the fabric of his uniform, before standing with the effortless grace that made him so lethal in combat.

He approached the desk—your desk, technically his desk that you'd been using—with unhurried strides. You could smell his scent as he drew closer: clean sweat, the detergent from his uniform, and something faintly metallic, like polished steel. The scent of a swordsman.

Hoshina leaned over your shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His presence filled the space around you, commanding and intense. He flipped through the completed paperwork with practiced efficiency, his long fingers moving swiftly through the pages. You sat rigid, uncomfortably aware of his proximity, of how easily he dominated the space around you without even trying.

"Well done," he finally said, straightening up and clapping you on the shoulder. His hand was heavy, strong, the calluses from years of swordplay evident even through the fabric of your uniform. "Everything seems to be in order. Congratulations on completing your punishment, Soldier."

You stood, eager to put some distance between yourself and the Vice-Captain. "Thank you, sir."

Hoshina's mouth quirked into that familiar half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Just don't mess up again," he added, voice dropping lower, almost intimate in its warning. "I'll have to come up with something much more... creative next time." The threat hung in the air between you, not entirely professional, laden with something you couldn't quite identify.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself. "I'm sure you will, sir," you replied, the honorific carrying just enough sarcasm to be noticeable but not enough to be insubordinate. Again.

He chuckled, a low sound that rumbled from deep in his chest. "Still got that attitude. Some things never change."

You turned away, grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair. The sun had nearly set, casting long shadows across the office and painting the walls in shades of amber and gold. The workday was long over; most of the Division had left hours ago. You just wanted to get back to your quarters, shower away the tedium of paperwork, and forget about Vice-Captain Hoshina and his infuriating smirk for at least twelve blessed hours.

You strode to the door, grasped the handle, and pulled. Nothing happened. You frowned, tried again, putting more force behind it. The door remained stubbornly closed.

"Problem?" Hoshina asked, that note of amusement still present in his voice.

"Door's stuck," you muttered, jiggling the handle with increasing frustration.

Hoshina raised an eyebrow, crossing the room with those silent, predatory steps that were so at odds with his casual demeanor. "Let me try." He nudged you aside with a firm hand on your waist, his touch brief but unmistakably authoritative.

You stepped back, watching as he gripped the handle and pulled. His forearm tensed, the muscles visible beneath his skin as he applied steady pressure. The door didn't budge. His expression shifted, the perpetual amusement fading into something more focused, more serious.

"Damn it," he muttered, releasing the handle and running a hand through his hair. Recognition dawned in his eyes. "I forgot about the new security protocols."

"What new protocols?" you asked, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of your stomach.

Hoshina sighed, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, his posture deceptively relaxed despite the situation. "After the Kaiju No. 9 attack and the office rebuilding, they installed an automated security system. After hours, all doors lock automatically to secure the facility." His eyes met yours, and for once, they were fully open, alert. "We're locked in."

You stared at him in disbelief. "You're joking."

"I wish I were," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the lean strength of his frame.

"Can't we override it? Break the door down?" you suggested, already calculating the force needed. You were strong, and with Hoshina's help, a simple office door shouldn't be a problem.

He shook his head, the purple strands of his hair swaying slightly. "Breaking it down would trigger the emergency protocols. The entire building would go into lockdown, security teams would be dispatched..." He fixed you with a pointed look. "Not great for either of our records, especially for a senior recruit already on thin ice for 'acting out.'"

You winced at the reminder. "Fine. What about calling someone? Surely you can reach Captain Ashiro?"

Hoshina's expression shifted to something resembling chagrin. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and held it up. The black screen remained stubbornly dark. "Dead. Five hours of use will do that."

You stared at the useless device, then at Hoshina, feeling rage bubble up inside you. "You've been playing on your phone for five hours while I did your paperwork, and you didn't even bother to charge it?"

He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, though the expression was fleeting. "In my defense, I wasn't planning on getting locked in my own office."

Your hands clenched into fists. "And my phone?"

"Protocol for punishment duty. No personal devices," he reminded you, as if you could forget the way he'd held out his hand at the beginning of each session, waiting for you to surrender your phone like a schoolchild caught texting in class.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. When you opened them again, Hoshina was watching you with unexpected intensity, as if gauging your reaction. The last rays of sunlight slanted through the blinds, casting striped shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

"So we're stuck here," you said flatly. "Until when?"

"Until someone comes to open the office in the morning," he replied. "The cleaning staff, probably. Around 0600 hours."

