hello !! here’s an ask for the dry inbox,, do you ever miss writing for aot ?
aaaa hello hello!!!
i would say yes, but they are so integrated within my life that i rarely feel i miss them. i miss my audience for aot as i feel it became very avatar centric with the popularity of Fantazize (which i love because i love avatar and that fic) but i do miss having demand for aot just because they’re my n1s!
i have a ton drafted for aot though and eventually im just gonna publish it all anyway despite there being little traffic for it rn!!!
i see!! i only ask because i see that rick grimes fic and the gasp i gusp … i had to ask
- ☀️
HAHAHAH STOP i have so many Rick fics that i’ve never pursued simply because i felt i had no audience for him…. but honestly i find joy writing even if i get 2 notes, so i have a few rick things in the planning phase!
essentially i make a draft post on here of a title, pairing and synopsis and i currently have around 162 and a few are rick related (as well as some negan because i had a quarter life crisis and liked him for 5 minutes)
i have a few parts in the tba — some where more aot characters are watching them, as well as one with a cameo guest and also someone meeting qpids out in the wild…! i just need to sit down and actually write them
something to grace the dry inbox!! are there any fandoms that you like, but don’t write for? or maybe ones you would write for, but haven’t yet?
- ☀️ 🫶
SUNSHINE ANON!! how i have missed you!!
honestly when i first started jeanbie, i only ever planned to write for attack on titan, but nowadays i’m really not interested in restricting myself and i just want to write for everything!
a guilty pleasure however is that in my own time i will probably indulge in fics that are for real life people (for example i did read football fanfics lately lmfao don’t even judge me) and yet i dont think i will ever write for that! it just isn’t what i want my account to be after nearly a decade of bts fanfics lol (but that doesn’t stop me from reading 👀)
there’s also a lot of fandoms i just don’t know anything about but still like to read. for example i will gladly read a call of duty fanfic despite knowing nothing about those guys
tags: sugar daddy/sugar baby themes, post helen, post john wick 2
words: 2.4k
note: wrote this 10 million years ago on the old blog and am just reuploading for archive purposes. 1) pic in header is sunmi just cause she's hot 2) may return to this one day...idk yet
⏤ Having lost virtually everything related to Helen, he found himself back at the Continental, back to listening to Addy sympathetically give her condolences and five seconds later, introducing him to Seeking Arrangements.
Sometimes, John doesn’t really know how he gets himself into awkward situations.
The first few occasions, he figured it was merely a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. While, actually, this always worked out in his favour, John began to notice that it was more frequent that he ended up at a bar with some people he didn’t really know, or being invited to a baby shower as the date of a woman he had never even met before.
Granted, John enjoyed company whenever he could get it, and whenever it avoided conflict; however social skills have never been his strongest asset.
No, he simply prefers silent gestures or glances across rooms, ‘eye conversations’ where he says hello and nothing else for the remainder of the evening.
“You just need to loosen up a bit,” is what Addy had told him, whilst slipping him a glass of straight bourbon.
It had been a relatively quiet evening in the Continental, and just when John thought he could have five minutes of peace and quiet, Addy slipped in his line of sight.
“You know, go out. Make new friends.”
“You’re my friend,” John replied. He made no room to elaborate on that statement, swallowing the contents of the drink and pushing it back to her with a short nod.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, doing her job.
“No, you know what you really need?”
He didn’t answer, glancing at her through his hair as she filled his drink and rested her weight on her elbows.
Instantly, John didn’t like the feeling in his stomach when Addy raised her eyebrows suggestively, tugging on her bottom lip with newfound excitement: “I think you need to get laid.”
And when John scoffed with humour, she tried again, “and not like, laid as in you have a one night stand. No — hear me out, John! You should invest in a sugar baby. You know, someone you can spend time with when you’re not doing the dirty work for everybody else. It’s fun, and frisky, and also means you can start spending some of the millions you have stashed somewhere not being used.”
Addy then smiled, “Maybe instead of retirement, what you really need is something to help you unwind.”
John scoffed, gulping back the bourbon. “I’m married.”
At that, she tossed her head back with a laugh and leant forward. “And since when are sugar babies a relationship status?”
That’s really all the thinking he had done on the subject of John — John fucking Wick — investing in a sugar baby.
He simply took it in stride, almost complimented by the assumption that he was attractive and rich enough to have someone leaning on him for money and sex, and stored it away for future thought when he was lost and drunk.
John never actually considered the possibility of “putting his bills to good use” until fucking Santino D’Antonio decided to light a bonfire inside his house.
Having lost virtually everything related to Helen, he found himself back at the Continental, back to listening to Addy sympathetically give her condolences and five seconds later, introducing him to Seeking Arrangements.
John doesn’t know why he’s doing this, staring at the laptop screen that smiles at him.
