𝑨𝒏𝒂’𝒔 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆
✧ M.LIST ✧ ✧ T.LIST ✧ ✧ RULES ✧
MY REQUESTS ARE OPENED!!!🪽
⊹𝜗ৎ ⋆˚◌。⋆.
— ANGEL 18, angelic, dom, 16+ blog, ellie's mistress, sc, brunette, 50% angel 50% dolly, pussy muncher
𝐸𝒩𝒥𝒪𝒴 𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝒴

izzy's playlists!

shark vs the universe

Origami Around
Sweet Seals For You, Always
tumblr dot com
ojovivo

blake kathryn
Show & Tell

oozey mess
we're not kids anymore.

No title available
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

tannertan36
trying on a metaphor

roma★

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Today's Document
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

if i look back, i am lost

★
seen from Romania

seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from India

seen from United States

seen from Hong Kong SAR China

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from Slovenia
seen from Türkiye

seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Philippines

seen from Türkiye

seen from T1

seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
@saintofdecayyy
𝑨𝒏𝒂’𝒔 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆
✧ M.LIST ✧ ✧ T.LIST ✧ ✧ RULES ✧
MY REQUESTS ARE OPENED!!!🪽
⊹𝜗ৎ ⋆˚◌。⋆.
— ANGEL 18, angelic, dom, 16+ blog, ellie's mistress, sc, brunette, 50% angel 50% dolly, pussy muncher
𝐸𝒩𝒥𝒪𝒴 𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝒴
no one understands how much i love boobies, like ass is lowk overrated as hellll, tits have always been superior, maybe it’s bc like i don’t much of my own but damn as soon as catch a glimpse of a woman’s boobs i’m an absolute pervertttt, i need to ride some girls tits tonight🥹🪽 -angel
"how do you even know you like women?" the same fucking way you know like men. fuck off.
underboob. side boob. cleavage. nipples poking through the fabric. you agree
the dreams of her and I
₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
summary: billie commits assault over a situationship that ended years ago and somehow still thinks she’s the reasonable one. 🖤
cw: violence,obsessive behavior,thug!billie,toxic yuri,SMUT,EXPLICIT CONTENT,16+,rough sex,
the warehouse smelled like rust and old money. billie leaned back against the table, black hair catching the flickering fluorescent light as she watched amy count out bills with shaky hands. the deal was simple,product for cash, no conversation necessary.
but your ex sitiationship, amy just couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“you know,” she said, sliding the money across the table, “i used to fuck your girl so good she’d forget her own name.”
billie’s jaw tightened. she didn’t move, didn’t blink. just stared.
amy smirked, emboldened by the silence. “she’d beg for it. you know how she sounds when she begs, right? or does she even do that for you anymore?”
billie’s rings caught the light as her hand curled into a fist.
“i mean, i’m just saying—” amy leaned forward, voice dripping with false sympathy. “she was mine first. i know her body better than you ever will. every spot that makes her—”
billie moved.
the first punch cracked across amy’s jaw, snapping her head sideways. she stumbled back, eyes wide with shock, but billie was already there. another hit to the ribs, hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. amy tried to swing back but billie caught her wrist and twisted, slamming her against the concrete wall.
“say her name again,” billie growled, landing another punch to her stomach. “i fucking dare you.”
amy crumpled, sliding down the wall with blood trickling from her nose. billie stepped back, shaking out her hand, breathing hard through her teeth. she grabbed the duffel bag and walked out without looking back.
you were sprawling on the couch in just your bra and underwear, scrolling through your phone when you heard the front door slam. billie walked in with her hood up, hands shoved deep in her pockets, moving like a storm cloud.
“hey, baby—” you sat up, and that’s when you saw it. blood on her knuckles. a bruise blooming across her cheekbone. split skin over her rings.
“billie, what the fuck?”
“chill,it’s nothing.” she tried to walk past you but you caught her wrist.
“that’s not nothing. sit down.”
she hesitated, eyes flicking over your body,the bare skin, the curve of your hips in those underwear she loved. then she dropped onto the couch with a heavy exhale, legs spread wide.
you grabbed the first aid kit and knelt between her thighs, reaching for her damaged hand. her knuckles were a mess,skin torn open, already swelling purple.
“tell me what happened,” you said softly, dabbing antiseptic on the wounds.
“don’t worry about it.”
her other hand landed on your bare thigh, fingers splaying across your skin. warm. possessive. you tried to focus on cleaning her knuckles, but her thumb started tracing slow circles on your inner thigh, moving higher.
“billie—”
“keep going,” she murmured, eyes dark as they tracked over your body. “i’m not stopping you.”
you wrapped gauze around her hand, hyper-aware of her touch sliding higher, teasing the edge of your underwear. her breathing had changed,deeper, more deliberate.
“you’re hurt,” you said, but your voice came out breathy.
“i’m fine.” her hand squeezed your thigh, pulling you closer between her legs. “better now.”
her other hand came up to your waist, fingers tracing the band of your underwear. you could feel the tension radiating off her,something raw and unsettled, like she needed to touch you, needed to feel you under her hands.
“what happened?” you asked again, softer this time.
before she could answer, your phone buzzed violently on the coffee table. then again. and again.
you reached for it and billie’s grip tightened on your thigh, but you were already opening instagram. your feed exploded with tags and stories,shaky video footage of billie walking away from someone on the ground, blood visible even in the dim warehouse lighting.
your stomach dropped.
“you fought my ex?” you looked up at her, phone still in your hand. “are you fucking kidding me right now?”
billie leaned back, that familiar defiance settling over her features. “yeah. so?”
“so?” you stood up, anger flaring hot. “so you can’t just—people are posting this everywhere, billie!”
“don’t care.” she shrugged, maddeningly casual. “she had it coming.”
“that’s not the point—”
“then what is the point?” billie stood too, crowding into your space. “she was talking shit about you. about us. what, you wanted me to just stand there and take it?”
“i wanted you to not assault someone!”
“nah.” billie’s voice dropped, cold and sharp. “she needed to learn. and now she knows.”
“knows what?”
“that you’re not hers anymore.” she stepped closer, backing you against the wall. “that she doesn’t get to talk about you like that. like she still has any fucking claim.”
“you’re insane—”
“maybe.” her hand came up to your jaw, tilting your face up. “but i don’t give a fuck. she said she used to fuck you better than me.” her thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “that true?”
heat flooded through you despite your anger. “that’s not—”
“answer me.”
“no,” you breathed.
“no what?”
“no one fucks me like you do.”
something dangerous flashed in her eyes. “damn right.”
she kissed you hard, all teeth and tongue and barely controlled aggression. her hands grabbed your ass, lifting you up, and your legs wrapped around her waist automatically. she carried you to the bedroom and dropped you on the bed, standing over you with that silver hair falling into her eyes.
“take those off.” she nodded at your underwear.
“billie—”
“now.”
you obeyed, sliding them down your legs, and she watched like a predator. she stripped off her hoodie and sports bra, revealing tattooed skin and toned muscle. when she climbed over you, her bandaged hand pressed into the mattress beside your head.
“you’re mine,” she said simply. “say it.”
“yours.”
“again.”
“i’m yours, billie—”
she kissed down your neck, biting hard enough to leave marks, her hand sliding between your thighs. you were already wet and she groaned when she felt it.
“fuck, look at you.” two fingers pushed inside without warning and you gasped, arching up into her. “this pussy’s mine. you hear me?”
