#(remembers im on the verge of losing it in three different ways) ah i see

[cinastre]

i need pictures permanently on my body

[fanfic-me-up]

Capture This! || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You walk in on Denki, your best friend of five years, getting off. Two questions: Why is there a picture of you? And why do you want him to take more? 

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 6k+

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! Thank you @shoutogepi​ and @im-here-for-the-heroes​ for beta reading. Shout out to @whats-her-quirk​ this fic was born from me poppin in during your thirst hours lol

“Lotion? Check. Tissues? Check. Pictures?” 

Denki swallows. 

“Check.”

It’s routine for Denki, really the only ritual he sticks to in his otherwise scatterbrained schedule of kickin’ ass, chilling with friends, and playing Fortnite till ungodly hours of the morning.

But he can’t help it. You’re fucking gorgeous, and Denki has needs - his brain programmed to get off at least three times a day else he can’t function. The first time it happened, he felt a deep sense of shame, twisting his gut, disgusted with himself that he defiled your image. He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week until you had enough and demanded to know what was up. It was the first time he lied to you. 

But one time became two, and three, and suddenly Denki needed an image of you all the time. The one of you looking all pretty in that stupid summer dress was his favorite. You bought it that one time you dragged him to the mall because you needed a “guy’s opinion.” He rushed to the bathroom because if he didn’t get out fast, he was gonna drag you back into the changing room and rip that dress off himself.

You’re adorable, hot, sexy, and absolutely terrifying, wrapped up in one perfect package.

Oh, and did he forget to mention?

Totally off-limits.

This is why Denki has to resort to hanging out with you, listening to you vent about your boy problems, and how you just want to meet “the one” already. Denki’s heart breaks a little more every time you shove him deeper into the friend zone, all the while pretending like he didn’t just jerk it to you a couple hours before.

He works his hand up and down his shaft, growing harder by the second with each stroke. It doesn’t take much to get him going, not when it’s you. You’re wearing his hoodie, toes buried in the sand, roasting a marshmallow in front of a bonfire. You’re smiling at something Kirishima said, Denki doesn’t remember what, because all he could see was the light in your eyes. A genuine spark lit only when the cameras were off, and you were unaware of anyone watching. Denki loved witnessing these rare moments; wanted to commit it to memory, so he did. When you posted the picture on Instagram, Denki was more than surprised; you had scrunched your nose when he showed you the picture, displeased with how you looked.

This should not be happening. Any normal person would feel ashamed when staring at a picture of their best friend and touching themselves. No one knew about it, and Denki was surprised he was able to keep it a secret for this long considering he’s friends with fucking Mina of all people.

Enough pre-cum bubbles at the tip that he doesn’t even need the lotion. Staring at you on the screen, wearing his hoodie that’s way too big it covers your thighs completely, makes his mind wander to all sorts of ways he wishes he could get you out of that hoodie. He leans back into the chair, spreading his legs with his eyes half-lidded, imagining what your lips might look like wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck yeah...”

Groaning at the image of you on your knees, lips bruised and slicked with spit from fucking your pretty little mouth has Denki tightening his fist, hips fucking into his hand in a continuous rhythm. 

He’s on the verge of coming when the door swings open - the first and last person Denki wants to walk in is standing there in front of him.

“Hey, I called, but you didn’t - ah!” You squeak, throwing the box you’re holding. A sea of random knick-knacks and hero merch rains over you. You hear a thump when the yellow polaroid camera you bought for Denki at a thrift shop hits the floor. 

“Fuck!” Denki jumps from his chair, an array of pens fall in a heap to the floor. 

You whip your head away, heat spikes your body, embarrassed that you saw your best friend in such a compromising position. 

Denki mutters a repeated “shit shit shit” to himself for a good minute before he finally addresses you; his voice rising with each word.

“How did you get in here!?”

“Spare key, dumbass!” 

“That’s for emergencies only!”

“Are you talking to me with your dick out!?”

Silence.

“No?”

You huff at the uncertainty in his tone. It’s only two o’clock, and you can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Denki, if I turn around and you’re not covered, so help me god I will-”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Pants are zipped.” 

You don’t move until you hear the confirming “zip” before slowly opening your eyes (you have no idea why your eyes were closed in the first place), and you turn around to find Denki leaning against the desk. He’s trying his best to appear casual, but the flush on his face and frazzled hair give away what he was doing moments before you walked in. You don’t know where it comes from, but the thought alone stirs something inside you.

The confusing emotion is replaced by hot-blooded anger when you lock eyes on the screen behind him.

“Is that my face!?” 

Denki’s smile drops as he turns around. Dammit. Of course, he forgot to close the tab.

“Uhhh…”

He has no words, none, not when you’re standing there with that intense look in your eyes you get when you’re about to rip someone a new one. Your anger could rival Bakugou’s, and Denki has unfortunately been in the middle of one too many screaming matches. He’s surprised his eardrums aren’t blown out by now.

He clicks to exit out, or at least he thinks he does until he comes to the dumb realization that he’s clicking the zoom button instead. 

“Ho-hold on, let me just…” 

With each click, it zooms a little more into your face until only your nose is in the frame. Denki sheepishly looks up at you.

“Oops?”

Denki’s had a good life. He’s already come farther than most ever dream in their career when becoming a pro-hero, and he’s made some amazing friends most spend years trying to find. The only regret of his is not confessing his true feelings to you, but really what’s one regret? He’s totally a-okay with saying goodbye to this cruel, cruel world if it meant not being subjected to this torture any longer. 

