The Sunday service had ended twenty minutes ago. The last of the parishioners had filed out, shaking your father's hand at the door, exchanging pleasantries about the homily and the potluck next weekend. You'd stood beside him in your choir robe, smiling, playing the part of the perfect little altar boy, the priest's pride and joy.
But your eyes kept drifting to the third pew from the front, where Regina George sat in a modest floral dress—a far cry from her usual North Shore couture—with her mother in the nunnery habit beside her. Mrs. George had taken to the veil with unsettling devotion after the bus accident, and now she dragged her daughter to every service, every prayer group, every Wednesday night Bible study.
Regina caught your gaze during the final hymn. Her lips curved into the barest smirk before she looked away, demure, hands folded in her lap. But you saw the way her fingers tightened on her thigh. You saw the way she shifted in her seat.
She knew what Saturday meant. But today was Sunday. And Sunday, after service, when her mother went to the rectory for tea with the other sisters—that was your time too.
The church was empty now. The heavy oak doors had swung shut, the last echo of organ music fading into the rafters. You stood by the altar, still in your white robe, watching the sunlight stream through the stained glass and paint colored patterns across the marble floor.
Regina slipped in through the side door, the one that led from the sacristy. She'd told her mother she needed to use the restroom. A lie. A beautiful, sinful lie.
"Took you long enough," you said, your voice low, carrying in the vaulted silence.
She walked toward you, heels clicking softly on the stone. Her dress was buttoned to the throat, but you could see the outline of her nipples pressing against the fabric. She wasn't wearing a bra.
"Had to make sure the coast was clear." She stopped a few feet away, her eyes traveling over your robe, your body. "You look good up there. All holy."
"I feel anything but holy right now."
Regina's smile widened. She stepped closer, close enough that you could smell her perfume—something floral, expensive, completely out of place in this house of God. "Good. Because I've been thinking about you all through the homily. Father Michael was droning on about the Annunciation, and all I could think about was your mouth on me."
"Funny you mention the Annunciation." You reached out, hooking a finger into the collar of her dress, pulling her closer. "Because I've got a prayer I want you to say."
Her breath hitched. "What kind of prayer?"
"The Hail Mary."
Regina's eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck. She knew exactly what you were doing. She'd learned your games by now—the way you mixed devotion with depravity, the way you made her beg for release while reciting scripture.
"Here?" she whispered, glancing at the altar, the crucifix looming above them.
"Right here." You guided her backward until her hips hit the edge of the altar. The wooden surface was cold against her thighs through the thin fabric of her dress. "Kneel."
She dropped without hesitation, the hem of her dress pooling around her knees on the marble. Her hands found your hips, fingers gripping the fabric of your robe. She looked up at you, eyes dark, lips parted.
"Start praying," you said, your voice soft but commanding.
Regina swallowed. She clasped her hands together, bowing her head—a gesture of mock piety that made your cock twitch beneath the robe.
"Hail Mary, full of grace," she began, her voice steady but breathy, "the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb..."
She paused. Her eyes flicked up to yours, waiting.
"Keep going," you said, your hand moving to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair.
"...Jesus."
You pulled her forward, pressing her face against the front of your robe. She could feel the outline of your cock through the thin fabric, hard and ready. "Holy Mary, Mother of God," you continued for her, your voice a low murmur, "pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen."
You released her, and she looked up, confused, needy.
"That's not how it ends," you said, reaching down to untie the cord at your waist. The robe fell open, revealing your cock—hard, thick, already leaking a bead of precum at the tip. "We're going to do it again. I have a prayer request."
Regina's mouth fell open. She stared at your cock like it was the answer to every prayer she'd ever whispered into her pillow at night.
"What is it?"
You don’t answer. “Ready?”
She nodded, her hands trembling as she gripped your thighs.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”
You leaned down, your lips brushing her ear. "And blessed is your womb," you whispered, your voice thick with intent, "when I fuck my cum into you."
Regina let out a sound—a broken, desperate moan that echoed through the empty church. Her head fell forward, pressing against your thigh, her whole body shuddering.
"Finish the prayer," you said, pulling back.
She looked up at you, eyes glazed, lips wet. "Holy Mary, Mother of God," she stammered, "pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen."
"Good girl." You took her chin, tilting her face up. "Now open your mouth."
She obeyed instantly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. You guided your cock to her mouth, watching her lips part around the head, her eyes fluttering closed as she took you in. She knew exactly what to do—she'd had enough practice on Saturdays. Her tongue swirled around the tip, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her hands gripping your ass to pull you deeper.
You let her work, feeling the heat of her mouth, the wet slide of her tongue. But you had other plans.
"Up," you said, pulling out of her mouth with a wet pop. "On the altar."
Regina scrambled to her feet, her dress hiked up around her hips. You lifted her onto the altar, the cold marble pressing against her bare thighs. She lay back, her head near the crucifix, her legs dangling over the edge.
