The morning sun was barely up, but the U.A. campus already hummed with pre-exam tension. Tomorrow was the Provisional Hero License Exam, everyone was either drilling last-minute combos or trying not to have a panic attack.
Denki, though, had a different kind of crisis chewing at the back of his brain.
He needed to talk to Hatsume.
He walked across the quad toward the Support Course workshop, hands shoved deep in his pockets, mind replaying last night on loop like a broken video.
Tsuyu's soft moans in his ear.
The way her pussy clenched around him in missionary—hot, slick, fluttering like she was trying to keep him inside forever.
Her ass jiggling under his palm every time he smacked it in doggy, red handprints blooming on pale skin.
The second orgasm ripping through her so hard she sobbed his name into the pillow.
The way he filled her up, cum leaking out around his cock and dripping down her thighs as they collapsed together.
Afterward, they'd lain there panting, sweaty, tangled in his sheets. No awkward "what now?", just quiet agreement. Friends with benefits. No strings, no labels, just fucking.
She'd kissed him slow and lazy before sneaking back to her room, whispering "See you tomorrow" against his lips.
Denki's face heated just thinking about it. His cock twitched in his pants at the memory. He adjusted himself discreetly and kept walking.
The workshop door loomed ahead. He knocked once—sharp, impatient—then pushed inside without waiting for an answer.
Mei Hatsume was the only one there, bent over a workbench littered with wires, circuit boards, and half-assembled gadgets. She wore her usual black tank top and the workshop coveralls were tied casually around her waist, sleeves hanging loose, exposing toned arms smudged with grease.
Her pink hair was up in its wild ponytail, goggles pushed onto her forehead. She looked… different. Cleaner? Less manic?
The usual manic gleam in her eyes was there, but subdued, like she'd actually slept.She straightened up when she heard the door, wiping her hands on a rag.
"Kaminari! Electric boy returns!" She grinned wide, but there was no immediate tackle-hug. "I just had a bath and changed into fresh overalls—took a quick break from building. Gotta stay fresh for peak performance, right?"
Denki blinked. She'd… noticed him staring? Or was she just reading his mind again?
"Uh… yeah. You look… good," he managed, then cleared his throat. "I mean—normal. Less like you just crawled out of an explosion."
Hatsume laughed—bright, unselfconscious. "Flattery will get you a free prototype! So, what brings you here? Wait—" Her eyes lit up, manic spark returning. "The VoltRelax 3000! How'd it go? Did it melt your stress? Give you the ultimate chill vibes? Tell me everything—data! I need data!"
Denki rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around to make sure no one else was in the workshop. It was empty except for them."It was trash," he said bluntly. "Almost killed me. I charged it like you said, it backfired, electrocuted the hell out of me—felt like my whole body was on fire. I threw it in the trash behind the dorms right after."
"...."
"...."
Hatsume's grin faltered for half a second. "Backfired? But the conversion matrix was perfect—your electricity should've—"
"Yeah, well, it didn't." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But… something happened. After the shock, I believe it… gave me something. A new ability or mutated my quirk, I don't know."
Hatsume's goggles slid down her nose as she tilted her head, pink hair bouncing. She looked genuinely intrigued rather than immediately manic.
"Secondary manifestation from feedback overload?" she murmured, tapping her chin with a greasy finger. "Interesting. Tell me the symptoms. Exact ones."
Denki exhaled through his nose. No point sugarcoating it.
"When I touch girls, skin-to-skin; they get… really turned on. Like, instantly. Not normal horniness, It's intense. And it's not just sex; it seems to melt stress too. Headaches, tension, whatever. They relax hard, then flip straight to desperate."
Hatsume didn't blink. She just stared at him for a long second, then broke into a slow, delighted grin.
"So you accidentally got yourself a touch-based aphrodisiac emitter. That's beautiful." She laughed once, sharp and bright. "I didn't program that, obviously. The VoltRelax 3000 was supposed to convert your electricity into soothing bio-pulses. If the circuit backlashed and rewrote part of your quirk factor… that's a beautiful accident. A feature I didn't intend, but damn if it isn't elegant."
Denki shifted his weight. "So you didn't know it could do this?"
"Not a clue, I'm no Einstein." She shrugged, unapologetic. "I knew it might interact with your quirk in weird ways, but this? No idea. I'd need to research it properly. Scan your quirk signature pre and post-contact, map the hormonal response in test subjects, figure out the transmission vector—pheromonal? Direct neural? Bio-electric resonance? All of the above?"