“yes—god, yes—”
she fucked you hard, fingers curling and stroking, her thumb finding your clit with devastating precision. the gauze on her knuckles was rough against your inner thigh, a reminder of what she’d done, who she’d hurt for you.
“she said she knew your body?” billie’s voice was rough, possessive. “she doesn’t know shit. i know exactly how to make you fall apart.”
she proved it, working you higher and higher until you were trembling beneath her, desperate and needy. her mouth closed around your nipple, sucking hard, and you cried out.
“that’s it, baby. let me hear you.”
“billie—fuck—i’m gonna—”
“come for me. right fucking now.”
your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure so intense your vision whited out. billie worked you through it, fingers still moving, drawing it out until you were shaking and oversensitive.
she pulled out slowly and brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact. “best thing i ever tasted.”
before you could catch your breath, she was moving down your body, pushing your thighs apart. her tongue dragged through your folds and you nearly sobbed from the sensitivity.
“billie, i can’t—”
“you can.” she looked up at you, eyes dark and determined. “you’re gonna come on my tongue and scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to.”
she buried her face between your thighs, licking and sucking with single-minded focus. her tongue fucked into you while her nose pressed against your clit, and the sensation was overwhelming. you grabbed her hair, grinding against her face, and she moaned into you.
“billie—billie—fuck—billie—”
you came again, thighs clamping around her head, and she didn’t stop until you were pushing her away, too wrecked to take anymore.
she crawled back up your body, kissing you deep and dirty, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. when she pulled back, her lips were swollen and glistening.
“mine,” she said, like it was the simplest truth in the world.
you pulled her down into another kiss, tasting possession and promise and the faint copper of split knuckles. “yours.”
she settled beside you, pulling you against her chest. her bandaged hand rested on your hip, thumb tracing lazy patterns on your skin.
outside, your phone kept buzzing with notifications about the fight. but neither of you moved to check it.
let them talk. let them post their videos and their gossip.
you were hers, and she’d proven it in blood and bruises and the way she made you forget your own name.
just like she always did.
🪽TAGLIST:@xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird @hellsofhearts02 @bumasslesbian @b1lsvrq @zxillie @alwaysbillies-blog @cherry-kissesxox @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf
i was born in the right generation. i fcking LOVE lesbian smut
ྀིྀི ❤︎ᩙ᜔ 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥
summary: you spiral over whether she still wants you, she reassures you instantly, and the doubt melts into intense closeness that leaves you feeling secure and wanted again.
cw: clingy!reader,SMUT,EXPLICT CONTENT,praise,16+
“you’ve been weird lately.”
ellie’s watching you over her coffee cup. direct. no bullshit.
you bite your lip. “i’m fine.”
“try again.”
the words tumble out. “do you still… i mean, are you still into this? into me?”
her eyebrows shoot up. “babe. what?”
“maybe you want someone less—”
“stop.” she sets her cup down, walking over. she cups your face gently. “look at me.”
you do. her green eyes are warm.
“i want you. every single day. you’re stuck with me.”
relief floods through you, and suddenly you’re grinning. “yeah?”
“yeah.” she’s smiling back.
you press closer, hands sliding up her arms. “so like… you still think i’m hot?”
she laughs. “are you serious right now?”
“i just wanna make sure.” you’re already tugging at her shirt. “because i’ve been thinking about you all day and—”
“oh my god.” she’s grinning. “you’re insatiable.”
“only for you.” you kiss her neck, eager. “please? i need you so bad.”
her hands grip your hips. “bedroom. now.”
you practically skip there, and she’s laughing as she follows.
she strips you slowly, and you’re whining before she’s even done. “ellie, please—”
“patience, baby.”
“but i want you.” you reach for her. “can i touch you? please?”
“god, you’re so fucking cute.” she guides you to your knees. “you wanna make me feel good?”
“yes! oh my god, yes.” you’re already helping her out of her jeans, eager and clumsy. “i love doing this for you.”
when she’s bare, you don’t tease,you dive in enthusiastically, moaning against her immediately.
“fuck—” her hand tangles in your hair. “just like that, baby. you’re so good at this.”
you work harder at the praise, desperate to please her. when she comes, she’s gripping your hair, breathing hard as you stay close.
“did i do good?” you’re looking up at her with wide eyes.
“so good.” she pulls you up, kissing you deeply. “my perfect girl. now get on the bed.”
you scramble onto it, spreading your legs immediately. “like this?”
“exactly like that.” she settles her fingers between your thighs and slides in, pumping them in and out of your tight hole, and you gasp at the feeling. “look how worked up you are for me.”
“i can’t help it.” you’re already rocking your hips. “you make me so—oh fuck—”
she keeps you there, voice soft and steady. “more?”
“yes! please, more—” you’re babbling as she continues, working your cunt open, now fucking you with 3 fingers, you’re shaking under her touch. “oh my god, ellie, that feels so good—”
“you take me so well.” her hand tightens at your hip. “such a good girl for me.”
“i wanna be good for you.” you’re trembling already. “wanna make you happy—”
“you do, baby. you make me so happy.” she kisses you harder. “you’re perfect.”
you’re close embarrassingly fast, whimpering and desperate. “can i come? please can i—”
“not yet.” she slows you down and you whine. “turn over for me.”
you obey immediately, looking back at her. “like this?”
“perfect.” she guides you, and you gasp at the shift in angle, overwhelmed. “you look so good like this.”
“really?” you’re breathless, pushing back slightly. “you like me like this?”
“i love you like this.” her hand steadies you. “love watching you fall apart for me.”
“i’m so close—” you’re shaking. “please, ellie, i need—”
“tell me what you need.”
“you! i need you, please let me come, i’ve been so good—”
“you have been.” she doesn’t stop. “come for me, baby.”
you do, overwhelmed, falling apart completely as she holds you through it.
when you finally collapse, she pulls you into her arms.
“better?” she murmurs.
you nod, grinning dopily. “so much better.”
“good.” she squeezes you. “you’re never getting rid of me, you know that?”
“promise?”
“promise.” she’s smiling. “my perfect girl.”
you snuggle closer. “can we go again in like… five minutes?”
she laughs. “make it ten and you’ve got a deal.”
“deal!”
🪽TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird @hellsofhearts02 @bumasslesbian @maybelu7 @b1lsvrq @zxillie @alwaysbillies-blog @cherry-kissesxox @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf
݁ . ⊹ ₊ 𝓉aste test
summary: ellie pranks you into thinking she won’t share a spoon, only to reveal she was messing with you the whole time
cw: slightly suggestive
“okay, this one first.” ellie set down three pints of ice cream on the kitchen counter,salted caramel, mint chip, and some fancy honeycomb flavor she’d been dying to try. she pulled out a single spoon with a flourish. “we’re doing this right. sharing one spoon, rating each one.”
“very scientific,” you said, amused.
“exactly.” she gestured at the salted caramel. “ladies first.”
you dipped the spoon in and tasted it. rich, smooth, perfectly balanced. “oh wow. that’s like a nine.”
“my turn.” ellie held out her hand.
you passed her the spoon,and watched as she grabbed a paper towel, wiped it off completely, then dipped it into the ice cream.
you blinked. “did you just… wipe the spoon?”
“hmm?” ellie looked up, already tasting. “oh yeah. mmm, okay, i’d give it an eight. the salt’s a bit much.”
that was… weird. but maybe she just wanted it clean? you shrugged it off and reached for the mint chip. “this one’s too minty. six out of ten.”
you handed the spoon back to ellie.
