Thread by @iiastriferii

Day 15: Royal AU || Clothed Sex || #shinkamimonth2022 @shkmevents

👑💜👑💛👑

Denki hauls himself to his knees with a stifled whimper.

His wooden training sword lies abandoned across the cobblestone yard, and he can feel a bruise forming on the outside of his thigh.

Above him, Katsuki is the picture of mollified arrogance, handsome and golden in the afternoon sunlight.

A smile like the cut of a blade is slashed across his face, and ruby eyes glint victory.

“What were you saying, hah? Better swordsman who???”

Denki averts his eyes but rolls them all the same. Katsuki’s fun to goad until he isn’t, until he takes it too far and goes until someone’s battered and bruised.

That someone, ever since they were boys, has tended to be Denki.

Still, he has his flaws,talented as he may be.

Denki shrugs, brushing some of the dirt from his pants and grinning up at his cousin.

“I dunno, Kacchaaaaann, that one felt a bit like dumb luck. The sun was in my eyes is all!”

Katsuki’s expression sours in an instant, and it only takes the second between the crook of his brow and his mouth forming around a curse for Denki to spring forward on his palms, using his own legs to sweep Katsuki’s out from under him.

Curse replaced by a half-hearted yawp, Denki takes the opportunity to grab him in a headlock with a burst of bright laughter. “Too slow, Kacchan!”

“You’re dead! I get my hands on your throat and your dead, Duneface!”

They roll around like that for gods know how long, scuffing their rough training pants and thin shirts on the stone.

At some point, Denki’s laughter has become contagious, and they bluster and punch and grip at each other like they’re five again, without a care in the world.

So wrapped up are that that they don’t hear the click of heels on stone until it’s too late, and they’re each seized by one ear and pulled apart.

Queen Mitsuki is a hard woman, a warmonger in her younger days and now a ruler not given so easily to foolhardiness.

Her fine gown and immaculate hair do little to hide the iron that makes her up, and both boys simper down like scruffed pups at her harsh look.

“I thought I was raising princes, not a pair of wild mongrels!” she snaps. “Look at you both, rolling in the dirt without a hint of decency!”

Katsuki, ever the sucker for punishment, simply lets out a nonchalant ‘pssh’. “It was a bit of fun, hag! Lighten up!”

The smack she lays across the back of his head is enough to make Denki flinch.

She lets go of both of them, and they stand stock still before her piercing eyes.

Finally, she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “On today of all days. Look at you both! We’re receiving guests, and you’re out here acting like a pair of peasants!”

He chances a look over at Katsuki, and his heart does a little jerk. His cousin does not often look so chastised, but now he refuses to look his mother in the face.

Denki sighs, and chances a step forward. “Katsuki was preparing as normal, Your Majesty. I…I goaded him into it.”

His cousin’s look is sharp and quick. Katsuki is many things, prideful chief among them, and he never takes kindly to being covered for.

Before he can lash out, however, Mitsuki drags a hand down her face and give her son a good push towards the castle.

“Enough bitching from you, go clean up and get ready. Hizashi and Shouta haven’t been here since before that border skirmish, and we need to show them that all that’s smoothed over.”

Her eyes, carmine and rough like her son’s, shift to one side. “We’ve had enough skirmishing to last a lifetime.”

Katsuki glances back at Denki for a moment and then stalks, grumbling, back up to the castle.

He tries to follow, head down like a whipped dog, but Mitsuki is quicker than that. “Denki.”

He flinches. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Come here.”

//I’m dead,// he thinks, eyes to the sky as he prays a final prayer. //So very, very dead.//

She’s already nearly a head taller than him, and her heels ensure that he has to look up into her unimpressed face.

He turns the charm all the way on, and though he isn’t so sure his “winning smile” is going to do him any favors this go round, it’s a prince’s prerogative to go out fighting.

His aunt is unimpressed. “Denki, today is-“

“Special, I know-“

“Don’t interrupt! I know I raised you with better manners.”

He deflates, smile falling. Better manners indeed, if years of protocol lessons have anything to say about it. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She makes a sound in the pack of her throat, some half-wan note of pity as she takes his face in one hand and guides him to look in her eyes.

They’re softer now, and the ghost of a smile lingers on the corner of her mouth.