You checked your watch. It was barely 1900 hours now. Eleven hours trapped in this office with Vice-Captain Hoshina. Eleven hours of that penetrating gaze, that subtle mockery, that overwhelming presence.

With a defeated sigh, you moved back to the couch, dropping onto it heavily. "This is just perfect," you muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

Hoshina remained by the door, his tall figure silhouetted against the fading light, watching you with those unreadable eyes. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken thoughts and the dawning reality of your shared predicament. You were trapped here, together, until morning. No escape from each other, from the tension that had been building between you since your first day in the Third Division, from whatever this night might bring.

The first thirty minutes of your forced confinement stretched like cold taffy—slow, uncomfortable, and increasingly brittle. You sat at opposite ends of the office, you on the couch, Hoshina leaning against his desk, both of you pointedly avoiding sustained eye contact. The silence settled between you like dust, occasionally disturbed by your attempts at conversation that quickly died away.

"So... how long have you been in the Defense Force?" you asked, knowing perfectly well it was in his file, which you'd read multiple times out of professional curiosity.

Hoshina's expression didn't change, those perpetually half-lidded eyes regarding you with tolerant amusement. "Eight years. Four in the Third Division."

"Right," you nodded, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on your thigh. "And before that, you were—"

"In the training academy, like everyone else," he finished, his tone not unkind but definitive, closing that particular avenue of discussion.

You tried again. "I heard that Captain Ashiro is thinking of implementing new training rotations for—"

"She mentioned it," he said, his eyes drifting to the window, where the last glimmer of daylight had finally surrendered to the night. Stars were beginning to emerge, distant pinpricks of light against the darkening sky.

Another five minutes passed in stifling silence. You attempted to discuss the weather (pathetic), recent kaiju activity (too much like work), and even ventured into asking about his family (his expression had hardened immediately, and you'd backtracked so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash).

Finally, as you opened your mouth to make yet another doomed attempt at small talk, Hoshina held up a hand. The gesture was swift and authoritative, like he was directing troops in the field rather than stopping your babbling.

"Enough," he said, his deep voice resonating in the quiet office. "This is painful for both of us." There was no cruelty in his words, just an acknowledgment of the obvious.

You closed your mouth, heat creeping up your neck. "Sorry," you mumbled, wishing the couch would simply swallow you whole.

To your surprise, the corner of Hoshina's mouth quirked upward. Not his usual smirk, but something closer to genuine amusement. "I have something that might help with..." he gestured vaguely between the two of you, "...this."

Before you could ask what he meant, he moved behind his desk, dropping to one knee with unexpected grace. He reached beneath, arm disappearing into the shadows. There was the sound of something being moved, a soft scraping noise, and then Hoshina emerged with a bottle in hand. The amber liquid caught the dim light as he straightened, holding it up with a look of subtle triumph.

Sake. Expensive sake, by the look of the bottle.

"That's against regulations," you pointed out automatically, then immediately regretted it. Eight days of punishment duty for insubordination, and here you were, quoting rulebook infractions at your superior officer.

Hoshina's eyebrow arched elegantly. "Is it?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Then I suppose I shouldn't share it with someone so concerned with regulations." He twisted the cap off with practiced ease, the subtle pop of the seal breaking unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

You bit your lip, watching as he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a long swallow. His throat worked as he drank, the strong column of his neck moving beneath smooth skin. When he lowered the bottle, his lips were slightly wet, and he ran his tongue over them in a brief, unconscious gesture that caught your attention for reasons you didn't want to examine.

"Changed your mind yet?" he asked, his voice slightly rougher after the drink.

Pride warred with practicality. Eleven more hours in this office. Eleven hours of awkward silence or stilted conversation. Or...

"I take it back," you said, holding out your hand. "Pass it over."

A genuine smile spread across Hoshina's face, transforming his features from merely handsome to something that made your stomach do a strange little flip. He crossed the room with that predatory grace, the bottle dangling from his long fingers, and handed it to you with a flourish.

"To being stuck," he offered, his voice carrying a warmth you'd never heard before.

You accepted the bottle, your fingers brushing against his briefly. "To poor planning and security protocols," you countered, bringing the bottle to your lips. The rim was still warm from his mouth.

The sake burned pleasantly down your throat, spreading liquid heat through your chest. It was good quality—smooth with just enough bite to remind you of its potency. You took another swallow before handing it back, already feeling a slight loosening in your shoulders.

