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the-arachnid-queen · 1 month

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So cute!

Felicity #1

He was thankful for the sorcery world as it allowed him a life he could only dream of. But then it almost cost him his life, and imagining leaving you behind wasn’t easy. So he resigned, willing to be his beloved's absolute best support system and house husband. The perfect husband. So what’s that nagging feeling at the back of his mind?

~~please refer to *this* post for potential content warning~~

Homemaker!Ijichi x Reader

2.6k wc

Summer comes at an astounding pace. One day, allergy season, and spring showers. Next thing you know, the day to jump into a pool is here. New beginnings and cold frozen lychee martinis in hand.

Today was not that day.

As Ijichi lifted his visor, he wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the tremendous relief of the cloth against his skin. While he appreciated knowing the linens would dry much quicker with the heat, he wished it wasn't draining every drop of his life source in the 20 minutes he was outdoors. Grabbing the basket of dried items, he returned to fold them, thrilled to sit and finish the final 2 episodes of Bad and Crazy so he could finally talk to you about the end once you made it home.

"Baby? I'm home early." You take your shoes off, sliding on your slippers. As you walked further into the house, a delightful scent of pie and freshly cut pineapple filled the air, a surprising aroma for this time of day. Intrigued, you go to the kitchen, confident that he is up to something. There he is, headsets on, lost in the music, his voice softly humming the words to what you think is 505 by the Arctic Monkeys. His head bobs to the beat as he dices the pineapple into bits. You can't decide what's sweeter, the pineapple or the joy in his voice. You stand in the entryway, a warm feeling of love and contentment washing over you, waiting until he sets the knife down to approach. Rubbing the center of his back, he didn't flinch as he recognized your touch, but he was a bit flustered. "Darling! You're home very early today! I.. Dinner isn't even done." He looks down at his watch, then back at you. "Everything okay at the school? Are you hurt?" he quickly removes his headphones before bringing a hand to your face, ensuring no harm was done. You embrace him before kissing him. "Everything is okay. I'm just home early. I promise." The relief in your voice is palpable, reassuring him that all is well. "If you insist. Though you never leave early, something is up, yes?" the man was persistent. "You know me too well, Chi." "It's part of the Kiyotaka genes. Knowing your spouse so well, they accept defeat early," he warmly snickers before bringing a piece of pineapple to your mouth. "So. What's the news?" Swallowing, your eyes show the excitement before you speak. "Satoru accepted the proposal to change how we train students on field missions to transition into their sorcerer roles. He loved the idea and offered me the role so I could ensure it was done correctly!" Elation filled Ijichi's face as he realized he helped implement a new structure that would last. "Love! Th- this is big! I'm so proud of you!" His hug couldn't have been tighter. The achievement in itself was monumental. But this meant he could 100% step out of his role and be your best homemaker. "Well. this is no small feat! I need to plan something. A pool party? No, not everyone wants to swim." Ijichi grabbed a writing tablet from the nearby drawer and clicked the attached pen. "Honey." "We could have a luau? Eh. I don't want to dig up the yard even if it would produce a really succulent pig." "Chi?" "Yes, darling?" His eyes immediately find yours. Gleeful, he leans in for a kiss. Happily accepting, your lips meet his as your arms wrap around his neck. "Let's just do a dinner party. A small one. Nothing too extravagant. Some wine, a few appetizers, a main course. And we can see if Mrs. Nanami can make us a cake. Yeah?" "My darling love, that sounds perfect. Leave it to me."

So here he was, organizing a party celebrating the sunshine season and his beautiful spouse's promotion.

"Yes. And that one should have light pink spray roses, burgundy carnations, orange carnations, bells of Ireland, pink asiatic lilies, purple cushion spray chrysanthemums, blue sinuata statice, variegated pittosporum and if possible, leatherleaf fern."

He sucked his teeth, crossing the name of the nursery off of his list with a look of defeat.

"Ah. No. That won't do, I'm sorry. Thank you for your time." He hung up the phone and began to scribble another note on his pad before sighing and sitting down next to you.

"Ijichi. While I appreciate everything you're doing, you don't have to get every available summer flower."

"Honey. I know you appreciate it, but it's not about the flowers. I want it to be a beautiful piece for you. You've done something amazing! I want to celebrate that with no cut corners." Lightly squeezing your hand, Ijichi kisses your forehead before pressing another to your nose.

You don't remember the last time you'd seen him this relaxed, but it suited him well.

His usual combed, pristine hair that formed on his face was now lazily combed back, showing his beautiful facial structure. His hollowed cheeks had a peach flush once he noticed you were admiring his face. "Honey." He was easy to fluster, even after this long. "You're so handsome. And so kind. Don't overdo it in the name of trying to please me."

He has learned from previous affairs he's planned that sometimes he bites off more than he can chew occasionally. Like that birthday when he invited every class at Jujutsu Tech, administration, and the front office of your apartment complex. "Baby. All these people aren't going to fit in my apartment for much longer." You looked at the over two dozen people uncomfortably smiling in the living room, cramped but trying to look happy.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I uh.. we will make it work."

"It will be a small, intimate gathering. You've already decided on the guest list so that we will go with just those few." He rolled the sleeves up of his loose button-down, subtly interlacing his fingers with yours once he did. His cool touch brings a welcome tingle.

"You are a gift, Ijichi. I love you forever."

Kissing the palm of your hand, he glanced up at you over his glasses. "And forever, I love you. Now. Don't you have something to do? Like that shelf full of books you promised to go through so we can donate some?"

Your eyes narrowed before you laughed. "Yes, sir."

His lips met yours in a tender kiss. "Thank you, darling. I'll start dinner once I've finished making this last call."

He watched as you left the den, beaming as you hummed a tune equal to an angelic chorus. "Just get it over with Kiyotaka." Grabbing his phone and huffing, he scrolled down to the 'Gojo S. 😶' contact in his phone before hitting the call button.

"The renovations are gorgeous. You brought out the traditional style of the home." Kento admired the flooring of your living area, taking in the uniqueness of the classic tile pattern.

"Thank you! Ijichi thought it was a good idea to uncover the beauty of the hardwood under our carpeting—the entire first floor. Come! He'd love to show you the rest of the work." With a smile, Nanami followed you to the dining room, where your husband checked the wine bottles to ensure perfect temperature. "Honey? "

Slightly frazzled, Ijichi's shoulders jumped.

"Yes, my love? Kento!" He brought his hand out, noticing his friend shaking hands before pulling him in for a quick hug.

"It's good to see you. You look very well rested, Kiyotaka."

"So do you! Retirement is doing us good, it seems," the men chuckled.

"I'll let you boys catch up. I'll let you know when everyone has arrived." Kissing his cheek, you left to head towards the front of the house.

After giving his tour, Ijichi eventually made his way to the study, showing Nanami the latest addition to his collection of handcrafted fountain pens and watching him appreciate the craftsmanship. Hesitant, a question popped into mind as he looked around his office.

"Kento. May I ask you something?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

With a sigh, Ijichi swallowed before continuing. "What do you do with all this downtime? I feel like I'm getting on my partner's nerves with all the house renovation nonsense, the pens, the mundane things I do daily. Do you think we'll regret retiring this early? Do you think our spouses will tire of us?" It all spewed out without much thought.

Part of Ijichi was happy he wasn't in immediate danger anymore. Though his worry was now with you as you helped lead the new generation of sorcerers, he knew you were far more capable. But it made him feel that perhaps you weren't into him as much now. He was home planning new projects, planning parties, and making dinners that could feed a dozen. Were you tired of him?

He knew precisely what Ijichi was thinking.

"When I told my wife I wanted to leave the jujutsu world, I don't think I'd seen anyone so relieved in my life." he sips his beverage, looking down at his wedding band.

"I did something I said I wouldn't do: marry while still in that world. But she was my calm in every storm we waltzed into. I did it with no regrets, of course. But after the incident in Shibuya that almost cut my life short…"

"Yeah…" Ijichi recalled the day of hell. You were in Kyoto, trying to return quickly once you heard what was happening. Ijichi was right there, facing death intimately. The reminder showed in the burn scars that covered half of Kento's body. He wore them with no hints of being self-conscious about them. He saw a smile growing on Kentos's face.

"I don't regret it. None of it. I don't think I can when I see how my partner looks when I'm working on a puzzle or cooking our favorite meal. Downtime now is something I treasure. We used to yearn for a day of peace and a little sense, you know." they both laughed, recalling the after-work drinks and gripes. "We are also still young enough to find any other profession if we choose."

