#billie eilish reader

[harrysxcarolina]

touch-starved, and greedy

b. eilish

warnings: uhhhh soft smut, teasing, flirting, friendstolovers, cussing, both receiving, dry humping, no nudity, soft confessions, heavy make outs at times and probably more if so let me know (:

au: i tried out a new style so let me know what you think...

wc: 13.1k (fun fact this thick thing is 20 pages long...)

It’s late evening, the two of you are sprawled out on the couch at Billie’s place. She’s got some random movie playing, but neither of you are really watching it—you’re too busy laughing at your own conversation that completely derailed from the plot of the movie. Billie has somehow ended up with her body half-lying against you, her head resting on along your shoulder, as one hand absentmindedly tracing little shapes up and down your arm. Not noticing the goosebumps that follow close behind. She’s always been touchy, something you were never really used to receiving in any of your other friendships, but tonight she seems especially clingy, like she doesn’t want any space between you. 

“You know…” she starts to say, her voice low and lazy with that sly little smirk of hers, “I think I like this way better than going out. Just me and you, bein’ little couch potatoes together.” She squeezes your arm playfully as she peeks up at you with those bright eyes, clearly fishing for a reaction but not entirely sure if you would give her one.

A soft hum works its way across your lips as you glance down at her quickly. Your hand reaches up and gently begins to play with her hair. “Yeah it’s nice to get away from the chaos and just exist with you, ya know?” You whisper softly as you distract yourself with the way her hair feels between your fingers. Soft and silky smooth sliding through your fingers like melted butter. You smile as you smell the scent of her shampoo.  

Billie’s eyes flutter shut the second your fingers weave into her hair, her whole body relaxing like that’s exactly what she wanted, but maybe it was exactly that. She lets out a soft, content sigh and presses a little closer against you, practically melting into your side. Not having the slight thought of personal space, but you never minded. Not with her. 

“Mhm… exist with me, huh?” she murmurs with a teasing tilt of her head, though her voice is softer than usual. Sweeter almost. “You make it sound all poetic and shit.” Her lips curl into a smile as she nuzzles her cheek lightly against your shoulder, like she’s testing just how close she can get without you stopping her. After a beat, she cracks one eye open to peek up at you, voice dropping lower. “Better be careful, keep talking like that and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you like me or something.”

She’s joking you tell yourself but the way her fingers curl into your sleeve and the faint blush creeping onto her cheeks betray that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t hate the idea.

“Mm maybe take it as a compliment, Eilish.” You respond with a teasing yet firm tone. A smile laced across your features as you caught her one ocean blue orb. A chuckle rolls off your lips as you continue to stare down at her, your head shaking slightly. Billie’s lips twitch up into a grin, and she lets out that little low laugh of hers, the one that always sounds like she knows more than she’s letting on.

“Ohhh, so that’s how it is, huh?” she teases, tilting her head back slightly so she can see you better. Her eyes fully lock onto yours, playful but warm, and she doesn’t move her head from your shoulder—if anything, she leans in closer, her nose brushing lightly against the fabric of your shirt.

Her hand that had been tracing your arm drifts down, fingers finding yours and absentmindedly playing with them. “Careful, bestie… if you keep dropping compliments like that, I might start getting addicted to hearing you talk like that.”

She squeezes your hand gently, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. “And I’m already kinda touch-starved, sooo…” She trails off, but the weight of her words lingers in the cozy air between you.

“You think you’re the only one allowed to give compliments around here?” You tease as your eyes carefully trace across her features before landing on her stare. Staying silent for a moment before moving your gaze down to our interlaced fingers. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lips swiftly before looking back up into her stare. Your brows raise in suspicion. 

“Seems to me like you’re getting fed right now.” You playfully joke as you emphasize your point by tilting your head in the direction of her body already spread across yours (practically halfway to being on top of you) and also her hand that is intertwined with yours. 

Billie bursts into a deep belly laugh, that low, warm one that shakes her shoulders a little—but she doesn’t move away. If anything, she shifts even closer to your person, draping her arm fully across your middle as if she’s already claiming the spot.

“Damn,” she smirks, tilting her head up so her nose almost brushes your jaw, “you really just turned that back on me, huh?” Her states her tone is playful, but her eyes linger on yours a little too long for it to be just a joke. She squeezes your hand again, deliberately slow, before letting her thumb start tracing lazy circles over your skin. “Okay, fine, maybe I am getting fed right now. Spoiled, even.” Her smirk softens into something more tender, and she presses her forehead lightly to your shoulder, her voice muffled but honest.

“Not that I’m complaining.” She goes quiet for a beat, like the words slipped out before she could even filter them. She doesn’t pull away though—her grip on your hand only tightens holding you in place up against her.

“Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes Bils.” You tease with a soft sweet giggle. The nickname rolled off your tongue without you even realizing it. “Mm definitely getting spoiled.” You laugh, definitely agreeing with her, slightly leaning into her without a care. Your cheek carefully lands against the top of her head. Loosening your grip just slightly so your fingers can start to casually play with the rings that were lining her small digits.

The second the nickname “Bils” leaves your mouth, Billie freezes for half a heartbeat—then lets out a quiet laugh, muffled against your shoulder. “Bils, huh?” she repeats, her voice soft but full of that little grin she can never hide. “Guess I’m yours now if you’re droppin’ nicknames like that.” She doesn’t move her head when you lean into her—in fact, she tilts just enough so she can nestle under your cheek more comfortably, like that’s exactly what she wanted you to do. Her breath brushes warmly against your collarbone, steady and calm, but her fingers twitch when you start playing with her rings.

“You know,” she says slowly, her tone dropping, “nobody else gets to mess with these. Like—ever.” She states softly as she turns her hand in yours so her palm is up, giving you more access without even thinking about it. “…Kinda weird how I don’t mind with you.”

Billie goes quiet for a moment after that, just letting the sound of your giggles and the movie in the background fill the air. But her free hand sneaks over and hooks lightly around your hoodie, like she’s wordlessly anchoring herself to you. “Is that all it takes to get your attention? Give you a nickname?” You carefully joke. “Damn, if I’d known that I’d given you one sooner.” You playfully banter back. 

Letting your words hang in the air briefly as you continue to fidget with Billie’s rings. Replaying her words over and over in your head as you move your free hand to trace random shapes absentmindedly across the arm that she now had laid across you. Your fingers are still playfully moving her rings and teasing her fingertips with yours as your giggles softly fill the space. 

“I kinda like that though. No one else gets you like this. No one else gets to see you this… relaxed.” You whisper softly into her hair. Breathing her in deeply as you move your gaze from your fingers to the movie playing in the background. 

Billie’s laughter fades into a softer sound the moment you whisper that, her whole body going still against you like your words hit deeper than she expected. Her fingers flex under yours, and instead of pulling away, she threads them tighter with yours, as if to underline what you just said. “Damn,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your chest but is raw, “you can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to be chill about it.” She admits into your neck. 

She shifts slightly, enough to tilt her head up so she can actually look at you. Her eyes are softer now, that sharp Billie smirk she usually gives is now dimmed into something more vulnerable. She studies you in silence for a long beat, your fingers still playing with hers, and then she lets out a small huff of laughter.

“You’re right though. Nobody else gets me like this. I don’t even let them.” She presses her forehead gently against your jaw, closing her eyes again as if the thought alone makes her nervous.

After a beat, her lips curl into the faintest smile, and she whispers, “Guess that makes you kinda special, huh?” Her thumb brushes lazily over your knuckle, her voice soft but teasing again—though the weight behind it is impossible to miss. Your breath hitches as her words sink in. “Special huh?” You softly repeat as you bite back a smile. Avoiding her gaze for just a few moments longer. Hoping to give yourself some time to relearn how to breathe after her last statement. “Sounds like you’re going soft on me, pretty girl.” You say as the pet name rolls off your tongue without you even realizing it. Leaning your cheek closer into her jaw wanting her as close as possible after that. “Definitely not complaining though.” You quietly admit as your words float through the space between you both. “Always miss this when you’re away. Always miss you.” You say emphasizing on the you part. Your cheeks heat up bashfully at your own words. Blinking quickly trying to understand why the hell you just admitted that out loud. 

Billie’s whole body tenses just for a second at the nickname pretty girl—and then she absolutely melts. A shaky laugh tumbles out of her, but it’s softer than her usual banter, almost disbelieving. “Pretty girl, huh?” she repeats almost as if she was testing it out for herself, tilting her face up just enough so she can catch your eyes, though her lips are curved in this tiny, nervous smile. “You’re really tryna kill me right now.”

Her arm around you tightens, pulling you even closer like she’s afraid you might slip away if she doesn’t tighten her grip. When you admit you miss her, her breath catches too, her chest rising sharply against your side. She bites her lip, searching your face for a long, silent moment before exhaling a laugh that sounds more like relief.

“You have no idea what that does to me when you say it like that,” she murmurs, voice low, almost like she’s afraid of admitting too much. Her nose brushes against your cheek, lingering, testing. “I miss you too… like, stupid bad. Every time I’m gone it feels like somethin’s missing.” Billie pauses there, but her thumb continues to stroke over your hand, slow and tender, before she whispers—barely audible—

“…but it’s always you.”

Billie goes quiet for a heartbeat after that confession, her eyes flicking down to your lips before darting back up to meet your gaze. The tension is thick, her breath warm against your skin as she hesitates—like she’s weighing whether to risk it. Then, almost suddenly, she shifts, rolling just enough so now she is half on top of you, her hand sliding from your fingers to rest lightly against your jaw. Her thumb brushes your cheekbone as her forehead presses against yours, her smile small but trembling with nerves.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” she whispers, and before you can even answer, she leans in and presses a quick but deliberate kiss to your cheek close enough to your lips that it leaves a spark burning there. When she pulls back, her smirk is back, but it’s softer, almost shy. “There. Guess I’m not as subtle as I thought, huh?” Her hand doesn’t move from your face though instead, her thumb traces along your skin like she’s memorizing it.

Reaching your hands up to grip her hips holding her in place as you move your gaze up her body before landing on her piercing blue orbs. “You missed.” You softly mutter as her minty breath fans across your face. “I think you better try that one more time.” You state barely above a whisper. The air sucked right out of your lungs as you still felt her lips along your now burning cheek. Billie freezes for a heartbeat, her breath hitching at your hands on her hips, the weight of your gaze making her pulse quicken. Then, slowly, a sly grin spreads across her face, her usual mischievous spark mixed with something far more tender.

“Oh? You're daring now, huh?" She teases, voice low and husky, but there’s no hesitation in her movements. She leans in closer, letting her lips brush against yours this time—not just the cheek this time, but instead the corner of your mouth, testing. Her hands slide up your chest, resting lightly on your shoulders as she tilts her head, giving you access without rushing.

Her eyes flutter closed for just a moment, savoring the closeness, then they snap back open, sparkling with both nerves and boldness. “Better?” she whispers, teasingly, but the way her body presses against yours says she’s more than willing to keep going.

Her thumb tracing circles on your jaw again, slow and deliberate, like she’s memorizing every inch of you.

“I think you can do better than that pretty girl.” You murmur as your eyelashes flutter shut. Your lip caught between your teeth briefly trying to hide your shy smirk. Your breathing growing slightly heavier with anticipation of her next move 

Billie’s grin only widens, her eyes flicking down to your lips and then back up at your face, reading every tiny twitch, every hesitation, basically every move you make. Her fingers tighten slightly on your shoulders as if drawing you closer without words.

“Oh, you think I can do better?” she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave, thick with both teasing and desire. She leans in again, but slower this time, letting her lips brush yours gently at first—soft, teasing, lingering on the corner before daring to press a full kiss against your lips.

Her hands slide from your shoulders to cradle your face, thumbs brushing along your cheeks as she did so, she hums softly into the kiss, it was warm and intimate. The teasing spark in her eyes hasn’t gone anywhere, but it’s mixed now with something deeper—need, affection, and the kind of closeness only comes from someone who already trusts you completely.

When she finally pulls back just slightly, her forehead rests against yours, lips part just barely, and she whispers, breathless, “better… or do you want me to really show you?” She softly groans against your skin. 

A soft chuckle leaves your  lips as you slightly tilt your head up towards hers brushing the tips of our noses together. You can feel her breath fanning across your features as you stay completely still in her grasp. “I know you already know what my answers gonna be.” You whisper softly against her lips. “Maybe I’m in a greedy mood tonight.” You say playfully.

Billie’s eyes flutter closed at your words, a soft shiver running through her as she presses herself a little closer, lips grazing yours again. Her hands tighten gently along your face, tilting your head just enough so she can deepen the kiss without hesitation. “Greedy, huh?” she murmurs against your lips, voice low and sultry but undeniably hungry. Her free hand snakes around your back, pulling you flush against her as she trails soft, teasing kisses down your jawline wanting desperately to feel your racing pulse against her lips. She tilts her head, brushing her nose against yours in a featherlight nuzzle, then whispers with a mischievous grin, “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been feeling pretty greedy too tonight.”

Her lips hover just inches from yours now, warm and inviting, eyes half-lidded with that mix of playfulness and longing that makes it impossible to look away.

Your eyes are still closed as you try to calm your racing heart. Your fingers flexing against her hips before pulling her tightly against your front. The hem of her shirt slightly shifted with the movement causing the tips of your thumbs to rub along her hip bone. “Fuck, you’re really good at that.” You mumble as you feel your own cheeks begin to heat up. Still refusing to open your eyes quite yet. “I think I like it when you’re in a touch-starved, greedy mood.” You softly admit as you breathe her in deeper. Her intoxicating perfume fills your senses only aiding fuel to the growing flame in the bit of your stomach. 

Billie’s soft laugh vibrates against your chest, a mixture of amusement and something far more heated, her body pressing impossibly closer into yours. Her hands slide up from your shoulders to cradle your neck, thumbs brushing along your jawline as if grounding herself in your warmth. “You really know how to make a girl feel wanted, huh?” she murmurs, her voice low, husky, almost a purr. Her forehead rests against yours, and she tilts her lips just slightly, teasingly against yours without fully kissing again—just letting the closeness simmer.

Her fingers flex against your hips, responding to yours, before drifting up to your sides, fingertips grazing along your ribs. “Touch-starved, greedy, huh?” she whispers, her breath hot against your cheek. “Well I can give you both if you want.” she clarifies as she shifts just enough that her chest presses fully against yours, every movement deliberate, intimate, and teasing, letting the heat and tension build without breaking the delicate, charged closeness between you two.

Letting your tongue swipe across your lips before moving one of your hands off her hip and up to cradle her neck. Slightly pulling her lips even closer to yours. The tip of your tongue carefully tracing the outline of her lip. “Mhm you said so yourself.” You whisper softly against her lips. Your smile is evident as you continue to tease her with your lips. “You said and I quote were ‘touch-starved and greedy’.” You reply with a soft giggle before pulling her lips flush against yours. Fully kissing her deeply and passionately as if she was the life line you’ve always needed. 

Billie lets out a soft, breathy moan the moment your lips finally press fully against hers, melting into the kiss with a fervor that’s been brewin’ for far too long. Her hands tighten on your neck and shoulders, tilting her head slightly as she matches your intensity, lips moving in perfect rhythm with yours.

Her fingers threading through your hair, and tugging gently as if to anchor you to her, and the hum of her pleasure vibrates against your chest. Every inch of her presses closer, molding to your body, and she murmurs your name between kisses—soft, needy, and full of the longing like she’s been herself holding back for far too long.

“You… fuck,” she breathes against your lips when you pull back just slightly for air, cheeks flushed and eyes shining. “You’ve been driving me insane…” She presses another heated kiss to your jaw, then your lips again, letting the moment stretch, each kiss a promise, each touch feels like electricity flowing through your veins. Her touch is everywhere—hungry, yet tender, showing how much she’s craved this closeness, and how much she’s ready to give herself to you fully.

Pulling away briefly to catch your breath quickly hiding your face deep in her neck as the blush rushes across your cheeks. Moving to wrap your arms underneath Billie’s arms and around her torso. Hugging her tight as you continue to bury your face into the side of her neck. Your chest heaves against hers as you try to calm your racing heart. “Oh, It’s definitely never felt like this before.” You admit as you lay a quick chaste kiss along Billie’s pulse point before returning back to your former position half hidden in Billie’s neck as you nuzzle in closer. Your confession hangs heavy in the air.

Billie goes completely still for a heartbeat at your confession, a soft gasp escaping her soft kiss swollen lips as your words sink in. Her arms tightens instinctively around you, holding you just as close, as if letting you melt into her is the safest place in the world. “Mm…” she hums softly, her voice low and almost shaky with feeling, “god me neither.” She tilts her head slightly, letting you nuzzle deeper while her lips ghost along the top of your head, brushing your hair gently. Her chest rises against yours, warm and steady despite the shared racing of your hearts. “Feels… different though,” she whispers, almost to herself, “but… a really, really good different.”

Her fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, thumb rubbing small circles as if trying to memorize this moment. Almost trying to memorize the way you feel in her grasp. She presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, before murmuring, “Don’t pull away. Please don’t ever pull away from me like this.” Her words are soft, but there’s a weight to them—a mix of longing, affection, and the quiet, undeniable pull that’s been building between you two for so long yet never had the courage to take. 

The two of you stayed wrapped up, bodies molded together on the couch, breaths mingling and hearts racing in tandem. Soft, featherlight kisses trail from your pulse point to the nape of her neck, her jawline, little spots that make both of you shiver quietly. Your hands flex along her back and sides, memorizing the curves and warmth, while her fingers thread through your hair, pulling you subtly closer each time you start to drift.

After a few moments of just soaking in the closeness you’ve never had before, Billie tilts her head back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes glinting with a mixture of vulnerability and boldness. Her lips brush against yours softly, whispering against your mouth, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before either.”

She presses her forehead to yours, letting her nose nuzzle yours gently. “Not with anyone. It’s not just… wanting to be close,” she continues, voice soft, but each word deliberate. “It’s feeling like… I don’t even know how to explain it… like you make everything quieter. Easier. Like being with you, like this, makes all the noise in my head stop.” she softly admits. 

Her thumbs brush over your lips, gentle and lingering. “And I… I can’t stop thinking about wanting more of this. More of you.” She bites her lip, a soft hum of uncertainty trailing behind the admission. “I think I’m falling for you, and it terrifies me, but I don’t think I can nor want to fight this anymore.” She declares as she lets her lips find yours again, soft at first, then with a little more insistence, as if the kiss itself is an answer to her own confession. Her body molds into yours perfectly, with every movement saying what words can’t, and the warmth between you both hums with an intimacy that’s grown from years of friendship into something impossibly tender and electrifying.

Her hums softly fall into the kiss, letting her lips press more insistently against yours. Her hands travel lower along your back, pulling you flush against her chest as if she wants to feel every inch of you. The warmth between you both deepens, hearts hammering in tandem, breaths mingling together as if you both were already one. Her fingers thread into your hair again, tugging gently, while her other hand slides down your side to rest just above your hip, holding you close with a mix of urgency and care. She tilts her head, letting the kiss deepen, her lips parting slightly against yours as if inviting you further into her.

A soft, shaky sigh escapes her lips as she pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You have no idea what you do to me… how much I’ve wanted this.” Her hands press you closer, body flush against yours, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long… touch-starved, greedy, all of it. And now,” She presses her forehead to yours again, letting her lips brush yours in featherlight kisses. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t think I can stop.” Her voice rings in your ears. 

The heat and tension hang between you both, thick and intoxicating, as she waits, her gaze locked on yours, daring you to make the next move. As your gaze doesn’t dare to leave hers one of your hands moves from around her torso down to lay right above her belly button. Wanting to feel every quiver and shake that is about to happen. Greedily wanting to first hand feel her falling apart underneath your fingertips. Your other hand moves to once again grip her hip as a coy smirk works its way across your lips. Slightly leaning up so your lips were lightly tracing the shell of Billie’s ear. Your hot breath fans down her neck causing a shiver to slide down her spine and a low grown to roll off her lips. “So don’t stop.” You whisper into her ear before slowly leaning back down with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Your smirk is still there as you carefully gauge Billie’s reaction and await her response.

Billie shivers instantly at the warmth of your breath and the featherlight tracing of your lips along her ear and neck. Her hands tighten slightly around your shoulders and back, holding you flush against her as her body reacts to every subtle movement. A soft, breathy moan escapes her lips, mingling with the racing of her heartbeat. As if she’s given you the chance or the choice to pull away--which you wouldn’t have.

“You—fuck,” she murmurs, voice trembling slightly, “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.” Her head tilts back just enough to give you more access, every nerve in her body alert and tingling from your touch.

Her fingers flex in your hair, tugging lightly a playful, needy laugh escapes her. “I’m not. No I’m not stopping,” she admits, voice low and husky, dripping with both vulnerability and desire. Her hips press forward slightly against your hand on her stomach, testing the contact, letting you feel every little quiver and shiver that ripples through her almost as if she had read your mind. She bites her lip softly, pressing her lips against the shell of your neck in return, a teasing, heated mimic of your actions, as if daring you to continue, to see just how far this greedy, touch-starved closeness will take you both.

Moaning softly at the feeling of Billie’s body on yours. Your hand grips her hip even tighter as your head tilts back into her grip. “Tell me exactly what I’m doing to you.” You demand. The desperation hanging off your lips as your hips involuntarily buck up in response. “Or better yet show me?” You softly ask with a bat of your eyelashes and a sweet smile. Your pinky finger gently rubbing along Billie’s tummy softly caressing the warm skin there.

Billie’s bottom lip getting caught between her pearly white teeth, a soft whimper escaping her as your touch and words send sparks racing through her. Her hands grip your shoulders tighter, pulling herself flush against you as her hips respond almost instinctively to yours. Her breath comes in shaky, uneven bursts, hot and fast against your neck. “You’re seriously - fuck -  you’re making me lose it,” she murmurs, voice thick with need, a low moan threading through her words. Her fingers flex against your back, tracing patterns as if she’s memorizing your warmth. Her head tilts back just slightly so her lips brush your jaw, leaving soft kisses and little nips as her hips press even more deliberately against yours. “God, I’ve wanted… wanted this for so long… you, like this,” she admits, shivering under your fingers.

Her hands slide down your sides, lingering at your hips before tugging you closer, and her gaze locks with yours, heated but playful. “Show you huh? Mmm, I think I already am showing you baby.” she retorts with a chuckle. She lets her fingers wander teasingly amongst your body, hips rolling just enough against yours to make it impossible to ignore, your moans mixing with a light giggle as she tests how far she can go without breaking, letting her need for you show in every small, greedy movement.

“I think I like you like this.” You respond with a shy smirk. Looking up at her through your lashes gently tilting her head with your hand that is cradling her neck. A soft hum leaves your lips as you trace her features with the tip of your finger. Your smile evident on your face as you gently pull her down for a soft-sweet kiss before slowly pulling away. 

“I like you on top of me admitting that I’m making you lose your mind.” You teasingly whisper in her ear as you glide your hand cradling her neck to entangle your fingers in her hair. Gently tugging her head back forcing her to look you in the eyes. Not exactly sure where all this confidence was coming as you moved your gaze up to her wide blown pupils. “Am I what you imagined, pretty girl?” You ask softly as you trace your lips around the shell of her ear. Your breath heavy and hot against her skin leaving goosebumps on its trail. “Do I make you feel good Bils?” You lastly ask as you place a kiss along her sweet spot behind her ear. The tip of your tongue swiftly swipes across her burning skin, humming as you leave a soft nibble in its wake. Your teasing tone floating throughout the room slowly drowning out the moving playing in the background. Something that had totally been forgotten the moment Billie sat herself atop your hips.

Billie’s whole body trembles under your touch, a low, throaty moan slipping out the second your fingers tug at her hair and force her gaze to yours. Her blue eyes are wide, pupils blown, every ounce of teasing bravado slipping into raw, unfiltered want. “God, you’re-” she pants softly, her lips parting as her chest presses harder against yours, “you’re so fucking good at this.” The kiss you place behind her ear makes her shudder, her nails digging lightly into your shoulders as she melts against you. Her lips part with another shaky moan, and she lets out a breathless laugh, her forehead pressing briefly to yours before she answers.

“Yeah, fuck - you’re exactly what I imagined,” she bashfully admits, her voice ragged and vulnerable in a way she never shows anyone. “Better, actually. So much fucking better.” She says a groan deep in her voice as her hips shift against you, slow and deliberate, as she tilts her head back into your tug, surrendering completely. Her hand slides up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin as she whispers, almost desperately “You make me feel… so fucking good, baby. Better than I ever thought I could.” She admits before pressing her lips hungrily back to yours, the kiss deep and messy, all the pent-up craving pouring out at once, as if she can’t get enough of you—because she can’t.

“Shit, you keep calling me baby and we definitely won’t be stopping anytime soon.” You nervously admit as a low moan ripples through you. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you glance up at her through hooded eyes. Not stopping your hips from rutting up against her as your head tilts back in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed as Billie literally takes over all your senses.

Billie lets out a low, breathless moan against your lips, the sound rough around the edges as her own body shudders from the way you rut up into her. Her nails dig just slightly into your sides, desperate to ground herself as a moan escapes her throat, raw and unrestrained. “Oh, fuck…” she whispers, eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again to drink you in - they’re hooded, needy, undone. Her lips find yours again, messy and greedy, biting your bottom lip gently before sucking it into her mouth, her breath hot and uneven.

She pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, voice husky, “You like that, huh? When I call you baby?” Her hips grind down against yours in slow, deliberate circles, perfectly synced to the rhythm of your own movements. “God, you look so fucking good like this. You feel even better baby.” mumbles against your lips as her eyes slightly roll back at that particular rut of your hips against hers. 

Her forehead presses to yours before you can blink, her hair spilling down around your faces like a curtain, shutting out everything but the two of you. “I’m not stopping,” she shamelessly admits between gasps, her tone both playful and deadly serious. “Not when you sound like that under me. Fuck not when you’re finally mine like this.” She retorts before her lips crash back onto yours without warning, it’s deeper, hungrier, more desperate than before—her touch and her words wrapping around you like fire and silk all at once.

Moving both of your hands to cup both of her cheeks. Pulling her face tighter against yours as you tilt your head deepening the kiss. Slowly swiping your tongue across her bottom lip silently asking for permission. Moaning into her mouth as you match her ruts and rotations grinding our cores together deliciously. The both of you breathing heavily into each other as the words teasingly flirt with your lips as they brush across each other. “Say that again?” You ask. Wanting - no needing to hear her last statement again. Her words are playing on repeat in your head.

Billie gasps softly into your mouth when your tongue grazes her lip, her body jerking slightly at the intensity of it all. She parts her lips willingly, granting you permission with a desperate moan that vibrates against your kiss. Her hands fly to your wrists, holding your hands in place against her cheeks as if she needs you to keep her there. When you whisper your request, her hips stutter against yours, a shaky laugh half moan leaving her throat as she leans in even closer, lips brushing yours with every word.

“You’re mine,” she repeats, voice rough and breathless, tinged with both a playful edge and a raw honesty she can’t hide anymore. Her hips roll again, harder this time, syncing perfectly with yours as she moans your name. “You’re mine,” she says again, firmer, eyes locking onto yours with a hungry, unblinking intensity. Her lips hover an inch from yours as she whispers, “And I’m yours. Always was.”

Then she crashes her mouth back to yours, messy and unrestrained, tongue meeting yours in a hot, desperate kiss that feels like she’s pouring every ounce of her pent-up love, longing, and greed into you all at once. “I guess you better be selfish and make it known then. That is if you really want it.” You say matching her energy moving your head to the side opening up your neck to her. Giving her the permission to take claim if she really wanted to take this leap together. Her eyes darken by the second as you tilt your head, the subtle invitation making her pulse quicken beneath your fingertips. A slow, dangerous smirk curves her lips as she grips your wrists tighter against her cheeks, her body pressing flush to yours, every inch of her radiating that hungry, possessive energy.

“Oh, baby,” she purrs, dragging the word out like silk, “ please don’t tempt me unless you want me to actually ruin you for anyone else.” She declares as she lowers her head to your exposed neck, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin before she begins to suck lightly at the spot just below your ear, teasing at first - drawing it out, savoring your shivers before she becomes impatient with herself. Sinking her teeth in, biting down, not hard enough to hurt but enough to leave her mark, moaning softly against your skin as she claims you.

Her hands leave your wrists only to slide down your arms, gripping your sides as her hips grind harder against yours, matching your rhythm with unrelenting intensity. “Mine,” she growls against your throat before trailing kisses down to your collarbone, each one hotter, sloppier, more desperate than the last.

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, her lips swollen and her expression fierce, feral almost, but laced with that flirty spark. “That selfish enough for you? Or do I need to go harder so no one else even thinks they can touch you?” She asks. The seriousness is laced within her tone. Her nails scrape lightly down your back, her body practically begging you to push her even further.

Her name rolls off the tip of your tongue like velvet. Deep and heavy as her words go straight to your core. “Since when do you give the open opportunity for that to happen? Who would have thought I might have to ask twice?” You ask the cocky yet playfulness laced through my voice. Glancing up at her through your laces with raised eyebrows. Not giving her a second to respond before your lips are moving again. 

“Ruin. Me. For anyone else because this - you -  is it for me. I’m here, waiting for you Eilish.” You declare confidently, your tone playful, flirty, yet slightly possessive as well. Her breath gets caught in the back of her throat when her name falls from your lips like that, and she freezes for just a moment—like the weight of your words knocks the air right out of her. Then that smirk comes back, wicked and intoxicating, but this time it’s tinged with something heavier, something burning straight through her.

“Fuck,” she growls, voice low and ragged, “you’re really gonna say shit like that to me and expect me to hold back?”

Her hips slam down harder against yours pinning you further into the couch, grinding with purpose now, her nails digging into your sides as if she needs to anchor herself from completely unraveling. Her lips crash back onto yours, rough, feverish, her tongue claiming every inch like she’s starving for you. Between kisses, her words spill out in a husky whisper, each syllable punctuated by her lips against yours.

“Mine. All mine. You hear me?” she demands, her voice dripping with that mix of cockiness and desperation. Her teeth tug at your bottom lip before releasing it, her blue eyes blazing into yours.

Then, softer but no less intense, she leans in so her lips are at your ear, her hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. “And you’re right. I don’t give opportunities like this. Ever. But you? Baby, you’re the only exception. You’ve always been the fucking exception.”

She nips at your neck again, fiercer this time, before pulling back just enough to flash you a devilish grin. “Still want me to ruin you?”

Lip caught between your teeth all you can do is nod your head, your eyes fluttering shut. Her words caused a burning heat to consume your entire body, heating you up entirely. Tossing your head back in ecstasy as you already miss her lips on your neck - on your skin. The weight of her pressing against your entire person only adds fuel to the fire. Your hands now tightly grasping her bunched up shirt that lay between your pressed bodies. Not wanting her to move even an inch away from you. 

“Keep talking like that and you’ll have me falling in love with you.” You moan softly with your eyes still closed, a coy smirk taking claim on the corner of your mouth. Billie stills at your words, her lips hovering just above your neck, her breath hot and shaky against your skin. For a heartbeat, all she does is stare at you - at the tilt of your head, the smirk curving your lips, the way your chest heaves under hers. Then she lets out a low, throaty laugh, the sound vibrating against your collarbone as she kisses it again, slower this time, savoring.

“Oh, baby” she purrs, lifting her head just enough so her lips hover a whisper above yours, her blue eyes burning into you, “you really think you’re the only one falling?” she asks, matching your softness. Her eyes grow tender as she flicks them from your eyes to your burning cheeks to your lips then right back up to your doe eyes. 

Her hands fist into the fabric of your shirt, tugging it tighter against you as if she can’t stand the thought of any space. “I’m already there. Been there. Probably since the moment you called me pretty girl. Nah, it's been way before that.” She admits pressing her lips back to yours, this kiss deeper, hungrier, but laced with an aching tenderness that betrays her fierce exterior. Between breaths she murmurs, “So go ahead. Fall for me. ‘Cause I’m not letting you hit the ground alone.”

Her hips grind against yours over and over, rougher now, syncing perfectly with the fire in her words as she moans into your mouth, pouring every ounce of that mix—possessive, flirty, in love—straight into the kiss. Kissing you like she’s starved, her mouth hot and unrelenting against yours, but every few breaths, the words slip out—low, ragged, unguarded.

Her hips grind down against you with purpose, a delicious rhythm that pulls moans from both of you, her nails dragging across your back through your shirt. She breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur against your lips, “God, you make me feel so fucking alive… like no one else ever could.” Then her mouth is back on yours, messy and desperate, her tongue tangling with yours as her hand slides up your chest to cup your jaw, holding you steady as if she never wants to let go. When she pulls away again, her lips trail fire down your jaw to your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse point as she whispers, “You’ve ruined me for anyone else… and I don’t even care.”

Her teeth scrape gently against your skin, marking you, claiming you, before she groans softly and pulls your lips back into another bruising kiss. Between moans, she gasps, “Mine - you’re mine - fuck, baby, I love this… I love you.” The confession slips out raw and breathless, almost like she hadn’t meant to say it aloud yet—but she doesn’t take it back. Instead, she kisses you harder, pouring every ounce of that fierce, possessive love into your mouth, her body pressed so tight against you it feels like she’s trying to fuse the two of you together.

Your moans soon follow suit filling the space around you both as her words seep into your skin like warmth of the first drink of hot cocoa after coming in from out in the snow. The way it wraps around your shivering body instantly heating you up. Consuming your thoughts entirely as her lips explore your burning skin. Your hands still tightly gripping onto her refusing to ever let go. Smiling into the kiss as you tilt your head falling into her hold completely. Opening up entirely to her. Swiftly and carefully gripping her sides and flipping the both of you over giggling softly at Billie’s soft thud against the couch cushions. 

