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shellbilee · 2 months ago

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Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 10

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Warning: Smutttt, cursing

AN: Sorry it's been a while guys, I appreciate you all following along! I've just had some big work changes happen lately and they've taken all my energy and time. I'm hopeful to be back to regular posting soon! xx

Billie

“Thank you” Billie says to the server, taking the mimosa from her gratefully and gripping the glass in an effort to distract herself from the ticklish sensation of her pedicure.

She flashes an apologetic look to the spa therapist holding her foot when she still reflexively jumps a moment later, the woman looking up at her with an amused smile.

“This is literally the most fancy place I’ve ever been to” Billie says, taking a sip of her mimosa and turning to Sloane in the cushioned chair beside her.

“I know. It’s crazy isn’t it? I didn’t even know this place existed” Sloane remarks, sipping her own drink and relaxing back into the pillows.

Billie looks around the very exclusive spa, luxury and opulence dripping from every corner. It’s all polished stone and scandi-style wood, giant windows lining the walls that look out onto perfectly manicured, palm tree-lined gardens. Chelsea had invited twenty or so of her closest girlfriends, and of course had booked out the entire luxury space for a morning of indulgent pampering. The spa session was to include manicures and pedicures, scalp rubs and hydrating facials, finishing with an hour long, full body massage.

From there, they were all headed to Beverly Hills where they’d participate in a pole dancing class, before getting their hair and makeup done and moving onto cocktails and dinner at an exclusive rooftop bar. Following that, the night was to finish off with more drinks and dancing at some exclusive LA club that Patrick apparently had connections to. It was like a bachelorette party straight out of a movie.

Billie looks around the room again and watches some of the younger girls reaching for their next round of mimosas, two girls - who she thinks are Ellie and Isabelle, the best friends of Chelsea, each shooting a shot of tequila.

Billie can’t help the way she grimaces then, unable to think of anything worse than tequila shots, let alone tequila shots at twelve-thirty in the afternoon. With the day of events they had ahead of them, she was already betting that they wouldn’t be making it to dinner.

“Hey girl” Sloane says, Billie turning back to find Bec walking over and sitting in the empty chair next to them.

She’d been talking to Terri - her and Chelsea’s mother, and the rest of the ‘adults’ that had been invited along.

“You ok?” Billie asks, noting the tinge of concern colouring her best friend’s face.

Bec nods. “Yeah I’m fine. I just can't believe the level of extra Chels has gone to” she explains, gesturing with her hands to their surroundings, “I mean my bachelorette was fancy but this is just next level”.

Sloane laughs, leaning over in her chair as she sips her mimosa. “What did you do for yours?”

“We did a winery tour and stayed in a beachfront house down in Malibu” Bec explains, nodding her thanks to the server when a mimosa is suddenly brought over, “It was amazing. But nothing like this”.

All three of them turn when a cheer is heard across the room, looking over to find another round of tequila shots being downed.

“Did you have girls doing shots in the middle of the afternoon at yours?” Billie asks with a giggle, feeling her thirty-year old inner self shiver in disdain, “There’s no way those girls are making it to the club if they keep going like that”.

Bec laughs, shaking her head no, the three of them grinning at one another and apparently choosing to ignore the memories of their own antics when they were twenty-four.

Billie’s phone dings and she reaches to pick it up, smiling down at the screen when she sees it’s a text message from Glen. She taps at her phone, opening the message, a picture of Nugget and Brisket relaxing in his backyard filling the screen.

“Glen?”

Billie looks up and only smiles, answering Sloane’s question without words. She turns her phone around to show the girls, explaining that Glen was looking after Nugget today.

After a somewhat lazy morning, Billie had convinced Glen to go on a run with her - an easy two and a half mile around her neighbourhood. There’d been healthy competition between them, each teasing and pushing one another to go faster, eventually making it back home sweaty and laughing.

Cooling down with a post-run water in the kitchen, Billie had mentioned that she was worried about leaving Nugget all day, given Ryan and Lachlan - who would normally look after him, were away for the weekend celebrating their new found engagement.

That had led to Glen suggesting that he take Nugget himself, offering to take him to his place for the day where Nugget and Brisket would undoubtedly tire each other out. Billie had immediately declined the offer, telling Glen that her eight-five pound golden canine was significantly more work than little Brisket, but Glen had insisted everything would be fine.

She’d eventually warmed to the idea after Glen had eased all of her potential concerns, finally accepting his offer.

“Wow he's already dog sitting after a week? I'm impressed Bil”

Billie laughs and rolls her eyes. “Shut up Sloane”

Sloane grins, teasing her. “What's he doing tonight?”

“Going out for a friend's birthday” Billie shares, looking at the two girls, “Actually, that friend is Chord Overstreet”

Bec raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Do you know where he's going?”

Billie shakes her head. “No, I didn't ask”.

“Why not?” Bec asks.

“You should meet him out somewhere” Sloane suggests at the same time, Bec immediately nodding in agreement.

“Nah, I don't want to be too clingy. I already spent last night with him” Billie says, taking another sip of her mimosa, “And this morning” she adds after a moment, a sly grin pulling at her lips as she winks at her two friends.

Sloane wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“And how was it?”

Billie chuckles.

“Incredible”

“Just incredible?” Sloane presses, clearly wanting all the juicy details and making Billie grin.

“There are no words” she replies, sighing almost dreamily as thoughts of yesterday’s shower suddenly replays in her head, the scene quickly morphing into a replay of their post-run shower from this morning.

“Girls, the sex is insane” Billie remarks, looking at Bec and Sloane in turn, “He’s just---, I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s because he’s just so fucking gorgeous and I’m just so attracted to him, or if----”

“If he's just that fucking good?” Sloane asks, finishing Billie’s sentence and making both Bec and Billie laugh.

“Yes or that” Billie replies, leaning back in her chair and shaking her head at her friends.

“It’s probably both” Bec exclaims, winking one big blue eye mischievously, “The man definitely knows what he’s doing. He’s Glen Powell for God’s sake” she adds, her voice dropping to a whisper when she says his name and giving a sideways glance at the women working on Billie and Sloane’s feet.

Billie smiles sheepishly, knowing that is absolutely the answer.

She looks back down at her phone, fingers tapping at the screen as she types out a reply.

😍😍

You've tired them out already?

Typing bubbles appear almost immediately and Billie can’t help the way her heart rate picks up instantly.

They did it themselves, they've barely stopped running since they got here

Billie grins, instantly thankful that she’d agreed to take Glen up on his offer.

Thank you again for this Glen, I really appreciate it!

You're most welcome darlin. Hope you're having fun

“Guys, take a photo with me” Billie says, opening her camera and holding it up in front of them.

Sloane and Bec both lean in, mimosas in hand, Billie snapping a quick selfie of the three of them. She looks down at the picture - Bec smiling happily, Sloane pouting sexily and Billie winking as she grins, sending it to Glen with a quick message.

Definitely not as much fun as my shower this morning but I’d say it’s pretty damn close 😉

---

Glen

Glen relaxes back into the lounge, taking a sip of his beer as he looks around the semi-crowded, exclusive rooftop club. It’s a typical Saturday night crowd - a mix of high profile people and social media influencers, several groups milling about the venue. Some are on the dancefloor in the centre of the club, swinging their hips to the heavy beat of the music, others drinking extravagant cocktails, talking and laughing in the many booths dotted around the edge of the rooftop.

He looks over at his group seated on the u-shaped lounge, nodding at Chord sitting across from him and holding up his beer in silent cheers to his long time friend. He pulls his phone from his pocket and signals to Nick and Priyanka beside him, the rest of the group following suit and looking up at Glen’s phone. He snaps a group selfie - everyone smiling and laughing, looking over the photo before tagging his friends and uploading it to his Instagram.

He does a quick scroll through his notifications - majority of them fans reacting to his earlier posted story of Nugget and Brisket playing, most of them comments from people going wild thinking he’d adopted another dog. He skims over the words from his fans and smiles at their reactions, noting a comment from his sister Lauren laughing at Brisket’s attempts to wrestle with the much larger dog.

He flicks back to his feed screen and notices Billie’s profile bubble showing a new story, clicking on her picture and immediately sucking in his breath when a video starts to play.

It’s a clip of Billie and who he figures is some of the other girls at the bachelorette party, each of them standing next to a pole and wearing heels so high it hurts his feet just to look at them. He realises it’s them at the pole dancing class - some of them bouncing on the spot to the music, some of them grinning and laughing at one another as if they’re waiting to be counted in. Glen’s eyes are glued to Billie near the front of the class, running over her figure dressed only in a crop and tiny pair of shorts that accentuates her already perfectly, peachy ass. He fights the urge to groan out loud, immediately wishing she was here with him, every single muscle in his body suddenly contracting when the girls all start to move.

Fuck.

They move and dance in practised unison, tossing their hair and swinging their hips, grabbing at their poles and lifting themselves before they’re kicking their legs out and swinging around. Glen can’t look away, mouth falling slack as his eyes follow Billie’s every movement, watching her muscles flex as she slowly lowers to her knees. She grins sexily at the camera, sliding her hands teasingly down her near naked body, rolling onto her back and arching away from the floor in the most erotic way. In an instant Glen’s in his own little world, feeling like Billie’s dancing just for him, watching as she rolls and grinds her hips like a wicked vixen and leaving him practically drooling with want.

All too soon the video is over and Glen has to reach down to readjust himself, subtly shifting on the lounge so that no one notices the suddenly growing erection in his jeans.

He breathes out heavily, feeling his heart racing in his chest, reaching out and taking a sip of his beer in an attempt to settle his thoughts. All he wants to do is find Billie and take her home, lick every single inch of her perfect curves and fuck her into the sheets until she’s desperately screaming for him.

He takes another drink and shifts his hips on the seat, fingers suddenly flying across the screen as he types a reply to her video.

Fuckin hell, darlin’ 🔥🔥🔥

I’m gonna get a pole installed at home so you can show me this in person.

He flicks through the rest of her Instagram story - a group shot of them at the class, of her, Sloane and Bec getting ready for their next event, of Billie and who Glen reasons must be Chelsea, the bride to be, grinning at the camera with cocktails in hand. She’d posted the last photo an hour ago - a full length shot of Billie, Sloane and Bec, dressed for a night out and dolled up gorgeously, the three standing with their arms intertwined and grinning happily at one another.

Glen smiles down at his phone, looking over Billie, desperately wishing he was with her tonight. He already can’t wait to see her again, to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to kiss her perfect lips. There are so many things that he adores about her, things that make him smile stupidly whenever he thinks about them, things that make him wish she was with him whenever she wasn’t.

He knows it’s more than just the sex too - and while that part is just as indulgently incredible as he could have wanted, he knows there’s more to the way he thinks and feels about Billie, something deeper, something building. He also knows that he probably shouldn’t be feeling these things about a girl so soon, that voicing any of this a week after seeing someone is a sure fire way to make it all come crashing down. But still, for a thousand reasons that he can't even list, he just can’t seem to get enough of her.

Glen puts down his phone and takes another drink, finishing his beer and turning to listen to his friends chatting beside him - one of them telling the group about her newest role on an upcoming netflix mini series.

“Another round?”

Glen looks over to see his friend Jay gesturing to the bar across the way, nodding at him in question. Glen tips his head in silent agreement, asking the group for their orders before they both stand and make their way over to the bar. Standing in line, Glen and Jay are in deep conversation about the upcoming football season when Glen feels a tap on his shoulder, turning to find two attractive women standing behind him and smiling up at him flirtatiously.

“Hi, Glen?” the first girl says, her long blonde hair pulled back in a slick ponytail that that cascades down one shoulder and makes her look like Barbie, “I’m Tiffany, and this is Pia” she says gesturing to her equally pretty friend beside her, the other girl tipping her head when Glen smiles at her.

“Hi” Glen replies, nodding politely and looking at each of them in turn, “Nice to meet you both”.

“We were just wondering if we could get a photo?” Tiffany asks, gesturing to her phone and flashing Glen a dazzling smile.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Of course”

Tiffany hands the phone to Jay and Glen steps back beside the girls, the two posing on each side of him and leaning in close. He can smell their spicy perfume, the scent tickling his nose as he keeps his touch high on their backs, smiling at Jay when he holds the camera up and snaps a photo of the three of them.

“Thank you” Tiffany says, taking her phone from Jay and turning back to Glen with another charming grin and looking around, “Are you here with anyone?”

Glen nods, “Yeah. I’m here with some friends for a birthday” he answers, as always wanting to give as little information as possible.

