𝓢𝓮𝓿

The rumors had started as whispers online, playful teasing from fans and careless speculation from media outlets, but over time they had sharpened into something that resembled truth, something almost confirmed in the way Billie spoke about you in interviews and the way her demeanor shifted whenever your name was mentioned, and people began to say that Billie was courting you, not casually, not recklessly, but with intention, which was something Billie rarely gave anyone.

You were not someone who could be approached lightly because you carried a life that was already full, a past that had not fully settled, and a responsibility that changed everything, and Billie understood that even if you never said it out loud.

As Billie stepped closer to the mic with a calmer presence, her usual sharp movements slowed into something almost intimate despite the scale of everything around her. Phones lifted higher, lights dimmed into a soft glow, and the entire arena began to sway as people sang along, some too loud, some off-key, but all of them fully immersed, turning the song into something shared rather than performed.

Billie let them sing the first line, her lips barely brushing the mic as she smiled faintly, her eyes scanning the crowd out of habit, out of something deeper, and then she saw you.

You stood in that same slightly elevated space near the stairs, the same position you told Billie you'd be in, your presence calm amidst the overwhelming noise, your eyes already on Billie as if you had been waiting for that exact moment, and beside you, your son was already bouncing slightly on his feet, gripping the railing with one hand, mesmerized at the thought of how Billie could be singing infront of hundred of people and also visit him on peaceful days with his mum.

“Mi, that’s her,” the little boy said, tugging gently at your sleeve, his voice filled with excitement as his eyes stayed glued to the stage.

“I know, baby,” You replied softly, your lips curving into a fond smile as you looked down at him for a second before returning your gaze to Billie. “You can wave if you want.”

The boy didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped forward, gripping the railing as he leaned in and started waving, not hesitantly but with full, determined energy, his arm moving repeatedly as if he refused to stop until he was seen.

“Hi! Hi!” he called out, even though his voice was swallowed by the sheer volume of the crowd.

Billie’s focus shifted completely, her voice continuing on instinct as her mind stalled for just a second because the resemblance hit her all at once, the boy looked so much like you that it almost startled her, from the softness of his features to the way his expressions changed so openly, and even the way he carried himself felt familiar in a way that made Billie’s chest tighten unexpectedly.

The crowd somehow blurred. The lights dulled. The music became background noise.

She had known you had a son, she had accepted that fact with care and respect, but seeing him, watching him exist in real time rather than as a concept, made everything feel more real than she expected.

Resuming back, Billie let out the softest smile she had, walking to the edge of the stage before waving back at him once she had a very short break before resuming back to singing.

The transition was seamless to the thousands of fans screaming around you, but to you, it was an entirely private universe. Billie gripped the microphone stand with both hands, leaning in as the opening chords of Halley’s Comet began to swell, thick with melancholy and tender realization.

The crowd erupted in a collective, breathless gasp as the familiar, haunting melody floated over the speakers.

"But in my dreams I seem to be more honest.."

Billie’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it filled every corner of the massive Parisian arena. Her eyes never left yours. The vulnerability in her gaze was staggering, a raw contrast to the pop-star persona she usually wore like armor. She was singing to a stadium, but she was performing only for the two of you.

"But you're all it takes for me to break a promise..."

"Silly me to fall in love with you..."

As she sang, your son’s excitement didn’t wane; instead, he seemed completely captivated by the magic of it all, his small hands now clapping in a slow, uneven rhythm to the music. You wrapped an arm around his small shoulders, pulling him a little closer against the chill of the arena air, your heart doing a strange, heavy flip in your chest.

Billie watched the movement. She saw the fierce, protective way you held him, the quiet grace of your motherhood blending with the person she had stayed up talking to until dawn.

"I was good at feeling nothing, now I'm hopeless..."

"What a drag to love you like I do, ooh-ooh-ooh..."

Her voice cracked slightly on the word "I do", a genuine flicker of emotion that made a few fans nearby scream in sympathy, thinking it was just the intensity of the tour getting to her. But you knew better. You knew the weight behind that lyric. You knew the timing of your lives wasn't perfect. You had baggage, a child, a life already built—and she was a global icon caught in a whirlwind.