She paused, eyes gleaming behind her goggles. "I volunteer, by the way."
Denki blinked. "You… volunteer?"
"As a test subject." Hatsume hopped up to sit on the workbench, legs swinging casually. The coveralls tied around her waist shifted, tank top clinging slightly to her ribs with the movement.
"I mean, purely scientific. I want data. And honestly?" She leaned in a little, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I built a ton of sex toys to relieve myself—vibrators, pulsing pads, electro-stim wands, the works. None of them actually get me there. They're fun for a minute, then it's just… meh. Mechanical. No spark. No real heat."
She shrugged again, like she was discussing lunch options.
"So if your new ability can make someone lose their mind just from a touch? Yeah. I'm curious. Very curious. We could run controlled tests. See how long the effect lasts, how strong it scales with contact time, whether clothing blocks it, if it works on me at all—"
Denki felt his face heat up. "You're serious."
"Deadly." Her grin turned wicked. "Think of it as collaborative research. You get answers, I get to experience something new. Win-win. And if it turns out to be permanent… well." She hopped off the bench, stepping closer. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
She held out her hand—not for a handshake, but palm-up, like an invitation. "So. Ready to start collecting data, Kaminari?"
Denki stared at her open palm, heart thudding. The workshop suddenly felt a lot smaller. He swallowed, then reached out and took her hand.
The moment their skin met, Hatsume's breath hitched.
Her eyes widened behind her goggles. A slow flush crept up her neck, pink spreading across her cheeks like spilled ink. Her shoulders dropped, tension melting out of them in an instant.
Her grip tightened on his hand—not pulling away, but holding on like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
"Oh… wow," she breathed, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "It's… intensifying with each second. Warmth spreading from my palm straight through my chest, down my stomach… between my legs. It's like every nerve just woke up and decided to party."
She tried to pull her hand back, testing control but her fingers only twitched before curling tighter around his. Her free hand hovered uncertainly, then drifted down to his thigh. She pressed her palm flat against the denim of his pants, right over the muscle.
The contact was through fabric.
It still worked.
Hatsume's knees buckled slightly. A soft, involuntary moan slipped out. "Clothes don't block it," she managed, voice trembling. "Still… hitting me. Hard. My clit's throbbing just from touching your leg. I can feel myself getting soaked already."
She was struggling now—breathing shallow and fast, pupils blown wide behind the goggles. Her hand slid higher on his thigh, slow at first, then bolder—cupping the growing bulge in his pants. She rubbed once, feeling him thicken under her palm.
"Wow, you're so big Denki." She whistled.
Denki groaned low, hips jerking forward into her touch.
Hatsume bit her lip, the other hand slipping between her own thighs—pressing hard against the seam of her coveralls.
"I'm rubbing you… and it's making me feel good too," she whispered, almost disbelieving. "It's like every stroke I give you bounces back into me. My pussy's clenching on nothing right now."
She didn't wait for permission.
Hands shaking, she grabbed the hem of her black tank top and yanked it up and off in one rough motion. Her breasts spilled free—big, round, pale with a soft flush across the tops. Pink nipples already stiff and pebbled, standing out proudly in the cool workshop air. They bounced slightly with the movement, heavy and perfect.
Denki's brain short-circuited.
He was on her in an instant, hands cupping both breasts, squeezing the soft, warm flesh. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, hard little peaks that rolled under his touch then pinched lightly, rolling them between his fingers.
Hatsume's head fell back, a loud, broken moan tearing from her throat. "Yes—fuck—squeeze them harder—it feels so nice—"
She kept one hand on his bulge, rubbing faster now—stroking the full length through the fabric, feeling him throb and leak against her palm. Her other hand worked between her own legs—pressing, grinding against her clit through the coveralls.
Denki pinched her nipples again—harder this time—then soothed them with slow circles. Her breasts were heavy in his hands, spilling over his fingers, skin hot and silky. Every tug, every roll made her hips buck forward, chasing more contact.
Hatsume's fingers fumbled at his zipper, unzipping him and pulling his cock free. Denki's cock throbbed in the open air the second Hatsume pulled him free—thick, flushed dark, veins standing out along the shaft, the head already slick and glistening with pre-cum that beaded at the slit and dripped slowly down the underside in a warm, sticky trail.