For circumstances, Addy had loaned him her laptop for the evening he spends at the Continental, and he’s too busy browsing the elaborately made profiles that he barely registers the fact that he is still wearing his suit.
He pulls at the cuffs of his blazer and is midway through taking it off when he stumbles across one profile that shamefully catches his eye.
“A sugar baby suggests that I sleep with them, and as I said,” John had mentioned back in the bar, “I’m married.”
Addy had grabbed his hands and groaned, “Look — you might surprise yourself. And, I’m not suggesting that you throw your wife away for somebody new. I’m just saying you need to…make use of yourself. Honestly, you’re too sexy to be stored away like this. Most sugar babies are dumb and unobservant, they won’t even know who you are.”
John is hesitant to browse this user's profile. If he wanted to “make use of himself” by investing all of his personal time into somebody who in truth wanted him for his dick and his bank balance, then it needed to be somebody at least near to his wavelength. Somebody who was smart, but clueless at the same time, and somebody who was the complete opposite of Helen.
The last thing he needed on top of a handful of a baby was the guilt of moving on.
But still, even when he pinned her tab and returned to scrolling through the profiles, John realised that most sugar babies were simply trolls hidden behind pretty pictures, or girls who wanted money for pleasure and not for need.
He went back to the profile. Three times. Three times, before he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a quiet, “Oh, fuck it,” and favoriting her account, and pressing to send a message.
Even online, John was never great with words. He typed, and backspaced, and typed again, trying to come up with something interesting to make up for the bland profile he made around thirty minutes ago.
From: johnw
So. Do you like dogs?
If Addy were here, she would have slapped him.
Almost immediately after it sends, John lets out a frustrated noise and tears his gaze away from the screen.
Dating just wasn’t like how it was when he met Helen. Why did everything have to be so complicated, and mysterious, and why the hell does he even have to waste his money on somebody when he could be saving this money to eventually, whenever the day comes, retire?
John wrestles with the dilemma of deleting the whole account when a notification bell rings through the laptop speakers.
From: brooklynbaby
yes, I love dogs!!!
(typing)
do you have a dog?
John breathes a sigh of relief.
From: johnw
Yes. I do.
From: brooklynbaby
oh, great :)
(typing)
John’s leg begins to bounce quickly, the table wavering with the glass on top, like an earthquake. Suddenly, brooklynbaby stops typing and John stills.
Why did she stop? Did he do something wrong?
From: brooklynbaby
want to be my sugar daddy?
Never mind.
From: johnw
I would.
From: brooklynbaby
cool
Neither him or brooklynbaby says anything for a few moments, and John doesn’t notice. After all, he is still a working man, busy with life and revenge and trying to stay alive for more than three seconds.
When he goes back to the laptop and sees no reply, he frowns.
From: johnw
I'm sorry. I really don’t know what I’m doing.
What am I supposed to say?
He makes a mental reminder to have words with Addy later.
From: brooklynbaby
hahaha nw
we could make dinner reservations and talk over terms if you’d like!
i say reservations because they’re fancy and if anything goes wrong, we can pretend we’re… business partners? discussing business?
Without even really realising, John finds himself laughing shortly, settling back into the chair.
All of this feels weird, as in typing to a stranger he’s planning to spend his money on and occasionally fuck.
John quickly revisits her profile and spends four minutes analysing her profile picture. If this is her, then she’s really very beautiful. A steal.
From: johnw
When are you free for dinner?
From: brooklynbaby
hmm
well i’m dog sitting tomorrow, but i can be free for the day after
is that okay?
From: johnw That would be fine.
[Address] at 7pm, does that work for you?
brooklynbaby pauses.
From: brooklynbaby
am i gonna have to dress fancy?
From: johnw
Don’t feel pressured. I only own black.
From: brooklynbaby
well….guess i’ll bring out like one of my old party dresses
you have to promise not to judge me
John laughs again.
At some point during the evening, he ends up with a planned dinner reservation at one of the most expensive restaurants in Brooklyn, and he’s also one grand poorer thanks to the generous donation in brooklynbaby’s bank account for a nice evening outfit.
When John returns the laptop to Addy the following morning, he was admittedly expecting the rant that followed.
She had glared at the laptop being handed back over the bar and refused to serve him until he came up with a reasonably valid excuse as to why he wasn’t putting himself out there for a bit of company. John had blinked with an unimpressed look and drummed his fingers.
“I have dinner reservations with someone tomorrow at 7pm. Also — can I have a drink?”
But of course, with work being as tedious as ever and with his whole day being completely ruined by a blood stained shirt and poor room service for the first time in his many years of frequenting the Continental, John didn’t amuse himself with brooklynbaby until he logged onto the site on his phone, and saw that she had messaged thrice during the day.
