Inna

a few feet away, billie eilish was a portrait of terrifying composure. there was no flush on her neck, no frantic catch in her breathing. she looked as though she had spent the last twenty minutes in deep, silent prayer rather than leading the preacher’s daughter into a transgression that would make the reverend’s blood run cold. billie reached up, her movements slow and clinical, and tucked a stray lock of her dark, silken hair behind her ear. she adjusted the lapels of her oversized black blazer, the structured wool making her shoulders look sharp and impenetrable. with a quiet, metallic click, she refastened her silver cross necklace, the metal glinting like a warning against her throat.

"you're shaking, evangeline," billie murmured, her voice vibrating with that smooth, youth leader warmth that felt like a mockery in the empty church. she didn't turn to look at her. she didn't need to. she could feel evangeline’s unraveling like a scent in the air. "it’s just a draft. the lord’s house is always a little cold when the sun goes down, isn't it?"

evangeline swallowed hard, the back of her throat tasting like extinguished candle wax. she finally turned her gaze toward the massive oak doors, her heart sinking into her stomach. through the narrow stained glass windows flanking the exit, she could see the gravel parking lot. it was empty. the familiar, rusted silhouette of her father’s truck was nowhere to be found. he had mentioned running errands in the next town over, a trip that would keep him away until long after the evening dew had settled.

the realization hit her like a physical weight. the walk home was three miles of winding, unlit backroads-roads that felt much longer when your skin was still tingling from the hidden, stinging marks of someone’s teeth and your soul felt like it had been scraped raw. she stood there, poised between the altar and the exit, feeling strangely exposed in the very building that was supposed to be her sanctuary. she didn't want to ask. she didn't want to give billie the satisfaction of hearing the tremor in her voice, of admitting that she was once again dependent on the very person who delighted in her ruin.

but the silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until the uncertainty made evangeline’s chest tighten so much she feared she might choke.

billie didn't miss the subtle shift in her stance or the way her eyes lingered on the empty space where the truck should have been. she let out a slow, deliberate sigh. a sound of feigned patience that made evangeline feel about five years old. billie stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the floorboards, a predatory sound that echoed up into the rafters.

she stopped just inches behind evangeline, not touching her, but close enough that the heat radiating from her blazer felt like a brand. "he’s not coming back for another hour, at least," billie whispered, leaning down so her breath brushed against the shell of evangeline’s ear. "and you look far too... messy to be walking the main road, sweetheart. what would the neighbors think if they saw the preacher’s daughter with her ribbons undone and that look in her eyes?"

billie reached out, her hand finding evangeline’s chin and tilting her face up. her thumb, cold and steady, brushed over evangeline’s lower lip-swollen and bitten, a vibrant, aching contrast to her pale skin. billie’s icy blue eyes searched hers, devoid of the heat that had been there minutes ago, replaced now by a clinical sort of disgust that evangeline knew was just another part of the game.

"get your things," billie commanded, her tone shifting back to the authoritative, polished cadence of the girl the elders adored. "i’ll drive you."

evangeline felt the familiar, sickening coil of guilt and longing tighten in her gut. she was a girl made of sunday school lace and quiet obedience, and as she looked into billie’s freezing gaze, she realized she wasn't just losing her ride home. she was losing her way entirely, guided into the dark by a girl who wore a cross but served a much hungrier god.

the interior of billie’s car was a sharp, modern contrast to the ancient wood and stone of the church, yet it felt even more like a cage. the air here was heavy with the scent of expensive leather and the faint, lingering trail of billie’s perfume. something dark and woody that seemed to coat the back of evangeline’s throat. as they pulled out of the gravel lot, the tires humming a low, mournful tune against the asphalt, the only light came from the dim glow of the dashboard and the occasional flicker of a passing streetlight.

evangeline sat rigidly in the passenger seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap to hide the way they still wanted to reach out. every time billie shifted gears, her arm brushed against the sleeve of evangeline’s dress, and the contact felt like a live wire. a reminder that despite the clinical distance billie had established back at the altar, the electricity between them was still humming, raw and dangerous.

the silence in the cabin was a living thing, expanding until it felt like it might crush the air right out of evangeline’s lungs. she turned her head slightly, her body instinctively seeking even a sliver of the heat billie was currently withholding. she watched the sharp line of billie’s jaw, the way her hands gripped the steering wheel with a relaxed, terrifyingly easy kind of control.

"why do you do this?"

the question slipped out before evangeline could filter it, her voice a fragile, frayed thread in the quiet cabin. she immediately regretted the sound of it. the way it betrayed the frantic searching of her heart. she quickly looked back toward the windshield, watching the skeletal trees of the backroads blur into a dark, continuous smudge.

"why me?" she murmured, the words hanging in the air like thick, suffocating incense. "do you… do you do this with other girls? is this just another part of the ministry for you?"

the word jealousy wasn't spoken, but it sat between them like a bitter, poisonous fruit. it was a sharp, stinging sensation that made evangeline’s throat feel tight, a possessive ache that made her stomach twist. she hated herself for it. she was the preacher’s daughter, meant to be a vessel of selfless, divine love, yet here she was, spiraling into a very human, very ugly greed for the attention of a girl who only ever used her as a footstool for her own ego.

the car fell into a deep, agonizing silence. billie didn't flinch. she took a slow, deliberate turn, the car leaning into the curve with a grace that mirrored her own. for a long, harrowing moment, evangeline thought she might be ignored entirely or dismissed as the "pathetic girl" billie had called her back in the vestry.

then, the sound came. a soft, dark chuckle that didn't reach her eyes, the kind of laugh that always preceded billie’s most cutting, soul stripping observations. it was a sound that made the hair on evangeline’s arms stand up.

"jealousy," billie mused, rolling the word around in her mouth as if it were a delicious, forbidden secret. she finally turned her head, the passing light of a streetlamp catching the icy, translucent blue of her eyes for a split second, pinning evangeline to her seat more effectively than her hands ever could. "how very unsaintly of you, evangeline. i thought we were working on your pride, but it seems we’ve stumbled into one of the deadlier ones, haven't we?"

she didn't look back at the road immediately. she let her gaze linger on evangeline’s flushed face, her expression one of amused, clinical observation.

"you want to know if there are others," billie continued, her voice dropping to that low, velvety register she used when she wanted to make evangeline feel like the only person in the world and the most insignificant. "you want to know if i’ve pressed anyone else into the choir pews until they started reciting my name instead of their prayers. you’re looking for a reason to feel special, aren't you, ev? you want to believe that even if this is a sin, it’s a sin i only want to commit with you."

billie returned her eyes to the road, a small, mocking smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. she reached out one hand, not to hold evangeline’s, but to tap a rhythmic, taunting beat against the steering wheel.

"it’s a dangerous question to ask a girl like me," billie whispered. "because the answer doesn't matter. whether there are ten others or just you, the result is the same. you’re the one sitting in this car. you’re the one who can’t stop looking at me. and you’re the one who’s going to have to walk into that parsonage and look your father in the eye, wondering if he can smell me on your skin."

she let the words sink in, the psychological weight of them pressing down on evangeline until she felt small, messy, and entirely possessed.

"you're the only one who knows how to be this quiet while you're falling," billie murmured, her voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to settle directly into the marrow of evangeline's bones.

the lie was so thin it was almost transparent, a fragile, trembling shield evangeline held up to protect the last of her dignity. she kept her head bowed, staring with a sudden, frantic intensity at the intricate stitching of her bag, refusing to let billie see the way her eyelashes fluttered or the way her chest heaved with a shallow, unsteady breath. she felt the weight of her father’s expectations, the weight of the church, and the weight of billie’s icy gaze all pressing down on her at once.

"m’not falling," she whispered. the words were so small they seemed to dissolve into the expensive leather upholstery before they could even reach the driver’s side. she tried to inject a note of defiance into it, a spark of that quiet strength she usually carried through the church pews, but it came out sounding more like a plea for billie to believe her or perhaps a plea to believe herself. "i can stop. i can stop whenever i want."

for a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic, hypnotic hum of the tires against the wet asphalt. evangeline waited for the scoff, for the mocking laugh, or for billie to simply ignore the lie with the bored detachment she usually reserved for those she found beneath her.

instead, the car swerved with a sudden, violent grace as billie slowed down, pulling into a quiet, overgrown side street that bled into the darkness away from the main road to the parsonage. the change in momentum made evangeline lurch forward, her heart leaping into her throat, and before she could steady herself, billie’s hand was there. it wasn't a gentle catch. it was a firm, grounding pressure that slammed against evangeline’s thigh, her fingers digging into the cream-colored fabric with just enough strength to remind her exactly who held the reins.

"is that so?" billie asked. her voice had dropped into a low, dark purr that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and settle in evangeline’s very marrow. she didn't look at the road anymore. the car sat idling in the shadows, the headlights cutting two lonely paths into the trees. she looked only at evangeline, her eyes tracing the curve of the girl’s jaw and the downward, defeated tilt of her head with a predatory hunger.

