Electric Submission

Chapter 7 - Puppet Strings

The training room was dark, quiet, almost forgotten at this hour. Most of Class 1-A was in their dorms, asleep or pretending to be. But Denki Kaminari wasn't anywhere near his bed. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, nervously drumming his fingers on his knees as he waited for Shinsō.

When the door creaked open, Kaminari looked up, his grin automatic. "Yo. Took you long enough. I was about to short-circuit just waiting."

Shinsō closed the door behind him with that infuriating calm of his, scarf draped casually over one shoulder. "Maybe that's the point," he murmured. "You fidget. You spark. You're already worked up before I've even touched you."

Kaminari's cheeks burned, but the spark of excitement in his chest only grew. He swallowed, playing it off with a laugh. "Guess I just run high voltage."

Shinsō stepped closer, boots echoing on the training room floor. His eyes gleamed with that lazy, predatory edge Kaminari was coming to crave. "You said you wanted to try something new," Shinsō said, voice low.

Kaminari nodded, his grin faltering into something more vulnerable. He knew what Shinsō was implying. They'd danced around it before—jokes, whispers, what-ifs. But tonight, Shinsō wanted to take it further. Kaminari's pulse kicked.

"You sure?" Shinsō asked, crouching in front of him now. "Once I start, I'll be in your head. I'll be controlling you. You'll do whatever I say."

Denki shivered, eyes darting up to meet Shinsō's steady gaze. "That's... the point, right?" His voice cracked, but his smirk followed. "C'mon, brainwasher. Fry me."

Shinsō's lips twitched, half a smirk, half approval. He leaned closer until Kaminari could feel the heat of his breath. "Say something," Shinsō ordered softly.

"Uh—like what—"

"Good enough," Shinsō cut in, his voice laced with command.

Instantly, Denki's chest went slack, his body sinking back against the wall. His golden eyes glazed faintly, sparks flickering weakly around his fingertips like a stalled engine. His grin faded into blank openness.

Shinsō's breath caught. He'd used his quirk a hundred times in training, in mock battles, in missions. But never like this. Never with someone who wanted to be taken apart by it.

"Stand up," Shinsō ordered.

Denki's body obeyed instantly, rising fluidly to his feet. Shinsō watched his friend—his... something—stand there, utterly still, waiting. Completely his.

Shinsō circled him slowly, scarf trailing across Kaminari's shoulder as he passed. "Hands behind your back."

Without hesitation, Kaminari complied. His scarf slid around Denki's wrists, binding him neatly. Shinsō tugged, testing the restraint, and Kaminari didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.

"Look at me," Shinsō said.

Denki's golden eyes locked on his. Blank, patient, ready.

Shinsō's control tightened in his chest, not just from his quirk but from the sheer power of the moment. He could tell Kaminari to kneel, to beg, to expose every inch of himself—and Kaminari would. The thought made his voice come out rougher than intended.

"Kneel."

Denki's knees hit the mat with a soft thud. His scarf-bound hands tugged against the restraint, but he made no move to resist.

Shinsō's breath was shaky now, though his words came sharp and deliberate. "You like this," he murmured. "You like not thinking. Just waiting for me to tell you what to do."

"Yes," Denki said flatly, voice quirk-controlled.

The admission hit Shinsō like a spark straight to the chest. His control wavered, not in the quirk but in himself. He crouched low, close enough to see every flicker of electricity crawling over Denki's skin.

"Open your mouth," Shinsō said.

Kaminari obeyed instantly, lips parting, breath shallow. Shinsō's pulse thudded hard. He cupped Denki's jaw, tilting his head back just slightly. He leaned close enough that Kaminari could feel the warmth of his breath, the press of dominance in the air between them.

Shinsō's voice dropped lower, rougher. "You're mine like this. My puppet. My toy."

"Yes," Kaminari echoed blankly. Sparks danced over his shoulders, the static reacting to the heat of his own body, to the pulse beneath the command.

Shinsō lingered there, staring into the glassy obedience in Denki's eyes. It was intoxicating—too intoxicating. He could keep going. Push further. Make Kaminari beg, make him break.

But then, something inside him tugged. A reminder. This wasn't a villain, a faceless target. This was Kaminari. His friend. His partner. The boy who grinned too much, laughed too loud, and had trusted Shinsō with this side of him.

Shinsō exhaled, grounding himself. He released his scarf from Kaminari's wrists and softened his voice. "Stop."

The quirk released instantly. Denki blinked hard, color rushing back into his eyes. He stumbled slightly, disoriented, before realizing his position on his knees, scarf hanging loose around him. His face flushed crimson.

"Holy shit," Kaminari whispered, breath shaky. "That was... insane." He rubbed his wrists, though not from pain. More like he missed the restraint. "You—Shinsō, you had me. Like, completely."

Shinsō crouched in front of him, steadying him with a hand to his shoulder. "Are you okay?" His tone was softer now, the edge of command replaced with something careful, almost protective.

Denki looked up at him, still panting lightly, sparks buzzing uncontrolled at the corners of his grin. "Are you kidding? That was the hottest thing I've ever experienced." His grin widened into something giddy. "You could've made me do anything. And I let you."

Shinsō's throat tightened. He brushed a thumb along Denki's jaw without thinking. "That's why I had to stop."

Kaminari blinked, confused.

Shinsō's eyes softened, tired but sincere. "Because it's not about how much control I can take. It's about how much I should. You trust me with this. I can't take that lightly."

For once, Denki didn't have a snappy comeback. He swallowed, his grin wobbling into something smaller, more vulnerable. "You're... really kind of perfect at this, you know that?"

Shinsō huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes to disguise the flush creeping up his neck. "You're impossible."

But Denki only leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. "Yeah," he whispered, still buzzing, still trembling from the quirk's aftershock. "But I'm yours anyway."

Shinsō froze for a moment, scarf hanging loose in his grip. Then, slowly, he wrapped it around Denki's shoulders—not binding this time, just draping. A gesture of closeness, of care.

"Yeah," Shinsō said softly. "You are."