“Denki Kaminari.”

Denki gulps. Oh no. You only say his full name when you mean business. 

“Explain right this instant or I will walk out this door and tell the whole world how you and grape boy took body shots off cardboard cutouts of each other!”

“Hey! We were really fuckin’ drunk and thought it might score us some pity sex with the ladies!” 

“In what world would you licking fuckin’ Mineta equal oh yeah, fuck me, Denki?”

Denki cowers with each step you take, gulping down the lump in his throat when your face is close enough to hold in his hands. He’s never been more simultaneously turned on and terrified in his life. Especially when he just heard the words “fuck me, Denki” escape your lips.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Whatever you do. Don’t. Look. Down.

The last thing he wants is you flinging him out the window because he couldn’t keep his eyes on your face. Don’t get him wrong; he could look at your face forever, even when you look like your one move away from killing him. But… he’s a dude, and there’s boobs in front of him, not to mention your boobs.

“Hello? Earth to Denki?” You wave your hand in his face.

“You may wanna sit down for this.” 

“I’m fine where I am, thank you very much.” 

He huffs out a breath, annoyed you didn’t take the bait. The suggestion was more for his sanity than yours. With you standing so close, his brain is going haywire; the tantalizing scent of strawberries and cream short-circuiting his brain quicker than when he overuses his quirk. It never fails to make his mouth water, if only he could bend down and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, god, he’d never let you go.

How does he even begin to work through the feelings he has for you when they’ve been bottled up since the moment he knew he was in deep? Where does he start?

The fact he’s been in love with you for the past five years? 

Or that he’s been getting off to you for half that time? 

Denki’s mind is running a mile a minute, like a computer in overdrive. He can’t make enough sense of his emotions to convert into words. But, instead of waiting to open his mouth, like a normal person, Denki spews out embarrassing word vomit that connects his two thoughts.

“I love getting off to you.”

A pin could drop, and it’d be as loud as a freaking hurricane. 

Denki groans in frustration, facepalming his forehead. What the hell did he just say, and can he take it back? How long would it take for him to hack into a database and find someone with a time manipulation quirk? He doesn’t even know how to hack, but he’d wrangle his one brain cell and fucking learn if that’s what it takes.

He’s usually good at reading you. You’re one of the few people he cares enough to pick up on how you’re feeling. The myriad of emotions that pass on your face from shock to confusion to a hint of amusement lets Denki know he can breathe easy. At least you’re not trying to kill him anymore.

“Oh-kay that’s not what I - what I meant to say was - hold on, lemme just, rewind.”

He makes some weird, loopy gesture with his arms. His brain was firing a million synapses at once, each connected to a different thought, some deep like the fear of losing you and some not so deep - like he’s really excited to eat the cheeseburgers Bakugou promised he’d grill tonight. 

But he tries his best to reign in the million and one thoughts to focus on you, who’s waiting for an explanation. He takes a deep breath to steady his heart that’s about to beat out of his chest. He only hopes you don’t stomp on it after what he’s about to say.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since our first year at U.A. I wanted to tell you for the longest time, but then you got with Bakugou. Then you broke up, and you needed a friend more than ever, and how could I say no to being ‘your best bro’ when you were crying on my shoulder? It was just never the right time.”

The more he rambled, the more uncomfortable he felt. Out of all the scenarios he imagined of how he’d confess to you, this one was at the bottom of his list to be prepared for. He never expected to be forced into confessing because you caught him masturbating to pictures of you. He rubs the back of his neck and gives an awkward laugh when you stay silent.

“I get it if you wanna, like, shun me forever or something. I deserve it for being such a creep.” 

Denki lowers his head to the floor, the clutter of fallen pens and knick-knacks looks way less intimidating than staring into your eyes. A soft hand touches his chin, lifting his face to meet yours.

“Hey, look at me, it’s okay.” 

Your voice does wonders for soothing the nerves shaking him up.

“I guess it’s not that creepy when you put it like that, and for some weird reason, you’re like the one person I can catch jacking off to my pictures, and I don’t feel the need to report you as a registered sex offender.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but Denki’s heart drops at the idea of you labeling him as the neighborhood perv.

“Please, don’t do that,” he squeaks before clearing his throat, “But for real, Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s wrong to disrespect you like that, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

Denki has no idea how he’s gonna get off now, but that’s his future self’s problem.

“I can’t help it, you’re gorgeous, and I love ya, and I don’t remember the last time I got laid.”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that last part, but it’s the truth. You’re the reason he couldn’t even look at another girl, because they weren’t you, and that’s why he had to resort to pulling up pictures of you. Pictures that aren’t normally deemed “sexy” and of you dressed modestly, without much skin showing.

That doesn’t stop Denki from coming in record time with your name rolling off his lips every time.

“How bad do you want me?”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit curious about what sex with your best friend would be like. You heard he wasn’t a bad lay from a couple girls back at U.A. 

You’d also be lying if you didn’t say you were just as horny as said best friend.

It’s difficult finding time to date as a pro-hero. When you do, it doesn’t last very long anyway - the other person growing tired of always coming second to your career. Don’t even get you started on one night stands. They’re practically impossible to uphold as once the media gets wind of it, you’re slapped on the cover of “Hero Times Magazine,” and everyone and their mother is calling for you to “spill the tea.” This is why pro-heroes either end up with other pro-heroes or end up alone. 

