#denki

because, you're denki's high school best friend.

best friend, like, best fucking friend. best friend like you made denki what he is today.

he took his first shot with you, smoked his first joint with you, bought his first vape with your fake id.

every morning, he'd meet you at the bus stop, share those cheap ass, shitty ass, earphones of his, with your playlist saved onto his phone, only half of it downloaded with the 200MB he had left, using your phone to check the homework updates that neither of you completed.

and then you'd get the homework answers off some random, and spend registration scribbling out absolute bullshit, because even if it's incorrect and illegible at least it was done, and you wouldn't be given detention.

because you guys couldn't get detention, not when you had rustled up twenty dollars between you, to buy cheap weed off some sketchy guy, and smoke in the park next to his house.

late nights on face-time during family holidays, dinner at his house almost three times a week, helping your dad fix something that was broken in the backyard.

your lives were so intertwined, that when you made-out for the first time, it didn't feel like a big deal.

because, of course your first kiss would be with denki, of course the first guy to see you naked would be denki, of course the first guy to dry hump you on some random girl’s couch, would be denki.

so natural, so not-a-big-deal, so normal.

and then he left for college.

you knew it would happen at some point, that he would leave, that he would get tired of having to hide himself, quiet himself, tone himself down, in your small conservative little town, fucking duh. right?

and he told you he was going to leave, you were there when he applied for the university. and you were there, right fucking next to him, jumping for joy, when he got accepted.

doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

doesn't mean you didn't feel it in your chest.

despite the fact that you were doing your own thing, living your own life, becoming your own person.

it doesn't mean that every time you get a notification from him, an update about his new friend group, or something dumb that happened on a night out, or he comes back for a weekend, and he has a new piercing or tattoo or a different hairstyle, that you don't miss him so fucking much.

that doesn't mean that he doesn't miss you too.

every time he makes a joke that doesn't land, or references a meme from five years ago, or wants to go to a gig, or talk bullshit, or get high and go grocery shopping, he sighs to himself.

because no one really gets him like you do. no one sees him like you do.

you’re his person, his everything.

he had to invite you to come and see the city eventually, it took a while for your schedules to align for sure, but you got there in the end.

got here.

and denki's late.

you're late too if we're being honest. you missed the transfer, and had to wait for 45 minutes for the next train, enough time to leave the station for a smoke, fall asleep on the train, and nearly miss your stop.

but you're here now.

outside this big, loud, city station, suddenly feeling conscious of how you must definitely reek of weed, tapping your foot on the cracked concrete, lent up against the metal railing, idly scrolling on your phone.

travel bag full, headphones on, you don't even realise someone is calling your name till—

“—holy shit dude, are you that fucking deaf?” a sun-kissed hand waving in front of your face, “haven’t changed a bit—”

he cuts himself off to borderline tackle you into a hug, you nearly drop your phone, his warm body heat enveloping your system. arms wrapped tightly around your waist, he still smells the same, so do you.

you barely notice how he takes a deep inhale when he noses at the junction of your neck.

it’s so fucking weird to have you here, but in the best way. it feels like a dream, you feel like a dream, all disgruntled and weary from the journey.

“you gonna take her bag or what?”

oh right.

denki’s head stays where it is, nestled into your shoulder. the only move he makes is to stick a finger up from behind his back, but your gaze snaps up, meeting with the owner of the voice.

dark eyes meet yours, half-lidded, grin creeping onto his face, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, a few paces back from where you’re embracing the blonde.

“hey—”

“oh, fuck off, man,” denki still hasn’t let go, you feel his voice rumble through your skin, “don’t even talk t’er.”

“relax,” you say grabbing the back of his hair and pulling him off you, he lets out a small whimper, minuscule really, but you know him, yank a bit harder, voice dropping to a whisper, “don’t you dare.”

but denki doesn’t budge, he hums almost dreamily, “don’t talk to me like that, y’know it’s been a while.” with his arms squeezing you tighter, practically melting into your chest.