“Come on, none of that ‘Majesty’ business. I’m your aunt, first and always.”

Her thumb drags along the line of his cheek, and she brushes a lock of hair behind his ear. “Denki, I’m like this because you represent this family just as much as Katsuki does.“

He looks off to the side, where both their training swords lie abandoned. Mitsuki’s never pulled punches, nor enjoyed parsing of words.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he mumbles.

She clicks her teeth. “Denki-“

“I’m serious! He’s all ‘gonna be king someday!’ and I’m all ‘prince who isn’t even really supposed to be a prince so he just goofs off all the time’.

Something red and raw feels opened in his chest, and if she senses it, she treats it with a rough kind of care.

She ruffles his hair, and gives him a light shove back in the direction of the castle. “You’ll have your time to prove yourself, Denki. Don’t worry.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, and as he climbs the steps to the castles large doors all he can think is “Yeah, right.”

👑💜👑💛👑

He may envy Katsuki a few things, but dress is /not/ one of them.

It’s hilarious to watch his cousin fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat and the knot of his cravat like they personally offend him.

Knowing Katsuki, they absolutely do.

Meanwhile, he stands to the right and slightly behind the throne dressed down in a simple silk shirt and black trousers, polished shoes and a single gold medallion bearing the kingdom’s sigil.

It’s simple, elegant, and sure to keep any of the visitor’s attention away from him.

One of their men’s already reported a carriage approaching, and the entire court is on edge.

While Prince Consort Hizashi is jovial and not given to grudges, his Lord Husband is…not so understanding. Whatever negotiations his aunt may be planning, they need to go /well/.

The air in the room is pulled taut, heavy with promise and change as the trumpets outside signal the arrival of their visitors.

The doors open and…

Oh.

Visito/r/.

The young man that enters has all the bearing of a prince with none of the arrogance. His mauve hair is combed back to show off a strong, handsome, if a bit tired, face.

His clothes, dark and stately save for an intricately embroidered waistcoat and a gold embossed sword sheath at his belt fit him well, and the barest hints of gold glint on his fingers.

He is /beautiful/. And Denki suddenly feels very, very in danger.

(Brief intermission to showcase Denki and Shinsou’s fits)

The thread of the room grows steeped in confusion. Where is King Shouta, with Prince Hizashi on his arm?

He can see Katsuki ready to say as much, but Mitsuki beats him to the punch.

She leans forward on her throne, head cocked to one side.

“Well I’ll be damned. That’s not Hitoshi, is it?”

The strange prince smiles, a long and grim thing, and he bends at the waist, allowing a few strands of hair to fall into his eyes.

“The one and only, Your Majesty.”

Mitsuki barks a laugh, and the room breathes a collective sigh of relief.

“Look how you’ve grown! You were hardly a wisp of a thing when last I saw you.”

Prince Hitoshi lifts his head, using this gold claw rings to scratch at the back of his neck. “Time’s been kind to me, Your Majesty. As it has been to you and yours.”

Denki tells himself that the turn of purple eyes on him is merely a trick of the light.

Mitsuki makes a face. “Ach, you know I don’t do flattery. But thank you, all the same. Where are your parents?”

Hitoshi cradles his face with those ringed fingers. Long fingers, strong and well groomed.

Denki quietly shifts himself just a bit more behind the throne.

“The traveling’s not been easy on my sister, so they’re a bit delayed.”

She leans back in her throne, now fully relaxed as she cocks a brow. “Sister? They’ve adopted another, then?”

He nods. “Yes, Your Majesty. Eri. She’s a fine girl, sweet but…delicate. We didn’t want to offend with lateness, so I volunteered to ride on ahead.”

This earns one of Mitsuki’s rare smiles. “What a gentleman, then. You’re a credit to your parents, Prince Hitoshi. This is already a fine start to our negotiations.”

Hitoshi inclines his head, and Denki knows this is no trick of the light when a sharp look enters his eye.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Mitsuki waves a hand to her two boys, and they both make their bows. Katsuki’s is stiff, barely a bow at all. Denki’s is deeper, and when he rises, it’s to Hitoshi’s eyes on him.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with these two.”

Katsuki grumbles some greeting, clearly already loathing whatever interaction he and Hitoshi will probably be forced to have during this visit.