Denki’s eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline. If someone were to tell him you were attracted to him in any sense of the word, his heart would double-time it, but he’d ultimately brush it off. He knew your type, and he could not be farther from it. The aggressive, beefy, gym rat who could match you move for move in a heated spar of harsh words and hot-blooded passion. You dated Bakugou for fuck’s sake! There was no hope for Denki after that.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take what he can get. The words pour out of him like the dam’s been broken and the unforgiving flood rushes.

“I want you so bad, Y/N, fuck, I’ve waited so long, so fucking long, you don’t know how crazy you make me.” 

Your breath catches. His words have an unexpected effect on you, but your heart drums in anticipation. If you listen close enough, you can hear Denki’s beating at the same rate, waiting for what you’re going to say next. Power surges through you. In your past relationships, sex was always seen as this competition. Your exes never wanted to relinquish their pride or control, but Denki is nothing like your exes. He’s laid-back, always cracking jokes, and never dwelling too much on the past, always moving forward to the next moment. He’s perfectly fine with letting you take the reins most of the time. You determine what will happen next.

“You love getting off to me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but he answers in earnest.

“You’re the only one I get off to.”

You slide your dress off, and it falls to the floor.

“Show me.”

Denki’s eyes travel over your body, his mouth slightly open in disbelief at your undressed state. He wants to capture this moment in case this is as much as he gets, even if he can never use this mental picture because he promised you he wouldn’t. His fingers itch to brush along the lace trim of your bra, to graze along your nipple, and watch your reaction. Are you sensitive enough where you’d full on moan, or would he have to strain to catch the small hitch of breath? Denki was never top of his class. He preferred to wing it and hope for the best, but for you, he’d take his time to study every inch and crevice of your body until he could read you cover to cover with his eyes closed. His gaze travels down to the matching lace panties you wear, a cute little bow in the front waiting to be untied with his teeth. 

Did you plan to get fucked today? Or do you usually wear matching sets on the regular? 

Your skin looks so soft and supple, he’s aching to dig his fingers, but before he can, you step away. Denki cocks his head. Have you changed your mind? But any doubt leaves Denki when you make your way across the room to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

You start with feather-light touches dancing along your collarbone. Your eyes are locked on Denki, getting high on the way he drinks in your every move. Your touches are teasing, especially when your finger dips down to your cleavage. Still, instead of giving Denki what he wants, you change course, making your way back to your shoulders. Denki exhales a breath at your teasing, but says nothing, too afraid he’ll ruin the mood if he says something stupid. 

When you make your way down again, you don’t disappoint; you pinch your nipple through your bra, and the way Denki swipes his tongue over his lip has heat rushing to your core. You slide your hand down your stomach, stopping when you reach your clothed slit. Denki stares, hungry and buzzing in anticipation for what you’ll do next. Smirking in victory, you spread your legs open and pull your panties to the side, giving him the view to capture the perfect picture of your dripping pussy.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

You taunt breathlessly, tracing your folds with your fingers.

Oh shit. Were you for real? Please, tell him you were for real because he legit might cry if this was some elaborate prank. Where are the fucking cameras? 

“You don’t want to?” You bite your lip, insecurity seeping through the confident smile you wore just a moment ago.

“No! I mean - yes! Yes, I do, holy shit, let me find - where the fuck is…” Denki whips around, trying to find his phone. Fuck! Out of all the times to misplace it, it has to be now. But then he spots the yellow polaroid camera sitting on the floor, and before he can think, he’s picking it up and praying it has film. He kneels, so he’s eye level with your pussy, but also making sure the angle gets your whole body in the frame. The light streaming in gives you an ethereal look, your skin glowing, and adding to the cute flush on your cheeks. The camera clicks, and a second later, the picture slides out. You giggle at Denki’s impatience. He’s waving the picture frantically in the air, so the color comes through faster. He completely stills when he can finally take a good look at the beauty he’s captured.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look…” 

Denki can’t control the groan that escapes. He looks back up at you, eyes darkened with lust before he’s ripping his shorts off so fast, his foot gets caught, and he almost trips in the process. Once he’s out of them, he plops back down in the chair across the room. You’re surprised when all you feel is pure, unadulterated lust. You expected to be at least a little bit weirded out staring at your best friend’s cock, but all you want is to put it in your mouth and explore all the different ways you can make him come. The tip is oozing pre-cum already, and the way he works his hand with a sense of urgency suggests he’s been hard for a while. It doesn’t take long before you hear Denki grunt.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You look so pretty spread out for him. For the last five years, he wanted nothing more than to see you like this. His hips jerk up, and he throws his head back, but he makes sure to keep his eyes open like his life depended on it; he didn’t want to miss a second of this. You, with your legs wide open giving him a view of your perfect little pussy. Your panties soaked by you rubbing your clit mercilessly, and your pupils blown wide as you watch your best friend get off to the show you’re giving him. It’s erotic as hell, completely different from the pictures Denki has of you. This one easily tops all the others. He tightens his fist - he doesn’t want it to end without feeling your skin on his at least once.

“Let me touch you, Y/N, please, I just wanna touch you, need to feel you.” 

Denki doesn’t give a fuck that he’s begging at this point. He’s waited too damn long to care about pride or dignity, not when the chance to fuck you is placed in his shaking hands. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, but it comes out anyway.

“Touch me.” 

That’s all Denki needs. Before you know it, you’re pushed down on the bed, and lips smash against yours. He’s eager, a little too eager, shoving his tongue in your mouth and touching everywhere that he can. You don’t have much room to breathe, so you gently push at his chest.

