biloverd

[biloverd]

⟡ Control B.E (pt.2 of overruled)

⟡ Warnings: smut. established relationship, power dynamics, oral (r receiving),overstimulation

⟡ Summary: billie is pissed that you were teasing her all night and after you make her cum she’s showing you that actions have consequences

⟡ a/n: i actually hate this so much guys im so sorry😔

⟡ @urjustsosweet here damn😒 (love you gang)

She’s still flushed when she straddles you, knees sinking into the couch on either side of your hips. Her hands hit the cushions hard, caging your head in, and she’s glaring like she could burn through you with just her eyes.

“Lie down” she says again, but it’s gritted, like she’s trying to hold herself together.

You tip your head back into the cushions, all faux-innocence. “You’re mad.”

Her jaw flexes. “Don’t start”

Then she’s kissing you.

No she’s biting you.

Her mouth is hot and rough, like she’s trying to make you feel every bit of her frustration. You let her, because you know what’s coming. Her thigh presses between yours, grinding up just enough to make you gasp.

She hears it, pulls back just enough to smirk. “Oh, now you want to make noise.”

You just hum, smug. She ignores it.

Her hand drops between your legs, cupping you under your skirt, pressing down hard. “Soaked” she mutters, almost disgusted. “You’ve been like this all night?”

“Maybe.”

Her nostrils flare. “Fucking slut.”

“Mmhm just for you baby” You answer knowing she’s gonna break soon if you keep riling her up.

The growl she lets out is low and dangerous. She pushes your shirt up, dragging it over your head without ceremony. Her eyes rake down your body, sharp and assessing. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

You grin. “Nope.”

Her fingers twitch against your waistband, and she leans closer, voice dropping to a rasp. “You think you’re in control here?”

“Pretty sure I am.”

Something in her expression cracks, just for a second, but then she’s yanking at your skirt, dragging it down hard enough to make your hips lift.

She mutters something under her breath that sounds like a curse, and before you can poke at her again, she’s sliding down the couch, pushing your legs apart with a firm hand on each thigh.

She doesn’t look up when she says “You’re not gonna be so confident in a minute sweetheart.”

But the way her hands linger on your thighs? The way she’s gripping them to not lose control? The way her breathing’s already shaky? Yeah, you know better.

Her fingers hook into your underwear, dragging them down your legs slow, almost teasing.

Except you can tell she’s not trying to tease. She’s trembling.

You smirk. “Someone’s excited”

Her head snaps up, glare sharp. “Shut up.”

But she’s already leaning in, already pressing her mouth to you in one hot, deliberate lick that makes your breath hitch.

She hums, tongue pressing flat against you, and you can feel the fight in her, like she’s trying to make it rough, trying to punish you with pleasure.

She fails almost immediately.

The second you moan, soft, breathy, in an almost angelic way, it’s over for her. Her grip tightens on your thighs, and she’s licking harder, deeper, falling into a rhythm she can’t pull herself out of.

You watch her from above, head tipped back, breathing heavy, eyes glazed. “That all you got?” you murmur teasingly.

Her nails dig into your thighs leaving crescent moon shaped marks, “You’re a nightmare.”

“Mhm” you hum, voice shaking “you love it.”

She tries to glare again, but she’s too busy, too lost in the taste of you. Every flick of her tongue is faster, needier, until she’s not punishing you at all. She’s chasing you, desperate to make you fall apart.

And you let her.

Because you know exactly how this ends.

She keeps trying to be rough short, sharp licks, biting your clit just a little. But every time your hips twitch toward her, every time you let out a quiet, helpless sound, she loses another piece of her composure.

Her fingers slide under your ass, pulling you closer to her mouth. “Stay still” she mutters, but it’s shaky now, the authority fraying at the edges.

Her head lifts just enough for her to glare at you, but you can see it.

Her pupils blown wide, lips slick, chest heaving. She looks wrecked already, and she hasn’t even made you cum yet.

Then she pushes two fingers into you without warning, slow but deep, curling up in a way that makes your mouth fall open.

She doesn’t give you time to recover.

Her lips are back on your clit, sucking just hard enough to make your back arch.

“Fuck” you breathe, and you see her jaw set like she’s telling herself not to react.

She speeds up. Her fingers pump harder, tongue flicking in short, messy strokes. She’s stopped pretending she’s in control.

Now she’s just chasing it, chasing you, every movement saying she needs you to break for her.

It’s working.

Your legs tense, thighs trembling, and you bite your lip just to draw it out. But she knows. She can feel it.

“Don’t hold back baby” she says, and it’s not a command anymore.

It’s a plea.

You let go and the orgasm hits fast and hard, pulling a gasp from your chest as your hips roll against her mouth. She groans into you, fingers still moving, tongue still pressing and circling, dragging it out until you’re panting, nails clawing at the couch.

“Billie—fuck—”

She doesn’t stop.

She’s lost in it now, licking you through it, chasing the aftershocks like she’s trying to wring every last drop out of you. Her free hand grips your thigh so tight you’ll feel it tomorrow, and you’re pretty sure she’s moaning more than you are at this point.

“Billie—” you gasp again, voice already frayed.

She lifts her head just enough to look at you her lips are wet, eyes glassy, expression somewhere between smug and feral. “What?”

“I—” You don’t even know what you were going to say, because her fingers curl deep again, right into that spot, and your voice cuts off in a choked moan.

“Yeah” she murmurs, like she’s figured something out.

“Gonna make you fall apart.”

Her mouth is back on you before you can deny it, sucking your clit with slow, steady pressure while her fingers work you harder, deeper.

