Senior Year Isn’t the Only Thing That’s Hard
Momoland's Nancy McDonie x Jeon Somi x Male Reader Smut
20,859 words
Categories | popular!Nancy and Somi, threesome, blowjob, titjob, anal, spanking, fluff, also if you get the reference(s) I love you
Thank you for commissioning! Was tough to find time to write during exam season but fuck it we ball.
Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.
But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.
See here: you're young. It's too early to worry about reputation—(oh, what a word, by the way, with its promise of faint or fail)—but a great, great place to start.
You didn't know about that second part until you met Somi and Nancy.
First, picture this: your story is a movie, the rare one where the male character is the lead of the story although—let's face it—it's them everyone's reading this for. Not you, not your style, not nada and zip. Everyone is and always will be here for them:
Jeon Somi and Nancy McDonie. They're teen royalty. Only a few students ever get to say they held that title. Not that it's of any importance later in life but what matters more than the present? The juniors look at them green with envy, and with the seniors, the ones who are all proud in their recent age of adulthood, either like them but hate to say it and "hate" them but like them too much to say it. It's that simple. It’s that complicated, too, at the same time.
And, admittedly, it’s… a lot to take in.
Strangely, you're not in either of those categories despite being a senior yourself. The difference is that you like them, and aren't afraid to say it. After all, you owe them a lot for helping you get out of your shell.
-
Well, not at first. But that’s how it works, right? You, Somi, and Nancy don’t immediately become friends right from the get-go. There has to be some kind of story behind it, and you’re willing to tell yours.
-
It all started… well, like this:
You enrolled into a new school sometime after your eighteenth or nineteenth birthday. Yep, you really couldn’t remember. It’s all been in a flash with them, makes you feel a little dumb. All you know was it was the worst present to have: being required to join an institution that was as unfamiliar as it was unwanted. Like, fucking hell—this early? You were just a kid! Well, not anymore, but there had to be some kind of consideration for this, right? An exception that could be made?
Unfortunately, signing up for a new school was not a subject up for debate. It wasn’t something you could bargain yourself out of. No promises to be good, no extra chores, nothing. Your parents were firm on deciding that you were in need of a fresh new start.
And it just sort of happened that this clean slate you had? You ruined it completely.
Oh, it was classic teenage rebellion. You did almost everything you could to buy your way out of circumstances that didn't go how you wanted them to. You wouldn't say it was totally uncalled for. You had friends at your old school you thought you'd forever be with—the way you saw it, no one could just pull that away from you.
Alas, here you were. You'd been in this classroom more times than you could remember. Neither you nor the presidents spoke. No one was willing to break the ice.
Finally, sun melted the cold and replaced the winter with a fiery, hot summer. "You again?" Nancy McDonie leaned on the edge of the teacher's desk. Her expression was that of someone who's going through a cruel cycle of same-shit-different-day. You knew what that's all about. "I swear, we see you here every Tuesday."
And what a privilege that was. Sarcasm? A little.
"Oh?" you said. You did your own leaning on the backrest of the chair and put your arms behind your head. "Well, it's not like I enjoy it here."
Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. To be truthful, you didn’t know either at the time, so… well—you’re left involved in another banter with the two leaders of the student government. You didn’t see why you had to be sent to them every time you did something even just the littlest bit of wrong, but here you were. This was routine already. As everyday and usual as brushing your teeth and showering.
Nancy squinted her eyes at you, and you stared right back unnervingly. Neither of you were going to give up a silent fight like that.
"If you did," Jeon Somi quipped, beside her best friend with her hands on her own hips, "we'd understand. I mean, look at us."
She didn't have to remind you. Both girls were prettier than they should be. ‘Cause look here for a minute: Nancy's got this long caramel hair going on for her, and it extends long beyond her shoulder blades, framing her amazing curves and slim arms. She's the push to Somi's pull—Nancy is the calmer one, the girl who takes things more seriously.
To be fair, Somi does her own taking, too. Just not in the same way. She's blonder, bustier, more extroverted. She walks life with an unrestrained laugh unfit for such a gorgeous girl and feet clad with platform school shoes that always carry her in paces around the classroom. She's kind enough to cast a blind eye on some of your offenses, but too princess-y to keep her words about herself humble.
You say these in present tense because later on, when the circumstances change and so do the seasons, you'd find out that's truly who they are. Your relationship would change but they wouldn't. They're still the same Somi and Nancy who are always glued to each other, always giggling, always the it girls, always the most popular girls in school.
One day, the punishment for your routine offenses would be death caused by them, and even that you'd welcome. Oh, just imagine…
"Let me guess." The brunette girl tapped her finger on the desk surface. Lucky piece of wood. "You didn't pay the treasurer again?"
You sighed and fiddled with your pencil. Scratches from the pointed led were imprinted on the olden table attached to the seat. You bit back a remark about how the class treasurer was as corrupt as a politician withering away with the hope the graft charges would, too. "Wrong," you said, steadily. "I accidentally spray-painted miss Seo during arts.”
Your truth was met with silence.
“She looked like she came out of a unicorn's asshole," you helpfully added.
You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ah, well, of course you did—it was impossible to forget when it happened fifty fucking minutes ago. Yes, you counted down, because the surprise that took over you when you squeezed the nozzle of the can on a teacher you didn’t even know was behind you was everything to remember. Every color of the rainbow was soaking her dress pants and blouse, making her become the personification of a lively Pride parade.
(You didn’t leave that detail out for your poor victim not to hear, when you said: “Gay rights, anybody?”
Looking back, that was prooobably what got you into another meeting with the girls. The teachers had some real strange beliefs.)
Somi snorted, then started to laugh boisterously, so much that her body rocked downwards. To be fair, it started out as a small chuckle. Things went from this to that and suddenly it worked itself into a full cackle.
She slapped Nancy on the shoulder and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized; (it was useless), “but that shit’s so… fffucking—”
"It's not funny, Somi," Nancy said with a more solid voice than that of her friend’s. "Hey. Hey, it's not funny!"
“Just think about it, babe.” Somi, still snickering, tried to put some sense in her, tried to make her see what made it so funny. “Think of the gay flag. Now—listen—imagine it as mean old miss Seo. You see where I’m going?”
“Still not funny.”
"C'mon, prez," you told the unconvinced girl. You flung your hands in the air nonchalantly. "Live a little."
"Yeah, Nance," echoed Somi cheerfully, poking her best friend’s cheek. She was the only one who could ever do that to her. Any other person and they’d be found dead in a ditch alongside their reputation. And god, did it matter a lot to young’uns like you. "Live a little."
"Don't call me that.”
Somi shut her mouth. From what you noticed, she was the lesser contained of the two of them. She spoke with a sailor’s mouth that had the accent and vocabulary of a valley girl. Kind of true—she was filthy rich. You saw her parents during the senior acquaintance party and it wasn’t that hard to figure out she was wealthy when you saw her father slip her her allowance. Also, her mother was dressed in the best and latest trends, looking younger than she really was with how she held herself. Only rich people and really exemplary actresses could pull that off.
"And what was your offense the previous week?" Nancy went on. She was leaning forward now, unintentionally offering you the best view a horny senior could wish for: her bust struggling to be held inside her uniform blouse.
A distraction, that's what it was. Oh, fuck, now Somi was doing it, too. Both girls are busty, full breasts begging to be freed from fabric. You should have really requested undressing them as your punishment, but it was clear that it was probably what they wanted and this was simply to coerce answers from you, unintentional or not.
They still held their dynamics, even when they’re forcing words out of you. They went hand in hand, pairing up together like they were born to be friends: the angel that was Nancy, and the little devil Somi was; good cop (in a way) Somi, and bad cop Nancy.
You weren’t gonna say their methods didn’t work. You gulped. Since when did you sound like a shitty literotica author with two sales? "I started a food fight in the cafeteria."
"And the previous week?"
"I tripped mister Brown in the hallway because he failed me."
"And the week before that?"
"I started a campaign that Photoshopped Shrek onto teachers' faces."
Silence, as if all the world were a show that liked to take several beats.
“You think you’re funny, huh?” asked Nancy finally.
“You do,” you said. “You don’t think I can see you smiling?” There was something in her face that told you that hatred for you was not all there was to it. Something about the uplifted motion at the left end of her lips. Somi was barely hiding it with the giggles she was making.
“Don’t flatter yourself, dickhead.”
“Oooh, nice one for a first swear word.” You threw the pencil away and folded your hands together. Leaned forward, too, because if they were showing off their cleavages like that, you might as well do the same. “Got anything else for me?”
You promised you weren’t always this petty. These weekly meetings with the presidents just tired you out. It wasn’t your fault you were like this. It could all be traced back to your parents’ nth mistake: sending you off to this shithole of a school. For fuck’s sake, this wasn’t even where you envisioned yourself to be five years ago, when your teachers made you draw a visionary of yourself on white bond paper. Far from it, if you looked past your shitty skills at sketching.
“Detention, maybe,” Somi said helpfully after swallowing the last pieces of her laughs. “And a suspension.”
“Oh god.” You rolled your eyes. “Please, not you, too.”
“Yep. Real scary stuff, huh?” She smiled, raising her hands in claws before firing you a wink. Your breath shortened just for a while. Only just. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to go through all that if you behave.”
You smiled back. “Like a good boy?”
But there was your heart slipping into a knot as you said it. Joke-filled lines you exchanged with the girls were difficult not to stay upon when your hormonal brain kept each one dirty.
The two girls looked at each other for a moment. Then, they smiled. That was a rare one from Nancy. Somi, however, boasted her shining simper as she took a few steps forward to pat you on the shoulder.
"You're alright, newbie," was all she said. "You're alright."
-
A few months—
(Well, you could say it took fewer than that. Within a timespan of what seemed like seconds, Somi had you wrapped around the long hem of her ballroom gown. But she didn’t drag you around for long; she treated you like a fellow royal, helping you out with math though she had little time and greeting you in the hallways and therefore drawing looks, because why was the Jeon Somi talking to some random new kid? But attention was what came with being Somi and slash or being part of her life. It’s time you got used to it.)
—and a lot of bickering later—
(“You are the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met,” said Somi, fingers massaging her temple. “Who in goddess’ name doesn’t know dodos are extinct?”
You flipped the teacher’s copy shut. “Normal people,” was your answer to her, as you brooded over social studies homework at the library.
“Shhhh!” the librarian, with her stereotypical glasses and graying hair, hissed at you from her desk. After a hateful glare, she was returning to her telenovela, which you argued was louder than your hushed conversation with your new friend.
Friend? What could you call this thing you had with Somi? She liked you, but that didn’t mean she was your friend or you were hers. You could like a modern abstract painting at the gallery and still not buy it. Maybe that was how she looked at you.
“The dodo is dead-o,” Somi said seriously. She looked at you with an equally resolute glare.
“The dodo is dead-o,” you repeated. You could remember that.
“You’re so lying, did they never teach you that at your old school? Like at all?”
“Well I’m sorry I don’t spend time thinking if a stupid bird is alive or not.”
“See?” She raised her voice so that the poor juniors in the cluster behind you had to hear. “This, my friends, is what’s wrong in our society! Eighteen-year-olds in this prominent day and age are all like ‘I dunno what a dodo is!’!”
“For fuck’s sake, they’re all dead!” you yelled before the librarian could scold you again. “They won’t fucking care!”)
—things began to change.
-
She did say you were alright. You still had discourse over birds but in her eyes, you convinced yourself eventually you were alright.
-
It wasn’t the case for Nancy. That smile she made back in that classroom apparently meant nothing. You were amusing to her, but that’s everything to it. Nothing more, nothing less. You were entertaining in a way a clown at a children’s party was: no one particularly cared about it days after.
“He’s tagging along?” she said. She looked you up and down suspiciously, as a guard would at an airport, then turned to Somi. “Somi, I thought we agreed on no boys on trips.”
And it—
… hurt you?
Not only that made you feel out of place, but the visible fact that both girls were dressed like they were about to go to a gala. They were both in skirts, wearing layers that vested upon expensive blouses and coats that even from miles away would look good. You, of course, were excluded in your simple tee and shorts. It was as if you didn’t even try to look presentable.
“Consider me one of the girls,” you said. You hoped that quick reply was witty enough, because if not, you were doomed. You already had a bad enough poor position to deal with. See? You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t want it.
And it wasn’t like going to the mall with them was something you wanted either. Somi texted you one day, having found your number through means that were probably illegal but were given a blind eye because oh look she’s Jeon Somi, and asked, hey, wanna come to the mall w me?
Looking back, that message had a lot of undertones.
You didn’t know Nancy was coming along, but you should have known that when the two girls were always together. Hoping that she would come along was what you did, and perhaps one of the reasons why you wanted to go (wait, you wanted to go? But didn’t you— never mind). Now that she had expressed clear distaste for your presence, you felt like an outcast again.
You didn’t want to go back to those days.
Somi nodded enthusiastically. Well, at least someone was happy to have you around. She was the first one to warm up to you, and you could say that you were friends with her now. Something told you she was okay with that. “Yeah, Nance! I promise he’s gonna be good, like super duper good. Just think that he’s Mina.”
“Don’t call me that. Oh, and remember what we did to Mina?”
Everybody knew Kang Mina although she graduated a long time ago. She was a loner at first, but pretty. She didn’t know that she was beautiful, of course, not until she became friends with Somi and Nancy and suddenly—
“Oh no,” you said. You put up your hands. “No, no, no, no, no. You are not—”
“Giving you a makeover?” Nancy smirked, that being the first time of the day that she gave signs of a living smile. “Yeah, we are.”
The salon was right up ahead after the pavilion. You took a single look at it and saw its pink, glamoring state along with the hairdos it advertised, and knew that you were wholly, indefinitely, and irreparably fucked.
“God, what’re you gonna do to me?” you groaned as you were shoved into a disgustingly pink seat, accompanied by strange looks from strangers whose strangeness in their colored hairs and phrases shouldn’t give them any right to look at you like that. Masculinity this, masculinity that—but come on. It was… what year was it again?
“Hey, Jessa!” Somi called out loudly. Jessa was a plump, sweet woman with bayonetta glasses that made her slits for eyes look even smaller. “Make him look like everything.”
“Yeah!” Nancy actually looked enthusiastic. You tried not to curl up into a snail-like position when she brushed her fingers through your hair. “Like a dreamboat, that kind.”
Jessa smiled. “You two are always in some sort of BS, aren’t you?” Fondness graced her elderly tone. It was clear the two girls were frequent visitors.
She swiftly curled the chair into the vanity table’s direction. Your reflection in the star-studded mirror made you wince. You had cysts in all the inconvenient places, a bread crumb at the side of your mouth from the breakfast you had at that niche cafe, everything. Even Jessa looked like royalty compared to you. What more next to Somi and Nancy, whose skirted long legs towered over you and reminded you that they always held the better deck, the better position?
“Call us the Bullshitter Bitches, then!” Somi began to tap dance on her heels. It was her hidden talent. Well, it wasn’t really hard to tap dance when she had those long legs. “‘We’re the Bullshitter Bitches / We shit on snitch—”
“Somi, that’s disgusting,” Nancy snapped sourly. She clicked a haircut apron around your neck. Great. Now you looked like a goddamned infant who’s growing up with a princess complex.
“Sorry.”
“Just so you know,” you said, as Jessa snipped away at your head, “I’m not paying for this. I don’t need a makeover.”
“‘Course you aren’t. It’s all on the house.”
Brushes swished on your face, hiding the beginning foundations of new hormonal pimples and blackheads. They hid away your imperfections with just one slide. You never saw them as such, not until you got into senior high and therefore compared yourself to the bigger guys, the cooler guys. The ones whose sweat wrung from their hair but still looked attractive enough to get the girls. Maybe this was what you needed. You were gonna have to think twice about the whole operation.
“Makeup?” you asked warily. Not that you were against it. but you never really tried it on before.
Somi’s hand made an L-shaped gesture and branded itself in front of her forehead. “Boo, come on, it’s the big year of”—redacted, with an exclamation at the end. Nobody needed to know when this happened. The time will come when everything will reveal itself. She painted powder that almost matched the shade of your skin and hued it on your cheeks and neck. “Who said guys can’t wear makeup?”
“Makeup is for everybody,” chirped Jessa in agreement. “And that’s right, sweetie, you don’t need a makeover. Just a touch up. And everyone gets them, even handsome guys like you.”
Nobody had ever called you handsome. The last time it ever happened was when your mother buttoned your polo for preschool. It’s flattery, you knew, but your chest still felt as if it were knotted.
“Ain’t that right,” Nancy stooped to your level and brushed your nose with the tip of her finger—her soft smile was gripping, “new boy.”
Another one, and a roundness at the edge(?) of your throat you couldn’t swallow. Your Adam’s apple bobbed yet it was useless at downing it.
You had to look away. Did she just agree that you were good-looking? You knew Somi thought that, too, but this was Nancy. Nancy McDonie, the girl who didn’t care for you much and didn’t want you here.
She still didn’t like you. But maybe that would change.
(Spoiler alert: it did. That’s how the story went.)
You wondered how rich they actually were to pay Jessa to be so committed to making you look your best. Your hair was purple for a few minutes (“Fuck no!” you shouted) and was easily returned to the black with a quick dye. Then she gelled it in so many directions that you’d think your blunt mane was a car being controlled by an overexcited student driver. That was already thousands of won by itself. But it went on without stopping, and Somi and Nancy still weren’t satisfied.
“I’m telling you, Somi,” said the brunette girl, twirling your chair to the mirror again, “he looks good with that slicked back do!”
“Be serious with me.” Somi blew-dried your hair and ran her hand along your whiffed locks. “Grody as hell. Doesn’t he look like 90s’ Brendan Fraser?”
