sttm99

[sttm99]

i loved ur jinu abby threesome omfg

could we have abs riding with abby 🙈

omg thank you heheh 🫣 im gonna be honest i didn't see the appeal to this at first and i talked to one of my friends about it and now it's a need omg

anon you have a beautiful mind...

and yes i think im a comedian for this title

m.list

Rise & Grind

abby saja x reader, mdni!

tags: fem reader, a little somnophilia (he wakes up right after you do), grinding, mutual mast., use of 'girl', gentle dom abby, cumshot, praise, teasing

dividers by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

the morning's soft sunlight filtered through your curtains, bringing the room slowly to life. your heavy eyelids blinked awake, not yet aware of the aching between your thighs, residual from a dream.

coming into consciousness, you find yourself draped across a dozing abby, barely still asleep. your thigh is splayed across his lower torso, most of your leg resting between his. your hips gyrate softly against the band of his boxers. you didn't even realize you were doing this.

shit.

it feels so good to relieve that tension.

dark eyebrows knit together, twitching as abby comes to life, quick to understand the situation.

"good morning to you too, pretty girl," he groans, morning voice deep and raspy and going straight to your core.

he kisses you, hands wandering to your hips. his fingertips play with the band of your panties, lifting the edges between two digits and dipping fingers underneath the fabric. reluctant to break the kiss, he breathes into your mouth,

"How did you sleep?"

he doesn't need an answer, nor does he expect one. your hips tell him enough.

"lift," he instructs you, pulling your panties to your knees when you obey him. you kick them off the bed to somewhere on the floor, keeping his loose t-shirt on.

broad palms wrap around your hips as he guides you onto his stomach, flexing his abs.

"wanna feel good, yeah? let me watch," he drags your hips along his abs, clit catching on the band of his boxers with every motion. your wetness is still building, not yet pooling onto his skin, and the friction feels delicious.

long fingers hold your plush hips in a firm grip, pushing you down against his skin. slowly, he pulls your naked pussy up his stomach, abs firm and prominent. the texture of the ridges teased your clit, the movements pulling your lips apart. your arousal spread on his muscled stomach as your lips parted in a whispered moan. your hands splayed across his chest, pinky brushing across his nipple and making him twitch.

with the addition of your slick, your gliding picked up speed, a wet squelch punctuating the end of each stroke. his grip loosened as you began to take control of your movements, head falling forward as you rubbed your soaked pussy on his muscular abs.

the cords of his muscles rippled as he sat up slightly. you could feel each movement, each twitch with your clit; the feeling was heavenly.

moving his hand from your hip, he stretched lazily with one arm. his back lifted off the bed, arm stretched out, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, typing bruises into the fatty flesh. his movements stretched his abs, your walls fluttering in response to the new sensation.

with a cocky smirk, he flicked your clit, humming as you whimpered, body starting to crumble on his.

"Thas' it, lemme hear you," he rasped, voice just above a whisper.

your juices coated his abs completely, sheets at his sides showing patches from where your wetness had rubbed off of him. with each stroke along his tensed stomach, you felt his hardening bulge against the curve of your ass. you gasped when you noticed, a hungry gaze spreading across abby's face that made you squirm.

reaching his hand behind you, he peeled his boxers down slowly, dramatically releasing it so his flushed cock hit against your ass with a smack!, the tip catching under your shirt.

you pushed back, moaning at the eroticism of the sight under you. his hand splayed across his abs, palm gathering your slick. reaching toward your face, he prodded your lips open with his middle and ring fingers with a simple "suck 'em." you took the digits into your mouth, warm tongue swirling around the pads of his fingertips, arousal and saliva coating the skin.

he pulled his hand away with a pop, hand forming a tight fist around his throbbing cock. he pumped it in slow strokes, the rhythmic movement of his arm making his abs twitch under you, pulling a breathy moan from you.

beads of precum gathered at his blushing tip, the fluid forming a sappy string from his throbbing dick to the soft fat of your ass. he smeared the tip across your skin as you rode his abs, the sensation overwhelming.

it was too much– your slick glistening on his hardened abs, rigid muscles flexing as you ground on them, his hand digging into your hip, ensuring the pressure hit your clit just right, the lewd squelch of your fluids on his cock as he fucked his fist, his hot tip sending an electric sensation across your ass.

you shimpered, hips frantically rutting on his rock-hard abs, his hand holding you firmly, stilling your hips.

"wanna cum, baby? better ask nicely," he teased, voice rough and steady.

"pl-please, please luh-let me hah- let me cum abby!" you whined, voice trembling in tune with your body, hands grabbing at his chest, trying to find something to hold onto.

moving one of your hands to his shoulder, his voice rang out like he was amused at your attempts to beg him. "not with your mouth," he grinned, moving your hips and nodding down to your weeping pussy. "I wanna hear it from her."

you tried to hide your face, ears flushing with embarassment. shakily, you drove your hips forward, spelling a 'P' on his washboard abs with the guidance of his hand.

"'atta girl."

"please, please abby," you begged, spelling an 'L' this time. "just please let me cum."

"keep being good and you will soon, he grunted through clenching teeth, hand moving in a blur on his cock, muscles twitching and rippling with each movement. his eyes were fixed on where your pussy met his stomach, cock twitching at the creamy sounds of your slick spreading across him as you spelled out an 'E'.

he bit his lip.

fuck.

look how your lips spread with each movement, folds opening and closing as you drew an 'A' on him, body twitching each time your clit caught on the mound of a new muscle.

you looked so desperate.

"almost there, pretty girl," he groaned, spitting on his hand, strokes resuming with a louder squelch this time. "lift your shirt for the 'S'," he commanded, chin tilting up in a nod at the hem of your shirt.

your hands held the fabric delicately as you lifted it above your tits, whining as the cold air hit your nipples. abby hissed. his fingers pushed tighter on your hip.

you looked pornographic drawing the curves of an 'S' on his muscular flesh, the embarassment dripping from your whimpers and body language only feeding his need.

"fuck it baby, just cum on my abs," he sighed, "already wrote an 'E' once already anyways."

his grip loosened on your hips, movements free to be as frantic and irrythmic as you desired.

"look so damn pretty riding me like that," he hissed, "can't even tease you properly when you look like this."

you shuddered as your clit caught on his happy trail, losing control of your movements as your limbs began to lock up, broken moan drawn out of your mouth.

"fuck, baby, fucking cum on me, ah!," he moaned, pace losing rhythm on his fat, leaky cock. you shook on him, release hitting you like a train. you clenched around nothing, throbbing hole flush against his abs. he felt every squeeze as you rode out your orgasm, the sensation enough to send him into his own, a needy groan filling your ears as you came down from your high.

hot, stick ropes of his cum shot across your ass in thick spurts. smearing the creamy substance across your skin, his head rolled to the side as exhaustion crept back into his voice.

"can't we stay in bed a little longer?"

[sttm99]

no good deed : CRYBANGERS.ᐟ

feat. jujutsu kaisen x high school AU!

summary :

A school where therapy is graded, emotional intelligence is currency, and no one makes eye contact without three layers of irony. This is Kinjouku. Every hallway? Charged. Every smile? Weaponized. Every student? Gorgeous, broken, and pretending not to notice. Then the podcast drops. Private Playlist :

An anonymous audio diary. One episode per week. One person exposed. Not rumors—recordings. The sex. The crying. The late-night “I love you” never sent. Someone saved it all. Someone’s playing God. And now everyone’s panicking in perfect high-definition. Friendships curdle. Lovers combust. Everyone wants to know who’s behind the mic—but no one wants to admit they’ve listened to every single second. This is not about the truth. This is about what’s said when you think no one’s listening. And what happens when someone was.

so, who’s behind the mic?

TAGLIST : OPEN! | PLAYLIST | LORE, EVERYONE

WHO’S THE SCREAMER?

EPISODE 01, MIC CHECK .ᐟ

✶, the podcast drops during morning assembly, and also. . . mid fuck. just static. then : “no good deed goes unpunished.” cut to a recording of audio from three hookups back to back, mei mei fucking three different partners. one of them is married, your teacher. one is naoya. one is sukuna. the school erupts. yorozu scream about sex is dead before she scream at disability girl.

EPISODE 02, THIS D$CK BRING HARM IS A SAFE WORD .ᐟ

✶, everyone got call to the gymnastics, big pink glitter dildo get passed on the back and yorozu scream at yaga and mei mei, sluts everywhere and everything all at once. at the party, shiu kong standing with scissor in hand, crying because his dick cause harm.

EPISODE 03, SCHOOL TRIP BEFORE THE DO I EVER AND SOMEONE GET PEG!

✶, school trip, alcohol tape to your body like a bomb, and everything got drunk, secret slips and someone got bitten by snake.

EPISODE 04, DUOLINGO : ADVANCED MOANING EDITION.

✶, someone get spitroasted by ... and toji in the soundproof language lab. they thought it was soundproof. it wasn’t. the pink glittery dildo back and yaga got yelled once again.

EPISODE 05, ETERNAL RECURRENCE .ᐟ

✶, a hidden camera in the chapel catches $ex orgy and one boy standing like messiah! body fucking on holy ground. someone spray-paints SACRIFICE HIM on his locker the next day.

EPISODE 06, CROSS MY HEART, STAB YOUR BACK .ᐟ

✶, a costume party turns into a scandal when the projector glitches and plays someone’s sex tape instead of the horror film. half the room recognizes the voice— shoko and toji fucking zenin. the other half pretends not to.

EPISODE 07, 3G : THE GUN, THE GIRL, THE GOD COMPLEX.ᐟ

✶, wanna take turn? guess who’s now? yup, yours. congratulations! now everyone knows you are a slut! and what’s more? the reasons behind your name or your slut of a mother?

EPISODE 08, THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SLUT AND SURVIVOR IS HOW LOUD YOU MOAN

✶, SOON. ..

EPISODE 09, MOANLISA AND ALIBIS.ᐟ

✶, SOON. ..

Trigger & Content Warnings :

High School x AU, non-sorcerer reader, sukuna is a menace, gojo is too pretty to be trusted, geto is manipulative with a god complex, reader is in way too deep, emotionally damaged hookups, forbidden relationship (student/older student dynamic), possessive sukuna, jealousy-fueled sex, hate sex, public sex (library stairwell), sex tape (unauthorized), leaked audio, cumshot audio, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (m+f receiving), oral fixation (biting, tongue kink), choking (light & consensual), degradation (mild to explicit), praise kink, size kink, overstimulation, manhandling, spitplay, face sitting, thigh riding, fingering (public), dirty talk (filthy, mean, affectionate), orgasm control / denial, power imbalance (emotionally & sexually), implied voyeurism, sex while crying (consensual, emotional breakdown), brief dubcon implications (consent blurred by trust), aftercare / post-sex softness, trauma-coded affection, heavy swearing, emotionally unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping through sex, mental instability (character), casual drug use (pills / joints), school scandal themes (leaks, blackmail, sex tapes, shame), discussions of manipulation, toxic exes, emotionally manipulative behavior (sukuna, geto, gojo), implied stalking (yorozu), revenge sex, public exposure risk, possessive & obsessive behavior, references to breeding kink (implied, non-explicit).

𝒊. These warnings exist to help readers navigate themes that may be distressing, uncomfortable, or simply not what they’re in the mood for. Please read them carefully and prioritize your own boundaries. This story contains elements of dark erotica, psychological manipulation, emotional trauma, and power imbalance. In the future, trigger warnings may be updated or expanded per chapter depending on tone, character focus, or thematic content. If something here isn't for you — that's okay. You are never obligated to read past your comfort zone.

