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targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 months ago

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Private Screening

23/12: Home Videos and Voyeurism - Billy Washington Word Count: 1.5k~ | Warnings: masturbation (m), voyeurism, home videos of sexual acts, smut

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Fuck work Christmas parties, Billy thinks with displeasure as he slobs across the sofa, half a can of Stella in one hand, the remote control in the other.

He felt a bit pathetic missing her after only a few hours. Suppose that was the worst bit about having a girlfriend that was also your best mate. But it did sound a bit precious when he thought about it like that.

The choice in TV shows didn't exactly sour him to pass the time either. It was that crappy few days between the last of the working year and Christmas, and there was sweet fuck all on tele.

Turning the volume down on a Christmas special of First Dates he glances outside, seeing that it's just begun to rain and he pulls lazily at one side of the curtains just enough to obscure his flat from passersbys on the street.

Propping up to fish his phone out his pocket, he scrolls mindlessly for a bit on Instagram Reels. But even then, the doomscrolling and repetitive music his algorithm thinks he likes gets boring fast.

A messenger bubble pop up on his screen.

‘missing me baby? 😘’

He huffs a short laugh, typing with one hand.

‘Bored out of my mind’

She reads it immediately, and the three bubbles feel like edging.

‘I’m sure you'll find a way to entertain yourself 😉’

Cheeky, he thinks with that warm feeling in his stomach. She knew how bricked up he was when he saw her leaving, in that velvety dress he always likes her to keep on when they come home and pull each other needily to the bedroom.

With a heaved sigh, he uses one hand to pull the buttons of his jeans apart, then the zip and slides his hand into his boxers, stroking his currently soft member while he found something to ‘entertain’ himself to.

The locked folder in his photos app was a godless place.

He blinked as the face recognition granted him access, his cock stirring in his palm when he was greeted by video after video and photo after photo.

Some, just her.

Some, both of them.

His breath hitches at some of the previews. It was something he started getting into to about six months into dating her. She was much more willing to discuss what she was into sexually than his other girlfriends, and he supposes it rubbed off on him.

And when he suggested if it was okay if he recorded them during sex, he'd never seen that naughty gleam in her eyes so bright before.

Like most things it was awkward at first. The first time they tried, she kept laughing nervously, her cheeks flushed as she covered her face and body with her hands. “I feel weird,” she had said, glancing briefly at his phone camera in one hand.

But when he reassured her that the videos and photos he had of her went absolutely nowhere beyond his eyes only, she was more...confident. She'd tease him when he started recording, cast sultry glances over her shoulder and pull him close to whisper ungodly things for his ears only.

His heart rate kicked up as his thumb hovered over one video in particular, remembering how she’d looked that night. Her skin glowing in the low light, her lips parted in soft moans, her eyes locked on his like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

He tapped on the video, and immediately the screen came alive with her image. The frame started with her face, soft and radiant, her lips curved into a teasing smile as she leaned closer to the camera. Her eyes, half-lidded and filled with mischief, sparkled as she adjusted the angle, her voice a low murmur, “You better enjoy this later.”

She laid back, clad only in the lacy black bra and underwear set he loved so much. The fabric was so delicate it barely covered her entirely, teasing more than hiding really.

She was looking up at him, the movement of the camera making it obvious he was on top of her. The video caught the slow, deliberate rhythm of his hips moving against hers. Her body writhed beneath him, her chest rising and falling with each deep, shuddering breath.

Her moans were soft at first, little gasps and whimpers as she adjusted to the fullness of him. “Billy, you feel so good,” she whispered. His pace quickened slightly, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room alongside her cries of pleasure.

He watched the video as his hand made its way down her front, kneading one breast before travelling downwards, his breath catching slightly as the angle caught a glimpse of the way he disappeared inside her over and over.

He adjusted slightly, pushing her knee back to change the angle, and the gasp she let out was enough to make his breath catch as he watched. “Right there, baby,” she murmured, her voice breaking into a moan as he thrust deeper—

Fuck.

That's where the video ends.

He'd clearly been so caught up in the moment that he'd abandoned the video.

But keen to keep up the building heat in his stomach, he swiped to the next. The feeling coiling tighter at the new video.

This time she was on her hands and knees, the view was tantalising, the curve of her spine leading down to where he was behind her, his hand firmly holding her hip. Her body moved in time with his thrusts, rocking forward with every deep push, and the sound of her breathless moans filled the otherwise quiet apartment.

Her head turned slightly toward the camera, and her eyes were glazed with lust, her lips parted as she gasped his name. “Harder,” she whispered, her voice raw and needy.

He stroked himself tighter, harder. So fucking close.

On the screen, she reached back, her fingers brushing against his thigh, urging him on. “Don’t stop,” she gasped.

And her voice was what finally sent him over the edge.

As the video reached its peak, he pulled back slightly, his hands sliding from her hips to the small of her back as he drove into her one last time. Her moans hit a crescendo, her body shuddering as she buried her face into the pillow.

His own hips stuttered, squeezing himself hard towards the tip, warmth coating his knuckles as he came.

The last few seconds of the video showed him pulling out, her body still trembling as he finished on her lower back, his pearly release glistening on her skin. She turned her head toward the camera with a sly, breathless smile, her voice soft but teasing as she said, “You’re cleaning that up, you know.”

He looked down at himself, chest heaving, and thought with a soft, tired chuckle, ‘yeah, no shit.’

He let his phone flop against his stomach as he laid his head back against the sofa, spent, boneless, with his softening cock loose in his palm.

“Am I interrupting something?”

He nearly jumped out of his fucking skin. His hand pulling so quickly out of his boxers out of sheer reflex, he was immediately brought back to the heart-wrenching moments his mum would enter his room without knocking.

But luckily, it was her.

She was smiling against the doorway, arms crossed and smug, her coat over the hook in the doorway.

“Fucking hell, babe, how long have you been there?” his voice was shaky, trying with sheer willpower alone to reduce his heart rate.

“Long enough,” she said, her voice dripping with teasing satisfaction.

Her gaze flicked down to his lap, and he followed it instinctively, moving quickly to pull his boxers back up, but too flustered to do up the buttons of his jeans. There was something both embarrassing and exhilarating at the prospect she'd been at the door, quite blatantly, watching him pleasure himself to her image.

She huffed a laugh and stepped into the room, deliberately swaying her hips, eyes darkening slightly as she stood in front of him. He could tell she was flushed from a few drinks, but not enough to be drunk. Just enough for her inhibitions to waver, and her confidence skyrocket.

“I’m guessing you were watching one of those videos,” she mused.

He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very exposed. “Maybe.”

She smirked, pulling the hem of her dress up so she was able to straddle his lap, relishing the hitch in his breath. “Which one?” she asked, casually, her arms slung over his shoulders, as if she were just taking a seat.

“The, uh…” He cleared his throat, trying to focus. “The one where you’re on your hands and knees.”

“Oh,” she teased, drawing the word out. “That one.”

She placed the phone on the coffee table. “Well,” she murmured, her hands sliding up his chest, “since you clearly couldn’t wait for me…how about we make a new one?”

He felt his body zing with excitement, but his cheeks quickly flushed at the realisation he'd only just…

She caught the look, “or do the soldiers need time to recuperate?”

Billy snorted, a boyish, albeit, embarrassed smile lighting up his face. “Uh, give me like…five minutes.”

With a barely suppressed smirk, she clambered off him and made for the bedroom. “I'll be waiting!”

“Keep the dress on!”

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 month ago

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Laugh Like Me Again

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Angst, smut. Word count: ~7k

Summary: Billy accidentally strikes up a friendship with the girl that's just moved into the flat next door, but when faced repeatedly with the baggage of their pasts they struggle to take it any further than "just friends".

Author's note: A (belated) birthday gift for @targaryenrealnessdarling. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon. Billy sat on the sofa in the living room of his flat with the curtains closed, blocking out the midday winter sun. He’d not long gotten out of bed, barely lucid as an episode of Come Dine With Me played away to itself in the background. He stared at the TV screen, but wasn’t actually taking anything in, it may as well have stayed switched off.

A loud crash against his front door, followed by several soft thuds upon the floor outside of it, startled him out of his torpid state, the sudden noise causing him to jump slightly. Billy didn’t cope well with unexpected loudness anymore, he hadn’t for six months, not since he’d watched his car explode into a fiery wreck on Cranstead Fields. He grasped the arm of the sofa tightly, eyes wide and breathing accelerated as he looked towards the door, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he worried it might burst out of it.

It wasn’t until he heard the muffled voice of a woman swearing on the other side of the door that he finally relaxed, fear giving way to curiosity, as he rose slowly from his seat and walked towards the front door, opening it with trepidation.

There, upon the carpeted floor, knelt a young woman, a collapsed cardboard box discarded to the side of her, as she scrambled to pick up books that were strewn across the communal hallway floor.

“You alright?” he asked tentatively, watching as she huffed, attempting to gather the books into a tidy pile.

“Give me a hand, would you?” she asked distractedly, not looking up at him. “Fucking box was too heavy and the bottom gave way.”

He hesitated a moment, taken aback by her request. Nobody ever asked Billy for help, nobody ever asked him for anything really, he wasn’t usually a person that anyone felt they could depend upon, yet here was a complete stranger trusting him to come to her aid.

Finally, he stooped down, picking up as many books as he could manage to carry. His eyes skimmed the covers, taking in the authors’ names; Stephen King, Terry Pratchett, Tanith Lee – he’d read none of them. He had never been much of a reader though; the last book he had touched had been Of Mice and Men for GCSE English. Billy hadn’t understood it, and the F grade he’d gotten had reflected that.

He adjusted the heavy load in his arms, standing awkwardly, as she finally righted herself, the remainder of her books cradled against her chest.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“So, erm, where we taking these then?” he asked.

“Just next door,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at him as she walked the short distance to the front door next to his. “We’re gonna be neighbours.”

Billy followed close behind. The flat next to his had sat empty for months. It had been nice not to have to worry about the odd hours he kept, or how loud he had his TV.

Oh god, had she been able to hear him watching trash telly through the wall?

Her front door had been left on the latch, and he watched as she gently nudged it open with her foot and began to place the books in her arms down upon the floor, off to the side of the doorway. Once her arms were empty, she gestured for him to pass her the ones that he was holding and then did the same with those.

“D’you want help shifting anything else?” he asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his grey jogging bottoms once he’d passed her the last of the books.

She straightened, turning to face him as she wiped her hands on her blue jeans. She really was stunning. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a high ponytail, leaving her features open and unobscured, and despite the casualness of her oversized jumper and jeans, she carried herself with a self assuredness that, to Billy, made it seem like the sexiest outfit in the world. He was immediately self conscious of his own scruffiness at that moment. He hadn’t looked in a mirror since waking up, but he knew he needed a shower and a shave. A giant stain from last night’s Pot Noodle emblazoned the chest of his black t-shirt, the very same t-shirt that he’d worn all day yesterday and then slept in. It was suddenly difficult to look her in the eye.

“That was the last of the boxes from that carload, actually,,” she said with a soft smile. “I can only fit so much in my shitty Fiat Panda, so having to make a fair few trips. Thank you for helping me though, and sorry for chucking books at your front door.”

Billy huffed softly through his nose, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “Don’t mention it.”

She pulled the door closed and locked it. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” she smiled, giving him her name, “and what should I call you?”

“I’m Billy,” he told her, his tone almost apologetic.

“Well, see you around, Billy.”

He watched her retreat down the hallway, until she disappeared through the door to the stairwell. He really hoped he would see her again, if anything just so he could prove to her that he was capable of not looking like an absolute slob.

Billy headed straight for the bathroom once he was back inside his own flat, not emerging until he’d showered, washed his hair, brushed his teeth, shaved and changed into clean clothes. It all felt like an effort, everything did these days. Piecing his life back together in the months that had followed his car being blown up had been difficult. It had been hard to come to terms with the idea that he had been radicalised by a terrorist group, impossible to make peace with the fact that he’d survived the explosion designed to kill him. His older sister, Lana, had nagged at him to go to therapy, to work through the trauma of what had happened, but therapy was expensive and he needed to keep a roof over his head, especially since Becky had split up with him and moved back to her mum’s. He had managed to get a job behind the bar of a local pub – the hours were shit and the pay wasn’t much better, but it made him feel useful, especially when it came to the manual aspects such as changing barrels and taking deliveries of crates of mixers and spirits. Each shift left him too exhausted to think about all he’d been through. He was existing, not really living, but that suited Billy just fine.

As the sky outside darkened into the purgatory that exists between late afternoon and early evening, his stomach began to rumble and he realised he hadn’t eaten yet today. Pulling open the fridge, Billy sighed at the bare shelves within. A half used bottle of ketchup lay on its side, a red puddle of sauce gathering beneath its lid, while the dregs of a carton of milk that was already two days past its use by date occupied the space in the door.

Fuck’s sake, he muttered to himself, stepping into his trainers and pulling on his coat, preparing for a trip out into the cold to buy groceries. A soft knock caused him to pause as he was zipping up his coat, and he tugged the door open, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise at the sight of his neighbour standing on the other side. He hadn’t anticipated seeing her again so soon, but he was glad he was in a better state than he was on their first encounter.

“Sorry, me again,” she said, raising her hand in a slight wave. “You’re probably sick of me asking for help, but I’ve unpacked my kettle and was gonna make a brew, but realised I’ve not got any milk. Don’t suppose you could lend me some?”

Billy couldn’t help but grin as he looked down at her, clearly amused by her question. “I thought people only did that in films,” he admitted. “I was actually just on my way out to buy some, if you wanna come? I can show you where the Tesco Express is.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice, actually,” she said, her face lighting up as she smiled brightly, “let me just grab my jacket.”

It was bitterly cold as they walked, the frigid air nippled relentlessly at Billy’s fingers, causing him to put his hands in his coat pockets to keep them warm. The street lamps were starting to come on as the sky turned a blue so dark it was almost black, and the continuous shine of the headlights of passing cars, coupled with the hum of their engines felt almost oppressive. He looked to her, seeking distraction. Billy worried that she might be cold; she’d only put on a leather jacket over the top of her jumper, though she had paired it with a massive, woolen scarf that she kept her face buried in up to her nose.

“You all moved in now then?” he asked.

“Yeah, all my stuff’s in the flat now,” she replied, lifting her face from her scarf to look up at him, “just need to unpack it.”

Billy nodded, rounding a corner to the street that would lead them to the nearest Tesco. “So, what brings you to this neck of the woods then?”

“Had to leave my last place pretty sharpish,” she told him, “needed somewhere that was furnished and available straight away. This was the closest available to where I work.”

Her eye contact was avoidant as she explained this, seeming to retreat into herself. They were almost at the Tesco anyway, and Billy didn’t want to push a topic she was clearly uncomfortable talking about, so they walked the rest of the way in silence.

Billy grabbed milk, chocolate covered digestives and a couple of frozen pizzas, while she did a larger shop of essentials she didn’t have at her flat. As he watched her scan bread, eggs, milk and fresh fruit and vegetables through the self checkout, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the junk food within his own basket. She had done a proper grown up’s shop, his own was the furthest thing from that.

“Let me make you a cuppa, to say thanks for everything today,” she offered as they stepped back into the warmth of their block of flats.

“Alright, sounds good,” Billy nodded, following her through her door.

Her living room was a sea of cardboard boxes, with barely any room to stand, let alone to sit down to drink tea.

“I know the cups are in here somewhere,” she said, setting down her shopping bags and beginning to open a box marked ‘KITCHEN’,

“Tell you what,” Billy suggested, “let’s go to mine for a tea. You can owe me one once you’re unpacked.”

Her eyes softened in gratitude as she looked up from the box at him, and it made warmth spread through his chest that rose all the way to his cheeks. He had to look away for fear she’d notice.

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Billy.”

He regretted his offer almost as soon as they stepped into his flat. Billy had never been tidy, if he hadn’t realised it himself, then the countless times that Lana had visited and nagged at him for it had certainly driven the message home.

You know, you can tidy up, Billy.

You’re allowed to open the curtains.

When was the last time you washed up?

It was easy to ignore when it was his own sister's passing comments, however, with a pretty girl by his side, it was as though he was looking at his living space through a fresh set of eyes, and he hated what he saw.

“Sorry…” he muttered, shame settling over him like a weighted blanket as he looked at the array of empty beer cans and crisp packets that were strewn across the coffee table.

She huffed an easy laugh as she followed him through to the kitchen. “Honestly, it’s fine. It’s not like you were expecting company, and you shouldn’t feel the need to apologise for how you keep your own space.”

He turned to stare at her, his brow furrowed in confusion at her lack of disgust. There was sincerity in her eyes, she wasn’t just being nice, she meant it. Her reaction eased his embarrassment somewhat, until he opened the cupboard to find he had no clean mugs.

“D’you live alone then?” she asked as he flicked on the kettle.

“Was it that obvious?” he replied with a grin, fishing two mugs out of the full sink. He busied himself with rinsing them out, while she leaned her back against the kitchen side, watching him.

She laughed at his response, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he scraped off the plate of used tea bags into the almost overflowing bin. It had been a long time since there had been laughter in his flat.

“So, what do you do for work then?” he asked, once they’d settled on the sofa with their teas. Billy had discarded his dirty washing to make space for her to sit next to him, and cleared the table so they could set down their mugs, alongside the packet of chocolate digestives he’d bought.

“I’m the social media manager for a publishing company,” she told him, before helping herself to a biscuit from the open packet and taking a bite.

Billy didn’t think he’d ever heard anything so daft in his entire life. He took a swig of his tea in an attempt to hide the way his features twisted in disdain. “So…er…do you just sit on Facebook all day then?”

She covered her lips with her hand as she giggled around a mouthful of biscuit. “That’s a bit of an oversimplification,” she said once she’d swallowed, “there’s a lot more to it than that.”