He almost felt guilty, until he saw a string of numbers at the end of the last message. He deemed it less necessary to read her above messages and instead went right to texting.
brooklynbaby
ok
so should i just ask for mr john wick when i get to this restaurant?
sorry for so many texts im just kinda nervous
johnw
Yes.
I booked under my name and I will be waiting for you when you arrive.
Why are you nervous?
brooklynbaby
well just pre date nerves
send a picture so i know you're real?
John sank into bed.
johnw
Maybe I like the element of surprise.
brooklynbaby
seems unfair that you get to see me but i dont get to see you
ive seen your dog before you
johnw
You could have used any photo.
If we’re going to be technical, I don’t even know your name, or if that is really you.
John really hadn’t been expecting a full blown half-naked image at 4:15pm in the afternoon, but he will admit that it was nevertheless what he needed to break some steam.
He had arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes earlier than expected, but that’s okay, Mr Wick. Right this way!
Now that he was sitting here, at an empty table overlooking Brooklyn and the lights, with an already ordered bottle of wine, John could understand and relate to the first date nerves. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Not since —
brooklynbaby
uhhh im kind of here like ten minutes early
should i wait outside for you?
He laughs, mostly to himself.
johnw
I’m already up here.
I ordered a rosé, is that alright?
brooklynbaby
PERFECT
And, surprising himself also, John had clammed up and reached for his glass.
Thankfully, the owner of this restaurant knew John by face and order, because, after-all, this had been his go-to with Helen.
These days, he doesn’t have time to go out to new places and eat new things, and so had panicked, and picked a place with sentimental value, and a history of good food.
He gulped back his glass of bourbon and waited until the door at the other side of the room opened meekly, and he tried to appear vacant as the waiter led a woman across the room and towards him.
“Your date, Mr Wick.”
He left curtly and brooklynbaby followed his body as he left, her feet firmly glued to the floor as her head looked back over her shoulder.
John took this as an opportunity to look at her body, covered in a beautiful dress he felt proud of paying for.
Finally, brooklynbaby looked towards him and paused, observing him and his clearly surprising appearance.
John then remembered the gash on his cheekbone and the way he probably looked very off-putting with an unshaven face and long hair, but brooklynbaby smiled softly and raised her brows, beating him to helping her in her chair as she quickly sat down and looked at his glass.
“How did you know I liked beards?”
John didn’t say anything for a moment. “I didn’t.”
brooklynbaby rolled her eyes with a grin. “Of course you didn’t.”
She looked up, then, properly taking in his face. John did the same, looking at every feature present and coming to the quick conclusion that yes, she was definitely the woman in the pictures, and yes, she was one of the most gorgeous humans he had ever seen on planet Earth since Helen herself.
“You’re not what I expected,” she said honestly. “But, more than my expectations, if that makes sense. I didn't really introduce myself — I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.”
“John,” he replied and she sniggered and rested her chin in her palms.
“You’re seriously so handsome, I find it hard to believe you haven’t been snatched up online yet,” she complimented. “Are you sure you’re not married, or something?”
Her gaze panned to his hands where she noticed the wedding band, and for a moment, she hesitated. John wasn’t ashamed of the ring, nor embarrassed to be seen wearing it.
He toyed with it on his finger, looking at her from across the table. “It’s complicated.”
Y/N nodded meekly. “I see.” She cleared her throat, “divorce? Planned divorce? Affair?”
“No, I’m widowed,” he tried out a joke, but she only looked more uncomfortable.
Her mouth gaped and she fumbled for words.
“Oh, John, I’m really sorry — no, really, I’m so sorry,” she stumbled, and John watched her carefully across the table. “God, how fucking insensitive. Sorry, I guess that just — wow, that never really crossed my mind. That's horrible, I’m sorry.”
“It’s in the past,” John said, finding finality in that sentence. “I’m trying to move on from it.”
Y/N nodded sympathetically. “No, yeah, wow, I get it. Completely. I…hope I live up to great expectations, then?”
John smiled and looked past her, noticing the waiter rounding the corner with the bottle of rose. “You’re getting there, Miss L/N.”
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ★ KEANUVERSE
Last Updated: 17 July, 2026
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⏤⏤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 ★
☆ it's late, just stay [ john x reader ] ; having lost virtually everything related to helen, he found himself back at the continental, back to listening to addy sympathetically give her condolences and five seconds later, introducing him to seeking arrangements
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guys i do not use ai for my fics. if i did then i’d probably have more of them. EVERYTHING I WRITE IS MY OWN WHICH IS WHY SOMETIMES IT SUCKS AND IT TAKES 2 YEARS TO POST 😀
hehe thank you so much anon! most of my personal life is centred around this high fantasy medieval style so i wanted to bring myself to this blog and add a little bit of personality to jeanbie !! thank you for noticing ;-)
i’m all good too! feeling much more creative and ready to go — just writing what i feel like writing and whenever i feel the urge and so far it’s really rewarding!