she took it, pulled the paper towel over again, and wiped it down before taking her taste.
“wait.” you stared at her. “you did it again.”
“did what?” ellie’s expression was perfectly innocent.
“the wiping thing! you wiped the spoon again!”
“just keeping it clean, babe.” she considered the mint chip thoughtfully. “i’d say seven. it’s not that minty.”
“but we’re sharing the spoon.” your confusion was rapidly turning into something else,something that felt uncomfortably like hurt. “why do you need to wipe it between us?”
“hygiene?” ellie offered, but there was something in her voice. something amused.
you grabbed the honeycomb ice cream, suddenly feeling weirdly self-conscious. the flavor barely registered as you tasted it, too focused on what would happen next. you passed the spoon to ellie and watched,really watched,as she pulled the paper towel over and wiped it clean.
“okay, seriously.” your voice came out smaller than intended, tinged with genuine confusion and a hint of hurt. “why do you keep wiping it? do you… not want to eat after me or something?”
you felt ridiculous even asking, but the pattern was too obvious to ignore now. every single time you used the spoon, she wiped it before she would use it. like she didn’t want to share with you. like—
“oh my god.” ellie’s face broke into a grin, and suddenly she was laughing. “your face right now.”
“what?” you felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassment mixing with confusion.
“i was messing with you!” she set down the spoon, still laughing. “the whole time. i wanted to see how long it would take you to notice, and then you got that confused little pout and i just—” she dissolved into into giggles..
you stared at her. “you were pranking me?”
“yes! and you fell for it completely!” ellie looked delighted with herself. “you looked so confused every time. so cute.”
“that’s not—” the confusion crystallized into indignation. “that’s not funny!”
“it’s a little funny.”
“it’s not!” you crossed your arms, fully pouting now. “you made me think you didn’t want to share with me! like you were grossed out or something!”
“aw, baby—”
“no!” you turned away from her, playing it up but genuinely annoyed underneath. “you’re mean. that was mean.”
“i’m creative,” ellie corrected, and you could hear the smile in her voice.
“you’re terrible.” you kept your arms crossed, refusing to look at her even as you felt her move closer. “the worst girlfriend ever.”
“the worst?” ellie’s hands found your hips, and suddenly she was right behind you, her warmth seeping into your back. “that’s pretty harsh.”
“it’s true.” but your voice came out less firm than intended, especially when her hands slid around to your stomach.
“you know what i think?” her lips brushed your ear, and you suppressed a shiver. “i think you’re not actually that mad.”
“i am,” you insisted, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.
“i think—” ellie turned you around to face her, and her eyes were dark with amusement and something else. ”—you’re just being bratty because you like when i make it up to you.”
“i don’t—”
but she was already kissing you, deep and sure and absolutely in control. your protest died in your throat, replaced by a small sound of surrender as her hands tightened on your hips.
“still mad?” she murmured against your lips.
“very,” you breathed, but your hands were already fisting in her shirt, pulling her closer.
“liar.” she kissed you again, harder this time, backing you up against the counter. her tongue swept into your mouth, claiming, possessive, and you melted into it despite yourself.
“ellie—” you gasped when she moved to your neck, finding that spot that always made you weak.
“say you forgive me.” her hands slid under your shirt, warm against your skin.
“no,” you managed, stubborn even as you arched into her touch.
“no?” she bit down gently on your pulse point, and you whimpered. “try again.”
“you’re—” but she kissed you again before you could finish, deep and devastating, and when she pulled back you were breathless and flushed and completely undone.
“i’m what?” her smile was wicked.
“terrible,” you whispered, but you were pulling her back in for another kiss. “the worst.”
“but you love me anyway.” it wasn’t a question.
“unfortunately,” you admitted against her mouth, and she laughed, soft and affectionate.
“fortunately,” she corrected, and kissed you again until you forgot why you were supposed to be mad in the first place.
the ice cream melted, forgotten on the counter. but neither of you noticed, too busy with a different kind of sweetness entirely.
🪽TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird @hellsofhearts02 @bumasslesbian @maybelu7 @b1lsvrq @zxillie @alwaysbillies-blog @cherry-kissesxox @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf
if you haven’t yet comment “🪽” to be added to my taglist
hiiiii not a request just a question. Is the Ellie content ever gonna make a comeback or do you just write Billie now? No pressure or anything I'm just curious <3
hello!!, to answer your question, ofc ellie content is gonna be back!!!, i luv her sm and i love writing for her even more but i think i’ve exhausted myself from writing anything else about her right now but i do have a couple of ideas of sum fun oneshots!, im just taking a break to explore other people and im trying to expand my writing style!!, ellie content will be back soon!!
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐌𝐞
summary: a girl hits on you at a party, billie gets jealous and fucks you when you get home
cw: SMUT, EXPLICIT CONTENT,thug!billie,sub!reader
ೀ angel’s note!🗒️~ bro that gif of billie has my shit pulsing in morse code, BRING THUG BILLIE BACK!!🥹
The music is shit.
You’re not just saying that because Billie’s standing beside you, radiating a low-key aura of “I’m about to commit a felony,” though that’s definitely contributing. It’s objectively bad. A sonic assault. But it’s Chelsea’s birthday, and you’re wearing this new dress that makes you feel good, so you’re trying to have a good time.
Billie, on the other hand, looks like she’s being forced to watch a tax audit live. She’s leaning against the wall, a pillar of brooding energy in her oversized black hoodie. Her hands are tucked away, but you know they’re probably fidgeting with her rings or keys. She hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you got here, which is both head-spinningly hot and a little bit like being under the protection of a very grumpy, very stylish guard dog.
Your red cup is mostly sticky lemonade, and you’re listening to Chelsea animatedly tell a story about her cat, when someone slides up next to you.
“Hey,” a girl’s voice says, close to your ear. She smells like fruity perfume and something sharper, like tequila. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
You turn. She’s pretty, in a polished, intentional way. Dark hair, a bright smile, a dress that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe combined. Her eyes do a slow, obvious sweep down your body and back up. You take a small, instinctive step back, your back almost brushing against Billie’s solid warmth behind you.
“Oh, uh, hi,” you manage. “I’m just here for Chelsea.”
“Right, the birthday girl,” she says, not even glancing at Chelsea. Her focus is a laser beam on you. “I’m Jasmine.” She doesn’t offer her hand, just leans in a little closer. “Can I get you another drink? That one looks empty.”
“It’s not,” you say, a little too quickly. You hold up the cup. “I’m good.”
“You sure? ‘Cause I make a mean tequila sunrise.”
From behind you, you feel it. That shift in the air. The subtle tightening of Billie’s posture. You don’t even have to look to know her jaw is set, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The temperature around you seems to drop about ten degrees.
Jasmine either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. She laughs, a light, tinkling sound. “Don’t be shy. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”
That’s it. That’s the line. You feel Billie start to push off the wall, a low growl building in her chest that you feel more than hear.
Nope. Not tonight.