"then why are you trembling, evangeline?" she challenged, her thumb beginning to trace a slow, punishing circle against the girl’s skin. a movement that was clinical, repetitive, and entirely devastating. "if you're so in control, why is your heart trying to escape your chest? why do you look at me like you're starving and im the only thing in this god fearing town that can feed you?"

the space in the car felt like it was shrinking, the oxygen disappearing as billie leaned closer. her shadow engulfed evangeline, blocking out the dim, artificial glow of the dashboard until there was nothing left but the scent of billie’s perfume and the cold heat of her presence.

"don't do that," billie whispered, her breath warm and smelling of mint against evangeline’s cheek, a sharp contrast to the freezing words she spoke. "lie to the congregation if you must. lie to your father while you’re pouring the communion wine. but don't lie to me."

she leaned in until her lips were brushing the shell of evangeline's ear, her voice barely a breath, yet louder than any sermon evangeline had ever heard.

"you aren't falling, sweetheart," billie hissed, a mocking smirk tugging at her lips as she felt evangeline shudder beneath her touch. "you're already on your knees. you’ve been there since the moment i walked into your father’s study, and we both know you aren't planning on getting up anytime soon."

she let the silence hang there, heavy and incriminating, forcing evangeline to sit in the ruins of her own hollow defiance. billie didn't pull away- she stayed there, looming over her, waiting for the girl to realize that in this car, just like in the vestry, there was no such thing as an equal fight. there was only the predator, and the lamb who had forgotten how to run.

evangeline turned her head sharply toward the window, the movement so sudden it made the delicate lace of her collar chafe against her neck. she pressed her forehead against the cool, unyielding glass, desperate for the physical chill to numb the feverish heat billie had ignited. in the dark reflection of the passing trees and flickering streetlights, she saw a ghost of herself. eyes too wide, hair too messy, a version of evangeline hollis that didn't belong in the light. she couldn't bear to look back at the driver's seat. not when billie had just systematically stripped away every defense she owned, leaving her raw and shivering in the wake of a truth she wasn't ready to name.

through the glass, the parsonage finally drifted into view. it looked like a postcard of peace. the familiar, sloping silhouette of the roof, the warm, golden glow of the porch light, and the quiet sanctity of a home where she was supposed to be the anchor. it felt like a completely different world. one where she didn't have the taste of candle wax in her mouth or still feel the weight of a hypocrite’s hand on her leg.

the distance between the car and that front door felt like a treacherous, bottomless canyon. evangeline wanted to be there, safe in her own bed, wrapped in the familiar textures of her childhood and the quiet of her own thoughts, far away from the heavy, commanding presence of the girl beside her. but the closer they got, the more the house looked like a courtroom.

billie slowed the car, the engine idling with a low, impatient rumble as she pulled up to the curb a few houses down, keeping them draped in the safety of the shadows. the silence returned, but it was no longer the awkward quiet of a ride home. it was stagnant and thick, like the atmosphere in the sanctuary right before the heavens break open.

"we’re here," billie said. her voice was devoid of its usual mocking lilt. it was just a statement. flat, final, and cold. she didn't unbuckle her seatbelt, and she didn't tell evangeline to get out. she simply sat there with her hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, her icy blue eyes fixed on evangeline’s profile against the window, waiting with a predator’s patience to see if the girl would finally break.

the car felt smaller now, the air between them turning to lead. evangeline didn't reach for the door handle. she didn't even unbuckle. instead, she curled inward, pulling her leather bag against her chest like a physical shield to protect her heart from further scrutiny. her knuckles were white, her fingers digging into the worn leather until they ached.

she had so many things she wanted to scream. she wanted to tell billie that she was still in control, that she wasn't just a project to be dismantled and discarded. she wanted to admit that the jealousy she’d felt wasn't a whim, but a terrifying realization of how much of her soul she had already handed over. but the words felt too heavy, too unrefined to let loose. she swallowed them down, letting them settle in her throat like a bitter, jagged stone.

a weary, ragged sigh finally broke from her. the sound of a girl who had officially run out of places to hide. evangeline didn't look at the house anymore. she looked down at her lap, her shoulders slumped under the crushing weight of the secret she was carrying.

"i can't get myself to walk inside... or look at my mother’s face," she admitted, the words feeling shameful as they left her lips. the thought of her mother’s kind, unsuspecting eyes, the eyes of a woman who believed her daughter was a pillar of grace. made her stomach churn with a sudden, sharp nausea.

then, she did something brave. she lifted her head, forcing herself to meet that icy, unblinking blue gaze.

"how do you do it?" evangeline asked, her voice gaining a sliver of desperate strength. "how do you live like this? how do you walk into that church every sunday and act like you aren't... like you aren't everything you just did to me?"

billie didn't flinch. she didn't look guilty, and she certainly didn't look like she was struggling with a crisis of conscience. she sat there, perfectly poised, the very image of a girl who had mastered the art of the hollow soul. she leaned in just a fraction, her silver cross catching the dim dashboard light.

"it's easy, ev," billie whispered, her lips curling into a tiny, devastating smirk. "i just remember that the version of me they love doesn't actually exist. and the version of you that i just had on that pew? that’s the only one that’s real."

the air in the car felt like it had been sucked out, replaced by a vacuum of cold, clinical indifference. billie’s words hadn't just been a remark; they had been an execution of the girl evangeline worked so hard to be. for a heartbeat, the silence was absolute. then, something inside evangeline finally snapped. a clean, sharp break that didn't feel like falling, but like a sudden, violent awakening.

"i want you to leave, eilish," she snapped.

the name left her lips like a challenge, sharp and unyielding. using her surname felt like slamming a heavy, iron gate between them. a formal, cold barrier that stripped away the "billie" she’d whispered in the dark. it was the most unevangeline thing she had ever done. she was usually a creature of softness and quiet contemplation, but now she was blunt, her voice stripped of every shred of submission.

billie’s eyebrows flickered upward, a shadow of genuine surprise crossing her icy features, but evangeline didn't give her the chance to speak. before billie could offer a rebuttal, before she could use that low, melodic voice to pull her back into her orbit, evangeline grabbed her leather bucket bag and shoved it against her chest. she held it like an anchor, like a shield, her knuckles white as she gripped the worn material.

"and i don't want to do this again," she added, her voice trembling. not with the fear of billie, but with a desperate, frantic need to reclaim the fragments of her own soul. "i don't want to see you. not in the vestry. not in this car. not at all."

she didn’t wait for billie’s permission. she didn’t wait for the "amen" to the sermon billie had been preaching all night. evangeline unbuckled her seatbelt with a sharp, mechanical click, yanked the door handle, and stepped out into the cool evening air.

the transition was jarring. the night air was crisp and smelled of damp earth and pine, a world away from the leather and predatory heat of the car’s interior. she didn't look back. she walked toward the parsonage with a forced, rigid purpose, her legs feeling heavy, as if she were wading through water. her skin was still humming with the lingering dampness of her shame, the places billie had touched feeling like brands she was trying to walk away from.

she kept her gaze fixed strictly on the path ahead, staring at the gravel and the blades of grass illuminated by the porch light, refusing to cast even a single glance over her shoulder. she was terrified that if she looked, she would see billie watching her, see that smug, knowing smirk, and she would crumble all over again.

behind her, the car engine remained idling, a low, rhythmic pulse in the quiet street. it sounded like the breathing of a beast that wasn't finished with its meal. even without looking, evangeline could feel those icy blue eyes on her back. heavy, judgmental, and entirely too knowing. she could almost hear the silent, amused chuckle drifting through the glass, as if billie knew that this declaration of independence was just another move in a game she had already won.

evangeline reached the porch, her hand fumbling for the door handle. she stepped inside the house, the warmth of her home feeling like a lie, and closed the door behind her. only then did she hear the low growl of the engine as the car finally pulled away, leaving her alone in the silence of her father’s house, stained and shivering in the light.

You had taken three painstaking hours getting ready. Showering, shaving, doing your hair, makeup, your mom zipping up your dress. A long, flowy blue dress that went with the theme of the night. Midnight sky.

You had your hair in a half up, half down, curled and set with hairspray. Your expensive perfume sprayed all over, making you smell like the equivalent of a flower garden.

Billie was standing in the living room, the bouquet she got you and the corsage in her hands. Her hair hung loosely, straightened—forcefully by Maggie—and a nice, smooth suit on. Her tie matching your dress perfectly.

You carefully walked down the steps in your heels, laughing as your mom helped you down. You held onto her hand, before finally stepping down to the bottom floor. Your eyes instantly found Billie’s, and you saw the light flash in them.

She felt like she was looking at the sun. You were absolutely breathtaking, because you certainly took hers. She swallowed thickly, nervous like it was your first date all over again. She slowly stepped closer, her voice quiet.

“Baby… Jesus, look at you… like a real dream.”

