⤷ smut, billie x fem!reader, dom!billie, kissing, fingering, boob play, dirty talk, slight degradation, teasing, clit play, oral sex
keep the glasses on ౨ৎ
⤷ fem!reader x billie, switch!billie, fingering, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names.
smile for the camera ౨ৎ
⤷ dom!billie x fem!reader, fingering, recording during sexual acts, (consensual) fingering, dirty talk, use of a vibrator, use of pet names, teasing, kissing, praise.
sit there and look pretty ౨ৎ
⤷ face sitting, oral, (billie!recieving) sub!billie x fem!reader, use of pet names, kissing, face cumming.
fixer upper ౨ৎ
⤷ bluecollar!billie x fem!sub!reader, scissoring, dirty talk, use of pet names, kissing, boob play.
”sesbian lex” “wuh luh wuh” NO!!!!! don’t be ashamed to be a dyke!!!! proudly scream that you have lesbian sex!!!! you kiss girls!!!! you want to eat them out!!! you like biceps and boobs!! dyke!!!
✶ "She's evil, we've come to tell you that she's evil-most definitely."
⋆ toxic relationship dynamic 😋, smut, fingering (r receiving), reader says like two things the whole oneshot whoopsies, one use of 'y/n', dark themes (?), a few religious terms (should that be a warning??), weird metaphoric imagery, blood mention
⋆ A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! This is lowk one of my favorite things I've written 😛
You were there before it all. Before her words were twisted, unintelligible preaches. Sentences that made you feel like you were touching the unreachable.
You were there, years ago, when she fell at a mere 4'6, with what felt like centuries ahead of you. When she picked flowers that never really stood out, and said simple things that seemed to explain more than they really did at the time.
When the world seemed small, something stupid that only adults understood. When it was just the two of you, her stupid smile, and the shit she said, that gave small things worth.
But something changed—not sudden, not overnight. But secrets, fantasies. Darkness that flowed through Eva's veins like a river of blood. Slow, trickling over the span of years.
Her soft words, stupidly funny one-liners, and dry humor became a ghost of what they used to be. She used her voice like a sword—slicing into your skin until she found an opening to your blood. Your mind. Your body.
Language became power, a sort of corrupt pathway to what she described as peace. Control became a weapon, something that could ground you and pull you right back into her grasp right after a taste of freedom.
You distanced yourself, but it hurt. To watch the girl you grew up with, shared pain and every complaint with—just leave. She dropped out, moved away, essentially erased herself from existence.
But then you found her again — or, more so, she caught you. The memory was a blur. Somehow, she reached your number.
Lured you in with a disgustingly reminiscent greeting, gave sarcastic comments that felt a little too familiar for your poor heart. Tentative messages shifted into arranged meet-ups, dates where she spoke loose and warm but kept you tied to her with a leash. Latched onto you and sucked the self-control from your body like a leech.
Between sermons that seemed more like intimate riddles and brief brushes of her touch, you found yourself staying over at the shared cabin more often than you went home. It was never outright said, but she'd speak to you like she knew you were already sealed right where she wanted you.
And now?
Now, you're just another boundary she can cross. You think about leaving—too often—but it never reaches past your mind. Because as soon as she looks at you like she can see right through you, you're practically already dropped to your knees.
She worships you, sultry praise and sweet nothings spilling from her lips quietly like something never meant to be said. But her words lose their meaning
Eva is calculated—an illusion of comfort and safety that blurs into desire and heat. She'll touch you like you're a treasure—all care and gentle and never rushed—then leave the other side of the bed cold in the morning, made perfectly like she was never there. Only a fantasy.
And then she's normal—like her fingers weren't prying you open just 12 hours before. Her smile is never playful in the morning. Just small. Neutral. Too dangerous to soothe the burn she left between your legs.
And too quiet to make your heart throb any less.
Eva is but a whisper of pleasure—a temporary fulfillment that warms the ache in your chest. But as soon as the lamp is dimmed, and her breathing slows to a steady pace in her sleep, the emptiness returns. Deeper. And when you wake up to an empty bed, you only feel hollow.