"You’re right. I'm just overthinking… A lot"

"Don't feel like you're supposed to know what to do. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing most days." The tone of Kento's voice held a lot of compassion as he quickly found the words to reassure his friend. "We have done a lot of work. Dangerous work. We can afford to be indecisive and leisurely choose what to put our energy into."

While his words held some truth, that guilty feeling still sat in Ijichi's heart. "I do enjoy the leisurely pace of my life now. The house projects, the cooking, and the look on their faces when I show them my latest addition. I don't want to lose the gift of their unconditional love and unwavering affection. It's what drives my every move."

"Then ask them. When you two were dating, they seemed capable of simply talking about the uncomfortable quite easily. That's not changed, Kiyotaka. If anything, they will appreciate hearing your thoughts now that you are, in fact, the best house husband you could be."

He nodded as if weighing the potential conversation's pros and cons before letting out a breath he didn't realize was being held in. "Thank you, Nanami."

"You're like my brother Ijichi, of course. Now, I'm starving, and rumor is you made Spanakopita."

Amused, Ijichi led Kento back to the party's center; chatter was heard as they returned to the dining area. With a pause, Ijichi heard your voice and listened for a while.

"Satoru, I'm telling you. The entire plan was his idea. That last-minute meeting with the heads? He's a mastermind with that kind of planning."

"Well, duh. But he was a liability for a while. Great driver, excellent spreadsheet creator. But don’t you remember having to come and use your technique to get him out of the way against that grade 2 curse?"

"I was falling in love with the man! Of course I did. I would’ve done it again if it meant he was safe. I should've left you to do it so I could've gone home to him early that night." Ijichi smiled as you and Gojo laughed. That flushed feeling came rushing back to his face.

"I'm glad he has you. And that you have him. He was good to us both in the office and the field. He deserves some peace in his life." Gojo seems genuine in his words, an occurrence Ijichi has yet to accept fully.

"Though life isn't as easy without his continued presence and organization skills. Oh, you love birds. Do you want or maybe need a third in the home?" He pouts.

"I'd rather go back to 10 hours' worth of paperwork in that stuffy office at the school, Satoru," Ijichi interjected as he wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your cheek with a gentle nudge of his nose.

"It's an option Ijichi. I don't require much! Just a sweet treat every once in a while and maybe a hug or 5."

"Please. Don't," you snickered at the comment, kissing your husband back.

"Behave." a playful nudge to his arm makes Ijichis lips curl up slightly. "Ken! Did you get the grand tour? Don't you love it?"

Kento nods. "It's phenomenal. Your husband knows his way around a home."

"Doesn't he? I've been given the gift of a homemaker with this one. He's made it feel even more like a dream. Nothing short of luck to have him as my forever beau."

It was hard to miss Ijichi's ears turning red as the kind words gave affirmation that he was doing everything right.

"Okay, okay. Enough of that." Clearing his throat, he raised his glass." Let's make a toast. To new beginnings with old friends who will stand the test of time. May we have more moments to sing each other's praises and welcome new changes!'

Post Party Unwind

Massaging your feet, Ijichi smiled. The gentle blaze of the low-burning fire nearby creates a cozy atmosphere for the end of a beautiful day.

"Thank you again, my love. Everything was perfect! You even got Shoko to leave the hospital for a while. You must tell me your secrets."

A quiet laugh escaped his lips. "Oh, it wasn't much. I just told her you'd be thrilled to see her. And the promise of sending her home with a bottle of top-shelf tequila may have also worked." laughter filled the cozy backyard as the cool night air sent a slight chill up your legs and arms.

"Want to head inside? I can run a bath for you while I finish cleaning."

"Why can't you join me in said bath?"

"Darling, there's so much cleaning to get done. The wine bottles, the mopping. Goodness, the leftover cake-"

"Ijichi Kiyotaka, my dear husband. Your loving significant other wants you to join them for a nice bubble bath. Please don't make me beg. I want to show you my appreciation." glint in your eyes, giving him the answer to his unspoken question.

Six years in, he couldn't take a flirtatious bout without coming apart just a little. It was just as amusing now as it was when he was driving you around back then. Adjusting his glasses before reaching up to run his slender fingers over your thigh, gripping the lush flesh with obviously wanton intent. "I'll go run us a bath. You are my priority, after all."

Thanks to @/saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers!

Taglist: @marikuchanxo

Thank you for reading! 💞

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the-arachnid-queen · 2 months

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But it's Better if You Do

ৎ୭ Pairings ৎ୭ Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

ৎ୭ Warnings ৎ୭ MDNI- Lap dance, teasing, fingering, more explicit as we go. <3

ৎ୭ Word Count ৎ୭ 5,968

ৎ୭ Summary ৎ୭ Every weekday for a year, Nanami Kento comes into the coffee shop you work at, and he orders the same damn thing. You have it bad but are too nervous to do more than doodle on his cups. You have a double life, because you're also 'Foxy' a featured dancer at a strip club once a week. A bachelor party for Satoru Gojo has you dancing, and he's there. Nanami fucking Kento. You end up both in a VIP room, awkward, nervous, but then... it's your chance. He doesn't know it's you, right? What harm can a lap dance do? Surely won't be awkward the next day...

ৎ୭Chapter 1

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans was your sanctuary in an odd way. It was a world away from the smoky haze and thumping bass of the club you danced at once a week, away from dance lessons you still took though they led to nothing. A world where you were just you, the barista, not 'Foxy' the dancer.

You were exhausted, concealer working overtime to hide the bags under your eyes, yawning a bit as you mix up an espresso for yourself. It was early and typically not many people came just yet, a little loll where you could peek at your phone, sip on that dark espresso… but one person always came first thing.

The bell jingles above the door, and you feel yourself flush. He was here. Nanami Kento, the man who had been a regular for months and months now. Damn near a year, and always ordered the same thing, sometimes getting another for his coworkers, but never anything different for himself.

He was so handsome, but so uptight that it made your mind wander as to what the man did for fun, or if he knew how to have any. You knew he’d be ordering his usual Americano, and he gave you a small little half smile, so charming it made you falter for some fucking reason.

He was in a tan suit, baby blue dress shirt, those fancy expensive glasses resting on his eyes, eyes you’d have died to see if you were being honest. His tie today was some cow print, yesterday had been leopard, the day before Zebra, perhaps a walking contradiction to his personality.

“Good morning, Nanami.” You say, and he nods, hands in his pants pockets, blonde hair slicked back but a small bit hung forward. Your fingers itched to push it back, and you clenched your teeth at the thought.

“Good morning.” He said your name so softly, it made you into a whole mess, as it had been for months now. God knows how you could dance on a pole once a week in lingerie, but couldn’t just fucking hit on him.

It was the ongoing joke of the café at this point.

“Hmm, perhaps a pumpkin spice latte?” You tease, as he shook his head with a little sigh.

“The usual. Make it strong.” His voice, even in this mundane setting, sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to ignore the way his eyes, usually so sharp and focused, seemed to linger on you for a moment too long behind the green glasses.

“Coming right up.” You tilt your head side to side as you turn away, brewing his coffee for him.

“Not sleeping well?” He asked softly, you turned in surprise, instantly insecure, touching your face.

“The concealer isn’t working huh?”

Two little lines creased between his brows, lips turning down. “Concealer?”

“Yeah I’m trying to hide the dark circles. Ugh. Do I look like shit?”

He was frowning now, leaning forward, hands gripping the counter, and you studied them, the veins popping out, and your mind went fucking awry. You lick your lips nervously, turning, snatching up his coffee and then popping a lid on it, drawing a little heart with a sharpie. Every day was a new stupid little shape, and he never commented about them.

“You could never look ‘like shit’ as you put it.” You damn near dropped the coffee, gasping, turning back around to see him, so tall and imposing, leaning over the counter toward you.

You wanted to grab that tie and yank him to you.

Fuck.

How’d a guy that said ten words to you a day have you so fucked?

“I… here.” You gently hand him the cup, and your fingertips brush, his hand lingering as yours did, before gently pulling away. “I don’t look like shit then?”

He smirked a bit, shaking his head, and you could feel the gaze on you, making you heat up, nervous. “You have never looked bad. Any day I’ve been in here.”

“You need better glasses.” You mumble. He laughed a bit, and the sound was foreign, it made him more… human.

“I don’t lie.” You believed him. You felt your cheeks flushing pink, looking down just a bit.