She was completely breathless. You took her breath away in one quick swoop. She took your hand in her free one, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You couldn’t help but giggle, shrugging your shoulders up at the compliment.

“I have the effect on people.”

You said smugly, making her roll her eyes. She handed you your bouquet, which you took gratefully. You held out your hand for her, and watched her carefully slip the corsage onto your wrist. She adjusted it, before kissing your knuckles once more.

“Now… I believe you have something for me as well?”

She asked, like this wasn’t tradition. You rolled your eyes, before pulling out your boutonniere that you picked out. You carefully clipped it to her vest, before smoothing it out.

“There. Now we match.”

You said, a wide smile on your lips.

And then—pictures. Your mom dragged you outside to the porch, taking out her old camera to snap pictures of you and Billie. You complained multiple times, desperately just wanting to get into the limo and to the venue where prom was being held.

You only heard Billie chuckle, but when you turned to look at her with a hard look, she instantly smothered it.

It took twenty minutes to pry your mom away, before slipping into the limo. You let out a small sigh in relief, practically collapsing against the limo. You leaned against Billie, taking her hand in yours.

“Hey, don’t get all sleepy now. We still have a full two hours.”

Billie teased softly, gently tilting your head up. She placed a soft kiss on your lips, stealing some of the lip gloss that covered your lips.

“Maybe I wouldn’t if my mom wasn’t insistent on getting ten thousand pictures before prom even started.”

You grumbled, but kissed her back. Softly.

When the limo pulled up to the venue, all your friends were there. Their boyfriends were fixing their boutonnières, while all your friends were huddled for pictures. And before you knew it—you slipped away with your friends, squealing and hugging each other, while Billie went up to all her friends from the football team.

These were the pictures you didn’t mind. They were with your friends—the people you loved and cherished. And half because the poses weren’t insanely awkward.

But eventually, you all made it into the venue, and found a table that fit all of your friends and their boyfriends, and Billie. Claiming it with your purses, before rushing off to the dance floor and all dancing together. Lights flashing, music beating into the wall.

You found Billie standing off to the side a half an hour later, a plastic cup in her hand. You came up behind her, giggling as you wrapped your arms around her waist.

“Jesus—“ she screamed, but it was barely audible over the blasting music. She turned to look at you, eyes wide and hand clutching her chest. “God, baby, I thought I was going to have to sucker punch a bitch.”

You only giggled, looking up at her with soft, loving eyes.

“C’mon, you’re not standing around all night.”

“Baby, you know I’m a horrible dancer.” She retaliated, already trying to pull away.

“No, you’re not.” You pulled her over to the dance floor.

“Yes, I am, baby. You saw last year, I’m a horrible worm dancer.” She stumbled after you.

“Well, good thing you don’t have to do the worm.” You said, plucking the drink from her hand and tossing it into the nearby trash can.

“I was drinking that—“

“And now you’re not. You’re dancing.”

You pulled her into the large crowd, hidden between bodies that didn’t care about your presence, and you held onto her hands tightly.

“Just be here with me. Please, Billie.” You asked, and used those pleading puppy eyes you always used when you wanted something to go your way.

Billie broke instantly. She was an easy woman with you. She sighed, before she began to dance with you. Awkwardly, at first, before she loosened up, laughing as you both danced with each other.

It was like that for a while, dancing and screaming the lyrics of the songs playing. Sometimes stopping to grab a bottle of water, before immediately running back to your place on the dance floor.

It wasn’t until the hour and a half mark when the speakers cut. You and Billie were confused, until—

“We’re so grateful you are all here tonight, Seniors! But before anyone goes home, we’d like to announce the prom King and Queen of the night!”

Your heart raced. You and Billie had both submitted for Queen—you—and King—Billie. You both had only done it for fun, and didn’t expect anything from it. But it still made your heart race.

You grabbed onto Billie’s hand, but didn’t look over at her. You were both silently hoping for the title, but weren’t exactly expecting it. It was just a title, but it was Senior year. It would be amazing to see you guys up on the stage, but you didn’t let your hopes up.

“Alright! For our prom King, we have…” The tension was high as the principal pulled open an envelope, and you saw her eyes widening for a moment.

“Well, this is new. Our prom King of this year’s Seniors is Billie O’Connell!”

You froze. There was no way this was real. You looked over to Billie, and instantly jumped.

“You got prom King! You got it, baby!” You squealed, hugging Billie tightly. Billie only chuckled, before slowly pressing a kiss to your forehead, and making her way onto the stage.

The workers helped put on the plastic crown and the sash, which spelled ‘Prom King’ in the school colors. You smiled up at her from the dance floor, clapping as everyone else did.

“Alright! And now, for this year’s Prom Queen!” The principal announced, grabbing the separate envelope and slowly opening it. The tension was high, girls whispering around, quietly saying it would be them.

But then—your name. You were called from the microphone. You froze—you got Prom Queen. You and Billie both got Prom King and Queen. You stood there in shock for a moment, before one of your friends pushed you, making you snap out of your daze.

You quickly made your way up to the stage, and you were smiling like an idiot. The employees placed the tiara on top of your head, and the sash across your chest. You beamed up at Billie, giggling like you were little freshmen again.

“Well, don’t you look dazzling in a tiara.”

Billie said, walking over to you and gently pulling you against her chest. She gently brushed a stray curl away from your face, humming softly.

“Well, you look amazing in a crown.”

You said, a smile on your lips. You heard the principal calling your names, making you turn. You both smiled for the photo, before quickly turning back to each other.

It wasn’t planned. It was a surprise to both of you, and it was nice. It was nice and felt amazing to have the tiara lying across your head, and see the frown perched on Billie’s.

You were both guided down to the dance floor together, and a slow dance song came on. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes—a slow dance was not in Billie’s specialties. Tackling, running, yes. Dancing? Not so much.

Billie grumbled, but slipped an arm around your waist. She pulled you against her, and holding your other hand out into the air. She pulled your faces close, and slowly began to sway with you.

“Damn, baby, when did you learn to dance?”

You giggled, one arm around her neck as she slowly guided the dance.

“Videos. Ever since you submitted us for King and Queen. Just in case.”

She said softly, looking down at you with a small smile. It wasn’t a huge grand gesture, but it was something that made you feel important. Something that instantly struck your heart. You smiled, before leaning your head on her chest.

It was dark by the time you pulled up to the diner. It was empty as you entered, tiara tilted slightly, giggles ringing out between you and Billie. Your dress was wrinkled, but you didn’t care.

You munched down on your food, absolutely starving. You refused to eat since breakfast, wanting to make sure you still fit into the dress. And now, you were chowing down, moaning at each delicious bite.

“Jesus, baby, it’s all yours. You can calm down.”

Billie laughed, handing you a couple of napkins.

You wiped at your face, taking some makeup with it. You barely cared anymore. You were just happy to have food in your stomach again. You let out a sigh, leaning back and patting your now full stomach.

“That… was delicious. I need to come here more. Maybe this can be our next date—“

Your words were cut off with a loud burp, making yours and Billie’s eyes widen. You both stared at each other for a moment, before promptly bursting into laughter.

“Yeah, we should come here for our next date—“

Billie mocked, fauxing her own burp. You both bursted into even more laughter, both of your faces turning bright red at how much you were laughing.

Eventually, your laughs simmered down to soft giggles, looking over at each other with soft smiles.

“Okay, burp lord, it’s time to go home.”

Billie said softly, moving out from the booth and gently taking your hand. She led you both over to the front counter, pulling out her wallet to pay.

You leaned against her shoulder, nuzzling into the fabric and yawning. You felt your eyes begin to droop, letting out a soft sigh as you saw the card being handed back to Billie.

You let her lead you back into the car, and settle you down into the passenger seat.

“Go to sleep, princess. I’ll wake you when we get home.” ⋆. 𐙚 ̊

ׂ╰┈➤ guys look it’s Ally actually getting out of her slump for once !! Ultra rare find

The studio in Billie's LA house felt like a cocoon of creativity and quiet intensity, tucked away in the sprawling modern home she called her sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the twinkling city lights, but heavy curtains were drawn, keeping the outside world at bay. Inside, the air hummed with the faint scent of incense and fresh coffee, mixed with the subtle musk of long hours spent chasing perfection. The grand screen set up dominated the space, its polished black surface reflecting the soft amber glow from the desk lamps. Posters of Billie's past tours and album covers adorned the walls, a testament to her empire, while scattered notebooks and a half-empty bottle of water cluttered the nearby table.

You'd arrived that afternoon, nerves buzzing like the synth lines in the track you were building together. As industry colleagues, your paths had crossed at industry events—quick hellos at the Grammys, nods during producer meetings—but this was different. This was intimate, collaborative, just the two of you hammering out a song that blended her edgy vocals with your piano-driven melody. The track was sultry, pulsating with a rhythm that demanded precision, especially from the keys. You'd been at it for what felt like eternity, your fingers aching from repeated attempts, but every run-through ended in frustration. The notes slipped, the timing fractured, and the whole piece fell apart.