𝕯AD'S!BEST FRIEND NANAMI
tags: afab!reader, age gap, spitting in mouths, cumming inside, unsafe sex
“QUIET.”
The words are not a request — they are an order.
The pressure builds deep in your belly as you stare up at Nanami, bowed over you with one hand on your thigh and the other clamped over your mouth. Even with wisps of his hair falling over into his face, the shadows drawn sharply over his features with the outdoor string patio lights, the glisten in the narrowed slits of his eyes, Nanami is a total vision.
The same vision that roped you in to begin with. The same man you practically worshipped — now shoving his cock between your legs.
A slight vibration of music beyond your bedroom door thrums under your back as Nanami pushes himself deeper into you. His hand unclamps from your mouth ever so slightly as he sinks deeper and feels you tighten around him, enough so that a shuddery moan escapes beneath his palm and into the indigo darkness of your bedroom.
And yet nobody can hear.
“Quiet,” repeats Nanami, his hand clamping back down over your mouth. His hands are so big that they dwarf every feature on your face, but his size never mattered to you — not in that way.
You ought to have been more cautious when proceeding to pursue your father’s best friend. Nanami ought to have been more morally intact when deciding to pursue you, as well; having known you for a good chunk of your life, he knew the ambiguity of this relationship. He knew how it looked, how it would sound if he were to explain it to somebody.
One simple beauty about this whole affair, however, is that he didn’t need to explain it to anybody. These moments were entirely for yourselves. For the last four months it had been as such: stolen, secret moments in equally secretive places.
Nanami shifts; he hoists your legs higher up over his forearms so that the heels of your feet are in the air, determined to stretch you wider to accommodate his size.
By now, you’ve grown accustomed to him. It no longer takes much work to slot himself inside of you. There has been enough practice at pushing himself inside and pulling himself out that the act is second nature to Nanami. Natural, in a way.
And yet, even after countless encounters, after fucking you stupid more times than he can bother to keep count of, the feeling never grows old.
Nanami could shove his cock in your cunt ten thousand times and never, ever get used to how good you feel, how easily you take him, how warm and wet you are before he’s even slid himself inside.
Sinking himself deeper inside of you, Nanami stares down at your face concealed in the dark, searching for your expression drawn out with the pleasure of his performance.
When somebody on the back patio shifts from in front of a light it comes flooding over your face and Nanami’s cock grows extra hard.
There you are.
You whimper against the palm of Nanami’s hand, eyes rounded and pleading like a faun begging for the hunter’s mercy. He refrains from crooning, feeling the desire tingle across his body like electricity.
There’s his wonderful girl.
“There?” Nanami thrusts slowly, feeling you tremble once his balls smack with a light sound against your ass. Your brows arch in contrasting directions and he grins. “Yep. There.”
“Nunnmimmf.” You mumble something behind his hand, unintelligible, barely even audible. It’s a secret language that only you and him can understand.
He cocks his head to the side. “What’re you muttering about?” His hips stagger suddenly with a deep jolt — you think he might have just ended up next to your lungs and you cry out loudly, this time loud enough for Nanami to get goosebumps.
“Mouthy today,” he mumbles, grunting when he pushes himself into you again. “It’s like you want them to hear us.”
No need for elaborations; a chill runs up your body, the thrill of knowing that your parents and their entire agency of friends are just behind your bedroom door, completely oblivious to the fact that Nanami is fucking you relentlessly, possessively.
The mere mention of your parents, even in its ambiguity, sends a rush of greedy shame through your body.
It wouldn’t go down well if anyone were to find out that Kento Nanami was fucking the living daylights out of his best friend’s daughter. The humiliation it would bring upon your entire family should be what puts you off spreading your legs for him, and yet it does the polar opposite.
This older man, the man who you once felt that ditzy shyness around whenever he came to visit, now being your lover? The man who your father trusts like a brother, burrowing between your legs like it’s his destiny to be there? Even just thinking about it leaves you wet and writhing.
It wasn’t always like this, mind you. It took a lot of effort and patience on your part to even get Nanami to look at you as a woman, as a singular being separate from your father. You’re sure that if you hadn’t left breadcrumbs across weeks of allocated time trying to gain his interest, then he wouldn’t be here right now.
So thank God you let your lucky tequila shot lead you into — or rather, onto — Nanami’s lap in your shortest skirt and soaked panties on the day of your father’s biggest promotion to date. Thank fucking God for that.
Nanami feels your wet lips against his hand, the warmth of your hallowed breaths with each thrust he delivers. The mattress sinks beneath you both as he fucks you, Nanami’s knees occasionally hitting the very edge of the bottom of your bedframe.
His shirt bulges around his tensed muscles and your hands smooth across him, marvelling. You know every inch of this man and yet you still look at him like he’s godly, as if being in his presence is impossible.