“He does,” Jessa said. She returned with tools that looked so unfamiliar to you that they might as well be surgeon’s supplies. Fuck, were they gonna take out your liver after all that trouble?
“Ha! See?”
“He has some nice eyebrows. Just needs a little trimming and he’s good to go.”
“Thank god,” you said. They all looked at you as if surprised to remember you weren’t a doll to practice hairstyling on. Your scalp already ached royally. “I need to get out of here.”
Nancy shook her head. “Nuh-uh. You’re not going anywhere, new boy. You’re ours for today.”
You gulped. God, okay. You were good with that.
A light edged metal ran along the ends of your brows. You were afraid they were going to make you look like Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body, but it actually turned out alright.
After all the ruckus, you were there, staring at your reflection.You could pass for a guy richer than you actually were, cooler than you actually were. Your eyebrows were cleanly trimmed, in a steady and one-way direction, and your hair was cut yet splayed in a way that made you actually look flattering. Then you had your cheeks to look at, which were clear of any of your open pores and pimples. You looked like what they told you would: everything.
“I… I’m one of the girls now,” you said out of the blue. It was like a moment of truth for you.
“Yes you are,” Somi said proudly. “Now can we go get some ice cream?”
Nancy glanced at the clothing shop a few blocks down the tiled path and shook her head. Nope. Not a chance in any galaxy.
-
It was also later on, when you saw yourself in clothes from brands you never dreamed of buying, you knew that this thing you had with the presidents would go on forever, an eternity that would last long after—
-
Senior year, your golden age.
"Hey, hotshot," a clear voice says into your ear. She's on the phone with you yet her voice is loud enough for it to be easily assumed that she's physically present. "Up to see me after class?"
That's Somi, by the way. Yep, the leader of the student body who sanctioned you years ago. She's a real life Korean-Canadian doll. She'd be the stereotypical one, the face and brand—she's tall and slender, owning the hallways like she was the first step to ever be made in them. Blonde, too. You've met her years before and not once have you seen her natural color replace her dyed yellow.
The thing about her is that she's always just that shameless and energetic. She has one default personality and that is extroverted.
She's also naturally flirtatious, and you know it doesn't mean anything else when she calls you derogatory names in sweet tones but you remain attached to her. We’ll just keep it at that.
"Aren't we meeting in social studies?" you chuckle. This girl can't get enough of being around people. Around you, to be more specific. But that's what friends do.
"Not enough, obvi.”
“Right.”
“Is Nancy coming, too?"
"I think so."
"Darn it. I was hoping to…."
You raise your brows in suspicion. "What?"
"Nothing. I said we're meeting up."
Let out a soft chuckle. "I didn't say yes," you inform her, just in case she forgot.
"And I didn't say that what you think about it matters, butthead. You know you want to see me. Tata!"
And it ends off with that. Click.
Your smile is wide. That's Somi for you: a brat at heart, always getting what she wants one way or another, with a vocabulary that matches that of a spoiled heiress. Maybe she is one? You don't know but the branded clothes she often wears to school are getting a little suspicious. Among other things.
The locker space is packed with students, both juniors and seniors, male and female. They see you and start whispering among themselves. Some even make way. That wouldn't have been possible in your first year, but then Somi and Nancy happened. They made you the way you were. They made you a centerpiece. Do you like it? Admittedly, it strokes your ego well on some days.
Where's your locker key again? There it is. Click it into the padlock and swing the door open. Notes and trinkets from your two best friends are stuck to its walls. They said it was "for motivation." You let them believe that because it's true. Seeing Somi's wild happy calligraphy on the sticky note “Yep :) totally got it - Jeon <3”, compared to Nancy's more contained handwriting “Let’s get going!!!” always brightens your day.
Collect your social studies book as well as the mathematics one for the next period. Shut it, and a figure suddenly appears next to you.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Nancy!"
Oh yeah, that's how the scene opens to introduce the present Nancy McDonie. She's the brunette and calmer duplicate of Somi, but with an equally amazing body—
You won't go there.
She has one arm pinned to the neighboring locker door and a small smile. "Language, handsome," she chides, patting your shoulder. "It's just me."
Oh, and the less sarcastic counterpart as well. Nancy calls you sweet pet names and means them.
She’s grown fonder of you over the years. Nancy hates hard, but when she loves, she loves just as much. You’ve become so much better as a person and a newfound friend that she’s got no other choice but to keep you under her wing.
So, it could be argued that she loves you.
Never the same way you do, like you started to right from the very beginning, when unfamiliarity stepped between you and kept your hearts away from each other.
"Hey there," you say, clutching your chest. It’s just Nancy, your other half. You've been friends with her a little after your makeover. Quite a long time, if you do say so yourself; it seems to have happened so long ago. Long enough to have you become one of the girls.
It's not derogatory, like other boys would think. Being friends with the girls is more fun than hanging out with the vulgar rebels from your old school. For what it's worth, being one of Somi's and Nancy's is a huge compliment. Not everybody could say they were friends with the popular kids.
Gulp. It’s so hard to act normal in front of her when she’s naturally charming, and her uniform’s made to hug every bit of her curves, including her exceptional ass. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re strongly and sexually attracted to her a long time ago, but it still proves to be a challenge not to stare.
Besides, she trusts you. You’re her best friend. If you make a move on her, everybody would know and ruin your life for it, even if you’re fairly popular yourself. You’d be surprised by how quick people turn against others.
You’re not going to lie: she’s gorgeous, and the last thing that would be able to scare you is her beautiful face, but she can’t just show up like that out of the blue. That little pet name gets your gears going though. Your spirits are already afloat.
"Hey." She pats you on the head and peeks at the schedule taped to your locker. "Oh, you got social studies, too?"
"Y-you got that right."
"With Somi?"
"Yeah, sure. So?"
Nancy, sweet as a lollipop, shakes her head cheerfully. "Nothing," she says. "I guess I'll see you there."
"See ya there."
Offer her a two-finger salute and walk as quickly as you could although you're leaving with her. It's strange how she has your heart all bunched up when she shows up. She's pretty, yeah, but there's a certain aura about her calm demeanor that captures your stomach and keeps it tight. You hope no one gets you wrong—you like Somi, too, but Nancy has you wrapped around her little finger. She could tell you to jump off a cliff and you’d rush to buy out parachute stores.
And you’re staring at her as you switch classrooms. Your eyes are locked to her smile, her every move, her charm. Nancy was the last person you thought you’d ever be in love with—after all, she was the one who gave you sanction after sanction whenever you showed up at her classroom. Somi’s the one who went gentle with you, right?
But things happen. Plus, in a way, she’s changed you for the better.
Your style wasn’t the only thing they made over. They helped you with your studies, your personal problems, and everything they could. Your grades went up, much to the surprise of your teachers, and you stopped your troublemaking. That was also to the surprise of your educators, but also relief. You couldn’t be more grateful. It was comforting to find new friends in a place so new. And from the girls you least expected, too.
Nancy looks at you twice, then laughs. “Why are you looking at me like you’re in love with me or something?” she says, slapping the back of your head.
Well, what do you know? She’s not far off. You could say that you’re in love.
Just the tiniest, most speckling bit in love.
“Maybe I am.”
“Stud,” Nancy says under her breath.
She wouldn’t have dared say that in a nicer tone years ago.
The roll of her gorgeous eyes has you thinking of a scenario where it’s caused by something other than your flirtatious remarks. It would start with a flirtatious remark, then evolve into something more. Something beyond that.
Abstain from that thought. Instead, you gasp as if you belonged to the theater club with Jiwoo. “Did you just call me a slut?” you ask her. Raise your voice higher. You really hang out with Somi too much. “Everyone! Nancy McDonie just slutshamed me! I repeat, president Nancy McDonie just slut—”
A rough shove to your shoulder that neither you or Nancy expected blocks your words before they create controversy. Blonde fills your eyes as its Rapunzel owner says, “Get out of my way, creep.”
It’s such a low snarl that it alarms you. What made you a creep? Do you have to fight?
When you look up, you see that it’s no other girl than Somi. Despite what she said, she wears a cheeky, large smile. Return the grin and make it as Somi-like as possible; right, how could you forget the thing you and she have going on?
“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” you say, crossing your arms in faux annoyance. Yeah, you really should have tried out for that play. You could make it big as an actor.
“Oh yeah?” Somi looks you up and down. Is that bite on her lip also part of the act? “Why should I? I don’t even know your name.”
“I don’t know yours either. Is it ‘bottle blonde’?”
“Shut the fuck up. 2008 called and said they wanted their My Chemical Romance hairdo back.”
Nancy covers her face embarrassedly. She’s too proud to join the joke you and Somi have, so she’s left having to deal with the unnecessary attention your fake fights warrant. It happens almost twice every other day and people still look on to find out what’s happening. It’s what amuses you and her blonde counterpart. She and Somi are alike in many ways, all except the latter’s thirst for childish fun.
“Madams. Sir,” the teacher says. She’s miss Kim Sejeong, your social studies teacher whom you swear has been here before you were even born. The university students and graduates who’ve found their tune visit often and talk about her fondly, yet despite their ages ranging, she looks like she isn’t more than twenty-three years old. Her gaze is stern yet amused. “Do you plan on getting in? The air-conditioner’s expensive.”
While Nancy blushes in humiliation, the class erupts into giggles, and you and Somi can’t help but do the same. Each repetition of your rivalry routine is funnier than the previous one. It might be corny, especially to the other students who despise you for no reason, but it keeps your friendship solid. And what’s a better friendship than one with a few inside jokes? A strange routine?
It’s an unspoken and universal law in every classroom that even if there isn’t any official seating arrangement as to who’s sitting next to who, you still choose the ones you first sat at the beginning of the year. You’re a proud follower of that rule, and that’s why you’ve been sitting here in the front of the class with Somi and Nancy for ages. You have a secret stenciled artwork under this specific chair with an equation of your trio’s initials. It would mark long after you’ve graduated and went to pass on that you three were once best friends, and nothing could change that.
Somi leans against your arm before turning her head to glare at you. “‘Bottle Blonde,’ huh?” she says spitefully.
“Not as bad as ‘My Chemical Romance,’” you reply. That one stung a little. Does your hair really need a cut?
“Fuck you. I don’t fucking care what you say, I’ll be a blondie as much as I want.”
“And I suppose I’m emo now.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Her brows curl together at the sight of Nancy looking sour in the seat to your left. “You aight, Nancy?”
The girl nods. There’s red coloring her cheeks and ears. Kind of cute, actually. “Still alive,” she says, “after the shit you pulled there. Surprisingly.”
You and Somi bump fists. This is how it is with her. Opposed to you and Nancy acting like best friends just two steps away from being a couple, you’re more of a teasing older friend to her. You act like brother and sister, though your bond is much deeper than that. There’s something lingering in the air between you, and Somi seems to have caught it. What could it be?
You don’t have to think about that for now, not when your arms are around your two best friends in the world and now keenly listening to Kim Sejeong. That wouldn’t have been possible in your first year of high school, when things were completely different.
But, like you said, things happen. Things change. It’s just how they work, and it’s about time you get used to it being like that. You wouldn’t have had it any other way with your two friends, though.
Sejeong waits for the three of you to get settled, then smiles welcomingly. “Now that we all have ourselves safely in our seats,” a stress there as she looks at you pointedly, “I suppose we should get on with your missed activities.”
Wince. You’re crossing your fingers, praying and begging that one particular girl doesn’t—
“What about the declamation?” Nancy asks innocently. “I thought it was due a month ago.”
A collective groan. You’ve gathered the class before to develop a plan to stall the feared exercise. Popularity, you believe, ought to be used correctly and for the common good. Keeping that declamation away is for the benefit of all. Not only is it an individual performance, but it makes up forty percent of your grade. It takes a hell of an effort to do it instantly.
No effort, so it seems, to Nancy McDonie. She’s the gooder girl of the duo, the perfect angel in all the right ways. She’s still right for this one—a lot of you just don’t like that truth.
“I thought we all agreed—”
“Somi!” you cut in, but she goes on shamelessly.
Somi stands up and looks at the class with genuine disappointment in her eyes. “—not to remind miss Kim about it. My god, you guys are, like, absolutely two-faced.”
It doesn’t take a while for the realization to set in with your teacher. Her stare is, as always, something that cuts straight to the soul. It sheds your dignity and leaves you bare for the eagle to eat of you. To be clear, there’s a reason why she was one of the teachers you never dared mess with. She was quiet but stern—a deadly combination.
"Oh. You kids are too smart for me, huh?" Sejeong laughs sarcastically. Her smile strips you of any attempt to wash her scolding off with a laugh. Can’t resort to that. Again, Kim Sejeong isn’t one to mess with. “That was more disappointing than anything the other classes have done. Do you think that just because you’re popular you can suddenly hold it against me?”
She uses the same lines you’ve heard back in your troublemaker days. Each word untaps a memory.
You all stay silent. Somi doesn’t for long, when she’s called up to go first with the declamation since “you thought of the plan, miss Jeon,” according to Sejeong.
“But, but, but it wasn’t even—” the girl protests. Her pupils are wide with rage. She’s so used to saying anything and getting away with it. She can’t believe it won’t work out like that for her today.
“Now.”
She groans dramatically, and rises with slumped shoulders so odd to be seen on such a duchess-like, pampered girl like her. After all, she’s the stereotypical rich, blonde teen with impeccable fashion and manners that range from the sweetest to the meanest. Right now, she’s veering in the middle of the scale as she gets to the front center.
You mouth her a deserved, and she says I’m sooo gonna punch you in the balls later.
“Now, miss Jeon,” says Sejeong, arms furled in front of her chest. Yep, she isn’t backing down. “What is your solution to poverty here in this country?”
Nancy raises her hand. “May I go first instead?” she offers in hopes to save her friend.
“You may not. Miss Jeon, please be brief. Start.”
Somi pouts, but faces the class with steady eyes. She’s ready for this. Mostly. Wringing out a pink bubble gum from her pink lips with pink-polished nails, she begins.
“So, you know how there are a lot of poor people. A lot. I know because I see a whole bunch outside the clubhouse and middle classers are always like, ‘Oh nooo, don’t give money to them, they’re gonna use it for drugs!’. And I’m just there going, ‘Gag me with a friggin’ spoon, Becky. Where the hell can you find drugs for a dime? Where?’.” She pauses for dramatic effect, then nods smugly. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”
Nancy brings her palm to her face. You’re giggling in your seat, muffling it with a few fingers. Sejeong’s eyes are wide and appalled.
“Okay,” the confident Somi continues, “for example, there’re a lot of poor people somewhere. Let’s say fifty. Oh, maybe ninety! That's super many, right?”
You and your classmates look at each other. You’re not certain where she’s going with this.
“You can’t have too many people at the same place, like that time I had all of my geometrics class for my nineteenth and it was a total flop. You have to keep them fed, y’know. So I had to walk my pretty self to the bakers which is like ten minutes away then ask them for more chocolate cake. My daddy was super mad at me for maxing out his credit card, but by the end of the day, we had more cake! More cake equals less hunger equals more dessert equals less poor people.”
The jocks at the back nod in agreement, cheering her on. She acknowledges their reassurances with a flirty wave.
"So, if the government just maxed out their credit cards and let poor people eat cake,” she says, with real conviction for someone who’s dragging her chewed gum out of her mouth coyly, “I believe with all my heart that there will be no poverty in America. Who’s with me?”
The modern Marie Antoinette. You raise your hand proudly. Try to get Nancy to raise hers as well but she’s red in the face again.
“And to conclude,” Somi adds finally, “it should be everyone’s knowledge that there's no law in this beautiful country that says ‘Republic Act Anti-Poor People and Rich People Eating Cake Together Bunch of Numbers.’ I offer dessert for all to help eradicate poor people– I mean, poverty, led by our government and me, Jeon Somi. That will be all, thank you.”
The whole class gets up on their feet and applauds her. Like the princess she is, your blonde friend waves and bows, even blowing kisses. Meanwhile, Sejeong contemplates retirement and realizes she’s actually considering it, salary and all.
-
"You killed it, Somi. You fucking killed it."
That's what you say to your friend after leaving the classroom with her and Nancy. You mean it—you've never had a belly laugh that rocked your body that hard before. She deserved an A instead of that disappointing C-.
Sejeong’s sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. Somi’s speech was impactful, it seems. So impactful that it has her fingers jotting down a lengthy text message to… the principal? What’s that for? The speech was great!
Your classmates have filed out to go to computer shops or study. They tell Somi she did great with her declamation, which you’re pretty sure is intended to humiliate her, but Jeon Somi only ever thinks of anything said to her as a compliment. That’s why she blows them kisses and flirtatiously cocks her brows. Yep, that’s her. Nancy’s a different story—always quiet and reserved, but daring enough to hold Somi back before she causes more chaos. But the lid of Pandora’s box has already been lifted.
You three are already far behind your classmates when they go out, but you don’t mind. You like it when it’s just you. No computer shop or mall could compare to being in the hallways with your best friends, trading jokes and stories.
"Killed what? Poverty?" Nancy asks, still in a dilemma over the drama in the social studies classroom. "Somi, you really have to start minding your words."
Somi blows a satiric raspberry. She raises her hands in dismissal as she walks faster then turns around anyway to face her. "Blah blah, who cares? It was an awesome declamation."
Chuckle. "I feel like that's up for debate," you say. "Did you see miss Kim's face?"
It was a look of judgment and disappointment. While everyone cheered and whistled for the other half of the McDonie-Jeon duo, your teacher had a look on her face that could be likened to the one you make after smelling something bad. Laughs were passed around the classroom but her eyebrows and squinted eyes etched an expression of real concern.