“Thank you, Nanami. That makes me feel better.”

“You’re… you’re welcome.” He cleared his throat. “I asked if you were tired because of how you were stretching your neck, and rolling your shoulders. You also were covering a yawn.”

You tense, gaze back at his eyes in those green glasses, wondering their color. You picked up a fresh almond croissant then that you'd just made, handing it to him. He smiled, and handed you cash then, far too much, as he tended to tip you every morning.

“You’re very observant.” You murmured, and he shrugged a broad shoulder. Dude was built like a whole action star, aching to break from that suit. It addled your brain more and more.

“I do notice things. Do you work outside of this?”

Your whole body is flushed now, he rarely tried to make conversation. You could never ever admit that you stripped once a week, danced on a goddamn pole. You made more doing that than all week here at the shop. You couldn’t imagine what proper, uptight Nanami might think of such a thing.

You were a show girl more than anything, you didn’t do dances or VIP rooms, because of your skill at dance and performance, you were instead a feature at various places. Once upon a dream you’d thought you’d make it as an actual dancer, but foolish dream that had turned to be. You still tried, even now, even exhausted, auditioning for little things, but it wasn't enough money.

Would that seem pathetic to such a wealthy businessman?

You clear your throat. “I do dance… I also take dance classes. I guess that does tire me out.”

“That’s impressive.” He surprised you, and you smiled at it.

“Thank you but no, not at all. Just an amateur hobby.”

“Well… I hope you have a good day. Thank you.” He held up his cup, peering at the heart doodle, and the raised brows and amused look on that chiseled face made you catch your breath.

“You’re welcome, you too! See you Monday!” He gave you a little wave, sauntering out. You watched him like a lovesick fool.

Oof.

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” The voice made you jump, and you looked to your co worker, Nobara. She was a gorgeous strawberry blond with a hell of an attitude that you loved.

“I… don’t think he’d be interested in someone like me.”

“Someone like you? Hot? Can dance on a pole?”

“Shh!” You two giggled, and you sighed sadly. She was sucking on a lollipop, tilting her head, short hair swinging as she studied you with soft brown eyes.

“You should just say how you feel. It’s been almost a year watching you pine for him. It's literally making me wanna scream.”

“I know…” You sigh, sipping your espresso and needing another. “I have this bachelor party at the club I have to dance an extra night for it because I mean shit… good money. I’m tired.”

“I know. You’re saving a lot though. Not much longer.” Nobara brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling. You were trying your best to save for an elite dance school. Every bit you made went to bills and that.

“That makes me feel better, Kugasaki. Thank you.” You peck a little kiss on her cheek.

“Should have him watch you dance, ooh, then he’d love you. You sure are a talented bitch up on that pole.”

“Ah, stop. Him in a strip club? No way.”

“The strictest ones are the most freaky.”

You two giggle, then a customer came in, and soon the throng approached, and you and Nobara killed it along with the help of your other coworker and friend, Yuuji, working in perfect sync.

Imagine Nanami Kento in your club on that one night a week you were there, you’d die of embarrassment. Some things were best left unsaid, and your ridiculous crush would remain one of them for sure. You just hope you’ll be able to get a nap before you go in tonight.

***

The scent of stale cigarette smoke and cheap perfume filled the air as you danced that night, dressed in a bright pink wig and slinky lace and sequined two piece costume. You gripped the pole of the stage as men gathered around you, the soft red lighting illuminated your body, your requested music blared by the DJ, slow and sensual. You had money thrown on the stage, men coming close.

The worst part was interacting. You wished you could just dance. You climb up the pole then, using your core strength and thighs, spinning, focusing on the moves versus everyone and everything around you. You flip your body, upside down, to the gasps of the crowd, even your fellow strippers and women there, that’s what you were here for, the showmanship.

You slide around on nothing but your thighs, thick and muscular, not as slender and ladylike as you may have desired, but they had power. You had power. Your hair falls down in silky waves as you spin, eyes closed, perfecting every twist and turn just so. You finally open them, feeling yourself close to the ground, stopping yourself with your arm.

The group of the bachelor party poured in, and instead of being raucous and wild, they actually all were attentive, studying you.

Ah, a show.

You smirk, and flip down, standing, bending forward with your ass in the air, clad in fishnets and little lacy panties. More money was thrown, more men sitting around you, but you climb back up the pole, pulling yourself up, and your legs spread wide as you spin back down, in tantalizing circles, head leaning back, until you’re on the ground, elbows and knees.

The sequined costume hugged your curves in all the right places, catching glinting light. You’re bent over in front of everyone. It did not feel the best. You were better just on the pole. But, you took your time, crawling towards the crowd. Each man tipped you, sliding them in your garters that sat on your upper thighs, some trying to be too bold, too touchy, but as you neared the bachelor party, you froze.

Amongst the honestly all gorgeous men, looking like pure money, there he was, Nanami fucking Kento. Looking awkward, uncomfortable, arms crossed, donned in a gray button down dress shirt and black slacks. He didn’t have on those sunglasses, and your eyes caught him in the dark.

He was captivated by you.

You fall from your position, and decide to make it look like you meant to fall to the floor, on your tummy, your ass in the air, popping back up, trying to make yourself breathe and stay calm. You looked nothing like you, he wouldn’t know, and you could literally live part of that fantasy you had, dancing for him.

You peer and there’s a couple men you recognize from the coffee shop, Nanami’s co workers, a tall handsome white haired man that you think his name was Gojo, was the groom to be. Clearly. He wore a whole sash that said ‘Bride to be’ and a shit eating grin, like the happiest man in the world. He was so pretty he was hard to look at, you’d thought before.

“Bride to be huh?” You tease, fingernails scratching on the little silk sash. Gojo laughs, poking at his cell phone over the music.

“I am! Satoru Gojo.”

“Foxy.” You smirk, and he rolls his eyes, smirking too.

“Sure you are. This is my wife as of tomorrow.” He scrolled through pictures, showing you a picture of a gorgeous woman that looked familiar as well, you’d served her coffee many many times, she was always super sweet. You were enamored, she was breathtaking in them, laughing and happy, usually more serious when you saw her.

“She’s so beautiful.” You flush when he gets to a nude, and he was pulling it back quickly with a wiggle of his brows.

“She is, though. I can’t wait to get her fucking pregnant. She’s finally down for it.”

“Oh god.” You purse your lips, and he seemed to give no fucks, clearly obsessed. He is sliding you a large tip respectfully into your hand. “She was okay with all this?”

“Yeah, she said don’t do anything dumb, but she’s the only one for me anyway. I just figured fuck it, let’s get the boys having fun. Though I will say, you’re one hell of a dancer. Imma have to bring her to see you.” His bright blue eyes glimmered in the light, and you laughed a bit.

“I’d love to meet her…”

“Oh fuck yeah. I need to see you give her a dance.”

“I don’t do dances, I’m more of a show girl here. But I'd absolutely make an exception!”

“Oooh, listen, can you make an exception for me?”

You frown. “What?”

“Not me. I’m a bride!” You giggle, he was unlike any bachelor you’d seen at any party before. “My friend.”

“I don’t know… I just do the pole.” You ease back, hands on your thighs, Gojo respectfully staring at your face the entire time.

“It’s for my buddy and I’ll pay out the ass. But give me a few, I need to know he’ll go for it.” Gojo tipped you again, and you sigh.

“We’ll see.” He smiles and nudges his head, as you slide over to the man next to him, just as tall as Gojo, long dark hair, tan and broad shouldered. God this office was attractive, but you personally felt Nanami took the cake.

“Beautiful dance.” The man said, who Gojo just called Geto, smiling and tipping you generously, sliding it in your waistband slowly. You flush.

“Thank you so much.” You’re on to the next, a man they called Sukuna. He was tanned and broad and devilish with his smirk, tattoos attractively running down his neck. His light brown eyes devoured your entire body, completely unlike Geto’s tease and Gojo’s respect.

“Gorgeous.” He winked at you, and you leaned forward when he put his large tip in between his teeth, grabbing it with your breasts, which were popping out from the top of the lingerie now. You tended to only go topless, versus doing any more, luckily the club was very good with everyone and their comfort.

“Thank you…” You say softly, then feel his gaze on you… Nanami.

He’d been studying you this entire time, respectfully, but full of admiration, to the point where when your eyes met it startled you. You had never even seen them, they were slanted up like cat’s eyes, sensual as fuck. In the dim club they appeared to be dark brown, nearly black, and when they moved lower, to your collarbone, it was as if he was caressing your skin.