[sttm99]

ᥫ᭡ — you have the suspicion that bakugo is on social media more than he lets on

╰➤ gender neutral , pre-relationship

you were surprised when bakugo first followed your instagram. the notification lit up your phone late one night, and the sight made your breath hitch. you tapped the banner on your homescreen, suspicion clouding your mind: did he really mean to follow you?

the screen opens up to his instagram, and you’re greeted by a barren wasteland of a feed. the profile picture remains unset, the bio is empty, and the account follows only a handful of people — the only real semblance of it being bakugo’s account is the few photos he’d been tagged in.

disappointed, you quickly realize there isn’t much to stalk on his profile. you scroll through the hundreds of followers he, for some reason, has, and wonder why he decided to follow you out of nowhere.

you wonder if the follow was a misclick.

locking your phone and placing it down on your bed, you briefly consider the katsuki bakugo in your life. your encounters through mutual friends are always rather brief, you think, and probably don’t leave much of an impression on someone like him. calling yourself his friend might be pushing it.

you pick up your phone once more, and stare at the follow back button. it’d been a solid few minutes, and he still hadn’t taken it back.

you tap the follow back button.

bakugo never ends up unfollowing you.

his posting habits undoubtedly remain nonexistent, and the odd interaction quickly falls to the back of your mind. it stays at the back of your mind, until you receive an unexpected notification much like you had a few weeks prior:

Katsuki Bakugo liked your post.

…huh?

you question out loud, confusion rooting itself into your expression almost identically to the way it had when he first followed you. your brows remain stubbornly furrowed, and you slide open your phone with a stutter in your chest — you hadn’t posted in a good few months.

the stray notification stares right back at you. it was practically glowing on your screen, demanding your attention and selfishly taking it all in. the post he liked is from last year, and you screenshot the picture with his like on it in disbelief.

was he scrolling through your posts? the thought makes your heart tug in your chest once more, and you feel a sear of warmth touch your face. the post is cute, you think, and you take a moment to analyze it. could he have been looking at it as hard as you are?

you ruminate the small details of the post. the coordinated outfit you’d chosen that day, the background complimenting your figure poised in the middle, the easy smile adorning your face. your heart continues to pound in your chest, and you glance down at the recent likes to make sure your eyes hadn’t deceived you.

bakugo’s like was gone.

your heart drops. for a second, you wonder if you’d imagined the like being there at all. you refresh the post, and briefly scroll through the likes once more — it really was gone.

the gears begin to turn in your brain. fingers move before thoughts could properly manifest, and the screenshot you’d taken in your stupor innocently presents the truth of the matter to you.

he must’ve unliked the post.

the image of bakugo realizing his mistake comes to mind. maybe he’d felt embarrassed. maybe he felt the same stutter in his chest, the same heat to his cheeks, and the same drop of his heart at his slip up. maybe he didn’t even care at all. despite the hazy context, you laugh at the unexpected silliness.

you go to bed pondering the question his weird actions leave unanswered — why exactly was this man, seemingly akin to a ghost on social media, on your profile to begin with?

the compliments you flood ashido’s comment section with are endless. her posts are always quick to garner mass attention, but your steadfast support remains unfaltering despite the plethora of comments she receives from others. her grin is infectious, unabashed and radiating energy comparable to the sun itself. you’d been sure to leave your own comments tinged with playfulness among the masses of others.

upon returning to your main homepage, the red dot indicating a new notification catches your eye. your thumb impulsively taps on it, revealing yet another anomaly adding on to the ever growing list you’ve been mentally taken note of for the past couple of weeks.

Katsuki Bakugo liked your comment

you shake your head in bewilderment, smiling down at the simple words. for someone with close to zero social media presence, bakugo sure is on instagram way more than you first assumed. coincidentally, he’d made a name for himself on your phone as well, forging a tentative place belonging to him both digitally and mentally in your space.

it was probably another mindless accident, you laugh to yourself. who would’ve pinned bakugo as the clumsy type when using his phone?

upon closer inspection, you realized that bakugo never liked ashido’s post itself. the single like remains on your comment, and your comment alone.

that’s weird. you shrug and wonder if he has these types of blunders with anyone else.

the update to your story is strategic. a candid photo angled just right, paired with a song you’d spent far too long tweaking to find the perfect fifteen seconds to accompany your picture.

the likes and story replies from your friends come rolling in, and you find yourself giddy throughout the day. you glow in the praises, holding each reply close to your heart as you like and reply to them. intermediate vibrations of your phone make it hard not to pick it up every few moments, the same light smile gracing your face each time.

your phone lights up once more, a telltale sign of the newest story reaction. the upturn of your lips fall by a millimeter at the newest banner on your lock screen, and your content smile is replaced by the rounding of your lips in a whisper of a gasp.

Katsuki Bakugo Reacted 👍 to your story.

this one must have been intentional. your fingers clench around your phone, and you feel an inexplicable warmth course through your head. with a sudden clammy feel to your hands and a distinct tug in your chest, you put your phone face down in your lap.

how bold.

you wrack your brain, thinking back to the array of peculiar interactions his account’s had with yours so far. this one proved to be the most jarring of them all — a direct reply. entering the realm of privacy, the notification speaks almost as a silent invitation. the message acknowledged your presence head on, and you feel oddly exposed at being perceived so blatantly.

the thumbs up is rather dry, but you guess it isn’t completely out of character. the reply sits on your phone for a good while, taking the backseat in your mind as you fumble to formulate answers.

what compelled him to reply? for once, you can’t shake the feeling that something truly might be off. his account must’ve been collecting dust, shaking off the cobwebs and spiders in your notification center rather than through his own postings or interactions with others. repeated faults only make it more difficult for you to defend him — bakugo really isn’t doing himself any favors.

finally opening his message, you settle on liking his reply before sending a quick smiley face.

bakugo leaves you on read. you wonder if he enjoys messing with you in his free time.

katsuki bakugo is lost.

settling into bed, katsuki’s thumb moves on its own as if accustomed to the nightly routine he unconsciously developed. he skips over the dumb reels on his explore page, the recent posts made by his friends he had little interest in viewing, and the five people who’ve been waiting on a text back from him for the past two months. instead, he heads straight for the search bar.

your username is already pre populated just below the search, and katsuki clicks it without a second thought. a fluttering feeling rises in his chest — one that he’d become well acquainted with over the past few months.

selfishly, katsuki finds himself growing greedier by the day. he’d become a frequent visitor of your instagram page before he knew it, pushing down the inexplicable pounding of his heart and rising heat to his cheeks at the way you never seemed to leave his mind.

cute. he studies the dips and curves of your face, committing each detail of the photo to memory. katsuki’s breath catches in his throat, and his eyes greedily take in your smile. his heart aches, jealous of his own eyes in their beholding of your beauty. yearning, he laments being restricted to the screen rather than having you right in front of him.

katsuki opens the comments, bracing himself for what he’d be forcing himself to bare witness to.

BEAUTIFUL

love u

ugh 😍😍😍

#needthat

the sun kissed you before i got to 😫😫

the realization that no amount of bracing could have properly prepared him comes quick.

the fuck? katsuki sneers at his phone. as if any of those fuckers would ever get the chance to kiss you.

the abundant comments and likes under your post give way to a bubbling feeling of discontent. katsuki’s fingers itch all of a sudden, palms and fingertips clamming up in sweat at the unsettling pit forming in his stomach. it was as if his whole body were set aflame, warmth coursing through every fiber of his being. you seemed to have that kind of effect on him, he’d begrudgingly noticed, but this warmth was like no other he’d felt whilst consumed by persistent thoughts of you.

this warmth, with it’s complimentary stomach pit and tension in his head, was a bother. he continues to scroll, mind clouding in the nasty heat he struggled to put a name to.

katsuki’s phone is haphazardly dropped onto his pillow. his groan is loud, pained in deep rooted frustration. with all these people showering you in praises both flowery and vulgar, he thinks he might combust on the spot.

every comment seemed to be burned into his mind, clogging up his stream of thought just as they’d be clogging up your phone. all those losers got to say it all so easily — meanwhile, katsuki could barely muster up a thumbs up emoji without feeling his heart sieze and blood rush up to his cheeks. his jaw clenches, irritation creasing his brow and lips taking on a bitter twist.

katsuki grabs his phone once more. he’d been driving himself crazy — you’d been driving him crazy. he thinks of you, sweet and pretty and exactly the person he’d yearn to call his.

fuck this.

rays of light accompany your alarm that morning, soft and golden as it nudges you awake. the alarm blares at your side, and you feel for your phone on the surface next to you. blinking away the lasting remnants of your sleep, your fingers move to silence the sound. glazing over the screen, your bleary eyes are forced to pause. a new notification captures your attention. you rub your eyes once, and then again, squinting to make sure you’re seeing it right. your breath hitches.

another notification from bakugo’s account. your heart flips in your chest, warmth rivaling the tender sunlight filtering through the curtains. this time, bakugo graces you with a direct message. an intentional message.

You free this weekend?

[sttm99]

ᥫ᭡ — you have the suspicion that bakugo is on social media more than he lets on

╰➤ gender neutral , pre-relationship

you were surprised when bakugo first followed your instagram. the notification lit up your phone late one night, and the sight made your breath hitch. you tapped the banner on your homescreen, suspicion clouding your mind: did he really mean to follow you?

the screen opens up to his instagram, and you’re greeted by a barren wasteland of a feed. the profile picture remains unset, the bio is empty, and the account follows only a handful of people — the only real semblance of it being bakugo’s account is the few photos he’d been tagged in.

disappointed, you quickly realize there isn’t much to stalk on his profile. you scroll through the hundreds of followers he, for some reason, has, and wonder why he decided to follow you out of nowhere.

you wonder if the follow was a misclick.

locking your phone and placing it down on your bed, you briefly consider the katsuki bakugo in your life. your encounters through mutual friends are always rather brief, you think, and probably don’t leave much of an impression on someone like him. calling yourself his friend might be pushing it.

you pick up your phone once more, and stare at the follow back button. it’d been a solid few minutes, and he still hadn’t taken it back.

you tap the follow back button.

bakugo never ends up unfollowing you.

his posting habits undoubtedly remain nonexistent, and the odd interaction quickly falls to the back of your mind. it stays at the back of your mind, until you receive an unexpected notification much like you had a few weeks prior:

Katsuki Bakugo liked your post.

…huh?

you question out loud, confusion rooting itself into your expression almost identically to the way it had when he first followed you. your brows remain stubbornly furrowed, and you slide open your phone with a stutter in your chest — you hadn’t posted in a good few months.

the stray notification stares right back at you. it was practically glowing on your screen, demanding your attention and selfishly taking it all in. the post he liked is from last year, and you screenshot the picture with his like on it in disbelief.

was he scrolling through your posts? the thought makes your heart tug in your chest once more, and you feel a sear of warmth touch your face. the post is cute, you think, and you take a moment to analyze it. could he have been looking at it as hard as you are?

you ruminate the small details of the post. the coordinated outfit you’d chosen that day, the background complimenting your figure poised in the middle, the easy smile adorning your face. your heart continues to pound in your chest, and you glance down at the recent likes to make sure your eyes hadn’t deceived you.

bakugo’s like was gone.

your heart drops. for a second, you wonder if you’d imagined the like being there at all. you refresh the post, and briefly scroll through the likes once more — it really was gone.

the gears begin to turn in your brain. fingers move before thoughts could properly manifest, and the screenshot you’d taken in your stupor innocently presents the truth of the matter to you.

he must’ve unliked the post.

the image of bakugo realizing his mistake comes to mind. maybe he’d felt embarrassed. maybe he felt the same stutter in his chest, the same heat to his cheeks, and the same drop of his heart at his slip up. maybe he didn’t even care at all. despite the hazy context, you laugh at the unexpected silliness.

you go to bed pondering the question his weird actions leave unanswered — why exactly was this man, seemingly akin to a ghost on social media, on your profile to begin with?

the compliments you flood ashido’s comment section with are endless. her posts are always quick to garner mass attention, but your steadfast support remains unfaltering despite the plethora of comments she receives from others. her grin is infectious, unabashed and radiating energy comparable to the sun itself. you’d been sure to leave your own comments tinged with playfulness among the masses of others.

upon returning to your main homepage, the red dot indicating a new notification catches your eye. your thumb impulsively taps on it, revealing yet another anomaly adding on to the ever growing list you’ve been mentally taken note of for the past couple of weeks.