“Yeah, I s’pose there’s Twitter and Instagram too,” he said with a playful cock of his eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck off!” she grinned, swatting playfully at his leg.

Billy adored how easy he found being in her company, he had anticipated them not having much in common when he’d helped her to pick up her books earlier, but was now finding he hadn’t been this relaxed around anyone in a long time.

“So, what do you do then?”

The question made him tense, all sense of relaxation leaving his body as the familiar feeling of shame found its home within his body once more. His gaze drifted down to the mug that he held cradled in his hands as he spoke, feeling the need to justify his answer, and terrified she’d judge him for it. “I…erm…I work at The Joiners. It’s a pub not too far from here. It’s just temporary though, until I find something else.”

“What would you rather be doing?” she asked, before sipping her tea.

Billy blinked, stunned by the genuine interest in her tone. He was used to ‘you aren’t trying hard enough, Billy’ or ‘there’s always an excuse not to’. No one had ever bothered to take the time to ask him what he actually wanted.

“I dunno,” he admitted, lifting his eyes to meet hers, “I applied to join the army a couple of times, and kept getting rejected. Not sure what else I could do, I just wanna feel useful y’know? Work with my hands.”

She nodded in understanding, shifting to sit cross legged on the sofa as she faced him fully. “So, like manual labour?”

“Yeah, I s’pose. Bricklaying or something, would be cool to have a trade.”

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, leaning forward to put his half empty mug on the coffee table, before settling back against the sofa cushions. “Not that simple, is it? I’ve got no experience, I can’t just rock up to a building site and ask for a job.”

“No, but you can train,” she said, leaning towards him, her eyes lit up with enthusiasm, “there are vocational colleges that have two year courses for that sort of thing, and it would fit in perfectly around your bar work.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he admitted, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s why it’s good you’ve now got a friend that sits on Facebook all day for a living,” she said with a playful wink, “because I do. Let me help you.”

Let me help you.

The simplicity of those four little words made Billy’s heart soar, the warmth of his smile lit up his entire face as he nodded at her. “Alright then.”

“Good,” she smiled softly, before gesturing towards his Playstation. “Got any two player games?”

She had utterly destroyed him at several rounds of Street Fighter, before all too quickly they had to call it a night. Billy went to bed happier than he’d felt in ages, never more grateful for someone having chucked books at his front door by accident.

When he woke the next morning, he was surprised when he looked at his phone to see that it was before midday – 9am, to be exact. Billy never got up that early, yet he found himself slipping out of bed with ease and, for the first time since Becky had left, he opened the curtains.

Letting light into the flat felt like opening up a new chapter of his life, but also it highlighted just how much of a shit state he’d allowed the place to get into. He busied himself that morning, clearing rubbish off of every surface, washing up, wiping down the sides, emptying the bin, and filling the washing machine with dirty laundry. He even hoovered the floors and cleaned the bathroom – neither one a job he had undertaken since moving in. It filled him with pride to think that the next time his new friend visited, she’d see his place clean and tidy.

By the time Billy finished cleaning the flat, it was almost time for him to leave for his afternoon shift at The Joiners. As he stepped out of his flat, he noticed a luminous pink post-it note stuck to his door.

‘IOU one cup of tea’ it read, with a smiley face next to it and the link to a vocational college’s bricklaying course scribbled beneath it. Billy smiled to himself, plucking it from the door and stuffing it into his pocket, before making his way to work.

A few days went by and Billy didn’t see or hear anything more from her. While he wondered about her, he figured it wouldn’t be unusual for them not to cross paths – they kept completely different hours – she worked a Monday to Friday nine to five, while he worked a combination of late afternoon and evening shifts at the pub.

It was a late afternoon shift he was returning from that evening when he heard raised voices coming from her flat. They were muffled from behind the door, but he could hear the distinctive anger of a deep male voice, and her softer one in response. She sounded upset.

Billy paused, his key lifted halfway to the lock, as her front door flew open.

“Just get out!” she sobbed, “I don’t want you here!”

She shoved desperately at a man that was slightly shorter than he was, but of a much sturdier build. He moved clumsily out of her flat, righting himself against the wall as he stared her down with fury in his eyes. “You can’t leave me,” he seethed, “who else would want you? You’re damaged goods!”

Billy’s anger flared as he heard that. That stupid cunt had no idea what he was talking about, and certainly had no right to say that to her. He shoved his keys back into the pocket of his jeans, and stalked over to where the bloke stood against the wall.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” he glowered, staring intensely at the man before him.

“Billy, don’t–”

“Who’s this then?” the guy scoffed in amusement, cutting her off. His gaze moved between her and Billy. “You moved on already? You lying bitch!”

“I said, don’t speak to her like that!” Billy snarled, grabbing him by his jacket.

“Liam, no!”

Her shout of protest came too late. The impact of the fist against Billy’s face whipped his head to the side, the inertia knocking him off his feet as he landed heavily on the carpet with a shocked expulsion of air.

Liam stepped over Billy, walking away towards the stairwell, leaving him to cradle the side of his face as he lay on the floor, a dull pulse of pain throbbing against his cheekbone and spreading out across his eye socket.

“Oh god, Billy, I’m so sorry,” she cried, kneeling beside him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “are you okay?”

A few minutes later, he sat in an armchair in her flat, with a bag of frozen peas clutched against the side of his face. The eye that wasn’t obscured by the makeshift medical aid took in her living room. She’d unpacked. The shelves were filled with books, the sofa adorned with colourful throw blankets and cushions, and she’d placed plants and candles on almost every surface. It was cozy, it felt like a home.

“Thought you might want something a bit stronger than tea,” she said, appearing from the kitchen with two open bottles of beer in her hands. She handed one to Billy, before moving to sit on the end of the sofa that was nearest the armchair that he currently occupied.

“Thanks,” Billy said, offering her a tight smile, “for the beer, and the peas.”

Her brows arched in concern, her eyes still red rimmed from crying as she looked at him. “I really am sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Not you that needs to apologise,” he told her, pulling the peas away from his face as he took a swig of his beer. “Who was that prick anyway?”

She sighed, her eyes downcast as her thumbs picked anxiously at the Birra Moretti label on her bottle. “My ex, Liam. We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Billy huffed in mild amusement, placing the bag of peas on the table in front of him.

“You’re gonna have a bruise,” she said, her tone apologetic.

“I’ve had worse,” he replied with a shrug, “are you alright?”

“I will be…” - she drank deeply from her beer - “was stupid of me to tell him he could come round anyway. He said he was gonna drop off a few things I’d left behind and I was gullible enough to think it wouldn’t end in an argument.”

Billy longed to comfort her. He’d only known her a week though, and they’d only hung out once, he wasn’t sure how she’d take it if he just pulled her into a hug. His heart ached for her, yet at the same time his own selfish jealousy flared within him, wanting to know precisely what had led to their split, to know if Liam was still a part of her life.

“So, what happened between you two…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Caught him in bed with someone else,” she sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, “Liam had always had a bit of a wandering eye, but I never thought it would amount to anything serious. It did, so I found this place and moved out as quickly as I could. As you saw, he’s not enjoying dealing with the consequences of his own actions.”

“You think he’ll come back?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Billy furrowed his brow, growing pensive for a moment, before an idea occurred to him. “Give me your phone,” he said, holding his hand out.

“What? Why?”

“I’m gonna put my number in it. If he comes back, I want you to ring me okay?”

“So he can deck you again?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “He caught me by surprise, is all. I’ll be ready next time.”

He knew he was lying. Billy had never been a fighter, physical strength just wasn’t a skill he possessed, it was part of the reason the army had rejected him twice. Still, as he entered his number into the contacts of her phone, he knew he’d feel better just knowing he could be there for her.

She never texted him, though over the next couple of weeks they spent every evening that Billy wasn’t working together. At his place, they played Street Fighter and he imposed a rule that she wasn’t allowed to choose Chun Li as her character, as her knowledge of her special moves put her at an unfair advantage. When they were at hers, she read aloud to him from a copy of The Shining by Stephen King – a chapter for each visit. Billy had never enjoyed books, until now; the story was engaging, and not just because of Jack Torrence’s slow descent into madness. Her voice made every word more captivating and he found himself disappointed when each part drew to a close.

He was coming towards the end of an afternoon shift when his phone vibrated in his pocket – a text from an unknown number.

‘Hi stranger. Got a surprise for you back at the flat xxx’

His heart skipped a beat, his pulse racing as he realised it was from her. She’d never text him before, which is why her number wasn’t saved. He wondered what she could possibly have in store for him, and the rest of the afternoon felt as though time had ground to a halt as he waited impatiently to go home.

He frowned as he heard music playing softly from his flat as he arrived back – how had she gotten in? She didn’t have a key.

Opening the door, the music grew louder – some 90s R&B song that he didn’t know that name of, and there were lit candles on the coffee table in the living room.

“H–hello?” he called out, struggling to keep the anxious tremor from his voice.

“In here,” a voice replied from the bedroom.

He froze at the sound of it. He knew that voice. It filled him with a sense of dread, and for a moment, he considered simply turning and leaving.

Slowly, he made his way to the bedroom, pausing in the doorway. The sight within formed a pit in his stomach. His ex, Becky, lay provocatively on her side, her curves encased in lacy black lingerie, as she looked at him with a sultry smile upon her lips. Six months ago, he’d have been a goner for the display before him, now it made bile rise in his throat.

“Hiya, gorgeous,” she cooed, “I’ve missed you.”

His lips set into a hard line as he looked away, annoyance in his tone. “Becky, what the fuck are you playing at? How did you even get in?”

“I wanted to see you,” she said, pouting as she slipped off the bed to move towards him, “and I’ve still got my key.”

Realisation set in – the text had been from her. On the advice of Lana, he had deleted Becky’s number when they’d split for good, a means of avoiding the temptation to reach out to her. It had helped a lot in the process of getting over her. But it was now apparent that she had kept his.

He backed away from her as she reached for him, his face hardened in an expression of disgust and anger as he clenched his fists at his sides. His nostrils flared as he battled to keep his voice from raising. “Well, you can give your fucking key back when you leave. I don’t want you here.”

“You can’t be serious?” she scoffed, “You are rejecting me?”

He stared at her, unable to believe that this was a person who he had once mourned the loss of – he felt nothing but irritation seeing her now, a desperate need to be rid of her. “I am, yeah. You bailed when things fell apart. I don’t need you hanging around like a bad smell now that they’re finally piecing back together. Get out.”

“You’ll regret this, Billy,” she said angrily, her movements erratic and hurried as she snatched her tan coloured trench coat from the floor and belted it around herself, “you won’t do better than me.”

“I think I already have. Keys,” he demanded, holding his hand out.

She pulled them hastily from her pocket, chucking them towards him, before barging past him and out of the flat. Billy followed, watching her leave. She paused once in the hallway, looking to her right and smiling, before turning her attention back to him.

“Bye then, Billy,” she said, her tone saccharinely sweet. She blew him a kiss and then sauntered away.

His brow furrowed in confusion at the sudden change in her behaviour, until he looked to the left and saw his neighbour standing in the hallway, her copy of The Shining clutched to her chest. Her eyes were wide, a look of shock upon her face, though Billy was certain he could also see something akin to hurt reflected in their depths.

“Oh,” was all she uttered, before hurrying back inside and slamming her door behind her.

No. No. No. No. No.

“Fuck!” he cursed under his breath, slamming his hand against the doorframe in frustration.

Billy’s heart felt as though it was dropping endlessly through his body. Every part of him screamed at him to go after her, to explain to her what had happened, to reassure that what they had was – what?

The more he thought about it, the more he realised he didn’t quite know what was occurring between them. It would be weird for him to show up at her door and explain all of that away, under the assumption that she’d care. Perhaps he’d misread the situation, but as he retreated back into his flat he couldn’t shake the heavy burden of misery that settled upon him. There was a lingering sense of loss, a feeling that he had just allowed something important to slip through his fingers.

Billy fell back into a state of miserable, lifeless existence over the following week. There were no further hangouts with his neighbour, and he ached with the sensation of missing her. The flat grew messier with each passing day, but he found himself not caring, trapped in his own cowardice of not being able to simply reach out to her. All it would take was a knock at her door, but it felt too big, too scary. The curtains had closed around his world once more.

As he stuffed his hands into his coat pockets on his way to work one afternoon, his fingers brushed against a slip of paper. Fishing it out, he saw that it was the pink post-it note she had left on his door the morning after they’d first met. He smiled faintly at the memory, though his heart twinged with sadness. He looked at the URL scrawled at the bottom – he had forgotten about it until now.

During a lull between customers at the pub, Billy disappeared around the corner of the bar, pulling his phone free from his jeans pocket and hastily typed the link from the note into the browser. It led to the page to register for an open evening at a local vocational college. He’d left it so long to check it out, that the day was now only a week away. For a moment, he considered simply locking his phone again and forgetting about it. It was overwhelming, the unknown, the possibility for failure, but something niggled at the back of his mind – the memory of how enthusiastically she’d offered to help him out – he owed it to her to register. Before he had time to convince himself otherwise, he input his details, hit submit and then pocketed his phone once more.

As he worked the rest of his shift, his mind was preoccupied by thoughts of the open evening. What if they told him he was too stupid, laughed at him for even considering applying to any of the courses and told him he was useless?

He realised he needed someone there with him, otherwise he wouldn’t go at all. For a moment, he considered asking Lana, but that would put too much pressure on the situation – she’d ask too many demanding questions, expect him to know straight away what course he wanted to apply to, and then feed it all back to their parents. That was the absolute last thing he needed; nagging from mum and disapproval from dad. He wanted her there with him, the person who had started all of this in the first place. She made him feel supported and inspired, and the thought of having her by his side made it seem less overwhelming. The question was, would she even want to come?

Once he finished work, he found himself outside of her flat, fist raised to the door, but not quite able to knock. In the time they hadn’t spoken, their friendship had existed in limbo to Billy – it either was or it wasn’t, but there was still the hope to cling to that she did still think fondly of him. He hated the idea of knocking on her door and her reacting negatively, telling him to get lost. It would add a sense of finality to it all, confirm once and for all that he was alone again.

Fucking idiot, just knock, he muttered to himself, before finally rapping his knuckles against the wood.

He heard her soft footsteps on the other side of the door before she opened it and for a moment Billy just stood there, lips parted and unable to say anything as his entire body surged with warmth at the sight of her. Her hair was loose, tousled around her shoulders, and she was wearing an oversized white t-shirt and pyjama shorts – it looked as though she was ready for bed.

Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him, obviously not expecting to see him. “Everything okay?” she asked, a tinge of concern colouring her tone.

It was then Billy realised he hadn’t said anything, had just been gawping at her like a creep. He lowered his gaze, swallowing thickly as embarrassment made his cheeks blaze. “S–sorry…yeah…I erm…I registered for that open evening at the college you mentioned.”

“Oh…oh, right,” she said slowly, nodding as she wrapped her arms around herself, “that’s good…that’s really good.”

“It’s next week,” he told her, finally looking up to meet her gaze, “I wondered if you wouldn’t mind coming with me…if…if you’re not busy?”

She chewed her lip anxiously for a moment before replying. “Isn’t that something you’d want your girlfriend to go with you to?”

Billy sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew exactly what she was referring to. Of course that was what she had thought. Fucking Becky.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he admitted, “I mean…she was, but she hasn’t been for a long time.”

“What was she doing at your place then?”

Billy fought the urge to smile at the imploring look upon her face as she asked that question. She was jealous, and it made his stomach flip to know she still liked him enough to feel that way.

“Can I come in before I answer that?”

She gave a slight nod, stepping aside to let him in before closing the door behind them. They both took a seat on the sofa, and Billy felt a part of himself grow lighter as he was once more immersed in the familiarity of her flat. It felt like just as much of a home to him as his own place did.

Billy turned the upper portion of his body to face her, watching as she placed a cushion in her lap to cover her bare legs as her shorts rode up her bare thighs. The sight made his throat run dry, and he had to wet his lips before he spoke, to remind himself why he was actually here.

“Her name’s Becky,” he began, “we split up about six months ago. She left me when my life had gone to shit – that’s something I wanna tell you about one day, once I’m ready. I want you to know. But yeah, she came round, wanting to rekindle something, I guess. I chucked her out, and that’s the end of it.”

Billy watched her, eager for her to say something, anything, as she stared pensively at the cushion she held in her lap, her fingers idly stroking its edges. “I suppose it’s not my place to be upset, considering my ex decked you,” she finally said, her voice quiet, “and really, it’s none of my business–”

“But I want it to be your business,” he interrupted, “I don’t want anyone thinking I’m still with her, especially not you!”

His eyes were wide as he stared at her, hoping that she could see he was being sincere. She said nothing as she stared back, though her posture softened, becoming less defensive.

Billy wasn’t sure who moved first, but he hoisted her into his lap as their lips connected, weeks of pent up tension melting away as their mouths moved with urgency. His tongue licked against hers, messy and desperate, as he hands caressed and squeezed every part of her body his hands could reach. She was soft, so soft, and she felt right against him. He cock stirred to life, hardening in his jeans with embarrassing quickness.

When they broke for air, both panting softly, she pulled her head back as he tried to kiss her again.

“What is it?” he asked, stroking his hands up and down her sides in a soothing gesture. She hadn’t moved off of his lap and didn’t look disgusted by what had happened, much to Billy’s relief.

“I just…maybe it’s too much, too quickly?” she whispered, “We’ve both got so much baggage, I don’t want to lose you if this doesn’t work out.”

Billy shook his head, giving her hips a gentle squeeze. “I get it, I do. But why write it off before we’ve even given it a chance? I’m sick and tired of waiting for my life to start, tired of acting like we’re just mates. Can we just…”

He threaded his fingers into her messy hair, guiding her lips back to his. This time she didn’t pull away, she kissed back eagerly, only stopping to tug her t-shirt up and over her head, chucking it to the side as she straddled his lap.