Placing your thighs on either side of her torso your hands now lay flat against her stomach. Tapping your fingertips gently along her heaving chest as you slowly trace from her belly button up to the base of her throat and back down to where her belly button would be. Your eyes heavy on hers as you sit there silently for a few seconds. Your eyes furrow playfully as you lick your lips, catching the edge of your smile between your teeth. Running your hands slowly up her sides feeling her quivering body before landing around her wrists. Carefully moving them to lay above her head pinning them along the couch cushions. 

“You love me huh?” You softly whisper moving your eyes from her blue orbs down to her lips and back up. One hand keeping her hands pinned to the couch as the other works is way back down her heaving body to toy with the waist line of her pants. Your finger tips flirting with the idea as your eyes stay locked on hers as your lips leave a soft teasing kiss on the corner of her mouth. Not quite there - but just close enough she could almost taste. 

Billie’s breath hitches the second you flip her over, her body melting into the cushions beneath you. Her wrists pinned, chest rising fast against yours, and those blue eyes locked on you with a wild mixture of hunger and vulnerability. The teasing kiss at the corner of her mouth earns you a shaky laugh, though her hips buck up against yours instinctively, betraying her need and her guard.

“You—” she starts, her voice breaking with a groan as your fingers toy at her waistband. She swallows hard, biting her lip as she stares up at you, her wrists straining lightly against your hold but not in an attempt to escape but more like she’s testing how much control you’re really claiming. “Fuck, baby, you don’t play fair.” she gasps her chest heaving harder, her lips parting as she forces herself to say the words, her voice breathless but firm. “Yeah. I love you. More than I should’ve let myself.” Her body arches beneath you, pressing closer, her lips brushing yours as she whispers with a smirk, “Now what’re you gonna do with that, hm? Make me say it again or make me feel it?” Her eyes darken with a quirk of her eyebrow, flickering down to your lips and back up with a boldness that dares you to take her at her word.

A deep sincere laugh ripples through you and into Billie’s ears. “Oh sweet girl, who ever said I played fair?” You say cockily. Your tone laced with a flirtatious hint as you pin her hips back down with your own. Groaning as you rut your hips the smirk only grows as you slowly lean yourself closer into her neck. Your lips trailing slow torturous kisses across her jaw before slowly working your way down her neck. Your tongue makes quick work to lick and suck on her burning skin leaving your own mark along her skin. Your smile grows hungrier as you feel her heart beat rise beneath your lips. Working them slowly back up to her ear as your hips stay firm in pinning her hips down. 

“Pretty girl I’m taking both.” You state confidently. Your lips capture her earlobe between your teeth. “I want you to tell me again, and this time I want you to tell me as I make you feel it everywhere. I want you to tell me over and over again as you fucking lose yourself under my touch.” You whisper into her.

Her entire body shudders beneath you, her restrained wrists flexing against your hold as a guttural moan escapes her throat the second your teeth catch her earlobe. Her hips buck, but your weight pins her down perfectly leaving her writhing, needy, at your mercy. Her voice comes out broken, a mix between a whimper and a laugh. “Shit - baby -” Her head tilts back, exposing more of her neck to your hungry lips, practically begging for you to claim more of her skin.

When you whisper your demand, her breathing stutters, and her eyes flutter shut. “You’re - fuck - you’re evil,” she gasps, but the tremor in her voice is dripping with need, not protest. She presses her wrists harder against your grip, testing your strength, but then exhales shakily, giving into it… into you.

Her eyes snap back open, blazing with both defiance and surrender as her lips part around the words you wanted… “I love you.” She moans loudly. Her hips not giving up her desperate grind against yours, her body arching into your touch as if to punctuate it. “God - I fucking love you - ” she moans again, her voice breaking as your mouth works her neck.

Her back arches harder, her chest is pressed flush against yours, and her voice cracks into a plea. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop until I can’t say anything else but that.” She begs. Her moans drowning out any thought of worry or doubt that either of you ever had in regards to the neediness and longing that had been brewin’ between the two of you. 

“Such a good fucking girl Bils.” You moan deep into her neck as you slide your hand up from her waist line to cup the side of her neck rotating your hips deliciously against hers as a shiver runs down your spine. “Fuck, I love you pretty girl. So fucking much.” You groan as your lips kiss along her neck once again.

Billie lets out a strangled moan the second your hand grips her neck, her back arching up into you so hard the couch cushions dip beneath her. Her wrists flex uselessly in your hold, but instead of trying to fight it, she melts into the restraint - her body trembling beneath the weight of your dominance.

“Baby - fuck -” she whimpers, head falling back against the cushion, baring her throat even more to your hungry mouth. Every slow grind of your hips has her breath hitching, her own hips jerking up desperately to meet yours, chasing the friction. Her thighs press tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, as if she needs you inside her skin. 

Your groaned confession makes her cry out, her nails digging into the fabric of the couch where her hands are pinned. “Say it again - please.” She begs breathlessly, her blue eyes blown wide with lust and love, shining even through the haze. Her voice drops lower, husky, breaking apart as your lips and body overwhelm her. “Tell me again, while you’re fucking ruining me like this. Say it till I believe it’s never gonna end.” she cries out as her chest heaves against yours her heat rate rising, body trembling with every word, every grind, every kiss. She’s undone and greedy for more - all yours, and begging to be kept that way.

Billie shudders violently as your hips grind against hers, her hands twisting in the couch cushions and her body completely surrendering to the sensation. Her back arches sharply, pressing herself flush against you as a string of moans tears past her lips. Every soft, deliberate kiss you leave along her neck, every roll of your hips, sends shivers racing down her spine and a burning heat pooling low in her stomach.

“Baby… fuck, baby, oh god…” she cries, voice breaking and uneven, head thrown back against the cushions. Her fingers dig into your sides, then flatten, grasping you as if she’s trying to anchor herself to the only thing keeping her upright-you.

Her breathing grows erratic, chest heaving hard against yours as her hips press up and grind against yours without thought, fully lost in the delicious torment and ecstasy of your touch. “I… I’m yours, fuck I’m yours, I-” she moans, words dissolving into cries of need as her body shudders and trembles under your weight.

Billie’s lips part in a shaky gasp as her knees quiver, her hips tilting against yours uncontrollably, letting every inch of sensation roll through her. Her moans are ragged and raw, voice echoing your name, begging for every touch, every movement you offer. Her entire body vibrates with the intensity of giving herself over completely - physically, emotionally, and greedily - letting you claim her fully. Even her eyes, when she blinks them open, are glazed and shining with a mix of desperation, lust, and something infinitely tender - pure, unrestrained surrender to you.

“Fuck,” You mutter as you kiss your way up her neck and across her jawline not stopping until you reach her lips. Breathing her in as your hand roams up and down her side in a soothing manner. Leaning your forehead against hers as your other hand still lays claim around her neck. “I’m so in love with you Billie you don’t even understand. There was never anyone else.” You whisper before capturing her lips for a sweet kiss. “It was always you, pretty girl.” 

Slowing your hips down just slightly wanting the moment to last. With your lips dangling just out of reach of hers you feel the blush slowly creeping up along your cheeks. “I definitely did not expect tonight to go this way, but shit. I don’t know which I love more.” you stutter. “The view of you on top me telling me how badly you need me or the view of you underneath me being a moaning mess telling me exactly how you feel.” You state groaning lowly pull her lips to yours getting lost in a heated kiss. 

She completely melts into your kiss, her hands tightening against your sides and wrists, clinging to you as if she can’t bear even a moment apart. Her body quivers under your touch, every nerve ending on fire from the lingering friction of your hips and the heat of your words. “Baby,” she breathes, voice low, broken, and desperate against your lips, “I - fuck - I love you too. Always have… always will.” Her hips shift involuntarily, grinding lightly against yours as if to punctuate the truth behind her words.

She tilts her head to deepen the kiss, teeth occasionally grazing yours, lips soft and wet against yours, while her hands roam freely - sliding from your neck to your hair, tangling in it possessively. Her moans are ragged, desperate, betraying how fully undone she is, both physically and emotionally, by you.

When your words about the view of her on top versus underneath reach her ears, a shaky laugh escapes her between kisses, breathless but playful. “Shit, baby. Don’t even tease me like that,” she gasps, grinding her hips up against you again despite the slow teasing of your movements. Her blue eyes, bright and glazed with lust, meet yours for just a moment before she crashes back into another heated kiss, tongue tangling with yours, teeth nipping softly, her body pressing against yours in every possible way. Every groan, every shift, every touch is a confession, raw and unfiltered, her entire self laid bare for you.

“You gonna make me stop?” You jokingly tease as you keep your lips just out of reach. Your smirk grows as you purposely barely brush your lips against hers before quickly pulling away just before she has the chance to kiss back. “I like this Billie. I like when you get all flustered and worked up from my teasing.” you carelessly admit. Your eyes quickly flash up to hers before slowly working their way down her heaving body taking in every single inch of her. Licking your lips before moving your gaze to end on her piercing blue eyes. Her pupils have blown wide and have grown darker. 

Billie flushes bright red at your teasing, a soft, helpless laugh escaping her lips as she presses her forehead to yours, lips hovering just shy of yours. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, breaths coming in shaky, uneven gasps, and her fingers dig into your shoulders almost instinctively. “You - fuck, you’re evil,” she pants, voice breaking with a mix of frustration and need. “Stop teasing me like that…” Her lips twitch in a shy but lustful grin as she tilts her head, trying to close the distance, only to have you pull away again.

Her hips shift slightly, grinding against yours on reflex, every motion betraying just how worked up she is. Her fingers snake down your arms, seeking contact anywhere they can, but she freezes the second your eyes meet hers, captivated and consuming, her blue gaze sparkling with mischief and heat. “God… you’re insane,” she murmurs breathlessly, voice low and husky. “I - I don’t even know how I’m supposed to handle this. You’ve got me completely undone -  shit.” She mutters her lips part slightly, as if begging, and she tilts her head again toward yours, teasing, desperate, and utterly surrendered to your playful, possessive energy.

Billie’s eyes darken with a sudden, fierce intensity, that playful blush transforming into something dangerously hungry. She presses her body fully against yours, hips grinding down deliberately, trapping you beneath her as her hands leave your shoulders to grip your sides, tugging you closer.

“Okay, that’s enough teasing, baby,” she murmurs, voice low, breathy, and soaked with need. Her lips finally capture yours in a hungry, demanding kiss, tongue pushing between your lips as if staking a claim. Her nails rake lightly down your back as she arches over you, body trembling with desire and control.

She tilts her head, lips moving between kisses along your jaw and neck, whispering, “I’ve been waiting for you to stop playing… now it’s my turn.” Her hips roll and press against yours, every movement deliberate, claiming, as she lets out a moan that vibrates straight through you.

Her hands leave your sides to tangle in your hair, pulling you down into her, eyes locked on yours with a mix of flirty defiance and raw possessiveness. “You like that, don’t you?” she teases breathlessly, grinding harder, “seeing me take control for once? Feeling me everywhere?” Billie’s lips brush against yours again in a heated, dominant kiss, her body trembling but confident, every inch of her screaming that she’s fully letting go—and she wants you right there with her.

Moaning her name into the open air as your body shutters under her touch. “Billie, please.” You beg as your hips continue to press and rotate against hers. “Fuck, I need you so bad baby.” You whine as you desperately search for her lips. Billie gasps sharply at your words, the sound vibrating through her as her hips press harder into yours, every motion precise, claiming, and greedy. Her lips finally find yours in a deep, fierce kiss, teeth grazing yours lightly as she moans your name back against your lips. “Fuck, baby…” she pants into the kiss, pulling back just slightly to whisper hotly against your mouth, “you’re all mine tonight. Every inch, every shiver - you’re mine, and I’m not holding back.”

Her hands roam with deliberate intent, sliding from your hair down your back, fingers digging into your sides as she presses herself flush against you. She tilts her hips with yours, grinding and rolling, matching every desperate movement, letting her voice crack with need. “I’ve wanted you like this… so fucking badly,” she confesses, blue eyes shining with lust and longing. “And now? Now you’re right here, all mine… fucking feel me, baby, feel how bad I need you too!” She exclaims. 

Her lips crashing back onto yours, deep and possessive, tongues tangling as her hips rut with yours in a rhythm that’s equal parts teasing, demanding, and utterly overwhelming. Every shiver, every moan, every whispered name binds you closer, her energy fierce and intoxicating. “Mm fuck baby you feel so good. Please don’t fucking stop.” You moan into her lips before fully sitting up and placing both hands atop her torso fully grinding yourself against her core. Throwing your head back in pleasure as your eyes flutter close now fully riding her. Your chest heaves fast and hard as you lull your head across your shoulder blades looking down at Billie through your hooded eyes. Getting faster and harder the more your eyes stay locked together. Neither one of you says anything as you continue to lose yourself atop her. Working myself closer and closer to my high as I just barely moan her name out under my breath.

Billie’s entire body shudders beneath you, nails digging lightly into your hips as she gasps, her breath ragged and hot. Her hips press up to meet yours with instinctive precision, matching every movement as your bodies grind together. Each shiver, each moan that escapes you sends sparks straight through her, her own need radiating as intensely as yours.

“Baby, oh fuck, baby,” she moans, voice thick, desperate, and husky, each syllable trembling with both pleasure and surrender. Her blue eyes are wide, glazed with heat and lust, glued to yours as you ride her, her hands roaming up to grip your sides and pull you closer. She tilts her head back, lips brushing your shoulder as her voice drops lower, shaky but commanding, “Don’t stop… I’m right here… feel me, baby.” Her hips roll and buck beneath you, every movement deliberate, insistent, designed to drive you over the edge. Her moans mingle with yours, vibrating through the shared heat of the moment, each gasp and shiver a confession of how completely undone she is.

She lets out a sharp cry of your name, then another, louder, more desperate, as her body trembles beneath yours, every nerve alight with the intensity of this shared, consuming pleasure. Billie’s moans rise with yours, loud, ragged, and desperate, each cry vibrating through both of your bodies. Her hips roll up to meet yours with a wild, instinctive rhythm, driving you higher and higher as your core throbs against hers. Every gasp, every shiver, every trembling motion pulls you closer to the edge, the intensity between you building like a storm ready to break.

“Baby… oh fuck -” she cries, voice breaking and raw, lips pressing desperately against your shoulder and neck. Her hands clutch your sides and your hair, pulling you flush against her as if holding onto you will keep her tethered to reality. Your own moans mingle with hers, the heat, friction, and connection overwhelming your senses. Her body arches into yours, every movement synchronized as if instinctively, neither of you able - or willing - to stop.

And then it hits. A sharp, electric wave of pleasure floods through both of you at once. Your muscles clench, your chest heaving, your body trembling against hers as Billie cries out your name in a broken, ecstatic scream. Her nails rake your sides, hips grinding up one last time as her body collapses slightly beneath yours, still quivering, caught in the aftermath. Your lips find hers again, locking into a desperate, passionate kiss, tongues tangling as you both ride the final waves together. Every gasp, every sigh, every whispered name drifts through the room—raw, intimate, and completely yours.

When the storm finally subsides, you’re both panting, bodies pressed together, hearts racing in sync. Billie rests her forehead against yours, her blue eyes soft but still shining with heat, and a shaky laugh escapes her lips. “You - you’re insane,” she murmurs, voice low and trembling. “But I love every second of it.” A smile works its way across your lips as you move to kiss your way back down her neck. Burrowing your face in the safety of the scent of her and her the feeling of her hands on your hips. Placing soft chaste kisses in your wake along her neck, your voice just barely over a whisper, “I want you again.” AS you slowly reach for one of her hands. Your voice velvet soft, placing her hand right between your thighs along your heated core. “Need to feel you Bils. Please.” You softly beg into her neck refusing to bring yourself out of hiding, thrusting your hips against her fingertips. A ragged breath leaves your lips. 

Billie shivers violently at the feeling of your heated core against her fingertips, a low, breathy moan escaping her lips as she presses her hand more firmly into you. Her other hand snakes around your waist, pulling you impossibly close as if she can’t bear a single inch of distance. “Baby - fuck…” she whispers, voice trembling with need and excitement, “you’re so fucking warm… so fucking perfect.” Her blue eyes flutter open just enough to glance up at you, half-lidded and glimmering with desire. “You want me again?” she murmurs, a teasing, husky smile tugging at her lips. “Mmm bet baby.”

Her movements are slow and deliberate at first, sliding her hand along you with careful, teasing pressure, then quickening slightly as her own arousal builds. Her hips shift subtly beneath yours, grinding up in sync with every tiny thrust, moans spilling freely as she bites gently at your neck. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you like this…” she confesses, voice thick with lust and affection. “And now? Now you’re right here, begging for me… you don’t even know how much I need you too, baby.”

Her lips brush against yours in a heated, possessive kiss, tongues briefly tangling as her other hand slides up to cradle your cheek. Every movement, every moan, every whispered word is a promise - greedy, intimate, and utterly devoted to the two of you being lost together in this fire. Billie groans low in her throat as your soft plea echoes in her ear, and in a flash the sweetness melts into something hungrier, darker, more possessive. Her grip on your waist tightens as she shifts, rolling you effortlessly onto your back beneath her, pressing you firmly into the couch cushions with her weight.

Her blue eyes burn into yours - intense, commanding, yet laced with a desperate kind of love. “You begged for me, baby.” she pants, her lips brushing yours but not giving you the kiss yet, “…so now you’re mine.” Her hand, still hot and teasing between your thighs, moves with more force, more purpose, her fingers stroking and pressing in deliberate rhythm that has you arching helplessly into her touch. Her other hand pins yours down above your head, her body covering yours completely, keeping you right where she wants you.

“Look at me,” Billie growls, pulling your chin up when your head tosses back. “I want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart. You’re not hiding from me, not now.” Her lips crash against yours, heated and fierce, her tongue sliding past your lips as she swallows your moans greedily. The steady grind of her hips against yours grows rougher, deeper, her breath hot and ragged against your cheek as she moans into your mouth. “Fuck - you’re mine, you hear me? No one else gets to have this. No one else gets you.” Every movement of her body, every stroke of her fingers, is an overwhelming claim, Billie taking complete control, unraveling you under her until all you can do is say her name.

Billie’s breath is ragged as she holds you down, her fingers working you in deep, relentless strokes that leave you writhing beneath her. Her body is pressed flush to yours, her weight pinning you in place, every grind of her hips deliberate, claiming. “Fuck - you feel so fucking good, baby,” she growls against your lips, her voice low, rough, demanding. “You wanted me to take control? Then you’re gonna take every single thing I give you.” Her free hand squeezes your wrist tighter above your head, her blue eyes locked on yours, unyielding. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

Her pace grows more desperate, her rhythm syncing with yours until your body is trembling uncontrollably, every nerve alight under her command. She captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, biting at your lip before pulling away just enough to watch you. “Fuck - you’re falling apart for me, baby. You’re so fucking beautiful when you lose yourself for me.” And when the wave finally crashes over you - your body shuddering, your moans spilling into her mouth - Billie’s raw dominance melts into something softer. Her hand loosens on your wrist, her grip on your hip turning into a soothing caress. She slows her movements, her lips pressing gentler kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, whispering between every one.

“That’s it, baby… just like that.”

“I’ve got you.”

“So perfect for me.”

Her forehead falls against yours as you come down from your high, her thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek. Her blue eyes are glassy now, filled with something vulnerable, undone. “I love you,” she whispers, her voice breaking into the tenderness you’d never doubt. “God, I love you so fucking much. No one else… it’s always been you.”

She kisses you slow and deep now, nothing fierce, just pouring every ounce of what she feels into it - holding you as if she never wants to let go.

Your hand carefully cupping her cheeks holding her close against your kiss swollen lips. Giving her three quick pecks before your giggles fill her ears. You feel your face heating up with blush as you try once again to hide your face in her neck desperately trying to breathe her in. “How is this fair?” You mumble into her neck. “You’re an amazing kisser, great in bed, is there anything you can’t do, Eilish?” You ask against her skin half jokingly. “Shit I need to catch my breath. That was - that was shit I’m speechless.” You say your voice barely above a whisper. Lacing kisses along her neck between each word making sure to emphasize how deeply you mean it. “I… love… you.”

Billie lets out this soft, breathless laugh, her chest still rising and falling against yours as she melts into the kisses peppered along her neck. Her hands slide up your sides until they’re resting firmly on your back, holding you flush against her like she’s afraid you might slip away. “Mm, baby,” she hums, voice husky from the intensity, “you have no idea what you do to me when you say shit like that.” Her lips find the top of your head, pressing a lingering kiss there before pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up with her thumb. Her eyes are still blown wide, but softer now, full of warmth.

“You think I’ve got it all figured out?” she teases gently, her smile crooked and tender. “Truth is, I’m just trying to keep up with you. You make me lose every bit of control I ever thought I had.” Her thumb brushes along your cheek as she grins, shaking her head slightly like she still can’t believe what just happened.

She leans in, kissing you slow, deliberate, with every ounce of affection she can pour into it. Between kisses, she murmurs, “I love you too… more than I know how to say.” She breaks into another soft laugh, resting her forehead against yours. “So yeah, maybe I can sing, maybe I can kiss… but apparently, the thing I really can’t do? Stay away from you.” Her words flow into your ears like sweet melodies. 

Tracing your thumbs across her cheekbones taking a few moments to fully take her in. The way her eyes are wide and full with nothing but sweetness. The warm tint that is lacing her porcelain features. The way her lips are kiss swollen from the previous activities. Moving one of your thumbs down to trace her bottom lip as you slowly release it from between her teeth. Your eyes flicking across her features as you can’t help the blush that gets darker across your cheeks as your eyes continue to explore. A playful shrug rolls off your shoulders as you rub the tips of your noses together. 

“I guess we are both trying to keep up with each other.” You softly say as you gently kiss the corner of her mouth. “Thank you.” You whisper bashfully as your eyes flutter before looking up at her through your lashes. “For telling me. For trusting me enough to let yourself fall.” You say leaning yourself fully back along the couch cushions gently running your fingers through her hair as your other hand still cups her cheek. Billie follows you back down into the cushions, her body molding easily to yours like she belongs there. The moment your fingers weave through her hair, she lets out a soft sigh - eyes half-lidded, lips still tinged pink. She tilts her head into your palm like it’s the only anchor she needs.

“Baby…” she whispers, the word delicate, like it carries all her weight. Her hand finds its way to your chest, fingers splaying wide as if she’s trying to memorize the beat of your heart under her touch. “You don’t even know how much that means to me. Letting myself fall? That’s not easy for me.” Her lips curve into a faint, almost shy smile, the kind of smile that’s only for you.

Her blue eyes search yours, steady and unflinching. “But with you? It feels like I’m not falling alone. Like you’ve already caught me before I even realized I was free-falling.” She leans in, pressing a feather-light kiss to your lips, almost reverent this time. Then another, and another - soft, lingering pecks between her words. “So yeah, maybe we are just… keeping up with each other. But if that’s what this is…” Her grin breaks wider, playful now, “then I don’t ever wanna slow down.” Her forehead rests against yours, her breath mingling with yours as her fingers play absently with the fabric of your shirt. “I’m yours. Fully. No hesitation.”

A shit eating grin covers your face shifting your body so she’s lounging along the side of you. Your hand still cups her cheek moving the other to wrap along her back pulling her tighter against your side. Your hand landed along her hip playfully squeezing. “So does this mean I made it out of the friend zone, pretty girl?” You ask as you glance over at her face only inches from yours. Billie lets out a little snort, rolling her eyes even as the corners of her lips curl into that unmistakable smirk. “Made it out?” she repeats, her tone dripping with playful disbelief as she tilts her head closer, her nose brushing yours. Her fingers start tracing lazy patterns along your chest, each line deliberate and teasing.

“Baby, you burned the damn friend zone down the second you kissed me like that,” she murmurs, biting her lip as her eyes flick down to your mouth. Her hand on your chest slides lower, stopping just above your stomach, her touch featherlight but suggestive. “There’s no going back now. You're way too deep with me.” She squeezes your hip in return, mirroring your motion, her grin widening into something downright smug. “Besides, you really think I’d be letting you pin me down, make me moan like that, if you were still just my friend?” She moans, soft and wicked all at once, before brushing a slow kiss against the corner of your mouth - close enough to make you ache for more, but holding back, teasing.

“Say it again though,” she whispers against your lips, her eyes sparking as she tilts her head. “Call me your pretty girl.” A soft gasp rolls off your lips as you can’t help the chuckle that follows. Moving your hand to reach for hers to fidget with not only her fingers but her rings once more. Glancing down at our dancing fingers you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “You know I was kinda surprised you let me top you.” A soft hum escapes between your slightly parted lips. Head tilting to lean against a pillow laid behind you not moving your gaze from the way you watch her rings sparkle off the television glow as the forgotten movie credits play. Teeth carefully sinking into your bottom lip as you ponder your next words. 

“Plus you totally kissed me first soooo technically you burned that bridge down.” You mockingly tease dragging it out to be playfully dramatic looking back over at her briefly offering her a sneaky smirk. “But I was totally okay with you doing so pretty girl.” You start off as your eyes glances from hers down to her lips and back up. Pausing your dancing fingers reaching up and gently gripping her chin between your thumb and knuckle pulling her over to brush your lips against hers. Testing the waters to see if maybe she will play along. Our eyes don’t budge as the next words fall off your lips like a secret not supposed to be spoken. 

“As long as you always kiss me like that you’ll be my pretty girl. Pinky promise.” You say with a cheeky grin moving your fingers off her chin, holding out your out stretched pinky a quirky in my eyebrow. Billie’s lips twitch into the softest grin, her eyes narrowing like she’s pretending to size you up, but the blush blooming high on her cheeks gives her away. She lets you hook her chin, leaning into the brush of your lips for just a teasing second before pulling back a breath, letting it hang heavy between you.

“Pinky promise, huh?” she murmurs, the corner of her mouth quirking as her gaze drops to your outstretched finger. She pretends to think it over, lips pursed, eyes flicking between your hand and your face - drawing it out just to watch you squirm. Then with a playful scoff she hooks her pinky through yours, her grip surprisingly firm, as if sealing a pact bigger than either of you are willing to say out loud. “You don’t know what you just signed up for,” Billie teases, leaning in to whisper the words against your lips, her eyes shimmering with that mix of mischief and something a little too raw to be casual. She presses her forehead to yours, her voice dropping lower, softer. “But you should know… I don’t break promises.” She whispers. 

Before you can answer, she closes the small distance, sealing the pinky promise with a kiss - slow, deep, and lingering like she’s making sure you understand exactly how serious she is. When she finally pulls back, her smirk is back in full swing, though her thumb is brushing along your jaw in the gentlest way.

“So yeah,” she says, blue eyes locked on yours, “guess that makes me officially yours now… pretty girl.”

[guppyyuri]

all mine

WARNINGS ★ stomach riding, thigh riding, mirror play, strap usage, teasing

AUTHORS NOTE ★ i swear i got beat into making this

TAGLIST ★ @st0nerlesb0 @bilsbabyma @bitchesrbreakinghearts @caliscomettt @bilsbunni @bitchesbrokenpromises @bilsvndaes @billiesmainwife

you knock on the door, heart already hammering before billie even opens it. she swings it open, smirk tugging at her lips, sharp eyes taking you in.

“finally decided to show up,” she says, voice teasing, stepping aside. her apartment smells faintly of whiskey and vanilla, warm and dangerous.

“i, uh, brought the wine,” you manage, holding up the bottle.

“perfect,” she says, snatching it from you with a smirk. she moves around you effortlessly, opening the bottle, pouring two glasses, never taking her eyes off you. “sit,” she gestures to the couch, and as you obey, she pats the space beside her. your thigh brushes hers, and a thrill shoots straight through you.

conversation starts casual, but her gaze lingers, sharp, assessing. when she leans close, her voice drops, slow and cocky. “you’ve been staring at me in class,” she murmurs. “i see the way you want me. it’s ridiculous.”

your stomach twists. “billie please…”

“shh,” she interrupts, finger to your lips. “i want you to feel, not talk.”

her hand rests lightly on your hip, and then she shifts, sitting back with a sly smirk. “get on top of me,” she commands, tone leaving no room for argument. you hesitate, heat curling through you, but obey, straddling her stomach.

she leans back, hands behind her head, watching every movement. “oh, look at you,” she teases, voice low and smart-mouthed. “so eager. like you’ve been dreaming about this.”

you grind slowly against her, trying to find the right rhythm, but she tilts her head, smirk sharp. “faster,” she says, “no, slower. fuck, you’re all over the place.”

her hands wander your thighs, guiding, controlling, making you shiver under her touch. “don’t think you’re in charge,” she murmurs. “i’m watching. i decide how this goes.”

your hands grip her shoulders, hips rolling, stomach pressing against hers. she groans softly, smirk never fading, eyes dark with amusement.

“you feel so good on me,” she murmurs. “so desperate, so hot. keep going. don’t stop.”

she shifts, guiding your hips so your thighs brush against her, and you realize she’s controlling your rhythm with just subtle movements of her body. “that’s it,” she teases, “ride me like you mean it. show me how much you want it.”

you follow her subtle cues, grinding down, moaning softly as her hands squeeze your hips, fingers digging lightly.

“oh my god,” you gasp, and she laughs, low and triumphant. “see? i can make you sound like that without even touching you yet.”

then she slides a hand up your back, pulling you closer, guiding you over her thighs. “don’t forget about me,” she murmurs, smirk teasing. “i’m here. feel me. move for me. all for me.”

your body trembles, heat pooling as you ride her thighs, stomach pressed to hers, feeling every inch of her. she leans up, smirk cocky as she traces her fingers along your jaw, lips brushing your ear.

“that’s it. mine. you’re mine,” she whispers, voice low and teasing. “look at you, begging without even saying a word.”

after a while, she shifts, letting you grind against her lap more firmly, fingers gripping your hips.

“i could watch you forever,” she murmurs. “so hot, so weak for me. every movement, every gasp, all mine.”

then she guides you down, strapping herself so the strap presses firmly, letting you ride her again, the sensation amplified.

her smirk is sharp, eyes dark, and she watches you through it all. “so wet for me already,” she teases. “i own every bit of you.”

suddenly she pulls you to stand in front of the mirror, still straddling her hips as the strap keeps her steady. “look at yourself,” she orders, hands gripping your waist. “see what you’re doing to me? see what i do to you?”

you see yourself, flushed, trembling, grinding down on her lap, her smirk sharp in the reflection.

she presses against you, teasing, smirking, whispering smart-mouthed remarks, controlling your every move. “so fragile for me,” she murmurs. “you look amazing, all mine, doing exactly what i want.”

minutes stretch in heated, relentless pleasure, mirror amplifying every motion. she leans in, whispering in your ear, “you gonna cum for me sweet girl?” your body shudders, moans spilling out as she holds you through it, teasing, smart-mouthed, in complete control.

when it hits, you collapse against her, trembling, sweat-slicked, utterly spent. she smirks down at you, brushing hair from your face. “see?” she murmurs. “all mine. every single time.”

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[lemon-ams111]

voice memos

billie is on tour and you miss her, then remember her voice messages that you saved for moments like that

no warnings, one slightly suggestive comment, fluff, not proofread, fem!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were sitting in your and billie’s room, she was on tour currently, in japan, you missed her terribly but couldn’t be with her since you had work here, you couldn’t just ditch it even though you wanted to.

she was busy, you knew it, but you missed her so much, you wanted to hear her voice at least.

you were laying in your bed, phone in hand as you contemplated whether you should call her and interrupt her or try to just suck it up.

after a while of just laying there and staring at her contact info, staring at the name ‘bilbaby🩵’, at the picture you took of her that one time you were at the beach where she’s sitting on a beach towel, leaning her upper body back on her arms, her head tilted to the side slightly, one of her eyes half closed, her nose scrunched because of the sun as she stares into the camera with a smile.

god you missed her badly, and you were whipped, so whipped.

then you remembered, her voice messages, the ones you saved in your voice memos app, the ones you went back to whenever you wanted to hear her voice, feel her comfort, and she couldn’t give you that directly.

you open your voice memos and smile to yourself as you press play on the first voice message that you titled ‘billie1’

“hi baby, i know you’re probably already sleeping when i’m recording this message, but well-“

she pauses for a moment and you just know she was smiling

“you’re just gonna have to start your day with my voice”

she says and let out a fake exasperated sigh before chuckling and continuing

“i wanted to tell you that i miss you so much and oh god, i can’t wait till i’m back home with you and sharky and brutus, my three faves”

she says and you can sense that she’s frowning

“and uh- i wish i could hold you right now, it’s so weird sleeping without you and just existing without you overall”

she pauses and sighs

“but hey, i’ll be home in like 2 weeks so i’ll finally get to be with you and actually see you, touch you, talk to you face to face, and… you know, stuff”

she says and clicks her tongue, and you just know what expression she has on her face, that damn smirk

“but let me not think about that, i’ll get too many ideas too quickly, but yeah- text me when you wake up, i love you so so so much”

she says and there’s a short pause after that

“oh and have a good day, pretty girl, the prettiest girl on the planet, gosh i’m lucky… hold on, let me stop that, byeeeeeeeee”

she drags out and then she makes a kissing sound and the voice message cuts off

you’re smiling to yourself like an idiot and press play on another recording

“hey gorgeous, i’m gonna start this off by saying- god, i’m so proud of you for doing my all those things you just texted me about, that’s my girl!”

she says and you just know she’s smiling just as hard as you are right now

“as for my day, gosh, it was eventful, i just finished my show, there was complete silence during when the party’s over! and oh i’m so happy every-time it works!”

she says, her happiness was audible in her voice

“i sure as hell hope you watched at least part of it on some shitty tik tok live, if not- shame on you”

she says and you can imagine how she’d point her accusatory finger at you if she was home with you

“but i still love you anyway i guess, unfortunately”

she pauses for dramatic effect before continuing

“just kidding, i love loving you… and oh! about that, i have something for youuuu, gosh i can’t wait to give you everything i bought for you in europe, you’re gonna love it!”

she says and you can’t help but think back to that, all of the small gifts she got you from every city, things that reminded her of you, and magnets for your fridge since she knew how much you loved collecting these

“it’s so weird, i wish i was there with you but i’m also so happy that i’m here, emotions are confusing as fuckkkkkk”

she says and then chuckles softly

“okay, this is getting a bit long, good- wait, what time is it there? it’s morning, right? i think so- well… good morning then, my love, have a great day! i’ll text you when i wake up, i love youuuuu”

she sings the ‘i love you’ and then the voice message cuts off

and now, even though she wasn’t here with you you felt a bit better, you were smiling to yourself before texting her

‘goodnight, bee, i love you❤️’

you then switched your phone off and fell asleep listening to her music

[slut4megantheestallion]

I need all of them so badly 😩

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

[scarsw1fe]

Stay quiet

Billie Eilish x reader

Summary: Amid the muffled sounds of a party, Billie pushes Y/N into a quiet release.

