{BEFORE YOU READ - THIS IS JUST A STRAIGHT UP SMUT NOVEL SO DON'T EXCEPT PLOT AND STUFF LIKE THAT, JUST SEX CHAPTER 80% OF THE TIMES AND YES, THIS IS NOT BAIT TAG NOVEL WHERE THERE IS NO SMUT TILL AGES, AS THERE IS ONLY SMUT IN THIS NOVEL SO ONCE AGAIN DON'T COMPLAIN TO ME ABOUT HAREM BEING ABSURD OR MHA GIRLS ACCEPTING IT AS THERE'S BETTER FANFICS FOR SUCH TOPIC UNLIKE THIS WISH FULLFILMENT SMUT FANFIC}
The crowd was insane.
I pushed through the mass of bodies, trying to get a better view of the convention floor. Hero Fest was the biggest event of the year, where pro heroes made appearances, signed autographs, and showed off for their fans. Every hero agency in Japan had a booth set up, and thousands of people had flooded the convention center.
The energy was electric. Kids ran around in homemade hero costumes. Adults argued about whose favorite hero would win in a fight. Vendors sold overpriced merchandise at every corner. The smell of convention food mixed with the excitement in the air.
But I wasn't here for the spectacle.
I wasn't here for autographs or photos or merchandise.
I was here for her.
The banner above the booth read "18+ ONLY" in bold red letters, and the line stretched all the way to the back wall. Easily a two hour wait, maybe more. But I didn't care.
Midnight's booth. The R-Rated Hero herself.
I joined the line and settled in for the wait.
See, most people at this convention were here because they admired heroes. They wanted to shake hands with the people who saved lives, who fought villains, who represented the best of society.
Me? I had different motivations.
My quirk is called Essence Absorption. I discovered it about a year ago with my girlfriend at the time. Yuki. We'd been dating for a few months, taking things slow like nervous teenagers do. Then one night, her parents were out of town, and we decided to finally go all the way.
It was awkward at first. Neither of us knew what we were doing. But then something clicked, and it felt right, and we figured it out together.
What happened after was unexpected.
When we finished, I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. Energy coursed through my body. My muscles felt stronger. My senses sharper. I got out of bed and accidentally put my fist through her wall because I didn't know my own strength.
Yuki felt it too. She said she'd never felt so alive, so energized, like she could run a marathon. The feeling faded for her after a few hours, but for me? It stayed. Permanently.
We experimented over the next few months. Every time we had sex, I got a little bit stronger. A little bit faster. My stamina increased. My durability improved. And the more intense the experience, the more emotional the connection, the bigger the boost.
Yuki benefited too. She felt incredible every time, and for a few hours afterward, she was stronger than normal. We joked that I was the best quirk enhancement drug on the market.
Then her father got transferred to Osaka for work. Long distance relationships are hard. Long distance relationships when your quirk requires physical intimacy? Impossible.
We broke up. Stayed friends. She texts me sometimes, asking how I'm doing.
But I was left with a problem.
My quirk needs partners. Without regular essence absorption, I plateau. I stop getting stronger. And in a world of heroes and villains, being strong matters.
So I started planning.
If regular people gave me decent boosts, what would happen with someone powerful? Someone with a strong quirk, a trained body, years of experience? The essence of a pro hero could push me to levels I couldn't reach otherwise.
That's why I was here.
That's why I was waiting in a two hour line for Midnight.
Kayama Nemuri. Age 31. Pro hero since her early twenties. Currently ranked in the top 30 heroes in Japan. Quirk: Somnambulist, which let her release a sleep-inducing aroma from her skin. The more exposed skin, the more effective the quirk, which explained her revealing costume.
But her quirk wasn't why I picked her.
I picked her because of her reputation.
The tabloids loved Midnight. She was constantly in the gossip columns. Stories about her dating life, her provocative public appearances, her risqué comments in interviews. She'd been linked to athletes, actors, fellow heroes. She was open about enjoying male attention, and she had a type: confident, younger men who could keep up with her energy.
I fit that profile.
At least, I hoped I did.
The line moved slowly. I spent the time observing her.
She was set up behind a table covered in promotional materials. Her hero costume was even more striking in person than in photos. The white bodysuit hugged every curve of her figure, torn in strategic places to show off pale skin. Handcuffs dangled from her wrists. A utility belt sat low on her hips. And that mask covered the upper half of her face, leaving her red lips and sharp smile on full display.
She was gorgeous. Objectively, undeniably gorgeous.
But it was her attitude that caught my attention. The way she leaned forward when talking to fans, giving them her full attention. The way she laughed at their jokes, even the bad ones. The way she touched their hands when signing autographs, making each person feel special for those few seconds.
She was a performer. She knew exactly how to work a crowd.
The question was whether she was performing or if any of it was real.
I watched her for over an hour as the line crawled forward. I studied her patterns. The way her smile got a little tighter when a fan got too handsy. The way her eyes lit up when someone said something genuinely clever. The way she subtly leaned back when someone's body odor was too strong.
She was good at hiding her reactions. But not perfect.
Finally, finally, I reached the front of the line.
A convention staffer checked my ID to confirm I was old enough for the 18+ section. I showed him my card, he nodded, and I stepped up to the table.
Midnight looked up at me.
Her eyes traveled slowly from my face down to my chest, lingered there for a moment, then came back up. I watched her expression shift. Interest flickering behind the mask. Curiosity.
Good.