"What if someone recorded that?" Nancy says. She has a hand on her shoulder to try and make her see the darker but truthful side. "You could ruin your chances of getting to a good college forever."
In these four walls of the corridor, your heart twists. Right—you only have a few months until you’re done with senior year. That means having to choose a course and college to go to. You didn’t think time would pass by that fast. By then, would you still be friends with Somi and Nancy?
You hope so. You look at their pretty faces and their hands in yours and wish high school would just last forever. You’d choose them over your standing, your popularity, everything. Sure, being friends with them brings inescapable attention, but you’d be fine without it if it means you could still be with them.
You sit down at the bottom step of the staircase. They follow, too. Open your textbook to skim through it, hoping that your stock knowledge for science would suffice.
“Ugh, college schmollege,” Somi says, crossing her legs and throwing her head back. When her pretty face comes back to view it’s mocking your other friend already. "Have you seen student debt? College just makes people poor. How’ll that help with poverty?”
You wonder how Jeon Somi could sound so knowledgeable yet so insensitive at the same time. It’s a feat that couldn’t be done by others. It’s like it’s her trademark: to be the wealthy girl who always says the wrong and right things that therefore blends into one, confusing mixture. Should you be offended? Happy? Anything?
Nancy leans on your shoulder with a sigh that blows the runaway strands on her face back with their kind. Sometimes Somi could be too much for her. It’s like she trades places with you and realizes how a beautiful girl could be a handful. That’s why you two are particularly close: you understand each other. You’re close with Somi, too, but you just have a deeper bond with the calmer girl. You still don’t know how it happened when she hated you at the start for filling her schedule because of your troubles. Some things just change as time goes on.
“You just can’t be fixed, Somi,” you tell her. “You’re always going to be insane.”
You know you’re right. She knows it, too. It would take years and years of maturity for Somi to grow out of her flirtatious personality. She’d be the girl in college whose laughable questions somehow also awaken strange inquiries of your own. She’s a little weird, to be honest, but she’s pretty and confident. Smart, too—she just has her own way of showing it.
“I’m a simple gal, what can I say?” She stops before she could go on, as if she’s just caught a memory in the slip of her hands. “Oh, and I forgot to do something.”
“And that is?”
Somi lifts a fist and heavily plows it into your crotch. You yowl in pain as opposed to her grin that could reach the ends of the earth. Where did she learn that? That hurt like hell!
Nancy’s jaw drops to the floor. “Somi!” she says, genuinely shocked.
“What the fuck was that for!” you screech in the midst of your laughs, clutching your core and glaring at the convict of the crime which is assaulting your balls.
The fact that the criminal’s too pretty is an unfair advantage. “I did say I was gonna punch your balls earlier.”
“You owe me one, Jeon Somi!”
“Hey, I wouldn’t have had to do it if McDonie here wasn’t a grody teacher’s pet.”
Nancy blushes. She's forgotten she's involved in the mess, too. “I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice.
“I bet you are.” Somi shoves her shoulder playfully. “Cause and effect, Nance. C’mon, if you didn’t want to be a good girl so bad, I wouldn’t have declaimed or anything. Not that it wasn’t amazing.”
What a ridiculous conversation to have. You place your arms around both girls and pull them close. “Alright,” you declare, still wincing, “fuck, you’re both at fault. Nancy made a butterfly effect that ended up getting my balls aching. I’m the poor girls’ guy that got pulled into everything. What’re you gonna do about it?”
Somi floats her fingers on her cheek, thinking a little. It’s like a bulb lit above her head when her eyes suddenly brighten. You hope that it’s a good idea this time because when she makes that look, it isn’t for any good at all.
“Nancy and I will discuss this, if you don’t mind,” she says, rising to her feet and tugging Nancy up, too.
“Me?”
“Yep!”
She pauses. “Jeon Somi,” the latter sighs halfheartedly, “what are you planning now?”
Yeah, what is she planning? You have no idea and honestly, it scares you. Somi can be unpredictable with her quick wit and schemes, but with Nancy’s added ideas? Whatever she’s dreaming up, it can’t be anything you’d expect.
“The perfect apology. Meet us at my house after school. See you later, cutie.”
-
Your classes are filled with sprites of anxiety that are unusual when compared to your daily jokes and butt-ins. Your head’s filled with plenty of questions, and you try to answer them as you go about the rest of the school day:
First of all, why did the apology have to take place at Somi’s house?
Maybe they’ll buy a cake for you from the bakery she cited in her speech. She has plenty of money to go around so a cake might actually be possible. If it weren’t a cake, maybe an apology combined with balloons and confetti that you’d laugh about years from now. All these possibilities you sift through and yet they don’t seem to be what’s in store for you.
Second, why did the planning that had to occur without you?
They might be planning a big surprise. Perhaps that’s it. But then—
Why such a big surprise for an apology that could’ve been done simply?
That’s where your mind goes blank. You don’t know. You have no idea, not even the tiniest bit. You’ve been friends with Nancy and Somi for years but they still have that mystery around them. You know everything about them, from their interests to what makes the three of you click, but never what they plan to do. That always remains shrouded.
So, when Nancy texts your group chat the plan’s done!!! ♥ ️ be ready & meet us where youre supposed to :), you move like a snail. You take your time playing and talking to other students, buying food from the cafeteria, everything. When you get on the bus to commute from your school to Somi’s home, you’re wrecked by hesitation. All this anxiety and nervousness for a damned apology.
Maybe it’s because you’ve never had friends like them before, especially that pretty.
You would never intend to act on your feelings for them if they don’t want you to, even if you’re hormonal as fuck, but what if that’s what they’re planning? To have an intimate night with them, just like in the movies?
Or, hopefully, finally let you have something deeper: a love that fits three?
Nope, two wishes that’ll never come true, whatever star you make them upon.
Drag your heavy feet down the road. Sounds like Somi’s rich-ass neighbors are partying again. Take your precious time leering at them, noticing the manner they hold their wine glasses and the music only being stolen off Spotify’s Most Popular Songs playlist. It’s all a headache, honestly. You’ve never connected well with rich people, not until you met the girls. That’s where it all starts and ends, right? Them: Somi and Nancy, the yin and yang?
“You’re here!” shouts Somi gleefully, throwing her arms around you. She’s dressed in this tiny shirt that looks cute and simple but you’re sure costs more than a few thousand won. It also shouldn’t be worth that much when it’s too little for her anyway. “Why did you take so long?”
Nancy goes in for the kill. She comes in with only a camisole and the undershorts of her uniform plaid skirt, and it hugs right where it maims and shoots you. No, keep your mind holy. She’s your best friend. Also your crush but that doesn't matter here. “Bet he was scared to come.”
“Was not,” you reply too quickly. Tighten your jaw. “I—I got held up by traffic.”
“It’s a Wednesday.”
“Yes, but—” Pause. You realize you don’t have a proper justification. “Just get to it, will you? The apology?”
“‘Kay ‘kay,” says Somi, wrapping an arm around your waist, literally keeping you at arm’s length just in case you try to scamper away, “the apology is a girls and boy’s night. Here. Just to get away from everything. We all need it.”
“Who’s ordering the soju?”
“Soju?” Nancy asks indignantly, eyes all round and wide like she was a deer caught in headlights. You and Somi are like that to her: flashing lights, crashing into an unsuspecting her with a brightness a notch too much. No apologies when you don’t plan to change. This is what makes you young.
“What’re you, a nun? We’re adults, Nance!” Somi says. Her thumbs tap away at her phone screen, the familiar pink lights flashing back at her indicating she’s already ordering. “It’s on me.”
Of course. Who other than Jeon Somi? Of course, you can’t let that moment slip away without a snarky remark from your end.
“Must be nice having access to your billionaire dad’s bank account.”
Somi twirls her fingers in her hair and squints her eyes at you spitefully. “I’m using my mom’s, poophead.”
“Oh wow,” you reply, your statement blank of any emotion.
“Guys,” cuts in Nancy. Her voice is strained. She feels like a mother trying to contain two kids who just know how to push her buttons. “We can’t have soju delivery. Or beer. Or whatever alcoholic drinks there are. We can get in trouble. Think about our grades. The suspensions!”
Ah, sweet Nancy, always the one to pull you back down to sense. But when has that ever worked?
“Alright.” Somi clicks her device shut and throws it on the sofa space you’ve left empty beside her. “Fine.”
Wait—what?
Her best friend twists her head in shock. “Really?”
Nancy simply can’t believe that this girl, whose whole trademark is being a spoiled brat, actually follows sensible orders. You're surprised yourself; you can’t believe it more than she does. Is it finally time for Somi to perform her arc of being the mature, behaved girl she simply isn’t?
“Yep. You won.” Somi rises and waltzes her way to the exit of her mansion. “I’m just gonna buy some myself from the convenience store.”
“Somi!”
“Hey, you only said no delivery! You didn’t say I can’t buy some face-to-face!”
“Well, now I’m making it official. No—”
“See you later, alligators!”
The door slams shut.
Nancy groans loudly. Of course, the little brat.
She lets herself fall to the floor in defeat. The massaging of her fingers on the sides of her head doesn’t do enough to cast away the stress. How in the world is she going to control Somi? She knows the two of you are practically twins, the same in every way when planning schemes to make her freak out. She has to play babysitter again. How many nights has it been since the start of her unpaid duty?
On your end, you're thinking. You’ve been friends with her for longer than you think yet you don’t know how to say the right thing in situations like these. Maybe with Somi it would have been easier to say the comforting words. After all, she’s the most extroverted and blunt person you know. But with Nancy, it’s different. Nancy McDonie is never blue. At least, not to the point where she’s on the floor and moping.
It’s always different between the two of them and you still remain unable to pick who you love more.
It takes a while to get the words out, but better late than never. God, you’re such a bad friend. Do you even deserve her? “It’s fine, Nancy,” you say, sitting down beside her. You rub her knee. “Like she said, we’re adults.”
“I know, but…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out another groan that twists as it reaches your eardrums. “It’s just so scary.”
“Tell me.”
“What if someone posted photos of us drinking? You know the school handbook, right? All that talk about maintaining a good and clean self inside and outside the school. If someone finds out—”
"Yeah? Well, nobody will."
"Yeah, but there's always the possibility…"
You sometimes pray that Nancy's allowed a day without worry, that she doesn't stress over things for once. She's precious—you don't want her to feel bad about anything. This strange protectiveness always takes you when you're with her.
“Hey.” You massage her shoulder. She whines, and it’s so cute hearing her unusual sulking that you just want to wrap a blanket around her and kiss her on the forehead. Again, urges. Simply urges. Don’t mind those. “There’s only three of us here. As long as we don’t post pics online or boast about it, we’re safe. So don’t worry about it.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Not when you’re with a dreamboat like me.”
You just humiliated yourself with that. Hell, you probably gave everyone who knows and will know this story of yours secondhand embarrassment. It’s worth it all, however, when Nancy smiles. And oh, could you get lost in it. Her eyes curl up at the corners and emit all this gorgeous, positive brightness that you think everyone should get a chance to see. She’s so serious and reserved in school that a smile from her is closer to impossible than thunder coming before lightning.
“God, you’re such a gigantic ass sometimes,” she mutters, bumping your shoulder with hers.
“Did you just say I had a huge ass?”
“Keep your mouth shut.” She pushes you, joining you in your laughs, then opens her arms invitingly anyway. “Oh, forget it. Come here, you.”
You can’t even pretend to not want a hug when it’s all you’ve ever fantasized about: being in the warm, filled embrace of Nancy McDonie. You’ve fantasized about things that extend deeper than that, but you could settle for this. There’s Nancy burying her head in your neck and her hold being a little too tight for it to be a casual touch between friends. You’re delusional, but who wouldn’t be when you had a best friend this pretty? This… curvaceous?
God, you don’t know how to say that you like this girl without sounding like another one of the weirdos who stalk her at school. Are you just like them? No, you can’t be. You’ve liked Nancy and known her more than they could. It’s what you tell yourself to keep your sanity.
“You know,” she says, still rocking the two of you side to side, “they did say not to trust first impressions. ‘You better take advice. Never trust first impressions.’”
“Didn’t Michael Jordan say that?”
“Did he?” She looks up curiously.
“Never mind,” you say, waving it off. You pull away. Lean against the curve of Somi’s sofa so that your ass doesn’t slide like a mop on her floor. "What’s with first impressions? What was your first impression of me?”
“You really want to know?”
“Why not?”
“Well, for the first reason…” Nancy hugs her knees and looks at you pointedly. “Not a lot of people would love to know that they were a real fucking pain in the ass.”
You burst out laughing. There’s chances as slim as a ballerina that Nancy curses, but when she does, she sounds hilarious. She doesn’t even say them a certain way; it’s just the instance by itself of her daring to use words deemed as bad that gets your tears of laughter flowing.
To add to that, there’s that matter-of-fact statement she made that’s as honest as Somi’s everyday talk that makes you think they switched souls for a second. You laugh harder with that in mind. The next thing you know, you’re curled up on the floor busting out cackles that reach pitches you can’t even shout in.
“Seriously!” she says. She’s laughing as well as she shakes her head in disbelief. “I was always trying to keep the seniors in place, you know, being president and everything. And then I found out this new kid just spammed middle finger emojis to sir Fernandez in the Zoom chat after he made him answer a question. And I was like, ‘Hooo boy.’”
“Well, he shouldn’t have called on me while I was playing a game!”
“You’re so immature, he’s a teacher and you’re in class! He’s supposed to do that!” Nancy squeals, a hand on her mouth to muffle her rambunctious cackles.
“Fine, fair point.” You somehow manage to make a successful attempt to halt your laughs. “And then what happened?”
There's a lot of secret lore between you and her. You want to uncover all of them, especially knowing that Somi's gonna tease you to hell about if she heard. Her getting soju was a blessing underneath another blessing—you got alone time with your crush and some nice alcohol to ignite your system.
Nancy looks around at her friend's house. She admires every perfect painting bought for millions, every chandelier that mistletoes whoever stands beneath all its glory. They help her form her next statement.
"To be honest," she says, choosing her words carefully, "I thought you were in it to blackmail money out of Somi. To manipulate her. I love the girl, you know. She acts like she's all that, and she is, but she's… fragile. So I never let her be alone with you."
"Damn.” You admit that your heart sank a little, like a ship doomed by the ocean. “Am I really an ugly creep?"
"No, it wasn't that. I was just afraid you were a player. Like one of the jocks who bully Somi but don't ever get to her because she's too naïve to see that they're doing it. And you're not ugly, you know. You're…"
She's looking at you strangely, in that strategic little way she locks on artwork flashed in a Powerpoint from a projector in school. She's looking at you as if you were a complex, layered painting she couldn't wrap her head around. But being unable to pick you apart thrills her; there's a smile on her face.
"I'm what?" you ask, ever the dumbass. Or poophead—you take whatever.
"Don't make me say it. You're so full of yourself already."
"Respectfully, Nancy,” you declare, “I have no idea what you're saying. How can I when I didn't even know what a dodo was before eleventh grade?"
"You're handsome, okay?" Her cheeks get into this furious red color that she tries miserably to hide with her palms, hide with a dismissive laugh. "Good-looking. Attractive. Whatever."
Chew at the end of your lip to fight back a giddy grin. Did she really say that? A star out there in the looming night just granted your wish. "Well, you gave me the makeover back at Jessa's."
"Look at you being the patron saint of humility."
"I'm serious. I looked like a loser before you came in like a storm and rained that magic in my life."
“And now you’re Shakespeare.”
“When a girl like you comes into a guy’s life,” you say, leaning forward, “who wouldn’t be?”
"Well." Nancy huddles her chin into her palm. Her voice is as soft as cotton. "With a guy like you, you could say I never looked back."
But her voice dips, and there's a hidden subliminal message in it that causes you to look up. You could read it clear off her face there, off Nancy, off her soul that's never looked more clear.
Nancy, with her chestnut brown hair, ever the princess of autumn.
Nancy, with her comforting eyes full of resoluteness, as if she's wanted this to happen.
Nancy, with her lips barely a breath away from—
“Who the freak locked the door?” shrieks a familiar voice from outside. Well, not too outside when its volume closes in on the interior vicinity of the large mansion. “This is my house! Let me in or else I’ll call the cops—”
Sigh. Fucking cockblocker brat. You rise from the floor and approach the doorway. This time, you spare no time—you don’t want to look back and identify the look in Nancy’s eyes as you walk away.
“Calm down, the neighbors could hear you,” you laugh as you let the blonde girl in. You’re a little disappointed that she interrupted what was beginning to happen, but there’s time for that later. Can’t spare her an annoyed look, though. It melts when you see the cans of beer in plastic bags.
Nancy takes a bag from her sullenly. “No drinking past twelve.”
“No promises.” Empty a can into your open mouth. Somi claps her hands happily and almost drops all the alcohol she bought.
You help the girls stock the cans and bottles into the fridge. It’s the large, two-door one that could fit an entire person. Wait, it can contain all of you three? You’ve been to Somi’s so many times and only noticed it now.
But that’s the last thing you take note of, for here's what's new: ice cream overflows Somi’s freezer, yet a lot of them haven’t even had a crumb consumed from them. Somi says it’s because she keeps them for cheat days.
“Is today considered a cheat day?” you wonder out loud.
“Go crazy.” Indifferent, Somi gives you a tub each. Chocolate. Vanilla. Double dutch for her. “It’s not like Walmart’s gonna disappear unless the aliens come to Earth and have the bright idea to go wacka over there. Nope, Walmart’s always gonna have some more.”