“free show for the general public, i knew you were freaked out but seriously dude—”

that does the job, denki finally unwinds his limbs from you to turn and scoff at his friend, talking about some, “you can’t let me have a moment,” and then turns back without waiting for answer, grabbing your travel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“not if i’m uninvolved,” the other guy scoffs out, hands in his back pockets, and he smirks down at the blonde who’s marched over to give him a light shove in the chest.

denki snatches the lit cigarette from his friend’s mouth, with a mocking sneer, and pops it into his own.

“‘uninvolved’ that’s not even a real word,” the words curl around the smoke as he waves you over.

“maybe you should read a fuckin’ book.”

“maybe you should shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he clears his throat, then dramatically flourishes to the guy standing next to him, whom you vaguely recognise. from blurry snaps, from instagram stories, from half of his figure in face-times, the one, the only, “hanta sero.”

he smirks at the introduction, something you reckon he does a lot of, and nods at you in greeting, “i’m surprised you’re a real person, i was almost sure this shit-head was making you up.”

your smile is strained because of the sunlight glaring right in your eye line, but your tone is warm, if not a little dry, when you reply with, “talks ‘bout me a lot, does he?”

“you don’t know the half of it—” denki shoves him forward, and sero laughs, bright and loud, let’s the momentum carry him into a step, which turns into another, and another, and then denki takes your hand to pull you along with them, as you make your way down the street, away from the station’s exit, back to their place.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“finally.”

denki huffs as he flops onto his bed with a groan, it creaks and shifts when you drop down next to him, his legs intertwining with yours like second nature.

and denki’s smelling you again. it’s less weird than it sounds, but still weird. it’s not his fault, you smell like sunshine and home, how could he not, nose buried into the top of your head, arms curled around your body.

you both lay like that for a minute, content in the silence, just basking in each other’s presence. electricity buzzing under your fingertips as he softly grazes his knuckles against your back.

until you decide to be a little bitch.

“your friend’s cute,” you murmur into his chest, you can feel denki’s heart pitter-pattering, vibrating through your body.

he doesn’t say anything for a beat.

you crack open an eye, try again, “i said, your friend is hot—”

he doesn’t give you the reaction you’d hoped for, which is a shame. instead he chuckles, snickers, softly against your hair, still tracing patterns into your skin, “you really gonna talk about another guy while you’re in my bed, no class.”

“take that back asshole,” and he catches your hand when you move to hit him, brings a thumb down to curl around your wrist, rolls his eyes as you squint up at him, “no class?” you repeat, “i’m so classy, so fuckin’ classy i brought my own bud—”

yeaaahhh, that wakes him up.

and because it's denki, because he has no manners, or boundaries, or concept of personal space, both his hands start sliding down your body until they feel the bulge in one of your back pockets.

you squirm out of his grip, feebly kicking at his legs, but he's so solid. you can feel his muffled snickers as you smack his arms away from you, but he barely moves, just presses you further into the mess of pillows and blankets that cover his bedspread.

“you're such an asshole,” but your shoulders shake with the uncontrollable laughter that tumbles out of your body when he starts trying to curl his fingers into the pocket.

you get a face full of armpit. “and you smell so fuckin’ bad, couldn't even take a shower before inviting me over here—”

he kisses his teeth at your insult, but doesn't flinch when your heel catches his shin, just lightly slaps your thigh to get you to chill the fuck out, because his bed-frame is cheap and creaking like it might collapse any second.

"dude," as he sits back on his knees and sticks out his tongue in victory, shiny foil package dangling between his fingertips, "the water pressure here sucks balls, i promise you, i tried my best."

you kick at him again when he starts to open it, and the baggy drops from his grip. you snatch it up before he gets a moment to breathe, and point a finger at him in warning, “nah-ah-ah. say please.”

he collapses on top of you again, bullshit doe-eyed expression, and juts out his bottom lip as he simpers, “oh please, my perfect princess,” you don't budge, “oh, please, dear goddess, let us roll a zoot.”

“well, seeing as you’ve always been a loyal subject.”

“you’re such a fucking dork.”