Yet, as Billie took a slow step backward, her gaze locking onto yours through the haze of the blue stage lights, the distance between the stage and the stairs seemed to evaporate.

The song shifted, building into that beautiful, jazzy crescendo, the tempo melting into something deeper, more resolved. Billie let her head drop back for a moment, letting the music wash over her, before she looked straight at your son and gave him another small, secret nod, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

""I've been in love before, but right now in this moment..."

"I feel more and more like I was made for you."

She didn't look away when she sang that final admission. The arena went completely dark, save for a single, stark white spotlight trained on her, but in her mind, the light extended all the way to the elevated steps where you stood.

As the final notes of the song faded into a roar of applause, Billie lowered the mic, her chest heaving slightly. Before the lights changed for the next track, she caught your eye one last time, mouthing three simple words that the rest of the stadium missed entirely:

"See you backstage."

note : got so inspired by this tiktok video I had to make a fic :')) SO CUTEEE

You could feel yourself gushing when Billie turns to face you, slowly making her way to her with a borderline maniacal smile on her lips, her long fingers slowly unzipping her jeans.

“You’re not going anywhere but to poundtown, baby,” Billie husks, hovering over you, sending shivers all over your body. “Seems like you’re basically a permanent resident there, too.”

You groan at the terrible joke, feeling yourself being even more turned off yet somehow even more turned on at Billie’s horrible taste in humour and what she could only think to be her version of dirty talk.

But that somehow has her even more addicted.

“Take your pants off, princess,” Billie grins, and you nearly moan at the nickname—the one that she usually used teasingly had a whole different effect on you under these circumstances. “I wanna see you.”

You comply uncharacteristically obediently, a huge contrast from your not sex activities. You shimmy your way out of your rather tight shorts with help from Billie, who chucks it across your room.

Billie’s smirk grows wider when she sees your cute pink panties, so soaked with your arousal that it was nearly see-through. She caresses it with her fingers, making sure she was grazing over your clit, leaving you mewling.

Billie slips off your panties rather easily, licking her lips as if she hasn’t eaten in days at the sight of your bare pussy, glistening with your slick and looking oh-so-welcoming.

“Someone’s been missing me,” Billie chuckles as she whips her cock out from inside her briefs, stroking it languidly and spreading her precum all over her length as her other hand inserts a finger into you, who claws at the sheets, already feeling overwhelmed. “You’re a waterpark, and I’m an excited kid on holiday.”

Maybe Billie being normal and talking dirty normally is too much to ask.

“God, fucking—Billie, please just fuck me already,” you groan in exasperation as your hole clenches desperately around her finger, which was far from the usual girth that you’d grown accustomed to. “You’re so annoying.”

“Geez, okay, I was just trying to prep you,” Billie frowns as she pulls her finger out of your hole, drenched in fluid, putting it into her mouth and sucking. “You taste decent.”

You roll your eyes, but you find your eyes rolling far back than you’d intended when Billie’s length rammed into you at full strength, hitting the deepest part within you that none of your toys had managed to reach.

“So tight,” Billie growls, grabbing your waist and readjusting herself before moving her hips, and you whine when Billie’s length plunges in and out of you, grazing against your walls, white hot pleasure flowing through your veins.

“Fuck—Billie—ah!” You whine when Billie tugs at your ankles, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and throwing your legs over her shoulders. “Oh my god—”

You’ve done this enough times for Billie to know you enjoyed taking it rough—you loved to have the living daylights fucked out of you, to be manhandled and dominated like the slut you were, to be marked everywhere with dark hickeys as a fond reminder of the person who has you begging and screaming every night—but Billie couldn’t know that.

Of course, Billie had her secrets too—she couldn’t deny that the only person who came to mind whenever she needed to blow off steam was you, the girl whom she resented with her whole being, her biggest weakness. Soft grunts leaving her lips as she tugged herself to the thought of that bobbed hair, those soft lips, the bratty attitude, the infuriatingly pretty face with brown doe eyes to match, the small hands that clawed at her back or grabbed desperately at her arms every time—

She’d get hard just at the memory of you under her, whimpering, writhing, begging, sobbing as you gave in and left your pride at the door, leaving the most vulnerable part of you out for Billie to bathe in—the one that screamed her name for everyone to hear; the one that grabbed tightly onto Billie, pulling her close, as if you’d die if your skin didn’t touch; the one that allowed Billie to do whatever she wanted with you.