“Aren’t you the best, Somi.” Ruffle her hair fondly while you scoop a humongous chunk of ice cream into your mouth. Alcohol and ice cream are delicious together, but your stomach turns around. It strangely stays intact, as if preparing for what might happen later tonight.
“Of course I am, are you buggin' or what?”
Somi licks the spoon of its sweetness, staring right at you. You don’t know how to react—her tongue’s gliding all over the utensil perfectly, collecting the studded white with nothing but clean performance. Her eyes don’t let up in their strong, connected gaze. Your breath gets lost somewhere in your airway.
Nancy watches amusedly. Okay, so maybe she does smile more than you think—it’s unlike any other one though. This one of hers is lined to the edges with smugness. “There’s our princess,” she remarks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The spoon catches somewhere sandwiched between Somi’s words.
Nancy shrugs with a serene calmness. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
She walks away without another word or gesture. Suddenly tense in the bones, you and Somi close up together for reasons unknown.
“Is that just me being majorly freaky,” says Somi, eyes following her best friend with a new, imminent gaze, “or was that kinda hot?”
You don’t answer, but you think she knows. The two of you bond over shared experiences, and this one is about finding out how hot Nancy McDonie truly is. It’s not an unknown fact, but it’s the way her pupils settle over someone and linger just long enough to have them wondering; the way she commands a classroom; the way she rarely is vulnerable—it’s all that which leads to the very moment she leaned against the fridge door and watched silently, attracting the two of you even without the need for many words.
You’re droning again. Drowning, too, in her. In both of them—as you walk behind Somi, you can see that there isn’t a bra strap lining an imprint on her shirt and her ass is sticking out under her shorts. You barely could get yourself out of the waves as you wade your way to the stairs.
At least that’s a familiar high place you could seek refuge from: the loft. It’s kind of like an attic, but you don’t really care. It’s where you hang out and watch all the movies with them from a crappy projector. You don’t care about the films due to your conversations with them eventually proving to be more interesting.
“Roof?” Somi asks. She peeks out of the triangular window pane. “The stars are pretty tonight.”
Never been there before. Not that you aren’t willing to try. “Just don’t fall off,” you warn, though you’re nervous yourself to get there.
She slides a chair to you and then you’re climbing through a square-shaped gap at the low ceiling. You help the girls up onto the roof and become literally starstruck because—
Whoa.
Feels like a different world. The night is as vast as it is beautiful. Shining lights are embedded into the sky, the gray clouds barely visible with how they blend in with the color of the atmosphere. Each star has their own glimmer, but all of which share a common brightness—when partnered up with that large, pot-bellied moon, they become more perfect. The soft yet distinct sounds of the cicadas echo in your ears.
“Will anyone see us up here?” asks Nancy. Her vision is filled with shining galaxies, and her tone sounds dreamy. She says it in a way that isn’t out of concern for possible consequent trouble, but an appreciative one, as if she were wondering if anybody else could see how pretty it is up here.
“No one.” You shut the trapdoor and sit upon the curved edges of the roof. “It’s just us.”
“It’s just us,” she repeats this thoughtfully. You think that she’s smiling again, but you can’t be too sure.
Yes, it’s just you three. This intimate moment includes only you and the girls who turned your life around. Nobody else could get to bask in the simple happiness of hanging out all the way up here. This is for you, and no one else. Nobody could ever be friends with the girls the way you are.
You three take in the beauty of the night. All the way up here, the hills look higher than they already are. The sound of partying neighbors becomes static in the background. It becomes like foreign words in an uninteresting song—it’s nothing in comparison to the view of sloping roads, tall homes, and the trees swaying to the beat of the night wind. It can try its best to break your immersion and every attempt would be fruitless.
“Care for some double dutch?” Somi asks you. She juts out her tub of half-eaten chunks of ice cream. Appealing.
“As long as you don’t use the spoon you gave a blowjob to.”
Nancy snickers. She shoves your knee in reprimand, taking care not to put in so much force so you don’t topple down the roof and onto the main road.
“I’ll give BJs to any spoon I want, thank you very much, but alright. Do what you want. No ice cream for you, more for me.”
“I could go for some.” Nancy parts her lips.
“Glad to see we still have someone with a brain around here.” Somi shakes her head at you disapprovingly.
You squint your eyes while she feeds Nancy some double dutch. Note dutifully that she uses the same spoon she violated. Well, that’s one thing you didn’t expect. But they’re best friends—they’ve been there for each other through thick and thin, bad and good. Sometimes simple gestures like that show that there’s something in the midst of them that beats mere friendship.
But then you see the way they look at you, and you’re briefly toying with the idea that whatever they have, they got it with you, too.
“I still remember the first time we brought you here,” Somi says, leaning in front of you so she can get to wiping some cream from Nancy’s lips. “You tried to act cool, but you were really starstruck. Like the house was Zendaya’s or something.”
“I guess so.” You freeze up when she holds your hand. “I mean, I’m not exactly the richest.”
You think of your own house—sweet little place with a tall tree and a low gate, nothing special—then compare it to hers: a mansion with six floors and rooms that could substitute for hotel clients. Nancy’s is amazing, too. But you don’t really care about that. It’s a whole other thing that bothers you about it.
Nancy shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re our friend. We’ll share it with you as much as you want.”
You’re finally able to name the thing. For months you’ve thought about it, but you never realized until this moment that it’s exactly what keeps you insecure about your friendship with them. That’s another thing they make you find out, besides style and bond.
“Yeah, I get it. But, but I’m a loser. I was a punk who made school life hell for you. I’m broke. Stupid. I don’t get what made you want to be friends with me.”
Maybe you're like Somi, too. You act like a king in school with a red carpet draped down on the floor for you, but you fear that your crown is undeserved. Sometimes you feel like you're a peasant deluded by dreams of status and strength.
“Besides you being stupidly hot,” Somi says, albeit sincerely—there’s no sarcasm or flirtatiousness in her pitch, “you’re not in it for the cash. You’re not in it just to say you’re besties with us.”
“And trust me,” adds Nancy, “that makes you a prodigy among others.”
They're right. You aren't in it for the popularity, the fame, not even the everyday free treats and outings you get. You just… like them. Somi's bright confidence inspires you; you've never seen a girl more self-aware than her. And Nancy's someone who takes her studies seriously, an example you should follow, while still maintaining a social life.
"What makes you so sure?" you say teasingly. They might've had some doubts along the way.
"I dunno," Somi says with a shrug. Her eyes curve north. "We just are."
They just are. Short and simple, but it somehow explains everything.
Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.
But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.
"And I guess we know a lot more about you than we think." Nancy twirls her fingertips along your thigh. "Because we want to show we're grateful. And, y'know, sorry for the ruckus we caused back there."
"You already have. The soju, the ice cream… I'm already good."
She smiles. "You really don't get it, do you?"
Your mind can't keep up. What don't you get here?
Somi leans forward and flashes you a smile that raises your suspicions. "You're completely clueless. Like, if it danced in front of you in a housewife apron, you would still order your dumb poophead ass some chicken wings."
"What? Why the hell would a hint be wearing an apro—"
You don't know why or how, but she's kissing you like you got the point she's been pushing across.
Now you do.
-
"Call this… a friend's sincere apology."
Somi's pushed you down on the old mattress of the loft, with a new look on her face that tells you tonight would be everything you expected and didn't.
"Two friends' sincere apology," adds Nancy. Her shorts are off? You didn't notice in the dark, but you can make out the supple shape of her hips and thighs, full and meaty in all the right ways. "Question is: would you let us do it?"
Your answer is locked and loaded in your throat. Can't pull the trigger when her ass muffles your face.
Alright, perhaps—just perhaps, you aren't saying it's real—you've devoted a few seconds of your time appreciating when the wind picks up her skirt at school. You tried not to be perverted because, of course, she's your friend. Your best friend.
A best friend doesn't push hers down a mattress with the weight of her core on his face. She doesn't let him feel her full cheeks suffocate him, or start to move like she would please a lover.
So what are you and Nancy when she's doing each of those things?
Definitely not just friends.
"Fuck." The word leaves Nancy's mouth like a prayer. She doesn't pray often, but she religiously grinds her hips to and fro on top of you. The flat of your tongue massages her labia and tickles her prone clit. She's so wet that your lips quickly become coated. She looks back and moves her ass with stressed slides. "Your mouth is so good. So fucking good."
"Already?" Somi chuckles. She's not just your best friend either; her thighs hug one of yours and, like the girl she's always seen giggling and whispering with, she's grinding. Her movements are admittedly more fluid, but who's keeping note? "You talk real dirty for a prude."
Your pants slide off your legs as she finds the bare skin more appealing than denim. You flex and send a moan from her so carnal it might have literally clawed its way out of her throat. It's sharp. Needy. Wanton. Somi doesn’t speak like the rich princess she is when she moans for cock.
"I'm not a prude," Nancy says. Her breath is tinged to the tone with air. She's gasping as you tongue her and lick at her lips. "I just like being chaste."
"Please, sweetheart, you're aaanything but chaste."
"S-says the one who's sucking him off."
Both girls have mouths on them. Somi in particular. It's word-for-word how her lips trap your cock and start off with a strong suction. You moan right into Nancy's pussy. Said girl cries out when your lips strengthen their merciless suction on her pearl.
If you were to consider everything like a butterfly effect, you'd say Somi started it all: the sucking and moans. She's the one who's massaging your cock with those pink lips, effectively causing you to lose control and take it all out on Nancy. Poor Nancy, always the one to take it all. Now it's for good; she's squeezing her breasts and riding your mouth like a saddle.
"Blowjobs don't count!" Somi quips. You moan again; the tip of her tongue toys with your balls. It's like she lit a fire there no wetness can put out. (Well, you still have to see about that.) "We'll show him how real good girls say sorry later. You know what I mean, right, babe?"
That fucked nickname does things to you, even if it's not meant for you, because it foretells the sight you have to fight to see with Nancy's back blocking it: Somi placing her hands on her best friend's hips and guiding her movements on your mouth.
"Y-yes." You're surprised at how submissive Nancy sounds. So different from the commanding tone she assumes in morning assemblies.
You didn’t expect you’d be in this position. Another thing you didn’t expect was how wet Nancy is, and how she tastes. She’s tangy yet sweet, filling your mouth like a new favorite flavor. She also moans a lot, which is strange when she doesn’t really talk much outside of this setting. You’ve changed her, too. Just not in the way like she did taking you to Jessa’s. No, this is your way: keeping her drenched little pussy filled with a soft muscle that’s hard enough to have her legs shaking.
"That's right. Move that fat ass for him." Somi sits on the side with one hand on one side of Nancy's waist and another on your cock. She jerks you off hard, with a grip that's both too tight and too good. "Your nipples are sooo hard, Nancy. Just a hunch of mine, but I think you want me to suck on them. Make you cum on his handsome face."
Precum dribbles from your cockhead. How could Somi, the girl who speaks in coy accents, talk so filthy? She knows the time and place for that mouth, and it's right now and on Nancy's waiting breast.
Your length goes through bouts of impossible tightness induced by Somi's fist while your mouth (gladly) suffers another burden, which is Nancy's pussy and ass gyrating down on you. Your tongue doesn't know where to go so it goes everywhere: licking a wet line on her slit, diving into her drenched hole, teasing her clit. Nancy's thighs slam with your head in between.
"Fuck!" Her moans are straight up pornographic. "Oh, oh, it feels so good, don't stop!"
Somi runs a teasing finger on your slit, keeping the heat in one place before resuming having her palm wrap your dick. "Who says we're stopping? Yep, nobody. Just keep moving those hips, lovie. We still got so much to give him."
You didn't think it was possible, but yes. Nancy does sprawl out more, her outed pussy lips all puffy and sore from your doings. You’re ruining her with how you lick and let her push down. Her core must be strong for her to keep a good stance in the midst of it all.
It’s not like you’re left out. Somi’s to thank for that, with her hand not stopping as it pumps and pumps and pumps. The pace is dangerous like a feared waterfall that’s got signs telling travelers to be wary around it. She pulled you into it. It isn’t that you wanted to suffer under the rapidity when you feel comfortable with the descent and rise.
"Ah. Ahhh, please!"
Nancy never begs. She's above that, just like she is with everything else. But listen to her pleas and begs for more, for you to keep licking and sucking at the right places, for your hands not to pause in their journeys roaming the land of her perfect, curvy body.
Somi spanks her, and you quite literally feel her cheeks bounce in your face. You'd actually be okay with going out this way. Heaven could be found in Nancy's full ass.
Oh, right, and Somi’s hand. You’ve never taken Somi as the kind to get around a lot even when she acts overly sexual sometimes, but she must have learned those skills somewhere. Her hand is neither too tight nor too loose—it’s just the perfect grip for you to almost cum into her fingers. She’s determined to wring a climax out of you, too, with how harsh she slams her hand down on your core.
It’s a cycle of pleasure that has no means of ending. With Somi fingering herself, you getting the best handjob you’ve ever had, and Nancy having her pussy eaten out, none of you are left to waste away. It’s sin, that’s what it is. It’s an act that, if anyone had caught sight of, would have guaranteed a swift suspension—maybe even the chance of getting expelled.
But in this warm moment, all of you forget about that. Even Nancy has that off her mind when all she’s thinking about is your tongue delightfully fucking her wet hole.
“I’m… I’m cumming!” she wails. Her riding on your face spirals out of control, and again and again you’re blessed with her ass suffocating you.
It’s too much for one girl to take: a mouth going crazy on her pussy and another doing the same, if not crazier, on her tit. Your sucks and Somi’s own increasing when she announces her imminent bliss doesn’t help her case either. But maybe it does—she’s never felt this good. Whenever she secretly, scandalously toyed with her pussy under the covers at night, none of those porn videos and literotica made her cum as hard as you and Somi have. It feels like a large bubble has burst inside her when she finally releases, tensing up and freezing similar to if a frostbitten cold finally took its last toll on her.
She sighs heavily while she comes down. Her thighs shake and you have to pin them down the creaky mattress to keep eating of her. She shudders and pushes you down. You stop, like she hinted.
“You alright, Nancy?” You remember Somi asking a similar question earlier, in a situation that’s nothing compared to this. Yep, far from it. A continent away. You weren’t eating her out like a last meal in the classroom, were you?
Well, you would have wanted to if you’d discovered prior that her ass is really as nice as it looks.
“Yes,” she replies weakly.
You’re glad.
“I might have to try and get you to eat me out, too,” Somi says to you. She helps Nancy to get off your face after you got her off. “She was screaming, did you hear? You’d think somebody was like getting killed and– oh, wait, of course you couldn’t hear. Her thighs are just the perfect things to have wrapped around your head, right?”
Nancy blushes and looks away..
“But I think we should take the lead." Somi stops jerking you off. What quickly washes away your disappointment is when she takes her shirt off. "We’re the ones giving back.”
The recoil of her large chest is amazing; it rises as it’s hindered by the tight hem of her clothing, and settles back into its natural position after she rids herself of the fabric. Her rosy nipples are things work gawking at; they’re as stiff and hard as diamonds, telling you of how much she wants this. And you think you’ve seen a few of Somi’s diamonds she could purchase a whole mine of, but you’d still have a desire similar to the blonde’s: you want her more.
“I’ve seen you looking at them. Don’t pretend and go all ‘oh nooo, that’s not true.’” She gives her own gifted bosom a firm grope. Her head throws back due to the pleasure. “You stare all the time. It makes me kinda assume that you want me to do something with them.”
“And what could that be?” you ask in a futile attempt to match her cockiness. Should’ve known that it’s a losing game trying to beat Jeon Somi in being a brat. It’s a god-given gift, a skill that needs no honing. She’s just like that.
“Duh. Like I said, I’ll show, not tell. This isn’t primary school.”
She shows a hefty amount, you’ll tell her that. Your mouth falls out at what happens. She takes her tits into her hands and leans down to envelope your cock in them. She seals it tight around your girth.
Fuck.
She then starts to move. Up and down she goes, toying with her nipples on the way. It makes her core more drenched than it already is.
She’s the master of eye contact. She picked it up with her natural confidence. Why do you think she walks the hallways with a gaze that’s only directed straight ahead? Talks to new kids like she already knows them? She’s never seen weak, and tonight is no exception. Her fierce eyes speak of lust and strength of knowing she’s having her way.
Jeon Somi always gets what she wants.
Again, this time is no exception.
“Fuck, Somi…” you say in quiet groans.
Someone needs to pinch you. This can’t be real. Never did you think what you’ve been dreaming would actually come true. The nights you touch yourself to the frequent sight of her tits practically bursting out of her uniform, you think of this same exact thing. You think of using her breasts like a toy, and now you’re experiencing it for real.
Perhaps one of the stars out there really took one for the team and granted two of your wishes at the same time.
Are you in wonderland? The movement of her tits provide a solid pace that’s hard to keep up with. Its warm, slick embrace has you on the edge of the mattress. You don’t ever want to run away from this feeling. It’s slick and tight yet rough, giving you a pleasure that’s confusing just as it is enjoyable.
“How’re you doing there?”
“I like it. More than like,” you breathe. Swallow what’s already been said.
Somi’s tits are a dream. They might as well have been made out of clouds with how soft they are, even when hugging your dick. You see yourself disappear between them and moan. Look up at Somi and see her seductively bite her lip; moan harder. Who knew all that barky flirtatiousness had a bite to them?
“Really?” she asks. She stops for a regretful moment to slap your cock against the side of her boob. The curve of your length heats up. “Couldn’t have guessed.”
She resumes, and you couldn’t be more thankful. The friction is everything to live for, and you’re a man who’s had no wish to die. Somi’s pale chest, guided by her hands trapping your cock between the massiveness in front of you, propels you to a close orgasm.