“me? me? i’m a dork?" you repeat back to him, voice wavering in astonishment, “the first thing you did when you moved in here was put up that zelda poster,” and you gesture to the aforementioned poster, corners peeling, plastered onto his wall next to the window, “and you wanna talk about dorks.”

“well if i'm a dork and you’re a dork,” he says, and with his face so close to your own, you can practically count the freckles matted across his cheeks. and that annoying little smile, so unchanging despite the time you've spent apart, despite the distance. "what does that make us?”

he answers for you, not before his eyes flick down to your lips as his tongue pokes out to wet his, “it makes us perfectly compatible.”

your eyes roll and you shove his face back with the palm of your hand, “you're a fucking loser.”

his hands crawling over your thighs, “yeah, what else?”

“a freak.”

his eyes boring into your soul, “keep going.”

“pathetic.”

his breath ghosting over your ear, “nearly there."

“and,” your hand suddenly stretches out, and denki keens when you take a fistful of his hair into your grasp, his body folds inwards towards you as you pull him closer, gently grazing your teeth across his earlobe while he shudders and you murmur, “i don’t fuck with blondes.”

unserious to a fault, denki breaks down into snickers, nuzzling his nose against your neck. it would’ve been believable, if not for the fact that, “y’know i can feel your lil’ boner pressing against my stomach.”

that makes him chuckle even harder into your neck. “guilty,” sarcastically muttered, and then denki cranes his head so he’s at the perfect angle to lick your cheek.

you groan in disgust and push his face away, but that doesn’t stop him, and you get his slobber all over your palms.

“get the fuck off me, i swear to—” he covers your mouth with his palm and continues to lick your face like a demented cat, what the fuck? “is this what the city life does to people?”

“no,” he whines suddenly, interlocking his fingers with yours against either side of your head, “i-i just missed you.”

oh.

you didn’t expect him to say it outright.

there’s been an annoying, awful, nagging, voice that has been whispering in the depths of your brain ever since he left. whispering that he stopped caring about you, that you were just a placeholder until he got cooler, funnier, friends, that you were nothing but an insignificant speck in the long, vibrant, life he was going to live.

denki’s warm, honey, eyes scan your face.

he’s frowning, and, well, denki should never be frowning.

you shake his hand off one of your wrists and he sits back immediately. no longer breaching your personal space, a brief look of hurt flashing through his eyes as you say nothing.

but then, your free hand reaches up, and your thumb, very carefully, very gently, smooths out the wrinkle that has appeared between his brows.

“i missed you too.”

the corners of his mouth uplift, his eyes shine, god, it's like the sunlight breaking through the dawn, the way denki's face contorts into a smile, “you really know how to make a guy sweat, baby.”

you snort, “oh, you're sweating now?”

“amongst other things, yeah.”

"amongst?" you repeat, eyes squinting in the way they do when you're about to take this piss, “is that a new vocab word?”

you’re trying to ragebait, but it doesn’t work.

because denki can't stop smiling.

there's just something so fucking dreamy about how you're here, in his college house, on his horrible twin xl bed. it's really hard to describe the feeling, because, sure, he's seen you, during holidays, on face-time and the like, but it's different having you in the city with him.

with him.

as in, not only did you trek all the way here, three fuckin' buses, two trains, all your essentials packed, with the sole intention of spending time with him.

but you missed him too?

that notion, that suggestion, that you thought about him nearly a fraction as much as he thought about you.

it makes him dizzy.

"you really like being mean to me, don'tcha?" and he can't keep his hands off of you, his fingers tracing patterns along your sides.

"i think you like it more than i do."

"you can't prove that."

that makes you laugh, genuinely, because, it's like, do you mention the hard-on that is throbbing against your thigh, again, or do you let him live in his delusion? questions, questions.

or…

the secret third option.

bringing your hand down, and cupping his erection through the material that covers his bottom half. using your nails to scratch at the seam that is straining with his hard cock, and watching his breath hitch, his brow furrow, his eyelids flutter.

"you're playing dirty," denki whines, as if that could hide the guttural moan that literally comes from the depths of his spirit.

you lean up towards him so you can mouth at patch of skin where his ear meets his neck, and you murmur into his ear, "i think you like it when i play dirty."