Billie—please, I need you—

Fuck me harder, I’m yours…

“How long have you waited for this?” Billie asks, her voice huskier than usual, making you gush just a little more. “I know you must’ve been humping everything you could see while waiting for me to come back… horny little whore.”

You were shameless, anyone who knew you knew this, but Billie was privileged—or not—enough to see the most shameless side of you, the side that casually asked for her to send dickprint pics, full dick pics, and even videos of herself jerking off with the sound on so you could touch yourself when Billie was away at some interstate tournament.

Billie was more than happy to comply—it was the second-best option, unless Billie was okay with chopping her dick off and shipping it back to your house.

You reciprocated too, sending Billie the most lecherous, debauched pictures of yourself when you knew Billie had practice or was in class with a teacher that targeted specifically her for whatever reason—a picture of your bare body, porcelain skin boasting all the marks Billie had left on you previously; a mirror picture of yourself wearing Billie’s oversized shirts or hoodies that you love to steal, the both of them knowing full well that you had nothing on underneath; a selfie of yourself in the shower, soapy tits in full view with the caption ‘if only you were here’ paired with a vomiting emoji.

People don’t usually send nudes to the people they hate, but people don’t usually have sex with their enemies on a daily basis, either.

Leave it to these two to be in denial.

“N—No,” you huff, face flushed from how hard Billie was pounding into you, fingers clawing at the sheets to keep yourself grounded. “I’m—not that—ah fuck, right there, please—”

“Yeah?” Billie smirks, taking one of her hands off your hips to tug your blouse and bra up, revealing your perfect perky tits, and you couldn’t help but giggle at Billie’s expression, eyes wide open as if it was her first time seeing boobs, but for Billie, seeing your tits never got old.

Billie dips down, sucking on a nipple and drawing a loud moan from you. It’s no secret that you enjoy having your tits sucked on—especially if it was Billie Eilish (only if it was her, actually)—and you scream when Billie lightly bites, so overstimulated you could cry.

One thing you like about Billie that wasn’t her cock, was that she paid equal attention to both your tits, one of her hands massaging a boob while she sucked the other, all the while her thrusts never faltered, maintaining the same steady pace that had you writhing.

One of your hands move to tug at Billie’s hair while the other clawed at the fabric of her hoodie, which you were disappointed she hadn’t taken off. Billie looks up from sucking on your tits, and your heart flutters when you see the puppylike expression on her face, her chin wet with saliva and pupils blown wide.

You had established several unspoken rules ever since the start of this arrangement, with one of them being no kissing, for obvious reasons, but now, with Billie’s face so close and so kissable, you had to physically restrain yourself from pulling her stupid face into a stupid little kiss.

You can kiss someone without meaning!

Right.

Billie, meanwhile, was impossibly hard, and the sight of you still donning her letterman while getting pounded made her somehow harder than she already was.

There was something so arousing about seeing the bane of your existence wear something that belongs to you whilst simultaneously submitting her body for your use. With Billie’s name on her letterman, it felt as if you were branded, reduced to simply a belonging, a toy that Billie owned.

Finally opening your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, you feel yourself become impossibly more aroused at the sight before you—Billie’s eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back, sweat pouring down her face and nails digging into the skin of your thighs as she rammed her cock into you over and over again with commendable stamina—she wasn’t the star football player for no reason, anyway.

If only you had the strength and flexibility to rip that stupid hoodie off her—which fucking loser wears a hoodie while fucking one of the hottest girls in school?

Billie Eilish, apparently.

Your back arches off the bed when Billie hits that one spot inside you that has you whimpering, and that spurs Billie on, her climax just at her fingertips. The jock grunts as she pushes your legs up to your chest for a better angle, making sure not to hurt you as she continues pounding away like nobody’s business.