You spread her thighs apart, pushing her dress up to her waist. She wasn't wearing panties. Of course she wasn't.
"Look at you," you murmured, running a finger through her wet folds. "Soaking wet for me. And in church, no less."
"Only for you," she breathed, her hips bucking against your hand. "Please—I need you inside me."
"Not yet." You pulled your hand away, bringing your fingers to your mouth, tasting her. "First, I want to hear you say it again."
"Say what?"
"The prayer. The whole thing. And when you get to the fruit of thy womb, I want you to think about what I'm going to put in yours."
Regina's face flushed deeper. She nodded, her chest heaving.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
You positioned yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock pressing against her slick folds. She gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the altar.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God," she continued, her voice breaking, "pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death—"
You thrust into her, burying yourself to the hilt. Regina screamed—a raw, guttural sound that bounced off the stone walls and up toward the vaulted ceiling.
"Amen!" she cried out, her back arching.
You stayed still for a moment, buried deep inside her, feeling her walls clench around you. "Good girl."
"Now I'm going to fuck you, and I want you to keep praying. Every time you feel yourself getting close, I want you to say another Hail Mary. And every time you say 'fruit of thy womb,' I'll fuck your pretty pussy full of my cum."
Regina nodded frantically, her eyes squeezed shut.
You began to move—slow, deep thrusts that made the altar creak beneath her. Each stroke pushed you deeper, her wet heat gripping you like a vice. She moaned with every thrust, her head thrown back, her hands reaching up to grip the base of the crucifix above her.
"Hail Mary," she gasped, "full of grace—oh god—the Lord is with thee—"
"Keep going," you grunted, picking up the pace.
"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb—"
"Your womb," you said, slamming into her, "when I fill it with my cum."
She sobbed, her nails digging into the wood of the cross. "Jesus—fuck—Jesus—"
"Finish the prayer, Regina."
”Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death—amen—please don't stop—"
You didn't stop. You drove into her harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the church like a profane hymn. Regina's moans turned into wordless cries, her body trembling, her pussy clenching around you with every thrust.
"Again," you demanded.
"Hail Mary—full of grace—the Lord is with thee—blessed art thou among women—and blessed is the fruit of thy womb—"
"Your womb," you repeated, your voice a growl, "I’ll fuck all my cum into you"
She came apart. Her orgasm hit her like a wave, her back arching off the altar, her scream echoing through the nave. "Yes—yes—fuck me—fill me up—please—"
You kept thrusting through her climax, chasing your own. Her walls milk you, pulling you deeper, and you felt the pressure building at the base of your spine.
"I'm going to cum," you warned, your voice ragged. "I'm going to fill you up. I'm going to put my cum in your womb, Regina. I'm going to make you take it all."
"Yes—please—do it—breed me—"
You buried yourself as deep as you could, your hips pressed flush against hers, and you came. Hot, thick ropes of cum pumped into her, filling her, spilling out around your cock. Regina moaned through it, her legs wrapping around your waist, holding you inside her, keeping every drop.
You stayed there, breathing hard, your forehead pressed against hers. The church was silent except for your ragged breaths and the distant hum of the city outside.
Regina opened her eyes, looking up at the crucifix above her head. A tear slipped down her cheek.
"I think I need to go to confession," she whispered, a shaky laugh escaping her lips.
You pulled out slowly, watching your cum leak out of her, pooling on the marble altar. "I'll absolve you later."
She sat up, her dress falling back into place, her thighs sticky and wet. She looked at you with a mixture of adoration and exhaustion.
"Same time next Sunday?"
You smiled, pulling your robe closed. "I'll be here."
She slid off the altar, her legs wobbling. She steadied herself against the pew, then turned to look at the stained glass window of the Virgin Mary, bathed in blue and gold light.
"Blessed is the fruit of thy womb," she murmured, almost to herself.
You stepped up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "And blessed is yours," you said, your hand splaying across her lower belly, "when I fill it again next week."
Sophie Thatcher, Kristine Froseth and Charles Melton during the 12-minute standing ovation for Her Private Hell's premiere at the 79th Cannes Film Festival (May 2026)
Warning - strap (Billie receiving), switch Billie and reader a little, you guys have a daughter, having to be quiet, from the back, tit play , strap sucking
A/n - I’m backkk hope you gays enjoy
The front door clicks shut, the deadbolt sliding home with a soft thunk. You hear Billie's keys drop into the ceramic bowl on the entry table, followed by the heavy sigh of a long day finally ending. The house is dim, lit only by the muted glow of a single lamp in the corner of the living room, casting long, soft shadows across the carpet.
She pads into the room, her work blouse untucked, the top two buttons already undone, exposing the sharp line of her collarbone and the swell of her breasts pressed against a black bra. Her eyes find you on the couch, and there's a raw, immediate hunger there, a tiredness that melts into something far more primal.
"Hey," she breathes, her voice a low rasp. She doesn't ask about your daughter. She already knows.
You hold a finger to your lips, tilting your head toward the baby monitor on the end table. A soft, even breathing fills the small speaker. She's out cold.