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

His hands trailed up her bare torso, tentatively palming her breasts, feeling their weight and softness in his palms. When she lifted off of his lap to tug down her pyjama shorts, she giggled as she watched him struggle with the button and zipper of his jeans. God, he loved her laugh, he’d missed that sound. He pulled her back onto his lap with a lazy grin, his eyes screwing shut as a groan escaped him. The feeling of her wet folds stroking across the head of his hardened cock sent shockwaves of pleasure shooting all the way up his spine, making him feel light headed.

“Go slow,” he pleaded, as she sank down onto him, enveloping him in her tight heat. He knew it would be over all too soon if she continued to make him feel like this. His balls were already drawing up tight against his body.

“Thought you were tired of going slow,” she teased with an experimental roll of her hips.

“Fucking hell,” he gritted out, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she rode him. Each rock of her hips made his entire body tense and tremble. The slap of their flesh meeting punctuated every undulation of her hips, combined with their soft pants and moans.

“You have to stop,” he whimpered, as the telltale build of pressure at the base of his spine signalled his end, “I’m gonna–”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, tugging at the hair at the base of his neck to prompt him to look up into her eyes, “let go for me.”

Billy stilled, holding her hips in a grip so hard he was certain he’d leave bruises as his vision turned white, his mind going blank as his cock pulsated and spilled inside of her. The sensation made his entire body shudder, his thoughts not returning until the last of the tremors had subsided.

“Fuck…fuck…” he panted, brushing his hair away from his forehead as he looked up at her, “I’m sorry, you didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” she reassured him, pecking his lips gently with hers, “you’re not getting away with doing this just once tonight.”

A grin spread across Billy’s face. He was no longer a bystander in his own life, and he had her to thank for that.

Read on AO3

More Billy fics

#billy washington x reader #billy washington smut #billy washington x you #billy washington x y/n #billy washington angst #billy washington imagine #billy washington fan fiction #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fan fic #billy washington trigger point #trigger point #ewan mitchell

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slaytheusurper · 2 months ago

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⭑ Hiking reward ⭑

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Day 3/12 of Smuffmas! In nature & Deepthroating with Billy

12 days of Smuffmas Masterlist

Pairing: Billy Washington x Gf!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, teasing, making out, whiny Billy, blowjob, deepthroating, anal fingering, exhibitionism (no one's around)

Summary: Billy is not up for the hike his girlfriend desperately wants but he might just comply for a delicious reward.

Taglist smuffmas ‘24: @venmondiese

Any sunny day in England was to be appreciated, for it was not often that it was actually sunny and warm in summer. And so you spent the whole morning begging your boyfriend to go on a hike with you.

Billy wasn’t into exercise, nature or going out his comfortable flat in any situation, but the way his sweet and kind girlfriend was begging him to made his resolve crumble little by little.

His flat was hot, the cheap fan he kept blasting day and night doing nothing to get the heat out. “We don’t even have to go far, the forest is only three miles from here. It’ll be nice, I promise.” Billy shook his head but seemed to give in a bit more.

“It’s way too hot love, trust me, it won’t be nice.” You walked over to where he was sat on the couch, sipping his hot tea even though it was warm outside.

Setting your knee on each side of his lap, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Leaning in, your mouth near his ear. “If you go with me, just for a short hike, I promise you will not regret it.”

His breath shuddered while he listened to your words. “I’ll put on me sneakers then.” Billy simply said before he moved you off him. You laughed as he almost jogged to his closet, getting some dusty old pair of sneakers he hadn’t worn in ages.

However as you had only walked past the entrance of the trail for about a couple of hundred metres, he already started to complain. “So can we turn back now or?” You gave him a shocked look.

“Billy we just got here, don’t tell me you’re already tired.” He shrugged and smiled. “We could be doing something way more active right now.�� You rolled your eyes at him and kept walking, speeding up your pace just a little.

“That’s not the point, exercise that is. The point is to get some fresh air and enjoy being outside.” He tried his best to keep up with you but sweat was already dampening his face as well as his clothes.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a less hotter day? I'm sweating me balls off.” You laughed at his words, and pondered if he was right. No one else seemed to be out today, everyone locked up at home with their air-con or fan.

“Well at least no one’s around. Come on, just a bit further and we’ll go back, I promise. And maybe you’ll get your reward.” Billy seemed intrigued by that and finally shut up for a while.

At least he had a nice view of you in your shorts and tanktop. He hadn’t even changed, still in his thin grey joggers and green t-shirt. After a while and about two miles in, you arrived to a split path.

The one to the right was further in the forest and to a thicker area and the left was a quicker way back with a thinner treeline and bushes. You were already turning right when Billy spoke up. “No, no love please. Let’s just go back, I’m tired and sweaty.” He whined.

“If you follow me, I’ll show you why we’re turning right.” He seemed to give in and followed you anyway. As he walked next to you again, you grabbed his hand and strayed off the path, deeper into the forest until no one following the trail could see you.

“Why are we going here, is it even allowed?” You smiled at his words. “Don’t worry baby, just giving you your reward. But no one should see us.” His eyes widened at that and he had no time to answer before your lips crashed on his.

Even though he was a bit sweaty, he still tasted divine. Somehow he was even more addicting this way, especially with how whimpers left his lips in between your hungry kisses. He bit your lip in the way you loved, leaving you breathless.

When you slid your tongue in his mouth, he moaned. It was always exciting to tease Billy, to pleasure him, watching him come undone with the simplest touches. Your boyfriend loved to be at your mercy.

His tongue danced against yours, spit mingling in a sloppy, lustful kiss. You could already feel your arousal dampening your underwear and when Billy pressed you close to him, you could feel his very obvious erection against your thigh.

He whined when you pulled back but when you saw his hard bulge through his thin grey joggers, your mouth watered and you couldn’t resist. Your hand moved from his neck down to his chest, his breath stuck in his throat as he anticipated your next move.

Wanting to be kind to him for somewhat complying with your activity today, you palmed his hard cock through his joggers, sending a shiver down his spine. Knowing Billy would be loud, you chose a secluded spot so even if someone did pop out today, they wouldn’t hear you.

You massaged his cock some more and watched as precum bled through his clothes. Having decided you teased him enough, you sank to your knees. “Fuck, yes baby. Can’t wait to feel your warm mouth around my cock.”

You moaned against his erection as you kissed and mouthed at it through his clothes. Making him beg for more. Pulling down his joggers and underwear at the same time, his cock sprung free.

You took him in your hand and kissed the head of his beautiful cock, earning a hiss from him. “Please love, please.” He almost whimpered, so desprate for his pretty girlfriends mouth. You complied and started to eagerly suck his cock.

Drawing curses from him as you swallowed him further down. Your other hand moved to massage his balls, something you had noticed over the months of dating him, he loved. He was sensitive on his slit too and the spot where his sack and puckered hole met.

As you took him deeper and deeper, thats where your hand moved next. Billy almost buckled over but his hands helped steady him when they grabbed your head. You knew all his weak spots and christ did he love you for it.

Your nose hit the hairs on his pubic bone, tip all the way at the back of your throat. Your finger softly massaged the sensitive skin near his hole and for a moment he wondered if you would go further.

After only two more seconds, you moved back for air, spit and precum running down your lips and chin. Billy admired you as you swiftly moved back to suck him in again. “Please baby, please make me cum.”

In the heat of the moment, you moved your tongue at the underside of his shaft and moved your finger fully in his hole. Billy loudly cried out at the sensation, begging and begging as you fingered his g-spot. “I’m gonna cum- gonna cum-”

His final straw was when you moved back a bit, focused on his tip and licked his slit as fast as you could, trying to move your finger inside him in the same rhythm.

Billy screamed your name as he shot ropes of his cum in your mouth, almost falling to his knees with the way you hit his prostate over and over again.

You made sure his orgasm lasted as long as possible before he begged you to pull of, the sensitivity becoming too much for him. So you simply swallowed his cum and retreated your finger. His heavy breathing and soft curses still filled the air.

Then he manoeuvred you over to a nearby tree, your back softly hitting the bark before he kissed your neck feverishly. When he now got on his knees instead, you knew he couldn’t resist returning the favour.

#billy washington x reader smut #billy washington x fem reader smut #billy washington x reader #billy washington x fem reader #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell smut #billy washington smut #smuffmas 2024 #12 days of smutmas #billy washington #billy washington trigger point

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fan-goddess · 1 year ago

Note

For kinktober:

Billy Washington x face sitting

Modern Aemond x getting caught

Tom bennettt x public sex

would adore if you could do these, I love your writing so much! 💕

Authors Note: thank you for these love and the compliment! Gonna do the Billy Washington x face sitting one here and I’ll do the other ones separately so it’s just easier. Thank you for waiting for this as long as you did, I realised I sort of did them in the wrong order ha still boo you like these ♥️

Warnings: Praising, f oral, face sitting, teasing, hint at m oral, (if I miss any let me know)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @helaelaemond @omgbrcat

You and Billy had been dating for quite some time now, and for the whole time, you’d noticed that he’d always been eager to please.

Whether that was with a nice hot cup of tea when you got back from a stressful day at work, or even just calling the local Chinese place for food when he could tell that you were too tired to try and attempt to cook anything that night.

It was also unsurprising to the both of you when you realised how eager to please Billy was in other areas of your relationship too.

“I’m back love!” You yell, chucking off your coat onto the hook and flinging your messenger bag somewhere by the sofa, before walking to the direction of the bedroom.

“Hey babe” Billy smiles, sneaking up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, so he can give you a quick affectionate kiss on the forehead.

“How was your day? Did you chat to Lana? I swear she said something about calling you sometime today… or it may have been tomorrow?” You muse, dragging Billy to the bed and laying down next to him, humming slightly in content as his arms wrap around you once more as your head rests on his chest.

“Yeah, spoke to Lana earlier. She’s doing alright for herself. Had a couple dates with that fella of hers and got another tomorrow. Had a call of the job centre too. Some mechanic place is hiring for apprenticeships and stuff and I got an interview next week.”

“Billy thats bloody brilliant!” You grin, bringing your hands up to cup his face before practically yanking him in for a deep kiss, chuckling slightly against his lips in amusement as you feel how eager Billy is for your kisses and general affection.

“I’ve got no work to do, so I’m free all afternoon for whatever you desire my love.” You grin, a mischievous smile painted on your lips as Billy’s own face turns a light shade of pink from bashfulness. It’s always fun teasing him and seeing the way he gets.

“Well, there is something I’ve been wanting to try for a while. Since you’ve been saying about me taking charge more-“

“Billy I don’t care if you’re more submissive or dominant in this relationship! I just care about you not thinking you need to bend over backwards for me! Cause I’ll be here no matter what kinks you suddenly pull out! Well, I will run for the actual hills if you suggest anything feet related, but that’s a different matter-“

“It’s not fucking feet love!” Billy laughs, the noise making your chest practically ache from happiness as the stress seems to somehow physically drain from his face.

You always loves Billy’s laugh. The small barely noticeable stress wrinkles you never tell him about seems to magically smooth away, and almost make him look strangely innocent.

“It’s… well… I wanted to maybe have you sit on my face…”

“You want what?” Your eyes furrow at Billy’s murmur. But when he repeats it louder and clearer, your breathes go ragged and you can already feel your legs clenching together in anticipation.

“I want you to sit on my face. So I can eat you out, till you can’t take it anymore…”

“Oh…” You hate how breathless you sound. But the thought of Billy doing that to you is doing too many unholy things to your head that you can’t help but bite your lip in deep thought. “Yeah… I think we can definitely do that baby.”

“Good!” It’s so precious how he smiles so bashfully in front of you. He’s like a whole new man. Like he didn’t just suggest something that made your face blush bright red from his request mere moments ago. “So get on my face now.”

Your heart feels as if it could explode with how hard your blood was pumping to your face right now, but you can’t help but nod eagerly to Billy’s demands and quickly strip yourself nude, your clothes flying all over the room as you focus on Billy, and Billy only.

You’re awkward in your movements at first, never having a man do this so intimate thing with you before, and yet Billy takes this in stride. Before you can even get to sit yourself on his chin, he grabs at your thighs and clumsily forces your whole body on his face, where you can’t help but grind slightly on as one of the most intense feelings of your life hits you.

It’s strange, to have Billy’s wet warm tongue piercing your wet cunt, and to have his nose simultaneously nuzzling your clit, but it’s amazing, perfect, and is honestly making you feel practically delirious.

Yet even with the intense feeling, the worry of suffocating your beloved boyfriend is more important. So when you try to lift yourself up a bit to give him some room to breath, you find yourself letting a loud sigh of surprise and pleasure as Billy only goes and pulls you straight back, holding your legs even tighter in his grip to stop you from moving.

“Don’t move again…” Billy murmurs, “Fucking gorgeous…”

You can only sigh in agreement, and can’t help yourself from grinding further on Billy’s eager face, completely disregarding your earlier worries. Your hands clasp desperately where they can, which in your case, is Billy’s shaggy hair that tickles your lower half slightly. Though when you tighten your grip slightly, you can feel Billy groan slightly as he eats you out, seemingly aroused by your tight grip on his body.

You quickly begin whining in approval though. “Fuck Billy so good for me!” Adoring the way he becomes to desperate to hear your praise, and the way his actions seem to quicken to appease you.

His own groans of pleasure may be muffled, but they certainly are enthusiastic, as the vibrations somehow seem to only heighten your pleasure.

You can feel the bed shake slightly, and when you turn your head slightly to look behind you, your mouth falls open on its own accord as you see Billy’s hard cock straining in his underwear. His hips even mimicking small thrusts in order to get some kind of stimulation for himself.

It’s almost endearingly amusing to you to see the small wet patch forming in his underwear from his own arousal. You think he could almost cum alone from eating you out. A thing you soon almost find yourself doing as Billy’s movements get rougher.

“Oh my god I’m gonna cum Billy!” You whine, your grip on Billy’s hair becoming rough as the knot in your stomach tightens, on the brink of bursting, only spilling over when you begin to rut your pussy on his willing mouth like a woman possessed.

It’s so intense, that you find yourself somehow more aroused and yet thankful with Billy’s tight grip on your thighs, that turns almost bruising as he makes sure you don’t almost fall off his face. And when your legs begin to cramp and you move to lay beside your lover and properly look at him, your breath feels like it’s been swept away as you see your juices shining all over his face.

You can feel your face burn red in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands as you try to hide your shyness. “Billy, you’ve got well, me all over your face love…”

You can hear him hum slightly and when you peak through your fingers to see what he does, your legs unconsciously clamp together seeing his tongue trying to pick up as much of you as he can, his fingers too trying to catch any he was unable to get with his tongue.

“You’re gonna kill me someday Billy Washington!” You grin, moving to give him a firm kiss on his damp cheek, and giggling when you see his beautiful bashful smile. The Billy you’re used too, the submissive Billy, coming back to you right before your eyes.

Speaking of your eyes, they once again trail to Billy’s crotch, where his cock still strains against the fabric of his pants with a distinct wet patch still drawing your main attention.

“Do you want me to help you out with that baby?”

“Only if you want to darling.”

Your hand teases the outline of him, your smile smug as he whines into the air. “Of course I want to sweet boy, I’d be crazy not to.”

#Ewan Mitchell character #trigger point #billy washington x reader #billy washington #Billy Washington/reader #my works #my kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #Billy Washington x y/n #Billy Washington x fem!reader #billy washington trigger point

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hoosbandewan · 6 months ago

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Ewan Mitchell + smiling (requested by anon! <3)

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barbieaemond · 4 months ago

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EWAN MITCHELL as BILLY WASHINGTON | Trigger Point 1.04

#hyperventilating all by yourself handsome?#ewan mitchell #billy washington #trigger point #tuserlivia #ewanmitchelledit

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babyblue711 · 1 year ago

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YAAAASSSS!! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I feel like a winner with this one! 💙😍😍

Ewanverse Halloween Fanart 👻🔥

#Billy Washington for the win #billy washington trigger point #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #fanart #happy halloween

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adragonprinceswhore · 8 months ago

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You’re Perfect

Billy Washington x Girlfriend

Summary: You ask Billy to fulfill one of your fantasies.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, deepthroat, throat fucking, breath play, fingering, cum eating

A/N: Here you go, anon! Made a header ‘cause I was bored 🤓 Also, I can’t believe I wrote this? Please forgive me for the crimes of my ovulation 🙏

Word count: 1700

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The days between Christmas and New Years always feel like being in limbo; stuck in time between the cosy familiarity of Christmas, and the rejuvenating passing of New Years. Never feeling quite like yourself; sometimes unburdened by the stressors of everyday life, sometimes fretting over the return of normalcy as a new year embarks.

When your head is swirling with endless questions, sometimes something as simple as a shower makes you feel human again.

You step out of the bathroom, steam accompanying your dampened silhouette as you enter the living room of Billy's small flat. He’s lounging on the small sofa in the corner, feet propped up on the low ikea coffee table, eyes flickering from the TV screen to you, taking in the way your dressing gown clings to your dewy skin.

Eyes still on you, he sits up a bit straighter, spreading his legs out while stretching out a needy hand, the other one fidgeting with the remote to mute the TV, “Come here”.

As you got more comfortable with each other as a couple, you learned a few things about Billy; he’s giving and he’s needy.

He wants you to know how much he appreciates you. He shows his love by making you tea each morning. By complimenting your cooking, even when it tastes horrid. By touching you, every chance he gets.

You take his hand and sit down on his lap. Billy’s face instantly nuzzles into the softness of your chest, nose trailing across your smooth skin as he inhales, “Did you use that shower oil I got you for Christmas?”

“The one I told you to buy for me?”, you giggle, remembering how panicked his blue eyes had looked in the over-crowded shopping centre before you slipped your gift into his hand and told him you’d go out while he finished up there, “-yes”

Billy hums, the stubble on his chin scratching your skin, “Great choice. Do you feel better after your shower?”

When your head is swirling with endless questions, sometimes something as simple as Billy's touch makes you feel human again.