Hitoshi looks equally as enthused for all of two seconds before his eyes go back to Denki.

“The servants will get you settled in your guest chambers, and then Prince Denki will have the pleasure of getting you acquainted with the grounds.”

Each prince perks immediately; Katsuki with sadistic relief, Hitoshi with interest, and Denki with flustered horror.

He’s barely able to lean down to the throne and choke out an “Aunt Mitsuki-“ before she stands and holds up an arm.

“We are adjourned for now! Dismissed.”

Hitoshi makes his exit with one final nod to Mitsuki, Katsuki, and finally Denki before turning away with a flourish of his dark coat.

The room slowly empties after him, and Katsuki nudges him with a harsh cackle. “Good luck entertaining that piece of shit. Ha!”

“Fuck off!” he hisses, but it holds little gravity. Katsuki saunters off, and he’s left with Mitsuki.

His aunt looks…far too smug.

He clasps his hands together in the best impression of piety he can muster. “Beloved aunt of mine-“

“Cut the shit, Denki.”

“Okay! What the fuck!”

She leans forward just enough to cuff him on the ear. “You wanted some responsibility! A chance to “prove yourself” if I recall correctly? Now one falls into your lap and you give me attitude??”

//I’m giving you attitude because I’m afraid I’ll be falling into /his/ lap,// is what he really wants to say.

Instead, he presses his palms together, takes a deep breath through his nose, and presses the biggest, fakest, shittiest smile onto his face.

“Forgive me, dear aunt! You’ve entrusted me with a great task, and I’ll do it to the best of my abilities!”

All of this, of course, is said through his teeth.

He turns on his heel, each click of his shoes as he exits the great hall very nearly masking Mitsuki’s smug, “I’m sure you will.”

👑💜👑💛👑

//it’s a simple assignment,// he tells himself as he drags his feet through the halls. //Simple and easy and so, so easy, how easy would it be for him to fit his hands around my waist, probably /too/ easy-//

He catches himself with a quick slap to the face, eyes wide and wild.

Both hands press hard into his cheeks, dragging them down with all the gravity of his situation. “I’m doomed.”

“We can’t have that,” croons a too deep voice from behind him. “No prince should be in such distress.”

Denki freezes.

//I shouldn’t turn around. I’m safe so long as I don’t turn around-//

Prince Hitoshi, ever the industrious, fixes that for him by circling to his front like a leopard stalking its prey.

//This is it. The negations are ruined. My honor, my throne, my country, they’re all going to go up in smoke because I can’t keep it in my pants.//

“Prince Denki?” says Sin-Incarnate. “Are you alright? I’d love if we could begin the tour.”

He catches himself with a not-too-theatric-at-all clear of the throat, smiling a touch too amicably. “The tour! Right, the tour. Big, really big castle. Lots to…”

Hitoshi quirks an eyebrow. He swallows. “…See. This way.”

The next ten minutes are filled with gestures to tapestry and artistry and masonry and every other -ry Denki can think to talk about, interspersed with facts about the castle’s history that come to him in bursts as they re-enter his memory from one lesson like five years ago.

Hitoshi takes it all in stride, walking along and silently nodding at all of Denki’s rambling with his hands folded behind his back.

Denki goes off on a tangent about some painting of Mitsuki’s great-great grandmother in an attempt to NOT think about how corded those arms must be under his coat sleeves.

//I’m totally doing fine,// he thinks. //I have got this under the utmost control, I am the absolute /picture/ of sophistication-//

“Prince Denki?”

His voice absolutely does not crack when he hurriedly says, “Yes?”

//Ah, fuck.//

Hitoshi unfolds his hands to cross them over his chest. A simple, effortless motion and yet-

//Gods, if I ever offended you I’m sorry. Mercy, please.//

“Don’t get me wrong, this tour’s been…illuminating, and I’m grateful and impressed for all your knowledge. It’s just that…”

He deflates in a moment, eyes averted. “Say no more. I wouldn’t want to be talked at about banal castle history by some stuttering, overeager fool either.”

He’s ready to make his great escape, to call it quits and beg Katsuki to take this on and put him out of his misery.

Hitoshi, evidently, has other plans.

He reaches out a hand, the one tipped in gold claw rings, and takes one of Denki’s.

The soft, warm metal presses into the fat of his palm. A shiver of lightning creeps up his spine.