“well, i think,” as he traces your pulse points with his nose, “that you only have one voice line option," and then with his teeth, like the most least obvious vampire, "where's the variety?"

"don't be a dick."

"thought you liked my dick."

"i like your mouth more."

"oh yeah," he turns his head, kisses along your jawline, softly, like you’re something delicate, something he has to hold very carefully, something that he couldn't afford to break, something he wants to take his time with.

it makes your heart race, being loved on like that, you needed it to be honest. someone that knows you intimately, someone that knows exactly what you want.

you shrug his hand off you, from where one of his palms still had a firm grip on your wrist, so you can grab his chin, bring his face closer to yours, your breath intermingling.

and the next time he opens his mouth to make a smart comment, you stop him before he can even start.

by grasping his tongue with two of your fingers.

you know him as much as he knows you.

and you absolutely could not miss the shudder that wracks his body, or the way his eyes practically roll back into his head.

you have to tut at him until he stops trying to wrap the pink textured tip of his tongue around your digits.

so you have the space, to spit in his mouth.

oh wow.

there are not enough words to describe the pathetic mess denki makes out of himself at that moment.

i won't bother attempting to walk you through it.

but sero can.

denki's bedroom door slams open, hanta sero, giving no prelude before making his entrance, "are we still gonna go out tonighhh…"

now imagine this, your best friend, practically on his knees, on top his best friend, literally eating out of the palm of her hand, with both of his hands underneath her shirt.

sero grins.

and carelessly swats away the pillow that comes flying at his face.

the three of you just kinda blink at each other for a minute.

before sero turns on his heel and walks right back out.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“this is the best spot in the entirety of the old town, i'm telling you.”

“you said the same thing about the bar by the river—”

“—and about that arcade on the high-street.”

“anddddd, when we found the spot along the bridge with the benches.”

"that, that, that, that,” denki slurs, well stutters, a step behind you, “that doesn't diminish my point.”

you can’t see him but you hear the sound of him smacking sero when he mocks the blonde with a, “uh-ba-ba-ba-ba-da-ba-dah."

"shut up, just shusshh,” oh god, he really is licked, you can’t take him seriously, “i'm trying to show my beloved friend–in fact, you guys are even proving my point.”

"and what is your point exactly."

"well... that old town has all the best spots."

they all hum in agreement.

all being, the rest of denki's new friend group.

honestly, they're a cool bunch.

the girls are fucking lovely, stunning, nice as hell, like surprisingly. not that you thought his friends would be dickheads, but still, it's refreshing to be around.

almost as refreshing as the cool night air.

the sunset a while ago, while you were still pre-gaming at this one girl's flat, mina. she's a fucking legend. super hospitable, one of those people who never let's anyone sit out of conversation, a little prying but not enough to make you uncomfortable.

but she mixes drinks like a demon.

sero had warned you.

after denki had, ahem, had a shower and cleaned himself up, the three of you made your way over to mina's together.

but, denki was on the phone the whole time. one of the guys was having a crisis and apparently, it was very, super, extremely, important, so he had left sero to entertain you on the twenty minute walk over.

this sero guy is something else.

there's something very telling about the way he talks, like he's constantly trying to sus you out, but in the least discrete way he can. his questions are really leading, and it doesn't matter how you answer, it feels like you've fallen into a trap.

it doesn't help that he's fucking sexy.

with the piercings, the way his hair falls into his face, and that ridiculous sleeve of line-drawn patchwork tattoos, that denki seems intent on copying.

but his smile gets you the most.

this annoying, slick, grin that he gets when you say something a bit too sarcastic, or a bit too rude, or a bit too risky, and he visibly bites his tongue while he cheeses, flashing his pearly whites, all half-lidded eyes and barely concealed snickers.

fuck denki for leaving you to your own devices.

you'd been walking side by side with the dude, bare arms brushing, up until you got to the front steps of mina's flat, and even then, denki had disappeared almost instantly, leaving you with this guy, again.