You licked your lips nervously, wishing you could find the courage to speak. But instead, you focused on the way his gaze traveled over your body, the way he seemed to drink in every inch of you. It was intoxicating, exhilarating. In this moment, you felt beautiful and confident, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

How could you be so shy when you were dancing on a pole? Your tits were half out… and gorgeous men surrounded you. But Nanami's intense gaze became your undoing. You blushed, tucking your hair behind your ear, trying to act casual as he took out a large tip in his big hands.

“You're very talented.” His voice was husky, you tremble, smiling.

“Thank you.” You scooch to where he's between your thighs in his seat right by the stage, watching him tense with a hitch in his breath. You feel far too bold. He doesn't know it's you and he's here looking…

You slide a hand down your chest, to your nearly exposed breasts, gently tugging the material so a hint of your nipples showed. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as you held out the fabric, leaning forward, his hands were steady but his eyes were like a hawk on your lush breasts.

He slid the money into the strap of your bra, and the brush of his rough fingers makes you tremble. He notices, pulling back and catching your eyes. Fuck would he recognize them? You lower your lashes and attempt to look flirtatious and not like some weird shy stripper. You kind of fail.

You slide back up with a smile, but he halts you, another tip, sliding this one in one of your garters. His friends tease him mercilessly, and there's a little pink on his cheeks, on Nanami fucking Kento’s perfect damn cheekbones. A blush. You felt one form on your face too, your gazes locked, the hand barely brushing your thigh doing fucked things to your psyche.

“Ahem… thank you so much.” You say with a smile, turning and kneeling, ass in full view along with the curve of your back as you gather some wits, going down to pick up the numerous tips. Enough to where you could probably stop for the night.

After you've cleaned the pole, headed down off the stage to probably call it a night, Gojo stops you with a hand on your shoulder. You peer up at the tall pretty boy curiously.

“Would you do a VIP with Nanami over there?” Your heart stops as you both look at him. He is leaned in a chair, sipping whiskey, eyes burning into you. “He's always hated strip clubs and usually sits in a corner miserable. But he's clearly eye fucking the shit out of you. This is weird for him.”

You feel your skin heat up. “I really only dance here once a week, I get uncomfortable even taking tips close… I…”

“You're a shy stripper! So weird.” He teased you. You roll your eyes with a self deprecating laugh.

“I just do it for money and because I like to pole dance. Not exactly a regular stripper. There are plenty of beautiful girls here though that gladly will!” You gesture to the pretty ladies around you, fawning over the men. He shakes his head.

“Nope. Gotta be you. He hasn't even checked another girl out here. Pretty please?” He shoots his pretty blue eyes at you with a pout. You sigh. You can't do that… you can't…

“I mean… I could try to do a lap dance?”

“He'll get too nervous in front of us. He's uptight as fuck.” Gojo puts on his charm, winking at you with a grin. “I'll pay a fuck ton.”

“Oh gosh…”

“He's super respectful, he'd never touch you… shit even if you wanted him to, he’d probably be too shy.” Your heart falters. You know that. “You clearly like him, you can't take your eyes off the business boy.”

“I… well I…” You drop to a whisper. “I kinda know him.”

“Oooh!” He snapped his fingers with a devious look. “Even better. I love some good drama!”

“You're sort of a dick. No offense.” Gojo threw his head back with laughter at your glare.

“My fiance will love you for sure. She agrees! Listen, just do it for me. I'm the bride to be!” He bats white spiky eyelashes.

You find yourself growing more nervous, anticipation eating away at you. It's what you'd wanted forever wasn't it?

But it wasn't really you…

“Fuck it. Okay.” Gojo's grin is infectious. “I'm not the best at lap dances like I am on the pole though.”

“He won't notice. He's never had one. Okay let me work this magic on him.” He winks and heads to Nanami and your heart is thudding in your ears now.

Fuck.

You watched Gojo’s lithe figure walk over to Nanami, and you wanted to fall into the Earth, sure you were as red as the lights in the club, which luckily concealed the blush. You were a mess from his presence, a shy stripper as Gojo had put it, completely accurate. Nanami is in a serious conversation with him, Gojo’s hand on his chest, speaking into his ear.

Nanami's eyes hit you from across the bar tables, and he and Gojo ignored the other girls that walked by, aside from the shot girls. Gojo shot them all smiles but you could tell he was deep in love with the bride-to-be, and something in it made you wistful, longing… you were alone aside from your cat, Sebastian, who surely was angry you were out late tonight.

He’d probably scratch some shit up.

Nanami ends up walking back towards you with Gojo by his side, hands in his pockets, hair falling in front of his brow, eyes averted. Gojo pushed him towards you, then slid you forward with a sure hand on your back, making you two brush against each other a bit. You tense, and so does he.

“Dear God, you’re at a strip club, you two.” Gojo sighed, rolling his eyes. “So ‘Foxy’ here doesn’t do VIP or lap dances, she’s more the star of the show.” He shoots you a wink, and you clear your throat, thighs shifting when Nanami looks back at you.

“I wouldn’t say that, but yes, I don’t.”

“She’s making an exception. So, you two go on in there.” He smacks at both of your asses, and you both scowl at him, his grin wide and ridiculous. “Come on, come on, you two crazy kids. Have fun!”

Gojo shoves you two in the VIP room, and you and Nanami are there, alone, where it’s more quiet as you’re away from the booming music. It’s intimate… you run your fingers nervously through your wig, nearly pulling the synthetic hairs out, before taking a steady breath, peering around. You’d not even been in the little room, with the velvet plush couch, and disco lighting.

The couch was large and fancy, but somehow trashy at the same time, as strip clubs went this was the nicest, but still, something felt so off. All your fantasies of the stiff business man, who was literally being forced by his quite annoying friend into being in here with you.

“We don’t have to… like we can just talk if you’re uncomfortable.” You finally manage to say, feeling as if he truly did not want to be here. He brushes a hand against your shoulder then, bringing your gaze to his.

“I’m the one that’s supposed to say that.” He smirked, and fuck it was charming, as was his eyes and how they studied you. “You really aren’t a normal stripper, huh?”

“Well I make plenty dancing so I don’t sell things.”

“Do you want to do this?”

Your teeth bite your lower lip, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to say who you were, what you felt… but what would that bring? Confusion? Embarrassment?

If he’d found you attractive at work he’d have responded to one of your countless doodles or something by now right? You’d even asked who you now knew was Gojo’s fiancé for his number, and he’d come the next day and said nothing. You’d sort of given up at that point.

Was this your chance? To get a taste of him?

Unwinding… casual… letting go.

You take his hand, yours is swallowed by his, and he was so tall that even in platform heels you had to tilt your head back to look at him. His fingers grip your hand in response, and then you turn, leading him to the giant couch, gently pushing him to have a seat. You bend down, and you take his long sleeves and unbutton them, rolling them up to reveal his arms a bit.

You watched the muscles in his arms tense, showing how fucking built he was under there. Veins popping out. He allowed it, just studying your face still. “Are you blushing?”

You felt yourself heat up more, realizing the lighting here didn’t hide it. “Maybe I am a bit.”

“Overheated?”

“Sure.” You were a shit liar for someone who lived a whole double existence, you mused, finishing your job. “I wanted you a little loosened up.”

“Do you.” His voice was husky, deep, and it alone did things to you, wicked fucking things. You brush fingers along the veins of his forearms, watching a hand close into a fist in response. You lean closer, popping a couple of his buttons, to reveal just a hint of the ripped chest, drinking the sight in greedily.

“Much better.” You muse, and half expect him to take off your bra, but he remains still, watching, waiting. You slide your hands around his neck and press your body against his, and his familiar scent envelops your senses. “Everything okay?”

“It’s perfect.” You froze at that.

You know. There was no turning back now.

Your hands glided up and down his hard chest, teasing him, thumbs barely brushing bare skin, enjoying the little hitch in his breath. You push forward over him until your breasts are against his face, drawing his attention to them like a hawk. Your lips parted as his breath was hot against them, unable to hide your aching desire was mortifying.

You slid down his body now, bending low, between his legs teasingly, hands braced on his muscular thighs, eyes catching the growing arousal beneath his pants and shooting want through you. With each movement, you could sense him becoming more and more entranced, his breathing growing heavier and more ragged. Just like you.