Word count: 1.6k

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

The Airbnb smelled like the lingering sweat of too many bodies crammed into too small a space. The kind of place where the walls were thin enough to hear every laugh, every clink of a bottle, every time someone stumbled into a chair in the next room. The music pulsed through the drywall—some bass-heavy track that made the floorboards hum underfoot.

Billie had turned off the overhead light an hour ago, leaving only the glow of a single lamp in the corner, its shade tilted just enough to cast long, shifting shadows across the bed.

Y/N was already a mess.

She lay sprawled beneath Billie, her back arched just slightly off the mattress, fingers twisted into the sheets like she was trying to anchor herself to the earth. The bed creaked—just a little, just enough to make her flinch—every time Billie shifted her weight. She hovered over her, one knee pressed between Y/N’s thighs, her palm flat against the headboard beside her head.

The heat between them was stifling, the kind that made skin stick and breaths come short. Y/N’s lips were reddened from biting, her teeth still sunk into the soft flesh of her lower lip as if that alone could keep her from making a sound.

Billie smirked. She could feel the way Y/N trembled beneath her, the way her ribs hitched with every shallow inhale. Billie leaned in, her breath ghosting over Y/N’s ear, her voice dropping into that high, breathy whisper that made her stomach clench.

“Shh…” She murmured, dragging the sound out like a caress. “You’re gonna get us caught, baby.”

Y/N’s fingers dug into Billie’s shoulders, nails biting into the fabric of her thin black top. She wanted to argue, to snap back with something clever, but the words dissolved before they could form. Billie’s hands were already moving, tracing down the sides of her body—over the curve of her waist, the dip of her hips, the way her ribs flared with every ragged breath.

Y/N’s back arched again, her spine lifting off the mattress as Billie’s fingertips skimmed the hem of her shirt, teasing the bare skin beneath. A shudder ran through her, violent and uncontrollable, and she slapped a hand over their own mouth just in time to muffle the broken sound that tore from her throat.

Billie’s lips curled. There it was.

That delicious, desperate struggle—the way Y/N’s eyes went wide, dark with something between panic and need, her chest heaving beneath her. Billie leaned in closer, her mouth brushing the shell of her ear as she whispered, “Good, baby. Keep it down for me.”

The words were a command, a challenge, a promise all at once.

Y/N’s free hand fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, her body straining toward Billie even as she tried to keep still. The bed groaned again, and for a second, they both froze, listening. The music next door swelled, a burst of laughter cutting through the wall—someone shouting over the chorus, something about another round of shots.

The tension in Y/N’s body eased just slightly, but Billie didn’t let her relax. Her fingers walked back up, this time slipping beneath the fabric of Y/N’s shirt, her palm flat against the warm, damp skin of her stomach.

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her muscles locked, her abdomen tensing under Billie’s touch, but she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

Billie’s thumb traced slow, maddening circles just below her navel, her other hand sliding up to cup the back of Y/N’s neck, her fingers tangling in the strands of her hair. She could feel the way her pulse jumped beneath her palm, the way her throat worked as she swallowed down another whimper.

“Such a good girl.” Billie purred, her voice so low it was almost lost beneath the thrum of the bass next door. “All quiet for me, yeah?”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut. Her lips parted, a silent gasp escaping as Billie’s fingers dipped lower, hooking into the waistband of her jeans. The denim was tight, the button already undone, the zipper half-lowered from when she’d been too impatient earlier, too eager to feel Billie’s hands on her.

Billie didn’t rush. She took her time, her fingertips dragging along the waistband, teasing the sensitive skin just above the line of her underwear. Y/N’s hips jerked, a broken sound tearing from her throat, but Billie’s hand was already there, clamping over her mouth before it could get too loud.

“Nuh uh.” She chided, her voice a dark chuckle. “What did I say?”

Y/N’s body trembled beneath her, her muffled whine vibrating against Billie’s palm. She could feel the way Y/N’s tongue darted out, wet and desperate, could feel the way her teeth grazed her skin in frustration. Billie’s grip tightened just a fraction, her thumb pressing against Y/N’s cheek, forcing her to still.

“You gonna be good for me?” she murmured, her fingers still tracing lazy patterns against the waistband of Y/N’s jeans, teasing.

Y/N nodded frantically, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. Billie could see the way her thighs pressed together, the way her hips rolled in tiny movements, chasing the touch she wasn’t giving her.

"Good.” Billie whispered. She didn’t remove her hand from Y/N’s mouth, not even as her other fingers finally, finally slipped beneath the lace, dragging through the damp heat between Y/N’s legs. The first touch made Y/N’s entire body lock up, her back arching off the bed, a muffled scream tearing from her throat.

Billie shushed her again, her fingers already working in slow circles, her touch just firm enough to make Y/N’s vision white out at the edges.

“Thats it, baby.” She murmured, her lips brushing Y/N’s temple. “Taking it so well. Being so quiet for me.”

The room around them faded into nothing—just the sound of Y/N’s ragged breathing, the wet slide of Billie’s fingers, the creak of the bed beneath them. Somewhere beyond the door, the party raged on, oblivious. But in here?

In here, the only thing that mattered was the way Y/N’s body clenched around Billie’s fingers, the way her thighs shook, the way she obeyed—even as her hips rolled up, chasing more, begging without words.

Billie’s thumb pressed down harder on Y/N’s clit, her fingers curling inside her, and Y/N’s entire body tensed, her muffled cry swallowed by Billie’s palm.

“Fuck, youre dripping.” Billie growled, her voice rough with arousal, her own body throbbing with the need to push Y/N further, to make her break.

The bedframe groaned again, louder this time, and Billie stilled, her fingers buried deep inside Y/N as they both listened. The music next door had shifted, the laughter closer now, the unmistakable sound of someone stumbling against their shared wall.

Y/N’s eyes flew open, her body locking up in panic—but Billie just smirked, her fingers still buried inside her, her thumb pressing down just enough to make Y/N’s hips jerk helplessly.

“Shh.” She whispered again, her breath hot against Y/N’s ear. “Wouldn’t want them to hear, would we?”

Y/N shook her head frantically, her body trembling, her pussy clenching around Billie’s fingers. Billie’s lips curled into a dark, satisfied smile.

“Then be quiet.” She commanded—and then she crooked her fingers, hard.

Billie’s fingers continued to explore Y/N, each movement calculated to elicit a reaction. Y/N’s breath hitched as Billie’s touch grew more insistent, her hips betraying her with each subtle jerk. The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with anticipation and desire.

Billie leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as she murmured, “You’re so responsive, aren’t you? Every touch, every whisper, and you’re putty in my hands.” Her voice was a low, sultry purr, laced with a dangerous edge that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine.

Y/N’s body was a traitor, reacting to Billie’s every command. Her pussy clenched around Billie’s fingers, desperate for more, even as her mind screamed for escape. Billie’s thumb circled her clit, teasing and tormenting, drawing out every last gasp of pleasure.

“You love this.” Billie whispered, her voice a seductive command. “You love knowing anyone could catch us.” Her fingers curved inside Y/N, finding that perfect spot that made her eyes roll back.

Y/N’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, her body on fire, her mind a blur of pleasure. Billie’s lips found hers in a demanding kiss, her tongue exploring Y/N’s mouth with the same relentless intensity as her fingers.

“Say it.” Billie insisted, breaking the kiss to nip at Y/N’s lower lip. “Say you love it.” Her fingers moved faster, deeper, pushing Y/N to the brink.

Y/N’s body convulsed, her hips bucking wildly as Billie’s touch brought her to the edge of orgasm. She was drowning in sensation, unable to think, unable to speak, only able to feel the overwhelming pleasure that Billie was drawing from her.

With a final, desperate cry that was barely audible through Billie’s hand, Y/N’s body exploded in pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing over her. Billie held her tightly, her fingers still moving inside her, drawing out every shudder and gasp.

As Y/N’s body slowly came down from the high, Billie leaned in to kiss her gently, whispering against her lips, “Such a good girl, so perfect for me.”

Y/N relaxed against Billie, still catching her breath. The room felt warm and quiet, like nothing else mattered. Billie kept her close, fingers gently tracing her skin, and for a moment, everything was just easy and right between them.

[angelsforthenight]

i could eat that girl for lunch… (ellie williams)

ways you can help gaza🇵🇸

summary: you post cute pictures on your story in the hopes of gaining a certain girl’s attention… luckily you get more than what you anticipated ;)

cw: mdni, fem!reader, texting, cunnilingus, desperate top!ellie, teasing sub!reader, cannibalistic metaphors, cursing, ellie is goofy lmao

you’re this close to screaming. the winged eyeliner on your left eye somehow keeps fucking up; either looking too splotchy or shorter than your right one. what’s pissing you off the most is the fact that you aren’t even going anywhere… getting all dolled up just to take it all off in 15 minutes, just to post cute little photos on your story and, of course, just to get her attention.

ellie williams. the name rolled off your tongue with such velvety sleek. every single one of your friends knows her name; has had to endure through your countless obsessive gushes.

you two had met during a party. having been in a drunken haze, you barely remember the first conversation that sparked such an interest, but you do remember her gin breath against your ear: asking/shouting, amidst the blaring music, if you had wanted to go somewhere a little more quieter. the night ended up in you being fingered in her car, before being driven back home by her. a freckle-faced angel in a leather jacket coated with small pins and badges. you were immediately hooked. but it’s been a week since then, and you two haven’t spoken. having achieved her number, you thought of messaging, but didn’t want to come across as desperate, even though you so are.

you thank instagram suggested for bringing you her account on a platter; being filled with niche, introverted posts of every cool-looking thing but her face. she doesn’t even have a “me” highlights! you can’t tell if her lack in posting her face is a blessing or a curse. so here you are, getting ready to post on your story since you followed her the day before. the skin around your eye is starting to sting by the amount of times you’ve been wiping and restarting your eyeliner. it needs to be perfect. you’ve orchestrated all this to be perfect. you take a deep breath and focus, striving to get the perfect wing.

“thank fuck.” you murmur under your breath once you finally get it right, before enveloping your lips in lipstick. you admire yourself in the mirror once done. you look fucking amazing.

since you spent way too long putting on your makeup, it wouldn’t be fair to yourself to only post one picture, so you post a couple. a mirror picture following up a layout of 4 images with the perfect song in the background. a little smile tugs at your lips as you replay the story two, three, four times before setting it on do not disturb and finding something else to do. your heart pounds at the thought of ellie seeing it, praying that she’ll interact. even a simple like will do.

after removing your makeup and getting into your pyjamas, you click on a movie to pass time, setting your phone on do not disturb. half an hour passes, and you’ve been neurotically checking your phone for a sign of ellie to appear on your notifications, but nothing. you check your story to see if she’s seen it but again, nothing. another hour passes, and you check for any sign of ellie. nada. look at my story, you freak! are the words etched in your head, words you wished you could telepathically scream at her. you remember you set your phone on do not disturb for a reason, so you place it far away and focus on finishing the film.

a while later, you’re slumped on your couch on the verge of falling asleep. the movie’s ended and it was so boring that you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open. you decide to check your do not disturb notifications one last time before taking a nap, until your eyes fall on the name ‘ellie.’ you immediately jerk up, awake and alert: your thumb automatically pressing the notification centre so you can see what it reads.

seventeen minutes ago.

ellie liked your story

ellie liked your story

ellie replied to your story: doll face

ellie replied to your story: you need a seat? lemme volunteer 🙏🙏

a shit-eating grin lights up your face. fucking finally! not once but twice! you excitedly draw your knees up to your chest, eager fingers tapping away, ready to respond - regardless of how long you’d been waiting for her texts. play it cool….

y/n: hahaha thank u thank u <3

y/n: (replied) oh word?

you’re surprised and very happy when you see the ‘typing…’ your heart doing goddamn backflips.

ellie: wooooord

ellie: literally cannot stop replaying ur story… bring that over here 🙁

ellie: come over

!!! your heart sinks all the way down to your ass. the hell does she mean come over?

y/n: ur not serious lmaoaoaooa

ellie: i’m being deadass,,, come over.

you look at the time. it’s almost 1 in the morning.

y/n: idek where u live bru😭😭😭😭

y/n: if anything you should come over since you’ve driven me to my house b4

ellie: mmm nahhhh

you blink in disbelief when ellie sends her location over. she’s not kidding.

y/n: girl i look bummy… i don’t even have any makeup on anymore :< took it off

ellie: i really don’t care

ellie: plsplspsls come over

ellie: u won’t regret it……………. trust 🤓🤓

next thing you know you’re leaving your house in your plaid shorts and a silly graphic tee. thankfully, ellie only lives 10 minutes away, so you take a bus before walking up to her apartment.

y/n: i’m cominggg

ellie: LOL yeaa you will be coming real soon 😇😇😇

though you cringe at her text, your body betrays you; your stomach forming a deep pit. she’s so sultry and playful you don’t know even know what to think. and there goes your heart again, hastily beating away like there’s no tomorrow. you reach the door, a trembling hand raising up to knock.

“hi.” ellie beams, smiling like an idiot. her eyes seize you from head to toe, “nice fit.”

“told you i looked bummy...” you mumbled, trying your best not to seem nervous. ellie moves aside so you can come in. her apartment smells exactly like she does; that faint campfire scent, conjoined with a forest-ey musk. a forest fire you were more than willing to burn in.

“so…“ you begin, with nothing prepared to follow up after that.

“sooooooo….” ellie repeats blithely.

“it’s been a week since… you know…” you whisper, awkwardly shifting your legs.

“since…?” ellie blinks, furrowing her eyebrows. she’s taunting you, trying to play innocent when it’s pretty fucking obvious what you’re on about.

“the party.” you respond, entertaining her coyness for no reason.

“party?” ellie pretends to think, looking up at nothing. “oh!! yeah… jesse’s one.” she smirks.

you smirk back, furrowing your eyebrows in amusement. “you could do so much better at playing dumb, y’know…”

“you think so?” ellie narrows her eyes, tilting her head as she steps closer. the impish smirk on her face never leaves. she’s having fun. you both are.

“yup. for your own good, don’t choose acting as a career.”

“for my own good?”

“for your own good.” you haven’t even realised how close you two are to each other now, daring eyes locked with another pair of daring eyes. takes one to know one. a silence permeated with tension fills the room.

“c’mere…” ellie finally mumbles before cupping your face with both hands and bringing you in for a kiss. you’re quick to melt in her grasp, your hand finding it’s way to ellie’s hair, giving it a playful tight squeeze that elicits a quiet groan from her. her hands, those goddamn hands, then move to your waist, pulling you closer. you two don’t even waste time before you’re making out with such fervor. save the sweetness for later, it’s the hunger that’s on display for now. the memory of her lips were starting to slip away from your mind and you’re glad you’re here to reboot it.

once you pull away, ellie’s eyes drift to something behind you. you follow her gaze, only for your eyes to land on a chair in the middle of the goddamn living room. it’s so random that you can’t help but burst out laughing.

“why is there a chair?” you ask in the midst of your laughing fit. it’s not even that funny, but the laughing is helping with your nerves.

“it’s for you.” ellie giggles too, a light pink tint on her cheeks that’s hard to miss.

“me?” you blink rapidly, your gaze darting from the chair to ellie, “do i sit?” you ask stupidly.

“no, you stand.” sarcasm laces her tone, as she giggles a little more, “go sit.”

“don’t order me around like i’m your dog.” you respond playfully, but you do as she says. despite your ‘tough’ front, you’d do anything she’d tell you to. guess she was being literal about offering you a seat…

ellie grins down at you, angling your chin up so you’re looking at her. you can feel the heat start to prickle in your face, down your neck and pervading the rest of your body. her thumb traces along your bottom lip, slightly dragging it down. there’s that same darkened look she had back in her car, one that makes you feel so small.

“so cute… like a human deer.” she murmurs distractedly, almost like she’s talking to herself instead of you. your head grows fuzzy, blushing even more. you mindlessly squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the growing heat in between. ellie notices.

“you doing okay?” she softly asks, unable to mask the smug look on her face. you nod quietly. with her eyes kept on you, she lowers down until she’s on her knees, her smile growing. she kisses the top of both your kneecaps in such a tender way it sends tingles down your spine.

“can i eat you?” she breathes, her voice hollow and needy. it takes a second for those words to register in your brain.

“you…” you trail off. ellie’s gaze is very, very distracting. so intense and intrusive. she patiently waits for your answer, resting her chin on top of your knees. how can someone look so adorable and intimidating at the same time?

“please?” she adds, and you smile. a realisation has just dawned on you: you like to make her wait.

“eat me?” you cock your head to the side in feigned confusion. now it’s your turn to play dumb.

“yeah… like, your pussy.” ellie mumbles, becoming so desperate that it’s funny. she needed to be humbled at least a little. “i want a taste…”

“yeah?” you mock, and ellie’s face warps into a frown. “stop teasing me.”

“it’s only payback.” you shrug.

“for what?” ellie whines.

“for taking a week to text me.”

ellie stares at you for a moment. “then let me make it up to you…” her eyes travel down to your clamped thighs, wanting to open them up so bad. truth is, you’d let her devour you. chew you up like a deranged creature and watch her greedily lick the blood from her fingers. but teasing her was just so damn fun.

“aren’t your knees getting tired?” you tease, cupping the side of her face as she stares up at you with puppy eyes. it’s getting hard to resist. ellie immediately shakes her head.

“for you? never.” she whispers. your grin broadens in satisfaction. such sweet words. meaningless? maybe, but cute nonetheless.

“fine…” you sigh, leaning back and gesturing for ellie to go forth. ellie’s face lights up like a bulb, eagerly parting your legs. the movement makes you shiver, as you can feel the heated moisture of your arousal seep through your underwear. despite your shorts still being on, ellie’s lips travel up, both hands gripping your sides as her lips leave fond, wet kisses along your inner thigh. her teeth clench around the hem of your shorts, letting out a muffled chuckle as she playfully pulls your shorts down with her teeth. she’s kidding around but that’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen in your life.

you adjust your knees so that your shorts can be pulled down. you’re so wet your underwear is fucking see-through. you just know she’s about to say something.

“someone’s real excited-“

“shut up and keep going.” you hastily cut her off out of embarrassment. ellie laughs, glancing at you one more time before leaning back down again, dragging her ardent tongue up your inner thigh. you gasp quietly, and that little noise influences her to do more, letting out a sigh of her own; the sort of sigh you do when relaxing in a hot bath, or when pissing after holding it in for so long… like she’s needed this. you’re startled when ellie drags her tongue right in the center of your clothed heat, your breath hitching. you want more.

ellie’s teasing is relentless and mean. she sucks your clit through your underwear, eyes on you; observing the way your hips are desperately buckling up, the way your thighs are twitching.

“so mean…” you whine as ellie flicks and rolls her tongue against your underwear.

“did you want something?” ellie blinks. again with the coyness. you scowl and ellie grins in return.

“you can’t outdo the do-er, babe.” she chirps, pulling the drenched underwear off your legs. she opens your legs wide, staring at your pussy like it’s the best piece of artwork she’s ever seen. you can practically see sparkles in her eyes. you shiver when you feel her fingers pry your cunt open.

“so fucking hungry for you…” she whispers, her breathing shallow and her eyes glazed-over. she gets to work immediately, a firm trail up your vulva before kissing it with her lips. a fleshed moan doesn’t fail to escape your own lips, as your eyes flutter shut. of course she’d be good at this.

ellie moans too, gripping your thighs and pulling you closer, burying her face in between your legs as she goes to town on you. she’s moving like she’s starving, like she hasn’t eaten for weeks and has been presented with a banquet.

her lips tug at your folds, your pussy slick with a mixture of your arousal and her spit. every single time her lips hit your clit it elicits yet another strong reaction from you. she’s so vigilant that she’s quick to notice that that’s your most delicate spot, so she abuses it; kissing it and pulling on it, her head shaking as she pleases you with her tongue. you nourish her with hushed praises: ones like “yes, yes…” or “you’re doing so good” to keep her going. it fuels ellie like no other, and drives her to go harder, a little faster.

her movements are so consistent and perfect that you could froth in the mouth right here and now. you grip her hair tightly, and ellie adores it: groaning happily when you squeeze too tight. you mindlessly push ellie’s head closer to your pussy, feeling the tip of her nose buried in. your moans begin to crescendo. you’re in fucking ecstasy.

“getting close, are we?” ellie pants, her thumb rubbing your clit in slow, teasing drags as she resumes sucking on your cunt.

“i’m gonna cum… i’m cumming… e-ellie…” you babble, tears threatening to pour; and it isn’t just the eye tears we’re talking about here…

“yeah? you gonna let yourself go?” ellie stares up at you, her voice a little higher and breathier. her face is warped into one of pleasure, like she’s the one being fucked.

“yeah… please ellie, i’m really close…” you whine: barely coherent, light tears streaming down your face. ellie chuckles at how adorable you look, taking a second to appreciate how good you look when needy. she dives back in, her nails digging into your thigh as her mouth moves with the perfect vigour to push you off the edge. and oh, you do.

one last strong lick gets you off: your spine bending backwards, same as your head as you let out a strangled scream. you grip her hair tightly, your eyes momentarily rolling to the back of your head as ellie purposely continues to extend the high a little bit. eventually, she pulls back. the both are you are completely out of breath - huffing and panting like dogs.

you slump back in your chair, completely out of it and in a daze. ellie smiles.

“you okay?” she murmurs, appreciating your cute, spent look. you nod quietly in response.

“fuck, my knees.” she mumbles, before sitting back and stretching them. you laugh a little.

“there was no need for the chair.” you reply.

“i know… but i wanted to. it was hot.”

“it was.” you smile. you’re glad you decided to get dolled up for your story tonight.

a/n: i’m back! i’ve been so caught up in school that i haven’t been able to post fics as much but i’ll try 2 be more active :33 i’m absolutely obsessed with billie’s lunch so i made an ellie fic based off of it. hope u enjoyed and if u have any requests leave them in the ask inbox !!!

[downbad4bil]

i need a girl who’s constantly seeking physical touch. even if it’s just tucking her hair behind her ear or being knuckle deep inside her while she pants and whimpers prettily into my neck, i need it.

[secretl1fe0fm3]

obsessive ~ billie eilish x fem!reader

warnings: pure smut (its so filthy im sorry in advance), dom!billie, sub!reader, strap (r!receiving), riding, dirty talk, degradation, choking, established relationship

an: im back!!! im sorry i haven’t posted in a hot minute. my gf was here for a week and then i just worked 6 days in a row and im feeling bleh. no plot at all, also loosely inspired by obsessive - chase atlantic. enjoy! mwah!!! (i wrote this high off an edible, please ignore any mistakes)

18+ minors dni!!!

1.5k words

You pull up to Billie’s place just as the sun starts dipping below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the quiet neighborhood. You park your car in her driveway, getting out of your car and locking it. You adjust your skirt before making your way to her door, getting ready to knock before the door swings open.

Billie stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, her piercing blue eyes dragging over you slowly, deliberately. She doesn’t speak right away, she just takes her time looking, the tension thick already.

You shift under her gaze, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. “You gonna let me in, or just stand there staring?”

Billie huffs out a laugh, “You’re wearin’ that on purpose.” Her voice is low, slightly raspy, a dangerous edge to it.

You glance down at yourself, feigning innocence. The tight plaid skirt clings to your hips, riding up slightly when you move, and paired with the fitted top you chose, it’s clear you were aiming for a reaction.

“And if I am?” you tease, stepping past her into the house.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and before you can take another step, Billie’s already on you. Her hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against her, and that’s when you feel it—hard, thick, pressing against your ass, through the fabric of her baggy shorts. Your breath catches and Billie notices.

“You feel that?” she murmurs, her voice low, almost a growl. She shifts her hips slightly, just enough to make sure you feel her strap.

Your hands blindly reach around to the back of her neck, tugging her head down into your shoulder. Billie leaves a trail of kisses up the side of your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent. She presses even closer, her mouth hovering just over your ear. “Knew you’d show up dressed like this,” she continues, her tone dark and teasing. “Lookin’ all pretty, actin’ like you didn’t want me to fuckin’ ruin you.”

You whimper at her words, your thighs pressing together, seeking some kind of friction. Billie’s grip tightens on your waist, keeping you exactly where she wants you. “What’s wrong, baby?” she purrs, grinding against you just slightly, making your breath catch in your throat. “This what you wanted?”

You nod, but it’s not enough for her. Her fingers dig into your hips as she rolls them forward again, letting you feel the outline of her strap again. “Nah,” she mutters, her lips brushing your jaw. “Say it.”

A blush creeps up on your cheeks, turning your upper half a soft pink shade as you whisper out. “I wanted this.”

Billie groans, low and rough. “Fuckin’ knew it.” She smirks into your neck, biting down and sucking hard, expertly leaving a dark purple bruise. Billie pulls away, admiring her work before pulling her body off of yours, completely.

“C’mere,” she mutters, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the living room. Her grip is firm, possessive, like she’s been waiting to get her hands on you. It had been weeks since you last saw each other, after all.

She drops down onto the couch, spreading her legs wide as she tugs you onto her lap, your thighs straddling hers. You barely have time to catch your breath before you feel the thick length of her strap pressing up between your legs.

You squirm in her lap, shifting just enough to make the strap-on rub against your clothed core, and Billie groans, gripping your hips tighter. “Fuck,” she mutters, watching you with hooded eyes. “Look at you, already grinding on it like a needy little slut. Does it feel good, pretty girl?”

You nod, biting your lip, and Billie tugs you closer, her lips brushing against your ear.

“C’mon, say it,” she whispers, her voice low and commanding. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Heat rushes through your core as you continue to roll your hips against her strap. “Please, Billie,” you whimper, leaning forward, your lips barely brushing against hers. “I need it. Need you.”

Billie groans, her fingers digging into your thighs. “Fuck,” she mutters. “Good girl.”

Without another word, her hands pull your skirt up higher, fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down in one swift motion. Before you can even process Billie’s own shorts coming off, she grips your hips again and grinds your now exposed cunt down against her strap, spreading your slick against the toy.

A choked moan escapes you, and Billie grins. “Mmm, that’s my pretty slut,” she murmurs, rocking you against her in slow, deliberate motions. “So fuckin’ wet for me already.”

She leans in, lips brushing against your ear as her hands guide your movements, dragging you against her strap, making you whimper with every stroke. “You’re gonna take it so well for me, aren’t you?”

You nod frantically, gripping her shoulders to steady yourself as she rolls her hips up into you, teasing your entrance.

“Yeah,” Billie groans, voice thick with need. “Let me fuck you just how you need it, baby.”

Billie reaches down and lines herself up with your entrance, kissing you deeply before lowering you down onto her strap, burying every inch of it inside you. The stretch is overwhelming, burning in the best way, and Billie just groans beneath you, her blue eyes dark with hunger as she watches it disappear inside of you.

“Fuck,” she breathes, voice rough. “Look at you.” She drags her hands up your sides, slow and deliberate, before one of her hands slides up to your throat. She squeezes just enough to make your breath stutter beneath her grip, her fingers press harder into the sides of your neck, making your eyes roll back.

“Such a good girl,” she murmurs, her lips barely brushing against yours. “Taking me so fuckin’ deep.”

Her free hand grips your hip, guiding you as you start to move, rolling your hips against her, lifting yourself up only to drop back down, making the strap fill you again and again. The sound of your breathless moans fill the room and Billie groans, her fingers tightening around your throat.

“That’s it, baby,” she rasps, watching you with hooded eyes. “Ride me just like that.”

You whimper, your body already trembling, and Billie chuckles darkly. “So fuckin’ desperate,” she murmurs, her grip tightening just slightly, cutting off your air for a brief second before she loosens her hold, letting you gasp out. “You like this, huh? Like bein’ choked while you fuck yourself on my cock?”

You nod desperately, nails digging into her shirt, fisting it between your fingers. Your eyebrows furrow in concentration, riding her with every ounce of energy you can muster up.

“Yeah, I knew you would,” Billie mutters, her free hand coming down hard on your ass, spanking you, encouraging you to continue. “You’re so fuckin’ greedy. Look at you, already shaking, and I’m not even done with you yet.”

She suddenly bucks her hips up, slamming the strap even deeper, making your whole body jolt. You let out a high pitched moan and Billie smirks, doing it again, fucking up into you now as her grip on your throat keeps you steady on her lap.

“That’s it, baby,” she groans, her voice rough, breathless. “You’re gonna come for me just like this, yeah? All over my cock?”

You groan, your body already on the edge, your orgasm quickly approaching. She loosens her hold on your neck just enough for you to suck in a desperate breath, then tightens her grip again.

“Go on,” she whispers, her other hand slipping between you, finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, tight circles. “Come for me, baby.”

She continues her relentless thrusts, the obscene sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls. The pressure around your throat and the rough circles on your clit suddenly become too much as your whole body tenses with white hot pleasure, your orgasm washing over you.

Billie groans at the sight, her hand leaving your throat only to grab your waist, holding you still as she grinds up into you, dragging out every last drop of your orgasm.

“Fuck,” you mutter out, your head dropping down onto Billie’s forehead, your heavy breaths mixing with hers. She grins, stilling inside of you.

“So fuckin’ proud of you pretty girl. You did so well for me, as always.” Billie murmurs, brushing your sweat slicked hair off your face and behind your ear.

“Missed you so much,” Your hands wrap around her, pulling her closer before planting a soft kiss on her lips. She smiles into the kiss, before pulling back, taking in your wrecked appearance, a content look on her face.

“Missed you more, baby.”

my masterlist

requests are open!!<3

[ncsdlr]

Strum Me Next

Billie Eilish x Reader

okay so basically it's more of a vibe than an idea bc it's all scrambled so take what your heart desires from this (you don't gotta answer this ask i'll probably yap too much here lmao) but basically there's billie and this girlie who ends up as her guitarist when she's expanding her band since finneas won't be on tour with her anymore and they quickly become pretty close but also like have insane chemistry too which is great except billie has a bf and as far as the public knows she only likes boys (also maybe takes a while for miss guitarist to realize billie likes girls too) now i'm not condoning cheating i'm just saying shit happens and maybe billie isn't the happiest in her relationship and she already wanted to break up with him and maybe he isn't too invested in it either so that allows them girlies to exist in this lil grey area where there's nothing going on but there's also not nothing going on and then it's full of fluffy and gay and soft moments but also angsty bc billie will die before admitting but she's terrified of taking action towards what she actually wants so the situation ends up hurting both of them really but damn bro these two work really well together and they're so in love with each other it's actually painfully obvious to everyone around them (the band is absolutely sick of them but they're quietly rooting for them too) in my head this is a full on coming of age story where they have soooo many soft existential intense and deeply connected moments and idk i love angst with a happy ending and i absolutely adore your smutty writings too so feel free to do whatever you want with this (if you want ofc) just pretty please give them a happy ending if you end up writing anything along these lines 🥹 i'll beg on my knees if i must thank you for your time my love 🤍

there's a version of that story in my head where miss guitarist and billie's bf kinda beef for a while bc he's catching on what's happening between them and he's not even jealous he's just pissed bc he's losing but then something something happens, like a verbal fight where idk missy defends billie somehow and billie is like 🥺 but he's oh so pissed and says some shit about missy and billie is like "🤔😐 you know what" or maybe even worse like, an almost physical altercation or even him trying something with missy (y'know like. you know. just so we could get billie all worried and lovey dovey and taking care of her missy)

More slow burn with Billie please! I really loved the one on tour

Warnings: Cheating

Smut - Angst

---------------------------------------

The tour van hummed down the highway, speakers rattling faintly with Billie’s soft demo tracks. You cradled your guitar, adjusting the strap, trying to pretend you weren’t completely starstruck. Billie, of course, was sprawled across the seat diagonally across from you, earbuds in, scrolling on her phone like she owned the world—which, honestly, in some ways, she did.

You cleared your throat. “So…this is your first tour without Finneas, huh?”

Billie looked up, one eyebrow arching. “Yeah. Kind of terrifying. But exciting too.” Her gaze lingered longer than necessary before she smirked, “Don’t look so nervous. You play better than you think.”

Your stomach did that stupid, fluttery thing. “Thanks. I—I guess I just…don’t want to mess up?”

She chuckled softly, tapping the edge of her seat. “Relax. Messing up is part of the fun.” Then, almost casually, she leaned forward as if inspecting your guitar, her fingers brushing yours while adjusting the strap. Electric. You yanked your hand back, heart hammering.

Rehearsal that night was chaotic but in the best way. Billie moved like she was both inside and outside the music, commanding the room without trying. And somehow, every time your eyes met, there was this spark—like you were the only two people there, and no one else existed.

By the third song, she was teasing you relentlessly, “Too aggressive on the riff, don’t get cocky now,” and you snapped back, “Says the girl who rewrites half the damn chords on stage.”