Katsuki Bakugo liked your comment

you shake your head in bewilderment, smiling down at the simple words. for someone with close to zero social media presence, bakugo sure is on instagram way more than you first assumed. coincidentally, he’d made a name for himself on your phone as well, forging a tentative place belonging to him both digitally and mentally in your space.

it was probably another mindless accident, you laugh to yourself. who would’ve pinned bakugo as the clumsy type when using his phone?

upon closer inspection, you realized that bakugo never liked ashido’s post itself. the single like remains on your comment, and your comment alone.

that’s weird. you shrug and wonder if he has these types of blunders with anyone else.

the update to your story is strategic. a candid photo angled just right, paired with a song you’d spent far too long tweaking to find the perfect fifteen seconds to accompany your picture.

the likes and story replies from your friends come rolling in, and you find yourself giddy throughout the day. you glow in the praises, holding each reply close to your heart as you like and reply to them. intermediate vibrations of your phone make it hard not to pick it up every few moments, the same light smile gracing your face each time.

your phone lights up once more, a telltale sign of the newest story reaction. the upturn of your lips fall by a millimeter at the newest banner on your lock screen, and your content smile is replaced by the rounding of your lips in a whisper of a gasp.

Katsuki Bakugo Reacted 👍 to your story.

this one must have been intentional. your fingers clench around your phone, and you feel an inexplicable warmth course through your head. with a sudden clammy feel to your hands and a distinct tug in your chest, you put your phone face down in your lap.

how bold.

you wrack your brain, thinking back to the array of peculiar interactions his account’s had with yours so far. this one proved to be the most jarring of them all — a direct reply. entering the realm of privacy, the notification speaks almost as a silent invitation. the message acknowledged your presence head on, and you feel oddly exposed at being perceived so blatantly.

the thumbs up is rather dry, but you guess it isn’t completely out of character. the reply sits on your phone for a good while, taking the backseat in your mind as you fumble to formulate answers.

what compelled him to reply? for once, you can’t shake the feeling that something truly might be off. his account must’ve been collecting dust, shaking off the cobwebs and spiders in your notification center rather than through his own postings or interactions with others. repeated faults only make it more difficult for you to defend him — bakugo really isn’t doing himself any favors.

finally opening his message, you settle on liking his reply before sending a quick smiley face.

bakugo leaves you on read. you wonder if he enjoys messing with you in his free time.

katsuki bakugo is lost.

settling into bed, katsuki’s thumb moves on its own as if accustomed to the nightly routine he unconsciously developed. he skips over the dumb reels on his explore page, the recent posts made by his friends he had little interest in viewing, and the five people who’ve been waiting on a text back from him for the past two months. instead, he heads straight for the search bar.

your username is already pre populated just below the search, and katsuki clicks it without a second thought. a fluttering feeling rises in his chest — one that he’d become well acquainted with over the past few months.

selfishly, katsuki finds himself growing greedier by the day. he’d become a frequent visitor of your instagram page before he knew it, pushing down the inexplicable pounding of his heart and rising heat to his cheeks at the way you never seemed to leave his mind.

cute. he studies the dips and curves of your face, committing each detail of the photo to memory. katsuki’s breath catches in his throat, and his eyes greedily take in your smile. his heart aches, jealous of his own eyes in their beholding of your beauty. yearning, he laments being restricted to the screen rather than having you right in front of him.

katsuki opens the comments, bracing himself for what he’d be forcing himself to bare witness to.

BEAUTIFUL

love u

ugh 😍😍😍

#needthat

the sun kissed you before i got to 😫😫

the realization that no amount of bracing could have properly prepared him comes quick.

the fuck? katsuki sneers at his phone. as if any of those fuckers would ever get the chance to kiss you.

the abundant comments and likes under your post give way to a bubbling feeling of discontent. katsuki’s fingers itch all of a sudden, palms and fingertips clamming up in sweat at the unsettling pit forming in his stomach. it was as if his whole body were set aflame, warmth coursing through every fiber of his being. you seemed to have that kind of effect on him, he’d begrudgingly noticed, but this warmth was like no other he’d felt whilst consumed by persistent thoughts of you.

this warmth, with it’s complimentary stomach pit and tension in his head, was a bother. he continues to scroll, mind clouding in the nasty heat he struggled to put a name to.

katsuki’s phone is haphazardly dropped onto his pillow. his groan is loud, pained in deep rooted frustration. with all these people showering you in praises both flowery and vulgar, he thinks he might combust on the spot.

every comment seemed to be burned into his mind, clogging up his stream of thought just as they’d be clogging up your phone. all those losers got to say it all so easily — meanwhile, katsuki could barely muster up a thumbs up emoji without feeling his heart sieze and blood rush up to his cheeks. his jaw clenches, irritation creasing his brow and lips taking on a bitter twist.

katsuki grabs his phone once more. he’d been driving himself crazy — you’d been driving him crazy. he thinks of you, sweet and pretty and exactly the person he’d yearn to call his.

fuck this.

rays of light accompany your alarm that morning, soft and golden as it nudges you awake. the alarm blares at your side, and you feel for your phone on the surface next to you. blinking away the lasting remnants of your sleep, your fingers move to silence the sound. glazing over the screen, your bleary eyes are forced to pause. a new notification captures your attention. you rub your eyes once, and then again, squinting to make sure you’re seeing it right. your breath hitches.

another notification from bakugo’s account. your heart flips in your chest, warmth rivaling the tender sunlight filtering through the curtains. this time, bakugo graces you with a direct message. an intentional message.

You free this weekend?

[sttm99]

The Devil You Chase

oneshot

pairing – Toji Fushiguro x f!reader monsterhunter!toji x vampire!reader summary – Toji knew how to kill monsters. He didn’t know what to do when one moaned his name and begged for him instead. She was supposed to be a danger to the world—but she was its last defense. He was supposed to finish her—but he wanted to fuck her until he forgot what he came for. Now, with his blood in her mouth and the truth clawing at his instincts, Toji has a choice to make. And it might just ruin him.

warning – MDNI, explicit SMUT, blood and violenece, biting, blood drinking, clawing, combat, dark themes, injuries during sex, possessive behavior, torture, murder, enemies to lovers, overstimulation, marking and bruising, monsters!AU, vampire!reader, monsterhunter!toji.

word count – 10.5k

notes – Toji and the reader are absolute feral freaks in this one! It’s definitely a big shift from my Duke story. Hope you guys enjoy it—let me know what you think!🤍

art by deltapork on IG! divider by @hyuneskkami

Toji knew he’d fucked up.

He should’ve killed you the first time he had the chance — when your throat was right there, bare and vulnerable beneath his blade.

But he hesitated. For a fucking split second. Something he’d never done before. Something he’d laughed at other hunters for — letting their instincts fail when it mattered most. But with you? Fast, wicked, smiling like a devil dressed in silk and red — you took that moment and ran.

You walked away with his blood on your fangs and a smirk carved across your face like you’d just won some cruel little game he hadn’t known he was playing.

You could’ve killed him.

You didn’t.

And that — that pissed him off more than anything else. That’s what got under his skin.

You knew who he was. Everyone in your world did. The ghost of a man who killed monsters for fun and cash — who left nothing behind but corpses and silence. No one escaped Toji Fushiguro.

But you did.

And you let him live.

Letting him bleed, stumbling in rage while you vanished into the night — that was your version of mercy. Or maybe it was mockery.

Maybe you just liked watching him lose.

Three fucking years of chasing your scent through alleys reeking of piss and neon, through ruined cathedrals choked in ivy, through forests where the fog never lifted and the trees bled when they cracked. Through city slums, ancient ruins and godless highways.

He’d slaughtered vampires just for breathing the same air as you — left entire covens burning in your wake, convinced he was getting closer. But you were always one step ahead. Always waiting with that smile, always prepared to disappear before he could close the distance.

A cat and a rat.

Some days, he wasn’t sure which one of you played which role.

And fuck if you didn’t look at him like you enjoyed it.

He still saw it—felt it—when he closed his eyes. That look you gave him the last time: your back to the wall, one of his blade shoved up against your ribs, and you had the audacity to laugh.

Like it was a joke. Like you were amused by it all.

He told himself it was about the bounty. Half a million to deliver your pretty little head on a platter. Bloody work, but easy.

At first, that was enough. But then the client changed. Then disappeared. Another name took their place. Then another. And with every new contract, the price went up. Doubled. Tripled.

He started asking questions—not because he gave a shit, but because the math didn’t add up.

The price on your head was high—even for someone as good at killing as Toji. He didn’t usually care about reasons. But this time, curiosity stuck.

You weren’t powerful. You weren’t royalty. Hell, you weren’t even all that savage— compared to some of the monsters he’d gutted, you were practically a puppy.

The questions wouldn’t leave him alone. They curled in the back of his skull like smoke—thick, toxic, persistent.

He didn’t give a shit about politics or vampire hierarchy, but something about this hunt had started to rot. The price, the silence, the way names kept changing without reason. And your face—always your fucking face— grinning like you knew something he didn’t.

So he started carving answers out of anyone who might’ve brushed shoulders with you. Biters. Leech nobles. Black-market blood traders.

Tonight, he’d gotten lucky.

The city never really slept, but this part of it had long been forgotten.

Four levels beneath a crumbling shopping complex, the air in the old parking garage was thick with oil, mildew, and blood. Fluorescent lights overhead flickered in broken intervals, humming like dying insects. Water dripped from a cracked pipe in the ceiling, echoing off concrete like a metronome for violence.

Graffiti stretched across the walls—gang tags, occult symbols, angry smears of red that might’ve been paint. Or not.

Broken glass crunched beneath Toji’s boots as he moved. The whole structure felt like it was holding its breath.

He didn’t care. He’d dragged the leech down here to bleed in private.

The vampire was slumped against the stained concrete, wheezing through broken ribs, arms twisted wrong, one fang missing—knocked out when Toji’s knuckles shattered his jaw.

Toji crouched in front of him. Bloody hands resting on his thigh, knife spinning lazy between his own fingers.

“You get one chance.” He said flatly. “You give me something useful, you walk outta here with your spine still inside your body.”

The leech spat blood, trembling. “You’re not gonna let me walk.”

Toji smiled, slow and humorless. “No. But you might crawl.”

He pressed the blade just under the vampire’s chin, lifting his face. “Now talk. You’ve seen her. You’ve heard things. I want everything.”

The vampire coughed, tried to laugh —but it came out cracked and wet. “I don’t know much… just rumors. The pretty one—they say she’s connected to Sukuna.”

Toji froze.

That name didn’t belong in this timeline.

It was myth. Legend. A warning scrawled in dead languages and sealed temples.

A simple bloodsucker like you? Connected to that?

His voice dropped, sharp and dangerous. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I don’t know how.” The vampire choked, flinching as the blade nicked his skin. “But they say she’s trying to unseal Sukuna. That the seal’s breaking because of her—because she’s close to it, or tied to it, or… I don’t know, man. I’m just telling you what I heard."

Sukuna had been sealed away for centuries. No one knew where. No one knew how. And no one dared ask.

Because the only reason the world still turned—the only reason people still breathed, loved, fucked, and feared in peace—was because that monster stayed buried.

Toji grinned.

So that’s why your name was worth a fortune. That’s why this job smelled like blood and secrets.

But still… not enough answers.

“Is that all you know, leech?” His free hand fisted in the vampire’s blond hair and yanked his head back.

The leech’s breath hitched. His voice cracked with panic. “That’s all I know—I swear! Please, man, I told you everything. I don’t know anything else. Don’t kill me, please!”

Toji didn’t blink.

He looked down at the trembling wreck of a body in front of him—bones shattered, face caved in, blood pooling like a slow tide—and felt nothing.

Begging never moved him. Especially not from a bloodsucker.

“Yeah.” He said, almost thoughtful. “You did good.”

The vampire’s eyes flickered—hope sparking in them just for a second.

But he didn’t even get the chance to hold it.

Toji drove the knife up under his chin, straight through soft palate and skull.

The body jerked once, then slumped forward in silence.

He wiped the blade clean on the dead man’s shirt and stood. No ceremony, no pause. Just business. Almost boring, honestly—he didn’t even know how to fight back. Probably too young to have any real power.

Now things made sense.

A mission this big—tied to something as massive as Sukuna—deserved more than half a million. Hell, it deserved a few extra zeros.

Toji pulled out his phone, blood still drying on his knuckles, and scrolled to the encrypted number in his contacts.

If his client wanted to play games, they’d have to pay more. And start giving real answers.

You weren’t just a mark now—you were a fucking threat.

So now he knew what had to be done. You had to die.

This was a fucking catastrophe in the making.