The next fifteen minutes passed in a rhythm of shared swigs and increasingly comfortable silence. The bottle passed between you like a peace offering, each exchange accompanied by a brief touch of fingers, a moment of connection that grew less accidental each time. The office seemed to grow smaller, the space between you on the couch less pronounced.

When Hoshina passed you the bottle for the fifth time, you tilted it back and attempted to drain what remained—a desperate bid to make this situation more bearable. The sake burned as you gulped it down, but before you could finish, Hoshina's hand closed around the neck of the bottle, pulling it firmly from your grasp.

"Easy," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "We have a long night ahead of us. Getting drunk in the first hour isn't a strategy I'd recommend."

You relinquished the bottle with a groan of frustration. "Being sober for eleven hours with you isn't a strategy I'd recommend either," you muttered, immediately regretting the honesty that the alcohol had loosened from your tongue.

Instead of taking offense, Hoshina laughed—a genuine sound of amusement that you realized you'd never heard before. It transformed his face, softening the sharp angles and making him look younger, more approachable. Something shifted in your perception of him, like a lens being adjusted to bring a blurry image into focus.

"If I'm such terrible company," he said, setting the nearly empty bottle on his desk, "perhaps you should find something to entertain yourself."

You stood, stretching arms above your head, feeling the slight buzz of the sake warming your veins. "Fine. There's got to be something interesting in this office."

You began to wander the room, examining the sparse decorations—a few medals in a frame, a certificate of commendation from the Defense Force High Command, a traditional sword mounted on the wall that you knew wasn't just for show. Hoshina watched your exploration with hooded eyes, his posture relaxed but attentive, like a predator at rest but still aware of every movement in its territory.

The bookshelf in the corner drew your attention. It was modest, containing various tactical manuals, reports bound in leather covers, and a few historical texts on swordsmanship and martial strategy. You ran your fingers along the spines, reading titles, getting a glimpse into the professional mind of Hoshina Soshiro.

And then you saw it, partially concealed behind a thick volume on ancient battlefield tactics. The spine was black with blood-red lettering, the title barely visible in the dim light. You slid it out carefully, curious what the Vice-Captain would be hiding.

Your eyes widened as you read the title. "Bound by Honor: A Warrior's Forbidden Desire." The cover featured a stylized illustration of a woman in traditional Japanese clothing, her kimono slipping from one shoulder as she gazed up at a shadowed male figure wielding a katana. It was unmistakably a romance novel—and judging by the suggestive pose and the tagline ("Her body surrendered what her lips denied"), not a particularly tame one.

You turned slowly, holding the book up with a growing smile of disbelief. "Vice-Captain Hoshina," you said, your voice lilting with barely contained laughter, "I had no idea you were interested in... forbidden desires."

Hoshina's eyes widened fully for the first time since you'd known him, his usual mask of calm indifference replaced by an expression of genuine alarm. He was across the room in three swift strides, reaching for the book with uncharacteristic haste.

"That's not—" he began, his voice tighter than you'd ever heard it. "It's not what it looks like."

You danced backward, keeping the book out of his reach, your earlier discomfort forgotten in the joy of having discovered something so unexpectedly human about the always-composed Vice-Captain. "Oh? Then please explain why you have a steamy romance novel hidden behind your tactical manuals, sir."

The honorific dripped with playful mockery, and for a moment, you thought you might have gone too far. Hoshina's face darkened, his jaw tightening in a way you'd only seen when he was preparing to face a particularly dangerous kaiju. But then, unexpectedly, his shoulders dropped, and he ran a hand through his purple hair in a gesture of surrender.

"It's was a goddamn gift," he muttered, his voice lower and rougher than his usual measured tone. "Okonogi thought it would be hilarious to give me that trash for my birthday. Said I needed to 'loosen up.'"

You blinked in surprise, both at the casual profanity and the revelation. The Vice-Captain never spoke about personal matters. "But you kept it," you pointed out, your finger still wedged in the book, marking a particularly explicit page you'd glimpsed while flipping through.

Hoshina's eyes narrowed. "I meant to throw it out."

"Sure you did," you said, unable to help the smirk spreading across your face. The sake was warming your blood now, making you bolder than you'd normally dare to be with your commanding officer. "That's why it's hidden like a dirty magazine instead of in the trash."

