#i had kirishima brain rot all day 🥺🍓

[willowser]

[ nsfw ] — edit to say: there is now a prequel piece to this 🤗

"yer a married woman."

kirishima murmurs it to your mare quietly, scrubbing a rough hand down the front of her muzzle as he frowns, as the words sit between you both like a life sentence. a royal order not even you can overturn.

"i am," you agree, and his eyes flick to yours over the saddle for just a moment before falling away, ashamed. for all that he lacks in wealth and class, he's more honorable than any knight you've ever known, more respect in his pouty lips than in all the kings of the north. if only you could be the same, then perhaps this hurt wouldn't wound you both so deeply. "are you married, ser eijirou?"

"no, 'm not," his frown deepens, even pulling a crease between his eyebrows as he stares at the ground, hard as iron. "'n i beg yer pardon, m'lady, but i'm no ser."

his tone doesn't lighten, not even when he peeks again to find you smiling coyly; instead he turns his back to fiddle with a rake, kicking straw into the corner of the stable to busy himself—from you. he's only trying to protect you both, but you expected more from him, after what's happened. you can't help but want for more.

worry twists in your stomach. "...do you think ill of me?"

"no, i—not at all, no. no." kirishima sighs and straightens his back, turning his eyes to the wood ceiling as he thinks. a small huff of laughter leaves him and, even if you cannot see his face, the knowledge of his smile puts butterflies in your belly. hope. "if i—i would have to speak ill of myself, if i did."

"and why's that?"

you want him to turn and look at you the way he always has: a step too far out of reach, eyes burning as warm as the blush on his neck, offering a crooked grin before nodding his respects. kirishima's always been so kind, gifting sunshine in return for only a small smile—which has never been an issue to relinquish. not to him.

in the amber light of candles, you think he glows, a gem still to be unearthed. if only you were selfless enough to do so; this is one jewel you'll not give so easily.

kirishima says, "'cause you bein' wed didn't stop me when it should've," and everything ceases. to beat, to pump, to expand in your chest, aching in stillness when he continues. "i should've never touched you."

you gasp. lightly, but with enough intake that he finally faces you, expression twisted with a regret you've never known on him. in all the nights you've shared, hidden away, your conversations have always been cheery and teasing, laced with something neither of you could speak to. you've never seen him so—guilty, almost embarrassed at the way he held you when you met last, when he touched you for the first time. humiliated, perhaps—

your stomach sinks, sours under the acidity of heartbreak, and you give him one, final nod before turning to leave.

"fuckin' hell, i—not that i didn't want to," kirishima rushes, both in word and movement as he stumbles around the mare to close in on you. his hands come up to hold your face gently, thumbs rubbing against your cheekbones until you look into his eyes and—there he is. soft and wanting, just as you. "i still do, but i've made things worse for m'self. because i—" you watch his throat as it works, the edge of his tongue as it dampens his lips. his pupils as they bloom, as he looses his breath. "now i know what you taste of, and 'm only goin' hungry."

you gasp again and all your nerves sing. what ache still resides spreads to the most dangerous parts of your body, throbbing, to where only eijirou can soothe. with him so close, you feel alight, and he doesn't fight when you lean up to press your mouth lovingly against his.

he doesn't carry your same passion, however. even still. he kisses you once, twice, deep and heavy before pulling away with that weight still between his brows.

you don't care, can't care, about what's right or honorable or fated; despite him, you press up again, curling your fingers into the hair that sits free from the low pony-tail at the base of his neck, tugging until he groans. "have me, then. please."

eijirou gasps and, though he tries to shake his head, his hands slip to fist into your skirts. "but yer my queen—"

"then do as i say."

finally, he smiles, all glow and gleam and shine, and he kisses his laugh into you, like he could pass it to you as his tongue brushes your lower lip. what hunger he speaks of—you can feel it too, growing ravenous underneath your skin as you move one of his hands from your hips to grope at your breasts. your boldness makes him shudder, but he kneads at you all the same, running a thumb over your nipple when it pebbles beneath the fabric.

eijirou groans again, playfulness leaving him as he takes a large step, guiding you backwards and into the bales of hay stacked along the wall. it's the move you've been waiting for, one you've been dreaming of since he did it the first time, and you hastily tug at the ties on the front of your dress when he kisses you so hard that you dip backwards.

the noisy rustle of straw has him stilling, trying to stop your hand as he says, "'m—i won't take you in a barn."

you frown up at him, like a child that's been denied, and make a fist against his hand when he doesn't let you go. "it didn't stop you before."