And he was going to end it before it started.

—

The forest outside the city was quiet—too quiet for a place so close to civilization.

The moon hung low, filtering silver through a canopy of black-barked trees, and the earth was soft underfoot, rich with rot and moss. It was the kind of silence that only came before something violent. Toji knew it well.

He’d tracked rumors here. Whispers of a woman luring men from the town’s edge, vanishing with them into the trees. None had turned up dead, which was strange. Stranger still — none remembered what happened. Just fragments. A voice. A smile. The scent of flowers and blood.

Not in the city. Not in the ruins. Not in the cathedrals where monsters liked to kneel.

Here—where the roads turned to dirt and the fog never lifted. A fitting choice for someone like you.

Toji moved through it all like a shadow.

He didn’t make a sound.

The only thing keeping him company was the pulse—steady and mortal—of a man walking just ahead. Stupid. Clumsy. Laughing nervously as he followed a voice into the dark.

And just beneath that voice… was something else.

No heartbeat. No warmth.

Just that scent again.

He hated how much he liked it.

It clung to the trees like perfume and sin—sweet, iron-rich, with a whisper of something older underneath. Like blood spilled on roses left to rot. It didn’t belong in the living world. But it belonged to you.

He’d smelled it before. First time he tracked you, you left it behind on a pillow soaked in someone else’s blood. It had burned into his lungs, into his memory.

He hated it because he wanted more.

The deeper he went, the worse it got. The forest closed in around him—trees too tall, too close, bark split like old scars. Moonlight barely clawed through the canopy overhead, making the world below feel starved and breathless.

You were close now.

He could hear the human up ahead—chuckling nervously, caught in whatever spell you’d wrapped around him. “You sure this is the right way?”

Toji stayed low, moving with practiced silence through the trees.

Your voice came a beat later, smooth and dark as velvet. “Of course, baby. You’re not scared, are you?”

And there it was again.

That cadence. That ease.

No heartbeat to betray you. No breathing. Just sound and motion—like silk brushing over stone, like shadow sliding over skin.

Toji crept closer, boots muffled by moss. His spear was already in hand, fingers resting lightly on the guard. The blade—custom-forged for bloodsuckers like you—gleamed faintly in the dark. In his other hand, he carried a handgun loaded with bullets soaked in holy water.

Still, no sound. No breeze.

Just that scent again—richer now.

Goddamn.

It hit him like heat. Blood and dark fruit, sweet and spoiled and ripe with something rotten underneath. The kind of scent that crawled into your head and made you forget why it was dangerous. The kind of scent that begged you to chase it anyway.

He hated the way it made his pulse spike.

Toji reached the edge of the clearing and saw you before you saw him.

Or maybe you saw him first—and just didn’t care.

You walked half a step ahead of your latest victim, red silk clinging to your body like it had been made for you and you alone. Your laugh curled through the night like smoke, soft and seductive.

Toji’s eyes dragged over you. He didn’t mean to. Couldn’t stop.

You looked like trouble. You always did.

Your fingers grazed the man’s arm like a lover’s touch, gentle enough to make him forget himself. Your lips hovered close to his ear. He was smiling like a fool, drunk on the idea of being wanted.

“Don’t be scared, baby.” You whispered, fingers trailing up to his collarbone, easing his shirt open with a teasing flick. “If any big bad wolf comes to spoil our fun, I’ll protect you.”

Then, with a grin, you tilted your head—just enough to glance toward the shadows.

Toward him.

“Though between you and me.” You added, voice velvet-slick, still locking eyes with the hunter hidden in the dark, “I think the wolf might need protecting from me.”

Toji chuckled.

You were enjoying the game.

He moved—no warning, no words. Enough watching. You were dangerous. Not just to the fool in your grasp, but potentially to the whole world.

He stepped into the clearing like a blade being drawn—deliberate, heavy, precise. The moonlight caught the edge of his spear, glinting cold. His silhouette carved through the trees like a promise: sharp, inevitable.

You smiled, slow and unbothered.

That same goddamn grin that had haunted him for three years. Like none of this mattered. Like you’d expected him, and still found the whole thing amusing.

“Toji.” You said, voice soft as smoke. “Missed me?”

He didn’t answer.

He just stepped forward, grabbed the man by the collar, and shoved him hard toward the trees. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The human stumbled, blinking in confusion. “What? Who the hell—?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” Toji growled, flashing the blade at his side.

The man didn’t need a third warning. He turned and bolted into the woods, crashing through the underbrush, muttering something that sounded like “freaks” as he ran.

You sighed, watching him go. “Shame. He had such a pretty neck.”

Toji already had the gun half-raised, his eyes never leaving you. He didn’t expect you to run.

That was what made it worse.

You lingered.

Just like the scent you left behind. Like heat that refused to leave his chest.

A breeze stirred the clearing, catching the hem of your red dress—fluttering it like a dying flame. You looked more alive here, in the dark.

More dangerous.

Toji’s grip on the spear tightened.

“You were gonna drain him?”

You shrugged, slow and lazy. “Only a little. I don’t waste food.”

That fucking tone—like you were discussing dinner plans, not murder.

“You gonna kill me?” You asked, stepping closer without fear, bare feet brushing over the moss. “Or are you just here to cockblock?”

Toji took another step, closing the distance.

“Oh, I’m gonna kill you, leech.” He said, low and cold. “But not before you tell me everything. About Sukuna. And why the fuck you’re trying to bring him back.”

Your eyes flickered—just a flash. Surprise. So that’s what they told him. That’s what he thought this was all about.

Your gaze dropped to the blade in his hand, then climbed back up to his face. Steady. Calm.

Then that grin returned—sharper now. Something cruel behind it.

“Make me.”

Your smile lingered like a challenge.

Toji didn’t wait for you to strike first.

He lunged.

Fast as a bullet, spear slicing through the air in a deadly arc aimed straight for your ribs—but you ducked, barely, and your nails scraped across his forearm as you slipped past. Blood welled where you touched him—hot and immediate.

You were faster than he remembered.

He pivoted on instinct, elbow cracking toward your jaw. You caught it—barely—and the force still sent you stumbling back a step, breathless. Your feet skidded over moss, dress whipping around your legs. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe.

He pressed forward, blade flashing in the moonlight, slashing low to gut you. You jumped, twisting midair, and landed on all fours like an animal—feral and grinning.

“Oh, you really missed me.” you teased, fangs flashing.

He didn’t stop. He never did. He was already moving again, gun raised in his other hand, aimed, and fired—multiple times.

But you were gone in the blink of an eye, and not a single bullet hit you.

Then you were on him.

A blur of red silk and bare limbs—you slammed into his chest, knocking him back against a tree. Your hand closed around his throat, nails digging in. Your voice dropped to a purr near his ear.

“I remember you being quicker, hunter.”

His knee came up—hard into your ribs. You gasped, and he shoved you off, driving the butt of his spear into your stomach. You hit the ground with a thud, leaves and dirt flying.

You hissed—not in pain, but in pleasure.

“Fuck, so strong.”

You rolled to your feet in one fluid motion, already bleeding from a gash above your brow. But the scratches you gave him were red too.

“You’re bleeding.” You said, tongue flicking over your teeth like the sight thrilled you. Like you could taste it.

“So are you.”

You charged each other.

Flesh on flesh. Steel on bone. The clearing became chaos—grunts and growls, dirt kicked up, trees cracking under the force of bodies slamming into them.

Your claws tore across his ribs, and his already ruined shirt shredded completely beneath the strike— fabric ripping apart in your hands, baring hot skin and the surge of muscle underneath.

Blood sprayed. Breathing turned ragged. Neither of you yielded.

It was brutal, beautiful — like something that shouldn’t exist outside nightmares or need.

Toji landed a blow to your jaw that sent your head snapping sideways—but you retaliated, slamming your forehead into his and making him stumble back, dazed.

You pounced.

He caught your wrist mid-air and twisted—until something in your arm popped—but you just hissed through your teeth and sank your fangs into his shoulder.

“Fucking—!” he roared, slamming you into the forest ground.

Branches cracked beneath you both. You clawed at his chest—he punched the side of your ribs. Blood spilled, hot and fast. You gasped. He cursed.

His hands gripped hard on your throat.

And then—staring down at you, eyes burning, blood dripping from both your bodies—he hesitated.

Again.

Because your mouth was red with his blood, and your smile was still there, even through the pain. Because you looked alive. Because you looked at him like you knew him. Like you had him exactly where you wanted.

His hand was still pinning you down by your throat. Tight. Unrelenting.

But he didn’t press.

Didn’t finish it.

He just stared— face shadowed, blood trickling from the bite on his shoulder, chest heaving like he hated every breath that kept you both alive.

You tilted your head against the moss and smiled. Not sweet. Not kind.

Wicked. Bloody.

“What’s wrong, hunter?” You rasped, voice hoarse but smug. “Too scared to finish me off?”

That did it.

Something snapped in him—finally, violently.

Toji moved without thinking.

He grabbed your jaw, dragged your face up to his, and crashed his mouth onto yours like it was the last fucking thing he’d ever do.

Like he hated himself for it. Like he needed it more than air.

Your gasp was swallowed in the kiss—hot, rough, teeth clashing. It wasn’t romantic. It was war.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, reopening wounds you’d just left there. His fingers twisted in your hair—pulling, anchoring, devouring.

He tasted blood. Yours, his. He couldn’t tell.

And he didn’t care.

Your lips moved as eager as his, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw more blood, then licking it from his mouth like it was wine.

His blood tasted like your favorite dessert.

“Fuck.” He growled against your lips. “I should kill you.”

“Then do it.” You whispered, still breathless, still smiling. “But kiss me first.”

And so he did.

Again.

Harder.

Because nothing made sense. Because he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Because the line between killing you and craving you had finally shattered—

—and he was too far gone to care which side he landed on.

His mouth was still on yours—relentless, punishing, like each kiss was a sin he meant to commit all the way through. Desperate. Eager.

Your legs curled around his hips without thought, pulling him closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between your bodies. Heat. Blood. Cloth torn in too many places. Nothing else.

One of his hands stayed tight around your throat—firm but not crushing, like a leash he refused to let go of. The other slid down, rough and unhurried, dragging over the curve of your ribs to your waist. He gripped it hard. Like he needed to feel you to believe this was real.

You arched into him, lips brushing his jaw as you whispered, voice dark with amusement.

“You look like you’re enjoying this more than you should, hunter.”

Toji let out a low sound — half-growl, half-laugh — and dragged his mouth down to your neck. No biting. Just the scrape of teeth against skin too hot, too sensitive, too alive. His breath burned where it landed.

“Shut up.” He muttered, voice frayed. “You talk too much.”

Then his hand slid beneath your dress.

His fingers found the bare skin of your thigh, slick with blood from the fight, but he didn’t hesitate this time. He gripped you tighter, dragging your leg higher over his hip as his mouth grazed your collarbone—and bit down, hard enough to bruise.

You gasped—clawed at his back. Rolled your hips up to meet the weight of him, teasing. Demanding.

He hissed through his teeth.

“You want this, leech?” He breathed, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. “Say it—say you want me to fucking ruin you.”

You didn’t answer him right away.

Instead, you smirked.

Then you rolled your hips again—slow this time, dragging the pressure right against him, knowing exactly what it would do.

Toji’s jaw flexed.

You leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Why ask if you already know the answer?”

His hand snapped back to your thigh—gripping harder now. Fingers digging into soft skin as he dragged them upward until they reached the edge of your panties.

He groaned—low, guttural—like he hated how soaked you already were for him.

“You fucking tease.” He muttered, brushing over the fabric, fingers pressing just enough to make you squirm. “Big talk for someone this wet for the man sent to kill her.”

And then he moved—parting your thighs, pushing the fabric aside, dragging a calloused finger through the mess he found.

His gaze flicked down to your face, watching.

You sucked in a breath—shivering, eyes fluttering for just a second—and he saw it. That flicker of need. Hunger. Want.

“Say it.” He growled, voice rougher now. “Say you want this.”

You locked eyes with him—bloody, beautiful, unafraid.

“I want you.” You whispered, defiant and honest. “Ruin me, hunter.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth crashed back onto yours—messier this time. Lips, teeth, tongue—no rhythm, no patience, just need. And his fingers slid into you without warning. Deep. Rough. Curling just right.