There’s that smile again, long and grim and so heartbreakingly handsome.

“A fool, you’re not. But stuttering and overeager, I’m prone to liking.”

//Gods be near me.//

It takes him a second to come back after that, and all he can manage is, “W-what?”

“I was too happy when Queen Mitsuki assigned you instead of her explosive brat. He’s got a reputation that precedes him by a thousand miles but you…I want to know you. Denki, if I may?”

Denki curls his fingers around Hitoshi’s, legs the claw rings dig into his skin in lieu of pinching himself.

Upon confirmation that this isn’t the most realistic wet dream of his life, he chances a smile and nods. “Only if I can call you Hitoshi?”

The foreign prince smiles that smile again, and brings the hand in his grasp up to his lips.

They’re warm and a bit chapped, but oh gods, does that one small kiss send a flash of heat through the whole of him.

“I would love nothing more.”

The hours fly by as they chat and yammer and gossip. Denki regales Hitoshi with tales of his and Katsuki’s hunting exploits and mishaps, pranks they played on Mitsuki and the subsequent consequences.

Hitoshi laughs, a harsh but genuine thing, and offers up his own tidbits. The way his fathers took him in at a young age, a street rat one night and a prince by morning.

His voice goes soft when he talks about his family, and Denki knows love by the curve of its voice and the miasma it leaves over every word.

He tries to reconcile the harsh stories of The One Eyed King with the sleepy, sarcastic father Hitoshi describes, and finds his own biases thrown back in his face.

“Your family sounds amazing,” he finally says, leaning against the wall of an empty hallway.

It’s lined with alcoves, little out-curved window seats obscured by heavy damask curtains.

Hitoshi leans on the wall next to him, reaching up to scratch at the light scruff on his cheeks and chin.

“We love each other,” he simply says, and then turns to Denki. “What about you?”

He purses his lips. “Katsuki’s alright. When he’s not trying to beat the shit out of me or his squire, he’s a good cousin.”

Hitoshi gives him A Look for a second, opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “If…you don’t mind me asking. How’d you end up here? In Queen Mitsuki’s charge, I mean?”

“You mean how’d a rube like me ever manage to weasel my way into the title of ‘Prince’,” he snickers.

Hitoshi immediately goes to counter, and Denki waves a hand, laughing.

“Yeah, I know, poor taste or whatever. But…y’know, to be honest I don’t even remember? I’ve always+

+ been with Aunt Mitsuki, long as I remember. My mom and her must’ve been best friends or bosom buddies or whatever, and she decided to take me in when she…died? Disappeared?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “I don’t know the whole story. I’m here now, and…that’s what matters.”

Hitoshi shuffles a bit closer, leans down so that they’re eye to eye.

Denki swallows. The place where they’d held hands earlier burns, and he flexes his fingers as though that will dispel the feeling.

“Yes,” says Hitoshi in a voice like silk. “That’s what matters.”

Something passes between them, something thick and humid that has Denki looking away and fiddling with his nails.

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.

“Like what?”

Gold meets tyrian, and Denki can hardly speak for the lump in his throat.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.”

For years after, they’ll disagree on who moved first.

Denki will swear Hitoshi dug those clawed rings into his hair, and Hitoshi will insist it was Denki who took him by the face and pulled him into the alcove behind the curtain.

The window overlooks a portion of the maze garden, partially shielded by a blooming Sakura tree, but anyone at the right angle below would be able to see them.

Denki counts it towards his offenses to the gods that the thought excites him so much.

Hitoshi is quick and eager with his hands, thumbing over find silk and playing with the buttons at Denki’s back.

He only teases, though, refusing to actually remove any clothing.

Denki isn’t sure if he counts it as a blessing or a curse.

He kisses the same way he laughs, harsh and genuine. He tastes like tea and cigar smoke, and Denki licks the miasma of tobacco from the backs of his teeth.

He’s hard beneath all those layers, cock pressing up and insistent through his fine pants and right into Denki’s answering arousal.

“We shouldn’t,” Denki gasps as Hitoshi curls two fingers into the high neck of his shirt. “Our p-parents…the p-peace negotiations- AH!”

He pulls it down just far enough for his lips to reach, and sucks a declaration of “Let them do what they want. We have our own negotiations to tend to right here.”

