amara-eilish

[amara-eilish]

names worth dropping

only the most relevant make it here. are you one of them?

billie eilish...

sabrina carpenter...

all...

comment or send an ask to be added to taglist & specify which one you want to be added to!

[amara-eilish]

distraction ★⋆˙

smut ୨ৎ

warnings: g!p sabrina, use of vibrator, breeding kink, spanking a/n: i have so many sabrina au ideas rn guys

you’re laying flat on your bed, textbooks splayed across your lap, though you haven’t read a single sentence in the last ten minutes. you tug at the hem of your tiny shorts, heat crawling up your spine, no bra, just a thin tank clinging to your chest in the summer warmth. sabrina hasn’t even walked in yet, and still your pulse is racing like you’re already caught doing something you shouldn’t be.

she’s your tutor. sabrina, glasses that slip down her nose while she corrects your grammar with that quiet little smile. she’s the type who says “actually” before every correction and blushes when you call her out on it. and yet, every time she walks in your room, you feel like you’ve done something wrong. 

when she steps through the door, you nearly gasp. her hair’s let down, strands slipping loose to kiss her forehead, and her bangs sitting perfectly. you’re both sitting on your bed now, legs tangled loosely under the weight of a textbook you’ve barely pretended to care about. sabrina’s perched at the edge, trying to act like she’s not completely aware of how close your thigh is to hers. she’s got her glasses on, hair loosely falling over her shoulders, a few strands brushing her cheek.

she’s trying to focus. really trying. but you’re not making it easy.

you stretch out just a little more, leaning back on your hands so your tank top shifts, pulling tight across your chest. the movement lifts your shorts a little higher on your hips. you catch sabrina glancing, just for a second,then quickly looking away, pretending to read the page.

“you’re so serious,” you tease, your voice soft and syrupy. “do you even know how to sit on a bed like a normal person? you look like you’re in a job interview.”

her lips twitch, but she doesn’t look at you. “we’re supposed to be studying.”

“we are,” you say, nudging her knee with yours. “you’re just… distractible.”

“i’m not,” she says, too fast, too defensive. her voice is small.

“oh, you are,” you grin, scooting an inch closer. “i think you get flustered when girls sit too close to you.”

her breath hitches, and she tries to hide it by flipping the page, but the paper rustles a little too loudly. her hand is tense, her posture stiff. you watch her carefully, how she won’t meet your eyes now, and how her blush is creeping down her neck.

“tell me something,” you murmur, leaning in just a bit. “do you think it’s kind of warm in here miss carpenter?” you say fanning your face quicker with your hand, making your tits shift slightly in your top.

that gets her. she swallows hard, eyes darting to the textbook like it might save her. but you’ve already seen it.

your gaze drops and that’s when you notice.

beneath the hem of her oversized t-shirt, there’s a shape. obvious, firm, pressing up against the fabric like it’s begging to be acknowledged. you blink, pulse jumping, then glance back up at her face.

she’s already looking at you, frozen, eyes wide behind her glasses, lips parted like she’s about to say something but can’t remember what words are. the red on her cheeks is deeper now. almost embarrassed. almost desperate.

“sabrina, baby,” you whisper, voice laced with heat, “were you hard this whole time?”

she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

you lean in, brushing your knee against hers deliberately. “god. how do you expect me to study when you’re sitting there like that?”

her hand curls into the bedsheet, knuckles white. “y/n…” she says, barely audible.

“what?” you tease, letting your fingers trail along her arm, featherlight. “you want me to behave?”

she nods, once, eyes flicking down to your lips.

you smile. slow. wicked. “then stop looking at me like that.”

“chapter six,” she says, a little breathless.

you glance down at the book, then back at her. “you ever do anything fun, sabrina?”

her eyes flick up to yours, cautious. “…what?”

“you know,” you say, dragging your voice out slow, teasing. “besides reciting grammar rules and acting like you don’t know how hot you are.”

her cheeks flush a deeper pink, and she looks down, trying to focus on the page. you reach over, let your fingers graze the side of her leg, light, feather-soft, enough to make her freeze.

“bet you’ve never been touched there before,” you whisper, lips curling. “poor baby. all brains and no mess. someone oughta ruin you a little.”

her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. her hands curl into fists beside the book. you lean in more, so close your nose nearly brushes her cheek, your voice barely above a breath now.

“come on, sabrina. don’t you wanna stop pretending you’re not dying to know what it feels like?”

she swallows, then turns to look at you and you feel it, that moment she gives in just a little. the air between you goes tight. sharp. electric.

then her hand shoots out and clamps around your wrist.

you blink, startled, as she tugs you forward, hard enough that your chest nearly bumps into hers. your nose is filled with the scent of her skin, warm, a little nervous.

“keep reading,” she hisses, voice low and tight like a wire. her eyes flicker down to your mouth, then your chest. “or you’re going to regret this little stunt you’re pulling,”

your pulse spikes, but you force your eyes back to the page. you stumble over a sentence but hurry on, cheeks hot. sabrina’s hand slides, finding your thigh and pressing firmly. you bite back a moan, keep your voice steady: “define ‘extrapolate.’”

she smiles darkly. “good girl.” her hand drifts higher, fingertips brushing over your soaked shorts. you shift, breath catching as her hand grips you through the fabric. she’s so close, the scent of old books and vanilla swirling around you.

“now,” she says softly, “answer the question, while i fuck you.”

your heart hammers. you drop the book, and she’s swift: one arm pins you to the bed, her other hand yanks your shorts aside. you’re naked from the waist down in a heartbeat. she wastes no time, sliding inside you in one smooth thrust. you cry out, mouth pressed to the cushion. she doesn’t let up, you’re thrusting back against her, the rhythm textbook-fast.

“read,” she growls. her hand slaps your ass, hard. you gasp, words tumbling out: “to extrapolate is to infer or estimate by extending known information.”

“good,” she breathes, and fucks you harder, spit-slicked lips brushing against your neck. “keep going or i’ll stop”

you try to steady your voice. “example: using past data trends to predict future outcomes…” you drag the words out through gritted teeth as she pistons into you, teeth grazing your shoulder. each word is a battle. each correct phrase is rewarded with a deeper, rougher thrust that makes your vision blur.

finally, she halts mid-sentence. you’re shaking, face wet with tears and sweat. she pulls out and you whine, missing the feeling of being so full, she turns you so you’re on your back. one hand slaps your thigh, two fingers pressing into your entrance, overstimulating you until you whimper.

“quiz time,” she purrs. she reaches onto the table and pulls out a small vibrator, pressing it against your clit. “for every question you get right, i’ll let you cum. but get one wrong…” she trails the toy down your slit, “and i’m going to leave you here all messy, maybe won’t even let you cum.”

you nod, throat dry. she holds the remote with one hand, her other gripping your hair to keep your face buried in the cushion. “first question,” she says, “what’s the derivative of x squared?”

your body tightens around the toy. you answer, voice trembling, “two x.”

the vibrator surges. you cry out as tension shatters. sabrina smirks, dipping two fingers back inside you to hold you on the edge. “very good baby, next one.” she whispers.

you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, trembling, broken, utterly hers.

your thighs are already trembling.

the vibrator doesn’t stop buzzing against your clit, low and steady, just enough to keep you gasping but not enough to tip you over again. sabrina kneels in front of you, still fully clothed, cock hard against your inner thigh, hand wrapped around the remote like it’s nothing.

your face is buried into a pillow, your hair a mess. hips twitching. wrists clenched into the fabric. you want to cum again so bad your eyes are stinging.

“next question,” she says sweetly, adjusting her glasses. “name three rhetorical devices.”

tears wrack your face.

“i asked you a question.”

you stutter, “im sorry! um— metaphor. alliteration. and—and hyperbole.”

there’s a pause.

then she smiles. “good girl.”

the vibrator kicks up a level. your whole body jolts.

“f-fuck,” you cry, hips bucking as the pressure crests, unbearable.

but before you can cum, she turns it off.

your breath punches out of you in a sob. “daddy—please!”

she leans down, lips brushing your ear. “you think one more answer gets you to cum again? gonna be my greedy girl? cute.”

she flips you fast, face down ass up, pushing your thighs apart so you’re spread open, exposed. her cock presses against your entrance again, sliding between your sticky folds, but she doesn’t thrust in.

just grinds, teasingly.

“you want it?”

you nod hard. “yes. please, daddy.”

“then next question,” she says, soft and cruel. “what’s the capital of switzerland?”

your eyes flutter. “bern.”

click, the vibrator’s back on. high this time.

your back arches, tears spilling fast. you’re right there again, the orgasm crawling up your spine like a fire—

but sabrina grabs your throat.

“don’t you dare cum.”

you freeze. your body spasms, right at the edge. 

“next question.”

you whimper. “d-daddy, i can’t—”

she slaps your clit with her fingers, sharp and mean, forcing your head back with a sharp tug of your hair. “answer. or i’ll edge you until you pass out.”

your legs shake.

“define ‘osmoregulation.’”

you choke out the definition through gasps, stammering: “the—the process of maintaining water balance in the body.”

her eyes gleam. “very good.”

she flips the switch.

your orgasm hits like a wave, ripping through you, thighs clenching, cunt pulsing so hard it feels like you’ll break. your scream dies in your throat as you squirt over her cock, gushing down your thighs.

she doesn’t stop. not for a second.

“you want another?” she whispers, hand pressing into your stomach pressing onto the bulge, her cock pounding into your dripping pussy now. “gonna give me another baby?”

you barely breathe: “please”

she smiles like the devil. “smart girl.”

you lip if forced between your teeth, holding it there trying to suppress your noises but it’s not good enough. every time you push back, she stutters, her hand digging into your hip as she fights to hold on. you push your hands back the pleasure becoming too much for you, sabrina doesn’t care, just grabbing your hands and drilling her cock further into your pussy.

“that’s it,” she pants, voice ragged. “so tight… so good…c’mon make me cum princess”

she pulls out of you, moving to lie on her back. you go to straddle her, taking her length in your hands and slowly lowering yourself onto her cock. you lift your hips, impaling yourself on her full length, riding her slow then fast, alternating, watching her eyes roll back. you’re tired, but you know better than to disobey her. her moans are low growls, her free hand tangling in your hair as she bucks up into you, teeth catching her bottom lip.

“m gonna cum— gonna let me cum inside you, mama?” she rasps, but you don’t stop. you lean forward, pressing your forehead to hers, matching her thrusts, grinding down until you feel her tremble.

her cock twitches, filling you completely, and you feel her pulse right at the tip. she shudders, her grip on your hip tightening until you see her knuckles turn white. with one final, shuddering groan, she spills herself into you, hips stuttering, and you ride out each convulsion, letting her fill you again and again.

she collapses forward, forehead resting on your shoulder, breath hot against your neck. you stay right there, still moving just enough to hold her in every drop, your own muscles trembling as you both come down in a haze of heat and wet.

when she finally goes still, you press a gentle kiss to her temple. she lifts her head, eyes soft for the first time tonight, and whispers, “i think you’ll pass your test just fine baby,” 

taglist:@amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths@ilovealiceosemann@bilssturns@peytonneilish@chrissv4mp@too-sapphic-to-function@thebluediner@aka-persephone@vijaxx@thinkshespretty| send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

wow.

easy going ★⋆˙

angst/fluff ୨ৎ wc: 3k

billie had come home from work exhausted, finishing 23 hours on call at the fire station. 23 hours of running into buildings, carrying weights that weight two times her own build, and even saving cats from trees. to say billie was exhausted was an understatement. 

the food you had made for the two of you, gone cold. you were just coming out of your daughters bedroom when you hear the door lock behind you. 

you exhale a sigh seeing it’s just your wife at the door. you walk up to her, and billie’s head immediately falls to your chest. you run your fingers through her hair, as you kiss her shoulder, moving your hands to run down her sides. “it’s late, my love, why don’t i run you a bath?” you say softly, and billie just nods in response too tired to say anything. you lace her hand with your own and lead her to the bedroom setting her down on the bed. she looks up at you a glint of sadness in her eyes, but her eyes drooped with exhaustion. you caress your hand down her cheek, telling her to wait there while you run the bath. of course she doesn’t listen though, and follows you to the bathroom sitting on the sink-top while you fill the bath.

the two of you get into a steady conversation, you asking about her day, the weather, but nothing more. if anything it was more comfortable silence.

you kneel by the tub, adjusting the water temperature like it’s sacred, testing with your fingers, then pouring in the vanilla bath oil you know she loves, the one that reminds her of your honeymoon. the smell begins to fill the space slowly, curling around the edges of the moment, softening everything.

billie’s sitting on the counter, legs swinging gently as her body tries to keep up with the conversation. she’s still in her work clothes, soot-smudged sleeves and thick socks that seem to anchor her under her shoes to the day. her eyes are half-lidded but they follow you. always.

“you’re spoiling me,” she mumbles, voice hoarse with fatigue, a half-smile tugging at her lips.

you glance up at her from the edge of the tub and shrug, offering a smile that’s equal parts love and concern. “you deserve it. all of it.”

she watches you, like she’s memorizing the way your hands move, the way your brow furrows in concentration. you reach for the soft towel you laid out earlier and drape it over the towel rack, then finally look back to her. you move between her legs and gently tug at her jacket.

“can i?” you ask softly, fingers brushing over the zipper.

she nods, slow and trusting, and lifts her arms as you slide the heavy material off. the shirt underneath clings to her with sweat and the day’s weight. you work gently, carefully, like you’re undressing something fragile, not a firefighter who just spent 23 hours being made of steel and smoke.

you strip her down in silence, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her collarbone, her temple. she leans into every one of them like she’s been starving for touch, for peace, for you.

when she’s bare and quiet, you help her into the water. her breath leaves her in a long exhale, like the tension is finally loosening. she sinks in, her head falling back against the curve of the tub, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. her muscles, so tense and overworked, finally begin to soften.

you sit beside the tub, chin resting on your folded arms on the rim, watching her.