She laughed, that low, contagious laugh, and you felt yourself grinning despite your nerves. Something in the air had shifted—you weren’t just a hired guitarist anymore. You were…noticed.

Later, the band’s “plus one” joined you in the lounge: Billie’s boyfriend. He introduced himself with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was charming enough, if a little self-centered, and the band immediately bristled—none of them could really hide it. Billie, however, barely acknowledged him beyond a perfunctory nod.

You caught her glance as she sipped her water, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips, as if she and you both understood something unspoken. Something only the two of you were sensing—but neither would say out loud…yet.

---

By the time the others had shuffled off to their rooms, the tour bus was quiet except for the hum of amps and Billie strumming softly in the corner. You plopped down on the couch, guitar in hand, trying not to stare too much at her. But of course, she caught you.

“You’re staring,” she said, her voice teasing but low, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“I—what? No, I’m…just thinking about the next riff,” you mumbled, cheeks heating.

Billie tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Uh-huh. Totally thinking about riffs. Sure.” She set her guitar down and crossed the room in a few graceful steps. “Here, try this,” she said, plucking a chord and leaning close so her hand brushed yours.

You nearly yelped. Her fingers lingered, warm and light, and for a second, the music around you melted away. “Okay…wow. That’s—actually amazing,” you managed.

She smirked, leaning back slightly but keeping her gaze locked on you. “See? Told you you played better than you think.”

There was a silence then, just the two of you, the faint buzz of amps, the subtle heat of proximity. Your fingers brushed again on the fretboard—an accidental spark, or maybe intentional, you weren’t sure.

“Billie…” you started, heart hammering, “do you…ever feel like, I don’t know, music is the only place where…everything makes sense?”

She smiled softly, almost sad. “Yeah. But it’s weird, isn’t it? The people you connect with through it…sometimes they’re the ones who make everything feel chaotic.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, intense, searching, and you realized—you weren’t just talking about music anymore.

A soft chuckle escaped her, breaking the tension. “Anyway, stop overthinking. Play the next line, see where it takes you.”

You did, hands trembling just slightly, but each note felt electric. The night stretched on, and for the first time, it wasn’t just music that had you caught in its pull—it was her. Every glance, every brush of fingers, every laugh that lingered too long…something was building. And neither of you were quite ready to admit it.

---

The tour bus smelled like coffee, sweat, and the faint hint of Billie’s perfume—a dangerous combination. You plopped onto the worn couch across from her, guitar still in hand, pretending to tune while keeping an eye on her.

Billie stretched dramatically, smirking. “You look way too serious for someone who’s supposed to be jamming.”

“I’m concentrating,” you shot back, mock glaring. “Unlike you, I actually care if we sound halfway decent.”

“Ohhh, big words from someone whose fingers keep brushing mine every time we play,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

You blinked, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “That’s…purely accidental. Artistic friction.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, rolling her eyes but grinning. “Sure. Accidental. Totally not because you’re secretly enjoying it.”

“Secretly? Pfft. Never.” You strummed a chord, letting your fingers linger just a little too long over hers.

Across the bus, one of the backup singers snorted, nudging another. “Uh…are we imagining things, or are they…?”

“Yeah, that’s…definitely not normal band behavior,” the drummer muttered, squinting at the two of you.

Billie leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Don’t look so smug. I saw you blushing.”

“Blushing? Me? No way,” you said, trying to sound casual while your heart practically slammed against your ribs.

A laugh broke out behind you. “Okay, wow, we get it—you two are cute,” someone called. The rest of the band groaned and rolled their eyes but couldn’t hide the smiles. Billie and you froze, exchanging a glance—half embarrassed, half…thrilled.

“Whatever,” Billie muttered, smirking at you, “we’re just…practicing. Yeah, that’s it. Totally innocent.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “Right. Totally innocent. Definitely not a dangerous amount of…spark.”

Billie’s grin widened, and for a moment, the whole bus faded away. The banter, the teasing, the electricity between you—it was impossible to ignore. And judging by the band’s expressions, neither was anyone else.

---

The afterparty was loud, thumping bass rattling the hotel’s walls. Sweat still clung to your skin from the set, but you weren’t ready to come down from the high. Neither was Billie—her eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen, cheeks flushed, laughter looser than usual as she sipped from a plastic cup.

“You’re too quiet,” she said suddenly, tugging at your sleeve. “C’mon. I need air.”

You followed her out, down the hall, into her room. The door clicked shut, and silence pressed around you. Billie kicked off her boots, leaning against the wall with a soft groan. “God. I’m buzzing.”

You laughed, flopping onto the bed. “Yeah, you kinda killed it out there. Again.”

She threw you a grin, then crossed the room, collapsing beside you. The alcohol, the adrenaline, the neon haze from outside—it all swirled until she was suddenly too close. Her perfume was dizzying, her laugh softer now, private.

“You know…” she murmured, eyes flicking to your lips, “I can’t stop thinking about the way you look when you play.”

Your breath hitched. “Billie—”

And then her mouth was on yours. Messy, desperate, teeth clashing. It was fire and gasoline—built-up tension exploding at once. Your hands tangled in her hair, hers fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer until there was no space left.

When you slid your hand lower, pressing between her thighs, Billie gasped into your mouth—sharp, surprised, needy. Her hips jolted against your fingers like she’d been aching for this all night.

“Fuck—” she whispered, voice breaking as you circled her clit slowly, teasing. She bucked into your hand, chasing more friction, nails digging into your shoulders. “God, don’t—don’t tease me right now.”

You smiled against her lips, breath hot. “So needy, huh?”

“Shut up,” she gasped, but the way her thighs spread wider betrayed her. She was soaked, slick coating your fingers as you slipped one inside, then another. Her body clenched around you instantly, walls fluttering tight, pulling you deeper.

“Jesus, Billie,” you groaned, curling your fingers just right. Her head fell back, a raw moan tearing from her throat—unguarded, desperate. She tried to muffle it with her hand, but you caught her wrist and pinned it to the mattress.

“Let me hear you,” you murmured.

Her green eyes flicked to yours, glassy and blown wide. Whatever resistance she’d been clinging to broke. She let go, hips grinding down hard on your hand, chasing the rhythm you gave her.

Each thrust had her unraveling more—her chest heaving, sweat dampening her collarbone, lips parted in helpless little cries. The tension in her body coiled tighter, her thighs trembling around your wrist.

“Oh my god—fuck, I can’t—” she babbled, words slurred with pleasure. “Feels so—different—”

You pressed your thumb to her clit, curling your fingers deep inside at the same time. Her entire body arched off the bed, a strangled sob ripping from her chest. She shattered around you, pulsing so hard you could feel it all the way through your palm.

Her orgasm dragged on—intense, overwhelming—her hips jerking erratically, legs clamping tight, voice breaking as she cried out your name. She shook under you, nails raking your arm, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from how good it felt.

“Fuuuck—oh fuck, I—” she whimpered, riding it out, every wave hitting harder than the last. It was messy, unstoppable, like her body had been waiting for this release far too long.

When she finally slumped back, chest heaving, skin flushed and glowing, she looked destroyed. Wrecked in the most beautiful way. Her lips trembled as she tried to catch her breath, hair sticking to her forehead.

You pulled your hand from her, glistening, and she whimpered at the loss, thighs still twitching. For a second, the air was heavy with nothing but her panting breaths and the faint bass thumping from down the hall.

And then—her eyes widened, guilt flooding in all at once. “We—fuck—we shouldn’t have…” She covered her face with her hands, voice cracking. “I have a boyfriend. I can’t—this is so wrong.”

But the way her body was still trembling, the wetness still dripping down her thighs, the way she couldn’t even form a proper sentence—none of it looked like regret. It looked like someone who’d just felt something she’d been craving without even knowing it.

Her hands covered her face, muffling a choked sound—half sob, half laugh. “I’m so fucking stupid. What the hell did we just do?”

“Billie…” you started softly, reaching for her hand. But she flinched back, shaking her head.

��No. Don’t. Please just—go.” Her voice cracked, fragile in a way you’d never heard from her on stage. “If you stay, I’ll just—” She cut herself off, swallowing hard. “Please. I can’t.”

The sting was immediate, sharp in your chest. You wanted to argue, to tell her she didn’t really mean it, but the look in her eyes—wide, wet, terrified—stopped you cold. She wasn’t asking. She was begging.

So you nodded, throat tight. “Okay. I’ll…give you space.”

You pulled your hand back, slipping off the bed. The room felt suddenly colder without her heat pressed against you. Your fingers still glistened faintly with her slick, and the urge to lick them clean—just to hold onto the moment—nearly broke you. But instead, you wiped them quickly on your jeans, grabbed your jacket, and forced yourself out the door.

The click of it closing behind you echoed like a slam.

Inside, Billie sat frozen, chest still heaving, thighs still trembling from aftershocks. Her body screamed with leftover pleasure, but her mind…her mind was spiraling.

She shifted, wincing at the wetness between her legs, at the damp patch on the sheets beneath her. Her cheeks burned with shame as she stood shakily, peeling her underwear off, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. She pressed it between her thighs, wiping away the evidence of what just happened—of what you did to her.

But no matter how hard she scrubbed, the phantom sensation lingered—your fingers curling inside her, your voice in her ear, the way her body had betrayed her so completely. She caught sight of herself in the mirror—flushed, hair wild, mascara smudged under her eyes, thighs glistening. She looked wrecked. Not by her boyfriend. By you.

And as she rinsed the towel, scrubbing at the sheets with trembling hands, one thought wouldn’t stop looping in her head, no matter how much she tried to push it away:

No one has ever made me feel like that.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at her damp palms, fighting tears. Because she knew—this wasn’t just a mistake she could wipe away.

This was the beginning of the end.

---

The lights were blinding, the crowd deafening, but none of it mattered when Billie turned her head and caught your eye mid-song. That look—smoldering, electric, like a secret only the two of you shared—was enough to set your whole body on fire.

You played harder, sharper, every chord vibrating in your chest. Billie leaned into you during the bridge, hair whipping, grin flashing like she was feeding off your energy. For a split second, it wasn’t a performance. It was just the two of you—an orbit no one else could touch.

The fans screamed, eating it up, but backstage? The band noticed.

“She looked at her like she was about to eat her alive,” the drummer muttered as they peeled off sweaty clothes.

“No kidding,” one of the backing vocalists said, shaking their head. “If they don’t just fuck already, I’m quitting.”

“Yeah, except…doesn’t she still have a boyfriend?” The bassist frowned, lowering their voice.

The room went uncomfortably quiet. Everyone knew. Everyone saw it. The stares, the lingering touches, the way Billie and you practically vibrated when you were in the same space.

And someone else heard it too.

Billie’s boyfriend had been lingering in the hallway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, jaw tight. The second your name left their lips, something ugly flashed across his face. --

Backstage after another show, the air was heavy. Billie towel-dried her face, laughing at something the drummer said—but her eyes kept sliding back to you. Quick, guilty flickers, like she didn’t mean to, like she couldn’t stop.

You caught her once, maybe twice. And instead of smiling like you always did, you looked away. Pretending to dig through your gig bag. Pretending you didn’t feel your skin burn under her gaze.

The crew felt it. The silence was different tonight, not the usual lazy after-show exhaustion, but taut, like everyone was tiptoeing around a live wire.

At the hotel, she knocked on your door, just once. You opened it, heart kicking, and found her standing there barefoot, hoodie pulled low.

“Got a sec?”

You let her in. She lingered by the desk, arms crossed, like she didn’t know where to put her hands.

“You played insane tonight,” she said finally, breaking the quiet.

You smirked, though your stomach twisted. “Yeah? Guess I was trying to keep up with you.”

That old banter—sharp, teasing, easy—except now it came with shadows. The way her mouth twitched like she wanted to grin but didn’t let herself. The way her voice dropped softer, like anyone might overhear.

“Billie—” You started, but she cut in.

“Don’t.” Her eyes locked on yours, raw, pleading. “Don’t make me talk about it.”

And you didn’t. You let her walk out, shoulders hunched, leaving you with the hollow ache of something almost beautiful, strangled by guilt.

--

The band whispered. In the van. At soundcheck. Passing looks during meals.

“They were joined at the hip last week,” someone muttered. “Now they barely look at each other.”

“Trouble in paradise?” another teased, half-joking, half-concerned.

And in the corner of the room, Billie’s boyfriend was watching—again—, jaw tight, piecing it all together.

--

The next few nights blurred together. Shows, travel, rehearsals—everything looked the same on the outside. But inside? Different.

On stage, you still found her eyes like you always did, the unspoken rhythm that made the crowd scream louder, made the music sharper. But the second you were offstage, it was distance. Measured smiles. Half-finished sentences.

One night after rehearsal, you caught her sitting cross-legged on the floor, scribbling lyrics in a notebook. Usually you’d flop down beside her, steal her pen, tease her about rhymes. Tonight you hovered at the doorway instead.

She looked up, caught you watching. For a moment, the air stretched taut between you. Her mouth parted like she might say something, ask you to sit, pull you back in.

But she just snapped the notebook shut. “See you tomorrow,” she said softly.

You nodded, walked away, your chest aching like you’d left something vital in that room.

Another night, after a show, you were both coming down from the adrenaline, sitting in the greenroom with water bottles and sore hands. You stretched, groaning, and without thinking she reached out, rubbed the tension from your shoulder.

Your whole body froze.

She realized at the same time, her hand snapping back like she’d touched fire.

“Sorry,” she muttered, too quickly.

You forced a laugh. “You’re fine.”

But the spot where her hand had been kept burning long after she left.

--

The after-show chaos buzzed all around—crew breaking down, bandmates still buzzing, someone blasting music from a speaker in the corner. You were sitting on the edge of a couch, guitar leaning against your knee, head tipped back as you replayed the set in your head.

Billie dropped down beside you with a dramatic sigh, so close your thigh brushed hers. “Killed it tonight,” she said, a grin tugging at her lips.

You smirked. “You mean I killed it tonight.”

“Oh, please.” She nudged you with her shoulder, warm, casual. “They were screaming because of me.”

“They screamed louder during my solo.” You raised your brows.

Billie tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “You’re seriously trying to steal my show right now?”

“Not trying. Succeeding.”

She let out a laugh, head falling back. It should’ve felt lighthearted. But when she turned back to look at you, her eyes lingered too long, too openly. Her grin softened, and suddenly the whole room faded into background static.

Your heart thudded. You opened your mouth to throw out another joke, to keep the banter rolling, but the words stuck. All you could do was stare back, the heat between you like gravity.

Billie blinked first, clearing her throat. She leaned back into the couch, putting a little space between you, though her thigh still pressed to yours. “Whatever,” she said, voice quieter now. “You’re still in my band.”

You let out a low chuckle, but it came out rough, uneven. “Guess I’ll let you have that one.”

Neither of you moved. The noise of the room seemed miles away. Her hand flexed on her thigh, fingers brushing close—too close—to yours. For one dizzy second, you thought she’d actually do it, slip her pinky against yours like a secret.

But she stood abruptly, brushing invisible dust off her sweatpants. “I, uh—I should… yeah.” She gestured vaguely toward the hallway.

You nodded, trying not to look as deflated as you felt. “Yeah. Totally.”

And then she was gone, leaving you staring at the imprint of her warmth on your leg, trying to catch your breath.

---

You were tuning your guitar, crouched low with one knee on the floor. Billie was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, watching you with her chin propped in her hand. You could feel her eyes on you, but you tried to play it cool.

“Almost ready, Rockstar?” she teased, voice light, but her smile was soft, fond.

You flicked a string and smirked without looking up. “Patience, Pirate.”

Her laugh bubbled out before she could stop it, and when you finally glanced up, she was covering her face with her hoodie sleeve, pretending she wasn’t grinning like an idiot.

That’s when you noticed him.

Billie’s boyfriend, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, face unreadable. He hadn’t announced himself. Hadn’t said a word. He was just… watching.

Billie finally clocked him and straightened, the grin wiped off so fast it was jarring. “Hey,” she said, suddenly all business.

You nodded politely in his direction, throat dry. “What’s up, man?”

“Nothing.” His voice was flat, eyes narrowing briefly before flicking away. He stepped inside, grabbed a chair, and sat down, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t care.

But you knew he cared.

Because every time you and Billie’s eyes caught mid-song, every time she leaned a little too close to whisper something only you could hear, every time you both dissolved into stifled laughter over some private joke—his jaw tightened. His thumb pressed too hard on the screen. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

By the end of rehearsal, his silence weighed heavier than the amps.

---

The venue was pulsing with leftover energy—staff, bandmates, a handful of friends all gathered for drinks and food after the show. Billie was glowing in the aftermath, cheeks flushed, her hoodie tied tight around her waist.

You were sitting beside her on a beat-up leather couch, both of you buzzing on adrenaline and maybe a little alcohol. She leaned in, her shoulder pressed firm against yours as she whispered, “Did you see the kid in the front row? He was literally crying during your solo.”

You grinned, heat sparking in your chest. “Nah. He was crying because he realized you weren’t looking at him—you were too busy watching me.”

Her eyes widened, and for a split second, she looked caught. Then she shoved your shoulder lightly, laughing, but her gaze lingered, lips parted like she was about to say something more.

And then he walked in.

Her boyfriend, sliding into the room like a stormcloud. He didn’t join the laughter, didn’t sit down. He just stood against the wall, a drink in his hand, his eyes fixed on the two of you—shoulders touching, laughter too loud, the air between you charged.

You felt it instantly. The scrutiny. The unspoken accusation.

Billie noticed too. She stiffened, pulling slightly away from you, though her knee still brushed yours. The fun drained out of her expression, replaced with that polite, careful mask she always wore around him.

“Hey,” he said finally, voice sharp in the middle of the noise.

Billie looked up at him, forcing a small smile. “Hey.”

That was all. He didn’t come closer. Didn’t stop glaring.

You sipped your drink, heart hammering, and tried not to flinch under the weight of it.

Because it wasn’t jealousy in his stare. It was something colder. Calculating. Like he was just waiting for the right moment to let all that bottled-up anger spill out.

---

The stage was dim except for a few colored spotlights as the crew finished setting levels. You stood with Billie, side by side, running through the first verse of Happier Than Ever. It wasn’t for the crowd this time—it was just for the two of you, the room hollow and echoing, her voice raw and unfiltered.

She glanced at you between lines, lips curling, and your chest burned with that same old fire you kept trying to smother. Without thinking, you leaned closer, brushing your shoulder against hers, fingers flying on the fretboard as you pushed her voice higher, stronger, freer.

She laughed into the mic, a private, breathless sound just for you, and you couldn’t stop smiling.

That’s when you saw him again.

Billie’s boyfriend, standing dead center in the empty audience, arms folded, staring like he was watching something disgusting crawl across the stage.

You froze, but Billie didn’t notice at first. She was still lit up, eyes locked on you like you were her whole focus. Only when she followed your line of sight did her smile falter. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, finishing the verse like nothing was wrong, though her shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

He didn’t move. Didn’t clap. Just stared.

By the time soundcheck ended, the tension was coiled so tight you thought it might snap.

--

The hotel suite was quiet except for the faint hum of a TV Billie wasn’t really watching. She was curled up on the couch, hoodie drawn tight around her, when he came in.

“Hey,” she said softly, cautious.

He didn’t answer right away. He just closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it with his hands in his pockets. Calm. Too calm.

Finally: “You looked real happy up there.”

Billie frowned. “What?”

“With them.” He didn’t need to say your name. His tone made it sound like a curse. “The way you smile. The way you sing when they’re around. Never seen you that lit up with me.”

Billie’s chest tightened. “It’s rehearsal. Don’t start—”

He cut her off, voice still low, almost conversational. “You think I don’t see it? The looks. The little touches. Like you’re not even trying to hide it from me.”

Her stomach dropped. “Nothing’s happening.”

He pushed off the door and moved closer, slow, predatory. “Oh, I know nothing’s happening.” He leaned over the back of the couch, close enough she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “But you want it to. Don’t you?”

Billie’s throat went dry. She didn’t answer.

He tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe that’s the fun part. You get to walk around all hot and bothered, thinking about them. And I get to be the one you come home to.” His hand slid along the back of the couch, fingers brushing her shoulder. “That’s what makes it good. Knowing you’re theirs in your head, but mine in this bed.”

Billie flinched, pulling her hoodie tighter. “Stop.”

His smile widened, cruel and calm. “Why? I’m not mad. I like it. I like knowing you’re guilty. Makes me wonder how bad you’ll want me tonight—if you’ll be thinking about their hands while I fuck you.”

Billie froze, every muscle taut. Her stomach knotted, but she forced her face to stay neutral, lips twitching into the smallest ghost of a smile. If she showed him her disgust, he’d only push harder.

So she swallowed and whispered, “...maybe.”

That single word felt like poison in her mouth, but his eyes lit up with dark satisfaction. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against her ear.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Good. Keep it that way.”

Billie’s skin crawled, but she nodded like she agreed, like she was his. It was the only way to end it without letting him see how much he made her want to scream.

When he finally leaned back, smug and content, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, forcing her breathing to stay steady. Inside, she was burning—sick with guilt, sick with shame, sick with how wrong it all felt.

And all she could think was how badly she wanted to run.

---

Backstage after soundcheck, Billie was quieter than usual. Normally she’d be bouncing around, cracking jokes, messing with the crew. Tonight she sat curled up on the couch, hoodie strings pulled tight, picking at her nails like they’d done her wrong.

You dropped down beside her. “Yo. You good?”

“Mm.” Her response was flat, noncommittal. She didn’t meet your eyes.

You didn’t push. You just leaned back, stretching your legs out. A beat passed before Billie tilted sideways, shoulder brushing yours. You smirked softly.

“Well damn, needy today, huh?”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she inched closer until her head rested against your shoulder.

“I’m just tired,” she said, voice small.

You looped an arm around her, casual, no thought behind it. To you, it was comfort. To her, it was an anchor. The warmth of your side, the steady rise and fall of your chest—it untangled some of the knots that had been strangling her since earlier.

Because she couldn’t shake it. The way her boyfriend had looked at her, talked to her, that weird simmer under his skin when he brought you up. The way he’d tried to twist it into something physical—something she’d had to pretend to like just to keep things calm. She still felt gross. Still felt small.

And yet here you were, thumb brushing over her arm without asking for anything back.

“You’re… warm,” she mumbled, cheeks heating like she shouldn’t even say it.

You grinned. “It's terrible, I sweat like a damn pig.”

She let out a weak laugh, then tugged at the sleeve of your hoodie like a kid. “Don’t move yet.”

You didn’t.

“Want me to grab you water or something?” you offered.

She shook her head, burrowing closer. After a pause: “You’re already… enough.”

You swallowed, pretending to keep it light, rubbing her shoulder like it was nothing. She just thought, please don’t let go yet. Please don’t make me go back to feeling the way I did.

---

It was after another rehearsal, the band sprawled out in the lounge, half-laughing, half-exhausted. You and Billie were tucked at the end of the couch, knee to knee, tossing inside jokes back and forth that no one else could quite catch.

“You’re seriously the worst,” she said, smirking as she shoved your shoulder lightly.

“And yet…” you leaned in, mock-serious, “…you keep sitting next to me. Curious.”

Her laugh burst out loud, unfiltered, and her head tipped back against the cushion. For a second, you just stared at her—lips parted, breath caught—before catching yourself and looking away. She noticed. Of course she noticed.

From the other side of the room, her boyfriend’s gaze was fixed on both of you. He hadn’t joined in the banter, hadn’t said a word the entire time. He just sat in the armchair, jaw tight, one hand flexing slowly against his thigh.

When Billie leaned closer to whisper something in your ear—her breath brushing your skin, your smile softening instinctively—his knuckles went white.

“Bill,” he said suddenly, sharp enough to slice the air.

She blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

“You got a sec?” His voice was even, calm, but his eyes told another story.

Billie hesitated, like she’d rather stay pressed up against you. “…In a bit.”

He didn’t push. Just leaned back in his chair, smile curling at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t warm. It was thin, deliberate.

You didn’t notice the way his gaze followed the space between your bodies, the way he clocked every brush of her hand against yours, every flicker of longing in her eyes.

He saw it all. And he was filing it away, quiet and patient.

---

The rehearsal hall had gone quiet for the night. Everyone else drifted out in clusters, Billie trailing behind with her manager, leaving you in the dressing room to pack up your gear.

The door clicked shut.

You turned, and there he was—Billie’s boyfriend—leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting. His eyes were flat, dangerous.

“…need something?” you asked carefully, zipping up your case.

He didn’t answer right away. He just pushed off the wall, slow steps eating up the space until he was right in front of you.

“You think I don’t see it?” His voice was low, edged with venom. “The way you look at her. The way she lets you look at her.”

Your throat tightened, but you held his gaze. “…if you’re insecure about your relationship, that’s not my problem.”

That was the wrong thing to say. His lips curled into something that wasn’t a smile.

“You really think you’re slick, huh?” His hand shot out, grabbing your collar, slamming you back against the lockers. The metal clanged painfully against your shoulder blades. You gasped at the sudden impact, and before you could push him off, his fist drove into your ribs. The pain was sharp, white-hot, stealing your breath.

You choked out a curse, doubling over, but he shoved you upright again with a vicious grip on your jaw.

“You’re nothing,” he spat, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath sour with rage. “You think you’re gonna take her from me? You think she wants you? You’re a fucking joke.”

You struggled against him, but his grip only tightened. Another hit—this time to your stomach. Air punched out of your lungs, vision blurring as your knees buckled. He let you drop, watching you gasp on the floor like it gave him satisfaction.

“I could end this right now,” he hissed, crouching down so his face hovered close. “One word from me and you’re out. Career gone. Billie never sees you again. And maybe I should make sure she sees you like this—weak. Pathetic.”

The door banged open.

“What the fuck?!”

Billie’s voice ripped through the room. She froze for half a second, eyes widening at the sight of you on the ground, clutching your side, before she turned on him with pure fury.

“What the fuck did you do?!” she screamed, shoving him back so hard his shoulder hit the lockers. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“Billie—”

“Don't—!” her voice cracked, raw with rage and fear—“don’t you fucking say my name. Get the fuck out before I call security.”

For the first time, he faltered—but only for a second. His jaw locked, and instead of backing down, he shoved off the locker Billie had pushed him into and snapped.

“You don’t see it?!” he roared at her, voice cracking with rage. “She’s trying to steal you from me! Look at the way you let her follow you around—like some pathetic fucking puppy you’re keeping around to stroke your ego!”

Billie’s chest heaved, eyes blazing. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?! You laid hands on her—a woman—, and you’re standing here talking about me stroking my ego? You’re insane!”

“I’m insane?!” His voice rose, shaking the walls. “I’m the only one who gives a shit about you not getting used! You think she cares about you? She just wants in your pants, Billie. That’s it. That’s all this is!”

Billie stepped closer, practically nose to nose with him, shaking with fury. “And what the fuck are you doing right now, huh?! Acting like you own me? Hurting someone I care about just to prove you’ve got some power over me? That’s not love. That’s pathetic.”

He barked out a laugh, cruel and bitter. “Oh, you care about her? Yeah, I bet you do. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’ve been fucking her behind my back—”

“I haven’t!” Billie’s scream cracked, raw with fury and desperation. The words ripped out of her like they cost her something. For a heartbeat, she looked almost dizzy with the force of it.

But then—she froze. Her lips parted like she wanted to say more, but nothing came out. Because the truth slammed into her like a sucker punch: she had. Not all the way, not the way he thought, but enough. Enough that the guilt twisted low in her gut, enough that her pulse stuttered, her mind flashing back to your fingers inside her, the way she came apart for you.

And he saw it. The way her fury wavered. The way her voice cracked not just from rage but from something perilously close to guilt. His eyes lit up, sharp and vicious.

“You hesitated,” he hissed, triumphant, spitting the words like poison. “Holy shit—you did, didn’t you?”

Billie’s chest heaved, panic flashing across her face before she shoved it down, shaking her head furiously, tears threatening to spill. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

But the damage was done. Her anger was real, her love for you was real—but for the first time, she realized just how close to the edge she already was.

His voice dropped, deadly calm now, more terrifying than his yelling. “You smug little piece of shit.”

Before you could back away, his fist gripped your shirtfront, slamming you back into the nearest wall. Pain shot through your ribs. His face was so close you could smell the bitter tang of alcohol on his breath.

“You think you can take her from me?” His voice was shaking with rage. “You think you can sneak around and touch what’s mine?” His knuckles dug harder into your chest before his other hand shoved against your jaw, rough, enough to bruise.

Billie gasped, frozen for half a beat—then, “Stop! Stop!” she cried, her voice breaking, but he didn’t. His grip tightened, the fury in his eyes wild and unhinged, all directed at you now.

Billie’s chest was heaving, tears gathering in her eyes as she tried to claw his hand off of you. “Stop! Just stop, you’re hurting them—”

He snapped his head toward her, eyes wild. “Unless you give me one good reason why you’ve been acting so fucking different. Why you look at them like that.”

Billie froze. And then, in the worst, most broken split second of her life, the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Fine—fuck—I did, okay?! I did cheat. We… we fucked. I’m sorry.”

The room went dead silent.

Your stomach dropped. Her voice rang in your ears like a gunshot. His face went completely blank, his hand loosening on your shirt before clenching even tighter.

“You,” he hissed, turning back to you, spittle flying with his rage. His grip slammed you harder into the wall, his fist cocking back. “You touched her. You think you’re better than me?!”

Billie gasped, covering her mouth, instantly regretting everything. “No—no, it’s not like that—please—” she begged, reaching out, but he was already past hearing. His fist connected with your ribs, pain exploding through your side, forcing the air from your lungs.

You doubled over, choking, while he shoved you down to the floor.

And Billie—Billie just broke. “Stop!” she screamed, throwing herself between you, clawing at his arms, sobbing.

His fist crashed into your ribs again, white-hot pain blooming sharp enough to make you see stars. You gasped, crumpling, hands instinctively wrapping around yourself.

Billie’s scream tore out of her throat, raw and broken. “Stop it! Please!” She tried to wedge herself between you and him, clawing at his arms, but he shoved her aside like she was nothing.

And then his hand went for your throat.

You choked, vision blurring as your back slammed against the wall. His face twisted, spit flying as he growled into your face. “You ruined her. You think you can take what’s mine?”

Billie was sobbing now, pounding on his back, desperate. “No, no, no—get off them, please—”

“Hey! Back off!”

Security barreled into the room, two guys grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him back. He fought, snarling, spitting, straining against them like a rabid animal. “Let me go! They fucked her! They fucked her—!”

You collapsed to your knees, coughing, lungs burning. Billie was instantly on the floor with you, hands shaking violently as she cupped your face. “Baby—oh my god, no, no, no—” Her voice cracked, breaking apart, mascara smudged across her cheeks.

Behind her, chaos roared—security wrestling him toward the door as he thrashed and shouted, his voice ragged with fury. “You think this is over?! You think—”

The slam of the door shutting on him was like a gunshot.

And then silence.

Billie clutched you to her chest, rocking you even though her whole body was trembling. “I’m so sorry—I’m so fucking sorry—” she whispered into your hair, over and over, like if she said it enough it would undo everything.

--

Billie half-dragged, half-guided you into her hotel room, her breath still ragged from screaming. She shut the door with her foot, fumbling with trembling hands until it finally clicked shut. The silence pressed in, thick and heavy, broken only by your uneven breaths.

“Sit. Please—just—sit down.” Her voice cracked on the word, as if commanding you was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. She pushed you gently onto the edge of the bed, then dropped to her knees in front of you, rifling through the little first-aid kit she’d grabbed.

Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly rip open the antiseptic packet. “God—fuck—hold still, okay?” She glanced up at you, eyes shining, tears slipping freely down her flushed cheeks. “I have to—I have to clean this—”

The sting of the wipe made you flinch. Billie froze instantly, her lip trembling, her breath catching in her throat. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—” Her thumb brushed your jaw tenderly, as if she could apologize directly into your skin.

She dabbed carefully at the cut on your lip, at the bruise blooming dark across your cheek. Her hands hovered, hesitant, like she was afraid touching you would break you even more. Every time you winced, her eyes darted to yours, begging silently for forgiveness she didn’t need to ask for.

When she pressed gauze against your ribs, you hissed, teeth gritting. Billie whimpered—actually whimpered—like the pain was hers instead of yours. “I should’ve stopped him sooner. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Billie,” you rasped, your voice raw, “it’s not your fault.”

Her head shook violently. “It is. I let him in. I let him hurt you.” Her voice fractured, tears streaking faster now, dropping onto your hands as she held you still. “You could’ve—god, you could’ve—”

You reached up, brushing her damp cheek with your thumb. She leaned into it instantly, like she needed the contact to stay standing. For a moment, she just breathed against your hand, her lashes fluttering closed, her whole body trembling from adrenaline and grief.

The kit lay forgotten between you as she pressed her forehead to your knee, clinging to your thigh like she was the one barely holding on.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” she whispered. “Not for me. For you.”

Billie’s hands steadied a little as she taped the gauze over your ribs, but her eyes never stopped darting over your face, down your body, back up again like she was checking for more damage every second. Her breathing was shallow, her lips bitten raw, and the silence between you pulsed like it had its own heartbeat.

Finally, she sat back on her heels, wiping at her eyes with the back of her wrist. “You’re gonna bruise like hell,” she muttered, voice hoarse, “but you’ll be okay.”

You hummed softly, not breaking eye contact. The weight of her gaze lingered anyway, stuck between guilt and want.

Billie’s hands lingered a little too long against your skin as she smoothed the bandage down, fingertips trembling. She finally sat back, chewing her lip raw, like she was working up the courage to cut something open.

“I think…” she started, voice small, eyes darting away. “I think we should—”

You leaned forward, cutting her off before she could finish. “Let me fuck you right here, right now.”

Her head snapped toward you, lips parting in shock.