“Oh GODS!”

As quick as it comes, one of Hitoshi’s large hands presses over his mouth. The feeling alone sends a jolt between his legs, and his toes curl in his fine shoes.

The prince’s voice is all gravel when he says, “There’ll be time for me to hear your voice later, sweet thing. For now, if you cry out, I stop. Understood?”

Denki’s vision goes dark with how far his eyes roll back into his head. His poor trousers have to be soaked by now, and he can’t bring himself to give a shit.

Hitoshi’s assault on his neck continues with a vengeance, and somewhere in all of it, he’s able to hoist Denki up further onto his lap.

Their cocks press together through the fabric, and Denki doesn’t think as he drags his hips back and forth.

Pressing them ever closer, feeling Hitoshi huff and pant into his neck.

Dreaming of something different. Of skin on skin, of bare hands gripping his ass-cheeks, spreading him open-

He gasps into Hitoshi’s palm, pulling his lips in to bite down on them as he rides.

Hitoshi’s lips and tongue on his neck are relentless, and despite his order for quiet, there’s a steady stream of whispering through his kisses.

“Knew the moment I saw you,” he breathes around the rim of a maroon bruise. “You were like sunlight. Fuck, so beautiful. So, so beautiful.”

His voice goes strange, breathy and a bit whiny. His cock is leaking so much by this that some of it is beading through his trousers.

Denki is hardly better, one hand pressed to the wall behind Hitoshi’s head and the other on his shoulder for leverage.

He grinds his hips in mindless circles, all his pathetic whining and crying going straight into Hitoshi’s palm.

//I’m going to cum,// is all that’s in his head. //I’m going to cum in my /fucking/ pants like a virgin-//

Hitoshi chooses that moment to uncap his mouth, to reach both hands down to his ass and /grip/.

He pulls Denki back and forth on his cock in a play of the real thing, a promise for later.

A promise for a bed, and oil, and the dark of the night instead of some bloody alcove where anyone could find them rutting like animals.

Denki very nearly pops something in his jaw when he orgasms, legs trembling violently and cum flooding his trousers.

His attempts at quiet are very nearly broken by a few heavy breaths, a whiny little “HMMM” that sends Hitoshi over the edge as well.

Oh, he’s beautiful when he cums, too. Head thrown back, teeth clenched and neck taut.

Denki’s sure he’ll feel the iron grip Hitoshi has on his ass for /weeks/ after this.

He fucks up into Denki, presses their wet, clothed cocks together and he can hardly think for want of feeling the real thing.

They come down slow, holding each other in this little world they’ve made for themselves.

Hitoshi kisses his whole face, soothes his hands over Denki’s clothes in some attempt to put him to rights.

Denki kisses back, laughs a little and says, “You know, I was a goner the second you walked in. All handsome and mysterious.”

Hitoshi makes a face, dragging one hand up and down his back. “Mysterious, am I?”

“Please, the coat, the cape, the attitude? Mysterious, I say.”

“Hmm.” Denki doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how that hum rattles his very bones. “Well, I hope how I feel isn’t very mysterious anymore, Prince Denki.”

He leans in for a kiss, smiling with lips a hair’s breadth away. “Not at all, Prince Hitoshi-“

“Denki! Where the fuck are you, Dunceface?”

A kiss very quickly turns into a headbutt, and Denki’s post-orgasmic bliss sours into embarrassment and horror.

“Curse all the gods!” he whispers-yells. “He finds me and I’ll never hear the end of it!”

Hitoshi is quick to take his face in his hands, shushing him gently.

“Don’t, don’t worry. I’ll go, distract him and you can escape.”

“B-but,” he tries, gesturing to Hitoshi’s equally as messed up pants.

The prince smiles slyly, holding up one of the pivotal parts of his ensemble. “Cape perks. Now I’ll go, you wait a minute and then make a break for it, okay?”

He moves to get Denki off of his lap, but is quickly stopped by a shy grip to his wrist.

//I don’t know /why/ I’m like this al of a sudden, we just-!//

As if reading his thoughts, Hitoshi presses a quick kiss to his lips. “We’ll /definitely/ be doing that again. Tonight?”

He doesn’t think he’s /too/ eager when he quickly nods and parrots back “Tonight!”