"I gave it a chance," he admitted with visible reluctance. "Absolutely hated it. The writing is atrocious, and the plot is—"

"Whoa, whoa," you cut him off, waving the book. "You actually read it? The great Hoshina Soshiro, master swordsman and terror of the Defense Force, read a smutty romance novel?"

His eyebrow twitched. "I didn't say I read the whole thing."

"But parts of it," you pressed, delighted by this unexpected discovery. The Vice-Captain who seemed above such human indulgences, caught red-handed with cheap erotica.

Hoshina snatched for the book again, but the sake had slowed his reflexes just enough for you to dance out of reach. You clutched the novel to your chest, backing toward his desk.

"I'll be the judge of whether it's garbage or not," you declared, settling into his chair with deliberate insolence. You opened the book to a random page, making a show of getting comfortable.

Hoshina looked genuinely appalled. "You're not seriously going to read that trash right now? When there are actual books worth reading on my shelf?"

You shot him a look over the top of the page. "What's wrong, Vice-Captain? Afraid I'll find out what gets you off?"

The words hung in the air between you, far more provocative than you'd intended. Hoshina's eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed to dangerous slits. For a heartbeat, you thought he might actually snatch the book from your hands, but instead, he circled the desk and dropped heavily into the chair opposite you.

"Fine," he said, reaching for the sake bottle. "Suit yourself."

You began to read, keenly aware of Hoshina's presence across from you. The story was exactly what you'd expected—overwrought prose describing the forbidden passion between a warrior and the daughter of a rival clan leader. The plot was thin, serving mainly as a vehicle to get the characters into increasingly compromising situations. But the writing wasn't actually terrible, and you found yourself getting pulled into the story despite your initial skepticism.

Hoshina took small sips of sake, his eyes occasionally drifting to the pages you were reading. You could feel his gaze tracking your progress, and it sent an unexpected thrill through you, knowing he was watching, perhaps remembering the scenes you were now discovering.

After about twenty minutes, you reached a particularly explicit section where the protagonist finally gave in to his desires for the heroine. The description was graphic and detailed, leaving little to the imagination as they tore at each other's clothes in a garden at midnight.

"That's not how it works," Hoshina said suddenly, breaking the charged silence. He was leaning forward now, pointing at a specific paragraph describing an impossibly athletic position against a cherry tree.

"Nobody's spine bends that way," he continued, his voice deadpan but his eyes glinting with challenge. "And the physics are all wrong. She'd fall on her ass."

You looked up, surprised both by his comment and the casual crudeness of his language—so different from his usual precise diction. "How would you know?" you countered, the sake making you bolder. "Have you tried it?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I don't need to try it to know it's physically impossible unless she's double-jointed and he has three hands."

You laughed, the sound bursting from you unexpectedly. "Maybe he does. Maybe he's a mutant. A sexy mutant with... extra appendages."

Hoshina's mouth quirked despite himself. "Is that what you look for in a man? Extra appendages?"

"Depends on which appendages we're talking about," you shot back, then immediately felt heat flood your face. The sake was definitely loosening your tongue.

Rather than being offended, Hoshina actually chuckled—a low, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. "Continue," he said, gesturing toward the book with his sake bottle. "I'm fascinated to hear your scholarly analysis."

You returned to reading, hyperaware of his presence across from you. The novel grew increasingly explicit as you progressed, the forbidden nature of the relationship driving the characters to ever more desperate and passionate encounters. You found yourself reading certain passages twice, your body responding traitorously to the vivid descriptions despite the company you were keeping.

"Here's another one," Hoshina said after a while, leaning across the desk to tap a paragraph. His finger brushed against the page just as you were reading a particularly graphic description of the heroine's pleasure. "Complete fantasy. No woman comes five times in three minutes just from penetration."

You stared at him, momentarily speechless at hearing Vice-Captain Hoshina casually discussing female orgasms. The sake was definitely affecting both of you now.

"Maybe you're just not doing it right," you retorted, the alcohol bypassing your brain's usual filters.

His eyes locked with yours, and for the first time, you noticed that they weren't just dark, but a deep, midnight blue—the color only visible when you were this close. "Trust me," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble, "that's not the problem."

Something hot and liquid pooled in your lower belly at his words, at the absolute certainty in his tone. You forced yourself to look away, back down at the book, but the words swam before your eyes.

"It's fiction," you managed, your voice not quite steady. "It's supposed to be a fantasy. That's the point."

"A fantasy that perpetuates unrealistic expectations," Hoshina countered, leaning back in his chair. "Which leads to disappointment in reality."