“Shit,” Billie grits her teeth, breathing harshly beside your ear. “Ah fuck—”

“Gonna cum for me, baby girl?” you still manage to tease despite being in the midst of getting railed to filth, and in response, Billie just fucks you harder, making you jerk with every movement.

“Shut up,” Billie hisses, sinking her teeth into the side of your neck, earning a choked cry from you.

“Don’t—no marks, Bi—llie—shit!”

“I don’t care,” Billie borderline growls, making you feel scared and aroused at once. She continues to nip at your sensitive skin, licking over each bite to soothe. “Let people see what a slut you are—I want them to know who you belong to.”

That was the tipping point for you—you come, loud and hard, your thighs shaking from the sheer intensity of your orgasm as you scream into Billie’s neck, fingers clawing at her back when Billie continues moving her hips, sending you into overdrive.

“Fuck shit oh my god—” Billie groans as she finally reaches her climax, plunging her cock deep into your womb before unloading, hot semen splattering all over your walls.

Billie finally goes limp, flopping onto you with a whine, her heartbeat racing in her chest.

“Oh my god,” you rasp, your voice almost completely gone from all the wild fucking. You grunt, pushing Billie off of you and making her roll onto her back. “You came so much.”

Billie lifts her head just enough to see your ruined pussy, white liquid dripping out of your hole, and she smirks to herself in satisfaction.

“Please tell me you’re on the pill,” Billie groans, her limp cock sticky and uncomfortable against her stomach.

“What if I wasn’t?”

“I’d pay for plan B, I’m not about to become your baby daddy,” Billie teases, earning a weak slap on the shoulder from you.

“Also, I’ve been meaning to ask,” you turn to face Billie, who seemed to be experiencing post-nut clarity, a blank look in her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling. “What does the number on the back of your letterman mean?”

Billie flushes, and a look of panic enters her face at the unexpected question.

“It’s random,” Billie simply responds, shrugging. “It’s—a nice number. But it’s nothing. Really. I think you should go to sleep.”

You merely scoff at that—usually you’d taunt Billie ’till she gave in, but the post-fuck tiredness was creeping into your system, and it wasn’t long before you eventually give in to the shackles of slumber. You roll onto your side, inching yourself closer towards Billie before snuggling up against her chest, much to the jock's surprise.

“Um,” Billie coughs, blushing at the sudden affection—as if she wasn’t just inside you not one minute ago—but she doesn’t make a move to push you off her, oddly comforted by the gesture, albeit foreign.

“Good night, I guess.”

Billie just lies there in silence, still half naked, a million thoughts running through her mind, with at least a quarter of them being you.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have time to drown in her current crisis as the sound of a car pulling into the driveway snaps her out of her thoughts, reeling her back into reality.

It was eight in the evening, your parents were home, and their daughter was naked in bed with the daughter of their business partners.

Fuck.

Billie quietly makes her way out of bed, careful not to wake you, and begins to straighten herself up, trying her best to not make it obvious to your parents that she’d just banged their daughter. She covers you with the blanket before standing there and watching you somewhat awkwardly, the only noise filling the room being your soft breathing.

For the first time, a room was quiet while they were both in it.

Billie’s eyes trailed over your sleeping form, still draped in her letterman, the red fabric eye-catching as ever, but Billie decides to leave you be—she doesn’t have the heart to take it back.

“See you tomorrow,” Billie whispers before turning off the lights and leaving the room.

“Oh, Billie! Fancy seeing you here!” Your mother greets her as she descended the stairs. “Working on another project again, I suppose?”

“Ah, um, yes,” Billie stutters, putting on her most parent-friendly smile she could muster. “We didn’t even realise how late it was. Sorry about the disruption.”

“It’s all fine, how’s my daughter?” Your father pipes in, taking off his coat by the front door.

“She’s asleep already,” Billie replies, hoping they wouldn’t question why their eighteen-year-old was already asleep at eight in the evening.

“Wow, this early? Must’ve been a rough day, yeah?” your dad laughs, and Billie flushes. “Well, you should probably get on your way, I bet your parents must be worried.”

