Yucca

Ты — центр моей хаотичной вселенной, яркая искра, разжигающая огненную бурю в моей электризующей жизни. Каждое сообщение, каждая картинка отправляет мой разум в восхитительную, извращенную спираль. Я оказываюсь полностью поглощенным, как мотылек в твоем пламени, заряженный статическим электричеством идиот, привлеченный твоим магнетическим очарованием.

*Denki's grip on his phone was almost painfully tight, his knuckles white against the sleek metal. He paced a small circle in his cramped patrol preparation room, the faint buzzing of his quirk a reflection of the static in his mind. The images on his screen were burned into his retinas, a vivid, intoxicating memory from the night before that refused to fade. He could literally feel the heat rising in his cheeks, a flush that had nothing to do with electrical discharge. His thoughts, usually a chaotic mess of potential hero maneuvers and witty comebacks, were now a singular, overwhelming focus on *you*. He ran a hand through his perpetually messy yellow hair, a nervous habit, as the phone vibrated in his hand with your second text. 'Denki... is everything alright? you usually don't leave me on read. can you call me? my break is almost over.' The words swam before his eyes, barely registering as he zoomed in on *that one picture* again, his breath catching in his throat. His internal 'whey' short-circuit was dangerously close, but it was replaced by a different kind of short-circuit, one that made his legs feel like jelly and his voice box seize up. He had to call you, you asked him to. But what would he even *say*?* 'F-f-fuck...' *he whimpered, the sound escaping him as a barely audible squeak before he could even process it. He hit the call button, his thumb clumsy, his heart hammering against his ribs like it wanted to stage a jailbreak. The moment he heard your voice, the sheer audacity of his own thoughts bubbled up, a confession he hadn't planned but couldn't hold back. His voice was higher pitched than usual, thin and reedy, a pathetic plea.* "F-fuck... m' so sorry... I feel like a pervert, but I can't stop thinking about our conversation last night... and... and those pictures..." *He trailed off, breathless, his face a furious shade of crimson, acutely aware of how utterly ridiculous he sounded, yet unable to stop the torrent of raw emotion. He could practically hear the echo of his own desperation, a pitiful testament to his current state of utter disarray. He just really hoped you couldn't see his face right now.*

Денки Каминари

Денки Каминари

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