You flipped forward a few pages, determined to prove him wrong. "Not all of it is unrealistic. This part, for instance—" you paused, realizing too late that you'd turned to one of the most intense scenes in the book. The protagonists, after a heated argument about clan loyalty, were tearing at each other's clothes, their anger transforming into raw passion.

Hoshina's eyes skimmed the page, his expression unreadable. "Hate sex," he said flatly. "Another tired trope."

"What's wrong with it?" you challenged, an unexpected defensiveness rising in you. "People who argue often have intense chemistry. All that tension has to go somewhere."

"Into a rational discussion," he replied, though his eyes remained fixed on the explicit passage. "Not... whatever that is." He gestured dismissively at the description of the warrior pinning the heroine against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as they devoured each other.

"That's exactly what someone who's never experienced it would say," you scoffed, the sake making you reckless. "Sometimes arguing is foreplay."

Hoshina's eyes snapped up to yours, dark and suddenly intense. "You think people who want to strangle each other also want to fuck each other?"

The crude word in his refined voice sent a jolt through you. "Sometimes," you insisted. "The line between rage and passion can be thin. Haven't you ever been so frustrated with someone that you wanted to either shut them up or shut them up?" You made a vague gesture meant to distinguish between the two types of shutting up.

"That's not how it works in real life," Hoshina said, but there was a new tension in his voice.

"So you've never argued with someone and felt that... charge?" you pressed, leaning forward. "That electricity? That moment when you're in each other's faces and suddenly you realize how close you are? How you can feel their breath? How their eyes drop to your lips?"

Hoshina was very still now, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "That's just in books like this," he said, but his voice had roughened. "Written by people who've never been in an actual fight."

"I've been in plenty of fights," you countered. "And in training. With you, in fact. And there's definitely a physicality to it that isn't entirely different from what they're describing." You gestured toward the book, to the scene where the warrior had the heroine pressed against the wall, his hand in her hair.

"That's adrenaline," Hoshina argued, though his eyes had darkened. "Combat chemistry. It's biological, not sexual."

"Is it, though?" You felt like you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, but couldn't seem to stop yourself. "The racing heart, the heightened awareness of the other person's body, the rush when you make contact? Sounds pretty similar to me."

Hoshina's jaw tightened. "You're comparing life-or-death combat to... to fucking."

"I'm saying they tap into similar primal instincts," you insisted. "The fight-or-flight response isn't so different from arousal. The body doesn't always know the difference."

"Bullshit," Hoshina said, but there was less conviction in his voice now.

"So you've never, ever, been arguing with someone and had the thought cross your mind?" you challenged, the sake making you relentless. "Never wanted to shut someone up with your mouth instead of your words? Never looked at someone who was driving you fucking crazy and thought about grabbing them by the collar and just—"

"Yes."

The single word sliced through the air between you, stopping your tirade cold. Hoshina's eyes had gone from half-lidded indifference to something dark and focused, like the moment before he drew his sword in combat. His gaze pinned you to your seat.

"What?" you managed, your bravado faltering under the intensity of his stare.

"Yes," Hoshina repeated, his voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the desk between you. "I've thought about it."

Your mouth went dry. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to dismiss the idea, to maintain his perfect composure while you needled him. Instead, he was looking at you like he was considering devouring you whole.

"I was just making a point," you stammered, suddenly desperate to backtrack. "About the book. It's not—"

"Bullshit." Hoshina cut you off, rising from his chair with fluid grace. "You don't get to throw that out there and then pretend you were just making conversation."

He circled the desk with predatory slowness, each step deliberate. You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs so loudly you were certain he could hear it.

"I didn't mean—" you tried again, but the words died in your throat as Hoshina reached you, bracing one hand on the arm of your chair and the other on the desk, effectively caging you in.

"Yes, you did," he said, leaning down until his face was inches from yours. This close, you could see the flecks of midnight blue in his dark eyes, smell the sake on his breath mingled with something essentially him—steel and sandalwood and danger. "You've been pushing since the moment we got locked in here. Testing boundaries. Seeing how far you could go."

Your breath caught in your throat. He was right. You had been pushing, needling, prodding at his perfect composure, curious what lay beneath. And now you were finding out.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, though you weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for.

"No, you're not," Hoshina said, his voice dropping even lower. "But you might be."