She still makes your heart race—because of the butterflies or the fear of what she could do to you, you're not sure. Maybe you are, but some things are better left unspoken.
Today is no different. Scheduled, half-planned, half-improv by the genius herself. Hikes before the clock can even hit a reasonable number, where the sky feels more like a void than something free. When the grass crunches beneath the girls' shoes, familiar, borderline satisfying.
A comfortable lunch, where feelings escape mouths like routine. Like some sort of eternal group therapy. The clock ticks louder in your ears when you're thinking. Eva notices—she always does—and pulls you back to earth with a tone that you know is rehearsed.
"Y/n? What about you?" She'll say, and you'll lift your head like she's got you trained. And maybe she does.
You'll spill like you always do. Never overflow—you're careful not to—only say enough to make everyone question less, for them to nod and move on.
You're called in by one of the girls. The door, propped open like a forced welcome, is tall. Pale. Toned with shadows that only form because the lights are always off.
She's sat down. Waiting. Expecting. You've been through this before—too many times to count. "A refresher," she'll call it. "A way to get all of your feelings out."
She greets you with a hug, one you barely hesitate to reciprocate. She'll hum right in your ear, enough to send shivers across your skin. She'll lead you to the floor—plush, neutral-toned beanbags. Knit carpet. Headbeams tilted up, low enough that it feels like it's closing you in. Light filters in from the annoyingly colorful stained glass window.
Her voice is soft. Melodic. A dangerous harmony that slips into your ears, and you already know you're fucked when it does.
"You've been tense lately," she'll comment. Not an accusation, nor a question. Just a statement. A fact. Something that lets you know she sees everything. Hears it all. And soon enough, she'll be feeling it.
You don't nod, but the way your fingers curl and uncurl into themselves tells her more than it ever should.
A soft breath escapes her lips, contrasting with the disgusting silence. "I just want to understand. Tell me, what's on your mind?" Her fingers still yours, prying your hands apart and joining them with hers. Her words never tremble. They don't waver, they don't carry uncertainties.
They never do. Like she's got everything planned out. Every wrinkle of your mind, sketched into her own. Her eyes scan your face as if she already knows you're going to answer.
And you do. One by one, feelings, tension, thoughts, fears, it all tumbles out. Interrupted occasionally by her insufferably gentle prompting and hushed, dark praise.
When almost everything you have is out, she'll smile—serpentine, sultry. Because your vulnerability is a trophy, and with every secret her twisted mind stores, she's only getting closer to the finish line.
"Very good," she hums, syllables drawn out longer than appropriate. "You did so well today."
And every word hits deep. Low. Scandalously low. Exactly where you don't want it to. When you shift, she already knows she's won.
"Still a little tense, though," she'll purr, hands slipping onto your thighs. It's all too familiar. And you hate the fact that you thrive on it. "Do you need me to handle that?" She doesn't have to ask. But she does, because it gives the impression of choice. That you could say no, even when every inch of you knows you want it—want her.
A plea escapes your throat despite yourself—just like every one of your confessions has in the past 30 minutes. Her eyes will darken, even despite the absurdly blue shade. Before you know it, her lips are on yours—not harsh, never harsh. Gentle, deep, messy enough to make you feel like you're the only one.
You're drunkenly responding, driven by arousal and everything you shouldn't feel. Her limbs tangle with yours, removing each piece of clothing from your body like she's slowly de-armoring you. You're shattered, weak, vulnerable when she's like this, and she knows it.
"Always so soaked, love," she hums, fingers dancing over the wetness between your legs. Two graceful fingers slide inside of you, working you open with ease. The sounds that spark are horribly loud, wet, obscene. "You've needed this, hm?" You nod frantically. It still sounds therapeutic. Like she's still digging for your weakness—and she probably is. She's probably already found it.
But you're too mesmerized by the feelings to care. Right now, you're malleable. Ignorant of what she's turning you into. Because it feels like she's worshipping you. It feels like something deeper than desire. And it is—but not in the way you want. Certainly not.
"How does that feel?" She murmurs, as if your whimpers and moans aren't enough to tell her.