“Oh, for sure, see you soon Mr. and Mrs. Kim,” Billie nods, not waiting for a response as she bolts out the front door.

What a night.

Billie smiles to herself after sending the last message, but she doesn’t even get a second to come to her senses and wipe the stupid lovesick grin off her face before Zoe came slithering up to her.

“You didn’t tell me?” Zoe shrills, eyes wide open and hands gripping her shoulders.

“Tell you what?” Billie blinks, a million possibilities running through her mind. Are all her past mistakes coming back to bite her in the ass? Did the security guard snitch? Did the principal finally find out that she was the one who called him a ‘pedo wanker’?

“You and y/n are a thing?” Zoe blinks back, and Billie was equally as surprised as she was.

“What—what makes you think that?”

“She came in with your letterman!” Zoe practically screams at her face. “Your name and all—I thought we were friends, Billie. You said you’d tell me anything! But it's honestly about fucking time. Me and Ava were kinda betting on it.”

Billie doesn’t register anything past ‘letterman’, and before she could properly respond, she sees none other than you yourself strut into her line of sight, proudly sporting her letterman which was far too big for you, making heads turn for more than one reason now.

Despite being partially out of it, Billie swears she could hear the hushed gossip of the students around her—

" The star quarterback and hottest cheerleader are banging? "

" I called it! "

" They’re probably the ones who fucked on the stairs that time. "

" I mean, they look good together. "

" I thought they hated each other! "

" Plot twist? "

“Hey,” you are also donning a smirk on your lips as you approached Billie, who was looking you up and down as if she’s never seen you in her life. “Good morning.”

“Good—morning,” Billie stutters, too shocked to realise that Eunchae had scrambled away to give them ‘privacy’.

“You don’t look very happy to see me,” you frown, tilting your head and revealing the dark marks Billie had left on the left side of your neck from last night. Billie shivers at the memory, still fresh in her mind.

“My letterman,” Billie were the only words she could manage, her tongue feeling like it’s been tied into a hundred knots—she's never felt like this before, what the fuck was happening?

“You left it at my place last night,” you grin, and Billie winces at the sheer volume of your voice, as if you want everyone around them to know. “You can tell me if you want it back.”

“No,” Billie blurts out, surprising both herself and you. “Um, I mean, you can… keep it.”

“How sweet of you,” you purr, settling yourself onto Billie’s lap so naturally it’s as if you've done this a million times before (you have).

Billie’s mind is completely blank, but her cock was reacting for her, starting to harden underneath you, who could obviously feel it, your smirk widening.

Today was going to be a long day.

Og writer : oatbowl

Billie Eilish, star football player that every girl thirsted over; you, an attractive cheerleader that had heads turning and noses bleeding—it’s something out of a young adult fiction aisle or Wattpad piece. You'd fall in love, date, become the most popular couple in school, maybe encounter some needless angst or a love triangle or both, get married, have kids and live happily ever after—

So, of course, it would undoubtedly be divergent from the plot for you both to hate each other. You were of two different worlds and overall just despised each other—long story—but there was one thing: you fucked on the regular. Hate-fucking was the proper term, because while neither could stand the other, you were more than able to stand getting down and dirty with each other, and for hours on end, too.

Your teenage libido didn’t help things either—you were young with energy and a ‘you only live once’ mindset, so you always made time to fuck, no matter where you were, you'd find a way and a space to do it, whether it be the library, in the toilet, in the cramped backseat of Billie’s car, and even on the school roof, out in the open, once.

It was more than safe to say that you couldn’t get enough of each other—but both of you would rather bathe in sewage water before admitting that.

“Stupid horny dog who can’t keep her dick in her pants. Remember when you went down on your knees to beg me for a blowjob and you came in one—”

Now it was your turn to get cut off when Billie literally stuffs her cock into your mouth with one swift move of her hips, and her hands went to grab your hair, forcing your mouth onto it.

“You were saying?” Billie smirks as you gag on her cock, tears forming in your eyes from just how big Billie was, but you still had the clarity to shoot Billie a dirty look. “It’s good to know that that mouth of yours is good for something else besides being petty and starting baseless fights for no reason.”