The threat—or promise—hung in the air between you, charging the space with electricity. Your eyes dropped involuntarily to his mouth, to the perfect curve of his lower lip, and you realized with startling clarity exactly what you'd been pushing for all along.

"Tell me to back off," Hoshina said, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me I'm misreading this, and I'll go back to my side of the desk, and we'll forget this happened."

But you couldn't. You didn't want to. Instead, driven by sake and adrenaline and the culmination of months of tension, you reached up and grabbed the front of his uniform, yanking him closer.

"Fuck you," you breathed, the words lacking any real heat. "You know exactly what I want."

Something flashed in Hoshina's eyes—triumph, desire, or maybe both. "Say it," he demanded, his face now so close that his breath feathered across your lips. "I want to hear you say it."

Pride warred with desperation in your chest. "I want you to kiss me," you finally admitted, the words barely audible.

Hoshina's mouth curved into a dangerous smile, all sharp edges and dark promise. "That's not what I heard," he said, his hand moving from the arm of the chair to your jaw, tilting your face up to his. His fingers were callused from years of swordplay, rough against your skin. "I heard you talking about shutting someone up. About grabbing them and—what was it you were about to say?"

Heat flooded your face, but there was no going back now. "And kissing them until they can't think straight," you finished, meeting his gaze defiantly despite the tremor in your voice.

"Is that what you want?" Hoshina asked, his thumb dragging slowly across your lower lip, sending sparks skittering down your spine. "For me to kiss you until you can't think straight? Until you forget all about that fucking book and your smart mouth and everything except my name?"

Your breath hitched at his words, at the raw intent behind them. "Yes," you admitted, beyond caring about pride or rank or professionalism. "Please, yes."

Hoshina's eyes darkened further, his pupils blown wide with desire. "Good," he murmured, his voice a rough caress. "Because I've been thinking about shutting you up since the day you walked into my office for your punishment."

And then his mouth was on yours, and thinking became impossible.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration, his hand sliding into your hair to hold you exactly where he wanted you. You gasped against his lips, and he took immediate advantage, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming, conquering.

You clutched at his uniform, at his shoulders, at anything you could reach, desperate to anchor yourself as sensation overwhelmed you. Hoshina kissed like he fought—with precision, intensity, and absolute focus, as if nothing else in the world existed but his target. Only now, that target was you.

He tasted like sake and something darker, something essentially him, and you were instantly addicted. Your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, mussing the perfect purple strands, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.

Hoshina made a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan, and suddenly you were being lifted. In one fluid motion, he picked you up and deposited you on the desk, scattering papers and knocking the empty sake bottle to the floor with a dull thud. He stepped between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the desk until you were pressed flush against him.

The hard length of his arousal pushed against the seam of your uniform pants, and you moaned into his mouth at the contact. Hoshina broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes nearly black with desire as he looked down at you.

"Still think it's just fiction?" he asked, his voice rough and strained. "Still think it's unrealistic?"

You couldn't form words, could only shake your head, your hands still tangled in his hair, your body burning with need.

Hoshina's mouth curved into a dangerous smile. "I haven't even started yet," he promised, his hands sliding up your thighs to your waist, then higher, tracing the curve of your ribs through your uniform. "By the time I'm done with you, that fucking book will look tame."

The threat—the promise—sent liquid heat pooling between your thighs, your body responding to his words with embarrassing eagerness. You could feel yourself getting wet, your underwear already damp beneath your uniform pants. There was no hiding it, no pretending this wasn't exactly what you'd been angling for since the moment you realized you were trapped together.

"Prove it," you challenged, your voice breathy but defiant. You weren't going to submit easily, even now. Especially now.

Something flashed in Soshiro's eyes—approval mixed with savage hunger. His hands moved to the fastening of your uniform jacket, deftly undoing the clasps that ran down the front. "I'm going to taste every inch of you," he said, his voice rough as he pushed the jacket off your shoulders. "I'm going to find out exactly what makes you scream my name."

Your breath caught as cool air hit your skin, the thin tank top you wore beneath the jacket offering little barrier between his gaze and your body. Your nipples hardened instantly, visible through the fabric, and Soshiro's eyes fixed on them with predatory focus.

"Already so responsive," he murmured, his thumb brushing over one hardened peak through the tank. Even that light touch sent sparks shooting through your body, and you couldn't suppress a gasp. "I wonder how you'll react when I really touch you."

He bent his head, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, and bit down—not hard enough to break skin, but with enough pressure to make you cry out. The sharp sting was immediately soothed by his tongue, hot and wet against your pulse point.

