When Katsuki wanted something, he became infatuated, so focused that nothing on this green earth could tear his sights from it. His whole life, he had only wanted one thing: to become the world’s greatest hero. Now, though...he could add something else to that list, and that something had a name, as well as a smile so beautiful it made him almost clutch his chest every time he saw it.
The object of his desire was clearly overheated, sweat beading up on her delicately furrowed brow, stray droplets sliding teasingly down from her temple to her throat, only to disappear between the valley of her small but firm heaving breasts. She was wearing nothing but a plum-colored sports bra and skin-tight black training shorts, feet clad in purple Nike trainers. At this point, her bra was soaked with sweat to the point her pert nipples were peaking through the fabric. He knew she would be embarrassed if he brought it up and would probably run to put her t-shirt back on that she threw to the sidelines of their spar awhile ago. He had no intentions of telling her, however, as he was very much enjoying the view. He licked his lips at the delightful image she made as she sparred with him.
He hadn’t been going full throttle yet, just testing her limits for the past hour or so with various offensive moves - some using his quirk, some not. She had matched him tit for tat thus far, clearly getting the hang of adjusting the volume of their generated explosions and concentrating the shock-waves into cones of what could potentially be lethal percussive force, but he wondered...could she handle him if he went all out? If he went for blood ?
Lost a bit in thought, his tongue caught on one of his pointed incisors - decidedly sharper than average, though not as sharp as Kirishima’s. A small ruby droplet beaded up on his tongue, and he smeared it across his front teeth, grinning like mad. He knew he must look insane, but he didn’t really care. He was having the most fun he’d had in a long time, and unless she said something, he didn’t plan on censoring himself. He hated having to censor himself. He was always too much of something or too little of other things - too loud, too angry, not strong enough - he didn’t want to censor himself around Jirou. He wanted her to take him as he was or not at all, and so far she had done just that, to his immense pleasure.
The purple-haired beauty gasped, and Katsuki was sure she must have caught sight of the blood coating the front of his mouth. If possible, he grinned wider. She looked so delicious as a frightened doe. Maybe he really did want to eat her, after all; not that it was really up for debate...yet.
Damn it all, adrenaline always made him positively feral, turned him so instinctual that he couldn’t differentiate between the lust for battle and the lust for body. He never had this fervor directed towards a particular person, however, until very recently.
“Jirouuuu, ” his deep baritone practically purred. “Don’t think I forgot about your little threat to kick my ass.”
“O-oh!” she squeaked, raising up her forearm to block his right hook. She winced as if she could already feel the bruises forming. “I didn’t think you did, um! I just thought...we had decided to practice for the exam instead?” she questioned tentatively, a nervous chuckle escaping her as she bounded away from another one of his vicious kicks aimed at her cute little head.
“I think we got enough practice in for now, princess. I have a good enough idea of what we’re workin’ with, and I wanna plan out some ideas to try for another day.”
She audibly gulped, and he cackled. He really wanted to see her face once he made his next move.
“How about we turn up the heat in here a little, eh!?”