“better?” you whisper.

her hand finds yours under the water. “infinitely.”

you trace slow circles into her skin, your fingers tangled beneath the surface. the water ripples softly, catching the candlelight you lit without her noticing.

minutes pass. maybe more. you hum a little tune, not even thinking about it, and billie smiles without opening her eyes.

“you always sing that when you’re calm,” she murmurs.

“or when i want you to be,” you reply, barely above a whisper.

her eyes open then, and you can see the layers of her day begin to peel back. not entirely, some parts will stay until the morning, but enough for her to find her way back to you.

“i’m sorry,” she says, and it’s quiet, raw, out of nowhere.

your brows furrow slightly. “for what, my love?”

“for being short earlier. for not calling. for missing dinner. for—just… all of it.” her thumb rubs your knuckle under the water.

you shake your head slowly. “you were saving lives, billie. being mine and our daughter superhero, i can always reheat dinner.”

“i missed you,” she adds, voice even smaller now.

your chest tightens, warm and full. “i’m right here. always.”

you lean in to kiss her forehead, letting your lips linger there longer than usual. the water sloshes gently as she shifts, pulling your joined hands closer to her heart.

“will you stay?” she asks.

“in here?” you glance at the tub, smiling softly.

she shrugs, a sleepy grin playing at her lips. “or wherever you go next. just… stay close.”

you nod, heart blooming. “always, baby.” stay close.

you nod again, more to yourself this time, and then slowly rise from the edge of the tub.

“wait—” billie’s head lifts a little, her voice small, a little panicked at the thought of you pulling away.

you hush her gently with a soft smile. “i’m not going far.”

you grab a towel from the counter, kneeling beside the tub to lay it on the floor. then you tug off your hoodie, your sweatpants, slow and unhurried. just closeness. just to be near her.

when you finally step in, the water welcomes you with warmth, already tinted with the soft smell of the bath salts you added earlier. billie shifts to make room, her eyes following you like she’s still not quite believing you’re real.

you settle behind her, legs on either side of her body, and she leans back instinctively, her back against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. her eyes flutter shut again.

you wrap your arms around her middle for a moment, just holding. just breathing with her.

then, quietly, you reach for the cup on the side of the tub, dip it into the warm water, and pour it gently over her hair.

her body relaxes even more as the water trickles down, and you hum again—something soft, slow, something just for her.

“you don’t have to,” she mumbles, voice heavy with sleep.

“i know,” you say, already reaching for the shampoo. “that’s why i want to.”

you lather the soap into your palms and bring them to her scalp, working slow, soothing circles into her skin. your fingers slide through her hair with practiced care, massaging gently at the roots, the back of her neck, behind her ears. she lets out the softest noise, almost a whimper, and leans further into you.

you tilt her head back just enough to rinse the soap away, catching stray suds before they can reach her eyes. she keeps her eyes closed, fully trusting you, her body melting under every gentle touch.

you reach for the conditioner, working it through the length of her hair, detangling slowly with your fingers. each motion is deliberate. loving. reverent.

“you always take care of me,” she whispers, barely audible over the sound of your movements.

“i always will.”

you press a kiss to her temple, your cheek brushing hers. your fingers drift from her hair to her shoulders, your thumbs gently working out knots she didn’t even realize were there.

she exhales like she’s finally safe. like this, the water, your hands, the quiet, is the only place that feels real.

you rinse the conditioner out last, cupping water with your hands now, wanting to feel it all. wanting her to feel you in every step of this care.

when it’s done, you don’t say anything. you just wrap your arms around her again, holding her there in the fading warmth, her clean hair damp against your skin.

“thank you,” she breathes.

“you never have to thank me for loving you.”

she turns her face into your neck, her lips brushing your skin. “but i will anyway.”

later, the two of you are curled into bed, the covers pulled high and the window cracked just enough to let the night breathe with you. the bath had helped. the warmth, the closeness, your hands, all of it had chipped away at the weight on her shoulders. but some heaviness doesn’t rinse off with vanilla and steam.

billie lies on her side, facing you. her arm draped over your waist, her forehead resting just under your chin. you’re rubbing gentle circles into her back, slow and quiet, almost like a lullaby. her breathing is even, but you can feel it, that shift, the kind that comes right before a storm breaks behind the eyes.

“do you ever wish i was different?”

you blink, staring at the ceiling, not sure you heard her right. “what?”

she shifts beside you, pulling the blanket up to her chin like it might hide the vulnerability curling under her skin. “not… a firefighter. not away so much. not this tired all the time. maybe not so… heavy to love.”

your breath catches sharp in your throat.

“billie, what?”

“i didn’t mean it like that—”

“how else could you possibly mean it?” you sit up, the covers falling off your chest. “you think i’m here out of pity? you think i’m staying because what, i feel responsible for you?”

“no! i just—god, you’re twisting it.”

“no, billie,” your voice breaks, sharp around the edges, not from anger, worse, from hurt. “you’re the one twisting it. making it sound like i settled. like i would ever wish you were anyone else.”

she sits up now too, her arms wrapped around herself like she’s bracing for impact.

“i’ve seen how tired you are,” she says, quieter now, but still pushing. “i hear you sigh when you think i’m not listening. i know how much you carry, and sometimes i wonder if you’d be happier with someone… easier.”

you laugh, but it’s not warm. it’s bitter and broken and made of disbelief. “someone easier? you think i want easy? i want you, billie. even when you’re a mess. even when you come home smelling like smoke and collapse into me like the world chewed you up. that’s what this is. that’s love. real love.”

she looks away, jaw tight.

you reach for her hand and she flinches, just a little. not away from you, but into herself.

“you think i’d still be here if i didn’t mean this? if i didn’t choose you every damn day?”

“sometimes people stay even when they’re not happy.”

and that stings. it cuts through you in a way no fire ever could.

you pull back.

“is that what you think i’m doing? staying because i’m trapped?”

“i don’t know,” she whispers, eyes glossy. “i don’t know what to think when you don’t tell me how you’re doing. when i come home and you’re just… quiet. like you’re bracing yourself.”

you swallow, throat dry and tight.

“maybe i’m quiet because i am tired,” you say, voice trembling. “tired of giving everything and still having to prove that i want you. that i choose you.”

billie exhales, shaky and sharp. “i never wanted to make you feel that way.”

“but you did,” you whisper, wiping at your eyes angrily. “right now, you are.”

silence falls between you like a wall. not comfortable. not soft. just… there. cold and thick and full of all the things neither of you knows how to undo.

you stare down at the comforter, fists clenched in the fabric. “you want to know what i wish?” your voice cracks, but you let it. “i wish you’d stop thinking i’m going to leave. because every time you do, it’s like you’re already halfway out the door for me.”

she turns then, fast and breathless, eyes wide. “i’m not—i would never—”

“then stop acting like this is temporary. like i’m temporary.”

her face crumples. not dramatically. just enough to show the break, the hairline fracture in all the armor.

and then, quietly: “i’m scared.”

you freeze. the air in the room shifts, like it’s holding its breath too.

you stare at her, heart thudding hard, the kind of heavy that comes from somewhere deep and buried. “so am i,” you say, voice low and trembling. “but i’m still here.”

she leans into you, arms wrapping around your waist, her face tucked against your ribs like she’s trying to disappear. “i’m sorry,” she whispers. “i didn’t mean to doubt us. i just—sometimes it’s louder in my head than out here. and i forget which voice to trust.”

you don’t hug her back this time. not yet.

you’re too still. too overwhelmed.

and then, slowly, you peel her arms off you and stand.

"what are you doing?" she asks, voice cracking.

you step away from the bed, crossing your arms like you're trying to physically hold yourself together.

“i just… i need to think,” you say, eyes shining but hard. “i don’t know what to do with this, billie. what the hell am i supposed to do with the fact that the person i’ve built my whole life around doesn’t even trust that i want to be here? for fucks sake billie i married you! you heard my vows, yet still you chose to think i want to leave?”

“i didn’t mean—”

“but you said it. and you meant it, even if you didn’t want to. you’ve been carrying this doubt inside you and you never told me. and now you’ve dropped it on me like it’s mine to fix.”

she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. just air and pain.

and then, like perfect cruel timing, your daughter starts crying down the hall.

you breathe in, sharp and ragged, and shake your head.

“i’ve got her,” you mutter, walking out of the room without looking back.

the hallway feels longer than it is. the nursery glows soft with a nightlight, your daughter’s tiny fists waving in the air, face scrunched and red. she calms almost the second you pick her up.

“hey, baby,” you whisper, holding her close. “shhh. i got you. mommy’s here.”

you sit down in the rocking chair, pressing a kiss to her forehead, your eyes stinging.

she settles against you fast, warm and trusting and impossibly small.

you stay.

and when you realize you can’t go back into that bedroom, not with all the silence, not with the weight still hanging between you, you gently shift to lie down in the daybed by the window, your baby curled up on your chest.

you sleep there. or try to.

every time you close your eyes, her words echo back.

do you ever wish i was different? someone easier. i don’t know what to think when you don’t tell me how you’re doing.

your arms tighten around your daughter, like she’s the one anchor that still makes sense.

—

it’s early when the door creaks open. you don’t lift your head at first. your eyes are open, but you’re still, pretending. maybe hoping it’s a dream.

soft footsteps. hesitant.

then her voice, thick with tears.

“you didn’t come back.”

you turn your head, slowly, careful not to wake the baby. billie stands there in your old hoodie, sleeves covering her hands. her eyes are swollen, face blotchy, like she’s been crying all night.

you sit up halfway, adjusting the baby who’s now asleep on your chest.

“i couldn’t,” you say quietly. “not after all that.”

she steps closer, barefoot on the hardwood. “i thought about coming out. a hundred times. but i figured you needed space. i just, i didn’t know it would feel like this. like you were already gone.”

you swallow hard, looking away.

“you said something last night i can’t unhear.”

“i know,” she whispers, eyes brimming again. “and i hate myself for it.” you shake your head, not unkind. just tired. hurt.

you glance back at her. “i don’t need you to hate yourself, billie. i just need you to believe me. trust me. because if you don’t, then… what are we doing?”

a sob slips out of her before she can catch it, her hand covering her mouth as she stands there, breaking in real time.

you watch her. really watch her. not your wife. not the firefighter. just billie. raw. scared. sorry.

and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

then, a soft noise breaks through the heaviness.

your daughter stirs in your arms, stretching a little, her tiny fists uncurling from your shirt. a little coo escapes her lips, bright, innocent, completely untouched by the tension hanging thick in the room.

billie’s eyes flick down instantly, face crumpling all over again, but softer now. the baby giggles again, blinking up at you both like she’s reminding you that this… this is what matters.

the quiet shifts.

billie wipes her face with her sleeve, breath hitching, and takes a small step forward.

“can i hold her?”

you nod.

she takes your daughter like she’s made of glass and stars, fragile and precious and too good to lose. she holds her close, her tears falling soft onto the blanket, soaking in.

“i don’t know how to fix this,” she says through a broken breath, “but i want to. i need to. i can’t lose this. you. her. any of it.”

you reach out, finally, resting your hand over hers where it cradles your daughter’s back. it’s not forgiveness. not yet. but it’s something. a start.

“then stop pushing me away.”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function @thebluediner @aka-persephone @vijaxx | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

★ thank u, next; b. eilish & s. carpenter

★ fuckboy!billie x fem!reader x starboy!sabrina

★ smut `

★ wc; 4,7k

★ warnings; dom/sub dynamic; strap (r receiving); oral (r receiving); humiliation; choking; dp; slapping

proofread cr — @dragoneyelashart

it wasn't something your mother taught you as a child. it was a sin, a secret, your secret that you were going to keep in your heart for the rest of your life. a secret that was going to follow you to the grave, to be buried deep underground because it was wrong. shameful.

it shouldn't have happened, but was it really your fault that you couldn't just stop at one?

you knew it was a bad idea. seeing them. kissing them. touching them. fucking them. it wasn't an obligation, you didn't promise each other anything, you didn't say ‘i love you’ when your limbs were tangled together and your bodies were spread out on crumpled sheets. it just happened. just little marks left on your body, just little bites stinging their skin. it was just that simple. it was a problem, but as long as no one knew about it, it was okay.

but all secrets come out.

the aggressively loud bass pounds through the speakers and into your eardrums, occasionally forcing you to cover them just to avoid going deaf by the end of the night. a few dozen drunken teenagers, along with a similar number of adults, filled the expansive area, now so crowded it’s hard to take a full breath without choking on the stench of alcohol or someone's cheap perfume. but nothing around you made muchsense. not when the billie was on you. everywhere.

strong arms wrapped tightly around your body, hands clenched around your waist, your hips, your breasts, grabbing them shamelessly, rolling your milky nipples over the thin fabric of the black lace dress that matched your underwear perfectly. you took care of it, knowing this night would surely end in someone else's bed. and she always liked that. how different you were. how you were always ready for her.

but billie was your complete opposite; wide leg pants, a xl shirt. shirt that you once wore into her kitchen without wearing anything underneath. she became obsessed with it after that moment, constantly reminding you how she'd then bent you over the counter. on her feet, her usual massive high-soled sneakers, making her taller, bossier, hotter. you loved it.

the cold rings contrasted with the high temperature of your hot body, her nails digging into your skin, leaving faint marks on your arms and thighs. the metal belt buckle rubs constantly against your lower back, just like her strap against your ass. she sent you a picture beforehand of the massive bulge visible under the cotton fabric of her red boxers. she just knew you wouldn't rest until you felt her inside you.