Before she can take a full step, you turn around, pressing your free hand flat against the hard plane of her chest, right over her heart. Her hoodie is soft, but you can feel the furious beat underneath. Her blue eyes are stormy, fixed on the girl behind you.
“Hey,” you say, your voice soft but firm, a private sound just for her. Her gaze finally drops to yours, and the intensity there is enough to make your knees weak. “Look at me.”
For a second, she doesn’t. Her jaw works, the muscle flexing. She’s a loaded weapon, and you’re the only one who can unload her.
“Billie,” you whisper, your thumb stroking over her chest. “Eyes on me.”
Slowly, reluctantly, her focus shifts. The storm in her eyes doesn’t break, but it narrows, centering on you. On your face. On your lips. Good. That’s better.
“She’s nothing,” you murmur, leaning in so your lips brush her ear. “She’s a joke. You know who I’m with.”
You feel the tension in her body coil, ready to spring. You can’t let that happen. Your hand slides from her chest up to the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in the baby hairs at her nape. You pull her down, or maybe she meets you halfway, and you kiss her.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a claim. A branding. You pour everything into it—your want, your loyalty, the fact that no one, no pretty girl with tequila promises, comes close to the electric current that runs between you. You nip at her bottom lip, soothe it with your tongue, and feel a shudder run through her entire body.
When you pull back, she’s breathing hard, her pupils blown wide. The anger is still there, but it’s been eclipsed by something else. Something darker, hungrier.
“We’re leaving,” she says. Her voice is a low rasp, a command, not a suggestion.
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She grabs your hand, her grip firm and possessive, and pulls you away from the wall, away from Chelsea’s confused look, away from Jasmine’s startled expression. You push through the crowd, a flash of black hoodie and your tiny dress, and out the front door into the cool night air.
The drive home is silent. The engine of her car hums, the only sound besides your own thrumming heart. She drives a little too fast, her knuckles white on the steering wheel, her other hand locked with yours in your lap. She doesn’t look at you, but you can feel her. The anger has crystallized into something else, something potent and focused entirely on you.
The second you’re inside your apartment, the door slamming shut behind you, she’s on you. The bag with your dress from earlier falls from your shoulder, forgotten on the floor. She pins you against the door, her hands framing your face, her body pressing into yours. There’s no gentleness, no preamble. Her kiss is punishing, desperate, a mix of leftover anger and pure, unadulterated lust. She tastes like mint and the faint trace of the shitty lemonade you’d been drinking.
“Did you like it?” she pants against your lips, her hands moving down to grip your hips, her fingers digging into your flesh. “Her attention? Did it make you feel good?”
The question is a taunt, a test. You know what she wants to hear.
“No,” you gasp as her mouth moves to your neck, her teeth scraping over your pulse point. “It was annoying. I only want you.”
That’s the answer she needs. With a groan, she hauls you up, your legs automatically wrapping around her waist. She carries you like you weigh nothing, her hands gripping your ass, heading straight for the bedroom. She doesn’t bother with the light, just dumps you onto the bed.
You land in a tangle of limbs, bouncing slightly on the mattress. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch her. She stands at the foot of the bed, her chest heaving, her silhouette stark in the moonlight filtering through the window. She yanks her hoodie over her head, tossing it aside, revealing the simple black sports bra underneath and the intricate web of tattoos on her arms and torso. She looks like a fucking goddess. A vengeful, beautiful goddess who’s about to ruin you.
“Lose the dress,” she commands. Her voice is low, rough.
You don’t hesitate. You sit up, reach behind you to pull the zipper, and shimmy out of the thin fabric. It pools around your waist, leaving you in just your black lace panties. Her eyes sweep over you, dark and hungry.
“All of it,” she says, taking a step closer. “I want you naked. Now.”
You hook your thumbs into your panties and slide them down your legs, kicking them off. You’re completely exposed to her, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin. She reaches out, her fingers tracing the line of your hip, her touch leaving a trail of fire.
“Look at you,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “So fucking pretty. All mine.”
She kneels on the bed, crawling over you, caging you in with her arms. Her hair falls around you, creating a private, shadowed world. She lowers her head, her lips hovering just above yours.
“Gonna show you who you belong to,” she whispers—and then she kisses you again, a deep, filthy kiss that steals the air from your lungs. One of her hands slides down your stomach, through the curls at the apex of your thighs, finding you already wet and wanting.
She doesn’t tease. She doesn’t hesitate. Two of her long, deft fingers push inside you in one smooth, deliberate stroke. You arch off the bed with a choked cry, your hands flying to her shoulders to hold on.
“Fuck,” you gasp. “Billie.”
“Yeah,” she grunts, starting a slow, punishing rhythm. “That’s it. Say my name. Let everyone know who’s fucking you.”
She sets a devastating pace, her palm grinding against your clit with each thrust. Her other hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. Her mouth is everywhere, on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw, sucking marks into your skin, little purple bruises that scream possession.
“She couldn’t make you feel like this,” she pants against your ear, her fingers crooking inside you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. “No one can. Only me.”
She’s right. She’s so fucking right. Every nerve ending is on fire, electricity zinging through your veins. You can feel the tension coiling in your belly, a tight, winding spring.
“Please,” you whimper, completely lost to it. “Please, Billie. I’m close.”
“What do you want, baby?” she asks, her voice a wicked taunt. “Use your words.”
“You,” you gasp, your hips bucking to meet her hand. “I want you to make me come. Please, I need it.”
“Good girl.”
She shifts, moving down your body, her fingers never stopping their relentless assault. You feel her breath on your inner thigh, a hot, wet promise. And then her mouth is on you, her tongue replacing her palm on your clit.
The sensation is overwhelming. The dual stimulation is too much, not enough. Her tongue is clever and insistent, swirling and flicking, her lips sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re babbling now, a stream of nonsense and her name, your hands fisted in the sheets.
“That’s it,” she murmurs against you, the vibrations sending another jolt through you. “Come for me. Let go. Show me who you belong to.”
With a final, desperate cry, you shatter. The orgasm rips through you, blinding and all-consuming. Your back bows, your thighs shaking, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. She works you through it, her fingers and tongue slowing, drawing out every last drop of sensation until you’re a boneless, gasping mess on the bed.
When you finally come back to yourself, she’s hovering over you, a smirk playing on her lips. Her chin is glistening. She looks smug. Satisfied. Like a predator that’s just devoured its prey.
She leans down and kisses you, deep and slow, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.
“Mine,” she whispers against your lips, a final, possessive claim.
And you are. Completely. Utterly. Hers.
🪽TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird @hellsofhearts02 @bumasslesbian @maybelu7 @b1lsvrq @zxillie @alwaysbillies-blog @cherry-kissesxox @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf
comment “🪽” to be added or removed from my taglist
You Can Be The Boss, Mommy🪽
MOMMY!billie headcannons 🪽—Billie{47} —Reader{25}
❤︎mommy!billie who has a permanent, subtle flush on her chest and neck that deepens when she's turned on, a little giveaway she can't control when you walk into a room.