“Oh yeah? Where are you sitting?”

Glen offers a polite tight lipped smile, gesturing in a vague direction to the other side of the rooftop, “Oh, just over there. There’s a big group of us”.

Glen breathes out through his nose silently, searching his brain for something he can say to wind up the conversation. He’s been in this situation several hundred times, and on any other occasion he probably would have been flattered and engaged both of them further. Still, as attractive as they both are, the thought of talking with another woman that isn’t Billie makes Glen’s stomach flip in the worst way.

Obviously noting his nonchalance, Tiffany flashes another smile and leans in close to him, her hand finding his arm and squeezing gently.

“Well, we’re sitting just over there” she presses in a sultry voice, pointing to a booth to the side where two glammed-up girls are currently sitting and talking, “So if you get lonely and want some company, you know where to find us”

Glen nods, offering another small, polite smile when she pulls away and winks at him, Pia offering her own dazzling smile as they both step away.

Glen exhales heavily and turns back to Jay, opening his mouth to comment on his encounter only to find Jay deep in conversation with a girl beside him. He chuckles at his friend, taking advantage of the quick moment of peace and pulling his phone from his pocket. To his surprise and delight, there’s a message from Billie, responding to his previous reply to her video.

Just so you know, there's typically a charge for private dances 😉

Glen grins down at the screen, typing a quick comeback to her witty words.

I wouldn't expect it to be free. I’m sure we could work out some sort of trade.

He steps forward as the bar line moves, glancing down at his phone as her next message pops up.

A trade sounds interesting… what did you have in mind?

Glen’s grin grows wider and he clicks his tongue, all manner of ideas instantly flying through his mind. He loves their teasing, flirty banter - just another one of the things he adores about Billie.

well, my face between your thighs for an extended period of time would be my first offer…

He imagines her face right now - the way she’d be smiling stupidly at her phone, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly in that way he loves, his own lips stretching wider as her answer pops up on the screen.

hmm, that IS awfully tempting. But what would the second offer be?

Glen chuckles, biting his lip as he types again, sweetening the deal.

My face between your thighs for an extended period of time AND breakfast in bed?

Oh you drive a hard bargain, Mr Powell.

He runs his tongue along his teeth, typing again.

So it’s a deal then?

Her response is immediate and he can't help the laugh that escapes him when he reads her reply.

🤝😍

He laughs and shakes his head, typing another message as he steps forward in the bar queue.

How’s your night going otherwise darlin?

Really good actually! The girls and I are all holding strong, the younger girls not so much haha. We just got to the club so I’m very ready for a dance! 😍

A photo comes through after her message, Glen clicking on it so that it takes up his whole screen. It’s a selfie of Billie, her teeth flashing in a sultry, gorgeous smile, her hazel eyes lined with a dark shimmery charcoal and looking even brighter than usual. Her skin looks smooth and flawless, glowing from makeup tricks that he’s consistently perplexed about even despite regularly having it applied to his own face. He can’t quite see her outfit but he can see the enticing tease of cleavage beneath pink straps, deciding from his own up close experience with her breasts that she can’t be wearing a bra underneath her dress.

He can’t help the expletive that falls from his mouth then , feeling his still semi-hard arousal twitch in his pants.

You’re fuckin stunning, peach

Thanks handsome 😘

Glen exhales and puts his phone away, not wanting to bother her anymore on her night out. She looks utterly stunning, and he knows that if she were here right now he’d be all over her in a heartbeat.

He looks up when Jay turns back to him, the girl he was talking to having since left, but not before sharing her number with him. Jay wiggles his eyebrows when he shows Glen the newly added contact named ‘Tara’ on his phone, Glen laughing as they both finally reach the bar and order their next round of drinks.

“Oh wow. Here comes the parties”

Glen frowns at his friend before following Jay’s eyeline over his shoulder, turning to see a small sea of girls dressed in varying shades of pink filtering through the entrance. One girl among the masses is dressed in white sequined mini dress, a short veil perched on her long honey coloured curls and quickly identifying her as a bride to be.

“They must know someone at the club” Glen reasons out loud, knowing that the exclusive nature of the lounge meant that parties were very rarely allowed entry.

He looks over the new group of patrons, noting with a smirk that he’s not the only one who’s noticed them - several groups of guys around the club are now looking over the bachelorette party with eager interest like hungry lions to a group of grazing antelope. He chuckles and shakes his head, turning back to the bartender and nodding his thanks when she serves up half a dozen beers, telling them that she’ll bring the rest of the cocktails over to them.

They make their way back to the booth with drinks in hand, Glen passing them around before sitting down next to Chord and tapping his glass with his. He glances over at the now surging dancefloor - made busier by the club’s newest guests and the change in music to pop classics of the late 90’s, admiring the masses of swinging hips, exposed skin and cocktail-fueled, shouted singing before turning back to his group and laughing along with their conversation.

---

Glen steps out of the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him, rounding the corner and offering a polite smile to an oncoming woman as they side step one another in the corridor.

“Glen?”

He does a double take before he stops in his tracks, frowning as he looks down at the woman and searches his brain to place her. If she was a fan she’d have said his whole name, but saying only his first name told him that she somehow knew him personally.

Her face softens into a smile as she looks at his confusion, and in an instant the familiarity of her expression sinks in like a piece in a puzzle.

“Bec?” he says, immediately recognising Billie's friend and shaking his head incredulously, “What are you doing here?”

Her smile stretches into a grin when he says her name, a soft laugh leaving her lips.

“We’re here for my sister’s bachelorette” she explains, pointing to the white glittery sash slung over her shoulder that says Maid of Honour and making Glen want to kick himself for not realising the very obvious answer.

“This was the last stop of the night, drinks and dancing” she adds with a laugh, gesturing towards the main area before looking back at Glen curiously, “What about you, what are you doing here?”

As the sheer coincidence of it all settles in his thoughts, a realisation dawns and immediately takes over his brain.

“I’m here for my friend's birthday” Glen replies quickly, aware that his heart has suddenly begun racing in chest, his insides squirming in anticipation.

He’s asking the question before he can really think about it, the words blurting out of his mouth before he can even stop himself.

“Is Billie here?”

Bec’s face somehow splits into an even bigger grin at the mention of her friend, her silky, pale brown hair swishing as she nods.

“She’s on the dancefloor with Sloane”

Glen manages to suppress the grin that threatens to take over his entire face then. “Do you think she’ll mind if I come and say hello?”

Bec laughs, looking up at Glen with amused eyes. “I think she’ll mind if you don’t”

They both laugh, smiling back at one another for a moment before Bec is pointing over her shoulder at the women's toilet door.

“Give me a second to use the bathroom and I’ll take you over to them?”.

Glen nods and steps back to let her pass, suddenly feeling giddy with excitement.

Billie.

He can’t believe she’s here - that out of all the places in LA, she’d by some miracle managed to end up at the same club he was at. What were the chances of that?

Glen inhales deeply, letting the air expand his lungs before he’s breathing out again, leaning his head back against the corridor wall and closing his eyes to savour the moment.

“So it seems you were lonely after all”

His eyes flash open to find Tiffany, the girl from earlier, standing in front of him and leaning against the wall suggestively, her lashes fluttering as she looks up at him. He does his best to control his disappointed expression, offering a half-hearted ‘hey’ as she steps closer to him and once again puts her hand on his arm.

“C’mon, my friend is just at that table over there” she presses again, long ponytail flicking as she points over to a booth just outside the corridor and squeezes his forearm, “Let us buy you a drink”.

He clears his throat, trying to decide on how to decline in the gentlest possible way, opening his mouth to say as much when he’s beaten by the sound of the bathroom door shutting behind him.

“Alright I’m back” Bec’s voice says suddenly, interrupting the interaction as she appears beside Glen, “You ready?”

Glen watches Bec take in the scene in front of her, her eyes landing on Tiffany’s hand and travelling along her arm until she’s looking at the blonde’s face. They stare at each other for a moment, silent and assessing - Glen's years of growing up with two sisters instantly alerting him to the unspoken communication between the two women. All of a sudden he feels like he's walked into a lion's den, exhaling silently as he looks between both of them. He watches Bec's lips suddenly stretch into an all too sweet smile at Tiffany - a smile that he’s immediately certain is anything but sweet underneath, Tiffany’s hand quickly slipping from his arm as her expression morphs into a scowl that makes him think of angry Barbie.

Glen clears his throat, the sound cutting through the invisible tension like a knife, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he looks down at Bec.

“Ready when you are Bec”

She's still looking across at Tiffany - her smile somehow even wider than before, eventually breaking her gaze and turning to Glen, gesturing for him to come with her.

He offers Tiffany a polite, almost apologetic smile, nodding before he moves and follows Bec out of the bathroom corridor. He exhales loudly when they step out into the main area and back into the pulsing bass of the DJ, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at Bec beside him.

“So that must get annoying sometimes” Bec comments without looking at him, pausing for a moment to scan the dancefloor, “You know, when you just want to be out and minding your own business?”

Glen shrugs, acutely aware of the protective, older sister tone that's suddenly taken over her voice.

“It does get old sometimes. But unfortunately, it’s part of the territory”

She turns to him but doesn’t say anything, and for a split second Glen swears he sees her eyes narrow slightly - all of a sudden unable to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of being silently measured up.

He watches as she smooths down her baby pink dress and turns back to the dancefloor, scanning the crowd once again before gesturing for Glen to follow her. He smiles when her walking immediately transforms into dancing, her hips swishing to the beat of the Britney Spears song that's playing as they step onto the floor and move through the sea of people. Glen scans the crowd around them, searching for Billie ahead of them, his stomach a pit of nervous excitement and simmering anticipation knowing he’s only seconds away from finding her.

It’s then that he spots them - two girls just up ahead, swinging their hips and throwing their arms up, dancing just separate to the rest of the pink-clad group beside them. His eyes fall to the taller of the two with her back to him, a short slip dress made of glittery, rose pink mesh-like material draped over her luscious curves like a silky waterfall. The dress is completely backless save for two thin straps that criss-cross over her lower back, a slit on one side of her leg that nearly shows her hip bone whenever she moves a certain way. He can see a tattoo in the centre of her upper back, the finely drawn, intricately detailed inked flowers that he’s slowly becoming more than familiar with suddenly coming into view as he steps closer.

Billie.

The second he realises it's her, the more the familiarity of the rest of her settles into his brain. The enticing slope of her waist into her ass, her long, toned legs, her buttery smooth, tanned skin. He exhales as he looks over her, feeling his pants tighten almost reflexively at the sight.

She looks fucking incredible.

He sees Sloane dancing beside Billie, the smile on her face growing when she spots Bec returning to them on the dancefloor. Glen can’t help his laugh when Bec enthusiastically points at him beside her as if to say ‘look who I found’, Sloane’s eyes lighting up when she looks across and recognises Glen.

He grins at her, nodding his hello, watching as she immediately starts to dance into an oblivious Billie and forcing her backwards into him. He chuckles when Sloane winks mischievously, and he makes a mental note to thank both Bec and Sloane for once again for being the ultimate wing women.

He smells Billie’s coconut scented shampoo the second she invades his space, unable to stop the grin that’s taken over his entire face when she backs up into him. He watches as she whips around, her hands held up in gestured apology, her gorgeous, hazel eyes widening when she realises exactly who it is that she’s just bumped into.

The way her eyes light up, the way her lips stretch into the most breathtaking smile, the way her whole face transforms into a picture of utter happiness. In one quick moment, every single thought in Glen’s mind is blank save for thoughts of Billie and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here with her.

“Hey darlin’”

“Glen!” Billie beams, blinking up at him incredulously and immediately reaching for his arms, “What are you doing here?”.

“I’m here with my friends. Coincidentally, this is where Chord’s birthday is” Glen explains, bending down to speak in her ear and unable to stop himself from pressing a fleeting kiss to her jaw just below her ear.

He watches as Billie shakes her head in almost disbelief, her expression a mix of shock, confusion and absolute delight. Glen reaches for her hand and twirls her around, his eyes taking in the rest of her now that he can actually see all of her.

The front of her is just as sexy as the back, the dress’ loose cowl neckline allowing him a perfect view straight down her chest and confirming his earlier thoughts that she's wearing nothing beneath the glittery material. Her outfit leaves little to the imagination and for a moment all he can think about is undoing the tiny straps and watching the dress slip from her skin and pool at her feet.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous, Billie”

Billie practically beams at him, moving her hands to his chest, Glen pulling her closer and sliding his hands down to her hips. He swears he feels her shiver then, his fingers teasing the skin just beneath the short hem of her dress, leaning down so that his lips are at her ear again.