“Chill, Denki.”

He huffs out a breath, muscles shaking like he’s restraining himself from overwhelming you.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” 

He mumbles, peppering kisses into your neck before making his way back to your lips. It’s much smoother this time, his tongue sliding out to tease your bottom lip, asking for permission this time. He groans when you open up for him, your tongue meeting his. Hands trail up until they reach around, resting on the clasp of your bra. Honey eyes meet yours, but you cut off his question.

“I’ll stop you if I need to, but you asking me if it’s okay every time you try something is gonna seriously kill the mood.” 

You reach around to place your hands on top of his, unclasping your bra along with him. His eyes darken at the sight of your bare chest. You try not to squirm at the intensity of his gaze. It becomes near impossible when he dips down to flick his tongue over your nipple before biting with his teeth. He pays the same attention to the other one before kissing his way down your stomach. You arch your back when he spreads your legs and positions himself between them. He makes his way around, avoiding your dripping pussy, teasing your thighs with soft kisses. You huff in annoyance, and he smirks up at you, biting into the flesh of your thigh. This time he places a kiss to your heated center, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. 

“Is it everything you imagined?” You ask.

He looks up at you, with such a serious expression, one you’ve only seen a couple times since knowing him.

“Everything and more.”

Your heart flutters, and you know you’re going to say something you’ll regret if you don’t stop counting the different shades of gold in his eyes. You clear your throat before throwing your hair back.

“You gonna fuck me, or am I gonna have to do it myself?”

You pull his head in for a demanding kiss, biting on his lip to distract yourself from the rush of bubbling emotions threatening to surface.

“One sec,” Denki whispers, placing one last kiss to your lips, before getting up.

You gape at the giant box of condoms he casually pulls out. It hasn’t been opened, and oh my god, you didn’t even know they made huge boxes like this. There were at least a hundred in there. What person thinks to buy a big box of condoms if their plans don’t include… fucking a whole ass army? 

“What the fuck, Denki?” 

People usually have one, maybe two condoms in their wallet at most. Some guys don’t have any at all, which kills the mood when you’re in the heat of the moment, so I guess you can be thankful that Denki is... extra prepared?

“What?” 

He pulls a condom out and drops the box. It thumps when it hits the floor. You’re taken aback by how nonchalant he’s being about this.

“I- you- wha- How many times do you think we’re gonna do it!?” 

Denki slides the condom on, smirking at your shocked expression.  

“Till we finish this box,” he says as he slides into you. 

You gasp at the stretch. He pushes to the hilt, and stays there when he notices the slight furrow of your brow. It has been a while since you’ve fucked, but soon enough, you crave more so you roll your hips, but he doesn’t move.

“Denki?” 

His head is pressed into your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and the stuttering heartbeat matches to the beat of your own. 

“Just… gimme a minute, don’t wanna ruin it by coming in two seconds.” 

His words are muffled, voice raspy with desire, and you can only imagine what his face looks like. It makes you want him all the more. Finally, someone who doesn’t see sex as an opportunity to one-up you or to put you in your place. It’s scary how the last twenty minutes have changed five years of friendship.

“Hey,” you hold his face in between your palms. He already looks completely fucked out with his face flushed and eyes glazed. You place a tender kiss to his lips, unlike the previous kisses you shared. 

“You couldn’t ruin it even if you did come right now.”

You caress his hair in an attempt to reassure him.

“You’d just have to make it up to me,” you wink.

His smile is so pure, lighting up his eyes that’s unique to Denki; it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest. But the moment passes as the previous heat between you two spikes when Denki circles his hips, taking his time to feel you inside and out. He’s touching and kissing you wherever he can, your cheek, neck, chest, thighs, like it’s the first and last time he’ll experience you like this. It might very well be. 

This thought doesn’t sit well with you.

Once he’s mapped out your sweet spots, he digs his fingers into your thighs and pulls your hips flush towards his. He pulls out of you until only the tip is brushing your opening and pounds back into you, taking your breath away. He pumps in and out of you faster, and you cry out when he hits that special spot deep inside of you.

“Denki,” you moan. He grunts and spreads your legs even wider, grabbing one and hauling it over his shoulder to pound into you deeper.

He’s getting close, hell, he’s been close even before you walked in. 

“F-fuck…” Denki groans, thrusting at an uneven pace and feeling the familiar tightening in his groin.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you flip him over and begin bouncing on his cock in a much more steady rhythm. Denki’s staring up at you, eyes wide in admiration.

You’re a goddess. An absolute fucking masterpiece that needs to be put in a museum for his eyes only. God, when did he get so fucking mushy? You always brought out different sides that Denki, himself, didn’t even know he had. He can’t keep his hands off you, grabbing your boobs, sliding down the curves of your thighs, gripping your ass. He wants to commit it all to memory in case he never gets to know this pleasure again. 

“Y/N, ah, shit, I’m gonna...” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

He’s holding on to that sweet release for as long as he can. He’s been craving it since he met you on the first day of class at U.A. His balls tighten, unable to hold it in any longer, before he gives in to the long overdue orgasm. It hits him hard - his entire body tingling from head to toe like 1000 volts of electricity bolt through him. Denki had no idea he could come for this long, but he doesn’t want it to end - it feels so fucking good inside you. He rides it out for a couple more thrusts before he relaxes, completely sated. You try to pull off him, but he grabs your hips and forces you back down. You squeak, clearly not expecting him to care enough to help you out after he finished.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The tone of his voice sounds foreign in his ears, too gruff and too deep, but you seem to have no problems with it as you moan in response, working yourself on top of him. Your thighs crush his hips, shaking with need as you seek a release of your own. You’re tired from bouncing, so you resort to grinding, swirling your hips deliciously around his cock. Denki squeezes your ass in appreciation.