❤︎mommy!billie whose kitchen always smells like vanilla and cinnamon, and who makes you breakfast in bed wearing nothing but one of your oversized band tees and a pair of tiny silk shorts that ride up her ass.
❤︎mommy!billie who moves you from one breast to the other, her movements fluid and sure. she's in complete control, a goddess providing for her most devoted princess
❤︎mommy!billie who has a thing for your scent, who will bury her face in the pillow you slept on, in the pile of your discarded clothes, and just inhale, her eyes rolling back in her head. "smells so fuckin' good," she'll groan to herself. "smells like mine."
❤︎mommy!billie who will fuck you in every room of the house, against every surface, with zero regard for the risk of being caught. the thrill of it makes her wet, makes her grip your hips tighter, bite your shoulder harder.
❤︎mommy!billie who has a strap for every mood—the sleek, small one for lazy mornings, the thick, curved one for when she wants to ruin you on all fours, and the vibrating one for when she wants to watch you fall apart from the inside out.
❤︎mommy!billie who has a designated "toy drawer" that's less a drawer and more a treasure chest of silicone, leather, and things that buzz. she knows exactly how to work every single one of them on you until you're a sobbing, overstimulated mess.
❤︎mommy!billie who "helps" you pick out outfits, but it's really just an excuse to run her hands all over your body, her breath hot on your neck as she mutters, "fuck, you look so good in this, mamas. but you'd look better on the floor with it around your ankles."
❤︎mommy!billie who buys you the most expensive, delicate lingerie, not just for you to wear, but for the sheer pleasure of peeling it off you with her teeth later.
❤︎mommy!billie who loves the feeling of your hands on her, kneading the soft flesh, your thumbs brushing over her nipples until she shudders, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "they're so full, mamas," she'll murmur, her voice hazy with pleasure. "so full for you."
❤︎mommy!billie who, late at night, after the passion has cooled, will trace the faint lines around her eyes with a melancholy finger. "still beautiful?" she'll ask, her voice a rare whisper of vulnerability in the dark.
❤︎mommy!billie who, after it's all over, after you're both spent and tangled in the sheets, will pull you into her arms. she doesn't let go. she'll press kisses to your sweat-damp hair, her hands running up and down your back in a soothing, possessive caress. she's the storm and the shelter, the wild desire and the quiet after. she's the milf, the mommy, the whore, and the queen. she's billie. and you are, and will always be, her mamas.
🪽TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird @hellsofhearts02 @bumasslesbian @maybelu7 @b1lsvrq @zxillie @alwaysbillies-blog @cherry-kissesxox @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf
comment “🪽” to be added to my taglist!
⋆.𐙚 ̊ 𝒰ltraviolence
summary: you get into an argument with bimbo!billie and make her cry, but you make it up to her by eating her out
word count: 2.2k
cw: SMUT,EXPLICIT CONTENT,bimbo!billie,dom!reader,swearing,accusing of cheating
The silence in the room was a living thing, coiling in the corners and pressing against the windows. Outside, the Los Angeles dusk was bleeding into bruised purple, but the atmosphere inside was all grey static. Billie stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a perfect silhouette against the dying light. Her curves were exaggerated in the glass reflection, the exaggerated hourglass you’d paid for, the plush, ridiculous tits straining against a thin camisole, the swell of her ass a soft mound beneath her tiny silk shorts. She was a statue of hedonism, all artificial perfection and soft, pliant flesh, and right now, she was the most infuriating thing you’d ever seen.
“He was just being friendly,” she said, her voice a low, syrupy purr that usually made your stomach clench with want. Tonight, it just scraped your nerves raw. She didn’t turn around.
“Friendly?” Your own voice was sharper than you intended, a shard of glass in the thick, quiet room. “Friendly was having his hand on your ass for ten solid minutes while you giggled like a fucking idiot?”
She flinched, a subtle tightening of her shoulders. Finally, she turned, and the full force of her hit you. Those huge, doe-like eyes, fringed with thick, dark lashes, were wide with feigned innocence. Her lips, inflated pillows of gloss, were parted slightly. She looked like a startled fawn, a very expensive, very well-fucked fawn.
“I didn’t giggle,” she countered, a pout forming on that perfect mouth. “And it was on my lower back. You’re being crazy.”
“Crazy.” The word landed between you, heavy and final. You took a step forward, the heels of your boots sinking into the plush cream carpet. “Don’t call me crazy. Not when you parade around like a piece of meat I’ve won at a fair, and then get surprised when other people want to take a bite.”
Her face crumpled, just for a second, a flicker of real hurt before the mask of petulance slid back into place. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“It’s the truth!” The shout ripped out of you, raw and ugly. The control you prided yourself on, the cool, collected dominance that kept her in line, it was fraying, snapping. You were on her in two strides, your hand shooting out not to hit her, never to hit her, but to grip her jaw, your fingers digging into the soft skin beneath her ear. You forced her head back, making her look at you.
“You love it,” you snarled, your face inches from hers. Her scent, cloying vanilla and something deeper, muskier, filled your lungs. “You love being looked at. You love knowing everyone wants you. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? The tits, the ass, the lips… it’s all a fucking advertisement. And the ad says ‘available.’”
Tears welled in her enormous eyes, spilling over and carving clean paths through the subtle foundation on her cheeks. She didn’t try to pull away. She just stood there, trembling, her plush bottom lip quivering. “I’m not,” she whispered, the word hitching on a sob. “I’m only for you.”
The sight of her crying, so beautifully broken, should have satisfied you. It should have quenched the fire in your gut. Instead, it only poured gasoline on it. Your grip on her jaw tightened, and you used your other hand to shove her, hard. She stumbled back, her legs hitting the edge of the chaise lounge and sending her sprawling onto it in a heap of soft limbs and trembling curves.
“Then act like it,” you hissed, towering over her. She looked up at you, a vision of ruined doll-like perfection, her camisole rucked up to reveal the smooth, tanned skin of her stomach, her silk shorts riding high on her thick thighs. And you hated her. You hated how much you wanted her, how the sight of her, crying and submissive, made your cunt throb with a violent, immediate need. You hated that you’d lost your temper, that you’d spoken to her like that, that you’d pushed her. The rage curdled, turning into something acrid and self-loathing in your throat.
You stared down at her, your chest heaving, the anger draining away and leaving a cold, hollow ache in its place. You saw the real fear now, not the performance of it, but the genuine, wide-eyed terror in her wet eyes. You’d gone too far.
“Billie,” you started, your voice hoarse, unrecognizable. “I—”
“Don’t,” she choked out, turning her face away from you, her arms wrapping around her midsection. A fresh wave of sobs shook her body. “Just leave me alone.”
But you couldn’t. Leaving her alone was the last thing you could do. The guilt was a physical weight, crushing you. You had to fix it. You had to put the pieces back together. Slowly, you lowered yourself to your knees on the floor beside the chaise, the plush carpet cushioning your descent. The shift in power was immediate, jarring. You, who were always in control, were now looking up at her, supplicant.
“Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft, a desperate attempt to smooth over the raw edges you’d created. You reached out a hesitant hand, not to grab or possess, but to gently stroke her hair. It was as soft as it looked, silken strands slipping through your fingers. “Billie, look at me. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, her face still buried in her arms. “You were mean.”
“I know,” you breathed, your fingers tracing the shell of her ear. “I was so mean. I’m sorry, baby. I got… jealous. I hate it when other people look at you.” It was a half-truth, but it was the part she needed to hear. You let your hand drift down, over the delicate slope of her shoulder, down her arm. Her skin was warm, alive. You could feel the fine tremor still running through her.
You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the flushed skin of her neck. You pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss there, a silent apology. She shuddered, but this time it wasn’t from fear. You felt the tension in her body begin to unspool, just a little. Encouraged, you kissed her again, lower this time, on the sensitive skin where her shoulder met her throat. Your tongue darted out to taste the salt of her dried tears.
“I want to make it up to you,” you whispered against her skin. Your hands moved to her waist, grip gentle, reverent. “Let me make it up to you.”
She finally lifted her head, her face a mess of blotchy skin and running mascara, but still, so devastatingly beautiful. Her huge, puffy eyes searched yours. “How?”
A sliver of relief cut through the suffocating guilt. You gave her a small, crooked smile. Your hands slid from her waist to her thighs, your palms smoothing over the warm, yielding flesh. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of her silk shorts.
“Let me,” you said again, your gaze dropping to her lips, then lower, to the apex of her thighs. “Please.”
She hesitated for a long moment, her puffy lips still pursed in a sulk, but the anger in her eyes was fading, being replaced by that familiar, hazy cloud of arousal that always descended when you looked at her like this. Like she was a feast you were about to devour. Finally, with a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, she gave in.
You didn’t waste a second. You peeled the tiny shorts down her legs, the silk whispering against her skin. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, of course. Her cunt was bare, smooth, and already glistening with a faint sheen of wetness. The sight of it made your mouth water. You pushed her legs apart, draping one over the back of the chaise, the other foot flat on the floor. She was open to you completely, exposed.
You didn’t start with her clit. That would be too easy, too fast. You wanted to worship her, to erase the ugliness of your anger with the beauty of your devotion. You leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of her knee, then another, higher up on her thigh. Her skin was impossibly soft, tasting of expensive lotion and her own unique sweetness. You could feel her muscles twitch under your lips, her breathing growing shallow.
“Still mad at me?” you murmured against her skin.
“Little bit,” she breathed, her voice already thick with desire. But her hand came down to rest on your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, urging you upward.
You smiled against her thigh and obliged, moving higher, your tongue tracing a delicate pattern on her skin. You could smell her now, that rich, intoxicating scent that drove you wild. You bypassed her cunt, instead moving to the soft crease where her thigh met her pelvis, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. She whimpered, her hips lifting off the chaise in a silent plea.
You looked up at her. Her head was thrown back, her dark hair a spill of silk against the cream fabric, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. She looked like a goddess, a fallen angel, a masterpiece of flesh and desire. And she was all yours.
Only then did you finally lower your head to her center. You flattened your tongue and gave her one long, slow lick from her entrance to her clit. She cried out, her fingers tightening in your hair, her back arching off the chaise. She tasted divine, like honey and salt and something uniquely, intoxicatingly Billie.
You started to eat her out in earnest then, your tongue exploring every fold and crevice of her. You lapped at her entrance, gathering her wetness on your tongue before plunging it inside her, fucking her with it. She ground her hips against your face, her movements growing more desperate, more erratic. You brought a hand up, your fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as your tongue continued to work inside her.
You could feel her getting close, her thighs trembling around your head, her breaths coming in short, sharp pants. Her moans were getting louder, more uninhibited, filling the room with the beautiful, wanton sounds of her pleasure. You looked up at her again, and the sight of her, lost in the throes of passion, her face contorted with ecstasy, was almost enough to make you come yourself.
“I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” she gasped, her words dissolving into a high-pitched keen as her orgasm crashed over her. Her entire body went rigid, her cunt clamping down on your tongue as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t stop, continuing to lick and suck at her through her orgasm, drawing it out, making it last as long as possible.
When she finally collapsed back onto the chaise, her body limp and spent, you gave her one last, gentle kiss on her clit before pulling away. Your face was wet with her, your lips swollen, your chin glistening. You crawled up her body, your movements slow and deliberate, and kissed her, letting her taste herself on your lips.
She kissed you back, her arms wrapping around your neck, pulling you closer. The kiss was slow, deep, and full of a million unspoken apologies. The anger was gone, the hurt forgotten, replaced by a deep, abiding love that was as terrifying as it was intoxicating.
You pulled away, resting your forehead against hers. “Are you still mad at me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “No,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “I forgive you.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You settled down beside her on the chaise, pulling her into your arms. She came willingly, curling into your side, her head on your chest. You could feel her heartbeat, a steady, reassuring rhythm against your own.
“I’m sorry,” you said again, your fingers tracing patterns on her back. “For what I said. For being… rough.”
She shifted, propping herself up on an elbow to look at you. Her huge, dark eyes were soft, the anger and hurt completely gone, replaced by a gentle understanding that made your chest ache. “I know,” she said, her fingers toying with a strand of your hair. “But you know I like it when you’re a little rough.”
You couldn’t help but smile. “A little,” you agreed, pulling her down for another kiss. This one was different, softer, more tender. It was a promise. A vow to do better, to be better.
When you pulled away, she was looking at you with a familiar glint in her eye. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for the guy at the party?”
You laughed, a real, genuine laugh that felt like sunshine after a storm. “You’re forgiven,” you said, your hand coming up to cup her cheek, your thumb stroking her skin. “But if I see another man’s hand on you, I can’t promise I won’t lose my shit again.”
She grinned, a wicked, mischievous grin that made your stomach flip.
“I know,”
🪽TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird @hellsofhearts02 @bumasslesbian @maybelu7 @b1lsvrq @zxillie @alwaysbillies-blog @cherry-kissesxox @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf
comment “🪽” to be added to my taglist
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ professor’s pet {B.E}
summary: you struggle to resist the constant flirtation and seduction from your student, billie eilish, until the attraction between you turns into a secret relationship that crosses every professional boundary.
word count: 2.8k
cw: power imbalance(professor & student), EXPLICIT CONTENT, sexual language, SMUT, obsession themes,bimbo!billie, dom!reader