His expression was a mix of surprise and desire, and you couldn't help but smile shyly up at him before you turned, rolling your hips, ass now rubbing against his hard body. It was so quiet, he did not speak, and neither did you, as you lean back into it, and his hands tentatively wrap around your waist, his first contact so far, and it was making your head fuzzy with pleasure.

You could feel the anticipation building between you, the air thick with tension when his grip tightened, his small sexy fucking sigh. You turn back around and glanced down, taking in his broad shoulders, toned arms, his lips parted. You reached out, bracing your hands as you straddle him now, the sensation hitting you so hard you struggled to stay still.

"Am I doing okay?" You ask, it came out teasing, but you were actually nervous as fuck.

He gave a nervous laugh, a fucking laugh! Nanami Kento could laugh… his gaze flickers down to the floor before meeting yours again. "You're doing beautifully." He murmured.

It was the first time he'd ever spoken to you like this, and you didn't know what to say in response. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs, world far away, leaving only the two of you.

Nanami reached out, tracing a finger down your cheek as you grind on him now, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Is this okay?” He asks softly. You nod eagerly.

As his fingertip trailed lower, tracing the line of your jaw and then down your neck, you felt a shudder run through you, making it a struggle to continue confidently moving against where you were now growing wetter by the second. It was as if his touch was making every nerve ending tingle with desire. It was intoxicating..

You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of the lightest caress, still respectful despite the wicked things your body was doing against him, an intriguing contradiction that messed with your brain. The music seemed to fade into the background.

You could feel the rhythm of it still as you continued to give him the best lap dance you could, swaying your hips and rubbing against his hardness through your lacy underwear. He's so respectful, never once making you feel uncomfortable or objectified. Instead, he watches you with such intensity that it takes your breath away.

His hands are touching you but nowhere inappropriate, the waist or your hips, though you sure wanted him to touch more, fuck. Imagining those big hands squishing your soft breasts, or gripping your ass… or…

As you continue to dance for him, you lose yourself in the movement, feeling the heat rising in your body, the blood pulsing through your veins. You're aware of every inch of his body as it presses against you, the way his hands grip your hips tighter and he raises his lap up and moans a bit is just…

The music changes, another song, you’d lost count how many, and you match your movements to the beat. You feel yourself growing wetter, and hot. He hisses then, suddenly, tensing against you, as if he could tell, halting your movements. His brown eyes shoot up to yours and you freeze, embarrassed. You flush, overheated from dancing and your mixture of horny and nervous.

“I'm… I… don't really do this. I just do the pole. Am I fucking up?” You murmur. He pauses your movements again, hands firm, licking his lower lip.

“No. Not at all. You don't have to do anything else, though, you've done amazing. I know Gojo put you up to this…”

“I want to do it.” Your words make you both quiet.

“You've done plenty if you want to stop.” He was so sweet it hurt your heart.

His eyes were dark with desire though, something you'd die for every day if it were you, truly you, and not just for ‘Foxy’.

“I want to kiss you, too. That's pretty fucked up of me huh.” You mumble out of nowhere before you could shut yourself up. Nanami pauses, and now you’re not dancing, you’re just pressed against his hardness, breath making your breasts rise and fall, your wetness fucking embarrassing at this point.

“That’s not fucked up.” His hand trembled a bit as he cupped your face, gently, making you feel so tiny with those big hands and broad shoulders as you leaned in, a ghost of a kiss just hovering between your mouths.

“Do you want me to?” Your whisper brings your lips closer. Nanami nods, thumbs brushing along your lower lip, and then his lips find yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

Everything stops, every worry has vanished from your head as his firm lips press into yours, pulling away, eyes catching yours. You see little flecks of green in them. You both just breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders, his still so tender on your face it made you ache. It felt like literal sparks shot through you when his lips pressed again, firmer this time, a little gasp making them part.

The kiss deepens, his hot tongue slipping in, and it ignites a sharp burn in your tummy. You moan into his mouth, arching your back as he kisses you harder, his tongue dancing with yours. Your hands entwined in his silky blonde locks, his firm grip now sliding down to your ribcage. His thumbs brushing under the cups of your lingerie. You wanted them on your breasts so bad your nipples strain against lace.

You can feel Nanami grow even harder against the apex of your thighs, and you wonder what it would feel like to have him inside you for an insane moment.

From a kiss?

Fuck.

Tongues are entwining, pressing against each other, losing yourselves in desire, but then he breaks the kiss suddenly, panting heavily, and those eyes look into your gaze. They're filled with desire, but also something else, something you've never seen before from anyone and couldn't put into words.

"I'm sorry," He says, voice rough with emotion. You frown.

“Shit, was it that bad?” You touch your lips, eyes shooting down, mortified. He laughs quietly, shaking his head. You fall for his laugh, fall hard.

“No. Not at all. I just don't want to be disrespectful… and I'm going to have a hard time stopping if we keep on.” Nanami's voice was hoarse, as affected as you, those hands sliding up further. Your eyes went wide, feeling the power he had suddenly, how tense he was, holding back… he…

You lean back in, wanting to say fuck it, to just give your pussy what she's been aching for a whole goddamn year, pressing back onto his hard body. Nanami moans into your lips, and before you know it he's on top of you, pressing you gently into the couch, and he is kissing you, his fingers finding your wetness quick, so hot for him, over your lacy panties.

You gasp at the contact, with only the panties as your barrier, which you’d fucking soaked, and are trembling when he pulls back, his lips parted, shimmering from your kiss. Your hands grip at his dress shirt, clenching just like your fucking cunt wanted to around his cock.

You had never expected this, even having just kissed him, how he just took control… consumed you. It was possibly the sexiest thing you’d experienced. No, it was the sexiest thing. Nanami slid a long finger under your panties then, twisting them and pulling them to the side, and a cry rips from your throat.

He could now fully feel your pussy. He is sighing and lowering his body as his fingertip grazes your aching cunt, up your slit, so slow and tantalizing.

“So fucking wet.” He murmured, and you nearly fucking died as the fingetip slid against your clit, nearly doing you in, rubbing in a gentle little circle, your hips buck up, and you’re gasping.

Then you really died as he pulled his finger away for too fucking soon, licking your desire off, sucking it while shutting his eyes and groaning. He just… Your mouth drops, and your pussy throbs around nothing again, literally hurting from it. He leans back down, his hand inching up your inner thigh, lips kissing up your jaw. You shift, dying for more of his caress, of his kisses…

You're about to just beg him to fuck you at this point, uncaring of whatever that would even mean, how unlike you it was, when the bachelor party rolls in the room, drunk, raucous, and Nanami quickly sits, pulling you up with him. He adjusts your top so you’re covered, as if you weren’t stripping earlier, so gentlemanly… but then he’d just tasted you…

They all start fucking with him, yanking him away, and his eyes catch yours across the room.

Gojo comes to you with a smirk, handing you far too much money. You didn't want it. You shove it back at him, but he pushes it into your garter instead.

“It's your job, ‘Foxy’. Make the money.”

“I had way too much fun…” You whispered, and he seemed far too pleased about it. “Yeah that wasn't even work… I’m…”

“Oh fuck. You're in deep for Kento, aren’t you?” You nod, and Gojo seems to oddly understand, hand gentle on your arm. “I'm looking forward to him finding out who you are.”

“I'm sure not! I’ll die.”

He laughed, and they dragged Nanami away, leaving you two alone for a moment. “I believe in you. ‘Foxy’. Be brave.” You laugh breathlessly.

“Congrats on the wedding tomorrow, Gojo.”

He grinned, shooting you a peace sign. “I’ll be almost as pretty of a bride as her!”

You collapse on the sofa, so many thoughts fucking whirling.

You'd kissed Nanami.

He'd touched you… fuck he tasted you!

How would you face him Monday, serving him with his dumb almond croissant and black coffee?

You…

You were in deep.

Chapter 2

(Finished fic on Ao3, I'll be posting chaps on here too though)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56003029/chapters/142230640

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the-arachnid-queen · 2 months

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online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

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the-arachnid-queen · 2 months

Video

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the-arachnid-queen · 2 months

Text

when spiders put their little pedipalps together

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the-arachnid-queen · 2 months

Text

Fire and Iron

Forced to stay the night with Nanami Kento, the town's blacksmith, after tending to his wounds, you find yourself smouldering in his irresistible flame.

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, loss of virginity

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Your boots cracked through the ice-topped slurry puddles scattering the mud path in the village. The shawl bundled over your shoulders was not enough, and the biting cold wind whipped your cloak back, stripping its usefulness off your shivering shoulders.

