Warning: The following content may contain strong sexual and violent scenes. Read at your own discretion.
Ignoring the sharp, relentless pain still piercing my shoulder and the creeping fog threatening to swallow my consciousness, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to sit upright. My body protested every movement, but I couldn't afford to falter now - not with Toga so close, so vulnerable. Gently, I pulled her into my arms, cradling her trembling form as though she were something fragile, something worth protecting. My voice softened as I began to murmur every sweet, comforting word I could dredge up from the depths of my exhausted mind, my hand patting her back in a steady, soothing rhythm.
"Just be yourself, okay? Life's already thrown enough crap your way - let it all go for now. No one's going to hurt you anymore…"
At first, Toga's reaction was predictable. She squirmed against me, her instincts screaming to break free. It made sense—why wouldn't she resist? The idea of a victim flipping the script like this, offering comfort instead of condemnation, was absurd, illogical even. But I didn't let up. I kept talking, kept stroking her hair, kept pouring every ounce of calm I could muster into my voice. Gradually, her struggles weakened. The tension in her body ebbed away, replaced by uneven, shaky breaths. Her eyes, wide and glassy, shimmered with something strange - sweat beaded on her forehead, her skin flushed and feverish. Was she… enjoying this? Maybe it was the drugs surging through her system, hitting their peak just as I'd calculated. That was the plan, after all: use the chemicals to lower her defenses, to pull her into my orbit before she could slip away entirely.
Sure, taking in a future villain - someone with the potential to turn this whole damn world upside down—was a gamble with stakes higher than I cared to admit. But every choice has its price, and I'd already decided to pay it.
Himiko's breathing hitched, soft hiccups blending with faint, almost involuntary moans. Those hands of hers, which had gripped my shoulders moments ago in a desperate bid to push me away, now slid downward, wrapping around my waist with a possessive tightness. It was as if we were lovers caught in some twisted, tender embrace. Her gaze, once wild and unhinged with obsession, softened into something else entirely—something raw and childlike, searching for solace. Confusion, sadness, and a flicker of hesitation danced in her eyes as she stared at me, like she was begging for an answer to a question she couldn't even articulate.
"What's… this feeling?" she whispered, her voice fragile, clinging to the fraying edges of her sanity. "I've never… felt like this… before…"
"Love," I replied simply, offering her a warm, steady smile as I met her gaze with gentleness. "That's all it is—nothing complicated about it. You get it now, don't you? The way your heart's pounding, your face heating up, that need to stay close to someone for as long as you can. That's love—just that easy…"
Carefully, I shrugged off my U.A. jacket and draped it over her shoulders, then wrapped my arms around her waist with a tenderness I hadn't expected to feel. She flinched slightly, still caught off guard, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she stayed there, perched on my lap, a faint trace of relief softening her features. It was as though she wanted to cry—needed to—but something held her back, keeping the tears locked inside.
I tightened my hold on her for a moment, studying her face. Those sharp, cat-like eyes of hers glistened with unshed tears, a few escaping to roll down her trembling cheeks despite her efforts to rein them in. The sight hit me harder than I'd anticipated, a stark reminder of just how much this girl had endured, how much pain she'd buried beneath her chaotic exterior. With my thumb, I brushed the tears away, my other hand smoothing her tangled hair as gently as I could manage.
"I know you've been lonely..." I said, my tone dropping even softer, coaxing her closer to dismantle whatever walls she still had standing. "Like… always, right? And you've kept your real feelings shoved down deep for years, haven't you?"
She swallowed hard, her voice breaking as she fought back sobs. "What's your goal with all this? What do you want from me?" Tears streamed down her face now, unstoppable despite her efforts to hold them at bay.
"Think it over and take a guess," I said kindly, lifting a hand to her cheek to wipe away more of the dampness. I leaned in slowly—so close she could feel the warmth of my breath against her skin, hear the steady thud of my heartbeat. "You just need someone to talk to, and I want to help you. That's not so hard to believe, is it?"
I half-expected her to snap back with something biting, some sarcastic jab to push me away. But instead, she surged forward, her lips crashing against mine in a sudden, desperate kiss. Her arms looped around my neck, clinging to me with a ferocity that made it clear she wasn't letting go - not now, not ever. It caught me off guard, throwing my carefully laid plans into disarray.
What was it like now? Hazy as hell, that's what. The softness of her lips, the rough texture of her small, calloused hands, the faint girlish scent mingling with a metallic hint of blood—it all hit me at once, along with the clumsy, awkward intensity of that first kiss. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and it slammed me with the realization that this was spiraling far beyond the path I'd intended to take.
I'd never felt anything this gripping, this dangerously addictive, but my plan sure as hell hadn't been to let things get physical. The thing was, she'd downed half a liter of my blood earlier—blood I'd laced with a sedative and a dose of aphrodisiacs to keep her from overdosing or dropping dead on the spot. No nasty side effects, thankfully, but the cost of melding that Quirk-altered mess into my system was steep. I was still conscious now, but that clarity was slipping fast, and with this unexpected turn into foreplay, I was screwed in more ways than one.
After that long, heated kiss, Himiko shoved me down onto the dusty warehouse floor, peeling off the jacket I'd draped over her and stripping away my gear until we were both bare—nothing left to separate us. Her body was already striking, but from this angle, with her straddling me, it was something else entirely. Smooth, pale skin like satin, curves that were firm yet soft, those "oranges" just the perfect handful, a slim waist—every inch of her was a damn masterpiece. I could feel the wet heat radiating from her "sweet spot" as she grabbed me, guiding me in with a slow, deliberate motion. No warm-up, no hesitation—she unleashed all that pent-up desire with a smug, flushed expression that simultaneously pissed me off and set me ablaze.