you’d been teaching at the university for five years, and you’d never had a student quite like billie eilish.
it started innocently enough. she was bright, engaged in class discussions about modern literature. but then, about two weeks into the semester, something shifted.
the first day she showed up in a crop top that barely covered her breasts, you tried to ignore it. students dressed casually these days. but when she leaned forward to pick up her pen, deliberately, you were certain, giving you a full view down her shirt, you knew it wasn’t accidental.
the next class, it was worse. a white tank top, no bra, her nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric. a skirt so short that when she sat in the front row and crossed her legs, you could see the edge of her black panties.
you tried to focus on your lecture about postmodern narrative structures, but your eyes kept drifting to where billie sat, legs spread just enough to be provocative, her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt, pushing it higher.
“professor?” she called out, interrupting your discussion of unreliable narrators. “i don’t understand this part. can you explain it again?”
you’d just explained it. she was doing this on purpose.
“miss eilish, i just covered that. please pay attention.”
she bit her lip, a gesture so overtly sexual it made your stomach tighten. “sorry, professor. i guess i was… distracted.”
the way she said it, her eyes locked on yours, made it clear exactly what kind of distraction she meant.
it continued like this for days. each class, her outfits got more revealing. tiny shorts that showed the curve of her ass. sheer tops. skirts that rode up when she shifted in her seat, which she did constantly, always making sure you were watching.
and you were watching. god help you, you couldn’t stop watching.
she started acting out too. talking during lectures. showing up late, making a show of walking to her seat, her hips swaying. challenging your points in class discussions, not with genuine academic debate, but with a bratty attitude that demanded your attention.
“miss eilish, please see me after class,” you finally said one thursday, after she’d interrupted you for the third time.
her smile was triumphant. “yes, professor.”
when the other students filed out, she approached your desk slowly, deliberately. she was wearing a cropped sweater that showed her toned stomach and a pleated skirt that barely covered her ass.
“you wanted to see me?” she asked, her voice dripping with false innocence.
“your behavior in class has been disruptive,” you said, trying to maintain your professional composure. “and your attire is… inappropriate for an academic setting.”
she leaned against your desk, close enough that you could smell her perfume. “inappropriate? i’m just wearing what makes me comfortable, professor.”
“billie,”
“do i make you uncomfortable?” she asked, and there was nothing innocent about the way she said it. she reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm. “because you make me very… comfortable.”
you stepped back. “this is inappropriate. you need to maintain proper boundaries.”
“what if i don’t want boundaries?” she moved closer. “what if i want you to notice me? what if i’ve been dressing like this, acting like this, because i want you to see me?”
your heart was pounding. “miss eilish, you need to leave.”
she smiled, slow and knowing. “okay, professor. but we both know you’ve been looking. we both know you want this too.”
she left, and you stood there, your hands shaking, knowing she was absolutely right.
the next week was torture. billie ramped up her campaign of seduction to unbearable levels.
she started coming to your office hours, always with some flimsy excuse about assignments. she’d sit across from you, her legs crossed, her skirt riding up, asking questions she clearly already knew the answers to.
“i just don’t understand the symbolism here,” she’d say, leaning forward so her breasts pressed together, the neckline of her top revealing everything.
“i think you understand perfectly well,” you’d reply, trying not to stare.
“maybe i just like hearing you explain things,” she’d purr. “you’re so smart, professor. it’s really… sexy.”
you’d send her away, but the encounters left you frustrated and aching.
in class, she got bolder. she’d suck on her pen while maintaining eye contact with you. she’d stretch, her crop top riding up to show the underside of her breasts. once, she dropped her pencil and bent over to pick it up, her ass on full display, and you saw she wasn’t wearing any panties.
you nearly choked.
“are you okay, professor?” she asked sweetly, looking back at you from her bent position.
“fine,” you managed. “just… sit down, miss eilish.”
it all came to a head on a friday afternoon. you were in your office, grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.
“come in,” you called, not looking up.
the door opened and closed. you heard the lock click.
you looked up.
billie stood there in the tiniest dress you’d ever seen, if you could even call it a dress. it was black, tight, and barely covered her ass. the neckline plunged almost to her navel, showing off her breasts, her nipples hard against the thin fabric. she wore heels that made her legs look impossibly long.
“miss eilish, what,”
“i’m done playing games,” she said, walking toward your desk. “i’ve been throwing myself at you for weeks. i’ve dressed like a slut, i’ve acted out, i’ve done everything i can to make you see that i want you.”
“this is completely inappropriate,”
“i don’t care.” she came around your desk, standing between you and the wood. “i want you to fuck me. i’ve wanted it since the first day of class. i touch myself thinking about you. i get so wet in your lectures i have to change my panties after.”
“billie,” your voice was strained.
“tell me you don’t want me,” she challenged, moving closer. “tell me you haven’t been staring at my tits, at my ass. tell me you don’t get hard thinking about bending me over this desk.”
you couldn’t. you couldn’t say any of that because it would be a lie.
she straddled you in your chair, her dress riding up to her hips. she wasn’t wearing underwear. you could feel her heat against you.
“i want you so bad,” she whispered, her lips inches from yours. “i want you to use me. i want to be your little slut. please, professor. please fuck me.”
your resolve, already cracked and crumbling, finally shattered completely.
you grabbed her hips, pulling her against you, and kissed her hard. she moaned into your mouth, grinding against you, her hands in your hair.
“yes,” she gasped when you broke the kiss. “yes, fuck, finally.”
“not here,” you said, your voice rough with desire. “my place. tonight.”
she smiled, wicked and triumphant. “i’ll be there. and professor? i’m going to be such a good little whore for you.”
billie showed up at your door at eight o’clock wearing a long coat and heels. when you let her in and she dropped the coat, you saw she was wearing nothing but black lingerie, a lace bra that barely contained her breasts and a tiny thong.
“i’ve been thinking about this all day,” she said, pressing herself against you. “i’m so fucking wet already.”
you kissed her, hard and demanding, and she melted into you, moaning. your hands roamed her body, finally allowed to touch what you’d been fantasizing about for weeks. her skin was soft, warm. her ass was perfect, round and firm in your hands.
“bedroom,” you commanded, and she practically ran.
by the time you got there, she was on your bed, her bra already off, her breasts on full display. they were perfect, not too big, not too small, with pink nipples that were hard with arousal.
“do you like what you see, professor?” she asked, running her hands over her body. “do you like my tits? i’ve seen you staring at them in class.”
“you’re beautiful,” you admitted, moving to your dresser.
“what are you getting?” she asked, her voice eager.
you pulled out your harness and your favorite strap-on, thick, long, black silicone.
billie’s eyes went wide, and she actually moaned. “oh fuck. oh fuck, yes. i want that so bad. i want you to fuck me with that.”