Townsfolk waved to you, nodding, smiling; greetings for a familiar face, many of them grateful for your travels to their icy town over the years, lacking even a basic healer of their own, let alone one so talented.

Passing by the blacksmith's hut on your way, you paused out the front, feeling the heat bellowing forth like dragon's breath. You tipped your head back, the smell of ash and steel filling your nose. As you paused, moments after, so did the clang of hammer on anvil.

You opened your eyes, stinging in the brutal cold and smoke. You, once more, like a hundred times before, had caught the eye of the blacksmith. He, whose name you did not know. He, who looked but never touched. He, to whom you had passed so many thousands of hours of your life, and his life to you, through gaze alone.

Stood proud at the anvil, shadowing the forge like the door to hell behind him, his broad shoulders wore only an open-chested white linen shirt, and a thick brown leather apron. With his ashy blond hair, and the lines of his face filled with soot, he was ageless and unknowable. He looked to you, his sharp face quiet and impassive; expression always somewhere between fury and tranquility.

Your lips parted once, as if to speak, and it jumped the blacksmith to life. With a barely perceptible nod, and a grunt, he swung his hammer back, brought down in beautiful accuracy, shaping smouldering steel. The clang rung through you, your chest jolting with a short gasp, and you collected yourself, stepping onwards. You were sure you could feel his cool gaze through the back of your head.

Another patient; another healed. Another grateful family; another life prolonged. The days were short now, and as you stepped out of the house of rough-hewn wood and stone, the forest pines were bathed in dying light, netting the low winter sun above the horizon. It was a punishing journey home, on foot, and the horses were long since put to bed.

The blacksmith's hut held its own sunset, the forge open but unattended. You heard stamps, heavy feet and cursing. You paused in the burst of warmth, illuminated, listening. Curiosity carried your feet into the hut, the heavy wet hem of your skirts collecting ashes, absorbing the blacksmith's domain.

"Are you...are you alright?" You called, uncertain, "Sir?" The footsteps, the swearing, had stopped. You stepped further in, feeling the forge belch at you, almost excruciatingly hot now.

"Get away from there!" The bark, deep and commanding, made you squeak and stumble. Darting through the side door, the blacksmith looped one thick arm round your waist before you fell towards the forge, effortlessly lifting you round, his back to the furnace, his face in shadow.

He was close; close enough that you could smell the soft sweat, the tang of fire and metal. He hissed as your hands dropped to his forearm, and you felt a cold dripping cloth draped over it.

"Do you often wander into places uninvited?" He snipped at you. You recognised the cadence in his low voice-- pain.

"I-- ...you're hurt," you insisted, voice barely above a whisper. Looking up, your eyes tried to gauge his unreadable face in the gloom. You felt him huff, warm air across your cheeks. His arm loosened, releasing you. As he stepped back, turning away to close the forge, you saw the blacksmith's mountainous shoulders tense, twitching.

"It's nothing," he retaliated, brisk. You stepped forwards again, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. At first, he flinched, then begrudgingly allowed you to turn him, and lift the damp rag covering his forearm. A thick welting burn, running the length of his forearm, lay weeping and angry on his skin, already nicked with so many little scars. You heard his teeth grit as the air hit his wound.

"Nothing," you scoffed, "this needs dressing. Let me help you." You felt him flinch beneath your hands, hesitant. He felt his skin prickle under yours, finding such curious pleasure in your touch alongside his pain. Your beseeching eyes took him the rest of the way, and he found himself accepting you.

"I...not here," the blacksmith toned, his eyes flitting to the town around him, "if they believe me injured, I'll lose business." You nodded, rummaging in your overburdened satchel, until he took you gently by the hand.

"My home," he began, hesitant, your hand so soft and small in his broad calloused palm, "you'll...you are welcome. It is clean. Quiet. I...I will not harm you. I promise."

Aware of his size and strength, aware of the air of mystery surrounding him amongst the townsfolk, the blacksmith was quick to reassure you. Your eyes softened, and his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles at your words, electricity crackling up your arm.

"I know you won't," you assured. The briefest smile graced his severe face when you offered your name. You felt it warm you from the belly downwards. As he pulled encouragingly on your fingers, leaving the forge to die naturally with the approaching nightfall, you were led through the back of the hut, seeing a newly revealed sprawling cabin of wood and stone, at the edge of the forest. You felt the first kiss of snow upon your cheek.

"Nanami Kento," the blacksmith replied, welcoming you over the threshold. You smiled up at him, taking in his home; barely lit, at first, until he struck a lantern to life. You placed your bag upon a table, rummaging for salves as Kento began to build the fire, skilled and efficient.

You basked in the homely room; autumnal tapestries lining the walls, skin rugs on the floor and furs on the chairs, hanging herbs above a countertop, circled with hung skillets and pans. You relaxed easily into the sincerity of Kento's welcome. A frigid wind slapped the windows, rattling the door.

Before long, an enormous cast iron pot boiled with water, and you knelt before Kento, appraising his wound in the orange glow. Cleaning your hands, wetting a rag with clean water, you moved to clean the ash from his arm before pausing.

"This will hurt," you apologised, looking up to him. Kento's heart stuttered; how many hours had he spent, imagining those sweet eyes, those gentle fingers? Too long. Too many words unspoken over too many years. He was not used to such tenderness.

"I am used to pain," he hushed, smooth and barely audible above the crackle of flame, "my job has certain...hazards, after all." You hummed, swiping the cloth gently, removing dirt and debris.

"Still," you hummed, "I don't like to hurt a friend." Kento chuckled, and you felt yourself blush from hairline to toes at the rich mirth of it.

"We are...friends, are we?" His voice was low and conspiratorial, and you felt it stir a hunger deep within you. You smiled back, mulish as you dabbed salve onto his burn. His knees were parted, with you knelt between them, and your elbows rested on the thick muscle of his thighs. You felt safe, warm, held.

"All those years, passing back and forth," you sighed, teasing, "and not one hello? Just lots of nods," your stomach swooped as Kento laughed again, "and our friendship is just that. An accumulation of nods."

"Would we have stopped at 'hello'?" Kento retaliated. He caught the brief pause in your bandaging, before you continued. You spoke, uncertain again.

"Well," you hummed, testing the water, "offer me one now...and we shall see where it goes." Looking up, you gasped to find your face just inches from Kento's. He smiled at you, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips and back up again.

"Hello," he whispered, quiet and mischievous, "and thank you."

Your breath fluttered out; Kento could feel it against his lips, beckoning him.

"I...it's getting late," you started, and Kento blinked out of his reverie, glancing to the inky black outside his windows, "I should go."

Kento grasped your fingers once more, rising with you as he stood, your shawl shushing against his chest, barely covered by his soft linen shirt. Kento hummed, sounding grave, stepping to the other side of the room.

"It is night," he said, hands cupped around his eyes as he squinted out of the windows, "and the woods are barely safe in the day. I...I cannot allow you to travel. Alone, in the snow. You must stay."

His tone broached no argument, yet still you tried, packing your bag, your cheeks aflame.

"I...it isn't..." you stuttered, and Kento turned to you, chin inclined to the floor, one fine eyebrow raised. You took a deep breath, certain that if you didn't leave now, you may fall too deeply into Kento's insistent heat. Yet...you knew he was right. The path was treacherous. The snow would take you before the dawn.

"Would you like a bath?" Kento offered, turned away to save you your blushes; a gentleman.

"I-- please don't go to any trouble--" Kento swiftly ignored you, beginning to grasp the enormous iron pot, lifting it with stunning ease. His voice didn't even hitch.

"It's no trouble. I bathe every night. You can go before me." Kento carried the pan, stepping behind a folding wooden screen, and you followed him as if to argue, watching him begin to fill an enormous copper bathtub. Your hands shook as you began to remove your shawl, still blushing, so briefly overwhelmed before squashing it down.

Kento glanced up at you, pausing as he poured hot water, "This will take me some time," he said, apologetic, "please make yourself comfortable. I'll call for you."

You nodded, clearing your throat, hands twisting in your removed shawl. Kento chastised himself for admiring the soft curve of your breasts into your waist, the hidden delight of the swelling of your hips beneath your heavy skirts. He did not see how the steam rose fast, dampening his white shirt, how you could see all the way to his navel as he leaned over the bath. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

As you walked the length of the room, your fingertips brushing tapestries and grazing over warm furs, your curiosity drew you to a wide, flat trinket box, inlaid with mother of pearl, the colours an aurora in the rolling firelight. You stroked the box just once, before lifting the lid.