Without a word, Billie drops her handbag. It lands with a muffled thud. She crosses the room, her stride purposeful, and sinks to her knees in front of you, between your legs on the plush rug. She looks up, her hands finding your thighs, squeezing.
"I need you," she whispers, her breath warm against your jeans. "All day, I couldn't stop thinking about this."
Your hand moves to her hair, tangling in the soft strands. She leans into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a second before snapping open, filled with that same desperate need.
You guide her head down, and she doesn't resist. Her mouth finds the button of your jeans, her teeth tugging it free with practiced ease. The zipper sounds impossibly loud in the silent room. You hiss a warning.
"Shhh," you breathe, your fingers tightening in her hair.
She smiles against your belly, a wicked, silent promise, as she peels the denim down your hips. She helps you lift your ass, pulling the jeans and your panties down to your knees. The air is cool on your exposed skin.
She looks at the harness you're already wearing, the black silicone cock standing firm and proud against your stomach. Her eyes darken. She licks her lips, a slow, deliberate motion.
"Good girl," she murmurs, her voice barely a vibration. "You knew."
She leans in, her tongue tracing a wet stripe along the underside of the shaft, from the base to the tip. A shudder runs through you. You clench your jaw, forcing the moan down. She does it again, slower this time, taking the head into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks gently. The wet, obscene sound of it fills the quiet space between you.
"Billie..." you warn, your grip in her hair tightening.
She pulls off with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to the tip. "I know," she whispers. "I just needed a taste."
She moves then. She crawls up your body, her knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of your hips. She hovers over you, her blouse falling open. Her breasts, still bound in that practical black bra, brush against your lips. You take the hint, your mouth finding a nipple through the lace, sucking hard. She bites her lip, a choked gasp escaping her. Her hips roll against the length of the strap-on, the silicone sliding against her clothed cunt.
Desperate. Hungry.
She reaches down between you, her own fingers fumbling with the button of her slacks. You help, pushing the fabric down over the swell of her ass. Her panties are a damp, dark patch at the apex of her thighs.
"Here," you command, your voice a low, firm whisper. "On the floor."
She slides off you, her knees hitting the rug with a soft thud. She turns, her back to you, and lowers herself to her hands and knees. She looks over her shoulder, her eyes half-lidded, her back arched, presenting herself to you completely.
"Please," she mouths, the word silent but deafening.
You move behind her, your knees on the rug. The baby monitor hisses quietly. One hand grips her hip, the other guides the slick head of the strap-on to the entrance of her cunt. She's soaked. The silicone slides through her wet lips, coating itself, before you press forward.
A sharp, sharp intake of breath from her is the only sound. She pushes back, meeting you, taking all of you inside her in one slow, devastating inch. The stretch is visible, her body gripping you.
You start to move, a slow, deep. Your hips meet the firm, soft flesh of her ass. The sound of it is a quiet, wet slap of skin on skin, amplified in the stillness. Thrust. Slap. Thrust. Slap.
Your hand comes from her hip, pressing flat against the small of her back, increasing the arch. Your other hand snakes around her body, finding her clit. It's hard and swollen. You pinch it gently, rubbing circles around it as you fuck her from behind.
Her head drops, her forehead resting on the carpet. Her mouth is open, her breath coming in ragged, quiet pants. She's fucking herself back onto you, matching your rhythm, chasing that peak.
"I'm close," she hisses, her voice strained. "Fuck, don't stop."
You don't. You drive into her harder, faster, the rug muffling the sound of your fucking. Your fingers work her clit relentlessly, pressing, rubbing, until her thighs start to shake.
"And then she'll wake up," you whisper, the threat a part of the game.
A helpless, strangled noise tears from her throat. You clap your hand over her mouth just as her orgasm hits. Her body clamps down around the silicone, her cunt fluttering and gripping, her hips grinding back against you as she rides out the wave in a frantic, silent seizure of pleasure. You don't stop moving, fucking her through it, your hand still locked over her mouth, absorbing the sobs of her release.
Finally, after a long, slow moment, her body relaxes. She slumps forward onto the rug, a boneless heap. You pull out slowly, the wet sound obscene.
You lie down beside her, and she turns into your arms, burying her face in your neck. Her breath is hot and ragged against your skin.
The baby monitor remains silent. Just the quiet rhythm of your daughter's breathing, and the heavy, satisfied pulse of her mother's heart against yours.
the red light of the camera blinked, a tiny, hungry eye in the dim hotel room. it was aimed at the bed, at the chaos of sheets and the sprawl of limbs in the center of it. at billie.