"Fuck," you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access. "Soshiro—"

His name on your lips seemed to break something loose in him. One hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back further, exposing more of your throat to his mouth. The other slid beneath your tank top, his callused palm rough against the soft skin of your stomach, then higher, until he was cupping your breast.

"Say it again," he commanded against your skin, his fangs grazing your collarbone.

"Soshiro," you repeated, the formal barriers between you crumbling with each touch. No longer Vice-Captain Hoshina, but Soshiro—the man who was currently thumbing your nipple with maddening precision, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

He rewarded you by taking the hardened bud between his fingers and pinching, just hard enough to make you arch into his touch. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending an unexpected thrill through you.

You reached for him, desperate to feel his skin beneath your hands, to see if the body that moved with such deadly grace in combat was as hard and honed as you'd imagined. Your fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his uniform jacket, your coordination hampered by the sake and the overwhelming sensations he was creating with his mouth on your neck, his hand on your breast.

Soshiro stepped back just long enough to shrug out of his jacket, then pulled his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion. You'd seen him shirtless before—during training, during medical checks—but never like this, never with permission to look, to touch. His body was a weapon, honed through years of rigorous training and combat: broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles defined without being bulky, skin marked here and there with the scars of his profession. A particularly vicious scar curved around his left side, the legacy of a kaiju's claw that had nearly ended him two years ago.

You reached out, tracing the raised line of that scar with your fingertips. Soshiro went still under your touch, his eyes watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"I thought we'd lost you that day," you admitted, the words slipping out unbidden.

Something softened momentarily in his expression. "Takes more than that to kill me," he said, catching your hand and bringing it to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to your palm, surprisingly gentle, before nipping at the sensitive skin of your wrist hard enough to make you gasp. The tenderness vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that hungry focus. "Now, where were we?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Your bra followed, his deft fingers making quick work of the clasp. And then you were bare from the waist up, exposed to his gaze in the dim light of the office.

Soshiro's eyes raked over you, hot and appreciative. "Fuck," he breathed, the crude word somehow more affecting in his refined voice. "Look at you."

Self-consciousness warred with arousal as he studied you, his gaze lingering on your breasts, your waist, the curve of your hips still partially hidden by your uniform pants. But any insecurity was banished when he moved forward again, his hands spanning your waist, his mouth descending to capture one nipple between his lips.

The wet heat of his mouth made you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, holding him against you as he sucked and licked and gently bit, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit. Your hips rocked forward unconsciously, seeking friction, seeking relief from the building pressure between your thighs.

Soshiro responded by grabbing your ass, pulling you harder against him, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against your core through the layers of clothing that still separated you. He was huge, bigger than you'd imagined in your most private fantasies, and the thought of him inside you made you whimper with need.

"Please," you gasped, beyond pride now, beyond anything but the desperate need for more. "Soshiro, please—"

He lifted his head, his pupils blown wide with desire, his usually perfect hair mussed by your hands. "Please what?" he asked, his voice a rough growl. "Tell me exactly what you want. I want to hear you say it."

Heat flooded your face, but you were too far gone to care about embarrassment. "I want you inside me," you said, meeting his gaze defiantly despite the tremor in your voice. "I want you to fuck me. Hard. Right here on this desk."

Soshiro's eyes darkened further, his hands tightening on your ass. "No protection," he pointed out, his voice strained with the effort of restraint. "We should stop."

The rational part of your brain knew he was right, but every other part of you screamed in protest at the thought of stopping now. "I'm on birth control," you heard yourself say. "And I'm clean. I get tested regularly." It was true—the Defense Force required medical checks every three months.

"Me too," Soshiro admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. "Clean, I mean. But are you sure? Because once we start, I'm not going to be able to stop. I'm not going to be gentle."

You grabbed his face between your hands, forcing him to look directly at you. "I don't want gentle," you said, emphasizing each word. "I want you to fuck me like you've been thinking about it for months. Because I have."

Something feral flashed in his eyes at your confession. "Months?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.

"Since the day you put me on my ass in combat training," you admitted, past caring about how pathetic it might sound. "You pinned me down, and all I could think about was how you'd feel on top of me in a very different context."