"Fuck—so-so good," you gasp, back arching while she fucks deeper into you. She's got you in fetters. And you don't dare try to struggle.
Her touch alone feels like it could sanctify you. She treats you like something sacred when you're broken open for her.
Her free hand marks course across your bare, sweaty skin. Clicking her tongue when you jump from her thumb on your core.
She rubs you like it's premeditated, but you don't care. You can't. Not when your end is right there and her praise is unimaginably perfect.
"You did so well," rolls off her tongue like it's made to be, like maybe you deserve it. Her fingers speed up, followed by your choked whines and gasps. "Let go for me, sweet girl," she says, like she's memorized every tell. Everything she knows that says you're at the edge.
Your climax hits you like a brick, white-hot, crashing over you hard, leaving you in overwhelmed tears and trembling.
Her continuous, smooth praise barely makes it through to you as you tumble back down to earth, chest rising and falling unsteadily.
"There you go..." she hums as your body melts against the bean bag. She watches your eyelids flutter, sleepy with the intensity of the day and the intimacy you just shared. "Rest well," she giggles as you doze off in the plush material caging you in.
You know you'll probably wake up in your bed, carried there by yours truly. You know she'll be the way she always is—a cycle of ruining you and then bringing you right back to reality in the morning. You know there's no tenderness outside of her half-present touch during the day.
But really, you can't care. You will, and you know it—but not yet.
“Dearest!” Your mother cut off the guard trying to get your attention, with a hand shaking your shoulder.
“Oh! Goodness, um, so sorry,” you trailed off, quickly moving up in line, shaking off your sudden nerves.
“Are you feeling quite right? You look a bit peckish.” Your mother began to remove a glove from her hand, cradling your cheek to check for any kind of temperature.
“Just nervous.” You assured her, waving away her hand and settling yourself again.
You knew it wasn't nerves making you feel this way. It was those eyes. Those perfect, bright blue, sparkling eyes. You’d never seen such perfection in another person before. It hadn't been more than five minutes, but every time you closed your eyes, hers were there again.
You stepped up as another pair walked through the great doors. You were so close you could see the Queen and her court sitting at the end of the hall every time the doors opened. You took another deep breath, trying to focus on the next few moments. Just get through the doors, smile, debut for the Queen, and then you can breathe, you thought to yourself. Drown was more like it…
Your heart skipped a beat when the last pair finally made their way into the great hall, and you and your mother stood in front of the doors.
“Your name card, madame?” The guard next to the door asked emotionlessly, holding out a gloved hand in your mother's direction. He read over it and slipped it through a concealed slit in the wall; an identical guard on the other side of the wall retrieved it.
“You look perfect, dearest. I’m so proud of you.” You could hear your mother's voice begin to crack, your own eyes stinging with the beginning of tears, when you heard the guard on the opposite side of the door announcing your name. Your head turned front, eyes wide as dinner plates.
“Good luck,” the stoic guard mumbled as he and his counterpart opened the two great doors simultaneously.
You froze for a split second, taking in the massive sight before you. The deep wooden floors, a single strip throughout the middle covered in lavish red carpeting, the walls covered in purple wallpaper, and paintings of the King and Queen. On either side of the carpet were two railings keeping the viewers, the family members of debutantes and nobles alike, off to the sides.
And of course, straight ahead was the Queen. Queen Charlotte herself, looking unimpressed as always. Her little dog sat on his own pillow to her left, and her attendant to her right.
You took a quick breath and began walking down the center aisle, tuning out the hushed murmurs of societal gossip. Not daring to look to the sides where the other debutantes stood watching, not daring to look and see if she was watching.
Your mother beamed, walking only a step behind you. She looked across the crowd and immediately caught your father's eye. He stood close to the front along with your five siblings- your older brother, and his wife, your two younger sisters, and your two youngest brothers. Your sisters watched in awe as their older sister, usually annoying and too posh for their silly games, was now transformed into a princess. Your younger brothers, however, couldn’t be bothered, fidgeting in place, waiting for today's “torture” to be over.