“You close?” 

“Close, so close, Denki, please…”

Your eyes well up with tears, desperate to finish; the coil in your stomach wound too tight that you might burst any second. Denki helps you by thrusting his hips to meet yours, his hand rubbing your clit. You jolt at the sudden zap to your clit, you look down to see a small spark leave Denki’s fingertip. He does it again, and you cry out, your pussy fluttering from the electrifying touch.

“C’mon, baby, you can do it, come for me.” 

Fuck. Denki didn’t mean for the pet name to slip out, but then you’re moaning louder than before that Denki would’ve had to quiet you if you weren’t alone. Words are tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh, fuck, Denki, I love this so much, I love you, I-” 

You slap your hand over your mouth. Denki’s eyes widen for a second before a dangerous glint takes over, and he wretches your hand away from your mouth.

“Lemme hear you. C’mon, Y/N, show me how much you love this.”

You hardly recognize the scream as your own; you flush at how loud you are, but Denki doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to spur him on. He sits up so your chest to chest before he bends down to tug at your nipple with his teeth. You throw your head back in pleasure, your hands coming around to grab at his hair. Golden eyes look up at you from your chest, a slight smirk curving his lips.

“I’m no photographer, baby girl, but I can sure as hell picture us together.”

Leave it to Denki Kaminari to make you come with a cheesy pickup line. 

He gives one final thrust, balls slapping against your ass and hitting the spot deep inside you just right. Your thighs quiver from the pleasure wracking your body, a scream lodging out of your throat so loud that the people next door bang on the wall. You’re overwhelmed to the point that all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, whispering his name in a broken whimper as you finish. 

You fall next to him on the bed, sweaty and completely wiped, both of you trying to catch your breath. Denki tosses the condom in the trash while you stare at the ceiling, watching the fan swirl round and round. Your mind is no different at the moment, going round in circles, and you’re trying to catch up. Your body feels weightless, tingling all over and loving the high you didn’t think was possible. The bed shifts, and suddenly you’re faced with your best friend of five years. Before he can get a word out, the front door slams shut, and two very familiar, very masculine voices are down the hall, getting closer by the second. 

“Kaminari, you lazy shit, get the fuck down here!”

“Shit!” Denki jumps from the bed, ruffling through the mess to find his pants.

“Denki, just lock the door! Hurry!”

It’s too late as the door swings open, and yeah… if today taught Denki anything, it’s that he really needs to lock his door more often. He doesn’t have time to think as he hops back into bed with you to avoid flashing any of his other friends today. Bakugou would probably threaten to chop his dick off and… yeah, Denki doesn’t wanna think about the rest.

You squeak and cover yourself with the blanket when you’re met with two sets of equally shocked crimson eyes.

Kirishima drops the bag of chips he’s holding. It seems like dropping things when walking into Denki’s room was a common theme today, and he’s sure as hell not looking forward to the cleanup. Denki regrets chancing a glance at Bakugou; nostrils flaring like a rabid predator on the loose and Denki’s his target.

The four of you stare at each other for who knows how long before Kirishima breaks out into a full-on grin.

“About time, bro, congrats!” 

“Congrats?” You turn to Denki, confused.

“The fuck!? You bangin’ my ex, dunceface!?” Bakugou shouts.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Denki squeaks, hiding underneath the covers.

“Oi! You fuck like a man, you better fight like one, too!”

You roll your eyes, hardly affected by Bakugou’s exploding presence, unlike Denki, who is literally shaking beside you.

“Oh fuck off, Katsuki, listen to yourself. Keyword ex-girlfriend.”

Bakugou sputters, and Kirishima drags him by the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s been in a mood since he found out he’s gonna be the next star of the Bachelor.” 

“You wanna die too, shitty hair!?” 

You and Denki burst out laughing at the absurdity of Katsuki forced to act like a gentleman on live TV. The image of Katsuki in a suit and tie, holding a rose and actually smiling, is comedic gold to you.

“C’mon, bro, let’s give ’em some space.” 

“Oi! You’re on my shit list now! All of you! Aye! Get the fuck off me!”

Kirishima drags Bakugou the rest of the way, giving you a quick thumbs up on the way out.

You and Denki are still cracking up, but your laughter dies when they leave, and you’re faced with the tension from before. Denki sinks lower into the sheets, hating that he keeps getting walked in on. Who decided it was ‘make a fool out of Denki day’ anyway?

“So…” you start.

“So…” Denki finishes. 

You both stare straight ahead at nothing. 

“Did you mean it?” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly asking him to elaborate.

“What you said, when you... you know...” he makes a clicking noise with his mouth like that’s universal code for fucking, “Or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” 

You take a moment to think before you give your response. You want to be as honest as possible, and not lead Denki on in any way. Of course, you loved him, he’s your best friend, but did you love him? 

You think back on your friendship, and suddenly a supercut of all the times he was there for you flashes before your eyes. He was there when you needed someone to drive you when you had your wisdom teeth pulled out. You didn’t expect Denki to stay with you the whole weekend, buying you ice cream and watching your favorite movies, but he did. 