“He’s probably outside,” you pushed on, voice a low, dangerous rasp. “Let him hear just how good I make you feel.”

Billie froze. Her mouth hung open, whatever moral, responsible sentence she’d been about to finish dead on her tongue. Her lashes fluttered once, twice, and her breath came quicker. You could see the war on her face—her chest rising fast, lips trembling, pupils blown wide.

She should’ve pushed you away. She should’ve said no. But instead, her thighs pressed together just barely, like her body was answering before her mouth could.

Billie’s throat worked, like she was trying to swallow the words you’d just shoved between you. Her lips parted once, then closed, trembling.

“Don’t—” she breathed, the softest whisper, almost pitiful. “We can’t…”

But even as she said it, her hand betrayed her, curling into the fabric of your shirt, holding you close like she couldn’t stand the idea of space.

Her eyes flickered between your mouth and your eyes, panic and hunger twisting together. “It’s wrong,” she whispered again, weaker this time. Her voice cracked halfway through, and the guilt in it made your chest tighten—just for a second.

You leaned in anyway, hovering right over her lips, so close you could feel the shudder of her breath. “Then tell me to stop,” you murmured.

Billie didn’t. Couldn’t. Her gaze dropped to your mouth again, and this time she didn’t look away.

Her thighs squeezed tighter, her body already betraying her mind. A helpless sound—half whimper, half sigh—slipped out, and her head tipped forward until her forehead brushed yours.

“Fuck,” she breathed, breaking apart in real time. “I can’t… I don’t want to stop.”

And just like that, the dam burst.

--

Her breath stuttered when your hand slid lower, brushing her hip. Billie’s eyes darted down, widening when she felt the ridge pressing against her through your jeans.

“You’re—” her voice cracked, disbelief and hunger colliding. “You’re wearing one?”

You smirked, low and dirty. “Always.”

Her jaw went slack, lips parting, a shaky exhale tumbling free like that single word undid her. Her hand lifted, almost without her permission, fingertips ghosting over your waistband. The brush of her knuckles against the outline made her shiver violently.

“Fuck…” she whispered, pupils blown wide.

You caught her chin, forcing her to look at you. “You want it, don’t you?”

Billie whimpered, small and broken, nodding before she could talk herself out of it.

That was all you needed. You pushed her back, slow but commanding, until her spine hit the carpeted floor. The sight of her like that—hair splayed, cheeks flushed, chest heaving—burned into your skull.

When you shoved your jeans down just far enough to free the strapped cock, her hand shot out like she had to touch it, like she had to prove it was real. The way her fingers wrapped around it, tentative but reverent, sent a sharp groan tearing from your throat.

“You’re insane,” she whispered, voice breaking. Then, softer, almost desperate: “Please.”

The word was enough to crack you wide open. You lined up, pressing against her slick folds, the heat of her soaking through the rubber, through your skin, through every last piece of restraint you’d been clinging to.

Billie gasped—sharp, raw—as you pushed in, her body arching hard off the floor. A helpless, guttural moan ripped from her throat, echoing in the quiet room.

And you couldn’t stop. You drove into her, slow at first, then harder, watching her unravel beneath you—Billie Eilish, superstar, goddess, trembling and clawing at the carpet like she’d never been touched before.

Her thighs wrapped around your waist, dragging you closer, begging without words. “Oh my god,” she sobbed out, nails raking down your back. “You feel—fuck—you feel so good.”

Every thrust dragged another wrecked sound from her throat, every roll of your hips sending her closer to the edge. Her body was shaking now, sweat beading along her hairline, her lips falling apart on broken, desperate moans of your name.

Until finally—when you angled your hips just right—Billie shattered. She screamed, back bowing violently, walls clenching around the strap as her orgasm ripped through her, shaking her to pieces.

Her body was still trembling under you, chest heaving, but instead of pulling out you gripped her hips hard and slammed back into her.

Billie screamed. Raw, guttural, the sound tearing straight from her lungs. Her hands shot up to your shoulders, nails digging in like she was trying to anchor herself to reality.

“Wait—fuck—wait,” she sobbed, her thighs twitching around your waist. “I can’t—”

“Yes you can.” You growled it against her ear, voice dark and low, grinding deep inside her. “You can take it. Let me keep fucking you, let him keep hearing you moan for me.”

Her body was thrashing beneath you, sweat-damp hair sticking to her flushed face as you pounded into her. Billie was already sobbing your name, every sound breaking higher, louder, less controlled. You dipped your mouth right to her ear, voice a low, cruel purr between her cries. “Y’hear yourself, baby?” You thrust deep, grinding until she screamed. “You’re so fucking loud. Bet he can hear you right now.” Billie’s eyes flew open, wide and glassy. “D-don’t—” she whimpered, but her body betrayed her, hips arching helplessly into yours. “Mm, no, don’t what?” you teased, snapping your hips again. Her moan echoed down the hall. “Don’t make you scream so hard your boyfriend’s out there losing his mind? Don’t let him hear how good I fuck you?” She shook her head, tears spilling, but her nails dug deeper into your back, pulling you closer instead of pushing away. “You think he ever fucked you like this?” you growled, each word punctuated with another brutal thrust. “You think he’s ever had you screaming so loud you can’t even say his name?” Her answer came out as a broken sob, a sharp cry as her body clenched around you again, orgasm ripping through her. “That’s right,” you snarled, pressing your forehead to hers, holding her down while she convulsed. “Let him hear. Let him know he lost you the second I touched you.” Billie’s scream shattered into the room, raw and wrecked, her voice climbing high enough to definitely carry past the walls.

Her body was still trembling, her orgasm rolling through her in waves, but you didn’t let up—you stayed buried inside her, grinding cruelly, forcing every shudder and whimper out of her throat.

You caught her chin between your fingers, forcing her dazed, wet eyes up to yours. Your voice came low, smug, venom wrapped in honey.

“Bet you feel real guilty right now, huh?”

Billie whimpered, biting her lip like she could stop the noise, but the strap drove into her again and her lip broke into a cry.

“Mm, that’s it,” you cooed, mocking her tears as you kept fucking her raw. “You feel so bad about it… but your pussy’s still clenching down on me like you’re begging for more. You gonna cry for him or cry for me, baby?”

Her hands were shaking as she grabbed at you, nails dragging across your arms, her voice hoarse. “S-stop—”

“You don’t want me to stop,” you cut her off with a thrust so deep her whole body jerked. Her scream cracked, loud enough to echo against the hotel walls. “If you really did, you’d be quiet. But you’re not, Billie. You’re screaming for me. You’re screaming so he knows you’re mine.”

She choked on a sob, tears streaking her cheeks, her guilt written across every broken gasp—but her hips still rolled up, chasing you, betraying her.

“Pathetic,” you hissed, pushing her harder into the floor. “You feel guilty, but you’ll take every inch I give you. You’ll come on my cock again while your boyfriend’s out there listening. Go on—prove me right.”

Her head fell back, mouth wide, and another strangled moan ripped out of her throat, raw and desperate.

You never stopped moving inside her, dragging every whimper out of her raw throat. Her body was still buzzing from her last orgasm, oversensitive, but you held her down and kept pushing until she couldn’t think straight.

You leaned in close, your breath hot against her ear, voice low and cruel.

“How do you feel about it, hm?” you taunted, thrusting deep enough that her whole body arched under you. “That he fucked me up like this? That he beat me, roughed me up real good—”

Billie gasped, her eyes squeezing shut, tears slipping down her temples.

“—and then his girlfriend had to patch me up after?” you growled, lips brushing her jaw. “And now she’s on the floor, spread open, taking my cock just so I can feel better?”

Her cry cracked, high-pitched and broken, as she clawed at your shoulders like she didn’t know whether to shove you off or pull you closer.

“That’s sick, Billie,” you pressed, rocking into her harder, your words sharp as the bruises already blooming on your skin. “He fucked me up—and you’re the one letting me fuck it all out of my system. What does that make you, huh?”

She tried to shake her head, tried to form words, but another brutal thrust ripped a scream from her chest instead.

“Answer me,” you demanded, fingers squeezing her throat just enough to make her eyes snap open and meet yours. “What does that make you?”

Her lips trembled, tears running fast now, and her voice broke into a sob: “Yours.”

Your pace was brutal now, every thrust slamming her deeper into the floor, the strap hitting just right, again and again until Billie was shaking so hard she could barely keep her hands on you. Her nails dragged down your back, desperate, clinging.

Her voice was wrecked, cracking around every word, but she still tried to get them out between sobbing moans:

“F-fuck— I’m—” Her back arched violently, thighs trembling around your hips. “I’m cumming, I’m— please, I’m gonna cum so hard, please!”

You didn’t slow. If anything, the plea made you fuck her harder, driving into her until the slap of skin echoed sharp against the hotel walls.

“Do it,” you hissed, your grip tight on her jaw, forcing her to look at you through her tears. “Let him hear it. Let him hear just how fucking good I make you fall apart.”

Billie screamed, her body snapping under the intensity, thighs clamping down around you as she came undone — hard, messy, shaking apart beneath you. Her orgasm ripped through her so violently she could barely breathe, choked sobs and whimpers spilling from her mouth while her nails left deep red trails on your skin.

You didn’t stop until she was crying from overstimulation, her voice breaking with every desperate, gasping, “please, please— I can’t— I can’t—”

But god, the way she shattered on your cock, screaming for you while guilt tangled with raw, filthy need in her eyes… you knew you’d never forget it.

Billie collapsed against you the second the last wave tore through her, trembling and gasping, her whole body heavy in your arms. You eased your pace until you stilled completely, sliding out of her slow, careful, making her whimper at the loss.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her ragged breathing, her chest rising and falling like she’d just run herself into the ground on stage.

You shifted down onto the floor with her, pulling her into your lap and wrapping your arms around her shaking frame. Her damp hair stuck to her flushed face, tears still glittering in her lashes as she buried herself against your neck like she wanted to disappear there.

“Shhh, baby,” you murmured, pressing slow kisses into her hairline, your palm stroking her back. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Her body melted against yours, small, broken sounds slipping past her lips as she let you hold all of her weight. The hotel room felt too quiet, but you cradled her tighter, rocking her gently, grounding her, giving her space to just breathe and come down safe in your arms.

--

You’ve still got her tucked against your chest, stroking down her spine, when her breathing finally steadies enough to talk. Her voice is quiet, almost muffled into your shirt.

“I think…” she swallows hard, forcing the words out, “…we have to stop. At least—for a while. If it’s not on stage, if it’s not work, then we… we shouldn’t be alone like this.”

Your chest tightens instantly, and you lean back to look at her face. “Billie—”

She shakes her head, cutting you off before you can argue. “Please. I can’t… I can’t keep losing control like this. I don’t know what’s happening to me when I’m with you, but it scares me. I need time. I need space.”

For a second, you want to fight it. The protest is already at the back of your throat, bitter and desperate, but then you see how hard she’s clinging to her own words, like if she falters even once she’ll collapse.

So you bite down on what you want to say and just hold her tighter instead. “…Okay. If that’s what you need.”

She lets out a shaky breath, relief and heartbreak tangled in the sound, and presses her forehead into your collarbone. You keep rocking her gently, your chest aching, both of you knowing the line’s been drawn—whether or not it’ll actually hold.

Silence settles between you, heavy and sharp. You can feel your throat tighten, but instead of arguing, instead of begging, you just whisper the one question that makes her chest seize up:

“…Well,” your thumb brushes her jaw, steady even while your heart hammers, “do you want me to go… or stay?”

Billie’s breath stutters. Her eyes flicker—towards the door, towards your bruises, back to your face. The question traps her because it’s simple, impossible to dodge.

Her lips part, like she wants to say go, but what comes out is a broken whisper: “Stay.”

---

The adrenaline starts to ebb, leaving only exhaustion and a faint ache in your body where he got to you. Billie’s hand is on you the whole way back—sometimes just brushing your sleeve, sometimes gripping your wrist too tight, like she’s terrified you’ll disappear if she lets go.

Neither of you talk much on the elevator ride. It’s just heavy breathing, Billie’s lip caught between her teeth, your pulse still pounding. When the doors open, she leads you down the hallway with quiet urgency, key card shaking in her hand.

Inside her room, it’s dim—just the glow from a bedside lamp. The moment the door shuts, Billie sags against it, eyes closing. “I should… I should tell you to leave,” she whispers, voice cracking.

You step closer, brushing her hair back from her face. “Then tell me. Say the words, and I’ll go.”

Her throat works, but she doesn’t. Her hands curl into your shirt instead, clinging. “Stay. Just stay with me.”

You guide her gently to the bed, helping her climb in like she’s fragile porcelain. She tucks herself against you immediately, small despite her usual sharp edges. Her breath evens out against your chest, shaky at first, then steadier the longer you hold her.

For the first time all night, there’s no noise, no yelling, no fists. Just you and Billie in the silence, the weight of her finally, finally choosing you—if only for tonight.

The morning sunlight slices through the thin hotel curtains, hitting you square in the eyes. You groan, burying your face deeper into the pillow. Billie’s already awake beside you, scrolling on her phone, her hair a messy halo, eyeliner from the night before smudged under her eyes like war paint.

She glances down at you when you shift, a lazy grin tugging at her lips. “Y’know,” she starts, her voice rough with sleep, “we’ve only had sex, like, twice…” She pauses for effect, tucking her phone under the blanket. “…but holy shit, it’s good.”

Your eyes snap open, and you can’t help but laugh, a little disbelieving. “That’s your first thought in the morning?”

Billie shrugs, totally unbothered, rolling onto her back and stretching like a cat. “What, you want me to sit here and get all existential about last night? Nah. I’m saying facts.”

You shift closer, propping yourself up on one elbow, watching her smirk at the ceiling. “Facts, huh? You sound way too smug for someone who was begging me not to stop.”

Her cheeks flush immediately, and she grabs a pillow to smack you with, hiding her face. “Shut up.”

You laugh again, catching her wrist before she can swing the pillow a second time. The playfulness makes the room lighter, the weight of everything that happened the night before easing into something easier—something that almost feels like relief.

---

The curtains are cracked just enough for the morning sun to leak through, painting a golden line across the bed Billie refused to leave until you practically dragged her out with the promise of food. She’s curled at the small table now, drowning in your hoodie—the sleeves so long they’re swallowing her hands as she digs lazily into a stack of pancakes.

Her hair’s a mess, cheeks soft with sleep, and she looks at you like it’s a slow Sunday morning instead of another day on tour.

“You snore.”

She says it casually, mouth full, like she’s been waiting for the right moment to drop it.

You glance up from your plate. “I don’t snore.”

Billie smirks, stabbing her fork into her food with exaggerated confidence. “Yes, you do. It’s, like… borderline tragic. You sound like a dying lawnmower.”

You roll your eyes, lean back in the chair. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the girl who literally drools on herself.”

Her jaw drops, fork clattering against the plate as she stares at you. “I do not.”

You lean in, grinning. “You do. Little puddle, right there on the pillow. Adorable, honestly. Kinda gross, but adorable.”

She throws a balled-up napkin at you, laughing but trying not to let it show. The sound lingers in the room, warm, easy. Too easy.

You tilt your head, studying her in that hoodie, stealing your air, your warmth, your space—feeling too much like home. The words slip before you even think:

“So, am I officially your girlfriend now or what? Cuz I’m definitely doing girlfriend-level stuff here, like cooking you eggs and not complaining about it.”

The room stills.

Billie doesn’t look up, doesn’t blink. She just smirks around her bite of pancake, voice smooth, offhand—like she’s swatting the thought away before it can grow legs.

“Mm. Don’t push it.”

But she doesn’t deny it either. Instead, she slides her fork across the table and stabs a piece of pancake off your plate, chewing slow and smug while you gape at her.

“That’s my breakfast.”

She shrugs, mouth full, scoots closer in the chair until her shoulder brushes yours. Her hand disappears into the too-long hoodie sleeve, and she leans into your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable—it’s heavy. Charged. Like your joke landed harder than either of you will admit, and she’s choosing not to answer it.

So you let her steal your food, let her lean into you, because even without the words, the weight of what she’s not saying feels louder than anything.

---

Two weeks blur past in cities and arenas, in quick changes and blinding lights, in stolen hotel mornings where Billie steals your hoodie and refuses to give it back. The shows stack up behind you, each one tighter, bigger, louder, but the air between you two only grows more complicated.

Onstage, you’re in sync—always. It’s the backstage moments that keep tripping people up.

Like now.

You’re rehearsing in a wide, echoing hall, crew scattered everywhere, sound check bleeding through the walls. Billie’s perched on an amp near you, sipping water and barely paying attention to the notes being called out. You lean in, mutter something stupid just to get that throaty laugh out of her, and sure enough—her head tips back, mouth wide, hand grazing your arm for balance.

From the outside, it looks like flirting. Because it is.

One of the techs walks by with a smirk. “You two should just date already.”

The comment cuts through the noise, hangs there. A few heads turn.

Billie freezes mid-laugh, shoulders stiffening. The curve of her grin falters into something sharp, neutral, like a switch has been flipped. She pushes her water bottle between her knees, swings her gaze anywhere but at you.

And just like that, she’s back to business—calling out for another run-through, barking something about the lights, her tone too clipped to miss.

The room moves on. Nobody lingers. But you feel the chill under your skin.

--

Later, when the room is empty and the echo has gone quiet, you’re packing up cables when Billie corners you against the wall. She’s close enough that you catch the faint smell of her sweat and perfume mixed together, close enough that her voice is low and meant only for you.

“You shouldn’t say stuff that makes them think like that.”

She doesn’t sound angry, not exactly. Her tone is sharp, but her eyes keep flicking to your mouth.

And the contradiction is screaming: because even as she says it, her fingers are already hooked in your belt loop, tugging you closer like she doesn’t care who sees.

Her gaze lingers on your lips again. You can feel the heat radiating off her body, the tension of her words pulling against the way she’s physically keeping you right there.

It’s the slow burn in action: she’s telling you no with her mouth, while her hands are busy holding you hostage.

---

The hotel room was dim, just the city glow leaking through the curtains. You’d barely managed to kick your shoes off before there was a soft knock. It wasn’t frantic—it was Billie’s knock, the one she always did when she didn’t want to announce herself but still wanted you to open.

You pulled the door, and there she was: hoodie up, sleeves tugged over her fists, eyes a little red. Not crying, not really. Just… worn.

“Can I—” she started, already brushing past you into the room. She didn’t wait for an answer, just folded herself onto the edge of your bed like it was muscle memory.

You shut the door slow, watching her. “Rough night?”

She didn’t look at you, just nodded, staring at her knees. “Mm.”

You came over, sat beside her. Close, but not touching. Letting her move first. And she did—leaning sideways until her temple pressed against your shoulder, like she needed the weight of you.

“Billie,” you said softly, arm finally curving around her shoulders. “Talk to me. What’s actually going on in your head right now?”

She hesitated. You felt her body tense under your arm, like she wanted to spill but the words caught in her throat.

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I just… I don’t want to think. I just wanted to be here.”

You tilted your head down, lips brushing her hairline. “Okay, but… wanting to be here—that’s an answer in itself, isn’t it?”

Her breath hitched. She tried to deflect with a weak laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

“No,” you pressed, nudging her chin up so she had to look at you. “I’m serious. You keep saying we shouldn’t, that we should stop. But then you show up at my door at midnight. You curl up against me like this. So which is it? What do you really want, Billie?”

Her eyes searched yours, flickering with panic, longing, guilt—all of it tangled. She didn’t answer.

You let the silence stretch just long enough, then dropped your voice, softer, sharper. “Because I can’t keep doing this half-way thing. I’m not saying ‘choose me or else’—but… if you’re gonna stay, then stay. If you want me, even if you can’t say it out loud, show me. If you don’t… then don’t come knocking.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to protest, but nothing came. She just swallowed hard, eyes glassy, and leaned into you harder, burying her face against your chest. Like that was her answer, even if she couldn’t speak it yet.

You held her tighter, murmuring against her hair, “That’s all I needed, baby. Just something real.”

---

At first it was her not looking at you as long during rehearsals. The banter stayed, but it was clipped—half-smiles instead of the full grins you were used to pulling out of her. Then it was her slipping out right after shows, no late-night hangs, no lingering in your hotel room.

You’d catch yourself reaching for her, and she’d sidestep—subtle enough for the rest of the band not to notice, but sharp enough to cut through you.

One night, you caught her pacing outside the venue before soundcheck. Hoodie pulled low, earbuds in, head down. Normally she’d spot you and crack a joke, but this time? She didn’t even glance up when you passed.

You slowed. “Bill.”

She flinched, just slightly, like your voice startled her. Then she forced a smile, quick and hollow. “Hey. Running through lyrics in my head.” And before you could press, she slipped past you, brushing off your shoulder like she couldn’t stand to stay still near you too long.

Inside, she killed it onstage like always—but when you turned to her, feeding her energy, she didn’t meet your eyes. She kept them locked somewhere above the crowd, anywhere but on you.

By the end of the set, it was impossible to ignore: Billie was there, but she wasn’t with you. And the distance was louder than anything the crowd could scream.

---

The air backstage was always the same after a set—thick with sweat, the metallic tang of amps cooling down, and the buzz of bodies that hadn’t yet come down from the high. Everyone was loud, talking over each other, laughter bouncing off the walls. Someone cranked music through a tiny Bluetooth speaker, tinny compared to what you’d just come offstage from, but nobody cared.

You were already moving on autopilot, hand finding Billie’s water bottle in the crate before she even asked. She always pretended not to notice how you remembered, but she did—her little grin, the way she’d flick the cap at your chest, that half-playful, half-tender rhythm you two had carved out.

So you tossed it without thinking. “Here.”

Billie caught it with one hand, eyes never leaving the glow of her phone. “Thanks.” The word was flat, half-swallowed, as she folded into the couch, knees tucked up like she was bracing herself against the noise.

It landed wrong. Enough that you froze mid-step, waiting for the grin that didn’t come.

Across the room, one of the guys snorted. “Careful,” he called, smirking in your direction, “you’ll trip over them. Those two are basically joined at the hip.”

Normally, Billie would have rolled her eyes, maybe shot back with something sharp, and the room would’ve laughed along. Instead she let out a single laugh—short, clipped, empty. The kind of sound that didn’t invite anyone in, the kind that left the joke hanging in the air like smoke.

A couple people shifted uncomfortably before turning back to their own conversations, letting the moment die.

But you didn’t move. You just stood there, water bottle sweating in your hand, watching her shoulders curl tighter, like she could fold herself small enough to disappear into the couch cushions. Her thumbs kept moving, fast, like the screen was swallowing her whole.

You wanted to say something—ask what was wrong, call her out, even just sit beside her until she looked at you again. But her body was closed off in a way you hadn’t seen before, and for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you felt like an intruder in her orbit.

---

The van hummed low as it ate the highway, a steady vibration under the worn seats. City lights blurred by the tinted windows, bleeding into black stretches of road. Everyone was quiet—too tired to keep the post-show banter alive—but the silence in Billie’s corner was different.

She had her hood up, head leaned against the glass, earbuds in like a wall. Every so often, the passing glow of a streetlamp lit her profile—her cheek pressed hard into the window, jaw tight, eyes unfocused. Normally, she’d be stretched out across the row with her legs slung over your lap, stealing your hoodie and muttering that hers wasn’t “cozy enough.”

Tonight, she kept to herself.

Your knee brushed hers when the van hit a shallow dip in the road. A small thing, nothing you thought twice about—until she shifted. Just a few inches, barely noticeable, but enough to leave cold air where there’d usually be warmth.

The van rattled over a bigger bump, this one jolting her forward. Instinct moved your hand before your brain did—you reached out, steadying her with a firm grip on her arm.

She flinched. Pulled back fast, like your touch burned. “I’m fine,” she snapped, voice sharper than the motion.

The sound cut through the low rumble of the engine. Heads lifted in the row ahead, curious but too drained to linger, and then dropped again.

You let your hand fall into your lap, fingers twitching like they didn’t know what to do without her. You tried for a small smile, something to smooth it over, but Billie didn’t turn, didn’t take her eyes off the window.

For the rest of the ride, you sat in silence, listening to the muffled hiss of whatever song she had on loop, wishing the glass she leaned against would crack just enough to let you in.

---

The greenroom bursts with noise—champagne fizzing over, speakers thumping, someone belting off-key just to make the others laugh. It’s all bright and messy, the high after the show.

You catch her in the middle of it all. Billie, with glitter streaking her cheekbones and sweat still shining at her temples. She’s laughing at something someone says, but her eyes never crinkle the way they usually do.

Your gaze lingers too long. Hers finds yours, just for a second—just long enough for something to pulse between you. Familiar. Heavy. Dangerous.

Then she looks away. Too fast. Like it hurts to be caught.

The hours wear the party thin. One by one, bodies peel away—hugs, goodnights, echoing laughter in the hall. The room quiets until it’s just you and her.

Billie lingers at the mirror, rolling a tissue over her cheek to scrub at the glitter. She’s slow about it, like she’s buying herself time. Her shoulders curve inward.

You take a step closer. Your voice is low, careful. “Billie—”

Her hand stills against the mirror. Her reflection catches yours in the glass, eyes rimmed with exhaustion, with something else she won’t name.

And then—softly, almost trembling— “Don’t.”

It’s a single word, but it slices clean through the air, through your chest.

Your mouth opens, the start of a protest hovering on your tongue. But she’s already moving—sweater tugged on, bag over her shoulder, the faintest trail of perfume in her wake as she brushes past you.

The door clicks shut.

And you’re left in the quiet, staring at your own reflection in the mirror, with nothing but that word echoing in your head.

---

The next few days drag longer than any tour bus ride. She’s around, of course—she’s always around. You share stages, share air, share fleeting glances across dressing rooms. But it’s different. She doesn’t linger. Doesn’t stay behind after everyone else has gone. Doesn’t let her laughter tangle with yours until it’s impossible to know where one ends and the other begins.

It’s silence where there used to be static.

Until tonight.

You’re sitting alone on the bus, the hum of the engine vibrating through your seat. Phone in hand, thumb scrolling through nothing just to keep from noticing the empty space across from you.

The door hisses. She climbs aboard, hoodie drawn low, strands of blonde tucked messy into the shadow. No entourage. No noise. Just Billie.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just drops into the seat beside you—not across, beside. Close enough that her thigh brushes yours. The weight of her silence feels heavier than the words she’s been holding back.

You glance at her, expecting her eyes on her phone, or out the window. But she’s watching you. Like she’s been building the courage for this exact second.

Her voice comes quiet, raw around the edges. “I hated it.”

You blink. “Hated what?”

“Not talking to you.” Her jaw works, like she’s chewing the truth down before it can slip out too messy. “I thought I needed the space. Thought it would make it easier, y’know? But it just—it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.”

The bus rocks slightly, road stretching endless outside, but the only thing that matters is her hand—tentatively reaching for yours, fingers brushing, then curling tight like she’s afraid you’ll pull away.

She exhales, shaky. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be. But I don’t want to stay away anymore.”

Her eyes meet yours then, wide open, finally unguarded. And there it is—the pull snapping tight, inevitable as gravity.

Her hand stays locked in yours, and you squeeze it gently—enough to ground her.

“Billie,” you murmur, softer than you mean to, “you don’t have to know what this is right now. We don’t need a label. We don’t need to figure it all out tonight.”

Her shoulders drop, like she’s been carrying a weight she can’t admit. You see it in the way her mouth trembles before settling into the smallest, relieved smile.

You tilt your head, catching her eyes again. “All I care about is if you want me here. That’s it. Everything else can wait.”

Billie blinks quickly, lashes damp, and leans just a fraction closer. “That’s the thing… I do. I want you here so bad it scares me.”

You squeeze her hand tighter, thumb brushing across her knuckles, grounding her. “Then let me be scared with you. Don’t do it alone.”

The bus hums steady, headlights throwing fleeting shadows across her face, and for a moment she just studies you like she’s memorizing the exact way you look in this sliver of honesty.

Finally, she whispers, voice cracking open, “You make it feel… easy. And nothing in my life’s ever been easy.”

You smile, gentle but firm. “Then let’s keep it easy. Just you and me, in the moments we get. No rules. No pressure. Just us.”

Her chest rises and falls like she’s been holding her breath for weeks, and she lets it go now, all at once.

Her fingers twitch inside your grip, and she stares down at them like they’re telling her something she doesn’t want to hear.

“There’s just…” she starts, then stops, her jaw tightening. A beat later, she exhales hard, whispering, “There’s something holding me back.”

Your thumb strokes her knuckles, patient, waiting. “Talk to me, Billie.”

She swallows, eyes flicking to yours and away again. “It’s him. My ex. The way that ended. The shit he said. The way it felt to… admit what I did. I thought I was free the second he walked out, but it’s like he left this… shadow. And it’s still here.”

You don’t rush her. You don’t even move. Just let her talk.

Her voice dips, small, almost childlike: “Part of me feels like if I let myself have you, like really have you, then I’m proving him right. That I was already gone, already his mistake.”

You shake your head instantly, firm but not harsh. “No. That’s not on you. That’s on him. You don’t owe him anything—not your guilt, not your silence, and definitely not your happiness.”

Her lip trembles, and she whispers, “Then why does it feel like I do?”

You lean closer, keeping your voice even, steady. “Because he left scars. And scars trick you into thinking they still control you. But they don’t. Not unless you let them.”

Billie bites her lip, blinking fast, her shoulders stiff as if she’s fighting tears. “I hate that he’s still in my head. I hate that I feel like I’m cheating even though he’s not mine anymore. It’s fucked up.”

You squeeze her hand again, firmer this time. “You’re not his. You never were. You’re you, Billie. And if you want me, I’ll prove that to you every single time until you believe it yourself.”

She stares at you, caught between fear and need, her voice cracking when she finally asks, “And if I can’t give you all of me yet?”

For a moment, silence hangs heavy. You could answer—tell her you’ll wait, tell her it’s okay, tell her you don’t need all of her. But instead, you let a slow, crooked smile tug at your lips.

Your thumb brushes lazily across her palm. “Guess we’ll just have to see what you can give me, hm?”

Her eyes widen, a mix of nerves and heat flickering there, like she’s not sure if you’re teasing her, comforting her, or challenging her.

You lean closer, close enough that she can feel the warmth of your breath. “Don’t worry about the rest right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words sound soft, but the ambiguity lingers—you don’t say you’ll wait forever. You don’t say you’ll take less than she’s capable of giving. You leave her with the weight of choice and the burn of tension, like you’re holding her heart in your hand but refusing to close your fist around it just yet.

She swallows hard, almost visibly retreating into her thoughts, and for a moment you see the flicker of fear war with the way her body leans unconsciously closer to yours.

Her voice trembles, the weight of her confession still lingering. You don’t let her retreat too far into her head. Instead, you squeeze her hand gently, thumb brushing over her knuckles, grounding her.

“Billie,” you murmur, tilting your head until she’s forced to look at you. Your eyes hold hers steady, soft but unyielding. Then your lips curl into that dangerous little half-smile.

“Let me help you focus on right now.”

Her breath hitches, sharp and shaky, like she already knows exactly what you mean. You don’t give her time to overthink. With slow, deliberate care, you guide her back, your hand pressing lightly at her hip, urging her toward the bed.

She lets you—quiet, pliant, her chest rising and falling too fast. When her back hits the sheets, her eyes dart up at you, wide and vulnerable, like she’s silently asking is this okay?

You climb over her slowly, deliberately keeping the tension stretched tight. Your hand cradles her jaw as you lean close, whispering against her lips, “No past, no future. Just me and you. Right here.”

The way her body shivers beneath your touch tells you everything—she needs this escape, this anchor.

You settle over her, weight balanced on your elbows so you’re not crushing her, but close enough that your warmth bleeds into her skin. Billie’s pupils are blown wide, chest tight with anticipation.

Your lips ghost over hers, barely brushing. “Stay with me,” you whisper, voice low, like a command and a plea rolled into one. She whimpers, nodding too fast, and you reward her with a slow kiss—deep, unhurried, like you’re pouring reassurance into her mouth.

When you break away, you trail kisses down her throat, open-mouthed and lingering, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse hammer against your lips. Your hands smooth over her ribs, thumbs grazing just under her bra, not rushing—making her wait.

Billie squirms beneath you, breath ragged. “Please…” she breathes, and it’s fragile, desperate, the sound of someone unraveling.

“Please what?” you murmur against her collarbone, fingers sliding under the hem of her shirt, stroking her bare stomach in slow circles.

“Touch me,” she whispers, so small you almost don’t hear it.

Your grin is soft but wicked. “Oh, baby… I plan on touching every part of you.”

You peel her clothes away like you’re unwrapping something precious, pausing to kiss every new inch of skin you expose. She’s flushed, goosebumps rising, torn between hiding her face and keeping her eyes locked on you.

By the time your hand slides between her thighs, Billie’s already trembling, her whole body hypersensitive from the slow, torturous pace you’ve kept. She gasps your name—half plea, half confession—like saying it gives her permission to fall apart.

You don’t rush. Your fingers trace the outline of her through her panties first, dragging against the damp fabric, pressing just enough to make her hips twitch. Her breath stutters, a whimper catching in her throat as her thighs try to close around your hand, but you keep them gently parted with your knee.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips brushing her ear. “So ready for me. You can’t hide it, baby.”

She lets out a broken noise, cheeks flaming, hands fisting in the sheets as if grounding herself. You slide the fabric aside slowly, deliberately, and stroke along her bare heat with the barest pressure. Her whole body jolts like she’s been shocked.

Every movement is unhurried, deliberate—two fingers dragging up and down, circling, retreating when she pushes her hips for more. You keep her teetering on the edge, coaxing sounds out of her that she can’t smother no matter how hard she bites her lip.

Her voice finally cracks. “Please… please don’t tease me—”

You smirk against her throat, nipping lightly. “Not teasing. Just savoring.”