She keeps going faster, her fingers pumping in and out your pussy like there’s no tomorrow, while simultaneously the suction on your clit gets more intense.

The pleasure spikes so sharp it’s almost too much, your thighs trembling against her shoulders. You try to squirm away but she follows, pushing you back into the cushions, relentless.

“Billie—slow down—”

“No.”It’s short, final, and it sends a shiver right down your spine.

The second orgasm slams into you before the first one has even faded, ripping another string of broken sounds from your throat.

You grab at her wrist, meaning to push her away, but she just tangles her fingers with yours and pins your hand to the couch.

“Don’t run” she says, and the way her voice shakes makes it worse.

Like she’s getting off on keeping you there.

Your cockiness is gone now. Just breathless moans, thighs clenching around her head as you ride out another wave. But she’s still moving, still licking, still curling her fingers like she’s on a mission.

By the time the third one hits, you’re a mess. Hips jerking without rhythm, head thrown back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity.

“Billie—fuck, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You’re gonna give me one more.” she says, low and certain, and she doesn’t let up.

You break again, harder than before, and now you’re sobbing out half-formed words, begging without meaning to.

Your free hand finds her hair, pulling, desperate—but she only groans against you and pushes deeper.

When the fourth orgasm hits, it’s too much for you.

Your whole body is shaking and a sharp cry tears from your throat. “Billie—please, I’m—fuck, I’m done, I’m done—”

She finally slows, easing her fingers out and pressing one last kiss to your clit like she’s claiming it. Then she sits back, mouth swollen, breathing hard, looking at you like she’s just won something important.

“You’ll never be in control baby.” She murmurs as she presses a kiss to your forehead.

“But it’s cute that you tried.”

⟡ dividers from: @uzmacchiato, @bernardsbendystraws

⟡ like always thank you for reading my angels and im sorry this one isn’t great☹️

[biloverd]

xei and her talented ass did it again

OVERRIDE ✮⋆˙

⚘. natasha romanoff x reader

SUMMARY. natasha stops the tower elevator mid-ride and makes you stay quiet while she has her way with you, then starts it up again while you're still coming down.

WARNINGS. smut, mirror sex, fingering (r!receiving), established relationship, degradation/praise contrast, edging, overstim, teasing, public/workplace setting, use of petnames, dom/sub dynamics, verbal commands and power play

WORD COUNT. 2.5k

NOTES. stay freaky 🙂‍↕️

TAGS. @billiesbabyy444 @peytonneilish @caliscomettt @cceanvvaves @satontheroofyouandi (click here to be on my taglist! <3)

the tower’s loud today. louder than usual.

tony’s been in and out of meetings since 9am, sam and bucky have been arguing about something stupid in the kitchen for the last hour, and there’s at least three agents you’ve never seen before walking around like they own the place. which, of course, puts natasha in a stellar mood.

she’s already snapped at two people during morning briefings. snapped at you, too, except you didn’t flinch the way the others did. you just tilted your head, crossed your arms, and said something sarcastic that made steve pause mid-sentence and mutter something about professionalism before awkwardly clearing his throat.

it’s not that you mean to piss her off. it’s just that… you’re good at it. too good. and you keep doing it anyway.

there’s something about the way she glares at you across room that you’ve gotten a little addicted to. the way her jaw flexes when you talk back, the way she goes silent when you smirk.

natasha hasn’t said a word about it, not directly. but she watches. she always watches. and you feel it, every single time.

so when she calls your name across the common room, you follow. you don’t ask where you’re going. you just fall into step beside her and pretend your heart isn’t in your throat.

you glance at her as you walk. "you mad at me?"

"no," she says instantly. "you’re not worth that much energy."

you huff a laugh. "sure. okay."

the elevator doors slide open and you step inside, leaning back on the wall with mirrored paneling. it’s freezing enough that the chill immediately punches through your shirt and sinks into your spine. you flinch, just slightly.

natasha walks in a second later quietly. she doesn’t press a button.

just stands there, maybe a foot away, not close enough to touch you but close enough that the air feels different now, tighter somehow. heavier.

you keep your eyes on the door.

she’s silent, but you can feel her gaze like a knife dragged lazy across skin.

floor 44.

floor 45.

you slowly inhale once and speak without turning. “you could’ve said what you needed to say back in the briefing room.”

there’s a pause.

"if i said what i needed to say back there," she murmurs, her voice dropping enough to skim over your nerves, "you wouldn’t have walked out on your own."

your stomach dips, but you don’t give her the reaction she wants. not yet.

you wet your lips, still facing forward. the cold of the mirror is starting to make your back ache.

“so you waited until we were alone.”

"no," she says, like it’s obvious. "you did.”

your reflection is clear in the paneling across from you. your jaw’s tense. your arms are crossed. natasha’s standing besides you now, barely half a step away, and you don’t know when she moved that close.

you glance sideways, just for a second, and find her watching you—head slightly tilted, her expression neutral, but you know that look. you’ve seen it before, usually when she’s deciding whether to take the shot.

"you’ve been pushing me all day,” she says evenly. “like you wanted this exact thing to happen."

you blink. shift your weight again. your shoulder hits the mirror. it’s still cold. colder, even. or maybe you’re just warmer now.

"i’ve just been doing my job," you say, quieter than before.

her gaze sharpens.

“right,” she says, almost a scoff. “your job.”

she reaches out.

you don’t flinch, but you should’ve. her hand brushes past your waist, then pauses, and presses the emergency stop button.

a low thunk echoes through the walls. the elevator stutters to a full stop between floors. the lights dim, then snap to red.

you exhale slowly. your heart’s hammering now, too loud in your chest.

natasha’s hand stays hovering by the panel for another second before dropping to her side, and you realize she hasn’t looked away from you once.