"and it should've." his lips begin to twist again, reminiscent of his doubt from before. when you lean back into the hay and tug him with you, he follows, but his grip on your wrist doesn't lessen. eijirou sighs and your gut lurches, as if he's going to reject you again. "'m ruinin' yer honor—"

"ruin it, i want you to." you breathe it and his eyes snap to yours, hold loosening enough that you can slip your hand between you to the ties on his trousers. "i want to be yours to ruin."

he doesn't fight it again.

kissing him is wet, heated like the skin over the hard plane of his stomach. it flexes when you run a hand over the thick trail of hair at the base of him and, with a low sound from his chest, he pulls back enough to yank your hand away so that he can untie himself. in his shorts, he's already thickening, and he hardly gives you time to touch him again before he's leaning further into you and hiking your skirts up to your waist.

you do your best to shimmy out of your own underclothes, but eijirou buries his face into what he can of your chest, biting softly, sweetly enough to leave no trace. you wish you could give him all of you, in a bed, in the candlelight as he grunts and groans into your skin, as he moans his love and spills inside of you.

when he licks a slow line up your throat, kissing your neck and jaw and cheeks and lips, you know he wishes for the same.

as soon as you get one leg free, he spreads you open, driving himself closer until you can feel the hard weight of him where you're most sensitive. it makes him curse, harsh and low as you whine his name quietly, and just when you think you can't take the wait any longer, he pulls his shorts down enough to slide his tip through your wetness before pushing himself inside you.

"fuckin'—hell—"

the stretch is bliss, just as it was days ago, when the tension between you snapped like thin ribbons of your dress. all that had been leading up to that moment—this one, too—all the careful, fleeting looks and secret smiles; the steady hand in your own as he helped you to mount your mare; the gentle laugh he shared with you, the funny stories he told to hear your own.

you want him, as badly as you've ever wanted anything, and that should stand for something with fate, shouldn't it?

you dig a hand back into his hair, pulling him closer so that you can return the same affections to the skin below his ear, allowing him and only him to hear the sounds he pulls from you with each slow thrust of his hips.

"sweet, you feel so—"

"eiji—"

and then there's a low thud outside, followed by a distant string of curse words, and you both freeze. hearts in your chest, breath in your lungs. it only takes another boot-step before you're scrambling away from each other.

eijirou tucks himself back into his trousers, lacing them up clumsily before helping you back into your underclothes. you busy yourself with your hair, trying to smooth it down, tucking it behind your ears and back into your ribbons as he adjusts your sleeves, hands shaking just as hard as the fright in your lungs.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

"oi, shitty—"

just as the barn door flings open, he jumps from you, turning to face a horse stall with the rake in his hands. his shoulders are shaking with every harsh pant of his breath and you have to tear your eyes from the muscles that tense underneath his linen shirt.

another man stands in the doorway, eyes cutting back and forth from you to eijirou before he bows his head slightly.

"your grace," he murmurs—bakugou, if you remember correctly. when you return his nod, he glares hard at kirishima, who finally turns, all curious with raised eyebrows. "y'got five more stables to do before y'can eat, so hurry up."

kirishima nods, eyes on the floor. "i'll be finished in a moment—"

"you'll be finished now."

he nods once more, fumbling with his tools before leaning them gently against the wall. from even across the stall, you can tell his hands are trembling, watching on as he makes them into tight fists before wiping them against his pants.

and then he passes you, eyes turned down as he whispers a quiet farewell. "m'lady."

when he's gone, bakugou says nothing, only looking at you for a silent, all-too-knowing moment before excusing himself to follow after.

you, yourself, wait, giving them the head-start they need as you will your heart back into its regular rhythm. in your slippers, your toes are still curled, every throb of your nerves still pulsing with remnants of pleasure that you should ignore.

but you won't, you can't, despite what's right or honorable or fated.

you pull the straw from your hair and you straighten your skirts and then you make your way out, up the cobblestone path to your castle tower.