“fuck,” she breathed, the sound half-gasp, half-whine. her back was arched, a perfect, desperate bow, pushing her tits up towards the ceiling. they bounced with every sharp thrust of your hips, a mesmerizing rhythm you were capturing forever. “look at ‘em. are you gettin’ how good they look right now?”
you angled your phone down slightly, panning from her face, scrunched up in pleasure, to her chest. the screen was a perfect, glossy window to her debasement. her nipples were tight, dusky peaks, begging for a mouth that wasn’t there. “i’m getting it,” you murmured, your voice a low, steady counterpoint to her frantic whimpers. “i’m getting everything.”
she preened under the attention of the lens, even as her body was completely subject to yours. it was a delicious contradiction, the core of what made her so addictive. she’d flex her arms, a show of strength that was utterly betrayed by the way her pussy clenched around you, slick and welcoming. “you gonna watch this later?” she asked, a sly, fucked-out grin stretching her lips. “gonna watch me when you’re all alone and remember how i fuck you?”
“i’m going to watch it and remember how i fucked you,” you corrected, punctuating the statement with a particularly deep roll of your hips. the sound she made was somewhere between a sob and a moan, her head falling back against the pillows, her throat a long, vulnerable column. the chain of her necklace glittered there, catching the light.
“god, yes,” she agreed, no longer able to manage her teasing braggadocio. her hands, which had been flexing on your biceps, flew to her own breasts. she cupped them, squeezing them together for the camera, presenting them like an offering. “play with my nipples,” she demanded, but it came out a plea. “please? pinch ‘em. make it hurt.”
you set the phone on the nightstand, propping it against the lamp for a stable, wide shot. the frame was perfect: her entire body, yours moving above her, the slick sheen of sweat on your skin. freeing your hands, you leaned over her, the strap shifting inside her and drawing a fresh cry. you did as she asked, your fingers finding her sensitive peaks and rolling them, pinching hard.
her reaction was instantaneous. her whole body jolted, legs tightening around your waist, pulling you deeper. “fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck—” the chant was a prayer, a litany to the pleasure-pain you were administering. her hips began to move in earnest, meeting your thrusts with a frantic, sloppy rhythm. she was trying to take control, to set the pace, but it was a losing battle. every grind of her hips was just a plea for more, a surrender in a different form.
“you’re so fucking desperate for it,” you whispered against her jaw, your teeth scraping the skin there. her whole body shuddered, a silent acknowledgment. “look at you. putting on a show for the camera, but really, you’re just a mess for me, aren’t you?”
she couldn’t answer. she just shook her head, a denial that was a confession. her tits were still pushed up between your bodies, soft and pliant against your chest. she was trying so hard to be the one in charge, the one with the power, flexing and showing off and demanding what she wanted. but with every stroke of the strap, every cruel twist of your fingers, she was proving the opposite. her body was yours. her pleasure was yours. the video you were making was yours.
“say it,” you commanded, your hips snapping forward, hard and fast. “tell the camera who’s fucking you.”
her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, trying to find the little red light. she licked her swollen lips. “you are,” she breathed, the words cracking. “you are.”
“and whose tits are these?” you squeezed one for emphasis.
a whine escaped her throat, high and broken. “yours.”
“whose messy little pussy is this?”
she whimpered, grinding against you, chasing her release. “yours. god, it’s yours.”
“good girl.” you reached over, picked up the phone, and brought it in close, right to her face. “now, look at the camera,” you said, your voice soft but absolute. “and show me what it looks like when my cock makes you cum.”
her entire body locked. for a single, suspended second, she was a statue caught in the headlights of your phone’s lens. her pupils swallowed the blue of her irises, a wide, black abyss of pure sensation. the muscles in her neck stood out like cords as her head tipped back, a silent scream caught in her throat. then, the dam broke.
a choked sob wrenched its way out of her, raw and unrestrained. “gonna— gonna—” she managed to gasp before the words dissolved into a high-pitched keen. her body convulsed, a violent shudder starting in her core and radiating outwards. her thighs clamped around your waist like a vise, her heels digging into your ass, pulling you impossibly deeper as if she could fuse you into one being. her tits, still pressed between you, shook with the force of her orgasm, a frantic, final jiggle for the camera. the slick, wet sounds of the strap driving through her clenching heat were louder than her cries now, a percussive rhythm to her undoing.
you kept your phone steady, a merciless documentarian, capturing the flutter of her eyelids, the tear that escaped and tracked a path through the sheen of sweat on her temple, the way her jaw went slack with utter abandon. you didn’t stop moving, giving her no quarter, drawing out the pleasure until it was an agony.