"what are you doing?" you ask quietly.

she doesn’t answer. instead, she steps forward like she’s always had the right to take up this much space around you and just finally decided to do it. your back tenses. she doesn’t touch you yet, but you can already feel her. the heat. the weight. the want.

her voice is quiet, close to your ear now.

"no more pretending.”

you turn your head without really meaning to, maybe to ask what she means, maybe to get one last smug line in, but it doesn’t matter. she’s already there, and your noses brush before you even realize how little space was left between you.

you’re inhaling her. the scent of her, the leather of her jacket, that something under her skin that’s always felt volatile. her eyes flick to your mouth, and this time, they don’t bother coming back up.

and that’s it.

she kisses you.

her mouth crashes into yours like she’s been starving for it since the first time you rolled your eyes at her across the room. it’s hot and messy and the kind of swelter that makes you forget where you are for a second. her hand finds your waist, roughly digging into your skin, fingers wrapping tight like she’s anchoring you there.

she pushes you harder against the wall and fuck, it’s cold.

the paneling steals the heat from your body instantly, sharp enough to pull a full-body shiver out of you. you gasp into her mouth and she swallows it like she owns it. like it was always hers.

you squirm, your hips twitching forward instinctively, trying to get away from the mirror or closer to her, maybe both.

she bites your bottom lip on her way out of the kiss, then pulls back just far enough to speak.

“turn around.”

you hesitate and she sees the pause. of course she does.

her voice drops low and dangerous.

"i said, turn around."

you don’t wait for a third.

your hands hit the mirror and stay there, fingers splayed wide against the cold as you turn and face the wall. your back arches to escape from it and your hips shift away without thinking, and as soon as they do, natasha’s body is right behind yours.

her mouth lands on your neck immediately, open and hot and wet, her lips dragging along your skin. her hands grip your hips, hard enough to keep you still, and then she pulls your pants down without warning—rough and fast. they catch around your thighs, and the sudden exposure makes you gasp.

“look at you,” she says against your ear, and her breath is warm where everything else is freezing. one of her hands moves up your stomach under your shirt while the other slides between your legs. “barely touched and you’re already soaked.”

your forehead tips forward until it hits the glass. it’s freezing there too.

her fingers ghost over your underwear, barely pressing.

“what’d you think was gonna happen?” she asks, lazy and controlled, like she’s genuinely curious. “after all that mouth today, you thought i wouldn’t do anything?”

her hand at your front presses harder, knuckles grazing where you’re wettest. you jerk in place, soft and bitten-off, and she smirks against your skin like it’s the answer she was waiting for.

“you’re mine for the next ten minutes. maybe more. they’ll figure it out.”

your shirt’s bunched up under your arms, your pants are stuck around your thighs, and she’s behind you like she’s been planning this since the moment she saw you that morning. her chest brushes your back and the mirror is still cold against you.

she kisses down your neck again, tongue dragging slowly, and then her teeth scrape along your shoulder hard enough to make your knees buckle slightly.

“please,” you whisper. it slips out before you can stop it.

she freezes. her hand stops, her mouth goes still.

“what was that sweetheart?” her voice is calm, like she’s giving you the chance to say it again.

you shut your eyes.

“please.”

"that’s cute," she says, dragging the words out slow as her hand finally moves between your legs, over the thin fabric still clinging there, already damp. “but you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

you whimper and that only makes her smirk. you can feel it, the shape of it pressed against the back of your neck.

“please touch me.”

“i am touching you.”

her fingers stroke up again, slow, just barely there. it’s maddening. the mirror is still freezing under your chest and hips, but your whole body is burning.

“natasha,” you say, and your voice cracks when you do.

that’s what makes her finally move.

she drags her fingers under your waistband in one sharp move, sliding them between your folds, and you gasp—high-pitched and involuntary.

her fingers move slow at first, dragging through your slick, just enough to make you twitch. she teases without giving you anything close to what you need, and it makes your chest feel tight with frustration.

you rock your hips back involuntarily, trying to get her to give you more, but she pulls her hand away completely.

you actually cry out and she laughs, breath warm against your ear.

“you’re going to stay against that mirror until i say otherwise.”

you nod fast, desperate to keep her close.

“words.”

“yes. yes, i will.”

her hand is back before you can think, one finger pushing into you slow and deep, and your whole body arches forward into the cold glass. the mirror is freezing against your skin, her hands are cool, but everywhere else feels unbearably hot.

"fuck—nat," you choke out, forehead still pressed to the cold mirror, her name slipping like a reflex as her finger drags in and out of you, slow and steady and just enough to ruin your grip on reality.

"one finger," she says behind you, her voice low and almost amused, "and you’re already shaking for me like this? so needy."

your mouth opens but all that comes out is a sharp, helpless sound high in your throat as your hips roll back against her hand, chasing more friction, more depth, more anything, and she gives it to you.

she pushes a second finger in without warning. it’s thicker, deeper, and stretching you. your body jerks, chest smashing harder into the cold glass as a strangled noise breaks from you.

"that’s it," she breathes, and her free hand is suddenly up under your bra, cupping your breast with a rough squeeze, her thumb flicking over your nipple until you whimper. her mouth brushes along your jaw, catching your lips in a kiss that’s messy and demanding, her tongue pushing in like she expects you to give in to her completely.

her fingers speed up, thrusting harder, wet sounds filling the air, and you can hear yourself getting louder, voice breaking open, and before you can stop it her palm is over your mouth, catching in your hair as she holds your head still, muffling the cries ripping through you.