and sero had not left you alone, maybe denki had told him to keep an eye on you or something, but you can't deny it, the attention was addicting. fetching you drinks when you asked, lighting your blunt for you, letting you smoke his cigs with nothing but a shake of his head and another one of those confusing, biting, grins.

aside from that, the rest of denki's friends had been great.

aside from the drinks.

sero, and the other girl, jirou, had fuckin’ warned you, that mina enjoys playing bartender, and that she takes her job very seriously. you had waved them off at the time, because honestly, two blunts deep, the glass you had tasted like fuckin' juice. really sweet, really orange, and apparently chock full of tequila.

which leads us to now, a large gaggle of about seven undergrads, arguing, then bursting into cackles, then tripping over their own feet, then arguing again, stumbling along the high street.

one dude, the guy that was having a "major crisis sorry for stealing him," is on your right, recounting the lore of their last night out, the group of 'em, getting lost on the way home, missing the last train, no ubers picking up the request, and having to walk back to the student housing, two hours away from where the gig was.

"and then, and then, that's not even the worst part," kirishima nearly hits you in the face when he gestures towards the other blonde of the group. he pats you gently on the shoulder in apology, but the volume level of his voice does not lower in the slightest when he says, "this dude, this fuckin' dude, ran off, like literally, sprinted into the distance, and left us."

jirou, who is to your left, chokes on her snort, pulls on your arm, calling your attention back to her, "all of our phones were dead, mind you."

"don't start talkin’ shit," the blonde in front of you suddenly cuts in, he's been quiet most of the night, aside from the occasional jeer, "i left you with the portable charger, i'm not a fuckin' asshole."

kirishima buffers, and then cries out, "dude, you left us. stranded."

"y'all made it home, didn't ya?"

"that is sosososo not the point."

the girls burst into snickers again, you are included in the hyena laughter, and you take a deep breath.

the streets are not quiet. it’s late, but it’s still so busy. cars and buses whizzing past, laughter and music pouring in from every open bar door.

this place, this city, it’s no wonder denki wanted to move up here.

bright, loud, vibrant.

just like him.

speaking of…

there’s suddenly a horrific, wailing, screech, that echoes around the street. you spin your head, sero and denki, both two steps behind you. or… were?

sero’s standing, sorry, crouching, hands on his knees, in a fit of cackles, coughing and spluttering. and denki, poor, sweet, denki, rushing back over to the group from where, you’re guessing, he was pushed into the road.

“stop fuckin’ around,” the blonde, scary, one bellows out at the both of them, to which they suddenly stand up straight, like well trained military dogs, “i’m not goin’ to a&e again for you schmucks.”

ah, that kicks off the idiots, “whadidhesayyy?”

“schmuck.” —and they both burst into another fit of boisterous cackles.

“are they always like this…?”

“yup.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“mhmm, mhmmm that’s it baby, shiiiiit.”

denki’s always had this weird obsession with the way you smell. it’s not that you smell bad, usually you smell really fucking good, you have a… what’s the word… routine.

you have a routine. he’s seen you, watched you, even earlier tonight, he was sat on his bed ready to go, half scrolling, half watching you lather lotion across your limbs, practically drooling at the sight of your doughy thighs glistening with body butter.

and he thought that was the end. but then you pulled out your body oil, oh okay, which is actually very different to body lotion… apparently? and then, you’re done— oh, wait, no, now you have, uh, body spray? okay now you’re definitely finish– perfume oil? how many oils does one person need?

he can admit, the routine lasts, it does the job, he can get hints of it now, this close to you, whiffs of jasmine, and vanilla, and whatever that yummy spicy smell is, but that’s not what he means.

he loves the smell of your skin, of your sweat, of your natural body odour, that’s what makes it weird.

like right now, you’re sat on the closed toilet seat, in the back of that bar, the supposed ‘best spot in old town,’ with your legs thrown over denki’s shoulders, and him, on his knees before you, taking turns between viciously eating your pussy, and taking deep inhales of your cunt. he can’t help himself, there’s something addictive about you, pretty pink lips suckling on your clit, tongue lolling out to lick fat stripes across your sloppy, gummy, entrance, and his eyes rolling at you scent.

fuck, it’s “so good,” he dazedly mutters, nose buried into your bush, “sosososo so goooood mama holy fu-uck.”

your foot digs itself into his shoulder blade, as the vibrations of his drunken praise send shivers up your spine, “you’re so fucking nasty.”