you secured the harness, adjusting it, and when you turned back to her, she was on her knees on the bed, her thong discarded, completely naked.
“please,” she begged. “i’ve been such a bad girl. i’ve been such a slut for you. i need you to fuck me.”
you approached the bed, and she immediately reached for the strap, her hands wrapping around it, stroking it like it was real.
“can i suck it?” she asked, looking up at you with wide, eager eyes. “please, can i suck your cock?”
“go ahead, baby. show me what a good little slut you are.”
she moaned and took the strap into her mouth, her lips stretching around it. she looked obscene, beautiful, her eyes locked on yours as she bobbed her head, taking it deeper.
“that’s it,” you encouraged, your hand in her hair. “such a good girl. you love this, don’t you? you love being a whore for me.”
she moaned around the strap, the vibration traveling through the harness. she pulled off with a gasp. “i love it. i love being your slut. i want you to use me. i want you to fuck me so hard.”
“turn around,” you ordered. “on your hands and knees. show me that ass.”
she obeyed immediately, positioning herself, arching her back to present herself to you. her ass was incredible, round and perfect, and between her legs you could see how wet she was, her pussy glistening.
“look at you,” you said, running your hands over her ass, squeezing. “so wet and ready. you really are a little slut, aren’t you?”
“yes,” she gasped. “yes, i’m your slut. please, please fuck me. i need it so bad.”
you positioned yourself behind her, the tip of the strap pressing against her entrance. she was so wet you could feel it even through the silicone.
“beg for it,” you commanded.
“please,” she whimpered. “please fuck me, professor. i need your cock inside me. i’ve been such a bad girl, dressing like a whore in class, trying to seduce you. i need you to punish me. i need you to fuck me like the slut i am. please, please, please”
you thrust into her in one smooth motion, and she screamed.
“oh fuck! oh fuck, yes! yes!”
you started moving, fucking her hard and deep, your hands gripping her hips. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with her moans and cries.
“you feel so good,” you told her. “taking my cock so well. such a good little whore.”
“harder,” she begged. “fuck me harder. use me. i’m yours, i’m your slut, your whore, please”
you fucked her harder, faster, and she pushed back against you, meeting every thrust. her ass bounced with each impact, hypnotic and perfect.
“touch yourself,” you ordered. “make yourself come on my cock.”
her hand went between her legs, and within seconds she was crying out, her whole body shaking.
“i’m coming! oh fuck, i’m coming! don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
you didn’t stop. you fucked her through her orgasm and beyond, until she was a trembling, moaning mess.
“turn over,” you said, pulling out. “i want to see your face. i want to see those tits bounce while i fuck you.”
she flipped onto her back, her legs spread wide, her breasts heaving as she caught her breath. she looked absolutely debauched, her hair messy, her lips swollen, her skin flushed.
“you’re so fucking hot,” you said, positioning yourself between her legs.
“fuck me,” she pleaded. “i want to watch you fuck me. i want to see your cock inside me.”
you thrust back into her, and her back arched, her breasts thrust upward. you leaned down, taking one nipple into your mouth, sucking hard.
“yes! oh god, yes!” she wrapped her legs around you, pulling you deeper. “your cock feels so good. i love it. i love being fucked by you.”
you fucked her hard, watching her tits bounce with each thrust, watching her face contort with pleasure. she was shameless, loud, her hands roaming her own body, pinching her nipples, showing off for you.
“look at me,” she demanded. “look at my tits. look at how much i love your cock. i’m such a whore for you. i’m your dirty little slut.”
“yes you are,” you agreed, fucking her harder. “my perfect little slut. taking my cock so well.”
“i want to ride you,” she gasped. “i want to ride your cock. please.”
you pulled out and lay back, and she immediately climbed on top of you, positioning herself over the strap. she sank down onto it with a long, low moan, her head falling back.
“oh fuck, it’s so deep like this.”
she started moving, riding you, and the sight was incredible. her tits bounced with every movement, her hands roaming her body, touching herself, putting on a show.
“you like watching me?” she asked, her voice breathy. “you like watching me fuck myself on your cock?”
“i love it. you’re so fucking sexy.”
she leaned back, her hands behind her on your thighs, changing the angle, giving you a perfect view of the strap disappearing into her pussy, of her tits thrust forward.
“look at me,” she moaned. “look at what a slut i am for you. i’m such a whore. i love your cock so much.”
she rode you faster, harder, chasing another orgasm. her hand went to her clit, rubbing frantically.
“i’m going to come again,” she gasped. “i’m going to come all over your cock. oh fuck, oh fuck”
she came with a scream, her whole body convulsing, her pussy clenching around the strap. she collapsed forward onto your chest, trembling and gasping.
“that was so good,” she whispered. “so fucking good.”
but you weren’t done with her yet.
you flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so her ass was in the air, her face pressed into the mattress.
“one more,” you said, sliding back into her. “i want to feel you come one more time.”
“yes,” she moaned into the sheets. “yes, use me. i’m yours. i’m your slut.”
you fucked her hard and deep, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip. she was so wet, so ready, taking everything you gave her.
“such a good girl,” you praised. “such a perfect little whore. you love being fucked like this, don’t you?”
“yes! i love it! i love being your whore! i love your cock!”
you could feel her getting close again, her body tensing, her moans getting higher and more desperate.
“come for me,” you commanded. “come on my cock like a good little slut.”
she screamed into the mattress, her whole body shaking as she came again, harder than before. you fucked her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she was boneless and spent.
finally, you pulled out, collapsing beside her. she immediately curled into you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.
“that was everything i wanted,” she whispered. “everything i’ve been fantasizing about.”
“you really are a little slut,” you said, but there was affection in your voice.
she grinned up at you. “only for you, professor. only for you.”
she kissed you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the rough fucking you’d just given her.
“can we do this again?” she asked. “please? i want to be your slut. i want you to fuck me whenever you want.”
you knew you should say no. you knew this was wrong, inappropriate, a violation of every professional boundary.
but looking at her, beautiful, eager, satisfied, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
“yes,” you said. “we can do this again.”
her smile was radiant. “good. because i have so many more slutty outfits i want to wear for you.”
you laughed, pulling her closer, already thinking about the next time you’d get to fuck her, already addicted to the way she gave herself to you so completely.
billie eilish had set out to seduce her professor, and she’d succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.
and you? you’d given in to temptation, and you didn’t regret it for a second.
💬TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird @hellsofhearts @bumasslesbian @maybelu7 @b1lsvrq @zxillie @alwaysbillies-blog @cherry-kissesxox @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf
If you haven’t yet, be sure to comment “🐼” to be added to my taglist
freakier billie texts?? Pleaseee
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ TEXTS W GF!billie
cw: suggestive
💬TAGLIST:@xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird @hellsofhearts @bumasslesbian @maybelu7 @b1lsvrq @zxillie @alwaysbillies-blog @cherry-kissesxox @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf
If you haven’t yet, be sure to comment “🐼” to be added to my taglist
hard & soft