"be quiet," she growls, her voice sharp right in your ear. "you really want the whole tower to hear how desperate you are, hm?"

you shake your head fast, your cheeks burning, her hand holding you there like she owns you.

"look at me fucking you in the mirror," she hisses, pressing her hips into your ass, body crowding yours until you can barely move. "you wanted attention so bad. look at how easy you are for me."

you try to, you really do, but your vision’s going blurry, your reflection a flushed, trembling mess pinned between her and the glass.

you’re close. you’re right there, every muscle tight, your legs shaking—

and she slows down.

you let out a noise behind her hand, half sob, half moan, and she keeps her fingers deep but lazy now, barely thrusting and tracing slow, taunting circles over your clit.

"you wanna cum?" she asks, her voice low and sharp. "then you’re gonna tell me you’ll fix that fucking attitude."

you freeze for half a second and she stops completely, her fingers still but heavy inside you.

you nod quickly, wide-eyed, your breath fast against her hand.

"say it."

"i’ll fix it," you mumble into her palm, voice all broken.

"what was that?"

you whine, head dropping back on her shoulder, and force it out louder. “i’ll fix my attitude. please—natasha—please, mommy.”

she makes a low sound in her throat and starts again, fingers slamming back into you, curling just right, her pace brutal. "good girl."

your body breaks.

you cum so hard you see white, your cry caught behind her hand, your whole body trembling as your orgasm rolls through you, relentless and hot and overwhelming. and just as your knees buckle, just as you're barely holding on—

natasha starts up the elevator again.

your eyes fly open, your reflection a wrecked mess with her still fucking you, her fingers thrusting even as the floor numbers start climbing.

"n-nat," you stammer, "i c-can’t—"

"yes, you can," she mutters, slowing just enough to make you twitch. “you better before we reach the next floor.”

finally, she pulls her fingers out, and your legs almost give. you’re still catching your breath when she’s pressing them to your lips without hesitation.

"clean up, baby. be good for me."

you moan around them, sucking greedily, tasting yourself, your body still trembling as she watches with dark, proud eyes.

when she finally kisses you again, it’s slower, softer, but still makes your knees weak.

"you did so good for me, pretty girl," she murmurs, her tone dripping with satisfaction. "but don’t embarrass yourself with me like that again, got it?"

your head spins. your hands fumble to pull your pants back up, legs still weak, the mirror’s chill no longer present on your skin as you drag your shirt down and swipe at your hair. your fingers are trembling.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” she grins, crossing her arms.

just as you button your jeans, the elevator dings and the doors open.

two agents are standing there. it’s the same ones natasha barked at earlier, both looking more confused than concerned.

"you guys alright?" one of them asks. "the emergency stop was activated for a few minutes."

natasha doesn’t even blink.

"clearly," she says, deadpan. "we’re fine."

she steps out without another word, calm like nothing happened.

you follow half a step behind, giving the agents a quick, awkward smile while you run your fingers through your hair, your pulse still racing, your legs still shaky, and you keep walking after her like the last ten minutes didn’t just happen in the middle of a workday.

© agentbils

bow dividers from @/cursed-carmine

[biloverd]

eep

eepy

[biloverd]

Just curious ( I want to know every little thing about you)

[biloverd]

hi my angels pt 2 for overruled is coming out tomorrow!!

probably not gonna have my intro post finished tomorrow…

im so sorry for the wait i was gonna post it today because im sick so i thought id have more time but instead im literally dying😒

anyways i love you all bye

[biloverd]

you tried to make it better but you’re just proving exactly why i left.

you don’t know me at ALL

[biloverd]

she texted me

i checked instantly and screamed

did 9000 back flips

i smiled and kicked my feet

Did 2000 laps around my house

Cartwheeled 456 times

Smiled and kicked my feet again

i texted back nonchalantly(not nonchalantly it was very chalant)

#sheaintevenknowit

LMAOOOO

[biloverd]

as always fucking amazing

I'M SORRY ⊹ ࣪ ˖

best friend!billie eilish x fem!reader

➼ warnings: angst, language, takes place before billie's famous famous ➼ wc: 2.5k ➼ an: gracie live at lolla fucked me up can u tell

golden hour stretches across the beach, the kind of perfect late summer evening that makes you want to believe in magic. the ocean sparkles like thousands of diamonds in the sunlight, each wave lapping at the shore with a gentle rhythm that matches your heartbeat.

shark splashes through the shallows, kicking up sprays of water that catch in the light, his tongue out and tail wagging hard while billie gives chase. her laughter carries through the salty breeze as she jukes him out and she looks like an angel—hair blowing in the wind, cheeks pink from the sun, her eyes crinkling when she smiles. you've seen her like this a million times before, but tonight it feels different.

"you gonna sit there staring or what?" she calls over her shoulder, grinning as shark shakes himself off right next to her.

"maybe," you call back, unable to stop your own smile. "it's a nice view."

billie rolls her eyes but her laugh betrays her and she walks back to the blanket spread out near the dunes. the fading sunlight reflects the droplets of water on her skin, making her glow as she collapses dramatically next to you, her shoulder pressing against yours. "tired already?" you tease, nudging her.