Billie lounged against the edge of the piano, her black hair falling in loose waves over her forehead, those striking blue eyes fixed on you with a mix of amusement and impatience. She wore her usual oversized aesthetic—a baggy black hoodie that swallowed her slim frame, loose sweats that hung low on her hips, and chunky sneakers kicked off by the door. At 24, she carried an effortless cool, but up close, there was a raw energy about her, something magnetic that made the room feel smaller.

"Alright, let's take it from the bridge again," she said, her voice that signature low rasp, laced with a teasing edge. She pushed off the piano and paced a slow circle around you, hands tucked into her pockets. "You're overthinking it. The rhythm isn't in your head—it's in your body. You gotta feel it, like it's breathing through you."

You nodded, wiping sweat from your brow, and positioned your hands over the keys. The melody started strong in your mind: a steady pulse building to a crescendo, evoking late-night drives through the city, hearts racing in sync. But as you pressed down, your timing wavered. A note hung too long, another came too soon, and the whole sequence crumbled into dissonance. You slammed your palm lightly on the wood in defeat, exhaling sharply.

Billie stopped pacing, her smirk widening as she leaned in close, her breath warm against your shoulder. "See? Too stiff. You're like a robot trying to dance. Loosen up, yeah? Let me help you find the groove." Her tone was playful, almost mocking, but there was an undercurrent of something hotter, more insistent. Before you could respond, her hands were on your hips, firm and guiding, steering you to bend forward over the piano bench. The cool surface of the keys brushed your forearms as you braced yourself, heart pounding not just from the failure but from the sudden proximity.

"Billie, what are you—" you began, voice catching as you felt her press against your back. The bulge in her sweats was unmistakable, hard and unyielding, nestling right against the curve of your ass. She was different—everyone in the inner circles whispered about it, but feeling it was another thing entirely. A girl with a cock and balls, thick and ready, hidden under that casual exterior.

"Shh," she murmured, lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm gonna show you the rhythm. Trust me, it'll stick this time." Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it up slowly, exposing the soft skin of your thighs. The air in the studio felt thicker now, charged, as she slid your panties to the side with a casual flick. You were already damp—frustration and her teasing presence had done that much—and she let out a soft hum of approval.

She freed herself from her sweats, the sound of fabric rustling followed by the heavy drop of her length against your skin. Her cock was impressive—thick at the base, veined along its length, the head flushed and leaking a bead of precum. Her balls hung low, full and swaying slightly as she gripped your hip with one hand. She dragged the tip along your folds, coating it in your arousal, teasing your entrance without mercy. "Look at you, already wet for the lesson," she whispered, voice dripping with that small, dirty tease. "Think you can play while I fuck the beat into this pretty pussy?"

You gasped, gripping the edge of the piano, but nodded, determined to try. With a single, deliberate thrust, she pushed inside, stretching your walls inch by inch. The fullness was overwhelming, her girth filling you completely as she bottomed out, balls pressing flush against your clit. She held there for a moment, letting you adjust, her breath hot on your neck. "That's the intro," she said, starting a slow, measured pump—deep in, slow out, mirroring the song's opening pulse.

Your fingers trembled as you tried to match it, pressing the first notes. The keys responded under your touch, but her movement disrupted everything. Each slide of her cock dragged against your inner walls, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. She picked up the pace slightly, hips snapping in time with the required rhythm—steady, insistent thrusts that had her balls slapping lightly against you. "Feel that?" she teased, one hand sliding up your side to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple through the fabric. "That's the groove. Sync to me."

But you couldn't. The sensation built too fast, her thickness hitting deep with every drive, coiling heat in your core. Your hands faltered, keys clashing as a moan escaped your lips. She didn't stop, pounding steadily from behind, her free hand now gripping your waist to pull you back onto her. The wet sounds of her cock plunging into your pussy filled the studio, mingling with your ragged breaths. Pleasure crested, and your first orgasm hit like a wave—your walls clenching around her shaft, milking it as tremors shook your body. You slumped forward, fingers splaying across random keys, the piano emitting a chaotic jumble.

Billie slowed, but didn't pull out, grinding deep as you rode the aftershocks. "Fail," she said with a chuckle, voice husky from the effort. "Not even close. Restart from the top." She withdrew slowly, her cock slick and shining with your release, a string of your juices connecting you for a moment before snapping. You were panting, thighs quivering, but she gave you no time to recover. Positioning you again—ass up, bent over the bench—she rubbed her tip along your soaked entrance, teasing your swollen folds. "Dripping down your legs. Let's see if you learn."

She thrust back in with ease, the glide smoother now from your wetness. Her balls tapped your skin rhythmically as she resumed the pace, hips rolling in that perfect, unyielding tempo. You braced your hands on the keys, trying harder this time, forcing your fingers to follow the melody. The notes came tentatively—close, but not quite. Her cock filled you over and over, the head nudging that sensitive spot inside, making your focus shatter. "Come on," she urged, breath teasing your ear, "play for me. Or is this pussy too greedy, sucking me in like that?"

The dirty words fueled the fire, and soon your body tensed again. Her thrusts grew firmer, balls smacking with each drive, the friction building unbearably. Your second climax tore through you, stronger than the first—pussy spasming around her length, juices squirting lightly as you cried out, hands pounding the keys in a discordant frenzy. The piano wailed under the assault, the song lost once more.

"Nope," Billie murmured, pulling out with a wet schlick, her cock throbbing visibly, veins pulsing. She stroked herself once, smearing your essence along her shaft, before lining up again. "Restart. You're making me work for it, but fuck, you feel good." Her voice had lost some of the tease, edged with raw desire now, but she kept it light, professional almost, like this was just part of the session.

Third attempt: She sank in deep, the stretch still intense despite your slickness. Her body molded to yours from behind, sweat-slick skin sliding as she began pumping. The rhythm was hypnotic—thrust, withdraw, thrust—her balls heavy against you, swinging with momentum. You managed a full bar this time, fingers dancing in sync for precious seconds, the melody peeking through. But then she shifted her angle, grinding harder, her cock dragging along your g-spot relentlessly. "That's it, almost," she whispered, hand slipping between your legs to rub your clit in slow circles. The added touch was devastating.

Heat pooled low, your breaths coming in gasps as you fought to keep playing. But the dual pleasure overwhelmed—her thumb flicking, cock pounding, balls tapping—and your third orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched vise-like, pulling her deeper as waves of ecstasy pulsed through, leaving you shaking, a keen escaping your throat. Keys blurred under your faltering grip, the music dissolving into noise.

Billie groaned softly, hips stuttering for the first time as your release coated her length. She eased out, giving you a moment to breathe, but her hand stayed on your hip, possessive. "Getting closer, but still a fail. Look at you, cumming so easy. Restart." She plunged back in without warning, the sudden fullness drawing a whimper from you. Your pussy was sensitive now, every inch of her cock sending jolts through your overstimulated nerves.

Fourth round: The pace was the same, always from behind, her chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around to steady you. She thrust steadily, balls slapping wetly now from the mess between you. "Feel how your body's learning?" she said, voice low and encouraging, the teasing softened but still there. "Tighten around me like that—match the beat." You tried, syncing a few more measures, the piano's notes flowing smoother, almost capturing the sultry pulse of the track.

But her hand returned to your clit, rubbing firmer, and the building tension snapped. Her cock throbbed inside, stretching you wide with each drive, the head kissing your cervix. Your fourth orgasm built slower but hit harder—body arching, pussy fluttering wildly around her as pleasure bordered on pain, tears pricking your eyes. You screamed softly, fingers slipping off the keys entirely, the bench creaking under your weight.

"Damn," Billie breathed, withdrawing carefully, her cock glistening, balls drawn tight. She was close herself, you could tell from the way she panted, but she held back, ever the teacher. "One more push. You're soaked, pussy begging for it. Restart." She entered you again, the slide effortless, your walls welcoming despite the ache. The studio smelled of sex now, heavy and intoxicating, the air thick with your shared heat.

Fifth attempt: Her thrusts were precise, hips snapping in perfect time, balls colliding with your clit in a rhythm that echoed the song. Sweat dripped from her brow onto your skin, mixing with yours. You focused through the haze, fingers finding the keys, pressing down with renewed determination. Notes emerged—clean, flowing, syncing to her movements. She noticed, a soft "Yes" escaping her lips, her hand on your breast squeezing gently.

But the pleasure mounted relentlessly. Her cock filled you completely, dragging out with a twist before slamming back, her balls heavy and full against you. The friction was too much; your body betrayed you one last time. The fifth orgasm ripped through, intense and shattering—pussy convulsing, milking her shaft as you wailed, but miraculously, your hands stayed true. The piano sang unbroken, the melody soaring in perfect harmony with her final, deep thrusts.