He grunts with each thrust, shifting the hand from your left thigh to your stomach. Nanami presses down and feels his pride swell when you cry out against his hold. You’re folded up like origami beneath him, and Nanami forgets to breathe for a second as he gorges himself on the picture of you beneath him.
“My gorgeous girl,” Nanami grunts, moving his hand once your legs tremble around him. His forearm straddles your waist as he lowers himself down over you, his hand tightening across your mouth.
Nanami’s eyes bore into yours and his head drops to the side slightly, a small smile on his face.
“My favourite woman,” he murmurs, staring so deeply into yours eyes that it’s almost as if he can see into you, into your mind. A squelch sounds between your legs as he slowly spears himself in and out of you. “Mm. You feel like heaven.”
His praise is like taking a hit of heroin. Making him proud…making him feel good… Those were your priorities at the best of times. And now, your third was keeping him here for as long as you can.
Kento Nanami might be your father’s best friend, but above all else, he was your lover. Your man. Yours.
Nanami’s clasp over your mouth loosens and he puckers your lips tightly. As he leverages his lips over yours hungrily, his eyes flitter from left to right as he scans your expression. There’s a hardness to his gaze that still makes you nervous even after everything he’s done to you.
A noise grumbles deep in his throat before he pushes himself so far inside of you that it actually hurts, and as you whine out suddenly, Nanami’s lips find your own. He kisses you with a gentle ferocity and you drink him up, desperate to be as close and as intimate with him as humanly possible.
“My girl,” he mumbles between kisses, dragging his lips from yours to your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck.
You shakily moan, squeezing your hands around his biceps. “Kento…”
The hand around your mouth squeezes slightly. Something flashes across Nanami’s eyes as they immediately cut to stare at you.
“What did I say about noise?” he asks — no, states. Gone is the voice of wonder and adoration; he’s back to commanding you. His brows raise as if unimpressed. “I said, quiet.”
“...They can’t hear,” you manage to say, despite his iron grip on your face. One eyebrow arches higher on his face and you tighten your legs around him desperately, bowing his body lower over your unbuttoned shirt.
It’s true, anyway. Your parents’ New Year parties are infamous for their loudness and large attendances — every neighbour and their invited guests would pile into your home ready for the ball to drop after midnight.
There’s so many people outside your door that Nanami’s disappearance isn’t even noticeable, which made it so easy for him to lead you by the hand to where he knows your bedroom is, via a specific pathway he’s mapped out and saved in his mind.
The door hidden behind a thin, lacy curtain leading out to the backyard is the only invitation of eyes Nanami left open — just for the fun of it.
“Fortunately for you,” Nanami says. “You’re insufferably noisy.”
“And yet you like me anyway,” you point out, tightening around his cock and forcing a groan of pleasure from his mouth.
Nanami’s groan is loud and open-mouthed. You laugh slightly, swollen with pride, and his eyes flicker down to your shiny lips.
With less ferocity as before, Nanami settles his hand back on your face; his thumb is indented into the hollow of your cheek, his fingers on the other, his palm over your chin. Then, he bows over your face and forces your mouth wide.
“I do,” he mutters softly. Then, he spits. It lands with a sting against your tongue and you blink furiously with surprise, arching yourself up to touch your tummy against his.
When Nanami pulls away, there are tears in your eyes.
God, you love this man.
“I love your dirty mouth,” Nanami goes on, sliding his hand down the length of your body slowly. Both of his hands then settle around your waist and tighten. His hips pull back before pushing back against you, harder and faster, the slap of skin aggressively loud.
You moan out loud, mouth hanging agape. The force of his thrust shifts the hair across his forehead, damp with sweat. His collarbones are glistening in the dim light, the sweat dampening through his clothes.
Fucking you sure as hell takes a lot of work, he thinks, and yet he barely has to try to make you feel good.
Nanami’s rhythm builds slowly, your wetness letting him slide in and out of you with about as much effort as blinking or breathing.
“I love your tight-as-shit pussy,” he continues, his voice low and sultry and somewhat gravelly with the strain on his body that was placed there after twenty minutes of deep, unrelenting sex. Your moans become trembling snippets of noise as he fucks you, the mattress gaining a creak as he slides in and out, somehow going deeper with every thrust.
Nanami closes his eyes and runs his tongue over his lip. It is with every inch of his effort that he doesn’t just cut the prolonged fun short and cums inside of you.
“I love that the beautiful daughter of my best friend begs for my cock every time she sees me.”
You cry loudly, the head of his dick pushing against the spongy walls of your insides. You don’t think he’s ever fucked your pussy like this before, with this much intensity.
Nanami moans deeply, his hands trying to pull you faster against his cock as his hips stagger forward.