He’s always so gentle with you, a stark contrast to the natural clumsiness he seems to possess. With you, he’s always careful, fingertips grazing delicately over your skin.

“Yes”, you answer honestly, grabbing his face to angle it towards your lips.

The kiss starts soft, plush lips moving against each other slowly. But once Billy finds your ass, squeezing it over your dressing gown, his mouth matches the neediness of his hand.

When you push on his shoulder to allow yourself a moment to come up for air, his lips chase your mouth, reluctant to allow separation between the two of you.

You dodge him, place a quick peck on his lips and stroke the smooth skin on his cheekbones, “There’s this thing I’d like to try..”

Unable to keep from adoring you, Billy peppers your neck with soft kisses, mumbling “Tell me” into your skin.

“It’s this fantasy I’ve had for a while”, you start, feeling Billy straighten up slightly as he lifts his gaze to meet yours, intrigued.

“Anything”, he says, grasp on your ass moving your body slightly so your leg makes contact with his crotch, feeling the hardness already there.

“Before we met, I’d… get off to this thought…”, you explain, hand moving to play with the sandy hairs at the base of his neck, “it’s something I’ve always wanted to try”.

“If you’re about to suggest a threesome with one of my mates, I’m throwing you out the window”, Billy jokes, still busy lathering you in featherlight kisses.

You chuckle, leaning in closer, mouth right by his ear as you purr, “I want you to fuck my throat”

Billy’s body goes stiff beneath you, but you can swear that you feel his cock twitch against your leg.

“Um-, y-, yeah. Yeah, guess we could try that”, he stammers, caught off guard by your brazen request.

You swing one leg over his lap so that you're straddling him, a playful smile turning the corners of your lips up.

“Yeah?”, you excitedly confirm, stifling a giggle at how rapidly your partner's cheeks have turned pink, “would you like to try right now?”

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Billy looks at you in amazement, nodding a silent yes.

You’d already gotten a bit worked up from just mentioning the subject, and now the realisation that it’ll happen has your core aching; arousal overtaking you rapidly.

You leave one last peck on Billy’s rosy lips before standing, pulling him up from the sofa and laying down with your head hanging over the armrest.

He observes you, mouth hanging open in astonishment, shoulders slumped and tent in his adidas bottoms evident. You almost let out another giggle at his baffled state.

“I want you to use me, Billy”, you urge, hand closest to him grabbing a fistful of the soft joggers material to pull him closer, “please”

He exhales shakily, hand moving down to palm over his aching cock. If this is what you want, who is he to deny you?

His eyes flicker from your face, eyes expectant and half-lidded with want, to your scarcely covered body, peeks of your soft skin peeping through the middle slit of your dressing gown.

God, you’re perfect.

“Tap my leg if it’s too much, yeah?”, he says, hesitation still evident in his tone, and you smile in reply, nodding.

He grabs his cock in one hand, the other moving to your face, fingertips gently tracing your cheeks as his eyes softly regard you with utter adoration.

Sliding in slowly, he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot mouth welcoming him. He takes the lead, setting a shallow, easy pace, allowing you to get used to the sensation.

After a few thrusts he pulls out, cock twitching at the sight of a trail of your spit connecting the two of you, “You okay?”

His consideration is sweet, but the feeling of his heavy length in your mouth and the taste of his salty skin leaves you craving more, “Yes Billy, try going deeper”

He inhales shakily again, face evidently hot; cheeks shifting from pink to red and skin glistening.

He slides in deeper, holding the side of your face carefully in his palm, fingers gently feeling the outline of his cock through the delicate skin of your throat, and moans.

“Fuck”

He lets his inhibitions go a little more, focusing on how good it feels; how his eyes are able to appreciate every inch of you as you offer yourself to him on the worn-out sofa in his crummy flat.

Feeling your throat close in a useless attempt to swallow whatever’s blocking your airway, Billy whimpers at the pleasurable squeeze before pulling out, eyes looking down at you in horror, “Shit, sorry!”

You cough slightly, inhaling deeply to fill your lungs again. He’s so cute when he’s like this; worried puppy-eyes contrasting his out-blown pupils.

Locking eyes with him, you smile as one of your hands slides down to slip inside the opening of your dressing gown, fingers diving between your folds, urgently seeking your entrance.

Without needing further preparation, you work two fingers inside your tightness, delighted that the wet sounds of your arousal echo across the room.

“I like it”, you reassure him, “Use me, Billy”

Instantly complying, he moans loudly at how good it feels as your mouth welcomes him again, wet squelching around his length matching the fingers still buried between your legs.

You continue like that, Billy still careful to let you breathe as he fucks your throat with more and more vigour.

Each time he pulls out, there’s more spit adorning his cock. That sight alone has his balls tighten almost painfully in arousal, ready to release at any moment.

You take in a few deep breaths before opening your mouth again, glistening lips and teary, half-lidded eyes illuminated by the harsh, bright light coming from the TV.

Billy leans forward slightly, slowly easing his length back into your hot, wet mouth, unrestrained moans falling from his lips at the maddening sensation. His large hands tug at the cotton belt holding your dressing gown loosely together, revealing your naked form to his hungry gaze.

His palms brace themselves on each side of your waist, fingers squeezing your soft flesh tightly as he begins to thrust his hips again, fucking your throat in slow and precise movements.

The sound of your fingers working your dripping centre, mixed with the moans contained in your throat vibrating around him forces him towards an unabated release.

“‘M gonna cum”, he whimpers, pulling out of your mouth, once again mesmerised by the glistening wetness connecting his cock to your lips as you cough, lungs eager to receive oxygen as you breathe heavily beneath him.

His hand moves furiously over his slick length, pearly spurts landing on your hot skin as he paints your exposed tits in his cum.

Still breathing heavily, Billy drops to his knees beside the sofa to kiss you passionately, warm hand lovingly cupping your cheek.

“I love you”, he whispers, kissing your jaw.

You giggle, still a bit dazed.

“I love you”, he repeats, lips moving down to brush against your sore throat, your collarbones. He crawls on the floor next to you, kissing his cum on your breasts, smearing it over your skin with his tongue.

His lips find your nipple, biting at the nerve-filled flesh before soothingly sucking at it. Meanwhile, his fingers push the limp hand between your thighs away, plunging inside your dripping centre fervently, causing your back to arch off the sofa.

“Does it feel this good when you touch yourself?”, he asks, voice muffled by the skin of your breast, “Can your fingers reach this deep?”

“No”, you moan.

Your Billy, who often looks so afraid and unsure, lights up with confidence as his blue gaze mets yours,

“Didn’t think so”

#billy washington #billy washington x reader #Billy Washington fanfiction #ewanverse #billy Washington trigger point #billy washington x you

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 3 months ago

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An Appetite for More

13/12: Presents and Praise Kink - Billy Washington Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: oral (f receiving), heavy petting, praise kink

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

A/N: it's all about the sopping wet subby men in mid December apparently

She glances over at Billy in the passenger seat of her battered VW Polo. He looks fucking miserable, eyes heavy with fatigue, his head rested in the palm of his hand with his elbow propped against the window.

The family gathering/present swap/intervention or whatever the fuck it was, didn't end the best.

It was the first Christmas since Billy's incident in the Summer, the one that nearly cost him his life. She still remembers the way her heart leapt into her throat when she found out what may or may not happen to him.

When she thought she might lose him.

It was a feeling she wouldn't wish on anybody.

She even remembers the way she squeezed the life out of him in the police station. He smelled of sweat and fear, and she felt his desperation in the way he clung to her, as if he couldn't imagine ever entertaining the thought of letting her go.

And of course, the family gathering started fine, but ended with some choice words about what had happened. It got so heated that Lana nearly leapt over the table at a distant uncle, her accent so thick with anger that even she could barely understand her. In other circumstances she might have laughed. But one glance at Billy beside her, his knee bouncing erratically, jaw tense, half a sunday dinner still sat lukewarm in front of him, all she could do was hold his hand under the table.

When it had gone on too long though, even she couldn't hold back. If she had seen Billy's face, there was the slight glimmer of love and pride, that someone he loved would stand up for him.

He was doing so well, she thought, he didn't need this. Especially so close to Christmas. She almost thought about ditching her plan altogether, but thought that there was a slither of a chance he might enjoy it still.

She pats his knee lovingly as she drives, her eyes still on the road, but her gesture is enough to show that she was thinking of him.

Billy sighs, and slides his hand over hers, “sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” she says easily, “it was shitty of them to bring it up.”

He glances over, the street lights passing by illuminating his blue, sad eyes. “Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Always,” she smiles, squeezing his hand. "I should give your sister a medal as well, didn't know she could move so fast."

It was sad, exhausted even, the smile he gave back. But it was something. And it made her heart flutter all the same.

She sighed in relief as the central heating of Billy's flat hit her skin, pulling her coat off her shoulders and toeing her shoes off at the front door as Billy made his way to the kitchen. The flat smelled faintly of those knockoff Yankee Candles that Billy always bought from B&M. 'Fresh Cotton', my arse, she thinks as the acrid scent hits her nose.

“Brew?” He asks, filling up the kettle with anticipation that she'd say yes anyway.

A grin rose to her lips, leaning against the doorway, “um, you still have one present left?”

He half turns, his face set in confusion, “do I?”

She nodded, her grin widening as she folded her arms across her chest, “Course you do.”

Billy places the kettle on its base, his curiosity piqued as he turns to lean casually against the counter. “Alright then, where is it?” He asks.

She presses her lips together to suppress the desire to outright smile, her hands coming to the buttons at the front of her dress, unfurling the fabric, revealing inch after inch of tantalising skin. Billy's eyes follow, his jaw on the floor at the layer of red lace that adorned her curves. He swallowed hard, momentarily speechless as her dress rippled to the floor, leaving her stood in a crimson ensemble that rendered him stupid.

He said nothing, but simply made his way to her, making no attempt to touch her yet. And sank slowly to his knees, large hands bracing the spot above her waist beside her breasts, pressing his face to her bare stomach and exhaling.

“Good boy,” she praises softly, running her fingers through his hair as he raises his eyes to her, a flicker of hunger in them. She didn’t need him to speak. His body said it all, how much he craved her, how willing he was to please.

She let her fingertips trail down his face, her smile softening. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

He gives the slightest nod, his hands itching to touch her more. “Please, baby, don't…” he breathes, as if it physically pains him to be teased.

Her smile deepened, equal parts tender and wicked. “But you look so good like this,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. “On your knees, desperate for me. You’re perfect.”

Billy’s breath hitched at her words, the praise sinking into him like fire. She took his hand, guiding it to her thigh, letting him feel the heat of her skin through the delicate lace. His lips parted, and without waiting for more, he leaned in, pressing reverent kisses against her stomach, each one slow and deliberate.

“Good boy,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair as he worked his way down, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against her skin.

When he reached her waistband, he glanced up, waiting for her nod before carefully pushing the lace aside. She gasped softly as his tongue flicked out, the warmth of his mouth teasing her entrance, trailing up to her clit. Billy gripped her thighs, pressing her back against the cool counter as he buried himself between her legs.

“That’s it,” she praised, her voice breathy and warm. “Just like that, baby. You’re so good to me.”

His eyes met hers briefly before he doubled down, his tongue moving with purpose down to her entrance again, fucking her with his tongue as if he himself drew pleasure from it. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as her breathing grew more erratic, thighs shaking as his fingers made bruises in flesh.

“God, Billy,” she moaned, her head tilting back as the tension coiled tighter in her core. “You’re perfect. My perfect– ah.”

The praise strained his jeans, combined with the taste of her, having her all to himself, his knees burning against the floor. He thought, this was the best fucking meal he'd ever had in this kitchen. She was sweet, warm and needy, all he ever wanted.

He groaned against her, the vibration sending a white hot wave up her spine, the pleasure tightening in her gut. Her head threw back against the cupboards, her grip on his hair so hard she was sure she might have been pulling too much.

His hands slid up to her waist, pulling her down to his mouth in rhythmic movements. His nose brushed against her clit, and that was what sent her finally spiralling.

Her thighs trembled around him, her nails digging into the countertop for support as her climax crashed over her. Each wave of pleasure wracked her body, pulling a guttural moan from her lips. Fuck the neighbours, she thought, completely lost in the moment. Nothing else mattered but him and the way he worshipped her with his mouth.

Billy didn’t relent, his tongue working her through every last tremor. Even when she was fully spent, humming in the afterglow, he kept this slow, lazy pace of forcing her hips to roll over his face.

“Billy,” she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Too much…”

Only then did he ease off, placing one last reverent kiss against her sensitive flesh before looking up, his lips glistening, his eyes heavy with satisfaction. He pressed his forehead against her stomach, his breath hot against her skin as he waited for her to come back down.

“You’re amazing,” she murmured, her voice shaky but full of warmth. She cupped his face, gently lifting it so their eyes met. “So good for me.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. She pulled him to his feet, her lips finding his in a slow, intense kiss, tasting herself on him, stoking a flame inside her. Their lips moved in sync as she guided him toward the bedroom. Her legs were still shaky, but she didn’t care. She wanted him, all of him, and nothing was going to stop her.

When they reached the bed, she pushed him back onto the mattress, climbing over him with predatory intent. His hands immediately found her hips, but she pinned them down against the sheets, her eyes gleaming with playful dominance.

“Not yet,” she whispered, leaning down to nip at his jawline. “You’ve been so good for me tonight. Let me take care of you now.”

Billy groaned, his hands flexing under her grip, but he didn’t resist. He trusted her completely, and that trust only fueled her desire. She kissed her way down his chest, her hands following the trail of her lips, savoring every inch of him.

When she finally reached his waistband, she looked up, her gaze locked onto his. “Tell me what you want, baby,” she murmured, her fingers teasing at the fabric, stroking his erection through his jeans.

“You,” he managed, his voice a low growl. “Just you.”

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#billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington trigger point #trigger point fanfic #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington smut #trigger point #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #smuffmas #12 days of smuffmas #billy washington x ofc #billy washington x you #billy washington x oc

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

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Imagine Being Loved By Me

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Self deprecation, alcohol, mild angst, semi public smut, oral sex (m receiving) Word count: ~3.2k

Summary: Loose lips sink ships - a drunken night at the pub proves catastrophic for the secret fling she's been having with her best mate's brother. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She lays cocooned on the sofa, enveloped in the soft warmth of fluffy throw blankets. The sounds of an episode of Eastenders playing on the TV fill the small space of her living room, yet her attention is focused solely on her phone, cradled in her palm as her thumb hovers over the screen.

“Come to the pub, not seen you for ages.” Reads the text message from her best mate, Lana.

It’s true, she has seen less of Lana over the last couple of months, the sole cause of that is due to Lana’s younger brother, Billy. She had never meant for it to happen.

After Billy had been pulled from his car in Cranstead Gardens, only for it to blow up mere moments later - a bomb planted by a right wing group called The Crusaders, attempting to frame Billy for an attack on anti-fascist protestors, Billy had been in a bad way. Already plagued by struggles of self worth and identity, he was now traumatised on top of it.

Supporting Billy through all of it had taken a toll on Lana. She’d taken time off work to care for her younger brother, making sure he went to his therapy sessions, sitting up with him when his night terrors got too much for him to bear, making sure he ate and took care of himself.

She’d seen how tired Lana was becoming, the dark circles under her eyes growing more prominent every time she saw her. Spending so much time looking after Billy, she was forgetting to look after herself. Stepping in, she’d lended her own support, wanting to ease the burden on her best friend.

Countless cups of tea were made by her, she’d cooked massive pasta bakes and pots of chilli, ensuring that both Lana and Billy had dinner every day. In her bid to support her friend, she’d unwittingly become part of her brother’s life too.

It was an afternoon a week after Lana had gone back to work, she’d continued to pop round to Billy’s each day as a favour to her, just to check in on him and make sure he wasn’t letting the flat get in too much of a state.

They had been standing side by side in the kitchen, her rolling a cigarette for both of them, while Billy made tea. Their fingers had brushed as he’d passed her mug with one hand, while taking his rollie from her with the other, and for the briefest of moments their eyes had locked.

She felt as though time had stood still as she stared into his big blue eyes, and suddenly tea and cigarettes were forgotten as their lips met in a frenzied rush of passion. He’d pushed her back against the kitchen side and she’d giggled against his lips as they’d sent empty beer cans and dirty cutlery clattering to the floor.

In response, he’d lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he’d carried her to the bedroom. His breath had been heavy against her neck as he’d rutted hard into her against the rumpled bed sheets, while she’d stroked her fingers through his tousled sandy hair and whispered to him how good he was making her feel.

They’d laid there breathlessly afterwards and he’d made her swear not to tell Lana. It had made sense to her at the time, she’d thought it was a one off, and Lana would probably find it weird that her best friend and her younger brother had slept together.

But then it kept happening, and as time went on it felt more like a relationship than casual hooking up. Yet Billy continued to insist they kept it quiet, so she had, despite it seeming odd to her that they’d make a secret of something that clearly both made them happy.

And Billy did make her happy - most of the time. When things were good, they were really good; they’d spoon on his threadbare sofa, his laughter ruffling her hair as they watched reruns of The Simpsons. His large hand would always find its way up her top, wrapping around the dip in her waist, anchoring her to him.

When things were bad, they were awful. It would often happen after Billy’s weekly visits to the JobCentre to sign on, he’d come back petulant, closed off, in a place that was so far into his own mind that she couldn’t reach him. He’d lash out with angry words, filled with spite and vitriol if she tried to push him to open up, so she’d learned to retreat, to let him come to her.

Usually a day later, he’d reach back out and apologise, and things would be good again. Yet this time, a week had passed since she’d left Billy to his own devices and he hadn’t spoken to her at all.

She clicks away from Lana’s text, and onto her thread with her younger brother, faced with a stream of her own unanswered messages.

Fuck him.