Billie followed seconds later, groaning low as she buried herself to the hilt. Her cock pulsed, hot cum erupting in thick ropes, flooding your pussy, her balls contracting against your skin. She jerked her hips, riding out the release, filling you until it leaked out around her base. You both trembled, the music fading as she stilled, breath ragged.

Slowly, she pulled out, a gush of her seed following, trickling down your thighs. She helped you upright, steadying you with hands on your shoulders, that smirk returning but softer now. Tucking herself away, she met your eyes, pride shining through. "See? I knew you could do it."

The words hung in the air, simple and affirming, as the studio settled into quiet satisfaction. The track was alive now, etched into your bodies as much as the keys. As colleagues, this was just another layer to the collaboration—intense, unforgettable, but professional at its core. Billie grabbed a water bottle, handing it to you with a wink. "Let's record that for real now. No distractions."

But the echo of her rhythm lingered, a secret beat only you two shared.

an; its my first time writting smut, i’m sorry cause it SuCkS so big omg, but i hope you at least enjoyed it. btw, someone, fuck me like that. please and thank you.

she had led you inside, made her friend— which you now know that his name is brayden— roll her a joint, and had flipped on her heel and clicked the door behind her. 

she insisted with a sweet voice and her soft blue eyes that you didn’t have to pay with money, and that there was always another way. she had leaned against her dresser with such smoothness that was so unlike your beady skin and anxious heart, and it didn’t ease your nerves in the slightest. she kept flickering her lighter back and forth, back and forth, and the repeating sensation was enough for you to snap. 

billie, of course, was amused at how nervous you were. it wasn’t like you two hadn’t had sex before— you had, intensely at that. but you weren’t sober then and you were now and the difference was somehow more acute than you thought. 

“you always this nervous,” she had asked you, her eyes more focused on the flickering of her lighter than anything, “or just when you owe me?”

your throat went dry. 

“i told you i would get the money, billie—“ 

“i don’t run a charity, princess. there’s no exceptions for anyone, even my cute customers.” 

she had gotten so close to you now that you involuntarily huffed in the smell of smoke on her hoodie that mixed with a strong vanilla perfume. her eyes darted all over you, hungry and so impatient that her hands began working alongside them, finding home on your waist, and then your ass, and in less than a minute, you were slipped underneath her sheets one again with her nude body pressed against yours. 

after that second time, there wasn’t much to discuss anymore. you and billie had made it official and since you weren’t just her ‘special’ customer anymore, she obviously didn’t ever make you pay for your weed. 

apparently all it took was less than sixty days to lull billie deep into whatever spell you accidentally spilled on her. sixty days of late nights, of your clothes to find themselves hanging in her closet or draped on her floor, of you showing up unannounced so many times that you had basically moved in. sixty days of her hands all over you like you were hers, but you never minded.

and everyone knew that. you weren’t necessarily sure on who ‘everyone’ consisted of, but you weren’t hellbent on knowing. billie had always told you that with her, you would never come into trouble because you were her girl. at the time, it made you question every single thing about the things your girlfriend was really involved with. did everyone she had beef with now have beef with you too? did you share the same group of friends? did she have anything that was ‘shoved under the rug’ that could now be pulled into the light?

you had a lot of questions, but you’d never dare to ask them. it’d be better to be ignorant in bliss than a girl with a head full of answers with a bullet right behind it. 

in present time, you sat on billie’s bed, in her clothes with a bag of her snacks, pretending to be scrolling aimlessly on your phone. she’s perched at her desk just a few feet away, counting cash and bagging her weed. though it was obviously illegal, you loved watching her do it. there was something so irresistible about looking at her package her weed up, push her money aside, and the way she’d blow air upwards to push a strand out of her face when she was focused. 

the videos on your phone fall silent as you let yourself stare. the quiet finally reaches billie and she turns in her chair to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. 

“got something to say?”

you hesitate for a second. you had an idea– one you knew she’d hate the second you let the syllables fall from your lips, but it was worth a try. 

“i could help you…you know.” you muster up, shifting on billie’s comforter in attempt to make yourself somewhat more comfortable with your statement. you knew it’d be a hard no, but in your mind, the logic was simple. being her girlfriend means that by association, you're on whatever she’s on. if you’re going to be dragged into it as an accomplice, might as well go all the way, right?

your words make billie pause. she’s still looking at you, but then her lips curl and it doesn’t take long for her to burst into a fit of laughter. like– genuine laughter, and it almost angers you. she’s too busy cracking herself up to realize that you’re being completely and utterly serious. 

and when she finally does notice, there’s another pause. 

“no.”

yeah, well, you did expect that. you thought that she’d might want to elaborate on her answer a little more, but that would mean that you were an idiot and someone cloned your girlfriend. 

when it came to her ‘business,’ she never really explained much. everything was an errands or just something to be taken care of, and every bruise was a situation that was handled accordingly. you’ve learned not to ask and definitely not to tell under any circumstances, so for your sake, all of it hardly exists after it happens. 

you shift positions again, blinking quietly. “baby, why won’t you let me explain–”

“you’re not getting involved in that. no.” the black-haired girl repeats, much sharper this time. and of course, she doesn’t explain her answer.

a frown finds you, and you adjust your seating again, persistent as your arms cross around your chest. “why not? i see it everyday, it’s not much different. either way i’m still here and involved.”

“that’s not the same.”

“how?”

you hear billie exhale through her nose, visibly annoyed now, as if it’s obvious as to why she’s saying no with no sort of reasoning to back it. 

“because i said so.”

you scoff. like that’s a better answer. you wish you had never asked at this point, because you already knew what she would’ve said before it even became a conversation. but you were also adamant on the subject– you’re around the business all day every day. maybe not directly, but you’ve seen billie and brayden do enough of their dirty work to know that it’s one, not something to mess with, and two– something that you have to be all in for. there’s no one foot in, one foot out bullshit with drugs. either you’re dealin’ and you’re one receiving it, or you’re not. 

“that’s not an answer, billie.” you finally speak up, and you know it’ll annoy her a little, but you don’t care. you needed an answer here, and one way or another, you were going to get one. 

“it is when it’s with me, y/n. i have reasons, and the answer for them is no.”

you roll your eyes, though she’s already turned her back to continue what she was doing. “so what? i’m supposed to be your pretty down-ass chick while you risk your life everyday doing this bullshit? i’m your girlfriend, in case you forgot. which means they’d come for my ass anyways if you pull some fuck shit.”

there’s an interlude of quiet, of course. she always thinks before she speaks to you because if she didn’t, she’d probably crash out on you. but this pause isn’t as long as the last one, and when she slouches in her chair and continues actively counting her money, you know whatever she says will end this conversation. 

“i’m not having this conversation with you. this is my shit, so stay out of it. i told you no, and that’s the end of the conversation.”

your jaw drops, mainly to avoid snapping at billie because that would only end badly for you, not for her. you had so much to say and yet nothing came out, and that was probably for the better because by the way billie turned around and walked out of her bedroom with a slammed door that followed, it was clear she wasn’t negotiating.

and she didn’t really have to. when you heard her talking to brayden in the living room and the tv blasting some show, you knew she wasn’t going to came back in for a while. you quickly slipped off of billie’s bed and made your way to her desk where her second phone laid, vulnerable and unlocked. with shaky hands, you clicked her messages app and found brayden’s. 

bingo. 

dealing to alyssa at one seemed easy. serving a girl was less of a threat and by the looks of the other messages you dissected, she lived in a nicer neighborhood, was 18, and played soccer. no way she’d do anything to you, she’s got too much to lose. 

you pulled out your own phone and took some quick pictures before turning billie’s off, shoving yours in your pocket, immediately throwing yourself underneath your girlfriend’s sheets and letting your eyes bore into the wall. 

truth be told, you were anxious. you didn’t think it would be too dangerous, but you’ve only received drugs, and the most you’ve ever dealt to someone was rolling your best friend’s joint for her in the comfort of her own home with the weed you bought her. this was a whole new playing field, and you were both nervous and a little too excited about the whole thing. 

if something did go wrong, billie would kill you thirty times over and probably bring you back to life just to kill you again. but also, if something went right, or at least on schedule, she would still be pissed. either way she would be mad, which was the ointment to ease your guilty conscience. what difference did it make if she wasn’t going to be happy about it either way? 

after half an hour of motionless lounging in billie’s bed, your head turns when you hear the door creek, and it’s her. her sleeves are up and you can smell pasta sauce on her jacket from where she’s standing, which makes you perk up. 

“i made dinner, baby.” she gives you a weak smile, “i’m sorry about earlier, i hate being an ass but i’m serious on this shit. don’t make any stupid decisions, okay? it’s just because—“ 

you wait for her to finish. 