"god, mama, you smell divine," she whispered, her nose brushing against your soft skin. her lips found the pulse point on your neck, sucking gently, making you rest your head on her shoulder, biting your plump lips. occasionally, you pressed your ass harder against her front, just to feel what might be waiting for you later tonight. maybe in her bedroom. maybe in her car. or even in a bathroom stall. you never know when the hair tie on your wrist might come in handy.

the tension grew exponentially, as did the number of times she kissed your neck. billie wasn't sweating about who might see you. she just sucked your skin into her mouth, leaving red marks that were sure to remain the next morning. which would remain when you lay back in sabrina's bed, obediently spreading your legs and screaming that she was the one while her strap hit deep into that sweet spot inside you. it happened every time. with every one of them. but it wasn't your fault you always got what you wanted. and you wanted them both. always wanted them both.

maybe it was wrong, and you'd have to pay for everything you did. maybe today was the day.

as soon as billie's hands came down on your waist again, she quickly turned you around, attacking your lips and capturing them in a greedy kiss, forcing your thighs together a little tighter. the air in your lungs runs out too quickly and you slowly pull away, leaving a thin string of saliva between your lips as you feel eyes on you. her gaze. a long, burning one, filled with genuine jealousy. your head turns toward the entrance, spotting sabrina.

"fuck" a curse flies off your lips before you can stop it, and billie notices the trajectory of your gaze, following it. sabrina's presence doesn't really bother her, so her hands come down on your lower back again, holding you very, very close.

"everything okay, princess?" you blink a few times, nodding and pulling a smile onto your face.

"yes, s’all good, bils"

your gaze falls once again to the far corner of the room, where sabrina was standing just seconds ago. but now, there’s only a cluster of other people. this was bad.

before you can even process her absence, you catch the scent of her perfume a sweet, sweet fragrance that stands out among a hundred others. then comes her breath on your neck.

you’re fucked.

“what the hell, carpenter?” billie frowns, her eyes locked on sabrina’s hands resting on your body, fingers gripping the fabric of your silk dress. the music fades into a distant hum, drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart, and their murderous stares, which speak louder than any words. you can feel the blood boiling beneath their skin, pulsing faster with each second.

“hands off. she’s my girl.”

sabrina grins sweetly, falsely, clearly unimpressed. to her, it’s all a joke.was screaming last night. "oh, your girl? that’s not what she screamed last night"

everything around you freezes. your body goes numb, your legs turn to cotton. you have to clutch billie harder just to keep your balance.

but the smile is gone from her face, replaced by a sharp, furious expression and deeply furrowed brows. she pulls back and looks you dead in the eyes. quietly. sternly. authoritatively.

“what's she talking about?”

you swallow hard, now feeling sabrina's fingers running up the back of your neck, rising until she burrows them into your hair, pulling your head back in a rough gesture.

"you sleep with both of us and thought you could get away with it? whore."

the words hit you like a slap, sharp across your face, and just as sharp between your legs. as much as you don’t want to admit it, there was something about the way they looked at each other, like they were ready to tear each other to pieces. or maybe they'll just tear you apart tonight.

“i asked you a fucking question.” billie steps closer, her cold rings pressing into your skin as she wraps her fingers around your chin, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make you meet her gaze.

“are you sleeping with her? fucking her?” you don’t recognize the girl standing in front of you anymore. this wasn’t your billie. not that you could ever fully call her yours. a lump of fear and nerves rises in your throat, choking your voice, until she jerks your face, squeezing your chin tighter.

“fucking answer me!” she hisses, her voice dripping with venom.

“although, knowing you, you probably beg her every night to give that cock-hungry pussy the fucking it wants.” your mouth opens and closes, and before you can manage to say anything, sabrina answers for you. “oh, look at that, you’re actually right about something, eilish.”

the sneer in her voice makes your knees buckle, your mind going completely blank. all you can register now are their hands on your body greedy, demanding, hot.

“you think your tiny hands can satisfy her better than mine?” billie scoffs, and for the first time, your eyebrows furrow. you don’t consider yourself an angel, but they had no right to talk about you like you weren’t standing just a few inches away. you slip slightly from their grip, listening to the pointless altercation for another second before sighing heavily.

“don’t talk about me like i’m some kind of toy,” you counter, and immediately, two pairs of blue eyes fix on you, burning through your skin. in that instant, you regret opening your mouth at all. sabrina grins, stepping forward. the height of her heels makes her tower over you.

“you’re the last one to have any say right now, sweetie,” she says it so smoothly, so cruelly, that there’s nothing left for you to do but shut your mouth and wait, silently, for whatever comes next.

clearly not what you were expecting.

the world holds its breath for a few suspended seconds. "you know, if you think you can take us both…" billie nestles herself behind sabrina's back, not raising her head as she continues to speak. "...why don't you prove it?"

your eyes widen, pupils dilating, and you can only detect an ounce of surprise on sabrina's face. she was surprised. she liked the idea too much to try to resist. she plays along, as if they came up with it together, on a mental level. it's like you had no choice to say no.

"firstly, and believe me, last chance to say 'no'" you bite your lower lip uncontrollably, already visualizing in your head what their rivalry. will this night even end for you? no. but it was too late to back out. you shake your head, saying a quiet 'yes' under your breath, but it was enough for both of them to grab their jackets and be outside the next minute.

the cool summer air frames your bodies, the loud music coming from the club now seeming like just background noise. billie quickly fiddles with the keys of her phone, hailing a cabwhile sabrina's fingers reach into her bag, pulling out a pack of expensive cigarettes. your eyes scrutinize every movement.

“you’re staring,” she utters almost indifferently, lighting a cigarette as your eyes drift over her manicured hands, perfect nails and a few rings adorning her lower phalanges.

“sorry,” you whisper, shamefully averting your gaze and staring into the darkness of the alley before her warm breath burns your earlobe.

“don’t apologize, baby. they’ll be inside you soon.” you almost choke on your own saliva, involuntarily pressing your thighs closer together to soothe the aching, throbbing heat between your legs. you’re in for a long, long night.

the cab ride feels like real torture, with you trapped between their bodies, unable to feel a single touch. their hands rest on their laps, fiddling with the edges of their clothes or scrolling through their phones. but you tell yourself this is punishment, sitting here and dreaming about what comes next, if they evendecide to touch you at all.

but once all the extra eyes are gone, the game begins.

all doubts dissipate as soon as your feet cross the threshold of sabrina’s apartment, the one you know like the back of your hand. but tonight? there’s something different in the air. something darker that you’ve awakened.

sabrina’s lips crash onto yours, biting and claiming, drawing out all those pathetic moans and whimpers you’d been hiding since the moment you met her gaze. she’s not the gentle girl you’re used to seeing on stage; she’s desperate, raw, greedy. she doesn’t ask permission, sliding her hands under the fabric of your dress to meet your thighs.

you sigh heavily, biting her bottom lip and pulling away, your arms wrapping around her neck. you almost forget it’s not just the two of you here.

“don’t make me jealous, princess.” billie’s body presses against you from behind, and you can once again feel the bulge between her legs, reminding you that tonight, you’re gonna be filled to the brim. literally.

her lips find your neck, sucking and biting at the soft skin until dark spots appear. “please…” you pull away from sabrina’s lips, reaching back to grab at least a piece of billie’s clothing,pulling her impossibly closer.

sabrina giggles, her fingers dragging along your neck, leaving red marks from her nails and covering you in goosebumps.

“show her where the bedroom is,” she whispers, her hair tickling your chest before she disappears into the other room, rummaging through the dresser drawers. you look at billie shyly, but she’s clearly not embarrassed. with one easy motion, she throws you over her shoulder.

“well, show me where the bedroom is, princess.” you swallow hard and tell her to go to the far room at the end of the hallway. seconds later, you find yourself on the bed. your back hits the mattress as billie’s hands land on either side of your head, trapping you.hot breaths mingle as one. her lips on yours, dirty, hot. your hands weave through her hair, loosening the tight elastic band and freeing the long strands that now fall over your neck and chest. her knee presses between your legs against your clothed, wet pussy. your dress is pulled up at your waist, then ripped off your body.

“oh, a show without me?” sabrina enters the bedroom, closing the door behind her as if anyone could witness the sin about to take place on those sheets. she’s clad only in wide house pants and a white lace bra that barely covers her breasts. you swallow, watching her from beneath billie’s body.

“we were good without you too,” billie reluctantly gets off you, but her hand remains on your thigh, dangerously close to your warmth, keeping you from relaxing.

sabrina ignores the comment, reaching into her pocket for her phone. her body lands softly on the edge of the bed as she opens the stopwatch and, a second later, throws the it onto the white sheets. you stare at her in bewilderment, but as she moves to remove your panties and settle between your legs, a picture starts to form in your mind.

"ready to lose, eilish?" she raises her eyes one last time to billie, signaling her to press the 'start' button before burying her face between your legs, licking a long strip of your pussy's voluptuousness to gather your arousal, moaning at the taste.

her tongue dips into your tight hole for only a second, but it's enough to make your back arch, pushing your pussy into her face. she doesn't resist, just wraps her hands around your hips, squeezing and massaging the soft skin, her lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

sabrina was the calmer type. teasing you as light as a feather. her touches make you beg again and again before she finally takes pity and makes you cum—fluttering her tongue perfectly, pressing on your sweetest and most sensitive spots, making you scream her name and see a million stars. after so much torment, it doesn’t take long, but now? now she’s not being ceremonious, because this is a competition, and women like sabrina carpenter never lose, and she intended to prove it.

billie seems to be starting to enjoy this little show, putting her phone aside and focusing on sliding her hands down your neck, squeezing, not hard, just enough to make you whimper pitifully and look up at her with wide, fawn eyes. one hand drops to her wrist, squeezing tightly, and the other grabs sabrina’s lush hair, trying to pull her even closer. your hips move uncontrollably, you start to ride face, but she only hugs your hips harder until your body begins to shake.

“i’m—close...” the words are mixed with melodic moans and constant heavy sighs, your chest heaving with every breath. no one stops. no one stops tonight until you’ve made a complete mess of their bodies.

the next fifteen seconds are enough for you to collapse on her face, screaming “sabrina” like a mantra. your hips shake and clench around her head, your chest shuddering with each heavy breath. billie reaches back for her phone, pressing the ‘stop’ button and showing you both the screen: 2 minutes and 14 seconds.

sabrina grins sweetly, wiping the corner of her lip with her middle finger as if your release hadn’t dripped down her chin straight onto the crumpled sheets. gaze is predatory as she crawls up your body, stopping at your face to enclose your lips in another kiss, a softer one, letting you taste yourself on her tongue as she pushes her tongue into your mouth.

“give her a minute, and i’ll show you how to make girls cum” billie’s eyes roll in a disgruntled sign, and sabrina only giggles sweetly, pulling away to give you a moment to catch your breath and wait until your sensitivity decreases.

your makeup is smudged, your lips swollen, and the first drops of sweat are forming on your body. after a short pause, you nod, giving billie permission to continue, and she doesn’t miss a second. she crawls to the other side of the bed, settling between your legs. sabrina positions herself on the opposite side, lifting your head and placing it in her lap, stroking your cheeks as you stare at her with loving eyes.

“turn that damn timer on, carpenter,” billie grumbles, her tongue flicking out to wet her plump lips, and you’re instantly enamored by the motion. sabrina rolls her eyes but resets her score, pressing the ‘start’ button again. it takes billie no more than a second to attack your pussy with her tongue, one hand clutching your thigh, the other reaching up your body to grope your breasts, drawing loud moans from you.

she’s completely different from sabrina, ravenous, devouring your cunt, fucking you with her tongue until you have to pull her back by the hair because she’s a goddamn munch who never knows when to pull away from such a sweet pussy.

her hands never stay in one place; she constantly needs to touch every inch of your body, and it drives you crazy. billie is never afraid to show how obsessed she is with you and your body, that once she tried you, no other girl ever entered her mind. you’re just that perfect.

fingers find their way to your pussy, spreading your lips to gain better access and making you writhe beneath her, lifting your hips, pressing your thighs together, enclosing her head in a makeshift cage she never wants to escape.

“b—billie...” you whine, and she smirks against your flesh, continuing to work her tongue around your clit.

sabrina’s hands don’t leave your face, and you reach up to pull her down for a messy kiss, letting her lips shallow your moans. electric pulses begin to run through your body again, signaling clearly that you’re close. billie presses closer, wrapping her lips around your sensitive bud, and the pressure immediately makes you break, cumming all over her face, just the way she likes it.

sabrina pulls away from your face with a smile, pressing ‘stop’ and already showing her phone to billie with a disgruntled expression. 2 minutes, 2 seconds.

billie grins, and you can almost see the urge on her face to show her tongue, but she saves that for a more special occasion.

“i told you i was better,” billie says, bringing your legs together and resting her chin on your lap, her gaze never leaving sabrina’s face for a second.

“she’s just sensitive,” you hear the note of disappointment in sabrina’s voice, but it immediately disappears as she removes your head from her thighs and looks up at billie. there are constant silent conversations going on between them that you can’t catch, but it doesn’t bother you much, it’s always a pleasure.

a pair of strong arms flips you onto your stomach, pulling you closer to her until you're on all fours, supporting your weight on your elbows. billie runs her hand along your spine, applying slight pressure to arch your back.

“come on, princess, show me how flexible you are.” the words hit your pussy, and all you hope is that you don’t drip down your thighs.

“shit, so wet,” billie moans, running her fingers along your folds, plunging the tips into your pussy, watching your walls contract around them. you moan softly, burying your head in the sheets until you feel her enter deeper, starting to pump her fingers inside you.

sabrina watches you swallow billie’s fingers with eyes dark with lust, her whole body burning with desire. desire to watch you squirm, moan, and whimper as you get stuffed with cock. she needs more.

“fuck her,” she blurts out, and billie’s fingers stop halfway, making you grip the sheets. “treat that pussy like she deserves it.”

billie grins, hoarse, low, sending shivers down your spine. “that’s what i always do.”

fingers slide out of you with a distinctive sound, and in the next instant, she reaches for her belt, unbuckling it. pulls her baggy jeans and boxers down her thighs, exposing a dark red, thick strap. nine inches covered in pronounced veins. you look over your shoulder, swallowing hard until you’re interrupted.