Hitoshi doesn’t seem to think so either if his smile is any indication, and after one more kiss, he pulls his cape around him and sweeps off to divert Katsuki’s attention.

Denki takes a moment to collect himself, and when Hitoshi’s mellow tones mix with his cousin’s yelling, he ducks out the alcove and makes a break for his bedroom.

👑💜👑💛👑

As promised, they meet up again that night.

And the next morning…and every hour after that.

Hitoshi keeps him thoroughly occupied with hands and teeth and tongue, waiting until Denki is wrung out and pliant before slipping his cock inside and fucking him through his mattress.

So caught up are they in each other that they very narrowly avoid missing the rest of Hitoshi’s family’s arrival, two days after his.

They stagger down to the great hall with hastily done clothes and done up collars to hide scratches and bite marks.

The Look he gets from Katsuki lets him know he’ll be catching hell for this well into the years to come.

Mitsuki welcomes the rest of Hitoshi’s family with open arms and an open mind, more than ready to broker peace and good will.

King Shouta is just as surly as Denki’d always imagined, gruff and no-nonsense when it comes to every calculated word out of his mouth.

Still, it’d take a fool to miss the way he softens around his family, the gentle looks he affords his husband and daughter, as well as the hair ruffles for his son.

Eri is as darling a girl as Shinsou described, and even Mitsuki falls in love with her near instantaneously.

She’s gentle to Denki and seems to sense the affection between he and her brother, and welcomes it fully.

On the fifth night of their visit, they sit down for a meal together. Food and wine flow freely, and Denki even manages to strike up some friendly banter with Prince Consort Hizashi.

It’s all going well until Shouta sets down his wineglass with some force, and fixes his sole eye on Mitsuki.

“Your hospitality is appreciated, Majesty, but let’s not forget what we came here for.

In an instant, her energy matches his. She folds her fingers under her chin, eyes sharp as she says “Of course.”

For a moment, everything is still. Both monarchs weigh the pros and cons of making the first move.

Hitoshi cuts into a piece of his food, flicks his brows, and says, “I hardly see why there’s anything to discuss.”

All eyes turn to him as he peacefully chews his food. Shouta sets his silverware down, tilting his head at his son. “And that means?”

Hitoshi holds up a finger, swallows, and as he wipes his mouth, says “In the time I’ve been here, it’s been made more than evident to me that Queen Mitsuki and her people and good natured and valuable allies.”

Shouta and Hizashi share A Look.

Denki refuses to lift his eyes from the table.

Even Mitsuki seems at a loss for words, though Katsuki looks like he’s a hair’s breadth away from laughing his ass off.

Hizashi clears his throat. “And you’ve figured this how, Toshi?”

Hitoshi is completely unbothered as he says into his wineglass, “Research and observations. Amicability, cleverness…” He takes a sip, and swirls the rest around. “Flexibility.”

Gods on high, Denki just might die right here. Katsuki is /barely/ holding it together, masking his laughter with a napkin pressed to his mouth.

Shouta looks at Hitoshi for a long moment before turning his attention to Mitsuki.

“As I’m sure you’ve done with yours, I’ve trained my son well. I trust his judgement. If you’re as willing as I am, Mitsuki, then we should have no problem fostering peace.”

If she’s caught off guard, she hides it well. Denki doesn’t dare imagine she casts him a look before turning her full attention on Shouta.

“I couldn’t agree more.” She takes her wineglass, holding it high. “To the beginning of a long friendship!”

They all raise their classes in turn, shouts of “here, here!” echoing around the room.

Denki hardly dares to meet Shinsou’s eyes across the table. When he does, he’s met with his lover taking a long draught from his glass.

He winks, and Denki can’t help but laugh a little. “Here, here!” he says, with his glass held up to Hitoshi.

// 👑 F.I.N👑

(PHEW. I’ve been trying for DAYS to get this one out, and it’s finally here! I hope you all enjoyed it , and please please please don’t hesitate to leave QRTs with all your thoughts! Love you!!💖💖💖)

(Also PLZ feast your eyes on this beautiful art that definitively determined Denki’s fit for this fic)

https://twitter.com/voovoohere/status/1545924039805472768

@threadreaderapp unroll

👑Read on AO3 here!👑

archiveofourown.org/works/40422483…