If he doesn’t want to talk to her then perhaps her Friday night is better spent at the pub. She fires off a quick message to Lana, telling her she’ll be there in an hour before showering and getting herself ready.

The pavement is slick underfoot as she walks from her flat. It’s rained recently, and the smell of it hangs thick in the air, along with a brisk chill that causes her to pull her leather jacket tighter around herself, wishing she’d put on something warmer.

She pushes through the heavy barrier of the pub door, leaving behind the cold air, the smell of rain and the steady hum of traffic, for stifling warmth, the cloying scent of beer and raucous laughter.

Smiling when she spots Lana at a table in the corner, flanked by her mate and fellow EXPO, John, she heads over, taking a seat next to Lana and shrugs out of her jacket.

“Alright, stranger?” Lana looks warmly at her, eyes filled with familiar affection, “Mick’s just getting a round in.”

Her smile falters, stomach churning with disgust at the mention of Mick. He’s ex-military, a mutual friend of Joel and Lana. Since Joel had passed away in the Westhaven Estate bombing, he had latched onto Lana, and it made her skin crawl. She hated his arrogance and the way he always leered at her, he took cheap shots at Billy’s expense whenever he was around, despite repeatedly being told to stop.

“Great,” she says, the dullness of her tone not matching the enthusiasm of the word.

Before Lana can respond, Mick makes his way back over, four full pint glasses clutched tightly in his hands. He sets them down on the table, the motion sending lager foam dripping over the edges and onto the wood beneath.

“Lana mentioned you’d be dropping in,” Mick says, sliding a glass across to her, a trail of moisture spreading across the tabletop in its wake, “so I got you a pint.”

“Thanks,” she says with a tight smile, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a deep sip, focusing on how the bitter bubbles fizz against her tongue.

“Any time, gorgeous,” he fires back with a wink, and she grimaces, feeling as though she’ll bring the beer back up that she’s just swallowed.

She’s grateful when he takes a seat next to John and the two fall into conversation, leaving her and Lana to catch up. They talk about work and Lana’s excitement over Thom finally asking her to move in with him. It’s nice to be around her best friend again, how easily they slot back into place as though no time has passed. She feels guilty for not having made more time for Lana, being secretly kept preoccupied by Billy.

As if on cue, her phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her bag, seeing a text from him flash up on the screen. “were r u??”

She sighs, realising he’s likely turned up at her flat and seen she’s not home. It’s tempting to ignore him, considering he’s left her hanging for the last week, but she knows Billy, knows what he’s like, he’ll spiral if he doesn’t hear from her.

“At the pub.” She replies, then sends “With your sister.” as an afterthought, hoping it will deter him from turning up.

Putting her phone away, she continues drinking her pint and chatting with Lana, until Lana’s eyes move towards the door, brows raising in surprise.

“Here comes trouble,” she says, before taking a drink.

She turns, heart sinking as she sees Billy making his way unsteadily towards their table. His eyes are glazed, a pinkish hue is dusted across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, the telltale signs he’s been drinking.

Mick looks up, raising his pint in greeting. “Billy! I’d offer you a drink, but I’ve not long gotten a round in. You can afford to get your own, right?”

“Mick, leave it,” Lana grits out, eyes narrowed.

“Sit down, Billy,” she says gently, pulling out the seat next to hers, “I’ll get you one.”

“I don’t need you!” He snaps, nostrils flaring and brow furrowing.

She flinches back, feeling her throat tighten, lowering her gaze to hide the hurt she feels.

Billy softens, shoulders sagging with shame, averting his own eyes. “Don’t need you to get me a drink,” he says quietly, “can get my own.”

She watches him weave through the crowded pub towards the bar, anxiety forming a pit within her stomach.

“Fuck’s sake,” she hears Lana mutter under her breath, turning to her. “I’m so sorry, had no idea he’d turn up.”

I did, she thinks to herself, but offers her friend a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Billy’s pint is already half drunk by the time he makes his way back to their table. He sets the glass heavily down on its surface, before slumping in the seat next to hers, fingers fidgeting with a beer mat.

“Still not working then, Billy?” Mick asks and she has to fight the urge to tell him to shut up, her grip tightening around the condensation coated outside of her pint glass.

“Starting an apprenticeship in two weeks, actually,” he says, shooting him a sideways glance, fingers continuing to spin the beer mat.

What? Why hadn’t he told her?

Her eyes widen in surprise, mouth opening to ask about it, closing it again upon realising it’s not her place, not publicly anyway. Thankfully, Lana is quick to step in.

“That’s brilliant news! Doing what?”

“Car mechanics,” Billy says. “Bloke at the JobCentre sorted me out with it, I start in two weeks.”

“Wow,” Lana says with a genuine smile, “I’m dead pleased for you, mate, know how much you enjoyed doing up your old Vauxhall.”

Billy nods, tapping the edge of the beer mat against the table, not looking directly at anyone. “Yeah, should hopefully have a job by the end of it.”

She takes a mouthful of lager, swirling it over her tongue, trying to distract herself from the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’s pleased for Billy, it would be cruel not to be, but she can’t deny the hurt she feels that this isn’t something he felt was worth sharing with her.

“Let’s hope this sticks, eh, mate?” Mick says with a smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy asks with a scowl.

Mick shrugs casually. “Seems like a good opportunity, would hate to see it go the same way as all your attempts to join the army.”

“Let’s keep it friendly, shall we?” John says uncomfortably, but is ignored by Mick.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, “hope another group of terrorists doesn’t come along and distract him. They teach you how to look for bombs while you’re fixing up the cars at this apprenticeship?”

“I said enough!” Lana shouts, slamming her pint glass down, eyes wide with fury.

The pub goes eerily silent, the Oasis song that’s playing on the jukebox and the scrape of Billy’s chair legs on the flagstone flooring are the only audible sounds as he stands abruptly, tossing the beer mat he’d been fiddling with onto the table.

“Going out for a fag,” he says sullenly, the chatter of surrounding tables gradually becoming louder as the shock of the sudden outburst wears of.

Billy walks out of the pub, head bowed, and she watches him go, her heart aching for him.

“Erm…think I’ll join him, actually,” she tells Lana, turning towards her, “could do with a smoke anyway. I’ll see if he’s alright.”

“Appreciate that, thank you,” Lana says, giving her hand a squeeze. “Think Mick and I need to have a little chat anyway,” her tone is suddenly stern, her gaze dark as she turns to face the man opposite her.

She nods, slipping her jacket back on and heads outside.

The shock of the cold night air hitting her skin causes her to draw in a sharp breath. It’s still damp outside and she worries that Billy might have gone home when she can’t immediately see him. It’s not until she walks along the road a short distance that she spots the glow of the end of a lit cigarette down an alleyway, the reddish hue dully illuminating Billy’s sharp features.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walks towards him. “You should ignore Mick,” she says softly, standing in front of him, “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Billy exhales a plume of smoke, a hint of a sneer on his face as he draws his head back, staring at her through narrowed eyes. “Seems like he had the right of it to me. I’m a fuck up and almost got myself killed because of it.”

“You’re not, Billy,” she reassures him, “you were in a bad place. Those scumbags took advantage. Mick only takes the piss because he knows if he was in your position he wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

He sniffs, scowling slightly as he takes another drag, and she shifts from foot to foot, anxiously waiting for him to say something, anything.

She sighs when it becomes apparent he won’t, silently exhaling smoke, his brooding silence too much for her to bear. “Why didn’t you tell me about the apprenticeship?”

Billy swallows thickly, staring down at his trainers. “I was gonna, but then…then Becky text me.”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to get out, her skin growing heated despite how cold it is, as her heart lurches with painful jealousy.

She takes an involuntary step back, but Billy is quick to advance towards her, his free hand reaching for her. “No, not like that!” He says hastily. “I dunno what she wanted, actually. Messaged to ask how I was and I told her I was with you and not to contact me again.”

Her stomach flutters at his words.

Told her I was with you.

She can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth. “And then what?”

“Then she said it wouldn’t last, she couldn’t imagine why someone like you would wanna be with someone like me.”

“And you believed her?”

He chucks his cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it underfoot. “I followed my therapist’s advice; cut ties with people who force you to question your self worth - blocked her number.”

Pride swells in her chest at his words and she reaches for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“But it got me thinking,” he continues, “you deserve better than a few secret shags with your best mate’s waster brother.”

Her brow furrows, sadness making her feel heavy. “Is that why you’ve avoided me all week?”

Billy nods. “Yeah, just sorta wondered what the point of it all is, we have to keep it a secret anyway, and I’m just gonna fuck it up, same as I’ll do with this apprenticeship.”

She reaches up, cupping his face, fingers stroking over the scruff of his jawline, which is in desperate need of a shave. “Billy, it was your decision to keep us a secret. I’d tell everyone, given the choice. I’m not ashamed to be with you.”

His hands grasp her wrists, thumbs stroking the soft skin on the undersides. “Really?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper as he looks at her hopefully.

Leaning up, she kisses his lips, quick and chaste. “Really. Billy, you’re so good,” she leans up again, pressing her mouth to his more firmly, for longer, savouring the feeling of him kissing her back.

“So good to me,” she whispers, trailing her lips along his jaw and over his neck, smiling as she feels him shudder, his long fingers threading themselves into her hair.

“I’m so proud to be with you,” she tells him, sucking at his pulsepoint, earning a groan, which she feels the rumble of through his chest.

She reaches down, palming him through his jogging bottoms, feeling the rapid hardening of his cock through the cotton. “You’re gonna do so well at your apprenticeship, show everyone else just how good you are.”

His jaw goes slack, his grip on her hair tightening as he pulls her in for another kiss. It’s deep and heated, his breathing rapid as he tongue works against hers. He tastes of tobacco and Carling, yet to her there has never been anything more addictive.

Pulling away, his hands slip from her hair as she drops to her knees in front of him, not caring how the dampness of the concrete soaks into the material of her jeans.

“What are you doing?” Billy asks, lips parted in shock as he watches her tug at the waistband of his joggers and boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his erection. “Someone could see!”

“Then let them see, Billy,” she whispers huskily, eyes flitting up momentarily to meet the ocean blue wideness of his. “I told you I’m not ashamed to be with you.”

She licks the flushed pink tip of him, humming appreciatively at the sharp taste, grinning to herself as Billy hisses through his teeth, eyes screwed shut.

“Tastes so good,” she coos up at him, reveling in the sigh of the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the way he twitches against her palm.

Opening her mouth, she envelopes the length of him in its wet warmth, hollowing her cheeks as she bobs her head back and forth.

“Oh…fuck!” Billy all but chokes out, and she moans around him, speeding up her movements, pulling back each time the head of him knocks the back of her throat, stroking her hand up and down the base in tandem.

It is risky to do this so publicly, and yet it adds to the thrill; on her knees in a darkened alleyway for her man, showing him exactly what he’s worth, what he means to her.

Her core throbs with arousal, her movements becoming sloppy as Billy cups the back of her head, muscles tensing and his breathing becoming ragged. She can feel the tang of pre-cum against her tongue and knows he won’t last much longer.

She whines when he grips her hair, pulling her off of him and dragging his trousers back up.

“Why’d you do that? You were about to cum,” she huffs, rising to her feet.

“Exactly,” he says with a shrug, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and guiding her out of the alley. “Wanna be inside you when I do that though, and I’d much rather be back at my girlfriend’s place to do that than down a fucking alley.”

She grins, wrapping an arm around his waist as they walk home.

Girlfriend.

She likes the sound of that.

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aemsgirl · 27 days ago

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I Hate You.

Billy Washington x Reader.

Summary: That’s it. You’re done. Whatever you and Billy had is crumbling, drowned in his self-pity and the stench of cheap vodka that clings to him every night. You tell yourself you’re leaving—you are.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (F receiving), pathetic grown man, mention of alcoholism, begging, half love/hate fucking.

It was decided; there was no turning back. Your heart pounded in your chest, sweat dampened your trembling palms. Your heart? You weren't even sure if it was still beating, not with his gaze boring into your mind like fire behind your ears. Your pupils were blown wide, every fiber of your body screaming one thing: Go. Run. Fucking leave. Disappear from this house, from this life, as if you had never set foot in his world. It was the smartest choice, the only thing that made sense—for him, for you. And that cold, hard fact was chewing through your chest from the inside out.

Your hands moved quickly, shoving whatever belonged to you into a bag. Clothes, personal items—anything that felt like yours. You paused when your gaze landed on the picture frames, your fingers hovering. The photos of you together stared back, mocking you. Billy in one of them, dressed sharply in a fine suit, his golden hair slicked back like he was somebody, like he was the future. But he wasn’t, was he? No, he was pulling you both under, dragging you into the quicksand of his bullshit. The routine, the lies, the stubbornness—it was killing you.

Loving him wasn't good. It wasn't hopeful or warm; it was painful, fucking suffocating. You were meant to build a life together, weren’t you? But what was he doing? Coming home drunk every night after intending to job hunt? Chain-smoking through two packs, not even closing his eyes to sleep? And then—taking it all out on you, like you were supposed to bear it, to be his punching bag.

Your chest tightened, your hands trembling over the photos. You didn't even want to take them. You didn't want any part of this.

You set the photos aside, focusing on packing the essentials. Your feet moved quickly, carrying you into the living room where your backpack now rested on the couch. You scanned the shelves, snatching up anything that was yours, anything that truly mattered. But then the sound of the door opening freezes you in place. Your head snapped to the side, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you could still slip away unnoticed.

You’d told him you were leaving, that you were done. But he hadn’t believed you. Of course, he hadn’t.

When his eyes met yours, he froze in the doorway. From where you stood, you could see the hard swallow in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he took it all in. Slowly, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, deliberate click. The air felt heavier instantly. His eyes were wide, confusion and something darker flickering behind them. The sour scent of alcohol wafted off him as he moved closer. Again. Always. But you weren't surprised anymore—not by that, or by him.

"Where..." His voice falters, shaky and unsure. "Where are you going?" The words are dragged out like they're chained to his tongue, a battle to even release them. He doesn't want to ask. He doesn't want to hear the answer.

"I'm leaving you." The words fall from your lips with a clarity that leaves no room for doubt. Not this time. Not tonight.

His brow knits together, his face twisting with something raw—pain, fear, maybe both. You see it hit him, the weight of your words crushing his chest, ripping through him like a force he wasn't braced for. His eyes don't leave you as you move around the room, grabbing your things, packing your bags, ignoring the way he's standing there like a broken thing. Like you're not his everything. Like you don't know that by leaving, you're pushing him into a darker hell than the one he's already drowning in.

It's too much for him to take.

You feel his gaze burning into you, but you don't stop. You can't stop. You won't let yourself meet those ice-blue eyes, almost translucent, the ones that always freeze you in place. You need to get rid of him, to expel him from your veins, your skin. Unstick him like a tattoo that's embedded too deep or a burn that never fully heals. Before it's too late.

Fuck. Maybe it already is.

The silence that follows feels deafening, like it's marking the highest, sharpest moments of your life. Moments that are slipping right through your fingers.

Billy takes another step forward, his hand trembling as it rises unsteadily in the air. The alcohol coursing through his system clouds his mind, amplifies his frustration—the weight of seeing everything collapse again. It's the same damn story: nothing he touches stays, nothing he cares for remains stable. Everything slips through his fingers, out of his control, just like the bile that burns his throat after he's drunk himself sick.

But not you. No. He refuses to let you become one more thing he loses.

His eyes burn, bloodshot veins cutting through the blue as tears gather and spill over. He doesn't even bother to wipe them away, his face shining with the raw ache he's no longer trying to hide.

“Babe, don’t…” His voice breaks, too fragile to finish, as hot tears streak down his cheeks. His chest heaves with the effort to breathe through the pain. “Don’t go. Please.”

He's not just begging; he's pleading. Praying. Desperate.

You pause at the sound of his voice, glancing up to find him standing there, trembling and tearful, his hand still raised as if reaching for something unseen. Your throat constricts painfully, threatening to crush every shred of resolve. Frustrated, your fingers rake through your hair, tugging hard as though the sharp sensation might ground you, offering the slightest relief from this unbearable moment. This isn’t how it was supposed to feel, but it does. It scorches. Though your eyes remain dry, it’s only because you’ve already cried yourself hollow on countless nights leading to this.

“It’s done,” you murmur, your tone firm despite the storm raging inside. It has to be final—because if it isn’t, you have nothing left.

You move quickly, shoving the last of your belongings into an already overstuffed backpack. It strains under the weight. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but the words never come. Instead, his anguished expression does all the speaking for him. When you attempt to walk past, he shifts into your path, blocking the way.

“Just hear me out,” he pleads, his voice trembling with desperation. Each time you try to step aside, he mirrors your movement, refusing to let you pass.

“No, Billy. I don’t want to hear it,” you retort, shoving against him, but he brushes your hands away as though they weigh nothing.

“You have to, please,” he implores, his voice fractured and raw. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me, babe.” His tone is filled with agony as he keeps cutting you off, unwilling to let go.

“It’s over,” you say again, the words sharper now. “It has to be. I can’t do this anymore.” You push forward, but every effort feels futile.

Without warning, his hands grip your arms tightly, and he shoves you back against the wall. The impact sends a jolt of pain through your body, stealing your breath. His fingers dig into your skin, keeping you pinned, his body looming over you. The air between you feels suffocating, heavy with his laboured breaths.

“Just fucking listen to me,” he growls, his voice low and strained. His eyes are wild, tears streaking down his face as he slams you against the wall again, his desperation palpable. His breath hovers over your lips, heated, as if he wants to break you apart.

His eyes meet yours, and in that fleeting moment, you can see it—the shift, the recognition of what he's done. His fingers are still gripping your arms, the pressure causing a burn, but you don't move, don't react. Your expression remains impassive, still, while his fingers slowly loosen, tracing over your skin, almost as if trying to soothe it after the hurt. His tears fall harder now, his face contorting with the weight of it all.