You switch your focus briefly to Nancy. She hums from afar. You notice that her fingers are in between her legs. She’s enjoying it as much as you are. “Could you stop being a brat for like, one second?” she chuckles, though it twists between her moans.
She’s sitting on the floor with her well-eaten pussy splayed to welcome her digits, and they definitely are welcome visitors. Her mouth is open though no more words come out.
“What? He likes it.” Somi jumps the pace to a rapidity you cry out for, and smiles that smile. The smile she only does when she’s doing or will be doing something she shouldn’t be. Explains a lot—if you two were just best friends, she wouldn’t be titfucking you. “And this is an apology, right? I’m saying sorry for punching him in the balls.”
“God,” you laugh out loud in spite of it all. “If this is the way you apologize, I’d have you punch my balls everyday.”
“I could do that. Say your apologies, too, Nancy. The way you’ll know he likes it.”
It’s as if she made your wet dream and worst nightmare come true. Can you even take more? It’s a question that apparently is disregarded of its answer; Nancy crawls over to the edge of the old, discarded mattress to suck on your swollen balls whenever Somi’s tits rise.
They’re arsonists, and your whole body is the unfortunate victim. Although they attend only to your crotch except for the here-and-there brushes on your stomach and legs, your toes and arms burn. Somi and Nancy are sending heat waves everywhere. You twist and turn and propel and cry—none of those banish it. And it’s for the better because you’ve never felt closer to paradise.
You have to groan loudly. It can’t be muffled when the sensations are coming at you all at the same time. You can feel Nancy’s tongue dragging its edge along your sensitive flesh and her friend’s tits bouncing around you; see the two students’ sultry looks never breaking; hear one girl’s grunts as she fucks you with her bosom and the other’s moans; touch the mane of Nancy’s autumn hair to pull her deeper into your crotch; taste an orgasm that couldn’t really just come now when it’s this close—
“Oh shit, fuck!” The most senseless of curses come out of you after Somi’s titjob provokes a messy, violent orgasm. You’d be more coherent than that if she were letting up. Not possible when she doesn’t; she keeps bouncing up and down to jerk your cock off with her deep cleavage.
Somi hums delightfully at the never ending spray of cum on her tits. Nancy stops suckling harshly at your left testicle in order for her to be able to do it instead to the rod beside it.
“Nancy, fuck, so good—” you say, hissing as your hips rise up.
You’re inadvertently facefucking her like this. Your hips move with their own will. They push up hard into Nancy’s beautiful lips. She in turn reacts with spontaneous downward drives of her head, welcoming you into her tight throat and letting you savor her mouth.
Somi fixes the girl’s hair into a ponytail of brown. She could see the bulge you’re making on her throat. She nods her on whenever Nancy looks at her with hesitation, and rubs your thigh to get your sensitivity levels to an all-time peak. She certainly got what she wanted and expected, as per usual, for you’re moaning with the tone of someone who gets paid to do it; shivering though it’s anything but cold here in this loft that’s gotten warm for other reasons besides the fireplace.
Nancy gags as she pulls away. Now she’s poured on by the white rain, too; some get into her hair while the others find a landing place on her shirt. God, that must have been expensive. You’re not here to make reparations, just to remind yourself; this is for you. They gave you this opportunity.
However, your heart pumps with anxiety hearing Nancy hack and cough. You quickly get to the floor, knees shaking on the way. “Hey,” you start, with a thumb on her chin, “you want to keep going?”
It doesn’t look like it for a second, but then those beautiful dark eyes connect with yours and suddenly all the discomfort is away. She smiles.“Y-yeah!” she says with a half-giggle. “All okay here.”
“Awesome.” Somi pats her back repeatedly and strokes her hair. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t get you to suck on my tits.”
You look at said tits and gulp. Yeah, that beautiful chest covered with your release is tempting to be gawked at. But still, time and place even for jokes. Nancy’s about to have a goddamned asthma attack.
“You are so out of line sometimes,” you say to Somi disapprovingly.
“It’s alright.” Nancy grins. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nobody said apologies weren’t hard to do.”
The look of defiance and mischief softens on Somi’s face. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure he won’t mind, right, oppa?”
“Yeah,” you butt in, something you would have done even without Somi’s jab at your shin. Dear god, is the girl a bodybuilder in disguise or something? That hurt almost as much as the punch to your balls. “Nancy, I appreciate it and everything, but if you want to back out—”
Look, this is everything you wished for. You wanted to have intimate moments with them probably since just a few months before the friendship was sealed. They’re beautiful girls, and you love Nancy especially closely. However, if they want to stop, you have to. Not to become a white knight or anything, but that’s natural law. You don’t force anybody into it.
“It’s okay, seriously.” Nancy’s relieving words now pass more smoothly through her lips. “Are you liking it so far?”
Alright, another thing to analyze. What else is there to answer? “Yes” is a painfully obvious reply to her question. You’ve had her ass on your face and Somi’s tits screwing an orgasm out of you. This is what wet dreams are made of, except that the white leak doesn’t end up on the fabric of your sheets anymore.
It ends up on Somi’s amazing chest. Any man would die to catch sight of them. They’re round and full, settling at the perfect position whenever she breathes while covered from areola to nipple with your sticky load. Your semen even slides down to her midriff. You’re more convinced that she’s a bodybuilder—for this, it’s more obvious: her abs are hard and firm. You’ve worked out a lot and have not once gotten to that point of solidness.
Your cock can’t say the same.
“I loved it. You?”
“I liked it, and, and I—”
“You want to answer him, brunette-ie?” Somi asks mockingly, swirling white on her collarbone. Yet another wonder to gawk at.
“That doesn’t work for other hair colors,” points out Nancy with a giggle.
“It does when I say so.”
Nancy tilts her head. Her smile suddenly doesn’t look too playful anymore. “Not everything’s gonna go your way tonight, blondie.”
“Is that so?” Somi curls her hair from her shoulders and tilts that pretty little head they hold. “Because if I have to say it again, McDonie, it’s—”
Nancy knows there’s no point arguing with her. It’s not the right occasion today. Fortunately, she has better ways of making Somi shut up.
It’s not completely shutting her up when all it does is make her create more noises. These are more pleasant to the ears in comparison. When Nancy attaches her pretty lips to her best friend’s tit, Somi’s words freeze in midair. You could see all her brattiness melt drop by drop. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a whimper.
If your cock was flaccid already from the raunchy sex (because you started it all off with a bang, literally,) it isn’t now. It perks up hard upon seeing the most beautiful girls you know engaging in such obscene acts. Nancy’s already shown you how talented her mouth is, but she’s only hanging the knowledge out for everyone to see with how she cleans Somi’s right breast of your cum. The nipple she performs on is stiff, and she takes special care in gently guiding her teeth along it.
“Fuck,” Somi says, voice breathy. All those little signs—her breathing shortening whenever Nancy dares to suckle a little bit harsher, bite a little harder; her legs suddenly shaking and weakening—lead you to a conclusion: they’ve done this before. Whether for rehearsal for this moment or for just mere curiosity, it’s hot nevertheless.
“Now will you shut that dirty mouth up?” Nancy uses that exact voice in the classroom, and hearing her use it in this moment makes her sound so much sexier. Gone is the passive prude that she is (or is pretending to be? That voice can’t be birthed from just leadership skills)—she knows how to put a brat in her place.
“If you think,” says Somi, with a laugh that’s too pitchy to be genuine in its sarcasm, “that sucking my boobs’ll make me a good little bitch, then you’re wrong.”
Is Nancy wrong? Probably. Somi’s the most defiant, outspoken girl you know. Nothing has stopped her from getting her way. You bet if Armageddon came into reality and all the world went to shit, Somi would be commanding the demons to get her a pumpkin spice latte and the angels to call her a limo.
“So you don’t want to be good and get on his cock?”
Nancy stands up. You’re once again reminded of the eternally truthful fact that her ass is amazing. She shimmies it on your cock, slipping it between her cheeks but never really allowing penetration, and afterwards starts to bounce her butt beautifully for you.
You can’t help but run your hands all over the perfect fat thing. You lift the cheeks to let them ripple photogenically as they settle down, going as far as well to give her a few spanks. You’re lost in this sex-filled dream. You’re in a coma seeing the too-good-to-be-true ass of Nancy McDonie.
Somi twitches her mouth to one side. “I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t want to feel his big fat cock inside you,” and Nancy’s more dangerous than you think—she takes your cock and starts to tease its head on her lips and asshole, “and really get a taste of how he stretches you out?”
You bite your lip, enjoying what she’s doing to you and Somi. Your other friend has never looked more needy—large, rabbit eyes peer jealously at Nancy getting to have you for herself. Or is it the other way around? The looks she gives Nancy’s drenched pussy and your solid cock are equally full of hunger.
“You want to answer, blondie?” An echoed statement, but it doesn’t lose its effect on Somi.
Nancy smirks. She’s a natural-born leader, often managing to fight her way to be in charge. It isn’t the same for the other, who’s been raised to have everything her heart desires. Right now, seeing you hint to fucking her best friend is making her needy. Really needy. She wants you for herself, too.
Nancy shrugs at Somi’s continued refusal to answer. “Suit yourself,” she says. She twists around to face you and commands, in a loud whisper, “I want it in my ass, oppa.”
“No!” Somi finally breaks. Her cheeks are pink. “I mean, like, not yet. Fine. Whatever, f-fine, I’ll be good. Just let me have him, too.”
“That’s more like it.” Nancy kisses her, a feat that has you blushing regardless of you not being the recipient of that gesture. “He and I can do that later.”
Somi scrambles to her feet the second Nancy leaves your lap. With no hesitation whatsoever, she plops herself down on you, filling herself to the hilt all at once. Her toned back is turned, but you can paint a picture of her face as she moans. Her mouth parts widely to cry out, and you could imagine her staring at the black insides of her eyelids as the wonderful filling results in getting her to see stars.
“Ohhh my god,” she drawls out. Her legs shake. “You were gonna fill your ass with something this big?”
You reach up from behind her to squeeze her tits. You can’t believe your dick had the chance to feel them before you did—they could do a role as stress balls; they’re soft, large, and you’d love to squeeze them any time of the day. Yep, also on the times you aren’t stressed in the first place. That’s how perfect Somi’s alluring breasts are.
Her pussy is the main attraction to all of this, however. She’s obviously so turned on—her wetness is like an avalanche of need on your cock for it floods your shaft without the need for an orgasm. Not that you aren’t gonna give it to her. When her pussy’s this snug and warm, this wet and tight, how are you going to do anything but make her cum?
You start to hump her rabidly. Your hips send her bouncing up and down on your lap, making it so that whatever happens, her starting point and ending point is always your cock. Somi’s moans cut and break into emphasized cries. In your hands, her tits make gravity look so appealing; they bob high in the air and rest heavily into your palms. There’s always a sharp rebound, a sharp cry from her. Her moans just make fucking your school’s signature brat a five-star experience.
“What did I tell you? I’m not a prude,” Nancy replies smugly. She spreads Somi’s legs to the point that she’s technically doing a split on your dick. “I also know how to suck on this little nub right here. Like I did to your big tits, remember?”
At first, Somi doesn’t get what she means. But then Nancy licks quickly at her vulnerable clit, and she understands it fully. “F-fuck, Nancy unnie!” she cries out.
She tenses up in your lap. As an effect, she gets impossibly tighter. You fight it with sharp thrusts, but she always ends up closing around you. You pierce her tightening walls and find that no amount of wetness and slick could get her to part her walls.
“‘Unnie’?” Nancy licks up and down. In the face of it all the run of her voice remains gentle. You splay Somi’s pussy lips to help her out. “You never call me that. Do I have to suck your clit everyday to get you to have some manners?”
Oh, but Somi can’t be taught manners. Just a few licks around and on her bundle of nerves has her forgetting to use a proper inside voice. It’s hopeless when she’s screaming and writhing all over the place. That’s what the combination of your thrusts and her fellow council president’s tongue does to her: it turns her into this crazed nympho just begging to be touched and used.
She’s lucky to have friends like you and Nancy who are willing to be patient in teaching her. Your methods aren’t the most orthodox, you’ll admit—what kind of friend would team up with another in ruining her cunt?
“The princess here needs to learn a lesson, after all,” you whisper in her ear. Your hands on Somi’s wide hips, your fire pumps harshly into her without daring to slip out. Nope, you’re staying inside her forever. “You’re gonna be a good girl, aren’t you, Somi? You’re gonna let us fuck you into being a good girl?”
“You sound so stupid, you know that? Like you came from friggin’ Fifty Shades of Gray or something.” Somi sticks her tongue out at you, then it idly hangs from her lips after you reprimand her with a few scolding thrusts. She begins to whimper, eyes filling with tears of need.
“Tell us to stop then.” You aren’t fazed. You know what that face she makes means too well.
You propel up into her with the force of one who almost hates her to be fucking her like that. You spread her legs wider. Bury your face into her hair because she’s your blondie.
She says nothing.
You toy with her nipples, flicking and pinching them.
She utters not a single word.
Nancy slips her tongue inside for a brief moment, joining you, then places kisses on her inner thighs.
She finally makes a noise, and it’s a couple sounds stringed into whines.
It’s not the childish one she makes whenever she’s refused something as miniscule as a bite of a doughnut, but one of real weakness. She just showed the two of you where her Achilles spots lay. She’s a sucker for this, and all the same, you’re a sucker for her neck and shoulders that always smell of lilies. Take it all in before leaving love bites all over the pale, prone skin.
She takes deep breaths.
Nancy asks her if she’s cumming, and she screams—
“Yes yes yes! Just keep eating me out, Nancy unnie, keep fucking me, oppa! I’m gonna cum so hard!”
Nancy makes a show of licking the underside of your entering and exiting cock all the way up to Somi’s pussy lips. The two of you groan ecstatically. This she repeats until your precum starts to wet Somi’s walls and Somi’s clit is practically quivering from the abuse. It doesn’t stop there. She grabs Somi’s tiny waist and pushes the girl’s core into her mouth.
“Shit, Nancy!” Somi gasps lewdly. The new position gives you ample space to take time in withdrawing then slamming every inch into her aching body. “I’m gonna cum, gonna c-c-cum, please—fuck!”
There she goes. She falters heavily into you as her orgasm takes over.
You caress her rising and falling midriff, suddenly wrapped into the need to help her come down. You kiss the back of her ear and her neck. Whisper sweet everythings there (because you mean each one: you’ll take care of her all the way). Nancy stops eating her and rubs her thigh comfortingly.
Through it all, Somi’s still your baby. The girl you tend to because you know she loses herself sometimes.
This is the calm after the storm. For a moment, it’s all soft. Somi may remain with her pussy filled with your length, but it doesn’t change the tenderness you have for her. For Nancy. For the relationship the three of you have.
“Are you all bright and happy there?”
“Fuck you, of course I am.” That tells you she’s not tapering off lust-induced insanity that much. If she were, though, she’d still maintain that feistiness. “I can’t believe we did that. And I can’t believe you didn’t cum inside me.”
“Safe sex, princess.” Nancy’s back to her serious yet half-joking self. She brushes Somi’s nose playfully. “Didn’t you listen to sir Lars?”
“I’m safe today, though…”
“Hmm. Next time?”
“Next time,” replies Somi with a bit more satisfaction. “For now, I want to see you get your ass fucked.”
Maybe it’s going too fast, like an amateur author’s prodded pacing with a debut novel, but in the flash of the moment you find that you don’t care. You and Nancy share one look and just know tonight is going to be different than all the other ones with hookups, exes, everything. This one runs deeper—it’ll define who you are for the rest of the evening.
Somi sits down at what used to be the headboard of the mattress. She’s good with just watching after the violent orgasm she had. Nancy really went all-out. Must have still been thinking about that speech she made.
Your mind stalls on Nancy right now. She’s on her hands and knees, and she’s looking back at you with this nervous yet crazed desire. It’s written clear on her face. Then there’s the rest of her beautiful body—that back, her full thighs, that ass. You knew she was beautiful with a great body to go with it, but you didn’t really figure it was an unfiltered truth until now.
“I—I brought lube,” she says timidly. She looks away, and it’s so unlike her to be this meek that your instinctive reply is a laugh.
“You came prepared.”
Somi throws you the bottle, and while you lather some of its content on Nancy’s asshole, you’re faced with millions of questions. “I assume you planned this? Or do you just bring lube whenever I’m around?”
Nancy rolls her eyes. God, do you love to make them do that. You were born to. You were made to make her roll her eyes at you between her laughs. “Stud,” she whispers.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She still hasn’t figured out it isn’t derogatory with you. Or with any guy for that matter. You chuckle softly. Love how her hole closes tighter the second you wipe some of the handy liquid on it. “Ready?”
She nods. There’s hesitation, but the upward perk of her ass can’t mean anything else than transparent want.
“Boooring!” Somi yells out, arms in an “X”-sign in front of her. You’re the actors, and she’s the disapproving film critic. And god knows how insufferable film critics are. “Ever heard of porn without plot, you absolute doodooheads?”
“Porn without plot? You read way too much fanfiction, Somi. Like, way too much.”
“Hello? Peepee in the poopoo hole now, if you please.”
You give her a tired look in spite of your small laughs. “Can you make it sound any less sexy?”
“She’s right,” Nancy says in a tiny voice. “I want you now.”
There’s the (with a trademark after that) look again, somber and wide. She needs you. You need her. So why are you stalling? Idiot. You need to put yourself together.