As you reached the edge of the velvet carpet, you stopped perfectly centered. And as you had practiced your whole life, curtsied as low as you physically could, not daring to look up until the Queen had given some kind of reaction.
It came as a shock to the room to not only see the Queen emote something more than a dismal eye roll, but in fact, she had sat up perfectly straight in her seat the moment the doors opened. But what shocked them more was that as you held your curtsy, she stood up and made her way off the throne dais to you.
You stood back up when the edge of her dress came into your view. The room held its breath as you made eye contact with the Queen. Only for her to smile.
“Perfection.” She simply stated, turning back to her throne.
Your mother once again broke your trance, politely patting you in the direction of where the other debutantes were waiting. With a small curtsey, shell-shocked, you made your way to the side of the room. You suddenly felt like you were under a microscope; some girls looked upon you with pride, others with murderous jealousy. You kept facing forward, watching- more like staring off into space- as the last few debutantes attempted to make half the impression you did.
ꕥ
Lively music filled the air of the Queen’s reception garden. Young ladies in white flounced around, mingling with each other and many handsome gentlemen. Families looked on as their sons and daughters met, everyone growing up and beginning to bloom.
Your family was all sitting together in the shade. Your mother and father sat together, the same as your brother and his wife. Your younger siblings pretended to sit still, but instead scurried off every few minutes to pick flowers or chase a butterfly. You only wished you could join them in their company. Your mother had lovingly encouraged you to go out and socialize with the young gentlemen… Instead, you sought company with your friends.
“Did you see the look on Queen Charlotte’s face when Elizabeth nearly tripped? How embarrassing for her.” A friend of your friends, Vanessa boasted away. She came from money, as you did, but was brought up to be poised and cruel.
“I felt bad for her; she had been practicing for weeks walking in those shoes.” Another friend of yours, Lilliana sympathetically countered, gaining a pointed side eye from the auburn-haired heiress.
“She should have been practicing her whole life. I mean, messing up a curtsy, how childish.” Vanessa turned her attention away from the group of girls, spotting a young gentleman, unfortunately for him, standing alone. Without so much as a look back at you all, Vanessa jumped up from her seat, waving down the poor man.
“Isn’t she a delight?” You joked quietly to Claudia, your best friend. The two of you had been best friends since childhood, spending every possible waking moment together and telling each other everything. Secrets you kept from your own mother, your own diary, were locked away with Claudia, and the same went for her secrets to you.
She wrinkled her nose in Vanessa’s direction and chuckled. “Ugh, she’s just ghastly. All she cares for is boys and how much money they can spend on her once they are married.” The two of you giggled to yourselves, not noticing the young gentleman making his way over to you both.
“Good afternoon, ladies, I hope I am not interrupting at a bad time,” the young man politely asked. You turned away from Claudia to see who your interrupter was.
He was tall, with smooth skin and dark hair, and dark eyes like chocolate. For the second time today, your breath hitched, and you forgot how to speak.
Claudia cleared her throat to disuse the obvious tension between you two. “You’re not interrupting at all, um..”
“Alexander, my lady. Alexander, the soon-to-be Earl of York. And you are?” He held out his hand to take yours. Shakily, you raised a gloved hand for him to take.
“Y/N, sir. My father is the Viscount Y/L/N.” He looked impressed, bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.
“Well then, I shall take care when in your company,” he winked. His smile could defeat the sun in a contest of brightening up the world. You felt butterflies in your stomach and heat under the skin of your cheeks.
“Are you attending Lady Bennett’s ball this evening? I only hope to receive a dance on your card?” He sat politely on a frivolously decorated chair next to where you and Claudia sat on a wide chaise. The two of you perked up at his words. A ball, a real ball. The first ball you both would attend as eligible ladies of the ton.
“Lady Bennett is hosting a ball? This evening?” Claudia began to ramble, her excitement forgetting about the tender spark blooming between you and Alexander.
“Of course! Every year, she hosts the first ball of the social season. A celebration of the beautiful debutantes entering the ton, as well as a welcoming of spring and summer. A time for the ton to reunite after a long winter. Being that you both are of nobility, I am quite sure Lady Bennett would not overlook inviting your families.” A call from across the courtyard caught Alexander’s attention.