“I love this pussy,” he says, his voice strained somewhat. He moans again, shuddering. “I love fucking you.” Nanami angles his face over yours, the tip of his sculpted nose brushing across yours. “Fuck, you are incredible.”
Something unspoken sits there as his face disappears, his head angled downwards as he, out of nowhere, picks up the pace. The words hang on the tip of your tongue like a promise — or a threat.
This man is your father’s best friend. This man is so much older than you.
And you are so fucking in love with him.
If he had more time, Nanami would ravage you entirely. He thinks about it in his mind for a second before he gives up on it; he thinks about wrapping his arms around you and arranging his body over your own. One arm beneath your hips and around your waist, the other snaking up your back with his hand around the side of your face. Nanami, under less risky circumstances, would want to devote himself to the act of fucking you, would take it slow with rousing an orgasm from deep inside you.
But his eyes just caught sight of the time on the alarm clock on your bedside table. 11:50PM. Ten minutes until his disappearance becomes noticeable.
His focus shifts; Nanami lets the fantasy of your parents floating around the house in search of their two missing guests push him to a new limit. His hips jerk forward viciously and you whimper, your knees bent up towards your chest as Nanami rearranges and buries himself deeper — if it was even possible.
The faint smell of sweat and whiskey fills your senses now that he’s closer to you, and you feel drugged off the combination of him. He fucks you intently, in and out, in and out, until it becomes his programmed mission.
The only things in the room are you and him.
The only thing that matters aside from finishing before the final countdown of the year is you.
“Although I could fuck you for hours,” Nanami begins, barely sounding out of breath as he repeatedly fucks himself in and out of your stretched, quivering cunt, “I’m afraid we’re on a tight schedule.”
You try to reply — unsuccessful. All you can produce is a mixture of incoherent nonsense, the language that Nanami can miraculously understand with acute accuracy.
“But don’t worry,” he assures you, pressing a wet and long kiss to your mouth. When he pulls away, it leaves you in a hungry state of agony, “we can pick it up again next year.”
You attempt to laugh, but the noise escapes you in a breathless kind of cry.
“Bet you’ve been waiting all night to use a line like that,” you gasp. The warmth of his cock moves in and out of your pussy with a kind of numbness that has your head reeling. You’re so tight and yet so stretched out that you feel the pressure between your hips releasing, giving in to his movements.
Nanami laughs under his breath, his smile widening. “You know me too well.”
“Mm, that I do.”
He tuts playfully, thrusting extra sharply into you as the numbers flip from 52 into 53.
“And there’s the cockiness that got us both here,” he says, feeling your walls tighten around him in an awfully familiar kind of squeeze. You’re just a few thrusts away from cumming around him. His eyes glimmer as he adjusts inside of you, “Just like your daddy.”
The line. The reminder of your own shame — exactly what Nanami knows you need to bring you over the edge.
A hot flush consumes your entire body in a flash. The knot in the centre of your stomach tightens furiously as he quickens his pace, his grunts in time with each slap of skin. Your hands stretch up to find Nanami’s face, one clawing up at his hair as he lifts himself up on the mattress by his knees and arches over your chest.
The headboard slams against the wall with a dull thud — if not for the music flowing through the body of your house, you think the sound would have echoed halfway down the street. A roar of rambunctious laughter deafens the hallway just as your mouth stretches wide, a chorus of pleasured sounds leaving your throat helplessly.
Beneath you the mattress creaks and Nanami nestles his face next to your ear, each grunt brushing a breath of air down your eardrums, sending a glossy ripple of goosebumps over your body. Your ankles are hooked over one another on Nanami’s back, holding him in place as he roughly fucks you back and forth.
The sound of Nanami fills your ears and you clutch him tighter, desperate to be closer to him.
“Mmhf. Fuck, Kento!”
Your hand immediately rushes to your mouth. Too loud. Too risky. Your face burns with morbidity and Nanami’s eyes bore down on you. His expression is unreadable for a second before the look in his eyes softens.
“Hm?” Nanami looks at you with faux concern. “You want to make noise?”
You say nothing. Only whimper helplessly against your own goddamn hand.
“Did before,” Nanami murmurs gruffly, pressing a kiss to the skin next to your ear, “didn’t you? You were begging to make some noise.”
Your bodies are basically conjoined with how deep he is inside of you.
He sighs into your ear, stroking his hand across your hairline before dropping it down the length of your body.
“Go on, then,” Nanami complies. His teeth grasp against your neck slowly. “Do your best for me, my love.” The noise that rumbles into your skin sounds like a goddamn growl. “Let yourself go.”
Well, if he’s giving you permission…
Taking a fistful of his hair, you push your lower body up the length of his cock, feeling every vein as you slide him inside. You’re positive that you look like a total whore beneath him, fucking yourself on his dick as he chuckles against your neck, clearly enjoying the desperation of your desire.