“i care about you.”

you let yourself take pride in a shit-eating grin. you fully sit up, letting your back fall against the headboard.

it’s twelve-twenty one, and you feel like you’re about to shit your pants. 

you’ve got everything you need, at least what you could come up with to the best of your abilities. of course, the weed. it’s in a bag rolled up in your purse underneath your wallet, resting right next to the pepper spray that was still in it’s packaging from your walmart run last night. 

the lie you told billie this morning was that you were going to get your nails done around one, which was half-true. you did want to get them done, right after you sealed the deal with alyssa. you had also finessed your way into getting billie to think she canceled, which was unbelievably harder than you thought— but it was nothing like a few fake messages couldn’t handle. 

you finally get up from your spot on the couch, and thank goodness the house is still. no one’s awake yet, brayden and billie are in their own rooms, and you made sure to park your car behind billie’s so you could quickly leave without her having to get up to move her own. 

you took in the deepest breath you could, held it in until your chest ached, and with an exhale, your keys found themselves in your palms and you sped out of your driveway with quickness. 

unfortunately, music wasn’t enough to calm you down. your purse was open and the contraband was now exposed, and you couldn’t stop staring down at it. you live in california and it’s just a little bit of weed— what could really go wrong here? 

well, ‘alyssa’ could be a code name for ‘super big mafia boss’ who could take your ass out with one swipe to your face. or, you she could jack you and make you lose profit, and billie would really be pissed if you accidentally gave her shit out for free. as much as you’ve had to pay her back in some way, you know she doesn’t play about her cash. 

your gpa takes you into a neighborhood that looks way too nice for your comfort. there’s literal mini-mansions on every corner that your tires turn on, and when you pull up next to alyssa’s, you’re stunned out of your mind. 

it’s got to be at least three stories from what you can tell, and through the windows, it looks like their furniture cost more than any money you’ve ever made in your life. 

you step out and grab your bag, slamming the door shut and flicking your wrist to look at the time. it’s 12:59, and when you look up again, she’s standing right in front of you. 

she looks harmless. 

she kind of looks like she doesn’t have any business doing business like this. kind of like you. 

“billie sent you?” are the first words out of her mouth. 

you look away. you look back at her, and her face is contorted in a way that tells you she’s just waiting to get her shit and go back inside. 

understood. 

“yeah.” you reply, and she immediately eases up. 

“okay, cool,” she gives you a smile, “i was like…i don’t recognize the car. thought you were a murderer or something.” 

you force out a small laugh. half of you wants to back out, but you’ve got something to prove now— that you can do this. you’re already here and it would be much more embarrassing for you to turn around and act like you weren’t pretending to be a drug dealer. 

your hands feel shaky as you reach into your bag, pulling out what you grabbed out of billie’s stash earlier. you try to copy her— the way she moves, the way she doesn’t second guess, her quickness and ease when she’s doing her deals. 

but you’re not billie.

your fingers fumble slightly, and of course, the girl notices.

“you good?” she asks, tilting her head.

“yeah, i’m fine, i’m just…cold.” 

right. you’re cold on a april afternoon in california, because that makes total sense. 

alyssa knows that it doesn’t, and she cocks a brow at you but doesn’t utter a word. you move with a newfound quickness, and shoo the brunette back into her house so that you can turn around and get in the car before you throw up in her freshly-cut bushes. 

you drive off and let siri guide you to the nail shop. you almost made the rash decision to cancel, but coming home way too quick with nail beds that still looked like war zones would throw you off of your lie. so, you let your thoughts roam in hopes that the guilty feelings will subside by the time you walk in the salon. 

you’re pulling into the parking lot when a weird smile crawls onto your lips. you think you did good. it was quick and easy, money for product, one and done. something to rub in billie’s face— that you really could do something she said you couldn’t. 

“that…wasn’t even that bad.” you whisper only to yourself, feeling almost proud that you did that. 

however, that feeling only lasts for less than a couple hours. 

you’re on the way home when an unknown number texts you. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx u with billie? 

your heart literally drops to your ass. suddenly the speed limit is no longer a suggestion, but an overestimation. you’re going ten under just to respond, and you erase and retype at least five messages before finally sending one, playing dumb. 

no…why…?

xxx-xxx-xxxx it’s brayden btw  alyssa texted her 

now you really have to play dumb. and the easiest way to do that is pretend you didn’t see the message. and that works for maybe five minutes, when you’re just making the turn into billie’s neighborhood— another one pops up on your screen. 

the girl u sold to is alyssa btw 

well, fuck. 

you don’t even have time to get out of the car when you pull into the driveway. billie’s already walking to your driver’s side, and you feel yourself shrivel up. there was literally nothing you could do about this except hope that she wasn’t going to literally break your window in out of anger. 

through your tinted lenses, all you hear is your girlfriend demanding you get out of the car and ‘bring your ass inside’, which, obviously wasn’t with the loving connotation that she missed you. 

you don’t remember getting out of the car, what billie said to you on the way in, or how you made it to her living room where brayden was pretending to act like neither of you two were there. you blink, and billie’s standing in front of you, still as a bag of rocks, and that scared you. 

her tone is flat and simple. “what did you do?” 

“nothing…?” lie. a bad one at that. 

“wrong answer.”

you swallow thickly, trying to come up with literally anything to rebuttal with. you’re in deep shit and you know that, but as much as you wished in your head that you could pretend this never happened, it did. and after billie told you no? yeah, you were gonna pay for that. 

“it was just one—“

“you went behind my back.” 

you try and steady yourself. “okay, yes…but it wasn’t some big thing! it was one deal—“ 

“right. one i didn’t send you on. i didn’t even tell you about that shit, so how did you find out?” 

you weren’t prepared for her to ask that. you couldn’t lie now, after betraying her once, you’d probably get a beating and a breakup at the same time. 

“your phone…?”

billie’s jaw immediately tightens and if you weren’t in your right mind, you’d think she’d swing on you right now. her fists ball and then quickly release, and she breathes in heavily before looking you dead in the eyes, “go to my room.” 

you go dead in the eyes. there’s no time to think or talk or do anything except put one foot in front of the other until you’re back in the same situation you were sixty days ago, standing with your back against the wall and a heart that’s refusing to regulate itself. billie slams the door with a force that you’ve never seen her have, and you’re already fumbling trying to come up with something to say. 

she cuts off your thoughts like she could hear them. “you went through my fucking phone?” 

“is that rhetorical? because i feel like i already told you that.”

you close your eyes as soon as the words fall from your lips. with the amount of shit that’s coming from your mouth, your ass might as well talk for you. 

billie’s on you like white on rice, her body pressed right against yours and you’re so close that your noses almost touch. her hands find themselves on your arms and they’re not tight at all, but you can feel them. 

“i love you. i really do, but you’re pissing me the fuck off. just answer the question, y/n, and stop being difficult. did you go through my phone?” 

your hands come up to push the black-haired girl off of you, not hard, but just enough to show her that you’re not messing with her. you’re clearly irritated now— after being around the entire ordeal this entire time, she just wants you to act like you’re her little trophy that just sits next to her while she risks her life? yeah, fuck that. 

“the hell is your problem?” you immediately snap back, and billie just stares at you, almost confused. this entire time, you’ve kept your innermost feelings to yourself. about billie doubting you, not trusting you— you never expressed that to her. but now? you couldn’t contain it any longer. 

“hold on… what’s my problem?” she repeats slowly, “you went through my phone, first of all—“

“i don’t care.” you immediately cut her off. 

it’s silent. 

“you don’t get to decide everything for me,” you say, your voice sharper now. “i’m not your fucking trophy wife that you get to show everyone and then go get yourself in trouble doing whatever the hell this is.i’m not an idiot and i’m not a child, so stop treating me like one.”

billie exhales through her nose, clearly already annoyed but trying to find her composure. 

“you think this is me treating you like a kid?” she snaps back, almost half a second after you, stepping closer. “you went behind my back after i told you no. that’s not being grown, that’s being reckless as—”

“oh my god, there it is again,” you roll your eyes and laugh bitterly, but there’s no humor to shadow it. “you don’t trust me. just say it! just fucking say you don’t trust me instead of acting like i’m the problem every time i open my mouth.”

“i do trust you, babe.” she fires back immediately.

“no you don’t,” you say, voice cracking now but you don’t stop. you’re going off, pointing your finger and waving your hands around, tears welling in the underskirts of your eyes, but you don’t care. “because if you did, you wouldn’t control every single thing i try to do. you don’t want a girlfriend, billie— you want someone who just sits there and listens to whatever the fuck you say and roll with it.” 

there’s silence for a split second before billie immediately claps back. “hold on…you really think this is about you being some kind of equal partner in my shit?”

you bat your eyes at her, “what the fuck are you even talking about?” 

“i thought you had to be joking,” billie dryly laughs, “you actually wanted to like…do this? you did one deal and now you think you’re the shit.” 

something in your chest literally twists. 

“don’t talk to me like that.” you warn, but she’s already started. 

“wanna know what alyssa texted me?” billie continues, almost shrugging, “she told me you were shaking trying to do the deal. it’s just fucking weed, y/n— and if you can’t do that with some harmless teenage girl, what on God’s green earth makes you think you can handle—“ 

you interrupt her. “you really think i’m that useless?” 