You feel drained, more than anything. The exhaustion presses against you like a physical force, making it impossible to move, to fight. Just fucking tired of everything.

"I'm sorry, I..." His words falter, but before you can respond, his lips press to your forehead, lingering there as if the touch could erase it all, fix everything. "Please, please, I love you." His voice cracks, raw and desperate, like it’s tearing him apart from the inside. And he means it, more than you could ever fathom, the love so intense it makes him feel like he might burst open, shatter under its weight.

"Billy..." You try to push him away, your hand pressing against his chest, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he grabs your wrist, his grip tight, and pulls your arm around his waist, holding you in a desperate embrace.

"Hit me, scratch me, punch me. But keep your hands on me." His words are a plea, a broken command, as he moves his lips down your face, brushing against your skin. With his free hand, he wraps it around the back of your neck, holding you there, keeping you close. "Call me a liar, a loser, a scumbag. But talk to me." His voice is filled with such raw need, his chest heaving with every word.

Your breath catches in your throat, just like all the mistakes from the beginning. Moving in with him, rushing things, letting him take your heart, marking you, pushing him into your veins like blood and ink. He, too, made the biggest mistake. He wanted you, needed you. Even if you didn’t love him anymore, even if it meant he had to crawl to you, to be kicked around like a stray dog, he'd still want you. He needed it—he would tear out a part of himself right then, just for a piece of you. He'd tear open his chest, lay his heart bare, and show you how your name beats inside of him. And the worst part is, you know all of this. You know how deep it goes.

"I love you, please don't leave me." His voice cracks as the words leave his mouth, and with each syllable, the world seems to get redder. He leans in, trying to capture your lips, even as you struggle, pushing him away with everything you’ve got. "Please, I love you, I love you," he repeats, as if your lips were the air he needed to breathe.

Your resistance starts to gain ground, but in a desperate move, he wraps both arms around your waist and sinks to his knees. Tears soak through your clothes, his grip tightening, pulling you to him as he presses his head against your stomach. The sound of his sobs is muffled against your skin, deep and guttural. You don't know what to do, but your hands find their way to his shoulders, holding onto him, feeling the tremors in his body as his sobs shake him to his core. You hold on, because at this moment, you have no other choice.

"If you're going to go through that door, tie me to the bed now." Your attention snaps to him as the words sink in. He tilts his head back, his eyes, red and raw from crying, locked with yours. "And then set the house on fire. Because I'd rather melt, have my fucking flesh fall off my bones than watch you leave." His voice strains for neutrality, but in that moment, you know he's not speaking metaphorically. He genuinely would prefer death, to breathe another moment of air without you.

You stare at him, frozen for seconds that feel like eternities, your chest heaving with each labored breath, each one feeling like a weight settling in your lungs. Your lips part to release a breath, watching him gaze back at you with unwavering intensity. There's no doubt in those extraordinary eyes, not even a flicker. His pupils are dilated, and the blue that once seemed celestial now mirrors the tumultuous, stormy sea.

He's overwhelming, too much to bear.

Without thinking, you act. Your hand finds the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss with such force it nearly snaps his head back. A muffled moan escapes him as his hands grip your hips, seeking to ground himself. Your tongue intertwines with his, your teeth nipping at his in a desperate attempt to extract all the frustration, the certainty of your departure, the undeniable pull he has on you. Damn him for being so beautifully wretched, for pleading like this, for making you want him this fiercely. Fuck him.

For him, it was like life itself was being breathed into him. The pain from your teeth on his lip, the sting of your nails in his scalp, none of it mattered. Your hands, your mouth on him—that was all that counted, enough to make him moan into your kiss, his hands roaming your thighs, gripping your hips, grinding against you to let you feel his arousal fueled by your anger.

His fingers move to your sneakers, yanking them off and discarding them, simultaneously shrugging off his suit jacket to the floor. His hands then work at the buttons of your pants, pulling them down along with your panties in one firm motion, urging you to lift each foot to free you from the fabric. Only then does he break the kiss, needing to see, to drink you in.

Leaning back, he takes in the sight of your intimacy, a low, appreciative sound escaping him. You barely have a moment to lean back against the wall before he grabs your thigh, hoisting it over his shoulder, providing him the perfect view to admire, appreciate, and inhale your scent deeply. Your pussy beckoned him, its allure surpassing any siren's song. It glistened for him like the brightest star in the dark sky, the most exquisite spot in this wretched world.

You lean your head back against the wall, watching him descend upon your heat with the desperation of a man starved, having finally found sustenance. A smile graces your lips as your hands weave into his hair, urging him closer. Your taste coats his lips and throat, his brows furrow in ecstasy, a louder moan escaping him as he momentarily pauses, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him, just feeling your warmth and wetness against his tongue. It's you, it's fucking you.

"Fuck me, own me," he murmurs, before his tongue dances over you, his head moving side to side as if he seeks to become one with you. "Drown me."

Your smile broadens as his lips find their rhythm, exploring every inch, memorizing every detail with his tongue, his entire face engaging in the act—from his nose to his chin, from the tip of his tongue to the depth of his mouth and teeth. His hips on the floor begin to thrust into the air, mimicking the act of penetrating you. The sounds of your combined pleasure fill the room, your fingers digging into his hair, guiding him in a dance of back and forth, side to side, and sometimes in circles that make you clench even tighter around his tongue.

"Is this what you wanted?" you whisper, your hips grinding against his face, relishing the contact.

He shakes his head vigorously, his eyes meeting yours, still swollen and red, now glazed with more than just tears. Your eyes roll back for a moment before refocusing on him, witnessing his desperate, almost involuntary hip movements, trying to thrust into the air, aching to be inside you. But he knows he won't, not yet, not until you're dripping from his chin, not until he's truly in his place.

His fingers slip between your inner thighs, and with a strong pull, he releases your clit, moving his face back just enough to see you better, to appreciate how your chest heaves, how stunning you look in this moment of vulnerability. How stunning you always are. It feels unfair to him, perhaps even to any gods that might exist.

"Tell me I'm good for you." His eyes search yours for an answer, his voice a plea.

His fingers glide through your wetness, making you release his hair to brace against the wall, your nails digging into the concrete. He slowly inserts his middle and index fingers until his knuckles meet your skin. Both of your mouths part, locked in a gaze, sharing this intense moment.

"Tell me I'm good," he whimpers, his fingertips finding your sweet spot, causing your back to arch off the wall. "Please, please…" His begging is incessant, needing to hear from your lips that he satisfies you, that it's enough to keep you here, to be his.

"You're good, babe," you manage to say, your voice strained, your hand returning to his hair, gripping it tightly. "So…so good."

His face twists in pleasure, a moan escaping as he turns his head, kissing and nipping at the skin of your inner thigh before his wrists start to move. A louder cry breaks from you as he thrusts his fingers deeper, seeking new, unexplored depths. Your body reacts, lifting on tiptoes with each thrust only to fall back, your lips parted, releasing every sound of pleasure unreservedly, letting it echo through the house, to the neighbors. Who the fuck cares at this point?

The heat within you intensifies, your temples pounding harder. Your vision blurs, each sensation melting into the next. Your body accommodates him more easily now, the sound of your wetness mixing with your moans, your grip on his hair becoming punishingly tight, fresh tears marking his eyes, which he doesn't care about.

"I'm close, fuck, I'm close..." you announce, knowing that soon you would completely melt into him.

"I know," he murmurs against your skin, his eyes locking with yours as he lowers himself, his lips returning to your pussy, ensuring you watch every moment. "Please, cum in my mouth."

His tongue, slick with saliva, circles your clit, while his fingers continue their relentless dance, even intensifying. Stars explode behind your eyelids, your abdomen tightening, your thigh on his shoulder and the one grounding you tensing. Your toes curl again, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his black shirt. A scream tears from your throat as you clench around his fingers, almost pushing them out, your clit pulsing against his lips, and you climax, your release coating his lips and fingers.

He devours every trace of your climax, withdrawing his fingers to suck them clean, savoring every drop, wanting it all on his tongue, in his mouth, on his skin.

Gently, he removes your thigh from his shoulder, watching both legs quiver on the floor. A profound sense of pride swells within him, a smile creeping onto his face. He stands slowly, taking in the sight of you—head back against the wall, mouth agape, chest heaving, nipples hard against your shirt, covered in sweat. He feels a perverse satisfaction, almost challenging you to leave now, though he knows he wouldn't allow it.

Leaning in, he kisses your now tense neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to touch your warm skin. Your head falls forward, resting on his shoulder, your breath coming in heavy, tired sighs. Every touch from him feels like fire on your skin. You never get enough of him, which is perhaps why you haven't left, even when you know you should.

"I love you," he whispers, placing another kiss on your neck, his nose skimming to the front. "I want you." His words are a caress on your skin, followed by a kiss at the base of your throat, before moving to whisper in your ear, "I need you." Confirming what you already know, his declaration resonates deeply within you.

You exhale deeply, tilting your head to kiss his neck, causing him to tilt his head in response, his eyes closing, his arousal evident in his pants, ready to burst. His hands slide under your shirt, tracing up to your ribs, sending shivers across your skin. They then find the sides of your breasts, his touch returning with a hunger that matches his heartbeat, his lips glistening with your taste, now longing for more.

"Raise your arms for me, love," he whispers in your ear, making refusal unthinkable.

You lift your arms, and Billy easily pulls your shirt off, letting it drop. His gaze fixates on your exposed breasts, his breath catching. Your hands glide down his arms to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one as his thumbs circle your ribs. Soon, his shirt joins yours on the floor, leaving his chest bare. For a moment, you just look at each other, as it should always be.

Stepping forward, he presses your bodies together, the heat of your skin melding with his, your breasts against his chest. His mouth rests against your forehead, inhaling deeply before trailing down your side. His nose moves from your shoulder to between your breasts, his hands now at the underside of your ribs, while yours cling to his arms. You're acutely aware of every point of contact, from his feet to his head, to his fully erect member against your hip.

Slowly, he moves down your chest until he reaches your nipple. He licks his lips before taking a long, slow lick over the hardened peak, a soft moan escaping him as the sensation sends a throb through him. Your lips part in a louder moan, your chest arching towards him, begging for more, craving everything he's willing to give. And oh, how much he wants to give.

His lips encircle your nipple, sucking gently, using the tips of his teeth to tease and squeeze when he wants to see you squirm. His hands eagerly envelop your breasts, almost fully, squeezing and feeling how they seem to fit perfectly in his palms. His tongue rolls and curls, moving to the other nipple, enveloping it with even more fervor, sucking intensely, his hips pressing and rubbing against you, trapping you between him and the wall, his hard length pressing forward.

His hands slide down to grip the back of your knees, pulling you forward. With a gentle push, you wrap your legs around his waist. His hand then find yours, pinning both your wrists against the wall above your head with just a hand, exposing your breasts further to his eager mouth. He takes full advantage, his tongue tracing paths across and between your breasts, moving from one to the other, leaving a slick trail of saliva. Your hips grind forward, pressing against his arousal, signaling your need, your emptiness growing with each flick and suck of his lips on your nipples, your arousal dripping onto his pants.

With his free hand, he fumbles with the front of his pants, managing to lower the zipper. He reaches inside, pulling out his straining erection, aligning it with your heat. Skin meets skin, the contact intensified by your position. You surge forward, rolling your hips, the strain in your thighs from this hold ignored in your fervor. He's lost in the act, his moans vibrating against your skin as he indulges in your breasts.

"I'll give you that," he murmurs against your skin, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze. "I'll give you everything." Said with such conviction, it almost feels like the truth.

Releasing your wrists, he allows you to encircle your arms around his neck, holding on. With one hand, he guides himself to your entrance, bracing the other against the wall for leverage. Slowly, he enters you, filling you gradually, the sensation overwhelming as he fully sheathes himself inside you. His head falls to the side with a long, drawn-out moan, his whimper muffled against your neck. Your grip is so tight it nearly makes him buckle, his hand slipping before catching himself with his elbow.

"Fuck, I love you," he groans, rolling his hips to press deeper, your nails digging into his back. "I fucking love you so much."

Losing all semblance of control, he starts thrusting, his hands gripping your hips, guiding them to meet each of his movements. The moans from both of you are loud, resonating through your joined bodies. You move in harmony, the rhythm intensifying, almost as if you're shaking the very foundations of the house.

Your head repeatedly hits the wall, your back too, but the pain is inconsequential compared to the pleasure of his body against yours. The way your nails draw blood from his back doesn't faze him; he's reveling in the sensation, in the intimacy of it. His smile broadens as he lifts his head to lock eyes with you during his forceful thrusts, sweat gluing your hair to your temples.

"I love you too," you admit, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. Despite everything, you do love him, you fucking love him.

Your smile meets his as your bodies continue their relentless dance. Your hand comes up to cover his mouth, not because you don't want to hear his whimpers but because he loves it, because watching his eyes roll back, his brows furrow in ecstasy, and feeling the vibration of his moans against your palm is like art to you.

The heat between you was escalating, the tension in your abdomen tightening like a coiled spring. Your walls clenched around him with increasing ferocity, your palm pressing harder against his mouth and nose, his thrusts growing deeper and more prolonged. The tension was on the brink of snapping.

"I'm gonna cum," he mumbles against your hand, and you quickly remove it, eager to hear his words. "Please, let me cum inside you." His plea is urgent, his control slipping.

Nodding in consent, you tighten your embrace around him, your arms locked around his neck. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding back the flood. Your walls constrict in response, and with a moan into his ear, you reach your climax again, the intensity of your orgasm either drawing him in or threatening to push him out. It's enough to make him thrust one last time, deep, releasing inside you with a whisper of your name, a mantra on his lips, over and over.

Exhausted, you cling to each other as if your lives depend on it. He wraps an arm around you, supporting himself against the wall with the other to keep from collapsing, his legs weak beneath him. Your presence is pervasive, filling every corner of the house—your house. A place you can't, won't leave.

"Do you still want to leave?" His voice is steady, confident, knowing the answer.

"I hate you." I love you so much it makes me sick, and that's why I can’t ever truly leave you. That was the truth.

He leans in, placing a lingering kiss on your temple, his lips resting there for a moment. Your fingers tighten around him, your face burrowing into the junction of his neck and shoulder. No, you wouldn't leave. Not now, not anytime soon.

And if you ever do, the thought of setting the house ablaze would linger, just in case.

#billy washington #trigger point #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #oneshot #smut #billy washington x reader #aemond x reader #x reader #pathetic man #fanfic #billy washington smut

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alicesivory · 8 months ago

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The Moon Song

Inspired by the movie ‘her’ 2013 - directed by Spike Jonze

Pairing: Billy Washington x female! Reader

Warning: smut, angst, and teeth rotting fluff (mdni), and not proof-read lol.

WC: 7005

Disclaimer: I am not comfortable using [y/n] but I won’t be using any OC since it’s still an x reader fic. But I’ll slip a nickname or two in some stories ;) Oh and I took some words and sentences from my favourite scene from the movie and the iconic monologue at the end but I revised it so it would fit into the story but all credits goes to Spike Jonze. Enjoy!

“War? You don’t got a clue- what do you know about war?! War against halal butchers? You don’t know anythin-.”

Billy nodded as tears started to build up in his eyes. Of course he knew nothing. It's as if anyone gave him a chance to know something. It’s meaningless at some point, he meant his life and all this bullshit about all of this charade. Just when he felt like a somebody, of course his sister had to crumble it all down.

Or just trying to make him snap out of it from this dreamlike state he’s in as his inner self tries to justify his actions.

He didn’t mean to be like this in the first place or mingle with those thugs.

He never did.

“-grow up, Billy!”

He nodded once more as a tear dropped from his eye.

“You done?”

“Yes, I am.”

Billy kept an eye on his sister as she stomped away from his room, and finally from his apartment.

Slamming the door.

Humiliation weighed over his shoulders as he hung his head low, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair with frustration. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. Not the way he wanted it to. Taking a deep sigh, he lets go of all of his tears letting them roll down from his cheeks. Sniffling and crying alone in his dark room. But just as wanted to just curl up in bed and cry ‘till exhaustion, he heard a knock from his apartment door.

Wiping away his tears and snot, he stood up bravely and walked towards the door. It’s probably his sister, wanting to yell or lecture him about…literally anything, really. Nothing’s good enough for her or their parents. He sighs and opens the door with no hesitation without checking who it was.

“Coming back for mo-.”

Oh, it wasn’t his sister.

Her name rolled off his tongue easily like he was dying to say her name for months. She looked at him curiously as she stood there with an awkward thin smile. “I bumped into Lana and…she looks pretty pissed. Did I come at the wrong time?” she asked, pointing towards the apartment hallway. He quickly shook his head.

“N-no! Not at all. We just had an argument- you know how it is.”

It has been…8 months and 2 weeks since he broke up with her (yes he has been counting) and 2 months since he last saw her. Their breakup was hard for him and sometimes Billy believed that their breakup was the one that caused his downward spiral. He had known her since they were in university, she was his friend before he slowly developed feelings for her. His train of thoughts were snapped away by her gasp. “What happened to your hand?”

He quickly hides it away behind his back.

“N-nothing! By the way, What’re you doing here?” He asked, not wanting to tell her the truth. What will she think of him? He can’t just dump his troubles into her.

“I know this is silly, but I forgot to take some of my stuff,” she sighed in defeat, clearly letting him brush away the topic of his hand. Billy knew what she left and he didn’t even bother to tell her since he..well..just wanted her to maybe stop by or just kind of let it stay in his apartment to remember something of her. A piece of her, some sort.

“Yeah? What did you left?” He asked, acting dumb.

“Some books and my brown watch. Have you seen them?”

“No, not at all. Come in.”

Three years ago.

Laughter filled the apartment floor as his pale cream couch was being moved from the first floor to the third floor. He was at the bottom end while his sweetheart was trying to pull the couch up. “It’s getting heavy, love!” He teased as he tried so hard not to laugh seeing them fail over and over again to move their couch up to their apartment.