And then, finally, you slide her underwear to the side and press in, slow and deep, filling her in a way that makes her back arch off the bed. She moans your name so loud it echoes, her hands scrambling until they clutch at your shoulders, like she’s afraid you’ll let her drown without you.

You set a steady rhythm, curling your fingers just right, your thumb stroking her clit in lazy circles that have her unraveling faster than she wants to admit. Her breath is jagged, chest heaving, little whimpers tumbling from her lips between words.

“Forget him,” you whisper against her skin, your pace deliberate. “Forget everything but this,” you add, kissing the hollow of her throat. “Just me. Just you.”

Billie’s head tips back, hair spilling across the pillow, her lips parted in disbelief at how close she already is. She shakes her head like she’s fighting it, whispering, “I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. Let go for me, baby.”

The dam breaks. Her whole body tenses and then shudders violently as her orgasm crashes through her, tearing a raw cry from her throat. Her thighs clamp around your hand, her nails digging into your back, and she clings to you like she’ll lose herself completely if she lets go.

You keep her there, guiding her through the waves with soft circles, whispering praise into her skin. “That’s it. Good girl. So good for me. Just like that.”

When it finally subsides, she collapses against the mattress, boneless, chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. She’s still trembling, her fingers curled tight into the sheets.

You ease off and cradle her face, pressing a kiss to her temple. She looks at you through half-lidded eyes, dazed and vulnerable, like you’ve stripped her down to something no one else has touched.

“See?” you murmur softly, brushing hair from her face. “You don’t need to be anywhere else but here.”

Billie’s still catching her breath, body slack and trembling beneath you, when you don’t stop. Your fingers keep moving—gentle, unhurried, like you’ve got all the time in the world.

She twitches instantly, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips. “W-wait—oh my god—”

You only smile, pressing a kiss to her cheek as your pace stays slow and deliberate. “What? Too much already? I thought you said it was good.”

Her thighs clamp around your wrist, trying to trap you or push you away—you can’t quite tell which—but she’s shaking too hard to decide. Her hips still rock against your hand on instinct, her body betraying her even as her voice pleads.

“Baby—please, I can’t—” she whimpers, the words cut off by a strangled moan when you circle her clit lazily.

“Shhh.” You nuzzle into her neck, your voice low, teasing. “You can. You will. Look at you—so sensitive, so sweet. I just wanna see how many times I can break you tonight.”

Her hand scrambles for your wrist, but she doesn’t really push you away. It’s more like she’s holding on, knuckles white as another wave builds far too soon. Her back arches, her chest heaves, and she looks at you with wide, tear-glossed eyes that beg for mercy and more at the same time.

“You’re mean,” she gasps, her voice catching. “You’re so mean—”

You laugh softly, slowing down just enough to make her squirm. “Mean? Baby, I’m spoiling you. Anyone else would’ve stopped.”

She lets out a desperate, high-pitched sound as her body betrays her again, another orgasm tearing through her before she’s even recovered from the last. This one makes her whole body convulse, her hands slamming down against the mattress, eyes squeezing shut as she cries out.

You don’t rush it. You guide her through it, savoring every shake, every whimper, every plea. When she collapses again, sweaty and flushed, you finally ease your hand away—just brushing against her overstimulated skin as she shivers violently, panting for air.

She looks at you, dazed and wrecked, her voice nothing but a whisper. “You’re actually so fucking mean.”

You grin and kiss her softly, almost sweetly, as if you hadn’t just pushed her over the edge twice in a row. “Yeah, but you love it.”

--

Billie’s chest was still rising and falling in uneven, trembling waves when you finally let the silence sit. The hotel room was thick with it—her breath, the faint hum of traffic outside, the way her hand reached instinctively for yours like she couldn’t stand to lose the contact yet.

You tugged her closer, tucking her against you until her cheek was pressed right over your heart. Her skin was damp, hair a mess, but all you did was smooth it back, fingers slow and steady, grounding her.

“You did so good, baby,” you murmured into her crown, voice low and careful, as if the wrong tone might splinter her apart.

Billie gave a small laugh that cracked in the middle, still raw. “You’re… you’re a pretty dangerous bitch, you know that?” Her words barely lifted above a whisper, but she curled tighter into you, her body betraying what her mouth wouldn’t.

You kissed her hair. “Only for you.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but warmth—her breathing slowing in sync with yours, her nails dragging absentminded circles over your ribs, like she was reminding herself you were real.

Then, soft, muffled against your skin, she admitted, “I don’t think I’ve ever… felt this safe. Not with anyone.”

Your hand stilled at her back, heart squeezing, but you didn’t push. You only tightened your arms around her, cocooning her against the chaos outside, against the things she couldn’t say yet.

“Then don’t think,” you told her gently. “Just stay here. Right now, it’s just us.”

And for once, Billie didn’t argue. She just let out a shaky breath and let herself be held, melting further into you until she was nothing but warmth and weight and trust.

-------------------------------------

aye

[ilselblnd]

si

[userbillieeilish]

vegan dubai chocolate🌱💚

[harrysxcarolina]

oh, it’s my turn now

b. eilish

warnings: wlw, fluff, soft smut, bottom!billie, Billie receiving, teasing, flirting, cussing, mention of alcohol consumption, a sweet treat in honor of the grammys, partial proof read… oops!

Your are an upcoming artist and have been nominated for your first Grammy. Not expecting to win but beyond honored and grateful for the opportunity to be suggested along side some of the best artists in the industry. Not realizing that you have many secret admirers, one unbeknownst to you, you’ve spent the night gushing about some of the people you were excited to see. With your buzzing excitement and raging nerves you didn’t realize just how often you mentioned one person in particular. Your celebrity crush.

As the night unfolds, you accept your first Grammy, getting talk in to attending an after party by your team, to help broaden your social networking, you may have enjoyed your night a little too much with one too many cocktails. Unbeknownst to you, catching the eyes of many. You were glowing. Every step you took. The smile radiating off your cheeks. You were beyond proud. Excited. And honestly just in shock. Thanking all the congratulations with polite nods and smiles you welcome the end of the night.

You weren’t exactly sure what happened on the carpet as the nerves took over your body. You remember bits and pieces and you certainly didn’t remember gushing about your celebrity crush on national television nonstop.

So to your surprise the morning after to your phone being blown up with different videos and edits of interviews from last night of you announcing your crush on the one and only Billie Eilish.

You two weren’t well acquainted, but have spoken at past events and have flirted, lowkey stolen a couple glances, and smirks at one another but neither of you ever taking that next step of crossing that line. You weren’t sure why, you’d be open to it. Can anyone really blame you though? Not only is she gorgeous, but she’s kind, extremely funny, flirty (you love a good flirt, what can you say.)

But one thing you definitely weren’t prepared for was a message on tik tok from said crush, mixed in with your notifications.

Nearly dropping your phone you freeze. Your heart is beating against your chest. Not sure what exactly was gonna be played in the video attached to the message you glance down once again at your phone. Not processing what was happening in front you.

BILLIE EILISH

1 new message 10 hours ago

*video link shared*

Hi pretty girl, I’ve been waiiiittttttinnnn for yaaaa 😌

Waiting so patiently for you…

With a shaky hand you pick up your phone and click on the video. It’s a snippet of one of last nights interviews.

Amelia was the one asking you the question everyone has been wondering.

“So, any new crushes?!” She asked with a raised eyebrow and small smirk.

Biting your lip trying to fight the smirk working its way across your cheeks. Your hands fidget with the lace in your dress as you avoid looking at the camera. Your cheeks heat up with the blush slowly creeping up on you.

“You know I’ve really been crushing on one girl in particular…” you say shyly as you brush a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. Hopeful to hide some of the blush and bashfulness. Giving a quick glance to the camera a small pout on your lips.

“Ohh do tell girl. I’m dying for the tea” Amelia teases as she gently pushes your shoulder.

“I probably shouldn’t-“ you say a nervous chuckle leaves your lips.

“Girl c’mon don’t tease me, please, I promise I won’t tell.” She jokes making the both of you lose it in a fit of giggles. Slightly leaning into each other as you embrace the moment. Loving the fact that she is slowly helping eat away at the nerves building up inside your tummy.

“I’m actually lowkey jealous of you girl, you’ve been on a date with her.” You say with a pout and a soft nudge to her shoulder causing Amelia to laugh. “Tell me. Right now. I want to know.” Amelia demands a smirk on her face.

Taking a quick glance at the camera a shy smirk is played on your cheeks. “I mean-“ you chuckle biting your lip with a shrug off your shoulders. “It’s Billie.” You state looking at Amelia, your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting for her reaction.

“Shut the front door! You guys would be so fucking cute!” She says gushing at you in excitement. You laugh and shake your head glancing around the carpet. Trying to distract yourself from the raging butterflies in your stomach and the heat rushing to your cheeks.

That’s where the video ends.

You’re left speechless. Exiting out of the video you stare at Billie’s messages. Gently tapping your fingers on the edge of your phone as contemplate on a reply. The butterflies are fluttering dangerously fast in the pit of your stomach. You keep repeating her words in your head. The utter realization that Billie now knows along with the rest of the world knows about your crush on her.

I’ve been waiiiittttttinnnn for yaaaa

Waiting so patiently for you

Your fingers type feverishly across your screen before your nerves can talk yourself out of it.

***

You sit nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Glancing around the buzzing restaurant hoping to catch sight of the blue eyed girl you planned to meet here casually sipping on the water placed in front of you. Looking down at your phone checking the time you still have a few minutes before your agreed time to meet up, but you being you always had to be early to things. Wanting to make sure to give yourself plenty of time to prepare yourself to be on a date with a girl you’ve been crushing on for a while.

You smell the hint of her perfume before you see her sitting down in front of you. A smirk hung across her face as she sits down and adjust her pants getting herself comfortable. A blush rushes across your cheeks as you take her in. Her long dark locks cascading down her shoulders as she sports a black bandana around the crown on her head. Her piercing blues eyes outlined with black eyeliner and mascara as they hide behind the glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

Her baggy shirt hanging loosely off her torso, but showing off her curves perfectly. Her jeans hanging just off her hips as the belt securely tugs the material around her hips.

Her bottom lip hides between her teeth as she takes you in as well.

The night goes flawlessly as you both enjoy dinner sharing laughs, smirks, flirty eyes, and the occasional knees brushing under the table, your hands brushing as you pass the salt and pepper back and forth. You breath catches every time, your eyes quickly shooting up to met hers not missing the way her cheeks heat up to a pretty rosy pink anytime you make contact. Her bottom lip slightly swollen as an after math of her teeth nervously nibbling away at it. You can practically feel the heat radiating off the both of you.

The tension getting thicker through out the night as you both shamelessly flirt and banter back and forth. You can’t deny the connection you already feel between the both of you. Taking in all her little details as your eyes trace across her face. Noting all her quirks as her eyes brows twitch in response to a joke you say as you watch her throw her head back in laughter. The way she nervously fidgets with the rings that take claim to her fingers as she talks about the things she is passionate about. The way the light reflecting off her ocean blue eyes leaves you wandering in the waves of wanting to know all the thoughts floating around in that pretty head of hers.

Before you know it the staff notify you that they are getting ready to close up for the night. Not realizing how much time you’ve spent sitting here sharing stories and asking each other questions to hopefully help you both get to know each other on a different level. Smiling politely at the staff mumbling a soft apology as you reach for you purse to care of the bill but are stop before you could even get your bag unzipped. Billie handing her card to the waiter and shushing you as she dismisses your protests.

Stating that it was her treat and how she wanted to. Offering you comforting reassurance that she had a great time, and that she would happily pay for your dinner again if you let her. A smirk playing on her face as she lays her hand across the small of your back. Leading you out the restaurant into the dimly light street. You feel the heat spread across your lower back from the pressure of her fingers rubbing soothing shapes over the fabric of your dress.

The cool breeze brushes through your hair as you both stroll towards your parked cars. Not wanting the night to end as you stand there tightly clutching the straps of your purse not sure what to do with your hands as they itch desperately to trail down her warm skin.

“I had a really good time tonight.” Billie quietly admits as you reach your car. Glancing up at you through her lashes her bashfulness showing through as she takes a step towards you. Her hand reaching out and gently grasping your hips. Your breath hitches as you look down taking in her hand on your hip. Your heart beating so fast against your chest you pray that she couldn’t hear it. Her fingers flexing across your hip.

“Me too. Do you maybe wanna go back to my place?” You rush out not fully realizing what you were saying before you said it. You cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Clutching your purse tighter as you look down at your shoes. Hopeful you didn’t give off the wrong impression. You just weren’t ready to end the night. You felt so safe and comfortable in her presence and you wanted to be greedy and hold onto it a little bit longer.

Her smile is evident as she tilts your head up to meet hers. Her eyes sparkling with a hit of mischief as her response brushes across your face.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She admits as she suggests following you back to your place but not before she lays a soft peck across your cheek.

“Drive safe pretty girl,” She whispers across the shell of your ear before she backs away and heads towards her car.

***

Swiftly unlocking your front door and quickly tossing your keys on the coffee stand right inside the door. Barely having enough time to get through the door before Billie has her hands back on your hips pressing you tightly between her and the door. Your hands tangling themselves deep into her dark locks as your lips battle for dominance. A low moan echos off Billies lips as she trails her kisses down your jaw to your neck.

Head tilting back as your eyes clench shut. Billies hands roaming your lower torso as her lips leave open mouth kisses down your neck. Your grip in her hair tightening as she finds your sweet spot. Sucking and nibbling your skin until she’s satisfied. Hips bucking up against hers in response as her teeth graze across your hot skin. Her tongue soothing the red mark she left behind. Growling as her hips press harder against yours as she gently rocks herself against you.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” She whimpers against your neck. Her hand sliding under the hem of your shirt as her fingertips tease your waistline. Wanting to feel the small hitches in your breathing as she slowly moves her fingertips higher up. Not able to fully form words, to far gone from the feeling of her lips on your neck and her hands roaming your body you shake your head. Her breath hot against your skin as she peppers kisses across your jaw. Her fingertips reaching your under boob stopping briefly to glance up at you silently asking permission. A slight nod is all she needed for a response as she captures your clothed breast in her hand. Whimpering and arching your back off the door as she gropes your breast. Rubbing your sensitive nub through the fabric in your bra causing your head to get dizzy.

You legs wobble slightly trying to engrave the feeling of her lips on your skins as she traces your tongue across you salty skin. Urging her to move things into the bedroom so you can not only get your hands on her, but to also aid in a more comfortable surface.

Body’s tangling together as your back hits your mattress. Billie falling on top of you as her lips don’t miss as beat as she cups your cheek and reconnects your lips. Swallowing her moans as you buck your hips up against her as she slowly slides your shirt up your torso. Tossing it somewhere on the floor as her eyes trace down your body. Her hands gripping your hips as her thumbs gently brush against your warm skin.

A bashful smile works its way across your cheeks as you stare up at her catching her gaze as your hands guide her to rest across your lap. Placing her thighs on either side of your hips her hands return to warm skin. Watching as your chest heaves softly up and down. Brushing the fallen pieces of hair out of her face as she leans down and kisses across your chest. Moaning against your skin as your run your hands up and down her spine pressing her close to you. Her hand sliding down from your cheek to your neck as she deepens the kiss.

Her tongue gently moves across your lower lip patiently waiting for permission to taste you. Tilting your head as your grant her access your hands gripping the hem of her shirt slowly tugging it up her body. Groaning at the fact the both of you still have too much clothing on. Breaking apart from your kiss to remove her shirt the rest of the way before reaching behind her and removing her bra clasp. Smirking down at you as she slowly slides the straps down her shoulders as her breast feel free.

You feel the pool of wetness between your thighs as you moan at the sight in front of you. Her breast sitting perfectly at eye level as your teeth capture your bottom lip. Letting your mind run wild of all the things you want to do with the pretty girl sitting on top of you. Gripping her hips and gently laying her back against the bed. Whispering against her skin, my turn, as your trace your lips down her naked chest.

Making sure to give equal attention as you kiss across her cleavage. Leaving a trail of wet kisses as you look up at her through your lashes. A soft smile spreads across your face as your take in the sight above you.

Her hair sprawled out as her back slightly arches off the bed. Silently begging you to wrap your lips around her aching buds. Her swollen lips and a rosy pink as her pearly white teeth lay their claim against it. Her hands clenching the lose blankets as you graze your teeth across her goosebump covered skin. Getting closer and closer to her perky nipples.

Clasping her buds between your lips as your tongue flicks, sucks, and twists her nipples. Her moans echoing off the walls and into your hears as her hands grasp your head holding you tightly against her. Her hips bucking up uncontrollably against your heated core. You feel the tight pull deep in your core as you become addicted to her pretty moans. Wanting and needed to hear them more.

Working your lips to her other breast your fingers slide their way up from her hip making sure to twist and pull her nipple between your fingertips in time with the flicks of your tongue on her opposite nipple. Her hands tightly tangling themselves in your hair as you release her nipple and work your lips down between her breast. Teasing her skin with the tip of your tongue letting her hands gently control the movement of your head as your leave a trail of kisses in your wake. You can feel her breath hitch as you kiss across her hipbones. You fingers tapping their way up her clothed thigh reaching for her belt. You fingers fumble briefly as you unclasp it and hear the slight chuckle rolling off Billies lips.

Refusing to look up at her as the heat radiates off your cheeks as your unbuckle her pants and slide them down her legs. Taking a moment to pause and really look at her. Tucking a piece of fallen out behind your ear Billie leaning up and cupping your cheek once more. Laying a soft peck to your lips as her thumb brushes against your pink cheeks.

“You’re cute when you blush,” She states as you feel her smile against your lips. Chuckling softly in return as you gently cup her face. Looking up at her not fully believing the events of the last couple days. Her eyes flicker between yours and your lips as she kisses you once more as her hands glide around your torso and up your back. Unclasping your bra and slowly sliding it down with her fingertips. Pulling apart briefly, your foreheads lean against each other as your breast fall free. Her free hand is quick to grope your breast as yours gently spread her thighs. Head falling to her shoulder as she twists and pulls on your nipple. Her lips hot on your skin as your fingers slowly trace up her thigh getting dangerously close to her dripping core.

Moaning as you spread her wetness around teasing her clit with your fingertips gloating at the way her hips buck against your fingers and the way she quietly whimpers in your ear.

“Lay back for me,” you moan as you gently push her back onto the bed and wiggle your way down between her thighs. Her hooded eyes watching your every move as your kisses along her thigh. Your eyes never faltering from hers as you inch your lips closer and closer to her core. She can’t stop herself from wiggling under your touch as you trace your lips everywhere but where she desperately needed them.

“Fuck, please-” she begs as her head tilts back on the pillow her hands grasping at the bed sheets. Her hips bucking up brushing against your lips, causing her to lose herself in another around of moans. Grinning against her skin, wrapping your arms around her hips pinning her torso back down on the bed. Tisking her as your lips kiss up and down her lips. Gently blowing hot air against her wet folds as you look up at her through your lashes.

“What was that?” You reply with a smirk leaving a kiss on her mound. Moving one of her hands to your hair as she bucks her hips up once again. Silently begging you to do anything. Anything at all to the relieve the ache that was building between her thighs. “Please,” she whimpers once more. Her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Please what baby? I need words.” You retort mockingly as you gently flick the tip of your tongue between her folds. Her spread legs shaking slightly as her hips try to grind against your wet muscle. Her groans getting louder as you can feel her frustration from all the pent up tension between the two of you. “You gonna tell me what you want?” You ask as you place a chaste kiss in the crease of her pelvis gently nibbling at her skin. Her back arching off the bed at your soft mocking tone.

“I want- fuck- I want your tongue,” she begs. “I want your fucking tongue. Please!” She gasps as you moan in response. Not needed to be told twice as you dive in between her folds. Relishing in her taste across your buds. Gripping her hips and pulling her tighter against your mouth lapping up everything and anything she’s offering you. Flicking your tongue across her swollen clit. Her hips rotating against you as you slide your tongue between her folds. Working her clit fast and hard as you flatten your tongue out aiding in grinding her hips against your face as you slide your hand up her torso searching for her perky breast. Moaning into her heated core as your rock yourself against the cool sheets twisting and pulling on her nipple as your tongue works faster against her. Sucking her clit gently grazing the sensitive bud between your teeth as Billie looses all control as her legs shake and tremble around your head. Her hands gripping your hair tighter, pulling your face further into her core as you slide your fingers between her folds spreading around her wetness as you steal a quick glance up at her.

You lips and tongue not faltering as you tease her with the tip of your middle finger. Her breathing getting heavier the more you tease her. Her whimpers are soft and sweet as you slowly thrust your fingers fully between her lips. The both of you moaning at the feeling of you finally being between her thighs. Her mouth making a perfect o as you twist and flex your fingers against her walls.

“God, pretty girl, you feel so fucking good.” Billie moans out as she licks her lips looking down at the sight of you between her legs. Sitting up to get a better view of you, with the support of her arms, groaning as she watches your work your tongue between her folds and then back up to her clit. Sucking her deeper into your mouth as you curve your fingers just right searching for her sweet spot. Her head falling back on her shoulders as she groans out in ecstasy.

“Shiiit, yes right there, fuck-” she moans as she holds your head against her core grinding her hips against your warm mouth.

Working your tongue faster as your fingers seep deeper hitting that spongy sweet spot over and over again. Your fingers digging deep into her hip bone with the hand pinning her down on your bed as you feel her begin to clench around your fingers. Squeezing you so tightly as her breath hitches.

“Fuck, keep sucking my clit like that Mamas. I’m going to cum all over- fuck- I’m going to cum all over that pretty mouth of yours.” She declares as you thrust your fingers deeper, sucking her clit deeper into your warm mouth as your tongue flicks and licks away at her sensitive nerve bundle. Her body goes stiff as your feel her clenching around your fingers. Grinding her hips faster against your mouth and fingers feeling the intense build up for her orgasm consuming not only her body but thoughts. That your were making her feel better than she ever had, and that she never wanted it to end.

Rotating your wrist as you help ride out her high for as long as possible. Her breath ragged as her chest heaves up and down. Your tongue laying soft kitten licks along her core. Sliding your fingers gently from between her legs as you kiss your way up her body. Her body jerking slightly from overstimulation as you hear her softly hum. Kissing between the valley of her breast as you slither your hips between hers. Bucking your hips unintentionally against her as you feel her wetness soaks into the front of your pants. Billie hissing as her hands slide up your naked back. Teasing your spine with her fingertips as you kiss your way to her lips. Laying a sweet kiss on her lips before you snuggle into her neck. You feel her heart beat under your fingertips as you trace soothing shapes across her cleavage. A smirk working its way across your face.

“So you’ve been waiting on me huh?” you snort in her neck as her hips grip your hips. A soft hum is heard above you before you feel her lips pressing to your forehead.

Her smirk evident as she quickly flips you over. Laying beneath her as her hands brace herself on either side of your head.

“You have no idea,” she chuckles as she glances down at your half naked body. Her hips pinning yours to the bed as she captures your lips between hers. The kiss is heated and rushed as if she would be worried you’d disappear.. Groaning against you lips as her teeth capture your bottom lip. Gently pulling and letting go with a pop as she trails kisses across your jaw landing right below your earlobe.

“Now it’s my turn,” she growls in your ear leaving her mark all along your neck as she plans all the ways she’s going to have you. Moaning at the endless possibilities.

[almostsaidiloveyou]

Anon’s synopsis: You’re the quiet girl, known for dating the university’s popular quarterback, but youre secretly pulled toward his best friend: a strong, charismatic hockey player. She’s infamous for her hookups and late partying. Yet, lately, her attention has been entirely on you...(I had to crop half of the request cuz it’ll spoil the whole thing T_T )

Thank you so much for the request. <3 I hope you enjoy and this was what you expected from me. 💋💕🫂

Imagine 25: "I saw you stare from my peripheral, yeah...Find out how it feels to let go of everything, be free, when you're here with me" ❀✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ moonlight - kali uchis ❀✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

(University AU - introverted!reader - filmstudent!reader - slight slow burn - insert female love interest - infidelity and selfishness - reader has a boyfriend - use of y/n like once - wlw - smut w/ plot - switch!reader - 2 part story - added background character - proof read once :'D - 11.9k words )

You crouch behind the lens, shaping out the scene without blinking. The loud click of the shutter cuts through the cold air, capturing motion frozen in time. Your fingers fidget over the camera controls, adjusting focus on the center of the rink.

The assignment was simple: photograph the women's hockey team for the university's website. A straight forward job. Your professor handed you the sports roster, a few notes from the marketing department, and a deadline.

You arrive early, checking your camera settings while the players lace their skates and adjust their pads. The ice weirdly smells faintly of antifreeze and detergent, the cold air stings the inside of your nose. You stay near the boards, letting the edge of the plexiglass be your view.

She stands out immediately. Not just because she's captain, but because of the way her presence commands the frozen water she stand on. Her voice carries, low and steady, as she gathers her teammates into position. She glides around, stick under her arm. She's scanning the team with an judgy stare, focus enough to catch the smallest mistake.

"Lets go. Line up for the shot," she firmly calls without being harsh. A couple of girls laugh, moving too slowly, and she skates over to them quickly. Her voice drops, low enough you can't hear the words, but the effect is instant; they straighten, correcting their formation, stop fidgeting.

Your camera lifts almost without your permission. Through the viewfinder, she's a perfect photo: the stiffness of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin, the concentration in her eyes when she continues to adjust her teammate's stance. Your lens takes her in frame by frame. Gloves hands brushing frost bits from her jersey, the faint smile when someone finally does what she wants. Her eyes sweep across the rink, scanning and calculating.

She makes eye contact. Her gaze finds yours...or the camera's. You're looking at each other from the viewfinder. You don't look away...not until you realize you're just pointing the camera at them without doing anything.

Until she glides right in front of you.

You quietly exhale. Clear your throat, "Hey. I'm here--"

She speaks over you, looks at you, expression unreadable at first. "You're here to make us look good, right?"

"Y-yeah," you say, voice steady despite the sudden tightness in your chest. "I'm here for the website pictures. Just need some shots for the sport sections."

Her unreadable expression softens, she introduces herself, lets you know she's the captain. Offering a hand that's calloused from the stick. You shake it, aware of the contrast between your cool skin and the heat coming from her palm.

You give her your name, purposely straight foward.

Her gaze lingers on you longer than necessary, then she gestures towards the rink. "Alright, Y/n. Let's give you something worth putting on the internet."

Your morning is spent with you staring through the viewfinder. The scrapes of blades and the harsh slap the sticks give the pucks. Between shots, your eyes keep finding her, sometimes from behind the camera, sometimes when you're cleaning the lens and think she isn't watching.

Every photograph you take, you're trying to capture not only her image but the way she controls the air around her. The way she's so completely herself in the middle of everything. You tell yourself it's about the job: 'capture the dynamic energy of the captain and her team.'

There's something about her that absorbs everything, pulls everything else into focus. When she laughs, it's sudden and real, shaking off whatever tension.

You capture too much, you see more than the captain, more than the sporty chick. You capture the way her shoulders relax when no one's watching, the way her fingers brush her hair in a nervous tic. Capturing moments you don't want to forget, camera keeps clicking.

By the time you pack up your gear, you see people exiting the rink for lunch. She approaches, helmet in hand, cheeks flushed form the col and hard work.

She asks to see the photos:

"You got a good eye." she says quietly. "Maybe we'll see you around."

You watch her walk away with two other members. You let go of the air you didn't know you were holding.

That night you lie awake, the rink's cold air replaced by the warmness of your small apartment. Your mind replays her every move, the way she took control of her teammates, the tilt of her head when she caught you watching.

You drift into sleep, but she doesn't leave your mind.

❀-

The field is already buzzing when you arrive, the late afternoon sun reflects across the grass. Your camera hangs from your neck, heavy with weight of the day's work, but you float when you walk.

You spot your friend, Olivia, waiting near the sidelines, lens training alongside the football players, jogging.

"Liv!" You wave at her.

"Hey," she smiles. "You ready?" Olivia nods toward the center of the field where the quarterback is warming up, tossing the ball back and forth with ease.

She texted you earlier that day if you could take her place for this shoot. She was in charge of capturing the football team. You agreed because you "needed some Vitamin D," and because you had nothing else to do.

You take your place behind the lens, searching for the perfect shot. The quarterback moves effortlessly. every motion precise, eye glance confident. His eyes catches yours, he smiles: warm--genuine.

Later, when practice breaks and the players scatter, he approaches, hands in his pockets, that easy charm in his stance.

"Hey, you're the photographer? Or is it the other person?" His tone was soothing.

You nod, "I'm just taking over for a bit, she'll be back," you brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Oh...” silence. Then: “I'm Christopher," he says, offering you a hand. You take it, you're well mannered.

"Your camera is pretty cool. I'm sure you're like really good with them."

You chuckle, a little meekly. "Thanks."

You two talk for a bit. About your major in Film and why you chose it. And his focus on football, how he wants to be a professional. He is gentle and a little bit like you: unsure, quiet.

You know he's more confident though.

Especially when he leans in slightly, "Maybe I could take you out sometime? Off the field. I mean, if you're not busy."

Your heart skips, surprised and excited. You manage to smile. "I'd like that."

❀-

Months slipped by since those first shoots at the rink and on the field. You've gotten used to your new little routine: morning classes, afternoons hidden behind your lens, and evenings spent with Chris and his friends.

You find yourself walking the line between two words.

One side, there's Christopher and his friends. A cute-lovely tight knight group who welcomed you with open arms.

Christopher, himself, perfect in his role of Quarterback. His laugh bouncing off the walls, the weight of his arm around your shoulder in the quad.

You know his friends well enough to say hi, share a joke, or pass the popcorn during game nights. Well enough that they nod at you in passing, throw teasing jabs about your quietness. At first you didn't like the label of, "The QB's shy girlfriend," but you got used it. Even if sometimes you almost become invisible among the loud convo and easy friendship of the football team. It's a strange place for someone like you, quiet and careful. Yet, you fit neatly into their loud, confident world.

They grown used to your quiet presence. Chris friends like you because you don't demand attention, because your smile is soft but real, and you never embarrass Chris. During parties, you hang in the back, sipping soda on the sides. A silent observer of the loud music and reckless atmosphere. Your world feels ordered, predictable, and safe.

But then there's her: the hockey captain you dreamt of for a few days. Your boyfriend's best friend.

Everyone knows her. She's a genius in her sport. A force of nature who commands her team with a quick look and effort. Everyone respects her; professors greet her when she walks around campus or into class, teammates obey, and academic advisors praise her discipline. She's straight A student, an athelte through and through.

That's why the contradiction of her fascinates you. The other side of, the one the campus whispers about. Wild parties, casual hookups, stories that end up on the university's confession page. She's always been reckless, fearless, untamed...queen of the night you might say. Parties that go on forever, girls trailing after her like puppies. She is chasing excitement and someone is chasing her.

You find it impossible to make sense of those two images.

You watch from afar sometimes, catching her at the front of those parties, center of every curious girl's attention. Laughing loud, drink in hand, hair loose, eyes sparkling with fire...untouchable. The same fire you saw through the viewfinder during the rink photoshoot months ago, but somehow hotter, and chaotic.

You can't help but admire it. You wonder if maybe there's a part of you that craves a taste of that freedom. But you hide it quickly, because you know who you are. You like your silent evenings, your hand built world.

One night after your 2 P.M class, you find yourself sitting on the bus stop bench, gripping your bag, when you hear laughter across the parking lot. It's her walking in the distance with two girls, her arms thrown around their shoulders, her voice loud and alluring.

You catch her eye for a moment. She smirks, a flash of something ambiguous. Mixture of a challenge and secret mischief, maybe. You don't know, you look away quickly, heart thudding. Deep down you're starting to realize you WANT to know her better. Whatever is underneath the reputation. The beautiful mess no one gets to see.

❀-

The text from Chris appears on your phone late in the afternoon. Maybe around

7:15 P.M. [ Christopher: Hey babe, can you do me a favor? ]

He asked a simple question. To pick her up from practice...

7:16 P.M. [Christopher: I was hoping you could pick her up after. You're my two favorite people, gotta get you to get along, right?]

You stare at the message, your heart skipping just a bit. He doesn't say much more, but you can almost hear the hopeful tone behind the casual message.

You typed back quickly: 7:16 P.M. [You: Sure, I can do that:)]

Later, as the night began to settle over campus, you find yourself standing out the rink, the cold poking you through your jacket. The building is mostly empty now. Faint echos skates scraping ice and muffle thuds of sticks against the boards.

Pushing open the heavy door, you step inside the chill washing over you. Your breath fogs in the air as you make your way down the bleachers to the edge of the rink. And there she is, alone.

Her figure glides smoothly across the ice, movements precise but effortless. The fluorescent lights overhead created long shadows, framing her in a spotlight of determination.

You twitched to grab the camera forgotten at your side (Not your professional-project-necessary camera, but the camcorder you carry like they're keys) You're still, mesmerized.

Her breath clouds the air in pattern puffs as she continues the same sequence over and over. Swifts turns, sharp stops, direct power. Her face is concentrate, like a mask, but you catch the smallest curve of a smile when she nails a difficult move.

You don't want to interrupt and break this moment. You watch her skate, the way her eyes narrow slightly when she is pushing harder. Subtle trembles of exhaustion in her hands.

She senses you eventually, her sharp gaze looking up.

Your body wants to react but you keep it still, letting her have this moment. When she finally stops, she slides to the boards. You approach quietly giving her a small smile.

"Hey," you says softly. "Practice almost over?"

She shrugs, her usual confidence softened by fatigue. "Just finishing up."

You nod, suddenly aware of how close you are, how the smell of ice and sweat dance in the cold air between you.

Chris had said you two should get along.

Maybe this is the start of the low sort of routine.

Every few nights, he'll text:

[ Christopher: Hey can you grab her after practice?]