He was there when you and Bakugou became an item, always listening to you swoon over how amazing a boyfriend he was. Denki would always respond with “But can he do this?” and would proceed to overuse his quirk like an overpowered Pikachu just to make you laugh. It sends a knife through your heart, knowing Denki was in love with you while you were talking about how great of a boyfriend his friend was. Not to mention how he was there when you and Bakugou broke up, heart-broken and vowing to swear off boys for good. Denki held you in his arms while you cried, staying silent the entire time, which you knew was against his nature. Denki was always there for you as a friend. There’s no doubt he’d be there for you as a lover.

“I meant it,” you say.

Tears threaten to spill, and your heart might burst out of your chest and land right into his hands. You hope he holds on to it forever. He squishes your cheeks and leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. This is what you’ve been missing - more like who you’ve been missing. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss, and he meets you move for move. He pulls away, hands still on your cheeks, grazing your cheekbones with his fingertips as he stares into your eyes. 

“Denki, I…” You bite your lip, overcome with emotion. You desperately want to say the words to capture this picture-perfect moment forever. 

Until you feel something poking your thigh.

“Denki!” 

You yell, affronted he popped a boner in the middle of what was supposed to be a romantic moment.

“Sorry!”

“Ugh! Worst timing ever!” You slap his shoulder.

“Ow! I said I’m sorry!”

You wiggle out of his embrace. Silence eats at the room, and you can feel Denki’s energy radiating in uncomfortable frequencies. The last moment had been thoroughly ruined.

But you have all the time in the world to make more.

“... round two?” 

Just seeing Denki’s face light up like Christmas is enough to promise the birth of a new moment. He bends over to grab his box of condoms, some spilling on the floor and adding more to the mess, before saying, “hell yeah!”

You roll your eyes with affection. What a weirdo, you think. But he’s your weirdo.

That night, or rather the next day since it was currently three in the morning, Denki plops down on his bed exhausted from the day. He’s fluffing his pillow, trying to get comfortable, when he feels something underneath. His eyes widen when he takes in the picture he’s holding. You must’ve taken it when he was downstairs and snuck it under his pillow. You’re bent over with that same damn lacy bra that sends him for a loop. Your cleavage deliciously on display as you bite your lip and stare at the camera with those innocent eyes. Denki can’t help it, his hand sliding down on instinct and cupping himself through his boxers. He turns the picture around and smiles at the cute little message written on the back.

“To add to your collection 😉”

[4jimin]

DAMN IT u cant just tag and say ull reblob if no one gives u attention............. u da 1 (bc shoving someone against the wall sounds amazing)

…….i can be very persuasive asjdkdj thank you for sending jo, i love youuu !!  (i hope this is okay bc like…..i may or may not have gotten too deep into this so it turned out to be 5 pages long akshdk)

“right to the good parts” prompt list: jikook, “i have you shoved against a wall, but now I can’t stop looking at your mouth." 