“no, baby, eyes on me.” sabrina grabs your chin, turning your face toward her as she works on her own pants with her free hand, pulling them down to her ankles. the pink fake cock hits your face, and your breath catches as she wraps her hand around it, stroking a few times before pressing the tip to your lips.

“open up,” you obey, opening your mouth. your tongue sticks out slightly, and she takes the opportunity to slap the strap against it a few times. eyes fill with pure excitement and pleasure as she slowly begins to push herself into your mouth, looking at you like she’s been dreaming about this her whole life. it’s like she can feel every movement of your tongue.

“fuck. good girl...” her hands burrow into your hair, nails scratching your scalp as she pushes your head a little harder onto her cock until the tip hits the back of your throat.

billie’s eyes burn as she watches this spectacle. blood boils beneath her skin, and her palm lands on your ass with a loud smack, causing you to nearly choke on the silicone in your mouth. your eyes water, but neither of them shows any sign of stopping.

billie teases, lazily pulling the tip along your folds, using your wetness as lube. “such a perfect pussy.”

you moan lightly, your grip on the sheets tightening as she plunges the tip into you, rocking her hips back and forth until she’s fully inside, her body pressing against yours. she finally picks up the pace, grabbing your waist.

the feeling of being filled is insane. their movements synchronize perfectly, hitting the sweetest spots, making the first tears fall from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks onto the ruined sheets. the thin fabric quickly absorbs the wetness.

“just made for my cock, doll.” billie’s hands roam your ass, spanking and groping as if you were her property, like she has the right to touch you however she wants. and she has.

sabrina plays with your hair, her hips twitching as your face presses close enough to put pressure on her clit. little whimpers fly from her lips, making your eyes roll back. your left hand comes up, grasping her thigh, kneading the soft skin as she throws her head back in pure pleasure.

they both glance over, unable to contain their excited smirks while your body is completely in their possession, as long as you do whatever they tell you, repenting your sins on your knees. submissive, obedient.

billie’s thrusts become more intense, her hips slapping against your ass with every movement, and the knot in your stomach tightens too quickly.

your knees begin to weaken and shake, barely keeping you from falling onto the bed, your nails digging into sabrina’s thigh even harder.

“i can feel how close you are, princess. squeezing me so tight,” she grins, wiping a few drops of sweat from her forehead and smearing it on the back of her palm. her face glistens, her breathing ragged and heavy, muscles tense, tongue running across her lips every twenty seconds.

“cum for me, come on, mama”

billie reaches down between your legs, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing in quick circles, enough to send a third orgasm crashing over you in a high wave, draining all your strength and stamina. sabrina pulls out, filled with a wild desire to hear every moan and scream escaping your lips as you try to survive the overstimulation, finally collapsing and burying your face into the mattress.

“that’s it, such a good girl.” billie’s cock slowly leaves your pussy, leaving it clenched around nothing. there isn’tan ounce of strength left in your body. your eyelids grow heavy, your eyes closing under their weight. your head aches at the thought that you need to speak. what’s happening now can’t go on. it shouldn’t. but your body is too exhausted to think seriously about anything other than finally falling into a deep sleep.

you barely find the pillows, dropping your head onto one of them. for the next few minutes, there’s silence all around. then, a quiet whisper and the rustle of clothes. the mattress sags beside you, and you feel your body being covered by a soft blanket. warm breath brushes your back, gentle arms wrapped around your waist. now, it’s hard to distinguish who is lying on which side, but you definitely feel at ease. all night long, as long as they are around, that’s what matters most.

but the clock is ticking. time marches on.

morning greets you with bright rays of sunlight tickling your face, and a slight smile plays on your lips for the first few seconds, before you realize the bed is empty and the sheets are cold, except where your body lies. still half asleep, you reach out to feel the mattress, but only cool air greets your fingertips.

“sabrina?” you call out, finally opening your eyes and noticing that almost nothing has changed since last night. your clothes are neatly folded on a chair, but her clothes are gone.

what’s most frightening is that you're now completely alone. not a single sound. your heart pounds faster, and you summon all your strength to pull yourself up, sitting up and looking around. everything is just as empty.“bils?”

you sit like this for the first, second, third minute, waiting for some miracle, but aside from the quiet hum of the air conditioner, nothing else catches your attention. until you turn your head and notice a small note lying on the bedside table. your fingers instinctively reach for it. your eyes widen. your mouth opens, but no words escape your lips.

'pack up all your things and leave. and never write again'

your heart drops. sabrina’s handwriting. as always, pleasing to the eye, neat, but only you know her hand was shaking as she wrote those words. your chest tightens painfully, making you clutch at your own body, checking if you’re alive, if this is all real unfortunately, it is.

your legs feel woozy as you get out of bed. reaching down the hallway in complete disorientation, you pull your nearly dead cell phone out of your purse and frantically dial billie’s number, then sabrina’s. both are unavailable. messages? blocked. cell networks? blocked. they’ve made sure you can’t text them anywhere.

“fuck,” you whisper as your phone slips from your hand and falls onto the tile floor. you no longer care if the protective glass shatters. only your heart breaks now, from the realization that this is your fault.

and you really should leave.

now.

౨ৎ tags; @billiesbabygirll, @amara-eilish, @st0nerlesb0, @bxllxebxtch, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @too-sapphic-to-function, @thefeverburningalive, @peytonglazesbillieeilish, @1nn3rthOughts, @thebluediner, @xiletay, @eilishsfantasy, @ariieeesworld, @brinasheqrt, @sabrinannlyn @mystiquemm,@itsdopewhatmorecanisay,

[amara-eilish]

wow!!

greedy ★⋆˙

smut ୨ৎ warnings: g!p billie, oral (billie receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, sub!top billie, daddy kink summary: billie needs a little extra money for the summer, and you decide to let her help out around your house.

wc: 2.6k

you didn’t mean to answer the door like that. well. that’s a lie. you knew what you were doing when you slipped into the bikini this morning, thin straps barely there, the fabric hugging your curves like a secret whispered against your skin. the color, a deep, sultry maroon, made your sun-kissed skin glow, the kind of shade that caught the light and held it, teasing without revealing too much. the top was simple but perfect: a triangle cut that lifted and framed you just right, leaving your collarbones and shoulders exposed to the summer sun.

around your hips, you tied a lightweight, sheer coverup skirt, soft, translucent chiffon that fluttered with every step, teasing glimpses of your bikini bottoms beneath. the skirt hit just above mid-thigh, swaying and shifting in the warm breeze like it was made to move with you, effortless and a little bit dangerous. the whole look was casual, sultry, and absolutely you, a subtle invitation, wrapped in sun-soaked confidence.

you didn’t expect her to look quite so wrecked, though. she stands on your porch like she forgot how her legs work. her  hair is messy, loose strands falling over her face, catching the sunlight in wild, unruly waves. she’s wearing a simple tank top, soft and slightly worn, stretched just enough to hint at the lean muscles beneath. her baggy pants hang low on her hips, practical and loose, with the hems just brushing the tops of her scuffed sneakers.

in her hands is a tool kit, the kind she probably borrowed from her dad without asking, and her eyes flicker around nervously, down at her own pants, then back up to you, like her brain hasn’t quite caught up with the way her dick is already reacting to the sight of you.

“i—uh,” she stammers. “hi.”

“hi sweetheart,” you say, soft and amused, leaning on the doorframe just enough to make your chest rise a little higher. “billie, right?”

she nods, but she’s not making eye contact anymore. her eyes flick to your thighs, to your chest, to where the strings of your bikini tie tight at your hips. you can practically feel her getting hard. no, see it, once you glance down.

her pants do a terrible job of hiding nine inches of anything.

“you’re right on time,” you add, giving her a slow once-over. “you want something to drink before you get started?”

“water,” she says, voice cracking just slightly. “please.”

you step aside to let her in. her shoulder brushes yours, and you swear you hear her breath hitch.

she follows you inside like a puppy, quiet, a little too eager, trying not to stare at the sway of your hips as you walk ahead. the kitchen’s cool from the A/C, but her skin’s already flushed. nervous, maybe. or just hot in all the wrong ways.

you open the fridge, bend at the waist just a little more than necessary, and hear it, sharp breath behind you. you smirk.

you hand her a cold bottle of water and lean back against the counter, sipping your own. her eyes are everywhere except your face.

“you sure you’re good to work in this heat?” you ask, tilting your head.

“yeah—yeah, totally,” she mutters. “just, uh… gotta get used to it, i guess.”

her voice is tight, and she keeps adjusting her pants. the fabric’s doing nothing for her anymore—it’s stretched high and obvious over the hard line of her cock, thick and pulsing and definitely not something she can hide.

you let your eyes linger.

she sees you looking, and freezes.

“sorry,” she blurts, color rushing to her face. “i—it just—happens sometimes. i didn’t mean—”

“don’t apologize,” you say, and your voice is low now, smooth like honey over warm skin. “it’s flattering.”

she blinks, mouth slightly parted. she doesn’t move.

“you ever get distracted like this doing yard work before?”

she shakes her head, stiff. “no. never.”

you take a slow step forward. then another. she stays rooted in place, but her eyes are wide now, caught between panic and something needier, darker, lower.

“you’re cute,” you murmur. “do people tell you that?”

she nods. “not like this.”

you smile, wicked. “not when they’re old enough to be your—?”

“don’t,” she says, voice cracking again, this time with need.

you reach out and tug at the hem of her hoodie, lifting it just enough to see the outline of her abs, the pale strip of skin above her waistband.

“what if i do?”

her breath shudders out of her, and you know you’ve got her now. you’ve had her since the moment she walked up your driveway.

your hand grazes the waistband of her shorts, and she twitches.

“this okay?” you ask, even though her cock is straining so hard against the fabric she probably couldn’t speak if she tried.

“please,” she whispers.

you palm her over the shorts, slow and firm, and she nearly folds in half. her hand shoots out to grip the counter behind you like she needs something to hold onto.

“fuck,” she mutters, voice rough.

“you’ve been hard since the porch,” you say softly. “poor thing.”

she whines. actually whines.

you tug the waistband down just enough to free her cock, and fuck, fuck, it’s big. thick, flushed, leaking already. you wrap your fingers around it and she jerks like she’s going to come already.

“been a while?” you ask, pumping her slowly, teasing.

she nods again, rapid and desperate.

“how long?”

“months,” she gasps. “i—I didn’t think—”

you hush her with a look.

“you’re doing so well,” you murmur. “so good for me.”

you drop to your knees, watching her bite back a moan when your tongue grazes the tip.

you drop to your knees, slow and smooth, like you’ve got all the time in the world. the tile floor is cool beneath you, but all you can feel is heat, radiating off her, thick in the air between you, pulsing under your skin.

she’s panting now. hands still braced on the counter like she doesn’t trust herself to stand.

her cock twitches once, hard, and you glance up at her with a lazy smile.

“shy all of a sudden?” you murmur, lips barely an inch from her tip.

“n–no,” she breathes, but her voice breaks on the edge of it.

you tilt your head and lean in, licking a slow stripe up the underside. she chokes on her breath, hips jolting forward like she didn’t mean to. her cock is hot and heavy against your tongue, salty-slick from precome, and you hum as you taste her.

“fuck—fuck,” she whispers, like a prayer, like she’s already overwhelmed.

you wrap one hand around the base and take her in, just the tip, wet and swollen and trembling against your lips. her knees buckle slightly and she whines again, desperate and already losing control. you flatten your tongue and let her slide a little deeper, sucking slow and steady while your hand strokes the rest.

“holy shit,” she mutters, eyes squeezed shut. “i can’t, fuck i can’t—”

“yes you can,” you say, pulling off just long enough to murmur it against her skin. “you will, baby. be my good girl c’mon”

you take her deeper this time, relaxing your throat inch by inch until she hits the back. her thighs are shaking, and her fingers curl tight around the edge of the counter, white-knuckled and straining.

you moan around her, and the sound makes her curse, low and guttural.

“oh god” she rasps. “you’re—so good, oh my god—”

you bob your head slowly, rhythm steady and slick. spit gathers at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin as you work her deeper each time. you can feel her pulsing under your tongue, twitching in your hand, already close and fighting it.

she looks down at you like she can’t believe this is real, as if she’s  dreamt it before but never dared to imagine it this vivid. your mouth on her. your eyes locked on hers. your lips stretched wide around her cock.

you pull off again just long enough to stroke her faster with your hand, letting her glisten with spit.

“you’re gonna come for me, baby?” you whisper, voice thick and dark. “gonna let me taste you right?”

she nods, frantic. “yes. yes—please—i’m gonna—fuck—please—”

you suck her deep one last time, hollowing your cheeks and humming like you want her to feel it in her bones.

and she breaks.

her whole body goes rigid, and she lets out the quietest, most wrecked sound you’ve ever heard, a broken whimper as her cock jerks in your mouth, thick ropes of come hitting the back of your throat. you take it all, swallowing without flinching, hands never stopping their pace.

you stay there a second longer, licking her clean, letting her breathe.

when you finally pull back, she looks like she’s about to collapse.

you smile up at her, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“good girl,” you say softly. “so sweet for me.”

her knees give just a little, and you catch her hips in your hands like it’s nothing. you watch her try to recover.

she's pink in the face, still trembling a little, like she hasn't come down from it yet. there's a drop of sweat at her temple, her lips parted, breath shallow. you give her thigh a soft pat and rise to your feet, brushing your fingers through your hair like none of it even fazed you.

"now," you say, sweetly, "didn't you have a list of things to do today?"

she blinks at you like she doesn’t speak english.

“you can start with the side gate. it sticks.”

you press a water bottle into her hand, smirk still curling your lips, and gesture toward the back door.