“i think you’re delusional.”

yeah, you had enough. your anger has come in waves, but right now you’re so mad that you don’t have time to think. in one swift motion, your hand comes up fast and you slap her.

the sound cracks through the room.

everything goes dead silent. billie immediately looks down, her fingers framing her face from the impact. 

the silence in the room was so heavy it felt physical, like it had snuck it’s way through your ears and into your chest, which was beating so hard you felt like it could’ve jumped out of your body. your palm was stinging and what got you was the fact that you couldn't see her face. her black hair shielded her expression and she wasn’t moving, hell– you didn’t even know if she was breathing.

“i–” you start, yet nothing but a screech comes out. you don’t even know what you were going to say, but whatever you thought you could come up with– it wouldn’t have been good enough. yes, billie pissed you off, and in your eyes, your emotions were valid. however, what wasn’t valid was you slapping your girlfriend in the face. 

after what felt like hours, you watched billie look up at you, her thumb still brushing the spot where you hit her. you expect her to be crying, for her face to be red-hot with anger, but instead, she’s…smiling?

the grin on her face is so surreal that you nearly want to pull your phone out and take a picture, just to make sure you’re not tripping. you hit your own girlfriend and she’s happy about it? 

billie’s pupils are huge and dark, enamored with something that you can’t put your finger on. her eyes study you for a second, and then she’s all over you again, though it’s different from the last time. you aren’t arguing, you aren’t fighting, and her movements are way more deliberate and in control. 

her hand comes up to grip your jaw– not rough enough to hurt, but firm enough to where you know better than to try and move. 

“you’ve got a lot to say today,” she murmurs, eyes flickering all over your face as you just watch her, not even attempting to interrupt her. “all that attitude, all that fucking mouth on you…where did all that come from, hm?”

“you were being mean, billie.” you murmur slowly, so contrast from your actions literally minutes ago. billie’s lips twitch slightly. 

“yeah?” she asks you, leaning into you, “and you thought hitting me was gonna fix that?”

there’s not enough time to answer. her fingers hook underneath the hem of your shirt, and in one swift motion, it’s off of your body and collapses onto the floor like a piece of trash. you feel her lips find your neck, and with every rough, sloppy kiss, a mark is left behind. your back arches off of the wall and a quiet moan passes through your lips as billie aggressively kisses down your body. 

“you get on my nerves so fucking bad.” she breathes, though her lips don’t stop. she’s at your stomach now, her teeth grazing the skin teasingly when she reaches your jeans. 

billie’s on her knees, her chin tucked between your legs when she looks up at you from the floor, and you feel like you could faint right then and there. you breath hitches when she unbuckles your belt, pulling it through the loops and discarding it to the ground, and your pants follow in the same fashion. 

“get on the bed. face down. put your hands behind your back.”

it’s not a suggestion or a question, but a command that isn’t to be strayed from. you obey as soon as she stands up, walking quickly over to her bed and letting yourself fall into the covers. 

the shift in billie’s energy was tectonic. you watched her from a few feet away as she walked over, and you could tell in her face that you were in for a rude awakening. 

ever since you forgot your money for your deals the last time, your sex with billie was sweet. she never rushed you, never pushed you, and always did what you wanted. she was so unlike her regular self, lacking that stoic and firm energy that she always carried wherever she went. but now, it seemed like all of that had faded. 

billie was angry. at you, at the situation, hell– any other pent up anger she had was going to find it’s way to present itself onto whatever she was going to inflict on you. and although it made you slightly nervous, the slickness that was growing in between your legs was undeniable. you had never seen her so aggressive with you in this way. 

“sit up.” she calls from just a few feet away, and you do almost instantly. you feel shy, the comforter hiding your nearly exposed body when billie finally walks over to you, clearly pissed. her jaw is tense and her eyes are fiery when her eyes meet yours. she climbs onto the bed quickly and pulls you up by your wrists, flipping your body to where your face falls into one of her pillows. 

“you don’t fucking listen, that’s your issue.” billie seethes, and you feel her fingers dip into the waistband of your panties. she doesn’t ask, she just hooked her thumbs into the lace and pushed them down, the fabric circling around your ankles. and you don’t protest. 

“i’m tired of hearing your smart mouth. of hearing you whine and complain about everything– so maybe this'll knock some sense into you.” 

it’s so still in the room that you can hear the air propel backwards when billie draws her hand back. you audibly whine before it even comes in contact with your skin, your body literally shaking with nervousness.

slap! 

the first strike of her palm across your ass was a white-hot flash that made your eyes fall spotty. you winced, your back arching as another whimper, louder this time, sounded from your throat. you want to speak but you know that it’ll do little to nothing to get you out of this situation, so you close your eyes as you feel billie’s hand rub your lower back and the curvature of your backside, and the soothing touch was almost mocking. 

slap! slap! slap!

she didn’t stop. the spanking was rhythmic, and horrendously precise. your skin was burning with such a searing heat that made you feel like you were on fire. you were wailing into the pillow now, tears starting to fill your eyes as your voice morphed into high-pitched, pathetic whines as your ‘lesson’ stretched on. 

“i’m sorry billie,” you finally cough out, “i-i am…m’so sorry…”

that doesn’t get you where you think it will. in fact, something in billie snaps. she’s tired of it. tired of hearing your excuses and whines, acting like you’re apologetic when in reality, you weren’t. you were just annoyed at the fact that after everything that just happened, you’re back underneath her, just like you were from the start. 

billie finally flips you to where you’re underneath her, and her fingers fasten against your jaw again– except she’s firmer now, her grip tight. “you’re sorry, princess? oh, i bet you are—“ billie laughs to herself, her grip still firm on your jaw. “bet you’re gonna tell me again and again how you fucked up, how you’re never gonna do it again, blah blah blah. well can i tell you something? i honestly don’t wanna hear that shit.” 

she reaches for the nightstand next to you, and you heard the sound of her unzipping her jeans, the rustling of fabrics, and the tightening of the harness. you’re too scared to even look at her, so you turn around and face the mirror that stands in front of her bed, your head pushed into the mattress as you wait for her. 

you felt billie’s hands settle on your waist, and within seconds, you feel the first thrust, a slow, agonizing stretch as she began to fully fill you up. your pussy was warm and inviting, your arousal coating the thick strap fully as billie slowed fucked into you, your back immediately arching and your eyes fluttering closed. 

she doesn’t give you any more time than that to adjust. you feel her hand snake around your back and onto your throat as she fucks into you with an angry speed, and your body immediately goes limp. the air you attempt to breathe catches itself in your throat when you feel billie’s grip tighten, her nails digging into the flesh of your thighs, and she has absolutely no regard for the pain she’s causing you. 

“look at yourself.” she orders, her fingers detaching from your neck to push your head up, and your eyes focus on your trembling body through the mirror in front of you. you look worn, and it’s pathetic, really– skin hot and furious, tear marks still visible on your cheeks, your hair a complete mess. your fractured visage makes billie smile.

“you wanna be a big girl so fuckin’ bad, hm? you wanna go out and be all sneaky behind my back, and can’t even keep that same energy in front of my face. funny how that works, huh, princess?”

the way she’s fucking you is mean now. it’s sloppy but strong, one of her legs hiked up to hit your cervix at such an angle that makes your eyes well up again. you feel weak, your head dropping as little hiccups and whimpers fall from your swollen lips. 

“m’sorry, mommy, i-i’m so sorry!” you cry out, though you instantly regret it. you watch billie’s hand come up through the mirror, connecting with your ass once again, and it brings all the pain from earlier to the surface. you frown and pull your head down, “billie…s-stop, you’re being mean!”

“you want me to stop?” she asks you mockingly, her thrusts consistent and still equally as immobilizing. “say the word then, princess.”

you don’t speak. 

billie smacks her lips. 

“mhm,” she drags, “that’s what i fuckin’ thought.” 

you let out a dragged moan, billie’s fingers reaching around to toy at your clit, and that’s when you break. your legs shake as you feel yourself start to unravel. the friction of the silicone against your g-spot paired with the rhythmic snapping of billie’s fingers on your clit— it’s all too much. your vision blurs, your reflection in the mirror now just a blob through tears and your flushed sight. 

“i’m— fuck, i’m close, bils!” you cry out, and billie grabs your chin to make your vision focus. 

she knows exactly where you are. she slows down just enough to make you whine, a high-pitched and needy sound that makes her laugh in amusement. 

"beg for it," she whispers, leaning down so her lips are right against your ear, her teeth grazing the lobe. "tell me you’re my girl and you’re never gonna pull that shit again."