“I apologize, I am needed elsewhere. I only hope you might save me a dance on your card?” He took your hand and kissed it once again, fading away into the crowd. You let out the breath you were holding hostage, and were met with Claudia already teasing and poking at you.
You turned away from her, trying to hide your smile as she teased your starstruck face, and the way you couldn’t squeak out more than a sentence to him. As you turned, however, your first breath-stealing victim came into your view.
She was talking to a few gentlemen herself, casually, as if they were her friends more than her potential courters. Her dimple deepened every time she laughed, throwing her head back and letting out an unladylike cackle. The corner of your lips turned up at the sound.
“What are you staring at?” Claudia teased once again, shifting to get a better view of your sightline. “Already scouting your entire dance card before we even leave the palace? Y/N, you little flirt.” She playfully smacked your shoulder, gaining a chuckle from you.
“No, Claudia. I shall decide upon that once I am in their presence, and willing to dance this evening.” You placed your hands on hers, calming her infectious energy. “I do wonder, however, do you know who that is? The girl standing with them. I did not recognize her name this morning in the palace.” You pointed directly at Billie, who had maneuvered away from the gentleman and was with her family now.
The beautiful woman from before, seemingly her mother, had matching crystalline eyes to Billie and the most gorgeous light grey hair, pinned up to perfection. The taller gentleman stood next to her mother, seemingly her father, had kind eyes and a soft smile, and a chuckle similar to Billie’s. And finally, a gentleman stood off to the side, tall also with light, perfect eyes, and light red hair. He had the same smile as Billie.
“Her? That’s Lady Billie Eilish O’Connell. I believe her grandfather was a Duke in Ireland? They are visiting London for the social season, so Billie could debut for the Queen. They moved in down the street from me, where the Woodhouses lived last summer. Isn’t her brother absolutely adorable?” You were about to nod, stuck once again under Billie's unintentional spell, when you heard Claudia’s words clearer in her head.
“Yes- wait, her brother? Is that her brother standing there?” Claudia nodded excitedly.
“Look at his eyes, aren’t they perfect?” She leaned against the armrest of the chaise, resting her head in her hand, dreaming of the possibility of dancing with him that very evening.
“They are quite perfect.” Except you weren’t talking about his eyes, but the identical ones he shared with his sister.
Eventually, the morning luncheon began to thin out. Families heading home, and dozens of girls excitedly planning their gowns for tonight's ball. You had said your goodbyes to Claudia and some of the other girls, and even sent Alexander a wave as you stepped into your family's carriage.
You were drowning. Like a strawberry falling into a pot of melted fondue chocolate… or like a sailor stuck in a siren’s bright blue waters. And you hadn’t even attended a ball… yet.
an: i promise ur actually going to interact with billie in this series LOL. i have to get all the world building out of the way first but i promise she’ll be here soonnnnnn🥺🤭
babe i have the greatest idea, so… 2000’s ellie and reader. reader is just this girly, bitchy, always wearing juicy couture or the shortest skirts and thank tops, alwyas getting detention for her outfits girl and ellie is a nerdy, trouble maker, science obsessed, no one knows how but kinda popular nerd. you can go wherever you want with this but i imagined it that they are hiding around just to make out, because being gay and stuff, not that they are embarrassed but they don’t want the whole school to see them making out and they hide in a barth room and make out, some funny stuff, giggles and ykyk they are teenagers so it’s all super funny to them and messy, and they forget to lock the barth room stall and dina and jessie walk in on them. I have no idea but it’s so funny to me, the concept of this interaction..
i love your writing and i know you will do an amazing job💞💞
hello, hello?
⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚ ⋅ 𐙚₊ ୨୧𓊆ྀི🐆𓊇ྀི
is anyone home?
nerd!Ellie x popular!reader
warnings! making out
0.9k words!
Time ran slow here. The ticking on the wall was the only thing keeping you sane. You were stuck in detention. Not for skipping class or cursing at a teacher, no, you were in detention for the dumbest reason on the planet: dress code. You fidgeted with the sleeves of the sweatshirt that you had to put on from the lost and found, or else you would get another day's worth of detention.