What’s now his apartment, used to be their apartment.

“Hold on! Oh dear Lord-,” she cackled as she took a step back up the stairs, lifting up the other edge of the couch.

“Alright, now push!” She ordered as they finally succeeded to drag and carry the couch unison. It took them a while to finally make the couch fit through the doorway, but they managed. Back then, their apartment was still empty. No mess or dirty clothes scattering around the floor. It still smelled like paint. “Phew!” She said before crashing onto the couch. Billy follows along, putting his arm around her, letting her lean onto him.

“Tired, sweetheart?” He teased.

“Terribly.”

“Gosh I think the last time you were this tired was two nights ago when I fuc-,”

“Ew, no ew stop-,” she says with a giggle trying to get away from him but he won’t budge.

“And you told me to keep going! ‘Ah harder Billy! Harde-,”

“You are so disgusting!” She exclaimed as she covered his mouth with her palm, but he kept teasing her with his stupid dirty jokes. “Really? The last time you told me that was when I gave you backs-,”

“You are so infuriating!”

The only thing to make him shut up was tickles and her plan worked. When her fingers started to wiggle on his stomach, he burst out laughing like a mad man. “Stop! Stop!” He begged her. After one last tickle, she pulled away with a satisfied grin. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.” Billy placed his arm back around her shoulders and gave her a sweet peck on her lips. “I shall be,” she replied cockily, booping his nose. He smiled at her as he admired her features that he loved more than anything.

He didn’t know he was able to love someone this much.

“Can’t believe we have this place to ourselves,” he said softly to her, brushing a hair away from her face. She smiled back, “Can’t believe I’m doing this with you.” They both shared a sweet kiss where no one could disturb them or interrupt them. Ever.

“I uh…I applied for the military,” he informed her as they pulled away from their kiss. “Yeah? That’s amazing..,” she said supportively, brushing his hair with her gentle fingers. “Yeah..I wanted to try, y’know? Seeing Lana on field…I want to be like her y’know? Brave…tough…,” he listed.

“But you are.”

Her words made him scoff.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m your boyfriend. It’s biassed.”

“It’s still an opinion,” she said gently, still brushing his hair. Seeking her comfort, he leaned his head on her shoulder. “You think I can do this?” He asked with a hint of insecurity in his voice. “Of course you can,” she reassured him, giving him a gentle kiss on his head.

Present day

They ramage through his apartment trying to collect all of her stuff. Piece by piece they collect the stuff she left in his apartment. “Alright we have the books…wuthering heights, pride and prejudice, little women, yada yada yada, and all I need is my brown watch. And it’s nowhere to be found- you sure you haven’t seen it anywhere?” She walked towards his gaming chair and sat on the pillowed chair while he sat on the cream coloured couch.

Normally, he won’t let anyone sit there. Even Becky, or Lana. She was the only one he trusted to touch his possessions. He smiles as he listens to her babbling and talking. He hates to admit it, but he missed it.

“Nope, not at all,” he lied.

Sighing in defeat, she starts rocking the chair as she looks around the room they’re in. “How you’ve been, by the way?” Billy shrugs at her question, acting all casual even if his life was basically crumbling down. No job, shitty friends, commit a minor crime, his sister, parents, even current girlfriend hates him. “Just fine, really.”

His answer made her smirk. “Well your hand says otherwise,” she says. Her witty answer made him chuckle. “What can I say? I’m a busy man.” He always liked how easy it is to talk to her. “What about you? You doin’ alright?” He asks, his tone gentle and eager to know if she’s been alright.

“Well, yeah I’m alright. Ups and downs here and there, y’know?”

“Compared to me, you look like you’re doing amazing,” he compliments her, leaning in to take a good look at her even if they’re a little bit away from each other.

His compliment made her chuckle.

It always does.

“Thanks..,” she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m serious though..you look amazing.” His tone genuine and full of meaning into it.

She looked at him for a moment, trying to read him before nodding.

“Well you look like you need a haircut and a shave.”

Her comment made him laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s been awhile since he felt that much comfort in him.

After a while, their laughter died down and a comfortable silence swept the room. “You seeing anyone?” she asked. He nodded, “Yeah, but it’s a bunch of crap. Her name’s Rebecca and I haven’t heard from her since last week.” She gave him a thin smile, both of them knowing that they don’t want to discuss that topic further. “And you?”

“Been on a date or two but none of them worked out,” she shrugs. He nodded again, a little bit glad to hear that. “You happy with your new book?”

“You’ve read it?” She asks with a chuckle. “Well, I saw it in a book store last week and it looks pretty cool, I might have to buy a copy after this,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean sure I like how it is,” she says. But he saw how she pursues her lips with a pregnant pause coming from her. “But I feel like it’s true to what I set out to do. So I’m happy with that.”

“I swear, You’re your own worst critic, I’m sure it’s amazing. Even that paper you wrote on synaptic behavioral routines made me cry.”

“Yeah, but everything makes you cry.”

“Everything you make makes me cry.”

A sense of familiarity washes between them. How easy it was to just talk like normal people would. Alice looked into his eyes for a moment before darting away and spots his injured knuckles once more.

“No but seriously though, what happened?” She asks, pointing at his hand hesitantly. He looked down and felt heat coming up to his cheeks.

“I uh…it was an accident.” “What accident?”

“An accident that involved me and some glass shards.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Why is she asking me all this shit?

“You don’t want to know.”

“I would love to know, actually.”

He looked at her for a while to sense any sort of hesitation in her words but the only thing he could find in her eyes was determination. It intimidates him. She could scoop anything from the bottom pits of his heart.

“For fuck’s sake, Ismashedawindowatabutchersh-“

“What?!”

“It was a fucking protest-“

“—What protest, Billy?! All I see is that you’re now doing property damage-,”

“—Am not!—”

“—Then what was that for? Why on earth would you smash a butcher shop’s window?!”

Billy was silent.

Why did he do it?

“I..”

Did he actually believe all that bullshit? Or was he just tagging along with his buddies? To be…accepted?

“Everything I do is never enough for you, is it?”

His words created this thick tension in the room. Her brows crinkled as she took his word as an offense. “Why would you say that?” She asks, her voice cracking. “Because it’s the truth-.”

“No it isn’t,” she said, stern and true. “I always felt like you wished I could just be a happy, light. ‘everything’s great’, bouncy girlfriend who always puts a smile whenever you come home either happy or angry and I’m sorry but I can’t do that, I still have feelings too-.”

Billy winces at her words and shakes his head, “No I didn’t want that.”

“You avoid me and shut me out whenever I point out something wrong about you, or us- even when we argue you never wanted to listen!—“

“—No I don’t!—”

“—It’s like as if you can’t handle real emotions, Billy—,”

“—They are real emotions, how do you—,”

“—What? Say it! Am I really that scary, Billy? Say it- How do I know what?!”

Silence hung in the air once more. They were both seeing red and they…she...he…realized how this argument was going nowhere. Billy saw how her gaze shifted, how her brow relaxed and her eyes slowly softening. Her once angry demeanour changed into what is now left with regret and embarrassment. Rubbing her arm, avoiding his gaze. God, did he really messed up this bad?

“I was gonna marry you, y’know?”

He didn’t even realize that he said those words out loud, avoiding her gaze as his head hangs low once more. Not realizing how her eyes softened, looking at the man that she once loved and believed was the love of her life. Maybe he is still the one she loves- but he sees that as wishful thinking.

“I’m sorry that came out of nowhere-,”

“—Billy, It’s okay-,”

“—But I mean it though, I…really want to marry you. Back then, after I’m finally in the military or something- but turns out none of that shit worked out, so…,” he says running his hands through his hair once again. His sentence hung in the air as he shut his mouth from talking any further.

Billy’s birthday, last year.

“You’re so infuriating..,” she giggled lowly as she laid on his bed, in his arms, tangled in bedsheets as the moon shone bright from the window. “Me? Infuriating? Is that a proper way to say to your birthday boy tonight?” Billy teasingly replied, leaning his head to hers letting his forehead rest on hers.

She giggles again shifting her whole body close to him as she clutches the blankets close to her chest to keep her warm. “Jeez sorry, it’s not my fault that you keep giving bad activity ideas for your birthday. Like, seriously? Skydiving? You know I hate heights, you arse!” She slaps his chest, earning a cackle from him. “It was just a suggestion, love that’s all…,” Billy grunts as he cuddles her tightly.

“Ugh you’re squishing me..,” she complained.

“Stop whining..,” he replied, giving her a sweet kiss on the neck. “It’s still my birthday tonight, I can hug you as tight as I can..,” he murmured sleepily. Alice chuckles and slightly shifts, facing up to him. “No but seriously though, what do you want to do tomorrow?” she seriously asked.

“I don’t know, really…probably taking you out and the lads up for a few pints. Just the usual, love,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Just wanna spend some time with the people I love.” Giving her a sweet peck on the lips.

“Yeah? You gon’ give your mum and da a visit then?”

Billy groaned as he nuzzled his face on the crook of her neck. “Knew you’d say that.”

“Oh c’mon, love…it’s been a half a year since you saw them. One visit won’t hurt…,” she said gently, running her fingers through his hair. “Yeah one visit will end up my da making fun of me and seeing my mum’s disappointment up close,” Billy sarcastically chuckled. “I won’t let them,” she whispered closely to his ear.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Her response earned her a smile out of him. “What’d I do without you, sweetheart?” He asked sultry before he started to kiss her jaw…down to her neck as his big hands snaked her waist, holding her gently. “I think you’d do just fine,” she answered with a sensual sigh. Billy smiled, nuzzling her cheek with his nose before capturing her lips with his.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with a low hum, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they explored each other's mouths. Billy took his time as he slipped his boxers down and placed them somewhere in the bed. “Mm…y’know I love you right?” He asked in between kisses as he pinned her down to bed, hovering over her. “I know,” she said. His kisses trailed down from her lips, her jaw, her neck, down to her chest. Gently squeezing and caressing one of her breast while his mouth nipped and sucked the other carefully. He’d then squeeze one to make her nipples perk so he could kiss it and suck it better, leaving wet trails down to her tummy and finally finding his treasure.

Gently spreading her legs, he could see that her white cotton panties had already left a dark wet patch on it. A smile tugging at his lips and he gently nuzzled his nose on her clothed sex. “Already all wet for me, babe?” He asked, placing a sweet kiss onto it before pulling down her panties in one swift motion as if he’d done this a thousand times already.

“C’mon…where’s my sweet darling..ah there she is…,” he muttered to himself. Without a warning he kitten licked her whole sex making her gasp in pleasure. Smirking smugly up at her, he continued to tease and lick her pussy before managing to eat her out properly. Hungrily munching on her like a starved man. He rubbed her clit gently in a circle motion as he stretched her hole with his tongue, fucking her with it.

This motion made her squirm and gasp, her brows crinkling feeling the intense pleasure that she couldn’t get enough of even if he’d done this to her more than she could count. “M gonna put a finger in, yeah?” His voice said in a reassuring and gentle tone. She nodded with no hesitation and just as she knew it, she felt his finger slipping into her. One finger then became two fingers, slipping in and out of her dripping hole as he licked her clit making her cry in pleasure.

He took his time to help her find pleasure. He could die between her legs and he’d be happy. He groaned in delight as he licked all of her juices when his fingers pulled out of her weeping hole. He couldn’t get enough of her as he licked off her juices before he had to pull away and looked up to her.

“W-wha- why did you stopped?” she asked. He hovers over her once more, “Need you inside of me.” Needily nuzzling his nose to her neck, sucking onto her. He then felt his body shift as now he has is back on the bed as she sits on top of him like a queen on her throne. Straddling him, he could see all of her. Caressing her sides, he saw how she looks down and groped the base of his shaft, giving it a few strokes.

“You okay with this?” She asked.

“Mmhm…y-yeah- fuck yeah,” he couldn’t even speak properly, blinded with pleasure.

Then he felt her lining up their sexes, his cock leaking with pre-cum as she teasingly rubs the outside lining of her pussy with it. “Don’t tease-fuck!” Before he could even finish his sentence, she slips his cock in making both of them gasp in unison. “F-fuck, Billy…,” she moaned, adjusting to him. She loved how he felt inside her. Not too overwhelmingly big or small, to her it’s the right size and girth.

“You’re made for me,” he grunted as he needily thrust up begging for any movement or friction. Billy saw how she looked at him, eyes full of lust and love as she started to move up and down and rocking him as they adjust to their pleasure.

“Billy?” she called out to him as she thrust into him, her body full of sweat. “Y-yeah?” Holding her hips with his big calloused hands. “Wake up.”

“W-what?”

“I said wake up.”

Present day, Billy’s birthday.

The sun started to rise, but only tiny streaks of sun rays managed to peek through the blinds. Billy opened his eyes, finding his room empty, finding his bed empty.

Fuck, he just had another wet dream of her.

He looked down, finding a dark wet spot on his pants. Of course he did. His phone kept buzzing beside his bed, probably some ‘happy birthday’ notifications from his mum, dad, and sister. Becky didn’t even bother to send him a ‘i’m leaving you’ text. Ghosted and gave up on him.

Like the others do.

He sighs, getting up from bed and throws a shirt on himself and changes his shorts before finally picking up his phone. Then he saw it. A notification with her name on it. It’s been months since he last saw a notification from her. What is she going to say? Should he open it now? Maybe later- oh fuck it!

Hi Billy how you’ve been? I just want to say happy birthday here and hope you have a great birthday this year🎂 Sorry for the other day, I really didn’t mean a lot of those things, just wanted to see how you’ve been.

I know it’s been 10 months since we broke up and I know you probably don’t want me in your life again but I really just want to say that I wish you nothing but the best things in life. We’ve gone through a long way, we grew up together and all that shit and I just can’t act as if you don’t exist in my life. You always do in some way and I hope that’s okay.

Have a great birthday Bil.

That text was the last straw for him. He looked around his no-good apartment, in the back of his mind he remembered everything he’d shared with her in every corner of this apartment. It drives him insane how he can’t have that now. But God he’d take it all back and do better for her. Reading her text, knowing how much of a shitty person he is, and she could’ve ghosted him and never talk to him ever again yet she decided to acknowledge him as a person. Not wanting to cut him out of her life, even he himself wouldn’t do the same thing if he was her. It drove him off.

He hates the way he projects himself. But it is how he is.He hates everything in his life. It’s insufferable and suffocating in his own flat. He didn’t ask to live like this, but he knew the only person he could blame was him.

Not his family,

Not his friends,

And definitely not her.

He couldn’t stay in his place any longer but as he was about to just grab his stuff and leave the place, there was a heavy knocking on his apartment door.

Life went on for a while that summer. He jogged to his car and placed his phone on the phone holder. He opens his phone, checking if he has any texts to answer before he starts driving. He sighs as he spots her name again when he opens his messaging app. He has read her text but he hasn’t replied to her. Opening her chatbox, he realized that there were also a few things he’d like to say to her. Tapping his heel and his leg bouncing anxiously, he contemplates whether or not he should reply to her or leave it be.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

Pressing down the voice message icon, he starts to speak,

“Hey uh…hey love, thanks for the uhm message, I appreciated it r- fuck why do I sound so nervous?” Billy presses the stop button and deletes it. He clears his throat, “Hey uh, I got the birthday message, I really appreciated it, ta. I’ve been doing better…thanks for asking.” He said as he starts to drive his car.

“Listen, I…I’ve been sittin’ and thinkin’ about all the things I wanted to apologize to you. All the shit and…pain we caused each other and everything I put on you, like how you think I needed you to be or needed you to say, and I’m sorry for that..really. I think I’m just doin’ that because I want to be better for you, even until now. And you know what, you helped make the best versions of me. We grew up together and there’ll be a piece of you in me too, always. Whatever we are in the future, and wherever you are in the world I just want you to know that I’ll always look for you and…I…,” he paused.

I love you and I’ve never stopped loving you.

“...I hope you have a great day too. Bye.”

Taking all of his courage, he presses the send button.

Letting out a big sigh, he leans back onto his seat and tries to drive peacefully.

Maybe a gum will help him calm down.

A year ago.

Billy remembered it like it was yesterday. It was late at night and Billy was watching something off the old Telly. He had a terrible day. After he failed to get into the military, he tried applying for high end jobs but it didn’t work out. Did another interview today and he just knew he’s gonna flunk it. The next thing he knows he’ll get an email saying that they’re sorry and all that bullshit. He sighed, leaning his head back on the couch.

“Billy?” She called out from the doorway.

“Hm?”

“How was the interview?”

“Horrible,” he grunted.

“You don’t know that-,”

“-They laughed at me,” he snapped his head towards her to the point it sets her off. “I-I didn’t kno-,” “Of course you don’t.” He cuts her off once again before getting up from his couch, brushing her off as he passed through her. “Fine,” she muttered and went to the bedroom. “Can you just be supportive for once?” Billy snapped again as he threw his beer bottle to the trash bin. “Just for once, be supportive of me?” He emphasized, with a hint of sarcasm, bitterness and frustration. “Supportive? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all these years, Billy?” She replied, taking his words to an offence.

“Oh really? Well I don’t think you’ve been supporting me, more like nagging at everything I do!”

“Criticising isn’t nagging, Billy!”

“You call that criticising? Critics are supposed to help me be better not bringing me down!”

“I wasn’t bringing you down, Billy! I was just saying the truth! Your CV was weak you didn’t put your best qualities that should’ve been the key point-,”

“--Just stop! Stop it, you’re such a know it all, aren’t you?--”

“--Me? Ha! I’m not the one who can’t accept criticism! Who can’t accept real emotions–”

“--Oh fuck you! Atleast I’m not the one who got rejected by 10 publishers just because the book you’re writing is complete rubbish!”