“mmmm, i know, i know,” he does know, but he also doesn’t care, how could he, your fingers gripping his hair, your nails scratching at his scalp, your clit throbbing between his lips.

he takes a moment to very carefully trace his teeth along your pulsing bud, that makes you jolt, and hiss at him through your teeth, and clamp your thighs around his head, just like he wanted.

fffuck, he’s dizzy.

denki was already decently faded, but the smell of your pussy is even more intoxicating then any liquor, and so much sweeter, your juices just spilling into his mouth, so fucking delicious, oh lord.

“denks’, denki, denki, s’too much, fucking relax—”

you always get mean when you’re close, like your body doesn’t allow itself to experience pleasure without a negative output.

good thing denki likes it, right.

“shiiiiiit,” he gasps, between, disgustingly wet slobbers, his tongue prodding at your sensitive, stimulated, walls, “you gonna squirt in my mouth?” your mushy, gummy, pussy, just oozing with slick, all for him to gobble up, “oh, shit, please, pleasepleaseplease—”

and you cum with a hand burying his face into your cunt, hectic rolls of your hips, quivering thighs. your jelly legs collapse around his shoulders, your body slack against the wall, just panting for a minute, chest rising and falling with your laboured breaths. denki looks stupidly proud of himself, with that smug grin gracing his shiny lips. your heel kicks out again to smack that ridiculous look off his face, but it literally does nothing to deform his starry-eyed expression.

“well, shit,” you breathe out finally, your eyes, half-lidded, as you watch him stand up, and snort at the crack of his knees.

“s’that all you got t’say?” denki snickers down at you while dusting the floor imprints off of his jeans.

“what d’you want me to say?”

“oh, i dunno,” he fake contemplates, and then, in a stupidly high pitched tone that sounds absolutely nothing like you, goes, “kwahhh thank you, big dick daddy denki for eatin’ my pussy— OW FUCK.”

your foot, again, saying hello to his shin.

“who the fuck is calling you big dick daddy denki, you fucking loser?”

“ehhhh you’d be surprised.”

you’re about to say something else, maybe comment on how there’s a little wet patch on the crotch of his jeans, when a loud thump at the stall door interrupts your train of thought.

and, of course, no shame kaminari goes, “yellooo?” in the fucking most ridiculous, you’ve used ridiculous to describe him many a time but there really isn’t a better word, voice you’ve ever heard from a guy who was literally on his knees, seconds prior.

but, who’s voice is coming from the other side of the door?

“you’ve got all my smokes in y’er pocket, shitface.”

and you watch denki check, then pull a face, because he does have all sero’s smoke in his pocket, “oopsie, we’ll be right out!”

“we?”

and again, no-shame kaminari, just hits the latch on the door, and swings it open, while you’re still sat on the fucking toilet, recovering, and he’s still got your remnants smeared all over his mouth.

“stop fuckin’ disappearin….”

sero’s dark lazy eyes scan his friend, his glossy mouth, his flattened hair, the stain on his jeans.

he raises an eyebrow very slowly, then calls out to you, whom he can not see, but still, he knows his friend, “we have to stop meeting like this.”

“what did i say?” denki practically whines, “don’t fucking talk t’er.” and shoves his friend in the chest to make him back away from where he was leaning against the doorframe.

“what the fuck is your problem today,” sero sighs, not moving an inch, instead crossing one arm over the other and sneering down at his friend, “one minute it’s don’t talk to her, the next it’s please stay with her? what— i don’t even know what you’re thinking half the time.”

this is so fucking awkward, you wanna say something, or get up at least, but you also think, maybe, if you don’t move a muscle, they’ll both forget you’re there.

“unless…” sero pauses, the tip of his tongue peeking out, as he releases another one of those, vicious biting grins, “i know exactly what you’re thinking ‘bout.”

“you don’t know shit.”