...and you find yourself back at the rink, leaning on the boards while the rest of the team leaves.

The first few pickups were quiet and polite nods. The occasional "thanks" before she slung her gear into the backseat.

As the weeks went by it became easier now. The awkwardness has thinned, replaced by short conversations about her day, about your classes, about how her car broke down and been working to get it fixed, or about nothing in particular. She lingers by the boards and teases you for always wearing the same scarf.

Tonight, practice runs later than ever. You wait at your usual spot, sitting by the boards (sometimes leaning on the railing) watching her skate the whole rink. She's faster than usual, hair messy under her helmet, movements more rough and calculated.

You mentally captures things about her: she never leaves her stick propped up on the bench without cleaning it, the faint red marks along her chin from the helmet strap, the crease between her eyebrows when she's thinking. Her mouth flips in that lopsided half smile you started to familiarize with. She skates towards you and stops so abruptly that a spray of ice dusts your jacket.

"You ever been out here?" she asks, leaning on her stick.

"Out here as in...the ice?" You tilt your head, blinking.

"No," she says dryly. "I meant the moon," she mimics you and tilts her head as well. Her smirk deepens when you roll your eyes. "Yes, the ice. Ever skated before?"

"Not since I was like...ten." You glance down at your sneakers. "And I'm not dressed appropriately for it."

"Sighh...That's a shame," she lightly says, yet her eyes studying you in a way the makes your chest feel tight. "You look like you're scared to step further than the boards."

"Pfft, I'm not scared."

"Oh really?" she challenges.

You scoff about to backpedal, before you can, she reaches over the railing and hooks her gloved fingers gently around your wrist. "Cm'on. One step in won't kill you."

A cold shock of her palm through the glove seeps into your skin. You hesitate, glancing toward the empty stands like someone might be watching, but she's already pulling you forward.

The second your shoes touches the slippery surface, it slide a little and you grab her arm instinctively. She laughs, not mockingly, brightly and genuinely. And she steadies you with both hands on your waist.

"You're fine. Just...lean onto me."

"That's easy for you to say," you mutter, your hands find her shoulders anyway, fingers curling into the padded fabric of her jersey.

For a while, she just pulls you slowly across the rink, wanting you to get used to the glide. The sound of your sneakers squeaking lightly against the ice is ridiculous, but she doesn't seem to care. Her smirk gets softer into something warmer.

"You're better at this than you think," she says, spinning you gently so you're facing the far end of the rink. "See...not so bad." She starts to skate backward slowly, pulling you along by your hands. Your sneakers squeak and slip but somehow she keeps you upright, guiding you in a slow awkward half circle.

You're laughing despite yourself, the air cold in your ribs. "This is so dumb."

"This," she's still smirking, "is you proving me right."

You roll your eyes, but the feeling growing in your chest betrays you. You almost feel steady until your toe catches on an uneven part, suddenly you're weightless for a second before landing flat on your back with a thud.

Her laughter bursts through the quiet, echoing across the empty rink. She skates over and crouches down besides you, still grinning, cheeks red from the cold and amusement.

"You okay?" she asks, not even pretending to hide the chuckle.

"Fine," you mumble, faking annoyance and pride. She continues to laugh and you can't help but try to hold back your own.

"Good." She holds out her hand, warm even through the glove. "Because that was the funniest shit I've ever seen."

You take her hand, letting her pull you back up and she doesn't let go right away. For a single frame, you're just standing there, breathing in the coldness, close enough to see the details in her eyes.

And then she skates backwards again, tugging you for another round.

❀-

That night, she insists on buying you food.

"I'm starving," she says as you both step out the rink, still a little giddy from your clumsy-sneaker-skating adventure. "And if you drive me home on an empty stomach...I'll probably pass out before I can even thank you."

You laugh, your cheeks ache from smiling, your palms are still tingling where they'd rested on her and you're cozier than you have any right to be in a building this cold.

"You don't need to thank me."

"Too bad. You're getting fries out of this whether you want them or not."

Fifteen minutes later, you're parked outside a 24 hour burger place. The smell of fast food filling the smell space of your car. She passes you a bag, the wrapper hot against your cold fingers. Your radio plays low; something with an easy steady beat, and the overhead light catches the edges of her damp hair where it's transforming to it's natural state--slightly from the melted ice.

You eat with the windows cracked just enough for the night air to cool the car. She's relaxed in the passenger seat, hoodie pulled over her head, one leg bent up against the dashboard in a way you would normally scold anyone else for, but you let her.

"You're quieter when you're off the ice," you tell her between bites.

She tilts her head at you. "Quieter good or quieter bad?"

"Good...quieter good," you admit. "You're easier to...I dunno...talk to."

A slow smile spreads across her face. "So you're saying you like me better now than when I'm yelling at my teammates."

You shake your head with a laugh. "That is so not what I said."

She's still smiling when she leans back, chewing on a fry. "I'm having fun," she says finally, voice softer now. "Haven't done something like this in..a while."

You don't answer right away, because you're having fun too. Too much fun for what this is supposed to be: picking up your boyfriend's best friend after practice.

Sitting in your car eating fast food and laughing at nonsense isn't a crime, but in your chest, it feels like it might be.

Her phone buzzes against her thigh. She glanced down at the screen and roll her eyes slightly, answering with a boring: "Hey."

The voice on the other end is muffled, but you hear the playfully flirty tone.

She leans back further in her seat, the hoodie shadowing her face as she says, "Nah, I'm not doing anything. Yea....mhm, yeah I can meet you in a bit." Her eyes flick towards you for the briefest second, then look away.

Your fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel even though the car is in park. You force a small smile when she hangs up, slipping her phone in her pocket.

"Ready?" you ask, your voice more preppier than you feel.

"Yeah. Sorry...early morning tomorrow," she says, as if that's all the call was about.

The drive to her apartment is quiet except for the hum of the tires and the low music. When you pull up, she thanks you again, grabbing her bag and flashing you that same smirk that made the rink feel warm hours ago.

"See you," she says, shutting the door.

You watch her walk under the streetlight until she disappears into the building, the paper bag of leftover fries and your half eaten burger cool on the passanger seat.

You sit there for a moment long, feeling the guilt creep in. Not because you did anything wrong, but because you WANTED to.

❀-

The frat house is full of the familiar social energy. With the music humming low from the speakers in the corners, laughter from the kitchen where the drinks are spread, and the scent of beer and pizza hanging in the air. You stand near the back wall, clutching your cup a little too intensely, trying to keep your energy light as Chris chats with a few guys about an upcoming game.

Around you, the crowns spins, something feel different.

Maybe it's how you feel a little smaller here. Like you're watching a film, while shrinking. A sitcom of how all the friends feel out of reach, enjoying their convos and inside jokes.

She's here too, but not alone. Leaning against the wall, fingers tangled in the hair of a woman... a sexy woman wearing red lipstick. The two of them move together like they're the only ones in the room, close, whispers that flip into quiet laughter.

Your heart drops when you catch her hand slip lower, tracing a line up the woman's thigh. The woman's fingers curls around her wrist, pulling her even closer. The energy between them is electric, shameless, and public.

You watch, feeling a knot form in your stomach. It's not jealous really, more like a small ache that run just under the surface when you're in a room full of noise but feel totally-completely alone.

Chris notices your silence and nudges your side. "Hey, you alright?" he asks, only you can hear him.

You force a smile. "Yea...just tired, I guess."

He doesn't push it.

Your eyes keep drifting back to the pair: her and the woman, exposing their voyeurism, P.D.A (public display of affection). They're so open and alive. You wonder if it were you on the place of the woman, if you could be so certain or free.

You sip your drink, hoping to drown inside with ease.

❀-

About forty minutes later, your nerves soften turning into a gentle sensation. You're definitely more tipsy than usual, enough to feel a little loose, but still have control of yourself. You take steps upstairs, leaning your head against the wall feeling the music pulsate from downstairs. A pressure building low in your abdomen: You need to pee.

"Go piss girl," you joke to yourself out loud, getting a side eye from a stranger.

The hallway upstairs is quieter, illuminated only by the dull glow of a few lamps and the moonlight through the windows. You step carefully, trying to keep your balance as the warmth in your cheeks deepens.

After you finish, you move toward the sink to wash your hands, your reflection looking a little flushed in the dirty-foggy-mirror. You notice the door door across the bathroom, slightly cracked open.

"Curiosity killed the cat," is the saying.

And right now, you were walking closer, drying your hands on your jeans. Soft sounds coming inside.

You take a peek:

There she was, sitting on the bed. Fingers moving slowly and expertly between the woman's legs. The woman's head is thrown back, eyes closed, lips apart in soft moans; her hips lift, grinding against her thighs.

Her lips on the woman's neck, teeth grazing as her hand moves faster, stroking. Moans from the woman are desperate for more, pulling her closer.

Your skin tingles, your ears are burning as you watch. A live porno, right in front of you, the sound and movement amplified. You are frozen, but burning with desire.

You keep watching, capturing her, eyes closed in pleasure, but when her gaze snaps open and lands on you, the slow, wicked smile that takes over her lips sends shiver down your spine.

Caught.

You don't know what to do, your heart pounds, a flood of desire, jealousy, confusion hits you all at once. You swallow hard and stumble downstairs. Covering your ears since the sound of their intimacy still rings in.

❀-

The next time you pull to the rink to pick her up, there's no teasing your scarf, no light banter. No emotion in her voice. She slips into your car, eye focused straight ahead, lips pressed in a thin line.

You don't ask whats wrong. You don't want to push.

The drive back is silent except for the engine's low hum and the few awkward re light stops. You both sit with a careful distance, the air between you charged but unspoken.

Later that week, Chris's frat house is loud again, another party. This time you find yourself there, pressed close to him in the dim light, his hands on your waist.

But the excitement you expected isn't there.

You do like Chris. You really do. But tonight as you sit beside him in the aftermath, your mind drifts elsewhere. To the cold rink. To her smile. To the fire you saw in her eyes.

You don't say anything. You close your eyes and just try to bury the questions deep inside you.

❀-

You've started to notice something:

The way she hardly ever laughs with Chris and their friends anymore. The way she slips away from the group early. Eyes distance and a bit pissed.

Tonight, when you pull up to the rink after practice, she's waiting outside, tying her sneakers. Her usual confident posture toned down. You smile, trying to keep everything light.

"Hey," you fidget you car keys, "do you mind if we make a quick stop on campus? I need to pick up some photos."

Her brows arches just for a second:

"Yeah," she says after a pause, voice low. "Sounds good."

You both settle into the car, the air between you tense but easier than before. As you drive towards campus, you can feel her relax just a little.

The darkroom is quiet, dimly red, stinking of chemicals and paper. You reach for your envelope of prints, and she watches, curious but quiet.

You hold them carefully, feeling a bit exposed without your camcorder or professional camera between your fingers. Just the results of it.

You clear your throat, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. "Uh, this is where the magic happens."

She smiles, a slow, easy curve of the lips. "Looks like it."

You shuffle your feet, trying to think of something else to say. "I don't come here much. Usually just drop off film and pick up prints."

"So...You come here often?"

She snorts quietly, leaning against the counter; which you deeply want to tell her to not, but you stay silent.

"Not really. Only when I get out of practice early and my ride stops here."

You chuckle softly, glad she didn't laugh at your awkward attempt at humor.

"Yeah, the darkroom's kinda intimidating," you admit. "I-It's like a secret club for people who know how to mix chemicals for pictures."

Her smile curves into something genuine, eyes softer. "You're pretty cute when you're nervous."

Your cheeks heat up, but you keep going, encouraged. "I'm usually better with a camera in my hands than words."

She steps closer, the space between you shrinking in the red light. "Well, I like the sound of your voice. Even if your stumble a bit."

For the first time in weeks, the tension eases. You talk about simple things, her practice, your classes, favorite music, and for a little while, the complicated shit melts away.

She catches your eyes and smirks. "Maybe we should hang out more. Outside the rink...and darkrooms."

You swallow, nodding. "Y-yeah. I'd like that."

❀-

The days after the darkroom visit blur. You start seeing her more, sometimes at the campus cafe between classes, sometimes on empty benches where you share music and talk about everything and nothing. The world outside the rink feels less like a labyrinth when you're with her.

One afternoon, she texts you from practice:

6 P.M [Her: come skate with me ]

You hesitate. Skating's never been your thing...especially the last time. Sneakers and ice do not mix well, and you'd probably fall flat on your face again.

She has a wide grin and bright eyes full with mischief. You just arrive and she's waiting by the boards...not in uniform, just casual clothes.

"Don't chicken out," she points a finger at you.

You laugh nervously, sitting next to her duffle bag, letting her help you strap on the skates. The cold bites at your cheeks as you wobble onto the ice.

You want your sneakers back.

She's patient, steadying you with gentle touches, teasing you when you stumble.

"Dude, you're not doing bad," she grins, skating around you effortlessly.

Those moments on the ice with laughter, your fingers brushing when she helps you balance. They feel like tiny acts of rebellion against the world you thought you knew.

The world with dull days that slips by, pulling at you.

You're still you. The quiet, easygoing girl who laughs at your boyfriend's jokes, who sits among his friends at parties, who smiles politely at the group chats and group texts where you're expected to play the part.

You notice how natural it all seems for the. Well, of course, the bond of years spent playing the same game is unspoken.

You try--laugh a little louder than usual, nod at conversations you barely follow and remind yourself to 'be fun, be easy, fit in.'

You aren't ignored or pushed out, no one is cruel or outright hostile. Yet, you're aware of the way you stand slightly apart. Like a character in a film, playing the role of the quarterback's girlfriend, a carefully written script you're now supposed to follow.

Some times, when Chris friends joke about "keeping her in line" or tease you about "being the good quiet girl," you smile feels too tight, your heart too heavy. You see the way they expect you to be: meek, shy, loyal, perfect, artsy....And you wonder who you're supposed to be when the night ends and you're alone.

With her...the captain of the women's hockey team: Everything feels different.

You're not pretending. There's not script, no expectations, no roles to play. Just moments stole between car rides, music shared, laughter with no caution.

What scares you the most is that:

...the world you live in is twice as big. One half you as 'Christopher's girl,' and the other, slowly, is beginning to see the real you...the one who skates on ice despite the lack of skill and fear, who listens, who dares to be messy and uncertain.

❀-

You step into her apartment, a small cozy space filled with mismatched furniture and smell of pine cleaner and something warm, maybe cinnamon from a candle burning low on the windowsill. The glow from the city lights filters through the curtains, creating shadows across the room.

She kicks off her shoes but the door, dropping her keys in a bowl on the table. The hum of a playlist murmurs in the background; Slow R&b, maybe. Slow, rhythmic and familiar.

You settle on the couch, your legs curling beneath you, the weight of the day beginning to lift. After a pause, you finally ask, voice gentle and curious:

"Hey...so I've been meaning to ask...why haven't you been hanging out with Christopher and the others lately?"

She looks up from the book in her lap, eyes steady but unreadable. For a moment, she doesn't answer. Then shrugs, voice casual but with hint of something deeper under, "I guess I'm just busy...And I need a break from them."

You nod slowly, sensing there's more she's not saying but not wanting to push. "Yeah?" you say softly.

She gives you a small, a little wry as if amused but the concern. "Nothing personal. Just...sometimes you have to step back to breathe."

You watch her for a moment, the way her shoulder tense ever so slightly, the look in her eyes. You want to ask more, to understand. Instead you reach out, brushing your fingers lightly over hers.

Her gaze drops to your lips and the image freezes. The room holds its breath. Then, without warning, she leans in: purposefully slow. Your heart thunders, caught between shock and desire.

Your lips meet hers, soft at first, testing the waters. The world narrows until there's nothing but the heat of her touch, the wildfire spreading through your body.

Pulling back you both blink, eyes wide.

"Oh no," you whisper, voice trembling. "What about Chris?"

She bites her lip, nodding. "Yeah....him."

But the, as if the question wasn't strong enough to hold you apart, her hand slides behind your neck, finger tangling in your hair.

Before you know it, you're kissing again. More deeper. More wild. Letting the tension and the moment drown out the worries, the guilt.

It's selfish.

It's reckless.

But right now, nothing else matters. Just the taste of her, the way her breathing hitches against yours, the desperation hidden in every touch.

For once, you give yourself permission to be selfish too.

❀-

It starts quietly, almost unknown at first.

On rare occasions when she's around everyone, a brush of her fingers lingers yours when she passes you a drink at Chris's place. The heat of her thigh pressing against yours on a too crowded couch. Her gaze lingering a breath too long across the table, the corner of her mouth lifting in the smallest, most troubling smile.

You tell yourself no one notices. You PRAY no one notices.

When she texts:

9:30 p.m. [ her: come over ]

You go. Slipping into her apartment feels like stepping into another life. The one where you're not the QB's quiet girlfriend, where the rules don't apply, where she's the only thing you have to answer to. Where she looks at you like you're not a quiet character playing any role in a film.

In public, it's stolen glances, her eyes meeting your across a room full of people, saying more in a second than anyone else could in an hour.

In private, it's her lips on yours before the door has even closed. The way she kisses you like she's memorizing you, like each time could be the last.

Between the touches, the gasps, the whispers pressed against your warm skin, there's something else growing: a knowing. She learns the way you stir your tea without looking. You learn the way she taps her pen twice before making a decision. She tells you about the first time she stepped onto the ice as a kid, hands trembling. You tell her how sometimes you feel like you're playing someone's role, and prefer to capture, rather than BE captured.

She always listens.

And you realize that somewhere in the middle of the lust and the danger, you're also building something you don't have words for yet.

But whenever Chris arms slides around your shoulders in front of everyone, you feel her eyes on you and you know she's thinking the same thing you are: that this can't last, but you're not ready to stop what you've just started.

❀-

You've never driven this far out of the city with her before, and the windy road seems to whisper it's own secrecy. She's got one hand on the whee, the other tapping along to some playlist you've been passing back and forth for weeks. Her sunglasses pushing her hair back, that lazy smile tugging at her mouth every time she glances at you.

Before you left, you smooth your dress (the burgundy one you bought right after she asked you out). You pretend you didn't spend extra time trying to tie the ribbon perfectly on your hair. But when she caught sight of you at the curb, her quiet whistle made your cheeks warm instantly.

The air is crisp and sweet, like cold water, except it wasn't cold. Her hand takes your hand and walks with you. She spreads the blanket out on a sunny patch of grass overlooking the drop: a view that goes on for miles, all rolling hills and valleys.

"You're spoiled," she says, opening the picnic basket she packed herself. "Not everyone gets the deluxe treatment."

You laugh, pulling your camcorder from your tote. "Gotta get this on record. Future gens need to know about the legendary hockey captain who makes a decent sandwich."

She grins and leans towards the camera. Her face taking up the who frame, blocking the view with her face. "Tell the people I'm amazing."

"I'm not lying on film."

She gasps, fake offended, and tosses a grape at you. It misses rolling into the grass, and she shakes her head. "Waste of a good grape, especially in this economy."

You film little snippets: between bites of food, her pretending to fall off the blanket for dramatic effect, her grabbing the camera talking into it, shielding her eyes from the sun like an explorer spotting civilization. She grabs your camera at one point and turns it on you. You blush.

"The talented film maker, behind the scenes." She stands up, looking at you through thew viewfinder. "Dark red dress, mountain background," she narrates. "The most beautiful view here, hand down."

You duck your head, smiling into your lap, but you cant hide the way your heart beating too fast.

When the food's gone, you both lie back on the blanket, the sun warm on your faces, fingers brushing in the grass. She turns her head toward you, her voice soft.

"Thanks for coming with me."

You glance at her, her expression is almost shy. "You didn't really give me a choice."

"Yeah..." she says, a slow smile spreading. "But you said yes."

The camcorder sits between you, still recording the mountain breeze and the sounds of your quiet laughter.

After laughing and bantering for a while, you raise the camera and kneel on the blanket. Capturing her frame against the skyline. The wind tugging your and her hair.

You think to yourself, you've never seen her look so unguarded.

She shifts, lowering her sunglasses, gaze steady on you, "You always filming me," she says half teasing.

"It's for...memories," you murmur, pressing the shutter again.

Her smirk deepens. "Memories, huh?" She sits up, leaning toward you until her shadow falls across your lap. Her finger trail over the edge of the camera, then gently push it down. "Or maybe you're into something else."

"What?" you furrow your brows.

"Voyeurism." The word floats, thick and slow. "You film everything...and---" her stops to sharpen her smile,"--that one time, you peeked at me with that girl."

Your cheeks flare hot instantly, like she's just reached inside your brain and projected the memory into display. "I...that wasn't---."

"Wasn't what?" she interrupts, leaning in so her breath brushes your ear. "Wasn't you watching me? Watching her?"

The world flips a bit: sky too blue, the grass too her, she's too close.

"You liked it," say says, matter of fact. "You still think about it?"

You swallow your meekness turnt ten percent. You can't lie. "...S-some times."

her eyes narrow, darken, like you've given her permission without meaning to. She pushes the camera fully aside, her hand coming up to cup your jaw, tilting your face towards her. The first kiss is deep, un hurried. Something thicker, heavier, fed by the openness of the mountain...nothing compared to the frantic stolen moments in her apartment.

When she pulls back just enough to speak, her thumb brushes your lower lip. "Then watch me now."

You look around, completely isolated. Looking at the birds as if they have cameras: "O-out here?"

She grins, wicked: "Out here."

Her gaze lowers to your mouth. "You've been filming me all day," she murmurs, thumb brushing your lip. "Guess it's only fair I give you something worth watching."

Before you can ask, she shifts her weight, lowering you gently onto the blanket. The burgundy dress rides up your thighs, the fabric tickles against your skin. You glance towards your camcorder on the grass. It's aimed towards you, the tiny red light winking. You didn't turn it off.

Your pulse skips. "Wait it's still--"

"I know," she answers, smirk curving her lips. "Now be good and let me see you."

She kneels between your legs: running her hands up your calves, slow, like she's savoring the path. The drag of her fingertips over your skin sends shivers straight down. She pushes the dress higher, bunching it at your waist until your panties are the only thing between her and the wetness.

Her eyes lock with yours as she hooks her fingers into the waistband and pulls them down. The cool air hits your bare skin, and feel yours clench around nothing.

She settles on her stomach, her hands sliding up to separate apart your thighs. She blows over you, teasing: "Pretty," she whispers like it's a secret just for her.

The her is on you, one long, slow lick from your entrance to your clit. Your back arches instantly, she hums at your reaction, mouth already moving with purpose. Dragging over you in deliberately, patterned strokes.

The blanket rustles under you as your hips twitch. You scoot back a bit, your legs threaten to close, but she's firm one arm curling over your stomach to hold you still. "Stay," she says softly against your skin, the word vibrating through you.

Your fingers find her hair, clutching without thinking as her mouth works you, her tongue circling, pressing, flicking just enough to make your toes curl under you ruffle ankle socks. Every so often, she pulls back to watch you. lips coated with you, pupils blown wide.

Her eyes are lenses, you're in front of the camera now;

"You like when I look at you?" she asks, and you can only whimper in answer.

Her kisses your thigh and dives back in, her focus narrowing until the world is just wet warmness of her mouth and the mountain breeze against your flushed skin. She sucks your clit gently, then harder, just enough pressure to your thighs tremble.

The camera is still rolling. You can't stop thinking about it, about you seeing it later. That thought pushes you closer, faster.

She feels it, the way your muscles tense, and she doesn't stop. Her tongue moves faster, her arm pressing you down when your hips jerks. Your breath turns ragged, breaking into high desperate moans, until you shatter beneath her. The pleasure crashing through you and you can't stop.

She stays there through it all, licking you through the aftershocks until you're trembling and over sensitive, pushing weakly at her shoulder.

When she finally crawls up next to you, her lips shin and her smile is almost smug. She kisses you, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

"Now that," she says, brushing your hair from your face, "...is worth filming."

❀-

You're behind the camera, adjusting focus for your short film project, trying to lose yourself in the world you're creating. The studio is dusty, sunlight filters through tall windows. The projectors fills the room with it's buzz.

Actors move into place, reciting lines with a big degree of conviction, and you stay focused on capturing every detail. From the hallway, voices enter, light, giggly, gossipy. You pause, lens half raised, and your eyes catch movement outside the frame.

Two girls from the drama department are chatting, waiting for their turn to audition. Their conversation is careless, loud enough to catch your attention.

"I swear, I'm gonna get with her no matter what it takes," one says, voice full of pride.

"Who?" the second girl asks.

"You know her! She's the hockey captain, I heard she's into girls."

The second girl giggles, biting her lip. "Oh yeah. But she's kinda selective though. Turned me down last week. Can you believe it?"

Your heart beats when you hear her name.

They don't notice you watching from the shadows, heavy camera forgotten in your hands.

"She's like, the hottest thing on campus...when it comes to girls," the first girl continues. "Last year, everyone seemed to get a piece. Everyone still wants a piece. But nah, she's holding out for someone better, I guess."

You tuck the camera under your arm and step back, letting the girls pass by, their laughter ringing sharp and careless.

Your chest tightens with something you can't name: protectiveness, jealously, fear? Because out here, away from the rink and the mountain.

Her world is a spotlight...same with Chris; and you are just trying to stay behind the scenes.

Later that night you sit on your desk. Your computer breathing gently, the camcorder sitting next to you. Tonight, you're determined to clear space, move footage onto your USB, keep things organized.

Clicking through files, thumbnails flicker past: candid shots of friends, a few practice pictures, anything really. Then one file catches your eyes, a timestamp from the mountain picnic a few days ago. All the thumbnails were similar from that day...but this video wasn't one minute long or a few seconds. You hesitate, heart already pounding.

You double click. The screen flickers to life.

The footage's not perfectly focused (which triggers your perfectionist side a bit), but the sound are unmistakable: your breath stuttering, the soft drag of fabric, the faint rustle of grass. You see yourself, hip shifting, the curve of your dress riding up and her hands moving over you, gentle but sure.

You feel shame. From neck up, heat floods.

Your phone buzzed a few minutes ago, a message from your boyfriend.

10:00 P.M. [Christopher: Hey, just checking in. How's your night?]

Your fingers tremble. the world narrows to just that notification and you're shaking in guilt. Without thinking, you press pause, then tap the delete icon. The file disappears with a quick confirmation beep. You breathe out slowly, the room suddenly too silent, too still.

The memory lingers: a secret kept safe for now, but at what cost?

❀-

They days blur between your film project and Christopher's training schedule. When you're not behind the camera, you're usually in the editing room, headphones on, fingers stiff from cutting up clips. When he's not in class, he's on the field, running drills in the heat until his shirt is plastered to his back.

You try to keep in touch.

TRY

Quick texts between takes. A couple of voice messages before bed. The occasional lunch squeezed into both your calendars. It's not that either of you stopping caring, you just keep missing each other in the gaps.

Sometimes you watch the three dots of him typing, only for the message to disappear. Sometimes you do the same.

When you do talk, it's fine. Comfortable, but there's a subtle disconnection under everything.

The evening starts with a gentle hum of excitement beneath you skin as Chris pulls up to the fancy restaurant in a black car that gleams under the streetlights. The city feels different tonight: softer, wrapped in warm glows from the street lamps lining the sidewalk.

He steps out first, opening your door with a smile that reaches his eyes. "Ready?" he asks, voice low and easy.

You nod, smoothing your well tailored trousers, feeling a mix of nerves and something else, anticipation, maybe. The inside of the restaurant is even more beautiful than you expected: deep mahogany tables, candlelights casting shadows on the walls, the faint clink of cutlery and glasses, murmurs of other couples.

Christopher guides you to a table by the window, where the city lights extend out like a glittery blanket beneath you. The waiter arrives swiftly, and as menus are passed. You catch Chris's gaze, warm, attentive like you're the only person in the room.

Conversation flows easily at first, stories from his football season, your film project, the silly things that makes you laugh. You sip your wine carefully, feeling (guilty), lightheaded but good caught up in the moment.

After dinner, Chris suggests a walk. You stroll through quiet streets, hands brushing until he finally slides his fingers into yours.

Eventually, he takes you back to his place: the frat house. You get the familiar greeting as you step inside. The house is surprisingly quiet for a weekend. Nonethless, it was still a world away from the intimacy of the restaurant.

He pulls you aside, into an even quieter room. His hands find you waist, fingers tracing slow patterns on your skin. His eyes search yours, asking without words.

He starts to kiss you, and touch you softly. You kiss back but feel your stomach drop. Your eyes are open while his are closed. He pushed you down gently on the bed, getting on top of you.

Your heart races, but you pull back slightly, voice soft but firm. "Chris...I need to tell you something."

He nods, concern flashes across his face.

"I'm...I'm a virgin."

"I don't wanna rush anything. Especially not with you..." The words were fragile and heavy. "O-or anyone really..." you added quickly.

His expressions mix: surprise, maybe a little hesitation, but the softens returns.

"That's okay," he says quietly. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

You breathe out, relief washing over you.

He leans in to kiss you, slow and gentle, like he's thanking you for trusting him.

And you feel sick to your stomach. Not because you were lying, no you truly are a virgin...But because you didn't want to have sex with him.

❀-

Coffee is being sold by the vendor across the street. The park smells of wet leaves. You adjust the camcorder strap on your shoulder, the tripod digging into your other stand. Your classmates: Kevin and Maia are already fussing over their notes. They hover near the actors discussing angles in loud, confident voices. They're not unkind, but they speak over you without realizing, their words moving fast enough to leave no space for yours.

"I think if we start with the wide shot here..." you start. Your voice careful, but Maia is already mid sentence, pointing toward the far bench.

You go quiet again, the suggestion just drifting in the air. You've been on sets like this before, where you're not exactly unwanted, just overlooked.

She's leaning against a lamppost a few feet away, sunglasses hiding her eyes, hands in her varsity jackets pockets. Watching. You'd invited her to see the scene come together, one hand is because of pride, the other is wanting her near you.

Kevin laughs at something Maia says, then waves at you to start recording. You obey, slipping behind the lens, framing the shot just right despite them not listening.

You focus on the viewfinder, doing your job, keeping your voice even when you ask the actors to shift a little to the left.

You're halfway through another take when Kevin starts giving the actor advice you already explained earlier WORD FOR WORD, except now its HIS IDEA.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the smallest movement. She was now sitting on a bench...well she was until she stands and take sone step forward.

"I think she already suggested that," she says lightly, nodding towards you.

Kevin blinks, then looks at you like he's only just remembered you're here. "Oh. Yeah. Right. Good call."

It's not much but it settles everything.

Later when the others are rearranging props, she leans in so only you can hear. "You've got a good eye," she murmurs. "You need to stand up for yourself." Her tone is the softest you've ever heard it. The kind of soft tone that makes your chest ache.

"I mean it's fine..." you shrug, eyes on your camera.

"No it's not," it didn't feel like scolding, her tone. was the same. "You're one with the best talent here. Don't let them forget that." You two still kept a safe distance that can be interpreted as friendship.

You nod, not sure you can do it, but when Maia starts rearranging the actors again, you find yourself stepping in (a little hesitate).

"Wait...the light's not right," you say, louder than you thought possible. "If we move them two steps to the left, we can actually still catch it."

They pause, exchange a glance and an agreeing shrug. They actually do it.

You look at her shyly and smile. She smiles back from the sidelines, small but it's all for you.

You film until the sky goes deep blue and your breath fogs in the air. The last scene plays, and you know...you KNOW, it's exactly how you pictured it; and wanted it this morning.

❀-

The bass hits you before you even step inside. It's the kind of beat that you can literally feel in your bones, vibrates up through the sole of your shoes. Neon lights flicker across the dancer in flashes of pink and bright blue.

You're walking between Chris and her, the heat of too many bodies pressed close already makes you overwhelmed. Christ has one arm loosely around your waist as you all squeeze through to the V.I.P section the guys managed to sang. A semi circle booth hidden away just enough to breathe properly.

Chris stays comfortably around your you as your group talks a bit. She slides into the seat across from you, dark wide jeans ripped at the knees, a fitted black shirt clinging to her braless frame. Her hair's a little messy, damp at the ends like she'd just showered after practice and pulled up here.

She looks unfairly good.

The whole crew is here. Drinks clinks against the table, laughter shouts over the music, and with in minutes, people are scattering towards the dance floor or. the bar.

Everyone notice it right away: the absence..difference.

Normally, she disappears in places like this. The life of the night. She's the one who was the main character of the stories you've heard about. Dancing with strangers, kissing girls under flashing strobe lights, vanishing for twenty minutes to return with lipstick smudged and a smug grin.

But tonight? She stays in the booth, one arm draped casually over the back of the seat, eyes scanning the crowd but not lingering on anyone. There's no calculated seduction in her posture, no hungry searching for a hookup.

One of their friends, Quinn leans across the table towards her, grinning. "Not gonna pick out your victim for the night?" she teases over the thumping music.

She smirks, lifting her glass for a sip. "Not feeling it," she says simply.

Less than 15 minutes later when Chris and another male friend return with more drinks, they slide in and their eyes are wide.

"Yo, you're actually just sitting?" Mason (the friend distributing the drinks) calls over the music laughing. "Did hell freeze or something?"

She rolls her eyes, shrugging. "Guess, I'm sustaining myself."

"Sustaining yourself?" another chimes in, mock shock in his face. "Since when do you not leave the club with someone?"

They all exchange looks of surprise and curiosity. Then laughter around the table, but she just sips away. Her eyes flicking to yours for the briefest moment. You feel it like electricity on your fingertips, a spark that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

Chris doesn't seem to notice the exchange, leaning in to ask if you want a drink. You nod, giving him your order. Your gaze, on the other hand, strays back to her.

They all eventually let it drop.

As the night wears on, people dance, drink disappear, and the booth empties and fills and empties. She gets up to go to the bar only at first. You get up a few times, once because one of their girl friends dragged you on the dance floor; another time you got up yourself to stretch your legs.