“I don't want to take over your night, I just wanted to come over and say hey” he breathes just loud enough for her to hear, loving the way her fingers flex against his chest as if she's just as affected by him as he is by her, “Come find me later?”

She grins and nods, Glen twirling her around again and looking over her once more, fighting the urge to action his explicitly sinful thoughts and instead flashing her a wolfish smile that he knows she can see right through.

She returns his smile and he immediately thinks all kinds of things that he definitely shouldn’t be thinking in the middle of a crowded club, shooting her a final wink before turning and making his way off the dance floor. He walks across the venue and back towards his friends, instantly wondering how he’s possibly going to be able to concentrate on anything else but her for the rest of the night.

“Where have you been?” Chord asks when he sits down in the booth, holding up a fresh beer that Glen takes with a grateful nod.

“I found a friend on the dancefloor”

Chord raises one suggestive eyebrow, looking at Glen with amused suspicion, “A friend?”

Glen laughs. “A girl” he says, pausing to take a sip of his beer, “A girl I’ve just started seeing”.

Chord grins teasingly, pressing for more information.

“I met her last week at Rufus” Glen says, nearly shouting over the heavy bass of the new song that’s just come on, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair.

“What's her name?”

“Billie”

Chord takes a drink of his whiskey, tilting his head as he looks at Glen. “Do I know of her?”

Glen shakes his head no, and Chord flashes him a knowing look that only friends can communicate through.

Glen clears his throat, unable to help himself from sharing more.

“She's incredible man. It's been a week and I'm already mad for her”

Chord chuckles. “Wow, the sex that good is it?”

Glen laughs, shaking his head, a grin taking over his entire face. “You have no fucking idea”

They both laugh and Chord holds up his glass, Glen clinking his beer against his before they both drink to their cheers.

Glen lets out a breath and relaxes back into the lounge, tapping his fingers against his beer bottle and glancing over his shoulder at the dancefloor across the way.

---

Several rounds of drinks later, Glen is feeling a little drunk.

A little drunk is perhaps an understatement. Moderately drunk. Sort of intoxicated.

Numerous beers and several shots have left his inhibitions lowered and his thoughts fuzzy - fuzzy, but filled with thoughts of one thing and one thing only.

Billie.

His group has gotten progressively more lively too - also emboldened by several rounds of birthday shots and cocktails, so when the music suddenly turns into a slow r&b song and they’re dragging him onto the dancefloor, he barely fights the grip on his arm and lets them lead him towards the heavy, sensual bass.

The instant he steps onto the dancefloor he’s scanning the pulsing crowd for Billie, suddenly unable to think of anything he wants more than to feel her body pressed up against his. He finds her a few seconds later, dancing near the centre of the crowd with Bec and Sloane, her hips grinding to the beat as she tosses her head in time with the music. She looks carefree and sexy and everything his alcohol tinged brain wants right now, and before he can even think about it he’s dancing through the masses towards her.

He sees her turn and swing her hips, tossing her long chocolate curls and smiling over her shoulder, her face suddenly lighting up when she spots him walking towards her. Glen’s acutely aware of two guys dancing just behind Billie and Sloane - their intentions definitely mirroring his own, Glen shooting a charged look of unspoken warning at the one closest to Billie as he closes the distance to her and reaches for her hand.

In one quick moment, all he can think about is tanned, glowy skin and perfect, luscious curves.

“Hey you” Billie greets when Glen pulls her in close to him, leaning in and bringing her lips to his ear, “Come to dance with me have you?”

Glen grins, his hands reflexively moving to the thickest part of her hips, the tips of his fingers brushing the skin just below the hem of her short dress.

“Just couldn’t stop thinking about you darlin’”

Billie grins, her lips parting gorgeously and her hazel eyes bright as she looks up at him. “Well that makes two of us”

The song changes to something slower, darker, dirtier, and Billie doesn’t miss a beat - turning in Glen's arms so that her back is pressed against his chest and her ass is flush against him. In one quick moment all the blood in his body rushes straight to his cock and for the second time tonight he’s fighting his growing arousal in the middle of a crowded club.

She’s rocking side to side in time with the heavy music, her ass rolling and grinding and making Glen so painfully hard that he’s certain there’s no way she can’t feel him behind her. Billie’s head falls back against his shoulder and she reaches up to link her hands behind his head, Glen’s hands slipping lower until his fingers are nearly teasing the slit on the hip of her dress. Glen dips his face to her shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent and pressing a lingering kiss to her collarbone, looking down her body and groaning at the view of her tits under the shimmery pink fabric. All of a sudden he wishes he was anywhere but here - somewhere alone with Billie so that he could have his mouth on her nipples and his hands all over her naked skin.

Glen is practically panting, his heart hammering in his chest, his entire body on fire. He knows Billie feels the same as he teases his fingers along her thighs, each one of her satisfied sighs only stirring him on more as he whispers in her ear how fucking good she feels and how damn sexy she is. Glen feels like they’re in their own little world despite them being in the middle of a crowded dance floor, Billie’s body pressed against his so tight there isn’t an inch of space between them.

Fuck.

Eventually the song ends and Billie unwraps herself from Glen, Glen taking advantage of the opportunity and leading her off the dancefloor. He’s desperate to kiss her, to taste her, to have her lips pressed against his own, desperate to have her all to himself so he can show her just how badly he wants her. He spots an empty lounge in the back corner away from the busiest part of the club, feeling Billie’s grip tighten around his hand as she lets him guide her towards it.

His mouth is on hers before either of them can even sit, Glen licking into her mouth as she kisses him back eagerly. He lifts her legs across his lap and cups the side of her throat with his hand, Billie all but whimpering into his mouth when his free hand grips roughly at her naked thigh. There’s a fire behind his ribs - suddenly raging in his insides, every single fibre in his body burning with a decadent desire to consume every single part of Billie.

At some point they pull apart - and Glen’s intoxicated mind can’t even tell how long they’ve been kissing, his lungs burning as he looks back at Billie’s dark, hooded eyes. He’s warm, too warm, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, his mind foggy from a mixture of too many beers and his absolute craving for Billie. His cock is straining against his jeans and pressed against her thigh, every small shift of her on top of him sending his body further into overdrive.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, peach” Glen breathes, loving the responsive little moan she lets out at the sound of his words in his ear, “Please let me take you home, Billie. I need to take you home”

He bends and kisses her neck while he waits for her reply - her skin sweet, intoxicating and deliciously addictive, Billie’s hands gripping his biceps in a way that he knows is an answer without words. His eyes lift to meet hers - hers, gorgeous and glossy with want, and he can’t help the way every single one of his deep muscles squeezes when she nods her head yes.

“Just let me tell the girls I’m leaving” Billie sighs, nearly panting as she fumbles for her bag and phone on the plush material beneath them.

Glen busies himself with pressing kisses along her jaw and down her throat, his fingers gripping the fat of her thigh as Billie types on her phone. A small moan escapes her throat when he reaches the space just beneath her right ear, and he somehow makes a mental note in his inebriated brain to remember that for later on.

He loves that she’s just as affected by him as he is by her - the decadent desire to have her all over him and everywhere, to be buried inside her, thick, deep and heavy, over and over, and over again.

He smiles against her skin when he hears her curse his name out loud, her voice soft and breathy in that way that he finds so desperately irresistible. It all but ruins him, and it takes everything he has to remember that they’re in the middle of a crowded LA club and not at home alone in his bedroom.

The sound of a giggle rumbles in her throat and he forces himself away from her skin for just a moment, following her eyeline to her screen and squinting to focus on the words on her phone.

Bec: Get it girl! Be safe 🩷

Sloane: You better ride him good B! 😉🍆

Glen chuckles before he bends to kiss her again - needing to have his mouth on some part of her, holding the back of her head still as he captures her mouth in a hungry, near bruising kiss. It makes him dizzy - the indulgent feeling wrapping around his spine and making his skin prickle in the best way.

He feels Billie’s hands on his face and before long she’s pulling away from him, her lips red and kiss-swollen and so sexy it makes him want to groan. He loves that she’s practically panting - that both of their chests are heaving in their joined embrace, her usually bright hazel eyes now dark and lust blown in a way that he’s certain mirrors his own.

She smiles as she looks at him - soft and sensual and making everything inside him burn hotter, her eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips and back again.

“Take me home, handsome”

----

Glen has no idea how he and Billie didn't just fuck in the Uber back to his house.

It was all lips and tongues, wandering hands and near silent moans, Glen's fingers teasing beneath Billie's sinfully short dress at some point to find her thighs already hot, wet and deliciously wanting.

And fuck if that hadn't taken every ounce of self control he had not to bend down and bury his head between her legs - Uber driver be damned.

Glen’s raging hard, so hard it almost hurts, that when they finally arrive at his address he's practically bursting out of the car and sucking in lungfuls of the cool night air like a panting dog after a run.

His mouth is on Billie the moment they’re through his front door - Glen pressing her up against the nearest wall and devouring her throat with his lips, his arousal forced up against her pelvis in an attempt to feel some kind of relieving friction.

In an instant Brisket and Nugget are bouncing happily at their feet at the return of their owners, Glen and Billie somehow mustering enough restraint to break apart for just a moment to greet their excited animals. They manage to settle the boys in lightning speed, Glen immediately wrapping Billie in his arms and latching his mouth back to hers in a heated, feverish kiss.

He slides his hands down underneath her dress and grips the ample, peachy flesh of her ass, lifting her into his embrace and nearly growling when she wraps her legs around his waist and presses flush against his raging arousal.

He’s delirious - drunk off alcohol and the addictive smell, taste and feel of Billie, wanting, no, needing to have more of her as he kicks off his shoes and navigates blindly through his house. She’s already working the buttons on his shirt, having undone all of them by the time he sets her down on her feet in his bedroom, Billie pushing his shirt off his shoulders and grabbing at his newly naked chest

Glen slides his hands to her neck and down to her shoulders taking the shoelace thin straps of her dress with him - pulling away from her swollen lips in time to see the glittery pink material slip down her skin like a shimmering waterfall and pooling at her feet.

It’s then that Glen actually takes a step back to admire the stunning woman in front of him - letting out a heavy, shaking breath and biting down on his fist as his eyes rake over her perfect form before him. Standing there in nothing but a pair of string-thin purple panties with her skin flushed and glowing, her tits soft and perky and her hair long and tumbling down her shoulders, she looks nothing short of a goddess and Glen feels like he’s going to spontaneously combust.

“Fuuuuck Billie. You’re gorgeous”

She smiles at him - soft and kitten-like, sensual and devious, and it’s all it takes to have Glen kicking off his shoes and undoing his belt, his eyes never leaving hers as he takes her hand and pulls her towards him.

He kisses her then, hard, fast and hungry, his free hand roaming her naked flesh as her sweet scent takes over his senses and sparking something primal deep inside his core. He lays back on the bed and pulls Billie down with him, her legs falling to the sides so that she’s sitting over his torso and looking down at him with dark, glossy eyes.

He’s so fucking turned on, every single part of him hot and throbbing with addictive desire, to have her, to take her, to feel her until she’s begging him to stop.

“Sit on my face peach, I wanna taste you so bad”

Billie lets out a sound that he can only describe as a whimper mixed with a moan - like she’s going to fall apart from just his words, Glen’s grip on her luscious hips firm as he guides her up his body until her legs are on either side of his face.

He smells her arousal instantly, and he doesn’t miss the darker patch of purple on her thong, his tongue reflexively wetting his lips as he looks at her covered sex. He swears he’s never been more turned on than he is at this very moment, his whole body practically vibrating as Billie straddles his face.

He reaches up and gingerly pulls the silky material aside - unable to stop the growl of wanton approval that instinctively rumbles in his chest at what he finds.

She’s fucking glistening, sopping wet and waiting for him, the sight of her perfect pink folds making him involuntarily buck his hips into the air, his grip on her hips digging so tight he’s sure he’s hurting her.

Fuck.

“Are you sure?” Billie asks, a hint of hesitation colouring her breathy voice - Glen not missing the way her hips are already subtly grinding as she hovers just above him.

Glen swallows thickly.

He’s never been more sure of anything in his fucking life.

He doesn’t answer - too far gone in his thoughts about what he’s about to do to Billie, instead gripping at her buttery skin and pulling her down onto his waiting tongue.