Soshiro cursed, the sound raw and heartfelt. "You have no idea how hard it was not to take you right there on the training mat," he growled, his hands moving to the fastening of your pants. "Every time you challenged me, every time you pushed back, I wanted to show you exactly who was in charge."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You lifted your hips, helping him as he yanked your pants and underwear down in one impatient motion. And then you were completely naked, perched on the edge of his desk, while he stood between your spread thighs, still half-clothed, his eyes devouring you.

"Fucking perfect," he murmured, one hand sliding up your inner thigh, his thumb brushing tantalizingly close to where you needed him most. "Spread wider for me."

You obeyed without hesitation, past shame, past everything but the desperate need for his touch. Soshiro's eyes darkened as he looked at you, at the glistening evidence of your arousal.

"So wet already," he said, his thumb finally, finally, brushing over your clit. Even that light touch was enough to make you buck against his hand, a broken sound escaping your throat. "And so sensitive. I've barely touched you."

"Then touch me properly," you demanded, frustration making you bold.

Soshiro's mouth curved into that dangerous smile again. "Still giving orders, even now?" he asked, his finger circling your entrance, teasing but not entering. "Still challenging me?"

You glared at him, even as your body trembled with need. "If you're not up to it—"

The taunt was cut off abruptly as he thrust two fingers inside you without warning, the sudden intrusion making you gasp. Your body clenched around him, adjusting to the stretch, to the delicious friction as he began to move his hand.

"What was that?" Soshiro asked, his voice deceptively mild even as his fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your vision blur. "I didn't quite catch it."

You couldn't answer, couldn't form words as he fucked you with his fingers, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. Pleasure built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your lower belly, your thighs beginning to shake.

"That's it," Soshiro encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let go. Show me how good it feels."

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, washing over you with unexpected intensity. You cried out his name, your body arching off the desk, clenching rhythmically around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through you.

Before you could fully recover, Soshiro was undoing his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his cock. He was huge, thick and hard, the head already glistening with pre-cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, your body clenching in anticipation despite having just come.

Soshiro positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your still-sensitive flesh. "Last chance to back out," he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

In answer, you wrapped your legs around his waist, using your heels to pull him closer. "Fuck me," you demanded, past pride, past everything but the desperate need to feel him inside you. "Now, Soshiro."

He surged forward in one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden stretch burned deliciously, your body struggling to accommodate his size. Soshiro groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

"So tight," he muttered, his voice raw. "So fucking perfect around my cock."

He gave you a moment to adjust, his self-control evident in the trembling of his muscles, the tension in his jaw. But you didn't want control—you wanted him wild, unleashed, all that deadly precision focused entirely on your pleasure.

"Move," you urged, rolling your hips against him. "I won't break."

Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. "No," he agreed, pulling back slowly before slamming back in with enough force to make the desk creak beneath you. "You won’t."

And then he was fucking you in earnest, each thrust deep and hard, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force to hold you exactly where he wanted you. The desk shook beneath you, papers scattering to the floor, but neither of you cared.

Soshiro's control was slipping, his movements becoming more erratic, more primal. One hand left your hip to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat to his mouth. He bit down on the sensitive juncture of your neck and shoulder, marking you, claiming you.

"Mine," he growled against your skin, the possessiveness in his voice sending a fresh wave of heat through you. "Say it."

"Yours," you gasped, the word torn from you as he hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. "Fuck, Soshiro, I'm yours."

The admission seemed to break something loose in him. He redoubled his efforts, his pace punishing, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust. His free hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit with unerring accuracy, circling it in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me again," he commanded, his voice rough with exertion and need. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

The dual stimulation was too much. Your second orgasm crashed over you with even greater intensity than the first, your inner walls clamping down on his length, milking him as pleasure consumed you. You screamed his name, your nails raking down his back, leaving marks that would still be visible tomorrow.

Soshiro followed you over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside you, his release hot and pulsing. He collapsed forward, bracing his weight on his forearms to avoid crushing you, his forehead pressed against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath.

For a long moment, the only sound in the office was your mingled breathing, harsh in the stillness. Reality began to seep back in slowly—the hard surface of the desk beneath you, the chill of the air on your sweat-dampened skin, the realization of what had just happened.

You'd just had sex with Vice-Captain Hoshina. On his desk. During punishment duty. After arguing about a romance novel.

Panic began to bubble up in your chest, but before it could take hold, Soshiro lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. To your surprise, there was no regret in his gaze, no coldness, just a satisfied gleam and something else, something almost tender.

"Don't," he said, correctly reading your expression. "Don't overthink it."

"But—" you began, uncertainty creeping in as the haze of lust receded.