Slip past the defiance of Nancy’s asshole, and curse immediately. It isn’t even halfway in and you’re already close. She’s too tight that it almost beats the tightness of Somi’s pussy. You’re not sure you’re ready for this. Run your hand along Nancy's back and feel the sweat stick to your hand. She’s nervous. In pain. At least, you assume so.
“Need to breathe?”
Nancy winces and nods. “A few seconds.”
It’s hell itself trying not to give in to your instincts and pound away into her ass. It’s just so perfect, the way it trembles and shakes and unintentionally sends vibrations your way. Sends those full cheeks bouncing.
Even in a state of need-to-get-it-together, Nancy still looks her prime. Her hair, all those chestnut locks, sticks to her back as she pants. Her face has never looked prettier. She’s gorgeous as could be, and you realize that it’s these moments—not her beauty pageants where she’s all dolled up by attending stylists, not when she manages a glow-up (when she already is the most beautiful woman you know) weeks before class pictures are taken—that take your breath away. She’s just there, just existing, and you maintain your preposition: down bad.
“Tell me if you lovebirds need to stop,” says Somi. “Because what I’m seeing here is– oh my.”
Nancy starts to fuck herself on you. She wants to do this—Somi’s words are her motivation. Her ass constricts tighter and tighter as you penetrate her, but you make it work. Make it fit. She’s so stretched out but she doesn’t stop. It makes you temporarily heed the idea that a glitching robot is controlling her. The recoil and push of her ass are too rough.
“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes squeezed shut firmly. “Feels so fucking good.”
If you’re making Nancy curse, it’s either really good or really bad. You’re betting on the former. Her ass rotates and circles before you, welcoming her into its depths, and you can’t find your breath again. You must have lost it, lost it somewhere in the atmosphere that smells of sex and sweat.
There isn’t even any foreplay to go by. She simply pushes back and takes every inch of your dick. While you lost hold of your breath, Nancy’s found hers, and puts it to good use with her moans.
“You’re… opening me up so much,” gasps Nancy. She looks back to see that you’re forming a steady reciprocal rhythm that’s starting to gape her hole.
“Should I go slower?” you ask hesitantly. You slip a hand to her mound then settle a thumb over her clit. It throbs, still sensitive from the sucking.
“No, god, no. Go faster. Please.” Her words are broken off like blunt phrases, but you catch on to her meaning. She wants it fast even for the first time.
It’s lucky you took your time rubbing lube on your shaft and her hole. As time goes by, Nancy’s ass only grows tighter. It clings to you, afraid to let go. Her legs shake yet they’re strong enough to push and pull, receiving you into her backside.
The mattress starts to creak. Its old springs are resurrected and the first thing they do is make squeaking sounds. It’s drowned out by the sound of Somi touching herself. Her wet pussy is slick as her finger rubs firmly on her own clit and her mind runs with the idea of her being in Nancy’s place. Her toes are already curled tightly.
Nancy’s words don’t lose their eccentric tone even if she’s being plowed from behind. The broken mirror discarded to the corner reflects her expressions. One minute she’s smiling drunkenly, and the second minute her eyes are dazed, as if she were taken straight out of an 18+ anime magazine. The next minute she’s suddenly gasping for air. No, air isn’t what she needs. Everything that’s essential is hidden right inside your cock, and she’s going to get it.
“Need it, need it, need it.”
She squeezes tighter, and you wince. It feels good. Too good, in fact, that you chase after the feeling with quick pumps.
“H-hah, I know you want to do it,” she says, turning to you. She kisses you and smiles weakly. “So cum in me. Cum in my ass, I need it so fucking bad—”
She interrupts herself with a sharp draw of breath. Your fingers have entered her and are frantically moving, filling her over and over and jabbing at her walls. You take advantage of her sensitivity more than you should, and she loves it.
Nancy cries out. She folds herself over the mattress more, muffling her face in its olden softness. She feels so full. With your cock stuffing her sweaty ass and your fingers wiggling around inside her, there’s only one path this is destined for. But she wants to make the journey last. She doesn’t want it to end too soon.
“P-please, I can’t take it,” she whines. She muffles a scream. It doesn’t help; her next words are shouty. They don’t sound so intimidating when they come out pitchy and needy. “I’m going to cum all over you, for you, just please do the same. Please. Please, oh—”
Perhaps it’s your natural way of catering to whatever Nancy requires, which is to mean what you do everyday, but you end up exploding inside her. She moans happily, and you feel her drip a little as she comes to her climax as well. The little leak grows stronger as you firmly rub her clit. Your thighs soon suffer the damages of her flood.
Whimpering and overstimulated, Nancy’s screams almost make the windows shatter. Through all this, she pounds herself back into you, and you do the same. None of you want this to end.
Be that as it may, nothing lasts forever. It could be that it’s a gift, for when you pull out of your crush and spray the remaining shots of cum onto her beautiful back, you realize you’re stark exhausted.
-
“Cinnamon rolls, anybody?”
Here’s how it goes after that: the three of you showered and are ready to go rest. You couldn’t try for shower sex, not when all of you are spent. You’ve sprayed and fucked and came too many times to count that it’s for the common good that you take a break.
Bruises litter your jaw but it’s alright. Nothing a little makeover can’t fix. Nancy still worriedly brushes it with a tender finger.
“I swear, Nancy,” you laugh, “I’m fine. You should be worried about yourself.”
Nancy nods obediently, but her eyes still linger on the purple spot.
“God, get a room,” says Somi with a groan, handing you your dessert. Is this her way of aftercare? “Oops, you already did. Silly me.”
You’re all wrapped in comfortable bathrobes. They’re the ones with the really silky fabric, the kind that feels like clouds dropped from heaven and onto you. They settle comfortably on your sore bodies. You go to the roof even with only those “clothes” on. Not one of you cares for decency; considering what you did earlier, it’d be hypocritical to try and salvage some self-respect.
Oh, who minds anyway? Not you three. All you want is some rest.
“Not funny,” Nancy says. She takes a careful bite of her roll, licking her lips with a glare.
“My bad. Should try again the next time we stop fucking.”
You stop chewing. “Wait… so you’re saying we’re doing that again?” you ask, suddenly flustered.
You’re not complaining. It only took a few minutes for you to discover that sex with the duo is the perfect mix of soft and rough. Exactly your kind. Okay, so maybe the rough part outweighs the other, but you aren’t turning back. Your concern is your friendship—would you still see each other as reliable people, or would that be warped by lust?
You’re young. Nothing is permanent—that’s what you’re taught. What if that counts for the relationship you have, too?
“You don’t want to do it?” Somi asks in a voice so small you barely could make out the words.
“No, no, I do.” Scratch the back of your neck. How do you say this without sounding super attached? (You are.) “But… are we still friends? Are we still good with each other?”
Nancy gives you an amused look. “Why wouldn’t we be?” she inquires, genuinely curious.
“I—I thought—”
“Look, we all know what we feel.” Somi takes your hand and presses it to her thigh. Her face portrays a solemn yet caring look. It feels foreign seeing such a serious face on such a spunky girl. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends along the way. You’re still our Frankenstein. We made you.”
“Is the alcohol plus hot choco combo doing something to you or what? Frankenstein is the name of the crea—”
Somi groans and mashes you in the face with her cinnamon roll. “Get outta here with your nerd BS,” she says. She’s smiling, though.
“Get out of here with your own dodo BS, bottle blonde.”
“Dodos are essential knowledge, not some facts about a stupid ass mon—”
“If you two don’t stop,” says Nancy, knowing when a playful fight starts and how to stop it before it does, “you’re both getting out.”
Are these the girls you fucked in that small loft just a few hours prior? They don’t ever change, do they? They might be hot as hell, but they’re still Jeon and McDonie, the girls you’re friends with. Your hearts remain in the places they were before.
But maybe deeper, delving into the core of your chests.
Somi directs her eyes up at the moon floating in the night sky and smiles. You’ve always loved it when she smiles, menacing as it could be sometimes. She looks like a giddy girl who was just taken to a candy store. There’s this pure, sweet grace to it that infectiously makes you grin, too.
“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” she says dreamily.
“It is,” Nancy agrees. She’s looking cute herself; her cheeks are stuffed with cinnamon rolls.
You look up as well. They’re right. The moon does look prettier tonight. You’re no selenophile, but you swear the large spots of gray and black on its rounded curves make it look more serene. It feels like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
“Well,” you say, smiling, “I can die happy.”
It was supposed to end like that. You all know what you meant. This was supposed to be a memory you’d keep stowed in the drawers of your minds to look fondly at later in life. But you just had to ruin the moment by suddenly sitting up straight and staring with wide eyes at your hands. What have you done? You can’t believe you could do such a thing.
“H-hey, Nancy…”
“What’s wrong?” Nancy asks.
“You know that quote you said earlier about first impressions?”
“Yeah?”
“And how I said Michael Jordan was smart for saying it?”
“What are you getting at here?”
“I remembered it wrong.” You gulp. “Michael Jackson said it, not Michael Jordan.”
“Are you in your right mind? How could you even think that?” asks Somi, cackling. She almost topples down the roof. “Like, seriously, oppa, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, opp—”
“For fuck’s sake—”
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Undone
After a stressful week at the office, Joel knows just how to take care of his wife. AKA Joel Miller doms the stress out of you.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: No Outbreak AU. Established relationship, husband and wife. Dom!Joel x Sub!Reader (light). Tiny little age gap (like 5 years? I'm picturing Joel at 44 and reader at 39?) Unprotected P in V sex. Oral sex, F receiving. Creampie. Overstimulation. Aftercare.
Length: 5.4k
A/N: This is totally self indulgent. It's also like... entirely smut. Sorry. But not really. OK love you bye!
Joel knew what you were after the minute you kicked the door closed.
It was Friday and it had been a hell of a week for you. Joel had done his best to support you through it - he’d finished up one big job on Tuesday and didn’t start the next one until Monday - so he’d taken the lead on keeping the household running while you put in extra hours and came home frustrated and exhausted every night.
He knew it wasn’t going to magically be better just because it was Friday, so he’d spent the day trying to make the end to your work week as good as he could. He went to the HEB and got your favorite snacks, picked out flowers for the kitchen table, even went by the liquor store on the way home to get everything you’d need to unwind at the end of your day. He started smoking ribs early that afternoon and was outside to sauce them when he heard the door slam behind you.
Joel didn’t need to see what happened, he knew from the sound that you’d thrown the door open and then kicked it shut behind you. He’d bet the check from his next job that you’d be face down on the couch, your shoes and briefcase a little trail from the front door to the living room. He shook his head, taking a swig of Shiner before closing the smoker and heading inside to find his wife.
You were exactly where he thought you’d be, taking up almost the entire length of the couch, flat on your stomach, blazer still on but your heels and bags scattered between you and the front door.
“Aw baby,” he said sympathetically. “That great a day, hm?”
You made a sound that was caught somewhere between a grunt and a groan.
“Want to talk about it?”
You made the sound again and Joel tried not to laugh at it.
“Here,” he said, coming and adjusting your legs so he could sit beside you on the couch. You groaned as he did but he guided you from lying on your stomach to sitting up to leaning on him, your face in his chest. He put his arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “Tell me what melted down.”
“We have our quarterly earnings release going out in less than two weeks,” you sighed. “And it’s a shit show. Legal’s been reviewing that shit for what feels like an eternity and I need to issue the goddamn release announcing the date of the full release but I can’t do that until I actually know that legal and financial are going to have stuff sorted in time and the CEO has emailed me twice a day about it the whole week because sure, the legal team definitely falls under my department…”
Joel held the still mostly full bottle of beer in front of you and you took it from him, your fingers brushing his and you were quiet for a moment as you took a sip before handing it back.
“Also, HR is going to be the death of me,” you continued, on a tear now. “I swear, it shouldn’t be that hard to find a qualified entry level candidate but here we are, still short staffed 10 weeks after I got the OK to hire. They’ve sent me two resumes, Joel. Two. I called them today to ask how many they’d received and they’ve had 226 candidates apply and they’ve sent me fucking two! I refuse to believe that just one percent of applicants were remotely qualified so I asked them to forward me all the applications since, apparently, recruiting can’t do their damn jobs so I’m going to have to do it for them…”
Joel nodded along, handing you the beer periodically when he felt you getting too worked up. He found himself, not for the first time, awed by what you did for a living. He didn’t understand much of it, really, and he was thankful he didn’t need to. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of shit. You, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet when you’d started at your company seven years ago when the two of you had just started dating, You’d risen up the ranks quickly and you now had a team of several dozen people reporting up to you. As gentle and sweet as Joel knew you to be at your core, he knew you were also unflinchingly driven at work. During the COVID shut down, he’d gotten a glimpse of it, listening to you take people - mostly men who seemed to think you weren’t as capable as you clearly were - to task and get things done. He was eternally grateful that, when the two of you fought, you didn’t take him down the way you did people who crossed you in the office. Though that stood in sharp contrast to how Joel heard you talk to the people who reported up to you, with you seemingly always happy to lend an ear or provide guidance or take the heat if they fucked something up that was going outside your department.
Unfortunately, that meant you had weeks like this one, where plenty went wrong and you had no one to pass the buck to. And he knew as well as you did that you wouldn’t just let something fall apart, not if there was a damn thing you could do about it. Even if that meant working yourself into the ground.
After a while you just deflated against him and he handed you the beer again. You took a long drink, emptying the bottle, and Joel took it from you to set on the side table.
“Feelin’ better?” He asked, his nose brushing your hair.
“Kind of,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him.
“Somethin’ more I can do?” He asked, trying to make sure that he wasn’t nudging you in the direction he was hoping this would go.
“Yeah,” you said, something shifting in your tone when you said it. No longer frustrated and fed up, instead needy and wanting. You sat up from him and looked at him through your eyelashes, practically pouting. “Turn my brain off for a bit?”
Joel’s heart picked up, heat and tension already gathering low in him.
“Aw, my baby need me to fuck her stupid?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. His thumb traced along the arch of your cheekbone as his eyes locked on your blown pupils. “You need me to make that big brain of yours slow down for a while, that it?”
“Yes please,” you breathed. He could feel your skin getting warmer below his touch.
“Please what?”
“Please sir,” you said, holding your hands up with your wrists together, like an offering. “Please fuck me stupid. Please sir.”
He quirked his jaw before he smiled, dark and low.
“Good girl,” he growled. He got up and closed his large hands around your wrists before pulling you sharply to your feet, looking you up and down as he did. There was something that drove him wild, seeing you like this. Dressed in your armor of the business world, a place where lesser men had to go to you for permission to do a goddamn thing, and you came home to him, begging him to strip you down to something small and vulnerable and easily consumed.
He wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people. When you’d met almost eight years earlier, his first thought was that you were way out of his fucking league. A friend of Tommy’s then girlfriend now wife, you were a few years younger than him but had clearly kept your life on the right fucking track the whole time instead of driving it into the ground for a while first. You’d gone to college, built a damn impressive career, had goals and dreams and plans for yourself. You were beautiful and smart and funny and kind and the first time he’d taken your clothes off he was still not entirely sure why you were letting him do it.
He’d been even more surprised the first time you’d shared with him that you wanted him to take control in the way he was now.
“I just have to make decisions all the time,” you’d said, folded into a corner of his couch with a glass of wine in your hands. “I just really want to have someone else take over for a while, you know? Not have to make any plans or take care of anybody else, just enjoy and be enjoyed.”
That, Joel had thought, he could give you.
It wasn’t something the two of you always indulged in but there were days like this one where you seemed to crave it. Maybe even a step beyond that - you needed it. You needed the safety of Joel’s guidance, the comfort of his control, the ease of his pleasure. He liked to give you those things. More than liked it, sometimes he lived for it.
Today was one of those days.
He led you to the bedroom and stood you at the foot of the bed, your wrists still firmly in his hands as his eyes searched yours.
“You just want to be my little doll, is that it?” He asked, his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists. Your pulse was heavy and hard. “Want me to take control so all you have to do is feel what I let you feel?”
“Yes,” you breathed.
“Yes what.”
“Yes sir,” you were practically squirming.
“What are your colors,” he said more than asked.
“Green, yellow, red,” you answered quickly.
“Where are you now?”
“Green.”
“Good girl,” he guided your hands so they hung at your sides. “Don’t move until I tell you.”
He watched you resist the urge to nod and he slipped his hands below the lapels of your jacket, running his hands over your skin for a moment before shoving the sleeves down your arms and leaving the blazer in a pile on the floor. He watched you swallow, your throat working and he tried not to think about making you kneel and taking his cock into that pretty throat of yours. He knew just how good it would feel while you sucked him, how fucking good it would feel to come down your throat.
Maybe later. Right now, he needed to take care of you. And that’s exactly what he was going to do.
***
When Joel touched you like this, it was like something unspooled inside yourself. There had been a knot in your stomach for days at least - maybe longer - and nothing had worked to untangle it. Not crossing things off your to do list at the office, not the yoga class you’d skipped lunch to take, not the iced latte your assistant had ducked out to grab you that afternoon. But Joel’s hands on your skin as they slipped the slender straps of your satin top down your arms were better than anything else, especially when your mind wasn’t going a mile a minute thinking of ways to please him in return. You watched as he moved to undress you, his eyes heavy and hot and hungry as your top pooled around your hips. He reached around your body to unhook your bra, casting it aside before cupping your breasts in his large palms, groaning as he did.
“You feel so good,” his thumbs brushed your nipples. “My soft, pretty fuckin’ girl.”
“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. He’d told you to stay still and you had to obey. If you didn’t, you knew he’d drag out your first orgasm for what felt like an eternity, bringing you just to the edge of it but never letting you fall into your climax until you were a desperate, dripping, squirming mess.