---

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@angclvings @auntiegigi @friedchips-blog @memories-in-bw @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey @entertainmentgirl80 @buckysteveloki-me @stankface @fore45fore @sqrlgrrl2 @mrsevans @stinkerbelle007 @smoothdogsgirl @alwayshave-faith @marvelouslyme96 @meldizzzle @winterassassin1804

#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell fic #glen powell series #glen powell smut #glen powell x ofc #glen powell fluff

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rubiehart · 10 months ago

Note

Taking JJ to the nail salon for a pedicure for the first time because his feet need some… care.. to say the least, you spoil him frfr !

“some” care is an understatement for real😭

obviously he’s a pogue through and through and has been his whole entire life, and unfortunately person hygiene isn’t his number one priority. (he’s just gross he can’t help it lolll) so when you see the shape his feet are in you’re immediately booking him in for a pedicure for the next day.

him just groaning when you tell him what you did, saying that he doesn’t need them done while he’s literally limping from an ingrown toenail or something! like, jayj??

so when you get to the salon the next day he sorta sticks out like a sore thumb in the kooky nail salon but nobody really seems to mind, not paying much attention to the rugged boy sitting in the pink chair with his feet soaking in the foot bath, giggling to yourself at his literal scared expression when they clip a little too close to his skin and he’s tryin’ his best not to be dramatic, just giving you a death stare and flipping you off when the nail tech walks away for a second.

paying for him cuz he’s your man and god knows he needed this. takin’ his hand and walking down the street holding his hand with your freshly manicured one, “‘ya feelin’ better now?” you’d ask. “‘thought they were gonna cut my fuckin’ toe off. snipping too damn close to my pinky toe.” he emphasises it with an exaggerated pout, making you roll your eyes.

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inkofthebrain · 7 months ago

Text

Imperial

[Paul Arteries x Reader] 3751 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? ARRAIGNED MARRIAGE TROPE EXCEPT BOTH PARTIES ARE PISSY ABOUT IT, not proofread LOL.

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions

A/n: Ur gonna hate me but I’m splitting what was originally going to be this chapter in half. It’s getting longggg.

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Dune masterlist

Seven———

The next day you were awakened by the sound of knocking at your bedroom door. You slowly sit up in bed, stretching your shoulders and back as you rouse yourself from sleep.

One of the house maids is at your door, she bows respectfully before placing a robe down on a nearby chair.

“My lady, you have been summoned to the baths,” she says politely, “they have prepared everything for you.”

You smile at the maids statement, feeling a slight jolt of amusement. You had almost forgotten about the promised pampering session, and the sudden reminder fills you with delight.

The maid moves aside as you rise from your bed and change into the robe.

She leads you out of the bedroom and down the hallway. You follow behind her, your steps light. The estate is bustling with activity, servants scurrying around making last-minute adjustments and preparations for the upcoming celebrations.

The bath chamber is a large, elegant affair, the walls and floors made of polished white marble. The ceiling is painted with images of clouds and the sky, making you feel like you are outdoors. It is dimly lit, a soft glow emanating from the walls, lighting the various bathtubs and areas for massage.

The bath chamber is staffed with a dozen or so servants who spring into action as you enter. Preparing bath salts and oils, massages and wraps, and a myriad of other treatments. The attendants move efficiently and quickly, a product of their years of experience.

You step into a tub of lukewarm water and soak for a bit before an attendant helps you out and guides you to a plush table. You lay down and she applies massage oils and works on your muscles. You let out a soft moan of satisfaction as the tightness and soreness vanishes from your muscles. Eventually another attendant starts applying a mask of clay and honey all over your body while another performs a manicure-pedicure.

It is pure bliss, every sensation of your body being taken care of to your heart's content. You can hardly remember a time when you felt so relaxed and content.

You have several hours to yourself to rejuvenate. You spend the day reading, soaking in the various baths and pools. The soft white pillows and couches are as comfortable as any bed.

You lose track of time, simply enjoying the various sensory experiences as you immerse yourself in the water and soak up the scents and aromas surrounding you. The staff keep your food trays topped up, and new trays of fruit and snacks are continually laid out for you.

You hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching, Delia’s distinctive, confident stride, her steps light and swift. The bath attendants bow politely as she enters, and she acknowledges them with a respectful nod.

As she makes her way over to you she rests one arm against the edge of the bath you are sitting in. Her gaze is soft and caring, her voice gentle as she speaks.

“You look positively radiant, my lady.”

You smile at her, your eyes glimmering in the light, “I feel radiant,” You reply, stretching your arm out to take her hand. She gives you a curt nod of acknowledgement before taking a breath.

“The guests have started to arrive for tomorrow.” Delia informs you, “You have a few hours to yourself before you have your final dinner with the Duke and his mother prior to your wedding day”

Her words snap you back to reality. Your smile slightly falters as you come to the realization that your time alone is coming to an end.

“Yes… The guests have started arriving haven't they.” you trail off, a subtle expression of longing crossing your face as you glance around the baths once more. “I will miss this.”

She gives your hands a light squeeze. Delia always carries this soft sympathy which almost breaks your heart—There are moments where she looks at you as though you were her own daughter.

“I know, my lady” She replies before releasing your hands and steps back, “let us get ready” she says gently, as if sensing your reluctance.

There was no point in resisting or protesting. There was work to be done, political connections to forge and strengthen.

— — —

You follow her through the hallways, a flurry of servants scurrying about around you. The castle is a hive of activity, people rushing to and fro, last minute preparations.

Eventually, you reach the lavish doors to the dining hall, pausing as you await for one of the guards to open it for you.

You take a breath, steeling yourself for what comes next. The dinner itself was a lavish affair, the courses served on delicate porcelain china and the crystal glasses glimmering in the candlelight. Paul was already waiting at the table with Jessica seated beside him.

Jessica leads the conversation, her words witty and filled with excitement for the days ahead. Eventually, the conversation turns to the political situation. You take a sip of your wine, your thoughts immediately turning to the political situation. You have spent years preparing for this moment, and you do not intend to waste the opportunity. You speak in a confident, persuasive tone, outlining your insights and strategies.

Paul leans forward, his attention fixated on you, his admiration for your skills and abilities evident in his expression.

“There is one final issue we must discuss,” Jessica says, her tone serious as she sets down her glass of wine, the delicate crystal making a soft sound as it hits the table. Her blue eyes are firm, and there is no hint of hesitation or reluctance when she begins to speak.

“You need to have children, my lady,” she says bluntly.

Your heart sinks, and you feel the anxiety of the future rising again. Her words are direct and unapologetic; she is not attempting to soften the blow. She is simply stating a fact, and it hits you like a gut punch. “Your role as a bride, especially of your stature, necessitates heirs. It is a political need.”

She is not simply referring to a desire to produce children eventually, she is talking about immediately. A child will further legitimize the Atreides in the Imperial family, and a royal couple will be expected to waste no time in doing their duty.

“ I am aware of my duties as a wife,” you peer into her blue eyes, “I know what must be done”

Dinner ends with a soft murmur of praise and approval. Paul's attention remains fixated on you for a moment, his expression serious and thoughtful. He stands up, and Jessica's gaze lingers on you for a moment before she too stands. The servants quickly begin to clear up the table.

Paul offers you his arm, and you take it, allowing him to lead you from the dining room back to your shared hallway.

“Quite the day tomorrow hm?” You end your sentence with a small hum.

Paul nods solemnly, a soft smile playing across his face. "It will be a historic occasion," he says, leaning his head near yours to whisper softly, "I do not know if I will be able to sleep tonight." His tone is sincere and sympathetic, and there is a hint of nervousness at the realization of what he is facing.

You let out a small chuckle, “Likewise, I might have Delia sedate me.” Paul laughs softly at your joke. There is a moment of genuine amusement in his expression. He likes the way you handle stress, the way you deal with tension and anxiety with humor. It is a glimpse of your true personality, behind the carefully crafted mask of poise and diplomacy.

He takes a deep breath, as to steel himself, and you can tell that he has moved into a more serious frame. He stops and faces you, his expression gentle but resolute.

“Try to get some rest tonight,” he says, “tomorrow is an important day for both of us.”

Both of you were well aware that tomorrow will mark a pivotal turning point in your lives as you come to a stop outside the door to your suite, a brief moment of silence hangs over you like a cloud.

“Tomorrow our destinies are intertwined” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “are you ready?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, and you take a deep breath. You have never been this uncertain, yet somehow you feel more sure of yourself than ever before.

You give him a firm nod, your expression set and determined. He bows his head slightly in understanding and steps away, continuing down the hall. As his footsteps recede into the distance you watch him go. As he approaches the door to his room he pauses for a moment, his silhouette framed in the doorway. He turns back one more time, his hand resting on the doorframe. His eyes meet yours and there is a moment of understanding passing between the two of you, as if a silent promise has been made.

He steps through the doorway and disappears from view, leaving you alone in the darkened, emptied corridor. You can hear the distant sounds of the servants making preparations and you feel a sudden wave of anxiety wash over you. Your heart is pounding and you can feel your nerves beginning to fray. You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself; there is nothing to be done but to get some rest and prepare yourself for the inevitable. Tomorrow will be a long, emotionally draining day, and you need to be at your best.

With that you turn to face your chambers, entering and shutting the door firmly behind you. Once you fully enter you are met with the warm glow of candles and the comfortable surrounding of your personal space. Delia is bustling about, ensuring that everything is in order, and you can sense her nervousness and excitement.

You can see the glint of anticipation in her eyes as she smiles warmly, “My lady,” she says, her voice soft and respectful, “are you ready for tomorrow?”

You smile slightly, giving yourself a moment to adjust to the idea, “as i’ll ever be,” you say quietly, your tone laced with a mix of trepidation.

“Of course, my lady,” Delia says, nodding in understanding. She immediately begins to rummage through your wardrobe, pulling out a soft nightgown and various other items for you to change into.

You watch her for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. You try to push aside the anxiety and focus on the task at hand. Sleep.

Delia hands you a sedative, which you gladly take, and you wash it down with the cup of sleepy time tea sat on your nightstand. With one final huff you climb into your bed, letting the soft sheets envelop you as Delia begins to blow out the various candles positioned around your room. Soon you are in complete darkness as you hear your dor click shut, signaling her leave.

Your eyelids grow heavy as you start to feel the weight of sleep pulling you into the darkness. The soft moonlight filtering through the curtains becomes hazy and distorted, the shadows dancing on the walls like a silent, dreamlike show. Your mind begins to wander, fragmented images and emotions flash through your mind like a slideshow of memory and imagination. For the first time since your arrival on Caladan, you do not dream.

You are pulled from your sleep as light filters in through the, now open, curtains, landing on your face.

“Goodmorning my lady” Delia says, standing near your window, “I'm sorry to wake you, but the day has begun.” The words send a jolt through your body causing you to sit up in bed, the reality of the day quickly coming to the forefront of your mind. You take a deep breath in an attempt to collect yourself,

“Thank you Delia,” you say as you stretch out your arms, feeling the knots and kinks from sleeping begin to fade. You swing your legs over the bed and stride to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face as you grip the sink and stare at yourself in the mirror.

You hear the sound of your door opening and the ruffeling of dresses. Delia. You exit the bathroom and see an array of morning dresses laid out for you.

Delia greets you with a smile and instantly delves into the schedule for the day, “Your schedule starts early I'm afraid,” she says, her tone earnest and efficient. “Breakfast is served in the small dining area to the left of the main hall, Lady Jessica will be joining you today. You will then be escorted to a dressing room to prepare you for the ceremony. The ceremony will be in the great hall at noon,” she takes a breath, “then there will be a reception and a few diplomatic meetings scheduled in the latter half of the day.”

Her words are like a deluge, washing over you like a tidal wave of responsibilities and expectations. You take a breath, trying to absorb everything she's said.

Soon you are swiftly dressed and on your way to breakfast, Delia trailing at your side. As you reach the small room you see Jessica waiting, dressed in a deep red gown, her hair pulled back into a simple yet elegant braid. She smiles as you enter, her eyes filled with pride and excitement.

“Good morning,” she says as you take a seat against her, her voice is warm as she busies herself with making you a cup of tea. “Did you sleep well?”

“As well as can be expected. I'm looking forward to the day,” you reach for the teacup, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. It helps calm your nerves, even if it's just for the moment that you feel the warmth go down your throat.

Jessica nods, a slight smile playing on her lips.

“Today is a momentous occasion, and it’s important to start the day off on the right foot. I have full confidence in you. You will do well today.” Her words sink in, bolstering your resolve, and confidence. You take another sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread through your body even further.

“Thank you, Lady Jessica.” You say, smiling faintly.