You know that he thinks your desperation for him is addictive, just like he knows that your desire for him is the same. The impatience of your need for him is growing even as your body grows tired, and Nanami’s pride soars.
You’re so desperate to be with him; it drives Nanami fucking insane.
“Oh my god…Ken…Kento...” Each frantic thrust forces a moan from your throat, and Nanami’s entire body scorches with lust. “Don’t stop… Please, please, please…don’t stop…”
Now why the fuck would he ever stop? He doesn’t bother commenting on that.
With each slap of skin, with every inch of your pussy that Nanami sinks himself into, your voice raises in both octave and volume. He’d happily go deaf from the sound of it, and he actually grins against your neck and finds the willpower left within him to fuck you faster and rougher than he ever has before.
Your head lulls to the side with exhaustion, the pressure growing heavier between your legs. Even as your vision blurs with hot tears, you can see dark blobs of human shapes in the backyard, moving to look at premature fireworks going off down the street.
Your heart hammers in your chest so hard that Nanami can probably feel it. It’s certainly throbbing in your pussy, which you know for a fact he can feel. You know he’s only going so fast because you haven’t cummed yet — there’s no way Nanami would ever allow himself to finish if you hadn’t done so first.
Could one of those silhouettes outside be your parents, searching through a drunken crowd for their absent daughter? You feel the shame and thrill simmer inside of you like meat on a grill. Then, you burn like the hot flame when you blink and see someone’s head turned in the direction of the door separating your ground floor bedroom and the backyard.
Shit. Are they looking at you and Nanami?
“You are fucking divine,” Nanami grunts, all whilst you stare in mortification at the door poorly concealed by your pointless, thin curtain.
Then they move. A glow of purple and teal light fills the sky and their attention shifts to it, the door forgotten about. You and Nanami are once again alone, and once your mind shifts from the stranger to the man who you’ve known for years, who’s cock is so far up your snatch that you think he’ll touch your ribs, and the rush of pleasure hits you like a rogue wave.
“Kento…!”
Nanami hums with satisfaction. His clothes are sticky with sweat against his body. “There we go,” he coos. “There we are, sweetheart. Let it go.”
Fireworks flash across your vision. It’s not even midnight yet; the fireworks are entirely your own, a display put together by Nanami for you and only you. Your legs shake uncontrollably around his body and you cry out so loudly it’s almost a scream.
As the orgasm bursts within you like the explosions of light outside, Nanami shows no relenting; he continues to fuck you quickly and aggressively, forcing your orgasm out with a loud string of groans, the most vocal Nanami has ever been with you before.
Between your thighs, you burn; your muscles feel overworked as if you’ve run a marathon, your body shuddering as you cum around Nanami’s cock. He falters as you squeeze furiously around him, your walls fluttering as they usually did whenever he forced an orgasm from you.
“Mmmf, my word,” Nanami’s voice is a gravelly muffle against your ear. You can feel the curve of his lips, the scrape of his teeth, as he smiles against your skin, “you have enjoyed yourself, haven’t you?”
You can’t even remember how to speak in order to reply to him.
“My turn,” he decides, nipping your ear before moving both of his hands up to the sides of your face and crashing his mouth against yours.
You welcome him in with exhaustion and need, numbed to the way Nanami continues to fuck himself into you until he’s satisfied with the work he’s done on you. At any point now, you’re expecting him to pull out and cover your stomach and chest with his cum — but the empty feeling of his dick pulling out of you never comes.
What comes instead is, quite literally, him.
Five more deep, rough, slow strokes is all it takes for Nanami to find his own orgasm, and once it rips through him, all you can think about is the warmth settling in the pit of your stomach.
Nanami just filled you like a fucking cream pie with his cum, and then the clock dings into the next year and the party screams with joy outside. Nanami moans loudly into your mouth as his cum fills your cunt, his hands trembling as he desperately empties himself into you like his life depends on it.
Your pussy is his, and his alone. And for the first time in the four glorious months of your affair, Nanami has decided to leave you with a reminder of who you belong to.
His muscles tense beneath your hands as you steady your trembling body. Nanami is breathing heavily on top of you, his eyes closed in an almost comatose state.
In attempt to rouse him back to reality, you shift to cup his face with your hands, but even the slightest movement sends a sensitive shiver down Nanami’s spine and he hisses, his eyes widening open as he restarts his brain and enters reality again.
“Don’t. Just—” Nanami starts, his face tightening. “Don’t move just yet.”
“Sorry,” you whisper, eyes searching his face with concern. Has he ever looked so wrecked? “Are you okay?”
Nanami’s eyes flash to yours and he frowns. “I should be asking you that.”
You manage to smile. It’s taking all of your energy to try and catch your breath and steady your heartbeat so that you don’t go into cardiac arrest.