Your moan hit the back of his throat, and he swallowed it greedily.

Your body arched, chasing the pressure—desperate for more. And Toji gave it. His thumb dragged slow, brutal circles over your clit while his fingers fucked into you like he wanted to make you come from his hand alone.

“Fuck—you feel like sin.” He muttered against your lips. “You were made for this.”

Made for him.

You writhed beneath him, gasping into his mouth, hips bucking into his hand—but Toji didn’t let up.

But this time, he didn’t give you more.

Instead, he slowed down.

His fingers moved cruelly slowly now—deep, yes, but lazy. Controlled. Just enough to make your body beg for friction that never quite came.

You growled in frustration, fangs bared, eyes burning. “Don’t fucking play with me—”

He cut you off with a rough press of his thumb against your clit, just enough to make your breath hitch—then stopped again.

“Oh?” He smirked, his voice dark and low. “But I thought you wanted me to ruin you.”

“Toji—”

He dragged his fingers out of you entirely, slow and wet, making sure you felt every inch.

You bit back a moan—barely.

He lifted his hand between you, fingers slick with your arousal, and stared at it for a beat—he couldn’t decide whether to lick it clean or rub it across your mouth just to see you suck it off.

And instead, he smeared it across your inner thigh, possessive, like he was marking you.

“Dripping for me already—and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Then fucking touch me, hunter.”

That pulled a dark chuckle from him. His hand shot back up, wrapping tight around your throat again—firm enough to still your breath, but not stop it.

“You don’t get to order me around, leech.” He growled, eyes blazing. “You’re the one pinned under me.”

You didn’t flinch. You leaned into the grip like you liked it. Like it fed you.

“Then do something about it.” You hissed.

“Oh, pretty. I don’t think you deserve me already.” He muttered, voice thick. “Not after everything.”

He lowered his head.

You gasped as his mouth met your pussy—hot, open, greedy.

He didn’t ease in. He devoured you. Tongue dragging through the mess he’d already made of you, lips sealing over your clit and sucking with no mercy.

Your back arched again.

Toji groaned into you, fingers digging more bruises into your thighs to keep you spread wide, like he didn’t want to miss a single twitch of your body.

“Fuck—you taste so good.” He rasped against you before diving back in, slower this time, deliberate.

He licked you like he was memorizing the shape of your pleasure.

Flattened his tongue against your clit, sucked until your legs trembled—then backed off just before you tipped over the edge.

Again.

And again.

The way his mouth worked over you left no room to control. Every flick of his tongue was too fast, too sharp, and your body was beggining to quake.

You were almost embarrassed by how close you were already—God knew his ego didn´t need the boost.

You bit down hard on your knuckles, trying to resist the pull. But he groaned into you, low and hungry, and the sound vibrated through your core. Your thighs clenched around his head, helpless.

“You gonna come like this?” He teased, mouth slick, voice wrecked. “On my tongue like a desperate little thing?”

You couldn’t even answer—not with your body coiled that tight, not with the way he was licking into you like you were the last thing that could save him.

And when he slid two fingers back inside you—curling just right to press against the spot that made your vision blur— while his mouth stayed locked on your clit, you knew it was over.

Your body seized beneath him, a choked cry tearing from your throat. Legs trembled, toes curling, your fingers tangled in his hair as his name broke from your lips — gasped, half-muttered like a prayer turned curse.

Toji held you through it—mouth never leaving you, he wanted to taste all of it.

Even when you were shaking.

Even when you tried to push him away.

He kept going.

He wasn’t done ruining you yet.

“Too much—Toji.” You gasped, thighs twitching around his head, hand fisting in his hair like you didn’t know whether to pull him closer or shove him away.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

Instead, he growled into your cunt again—deep, approving—like the sound of you breaking apart beneath him only made him harder.

“You think I care?” He muttered against your skin, voice muffled by your soaked heat.

Then he sucked—hard and focused—tongue circling your clit in a filthy rhythm while his fingers curled exactly where you needed.

Your moan shattered in your throat.

Every nerve lit up. Every breath felt like a scream you couldn’t let out. Your second orgasm hit faster than you could brace for it—violent, blinding, your entire body locking up beneath him.

“Fuck—look at you.” He rasped, finally pulling back just enough to speak—lips wet, chin dripping, eyes dark and wild. “Cumming so fuckin’ pretty for me.”

He kissed the inside of your thigh—mock-gentle—then bit down, hard.

You jerked.

“Want me to stop?” He asked, too soft to be kind, fingers still teasing lazy circles over your oversensitive clit.

You met his eyes—wrecked, trembling, still high from release—and hissed through your teeth.

“If you stop, I’ll kill you first.”

Toji grinned.

“Yeah.” He muttered, voice thick with need, reaching up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s what I fucking thought, leech.”

You were still gasping, body trembling from the aftershocks, but your smirk was already creeping back.

“You look proud of yourself.” You murmured, voice raw.

Toji hovered over you, licking his lips, still tasting you.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

You dragged your nails down his chest, slow and dangerous.

“Cocky bastard.”

He caught your wrist mid-motion and slammed it into the moss beside your head.

“You came undone on my tongue like a slut, and you’re still mouthing off?”

His hips rolled forward, the thick press of him grinding into your slick heat. And this time, you couldn’t hold back the sounds you made.

Toji’s hands slid under your thighs again, rough palms gliding upward as he shoved your legs farther apart with zero grace. His lips clashed with yours again— punishing—while his fingers caught the hem of your dress and dragged it higher.

But the fabric clung. Damp with sweat. Blood. Heat.

He grunted against your lips, tugged harder—but the layers wouldn’t move fast enough. Wouldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Fuck this.” He growled.

And then you heard it—the sharp tear of fabric, loud in the stillness. He yanked the dress in two like it offended him, shredding it down the middle until it fell open beneath you like ruins.

You gasped, half from shock, half from the sudden rush of cold air on your overheated skin.

“Better.” He muttered, eyes dark as they dropped to your now-exposed chest. “So much better.”

His hands weren’t gentle—they were merciless.

They cupped your breasts like he’d been dying to touch them, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they peaked under his touch. And when he leaned down to suck one into his mouth—hot, wet, greedy—you arched off the moss with a gasp.

“Toji—fuck—”

He groaned low, teeth grazing just enough to make you flinch. Then he sucked harder. His other hand rolled your other nipple between his fingers—slow, rough, deliberate.

“You moan like this for every man who makes you bleed?” He rasped, breath hot against spit-slick skin.

You tangled your fingers in his hair and tugged.

“Only the ones who do it with their mouths.”

He chuckled—low, dangerous—and sank his teeth in again, harder this time. The pain made your folds clench around nothing, desperate and raw.

“You’re fucking insane.”

But he couldn’t stop touching you.

Wouldn’t stop tasting you.

And the way he was devouring your chest—lips swollen, jaw tight, breath ragged—made it damn clear:

You were driving him mad.

“I’m in no rush to fuck you.”

He leaned in, grazing your cheek, breath hot against your ear.

“Unless you beg for it.”

Your breath stuttered—but your eyes gleamed.

“Oh?” You whispered, lips brushing his. “Maybe you should be the one begging, hunter.”

Before he could taunt you again, you moved—quick, fluid, catching him off guard. One sharp twist of your hips, a push to his shoulder, and suddenly Toji was flat on his back against the dirt, and you were straddling him.

His eyes widened—then narrowed.

But he didn’t stop you.

Not yet.

Your fingers dragged down his chest, slow and confident, nails grazing over every muscle like you owned them.

“You think I can’t break you?” You purred, grinding down against him, deliberately slow. The drag of your slick heat over his cock made both of you hiss.

You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw, licking a stripe up the side of his neck.

“Fuck, Toji… you’re so fun when you’re trying not to lose control.”

His breath hitched—and still, his hands stayed at his sides.

Still not stopping you.

Your teeth grazed his collarbone.

Your hips rolled again.

“You gonna be good for me, Toji?”

Then—too fast to react—his hand shot up, fisting in your hair, yanking your head back to bare your throat.

“You’re playing a dangerous fucking game.” He growled, voice pure gravel, lips hot against your pulse.

And you barely had time to blink.

One second he was beneath you—the next, he’d grabbed you by the waist, hauled you up, spun you around, and slammed your back against the nearest tree.

Moss scraped your spine. Bark dug into your shoulder blades. Toji’s massive frame caged you in—one hand hooking under your thigh, lifting you, the other braced beside your head.

His forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged.

“You really think you can ride me, pretty?” He hissed, teeth bared, pupils blown wide. “You don’t even get to touch me unless I say so.”

You opened your mouth, but he didn’t give you a chance to speak.

He hooked both your thighs up, spread you wide, and lifted you higher like you weighed nothing. Your back scraped against the tree as he settled between your legs, hips grinding up—slow, punishing, all heat and threat and dark, dirty promise.

You choked on a gasp, your hands scrabbling for purchase—his shoulders, the bark, anything.

“Toji—”

He wasn’t gentle.

He devoured your mouth as he rocked against your core, not bothering to hide how hard he was, how much he wanted to ruin you. Tongue fucking into your mouth like he owned it, biting your lower lip until you whimpered, tasting blood again on your tongue.

“You beg.” He growled, lips trailing down your jaw. “You fucking beg me for it, or I’ll keep you like this all night.”

His mouth dragged down to your neck, biting.

“Pressed to a tree, dripping down your thighs, aching and empty while I don’t give you what you want.”

His cock—still covered—dragged through your wet folds again, making your back arch, your lips part on a trembling breath.

Just rubbed.

Teased.

Denied.

Your breath was ragged now, chest heaving, nails digging into his arms.

“Toji, please—”

His hand shot up and grabbed your breast—rough, possessive, mean. Pain bloomed through the heat, and your gasp was half-moan, half-snarl.

He leaned in closer, voice wrecked.

“Say it right, slut.”

Your pride screamed.

But your body?

Your body was already shivering, already breaking.

And he smirked against your throat.

“Beg, pretty thing.” He murmured. “I want to hear you fucking plead.”

You tried to hold his stare—tried to keep the smirk on your lips, the bite in your voice—but it faltered.

He was dragging over your clit with maddening precision. Just enough pressure. Never enough to satisfy.

Your nails raked down his back, scratching over wounds that were barely scabbed.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even blink.

“Toji.” You gasped—again, useless, desperate.

He just kept grinding, slow, brutal, unforgiving.

Your thighs trembled around his waist, every nerve lit up and begging.

And still—still—he held you there, pinned between bark and muscle, his mouth cruel against your jaw.

“Look at you.” He growled, voice low and dark. “Fucking soaking me through my pants. You want it that bad?”

You bit your lip—hard. Blood beaded, dripped. Pride clenched in your gut. But your body… your body was done fighting.

“I want you to fuck me.” You whispered, breath shaking. “I want you inside—now.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?”

One hand dropped to his waistband, and he shoved his pants down just far enough, hissing as his cock sprang free—thick, flushed, leaking from how long he’d been holding back.

He shifted his hips—just enough to drag his cockhead directly against your entrance. You shuddered, thighs twitching to close, but he held them wide.

“Toji—fuck—please. Please fuck me, I need it—need you.”

His eyes flared.

And in the next second, the feral thing in him snapped loose.

“That’s more like it.” He snarled.

He thrust into you in one brutal, perfect stroke—no warning, no mercy, just depth.

You cried out—loud, raw, ruined—as your back slammed into the tree. Your legs locked around his waist instinctively, trying to take it, to anchor yourself as he filled you to the hilt.

Toji groaned like it hurt, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck.” He growled against your skin, voice cracked and strained. “You’re so damn tight, pretty.”

He didn’t wait.

Didn’t give you a second to adjust.

He pulled back and slammed in again, harder, his pace feral from the start. Bark scraped your spine with every thrust, and you didn’t care—couldn’t care. You wanted him to make it hurt.

“Say it again.” He rasped, teeth dragging along your throat. “Say you need me.”

“I do—fuck, Toji—I need you—”

And the sound he made wasn’t human.

It was hunger.

It was possession.

He should’ve kept the rhythm steady. Controlled.

Should’ve made it last—made you suffer.