“What, baby?” He almost cooed at you, just a hint of a teasing edge to his tone. “What’s my baby need?”
“More,” you whined. “I need more, please, I need…”
He took his hands off you then and looked you in the eye and you almost reached for him before you caught yourself.
“Who decides what you need right now,” he said. You moaned and he ignored you. “Who. Tell me, pretty girl.”
“You,” you said.
“That’s right,” he nodded. “And I’ll give you more when I decide you need more and I decide I’m done enjoyin’ the parts of you I’m enjoyin’ right now. So. You stand still like a good little doll and we’ll see when I’ll let you have more. Got it?”
“Yes,” you said.
He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye.
“Yes what.”
“Yes sir.”
His crooked smile dimpled his cheek.
“Good girl.”
He returned to touching you, running his large and callused hands over your shoulders to your chest, holding and massaging your breasts and you could tell he was taking his time less for himself and more because he knew what it was doing to you. That it was making you achy and desperate and the thoughts that had been weighing on you all day at the office were slipping out of your mind, drifting far away into the ether.
“Think I remember you sayin’ something about more?” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly as his hand slipped over your stomach, below the bunched fabric of your shirt, below the waistband of your pants until his fingertips were brushing your bare mound inside your panties. You whimpered. “How about I give you some more, hm?”
His index finger reached out and brushed the top of your clit, sending a shiver through you, all the heat you had inside yourself pooling low in your stomach.
Joel chuckled.
“Think she likes it.”
He pressed a little lower, a little firmer, working your sensitive nub in slow, languid circles.
“She like this too?”
You nodded frantically.
“Thought I told you not to move,” Joel said, stern.
“But…”
“No buts,” he cut you off. “You wanted to give me control so you give me control. Otherwise, you won’t get what you want. Got it?”
“Yes sir.”
“You’re lucky,” he said as he went to open your pants. “Got me all worked up, too. Too worked up to draw this out the way you deserve, squirmin’ the way you are.”
He got on his knees in front of you and gathered the fabric of your shirt, pants and underwear in his hands and pulled them all down in one go, the sudden exposure of your skin to the air making you gasp and goosebumps scatter over you in sharp little pin pricks.
“Fuck, there you are,” he groaned, his hands coming to grip the thick swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat of you as he pressed a kiss to your stomach just below your belly button. You moaned, wanting nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his curls. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms, acutely aware of where he was touching you because of the absence of him everywhere else.
He trailed his mouth down to your slit, his tongue dipping into you there, brushing against your clit, the heat of his mouth in sharp contrast to the cold air against your wetness. His hands slipped up your back, finding your waist before Joel stood, his still clothed body so close to your naked one.
“Lie down for me,” he said, a little breathless. “Middle of the bed.”
You rushed to obey and watched hungrily as Joel undressed himself, his black t-shirt coming up and over his head, his jeans opening to reveal his tight boxer briefs with his thick, hard cock straining the fabric. He took off everything before crawling up the bed over you and, for half a moment, you thought he really was going to give into you that quickly, give you exactly what you wanted that fast. But instead of settling between your thighs with his heavy length brushing against your slit and his mouth on yours, he fell to the side of you, the weight of him jostling the mattress. You turned your head to look at him, confused, and he laughed, dark and low.
“You didn’t think you were gonna make me give in that fast, did you?” He asked. He slid one arm below your ribs, his hand coming up and around the back of you to hold your breast while his other hand teased a feather light path down from your throat, over your chest, your stomach to your slit. “No, not done with this yet.”
“But…”
“You just lie still and let me worship you,” he said, his palm cupping your mound, his middle finger settling between your lower lips as he put gentle pressure against your clit. The tip of his finger circled your dripping entrance but didn’t slip inside where you were aching and desperate for him. “Want to enjoy you for a while.”
He didn’t give you a chance to protest, his mouth finding just the right spot on your throat at the same moment he added pressure to your clit, grinding his hand against your most tender place and making your back arch below his touch.
Joel kissed and licked and sucked along your neck, your collarbone, your breast, his cock brushing against your thigh as he manipulated your body and you could feel his precome on your skin when it did and you were desperate to touch him there, to feel just how hard you’d made him, make him start to unravel the way he was doing to you.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said, a finger sliding inside of you, making you groan.
“But I want…”
He pulled back from you to look in your eyes and you could tell from the glassy look on his face that you probably already looked like a fucked out mess.
“You tryin’ to make me feel good or you want it for yourself?” He asked, brows raised. You tried to find the words but couldn’t. He nodded. “S’what I thought, you sit still like I fuckin’ told you. You try to touch me and I won’t let you come, got it? This is about you, not me so you’re gonna lay there and take it, understand?”
“Yes sir,” you whimpered.
He went back to working you over, adjusting so that he could fully kiss down your body until his head was between your thighs, two fingers buried inside of you as he looked up your body to your face.
“New rules,” he said, pressing his lips to your clit for a moment and sucking it into his mouth before continuing. “Want you to come and I want you to come hard. You’re allowed to touch my head to put me where you need but you do anything else with those hands and we’re startin’ over. Understood?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good girl.”
He practically dove into your pussy, his thumb working your clit, his tongue licking deep into your channel. The fire in your belly burned brighter and it was like you could feel all the blood in your body pulling into the center of you. Your hands flew to his head, the thick of his hair and the heat of his scalp almost sharp against your fingers after having felt nothing but your own palms for what felt like forever. You rocked your hips against his face as he ate at you, a finger slipping into you alongside his tongue, working the inside of you deftly so that you were never empty but never lacking the friction of him moving in you. His fingertip curled into the soft, sensitive place inside of you that he found so easily now, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his thumb and nose worked your clit and you felt your pussy get so tight and hot you worried, for half a second, that it would hurt him before every worry flew out of your head entirely, your entire body flooded with waves of pleasure as you came on his tongue.
Joel worked you through your orgasm, never letting up as you moaned and panted, your grip on his hair easing as your body started to go limp. Your pussy was so sensitive when your climax eased but Joel didn’t pay your little whimpers any mind. He pulled his mouth from you but added another finger, fucking into you with his hand and adjusting so his palm was grinding against your clit as he did.
“There you go,” he panted, wiping your slick from his mouth before taking his cock in his hand and working himself with it. “That what you needed, pretty girl?”
“Yes sir,” you whimpered.
“Good,” he said, his eyes ranging over you, dark and hot. “Because now it’s my turn.”
He pulled his fingers from you and spread your thighs a little wider, lining his cock up with your still weakly grasping hole for half a moment before thrusting deep into you in one devastating go. You gasped at the stretch of him filling you like that, the inside of you still soft and tender from your orgasm. Your fingers scrambled at the blanket below you, your back arched and taut and you tried to hold onto something - anything - in your head beside how he was splitting you open.
“I say you could use your hands like that?” He asked, his fingers finding your wrists and clamping around them. He pressed deep inside you and folded over you, bringing your hands with him, pressing your wrists down into the mattress over your head. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little doll right now, ain’t you? Mine to do what I want with and I want you to take it.”
“Joel,” you whimpered.
“That ain’t my name right now, is it?”
“Sir,” you corrected, resisting the urge to rock your hips up against him. “Please!”
“Please what?”
You couldn’t put words to what you wanted to ask for and Joel just smirked before releasing your wrists and sitting up, looking down over your body to where he disappeared inside of it.
“What I thought,” he said, his hands pressing your thighs wide before his thumb trailed over where you were split open on him to your clit, teasing you in a slow circle that made you jerk involuntarily below him. He took it away, his hand on the soft flesh of your thigh again. “You leave those hands there and take it. You can take it, pretty girl. Know you can.”
With that, he pulled back, slow and aching, before fucking back into you, hard and fast with a forceful grunt. You watched him fuck you, his cock slamming into you with enough force that it jerked your body up and down the bed. You were lost in it, the way you could see his muscles flex, the way his eyes ranged over you - watching the place he was spreading you open and the way your tits bounced for him and up to your face to meet your eyes and back again. It was almost hypnotic, like there was nothing else in the world that existed outside of him. He was controlling you totally, fucking into you with enough force that you couldn’t even breathe out of sync with his thrusts, your body just something he could manipulate and pleasure and use however he saw fit.
You weren’t sure how long he fucked you like that before his hands ran over your thighs to your core, his thumbs brushing along your clit, pressing into you there and working you in hard little circles as your channel started to tighten around him again.
“There we go,” he panted. “Got another one right there don’t you? You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you pretty girl. Gonna give me everything, ain’t you?”
“Yes sir,” you whined, your fingernails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your hands still.
“Good girl,” he pressed himself deep as he worked your clit and returned to his same punishing rhythm, the head of him finding the place inside you he’d claimed for himself. He left one thumb on your clit, his other hand stretching up and over your stomach, fingers splaying wide on you until it was in the middle of your chest where you knew he could feel how your heart was pounding behind your ribs. The feel of him everywhere was overwhelming, the tight spool of pleasure that had never fully relaxed after your first orgasm already wound unbearably tight again.
“Want you to come for me,” he said, voice needy. “Want you to be a good girl and come. Give it all to me, baby, want you to just let go and give it all to me, let it all go, c’mon and come for me, make me fuckin’ feel it…”
You cried out as you obeyed, your channel fluttering over his cock as he kept fucking you deep and hard. You could feel your orgasm in the very center of you, in every muscle and every nerve, your climax taking hold of you so firmly that you felt a gush of liquid rush out of you.
“Fuck, there you go,” he said, not letting up. “Fuck baby, love when you squirt for me, such a good fuckin’ girl…”
The wet snap of his hips into you was obscene and, as your orgasm eased, your body was already drawing tight again. Your heart raced and you could feel everything, everything, so sharp and harsh and overwhelming. Your head swam, your skin prickled.
“Love feeling you come for me,” Joel was still fucking into you, hard and bruising like he was trying to climb inside your skin and claim a place for himself there. “Love when you get all tight and desperate, love making you all needy…”
You let out a fucked out little whimper, tears pricking at your eyes, not able to see straight through the haze of your already building orgasm. Joel leaned over you, his cock buried deep but going still.
“You with me, pretty girl?” He asked, his hands sliding up your arms to find your wrists, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t seem to find the words to answer, too overstimulated to think of anything beyond how he was filling you and surrounding you. “Gimme a color, baby.”
“Yellow,” you managed.
He took your limp wrists in his large palms and guided your hands to his skin, resting them on his broad shoulders.
“That help?” He asked. “You can nod.”
You nodded quickly, your breathing evening out, body still tight and strung out.
“Color?”
“Green,” you said, the tears that were in your eyes slipping down your cheeks but not being replaced by new ones.
“Good,” he shifted inside you, pulling back a little before thrusting in again. “Because I ain’t done with you yet. You keep those hands right where I put ‘em and just focus on coming one more time for me, need you to milk me dry, baby.”
But his pace eased, less frantic and more desperate, working you slow and firm from within. He buried his face into your neck, his mouth finding that place that sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. His hands ranged over you, fingers hungry and grasping at your skin, his hips working against your clit as his cock found its home deep within you.
“Know you’re close,” he said against your skin, lips still close enough to brush against you as he spoke. He kissed along your neck, nose teasing along your throat. “You got one more in you, baby, I know you do.”
“Sir,” you whimpered, pleading, not sure if you wanted to come or wanted to just dissolve.
“You can come,” he fucked you slow and deep. His public bone pressed against your clit and your back arched. “Want you to come, want to feel you come. Make me feel you, baby. Be a good girl and make me feel you.”
You dared to let yourself move, just enough that you could rock your hips up against him, working yourself with his body as you felt him grow impossibly thicker and harder inside you. Or, maybe, you were just tightening further around him, body clinging to him in one last desperate push for closeness as your climax hit again. You cried out with it and you couldn’t just leave your hands on Joel’s shoulders, instead latching onto his hair and sliding down his back, pulling him flush against your body so the only thing left in the world was him and his skin and the thick of his cock as he started to pulse inside of you.
Your orgasm almost hurt it was so intense. You could feel every inch of Joel’s cock in you, the heat and softness of his skin against you, every muscle in your body going rigid and tense for a moment before relaxing. Your vision went spotty and you got light headed and you lost track of time.
The next thing you knew, you were in Joel’s arms, cradled against his chest, his fingers trailing a gentle path along the edge of your hairline and jaw, thumb brushing the plush of your lips.
“There you are,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his large hand coming to rest against your cheek as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were soft and warm and there was a gentle smile on his face. “How are you feelin’ love?”
You took stock of your body for a moment, everything feeling light and airy.
“I’m good,” you smiled a little.
“Yeah?” He said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Take a deep breath for me, OK?”
You nodded a little and did as you were told, only realizing then just how little your lungs had been inflating before.
“How’s that feelin’?” He asked. “Good?”
You just nodded, still smiling.
“How about this for the night,” he said, going back to tracing an easy trail over your skin with his fingertips. “In a few minutes, I get up and get you water and a cocktail while you put on that pretty little swimsuit of yours. You float in the water while I look at ya and finish those ribs in the smoker…”
“You’re making me ribs?” You almost pouted, your brows going up.
Joel chuckled.
“Yeah, that OK?”
“That’s my favorite,” you said, feeling like you might be about to cry.
“I know it is, baby,” he said, kissing your temple again. “S’why I made ‘em. Got that potato salad you like, green beans, cornbread too. Even got that chocolate cake you like so much…”
“The Oreo one?” You sniffed, tearing up.
“The Oreo one,” he brushed your hair back. “You still with me there baby?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, crying a little. You weren’t entirely sure why, just every emotion you’d had over the past week seeming to bubble up at once. “I think so…”
“You’re OK,” Joel said, pulling you closer, his lips gentle on your skin. “I’ve got you.”
You just nodded against him and focused on how his skin felt on yours, his warmth and strength grounding while your mind was still swimming.
“What about after dinner?” You sniffed.
“We can watch one of those movies you like so much,” he said. “I know the ones that’ve been on your list, you don’t gotta pick unless you want to. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “But… can we just stay here for a little while first? Please?”
“Course baby,” he said. “Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you.”
You nuzzled into his skin and breathed deep and you didn’t really know why you’d been so stressed when you got home to begin with. You just knew that you had Joel and that, as long as he was there, everything else would be OK.
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The Younger Kind Part 11 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: When you realize Bradley still has the dating app on his phone, you start to think he's never going to take you seriously. But then he surprises you in the best way, and it turns out he's a pretty great study partner, too. Meanwhile, Bradley is starting to think the longer he puts off talking to Meredith, the worse things will become.
Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)
Length: 4600 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more!
You and Bradley had been texting nonstop. Occasionally he would just check in with you and ask how your day was going. Sometimes he would send you a funny story or a picture of Noah. And then once, when you asked him sweetly, he sent you a dick pic to which you replied with a photo of yourself in the shower.
When he texted you on Tuesday evening asking if you could come over on Wednesday, you immediately agreed. You didn't want to invite yourself over to his house, but you'd been itching to go back and see them. Your boys.
I'll be there, Daddy. Do you want me to make dinner?
Bradley Bradshaw: I didn't want to ask. I should be a capable adult by now. But HELL YES, Noah and I both want you to make dinner. I'll order some groceries on my phone.
You laughed at his old man tendencies and the fact that they both liked it when you cooked for them. Then you started thinking about what might happen after Noah went to bed for the night. You groaned; you had an exam early on Thursday morning, so you'd need to get a good night's sleep.
You didn't even know exactly where you and Bradley were at the moment, but you hoped you were headed down the road to a relationship with him. Something exclusive. Something where you could spend time with him and Noah on a regular basis.
You stopped back at your place after class on Wednesday and quickly changed into a sundress and touched up your makeup. You put some lip gloss on and grabbed a bag of Skittles with a smile. You considered stopping for coffee, but you were anxious to get to Bradley's house, so you skipped it.
When you let yourself in the front door, you could hear them playing with blocks; you were so used to the sound of Noah destroying the towers after he built them. "Hello?" you called out, and Noah was racing into the living room.
You scooped him up into your arms and held him tight. "Watch any good princess movies without me?" you asked as Bradley came strolling in as well. He looked so good in his snug jeans and black undershirt, your mind went blank for a beat.
"Hey, Princess," he said softly, stopping just a few inches away from you. He was looking at you with a soft smirk on his lips, and you couldn't help but think about Saturday night on the floor.
"Hi, Daddy," you said with a smirk of your own, and his eyes went a little wider. "How's your week been going?"
You knew exactly how his week was going, because he'd told you this morning that he masturbated to the photo you sent him while he was in his own shower. But you held Noah in your arms and both of you looked up at him with questioning gazes.
Bradley shook his head slightly. "My week has been excellent so far, Princess. Thanks for asking."
"I love to hear that," you replied, and then you kissed Noah's cheek. "I have a coloring book for you. Wanna see?"
"Yes!" Noah cheered, and you took him to the kitchen table. When you procured from your bag a beach themed coloring book, he got right to work.
"And I have something for you," Bradley rasped. "Wanna see?"
You pressed your lips together and hummed. "Right now? In the kitchen?"
Bradley chuckled and pulled you closer to the counter. "It's nothing dirty," he whispered in the filthiest voice, and then he handed you a vanilla latte from the coffee shop. As always, Princess was scrawled across the cup. You took a sip while he drank from one that said peasant.
"I thought you were the knight," you remarked, blowing on your hot drink.
"I'm waiting for you to upgrade me permanently," he said with a wink, pulling his phone out of his pocket and messing with it while you drank your delicious coffee.
Bradley set his phone on the counter, and you glanced back to see that Noah was coloring nicely by himself. You grabbed the fabric of Bradley's shirt and pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his in a soft lingering kiss.