“still looking,” you prompted, your voice a dark murmur. “give them more.”
she seemed to hear you through the fog of her orgasm, a flicker of awareness in her dazed eyes. with a monumental effort, she focused back on the lens. a fresh wave of heat washed over her face, a deep blush at being so seen, so recorded, so completely owned. her breath hitched. she tried to speak, to form one last, witty, defiant retort, but all that came out was a broken, breathy, “oh, fuck.”
her body went limp then, a complete and total surrender. she sank back into the mattress, boneless and spent, her limbs falling away from you. the only movement was the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the occasional, full-body shudder that traced the ghost of her orgasm. you held the camera on her for a long moment, capturing the aftermath: the blissed-out expression, the swollen lips, the tousled dark hair spread across the pillow like a halo. a perfect, ruined masterpiece.
finally, you stopped the recording. the red light vanished, plunging the room into a deeper, more intimate gloom. you tossed the phone onto the bed beside her, the soft thud startling a whimper from her.
she blinked slowly, turning her head to look at you. the bravado was gone, evaporated in the heat of her release. all that was left was a soft, pliant need. her tongue darted out to wet her lips again. “did you get it?” she whispered, her voice raspy.
you leaned down, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to her shoulder. “i got it all.”
a slow, lazy smile spread across her face. “good,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. “now show me.”
you didn’t move, letting the silence settle, thick and heavy as the humid air in the room. her breath was the only metric of time, a slow, even rhythm that gradually calmed from the frantic panting of moments before. after a long minute, her eyelids fluttered open, the blue of her irises soft in the gloom, hazy and unfocused like the aftermath of a storm.
“show me,” she repeated, the request a bare whisper now, stripped of all demand. it was a plea, a vulnerability she only showed you in these quiet moments after the tempest had passed.
you smiled, a slow, private curve of your lips. you reached for the phone, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. you lay down beside her, propping yourself up on an elbow, and shifted the screen so it was between you. your thumb found the playback button.
the world shrank to the six-inch rectangle. the video started with a slight jostle, your hands finding the perfect angle. and then there she was. on screen, billie’s head tipped back, a perfect column of throat presented to the camera as you entered her. a small, sharp gasp echoed from the phone’s speaker, a ghost of the sound you’d just heard live.
𓐇˚ִִ𓈒 ۫ SYN ⇾ ꒰꒰ smut! ( g!p if you don’t like pls just scroll ) in which things take a turn between the breaks of your interview with billie , you get her to be your good girl with a few surprises in store ꒱꒱
your guest of honor tonight on your show was no other than billie eilish headlining for her new movie for the hit me hard and soft tour . you discussed with her over the course of the interview about her musical rotation , the process of her new album in the making and so much more . “ it’s been a pleasure having you today billie really “ you smiled looking between billie’s eyes her shade of blue was soft and beautiful she smiled back tilting her head “ pleasure’s all mine really “ she giggled . you decide to flirt with her giving the tension an edge by fixing your shirt an open button , revealing your red thin bra . billie’s eyes shot down to your chest her words now getting lost as her train of thought went to a blur she shook her head. “ what?” you smirk “ nothin “ she mumbled looking at the camera with a shy smile smirking as she went on with the topic she was talking about .
through out the duration of the interview you had a smile on your face softly dropping some flirty comments billie blushing she could feel her cock getting more aroused by the minute in between breaks her hands slolwy rubbing her bulge to get some relief drinking water with her hand gripping the cup for her dear life. “ am i making you blush miss eilish “ you smirked at her again she nodded her eyes half lidded licking her lips sensually as she bit her lip “ mmh not blushing’ more intrigued by you really “ she squeezed your hands before the director instructed to take your places again . “ yeah ? why intrigued then?” you tilt your head motioning for her to keep going “ am i that special for you to flirt with me here infront all these cameras “ billie asked you her tone was octave and low , you smile softly “ i think you know my answer to this one “ you whisper squeezing her hand gently once more .
you and billie throughout the rest of the interview played with cards and you impressed her with your skills . when in one of them you told her to open her mouth and she obediently did so , her pupils dilated as she stared at you when you leaned in cupping her face with one of your fingers tilting her chin up “ mmh that’s a good girl “ . you smirk billie’s eyes widened blushing at your praise her cock now leaking between he thighs dying to touch herself she was so so so hard f’you .
billie excused herself into the bathroom making sure no one was around she took off her pants and her boxers her cock springing to her tummy now she hissed at how sensitive it felt . the tip of her cock red and her pre cum growing out she rested her body against the counter , breathing in before she stroked her cock . her own hands wrapping around her girth she was too sensitive to her down touch , her mouth letting out a few needy whimpers .
you walk into the bathroom with 30 minutes to spare before you need to wrap up the day , walking in and opening the door slightly you see billie . with her hand down to her thick cock , stroking her length with precision she closes her eyes the cool texture of her rings up and down her girth gives her more pleasure and deeper control over her orgasm .
you watch billie the sight of her like that igniting the pool of wetness forming between your legs . you take a step foward towards the brown haired girl , the door you opened closing behind you . her eyes widen looking at you with fear and maybe even doubt you’d judge her her mouth wide open as she leaves her hands her pants buckled hitting the ground letting out a few needy groans . “ so i believe i must look fairly stupid now huh? “ you smile shaking your head reassuring her “ no you don’t bils “ she smiles looking into your eyes . “ how much have you seen of mmh this?” , she asks you her gaze on yours still “ a bit too much , to know how much you like to be noisy “ you smirk leaning into her space your hands rest on against the counter she was in your eye level now looking up at her .