The hour hand finally reached 4, and you were released. You quickly pull off the hoodie that smelled like it hadn’t been washed in a few days. And head down the hallway to the bathroom, your heels echoed through the corridor. The after-school programs were ending, so there were people still lingering throughout the halls, staying behind to work on their projects.
You make your way to the teacher's bathroom, a one-stall and lockable bathroom, usually closed off for students but open after hours. You reapply your lipstick, swiping off the excess on your upper and lower lip. Examining your false lashes, making sure none looked out of place. The front door to the bathroom swung open.
“Sorry,” The girl says, resting her skateboard on the trash can, just next to the door. “I didn’t know that anyone was in here.” You turn to look at the figure who just interrupted you. Once you finally make eye contact, it is none other than Ellie Williams.
“How long do you stare at your reflection?” Ellie continues, taking off her backpack that's decorated with space and science pins. You roll your eyes and refocus on the scratched mirror.
“Not as much as you stare at me,” You laugh at her. Ellie makes a mocking laugh, putting on a higher-pitched voice before opening the stall bathroom. You lean on the sink and pull out your phone. Looking at what people have posted online, checking myspace. You then open the camera app taking several selfies. Adjusting your tank top so it showed just the right amount of cleavage.
“Geez,” You move your phone out of your eyesight to focus on the brown haired girl in front of you. She was practically frozen in place, eyes locked in on you. You move over so that she could wash her hands.
“Did anybody see you come in after me,” You ask her, muffled by the sounds of the sink.
Ellie shakes her head while scrubbing her hands with soap. You let out a sigh of relief. You don’t mean to keep the two of you a secret. You’re just worried about what everyone else will think of you, not that it matters. You were private about your relationships before but this was different. You were lost in thought until the airdryer came on. You watch as Ellie’s hands move as she dries her ring clad hands.
“Now you’re the one staring,” Ellie smirks.
“Shut up,” You exclaim. She smiles at you as she walks closer. Her eyes are hungry as she comes forward. When she’s finally face to face with you, your lips instantly join together moving in sync.
“Missed you,” You admit, words barely getting out as your lips are connected with hers. You brace yourself as she pushes you up against the wall, gripping tightly against her flannel covered arms. Her hands hold on your bare hips, the bit of exposed skin where your tank top isn’t covering. You yelp as your body shivers at the cold metal of her rings.
Ellie snickers as she moves one of her hands closer to your ass. That only makes you want to kiss her harder. Her body pushes you up even more causing you to lift your feet off the ground and be supported by Ellie's body to keep you up. You let your tongue slowly slip into her mouth, lip gloss getting even more messy. You arch your back as she moves down your chin to that sweet spot under your ear. You feel her breath tickle the hairs down your neck. She inhales your sweet scent, glad you remembered to put perfume just under your ear. You sigh blissfully as your legs wrap around her waist, grinding up against her belt buckle, hitting just the right spot.
Ellie's moans were then interrupted by the click of the restroom door. Squinting at the fluorescent light coming through the hallway. Quickly you scramble off her and wipe off the smeared lipstick. Your body tenses up and goes hot. The whole school is going to find out. It wasn’t until your eyes adjusted to the lighting to see a familiar face. The laughs of a girl with messy tangled black hair, with a gleaming smile and a tall, muscular boy with the same smile plastered on his face, engulfed with each other. It was Ellie's friend, Dina, who you have english with. Nerdy girl, who’s also a part of the robotics club and track team. And Jesse, annoying jock who interrupts your history class to make the same obnoxious jokes. Two people who you wouldn’t expect to be together.
Dina’s flushed cheeks are highlighted by the bright bathroom light. “O-oh!,” she coughs. The four of you relax. It could’ve been worse, a teacher, the janitor, or one of your teammates from the cheer team. You drop your shoulders and smoothen out your skirt before Dina speaks again.
“We didn’t know anyone was in here,”
-
hi guys! thank u for being so patient and for all the requests. im so glad that you enjoy my writing :)