"exhausted," she sighs, flopping onto her back and stretching her arms above her head. the movement makes her shirt ride up a bit and you look away quickly, focusing very hard on the horizon. "he's got infinite energy, i swear."

you hum in agreement, watching shark sniff at the sand, before your fingers start to tap nervously against your thigh. the moment feels suspended, perfect, like the universe is holding its breath. billie turns her head to look at you, her expression softening. "what?"

your mouth goes dry. this is it. the perfect moment you've been waiting for. you open your mouth—

billie's phone buzzes loudly from her discarded bag. she hesitates, her eyes flickering between you and the sound, before she sighs and reaches for it. "sorry, one sec."

the spell breaks. you exhale, running a hand through your hair as she checks the notification. you can see the way her expression shifts, something guarded slipping into place before she quickly locks her screen and tosses the phone aside. "everything good?" you ask.

"yeah," she says, too quickly. "just...work stuff"

she's lying. you know her too well not to notice the stiffness in her shoulders, the way she won't meet your eyes. but before you can call her out on it, shark comes barreling into both of you, his wet fur and sandy paws effectively derailing the conversation. billie laughs, shoving at him halfheartedly, and just like that, the moment's gone.

the sun dips lower, colouring the clouds in a deep orange and gold. billie's been quieter since the phone thing, her fingers restless as they trace patterns in the sand. you'd lost count of how many times you'd almost said it—the words sitting heavy on your tongue, threatening to spill out every time she looked at you with those magnificent blue eyes. i love you, billie, i always have.

"hey," you say softly, bumping your knee against hers. "what's up with you?"

she stiffens up a bit. "nothin'. why?"

"you've been weird as hell since you checked your phone."

billie swallows hard, her gaze fixed on the horizon. the breeze carries the scent of her shampoo, something sweet and familiar, something that makes your chest ache more than it already is. "i..." she takes a shaky breath. "i—y/n, there's something i need to tell you."

your heart pounds. you're sure it's going to cramp up from how hard it's beating. was she—? could she possibly—?

then you see her face. not the soft, hopeful expression you'd imagined so many times. not the sweet and shy smile you'd dreamed about. her mouth is pressed into a thin line, her eyebrows drawn up together in something that looks painfully like guilt. the hope dissolves in your chest. "bils?"

she won't look at you. can't. "i got offered a residency by my label. away from here."

the words don't make sense at first. you're waiting for the but, for the i told them no, for anything that might make this better. it doesn't come. "...what?"

"it's—it's a really big opportunity for my music," she says, too quiet, too careful. "the kind i can't say no to."

you're confused now. "when do you leave?"

you see her swallow as her jaw clenches briefly. "tomorrow." the world stops. tomorrow? she finally turns to look at you, her eyes shining with tears. "i'm sorry."

she's sorry. that's it? something sharp and hot claws up your throat. "how long have you known?"

billie flinches and looks down. "a couple months."

the words don't sink in at first. you hear them, those three words, but you're not processing it—not with the way the sun is still warm on your skin, not with shark panting happily at your feet, the stupid picnic blanket still spread out like this is some normal evening. then it hits, slow and sick. months. the ocean keeps lapping at the shore like nothing's wrong. the birds still fly overhead. it's like the world is mocking you with its beauty while your heart stops beating. and billie—she can't even fucking look at you.

your hands start shaking first. it starts in your fingers and settles thick in your chest. the sunset's fading now, the golden light turning bloody at the edges. how fitting. that means every late-night talk, every time she held your gaze a second too long, she knew. she was leaving and she let you sit there, stupid and hopeful, while she was already halfway out the door. a couple months. you want to scream. you want to shake her until she can't think. you want to demand why. why she waited, why she lied, and why she let you believe in something that was already over before you even got to say how you felt. but all that comes out is a broken, disbelieving laugh, because what else is there to do.

"months," you repeat. your voice sounds strange to your own ears. billie opens her mouth, but you cut her off. "a couple fucking months?" your voice is raised to a yell.

she only gives a small nod. and the worst part is she looks sad. like that makes it any better. like her stupid guilty face fixes anything. the anger boils over then, sharp and sudden. "so you let me—" your voice cracks. "fuck, billie, you let me—" you can't even finish. can't say out loud how stupid you feel for all those nights you almost told her, all those times you bit your tongue because the moment wasn't perfect enough.

shark noses at your hand, but you can't move. the wind picks up, sending sand skittering across the blanket. billie's jaw quivers and a single tear slips free and it makes you want to scream. she doesn't get to cry. she has no right. "fucking look at me," your voice shakes. "why would you do that?" you choke out, and there's a tightening in your chest and nose that tells you you're close to crying.

the breeze picks up, sending her hair whipping across her face, and behind her, the last sliver of sun drowns in the ocean, staining the sky in the exact purple-blue of a fresh bruise. it feels symbolic in a way that would be poetic if it didn't hurt so damn much. "i didn't know how to tell you."

"you didn't—" you scoff, "are you fucking serious? billie, we've spent every day together for the past god knows how long and you didn't know how to tell me?"

billie's face crumples. "i didn't want you to react like this!" she vaguely gestures at you.

"no, you're a coward," you snarl at her, the venom evident in your voice, as you surge to your feet. the blanket tangles around your ankles as you stumble back. "you didn't tell me because you didn't wanna deal with the consequences. you were just gonna disappear and leave me worried and wondering what the hell happened!"

"that's not true!" she stands up, reaching for you, but you jerk away, your eyebrows furrowed together.