“ sooo we have some time to spare , can i make it worth to you billie” you whisper into her ear billie’s cock growing . as if on cue she nods her head her hips already thrusting up to relieve the tension , but you take your hands gripping down billie’s hips your fingers tracing her hips underneath you tsk teasingly kissing the sensitive area underneath her ear . “ mmh you use your words for me pretty girl , now be a good girl for me and tell mommy what you want “ billie’s eyes dilate at your soft dom assertiveness tone of your voice beads of sweat forming on her forehead she nods “ please i need you mommy -i-i’ll be your good girl i promise “ you hum in admiration before your plant your mouth on the girl’s cock .
you kiss her sensitive tip billie hissing in reaction you start grazing your tongue around it before engulfing it in your mouth you were practically salivating . your eyes rolling while billie kept whimpering and moaning tugging on your hair to guide you bopping your head you bottomed your teeth to gently graze her cock not too much to hurt her earning a moan from the girl .
a few minutes pass billie coming close to her orgasm “ oh my god fuck fuckkk ma “ she whimpers bucking her hips into your mouth her tip hitting the roof of your mouth almost gagging on it billie orgasms her pleasure surfing through “ fuck you don’t play safe with dat mouth huh?” . she smirks wiping her sweat as you look up at her your eyes filing submission “ no i don’t , and maybe i can show you more “ you lift up your body planting a soft kiss on billie’s lips she holds your waist the kiss slow and soft her hands roaming to your squeezing it while you whimper into her mouth waning a smirk from billie , your tongues fighting for dominance before that you break it. you and billie’s breath panting hot against each other you kiss the corner of her mouth and soft kiss on her neck as you squeeze her hips “ clean up and get back out there we have a interview to finish “ you say cockily winking at billie before you make way out of the bathroom .
"you ever think maybe we were meant to meet… like, cosmically?"
"if you asked me right now, i’d run away with you."
Rose Landry
Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader
The cool, fresh night air was exactly what you needed as you staggered out of the stuffy livingroom and out onto one of the balconies.
The wrap party for the brand new television show you'd be starring in had been thrown at the director's maze of a house, and while you'd enjoyed drinking and dancing with the friends you'd made over the course of the past couple of months, you were in desperate need of a silent recharge.
Swaying slightly with the light buzz of the wine you'd been drinking, you headed down the stairs leading into the backyard and walked around the pool toward the second set of stairs leading down onto the quiet, welcoming beach.
The vibrant full moon provided enough light for you to walk around without slipping into the pool or tripping over one of the lawn chairs, but before you could test your visibility on the stairs, you heard the sliding doors open again.
"Hey!" A familiar voice called out, airy and cheerful. You turned, faintly making out Rose Landry's figure on the balcony. She raised her hand and waved. "Wait for me!"
It'd been an interesting past couple of months working with a star like Rose Landry. You'd been in a handful of things since the start of your career, although most of the roles leading up to now had been side characters with only a few minutes of screentime in each movie or show.
But Rose Landry was a full-blown movie star with an Oscar who'd been dominating the industry since she was a child.
You'd been bracing yourself for a snobby, stuck-up, spoiled rich girl when you first heard that she'd been cast as one of the main leads, but instead, you were greeted by a bubbly, sweet, and extroverted girl from a humble town in Michigan.
Since you played her character's best friend, Rose attached herself to your hip, often spending time in your trailer or ensuring you'd be sitting in the makeup trailer together during filming days.
She was sweet. Kind. Beautiful. But people like her were meant to marry nepo babies or high-end models, people with millions of fans and connections in the industry, people who came from wealth and flew in private planes to spend their summers in Greece or France. You were still up and coming, still had yet to get a role that truly highlighted your abilities.
You knew, the moment the show ran its course, that you'd become another unremarkable face Rose Landry had met. It was simply how the industry worked.
Rose hurried down the steps in her wobbly, uncoordinated feet, one of her hands raised for balance as she rushed toward you. Her crimson ankle-length dress (one that she admitted she'd taken from the costume department from one of her films) flowed behind her, the front of it semi-bunched up in another hand to avoid tripping over it before she released it once she came to stand in front of you.
"Hi." She greeted breathily, laughing, evidently also tipsy. She brushed some strands of hair away from her face and took a big, deep breath. "Where are you going?"
"I was thinking of taking a walk on the beach." You replied, setting your hand over the railings. "You want to come?"
Rose nodded eagerly. "Yeah!"
You carefully made your way down the wooden stairs toward the beach, stopping at the last step to slip your shoes off. The sand was cool to the touch, the soft grains rubbing against your feet with each step you took.
The air was salty and fresh, and the waves rolled over the shore in rhythmic movements, but everything was otherwise quiet and serene. It felt like a whole new world.
Rose stumbled in the sand and giggled softly, lifting her feet to take her heels off so they'd stop plunging into the sand and make it awkward to walk. She tilted her head back to peer up at the starry night, her arm loosely coiling around yours.