Your eyes crinkled immediately with joy at the treasures within; the box was full of lovingly crafted necklaces of gold, silver, pearl and gem, the chains finer and softer than any you had ever seen. You did not feel Kento approach as you admired them.

"I'd like for you to choose one," he offered, sincere, as you spun to face him. He raised his hands placatingly, a smile at the edge of his mouth, "not in lieu of payment, of course. A gift, I...made them with no real aim as to who should receive them."

"You made these?" You gaped, unable to fathom how such enormous hands crafted such intricate delights, "Kento, I-- they're beautiful, I couldn't possibly..."

If Kento had held any reservation, after hearing his name tumble from your lips, he was filled with the burning certainty that the jewellery should be for you, and you alone. His hand closed over yours as you moved to shut the box.

"Please," he breathed, so close, "choose one, or I shall give you them all." Swallowing, your hand hovered over a fine chain of silver and emerald, your fingertips brushing the gem. Kento hummed his approval, before picking it up, his calloused fingers all softness and grace.

"My favourite, too," he rumbled, brushing your hair off the nape of your neck as he clipped the necklace into place. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers on your neck, and almost ran as he whispered beside your ear, "Your bath is ready."

Stripping behind the wooden screen, hearing Kento amble around the room beyond, you sighed as the hot water enveloped you. Washing yourself with a soft sponge, cleaning off the grime of the day, your hand wandered absentmindedly downwards, fingertips grazing through your folds, naturally moving to relieve yourself of the building tension--

"I've left you a shirt." Your hand darted upwards with a guilty splash, Kento's voice only meters away behind the screen.

"Thank-- thank you," you squeaked, blushing, before climbing out, so naked apart from your exquisite new necklace. Drying on a soft towel, your hand hesitated over the shirt draped over the screen, before pulling it on over damp skin. It reached down your thighs, but left little else to the imagination.

Kento remained outwardly stoic, unreadable, averting his gaze as you crept out, arms holding yourself and squashing your breasts together, the colour of your nipples as faint as a ghost under the white linen shirt. He cleared his throat, coughing lightly before skirting past to the bath. You felt heat creep up your neck at the gossamer hush of his clothes hitting the floor, the shifting water as he stepped in, the way he sighed in relief, almost as if--

"I shall sleep in the chair tonight," Kento said, slow and considered, "and you shall have my bed." You felt indignation roll within you.

"Don't be ridiculous," you scolded, "you're injured, and this is your home--"

'-- and you are my guest," he grumbled.

"I won't allow it," you insisted, almost forgetting yourself as you approached the wooden screen, "I'll put some furs on the floor and--"

"You believe I would let you sleep on the floor?" He growled, furious at your suggestion, "I should rather you have me share the bed with you over that--"

"Fine. Then we shall share the bed. And there will be no more argument." You clapped a hand over your mouth as the words tumbled forth, unbidden. Mortified by your own suggestion, you removed your hand to speak again.

Kento stepped round from behind the screen, his towel draped lazily round his waist. You gaped up at him, stunned. He was...younger than you thought, his blond hair now soft and floppy, the ash removed from the lines in his face, taking ten years off him. You faced him, his towering form, the practiced rolls, peaks and planes of muscle belonging to a working man, his forearms so thick--

"Then...we should get to bed," Kento insisted, stepping past you, through a doorway to his bedroom, where you heard him rummaging for clothes, "it is late and I am up with the lark."

You hesitated where you stood, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, desperately curious, but paralysed.

"I don't bite," Kento called out, and you gulped down the sounds of soft fabric dropping over his body, still crippled with indecision and embracing yourself as he stepped out to put out the fire. You were lost momentarily in darkness before he stepped to you, the lantern between you, a beacon in the dark. You felt his hand close around your fingers again. You heard him whisper.

"It will become cold quickly, now the fire has died. Come. Stay warm."

You allowed yourself to be led to Kento's bedroom, hypnotised by the small swinging lantern. Kento led your hand downwards, placing it to the edge of the bed for you to feel your way, your fingers gliding through soft fur and cool sheets. With shaking hands, you crawled across to the head of the bed. Kento waited for you, flipping down the sheets, flipping them back up to your chin as you both slipped between them.

You heard nil but your own heartbeat. Kento faced you, the torch light embering behind him leaving him only just visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. The sheets had not yet warmed from your bodies, and you shivered. You felt Kento shift beside you.

"You...are cold," he stated as if in question. You remained quiet, gripping your hands to your chest lest they reach out for him.

"I'm...I'll warm up. Soon," you reassured yourself as much as him. You heard one doubtful grunt from him. Five minutes passed, and still, Kento felt you shiver against the sheets. Pulling a fur up to your chins, he felt prickles up his legs as one of your feet reached hesitantly out to touch him. He felt rather than heard you sigh.

"So warm," you whispered, your little voice soft with comfort in the dark. Kento's breath caught in his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside his soft trousers.

"Do you...need me?" He offered. He felt your other foot reach out in answer, cold toes wiggling against the downy hair on his leg. He felt a dangerous, needy arousal thread through him.

Reaching out his uninjured arm, he hooked it round your waist, chuckling as you squeaked when he pressed against you. You hummed in pleasure at the heat rolling off him, basking in his warmth, forgetting your awkwardness for a moment. Kento and you lay intertwined like that, with you softening like butter in his arms.

After a few minutes, you shifted against him, about to drift off to sleep. Kento must have been near sleep as well, groaning into your hair as you shifted, reflexively clinging you closer to him. Your bottom, completely bare with his shirt shifted up your body, pressed back to his groin. His clothed cock was hard and barely restrained in his loose trousers, and pressed between your thighs.

You felt a jolt run through you, feeling a warm trickle of arousal, so alien to you, seep out between your thighs. Kento almost saw stars as it dampened the trousers over his cockhead, and he frowned, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade in apology and embarrassment.

"I-- I'm sorry, I--...it's been so long...since I've felt a woman-- shit, I'm--" Kento rested his nose against your neck, unable to stop himself from ghosting his lips there. You dropped your head back to him, and he growled in appreciation, nuzzling your neck, feeling your thighs clamp around the tip of his cock, your arousal seeping through his trousers and mixing with his own.

"I've never--" you whispered, blushing furiously, drunk on the feeling of his body against yours, feeling so curiously empty and aching to be filled. Kento understood immediately, and moved to pull back.

"No!" You squeaked, holding onto his arm, pushing yourself back to chase him along the bed, "Please, I-- I want--...you. I want you." Your words sat heavy in the air. Kento shifted behind you, at war with himself.

"You don't know what you're asking," he growled, fighting against you to remove his arm, "I am no boy."

"And I'm no girl, nor stupid," you reassured, "I'm not ignorant."

In an instant, Kento moved above you, on all fours, his arms caging you in, corseting you to his bed. He stared down at you, enormous chest heaving, eyes roving down your body, quickly intoxicated by your peaked nipples, beneath his shirt, the hem of it barely covering your sex, still feeling your arousal dampening his cock.

He leaned down, nestling his mouth against your neck again, tongue flicking out, tasting you. He felt you still under his lips, just a little mouse, in the jaws of a bear.

"And yet, all that knowledge is just academic, until you're crying out that my cock is too big for you," he growled, warning you away, barely able to stop himself. He felt you squirm beneath him, his head swimming with you. He was lost, then, to your tiny whisper in the gloom.

"Show me-- please." Kento shuddered, a drop of pre-cum seeping out of his cock, soaking through his trousers and your-- his-- shirt, to dampen your belly. You shivered, desperate to know Kento biblically, desperate for this fabled ecstasy.

Kento raised his mouth from your neck, reading your eyes, seeing such certainty in them. Tangling his fingers with yours beneath the sheets, he pressed the length of his body down against you as he kissed you, his other hand framing your jaw, gently encouraging it open to slide his tongue against yours. Your soft little moan was like music to his ears.

Kissing you deeply, learning your voice and your mouth, letting you learn the peaks and planes of his body with your free hand, Kento kept your other hand plaited with his own, fearful of leaving you to take this journey alone.

He felt himself shudder with the unbridled privilege of being able to worship you, jealously grateful that you had not been left to some boy. He was overwhelmed by the need to set your standards high at the first hurdle.

"Let me taste you," he murmured into your mouth, and you hesitated, unsure of what he meant. Swiping his thumb across your palm, Kento's mouth ventured downwards, sucking the skin of your neck, nipping before soothing the skin with his tongue, feeling you become pliable, supple as water. His fingers danced over the laces holding your shirt together, giving you opportunity to stop him, before untying them, freeing your breasts.