“chop chop.”

she looks stunned. dizzy. her cock still half-hard and damp in her shorts, clearly aching. but she nods and stumbles outside, and you watch her go with a smug little roll of your hips.

you rinse your mouth at the sink, pour yourself a cold glass of sweet tea, and head to the living room. the air feels sweeter now. heavy with satisfaction. you flop down onto the couch and scroll through your phone, every now and then catching glimpses of her through the back window.

she's not getting much done.

mostly she’s just… pacing. fidgeting. adjusting herself constantly. at one point, you see her press her palm flat to the wall, forehead against her arm, like she’s trying not to scream.

pathetic, you think, lips twitching.

but you don’t realize how far she’s slipping until you walk into the kitchen again an hour later, barefoot, glass in hand, and she’s suddenly there, behind you.

you barely hear the screen door shut.

then it’s heat. weight. her, right up against you, her chest pressed to your back, her breath ragged in your ear as her hips grind against your ass, slow and desperate.

“i—i can’t,” she whines. “i can’t take it. please.”

you let out a breath, startled but not surprised.

“billie—”

“please just the tip,” she begs, rutting against you like she’s lost her mind. “just for a second, please, please—i need it, i need it.”

her cock is hard again, throbbing against the curve of your ass. she’s leaking through her shorts, and you can feel it. sticky. wet. your thighs clench before you can stop them.

you turn around, glass thunking against the counter.

“you couldn’t last a full hour?” you taunt, raising an eyebrow.

she whimpers, shakes her head.

“no—no, i can’t—i tried—but you—your mouth—fuck—please let me in, i’ll be good, i swear—”

you glance her over, eyes trailing from her flushed cheeks to the twitch of her hips. her hands are gripping the counter on either side of you now, trapping you between her arms. she’s trembling. full-body, wrecked.

“fucking pathetic baby, go on then, just the tip,” you warn.

“yes—yes, just the tip—i promise—”

you grab her hand, drag it between your thighs.

“then make it quick, baby.”

you don’t even get your bottoms off all the way, just push them aside and let her fumble for her cock, already dripping. the moment she slides in, it’s like she breaks.

you gasp at the stretch, even the tip is too much, thick and hot and swollen from earlier, but before you can tell her to stop, she’s already moving. grinding. inching deeper without permission.

“oh my god,” she moans. “you’re so warm, so soaked, i can’t— daddy i can’t—”

“billie—baby—just the tip—”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry daddy” she gasps, “but i have to, please—fuck—”

and then she thrusts.

hard.

you choke on your own breath as her cock sinks in deeper, too deep. she’s not slow, not gentle, not asking anymore. she’s fucking you like something snapped inside her. like her brain shut off and her body’s only got one gear now: ruin.

you brace yourself on the counter, eyes wide, mouth open. she’s panting behind you, moaning shamelessly, hips slamming into yours like she needs to break you open.

“you feel so good—so tight—i’m gonna lose it—fuck—”

“b–billie, wait—slow down—”

“i can’t,” she cries out. “been waiting so long daddy, tr—tried to be your good girl but —fuck — your mouth, your body, need it—” your knees nearly give out from the force of her thrusts, your legs trembling beneath you, muscles locking and then failing with every brutal snap of her hips. the counter edge bites into your palms as you scrabble for something solid, anything to hold onto. the countertop, the cabinet handle, the slick curve of the sink. all of it feels too far, too smooth, too useless.

and she just keeps going, fingertips slipping on the smooth tile. her cock drives into you again and again, relentless and wild, dragging shocked little gasps from your throat each time she bottoms out. the sound of it, skin on skin, wet and obscene, bounces off the walls like it means something. every slap is a sharp echo, every thrust a gut-punch of pressure and heat. your slick drips down your inner thighs, pooling where her hips meet yours, and she’s using it, gripping your waist like it’s the only thing tethering her to reality, slamming into you so hard the cabinets rattle. 

your stomach brushes the counter now with each thrust, the hard granite cold under your skin, grounding you just enough to feel how badly you're unraveling. your mouth drops open, but the only sounds that come out are gasps, high-pitched, desperate little hiccups of breath that feel like they don’t even belong to you anymore.

“fuck, baby, you’re so deep, gosh—”

the words fall out of you, shaky and half-slurred, barely coherent through the moans clawing their way up your throat. your voice wavers, pitch climbing, your whole body twitching with every brutal snap of her hips.

but she’s not listening.

she’s gone somewhere else entirely now, eyes half-lidded, mouth parted, her face twisted in something dark and wild. there’s no trace left of the nervous, soft-spoken girl who stumbled in this morning. no hesitation. no shame. just raw, animal hunger bleeding out of her in every brutal thrust.

the shy energy she clung to earlier has shattered, scattered across the tile floor like broken glass. what’s left behind is something messier, darker, needier. she doesn’t just want you, she wants to own you. carve herself into your body, leave a mark that won’t wash off. she’s gripping your hips like you might disappear, dragging you back onto her cock with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. 

you’re soaked, dripping. stretched so full you feel like you might split open around her. her cock slams into you again and again, thick and relentless, and your legs tremble like they can’t decide whether to hold you up or collapse beneath you.

she fucks you through every word. every gasp. every shaky plea. like she wants to fuck the dominance out of you, needs to. and she does.

bit by bit, thrust by thrust, she tears it out of you.

until all that’s left is the slick sound of skin slapping skin, her ragged breath at your neck, and your whimpering, fucked-out voice breaking as you try to keep up with her.

within seconds, you’re gasping, broken open around her cock, your voice going high and panicked.

“please—too much—slow down—i can’t—i can’t—”

she moans, deep and rough.

“you said just the tip,” she pants, “but you’re taking me so deep daddy, feels so good.”

you’re drooling. you’re soaked. your thighs are shaking and your dominance is gone. completely stripped away.

now it’s you who’s begging.

“billie—fuck baby—m’ gonna come, m’ so close—slow down”

but she doesn’t.

if anything she fucks you harder. relentless. like she’s wrapping her whole body around you, locking you in place with the sheer force of her need. every thrust is deep and perfect, hitting that soaked, sensitive spot inside you that makes your legs kick uselessly under you. you can’t even stand anymore. you’re just there, pinned between her and the counter, your body open and helpless and trembling.

you feel like you’re being devoured. her cock fills you so perfectly, thick and throbbing, sliding through slick heat like she was made for this, made for you.

your moans dissolve into incoherence, little high-pitched gasps and garbled sobs of her name. your nails scrape the counter. your forehead drops to the cool tile. every inch of your skin is burning. every thought in your head is gone.

and billie?

she’s gone, too.

whatever sweet, nervous girl showed up this morning doesn’t exist anymore. she’s feral now, needy, obsessed, completely unhinged in the way she chases her pleasure through yours. her mouth is at your shoulder, breath hot and open, teeth dragging across your skin like she wants to bite. her voice is thick and wrecked, each moan a promise that she’s not slowing down.

“daddy, feels so good” she groans. “so wet, want you to cum for me mama, please”

your orgasm crashes into you, your whole body locking up and then shuddering violently, mouth open in a silent scream. your cunt pulses around her, soaking everything, dripping down both your thighs as your body milks her cock for everything it can give.

she moans behind you, a desperate, needy sound, and her hips stutter. “billie, baby, cum in me, please,” billie’s breath hitches, her hips slowing just enough before she finally releases inside you, warm and heavy, every movement softening as she collapses against your back, whispering “thank you’s” profusely.

you squeeze her gently, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “i think you’ve earned that summer money, princess”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function @thebluediner @aka-persephone | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

smut ౨ৎ

warnings: spanking

a/n: did i wake up at 6am just to write this? yes 😸😽

the bar was packed, bass-heavy music pulsing through the bodies packed between low red lights and sticky floors. you were leaned against the high-top near the back, drink in hand, dressed in something you knew would make billie twitch.

she was across the room, posted at the bar, watching you with the kind of stare that could set skin on fire. you’d clocked it the second you walked in, she was already on edge. you liked that.

you smiled at someone who passed by a little too close, just enough to catch billie’s attention. you didn’t even have to look; you felt her move before she did.

she was suddenly at your side, cool and quiet, towering over you.

“you done being a brat yet?” she asked, close to your ear, voice low enough to make your neck prickle.

you turned your head slowly, flashing that cocky smile of yours. “was i being a brat? or are you just mad i’m not begging for your attention tonight?”

billie didn’t respond, she just looked you up and down like she was picking out the exact way she was going to break you later.

“you think i won’t embarrass you right here?” she muttered, hand brushing the small of your back like a warning. “keep running that mouth.”

you stepped closer, chest brushing hers. “please. you’re not gonna do anything in public.”

billie’s smile was tight. dangerous. “keep testing me.”

you took another sip of your drink, slowly. “you like it when i do.”

she stepped forward until your back hit the edge of the high-top table.

“you wanna keep playing? but baby you and i both know i’ll have you begging for my dick in seconds?”

your lips curved. “you wish.”

billie grabbed your wrist, not rough, but firm enough to make your pulse jump. she didn’t say another word, just guided you through the crowd and out the door, her grip unrelenting the whole way. the cool night air hit your skin like a slap, but it didn’t sober you. not with the way billie’s jaw was locked, the silence vibrating with all the promises she hadn’t spoken yet.

the door slammed behind you with a sharp click.

you barely had time to kick off your shoes before billie was on you, her hand gripping the back of your neck, pushing you up against the hallway wall.

“still feeling brave, sweetheart?” she murmured into your ear, voice deceptively calm.

you let out a breathy laugh. “little bit.”

she chuckled, low and humorless, her other hand sliding around your waist to hold you still. “you think i didn’t see what you were doing back at the bar? making me chase you. acting like i wouldn’t do anything about it.”

you tilted your head toward her, smiling even as your heart pounded. “worked, didn’t it?”

her grip on your neck tightened, just slightly. just enough. “you love testing me, don’t you?”

“maybe,” you whispered, bold. “maybe i just like what happens when you lose patience.”

that did it.

without another word, billie spun you around, her grip firm as she dragged you down the hall and into the bedroom. you stumbled slightly, heart leaping as the tension cracked open into something heavier.

she pushed you down onto the bed, one hand pressed between your shoulder blades to keep you there. the mattress dipped beneath your knees as you shifted, breath hitching as you heard the faint sound of her belt sliding through its loops behind you.

“you gonna behave now, slut?” she whispered in your ear.

your ass was already sore from the spanking billie had just delivered earlier today, each slap a sharp reminder not to play games you couldn’t win. your face was pressed into the pillow, body aching, your pussy dripping, puffy and needy from hours of cruel teasing. you whimpered, broken down and soaked in the haze of it all.

“please—please bils,” you whined, voice cracking on the edge of desperation.

“tsk. you know better than that, princess,” billie said, her voice like gravel and silk. “c’mon—does daddy need to punish you again? hm?”

you shook your head quickly, but the moment you did, her hand came down hard on your already tender ass, pulling a sob from your lips.

“daddy—daddy—m’sorry,” you gasped, your body trembling. “please, i need you—”

she grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head up. “you need me? huh, baby?”

you nodded frantically, tears welling in your eyes from how much you did. from how deep she had you under now.

billie scoffed softly, her gaze dark and unforgiving. “how stupid are you, baby, huh? daddy’s barely touched you and i’ve already got you too dumb to remember your manners.”

you couldn’t speak, just nodded, shook your head, did anything to show her how far gone you were.

she smirked. “fucking slut. can’t even be thankful. need daddy to fuck you stupid, babygirl?” you nod quickly, as billie’s cock enters you, slowly splitting you apart. billie runs her hands down your back, pressing into your back dimples as she stills inside you. “move, daddy, move please” you whimper out, softly. “hm? what was that c’mon speak up, whore” “daddy need you to move please” billie just hums in approval.

“that’s it baby, see is it so hard to behave?”

“no daddy, m’sorry, gonna be your good girl daddy” billie hums, beginning to move her cock at a faster pace. your moans increased, whimpers and whines heard everywhere.

“yeah, so much better when you don’t have that slutty mouth of yours running,”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

come back to me

smut, fluff, angst ౨ৎ warnings: pregnant reader a/n: back with the firefighter! billie x police officer! r 💋 (also like sunshine! billie n grumpy! r if you squint) wc: 1.9k 3:07 am

the sound of the radio buzzes low across the nightstand, too soft to disturb most people. but billie’s already half-awake when it starts. she shifts beside you in the dim blue light leaking through the curtains, her hand brushing instinctively across your swollen belly before she reaches for the device.

you stir as she swings her legs off the bed.

“billie,” you murmur, voice cracked with sleep. “no.”

she pauses. her silhouette is outlined in soft gold from the hallway nightlight, muscles shifting beneath the old tank she sleeps in. her turnout pants are already halfway on.

“baby,” she says gently, turning back to you. “it’s a quick one. two-alarm fire, low occupancy. i’ll be back before you even miss me.”

you blink at her, eyes adjusting to the shadows. you don’t believe her. neither of you do. but she still says it like it might be true this time. she always says it like that.

billie leans over, pressing a warm, firm kiss to your lips. then another, slower one on your bare stomach. she whispers something there, something soft and ridiculous that makes your throat tighten. your hand finds her curls, tugging gently.

“you’ll be careful?”

she smirks. “i’m always careful.”

you give her a flat look. billie grins wider, straightening with that smug glint in her eye. “come on, you know me. i make the fire nervous.”

you groan, rolling your eyes. “you’re not charming, billie. you’re actually insufferable.”

she grabs her jacket from the hook, spinning it onto her back with practiced ease. “correction: i’m charming and insufferable. it’s part of my appeal.”

you mumble something under your breath.

she cups your face, her thumb brushing along your cheek. “and remember you’re the one who decided to marry me, ms o’connell”

“unfortunately,” you mutter. 

she laughs, deep and low in her throat, leaning in for one last kiss that’s soft making you melt into her arms, wishing she’d never leave. 

then she disappears into the hallway, gear bag slung over one shoulder. the door closes behind her, muffled and final.

but even that part of her exit holds swagger. there’s always something cocky about billie when she gets called in, like she’s starring in her own action movie. the way she walks; the confident clip of her boots against the hardwood, the casual slinging of her gear bag over one broad shoulder. she turns back once before the door shuts, gives you a wink so lazy and sure of herself that it makes you want to throw something at her. 