She lowered herself onto me, her hips grinding against mine in a rhythm that felt both foreign and instinctive. My hands found her "oranges," kneading them gently at first. They were soft - unrealistically so - and when I squeezed lightly, she shivered, grabbing my hands to keep them there as she rocked her hips, savoring every second. It felt strange at first, unnatural even, but I adjusted quickly - hell, I started to enjoy it.
Gripping her hips, I thrust back, matching her pace, drawing moans from her with every movement. Inside, she was tight, pulling me deeper like some relentless vortex. Her body trembled as she collapsed onto me, her hands clutching mine as she groaned loudly, her hips still grinding even as she unraveled alongside me. She looked so damn cute in that moment - vulnerable, lost in it - that I couldn't resist pulling her into another kiss.
It started slow, gentle, but it didn't stay that way. Soon we were devouring each other, tongues clashing in a sloppy, amateur mess. One thing was clear, though: those long fangs of hers weren't just for show - they were real, sharp, and unmistakable.
We kept going like that for hours, relentless as rabbits, until the chill of the night began to seep into the abandoned warehouse. Every time she hit her peak, her insides gripped me tight, dragging me over the edge with her. I pulled out just in time, finishing outside rather than in. Curious and unabashed, she licked me clean each time, then slid me back in and kept going, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Honestly, I lost track of how many rounds we went or how long it lasted. When I finally came to and dragged myself upright, dressing in the dim light, it was nearly morning. The reality of what had happened hit me like a freight train.
"Great. You just gave your first time to a wanted serial killer who's destined to become a badass villain. Real classy, Ryuga…" I muttered to myself, shaking my head as I trudged back into the warehouse to check on Toga.
She was still out cold - probably the sedative still doing its job. I couldn't just leave her like that, so I decided to step up and do something halfway decent. I tracked down her clothes, scattered a few feet away, and carefully dressed her again. Then I cleaned up the mess we'd made - wiping down surfaces, tossing anything incriminating - before setting out to find the private investigator I'd hired. I needed to know if he was still alive after everything that had gone down.
Shockingly, he was barely scratched, just a bit of blood sucked from his arm and exhausted from being locked in his own trunk for too long. When I pried open the lid and hauled him out, he thanked me profusely, babbling warnings about Toga - still unconscious back in the warehouse. Apparently, she'd sniffed him out and botched the job he'd been hired for. He apologized over and over, but instead of chewing him out, I picked up a nearby rock, used my Quirk to turn it into solid gold, and handed it to him. Compensation for the trouble, plus a new assignment: drive me and Toga back to my place, keep his mouth shut about today, or he'd regret it.
I'd saved his life and paid him well, so he didn't argue. He clammed up, drove us back without a hitch, and sped off the second we were dropped off.
Back at my apartment, the first thing I did was stumble into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime, sweat, and lingering traces of the night. I swapped into a fresh U.A. uniform, feeling a little more human, then turned my attention to Toga. She was still out cold, sprawled across the floor where I'd left her. Carefully, I undressed her again, wiping her down with a warm towel to clean off the dirt and blood that clung to her skin. I slipped her into one of my spare shirts - too big for her, but it'd do - and laid her gently on my bed. I prepped some food in the fridge for when she woke up, left a bag of my blood nearby in case her Quirk went haywire and she needed it to avoid hurting anyone, and plastered notes all over the place with instructions to keep things from going off the rails. I even set up a pager for her to contact me - untraceable, with my info and clear directions on how to use it.
With everything squared away, I could finally head to school. I just hoped she wouldn't trash the place while I was gone.
One night stand together didn't make us a couple - not by a long shot. I could handle emotions when they came up, but that didn't mean I was about to throw logic out the window and let my heart run the show. Even if I wanted to, keeping someone like her close - neutralizing her potential as a weapon - was smarter than letting the enemy get their hands on her and turn her into their trump card. That was the real reason she was here with me. The rest… maybe a sliver of sympathy had wormed its way in, too.
Screw it.
As I made my way to school, that foggy, dizzy sensation hit me again—worse than before. I barely made it ten steps past the gate before my legs buckled, and I blacked out cold right there on the pavement.
The noise around me faded to nothing, my eyes grew heavy, and my body slipped out of my control, like a tide pulling me under. Before everything went dark, I faintly heard someone shout my name, but I couldn't pin down who it was.
When I came to, I was lying on a bed in the school infirmary. The world was a blurry mess, the harsh white light overhead stabbing into my eyes until I squinted against it. A gentle but scolding voice broke through the haze.
"Onodera, you had me worried sick. Did you know you collapsed right at the gate?"
I turned my head - slowly, painfully - and saw Recovery Girl standing beside the bed, her expression a mix of concern and stern reprimand. I tried to sit up, to get out of there, but a splitting headache slammed me back down. She caught me before I could fall, her tone firm as she continued.
"Easy now. You've overworked yourself, and you're anemic. I don't know what you've been up to, but no matter how strong you think you are, your body can't keep up with what you're putting it through. Rest—don't push yourself too hard…"
I nodded weakly, but my mind was racing. It wasn't the warehouse chaos from last night that had me panicking - it was today. Class 1-A was scheduled for training at the U.S.J., and everything I'd warned All Might about the League of Villains was about to unfold exactly as I'd predicted. If I was stuck here, unable to move, all my plans, all my preparation, would crumble. And Toga—she was back at my place. One wrong move there, and everything could spiral into a disaster I couldn't contain. I had to keep this under control, no matter what.
"I'm fine," I said, forcing the words out with a confidence I didn't feel. "Just need a quick rest, and I'll be good for class." It was a blatant lie, and Recovery Girl's sharp, no-nonsense glare told me she saw right through it.
"You think you can fool me? Rest, Ryuga. That's an order!"