“”Of course” her expression softened to one of affection, “you are soon to be part of the family.” With that, she turns her attention to the breakfast spread laid out in front of you, gesturing for you to help yourself to the various dishes laid out before you.

The breakfast is an assortment of simple yet delicious fare; fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and a selection of the finest meats and cheeses. You help yourself to a few items, relishing the taste and texture of the food as you welcome the distraction from the anxiety swirling in your mind.

Through the meal, you both chat softly about the various guests who will be attending the ceremony and the different diplomatic interactions that will no doubt take place.

Jessica offers her perspective and advice in a way that is both insightful and reassuring, and you begin to feel more prepared for the day’s events. You are aware that many of her inputs are that of the Bene Gesserit, and the more in detail she goes about the politics you slowly start to realize the true influence of this faction in Imperial politics.

As you finish your breakfast, Jessica dabs her lips with a napkin and looks at you, “It’s nearly time,” she says, her tone steady yet excited.

You nod to the attendant, who quickly steps forward to escort you to the changing room. Once you approach the lavish room, Delia immediately springs into action. She dismisses the servants and grabs ahold of your arm, pulling you into the room.

“Quickl, my lady, we must get you dressed into the ceremony attire.” Her voice is ecstatic as she helps you out of the breakfast gown and quickly guides you to a table where your gown is laid out.

It is a work of art, made from the finest silk, and shimmers softly in the light. As you begin to step into it you feel the silken fabric glide over your body, the weight and texture immediately grounding and empowering you.

Within moments, with the help of various other attendants, you are dressed. The gown fits your frame perfectly.

You gaze into a mirror adjacent to where you are standing and it all begins to become very real. You are to be Empress, your father is to be executed, and you are to marry. WIth a sigh you turn away and stride to take your seat at the vanity, where the hairstylist is waiting to do your hair alongside the makeup artist.

In a whirl of powders and sprays your hair is weaved into an elegant braid, a few strands laying around your face, which glimmers in the light. You close your eyes as your jewelry is put on and a few adornments are put in your braid.

As you stand all the attendants watch in awe, you are befitting th4e elegant and regal occasion of the day.

“You look magnificent” Delia says, adoration dripping in her voice, “Are you ready?” She asks softly.

With that you take a deep breath to gather your composure, smoothing out the gown with your hands. Despite the nerves still fluttering deep inside you, you feel a newfound sense of confidence and poise. “Yes,” you say, voice steady and determined, “I’m ready.”

With that Delia takes hold of your arm, giving it a light squeeze, as you turn to leave the room, your gown swishing softly with each step. You are led to a small, private room adjacent to the great hall. The room is dimly lit, the heavy velvet drapes drawn closed to create a sense of enclosure and solitude. As you step inside, you can her the soft murmur of voices and chatter from the other room, the sounds of the bustling guests filtering through the thick wood door.

You take a moment to steady yourself, taking deep breaths as you look around the room, taking in the simple yet elegant decorations and furniture. A small chair is placed by the door, and a small table holds a tray of light refreshments, untouched and waiting.

“Wait here while I make one final round to ensure everything is ready” Delia says softly, “I'll be back in just a moment my lady” She then slips out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

You are left alone in the room, the sound of your own breathing echoing softly in the quiet space. You take a moment to ground yourself, closing your eyes and focusing on your breath, slowing it and deepening it until your heart rate has slowed to a steady beat.

The silence in the room is both calming and claustrophobic, and you find yourself wandering around the small space, your hands touching the smooth fabric of the drapes and the cool, polished wood of the furniture. The wait feels endless, but you know that you must remain patient and composed until the time comes.

The sounds from the great hall seem to grow louder and more insistent, the excited chatter and laughter seeping through the closed door. You can almost picture the scene unfolding just a few feet away from you, the guests gathering and taking their seats, the ceremony attendants going about their duties.

You can hear the sound of the orchestra playing a beautiful instrumental piece, the melodic strains filling the air. It’s a signal that the ceremony is about to begin, and you can hear the guests in the great hall hushing and settling into their seats. You can imagine Paul preparing to walk out, his steps measured and steady, his presence commanding and regal.

You stand near the door, listening intently for any further sounds or cues that would indicate that it's your turn to walk out. The anticipation is almost overwhelming, and in the quiet of the small room, your thoughts and emotions threaten to drown you.

suddenly, the door creaks open, and Delia steps into the room, her expression calm and composed. "it's time, my lady," she says softly, her voice carrying an air of urgency. "the ceremony is about to begin. are you ready?"

your heart skips a beat at her words, and you nod, gathering your composure and courage. you take one final deep breath, smoothing out your gown and straightening your shoulders. "yes," you reply, your voice steady and firm. "I'm ready."

Delia nods in approval, her eyes gleaming softly in the dim light. "you're going to do splendidly," she whispers, her voice tinged with a sense of pride. "just remember to stay composed, and everything will be alright."

with those words, she moves towards you, giving a final inspection to make sure that everything is in order. She adjusts a stray lock of hair, her touch gentle and reassuring.

Finally satisfied, she steps back and motions for you to follow her out. "Let's go," she says, her voice soft but firm. "The ceremony awaits."

you take a deep breath and follow her out of the room, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet that lines the hallway. your heart is pounding in your chest as you approach the great hall, the sound of the music and the murmured conversations growing louder with every step.

the great hall doors are massive, carved from the finest wood and polished to a mirror-like finish. the intricate patterns and motifs etched into the wood are a testament to the skill and craftsmanship that went into its creation. as you approach the doors, you can hear the sounds of the ceremony attendants bustling about on the other side, readying themselves for the ceremony. the air is thick with anticipation and excitement, and you can almost feel the energy simmering just beyond the threshold.

As the doors slowly swing open, you see the great hall spread before you, a grand space filled with guests and attendants. The room is bathed in a warm, golden light, and the air is filled with the scent of roses and incense. As you step forward to the aisle, the eyes of the guests turn to you, and a hushed silence falls over the room.

———

Next chapter

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#paul atredies x reader #paul x reader #paul atredies x you #dune part two #dune part one #paul atredies fanfic #dune part 2 #paul atreides #dune x you #dune 2021 #dune x reader #timothee chalamet dune #dune fanfic #dune movie #dune #dune 2 #dune 2024 #dune fanfiction #dune spoilers

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ladyredmoon13 · 1 year ago

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DCxDP prompt

Bubble Bubble.

Honestly, this wasn’t how Jason saw his day going, but at least it was interesting. Chained up and bound to two of his siblings while a cult surrounds them chanting was certainly not the first thing on his to-do list that day. Or any other for that matter.

Mostly he just wanted to know how these assholes got ahold of what he would describe as jellationuse Lazerus water to make a summoning circle.

The cultists keep chanting and the next thing he knows there's a green light and a splash as he hits water. Sitting up Jason sees that somehow he and his siblings have ended up a large spacious Roman bath.

Hearing a voice clear Jason looked behind him to see a gorgeous redhead with crystal blue staring at them in a mix of baffled curiosity and annoyance.

"You boys better have an amazing explanation for this." She said.

-------

Jazz was stressed. Her job increased her hours with no notice, her new roommate skipped out on rent, AGAIN; and her midterms were canceled because half the college campus were the victims of a fear Gass attack.

Her brother seeing her tence shoulders and bags under her eyes proclaimed then and there that she should have a spa day.

She was prepared to refuse till he mentioned that his castle had recently gone through renovations and he had completely upgraded the old bath. Adding in heated floors, massage chairs, and jets that basically turned the large bath into one ginormous jacuzzi.

How was she supposed to turn that down?

So she took him up on his offer and had a spa day at her brother's castle. By all means, everything was going great, fantastic really. She had a deep tissue massage and a mud mask. The servants that Danny had assigned to her for the day gave her a manicure and pedicure before serving her a delicious lunch.

She had just started to relax in the downright huge bath. Letting the jets work their magic while surrounded by mountains of bubbles. When three people appear out of thin air and land with a splash in the center of the bath.

She couldn’t have just one day, could she? Well, at least one of them was cute. Now where were the towels?

#dc x dp crossover #batman #danny fenton #damien wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #jazz fenton #jazz/jason #whats their ship name #spa day #stressrelief #ghost king danny

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magpiepills · 8 months ago

Text

I’m Not Really A Waitress

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Javier Pena x f! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Javi takes you for a pedicure then reaps the rewards.

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected PIV, fingering, foot job, toe sucking, cum eating, dirty talk, pet names, potential sugar daddy Javi, no age gap specified, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader beyond their genitals.

A word from the author: I have finally finished the anon request! ANON! Please let me know if this is what you wanted! No need to be shy! I love you. Javi loves you…anyway, this is my first foray into foot fetish fic and it was fun! I can definitely see Javi being into your piggies. I hope I did this justice. I did watch some foot fetish gifs to prepare!

“I can’t take it, Javi. Please, it’s too much.”

“You can take it. You’re going to. You’re going to take it and then you’re going to show me how much you like it. Gonna thank me properly, hm Carino?”

Javi pressed the money into your hand. He had done it for weeks and it hadn’t gotten any easier to take his money. Every Saturday morning he drove you to the little strip mall and sat in his Jeep, window down, cigarette smoke billowing out like a smoke stack, fidgeting anxiously, eyes scanning the parking lot behind the yellow mirror of his aviators while you went inside for a fresh manicure and pedicure.

Spoiling you was one of his only joys. Long days toiling in the office or in the field, sweating under his tactical vest, chain smoking as he watched Escobar slip away once again. If he could make you happy, even if he was damned for all he had done wrong maybe it wouldn’t all be for nothing.

He tried to stay alert, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you through the plate glass, settled placidly in the chair, long legs bare and feet soaking in turn as a woman an a smock knelt before you, painting your toenails, massaging your feet, buffing and lotioning them, kneading your calves as you closed your eyes, shoulders soft and head dropped against the back of the seat, serene.

After some number of cigarettes had been smoked, you floated back out to him, stepping carefully in little pink flip flops, toes held apart by a strip of foam with little prongs between each toe, sandals dangling from your hand as you climbed into the passenger seat, smelling sweet and, like every week, slid your feet into his lap for his inspection.

Gently he pulled the little divider from your toes and slipped off the flimsy slippers. “What color is this?” You always got red. You knew that was his favorite. He couldn’t tell the shades apart, but you always told him the silly names of each color, insisting that they were all very different. He was charmed. “It’s called I’m Not Really A Waitress. What do you think?” Javi squeezed your foot, pressing his thumb into the ball of your foot, watching as your toes flexed. “Looks really pretty, baby.” He chuckled, pulling your hand close to his face to admire your fingers. Soft and delicate, you rested your fingers over his, and he pressed a kiss into your knuckles. “We gotta get home.” He made the short drive to his apartment with your foot held against his thick, eager cock.

•••••

Javi wasted no time, guiding you in the door and through the dark living room to his bedroom. You knew the routine. He liked undressing you himself, undoing buttons, untying bows, pulling down zippers. He saved his favorite for last, guiding you to lie on your back on his bed so he could unbuckle your sandals. He liked to take his time, working open the little clasps with his big fingers, taking the time to look closely at your freshly lacquered toenails, shiny and red. He was gentle, reverent as he held your ankle, kissing your toes, sucking the smaller ones obscenely, making you squirm. He released them with a pop before he kissed down your delicate sloping arch, up to the curve of your ankle before resting it on his shoulder. Taking a long moment to gaze from the soft little pads of your toes, down your legs, so long and smooth, so shapely. He let his eyes move further, down to your pretty pussy.

He mumbled something in Spanish and palmed his cock through his tight jeans. You loved seeing the thick roll of him, knowing it was just for you. As much as he loved to pamper and spoil you, indulging in your maintenance and care, you loved to show him how much you loved and appreciated him. You skimmed your other toes up his leg and over his thick cock.

Javi groaned, flicking his gaze from your shining folds to where your arch rested lightly over his cock. He rutted gently, guiding you to stroke up and down his concealed length for a few blissful moments before pulling his shirt over his head and hurriedly tugging open his jeans, pushing them down while you watched, mesmerized by his golden skin, the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips drew your gaze like an arrow down to where he held his turgid member. Mindlessly, your had drifted to your center, your fingertips softly circling your clit. You watched each other, unashamedly touching yourselves.

With his free hand, Javi circled your ankle, using his leverage to press your knee back and open you up to his hungry eyes, dark and laser focused on where you spread your slick over your clit. He loved how your fingernails matched your toes.