“I’m okay,” you tell him, breathing heavily. “Just…”
You clench naturally and feel his cock still buried within you. How is it even possible that you forgot he was there?
Nanami groans inadvertently, his body shuddering. His eyes close momentarily before he settles the clench in his jaw and relaxes. Then, he looks back down at you and really stares.
It’s impossible to know what he may be thinking. You can hardly think of anything to say, instead letting the fireworks outside fill the silence with bangs and squeals, the neon lights illuminating the side of Nanami’s face. You see the glossy outline of his face, his sunken cheeks, his long nose and stern eyes…and your heart murmurs shyly.
His brows slope up when you blink and look away from him, suddenly self aware of the fact you’re sprawled beneath Kento Nanami, entirely naked, in your childhood bedroom in your parents’ home on New Year’s Eve… And Nanami scoffs.
“Don’t go shy on me,” he says in a low voice.
“I’m always shy with you.”
“You haven’t been shy with me in years,” he points out. “And you weren’t shy when you rubbed your cunt across my crotch four months ago.”
You squirm, “Well…I’m shy now.”
You can still feel the heat of Nanami’s body when he peels himself off you. With his hands flat on the bed on either side of you, he slowly slides himself out of your pussy whilst studying your face intently. You whimper as he removes himself from you, feeling his cum dripping out once he’s no longer plugging it inside of you.
“Well, I suppose it’s nice that you get shy around me,” Nanami begins, leaning back to admire his work. His eyes gloss over you appreciatively; he carefully parts your legs and uses his thumb to pull at your pussy, watching the warm and white ribbons of cum tumble out of you, impressed that he had so much left inside of him to give you.
“Means you’re not getting tired of me,” he finishes.
“Are you being serious?” you reply, hoisting yourself up on your forearms. “You’ll die of old age before I get bored of you.”
Nanami grins with amusement. “Hey, now.”
His amusement is contagious. You’re struggling to think of things to say to keep him here; you know that he needs to get back to the party, to try and act like he hasn’t just fucked his best friend’s daughter. But is it so wrong of you to want him to stay? To just say fuck it and fall into you completely?
You let him rise up from the bed and feel your heart sink with disappointment, as it always does when you both need to return to pretending like this never happened. Nanami reaches for the towel that’s hanging over the back of your desk chair and returns to mercifully clean up his mess.
“It’s not the princess treatment that you’re used to,” Nanami says, his lips quirking with a smile, “I apologise.”
“Time is of the essence,” you reply, taking it from him to avoid the spots that are making you wince. “You should go back to the party before my dad puts out a search warrant.”
He grunts with agreement. Nanami carefully rearranges his attire before deciding to watch you finish up, avoiding his gaze with every dab and swipe.
“And yet I don’t want to leave,” he reveals.
You pause. “I don’t want you to, either.”
There’s a beat of uncertainty before you brave a look at him and feel your body deform into jelly.
“But you have to,” you finish.
“I know,” he sighs heavily, hands on his hips and a look of disappointment fresh on his face.
He hesitates for a moment and you agonise over why. Is there something on his mind? Something that he wants to do, or wants to say?
You feel those traitorous words rise up your throat and you, with great effort, manage to swallow them back down.
Stay. I lo—
Nah. Better not to spoil a good thing with the truth neither one of you wants to address.
Eventually, Nanami straightens up and lifts his jacket from the floor, finding his glasses from the pocket and sliding them back up the bridge of his nose. It’s amazing that it takes such little effort for him to look normal again; you’re sure that you look completely unfixable.
“Well,” he announces, then pauses again. Good lord, he’s hovering, and he almost cringes at himself. Nanami then leans forward and cups his hands around your face, pressing two kisses to your lips before pulling away. His face is concealed in the dark, unreadable. “Happy New Year, my love.”
And then he’s walking to the door and twisting the lock, allowing the throb of music and cheering to enter your room as he opens the door and slips back out into the throng.
Silence settles. Your heart stammers.
A phantom pressure throbs in your pussy and you throw yourself back against your mattress and groan loudly.
For something as simple on paper as fucking your dad’s best friend, it sure as hell is complicated.
I just read your update and oh my God I hope you’re OK. I know how emotionally devastating it can be to lose all of your work. It happened to me twice when I was working on procreate. 😭😭 I’m sending you all the love and support I can.💜💜💜💜💜
thank you so much lovely !! i've decided to just work on projects that bring me inspo at the moment before finally reattempting Fantasize at any degree. i think part 2 ended in a good enough way that part 3 isn't totally necessary to be delivered asap <33 but it's actually soul crushing to see alllll your work destroyed. like, everything from my avatar wips like Fantasize, BYML, to my aot wips...it's just exhausting having to build it all back up.
i hope you manage to rebuild your portfolio as well !!! we got this!
