#Women in Music pt. III

[blessicablimpson]

you don't know how it feels, you expect me to deal with it 'til I'm perfectly numb but you don't know how it feels

[ashestoashesjc]

'you and i don't have to meet, but it's fun to think we could'

[silly-breakfast]

Lyrics about doing the dishes

HAIM - Up From A Dream (2021)

Holy Holy - Darwinism (2016)

100 gecs - gec 2 Ü (2019)

[ashleywritesstuff]

Happy Galentine's Day! I was positively elated to talk about HAIM's Women in Music Pt. III on today's episode of Pick A Disc. WIMPIII is my desert island record and it's the perfect listen for Galentine's Day.

[fakeplasticmusic]

Watch "HAIM - The Steps" on YouTube

The Steps - Haim

[lightscamerabitchsmileee]

Choose your fave, reblog & share your thoughts and even let me know some of your faves even if it's outside this list in the tags I would love to hear it ❤️😊

This part of a new series I'm doing there's an Adele poll as well if you want to vote there too thank you and have fun 😊😊

[sersh]

ALANA, DANIELLE & ESTE HAIM Louis Vuitton Womens FW23 Ad Campaign

[thehaimtime]

haimtheband: WE FUCKING LOVE YOU BRAZIL

[dance-sex-artpop-tech]

Greta Gerwig does seem like she'd listen to HAIM

[felicitypdf]

the only thing keeping this day together

[silly-breakfast]

Lose

Lorde - Fallen Fruit

The 1975 - It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You)

HAIM - FUBT

Mitski - Lonesome Love

[misswoozi]

TWICE are receiving a Women In Music award from Billboard

that's wonderful!

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Sunshine.

Billy Hargrove x AFAB Reader

Taking a break from our regular schedule of Eddie Munson, to bring you soft smutty Billy Hargrove. Yeah, I know he's problematic as fuck, I have no excuse. Written whilst listening to Haim's exceptional album Women In Music Pt III, but primarily inspired by the track Gasoline (feat. Taylor Swift)

Warnings: 18+ only, MDI. Oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, swearing, mentions of domestic abuse.

************************************************************************

Billy.

6 months ago the name held little significance to you, now it consumes your days.

It was a truth universally acknowledged that Billy Hargrove was an asshole, from the moment he arrived in Hawkin’s he was an asshole, he was an asshole before that too. Everyone would tell you he was an asshole, Max, Nancy, Dustin, Steve, Mike, Chief Hopper, the school guidance counsellor. You had witnessed it yourself, although never directed towards you; volatile temper, disrespectful, slightly psychopathic tendencies.

But then there was your Billy.

Who would kiss you on the forehead when he thought you were asleep, who always held the passenger door of his car open for you, who would guide you through the high school corridors with his hand on the small of your back; a constant reassuring pressure.

The Billy, who turned up outside your bedroom window at 2am in the pouring rain, blackened eye and split lip courtesy of his father, apologising because he didn’t know where else to go, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. You had cleaned him up, silenced his apologies with soothing kisses and hushed whispers of comfort, telling him that it would be ok, that he was enough, that he wasn’t an asshole. Tangled up together on your twin bed, he was simply content to hold you, fingers tracing your features, running through your hair, eyes burning with unspoken affection; Billy wasn’t good with words.

***

It’s your birthday, and you’re exactly where you want to be, sequestered away at Lover’s Lake with Billy, spread out on a soft blanket, air balmy with the scent of Summer, heat washing over your skin. You play with the delicate gold chain adorning your neck, stopping when you get to the sun charm that sits in the divot of your collarbone.

“You sure you like it?” Billy asks, propping himself up on his elbow, his hand tracing the same path you’ve just taken.

“I love it.” You insist for the fifth time that day, your fingers comb through his curls, bringing him down to your lips.

The kiss is soft, slow, and teasing. His hand moving down the valley of your breasts, lightly brushing the underside, caressing over your naval, until he reaches your hip holding you firmly. You sigh blissfully into his mouth, feeling his lips quirk up in a small smile, kissing you more ardently, hand moving to your outer thigh now where your pretty summer dress has ridden up.

“Billy.” You whisper to the sky, as he maps out a path on your neck, gently sucking and nipping at your pulse point.

“What is it Sunshine?” He asks softly, his nickname for you filling your chest with familiar warmth, you don’t answer because he knows what you want, what you need. You take deep calming breaths as he descends lower and lower, the hem of your dress being moved up to your stomach, soft material on softer skin. He lavishes attention to the newly exposed stretch of skin, making you shift slightly beneath him, a fleeting squirm that tells him he’s doing a good job. 

He hums faintly in pleasure as he reaches your white panties, a tiny patch of dampness marking the centre, he kisses over the material, your small gasp like music to his ears.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband he draws them down your legs, smoothly, taking his time placing more kisses to your inner thighs, your knees. 

You whine quietly, reaching for him, intertwining his fingers with yours squeezing reassuringly, mouth finally making contact with your sweet cunt, nuzzling at your clit, tongue exploring the wetness gathered. You shudder, sparks of pleasure coursing through you like an electric current.

“Such a pretty pussy, angel.” He coos, two fingers slipping in with ease, moving at a maddeningly slow pace, barely thrusting, more like seeking strokes, looking for - there. He knows he’s found the right spot, a shaky “fuck” falling from your kiss bitten lips, he loves it when you swear, the sound going straight to his already hard cock. Crooking his fingers, he groans lightly as your walls spasm just slightly, not quite all the way there, not yet, but enough to make your cream slip from your swollen slit, his tongue lapping it up like it’s the sweetest honey and it is.

  He focuses the tip of his tongue back to your bud, circling tenderly, fingers moving with a little more pace within you. You bring your entwined hand up to your right breast, holding his palm against you showing him how you want to be held, delicately thumbing at your peaked nipple. He can feel your velvet walls getting tighter, your breath hitching, stomach jumping as the sensation rises. He watches your face intensely as the wave crashes down, back arching, hips bucking, head pressing back into the blanket, neck stretched in a wordless cry. He continues to work you through the trembling ripples, tongue swirling desperately, determined to draw you out to the very edge of your limit. You let go of his hand to glide your hands through his hair, the gentlest of tugs letting him know you were getting oversensitive, he places a final kiss to your glistening centre and you’re pulling him to you in earnest now.

Lips melding together, a shared moan as you taste yourself on his tongue, he shifts atop you unzipping his fly as you push his boxers down, hard length meeting your belly. You take him into your soft hand, pumping smoothly, swallowing his gasps. He lines up with your centre, body covering you, sheltering you as he eases in coaxing a whimper from you.

“I’ve got you angel.” He mutters, placing kiss after kiss to your cheeks, nose, forehead, jaw, anywhere he can reach.

As with his fingers he moves slowly once more, rocking deep within you, time ticking by like molasses, the sun beats down trapping you both in an impossible heat. He takes your hands once again, raising them behind your head, fingers lacing together, pinning you down in pleasure. A keening whine when he bites at the flesh of your throat, tongue quickly soothing the hurt.

“Billy.” You whisper again, pleading, almost like a prayer.

“I know, I know.” He chants back, the answer to your prayers.

He pushes his pelvis down and the friction is just enough to send you free falling, the gripping heat pulling him with you, he gathers you into his arms, more tender kisses to your forehead, still moving, hips pumping through the last burning strokes, your combined spend dripping to the blanket below.

“Happy Birthday sunshine.” He says, kissing you deeply, you giggle against his mouth, euphoric with release and he feels like his heart might burst.

Billy wasn’t good with words, but he didn't have to be.

[marisatomay]

Women in Music pt. III