"don't." your voice breaks and it's getting harder to hold back your tears. "don't you dare fucking touch me."

shark whines nervously, pressing against your legs. you can't focus on anything except the way your chest is caving in and the way you're feeling more and more lightheaded. all those moments you'd thought were leading somewhere, all the lingering touches and almost-confessions, they'd meant nothing. she'd known she was leaving the entire time. the realization sends another punch to the gut. "you were never gonna stay," you whispered.

billie makes a small noise. "it's not like that."

you're close to losing it with her short and vague answers. "what's it like then, billie? enlighten me, please." the words come out sharper than you intended, laced with all the hurt and betrayal you're feeling.

"i don't know."

you turn around shaking your head with a laugh. "how rich. you don't fucking know. who the fuck knows then, huh?"

"i—i was scared, okay?" her voice cracks. "i'm terrified! this is everything i've worked for but it's also—" she cuts herself off, biting her lip.

"but it's also what?" you demand, the fury evident in your voice.

"complicated!" she explodes, throwing her hands up. "i don't know. i don't know if it's what i want anymore and..." she trails off for a moment before continuing, "and because of you! okay? because every time i thought about leaving, all i could think about was..."

"was what?" you say, tired of having to squeeze every single word out of her mouth.

"about how much it would hurt you!" she takes a step back, running a trembling hand through her hair. "god, you have no idea..."

the fight drains out of you suddenly, leaving behind nothing but hurt and exhaustion. "you should've told me still."

billie's shoulders slump. "i know."

the silence stretches between you, heavy. the sky's almost dark now, the brilliant colours fading into muted blues and grays. "i'm going," you finally say, voice hollow.

billie's head snaps up. "wait—"

but you're already turning away, walking as fast as you can, your vision blurring. then—

"i love you!"

the words stop you dead in your tracks. your breath catches, your entire body going rigid. you turn slowly. billie stands there, her chest heaving, desperation written all over her face. "i love you, y/n," she says again, quieter this time. "i have since...god, since forever. and that's why this is so fucking hard."

the confession should've been everything you wanted. but it's not. the words i love you hang in the air like it's waiting for you to do something about it. you turn slowly, your entire body numb. "you what?" the laugh that rips out of your chest is broken. "you love me? are you kidding me right now?"

billie flinches like if you slapped her it'd hurt less. "i mean it."

"no. no, you don't get to do this." your voice shakes with something way beyond anger. "you don't get to drop the one thing, billie, the one thing, i've wanted to hear for years like some fucking consolation prize before you leave."

"i'm not—"

"okay, when?" you take a step forward, your hands trembling at your sides, your voice raising in despair. "if you didn't feel it this exact moment, when did you know, huh? was it at that party where we almost kissed? or was it last week when i almost told you and you changed the subject? why couldn't you have told me then?"

billie's crying in earnest now, her breath coming in gasps. ironic, you think. she's crying and you're not. but you're too pissed to let a single tear escape. she opens her mouth to explain, "i was terrified and—"

"I DON'T CARE!" the yell rips out of you, spreading across the empty beach. shark lets out a loud bark, but you can't stop. "i hate you. how could you tell me this now. fucking now when we're out of time. you don't love someone and then abandon them! you don't love someone and lie to their face for months! that's not love, that's cruelty!"

the words hit her like physical blows. she staggers back and stares at you before she opens her mouth again. "it wasn't easy for me either!" her voice is suddenly fierce, her tear-streaked face hardening. "i'm not some huge artist yet, y/n, but you've seen what's happening. the dms from strangers who think they own me just 'cause they stream my songs. the way fans show up at my house now. that guy last month who followed me home from the studio—"

she kicks at the sand. "and it's only gonna get worse. what happens when they get photos of us, hm? have you ever thought about that? when they dig though your instagram. when my fans decide they hate you just for being with me?" a bitter laugh escapes her. "i already lose sleep worrying about some obsessed fuck showing up in my life. you think i could live with myself involving you in all this?"

when you don't say anything, she keeps going. "i can't just think about what i want," she murmurs, swiping angrily at her tears. "not when everything i do has consequences now. and then there's you, y/n. you're my best friend, i need you in my life. you think i could risk that? risk us?"

her hand shakes as she reaches for you. "if we tried and i fucked it up like i always do...i'd lose you forever. at least if i didn't tell you—" she chokes on the words. "at least we'd be friends. i'd rather be friends than nothing. i was scared, alright? "

your knees are close to giving out, tears starting to pour out for the first time tonight. billie crashes into you, her arms locking around your shaking shoulders with a desperation that borders on violence. "i hate you," you cry into her neck, your fingers wrapping around her.

she holds you tighter, her body shaking. "i know."

then her lips find yours in the dark, salty from her tears and the ocean spray. she tastes like everything you've ever dreamt about and more. her hands clutch at your body like you're the only thing she'll ever need and you kiss her like this one moment can last for a lifetime and make up for everything. when you pull apart, her breathing is shaky against your lips. "please stay." you whisper, resting your forehead against hers.

somewhere along the shore, the waves keep crashing. shark's curled up on the warm sand. the moon rises higher and you stand there, face to face with the girl you love, praying tomorrow won't tear her away.

when you finally separate, her whispered i'm sorry gets caught in the sound of the tide rolling in.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[biloverd]

when she tells me why she’s busy without me having to ask just cause she knows it makes me feel more at ease😩

[biloverd]

i love maddy more than anyone else does 🙃

i love YOU more than anyone else does🫵

[biloverd]

[biloverd]

I CAN TAKE IT (B.E.)

thug!billie eilish x fem!reader

➼ warnings: smut, oral, strap (reader receiving), rough sex, post-fight adrenaline, mention of injury, mention of a gun, light choking, hair pulling, marking, bruising, swearing, praise, language ➼ synopsis: billie comes home all riled up from a fight and you know how the rest of the night's gonna go... ➼ wc: 2.2k ➼ an: THUGILLIE SAVE MEEE

──── · · ୨୧ · · ────

The front door slams open so hard the frame rattles. There's no cute greeting, no sweetheart, I'm home, called down the hall. Just the drag of feet on tile and that familiar click as she flicks the safety on her gun, the one that's loyally tucked in her waistband, before it clatters on the counter.