"Missed you," he whispered, and when you smoothed his shirt out for him, your eyes caught on his phone screen.
The dating app was still there. And so were the app notifications. Your coffee soured in your stomach as you saw someone named Julie send him a message before the screen went black.
"I don't even know how to cook half of the stuff I got, but I figured you'd be able to figure something out," he told you, opening the refrigerator and shrugging. "We'll eat whatever you want to make."
Well now you didn't feel like cooking shit for him! You could leave. There was nothing keeping you here. Not Bradley who would never take you seriously.
But there was something keeping you here. Noah turned and looked at you. "Can you make food? For later? And ants on the logs?"
You sighed and nodded at him. "Of course, Noah. I'll make you some ants."
You brushed past Bradley to look inside the refrigerator for yourself. At first glance, you knew you could make them some spaghetti, tacos or hamburgers. In an effort to make sure Noah was well fed, you wanted to stay long enough to make all three and pack the food in plastic containers, but you couldn't even look at Bradley now as he was back on his phone.
You pulled out ingredients to make tacos, adding the carrots and peanut butter for Noah's snack to the counter as well. When you started browning the meat and cutting up the carrots, Bradley came to stand behind you, rubbing his mustache along your neck. You tried to shrug out of his grasp, but his fingers on your arm felt so nice.
"Hey, baby?" he asked, his damn phone still in his hand. You finally pulled away from him and turned to look up at him.
"What?" you asked a little harshly.
His eyes narrowed at his phone screen. "I can't figure out how to get this damn app off my phone, and the notifications keep popping up when I'm trying to watch the Nationals highlights. Can you help me?"
Bradley held his phone out to you, and you carefully took it. There were countless notifications for the dating app at the top of the screen, and messages kept popping up. You looked up at his completely relaxed face.
"To be clear, you want me to help you delete the dating app?" you asked cautiously.
"Yeah," he confirmed, with a casual nod. "It's annoying."
You caught sight of a message from Charlotte who was trying to introduce herself to him. "Bradley, you've got tons of women contacting you."
He leaned closer to you and said, "Yeah, I know." Then he pointed at the screen. "See?! The damn notifications keep covering the MLB scores!"
It took all of your willpower not to kiss his mustache off. "Want to watch me delete it so you know how to remove an app for next time? I won't always be around to help you with your phone, Grandpa."
His eyes drifted from his phone in your hand to your face. "Grandpa? I thought I was Daddy."
You looked up at him innocently. "Now watch closely. Oh wait, do you need to put your hearing aids in?" you asked, annunciating every word slowly.
"You're obnoxious," he whispered, kissing your cheek.
"Can you eat tacos with dentures?" you asked, still speaking loudly.
He glared at you, trying not to smile. "Can you just delete the app?"
"I would love to," you told him, kissing his lips before showing him how to remove it. And then the app was gone, along with all the messages and women trying to chat him up. It felt like the air in the room was easier to breathe. Like a pressure had been lifted off your chest.
"The Padres beat the Blue Jays," Bradley told you, pointing at the screen.
"You amaze me," you told him, cutting up a tomato as you smiled. "You can operate a sixty million dollar aircraft, but you can't cook or use a smartphone."
Bradley tossed his phone onto the counter and carefully took the knife out of your hand and set it down on the cutting board. Then he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you back against him. "I'm good with my hands," he murmured, letting said hands drift down to the hem of your dress. "Precise. Quick, but not too fast. Decisive."
You were practically panting as he rubbed your thigh with his big hand. Bradley's fingers brushed along your bare pussy, and he groaned in your ear.
"I'm hungry," Noah whined, and Bradley pulled himself away from you.
"Dinner is almost ready," you promised, and Bradley sat down next to Noah to help him color a pelican.
------------------------------
Bradley knew for a fact that you weren't wearing anything under that little dress. You were just flouncing around his kitchen, sipping a latte and fixing his phone, and you weren't even wearing any underwear.
Fuck. You were perfect.
"Here's a taco for you, Noah," you said, placing a plate in front of him which was lined with ants on the logs as well. "And two tacos for Daddy," you said with a smirk.
"Thanks, Princess," Bradley said, letting his hand stroke your knee before you turned to make yourself a plate of food. When you sat, he asked, "Are you free on Friday? I have a late flight simulation, but we could have pizza night again."
You smiled as you picked up a taco. "Yeah, I'm free. How late is your simulation? Want me to pick Noah up from daycare?"
He paused with his food halfway to his mouth. He could avoid the daycare late surcharge. He would know that Noah was safe with you, waiting for him to get home. "You wouldn't mind doing that?"
"Mind?" you asked, leaning toward Noah as he smiled at you while he ate a carrot. "I've been saving a special coloring book for just such an occasion!"
Bradley nodded. "I'll add you as an authorized pickup person."
The three of you finished eating in silence, the kind of silence that was pleasant. And then Bradley sent you and Noah in to watch a cartoon while he cleaned up. He listened to you and his son singing that ridiculous dinosaur song while you carried him to the couch, and it made him clean the kitchen faster so he could join you.
He turned on his coffee maker and checked his phone only to find three missed calls from Meredith. Her relentlessness was concerning to him. He was probably going to have to call her back soon and let her get this out of her system. He could call her this weekend. There was no way he would actually let her see Noah, but Bradley could handle one, short phone call. Five minutes of him telling her how much of a handful Noah was, and she'd disappear for another twelve months.
When Bradley carried two mugs of coffee into the living room, he found you with Noah sitting on your lap, watching a Mickey Mouse cartoon. You had your arms wrapped around Noah, and he was laughing. Your eyes met Bradley's, and you smiled at him when he handed you a mug that said Wanna see my cockpit?
You read it before you took a sip. "Yeah, actually, I do. Can I come to the naval base?"
He settled down on the couch next to you with his own drink. "You want to visit me at work?"
"Yeah," you replied with some hesitation in your voice. "Unless you only gave me this mug as an innuendo?"
Bradley grinned in spite of himself. He needed to make sure he wasn't setting himself up for failure here. One glance at Noah and anyone could tell he was attached to you. But honestly, so was Bradley. "You can see both cockpits, Princess."
Your soft laughter as your glossy lips met his mug had him leaning in to kiss your bare shoulder. He inhaled your scent as your eyes fluttered closed. The way you were drinking your coffee as casually as you could while Bradley ran his fingers underneath the strap of your dress was turning him on. He let his fingers trail down your arm, taking your hand in his, as he drank his own coffee and watched Mickey Mouse.
"It's almost bedtime, Noah," Bradley told him, taking your empty mug along with his and standing. When you didn't let go of his hand right away, it made him smile.
"One more?" Noah asked.
"Yeah, Daddy, just one more show?" you pleaded, pouting your lips up at him.
He shook his head at the two of you and said, "Fine. But just one more."
Noah picked another Mickey Mouse show, and then he asked, "Will you get our crowns?"
"Yeah, I'll go get them." Bradley leaned down and kissed Noah's forehead before taking the mugs to the kitchen sink. Then he stopped in his bedroom and collected his crown and Noah's from his dresser. Then he gently pulled yours down from his bedpost and took all three back to the living room.
Bradley set the yellow crown on Noah's head before putting the green one on himself. Your purple crown was starting to get bent, and there was a small rip in it, so Bradley was sure to be delicate as he sat down next to you again and placed it on your head.
"Princess," he whispered, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. You turned your head and kissed his hand, and Bradley sat with one arm around you until the cartoon ended.
Bradley knelt in front of Noah. "Let's get your teeth brushed and get you in bed, bub," he whispered, and Noah scurried into his arms before he stood. Bradley looked down at you on his couch, your dress bunched up around your thighs and your eyes alert. "Please tell me you're staying a little longer?"
"I have an anatomy exam tomorrow morning, but I can stay for a little while."
Bradley nodded before he left to get Noah's teeth brushed and changed him into pajamas. "I love you," he whispered against Noah's cheek as he tucked him in, but he was already falling asleep.
Bradley set the yellow and green crowns on Noah's dresser before pulling the door shut behind him. He stood in the hallway for a few seconds and adjusted himself in his jeans. Just thinking about you on his couch had him hard. But he couldn't just go in there and fuck you. No. That's not how things worked with you. There was always something else involved, like the ease with which you teased him or the seductive way you fed him Skittles.
"Fuck," he grunted, taking off to see if you were still on the couch. But you were standing and picking up your tote bag. At least you hadn't put your shoes on. Or taken your crown off.
You turned and met his eyes and held up a bag of Skittles. "Wanna help me study?"
He let out a deep breath. "Anatomy?" he asked with a smirk. "I think you and I might be good at that."
"I think you're right," you agreed, opening your notebook and handing it to him. "It's on the musculoskeletal system."
Bradley skimmed the page and looked at you. "I have an idea," he whispered, reaching for the Skittles. "May I?"
You held the bag out for him, saying, "You're still at a fifty percent cut, but only for a probationary period. Don't you dare try to take more than that." Your grin was irresistible as Bradley took the candy from you. That purple crown on your head made him feel like he had claimed you for his own.
But when Bradley set your notes and the Skittles on the couch and took off his shirt and jeans, the grin disappeared from your face.
--------------------------------
Bradley was undressing down to his briefs, and you were aching with need.
"I thought we were studying," you asked, ready to pull your dress off as well if that's what he wanted.
He took your hand and guided you to the couch. "We are, Princess." He sat down, legs splayed wide, and pulled you down onto his lap so you were seated on his thigh. Your hand came to rest on his shoulder as he opened the bag of Skittles and glanced at your notebook on the cushion next to him.
You kissed his cheek and said, "I think I like studying with you."
"Focus, baby. Where's my serratus anterior muscle?"
You had to bite back a moan as you looked at his body. He was stroking your thigh gently with his thumb as you ran your fingers along his ribcage. "Right here."
"Good girl." This time you did moan while Bradley very gently placed a yellow Skittle between your lips. You chewed it up as he glanced back down at your notebook. "Pronator teres?"
You ran your fingers along the inside of his elbow, and this time you earned a purple Skittle.
"Deltoid?" he asked softly, and you let out a little gasp as your fingers drifted along his perfect shoulder. "You're so smart," he praised, hand feeding you a red Skittle as you turned to straddle his hips and pressed yourself against his hard cock through his underwear.
"Bradley," you whined, his hands on your thighs heavy and warm.
"Trapezius?"
You bent closer to him until your lips were drifting along the perfect muscle between his neck and his shoulder. You kissed him before pulling away.
"Right there, Daddy." His cock jumped inside his briefs in anticipation as he fed you a green Skittle.
"Omohyoid?" he rasped, stroking his hands higher on your thighs.
You kissed his neck just below his chin, gently sucking on him. His groan made you bolder, and you gently bit him there before sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
"So good," he whispered, and you took an orange Skittle from his hand. "Abductor?"
You pulled his hand from your thigh, found the correct muscle in his wrist, and kissed him there. When you grinded down on his cock, you nibbled on his wrist while you looked at him. His eyes were filled with lust as he watched you work your lips on his skin, and you desperately wanted to feel him inside you.
When you released his wrist, he held a red Skittle out on his palm, and you pulled it between your lips. Then you kissed him softly, letting him take the candy between his lips and eat it.
You and he repeated this with an orange one followed by two purples and a green. He put them gently between your lips before you fed them to him with a kiss. Bradley's hand found its way under your dress, and he started stroking his knuckles along your clit.
"Princess," he groaned, slipping a finger inside you as he kissed your cheek and adjusted your crown. "God, baby. You always gonna get this wet for me?"
Your notebook ended up on the floor along with the empty Skittles wrapper, and you were slipping your hand inside Bradley's underwear and pulling the elastic below his balls. "You make me wet," you whispered, now riding two of his fingers as you stroked him.
"Will you let me fuck you again, baby?" he asked, pupils blown wide as he finger fucked you just right. But you knew his cock would be even better. You pulled your dress over your head and tossed it, careful not to hurt your crown, which you left on. And then you were completely bare for him, running your hands along his shoulders and biceps.
"Yes," you told him, "I want you to. So badly." His eyes were raking all over your body, dipping down to watch his own fingers, wet from your pussy as he withdrew them from inside you. He coated his cock in your arousal, and you were moaning as you got yourself in position.
Bradley pressed himself up against you, licking his fingers clean and smirking. You took him inch by inch, keeping your eyes on his, until you were surrounding his cock with your body. When your eyes shut and your head tipped back, Bradly took your chin in his sticky fingers and forced you to look at him. "Do you have any idea how good you feel?"
You whimpered, shimmying your hips until he was buried so deep. "Tell me, Daddy."
He kissed you, letting his hand slide down your body, pinching your peaked nipples before settling on your hip. His kisses were soft, almost lazy, and he guided your hips in a rolling rhythm. He tasted like Skittles. You rode him nice and slow, gasping into his mouth.
"You're heavenly, Princess. I could fuck you all day, stay buried deep like this."
You whimpered, louder this time, as his lips skimmed down your neck. He was all lips and teeth, nibbling and tasting you from your collarbones down to your nipples.
"Bradley."
-------------------------------
You had the tightest pussy and most perfect body Bradley had ever experienced. He was trying to think of ways to keep himself hard as long as possible, because he was pretty sure he'd work up the stamina to fuck you all night if he could. You were that good.
He watched your head lull to the side, your crooked crown still on your head as you rode him so well. "Oh my god," you moaned, half lidded eyes widening as Bradley grabbed your hips and fucked up into you, hard.
"Keep going, baby," he told you, mesmerized by the bounce of your tits each time he bumped you a few inches higher. "You get what you need."
You shook in his arms and leaned forward to kiss him. "Daddy," you whispered against his lips. "Please. I'm so close."
Each rub of your clit against him had you getting a little louder now. Bradley put his mouth back on your tits, sucking and licking, bruising you as you whined his name. You were so responsive to his touch and his lips.
"Tell me what you want," he growled, feeling the first flutters of your orgasm.
You were bouncing hard and fast on him now, but you took his hand in yours and guided it to your clit, making him smile.
"I'll take care of you."
"Please!"
As Bradley stroked you with his fingers, you cried out, squeezing harder, burying your face against his neck. You were keening for him, grinding down as you came with shaking legs.
"Daddy," you whispered, panting softly next to his ear, and Bradley was positively dying to slam his cock into you. "Take what you want from me, Daddy."
He squeezed both of your thighs, keeping himself buried deep inside you, and flipped you onto your back along the couch. You looked up at him above you with wide eyes, your crown askew. "I wanna fuck you hard," he growled.
"Oh!" you whined, still so tight around him as he pushed harder into you. "Do it."
With one knee on the couch and one planted firmly on the floor, Bradley held your legs together to the side and slammed into you. You were so loud, all wide eyes and surprised smile as he railed you good.
"Bradley!" you cried out in surprise when he dipped down to taste your bouncing tits, and your fingers tangled in his hair. God, he loved this. He kissed your neck, inhaling your scent, and then he softly kissed your whole face and even your crooked crown as he slammed you into the couch cushions.
"I'm gonna cum," he groaned, and you wrapped your sweet hands around the back of his neck and kissed him, swallowing all of his grunts and tasting his lips. He filled your pussy, his thrusts slowing as he fucked his cum deeper inside you.
Bradley pressed his lips to your chin and looked up at you. Your chest was a little sweaty beneath his palm, and you were holding him in place with your leg wrapped around him.
"You okay, Princess?"
You nodded, working the crown almost completely off your head. "I liked that."
Bradley groaned. He couldn't remember ever being with a woman like you. You liked to tease him, but you still told him exactly what you wanted and what pleased you.
"You made sure I came first," you added, stroking your fingers along his forehead and up into his messy hair.
"I always will. Every time, Princess. Try my best to make sure you feel good."
Your expression was dreamy, and Bradley had kissed off all of your lipgloss again. He wanted to invite you to sleep over, but he knew you had your anatomy exam the next morning. With a soft kiss to your lips, he pulled himself out of you with a groan, missing your body immediately. Then he stood and pulled you up to your feet as well.
"I know you have to get up early for your exam, but you can stay and sleepover with me if you want," he whispered, holding you against him.
You looked up at him with your innocent face. "Another night."
Bradley kissed your cheek and nodded. He helped you get dressed, and he scooped you up in his arms and carried you out to his car. "Friday, when I get home from my flight simulation, I think we should talk, Princess. We'll have more time then."
"Okay." Your voice sounded breathless and hopeful.
"Good luck tomorrow. I'll be thinking about you."
"See you on Friday," you said with a smile as you started your car. When Bradley walked back inside, he locked the door and then picked up your crown and took it back to his bedroom.
-----------------------------
On Thursday morning, bright and early, you sat in a lecture hall, taking your anatomy test. You breezed right through the questions on the muscular system, imagining Bradley's gorgeous body splayed out on his couch for your academic needs.
You bit your lip as you marked down your final answers, recalling the way it felt to brush your lips along the stubble underneath his chin. Your body was a little sore from how rough he got with you, but it felt so good. Because he was also so sweet. He said he would always try to make you cum first. Good God, Meredith was a fucking moron. If you ever ran into her, you might even have to tell her that to her face.
You knew you were falling for Bradley. Hard. Him and Noah both. You loved being at Bradley's house, sipping on coffee and coloring with Noah. You loved cooking meals there. It was much better than your tiny rental. So much better than being alone.
When you finished your exam, you checked your phone.
Bradley Bradshaw: You're so smart, you'll do great. I'll stop by in the morning after I drop Noah off at daycare and put the carseat in your car so you can pick him up.
You wrote back as you made your way across campus.
See you tomorrow, Daddy.
--------------------------
They feel like they are in a good place. Get ready for the angst! Enjoy your babysitter fic which you help me write, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !
PART 12
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