"Well, well." She leaned forward on her elbows, and the position gave me a generous view of her cleavage. A test. Seeing if I'd stare, stammer, blush like all the others. "Like what you see, kid?"
I met her eyes and smiled. "Very much. Do you?"
Her eyebrows rose. Surprised. She hadn't expected that response.
A slow smile spread across her face. "Cheeky. I like cheeky." She tilted her head, studying me more carefully now. "What's your name?"
"Hayashi Kai."
"Kai." She rolled my name around like she was tasting wine, deciding if she liked the vintage. "You're not like my usual fans, Kai. They're typically more..." She waved a hand vaguely. "Sweaty. Nervous. Tripping over their own tongues."
"Should I be nervous?"
"Most people are around me."
"I'm not most people."
She laughed. The sound was low and warm, genuine in a way her laughs with other fans hadn't been. I'd surprised her. That was good. Surprising someone like Midnight wasn't easy.
"No," she murmured, her red lips curving. "I don't think you are."
She grabbed a promotional photo from the stack beside her. It showed her in a dramatic pose, whip extended, costume artfully torn. She uncapped a marker and held it poised over the photo.
"What do you want me to write?"
Most fans had requests. Sign it to my name. Write my favorite catchphrase. Tell me I'm your biggest fan.
"Whatever you want," I said.
Her marker paused. She looked at me again, reassessing. I was giving her control over the interaction. Most men tried to control conversations with beautiful women, steering things where they wanted them to go. I was doing the opposite.
And she noticed.
"Interesting," she murmured.
She bent over the photo, her purple hair falling forward, and wrote something. I couldn't see what. When she finished, she slid the photo across the table with two fingers.
I picked it up and read:
To Kai. Call me when you're ready to play. - Midnight ♥
Below the message was a phone number.
My heart rate spiked. I kept it off my face through sheer force of will.
"That's forward," I said calmly.
"I know what I like." She crooked a finger, beckoning me closer. I leaned in, and she did the same, until her lips were inches from my ear. Her breath was warm. Her perfume was dark and sweet.
"I've been sitting here for six hours," she whispered. "Hundreds of fans. All of them looked at my tits within the first three seconds. You haven't looked once." Her hand came up to touch my jaw, her fingers cool and soft. "Either you're gay, or you've got the best self-control I've seen in years."
"The second one."
"Mmm." The sound vibrated through me. "Then prove it. Text me tonight. If you're brave enough."
She pulled back, her professional smile sliding back into place, and waved at the next person in line. Dismissing me. But her eyes lingered on mine for a moment longer.
A promise. A challenge.
"Thank you for coming to Hero Fest," she said, loud enough for the handlers to hear. "Enjoy the convention."
"I will." I pocketed the photo carefully. "Thanks for the autograph."
I walked away.
My heart was pounding. My hands wanted to shake. I didn't let them.
I had her number. Midnight's personal phone number.
Holy shit.
I wandered through the convention in a daze, not really seeing any of it. My mind was racing, planning, calculating.
This was really happening.
I found a quiet corner near the emergency exit and pulled out the photo. Stared at the number. Her handwriting was elegant, practiced. She probably gave her number out occasionally, to people who caught her interest. I wasn't the first.
But I intended to be memorable.
The rest of the convention passed in a blur. I walked around, looked at booths, bought some food I barely tasted. But my mind was elsewhere.
Three months until the U.A. entrance exam. Three months to get as strong as possible. If I could absorb Midnight's essence even once, the boost would be significant. She was a pro hero. Her body was trained to peak human condition. Her quirk was powerful. The essence from someone like her could be worth months of normal training.
And beyond the practical benefits... I wanted her. She was beautiful and confident and interesting. The way she'd looked at me, like I was a puzzle she wanted to solve. The way she'd leaned in close, testing my reactions.
She was used to being in control. Used to men falling over themselves to please her.
I wasn't going to be like the others.
When I got home that night, I sat on my bed and stared at my phone for a long time.
The smart thing would be to wait. Play it cool. Don't seem too eager.
But Midnight had told me to text her tonight. And something told me she wasn't a woman who liked being kept waiting.
I typed out a message:
It's Kai. From the convention. You told me to text if I was brave enough.
I hit send before I could overthink it.
The reply came faster than expected. Within two minutes.
Took you long enough. I was starting to think you chickened out.
I smiled at my phone.
Never. Just wanted to make sure I had your full attention.
Oh? And what makes you think you have it now?
You replied in two minutes. On a Saturday night. During one of the biggest conventions of the year. Either you have no social life, or you were waiting for my message.
A pause. Longer this time. I could picture her staring at her phone, that slow smile spreading across her face.
Confident AND observant. Dangerous combination.
You have no idea.
Maybe I want to find out.
Then I guess we should meet up.
Eager, aren't we?
You said you don't like waiting. Neither do I.
Another pause. I held my breath.
Fine. You've got my attention, Kai. Let's see if you can keep it.
Name the time and place.
I'll let you know. Soon.
I'll be ready.
You better be.
I set my phone down and let out a long breath.
Step one complete.
I had Midnight's attention. Now I needed to keep it.
The entrance exam was in three months. By then, I planned to be stronger than anyone expected. Fast enough, tough enough, powerful enough to ace whatever tests they threw at me.
And Midnight was going to help me get there.
Whether she knew it or not.
I looked at the photo on my bedside table. Her face, her smile, her teasing message.
Call me when you're ready to play.
Oh, I was ready.
The game was just beginning.