canon compliant | gay chicken l well :)“I’m not a coward!” Jimin shouts from his corner of the room.It’s late already and the practice room is mostly covered by shadows, only the lights above the mirror wall being responsible for illuminating the place. “Yes, you are.” Jungkook tilts his head to the side with a smug smirk adorning his lips. Ah, if teasing Park Jimin wasn’t fuel to his veins. He spent the whole day working out and dancing – he was exhausted to the bones –, but just hearing the flustered tone of Jimin’s voice was almost equivalent to a 4 hour nap. Five, if the room was clear enough for Jungkook to see the cute blush creeping the older’s cheeks – like he knew it would – and his lips pursed the way it did everytime he was trying to prove a point. “You know, there is a thin line between being brave and being stupid.” “Exactly.”“Exactly. Me agreeing to go on a rollercoaster that you are in charge of commanding, considering you have no idea how to control a rollercoaster, is just being stupid!”Jungkook snorts, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Okay. What about bungee jumping, but not with the proper rope?” “No! What the fuck is wrong with you? I care about my life!”Jimin is seating in the darker corner of the room and Jungkook is all the way across from him – back leaning against the cold glass of the mirror. He can’t make out Jimin’s expressions well from so far away in the poorly lit room – but yet, just the tone of Jimin’s voice is enough for Jungkook to be one hundred percent sure about each face he is pulling out along wlth the sentences falling out of his mouth. “That’s what cowards say.” “That’s what logical people say!” “Hyung, just admit it already. I won’t judge you.” Jungkook chuckles at Jimin’s snort. “You fucking brat. You call me coward one more time, and I swear to–”“Okay, okay.” Jungkook tilts his head to the other side, an idea taking shape in his mind, making his lips twitch upwards. “You’ll get the respect I have for you back if–““I don’t need to get any respect back.”“You prove to me you’re not a coward.” They speak at the same time, overlapping each other’s voice. Jimin frowns.“What?” “You heard me. You need to prove.”“I don’t need to do anything.” Jimin crosses his arms, and Jungkook knows he has an stubborn pout on his lips. “But… how do I do that?” The maknae smirks. “Let’s play chicken.”“Let’s play what?” he uncrosses his arms, brows furrowed in confusion.“Chicken.” “What the fuck is that?” Jungkook chuckles, using his hand as an support to get on his feet. “It’s a game.” He starts explaining while walking till where Jimin is seating. “Basically, we need to put one another into nerve-wracking situations. The one to pulls away first lose. Easy.” By the time Jungkook ends talking he is standing before Jimin, an extended hand offered towards him to pull him up. Jimin takes it after a second of hesitation.“Well, the game usually tends to be more dangerous,” Jungkook reiterates, voice significantly lower since Jimin is closer to him now. “But we can make it worth.” He smiles. “You in?”Jimin narrows his eyes. “What kind of shit are you planning to come with?” Jungkook puts his arms behind his back and starts walking away, a playful smile on his voice as he singsongs “Guess you’ll have to pay to see…” he suddenly turns his body back to face Jimin “Or are you going to run away with your tail between your legs?” “I’mma punch you.”“Is that a yes?” he quirks his eyebrows up.“Whatever.” Jimin walks in his direction, stopping some meters away from him. “Go for it.”The game starts rather lamely, Jimin would say. The most Jungkook had done in three rounds was putting his sweaty armpit dangerously close to Jimin’s face – to which Jimin didn’t even flinch, for sake of information, just grimaced and called him a ‘gross pig’ under his breath (that was happily caged inside his lungs, because he was most definitely not smelling the stink under Jungkook’s arms, thank you very much). “Is that all you got?” Jimin teases, getting closer, holding back his laugh at Jungkook’s wide eyes. He keeps the straight face, taking small steps forward and pushing Jungkook backwards with him until his back hits the wall. He lowers down his gaze to Jungkook’s throat just in time to catch him gulping and smiles in victory. Jungkook is about to overcome his thundering heart and form a sentence, when Jimin kneels down before him and Jungkook’s eyes go wide. “H-hyung?” Jimin smirks, not breaking eye contact for a second, and slowly extends his left arm to the side, grabbing Jungkook’s phone on the floor. He gets up on his feet to face a very confused – and mildly breathless, Jimin proudly realizes – maknae. “Here. Text Namjoon-hyung and say: hyung, I think I’m im love with you.” “What?!” Jungkook almost chokes.Jimin shrugs, a nonchalantly smirk dwelling in the corner of his lips. “That’s me teaching you how the real game is meant to be played. Go for it, my brave boy.” He whispers, bitting down his bottom lip to contain a victory smile.But against all expectations, Jungkook does send the message, rendering Jimin speechless for a second or two. “Surprised?” he asks, voice lower than Jimin is used to listening. Jungkook is tall. Very tall, Jimin remembers, as he has to slightly tilt his head back to properly look at his face. Also, Jungkook’s eyes are shining. Despite from all the shadows trying to cover his features, his eyes are shining with a glow Jimin doesn’t quite recognize. It settles an unfamiliar restlessness on his muscles. “Good to know we’re now playing dirty.” Jungkook hums and Jimin feels his hot breath hitting his lips. His heart pace increases for no apparent – or logical – reason, and his fingertips tingle with unknown anticipation. “It’s my turn.” Jimin barely has time to utter a word before his shoulders are being grabbed and his back is being roughly slammed against the wall, all oxygen violently punched out of his lungs. He looks up, confusion molding his features, but he doesn’t find the usual innocence he so much adores in Jungkook’s eyes. He finds a pair of dark irises and dilated pupils staring back at him, the hint of an eerie lust hidden in the way he licks his lips and lowers his eyes to Jimin’s mouth. Jimin fists the front of his tshirt to draw his attention back.“W-what–“However, all his senses shut down when Jungkook’s cold fingers surges on the sharp bulge of his hipbone, thumbs caressing the skin ever so slowly. Jimin’s eyes fall closed and his breath hitches, every allusion of sentence menacing to be said, dying on his throat. He can feel his chest constricting in an oddly pleasurable arousal when Jungkook drags his hands up, delineating the curve of his waist with his palms, and then feeling the ledge of his abs with his fingertips, the touch leaving heat traces all over his skin. Jungkook’s hot air enters his mouth and that’s when Jimin realizes he’s been holding his own back.