Billie was enjoying every second of this—her hand moving your head up and down her length, sucking her off so good; the way you just submitted to be used, like a pretty little sex doll, willing to move however Billie wanted, to be used however Billie pleased. Her hips move unconsciously, thrusting shallowly into your mouth, chasing the warmth.

“Fuck—gonna come,” Billie whines, throwing her head back as she squeezes her eyes shut, moving her hips faster to chase her high, which felt like it was just at her fingertips, when—

“Fuck!” Billie yelps, letting go of you as she felt a sharp pain on her cock— you bit her. She whimpers, turning away and cradling her poor cock in her hands, the bite so hard that she could see teeth marks—yet she was still hard. “You… you fucking—you fucking bitch! Why would you do that?”

“That’ll teach you consent,” you grin as if you'd just won a trophy, wiping the saliva that accumulated on your chin with the back of your hand. You knew you could’ve used your very much free hands to push Billie away or tug her hands off her—but you'd be stupid if you thought you were going to let Billie off easy.

Billie was livid, but before she could do anything, her ears perk up at the faintest noise of—

“Is someone there?” A male voice came, and a moment later, a brief flash of light shines under the door of the toilet, presumably from a torchlight.

You both froze, trying to process what was happening, brains barely registering the probable outcome—that you were about to get caught in the school bathrooms after hours, Billie’s cock out of her pants and you on your knees.

Yeah, not a good look.

“We gotta get out of here,” Billie whispers hurriedly, already zipping up her pants and throwing her belt over her shoulder.

“Wow, no shit, sherlock, I personally thought we should just stay here a little longer to let whoever the fuck that is walk into us fucking,” you hisse. Billie rolls her eyes as she grabs you by the wrist and you both bolt out of the bathroom, not even caring to look behind them as you navigated the dark halls of the school, a place the both of you were more than familiar with.

Thankfully, whoever that was didn’t see you as you booked it out the back gate—the one place that you both knew for a fact wasn’t covered by the CCTVs—which you had to climb over to get to Billie’s car just a few feet away in the parking lot.

Billie fumbles with her keyring before her car unlocks with a reassuring ‘beep’—you were both certain you were never this happy to hear a car door unlock in your lives.

“Cunt,” Billie swears as she throws herself into the driver’s seat, with you jumping in not one second after as she turns on the engine. “Just our luck—I didn’t know the school finally decided to invest in a goddamn security guard.”

Billie looks down at her crotch, her cock still straining against her jeans that were barely on due to her lack of a belt, and she sighs.

“Still hard after all that?” You snicker breathlessly as you took in the desperate, puppylike look on Billie’s face that appeared whenever she was miserable from the lack of orgasm. “I can’t believe you.”

“Shut up,” Billie flushes red, and she realises just how drenched with sweat she was—why did she choose to wear a hoodie?

“We could just do it here,” you suggest hesitantly, not because you didn’t want it, but because you didn’t want to sound too desperate to have sex with Billie even when you were—and both of you knew that. “We’ve done it once, we can do it again.”

“Back’s packed,” Billie sighs, and you turn to the backseat to see a bunch of books, bags, sport gear and several other belongings scattered both on the floors and the seats, clogging up all the space.

“Jesus fuck, this car's a fucking pigsty,” you tut. “How about in your seat, then?”

“The handle broke, can't adjust the seat anymore,” Billie shrugs. “And if you can't tell, I’m actually tall so there's barely enough legroom for me to even drive.”

“For fucks sake—you're rich, do something about this sad excuse of a car.”

“I’m working on it,” Billie makes sure to enunciate on each syllable as she turns up the air-conditioner. “Now fucking what. This was your fault—and this dick isn’t gonna go down itself, you know that.”

“Too well,” you roll your eyes, but your eyes light up a little when you realise just where else you could continue your little escapade. “We could go to my house. My parents aren’t home and they asked me to go back early to take care of the house, so…”

“Say less,” Billie grins as she puts the gear in drive, hightailing it out of the school parking lot without a second thought.