"You ever think maybe we were meant to meet… like, cosmically? Like, everyone you've ever met... you meet because they are meant to serve a purpose in your life?"
You chuckled softly. "We're the philosophical kind of drunk tonight, huh?" You teased, and she rolled her eyes, giggling again. "I don't know. Maybe."
"Mmm." Rose hummed, her vibrant blue eyes continuing to study the stars twinkling above, her heels clacking together every so often.
"What're you thinking about?"
"Just... that if you asked me right now, I’d run away with you." Your brows raised in surprise, and you turned your head to study the mellow look on her face. "Somewhere far... where there aren't paparazzi or events I'm obligated to attend. Somewhere where I'm just Rose, not Miss Landry or the girl from that one film. Maybe somewhere like, uhm," Her face scrunched up in concentration. "I don't know, Manitoba?"
"Manitoba?" You repeated, squinting at her. "Out of all the places in the world, you'd pick Manitoba? Not- Not, I don't know, Naples or Rio?"
"I don't know!" Rose laughed, bringing her hands to her face sheepishly. She stumbled slightly in the sand and brushed her hands back over her hair. "I panicked, okay? I've never been to Manitoba, but I have friends who say it's nice!"
"To retire to, maybe, but if we're running away, we're not going to Manitoba, Rose."
"No, no, but think about it!" She staggered forward toward you, her hands clutching at the sleeves of your outfit. Her eyes sparkled in the bright moonlight. "It'd be perfect! Nobody would think to come looking for us in Manitoba. We couldn't go to Naples-" She blew a raspberry and shook her head. "We'd have to go somewhere discreet. It'd have to be somewhere that nobody would think to come looking."
"Rose, honey, your face is probably on a billboard in every city in the States right now. You just did a perfume commercial for Dior that's been playing on every screen in the world. You've done press tours on nearly every continent since the start of your career."
Your brows raised higher and higher with each sentence, your hands raising to cup her elbows. Her lips jutted out in a dramatic pout.
"There's not a single part in the world where you wouldn't be recognized sooner or later by a local or tourist."
Rose groaned, her body slumping forward and collapsing into your chest. "I.. I want to feel like a normal person for one day, you know. Maybe.. Maybe then you'd finally go out with me."
could you write like a fic/story about pit girl reader (ghost) sort of haunting all of the Yellowjackets girls
— ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU
yellowjackets x ghost! (pit girl) fem reader
synopsis : the aftermath of what had happened after you had fallen into the pit.
— characters including. . shauna shipman, natalie scatorccio, lottie matthews, van palmer, taissa turner, misty quigley, akilah, melissa hat, mari ibarra.
— tags & warnings : post! hunt au, cannibalism mentioned, blood mentioned, gore mentioned, detailed description of wounds, blood, and flesh. major character death, implied / referenced character death, pure angst w little to no comfort.
The howling of the trees seemed to press louder around the forest.
The quiet howls and growls of the team seemed to quieten down, footsteps imprinted on the snow that also seemed to slow down the moment they knew it was finished.
You were gone, accidentally falling into a pit that was hammered by sharp spikes on the floor, blood starting to drip out from your body as time seemed to slow down.
But to Shauna, her ears seem to buzz the moment she sees you fall down the pit. The sharp spikes covered in crimson as your body pierced down from it - no longer moving.
She only looked down on you, her face remaining indifferent as she looked down on the pit. The thrill it had brought her to hunt you down the forest was still strumming under her nerves, but she doesn't know why she can't seem to fully not care about your death.
You were her teammate, after all. Friend may be a strong word, considering that all of you were forced to be stuck here — yet she convinced herself this was all for It. They have to honor It. The stupid It that Lottie seemed to look down onto.
As soon as they had retrieved your jagged corpse from the pit, dragging it back to camp as your blood covered the pale, ghostly snow — she saw someone in the corner of her eye.
It was you, standing between the trees that loomed over the land, looking at her in the corner of the brunette's eyes — yet Shauna didn't look back, because she knew it'll all fade away again someday.
Just like Jackie — she convinces herself you're going to fade away.
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿. ✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿.
For Van, the forest seemed to quiet down the moment you pulled the card, the familiar Queen of Hearts looming over your shadow that only meant death. The way you looked at her in terror, knowing all of this wasn't part of the plan you had all initiated.
The guilt seemed to press down on her — a heavy weight she couldn't get off her chest as she removed her mask, smoke disappearing into the air as she breathed out, refusing to cry.
You were her friend. One of the people she truly cared about.
It was supposed to be someone — not a big part of the team, sort of just there.
It wasn't supposed to be you.
The irony of it all seemed to laugh at her, really. You were the one who was always against all of the hunt, just like Travis and Natalie — yet you had convinced them to join so Shauna, or Lottie wouldn't be suspicious. As she walked, Taissa appeared almost immediately after, slowing down as she walked to her girlfriend, knowing Van needed comfort.
"It was her." Van spoke, her words cracking as she looked at Taissa.