“oh really?” he snarks back at denki, who is shaking with… you can’t even tell, and you’ve known denki for a long time, agitation? maybe?

until.

denki decides to make the very poor choice of turning his head, only slightly, to look back at you.

and it’s written all over his face.

because he's flushed, with something that is not the embarrassment of being caught eating pussy in a public restroom. in fact, he’s bitten his lips raw, his pupils are blown, and his eyes are formed into an expression you know very well.

you’re not stupid.

and this time you do want to say something, but you don’t even have the time to formulate the sentence in your head because denki pushes sero out of the stall with one hand, the other hand firm against the door frame, obscuring any vision of you from the outside, and says to you, “can you… uh… give us a minute? we’ll meet you outside—”

and then he’s gone. not by his own will, but because a tanned, flexed hand, has reached out, gripped his t-shirt and pulled him away.

the two guys stumble their way outside, through the bathroom and the purple lit bar interior, with sticky carpeted floors, and overwhelming chatter. there's no 'sorry’s' or 'excuse me’s' as they push past the intoxicated crowd with their elbows out, just denki spluttering the whole time.

“you are so— you’re such a— i can’t even—”

“then don’t,” sero breathes against his neck, as he pushes the blonde against the wall of the deserted alleyway. before his lips attach, grow teeth, and sink deep into denki’s skin, just below a mark that, sero assumes, you had left.

“so fucking needy, ain’t ya?” as he nibbles across the blonde’s pulse points, and curves his palm so he can cup denki’s straining erection. “s’kinda embarrassing if you ask me.”

“good thing no one was asking,” denki replies with his own fingers tracing along sero’s waistband.

sero groans at the tease, bucking his hips up into the sensation, “m’just saying, if you wanna ask her, ask her.”

this is like, the worst place possible to have this conversation.

it’s nearly 2am, the rest of the group is still inside, getting up to some bullshit like they always do, like denki has spent most of his college career doing. except he can’t participate properly, not this time, not when he has the self-proclaimed 'biggest moral dilemma of the century' looming over his head.

sero sighs, giving up on trying to undo denki’s belt, and rutting forward against his friend so both their crotches meet in this delicious tingle of friction, “i can hear you thinking y’know.”

“what if,” denki cuts himself off with a groan, and a roll of his hips, the cold brick wall doing nothing to soothe his feverish skin, “what if she thinks it’s weird?”

“why the— shit, that’s good— why the hell would she think it’s weird?”

his nails dig into sero’s shoulders at a particularly forceful thrust that has his head reeling, and his body whining, “’cos what do i even say like, hey i want you and my other-bestfriend-slash-roommate-slash-guy-i’m-currently-fucking-with to share me?”

“is that it?”

denki stills at the sound of your voice.

he tilts his head left and, you’re lent against the other side of the wall, half a joint hanging out of the corner of your mouth, patting your pockets down in search of a lighter.

sero, cheeses again, you roll your eyes at the sight of it, but hum in thanks when he tosses a zippo your way. the sound of the spark wheel is like a honing signal, and sero releases the tight grip he had on denki, who now crumples against the wall in embarrassment, to get a hit from you.

you inhale deeply, the end flaring up a bright cherry red, illuminating the bored look on your face in the dark alley.

you exhale in silence, pass the joint to sero, and make your way over to denki.

“dude,” you say softly, leaning your shoulder against the blonde, “you know you can ask me anything.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“now what do you say?”

denki’s bed frame sounds like it’s gonna break, for real this time. it’s creaking and rattling like it only has seconds left to live before it collapses in on itself and takes the three of you down with it.

your pussy won’t let go, denki thinks he might actually die, with the way your walls are pulsing around his dribbling cock, practically milking him.

it wouldn’t be a bad way to go, the crease where your stomach meets your thighs and the sight of your jiggling tits will follow him into the afterlife. along with the way your hips tortuously grind down on him, and the unforgettable sensation of your pussy bubbling around the base of his cock, coating him in a juicy shine of slick, leaving that creamy ring stained forever into his memory.