Her eyes widened. As much as they like to argue, Billy will never dare to say anything about her work- most of all, her book. Billy’s rage died down as he realized what he just said. He crossed the line. He fucked up. He saw how her lips slightly trembled as she wanted to speak.

She nodded as tears built up in her eyes. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?-”

“--No, fuck- babe I didn’t mean that I’m sorry–,”

“--No, it’s fine–,”

He gently walked towards her and tried to keep her from going away from him. Trapping her in a gentle embrace. “--No, it’s not fine…I’m sorry..I didn’t mean any of that…I messed up I’m sorry,” he apologized over and over again. Placing gentle kisses onto her head. His heart sank when he heard her sniffles. Gently stroking her hair, he murmured his apology to her showering her with kisses to make it all better. “Why are we like this?” She asked in a small tone. “Like what?”

“We keep hurting each other.”

Billy’s thoughts were suddenly snapped when a notification enters his phone

Lana: Mate, I’m with Becky. She came to mine looking for you. Call me NOW.

Becky? Why did she came to Lana looking for him?

That doesn’t makes any sense.

Billy brushed it off and probably thought that Becky’s there to call him off or take her stuff from his flat or something. So he clicks on Lana’s contact number and dials her after constantly ignoring her.

“Billy!”

“Can you put Becky on?” “Where are ya? Ya sound like you’re drivin’,”

“Yeah was drivin’ to meet my mates, why? Let me speak to Becky.”

“What mates? Anyone I know?”

“Just mates, Lana.” Billy says as he takes a turn on the road. “Why, what’s going off?”

“Listen, Billy I’m not with Becky- I just needed you to call me.” Billy furrowed his brows as he listened to his sister speak on the phone.

“What?- What do you mean you’re not with Becky?- What do you mean- what- why?”

“I need to talk to ya. You’ve not been answering my calls. You’ve not been about-wh-where are you driving to?

Suddenly his car bumped into some people who were doing some protests. Flipping him off for bumping into them. “Billy? Billy- Where exactly are you?” Lana asks again. Billy flips a protestor on his side bumping into his car. “Farringdon Tube Station,” he answered Lana, annoyed.

“Listen, Billy, it’s important, what are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

“I was meant to meet the lads but they’re not here. Outside the tube he said, but I can’t see them. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

“Billy, why did you drive, was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mates asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.”

Billy looked around not finding any signs of those so called lads. Shit, he got set up. A joke, like people would see him as. Fuck.

“Yeah they’ve set me up, haven’t they? Havin’ a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads,” he says with a disappointed demeanor that even Lana could detect.

“Billy, these new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

“Lana, what you on about?”

“Nick. Nick Roberts, he’s a…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

In a flash, he finds himself in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a fucking bomb inside of his car. He could hear his heart beating rapidly, his ears ringing as it mutes everyone and everything around him. From many different scenarios in his head, Billy didn’t think he’d die like this. Trapped in a car in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a ticking bomb that’s about to go off at any minute by now. His breath ragged and unstable as he kept an eye on the timer. Swallowing a lump on his throat, he looked up to his rearview mirror. “Oh no..,” he pants to himself. Scared to death, really. He wondered if he’s ever going to survive this. Maybe he should’ve chosen better shit in his life and maybe he won’t get blown off by a fucking bomb latched onto those terrorists. If only he chose better friends, listened to his sister, he’d be at home patching things up. If he was any good maybe he’d be watching some old telly show with her.

Fuck, he didn’t even said goodbye.

He hasn't told his mum and dad how sorry he was for being a mop, and for everything he did.

“Billy! I’m here! Alright it’s gonna be fine! Just stay really still for me, I'm gonna have a look around the car.”,“Yeah you gotta do something about this,” he pants, glancing at the timer that’s still ticking. “About three minutes, yeah?” Three minutes and twenty five seconds. Twenty four, twenty three..shit! He hasn't read her new book. Lana tried to take a look at the bomb as well through the window with a worried and nervous expression. But when Billy faced her again, she tried to put on a brave face for her brother. “Okay stay still, I’m gonna go have a look- Don’t touch anything, I’m just gonna check the car okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah…just-just hurry!”

11 months ago.

Billy leaned onto the hood of his car as the night breeze swept through him. One hand on his jacket pocket, and the other holding a fag as he took a drag out of it letting out a puff of smoke into the air. Looking down at his phone, he saw that it’s 7:00 pm sharp. She should be home from work by now. He sighs, flicking the cigarette down to the ground before stubbing it as he walks to the building. After going through security, he saw his sweetheart talking to the receptionist at the lobby as she had her bag on her shoulder. After finishing her chat with the receptionist she turned around and spotted him immediately. A smile plastered on her face.

“Heya Billy…,” she greeted with a smile, hugging him with her arms around his neck. He kisses her cheek and neck intimately. “Hiya, love.” As they pull away from the hug, he has his arm around her waist leading her out of the building. “How’s work?” He asked as they walked towards his car together. “Same old, same old,” she shrugged.

“And…how’s your book going?” His question made her giggle and grins in excitement. “I just got an email that..they’re actually going to publish my book!” She cheers. “Told ya they’d love it,” he said to her smugly, giving her a kiss on the head. “I was so scared and nervous though…but I guess I just needed to take a deep breath with it all,” she said, opening the passenger door. “Yeah, you actually do need to do that,” he said with a pregnant pause. He kept his eye on her as she fastened her seatbelt.

“Hey, babe?”

“Hm?”

He gently strokes her hair. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry about that night. I was a big dick to you that night, didn’t know what came over me…,” he said carefully to her. “It’s fine–,”

“Don’t say that it’s fine, bub. It’s not. It was stupid and fucked up for me to say about your book. Those 10 publishers who rejected your book were also stupid. I think everything you write is amazing. Can’t wait for the next one.” He kissed the back of her hand, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. “You forgive me?” He asked. Billy saw a smile creeping on her face, “I’ll forgive you. If you promise you’d buy a copy of my book everytime I release one.”

“Easy, I’d buy Five.”

“Five, huh? I’ll keep your promise, Washington.”

He chuckled, giving a kiss on her temple.

“Promise, love.”

Present day, Cranstead Fields.

What felt like an eternity of Lana checking the bloody car, he gripped his steering wheel while glancing at the timer once more. Two minutes and fifty three seconds. Fifty two…fifty one…his heartbeat was banging like a drum inside of his chest. Breathing in, breathing out. Lana looked at the timer and the bomb through the passenger seat’s window, trying to find a solution and just..anything! To turn that stupid bomb off. But her expression wasn’t that convincing. It scared him.

“How bad is it?” He had to ask Lana.

Lana could only look back at him with a nervous smile. “It’s fine,” she lied.

“I can tell when you’re lying, man! So how bad is it?!” He asked again.

He kept screaming his sister’s name as she went away for awhile- but she can’t just leave him, he needed his sister. Screaming out Lana’s name like a mad man, his face gone red as he cried inside his car. He does not want to die. He swore it felt like hours inside that stupid car. From the rearview mirror he saw Lana running back to him. “Billy! Listen to me! LISTEN TO ME! LOOK AT ME, YEAH? The timer means nothing! They put it there as a trick so you’ll open the door–,”

“--please–,”

“--Can you hear me?!”

“...please,” he begged again.

“Don’t touch it! Stay still! It’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh fuck,” His head hangs low as he realized that there’s no way out of this situation.

“Listen to me, I’m your sister, okay?!”

She’s his sister.

“You need to trust me, I’m gonna go and get some stuff–,”

“--Lana please, don’t go–,”

“--You gotta trust me! It’s gonna be fine.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded. Okay. It’s gonna be fine. It is. It is.

He resisted the temptation and fear of opening the door. But when the timer ran out, it freaked him out. But everything was silent, no explosion or anything going off. There he realized that Lana was right. It was a trick. Okay- fuck. He has to stay focused right now. Watching from the rearview mirror once more, he saw Lana’s team hurriedly bringing their tools.

“Alright Billy, we’re gonna just take off the rear window so you could crawl out, yeah? Stay. Still,” Lana reminded him calmly. She takes a glance at the bomb once more, giving him a thin reassuring smile. “See? It’s gonna be fine. Don’t touch anything.” Billy nodded at her words even if he was internally screaming. Slowly, he saw how her team plucked out his rear window. “Okay Billy, just slowly crawl right out. We got you,” Hass says, reaching out his arms to pull Billy out. Billy nodded and carefully crawled from the front seat, avoiding the shift gear or anything really! Not wanting to trigger the bomb. As he reached the backseat, the timer of the bomb went on again.

“Shit!” Billy screamed, hastily scrambling out of the car. He lets his sister and Hass pull him out taking his arms. “Get me out of here!” He screamed as they all grunted, pulling him out of the car. Billy landed on the ground with a thud and the team ran from the car as the timer counted down from five.

“Fuck, ma ankle!” Billy winced as he rubbed his ankle that got twisted after he got out from the car to the ground.

Four…

“Billy!” Lana screamed from afar.

Three…

“Shit shit shit shit.”

Two…

Billy tried to walk as fast as he could, away from the car.

One.

Billy didn’t explode in the car, but his ankle got twisted and his leg was burned from the sparks of the explosion. Laying down on the hospital bed after consulting with medical staff in the ER, Lana accompanied him throughout the day. Not leaving his side. Even his parents came to check up on him. His mum was crying, thinking that he died or something. It made his heart warm by the fact that he had a second chance with his family. His dad hugged him for the first time in years which was also surprising. But, he liked that surprise.

“Miss, you’re not supposed to go in there-,” he heard one of the nurses said from outside. What kind of commotion is happeni-.

And there she was.

Panting like as if she was just running a marathon, she stood there by the ER doorway. Then she saw him. “Billy!” she sighs in relief before instantly running to him. Billy couldn’t believe it as they both embraced each other. She hugs his head close to her chest, her heart beating rapidly.

“H-how did you-,”

“--Lana called me,” she says with a relieved smile, running her delicate fingers through his hair. Billy turns to look at Lana and saw Lana sipping her coffee with a mischievous smile that says; ‘Thank me later’ all over her face. He gave his sister a nod before turning back up to her.

“Are you okay?” She aks, concerningly. “Never better, love.”

He was done with being afraid. Done being a coward.

In her embrace, he pecks her lips.

Even though she was quite surprised, he earned nothing but a smile from his sweetheart.

“I’d say yes, y’know?”

“About what?”

“If you still want to marry me.”

Billy smiles to her. Guess he gotta save up then.

A/N: I SWEARRRR this fic took me so long to complete cuz it’s so overwhelming to write especially the Cranstead Fields scene- I had to go back and forth on youtube to keep the dialogues and description right꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱. But anw, thank you so much for reading until the end! I hope you guys enjoyed it and I still had so much fun writing this fic. I hope this fic makes sense, cuz I really wanted to keep it as accurate as possible with ‘Trigger Point’ in the first place(゜▽゜;). I’m up for requests for any Ewan characters and if you want me to write something in the future or you have ANY fic ideas, don’t hesitate to hmu! My inbox is open :D THANK YOUU!!!

P.S, I would like to give a little shoutout to @/targaryenrealnessdarling and the Cranstead Fields scene was also inspired by their Billy Washington series fic called “It’s Who We Have” so please check their blog as well they wrote so many amazing fics.

That’s all! Love, Alice!ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Tags🎀: @ladytargg @anukulee @michaelsgavey @whencokewascasual @fan-goddess

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humanpurposes · 3 months ago

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I would love to suggest more than request this: 020. jamming out to a christmas song, and inflicting the pain of holiday songs on someone else

With Billy Washington. Like post events of TP and he’s healing. Happy even. Boy deserves some light.

Thank you for the request! This turned out quite bittersweet I think, I was listening to Phoebe Bridger's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas and it sort of flowed from there 🌫️

A Sad Christmas Song

Billy Washington x reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of trauma, depression, yk the drill with Billy Wash

A/n: Not as sad as it sounds, I promise :)

Main Masterlist // Christmas Masterlist

A gentle Christmas song drifts through the speaker on the coffee table. You’re on the sofa sipping from a mug of tea just so you have something to do. Billy texted you half an hour ago to say he was on the way home. You’re waiting for the familiar sound of his key unlocking the door.

You’re about to check your phones when it comes. You turn towards the door as Billy walks in wrapped up in a black jacket over his suit and the red beanie you’d bought for him after he complained that the weather was getting too cold. He looks at you across the room. He’s frowning.

“Oh, Billy,” you say.

He can’t even say how the interview went, he just presses his lips together and unzips his jacket with his head hanging.

You’ve been watching this unfold for months. He’s sent out ten job applications since Halloween and for the most part he’s heard nothing back but rejection emails, that is if they bother to say anything at all. Where’s the dignity in being ghosted by a corporation? But this was the one place that didn’t shut him down, the first place that had given him an interview. He had been nervous when he left this morning, but he wanted it, really wanted it.

Back in September, you’d noticed a new barista working in the cafe opposite your office building. He was tall, with overgrown dirty blond hair, with these beautiful wide eyes and a coy little smile every time he took your order. The coffee was terrible, bless him, but he was cute enough that you kept coming back.

You’d talk over the counter when it was quiet sometimes. His name was Billy, originally from Nottingham, which you’d guessed by the midlands accent, but he’d moved to London with his family when he was a teenager. Working in a cafe had never been a career goal for him.

“So what is?” you had asked.

Billy looked utterly lost, but he tried to laugh it off. “I’m still figuring that out.”

There was a lot he was figuring out. He was in therapy after a close encounter with a bomb that had been planted in his own car. “My fault,” he said. He’d gotten himself involved with something he shouldn’t have that summer. Naturally you were skeptical. It was hard for him to talk about it, you could tell, and the last thing you wanted to do was push him. He said he was leaving that behind him, that talking through it with the therapist was helping, and his sister was offering some much needed perspective.

Then there was the ex-girlfriend; he didn’t want to tell you her name which you were sort of thankful for. “My fault again.” He seemed to think a lot of things were his fault. Things had been tough after the bomb scare. It was months before he could get himself into a car, and every time he did he would have to check the glove box. He woke up with nightmares most nights, shaking, sweating, crying. Eventually it became too much for the ex-girlfriend to deal with and once she’d moved out he was struggling to cover his rent. He said he would have lost the place if his sister hadn’t helped him out with the payments.

Time went on. Billy got better at making coffee– as long as it was americanos and iced lattes– and after dropping a few hints that went completely over his head you finally bit the bullet and asked him for a drink.

You’d been seeing each other for a month when your own contract was up on your flat. It felt a bit fast but you figured you had nothing to lose. Move in with me.

You’re both still finding your feet in this new place, a cramped little one bedroom flat north of King’s Cross. You’ve done your best to decorate it for Christmas, fairy lights, candles and a little Christmas tree in the window. There are all sorts of things you want to do, host a dinner party, finally learn to bake gingerbread and it comes with the excitement of it being your first Christmas with Billy. It’s just a shame the job hunting has been casting a shadow over the season, even though you can tell Billy’s trying not to let it get in the way.

He mutters something under his breath, hangs his jacket up and slips his shoes off, but is less forgiving to the suit jacket and his tie, tossing them over the arm of the sofa. He tugs at his shirt collar before tearing the top few buttons undone and ruffles his hair with one hand.

“I just feel…” his voice is quiet and thick. He collapses on the sofa beside you, arm instinctively draping around your shoulders as you curl into him, running your hand over his stomach, over the soft fabric of his shirt. His body is more than warm, the heat kept in by his jacket. His aftershave has mostly disappeared, he smells like himself and you can’t get close enough to him.

“Feel what?” you ask.

“God, I feel so stupid.”

You angle your head to look at him, ear pressed against his chest, over his heart. “You’re not stupid, Billy.”

“I panicked though. They were asking all these questions and I was stuttering like an idiot.”

“You’re allowed to make mistakes, and you’ll get better with practice.”

“What if I don’t get better? What if I…”

It breaks your heart to see those blue eyes glistening with tears.

You sit up properly, legs tucked under yourself. You take Billy’s face in your hands, his cheeks rough with golden stubble. And a sad Christmas song drifts through the speaker.

You’ll never get used to how dark it gets in the winter. It’s not even five o’clock and it could be midnight outside. Coloured lights flash from the street, through the open curtains; Christmas lights; shop signs; traffic lights. The room flickers with golden lights from the tree, the candles on the side table. Billy’s face is bathed in warmth and shadows.

You kiss him delicately, letting your lips linger against his as you take a breath.

He pulls you onto his lap by your hips, wide hands stroking along the curve of your waist.

“You’re doing better everyday, I see it, Bill.”

He nods his head unsurely, like he’s trying to convince himself it’s true. “I’m trying,”

“And that’s all you can do. Something will work out, you’ll see.”

Looking into his eyes still strikes your heart like electricity. They’re wide and pleading. He leans up to kiss you again, keeping you close to him with a hand in your hair. Your hands fall against his chest, fingertips settling at the opening of his shirt. It doesn’t feel close enough. You slip your hands underneath the fabric to feel his skin and the edge of his silver chain.

Then he starts to smile.

“What?” you ask, holding back a grin of your own. You love the way Billy smiles, the way his lips curl and his eyes light up. It’s imperfect and charming and so infectious.

The sad song has ended. An upbeat, synthy melody appears next on the playlist, a song you’ve loved for so many Christmases.

“I’m just happy,” he says, “and I’m sorry if I don’t seem it.”

Your heart sinks and lifts, lurching between aching and an overwhelming urge to take him into your arms and never ever let him go.

You take one of his hands and kiss his knuckles. “You don’t need to apologise to me.”

“Sorry– fuck,” you both giggle to each other. “No, but I know it’s hard to put up with me.”

“Billy, that’s not your fault.”

He settles his hand against your cheek, keeping his thumb at the corner of your lips. “There were times this year where I thought… I couldn’t picture myself being happy again. And I’m so glad that’s been proved wrong.”

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#my fics #billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington fic #billy washington fanfic #trigger point #ewan mitchell #gee-sus christmas

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