“That’s it. Get it nice and wet for me. Put your fingers in.” You could hear the strain in his voice as you followed his directions, sinking two fingers inside. “More, querida.” he insisted, but didn’t give you a chance to obey. Instead he took his hand from his cock and pushed two of his own fingers inside along yours, making you gasp and jolt with pleasure. The fullness and the vulgarity of his fingers slipping against yours covered in your ample slick and your palm rubbing just so against your clit brought you quickly to orgasm.

With barely enough time to catch your breath, Javi was on top on you, kissing you, licking into your mouth greedily, letting you feel his weight and his need grinding against your thigh. His hands never stayed in one place long, trailing up and down your sides, groping the curves of your body. He tried not to rush, he really did, but you were still breathless as he kneeled between your legs, eagerly notching at your still sensitive entrance but only allowing the thick head to rest just inside. You wiggled your hips for purchase, “Javi. Javi please. Don’t tease me; I need you.” Your hand returned to your soaked seam, you rubbed the flat of your fingers over your swollen folds and spread the warm wetness up over the length of Javi’s cock that he refuses to give you.

He watches, rapt, at hope you use his body to try to get yourself off. He would gladly be your plaything another time, but now he has to move. “That’s it baby. Keep rubbing that little pussy for me. Got you so nice and wet, huh baby?” He continues talking as he inches in slowly, watching how your pretty cunt takes him. You’re still rocking your hips in small movements as he bottoms out, chasing your second release and he finally fills you. “Fuck me.” His eyes are glued to where he is sheathed inside you, so snug and warm. You increase the speed of your fingers against your clit as he increases the tempo of his thrusts, squeezing him as you reach your peak. He rolls his hips firm against you as you moan and writhe, he has to close his eyes and will himself to not come right this instant. Not before he gets to finish the way he wants.

With you sated and boneless, Javi feels like he can finally indulge. You know what he wants. You let him move you, stretching your legs above you, crossing your ankles and squeezing your thighs as he rests your heel on his shoulder. You can feel his cock smearing your slick across the back of your thighs as he kisses your toes, nibbles the soft little delicate digits. This is the part he loves, he’s held off long enough. Once again he takes your ankles in his hands and pushes your knees to your chest. He brings your pretty feet to stroke his cock between them. “Rub your tits.” He directed you with a nod his head. You do as he says and surrender the rest of your body to his will. He thrust slowly, stroking over your feet, holding them firm against his length. He loved how it looked to have you laid out for him, naked, satisfied, slick and swollen, letting him take control. He rubbed his thumb over your toes and directed them to drag over his cock and gently over his balls. It didn’t take long for Javi to bare his teeth and cover your toes in thick, milky spend. He panted, smiling and looking over you, and pressed a kiss to your big toe, licking the cooling cum from his lips.

“Gracias, carino.”

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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months ago

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Daddy!Carmy holding shit down

I’m stupid and riddled with anxiety reposting SORRY

It was a sticky Chicago summer day. Like, your thighs stuck to the breakfast bench when you got up to help your daughter pour her own orange juice so the entire half gallon didn’t end up on the floor.

You had gone out to the store on your own, because wrangling a 6 and 3 year old and your husband into the car and dragging them through the grocery store for your weekly shopping wasn’t in the cards for today, your patience was already wearing thin.

It wasn’t anything anyone did, it’s just you were a bit…overstimulated. Your younger daughter was about to turn three, and was still breastfeeding and would be until she didn’t want to anymore. It was something you and Carmy had spoken about, his distant family in Italy had told his mom when Mikey was born, that it was best to breastfeed your baby until at least 3 years old, and past then to stop when they no longer ask.

Your first daughter had stopped asking when she was 4 and a half, right before preschool. At that time it had broken your heart. Because the last time she did it, you didn’t know would be her last. So the next day, when you got her up and asked if she wanted to feed and she shook her head- Carmy had to take at least 20 minutes of her nap time that morning to back you off the ledge of a panic attack that she was ‘growing up too fast’ your second daughter though, she was much needier.

You knew she was going to be more of a challenge when Carmy had started her on the same purées you had done for Harlow, your first - and anything that wasn’t sweet and creamy she spit out and cried, giving you the sign for all done alternating between the sign for mommy milk with her little hands and pitching an absolute fit until you gave her what she wanted.

She was near three now, which meant the feeding sessions were at least 30 minutes for her to feel full enough to go back to playing. Newborn tummy’s were the size of a grape, so back then most of the suckling was pacifying and not eating. But she was still getting a lot - scratch that ; most - of her nutrition from you, so you were exhausted all the time. Carmy did the best he could, making sure he cleaned the pump parts for you any time they were used, and also the many, many bottles she had per day.

You had asked sugar - she had told you it was normal. Funny enough, her first and second babies were the same. Her son had said no to the boob by 4, and her second was barely off breastfeeding and onto real food by the time she was 4. Carmy was frankly getting sick of this too. It had been literal years without playing with your nipples, your tits we’re essentially off limits. Because one cry from the monitor- you were fuckin leaking like a broken sink.

You felt nothing short of a milk factory, and were tired of it. So, you decided to take the day to yourself. First, you went and got your nails done, and a pedicure. As you were waiting with your feet in the deliciously hot water, you looked at the board of all the different services to see a mommy & me manicure, you told yourself you’d have to take the girls here for a day out with mommy before resting your head back on the plush, luxurious massage chair and sighing happily to yourself at the relief it was bringing to your back

You paid with the credit card Carmy had given you when you had barely started dating, the thing had been active for 16 years now, so it’s limit you didn’t even have to worry about even if you were buying a house. That was one of the things you loved about Carmy, immaculate credit. You got what you want, when you wanted it- no questions asked. This had started the second you got pregnant with your first.

You had asked why, and he explained it to you in a way that had your already horny 28 year old self pinning him down and riding him until your ass was bruised by his thighs.

‘Well, thas’ just how my family does shit. Y’my girl, you get what you want. Y’givin me my legacy, y’givin me something I couldn’t possibly ever make f’myself, you’re my priority, your needs, wants- you should want f’nothin, princess. I’m the father of this baby, neither of you will ever want, hear me?’

That was to this day some of the best sex you’d ever had. The idea that you were fully his, and he was fully yours, it awoken something in you you didn’t even know existed.

When you got to the spa for your scheduled massage, your phone buzzed against your thigh. You took it out, smiling when you read the message

Glad mommy listened to me, you deserve this babygirl. How was the pedicure?

Find my friends stayed on for both of you. It has been that way since you didn’t even know when - so of course he knew where you snuck off to.

Amazing, missin my big sexy daddy though. How are my crazy coconuts?

You had sent back, getting up when the sweet brunette woman had come to collect you for your appointment.

Said appointment was magical.

You left that damn spa feeling like a new woman. You didn’t know your hips could feel like this again after having little Bea.

After Harlow, you truly understood what moms meant when they said their hips ache - but after Bea?! When you were pregnant with her, Carmy had to take off of work a week early in your 41st week of pregnancy (since the both of you didn’t agree with induction), and carry you to and from the toilet every half hour since said hips ached so bad and you were on full bed rest, meaning if he didn’t carry you- you’d be using the bedpan they had given, and you would die before you had your husband dumping your pee for you.

You checked your phone to see the cheeky response

Mommy’s crazy coconuts are in bed for their nap, I’m thinkin about mommy’s sexy coconuts though 🥥- when will you be back?

You smiled to yourself, a heat brushing your cheeks at the idea of him fantasizing about you after putting the girls down and cleaning up the kitchen. You quickly type

Off to BJ’s, got my list but anything not on it we need? Should only be about an hour

Halfway through your shopping expedition, your hip felt another vibration. You pulled off to the side of the isle, reading his response.

I could use one of those 😉. I think that’s the only thing I need now that I think of it... Maybe Bea will want more strawberry puffs, but Nat said she needs to be done with them by her b-day - it’s gonna be hard because she’s addicted to those fuckin things. Remember when Harly girl gagged when we first tried em with her?

You giggle to yourself at the memory, shaking your head. Harlow, strangely had been a vegetable baby. The only sweet thing she could stand was your milk, other than that - she was a savory gal. She loved peas, you guessed you could call those sweet. But any other sugary fruit or food made her cry or vomit. The moment she was allowed spices - that was when she became daddy’s taste tester.

Carmy always joked that she was the most raw, honest taster he could get. But you told him that it was just because he could read his daughter better than anyone in the world, better than you sometimes. A tiny little scrunch of her year old nose, and it would have him cooing

“Right? Daddy needs to add s’more star anise, huh Princess? Thank you f’tellin me” - with the sweetest smooch to her head.

But Bea? Bea was his sweet tooth little girl. The only thing that impressed her was when he whipped out his pastry chef training, otherwise - if he put something savory on her lips she’d go so far as to spit up on one of his beloved white shirts at the ripe age of 2. When she shouldn’t be spitting up anymore, she had a flare for dramatics just like her daddy.

‘Harlow may as well have a blood sugar of 0. Already got a 6

Pack of puff-snack-crack, does daddy need more of his special coffee? Near Cafe Umbria’

You continue pushing the cart, pulling in the girls favorite snacks, and ingredients Carmy had been putting on the weekly list for years.

When you got home, you heard screaming from the backyard, as well as the kind of giggles and laughs from your daughters that made your heart flutter. You hauled the reusable bags you and Carmy had been collecting for years onto the counter, following the sounds of squeaky giggles

The view you were entranced in was nothing short of a rom-com reel. Your girls were squealing and giggling as they jumped and pounced on their netted trampoline, Carmy spraying them with the garden hose as they hopped around, chasing eachother in their bathing suits. You giggled to yourself, seeing the teal blue Huggies splasher diaper peaking beneath your youngers frilly toddler tankini.

“Who can jump higher, huh? Les’ see” he dropped the hose, resting his hands on his muscular hips “bet Eva could jump highest” he challenged. That was one thing he instilled in his girls - competitiveness.

“No! No me!!! Me - daddy I can jump highest!l harlow squawks, bouncing over “daddy! Daddy watch me!! Watch, l bet i could jump way better then Eva” she was hurling her knees with every jump, giggling and panting. Carm laid underneath the tramp, spraying up water at little Bea to which she giggled wildly, trying to grab it with her chubby fingers.

This was the life you could have not dreamed of, this was a life only a man as loving, and as dedicated as Carmen Anthony Berzatto could provide. You couldn’t be more over the moon he was the father of your beautiful girls, and you could hardly wait for him to give you more.

The water splayed back on to him, causing him to chuckle and full on cackle about the water that was raining back on his face after his girls either danced in it or spit it out. It was a beautiful sight that you stood there and observed in awe, giggling as your older daughter laid and opened her mouth, collecting a full mouth of hose water before leaning over the edge of the trampoline and spewing it all over her dad.

He laughed in a way you didn’t know he did anymore, dropping the hose and using the metal of the trampoline to haul himself up.

‘Y’dead-“ he said and she squealed, jumping onto the concrete and b-lining it for your legs on bare feet, her bathing suit soaking hose water into your bare Jean short clad legs

“Mommy! Save me! Daddy’s gonna get me!!!” She pleaded, looking up at you with those blue puppy eyes - before puffing her lower lip out in the way you did to make Carmy comply - she learned a little too quick- and it worked on you too.

“Oh princess” you picked her up and kissed all over her face like you’d been gone a million years. “My poor teddybear - whas’ wrong, y’daddy bein mean? Huh Little Bear?” You coo, picking up Bea as well and kissing her curly strawberry blonde head.

“Who’s a hungry little princess? Mm? Harly go tell daddy sissy needs T’eat, and there’s groceries hm?” You told her and she nodded, running to find her dad as you cradled your tiny princess.

“Y’ hungry, mm? And y’all wet- mommy needs to get you dried up ‘fore you eat, little angel” he mused, gently placing her on her changing table and putting her in a fresh, dry diaper before setting her on the floor to toddle around after carrying her to your bedroom where you were napping.

You settled on a comfy silk nursing gown Carmy had gotten you a while ago, setting up the newest episode of law and order before beckoning Bea over and coddling her into your chest as she ate, absentmindedly but graciously sipping at your savored once a week glass of white wine that was only 3% alcohol, the glass your doctor (and Beas Pediatrician) said was a-ok after you had taken Bea for her 18 month appointment, they had said as long as you weren’t feeding her after directly having something more then 5% alcohol, it was okay.

And your 3% wine every Friday has become your lifeline after becoming a breastfeeding machine.