But the way you moaned his name—wrecked, breathless, honest—knocked the air clean out of him.

“Toji—”

Your voice cracked around it, full of need, of surrender. It wasn’t a weapon anymore. It was a plea.

His pace faltered. Just for a second. Just long enough for him to try and rein it in.

“My name sounds so fucking good on your lips, pretty.” He rasped, breath hot against your neck.

You tightened your legs around him.

“Toji.” You whispered. “Please—Toji, harder.”

His grip on your hips turned bruising—you knew it’d be purple by morning.

With a guttural growl, he slammed into you hard enough to make your teeth clack, his pace turning punishing, feral—like he needed to fuck the sound of his name out of your throat.

“This is wrong.” He growled. “So fucking wrong…”

You couldn’t form words. Just gasps, sobs, desperate clutches at him as your body took every brutal thrust and still wanted more.

Toji’s mouth found your jaw, your neck, your lips—biting, licking, devouring you like he was starved.

“You’re mine when you say my name like that.” He snarled, voice trembling with the force of his unraveling restraint. “Don’t you fucking stop, leech.”

You whimpered it again, cracked and broken on your tongue—“Toji…”—and it only drove him harder.

He fucked into you like stopping would kill him.

Every thrust was deeper, rougher, until the tree behind you shook with the force of it, until your moans turned into broken gasps, until your mind blurred with the sheer intensity.

“Toji—ah—fuck—”

Your head fell back against the bark, sweat-slick and aching, your body quivering with the edge he kept you on—again and again, just out of reach.

He was groaning now, deep in his chest, the sound of you unraveling was doing something to him. It hurt.

“Shit—fuck—you’re—” His voice caught.

He wasn’t supposed to lose control.

Wasn’t supposed to want like this.

But your cunt was gripping him like a vice, slick and hot and perfect, and the way you cried his name—

He was past reason.

And you—

You were trying so damn hard not to sink your teeth in again.

Your fangs ached, instincts flaring with every pulse of blood under his skin. His throat, his shoulder—so close, so vulnerable.

Your mouth hovered there, open, shaking, every thrust grinding you harder against the bark, each friction-soaked drag of his cock pushing you closer.

He noticed. Of course he did.

His pace didn’t falter—but his voice dropped, a low, dangerous murmur against your ear.

“Go ahead.” He growled. “You wanna bite me again, don’t you?”

You whimpered, shaking your head, but he chuckled darkly.

“Trying to be good for me, pretty?” His teeth dragged along your jaw.

You clenched around him, a sharp gasp catching in your throat.

He groaned—loud, ragged—and picked up speed.

You were already shaking, body too sensitive, every thrust sending sparks ricocheting through your nerves. But he didn’t slow down. He chased the sound of your moans, chased the heat, chased you.

And deep inside him—

Somewhere past the lust, past the chaos—

Something twisted.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Not with you.

Not with someone he was paid to hunt.

But when you cried out his name again, voice shattered and begging—he couldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t.

“Toji—please—I can’t—”

“You can.” He snarled, hand tightening under your thigh. “You fucking will. I’m not done.”

And still—your mouth trembled, teeth bared as instinct warred with restraint.

You didn’t want to bite him.

But he was breaking you.

And you were so close to breaking him too.

Your body betrayed you before your mind could stop it.

Overstimulated. Shaking. Ripped raw by the force of him—his cock pounding into you, his breath hot against your neck, his grip bruising, brutal, possessive.

You’d tried.

Tried so fucking hard not to bite.

But your head turned—mouth open, gasping—and when he hit just the right angle, when the tension snapped—

You sank your fangs into his shoulder with a cry.

The moment your teeth broke skin, he froze.

Not in shock.

Not in pain.

But in something else.

Toji’s whole body went rigid, a low, guttural sound clawing out of his chest like it had been buried under every wall he’d ever built.

It wasn’t a groan.

It was a fucking moan.

Rough. Wrecked. Almost worshipful.

“F-fuck—”

His blood soaked into your mouth—hot, thick, feral. His heartbeat slammed against your tongue, wild and addicting. And his cock—God—he throbbed inside you like your bite set him off. Like it unleashed something.

His hips slammed forward again, deeper, harsher, chasing.

“That—fuck—that feelin’—” He rasped, voice wrecked, panting. “What the fuck did you just do to me?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You were still biting down, still sucking greedily as he kept fucking you, harder than before.

And he let you.

No—he wanted it.

His hand tangled in your hair, holding you to him like he needed the pain.

“Shit, pretty thing—your mouth’s fuckin’ dangerous.” He growled, head tipping back.

His pace turned animalistic—like he was chasing release through the pain, like your fangs drove him higher than anything else could.

The tree behind you shook violently, your moans muffled against his skin, his blood hot on your tongue, his cock dragging ruthless and perfect inside you.

He was losing it.

And loving it.

“Mark me—tear into me—I don’t care. Just—fuck—don’t let go.”

He liked it.

He liked the hurt.

And the way your teeth sunk in again—deeper—sent him barreling straight to the edge, no brakes, no shame, just ecstasy.

You didn’t know who was shaking more—you or him.

Toji was slamming into you like he needed it to live, your bite driving him wild, every thrust punching broken sounds from your throat. His blood was thick on your tongue, metallic and addictive.

You drank his blood like you were starving.

His breath was ragged in your ear, voice hoarse and barely human. “Fucking leech… you taste me like you’re in heat—shit—”

You could feel it in his pulse—every beat pounding into your mouth. He was close. So were you.

Your jaw unclenched.

You pulled back with a sharp gasp, fangs sliding free, mouth open and dripping, smeared in crimson.

His blood clung to your lips, your chin, glistening down your throat like something unholy.

Toji stared.

Eyes blown wide. Chest heaving. Still buried deep inside you—but stunned for a heartbeat.

“Fuck.” It came out low, reverent. A prayer in one breath.

You blinked at him—dazed, trembling, blood-slicked and ruined.

And it broke him all over again.

He grabbed your face—fingers smearing his own blood across your cheek as he kissed you like a fucking animal. Tongue licking into your mouth, tasting himself on you, groaning like it drove him insane.

“Messy fuckin’ girl.” He growled against your mouth. “You are the Devil.”

His hands grabbed your ass, hauled you up higher, hips snapping into you with a new kind of desperation. Your blood-soaked mouth lit a fuse in him he couldn’t put out.

“Wanna fuck you ‘til there’s nothing left of me.”

And from the sound of it—

He meant every word.

Maybe it was his pace—ruthless, faster now, his cock dragging over every spot inside you with maddening precision. Maybe it was the way his blood still coated your tongue, metallic and warm, your lips tingling from the bite. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you—

Like he was seconds from falling apart.

“Toji—” You gasped, voice slurred, head falling back against the tree. “Fuck—please—”

His hands gripped your thighs tighter, bruising, grounding himself in your flesh as he drove deeper, rougher, sweat and blood slicking your skin where it met his. His jaw was clenched, brows furrowed in something close to agony.

“You gonna come, leech?” He panted, mouth brushing yours—raw, desperate. “You gonna soak my cock with that tight fucking pussy?”

You whimpered, your walls clenching hard around him at the filthy sound of his voice. It dragged a groan out of him—low, ruined, dangerous.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growled, slamming into you again, harder, meaner. “Not yet. Not until I say.”

“Toji—” Your voice cracked, and you clung to him, arms tight around his shoulders, nails dragging more blood down his back. “too much—”

He hissed into your ear. “You’ll take it.”

His hand snuck between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, rubbing circles that were just shy of cruel.

Your back arched. Your breath caught.

The edge hit like a freight train—and held you there. Quaking. Gasping. Your whole body tightening around him as he kept you right there.

Toji’s head dropped to your shoulder, his voice guttural, choked. “You feel that? Fuck—you feel how close I am, pretty?”

You nodded frantically, tears slipping down your cheeks, chest heaving against his.

“Good.” He rasped, still fucking you like he meant to break you. “Then fucking hold it. I wanna hear you scream my name when you fall.”

He was right there too.

Barely holding on.

Your body was already unraveling—but he wouldn’t let you fall.

He kept you pinned, suspended, every thrust cruel with restraint. Your thighs trembled around his hips, your breath coming in short, broken gasps, his name half-choked on your tongue. Your whole world had narrowed down to the pulse between your legs and the brutal rhythm of his hips against yours.

Toji’s jaw clenched, sweat sliding down his temple, muscles flexed and twitching with the effort of holding back. You could feel it—the tremor in his arms, the way his thrusts stuttered every time your cunt fluttered around him, the animal noise that kept building in his throat every time your voice cracked.

He was losing it.

But so were you.

Your nails raked down his back, raw and blood-slick from where you’d clawed him earlier. His blood still coated your tongue, warm and electric, and when you opened your eyes to look at him—really look—he was already staring at you.

Wild.

Ravenous.

Gone.

“Toji.” You whispered again, wrecked.

And that was it.

He slammed into you with a growl, the sound feral, tearing from his chest like he’d been holding it back for hours. He didn’t stop this time—couldn’t. He fucked you like he was possessed, pace brutal, cock driving into you so deep your entire body jolted against the tree with every thrust.

You screamed.

Couldn’t hold it anymore.

Your come like a wave of white fire—spine arching, mouth falling open, legs locking tight around him as your walls clenched hard and refused to let go. You sobbed his name—over and over—mind blank, body quaking as pleasure tore through you so violently it almost hurt.

Toji snapped.

He growled something guttural, unintelligible, and suddenly his hand was in your hair, yanking your head back to bare your throat. But it wasn’t dominance anymore—it was desperation. Worship.

“You fucking—gods, you’re squeezing me so tight—” His hips jerked, rhythm lost, every thrust now a frantic, sloppy drive for release. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come—”

His whole body seized—then shuddered.

With a broken groan, he slammed in to the hilt and stayed, cock pulsing deep inside you as he emptied himself in thick, hot spurts. You could feel it. All of it. Every twitch, every tremor, his cum flooding your already aching cunt, leaking out around him from how hard you were still clenching down.

He was loud.

Raw.

The kind of sound you only make when you’re being ruined.

Toji’s forehead dropped to yours, his breath shaking against your lips, chest heaving. His arms trembled where they held you, legs locked, body still flexing with aftershocks as he kept thrusting small, shallow movements—dragging it out.

Drawing every drop of pleasure from both of you.

He was right. You were a mess.

Blood still smeared across your mouth. Skin slick with sweat. Your core still fluttering around him like you didn’t want to let him go.

You moaned softly, dazed, and leaned in—mouth brushing his cheek.

“You came so deep.” You whispered, voice ruined. “I can feel you everywhere.”

Toji growled again, but it was softer this time. Like surrender.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t speak.

Just pressed you tighter to the tree, his body still inside yours, heart pounding so hard you could feel it through his chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Breathing each other in.

Wrecked.

Changed.

The forest was still now.

Silent, save for the rough, uneven sound of your breathing and Toji’s heart thudding loud against your chest. The bark bit into your back with every small shift of his body, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to move.

And neither did he.

His forehead was still resting against yours, skin damp, mouth slightly parted like he couldn’t catch enough air. His arms, always strong, always brutal, now just held you—steady, grounding, as if letting go would undo something neither of you were ready to name.

You blinked, slowly, dazed. A little high. A little wrecked.

Toji… Toji was staring at you like he didn’t know what the fuck he’d just done.

And he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Your hand slid up, shaky fingers brushing through the mess of his hair. He didn’t stop you. He leaned into it, just slightly. And when your blood-slick lips pressed the softest kiss to his cheek—gentle, not hungry—his eyes fluttered shut for a breath.

“You okay?” You whispered.

It came out hoarse, almost too quiet. But it cut through the haze.

Toji didn’t answer right away. His hand slid down from your thigh, tracing your skin slowly, almost reverently, like he was grounding himself in the reality that you were still there. Still in his arms. Still wrapped around him.

“I should be asking you that.” He spoke—rough, low.

You let out a breathless huff—half a laugh, half a sigh—and let your forehead fall into the crook of his neck. You could still feel him inside you, thick and warm and unmoving, like he was staking his claim with more than just words.

“I’ll live.” You murmured, letting your lips graze his pulse.