"don’t wait up, baby," she says with that grin that got her out of more than one bar fight before you ever met. "but also, wait up. i miss you pretty ass, sometimes”

you scowl, tugging the blanket higher. “bitch, get out.”

billie just grins wider. “love you too, grumpy.”

and then she’s gone, and you groan into your pillow, a faint blush and smile evident on your face. 

you wake again with a start. the bed is cold.

the apartment is too quiet. no soft rustle of billie’s jacket as she moves through the kitchen. no clatter of keys on the counter. just you and the clock.

you try to roll onto your side and grunt instead. the weight of pregnancy is heavier at this hour, unforgiving. your back aches. your ankles feel thick. but it’s the ache in your chest that’s worse.

you reach for your phone.

no texts. no missed calls. no updates from dispatch. you know better than to expect them, but hope’s a stubborn, stupid thing.

you sit on the edge of the bed, hands cradling the round swell of your belly.

“she said it would be quick,” you whisper aloud.

the baby shifts in response. you sigh, pressing your palm there.

“she lies, sometimes.”

you try not to stare at the news feed on your phone, but your eyes keep flicking back. the fire’s worse than they expected. six buildings involved now. displacement. one collapse.

and still no word.

you start cleaning.

the apartment is already clean, but you wipe everything down anyway. the kitchen counters. the bathroom sink. you organize the baby’s drawers even though you’ve done it three times this week. you fold onesies that haven’t even been worn.

your phone dings and your breath catches—but it’s just your bank app. a low balance notification. you nearly throw the phone across the room.

you finally sit again, hand trembling as you grab the remote. local news. a shaky camera pans over smoke and fire. the reporter’s words are background noise to the crackling in your ears.

you snap the tv off. enough. the static in your chest is louder than the news. you grab your phone again, fingers trembling. the fireaid number is saved in your favorites.

it rings twice.

"tom," you bark when he picks up. "where the fuck is my wife?"

there's a stunned silence on the other end.

"uh—y/n?"

“no it’s the electrician, who the fuck else would be calling for my wife tom? you called her in at three in the fucking morning and i’ve seen news coverage of a building collapse. she's not answering. she hasn't texted. what the hell is going on?"

tom coughs awkwardly. you can hear the stress in his voice. "she’s on scene still. it’s... rough. but she’s okay, far as i know. pulled three people out personally. i swear, she’s just—"

"just what? forgot she has a pregnant wife at home having a goddamn heart attack?"

“it’s billie,” tom says. like that’s supposed to explain everything. and maybe it does. maybe it always has.

you hang up without another word.

and then, briefly—

you see her.

just a glimpse. covered in ash. holding up debris with two others as someone crawls out from beneath it. there’s blood on her temple. her jaw is clenched.

your stomach lurches. you almost vomit. your knees press together like it’ll hold the fear inside.

you whisper her name like a prayer and wait.

the door opens.

you don’t jump. you’re already standing, arms crossed waiting. as if you had planned this and rehearsed it over and over in your head. “ms o’connell, do you realize what the fucking time is? should i have gifted you a fucking watch for our wedding instead?” you look at her sternly. billie steps inside, smiling sheepishly, and everything inside you goes very still. “um…do i call for mr fox?” she grins sheepishly. you stare at her deadpanned, your lips pursed.

billie is about to make another comment before pausing when she sees the look on your face.

"tom says i have a scary wife," billie says, trying to lighten the mood with that worn-out half-smile. "i see what he means."

she’s limping. not badly, but enough. her shirt is stained, her hair matted. there’s a cut above her brow, dried blood trailing to her cheekbone. her left arm hangs lower than her right.

she looks up and sees you.

the smile she gives you is a ghost of the one you know.

“hi my love,” she says, voice hoarse.

you don’t move. your chest rises, falls. billie kicks the door shut with her heel and drops her bag to the floor.

“before you yell, i—”

but you’re already moving.

not fast—you can’t move fast anymore. but it’s forceful. intentional. you reach her in three heavy steps and press your hand to her chest. it’s like you’re making sure she’s really there. you slap her chest lightly, punching it, and shaking your head with tears in your eyes. 

“billie.” your voice breaks. “you’re hurt, and it’s late”

she winces when you brush her arm. “it’s nothing. but im sure after my pregnant wife just assaulted me it’s much worse.”

you step back, arms folding over your stomach, and for a moment you look at her like she’s a stranger.

“you said it’d be quick.”

“i know.” she says looking down softly

“you said you’d be safe.”

“i tried.”

“that’s not good enough!” your voice cracks, sharp and loud in the stillness. “you came home bleeding, billie. limping. you haven’t even looked at a mirror—your face is—”

her mouth tightens. “i couldn’t just walk away. someone was trapped.”

your hands tremble. “and what if you were trapped? what if someone called me from the hospital instead?”

billie looks down. ash sprinkles from her curls.

“i don’t know how to do this,” you whisper. “i don’t know how to keep doing this, billie. not when every shift could be the last time i see you. i’m so scared, all the time”

“i don’t want to scare you,” she says, finally meeting your eyes. “but i can’t lie. not about this.”

you nod slowly. “then don’t lie. but stop pretending you come home unscathed. don’t say you’re coming home soon, when we both know you’re out forever. you don’t. we don’t. i carry this baby alone for hours wondering if i’m going to raise her alone. i fold her clothes and wonder if she’ll have your smile, or if she’ll never get the chance to.”

billie’s face crumples.

and you hate that. you hate how fast guilt rises in your throat. how you want to take it all back the second her eyes glisten. but you don’t. you can’t.

she’s shaking her head, resting it between your neck, her hands finding the swell in your belly, caressing your future baby girl. “i’m so sorry.”

“i’m scared, billie.”

“i know.” she steps forward, slow and cautious, like she’s afraid you’ll flinch. “i’m scared too.”

you press your lips together, tight. but your hands reach for her on their own, trembling as they press to her ribs, her back, her neck. she lets out a soft noise, pain, relief, both, as you touch her.

“sit down,” you say. “let me clean you up.”

but she’s already sinking to her knees.

“what—billie—”

her hands frame your hips gently, reverently. she presses her face into the round curve of your belly. her breath hitches.

“please ma—,” she says into your skin. “know i’m trying, for you, for our little baby”

you exhale shakily, threading your fingers through her hair. “i know baby”

she tilts her face up to you, eyes wet. you bend slowly, bringing your forehead to hers. the world narrows to this.

“just wanna show you,” she whispers.

“i know, sweet girl, i know”

“can i—can i just… hold you? please?”

you nod. “come on.”

you help her up. you guide her slowly to your bedroom, where you settle, curled together under the weight of exhaustion and truth. billie tucks her face against your neck and wraps her arms around you from behind, her palm splayed over your stomach. you cover her hand with yours.

neither of you speak for a long time. you just breathe.

eventually, she shifts.

her lips find the curve of your neck, warm and soft. not hurried. not desperate. just present.

“i missed you,” she murmurs.

you sigh. “you always miss me when you’re gone.”

her mouth brushes your jaw. “i miss you even when i’m here.”

your throat tightens. you turn your face and kiss her, slow, deep, aching. her hand finds your hip, fingers tracing the curve with reverence.

“let me take care of you,” she breathes. “let me show you how much i missed you, mama.”

you nod once, her hand threading into yours. 

there’s nothing rushed about it. billie peels your shirt away like it’s sacred. her eyes trace every curve, every scar, every stretch of new skin made by life. she kisses your stomach first, then your ribs, then your sternum. her hands settle on your thighs, wide and steady.

“you’re so beautiful,” she says, voice cracking.

you touch her cheek, softly bringing the hair out of her face humming out an answer.

she giggles softly.

her mouth finds your breast, lips soft and warm. you gasp, arching into her, your nipples more sensitive than usual. her touch is careful, her fingers gentle where they slide down your side, over your hips, between your thighs.

you spread for her without hesitation. her fingers dance amongst your thigh, like she’s memorizing, not teasing. though she has had you memorized since the day you met. her fingers are slow, deliberate, drawing wet heat from you in careful circles. you whimper out her name, in desperation. “please billie, cmon, don’t tease” billie just nods in affirmation leaving a kiss on your belly, before bringing two fingers to her mouth. she sucks the fingers before placing them on your clit, she rubs it slightly, coating it with a mix of your juices and her saliva. “so pretty, such a pretty mama” billie whispers. her fingers slowly curl inside you her palm splayed against your clit while the other was clasped between your other hand. there’s nothing rushed about it. billie touches you like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she blinks too fast. her hands are rough, calloused, bruised, smoke-scented, and reverent. she peels your shirt up inch by inch, not just to reveal skin, but to reassure herself you’re real beneath it. her eyes are glassy as they move over you, lingering on the swell of your belly, the curve of your breasts, the tired tension in your shoulders.

she kisses low first, your stomach, right where your child kicks sometimes when you’re too still. her lips are cracked but gentle, and the scrape of her jaw where ash still clings only makes it more real.

“i was so scared,” she whispers.

you cup the back of her head, fingers buried in her curls. “me too.”

she lifts her face, something raw in her eyes, then moves up your body. each kiss climbs higher, ribs, sternum, collarbone, until her lips hover just below your throat. her breath stutters. she presses in, open-mouthed.

“you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” she rasps. “prettiest mama.”

you’re already crying and don’t realize until she kisses the salt from your chin.

“billie,” you murmur, tugging her down. she follows, bodies slotting together awkwardly but close.

her hands find your thighs, spreading them with a kind of aching slowness that makes your hips jerk. she doesn’t tease. not tonight. her fingers slide between your folds like she already knows exactly how wet you are, because she does. one breath against your neck and you were aching for her.

but she’s trembling a little. not from hesitation, just emotion. her mouth is at your jaw, your throat, your chest, murmuring soft, shaky praise.

"i got you, mama," she whispers, breath catching. "gonna take care of you so good... be the mommy our little girl deserves."

you moan softly, running your hands through her hair. “please.”

she nods against your skin. “yeah... yeah, baby. i got you.”

her strap presses in, slow and careful, and she gasps when she sinks into you, like she can feel everything too. her hips move with steady rhythm, eyes wide and reverent as she watches you take her. you guide her pace with a hand on her hip, but she never stops looking at your face.

“feels so good,” you pant.

her breath hitches. “look so perfect... taking me like that... fuck ma—”

“billie,” you whimper. “don’t stop—“

“wouldn’t dream of it princess,” she moans, a flush high on her cheeks. “c'mon, mama. cum for me, make a mess all over me”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

vlogger

fluff ୨ৎ influencer! r x billie a/n: here's some fluff bc i'm in the mood n i love vlogs

the soft light of the late afternoon stretches across your bedroom, filtering through the gauzy curtains in lazy golden streaks that warm everything they touch. the air smells faintly of lavender and vanilla, a quiet reminder of the candle you lit earlier to chase away the last bits of stress from the day. the dogs are nestled at the foot of your shared bed, half-asleep, their steady breathing the gentle soundtrack beneath the low hum of your laptop. you sit cross-legged, the fabric of your sweatpants soft against your skin, your fingers moving automatically over the keyboard as you trim and tweak the latest footage from your tokyo trip vlog.

the screen glows with snippets of your chaotic day, spilled matcha, street food stalls, neon lights blinking like stars come to earth. the edits are almost done, and your tired brain is already thinking about the next video, the next story you want to tell. you’re deep in that comforting zone where everything slows down to the gentle rhythm of creation, when you hear the soft click of the bathroom door opening.

your head tilts up just in time to see billie step into the room, her damp hair curling at the ends, water droplets still clinging to her skin like tiny jewels. she’s wearing one of your oversized hoodies, the sleeves swallowed past her hands, and a pair of loose shorts that make her look impossibly cozy and relaxed. the warm scent of her shampoo mingles with the vanilla candle, making your chest tighten with that familiar fluttery feeling.

“hi,” she says, voice soft and a little sleepy, the way she always sounds just after a shower, like the world is still a little blurry around the edges.

“hey,” you murmur back, lifting the headphones off one ear and setting the laptop aside. your fingers find her hair, brushing it back gently from her face. she melts into your touch, settling herself sideways on the bed and curling into your lap, her cheek resting against your thigh.

you wrap your arms around her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath against you, the warmth of her skin through the soft cotton of your hoodie. the dogs shift slightly but don’t move, content to be near you both. the quiet intimacy of the moment wraps around you like a blanket, familiar and comforting.

“what are you working on?” she asks, voice muffled.

“editing the tokyo vlog,” you say, smiling at the memory. “the one where i turned into a human disaster at that tiny cafe.”

she laughs, a sound like sunshine. “matcha massacre, you called it.”

“exactly,” you say, nudging her gently. “it’s almost done. want to see?”

she nods eagerly, her eyes brightening as you pick up your laptop and angle the screen so she can see. she watches the clips with a grin, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your knee.

after a moment, she sits up, pulling her knees to her chest. her cheeks are still pink from the shower steam, and her eyes hold that spark of curiosity that always makes your heart skip. “can i ask you something?” she says softly.

“anything,” you answer without hesitation.

she hesitates, then takes a deep breath. “can you teach me how to make vlogs? like, for when i’m on tour, or traveling. i want to remember everything, but i don’t know where to start. and you’re so good at it.”

your chest warms all over. she wants to learn from you. she trusts you. you close your laptop and reach for the drawer beside the bed, pulling out your favorite camera, the one you carry everywhere, the one that’s been your companion through every adventure.