Since your parents were business partners, you were more than familiar with each other’s families and houses, which was an added plus if you needed somewhere to fuck for the weekend while your parents went out on some business trip.

It was pure silence on the way back, the both of you just desperately wanting to continue whatever you left off, the throbbing heat in both your cores a good enough muffler to drown out any other thoughts.

“Could you turn the goddamn aircon down? I’m about to freeze,” you complain—and, to be fair, you were wearing a thin blouse with jean shorts.

“And who asked you to wear something so short? It’s like you were begging to be fucked,” Billie snorts, but your hand to her head was enough to slap the stupid grin off her face. “Ow! God, you’re such a fucking brat…”

Billie reaches to the back seat to grab something, grunting as she tosses it into your face.

It was her varsity jacket, a particularly large one that was custom made to fit Billie’s rather broad shoulders, with her name and the number 18 in big bold lettering on the back.

“Wear this, I’m not turning the aircon down, ‘m sweating my balls off.”

...“What the fuck—I’m not wearing something that’s probably been rotting in your car for years,” you protest, holding the letterman up in front of you like you were holding a dirty trash bag.

“Take it or leave it,” Billie shrugs, eyes focused on the road and mind focused on getting home.

You hesitate a little, sighing as you give in and slip the letterman over yourself, which enveloped you in an instant warmth.

Billie takes one glance at you before bursting out laughing, much to your annoyance.

“What?”

“It looks so big on you,” Billie snorts, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. “You look like a baby in adult clothes.”

It’s kind of cute, Billie doesn’t say, instead, she looks in her peripheral to see you pouting in your seat, still continuing to stay snug in the warmth of her letterman.

The letterman smelled so much of Billie, her musky scent mixed with the perfume she always wore oddly enjoyable as you basked in it, not too obvious so Billie wouldn’t find another thing to tease you about—she already has countless.

The rest of the ride was comfortable, like the calm before the storm, the both of you knowing full well that the moment the car stopped, you’d ravage each other like there was no tomorrow.

“So,” Billie coughs once they had reached a red light. “How’s life?”

You turn to look at her like she’d grown two heads.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, so you say I’m too dry with my emotions sometimes, but now I’m weird when I’m trying to be nice and start up a conversation,” Billie scoffs, shaking her head. “You’re insatiable.”

“If that’s your way of ‘trying to be nice and starting up a conversation’, then it’s no wonder that you don’t have a girlfriend,” you snort, and Billie scoffs, clearly affected by what you said. “You have zero game, Billie Eilish.”

“Yeah? Well, then why do we have this arrangement, hm?” Billie challenges, and you roll your eyes so far back you could see your skull.

“You were horny, I was horny, and you’re a good fuck, okay?” You reply, not missing the smirk that was beginning to grow on Billie’s lips. “Don’t get your ego too inflated, now. You’re a douchebag still.”

“A douchebag with a big dick,” Billie winks, and you contemplate taking a hold of the steering wheel and driving them into a ditch—anything was better than having to put up with Billie’s sleaziness. “And you clearly enjoy this as much as I do, don’t act like I didn’t fuck you so good one time the neighbours had to call the cops.”

“The day you stop reminding me of that is the day I can die in peace.”

“Don’t die, you won’t get dick this good in hell, and I know you won’t be able to survive a day.”

“We’re both going to hell once I get this car veering into that fucking ditch.”

And the two continue bickering to no end, only stopping when you finally see the faint outline of your house in the distance.

“Fucking hell, finally,” you groan, unbuckling your seatbelt as the automated gates swing open—and you don’t even question that Billie had the keys to your house, too desperate to soothe the ache between your legs.

“Hey—where’re you going?” Billie calls after you when you grab the keys out of her hands, frantically unlocking the front door as if you were being chased by dogs. Billie snorts when she realises you are still wearing her letterman—your tiny form dwarfed by the large clothing.

“To finish off what you couldn’t,” you tsk when you finally gets the door open, pushing your way in.

“That’s not fucking fair, you started riling me up and that damned security guard came meddling before I could do anything,” Billie whines as you dash up the staircase. “Fucking asshole.”

Og : oatbowl