Billie's back. And something's wrong.

When you round the corner, your heart stops. Her knuckles are split, raw and red, blood smeared across her hand. You can only hope it's not hers. There's a fresh bruise blooming on her jaw, her clothes are roughed up, and her breathing's ragged and uneven, like she'd had her attempt at a marathon. Her eyes, wild and still riding the post-fight high, flick up to yours and lock onto you like a predator. "Billie—"

"Don't." She jolts her hand away when you reach for her, softening when she sees the worry in your eyes. "Baby, not right now. I'm—fuck, m'not in the right headspace."

Her voice is rough, strained, the kind that makes people flinch. You've heard about this side of her. The way she's sent grown men scrambling with just a look, how her mere presence brings about a chorus of whispers. That's the girl who put a knife to that guy's throat last summer. That's the one who shattered bones over a debt. You believe it now, seeing her like this. She's vibrating with energy and pure adrenaline, a breath away from snapping.

Your pulse hammers in your ears, loud enough to drown out thought. She's never been around you like this before. She's never so much as raised her voice at you. Those hands that have strangled and bruised only ever touch you like you're something precious she can't afford to break. Now, facing her for the first time like this, you can't tell if it's fear or excitement twisting your gut, maybe both, or maybe something else entirely, something that sends a rush through your entire body and pools between your legs. "You're bleeding, Bils," you remind her softly, stepping closer.

She flinches, like your voice is too much. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit." You grab her wrist gently, turning her hand to look at the the damage. It's only her knuckles, cut and swollen, her rings stained with red. "C'mon," you start, slow and persuading, "I'll clean you up."

She grits her teeth but doesn't pull away, giving you a singular nod. You lead her upstairs, fingers wrapped around hers, her pulse hammering under your touch. She's still breathing hard, still stiff, still angry. The bathroom light flickers on and Billie leans against the sink, watching you with that same feral intensity as you wet a cloth and grab the first aid kit. "Hold still, okay," you murmur, pressing the warm rag to her knuckles.

She hisses, not from pain. From your touch. From the way your fingers brush over her skin, soft and careful. "Fuck," she mutters, her free hand gripping the edge of the sink so hard her forearms bulge.

"You good?"

Billie shakes her head, letting out a pained laugh. "Tryna be gentle right now," she grunts.

"I know, baby, I know." She's way too wound up, too far gone to be gentle and think clearly. The way she's eyeing you, the way a fox would look at a rabbit before it pounces, sends a shiver down your spine. You wipe the blood away, slow, but when your thumb brushes her pulse point, she snaps. "Fuck it."

Her hands clamp around your wrist, yanking you forward so you collide into her. The cloth drops to the ground, forgotten. Her other hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back hard. "Can I?" She asks, and you appreciate the question though you're positive your answer won't change anything.

You still nod though. And she kisses you like she's trying to start another fight—all teeth and no patience, her tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You gasp and she growls, lifting you onto the counter in one rough motion. "Billie—"

"Shut up." Her hands are everywhere, reaching under your shirt, squeezing your thighs, digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. Billie rips your pants down, not even bothering to take them off, just yanking them to your knees. She doesn't give you a second to adjust, her mouth crashing between your legs without warning, just hot, wet pressure, her tongue flat against your clit, sucking hard. You jolt and your arm brushes over the counter, knocking half the medical supplies all over the floor but neither of you care. "Oh my god—Bil—!"

She moans, vibrating against you, her fingers digging into your thighs to keep you spread. When you tug her hair, she only knocks your hand away, pinning your wrist to the counter. "Stay still."

She doesn't stop, sucking and licking like her life depends on it, teeth scraping your inner thigh as a warning when you squirm too much. You're dripping now, the muscles in your legs tensing and shaking in fatigue. Then, completely out of nowhere, she stands up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Don't move."

She turns and quickly stumbles into the hallway and you can hear her crash roughly against the doorframe of your room. Before you can even ask her if she's alright, she's back, strap in hand. Her hands are shaking as she fumbles with it, too fucked up to adjust it right. You take over like it's natural, fastening it for her, and the second it's on, she grabs your hips and flips you around to bend you over the counter. You gasp as the cold surface bites into your stomach.

But then her hands freeze. She doesn't move, doesn't do anything. The whole room is still. You turn your head to look at her and her pupils are massive black circles, a stark contrast against the light blue of her eyes, there's beads of sweat dripping from her temple, and her jaw's clenched as a last thread of control. "What's wrong?" you ask, voice steadier than you feel.

Her jaw unclenches before tightening again. She swallows hard and drags her fingers down your spine. "You can tell me to stop, y'know," she breathes out. When you only nod, she moves her hand up to touch your cheek. "Gonna be rough. That what you want, mama?"

Your stomach tightens. "Yes."

"Say it." Her fingers dig into your hips. "Tell me you're sure or I won't move."

You push back against her thigh, letting her feel how wet she's already got you. "I'm sure. I can take it."

She doesn't wait, the second those words leave your mouth, her hand fists in your hair. "Atta girl," she says, yanking your head back as she lines the strap up with a brutal thrust, "always so ready for me, hm?"