“of course,” you say, holding it out to her. “i’ll show you everything.”

billie’s eyes widen, and she scoots closer, curiosity lighting up her face. “really?”

“really.” you smile, flipping the camera on so the screen lights up between you.

“okay,” you say, “so this camera does this—”

before you can finish, billie reaches out and presses a button.

“no, billie, don’t touch that idiot—”

you freeze, heart in your throat.

“i'm sorry! did… did i break it?” she whispers, panic flaring in her eyes.

you laugh, the tension breaking. “no, you didn’t break it. but you just set it to slow motion for the next three hours.”

she hides her face against your shoulder, giggling. “i’m terrible.”

“you’re adorable,” you say, brushing your fingers through her damp hair.

you spend the next hour sitting tangled up on the bed, patiently showing her how to hold the camera, explaining the basics, framing, lighting, how to speak naturally, how to capture moments without feeling awkward. she’s a quick learner, and you love the way she watches you with rapt attention, occasionally kissing your hand or squeezing your thigh.

you teach her how to check the battery, how to review footage, how to choose songs that fit the mood. you laugh together when she tries to film herself and the dogs and accidentally ends up with a bunch of blurry nose shots. she’s clumsy and sweet and so eager, and you’re already imagining how beautiful her vlogs will be.

when she finally gets the hang of it, you help her record a little practice clip, her voice soft and a little shy, telling the camera about the day, about how excited she is to learn. you hold her hand at the end and kiss her cheek.

“you’re going to be amazing at this,” you tell her. “i’ll be your biggest fan.”

she smiles, her eyes shining. after patiently walking billie through the basics, you finally hand her the camera and settle beside her, ready to help. she grips it nervously at first, her fingers just barely steady as she holds the device in front of her face. “okay, your turn,” you say softly, smiling encouragingly.

she clears her throat, looking down at the screen and then back up with a shy grin. “um… testing.... testing,” she says into the camera, voice a little unsure but getting more confident with every word. “can you guys see my beautiful girlfriend?”

you laugh quietly, heart swelling as she glances your way, eyes sparkling.

she presses the camera closer to you and leans over to press a sweet, quick kiss on your cheek, right on camera. “there she is,” billie murmurs, her face lighting up as she leans over toward you, camera still rolling. her lips find your cheek first, a soft, sweet kiss that makes your heart do that slow, stupid flutter.

then she looks up at you, eyes shining like they hold a secret just for you. “you’re amazing,” she whispers, voice tender.

without thinking, you close the small gap between you, your lips brushing hers in a kiss that’s slow and warm, full of everything quiet and beautiful in this moment. the camera tilts slightly as she shifts closer, laughter bubbling between kisses.

“okay, okay,” she giggles, pulling back just enough to smirk. “definitely getting the hang of this.”

you grin, brushing your nose against hers. “best vlog intro ever.”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

psa zara is the biggest bitch i’ve ever met !!

@dragoneyelashart

[amara-eilish]

I LOVE THISSS

heat of the moment ୨ৎ

fluff/ implied smut୨ৎ firefighter! billie x detective! reader a/n: lowkey love this...

the first time you meet billie, she’s striding out of a smoke-filled apartment building like she owns the whole damn block. her helmet is tucked under one arm, dark curls damp with sweat and plastered to her forehead. there’s soot smudged across her cheek like war paint. she’s got a full-grown man slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and she looks more amused than exhausted. you’re not impressed.

not out loud, anyway. "nice entrance," you say dryly, not even glancing up from your notepad. "you planning to rescue the whole neighborhood or just trying to get your name in the papers again?" billie smirks as she lowers the man to the gurney, tossing a wink at the paramedic before turning to you. "detective," she says, her voice smooth and soaked in confidence. "didn’t know you were into uniforms. if i knew you’d be watching, i’d have worn my tighter tank."

you glance up, finally taking her in fully, arms like carved marble and a grin that screams trouble. "i didn’t realize cockiness was part of the standard issue," you reply, snapping your notebook shut. she chuckles. "only for the really talented ones." it’s not the first scene you’ve worked where billie’s shown up, all swagger and sarcasm, and somehow she always finds a way to get under your skin. you’re used to dealing with egos—detectives, politicians, and criminals alike—but billie’s a different breed. it’s not just that she’s arrogant. it’s that she’s good. annoyingly good. and she knows it. you glance over your notes, but you can feel her eyes on you. she’s not subtle. not even trying to be. there’s a confidence in the way she stands, hips cocked slightly, arms folded, like she’s dared the world to prove her wrong and walked away undefeated every time. her presence is loud, even when she’s quiet. "what caused it?" you ask, nodding toward the charred building. "faulty wiring in the kitchen," she says, tugging off her gloves. her biceps flex as she does, and you’re ashamed of the way your eyes flick there, just for a second. maybe two. "let me guess," you deadpan. "you spotted it mid-backflip through the flames?" billie grins like she’s won a round. "no flips today, detective. didn’t want to make the rest of my team feel bad." you exhale through your nose, biting back a smile. "you know, some of us have to work for a living." "you mean like profiling perps from behind a desk?" you step closer, leveling her with your best unimpressed glare. "you ever try solving a triple homicide while some jackass firefighter flirts with you mid-scene?" "no," billie says, her grin widening. "but i have rescued a very flustered detective from stepping in broken glass while she was too busy glaring." you glance down. shit. there it is. jagged shards glinting near your boots. "you're welcome," she adds smugly, and then she doesn’t move, just stands there with arms crossed, watching you like you’re the most interesting puzzle she’s seen all week. she tilts her head slightly, taking in the scene, then jerks her chin toward the building. "so, what’s your read on it?" you glance at her warily. "on what?" "this scene. the victim. your kind of mess." you narrow your eyes. "why the sudden interest in my work?" billie shrugs, but it’s all performance. she knows exactly what she’s doing. "call it curiosity. or maybe i just like hearing you talk when you're focused. your whole face changes." "nosy and observant. dangerous combination." "only when i care," she says, and it hits with more weight than you expect. she steps a little closer. "come on, detective. humor me. what’s that smart head of yours thinking?" you hesitate, then glance back at the scorched windows. the air still smells of smoke and something acrid, like burned plastic. "victim says he was cooking, left the stove unattended. but the burn pattern doesn’t match that. too quick, too focused." billie whistles low. "arson?" "maybe. or someone wanted him out of that apartment fast." "damn," she says, clearly impressed, then grins. "see? i knew talking to you would be more fun than paperwork." you glance at her again. she's smug, sure, but her eyes are sharp and fixed on you. you get the sense she doesn’t look at everyone like this, just you. and she wants more than just your theories. "you planning to help solve this case too, or just flirt with the lead investigator?" she grins, slow and deliberate. "why not both?"

you tell yourself it means nothing when you see billie again three days later. it’s at a city benefit dinner for first responders, of all things. you hate these events—the small talk, the politics, the schmoozing. you’re halfway through your drink when you spot her across the room. she’s in a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, collar popped just enough to be cocky. her hair is swept back, wild and clean, and she looks like she belongs on the cover of some magazine titled hot heroes who know it. she finds you in the crowd like she’s got radar. "detective y/l/n," she says, sliding up beside you. "looking sharp. who knew you cleaned up so well?" "billie," you reply, not missing a beat. "i see you own more than just suspenders and smirks." she laughs. "careful, you almost sound impressed." you take a sip of your drink. "don’t let it go to your head." "too late," she quips. "want to get out of here before someone asks us to donate money we don’t have?" you raise a brow. "is that a proposition, firefighter?" "only if you're into bad decisions and late-night diner food." you hesitate. not because you don’t want to go, but because you do. billie is a walking temptation wrapped in confidence and charm, and you’ve spent your entire career resisting distractions like her. but the heat between you simmers every time you’re in the same room. every word is a spark, and every glance threatens to become something more. "fine," you say, setting your drink down. "but i swear, if you try to carry me across any thresholds tonight, i’m arresting you." she grins. "deal. but only because you’re not wearing steel-toe boots tonight." she doesn’t move, though. instead, she tilts her head and gives you a look you’re starting to recognize—curious, a little smug, but with something sharper underneath. "you always this buttoned-up, detective?" she asks. "bet even your secrets wear a badge." you raise an eyebrow. "is that your way of asking about my tragic backstory?" "i’m just saying," she replies, leaning in slightly, "you strike me as someone who doesn’t let people in easy. but you let me buy you coffee. that’s gotta mean something." you scoff, but there’s a twitch at the corner of your lips you can’t quite hide. "maybe i just have a weakness for loud, nosy firefighters." "loud and nosy," she repeats with mock offense, hand on her chest. "careful, i might start thinking you like me." you stand, grabbing your coat. "come on, hero. let's see if your conversation skills are as strong as your ego." she hops off the barstool beside you. "that sounds like a challenge." "it is." she holds the door open for you, the cocky smirk never leaving her face. "good. i’m great at winning things i shouldn’t."

the diner is quiet, lit in soft neon. you sit across from her in a booth, sipping coffee and trading stories. she tells you about her first fire, about the time a cat scratched her so bad she needed stitches. you tell her about your weirdest case—a guy who tried to fake his own death using mannequin parts and a very confused goat. you laugh. she laughs. and then it gets quiet. she leans back, eyes scanning you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. "you always this guarded, or am i special?" you shrug. "i like to know who i'm talking to." "you know i run into burning buildings, right? i'm not exactly mysterious." "no, you're not," you say softly. "but you're not exactly harmless either." she smiles, but it's a little softer now. "neither are you." the tension hangs between you, thick and magnetic. it’s not new, but here, outside the chaos, it feels closer. sharper. louder. "so," she says, her voice dipping low, teasing, "if i said i’ve been thinking about what you'd look like out of that coat since day one… would that be inappropriate?" you tilt your head. "very." "please don't arrest me, officer," she says, all smug mischief and resting comfortably against the vinyl booth like she owns it. you don’t miss a beat. "i’d like to see you in a pair of handcuffs, eilish." her brows lift, amused and intrigued. "kinky. you planning to book me, or just keep teasing me all night?" you lean in, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. "who says i haven’t already decided to make your night difficult?" her eyes flick to your lips. "because you haven’t walked away yet." you smirk. "maybe i’m waiting to see what other crimes you confess to." billie leans in, her voice dropping just enough to make your skin prickle. "c’mon then, let’s test if those handcuffs of yours actually work, officer."

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

some fluff please i beg you

fluff ୨ৎ

billie wakes up to warmth.

not just the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains, though that’s there too, soft and golden, wrapping the room in a sleepy kind of glow — but you. pressed close against her chest, legs tangled with hers under the blanket, your cheek nuzzled into the crook of her neck like it’s your home. and maybe it is. it feels like it should be.

she breathes you in, lazy and slow. you smell like lavender and sleep and just… you. her arms are around you instinctively, her fingers already half tangled in your hair, thumb brushing gently at the base of your neck. you’re still asleep, or close to it, your breath warm where it puffs softly against her skin.

“gosh,” billie murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep, “you’re so perfect.”

you don’t answer. just shift a little, burrowing even closer, like you heard her but can’t be bothered to respond — not when you’re this content, this wrapped up in warmth and billie and everything that feels safe.

she chuckles softly, barely a sound. her fingers glide slowly through your hair, over and over, soothing, gentle, almost reverent. she presses a tiny kiss to your forehead, then another just above your brow, like she’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin.

“i love you so much,” she whispers, more to herself than to you. “all pretty and sleepy, my sleepy baby”

you mumble into her chest, voice muffled and groggy. “you’re such a weirdo.”

billie’s laugh is quiet and warm, vibrating through you. “yeah? takes one to love one.”

you smile a little against her skin, and she feels it — that subtle curve of your lips, soft and sleep-drunken. she kisses your forehead again, lingering this time, her nose brushing your hairline. then her lips move lower, ghosting across your cheek, slow and sweet.

you hum, sleepy and content, and your hand slides up under your her shirt, just to rest against her bare back. your fingers trace lazy shapes there. you press a soft, barely-there kiss to her shoulder, then one just below it, right at the curve where neck meets collarbone. it’s not urgent, not heated — just tender, affectionate. loving.

billie’s whole body sighs at the touch.

“keep doing that,” she says softly, half a grin pulling at her lips. “might never let you go.”