“s-s-sorry?” he gasps out with laboured breaths, his chest caving, his heart feels like it’s gonna fall out of his throat from how fast it’s beating.

“hmmm, sorry for what?” you don’t give him a moment to think, sucking the soul out of his dick, you see his eyes roll back into his head, dreamy, dopey, pussy drunk smile glazing his face.

“for–for being weird about it?” he finally croaks out when you slow at his silence.

you share a look with sero across denki’s shaking shoulders, from where he’s pistoling his cock into the blonde’s ass.

he sends you a smile, it forms slowly, beginning with a small grin, eventually spreading across his face, his lips stretching and curving, his teeth biting, with that same smirk in his eyes.

“and,” sero murmurs into his ears as his hands find purchase in denki’s hair, a mean grip that has the blonde carolling into your sweat slicked chest, the stimulus making his mind hazy, “you can ask for anything.”

denki’s head lolls, the sight of him, disoriented with pleasure, has you involuntarily clenching, which send him into another spiral, and leaving sloppy marks over any part of your body he can reach.

“say it.”

“i can—” denki groans against your skin, absolutely fucked out, his fingers bruising your hips with his grip, “holy fuck— i can a-ask for anything.”

"good boy," your voice is like honey in his ears, trickling sexual syrup right through his nervous system. the praise makes denki throb inside of you, you can feel it, the pulse, and you send it right back, rudely clenching down on him again, making him jerk his hips back in agony, right back into sero's cock.

it's disgusting, so fucking filthy, the room reeks of weed and your combined bodily fluids, his mattress is probably soaked in your sweat, and in denki's drool.

it's agonisingly good though, the near constant push and pull of three bodies.

denki feels like he's about to black out, and he keeps pathetically humping into both you and sero like that's gonna keep him from disaster.

his head tilts to suck on your tits, and you use his shoulder for leverage, so you can bounce on him properly, the motion sending him backwards into sero's hard chest, "denki, baby, you gonna cum for us?"

he gurgles in reply, too sex drunk to string any coherent thoughts together, just pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure, his kiss-bitten body trembling, all your grunts and moans poured into his ears like fucking music.

“denki, denki, denki.”

god, he's gonna cum, he can feel it building, the two of you aren't far behind if the pick up in pace is anything to go by.

he can feel it, fuck, hot under his veins, ecstasy thrumming through his body, it's never felt this good, he might die.

“denki—”

he's so fucking close, so close, oh god, everything, this long ass day, the constant tease from the both of you, and he finally gets to have this—

“denki.”

“huh, huh, what?”

his head flops back down into the pillow.

the sunlight streaming through the open blinds is hurting his eyes, and god, his head’s fucking pounding.

his tongue slips out to wet his dry lips, fully intending on going back to sleep, back to that fucking dream, anything to get away from this horrible sunlight.

oh, nevermind.

he can't go back to sleep, not with his excrutiating morning wood, leaking pre all inside his boxers.

he ruts down against his suprisingly smooth mattress with a satisfied groan, and another sleep filled sigh.

“dude are you serious?” an equally sleep stricken voice calls out from next to him.

oops.

turns out his soft, smooth, mattress was his best-friends thigh.

denki's eyes flutter open weakly, and sero stares back at him, his dark hair a mess, his limbs stretched out across the bed.

“are you gonna stop that or what?” sero drawls again, voice hoarse with disuse, he raises a tatted arm to cover his eyes, and curses the morning under his breath.

the blonde's hips are still moving on auto pilot, relentlessly chasing a pleasure he can only imagine, until sero swats at him to stop.

hands rubbing his face, denki turns back around with a deep yawn, then starts feeling under the blankets for his vape.

“aren't we—” sero yawns uncontrollably mid sentence, so hard tears start forming in his waterline, “aren't we supposed to go meet your friend at the station in a few?”

denki stretches his back with another deep yawn in reply as he grumbles, “s’too early man, s'way too early.”

suddenly, the blonde bolts up against the headboard, smacking his dry lips for a minute, and says:

“dude, i just had the craziest dream.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

… end of playback

taglist my asshole im so sorry im like dead on the inside lowkey