Bea huffed her sweet breath after about 22 minutes into the silky flesh of your breast, essentially using your nipple as a pacifier after she’d fallen asleep, the sweetest hums leaving her throat.

“She ready?” Carmy asked with the silky sweetness that made you melt.

“Haven’t even taken her off- wanna try, daddy?” You mused. He came over, carefully thumbing over her thick brunette hair, wanting to boop her large and in charge undoubtedly berzatto nose- but he stopped himself.

“Look at that pretty princess mm? Latching so well” he stroked her cheek and at the motion, she continued suckling and gulping down your milk like she thought he may take it away from her since she knew your nipples were no longer simply her pacifiers, and got pissy when carm would pull her off and try his best to explain mommy’s boobs weren’t just for milkies, and that mommy needed her boobies to herself sometimes.

The girls didn’t take that so well.

“S’okay, relax, princess, y’momma isn’t goin’ anywhere - I know- mm she’s givin y’the good stuff, huh, mommy’s milk is so good, yea?” He mused, cradling Bea In his lap as he kissed her head, rocking her back and forth trying to get her to relax as you B-lined around the room trying to pack your suitcase.

It wasn’t that you wanted to go, if you could stay with your girls, if you could give Bea what she was needing right now from her mom- you would. You would never deny your girls the closeness they deserved, but your job was calling you out.

“Shhh- shhh princess- daddy will give you milkies, mm? Daddy can give it, mommy left plenty of milkies for you” you assured Bea as she sobbed into your chest, nearly choking on her cries.

“No- no- w-want mommy- wan’mommy” she sobbed, barely able to breathe through her pleads in a way that made your chest clench so hard you couldn’t not fix it.

“Ok - okay- shhhh. Shhhhh little love. Wan’mommys milkies, hmm? C’mere angel” you tug your baby with you to sit on your lap, cradling her and tugging off your top. She immediately found what she wanted, sighing sweetly and clutching at your other breast for support.

Carm wasn’t long behind, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead.

“Shoulda warned you, she’s been cryin’ bout missin’ you an’ bein’ hungry since this mornin”

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear fx #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction

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avatar-anna · 2 years ago

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can we get a cute little something between yn and simone maybe current. maybe they do a little girls day and harry isn’t jealous but finds it hard to handle because yn has a special relationship with her since she spent so much time with simone. but harry would be the sweetest and be supportive and when they get back ask all about it.

you can totally change that i just rambled with what I thought apparently lol

summary: three times young mom!reader and simone went on their mommy-daughter dates

word count: 3k

mostly y/n and not harry which y'all might not like, but i thought it was cute

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

The first time Y/n took Simone out on a Mommy-daughter date, she was seven months pregnant. She was alone in Holmes Chapel, a town she was relatively new to, with nothing to do. Harry was across the globe on tour because his management wouldn’t let him come home until the last possible moment, his mother was at work, and she was in her boyfriend’s childhood home, balancing a bowl of chocolate covered almonds on her baby bump and flipping through British reality television, which was decidedly not as good as the American programs.

“What should we do today, little melon?” she asked, rubbing her belly. Laughing to herself, she added, “Not so little anymore.”

Not that there was anything to do. Holmes Chapel was fairly sleepy, with a small strip of stores on the main road and farmland. Lots and lots of farmland. It was nothing like Y/n was used to growing up, and while Anne was nice, she didn’t know the woman all that well and didn’t really know how to talk to her. It felt like there was a big elephant in the room every time they sat down to eat.

But Y/n was so bored. She was used to going out with friends, talking to people, feeling the sun on her skin. Holmes Chapel was not home, but it was too late to go back now, though the house she grew up in currently wasn’t all that inviting either.

She eventually decided on getting her nails done. Y/n had seen one salon when she went with Anne to the grocery store, and it was the first thing she thought of now. Struggling to an upright position, she put on some comfortable clothes, slid into her shoes, and set off.

Y/n ignored the stares as she passed people on the street. She got a lot of stares now that she couldn’t hide her bump anymore. Friends of Anne asked who Y/n was with wide eyes the first time they’d gone out together, and Anne calmly explained that Y/n was a cousin’s friend who needed a place to stay. Not the truth, but they weren’t allowed to tell the truth. And since Y/n had a young face, people stared, showed their visible disdain or disapproval of her being pregnant at such a young age. She was sick of the looks, which was why she mostly kept to the confines of Anne’s home, but she was feeling particularly restless today and decided to just deal with everyone’s judgment.

Anne never judged her, though. Not once, which Y/n appreciated.

The nail salon was small with a tinny bell attached to the door, announcing her arrival to the establishment. The woman manning the front desk widened her eyes at the sight of Y/n’s belly, but thankfully recovered quickly. “Can I help you?”

“A manicure and a pedicure, please?” she asked, hating how heads turned at the sound of her accent. Another thing that made her stick out around here.

“Of course, right this way,” the woman said, pointing to one of the cushiony chairs with a tub attached.

Y/n knew she didn’t really have much money to be spending on something like getting her nails done, but she just felt so gross some days. Her ankles were swelling, she had acne, got hot flashes, got nauseous around certain smells. This was a small thing to make her feel just a little more normal again.

She heaved herself into the chair, resting her head with her eyes closed once she got her feet up. The walk had made her tired, made her feet hurt, but it was worth it.

“Miss?”

Y/n opened her eyes to find a different woman standing next to her. “Hi, sorry. Just a little tired.”

“Did you walk here?” she asked Y/n, eyes widening for a completely different reason than talking to a teen mom.

“Yeah, I—I don’t have a car,” Y/n said lamely. Not that she’d be able to drive in a completely different country anyway. “But it’s fine, I—Oh shoot. I forgot to pick out a color.”

She began to get out of her seat when the woman rested a hand on her shoulder. “No need. What color were you thinking?”

“Light yellow? Pastel?” she said, the color of one of the onesies she bought online the other day coming to mind. It felt silly to think about matching with her baby that hadn’t even been born yet, but it was out before Y/n could take it back.

“I know just the thing. Toes too?”

Y/n nodded before resting her head again. She picked up her phone. To play a game or scroll through Instagram, she wasn’t sure. Y/n didn’t like going on social media all that much these days. It was a reminder of her life back home, of all her friends moving on and doing normal eighteen year old things. She didn’t regret her decision in having the baby or moving, but some days were better than others.

She decided on a message to Harry instead. He probably wouldn’t see it for a few hours, but she knew he would appreciate waking up to or coming off the stage to an update.

Y/n: on my first official mommy daughter date!

Before she hit send, she quickly erased the message and closed her phone.

I’m a mom, she thought. Y/n was seven months pregnant, and she would be having a baby soon, but she’d never called herself a mom before, didn’t believe it until right this second. But she was a mom. A good, bad, or average one time would only tell, but it scared her none the less.

“How far along are you?”

Y/n looked to her right at the woman who was sitting in the chair beside hers. Middle aged, clear skin, kind brown eyes. She didn’t look at Y/n the way other people did. There was no judgment, no preconceived notions about what kind of girl Y/n was, just plain curiosity.

Clearing her throat, Y/n said, “Twenty-nine weeks.”

“Almost to the end, then,” the woman said. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“I think so. Have to run it by the dad first,” she said, resting her hands on her bump instinctively. “But I call her Simone.”

“That’s beautiful,” the woman said. “Can I offer a tip?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Lavender and chamomile,” she said. “Essential oils that help with relaxation and peaceful sleep.”

Y/n knew she probably looked exhausted, which was why the woman offered that particular piece of advice, but Y/n took it happily anyway. “That really helps?”

The woman smiled, and it wasn’t in a condescending way. “It does. The smells are supposed to relax you.”

Before Y/n could say anything else, her nail tech returned with two bottles of nail polish in slightly different shades of pastel yellow in her hand. “How do these look?”

For the next hour, Y/n didn’t worry about a thing. She let the nail tech take care of her, who encouraged Y/n to close her eyes and relax. And she did. For a whole hour, the baby didn’t kick, her back didn’t hurt, and she felt her shoulders slowly lose tension. She almost didn’t want it to be over. When it was, though, Y/n felt ten times better. She felt normal, a feeling that was hard to come by these days.

“Thank you,” Y/n said to her nail tech, handing cash over. “I…I really needed this.”

“Come back when your daughter is old enough,” the woman said. “You can get matching nails together.”

And when little Simone was old enough, Y/n did take her to the small nail salon. Her feet dangled in the cushiony chair, and she giggled when someone tried to touch her feet. She and Y/n got matching sparkly purple nails because that was what Simone wanted, and Y/n couldn’t help but comply. And everyone was just as nice and doting as the first time Y/n came in, and every time after that.

That was a favorite outing for Y/n and Simone when they did their mommy-daughter dates. They wouldn’t always go to the salon in Holmes Chapel, of course, but they got their nails done together frequently, from the first time with the sparkly nails and to Simone’s first dance and so on.

“Are you sure Daddy can’t come?”

“It’s for me and Mommy only! No Daddy allowed!”

Harry clutched his chest as if Simone had wounded him. He leaned back on the couch and slid down a little, making a real show of it. He peeked an eye open to see Simone’s reaction. Her hair, which was tied up in two little pigtails with bows on each one, swung back and forth as she shook her head, clearly exasperated by her father’s antics.

“We can play later, Daddy,” she said, skipping over to Harry. She jumped onto his stomach and squished his cheeks between her hands. “Stop being sad.”

“I can’t. Your mother is hogging you. She’s hogging my baby,” he joked. Kind of.

Harry knew all about Y/n and Simone’s mommy-daughter dates. Y/n often went out with Simone when they joined him on tour. She liked to get Simone out of the hotel rooms, find something fun for the two of them to do together. Harry was all for it, of course. He didn’t like that Y/n sometimes felt trapped when she traveled with him, and this was an opportunity to see the world in a way that some people didn’t get to. He sometimes felt left out, but he imagined that was how Y/n felt a lot of the time.

“You’d hate it. We’re going to the American Girl Doll store.”

Harry raised his eyes to see Y/n standing at the foot of the couch dressed for the day in a flowy sundress that covered her baby bump. Baby number two, Harry thought excitedly. He didn’t think that would be in their cards, but all it took was a few months of him being on hiatus and bam! Y/n was pregnant.

Putting an affronted hand on his chest, Harry said, “I love American Girl Dolls.”

Y/n bent down and kissed his forehead. “Then we can go again tomorrow. I’m sure our little melon won’t mind, will she?”

Simone nodded excitedly. “You can come with us tomorrow, Daddy!”

Tapping Simone on the nose with his knuckle, Harry said, “Promise?”

Simone nodded, showing off her biggest smile, which was now missing a tooth. “Promise.”

Y/n reached down and stretched her arms out to take Simone, and she happily leapt up into her arms. Behind his daughter’s back, Harry stuck his tongue out at Y/n, and once Simone was settled with her, Y/n stuck her tongue out back at him.

Simone was asleep when she and Y/n came back. “A long day of shopping,” Y/n said, passing the sleeping five year old over to him. Harry spent the afternoon reading and watching TV and doing a little bit of writing while they were gone, but he just wanted to be with his girls, all three of them. He knew Y/n and Simone’s days together were special, and he knew that he could just as easily have his own special day with his daughter, but sometimes he felt like there was an invisible wall with Y/n and Simone on one side and him on the other. He was doing all he could to get past or move around it, but they were so close having spent so much time together, just the two of them.

“You know,” Y/n said, settling onto the bed next to him. “All my little melon could talk about was showing you the doll she bought today.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. She wanted to wait until tomorrow to pick out all of the clothes and accessories because you have the best clothes.”

Harry grinned, running a hand over one of Simone’s pigtails. “Really?”

Y/n leaned over and kissed her husband’s cheek. “She loves you. Just as much as she loves me.”

“I know,” he said, a blush pinking his cheeks. “I know she does, but—”

“Simone idolizes you, baby,” Y/n said. “You, sir, are her hero. She asked me the other day if she could bring you to Career Day. And before that, she said she wanted to be you for Halloween.”

“I’d be the coolest dad at Career Day,” Harry said, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“You would, and you’re the coolest dad here too. At home. So no more moping. No more pouting about mommy-daughter time, you hear me?”

“I hear you. No more pouting. Kiss?”

Y/n hummed, somewhat suspiciously. “Sometimes I think you pout just so I’ll kiss you.”

“I would never,” Harry said with a gasp, but he was grinning just the same as he leaned in. “Is it working?”

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “You’re lucky you’re cute. Come here.”

“So, who’s the boy?”

“Wha—What are you talking about? There’s no—How did you know?”