Toji let out a quiet grunt, but he didn’t pull away. He just shifted enough to ease you from the tree, cradling you like he didn’t trust your legs to hold. You hissed as the movement made you feel everything again—every inch of stretch, every bruise, every pulse of afterglow that hadn’t faded yet.

“Shit.” You muttered. “You’re gonna make me limp back out of this forest.”

He smirked—tired, but cocky. “Could carry you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers curled into his chest anyway.

“Shut up.”

Toji’s hand smoothed over your lower back, slow and rough. Protective. Almost absent. Like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

For a long, quiet moment, you both just breathed.

The sky above you was dark now, dusk settled deep into the trees. The only light came from moonlight filtering through the leaves—and the way it caught in Toji’s lashes, the sharp line of his jaw, the blood still drying along his neck.

Right now, like this—half-naked, breathless, ruined in each other’s arms—you weren’t thinking about the seal, or the enemies, or how fucked this all was.

Just him.

Just this.

Just the way his thumb now stroked your hip, slow, like a promise he didn’t know he was making.

Eventually, Toji moved.

Not far—not away. Just enough to pull out slow, making you both shudder, and lower you gently to the mossy ground. It was softer here. Cooler. Damp with night, but you didn’t flinch when your bare skin touched it.

He didn’t leave.

The frenzy had passed, but your body still hummed with the aftershocks—nerves raw, skin flushed, blood cooling in sticky streaks where your mouth had found him, where his hands had left their claim. Toji lay beside you on the moss, one heavy arm slung across your stomach, chest rising and falling against your side, damp with sweat.

You stared at the canopy above—leaves rustling, moonlight slanting through in thin, trembling beams—trying to gather your thoughts, your breath, your self.

But everything was tangled now. Lust. Blood. Him.

Toji exhaled deeply, almost like he’d forgotten how.

His voice came low, gravel-rough and tired. “Fucking hell…”

You almost laughed. Almost.

Instead, you turned your head toward him, eyes half-lidded. “So…” You murmured, your voice hoarse. “Are you still going to kill me?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Didn’t tense. Didn’t move.

Just stared at the same canopy you had, his jaw tight, expression unreadable in the dark.

Then—

“I think so.” He said.

Quiet. Almost too quiet.

You blinked. A hollow sound echoed in your chest, too deep to be surprise.

“I mean…” He went on, eyes still fixed on the stars. “That’s why I came here, isn’t it?”

You didn’t speak. Just waited.

His fingers twitched on your stomach.

“But I don’t—fuck.” He shut his eyes, rubbed his face like the words themselves burned. “I don’t know what the hell this is. What you are. What we just did.”

He turned to you, finally, face shadowed but eyes burning.

“You’re still a threat.” He muttered. “That’s what I keep telling myself.”

But his hand didn’t move.

Didn’t leave your skin.

“You can’t fucking release that demon back into the world. I have to kill you.”

And yet… his eyes didn’t look like those of a man ready to finish a job.

They looked lost.

Like someone already breaking the rules.

Like someone who’d tasted something forbidden—and was already addicted.

You didn’t speak right away. The silence between you felt sharp, like a blade hovering between your throats, waiting to fall in either direction.

But his palm still rested over your ribs, steadying you. Feeling the rise and fall of your chest.

So finally, quietly, you spoke.

“They lied to you.”

Toji didn’t flinch. But his fingers stilled.

“I’m not trying to weaken the seal.” You said, voice soft but unwavering. “Because I am the seal.”

He blinked, slow. His brow pulled taut.

“They’re the ones trying to release Sukuna.” You continued, each word low and measured. “But I’m the only thing keeping him in. My blood. My body. My life. That’s what holds him back.”

Silence.

Not denial—just tension. The pause of a man who didn’t know how to respond.

“If I die.” You said, quieter now, “it’s over. No spell, no ritual, no backup. I’m the last thing between him and the world.”

His jaw tightened. You could see him trying to cling to what he was taught—what he was paid to do. But his grip on that certainty was slipping.

And you saw it—the flicker in his eyes. The start of doubt.

The start of belief.

“I’ve spent centuries containing him.” You whispered. “I’ve bled for it. Starved for it. Hunted and hidden and given up nearly all my power to maintain it. And I’ve killed anyone who came too close to disrupting that balance—except you.”

You looked at him fully now, eyes bare and steady.

Toji swallowed hard. Slowly.

“His worshippers were the ones who hired you, I suppose. They claim he’ll purify the earth.” Your eyes deviate for the night sky. “But I’ve seen what his purification looks like.”

And you said the final truth, quiet but sharp:

And then, with a quiet certainty that cut deeper than any threat:

“If you finish the job… he comes back. And everything burns.”

At first, his jaw clenched tighter, fists twitching as if struggling against the pull of your words. The world he thought he knew was unraveling before him, shaking him more than he wanted to admit.

His dark, stormy eyes flickered between suspicion and doubt, searching your face for a lie—but finding only raw truth.

Slowly, he pulled his hand back, like letting go of a fragile thread he wasn’t ready to lose but couldn’t hold any longer. He sank down to sit on the floor.

His voice was rough, low, edged with frustration—and something almost like pain.

“Why should I believe you?”

You sat down beside him, voice steady. “I don’t know if you should, Toji. But it’s the truth.”

“After everything I’ve done? After all the blood I spilled, thinking I was stopping a threat?”

His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. “They lied to me. Used me like a damn tool.”

His chest heaved, eyes wild yet searching yours—as if he wanted to hate you, but couldn’t quite.

“This whole time, I was killing for a lie.” His voice cracked with bitterness and confusion. “And you… you’re the one keeping that demon locked away?”

Toji’s anger slowly dissolved into exhaustion. His body slumped against the rough bark of the tree, eyes closing briefly like he could shut out the weight of the truth you’d just laid bare. The silence between you stretched — heavy, but no longer hollow.

Carefully, you crawled closer, your fingers slipping into his hair. You brushed through the dark strands gently, a quiet gesture meant to soothe the tension still coiled in both your chests.

He tensed at first, instinctual, then let out a ragged breath and leaned into your touch. His eyes cracked open, just enough to find yours. There was a storm behind them — confusion, pain, rage — but beneath all that, something softer flickered. Something like trust.

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore.” You whispered, voice low but steady. “We’ll find the bastards who set you up… gut them for trying to use you.”

His breath hitched.

And for the first time, the sharp edge of him dulled. Toji let himself fall against you, his arms coming around your waist — hesitant at first, then tighter. Desperate.

You held him just as fiercely, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. The world beyond this moment — the lies, the blood, the threat of Sukuna — it all slipped away. Here, there was only the warmth of his skin, the thundering of your heart, and the fragile hush of survival.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling.” He muttered, voice rough and muffled against your skin.

You smiled faintly, your lips brushing his collarbone. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

And in the quiet, with his breath on your neck and your heart in his hands, something shifted. Not a declaration. Not safety. But something real.

A fragile promise. A tentative beginning.

The night had thinned into silence, and the trees no longer felt like they were holding their breath. Toji sat beside you, one knee bent, head tipped back against the bark, as if trying to breathe in something other than blood and regret.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to.

For the first time in years, maybe centuries, you weren’t holding the seal alone.

And Toji wasn’t just a weapon anymore.

The air grew lighter by degrees. You could feel it in your skin. In your bones.

The sun was coming.

You turned your face to the east, eyes scanning the silver horizon.

Then you felt it.

His hand—rough, warm—closing around yours.

You looked over, and Toji was already on his feet, hair tousled, eyes still dark but steadier now. Not soft. But clearer.

“Sun’s almost up.” He muttered. “We should go.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “Go where?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just offered you his hand again.

And when you hesitated—just a breath, just a beat—he gave you a look. One that said this isn’t over, but I’m not walking away from you.

“You were the one saying you’d help me cut those pricks open, weren’t you?” He said, a real smile tugging at his lips — not smug, not cruel. Just… honest. “Let’s go home.”

You couldn’t say what made you believe it — that this time, home might actually be real.

But you took his hand.

And as your fingers closed around his, stained with blood and forgiveness, you knew: Whatever came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

[sttm99]

mhm

[sttm99]

stinky rat man with socks!! yes please!!

[sttm99]

sukuna like HOLY MOLY i need him

[sttm99]

i think yall will be feening for this one specifically 🤭🤑🤑🤑🤑

[sttm99]

hes so breedable WHAT who said that

[sttm99]

then we have this insanity that took 50+ hours!!! i lost my mind during this!! :D

[sttm99]

then i did hiromi higuruma and got shadowbanned on tiktok for it!

[sttm99]

Oh my God how am I just seeing this??????????? This is amazing!!!!!😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

now, at twenty five, you see the ghost of your past haunting you. when you pass by the sandbox, you hear the blooming noises of explosions. you hear the stifling tears from fighting bullies and you smell the stench of nitroglycerin. the last time you had seen katsuki bakugou was this morning, when you were making breakfast in your kitchenette with the television turned on. the bleed of morning sun flutters into your studio apartment, inundating your belongings with warmth. the news channel broadcasted an accident from a previous night, in which pro hero dynamight was able to catch and arrest two villains by himself during his night patrol, but still left destruction in his wake.

it’s the collapse of scaffolding, the uprooting of walkways, with soot and burn scars scalded into the walls of concrete. it’s the name of your childhood love plastered over every single surface that exists.

the last time you had seen katsuki bakugou, you were fifteen. wearing a graduation cap too heavy for your dipped head, donning a robe too large for your then small and sickly thin body.

katsuki bakugou had looked at you with something in the guise of disgust. head held high with a kind of dignity you’re unfamiliar with, the dignity that comes with being the best at what you do, the dignity that encompasses his self-assurance. or perhaps it was betrayal, a shattering unbeknownst to you.

a dream too good to be true— two tickets that would allow you to step foot into the heroes’ world, only to have one fall short, in the name of illness.

he had never visited you during your chronic stay at the hospital. but at twenty five, perhaps now you recall the nameless cards that were littered onto your bed-side table before you had even awoken, at the glimpse of dawn.

a promise broken by betrayal— he looks at you, from a pedestal unto the commoners, he looks at you with his head tilted high and leaned back, as if he’s too afraid to get too close. maybe he is. he was never good at deceiving you.

since the day of your graduation, you see the ghost of your past everywhere. when you walk past the convenience store on the way to work, only to be greeted by the face of dynamight on the package of onigiris. and when you go shopping with friends, you'll be reminded of his face on the commercial district billboard for calvin klein.

he is everything you’re not, and likewise, vice versa. you’re everything he’s not. your contact is left to collect dust in his phone but he’s sure you would’ve forgotten him by now. it’s the doing of his teenage self, to push you and your illness away until you recover, until you move on with life, onto normalcy. you won’t ever realise the years that he had used his birthday wishes and new years fortune to pray for your recovery. for you to make it out of the hospital, alive and well, because what is there to being a hero if not for you? what is there to protect when you’re not even there?

but he also won’t ever know the times you’ve knelt in front of the television in your childhood home, when you were sixteen, bowing your head and praying to god that even if he doesn’t show you mercy, he should at least use that to keep bakugou safe, alive and well.

it’s been over a decade. the last time he saw you, you had pale cheeks and barely made it to the graduation ceremony without fainting. your body was sticks and bones, remnants of an unhealed sickness that stole your dreams away.

he sees you now in the flowers he receives. he sees you in the eyes of students in the schools that he gives talks at. a childlike wonder that never got to grow up, a kindness that was killed over and over again until you became a tinder without a fire.

he tells himself: he’s moved on. and perhaps except for izuku, no one will ever notice just how ugly the scar on his heart is. you’re no hero, you’re no villain, you’re something of the in-between, but still, you leave destruction in your wake.