She never moves toward the dance floor with anyone who isn't in your group. When someone: a tall girl in a sparkling top leans over to ask if she wants to dance, she smiles politely but shakes her head.

You catch the way Mason's eyebrow rise, curiosity all over his face... "Damn, you're for real on a dry streak, eh?" Mason nudges your shoulder, it was only you three on the booth.

"Maybe I'm just not into random girls tonight," she so smooth, not breaking eye contact with you. Your cheeks heat and you're grateful for the cover of the dim lights.

You stand up a couple of minutes later. To the restroom, that is warmer than it should be, thick with the smell of vanilla body spray and hookah. The music from the club outside is muffled, just a dull, persistent beat under the chatter of women fixing themselves and hyping each other up.

You look look the women in the mirror, adjusting their dresses. You're not used to wearing something like this, like the woman: short, dark, revealing, clings in ways you're still not sure you can pull off. Deep neckline showing just enough skin to make you hyperaware of every glance in your direction.

But you have to admit to yourself, you looked good. You check yourself out through the mirror.

You look right besides you. She was there, you kew it. She close enough that her arm brushes your, catch the faint smell of her cologne beneath the smell of the restroom.

She's checking you out through the mirror.

You knew, she knew, you looked good, since the tie you first entered the club and her gaze dropped, smiling like she wanted to say something.

Her hand ghosts against the small of your back like she's guiding you. Then she tilts her head toward the far end, "C'mon."

You don't think, just follow. The stall door clicks shut behind you, and the air feels instantly closer. The bass shakes the stall faintly. She's leaning back against the door eyes dropping briefly to curve of your dress before meeting yours again. The space between you is almost nonexistent.

"Well," she murmurs, glancing around, "at least it's not one of those horror movies bathrooms." Her smirk is lazy, teasing, but there's an undertone in her voice that makes your stomach twist.

You giggle and look around the stall. It was surprisingly cleaner than expected, no suspicious puddles or toilet paper stuck to the floor.

Before you can think of something clever to say, she leans in and kisses you. Lips are warm, tasting like the cocktail she had earlier, and then the kiss depends, her hand cupping the back of your neck.

You've kissed her before, of-fucking-course, but here in this tiny stall, with stranger just feet away, it feels hotter, heavier.

Without thinking, you press forward, your hands finding her hips. You let your hands slip lower, fingers brushing over the front of her jeans. You feel her gasp just slightly against your mouth as you put pressure.

You've been with girls before...kinda...a handful; yet you were still not as experienced... and none of those girls were like her. Your palm presses more firmly, rubbing slow over the denim. She groans, the sound vibrating against your lips.

"You tryna start somethin' here, princess?" she murmurs, her voice husky and quiet.

You explain yourself in stutters. "I dunno what ...I mean I do but....you know I'm not sure how...ugh."

She smiles and leans closer, her warm hands from your body down to the waistband of her jeans. With a slow, deliberate pull, she unbuttons and lowers them just enough to reveal the curve of her hip and the edge of her black underwear.

Her fingers find yours, guiding your hand down until your palm brushes over her underwear. "I'll teach you," you can feel the outline of her through the thin fabric.

"Here," she whispers, low and teasing. You trace the line, your other hand grazes the soft curve of her hip. She sighs softly, encouraging you, finger tighten around yours to lead the movement.

She takes your finger, feeling the subtle swell. She shifts slightly, pulling her underwear to her side, just enough to expose more skin.

"Now...keep the pace...y'know gentle," she instructs softly, "...use your fingers to find my clit." You blush, hesitate, but then move as she guides them, brushing and circling the sensitiveness with increasing confidence.

She's warm and wet, and your head is spinning. You glance towards the door of the stall, as if it's going to open wide and expose you both. You with your hands in her pants and her fingers around your wrist.

"Relax. Just...follow me." She is patient with you.

"Right here?" you question. Your fingers are being guided so your index and middle finger slide along her folds.

"Slow...don't rush," she whispers. You slide inside her, shallow at first, feeling the tight warmth around you.

Her hips shift forward. "Two finger...yeah, that's it baby. Keep them together..." her own finger press you closer, making you feel the slipperiness.

"Curl your fingers a little...mhm, right there." Her voice is barely a whisper, laced with encouragement and want.

Her fingers move with more certainty now, curling just as she guided. The wet warmth around you deepens, every slight motion sending shivers up your arm. She breathes out a low moan, her shivers vibrating against your wrist.

Her hips press harder against your hand, grinding slowly in time with your touch. You feel the slipperiness spread beneath your fingers, your nerves melting away under the weight of her want and trust. Her other hand slips around your neck, fingers weaving through your hair, pulling you closer in a gentle yet insistent grip.

The small space makes everything feel bigger: the soft moans she lets slip, your own uneven breathing. The risk of being caught, the closeness, the secrecy makes your pulse go faster, the adrenaline taking over your body.

You trace your fingers inside her, finding the spots that make her hips jerk and her breathing hitch. "You're doing so good," she murmurs.

She shifts, grinding harder now, guiding your hand with hers; both teaching and needing. You can hear your heart beating, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment and the softness of her skin beneath your touch.

"You feel good." You rest your forehead against hers.

"God, YOU feel so good," she whispers, voice breaking.

You lean in, your lips brushing hers in a slow, feral kiss. Tongues swirl, teeth nibble lightly, and you lose yourself in the softness of her mouth.

Her hands tighten around your wrists gently, pulling your fingers just a little deeper, and she shivers, a quiet, desperate sound escaping her lips.

She clenches around your fingers, a soft gasp breaking past her lips as her body jerks once, twice, then melts against you. Her thighs tremble, her nails digging lightly into your arm as she rides it out, pressing her forehead into your shoulder. You can feel her heartbeat pounding against your chest.

Slowly, her breathing evens out. She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and there’s that slow, almost cocky curve to her mouth. She takes your hand, guiding it gently away from her, and you watch as she pulls a tissue from the dispenser to wipe herself. Then with deliberate care, takes another to clean your fingers. She flushes the tissues away, smoothing down her top as if the past few minutes never happened.

You're still, eyes a bit widen, lips ajar, head spinning. She looks at you with an unreadable expression before she smirks softly and says, "Give it a minute, then come out." She slips out the stall, disappears.

When you finally push out of the bathroom and squeeze through the dance floor, the table comes into view.

Chris is there, leaning back in his seat, that big smile breaking across his face when he spots you. He pulls you into his side and presses a kiss to your lips. And you let him, your head STILL spinning from the bathroom.

But before you can even think, a shadow falls over the table. You look up and there she is.

Her

Hair a little messy, (your) lipstick smudge faintly at the corners, jeans unbuttoned like she barely bothered to fix them before walking back. Her gaze briefly focuses from you to Chris, slow and a bit bothered. She nonchalantly drops into a seat like nothing’s out of place. Like you two weren’t just in the bathroom stall touching each other.

Mason lets out a knowing laugh, shaking his head. “Knew you couldn’t help yourself,” he say. The others laugh in agreement, glancing at her with a mix of teasing and admiration.

She just smirks, leaning back in her chair, eyes locked on you in a way that makes your skin burn. The whole table might as well not exist.

❀-

No matter how busy things get, you can feel the change more and more.

Chris and her still hang out…kinda, it’s not the same. Their usual easy banter has become into awkward silences and clipped exchanges. Where they used to shove each other in the hallway and laugh about it, now they just exchange nods, like strangers with history.

It’s not about you (you know that much). There’s something else under the surface. Something they’re not saying. And it’s making everything more fragile.

You notice it most when you’re with her. She’s always been intense, but lately, there’s an edge to her attention: the way her gaze lingers too long, the way her hands fist when Chris joins the group and you’re still standing beside her. She doesn’t touch you in public, doesn’t give herself away, but she’s there. Always close enough that you can feel her body warmth.

Once, during a movie night at the frat house, you slide onto the couch next to Chris, and before you can even get comfortable, she’s settling into the other side of you. Her arm drapes casually along the back of the couch, her fingers brushing the top of your shoulder as she reaches for the popcorn. She’s looking at the T.V, but you know she’s watching Chris in her periphery.

Chris, for his part, seems… tired. Distracted. His laughs don’t come as easily anymore, and when his eyes go towards her, there’s no warmth there, just something unreadable, maybe even resentful.

The tension between them sits heavily THICK. And even though you try to pretend you’re not caught in the middle, you can feel it. Your arms being pulled in both directions, the way she watches you like she’s daring you to move closer, the way Chris hesitates like he’s already lost something.

One evening:

Chris is sprawled on your couch, his shoes off, tapping the heel of one socked foot against the cushion like he’s burning off energy. The late afternoon light slants through the blinds, making his face shadow gold stripes.

You’re sitting cross legged on the other end of the couch, your laptop open on your knees, pretending to focus on your editing software while he talks.

“I don’t get her sometimes,” he says, leaning his head back against the cushion. “We’ve known each other forever, right? And it’s always been like…” He waves a hand between you, like the gesture will find the word for him. “…like we’re siblings, in a messed-up, competitive way. We fight, we make up, we try to outdo each other. It’s… whatever. That’s just us.”

You hum in acknowledgment, eyes flicking toward him over the edge of your screen.

“But lately…” he sits forward, elbows on his knees, the movement sharp with frustration. “She’s different. I don’t know if she’s pissed at me, or just… pulling away. And I don’t know why. I feel like she’s just… shutting me out.”

You close the laptop a little, giving him more attention. “Maybe it’s not about you,” you suggest, careful with your tone. Inside guiltless fills.

Chris huffs. “It’s always about me and her. That’s the problem. We can’t just…” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You probably think we’re both idiots.”

You let out a soft laugh. “A little.”

That earns you a half-smile, but it doesn’t last long. He leans back again, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just… I don’t want to lose that. She’s like…”

He pauses, searching for the right word again. “She’s like my other half in a totally non-romantic, totally ‘I’d push her into a pool’ kind of way. And I don’t know what I did to make her act like this.”

You want to tell him that you’ve seen the way she looks at you. That whatever’s happening between them might not have anything to do with sibling rivalry and everything to do with the things you and she don’t talk about. But instead, you just nod, murmuring something vague about how maybe they just need time.

Chris sighs, sinking deeper into the couch, but you can feel his eyes on you for a moment before he finally looks away.

4 days later

You’re lying shoulder to shoulder on your bed, your phone propped up between you and her as some weird ass YouTube video plays: a guy attempting to do life hacks. The sound is tinny from the speaker, the glow of the screen bouncing off the ceiling.

She is half watching, half tracing absentminded shapes along the back of your hand with the pad of her thumb. Every now and then she laughs under her breath, not quite in sync with the video, like her mind is elsewhere.

A notification banner slides down from the top of your phone screen.

6:26 P.M.

[Christopher: You free tomorrow? Practice got cancelled.]

You feel her thumb still against your skin. She glances at the text without saying anything at first, but her jaw tenses.

You swipe the notification away, pressing play again on the video, but she’s not looking at the screen anymore.

“I hate that guy sometimes,” she says finally, the words low and flat.

You glance at her. “The YouTuber?”

She doesn’t answer.

“oh…..Chris…”

She doesn’t look at you, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “Yea. Is like… no matter what I do, I’m always second to him in someone’s eyes…in everyones!” She gives a short, humorless laugh.

“Hell, even my own parents liked him better when we were kids. He was the golden boy. Football, good grades, charm cranked up to eleven. Everyone loved…loveshim.”

You shift slightly so you’re facing her more, but you don’t interrupt.

“And I thought I didn’t care. Like, whatever! He can have his spotlight, I’ll do my thing. But it’s different with you.” She finally looks at you, eyes with emotion even in the dim light. “With you, it’s like… I can feel it. Everytime he’s around. Everytime he texts you. I’m… there, but I’m not first. Not the way I want to be.”

Your breath hitches. You’re not sure if she’s accusing you or just spilling something she’s been holding onto.

She notices the hesitation in your face and smirks faintly, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.”Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. I just…” She shrugs, but her grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t like feeling like the understudy in my own damn life.”

The video on your phone continues in the background, a burst of laughter from the YouTuber, but neither of you are watching anymore.

Here’s Part Two

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ ✩

A/N: I had to break it into two parts. Already written the full thing and once I was on my Google docs and realized how long it was. Whew! I just wanted to say this one THIS ONE took long. Had to be my longest. Started August 10th @ 5pm. Ended August 18 @ 10am. Important note: main character isn’t meant to be a good person, none of the characters really.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ ✩

Tags <3 also tysm for all the support & the reblogs.

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(Let me know if you want to be tagged in any post. You're all welcomed to.)

[sapphicyacinth]

How I listen to my favorite artist's music after imagining the most hardcore scenarios with her

(it's Billie Eilish btw)

[ilovejb]

| Bag Duty |

Pairings : G!P Billie Eilish x female!reader

Summary : Billie tags along on a shopping trip and ends up with a reward that doesn’t come until you’re alone.

Warnings : g!p Billie Eilish, public teasing, car head, oral ( Billie r! ) dirty talk, begging

Authors note : both my lips are wet after making this. a tear rolled down my leg

“You’re gonna make me carry that, too?”

Billie’s voice drips with dramatic disbelief as you hand her another shopping bag. She’s already got two on one arm, one in the other hand, and a visible pout blooming on her lips.

You raise your brows. “You offered.”

“That was before I knew we were doing the entire mall,” she mutters, shifting the bags. “I feel like your human coat rack.”

You grin. “You look cute like that.”

“I look used,” she deadpans.

You’re not even trying to hide your amusement. Billie’s dressed in the usual: oversized hoodie (green), black sweats, chain barely visible under her collar, and her signature “you’re lucky I’m here” attitude.

You’re in Sephora now—final stop, supposedly. The lighting is bright, Billie’s already been sprayed with three perfumes, and you’ve just asked her to hold out her arm so you can test another lipstick shade.

She sighs, extending her wrist with all the enthusiasm of someone donating a kidney.

You hum thoughtfully, swatching coral pink on her pale skin. “Hmm. Not the one.”

“I could’ve told you that without sacrificing more skin,” she grumbles.

You lean in close, like you’re gonna whisper something cute. Instead, you murmur, low and soft against her ear:

“If you stop whining and be patient for, like, twenty more minutes… I’ll suck your dick until your legs stop working.”

She freezes.

The shift is immediate. Her whole body goes still, lips parted, eyes flicking to yours like she misheard—except she knows she didn’t. Her tongue runs over her bottom lip slowly, and that smug smirk starts to curl in place.

“Oh yeah?” she says, voice lower now. More dangerous.

You pretend to swatch another color like you didn’t just nuke her brain. “Mmhmm.”

Her fingers tighten around the shopping bags. She licks her lips again—pure instinct this time—and leans in behind you while you examine a new shelf of lip oils.

“You’d really suck me off for being good?” she murmurs, voice thick with heat.

You nod once, still casual. “If you make it to the car without complaining, I’ll get on my knees the second we’re alone.”

A pause. Then—

“Well, in that case…”

Suddenly she’s a model girlfriend. Holding your bags without a word. Opening doors. Asking if you want a bottle of water. She even compliments a random lipstick shade, completely out of nowhere.

You raise an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about lip color?”

She smirks. “Since you promised to gag on my cock.”

Your knees almost buckle.

She notices. Oh, she notices.

The car ride home is painfully quiet. Billie’s tapping her fingers against the wheel, shifting in her seat, glancing over at you every two seconds like she’s trying not to explode. Her joggers are sitting a little lower than before. You swear her thigh is flexing on purpose.

By the time you pull into the driveway, Billie throws the car in park and exhales like she’s been holding her breath since Sephora.

“I was good,” she says, eyes on fire. “I earned it.”

You swallow hard. “You did.”

She turns to you slowly, leaning back in her seat, her legs spread just slightly—enough to make your brain melt.

“Good,” she growls. “Now get in the backseat and show me.”

She barely waits for the door to shut behind you before she’s pushing the seat back, spreading her legs wide, and tugging her sweats down just far enough to free herself.

You glance up from the floor, heart pounding as your eyes land on her cock — hard, flushed, thick, already twitching. Your mouth waters.

“You said you’d show me,” Billie murmurs, cocky as ever but breath already hitching. “So do it.”

You smirk and crawl forward slowly, hands sliding along her thighs.

The second your tongue touches her tip, she groans — sharp and loud, head thunking back against the headrest.

“Oh fuuuck…”

You flatten your tongue and lick a long stripe up her shaft, slow and deliberate. Her hips buck, hands flying to your head immediately.

“Jesus—baby—fuck, that mouth…”

You take her in deeper, wrapping your lips around her and starting to bob, slow and steady. Billie lets out a strangled noise — somewhere between a growl and a moan — and her fingers tighten in your hair.

“I knew you’d be good, but I didn’t know you’d be like this,” she pants. “Holy shit, holy—fuck—slow down, I’m gonna—fuck.”

You don’t slow down.

You hum around her instead, eyes flicking up to see her completely unraveling — flushed, mouth open, jaw slack, hair falling into her face. She’s gasping your name now. Loud. Desperate.

“Fuck—baby, don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop—”

You swirl your tongue under the head and she screams. Literally. Hands slam into the seat, her thighs tensing around your head.

“I can’t—I can’t—holy shit, I’m gonna come—”

You pull back just enough to tease, stroking her with your hand as you speak:

“Already? Thought you were experienced, Billie.”

Her head snaps forward, eyes wild. “Don’t test me.”

You smirk and sink back down, taking her even deeper now — throat relaxing, tongue working, your hands gripping her hips to keep her still.

She can’t stay still.

Her legs are shaking. Her voice is echoing off the car windows.

“*Fuck, fuck, fuck—don’t stop—oh my god, baby—I’ve never—fuck, I’ve never had anyone—”

She’s full-on whining now. Loud, choked sobs of pleasure with every stroke of your mouth.

“You’re too good at this,” she gasps, voice breaking. “*What the fuck—where did you even—shit, I’m gonna fucking—”

She tries to warn you, tries to push you back, but you hold her down and take it — moaning around her, stroking her through it as she completely falls apart.

She comes hard, loud, shaking, cursing your name like it’s a prayer and a threat.

And you don’t stop until she’s whimpering.

Her hand slips from your hair, landing on the window with a breathy, spent thud.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. “You just… killed me.”

You rest your cheek on her thigh, licking your lips. “Worth being patient?”

She lets out a weak laugh. “I’d carry ten more shopping bags for that.”

You grin, kiss her thigh, and help her pull her pants back up while she’s still recovering. She’s flushed, twitchy, her cock softening slowly against her belly, and her voice hoarse from how loud she got.

“You good?” you ask, genuinely.

She nods, breathing steadying now. “Yeah. Just need like… three business days to recover.”

You giggle and crawl up beside her, nuzzling into her hoodie.

She wraps an arm around you, presses a kiss to the top of your head, and says — voice scratchy but full of awe:

“Best fucking head of my life. No contest.”

[urjustsosweet]

STRIP POKER (B.E.) ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤷ g!p billie x f!reader ⋮ friends + a drunk game of strip poker. what can go wrong?

𓄲 cw: g!p billie, oral (billie receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, grinding, language, friends to lovers, praise, gambling?, use of y/n, fluff, pet names, aftercare

+ an: 3.2k words hope you like

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

you weren't planning to stay long at all. just swing by the party, say hey to a couple of people, and dip. but here you are, sprawled out on the beat-up couch with your friends after "just one" shot turned into way too many.

the music's pulsing through the walls, and billie's sitting across from you, manspreading like she owns the place.

you've been friends with her for a while now, long enough that shark perks up whenever you visit, tail wagging like you're his favourite person second to billie and close enough that you've probably shared hundreds of secrets with each other. tonight, she's rocking a typical baggy fit and you can't tell whether it's the lighting or the alcohol that makes her seem more attractive than normal.

if that's even possible.

"soo," one of of billie's friends starts, way too loud and obviously drunk, "we finally settling this or what?"

you glance at her and she's equally as confused as you. "settling what?"

"billie won't shut up about being the goat at poker. but everyone knows you'd whoop her ass any day."

billie's head snaps up. "what the hell?" she leans back, draping an arm over the back of the couch, "i'm literally the best here. don't even play."

you laugh into your drink, knowing just how competitive she can get. "wait, who lost the last uno game again?"

she gives you a look, half a threat, half a smirk. "you're gonna talk about uno?" she says, voice low and teasing. "bold move, considering you cried over a draw four."

you sit up immediately. “i didn’t cry—”

“you totally cried,” one of your friends interrupts, grinning.

“shut up,” you mutter, flipping all of them off, but billie’s smirk only widens.

“don’t worry, y/n” she says, sitting back again, all casual and cocky, “poker’s a different game. and I don’t lose.”

there's someone oohing like it's a middle school fight and from the kitchen, someone else yells, "hold up, we have cards!" and suddenly there's a deck being slapped onto the table, like this was destiny all along. billie doesn't even blink. "deal 'em," she says, like she's been waiting for this. "i'll win and we can all move on."

someone starts shuffling the cards with exaggerated flair and you set your drink down. "we should make this more interesting than bragging rights though," a voice cuts in.

you smile. "like money interesting?"

before anyone can answer, billie tilts her head, looking straight at you, "nope. i've got something better." her smirk sharpens. "strip poker."

the room erupts into loud cheers and whistles, and you can hear some people laughing and one person yelling, "billie, you freak!" from the corner.

you raise your eyebrow. "strip poker? seriously?"

billie just shrugs, casual as anything. “what? you scared?”

you laugh, leaning forward. “of you? yeah right. you’ll be naked in five minutes.”

she grins, leaning back and spreading her legs wider. “you wish.”

the cards are shuffled, albeit badly, and a bowl of pretzels gets dumped onto the table as makeshift chips. the rules get laid out in the simplest way possible: texas hold 'em style, two cards each, five in the middle, best hand wins and loser takes something off. easy. the room collectively decides that it'll just be you and billie going head-to-head because playing with more people would take forever.

so now, it's just a couple of your friends and hers who form a sloppy audience, crisscrossed on the floor, the type of drunk that makes everything funnier than it is. billie looks at you for a long moment and when the cards are dealt, she can't stop smiling. "hope you like stripping, y/n."

the first few rounds are easy, and honestly, pretty stupid. billie's cocky as hell, calling every hand and leaning back like she's lounging on a throne, tossing pretzels into the "pot" like she's feeding pigeons. she's not even bluffing well either, she just looks hot enough doing it that people keep laughing and cheering her on.

you, on the other hand, actually know how to strategize and play. better than her, at least. the music thumps lazily in the background, low enough now that you can hear the shuffle of cards and the laughter when billie gets too dramatic with her bets.

by the third hand, she's already on to losing her hoodie, dragging it over her head with a groan when her three of a kind falls short. her shirt rides up a little, chain glinting against the dim light, and you try not to stare. "you enjoying the view?" she teases, catching your gaze.

it's hard to pretend you're unfazed, especially when you feel the blush creeping through your cheeks. she's staring at you again and there's something in her eyes now, a kind of challenge that makes your stomach flip.

maybe it's this that makes you misplay the next hand or maybe you're too bold from the winning streak and too busy laughing at some joke to pay attention. billie doesn't miss this opening. "call," she says, confidently.

when you flip your cards, you groan. "strip time," someone sings, as they all hype billie up for winning her first hand. you barely hesitate before tugging your top over your head in one smooth motion and you're met with hollers and your friends' whistles. you're sitting there in your bra now, tossing your shirt beside you like it doesn't matter.

billie freezes for a beat too long. her eyes drag over your body slowly, down and back up, and she shifts in her seat, casual, but not casual enough. the room doesn't notice, too busy laughing and refilling drinks, but you do. you see the way her smirk falters, just for a second.

something in you clicks. you're not sure if it's the alcohol or the smug look on her face that you suddenly want to break, but either way, you know exactly how. and it's not by winning this game of poker.

the next round, you have a decent hand. you could call the bet and win. but when you see billie staring again, pretending not to, biting the inside of her cheek as her eyes flick down to your chest, you decide to push it. you fold. "really?" she asks, confused.

you shrug, all fake-casual. "unlucky deal."

and your socks come off. you repeat this a couple of times until your shorts drop to the ground and now it's just you, sitting cross-legged in your bra and panties, discarded clothes lying in a growing pile beside you. the room loses it, half cheering, half wheezing laughter, but all you see is billie. you see how her eyes linger, like she's trying to memorize what she's seeing.

her jaw tenses and she shifts. it's tiny, just a slight move in her seat, but you see it. the way her sweats don't sit flat anymore. the way she subtly presses her thighs together like she's trying to fix it, failing miserably. you know you've got her.

by the time the next round comes, you've got a monster hand. could crush her. but you spare a quick glance and she's flushed now, eyes darting between your face and the bare skin you're flaunting.

she bets big. too big for the trash hand you know she's holding. she's bluffing. you could call and win. you know you'd get the next couple of hands too and strip her down right here. but instead, you lean back, twirling a pretzel between your fingers, and smile. "fold," you say.

the room explodes. all your friends are going crazy. you shrug, grinning, as you reach to peel off the bra you've been sitting in for half the game. your fingers hook around the strap, pulling it slow off your shoulders, enough to make billie's mouth part just slightly, her eyes dark, before you tug it right back into place, standing up. "i forfeit," you say with a grin, "guess I lost."

the whoops and cheers blur into the background. everyone's laughing and yelling, distracted, half-stumbling to get more drinks. but not billie. she's just staring. with her looking like you've broken every part of her composure, with her jaw tight and her sweats tented just enough for you to see, you don't need that win.

all the noise fades into a dull hum, your heartbeat too loud in your ears as you stand there in nothing but your bra and panties, billie's gaze burning into you. her fingers twitch against her thigh, like she's stopping herself from reaching out. someone slurs, "another round?" but billie doesn't even glance that way.

"nah," she says, voice rough. "i'm done." she stands abruptly, the movement stiff, like she’s forcing herself to move carefully. no one notices, already dispersing throughout the house, but you see the way she adjusts herself before jerking her chin toward the hallway. “c’mere.”

you follow her through the narrow hall, the walls vibrating with muffled bass from the living room speakers. billie walks ahead of you, her shoulders tense. she doesn't look back. just shoves open the first door she finds and pulls you inside, closing it behind you. the air is thick, the large space feeling as if it's beginning to close in on the two of you. "the hell was that?" she mutters, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

your back is against the door, bare skin sticking to the cool wood. "what was what?"

her jaw clenches. “you threw the game." when you only shrug, a faint smile on your lips, she opens her mouth again. "you wanted me to see you like this.”

your breath hitches. “maybe.”

her hand grips your waist, thumb brushing the lace of your panties. “say it.”

“i wanted you to look.”

she exhales sharply, like the confession knocks the air from her lungs. her other hand comes up, fingers tracing your collarbone, down to the edge of your bra, before she quickly pulls away. she looks down, backing up a step. "you're drunk."

"not that drunk."

it's dead silent for a moment. "this could fuck everything up, you know," she says quietly.

she's right. you've been friends for years. there's no taking anything back once it happens. but the way she's looking at you makes your breath catch. "would it be worth it?" you whisper.

she doesn’t answer. instead, she reaches out again, fingers brushing your hip. her touch is hesitant, like she’s waiting for you to stop her. "you can tell me to stop," she murmurs. you shake your head. she moves her hand to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. "last chance."

you lean into her touch. "just do it already."

and she kisses you. it’s soft at first, testing, like she’s still afraid you’ll pull away. but when you sigh into her mouth, her grip tightens, pulling you flush against her. you can feel how hard she is, pressing against your stomach, and the noise she makes when you roll your hips forward is filthy.

her hands are everywhere. palms sliding up your ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. she hesitates before unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor. "jesus," she breathes, staring.

"billie—"

she kisses you again, swallowing your moans as her fingers run over your nipple. you gasp, grinding against her thigh and she growls, moving you back until you hit the wall. "you've been driving me crazy all night," she mutters, mouth trailing down your neck.

her knee nudges between your thighs and you rock against it shamelessly, your panties already soaked. billie's breath falters when she feels it, her hips jerking forward like she can't help it. "fuck," she hisses, "you're so—"

you reach down, palming her through her sweats, and she forgets what she's trying to say, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "wait, y/n," she says, catching your wrist, the strain evident in her voice.

you freeze, pulling back immediately. "too much?"

she shakes her head. "i just...this isn't an in the moment thing, right?"

your face softens. "it's not."

"you’re sure?"

you nod. "i’ve never been more sure of anything, bils. i—i've wanted you since forever," you admit, the words spilling out before you can second-guess them.

billie brushes her thumb over your cheek, "me too." she swallows hard, voice low. "but i didn't wanna tell you like this, with my hands all over you before i even took you out."

you laugh softly, breathless. "since when do you care about being proper?"

"since it's you," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. her fingers trail down your spine, lingering at the small of your back. "let me take you out tomorrow. for real. let me explain and do this right."

the way she says it makes your stomach flip. but then she grinds her hips forward, and her hard length presses against you, warm even through the fabric. a whimper escapes your throat before you can stop it. billie's eyes darken. "but right now—" her hand slides down, gripping your thigh and hitching it around her hip. "—i need you."

you don't answer with words. instead, you kiss her again, slow and deep, your tongue sliding against hers. she groans into your mouth, hands roaming your bare skin like she's been starving for this. one of her hands tangles in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp, and the sound goes straight to her dick, twitching against you.

you pull back just enough to see her face. her pupils are blown and unfocused, lips swollen, and she looks wrecked without you even touching her yet. "you're so hard," you murmur, dragging your fingers down her chest, over the hem of her shirt.

billie exhales sharply, her grip on your hip tightening. “no shit. it's all your fault.”

you smirk, pressing your palm against the bulge in her sweats and she jerks forward immediately. "let me help then," you whisper, sinking to your knees.

the second you drop down, billie makes a noise you've never heard before, something between a groan and a whimper. the floor is hard under your knees, but you barely feel it, too focused on her standing in front of you, sweats tented obscenely, her chest rising and falling too fast.

her hands fly to grip your hair as you press a kiss to the outline of her cock, before hooking your fingers into the waistband of her sweats and boxers. the fabric is loose, sliding down her hips easily and she springs free, thick and already leaking at the tip. you feel yourself dripping at the way her abs tense when you wrap your fingers around her, the way her thighs clench when your thumb swipes over the head. billie's breathing is ragged. "y/n—"

leaning forward, you lick a slow stripe from base to tip and she flinches. she tastes a little salty and absolutely perfect. "fuck!" her hand tightens in your hair as if she's holding on for dear life. "h-holy fuck—"

you take her into your mouth, slow at first, letting your tongue press against the underside as you sink down. her cock is heavy on your tongue, the weight of it making your jaw ache in the best way. you take her deeper, hallowing your cheeks, moving your head up and down, and she groans, head falling back. her free hand is braced against the wall like she might collapse. "oh my god," she chokes out, "you're so good. you look so good like this."

you hum around her, the vibration making her curse again. her hips push forward, just slightly, like she’s fighting the urge to fuck your mouth. “mm. i can’t—i can’t—” she tugs at your hair, desperate. “need more.”

you pull off with a wet pop, looking up at her. “what do you need?”

billie’s expression is pure agony. “i need to be inside you. now.”

she yanks you up so fast you stumble, crashing into her. her hands are everywhere—gripping your ass, sliding under your panties, fingers pressing against your soaked pussy. “god, you’re fucking dripping,” she growls, grinding the heel of her hand against you.

you moan, arching into her touch. “fuck—bils.”

she spins you around, hands grabbing your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing. your back is pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around her waist. her cock slides against your drenched panties, and she groans, grinding against you in slow, filthy circles like that could be enough. you roll your hips, dying for more. her fingers hook into the fabric, moving them to the side. “you want it?” she asks, voice rough.

you nod frantically. “yes—fuck yes.”

billie doesn’t hesitate. she pushes in with one slow, relentless thrust, bottoming out inside you with a moan. her forehead drops to your shoulder. “shit. you’re so tight, baby—”

you can't even process the pet name, too overwhelmed by the stretch, the heat, the feeling of her inside you. she gives you a second to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in, harder this time. her pace grows faster, hips snapping against yours, each thrust driving you higher. she's desperate and the sound of skin against skin fills the empty room. one hand grips your hip, the other moves to your clit, rubbing tight circles as she fucks you. “you—you feel so good,” she pants. “so tight. so fucking perfect.”

your back is scraping against the wall, but you don't care. not when she's hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, not when her breath is hot against your ear, muttering filth that makes your stomach tighten. "takin' me so fucking good," she growls, "gonna make you come on my cock."

you’re close and billie can tell. your moans are growing louder, your eyes rolling back, wrapping your legs around her, pulling her close. her fingers work faster, her thrusts deeper, until you’re shaking around her, crying out her name. the second you clench around her, your vision whiting out for a second, billie loses it.

she moans loudly, her eyes shut tight and she fucks into you like she's completely lost control of her body, like she'll die if she even thinks of stopping. "fuck—fuck I can't," she whimpers, before she pulls out with a loud groan, her cock pulsing as she spills all over your stomach, her cum hot against your skin.

for a moment, the only sound is your ragged breathing, the noises from the party now feeling miles away. billie's body is still pressed against yours, her body trembling slightly as she comes down from her high. you can feel the rapid beat of her heart. then, slowly, she exhales, letting you down. "my God," she mutters, pulling back just enough to look at you, pure adoration in her eyes. her thumb swipes at the mess on your stomach, her expression unreadable for a second before she grimaces. "oh shit, i should've—"

you cut her off with a kiss, slow and lazy. “it’s okay,” you murmur against her lips. when you pull away, she's smiling, before her hands slide down to yours, squeezing once before letting go. "wait here. i'll go get your stuff," she murmurs, starting to tug her clothes on, "then let's get you cleaned up."

“your place?” you ask.

she nods her head. “my place.” then, like an afterthought, her mouth quirks into a tiny grin. “shark’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you.”

──