Ordinary Woman | My Hero Academia

The faint glow of neon signs bled through the rain-streaked window of the small, nondescript café, casting a warm, intimate light on Mei Hatsume. She wasn't one for grand gestures or dramatic flair, but tonight, a quiet excitement buzzed beneath her skin. It had been weeks since she'd last seen him, weeks of endless tinkering in her workshop, fueled by endless cups of coffee and the persistent, almost tangible hum of possibility. Now, here she was, waiting, a nervous flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with faulty wiring.

He was late, of course. Senpai always ran on his own peculiar schedule, a whirlwind of research, training, and undoubtedly, hero duties. Mei chuckled softly to herself, tracing a condensation ring on the polished wooden table with her finger. It was one of the things she loved about him – that singular focus, that unwavering dedication to his craft. But tonight, she hoped for a different kind of focus, one that was entirely on her.

The café door chimed, and her breath hitched. There he was, a tall, broad-shouldered figure silhouetted against the stormy night. Even damp from the rain, his presence filled the small space. He was older than her, a senior at the hero academy, and a man who commanded attention without even trying. His movements were fluid, powerful, and when his eyes finally found her, a genuine smile lit up his face, chasing away the weariness she'd glimpsed earlier. He was the kind of man who made ordinary girls feel… extraordinary.

He slid into the seat opposite her, his scent of ozone and something uniquely masculine – a subtle blend of leather and sweat – instantly intoxicating. "Mei. Sorry I'm late," he said, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through her. "A… situation arose at the agency."

Mei waved a dismissive hand, her gaze lingering on the slight dampness clinging to his dark, slightly disheveled hair. "Don't worry about it, Senpai. I know how it is. You're always busy saving the world." Her heart did a little flip-flop at the intimacy of the address, a habit she’d picked up from the younger students, but one that felt natural, even necessary, when directed at him. He’d never corrected her, and that, too, was a small thrill.

They ordered, their conversation flowing easily, a comfortable back-and-forth that punctuated the quiet hum of the café. He asked about her latest inventions, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest as she described her new prototype for a… well, for something that could potentially revolutionize personal defense. She, in turn, inquired about his recent patrols, about the villains he'd apprehended, about the sheer, exhilarating danger of his life. But beneath the polite inquiries, a different kind of current was building, a subtle awareness of their proximity, the shared glances that lingered a beat too long, the unspoken longing that hung in the air like the scent of brewing coffee.

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers as he gestured. The touch sent a jolt through her, electric and potent. Her skin tingled, and a blush crept up her neck. She’d always been a bit of a dreamer, an inventor of impossible things, but this, this raw, physical attraction, was something entirely new, something she hadn't factored into any of her equations. He was her Senpai, respected, admired, and undeniably… handsome. The fact that he seemed to reciprocate this unspoken pull made her knees weak.

As they finished their meal, a comfortable silence settled between them, charged with unspoken desires. The rain had intensified, drumming a steady rhythm against the glass. "It's getting late," he murmured, his eyes fixed on her. "My apartment isn't far. We could… continue this conversation there?" The question was laced with an invitation, a promise of something more, something deeper.

Mei’s heart pounded against her ribs. This was it. The moment she’d both hoped for and slightly dreaded. She was just an ordinary woman, not a dazzling hero with a flashy quirk, just Mei, the inventor with a penchant for slightly outlandish gadgets and a messy workspace. But looking into his earnest, expectant eyes, she felt a surge of confidence. He saw her, the real her, and that was enough. "I'd like that very much, Senpai," she managed, her voice a little breathy.

The walk to his apartment was a blur of shared umbrellas and hushed laughter. The rain, which had seemed so oppressive moments before, now felt like a gentle veil, shielding them from the world, creating a pocket of privacy just for them. When they arrived, the apartment was a reflection of the man himself – organized yet lived-in, filled with books, training equipment, and the subtle scent of his presence. He turned to her as he closed the door, his gaze intense.

"Mei," he began, his voice husky, "I've… I've wanted this for a while." He reached out, his thumb gently caressing her cheekbone, sending shivers down her spine. "You're so… vibrant. So full of life and passion for your work. It's incredibly attractive."

She leaned into his touch, her own hands tentatively reaching up to cup his face. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips. "And you, Senpai," she whispered, "you're… everything. Strong, kind, brave." The words felt inadequate, a mere whisper of the admiration and desire that swirled within her.

The air between them crackled. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, a feather-light touch that promised more. Mei closed her eyes, savoring the moment, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable peak. His kiss deepened, slow and tender at first, then growing more urgent, more demanding. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to bridge the last remaining distance between them. He tasted of rain and desire, and she felt herself melting into him.

His hands roamed her body, seeking her out, learning her curves. His touch was reverent yet possessive, igniting a fire within her that spread through every inch of her being. He cupped her breasts, his palms large and warm against her ample bosom, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. The fabric of her blouse felt suddenly constricting, a barrier she longed to shed. His gaze, dark and hungry, met hers, and in his eyes, she saw the unspoken question, the explicit desire.

With a sudden, decisive motion, he tore at the buttons of her blouse. The sound of ripping fabric was shockingly intimate, a testament to his urgency. Her breasts spilled out, full and round, their tips hardening at the sight of his appreciative gaze. He lowered his head, his lips finding her, and Mei gasped as his tongue traced the curve of her breast, then settled around her nipple. The sensation was overwhelming, a potent mix of pleasure and vulnerability.

She arched against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he suckled and teased, his rough stubble a delightful friction against her sensitive skin. He worshiped each breast with equal fervor, his mouth leaving trails of fire in its wake. Mei found herself guiding his head lower, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The ripped fabric of her blouse hung loosely now, revealing the full extent of her ample curves, a testament to the passion unfolding.

His hands moved lower, finding the hem of her skirt. With a swift pull, he lifted it, exposing her thighs and the delicate lace of her panties. He knelt before her, his eyes still locked on hers, a silent plea and promise in their depths. Mei felt a tremor of anticipation run through her. She was a mere mortal, an ordinary woman, but in this moment, under his devoted gaze, she felt like a goddess.

He reached for her panties, his fingers brushing against her intimate skin. A gasp escaped her lips as he slowly, deliberately, peeled them down. Her core pulsed with a desperate need. He looked up at her, his eyes full of adoration, then lowered his head again. Mei closed her eyes, her hands grasping the edge of the sofa for support as his lips found her most sensitive core. The first touch was tentative, exploratory, then it deepened, his tongue a masterful sculptor, eliciting moans and cries of pleasure from her.

She reveled in his touch, the exquisite sensations building, spiraling out of control. He was skilled, passionate, and utterly devoted to her pleasure. She whispered his name, her voice a broken plea as she neared the precipice. He seemed to sense it, his ministrations becoming more intense, more urgent. And then, with a shuddering gasp, she climaxed, her body convulsing in his mouth, a tidal wave of pure bliss washing over her.

He held her until the tremors subsided, then gently lifted his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears of emotion. He looked at her, his gaze filled with awe and a profound tenderness. "Mei," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "you're incredible."

She leaned down, kissing him softly, her lips tasting the lingering sweetness of their encounter. "You are, Senpai," she breathed against his mouth. "You truly are."

He stood then, pulling her into his arms. The ripped blouse was forgotten, the world outside the apartment ceased to exist. He held her close, her large breasts pressing against his chest, and Mei knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within her soul, that this was more than just a physical encounter. It was a connection, a shared vulnerability, a testament to the extraordinary moments that could arise from the most ordinary of beginnings. As he gently kissed her forehead, she felt a profound sense of peace, of belonging, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, their passion a silent promise of many more nights to come.