[sttm99]

running into him years after you’d lost your virginity’s to one another

flimsy hands, awkward stares, and teeth bumping into each other in the backseat of his dad’s old beat up van. you were young, fresh faced, and so was he.

an asshole of a center for the highschool hockey team that made your heart bloom on first glance despite his aloof demeanor. and lucky for you, the indifferent salmon haired boy had his eyes set on you from the start as well.

and what was a blossoming, delinquent love affair turned stolen kisses and quiet confessions after class continued to ring deep in the recesses of your heart for years to come, something adolescent and pure to adorn it.

he'd come prepared that fateful day, and you could feel in the air that today was going to be different. he wasn’t a gentle-mouthed boy, always quick to insult and speak. but with you, he opened up a different part of himself. words and gestures reserved for just you. and even if he was your first love, you always knew there was something real there.

that was, until the… deflowering.

you don’t like to think back on it too much as it was your last encounter, fearing it shaped the course of your romance together. he was obviously just as inexperienced as you, but you’d still expected a hell of a lot more.

it was quiet, muttered apologies and winces, curses of frustration under his breath when his belt snagged, limbs bumping into leather and fabric rustling against each other.

he’d only lasted around 15 seconds before it was over.

and now, six years later at a highschool reunion, you’d prayed you wouldn’t run into that familiar brute of a man to avoid any blunders.

but he was there alright.

standing nearly seven feet over the crowd of your old classmates, drink in hand as he shoved the other in his jean pocket.

you couldn't help the stammer of your heart, seeing how grown he looked after all this time. he had tattoos decorating both arms in thick lines, and a few even lining on his face.

he looked infuriatingly good; like a piece of cake your mother made, telling you that you can't eat it but when it looks so good sitting there, you're tempted for just a taste.

it was a hot summer night, sun low and a feverous and stifling temperature to match the low pace of music. decorations were just a few speckled foldable tables at a park outside your old highschool with party favors, coolers, and a couple of grills going along with a bar.

nostalgia flittered in the air with smoke, quiet chatter as everyone caught up, picking up just where they’d left off in this small town.

you kept your head down, focused on the conversation of your old friend group as they giggled about how their jobs were going or something else you weren’t really listening to.

howbeit, it was almost inevitable, that red string of fate that tied the two of you together.

because, within moments of him spotting you in the crowd thanks to his birds eye view, you felt a couple of meaty fingers tap against your shoulder.

grimacing like you were bracing for impact, you turned around as your friends conversation stalled for a moment, watching as you greeted him.

“hey,” he gruffed out, the smallest hint of relief and melancholy swirling in his crimson irises.

“hi ‘kuna,” you whispered back, feeling like you were back in high school with that nickname he only let you call him, the smallest hint of alcohol coursing through your veins and making every hair stand on end.

noticing the awkwardness, he placed a hand on the small of your back and led you towards the bar and away from the watchful eyes and ears from your friends, not without earning a few glances from familiar faces.

“how’ve you been?” he quiered, his tone a hell of a lot deeper, huskier than you’d remembered. he’d definitely grown into himself.

“good,” you nodded, pursing your lips and stopping at the bar counter, setting your drink down, ignoring how your heart was in your throat and your eyes felt wide. “what about you?”

he cocked his head, mulling it over, before nodding again. “good.”

it’s a hick-old town, and most of the gossip you’ve already heard.

but sukuna was different in that sense. you knew he was still at his families old ranch, yet you’d never once run into him or heard a lick of gossip.

maybe that was due to you working in the city after graduation, or his reserved nature.

“how’s the city life?” he asked, as if reading your mind.

you let out a gentle chuckle, soft and airy, something he had forgotten the sound of after all this time. “it’s a lot,” you stated honestly, toying with the stem of your glass. “but i like it.”

he hummed, leaning an arm against the bar and giving you a once-over. “you look real nice.”

the smile that made its way to your heated cheeks was nothing short of genuine. “could say the same for you.”

and after nearly an hour of catching up with inappropriate nudges and yearning gazes, you found yourself straddling him in that same beat up van you had just years before, only now it seemed he done some real repairs on it.

it was sleek red with brand new leather seats, black rims and a new dashboard. it was nothing like the old car you were so used to seeing outside your bedroom window whenever he'd pick you up before school.

his mouth was latched to your throat, trailing love bite after love bite, thighs rubbing against the leather of his blue jeans, your hands clutching at his lumberjack-style flannel for some semblance of grounding.

but his large hands were everywhere, feeling you up and committing everything to memory as if he failed miserably the first time. cupping the mounds on your chest, gripping the plush underside of your thighs, caressing your nape with each passionate kiss.

“missed this," he huffed, squeezing your hip and you let out a whine, tossing your head back and placing your hand against the window. after all those years of chopping wood or wrangling cattle, his muscles were what he had to show for it. he was insanely ripped.

you hummed, then moved your fingers to skim through his hair, gyrating your pelvis against his hip.

that earned an impatient growl from him, bunching your sundress in his hands and sliding your now-damp panties to the side. his finger pad teased your entrance, collecting the pooling slick, before pushing it's way in.

you shuddered in his grasp, feeling how he slipped so easily inside of you, evidence of how easily he turned you on, and began working you open. he then pushed another digit in to create scissoring motions that had you spinning.

in your sukuna-induced trance, you missed the smug grin he had on his face as he watched you work your way towards unraveling yourself on his hand.

grinding your hips onto his palm, he pulled your waist down to match his thrusts of his curling fingers up and into you, rubbing that tender spot over and over that you began to whine out heady moans of his name.

"s'kuna," you whimpered, biting your lip and not even caring about the way you made his car rock in your old high school parking lot.

"missed you, too," he sighed out finding that sweet spot on your collarbone and biting down as the tips of his long fingers prodded your cervix.

before you had the chance to reach your peak, he pulled out, leaving you empty and throbbing. he slipped his fingers into his mouth and made a lewd scene of cleaning it up, not letting a drop go to waste.

you could only watch, maw slack as something coiled in your gut, forming a taut knot only he could undo.

leaning back, he brushed a strand of tresses behind your ear and admired your flushed state. "just as beautiful as i remember," he hummed, eyeing you carefully.

you placed a hand against the tent in his pants, palming him with a pressure that had him biting his lip. "and what do you remember?" you teased, fingers working at his belt buckle.

he grinned, watching you work to free his shaft, which was a hell of a lot larger than you remember. the girth had your mind spinning. "remember how much of a brat i was to fuck things up with you."

that had you glancing up and tilting your head, an adorable look he catalogued in his mind years ago. "you're not talking about..." you questioned, trailing off and wondering if he remembered your first time the same but his unfaltering expression was evidence enough. "we were just kids. we didn't know what the hell we were doing," you reassured, leaning forward to cup a cheek. you never blamed him for it.

he still has no idea how he let you get away.

but he'd be damned if he let it happen again.

"let me take care of you," he grunted, eyebrows crinkling with an impatience, as if he'd waited years to correct an error.

your gaze softened, before leaning forward to press a kiss against the seam of his lips. "well. if you can, this'll make up for the first."

[sttm99]

[sttm99]

dumb!bakugo x reader °❀.ೃ࿔*

theme : you’re crushing on bakugo, but he just doesn’t get it ♡︎

you’ve been crushing on bakugo for months now, while mina and ochacha both have questioned your mental sanity after you told them about this. you understand where they’re coming from though – bakugo isn’t exactly the brightest or the most charming guy out there. but you just can’t help yourself.

often you try to follow bakugo around and have casual chat with him, even subtly flirt with him. however, even though how straight forward you try to be with your flirting, it just seems like this guy is completely clueless about the fact someone could be interested in him like that.

one time – no, for the millionth time – you followed him after another training session. he was walking with kirishima next to him, but you quickly caught up to them. ”kats, hey!” you exclaimed and touched his shoulder gently. you were blushing and your heart was pounding at the sight of his bare, round, muscular shoulders under the tanktop.

”what, extra?” he sighed and didn’t even bother to look at you, as if he was fed up with your antics.

”um, i-, i was just wondering, you wanna hit the gym tomorrow with me?” you asked. kirishima was snickering next to him, obviously realizing what was going on here.

bakugo turned his head to you, a shocked look on his face. as if you had done something illegal, asking such things from him.

”huh?! why are you even asking that? of course not! i prefer going alone, you idiot!”

yup. why did you even like him?

you often also tried to sit with him at lunch and 'accidentally' have physical contact with him. today you had abandoned mina and you were glued to katsuki’s side in the cafeteria, your knees subtly touching. he was sitting at the edge of the bench, so he had nowhere to move.

”have you heard about a concept called personal space? why are you acting like that?” he asked through gritted teeth, those red eyes piercing through you.

”i can sit wherever i want” you said back and held your head high, not moving an inch.

he rolled his eyes. ”ugh. brat.”

kirishima was sharper than bakugo (not that it required much intelligence to notice your feelings for him) so he easily noticed the way you got flustered wherever you were near katsuki. the way you held back your smirk whenever his shirt raised to show a teasing amount of his abs, or the way you blushed every time katsuki said a word to you.

”have you really not noticed?” kirishima asked bakugo one night when they were alone in the common room.

”yes, i’ve noticed she’s gone insane or something. such a nuisance” bakugo hissed and crossed his arms, referring to the fact how much you had been clinging to him recently. kirishima laughed.

”no, idiot. she has a crush on you. are you seriously that blind?”

bakugo’s eyes widened and a grimace appeared on his lips.

”huh?!” he snapped, eyebrows furrowed.

”yup. dude, you’re so slow.”

after that conversation, bakugo looked at you differently. he started to reasses the situations and moments you two had had together, and he quickly understood that kirishima was right. there was no other possible explanation to the way how desperately you were acting around him.

since then, he had been a little, a little, nicer to you. he didn’t yell or snap at you anymore – if he was annoyed, he merely grumbled something under his breath and crossed his arms like a petulant child.

he started to notice you were actually quite… good looking. the way your eyes sparkled with something innocent, something sweet every time you looked at him. the way your outfits during practice always hugged your body perfectly, the way you were so determined to be the best hero out there.

after weeks with his conversation with kirishima, bakugo became the flustered one around you.

you were blunter and more straight forward now since you realized he was finally catching on. your flirty smirks and seductive words about his appearance and the subtle touches to his hair and face made him feel like a little boy who had no idea how to act around a girl.

bakugo found a new attribute about himself that he didn’t like that much – blushing. it was as if he blushed every time you spoke to him and he hated the way he felt so awkward and helpless with you smoothly flirting with him.

however, he also loved it. he was curious yet also a little scared to see where this would eventually lead.

❀ lmk if you're interested in a part two / small series

[sttm99]

Minors DNI

For the first time in all his life, Katsuki Bakugo looks at someone and wholeheartedly wants to fuck them.

Not to be confuses with 'fucking them up'. No. He doesn't want violence, no exchange of fists and blows, and the desire to tousle and bruise an annoying face.

Bakugo looks at you sitting on the sofa directly opposite the TV in the dorm living room, sitting back with Mina by your side as you two hog the remote to watch some stupid, overly dramatic show. And cannot get rid of the inexplicable need to fuck you.

His eyes scan you from head to toe, looking closely at the places he'd want his lips to touch; yours, your jaw, your throat, your chest, your thighs... it doesn't end.

It's unfamiliar, nasty, deep in his stomach, stirring, a low pulsing at his loins that make his sweats feel a tiny bit tighter. Bakugo tries to focus on chopping up the vegetables for the curry he wants to make. But his mouth is dry, and he can feel his hands getting sweaty.

He drops the knife just to be safe and makes up an excuse to go to his room for a moment. Bakugo takes deep breaths, trying to stop the salacious images of your bare breasts - not that he's ever seen it, but he's got a faint picture from the way the outline of them from your shirt - and how your moans would sound.

Would your moans be high-pitched like the girls in the porn he caught Denki watching one day? Would it be deep, low and guttural, like how your grunts are during training? Bakugo harshly pushes the elevator button and waits, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he imagines the different positions he'd like you in.

He steps in when the doors open, mind switching from how your ass would look in doggy, to how hot it would be if he fucked you opposite a mirror. And just as he can just barely make out your expression in the reflection-

"Hey, hold the elevator please!"

- He pushes the button in reflex before he looks up to see you hurrying over to him with a grateful expression on your face. He wishes he had just pretended like he didn't hear you, wishes he'd let the doors shut to avoid this horrible situation he's found himself in.

The object of his obscene daydreaming is standing just meters away in the little elevator. God, you're pretty. You press the button to your floor as you step on, and he averts his eyes from your ass just as you turn around to walk over to the other end.

Bakugo stands at one corner, and you stand at the opposite. It pisses him off.

You two aren't even close. He's not sure he's ever had a proper one on one conversation with you, so why does he want you in his bed so badly?