"i’m yours," you sob, the confession ripped from your throat as your walls start to pulse around the strap, "i’m yours, billie. i won't— i promise, i won't ever—"

"good girl. look at me while you do it, baby. look at who you belong to while you fall apart.” 

your eyelashes beat against your cheeks as your pussy clenches around billie’s strap, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. you collapse into the sheets, your skin tingling and your body shaking as your chest heaves. 

after a few more torturingly slow thrusts, billie pulls out of you gently, resting on her back while you stiffenly catch your breath. you’re tired, but not too tired to realize something. 

she won this round, but the sting on your skin is doing something different to your head. you’re fueled, and not by the fact you just got put in your place, but by the fact that you still have a sliver of the same way you felt before. you’re still high on the rush from the slap earlier, the way billie’s eyes blew out when she realized what you had done, and the way you made her feel when she noticed that you weren’t as submissive as she thought. 

“billie?” you whisper, a newfound strength pulling you to sit up and slither next to her legs. 

“mhm?” she hums, hardly even opening her eyes. she reaches out, her hand finding your waist to pull you closer, “go to sleep, m’tired.” 

you don’t go to sleep. instead, you straddle her, your fingers coming up to cradle that reddened spot on her cheek that’s still agitated from where you struck her. 

all of a sudden she isn’t tired.

billie’s eyes flutter open, “what are you doing?”

“you said i couldn’t handle you.” you state, and you don’t give her a chance to respond. your head dips and your lips graze hers, and when she leans in to kiss you, you pull away. 

you hear a quiet whine. it’s so soft that it almost doesn’t register, but when you hear it, you’re elated. billie looks up from underneath you with soft, wide blue eyes, and her newfound submission makes you grow wet. 

“here’s what’s gonna happen,” you start, "since you think i’m such a 'princess' that needs to be put in her place, you’re going to do exactly what i say. don’t talk back.” 

billie’s jaw drops ever so slightly, almost like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out. she looks up at you and the predatory glint in her eyes from just a couple minutes ago has completely vanished, replaced by such a newfound vulnerability that makes your skin hot. she’s still wearing the harness, the weight of her strap resting between her thighs. 

“sit up.” you command and she obeys, her back pressed against the headboard as you grab her shoulders and sink onto the strap. the familiar fullness makes you gasp as you rest fully on the length, and billie doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

“now, fuck me. do it slow. and if i feel you speed up, we’re done. you hear me?” 

“yes ma’am.” billie rasps, her jaw tight as she fights the instinct to hammer into you. she pulls her hips back and thrusts once upwards, slow, and her eyes dart to yours for approval. when a moan passes through your lips, she continues, her hands finding your ass to rest her hand on. 

with the way your skin collides with billie’s, the friction bumps against her clit just enough to make her head hazy. you hear little whimpers fill the air as you ride her, slowly, so slow that it’s almost killing her. 

you lean down to find that sensitive spot on her neck, suckling at the skin so hard that you know it’ll bruise, but that was your motive. you wanted everyone to see it— to see that the nonconfrontational girl she claimed you to be could call the shots too.

you’re mean with it. teeth digging into her flesh, right over all her pulse points that you have memorized like the back of your hand. when you feel billie’s rhythm begin to falter, you immediately stop, grabbing her face and forcing her to look at you. 

“is there a problem?” you ask her, and she shakes her head no fervently. she looks absolutely wrecked, tortured by greed and unsatisfied with the limited ways she’s allowed to touch you. 

you don't say another word. instead, you reach back and grab the base of the strap, guiding yourself as you slowly, agonizingly sink back down onto the silicone. billie lets out a long, broken moan when you slightly speed up, her hips naturally following your lead. 

“just like this.” you order her and she wastes no time adhering to your request. 

"god, baby," billie hitches, her hands twitching on the mattress, desperate to please you but paralyzed by your earlier order. "you're so tight... fuck."

billie lets out a sob-like sound, her pride completely disintegrated. she leans up, her teeth grazing your collarbone, her movements clumsy and desperate as she tries to follow your every command while her own body betrays her. as much as she wants to flip you over and have her way with you, she’s entranced— completely under your control. 

"you’re such a good girl when you actually listen." you whisper in her ear with a chuckle, and you feel the way she unravels beneath you.

"i’ll do anything!" she chokes out, her voice a mere whisper, her face blooming with the heat. "anything you want, please, just don't stop. i need you."

billie looks down at you and lets out a low, guttural moan. the way your pussy swallows the silicone, your slick coating the dildo— her head goes fuzzy, her head falling onto the headboard as she tries to focus on her pacing, but it’s too much. she’s close and you can tell, the pressure from your body creating just enough friction that could tip her over the edge. 

but she needs more. 

it’s subtle, but you still notice. her speed changes and her rhythm alters, her hands roaming all over you in hopes that you’re too caught up in the moment to say anything. 

“what did i say?” you call out firmly and billie whimpers, her head rolling to look at you. “did i say you could speed up?” 

“m’sorry mommy.” billie stammers from underneath you, her eyes frantic and wide. the frustration is written all over her— eyebrows furrowed, her lips parted and swollen. she’s shaking with an effort to stay still, her clit pulsing against the harness in desperation. “i just—“

“you’re not listening.” your voice drops into a disappointed simmer, and you watch as billie’s lashes grow wet. you sit up straighter, the strap pulled against your cervix, and your girlfriend lets out a slow moan at your movements. you’re opening your mouth to say something when billie whispers out, 

“hit me.”

you pause, but she says it again, louder this time. for you to hit her, to put her in her place, to be just as assertive as you were hours ago. her eyes are swimming with vulnerability and such need that it’s impossible for you to say no. 

you don’t make her ask twice. you pull your hand back and watch as it collides with her cheek, and the whimper that billie lets out makes your cunt flutter against her strap. 

“again, mommy.” she breathes, and you oblige. you strike her again, this time on the other side, and then one more for good measure. you watch the way the red marks blossom on billie’s skin, her hips twitching uncontrollably as she tries to keep the slow, agonizing pace you set.

"what happened to the big and bad billie i thought you were, sweetheart? hm?” you hum, and you can tell that this pacing is absolutely torture to billie. her hips are steady and slow, just like you had asked, and while the feeling is pleasurable for both of you, it’s not enough. 

“i need you,” billie breathes out, hands stuck firmly on your waist, “please, m’sorry…for being so mean, for not trusting you— just, baby— i-i’m so close…”

by the way her lips are parted and swollen and how her thrusts into you become more rigid, you know how bad she needs this. you grab billie’s shoulders and fuck yourself further onto her strap, that familiar coil twisting in your stomach as you moan, your head dropping into the crook of billie’s neck. 

“i’m cumming baby—! fuck, don’t stop, just like that.” you drag on. within a few steady thrusts, you cum all over billie’s strap, hard, your walls hugging the silicone material as you slowly ride out your high. 

billie expects you to curl up underneath the covers and fall asleep next to her, but that isn’t the case. you slowly inch off of the length of the faux cock and unbuckle the harness, sliding it down billie’s thighs until it’s nothing but irrelevant. 

you straddle her again, popping two fingers in your mouth and looking dead into her eyes as you do so. you line the tips of your digits up with her sopping cunt before pushing them in slowly, her slick walls warm and inviting as you curl your fingers upwards, moving them in and out at a medium pace, and billie’s eyes immediately roll back. 

the sounds that leave her throat aren’t human. they’re wrecked, high pitched whimpers that rip through her entire chest as you hook your fingers deep inside her, your movements never faltering. 

“look at me, baby,” you order her and she does, her black hair fanned out across the pillow, her face all red from being victim to your authority. she’s shaking as you intensify your pacing, your thumb finding her clit and rubbing sloppy, tight circles on it. 

“you’re gonna listen to me next time, isn’t that right? because i think we both know the truth, B. you like this, don't you?" you whisper, leaning down until your nose brushes hers. "you like that i’m the one making you feel like this after you tried to break me earlier. you like being handled."

all billie can do is nod, her mouth too busy moaning out curses and strings of your name. her back arches so far off of the bed you’re convinced she’ll snap, her fingers digging into the sheets as her legs shake and twitch underneath your touch. 

“fuck, i-i’m close, mommy— can i cum? please? i’ve been so good, please let me.” 

you learn forward to kiss her crimson, bruised cheeks, her mouth falling near her ear with a whisper, “let go for me baby, i’m right here.”

that’s all the permission she needs. billie’s entire body goes rigid, her pussy spasming around your fingers so hard that it nearly hurts. she lets out a long, shattered scream as her orgasm hits her, her head falling and her breathing completely derailed from the intensity of it. 

you help her ride out her high, your movements slowed and steady until it becomes too much for her. in multiple eased movements, you pull your dingers out of billie’s pussy, a whine escaping her lips from the loss. 

“open.” you order her as she obeys, her jaw falling slack as you place your two digits on her tongue. her mouth closes as she licks your fingers clean and hums, her eyes never leaving yours as she tastes herself on your skin. 

"was I clear?" you whisper, your voice smooth and completely rid of the shakiness from earlier. "about the business? about the us?”

you scan billie’s face, and there isn’t a single remnant of anything like before. her face is gentle and easy, a stupid, uneraseable grin on her face as she nods slowly, 

“crystal clear, ma’am.”