You gasp, arching as she bottoms out, the stretch burning so good. "Fuck—oh my god—"

Billie's body slams into you, all the stuff on the counter rattling with every snap of her hips. "That's it, princess," she growls, leaning over you, her teeth scraping your shoulder. "Take it like you fucking mean it," she says, pure desire in her voice.

The slap of skin against skin is loud in the bathroom, the counter digging into your stomach with every brutal thrust. She's not gentle at all. The strap drives into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs, like she's exerting every ounce of fury still coiled in her muscles. She hits deeper and deeper every time, far past the spot that makes your eyes roll back and a moan escape your lips. And it feels so fucking good. Billie's grip on your hair tightens as she groans with every thrust, her breath ragged. Her rhythm grows erratic and desperate. There's no finesse, no calculated tease, just a pure, animalistic need. "C'mon," she growls, her free hand slipping to the back of your neck, not squeezing, just holding. "Let me hear you."

You whimper, your nails scraping the countertop, your legs close to giving out. Her chains are clinking against each other. "Look at you, baby," she gasps, "Y'look so goddamn perfect takin' it."

Her free hand claws at your thigh to hike your leg up higher. "C'mon, c'mon—" she chokes out. You've never seen her like this. Not during sex, not ever. Billie's always been controlled and measured, and even when she's rough, she's always aware of what she's doing. But now she's fucking into you mindlessly, her eyes hazed, teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle a broken moan.

And then she comes. Hard. Her whole body locks up, a ragged "Fuck!" tearing from her throat as she grinds the strap deep, her legs shaking against yours. She's never gotten off like this before and she's never finished this fast. You don't know what does it, whether it's from all the emotions, the fact that she's riled up and sensitive and all of a sudden your moans sound like heaven to her, or just the pure thrill of fucking you like this, but the way her fingers dig into your skin tell's you she's there.

"Fuck, holy fuck—" She's gasping, her forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as she rides it out, "Oh my god—you're—you're so fucking good, so good—"

The words come in bursts, her hips jerking erratically. You're dizzy with it, the heat building in your stomach as she drags the strap back before slamming it in again. She's relentless, chasing her own high, her hands shaking where they grip you. Then her fingers trail down your thigh, finding your clit with none of her usual precision—just desperate, urgent circles. "Look at you, baby," she pants, teeth scraping your shoulder as your body starts to tense.

She's still thrusting into you, one arm now locked around your waist to keep you upright when your knees buckle. You're getting close too, almost finishing just from the way she's so desperate. "Knew you could take it," she groans as your climax hits hard, eyes closing as you clench tightly around the strap. Billie curses loud, as if she could feel your pussy tightening around her and she doesn't stop until you're gasping, her own body still twitching with pleasure.

The moment it's over, her knees hit the floor. One second she's buried inside you, panting against your back and the next, she's collapsing onto the bathroom tiles, hands braced on the ground like she's about to pass out. You scramble to turn around, wincing at the ache between your thighs. "Billie?"

"M'fine," she grits out, but her arms are shaking too hard to push herself up. You drop beside her, cupping her jaw so she's looking at you. Her skin's hot and her pupils are still unfocused. Your thumb brushes the bruise on her cheekbone and she winces. "Just adrenaline dump, sweetheart. Gimme a sec." Her laugh comes out weak. "Fuckin' embarrassing—lasted two minutes like some virgin."

You laugh, helping her sit back against the tub. She groans, tipping her head back and taking a look at you, proper and clear-headed for the first time tonight. "You okay?" she asks, dragging you into her lap despite the way her muscles protest. "Didn't mean to go that hard."

You nod. "You're the one bleeding everywhere." She only huffs, her fingers trailing down your thigh, checking for bruises even as she struggles to move her own battered body. You grab the first-aid kit and its contents that had scattered to the ground earlier. "C'mon, tough girl. Let me patch you up."

The bathroom tiles are cold under your knees as you fish the antiseptic from the wreckage of the first-aid kit. Billie watches through half-lidded eyes, her breathing slowing, but her fingers keep twitching against your thigh like she's fighting the urge to grab you. "Hand," you say, reaching for her bloodied knuckles.

You know it stings as you dab at Billie's split knuckles but she doesn't flinch, only gripping your thigh. "Let me take care of you first," she begs, flexing her fingers, "I can do this myself. Please, baby, I insist."

You press the bandage harder than necessary and she hisses through her teeth. "You can't even lift your arms over your head right now."

"Fuck, fine," she grumbles, free hand anchored on your leg. "But I'll run a bath for you right after and get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You smile and nod. The adrenaline's finally bled out of her, leaving only exhaustion, but when you tape the last bandage in place, her hand catches yours. Not rough like before, but firm. "Look at you," she mutters, "made such a fuckin' mess, didn't I."

You laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to the least bruised part of her jaw. "Loved it though."

"Noted." She smiles, tugging you closer until your foreheads touch, her bandaged hands surprisingly gentle as they rest on your waist. Outside, the streetlight flickers through the window, lighting her face up in a pale yellow. "Then next time," she murmurs against your lips with a grin, "I'll try to last five."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[biloverd]

okay guys angst with a happy ending it is!🙌

help me out here angelss🫶

if anyone has anything specific they want my inbox is open for requests againn!

[biloverd]

“i’M tOo ScArEd To DoUbLe TeXt” BLOW UP MY PHONE PLEASEEE

[biloverd]

“I saw this and thought of you” okay kiss me now why don’t you

[biloverd]

I actually am going to crash out if i dont get a gf anytime soon

[biloverd]

never underestimate my ability to fuck things up