Hatsume's eyes locked on it like it was the most fascinating prototype she'd ever seen. Her breath came in shallow, uneven pants; her cheeks flushed deeper, pupils blown wide behind the goggles.
She licked her lips once, then leaned in.
She didn't tease. She wrapped her lips around the head first—hot, wet suction enveloping him instantly. The contrast hit like a shock: the cool workshop air against his shaft replaced by the scorching velvet of her mouth.
Her tongue flattened against the underside right away, broad and soft, dragging slow and heavy up the sensitive frenulum in one long, deliberate stroke that made his hips jerk forward involuntarily.
A low groan tore from Denki's throat. His hands fisted at his sides, knuckles white—he didn't dare touch her yet, not while she was still collecting "data."
Hatsume moaned around him—soft, muffled, the vibration buzzing straight through his length like a live current. The sound was obscene—wet, needy, rumbling deep in her throat. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder, lips stretching tight around his girth as she slid down further, taking half his cock in one smooth glide.
The heat was overwhelming—tight, slick walls of her mouth hugging every inch, tongue rippling along the underside in slow, rolling waves. Saliva pooled at the corners of her lips, dripping in warm strings down his shaft, coating his balls as she bobbed once—twice—slow and deep.
Each pull-back dragged her lips over every ridge, every vein, leaving him shiny and slick with spit. The wet, sloppy sounds filled the workshop—gluck-gluck-gluck—every time she took him deeper, throat relaxing to swallow more.
She pushed forward again—nose brushing his pelvis, lips sealed at the base. Her throat fluttered around him—tight, rhythmic swallows that milked the head in pulsing waves. Denki's knees nearly buckled; his toes curled against the floor, a sharp hiss escaping through clenched teeth.
The suction was relentless—hot, wet, vacuum-tight—her tongue still moving even with him buried to the hilt, curling and stroking the underside like it had a mind of its own.
She pulled back slow—agonizingly slow—lips dragging, tongue pressing flat to collect every drop of pre-cum that leaked from him. Spit trailed from her mouth to his cock in thick, glistening strands that snapped and reformed with each bob. She moaned again—louder this time—vibrations shooting straight to his balls, making them draw up tight.
"Fuck—Hatsume—" Denki's voice cracked, hips stuttering forward before he could stop himself.
She hummed in response—deep, approving—then plunged down again, faster now. Sloppy. Messy. Drool dripped from her chin, coating his balls in warm rivulets that ran down his inner thighs.
Her cheeks hollowed harder, suction pulling tight, tongue swirling wild circles around the head on every upstroke before she swallowed him whole again. The wet heat, the tight throat, the relentless vibration of her moans—it built fast, too fast.
She pulled off just long enough to gasp—spit stringing from her swollen lips to his glistening cock, her voice wrecked and thick.
"Still… feeling it," she panted, hand stroking him fast and slick while she caught her breath. "Sucking you… it's like my clit's being licked at the same time. Every time I take you deep, my pussy clenches so hard—fuck—I'm dripping through my coveralls. I can cum just from this—"
She dove back down, deepthroating him in one fluid motion, throat fluttering wildly around the head. Her tongue extended impossibly—wrapping around the base even as her lips sealed tight, stroking him from root to tip in perfect rhythm with her bobs.
Wet, obscene slurps echoed in the quiet workshop, mixed with her muffled moans and the slick sounds of her own hand working between her legs.
Denki's control frayed.
His hips jerked forward, chasing the heat, the suction, the way her throat squeezed him like a fist every time she swallowed. Pleasure coiled tight and hot in his gut, balls aching, every nerve screaming.
She felt it—the sudden swell, the pulse against her tongue—and doubled down—sucking harder, faster, throat working him in rhythmic gulps until the edge rushed up unstoppable.
Denki came with a choked groan—head dropping forward, vision blurring as thick ropes shot straight down her throat. She swallowed around him greedily—milking every pulse, tongue stroking softly through the aftershocks—until he was empty, twitching, spent.
Hatsume pulled off slowly—lips dragging one last time—spit and cum stringing from her mouth to his softening cock. She licked her lips, eyes glassy and triumphant, cheeks flushed dark.
"Data point one," she rasped, voice hoarse. "Oral contact… extremely effective. Mutual amplification confirmed."
She stood on shaky legs, hands already moving to untie the coveralls at her waist.
They weren't done collecting data.
——
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