“good,” you whisper, nuzzling in closer, your nose tucked beneath her jaw now. “didn’t plan on going anywhere.”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

so hot

jock! billie x schoolgirl! reader

୨ৎ smut ୨ৎ

a/n: kinda not proof read (also kinda don't like it 🤓)

you were always the quiet one — the kind of student who teachers remembered for the neat handwriting and the way you always sat near the front. a book was practically a part of your uniform, tucked under your arm like a shield. you weren’t trying to impress anyone; you just liked to know things, liked the safety that knowledge brought. friends came in a tight circle, never more than a handful, but they were real, and that was what mattered.billie was one of those rare few. she was nothing like you — the kind of girl who didn’t have to try to be popular because it just clung to her. captain of the football team, known for her messy eyeliner and the way she could talk her way out of detention with a smile. everyone wanted a piece of her, but she only ever seemed to want to sit beside you.

after billie failed an english test so spectacularly, it was almost suspicious. the teacher asked you to tutor her, and billie, with that crooked grin of hers, didn’t even try to hide how pleased she was. "guess i need a genius to save me," she’d said. you’d rolled your eyes, but something about the way she said it made your stomach flutter. she just wanted an excuse. and she got one — in the form of tutoring sessions, long afternoons in the library where she’d lean too close and pretend not to understand metaphors just so you’d keep talking.now, weeks later, the two of you were tucked into the farthest corner of health class. you would have picked a seat closer to the front, you always did, but billie had begged she looked at you with those eyes, wide and a little dramatic, insisting that the teacher definitely had it out for her and how she couldn’t concentrate up there. you weren’t sure if you believed her, but she’d looked at you like you were her last hope, and you’d caved. the classroom hums with low voices and the dry drone of the teacher's lecture. you're tuned in anyway, scribbling down notes even though you already know the material. you underline a sentence in your spiral notebook, your pen gliding neatly in a straight line. then, you feel a slight brush to your thigh. fingertips against the fabric of your skirt, slow, deliberate. like a question without words. your posture stiffens just slightly, but you don’t pull away. instead, your eyes flick sideways, catching billie out of the corner of your vision.

she’s half-watching the front of the room, half-watching you, a ghost of a smile on her lips like she knows exactly what she’s doing. her fingers don’t move any further, just rest there — a whisper of contact that sends your thoughts scattering. you don’t say anything. not yet. but your hand falters where it rests on the page. your pencil rolls slightly in your grip. you turn your head just enough to meet her eyes — not startled, not annoyed, just quietly asking: what are you doing?

billie leans in, just a little. her knee bumps yours under the desk, slowly drawing patterns up and down your thigh making you shiver. “billie we’ll get caught! stop!” you whisper slightly yelling at her, trying to swat her hand from your thigh. she doesn’t move though planting her hand firmly, the cool touch of her rings adding some cool to the warmth you felt.

billie leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. “shh, mama. just focus that pretty head on your work. i just need something hands-on to understand what she’s teaching,” she whispers, voice dripping with mischief. you roll your eyes at her before going back to looking the the white board to continue taking notes. while you were writing something billie takes it as the perfect moment to slip her fingers in. you grip tightens on the pencil and you glare at billie, trying to ignore how full you feel. she keeps her fingers still for a few minutes slightly toying with your clit, just to tease you. you on the other hand felt so full, the lesson not even being on your mind. when billie shifts her seat slightly her fingers readjust causing you to whimper, but quiet enough for just you and her to hear. billie grins internally, beginning to move her fingers. billie leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. “shh, mama. just focus that pretty head on your work. i just need something hands-on to understand what she’s teaching,” she whispers, voice dripping with mischief.

you rolled your eyes, fighting the smirk that tugs at your lips. of course she couldn’t just sit still in class. still, you turn back to the whiteboard, eyes scanning over the notes as your pencil begins to move again. while you're mid-sentence, billie seizes the opportunity. her fingers slip into your pussy, her forearm resting boldly on your thigh. you tense, grip tightening around your pencil, your body aware of her touch in a way that makes it impossible to concentrate. you glare at her from the corner of your eye, silently warning her—but she just gives you that crooked little grin, smug and unbothered. she doesn’t move her hand much at first, just the barest brushing of fingertips along your skin—enough to tease, to keep your nerves humming. she started out slow, dragging out her thrusts to annoy you as much as she could, but you needed more, and you knew that she knew that you needed more. you pinch her arm slightly begging her to move faster. billie shakes her head, taking her fingers out of you, marvelling at how sweet you tasted. “behave, or i’ll bend you over the table right now in front of everyone,” she whispers harshly in your ear. you buck up your hips begging for anything at this point, even slightly grinding down on the chair, you just needed her to touch you. you take her hands in yours slowly tracing the outline of her rings, leading them to your pussy and pressing them against your clit, a silent way of begging for her touch. she pushes her fingers into you, fucking you faster. sounds from how wet you were echoed through your mind, yet could be heard between the two of you. your mind grows fuzzy, no longer focused on the task at hand, the fear of being caught only adding to the haze.“oh baby, what would miss say if she saw her little pet sitting like this, hmm? would you still be her perfect little student?” billie whispers, fucking you deeper and harder with her fingers. you part your legs a little more, giving her better access, your head falling to the table, lip caught between your teeth, and beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you try to stay quiet, “so fucking dirty, getting fucked in class because you’re my needy slut isn’t that right? always need to be stuffed full” you really did try to keep quiet.

your jaw was tight, your breath shallow, and your thighs trembled from the effort of holding everything in. but billie wasn’t making it easy. her fingers worked at an inhuman pace beneath the desk, every movement purposeful, every curl and drag calculated to unravel you. just as you clenched your teeth to stifle another gasp, she leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “poor baby,” she whispered, her voice syrup-sweet and cruel. “so sensitive… and i just started.”

a soft, helpless whine slipped from your lips—too quiet for most to hear, but not for the teacher. you heard her heels tap as she turned around, her eyes narrowing. “everything alright, y/n?” her voice cut through the haze, sharp and direct, her gaze settling on you with suspicion. your heart leapt into your throat. you straightened as best you could, willing your face into something neutral, though your skin burned and your breathing betrayed you. you gave the smallest nod, voice catching in your throat. “y-yeah—yes, miss.”

she lingered for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, then turned back to the whiteboard. your entire body fell with relief, but billie only giggled softly, her breath tickling your neck. her fingers didn’t stop—if anything, they sped up more, becoming more deliberate. “always trying to be the perfect schoolgirl, aren’t you, princess?” she whispered, her tone thick with mock admiration. “bet miss has no idea what her favorite little student’s doing under the desk.” her words burned hotter than her touch. you bit down hard on your lip, forehead damp with sweat, knuckles white where you gripped the edge of the desk.

“come on bunny, cum for me”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonglazesbillieeilish | send me an ask, or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

plsplsplsplsplspslsplspls can u write 4 perv billie ?

perv! billie headcanons

→ perv! billie who steals your panties everytime she's over to later masturbate to your pretty scent → perv! billie who denies everything when you realize all your panties are missing, telling you that without them she can fuck you better → perv! billie who accidentally walks in when you're in the shower because she "needs to wash her hands" → perv! billie who secretly records the sounds you make just to use in her music later → perv! billie who has a bucket list of all the places the two of you are going to fuck → perv! billie who always needs to be inside you somehow, with her fingers, her cock, or her tongue → perv! billie who would finger you under the table at a dinner with your parents just to make a comment about how good you taste → perv! billie who showers you in photoshoots, and has a separate hidden folder with all your "other" photos → perv! billie who would cancel everything just so she could fuck you → perv! billie who would buy you the tiniest bikini pieces just so she can rip it off you and fuck you in it → perv! billie who would record you bouncing on her strap, while you moan her name over and over again → perv! billie who would leave the bedroom door open so you could watch her fuck herself to the photos and videos she has of you → perv! billie who doesn't stop talking about how good she fucks you to her friends → perv! billie who calls you in the middle of the night just to fuck herself to your voice, muffling things like "keep going" "just wanna hear your pretty voice, mama"

→ perv! billie who would either "accidentally" hump you in the middle of the night or grab at your tits, using the excuse that she was cold → perv! billie who would follow you around like a dumb puppy whenever you wore anything slightly revealing, the sight driving her insane

→ perv! billie who fantasizes about cumming inside of you → perv! billie who buys a strap that ejaculates just to feel the effect of her cumming in you whispering words like "m' gonna put a fucking baby in you" → perv! billie who swears she can see her cock in your tummy, pressing down so you can feel it; "see how deep i am babygirl, gonna ruin your insides" → perv! billie who not only fucks you dumb, but loses every single thought in her head when you're around her

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @giannaeilish @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonglazesbillieeilish | send me an ask, or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[amara-eilish]

wowowowowowoowowwoowowow

prompt list 3 !! with sabrina pls if you'll write for her 🙏🙏🙏

ohhhh yesssssssss i have been thinking about this one ;) prompt list 3: stark naked x fully clothed

you pout dramatically, sinking deeper into the cushions like they might swallow your frustration whole. the soft thud of sabrina’s makeup brush tapping against her palette is the only sound in the room besides your shallow breathing.

"you're so mean to me," you mutter, just loud enough for her to hear.

she doesn't look at you right away, too focused on blending whatever magical contour concoction she’s working on. but the corner of her mouth twitches with amusement, she heard you, and you know it.

“mean?” she echoes, lifting a brow in the mirror. “i’m being responsible. if i get all sweaty before i even step on stage, who’s going to deal with that? you?”

you roll onto your stomach with a muffled groan, your cheek smushed into the throw pillow. “i would if you let me.”

sabrina finally turns, giving you a once-over from where she’s standing, her outfit half-done, boots already laced up tight, hair teased to messy perfection. her gaze drops to your sprawled form, and something flickers behind her eyes. something fond. something dangerous.

"you're hopeless," she says softly, walking over just enough for her shadow to fall across you. her boot taps against the side of the couch, not hard, just enough to remind you where she is, to remind you who's in charge here.

you look up at her, wide-eyed, a little pathetic. "only for you."

she smirks, then turns back toward the mirror without another word. you're left with the weight of her attention lingering in the air, heavy and warm and just out of reach. like her.

and even though she hasn't touched you, not really, you feel your heart pounding like she has.

you lie there for a moment longer, trying to bury the ache, the need, the stupid butterflies that keep fluttering every time she glances your way. sabrina’s still at the vanity, swiping gloss onto her bottom lip like it’s a casual thing, like it’s not slowly killing you.

you groan again, this time more dramatically, rolling onto your back and covering your face with your arm. “i’m actually going to combust,” you mumble.

“you’re so dramatic,” she laughs softly.

you don’t respond, just let your head loll toward her. she’s flawless, all glitter and edge and cool confidence, like she was born to be adored. and tonight, everyone will. everyone but you.

“brina,” you murmur, voice low and desperate. “please.”

she finally turns, crossing the room in that slow, deliberate way she always does when she knows she has power. she stands just in front of the couch, boots planted firmly on the floor. black leather, sharp heel, freshly polished. her eyes scan your face, then lower, slow and intentional, like she knows exactly where your gaze has been all night.

“you want attention so bad,” she murmurs. “can’t wait till i’m done?”

you shake your head, lip caught between your teeth.

she tilts her head slightly, the corner of her mouth curving. “then go on.”

you blink. “go on…?”

her boot nudges closer.

“fuck yourself on my boot,” she says, voice cool, deliberate. “if you’re really that needy.”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @giannaeilish @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonglazesbillieeilish | send me an ask or comment to be added to my taglist !

[amara-eilish]

my princess aren’t you?

r u and amara dating ??

yes 😛😛 @amara-eilish

[amara-eilish]

just tell her atp or i will 🙄🙄

i missed you like crazy omg (still the same girl??)

me more !! and yes 😖

[amara-eilish]

yeah you’re right stupid name, but hot fic!

ride or cry (that is the stupidest name i've ever come up with, just go with it)

authors note: i finally wrote something other than angst (everyone cheer) warnings: smut

you were splayed out on silk pillows, hair a messy halo around you, skin slick with sweat, chest heaving. before getting bored and wanting to go annoy your girlfriend. bad idea though. billie had been edging you for hours making you grind down on her thigh while she worked, pulling you back every time you got too close. her fingers have been tracing slow, maddening patterns along your sides, lips brushing against the crook of your neck in teasing, featherlight kisses.

you whimper into her ear, hips stuttering as you press harder against her thigh, making the mess between your legs even more unbearable.

“you know, baby…” she murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, “i think you like when i tease you. hm?”

you nod helplessly, not even fully hearing her words—just chasing that high she keeps dangling in front of you.

“mommy, please…” you breathe, voice wrecked, trembling with need. “i just wanna be good for you…” she sighs, almost lazily, like she’s thinking about it. “mmm, but mommy’s tired…” she drawls, though there’s no real bite behind the words.

“please,” you beg, hips shifting uncontrollably, like they’re acting on instinct alone. “it hurts, i need you so bad, mommy…”

she clicks her tongue, eyes dark with faux pity. “tsk… my poor baby,” she whispers, brushing her fingers over your flushed cheek. “alright. come on, then.”

you climb onto her lap, shaky hands bracing against her shoulders. she holds you steady, her palm at your lower back, guiding you down slowly onto her length. you gasp, body arching as she fills you, the stretch making your thighs quake from overstimulation. you pause, breathing hard, letting yourself adjust before your hips start to roll—needy, languid, desperate. soft moans slip from your lips, little breathy whines that go straight to her core. billie watches you like you're a masterpiece—every twitch of your muscles, every trembling exhale, every inch of you unraveling just for her. “mommy… m’tired…” you whimper, voice barely there, cracked and aching. “need your help…” she smiles—sweet, slow, merciless—and wipes the sweat from your brow with her thumb. “mommy told you she was tired, didn’t she?” she coos. “come on, sweet girl. take what you need.”

you sob quietly, overwhelmed, but you obey, hips bouncing, rhythm messy and frantic now. the sound of skin slapping echoes through the room as you ride her, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. her hands rest on your waist, firm but not guiding, just watching you struggle, suffer, need.

your rhythm falters. thighs trembling, breath catching, your body shakes with effort, but you don’t stop. you can’t. you’ve been on edge for so long, and you're so close now you can taste it.

“that’s it, baby,” she whispers, voice low and velvety. “look at you, riding mommy’s cock like a good little slut. so desperate…” you choke on a moan, head falling to her shoulder, clutching at her like you might shatter. your muscles are screaming, nerves sparking, tension coiled so tight it’s almost unbearable.

“can’t- can’t do it, mommy,” you cry out, voice cracking as the tears finally spill. “too much… hurts…” she lifts your chin, forces your glassy eyes to meet hers. “thought you wanted to be good for me, baby?” she breathes. “thought you loved being mommy’s little whore…”

you nod, barely, tears spilling freely now, lips parted in a soft, gasping plea. “i do… i do, mommy,” you sob. “fuck, need you mommy please just wanna be good…”

she hums, almost lovingly, and one hand moves down, fingers sliding between your legs. they find your swollen clit with practiced ease, rubbing slow, torturous circles. you moan out, hips jerking wildly, movements turning feral, desperate. “there you go,” she whispers, eyes locked on your wrecked face. "that’s it. show me how much of a slut you are for mommy."

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @giannaeilish @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonglazesbillieeilish | send me an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!