"I know. We tried our best." Taissa whispered, caressing Van's face in a futile attempt to comfort her girlfriend.
But to Taissa , had they really tried their best to save you?
You weren't even supposed to be there, just another victim fallen in the system they had all justified just to prove they hadn't done anything wrong.
To Taissa, you were one of the girls whom she truly appreciated. It was how you didn't judge her in believing anything, how you seemed to worry about each girl in their team, how you had remained so untouched in the world that threatened to collapse every time.
The guilt that seemed to press down on her was heavy, yet she couldn't let the guilt consume her — they had not known you were going to fall on that pit.
You had fallen into believing you will truly make it back home.
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿. ✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿.
As your body was dragged back in camp, you were carefully placed on the center as the others just loomed over your body, eyes dragging over your flesh that was ruined because of the spikes, your face that once radiated with smile — now all poked with holes as your eyes were long lifeless. Your body no longer emanated the warmness it once brought, now that the cold seeped into your skin due to the snow, and death.
Lottie came forward, the thick fur cape that she wore that seemed to swallow her body, her eyes radiating with a sense of calmness that no one could understand. She knelt before your body as she carefully wrapped her hand around your cold palms, closing her eyes. She knew this would happen, how it always ended like this, yet her heart ached with the life once taken from them.
She knew this was important to honor It, to thank them for continuing to let them live in this place, yet she felt her heart squeeze tight at just how cold your palms were. She opened her doe eyes, placing her warm palms in your jagged cheeks, before she stood up and stepped backwards.
She didn't cry, because she knew you'd just linger around. She had seen your soul between the trees, looking back at all of them, after all.
You'd just be here, continuing to guide them as you passed onto the other side.
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿. ✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿.
After all of the chaos the hunt had brought to all, it was ordered that you were stripped down and hung upside down, your blood falling into the snow as it dyed to crimson red.
Misty only looked as you were hung, her eyes distant as she looked at your lifeless eyes. The truth seemed to just linger around, yet she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that you were truly gone. You had been one of the few people who hadn't treated her crap, didn't make fun of her — and now that you were gone.. it was just.. empty.
The world Melissa seemed to know just collapsed the moment she had seen your body back at camp, she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that they had ordered this — only because you had been opposed to the idea of the hunts happening. The humiliation you had to face even after death was just sad.
She didn't want to believe that you were gone — the silhouette of you still running ahead of her was still fresh in her mind.. but she knows maybe her mind was just playing tricks on her. Maybe.
Akilah only stood beside the blonde, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she kept her face hidden in her mask so no one could depict her emotions. She looked as your body was raised and hung, the others starting to scalp your head to get the chestnut coloured strands.
The very same chestnut coloured hair that you always wanted her to tie, how it seemed to fall on your shoulders as you busied yourself with her in the animal pen, taking care of all the animals. The very same hair that seemed to glow on you just because you were so kind.
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿. ✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿.
After the buzzing mayhem your death had brought to all, Mari immediately headed to her hut, the makeshift door flapping as she headed straight inside, plopping down in the cot of her bed as she gripped her knee, refusing to cry.
The anger, guilt, sadness all churned up inside her gut that almost seemed painful. Yet she couldn't believe how all of it had gone down.
But of all the emotions brewed up in her gut, the guilt she felt was the most recognizable of it all — her throat that seemed to squeeze itself tight as she stared angrily on the ground as if it had done something to her.
She was so close to pulling the card, if only you hadn't switched places with her — maybe your lives were both in the opposite direction right now. How your eyes screamed in terror and fear as Lottie started to count down, she felt like she was going to be sick. She was supposed to be the one dead by now, yet it had turned out to be you.
✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿. ✿ . ˚ . ˚ ✿.
Miles back from camp, Natalie stood in the top of the snowy mountains, carrying the transponder — the one who could actually get them back home. She knew what they all could had thrown itself to was a risk, considering this shitty device may not actually work, and she knew that this time, Shauna have noticed that she was gone.
But she couldn't bring herself to care, the device was the last ray of hope they had — the last chance they had of going home, after Shauna had threatened to shoot them when they tried to leave with the frog scientists.
She had promised everyone she was going to get them home, and in this moment — their lives all depended on her.
Immediately starting to assemble the device, her hands were shaky as she carefully put it all together. Yet in the amidst of her carefully assembling the device, she suddenly felt a presence behind her that made her pause.
Turning around she saw that it was you.
But confusion immediately clouded her brain, how could you be here? You were supposed to be back at camp, still making sure that the plan carried out smoothly. Your back was turned, the one she'd always known as you walked down the path she had just taken up to where she was.
She considered calling out as your figure disappeared, going down on the the snowy mountains — yet every minute was important in this plan they had all risked their lives in.
Her grip on the transponder tightened once she realized what it truly meant. A tear escaped her eye as she wiped it harshly, focusing on assembling the device.
You were gone. The sacrifice in exchange of them going back home.
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yellowjackets / masterlist / through your cerulean eyes
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