Laying his tongue flat over one nipple, Kento allowed it to curve to the shape of you, to know you, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking on your nipple while his hand toyed with and kneaded the other. He revelled in your whines, a high, keening mewl as you arched off the bed into his mouth. You felt his licks and sucks, curiously, between your legs, and you could not help but buck up against him.

Kento grunted at the feeling of your pussy pressing against his thigh, and moved one hand down to hold your hips still.

"Slow down-- let me show you," he ordered, gentle in his insistence. You trembled under his fingertips, your hips settling back to the bed. He rumbled his approval, rolling your nipple under his tongue again until you sighed, breathy and ecstatic, "Good girl."

In reward, his mouth continued to trail downwards, and your eyes fluttered closed, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head, your fingernails scratching through his damp hair. Kento shivered at the sensation, feeling his cock leap against his thigh.

When his mouth reached your mound, you squeaked out in alarm, flipping the blankets down to see Kento, illuminated in the orange light.

"What are you-- your mouth, Kento--" Kento's eyes crinkled up at you, and two arms came to loop round the top of your thighs, pulling you down the bed towards him, your shirt being rucked up against the drag of the mattress to completely expose your glistening pussy to him.

Maintaining eye contact with you, you trembled with anticipation as Kento poked his tongue out into a point, first grazing your folds, before stroking from side to side to ease in between them. The sound that broke out from you as his tongue stroked over your clit, hot and wet, was one Kento masturbated to for years to come.

You felt as though you had been lifted from earth and dropped amongst the clouds as he licked at you, sucking, stroking, tasting, the pleasure so otherworldly compared to what your own hand could achieve, that you felt yourself being rushed towards your peak at speed.

Twisting and squirming against his mouth, you reflexively tried to pull your pussy away from Kento's attentions. His arms tightened around the tops of your thighs, growling into you, pulling you back as you tried to scoot away. Your hand tugged at his hair as you arched, whimpering, coated in a fine sweat. As Kento groaned into your cunt, you watched his hips roll and hump against the bed, the sight alone enough to send your orgasm crashing through you, and you worshipped his name in a long, keening cry.

Kento let his laps and sucks become softer, languid, letting you float through the haze of your pleasure. Nuzzling at you, tasting you as you trailed lazy blissful fingers through his hair, Kento planted soft kisses to your inner thigh.

Moving back up, stroking his nose against your neck, Kento felt your hand move down his shoulders and back, before coming round to ghost over the front of his trousers. Kento shuddered, kneeling above you to remove his shirt, skin prickling with the need to feel yours against his own.

Gazing down at you, his eyes like whiskey in the flickering light, he grazed a palm from in between your breasts, down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one swift tug, exposing you completely to him.

Your hand still trailed over his groin as he knelt, and you were captivated, obsessed with the shape, weight and length of his cock in your hands, blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. As you grasped the lace at the front of his trousers, undoing it, and squeezing the head of his cock between your fingers, Kento moaned, ragged, leaning one hand sideways to support himself.

"Fuck-- I haven't-- not for so long," he moaned, low and husky, feeling your inexperienced fingers explore his cock and balls in a way that felt almost abusively naive. As your thumb glided beneath his foreskin, collecting the wetness of his pre-cum, exploring his slit, Kento hissed, panting and grabbing your hand.

You broke out of your reverie, blushing with mortification, tears pricking in your eyes as you began to apologise. Kento interrupted, shushing you, one hand still gripping your fingers around his cock, the other coming up to cup your face, his thumb swiping across your cheek.

"Not you," he huffed, stroking your cheek, smiling down at you with fevered eyes, "me, it's-- I-- I'll cum in your hand if you carry on." Your eyes glimmered, hungry to see how he looked as you pleasured him, and you moved yourself, leaning close, squeezing him again beneath his own hand, and he cried out in pleasure. You felt another drip of his arousal across your fingers, and you gulped, your tongue darting out across your lips.

As you lowered yourself to his lap, Kento's eyebrows raised in shock, and desperate awe, as you licked the weeping cockhead sticking out from your joined enclosed hands.

A low rumble ebbed through Kento, his eyes suddenly dark and hungry as he looked down at you, wordlessly using your hand inside his own, to pump the length of his cock. Feeling the intoxicating glide of soft skin over woody hardness, you let him use your hand to masturbate himself as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking, tasting the musty pre-cum there.

Every instinct screamed at Kento to chase his orgasm, to press your head further down his cock so he could use your little hand to jack off into your mouth, and he felt overwhelmed by the innocent licks and sucks you gave him, eyes cast upwards to see what effect they had on him. Kento moaned desperately, twisting on his haunches, fingers in turn tangling into your hair and coming away, clenching and unclenching at speed.

He felt the approaching rush of divine ecstasy, thrumming up his back in waves, his balls tightening up against the base of his cock--

Snapping, Kento pulled your hand and mouth off him, heaving you up the bed and back onto the pillows, before pinning you down with his body, panting into your neck, trying not to spill his seed over your belly. You were thrilled, ecstatic with Kento's pleasure, eager to see more of it.

You crept your hips up to his, trying to ease his cock into you. Kento huffed, his hand shooting down to press your hips down again.

"--going to kill me-- I swear-- no idea...you have no idea what you're doing to me--" Kento panted, quaking above you, one forearm planted above your head. As his peak ebbed away, Kento plaited his hand with your own again, above your head. He felt his cockhead resting against the smooth resistance of your entrance, and he suddenly felt so responsible for you.

"I don't want to hurt you," he huffed, aware he was bigger than average, but knowing from the fevered look in your eyes that he could not dissuade you-- not that he wanted to, at this point, his cock throbbing with urgent need.

"Please," you begged, "please." You felt Kento's hips press forwards into your soaking wet heat, feeling a slight sting as it met resistance. Kento rested his nose to yours, his eyes still feverish, his body still smelling of iron and ash and smoke.

"On one condition," he pressed, authoritative as his cockhead pressed deeper against your stinging resistance, breaking past thin membrane, gripping your thigh up to his hip as you trembled, biting your lip, tears in your eyes as you nodded-- anything, you thought, anything.

"Marry me," he whispered against your lips, and you squeaked as you felt a twang of pain, his cock suddenly nestled deeply inside you. Kento rocked his hips gently, shushing you, soothing you, his thumb stroking your palm. Not moving, just holding you as you adjusted to feeling so full, Kento waited for an answer.

"Y--yes...yes," you mewled, and Kento growled his approval against your neck, slowly pulling out of you before rutting back into your wet, tender pussy again, so intimate and deep that you cried out for him.

Kento rolled his hips, like a boat on the waves, whispering into you, certain he wouldn't last long; "First-- I'll cum inside you-- then I'll treat you like a queen...haaah...for the rest of my days."

You clung to Kento, lost in the ecstasy of him plowing into you, delighted by his rumbling groans in your ears, blissfully proud of being able to make such an unflappable man fall apart inside you. When his grip on your hip faltered, his shaking hand dropping to stroke quick little circles around your clit, Kento growled and bit into your neck to feel you rock your hips upwards to meet his own.

The sting almost completely eased, you felt quick pangs of pleasure, rising with every beat of your fast little heart, completely carried along by the eroticism of Kento's frantic groans and mumbles into your ear.

"My love I-- you feel so good...so good...god, I need to cum, need you to cum I-- aahhhh, fuck--" Kento felt your pussy clench around him, and he came inside you as you drank down his moans, fascinated by how they matched up with the bounding twitch of his cock, how his hips juddered into you involuntarily, how his face contorted, jaw clenched, somewhere between rage and serenity.

You were famished, starved of him, immediately desperate for more, and you felt him crumple into you, caging you in, shoulders heaving and spent. Kento chuckled as you peppered him with kisses, gripping your thighs round him and rolling him over so you lay above him, straddling him as his cock softened within you.

With his chin on his chest to look down to you, and a lazy lopsided smile across his face, Kento played idly with your hair, stroking your nose, your cheeks. He proudly fingered the beautiful necklace, resting against your breasts, squashed and plush against him.

"You meant it?" He asked, eager, concerned.

You hummed in delight, pressing a tender kiss to his chest as you nodded; "You had me at 'hello'."

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Would the anon who requested Blacksmith!Kento PLEASE STAND UP so I can credit you for breaking my brain.

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