Y/n grinned and winked at Simone from her seat in the salon chair. “I’m your mother, Simone. I know everything.”

Simone huffed and sat back in her chair. “I thought that was just a line parents used to scare their kids.”

“Sometimes it is, most times it isn’t,” Y/n said. “So…?”

Y/n knew Simone would’ve fiddled with her hands if she could, but the nail tech was currently working on painting one of them a pale yellow. “He…hardly notices me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“We sit next to each other in history class and sometimes we work on discussion questions together, but other than that it’s like—it’s like we live on two different planets. How do I get him to notice me?”

“How should I know? I don’t have much experience when it comes to guys,” Y/n said, joking with her daughter just a little.

Seeing right through it, Simone narrowed her eyes at Y/n and said, “You’ve been with Dad since you were seventeen. You know something.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Y/n said. “I’m not gonna tell you how I charmed your father because you’ll go, ‘Ew you’re my parents! Don’t talk about Dad like that!’ So I won’t. What I can tell you is be yourself and if there is a common interest between the two of you that doesn’t have to do with history homework, and start there. Shared interests is always a great place to start.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It’s that simple.”

“Oh.”

Simone and Y/n were quiet for few minutes while the women in the small nail salon they’d been going to for years worked on their hands. Y/n didn’t live in Anne’s house in Holmes Chapel, and she was far from pregnant, but she still liked to come back and get her nails done with Simone whenever they came back to visit Harry’s family. Simone got harder and harder to pin down as she got older, but Y/n was always surprised when her oldest daughter cancelled her plans when she offered they go somewhere, just the two of them. Y/n loved all of her children dearly and had a special connection with each of them. But these moments, this one on one time with Simone was something she held close to her heart.

“Dad’s gonna freak when he finds out, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Not sure I can stop that, sorry.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Can’t you just not tell him?”

“He’s my husband, little melon. I tell him everything.”

“Well can you hold off until there’s actually something to say?”

Y/n took the free moment to lean over to Simone’s chair and kissed her forehead. “Course.”

After they finished getting their nails done, they took the familiar walk back to Anne’s house. Y/n looped her arm through Simone’s, enjoying the familiar press of her daughter against her side. “You know, when I was about your age—”

“You walked all the way from Nana’s house with me in your belly so you could get your nail’s done. I remember,” Simone said. Y/n told the story every time they went to the salon together.

“Are you going to let me finish?”

“Go ahead.”

So Y/n continued her story all the way until they reached the house. “And when I told your dad about it, he was so jealous. He was all, ‘I can get my nails done too, you know!’ But I said, ‘No. Get you’re own thing. This is ours,’” she said.

“Dad and I don’t have a thing,” Simone said.

“Sure you do. He’ll help you pick out your prom dress, pay for college, and walk you down the aisle. That’s three things right there.”

“Now I get to tell Dad something that’ll make him annoyed with you.”

Y/n playfully pinched Simone’s arm. “You listen here, my little melon, Harry Styles is a lot of things, and at the top of that list is an absolute pushover when it comes to his children. He would make traveling to the moon your ‘thing’ if you asked him.”

“I know. We go to the movies every two weeks. He and Julian go for drives to the grocery store when we’re all on our periods, and…I think he recently took up surfing with Maeve.”

Y/n knew all of this, of course. Harry was always looking to spend time with his kids, and now that they were all getting older and more independent, it was harder to get alone time with them. Except for Natalia and Geneva, who were still young and thought he was the coolest person on the planet. Y/n and Simone had their little dates, and now Y/n got to impart wisdom to her daughter from time to time, but for as long as Simone could speak she and Harry had their thing: she and Harry were terrible gossips.

“Hm. So, what do you think? Lunch before going home? Thrift store?” Y/n asked.

“Let’s just go back. I’m sure the house has descended into chaos without us,” Simone said, picking up her pace.

Y/n grinned and followed her daughter down the familiar sidewalk, each step bringing back memories of all the times she’d walked down it; from having a baby in her belly to holding her in her arms to walking side by side with her daughter who was now taller than her.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young dadrry #young mom! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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misseviehyde · 1 year ago

Text

BULLI-CURE

Looking down at the struggling girl in front of her, Lisa felt a flash of shame and guilt at what she was doing - though it was quickly expunged by remembering all the horrible things this bitch had done to her and Melody.

She had tied her daughters bully to a chair, and gagged her - using loops of rope to tie each arm to the chair rests and importantly each of Kayla's wrists, so each of the girls hands was accessible.

Now try as she might to struggle, Kayla was trapped and unable to stop Lisa from carrying out the second part of her desparate plan to fix things.

After all - wasn't this all her fault? She was the one who had paid for Kate - once her daughters best-friend - to get a set of nails from the salon down the road. She was the one who had enabled Kate to become Kayla.

Kate's Mom and Dad had always been neglectful, and Kate had almost been like another daughter to Lisa. She and Melody were joined at the hip and wherever her daughter went, Kate had gone too.

Kate always looked so drab, she never had pretty dresses or nice hair. She was a tomboy with no confidence. When her birthday had come along and her parents hadn't bought her a present Lisa had felt heartbroken.

She'd decided SHE would get Kate something nice. She would buy her a makeover and pay for her to get her nails done.

The salon in town had only been too happy to help. They'd asked Lisa exactly what sort of nails and makeover she'd like to give Kate.

"Oh, she's such a fragile little thing. Can you make her feel more confident and assertive. Can you also make it so that she gets to be the centre of attention for once and that her parents and everyone else spoil her a little bit?"

She'd driven Kate to the salon and ushered her inside. Kate had looked unsure, she'd never been to a nail salon before but Lisa had just smiled encouragingly.

"Go on - then I'll drive us back later. Melody may even be a little jealous of you, but she'll understand."

The salon had insisted that Kate go into a backroom and Lisa had waited outside. She had heard some strange noises in the back - it sounded like a woman moaning and the rustling of clothing, the clicking of heels.

Intrigued she had waited until the receptionist wasn't watching and then quickly snuck into the back. A strange pink glowing light was emenating from a partially closed door and sneaking over, Lisa had peered through.

"Mmmmmmh oh FUCK YESS! Make me into a bitch, I love how this feels!"

Seated in the centre of the room, her legs spread wide and a manicured set of fingers eagerly rubbing her tight shave pussy was Kate.

Her other hand was currently being held by a woman who was applying the last of a set of pink glossy nails. As each one attached to Kate's fingers they glowed pink and she screamed in lust.

The nails seemed to be changing Kate, each one was twisting and bending her body - corrupting her and making her into someone new. Her short brown hair was now long and blonde and as another nails slid into place, it became even silkier and sexier.

Soft pink lips pushed out into a pout as mean blue eyes shone with cruel triumph. Large firm breasts now pushed out from Kate's chest and she was as skinny and curvaceous as a supermodel.

Her clothing had transformed into an expensive figure hugging dress with transparent panels and long sleeves. Expensive jewelry dripped from her body and the smell of Chanel perfume filled the air.

Six inch heels now crowned Kate's feet, a matching pedicure to her new evil manicure on every toe.

Kate's skin was now flawless and tanned, her eyes made up with long fake lashes and her body a wet dream. She looked like a mean popular rich girl and her posture suggested she felt like one too.

As the final nail slid into place, Kate screamed and moaned in triumph. "YES! That loser Kate is fucking dead - I AM KAYLA. Mmmmh I feel so yummy and evil, I love what your magic nails have done to me."

Backing away in horror, to her shame a little turned on, Lisa staggered back to the waiting room and she was stunned a few minutes later when the newly transformed Kayla strode in and looked at her with a twist of disgust on her pretty lips.

"Drive me home you fucking loser, I have things to do."

Lisa didn't know what else to do. She took Kayla home, only when she pulled up to the house where she thought Kayla lived the other girl screamed in rage.

"Are you fucking retarded. I don't live here. I live at the mansion on 1st street."

Lisa found herself driving into the most expensive part of town. She dropped Kayla off in amazement, who without even a thank you strode off into the most expensive looking house on the street.

It didn't take Lisa long to realise that the nails had someone changed Kate and also the reality around her. For some reason Lisa hadn't been affected, but she quickly surmised it might be because she had witnessed the transformation and therefore been immune to some of it's effects.

To everyone else, Kayla was now the richest most spoiled bitch in town. She was a mean, popular bully who didn't care who she hurt.

Lisa went back to the salon, but they just laughed and said she must be mistaken about what she'd seen. A week later when she tried to go back with the police, it was to find the premises were closed down and the business had mysteriously moved.

Meanwhile Kayla's nails showed no signs of aging out or chipping. It was as if they were indestructible. They also seemed to obey her whims. If she needed yellow nails, they would change, if she wanted them French Manicured - they would alter to suit her mood. Lisa began to realise with horror that the transformation was permanent.

Six months passed and Kayla became the terror of the town. She was now dating the hottest boy at school and was relentlessly bullying Melody.

Once the two girls had been almost like sisters, now Kayla seemed to enjoy destroying and hurting Melody, almost as if it disgusted her to be reminded of her old life.

She would make jokes about Melody, physically push her around, spread malicious gossip and even turn everyone else against her. Watching Melody come home night after night, weeping and crying had broken Lisa's heart.

She had turned Kate into this monster, she had to fix it.

It hadn't been easy to capture Kayla. The bitch was suspicious and cruel, catching her off guard and knocking her out with chloroform hadn't been easy. Dragging her into the car, driving her home, tying her up... it had all been difficult.

But now she was here and Lisa was determined to remove the evil magic nails from her if it killed her.

Kayla was fighting like a wild cat as Lisa grabbed her hand and examined the nails. They looked glossy and hard, powerful and impossible to remove. She grabbed a bottle of the strongest nail remover she could find and dumped it over the nails.

She waited a few minutes and yanked at one, but it was welded to Kayla's finger and appeared unaffected by the varnish remover The girl snarled, but her eyes flashed triumphantly. Her eyes said 'you fucking bitch, this isn't going to work'.

Lisa felt a surge of despair. Next she tried a solvent, but that didn't work either. The nails were magical and unaffected by anything she did.

Sobbing Lisa reached down and her own nail clashed against Kayla's. She felt a strange tingle and as she watched the colour began to flow from Kayla's fingernail onto her own.

Lisa's mouth dropped open as she watched one glossy nail transfer to her index finger - smooth, pink and sexy. Kayla convulsed and Lisa saw to her astonishment that her hair was suddenly shorter and darker than it had been.

The nails couldn't be removed, but they could be transfered to a new host!

Pinning down Kayla's hand, Lisa carefully lined up her nails with Kayla's and touched them. She moaned as she felt the slutty evil nails sliding across and sucking onto her own hand. Each one locked into place, and she flexed her fingers admiring the smooth glossy claws and how good they looked.

"Mmmmh fuck yes, give me more," snarled Lisa laughing to see the fear in Kayla's eyes as her body began to change back into Kate's. "Not so cocky now are you bitch?"

Reaching down with her other hand - whilst using her manicured hand to touch herself, Lisa moaned pleasurably as she felt the rest of the nails transfer over to her.

Her whole body tingled and she felt her aging skin become smoother and her hair take on lustre and depth again. Her sagging tits pushed out and swelled up as her ass expanded and her drab clothing became expensive and rich.

Lisa could feel her personality changing and it felt good. Why be some fucking boring housewife when she could be a hot slutty rich bitch who got everything she wanted.

"Ohhhhh Kayla... or is that Kate? I paid for these nails so I must be their true owner. That must be why I was able to transfer them over to me. Now I'm the bitch and you're nothing!"

Lisa stretched, enjoying how good her now younger and fitter body felt. "Mmmmh ohhh yes, that sadsac Lisa is gone, I'm Isla the trophy wife now. My husband is a rich loser who can't stop me cuckolding him every chance I get. My daughter Melody is the biggest bitch in town and you're her pathetic victim."

Kate was now back to normal and staring up at the dominant woman in front of her in horror.

Suddenly the door opened and a big titted blonde bitch in a cheerleader uniform walked in. She looked a little bit like Melody, but a twisted and evil version.

"Hey Mom, what is this loser doing tied up in our house?"

Isla laughed at her protegee and stroked her daughters hair. "She's yours to play with daughter. I hope you enjoy."

Leaving Kate's fate with her daughter, Isla strode away. She had a date with a big black cock and she couldn't wait to wrap her evil new nails around it. Being bad felt so good.

Nothing beat having a good bulli-cure on your fingers...

THE END

#evil bitch #evie hyde #bully tf #magic nails #power swap #bitchification

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