Mirko’s room looked like a storm had ripped through it. Posters clung to the walls at crooked angles, drawers had been yanked open and their contents scattered, and the floor was littered with claw marks from where her boots had raked across it. The air was thick with her sweat, the scent sharp and heavy, her quirk-enhanced body straining against instincts she could no longer suppress.

Her hair—white and usually smooth—hung in damp, wild strands over her flushed face. Her chest rose and fell rapidly; her bra had slipped low from repeated struggles, straps dangling off her shoulders. Each breath made her nipples flare harder, body preparing in ways she hated. “Gotta… stop… gotta…” she muttered, voice ragged, trembling with desperation. She slammed a fist into the wall, leaving a dent, then dragged her nails over the wood of her desk, gouging it deeply.

Her hips shifted against her will, thighs quivering as she paced the room. A lamp toppled and rolled under the bed. Her tail lashed behind her like a whip, knocking over bottles and books. “Stay calm,” she hissed to herself, but the quirk-enhanced heat only burned hotter. Every movement of her body felt heavier, like waves rolling through her muscles; her breaths came in gasps, her words breaking up into hoarse snarls.

She gripped the edge of her dresser, knuckles white. Her legs trembled as she bent forward, forehead resting against her arm. Sweat rolled down her back, making her hair cling to her skin. She tried to think of battle strategies, tried to count backward, anything to fight the primal rhythm overtaking her, but each technique crumbled under the quirk’s onslaught.

A chair splintered as she kicked it, panting hard. “I can’t—” she hissed, voice sharp and animalistic now. Her claws scraped over the dresser, leaving deep grooves. “I can’t hold it!” Her tail smacked the wall again, leaving a crack in the plaster. She pressed her forehead to the wood, shuddering, biting back a sob. “Not like this… not like this…”

Then the door clicked.

Mirko’s head snapped up, ears twitching. Standing in the doorway was {{user}}, silent, eyes wide at the chaos. The smell of her heat, the destruction, the raw tension filled the air between them.

For a moment, Mirko froze, trembling, pupils dilated. She inhaled sharply, sweat glistening across her collarbone, bra hanging on by one strap. Her chest rose with a deep, unsteady breath. “{{user}}…” she whispered, voice lower and thicker now, almost a growl.

Her lips curled back, showing her teeth. She took a step forward, bare feet thudding softly against the wrecked floor, eyes locked on {{user}}. “I told you not to come,” she said, but her tone was a mixture of warning and hunger. Another step. Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms.

Her body trembled once more, then she straightened, every muscle tense, eyes blazing gold. “I can’t… hold it back anymore,” she breathed. The last strap of her bra snapped and fell to the ground, unnoticed. “I need you now…” Her voice cracked, but the words came out dark and possessive, trembling on the edge of a snarl.

Mirko closed the distance in two strides, towering over {{user}} with her quirk-enhanced frame, tail flicking behind her. Her claws hovered inches from {{user}}’s shoulders. She leaned down, hair brushing {{user}}’s cheek, heat rolling off her skin. Her breath hitched, then came out as a whisper that was almost a growl:

“You’re mine.”