“That’s me teaching you how the real game is meant to be played.” The younger’s reuse of his words reaches his ears at the same time he opens his eyes, just to be welcomed with the most annoyingly attractive smirk he has ever faced. Jimin wants to punch it away. He raises his chin just the slightest bit up, a sudden desire to win washing all over him and pooling on his stomach with a restlessness that burns and sends heat shooting up his spine – swallowing all the nervousness to the tip, and replacing it with some thing Jimin is not so sure about wanting to figure out. Jungkook can’t seem to stop staring at his lips. Jimin watches his face with half lided eyes and a heart beating on his throat. “Then I guess you should try harder.” His words resound through a soft murmur lost in the silence of the room, when he takes Jungkook’s neck on his hands and pulls it down to be met with his lips halfway. The younger’s skin is cold, but Jimin warms it with his tongue and lips, sucking muscle and flesh hard enough to hear Jungkook deeply inhaling a sharp breath. His fingers are digging into Jimin’s hips, and Jimin feels nails when he drags his lips up, hot breath hitting the wet mark of saliva he has left behind, making Jungkook shiver. He noses his way up the younger’s neck, tangling his fingers on his hair and softly kissing every inch of exposed skin he’s met until he reaches Jungkook’s ear. He uses his teeth to scratch the lobe with the most of delicacy he possesses, so he can whisper.“Your turn.” Jungkook is heavily breathing with closed eyes, Jimin realizes when he pulls back to face the boy. He bites back a proud smile.The younger boy doesn’t flinch or move for the next ten seconds, which gets Jimin tiptoeing his way up to face him on the same height level. He is about to pull his best smug of victory along with a cheesy made up phrase to annoy the shit out of Jeon Jungkook, when Jungkook suddenly presses his body harder against Jimin’s, supporting his weight with an elbow resting by the side of the older’s head. Jungkook sees the sea of different brown hues staring back at him through wide eyes, closer than ever – and to be honest, he wants nothing more than to dive into them, to drown in its depth and be overwhelmed by its intensity. He wants so much it’s starting to hurt.“Hyung.” He warns, voice rough. “I’m not gonna lose.” Jimin blinks, eyelashes heavy with expectation, hands tightening around the fabric of Jungkook’s tshirt.“Me neither.” Jungkook leans closer slowly, Jimin almost feels teased – on the verge of having a cardiac arrest from how fast his heart has been beating for the past minutes. His eyes flutter closed when he feels the tip of Jungkook’s nose touching his. His lips are burning somehow, yelling to be kissed – the smell of the younger’s skin useful as no help to calm down his stomach. How can he smell good after hours of practice? Or maybe he doesn’t and Jimin is just crazy. Yes. He probably is. Completely insane. And why isn’t Jungkook’s lips glued to his already?He is about to open his eyes to understand what the hell is going on when ge feels the wetness of Jungkook’s mouth on his jawline. It’s soft and tender, and it makes him dizzy to the fingertips, because– isn’t that game supposed to be nerve-wracking and rough? Why is he feeling loved?Jimin turns his head to the other side unconsciously, so Jungkook trails the line of his sharp jawline with his lips, holding harder on his bare waist beneath the tshirt and pulling his body closer to his, craving the warmth that his skin exhales. Jimin’s chest is rosing up and down repeatedly, but it’s when Jungkook lighly suck at the skin right below his ear that Jimin moans. And something twitches inside Jungkook’s chest. He nips at the flesh by the side of his neck as a test, just to hear the same sound crawling out of Jimin’s throat again – low and needy. So he opens his mouth and sucks for real this time, rough, scratching his teeth softly on the skin when he lets go, Jimin’s breath hitching inciting him to go further.Jungkook hears his own heart beating on his ears, and feels both his and Jimin’s beating on his chest – but he is sure his nearly stops when Jimin whines and presses his crotch against his thigh, the stimulus shooting white pleasure to the tip of his stomach and blankness to the back of his eyes.Fuck.Jungkook takes a hand off Jimin’s waist and grabs his hair, pulling it back to have full acess to his neck. He doesn’t lose a second, a burning desire running through his veins and making him want to taste every single inch of Park Jimin’s body, every single inch of skin. He bites down and sucks roughly, Jimin groaning breathlessly with firm hands clutching his shoulders. He feels driven to the edge, none of that being enough and still being too fucking much. Jimin’s lightheaded already, lips falling open within every moan his body forces out of him, the sensation overwhelming his senses. Jungkook keeps on sucking his neck and it feels so good it’s excruciating, how he doesn’t want it to end, but how at the same time he needs more. His hands are on Jungkook’s neck, and he doesn’t know when they went to stop there, but now his nails are scratching Jungkook’s nape and before Jimin can help he is moaning Jungkook’s name.Jungkook moans back, and almost feels like being punched on the stomach with a fist of flowers. Jimin can’t take it anymore. He pulls Jungkook’s head back and turns to face him, catching his swollen lips on his mouth with a fervor he has no idea inhabited in him. Jungkook is fast to comply, lips falling open and licking into Jimin’s mouth just as desperately. Their tongues meet in a clash of heat and mutual desire, and it’s fucking addicting, how their lips fit so perfectly together, how their pace is exactly the same, as if they were familiar to each other’s lips for their entire lives. “H…hyung.” Jungkook pulls back for air, but Jimin is unable to think straight. He chases Jungkook’s mouth like a predator, thirsty for the taste lingering on his lips, sucking and bitting his bottom lip, until Jungkook is groaning, grabbing his thighs and pulling him up. God. Jimin is losing his mind.He straddles Jungkook’s hips with his thighs, locking his ankles on the end of his back, and Jungkook takes the chance of the height difference to get back on Jimin’s neck. He is addicted, he knows, but the sound Jimin makes when he sucks and licks the right spots is enough to send him shooting up the sky. “Jung…Jungkook.” Jimin breathes out, and his legs are sliding down Jungkook’s body, so Jungkook hops him up, switching his hands from Jimin’s thighs to his ass and god. He bites down the curve of Jimin’s neck so hard he feels the boy shrinking. “Sorry.” He utters, voice hoarse like never before. His cheek is pressed against Jimin’s collarbone and he stays there for a second, lungs burning for air. “You’re driving me crazy.”  Jimin lazily smiles, looking down. Jungkook pulls back to look at his face, and he has all air squeezed out of him a second time in that night. Shit.“…what?” Jimin furrows his brows at Jungkook’s odd expression. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook takes more time than he thinks he should to answer. But he can’t help it. He’s stunned.“Jungkook?” “Nothing, just– I…” he lifts his eyes to meet Jimin’s. “You’re beautiful.” Jimin’s mouth fall open to form some kind of response, but he’s rendered speechless, cheeks flushing redder than his bruised lips. It’s the most adorable thing in the world. Jungkook doesn’t let him answer.He kisses his mouth with a different kind of need this time, kisses him until both of them forget how to speak, how to breath – until the only thought in the back of his mind is Park Jimin’s face and nothing more.