#billy washington x reader
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Lonely This Christmas
Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader
Warnings: Dark and obsessive behaviour, stalking, smut, dubious consent.
Word count: ~4.5k
Summary: On a rare occasion when her and Billy both find themselves home for Christmas at the same time, they admit they've always fancied each other. However, as things develop between them, she soon realises that for Billy it's something much more sinister than a harmless crush. Based on this request.
Author's note: For my darling @heimtathurs. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.
She walks up the pathway to the front door, the combination of the bitter cold and the handles of the plastic carrier bag cutting into her flesh causing her fingers to sting painfully. The cans in the bag clank noisily against each other as she jostles it from one hand to the other, raising her fist to knock at the door. Her breath comes in hot, cloudy puffs as she shifts from foot to foot, relief flooding through her as she sees the silhouette of her best friend, Lana, appear through the glass in the door.
“Let me in then!” She grumbles, pushing past and handing Lana the bag, once the door is open. “It’s bloody freezing out there!”
It’s December 23rd, and time for her and Lana’s annual tradition of Christmas Eve Eve film night - a ritual that they’ve managed to keep alive since they first met in secondary school, though as the years have passed their taste in films has matured and they can now sit and openly drink beer, instead of needing to sneak a bottle of MD 20:20 back and forth between them beneath a duvet, like they did as teenagers.
The location never changes - always at Lana’s parents’ house - even now that she’s moved out, she always comes home for two weeks over the festive period, and like clockwork the two of them sit on the sofa the evening before Christmas Eve and stare at the TV until they can no longer keep their eyes open.
She shrugs off her coat as she moves through the hallway, into the living room, the warmth from the central heating causing her skin to prickle with the pleasant rise in temperature. Rolling her eyes as she spies the DVD case for Die Hard on the coffee table, she sits heavily down on the sofa, kicking her shoes off and tucking her legs beneath her.
“We watched this last year,” she says to Lana, who follows a few paces behind, having deposited the contents of the bag into the fridge in the kitchen, “It’s not even a Christmas film!”
“It’s set at Christmas, so it’s a Christmas film,” Lana shoots back, handing her a can of Stella, before flopping down beside her and cracking open her own. “And Bruce Willis in that vest? I’m gripped.”
She snorts a laugh, opening her own beer and taking a deep sip, enjoying the way the coolness of the bitter liquid fizzes against her tongue.
“How’ve you been anyway? Your mum and dad not in?”
Lana swallows and pokes at the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “Nah, they’re out for the evening, think they could use a break since face-ache moved back in. I’ve only been back here a few days and he’s already doing my head in.”
She feels her cheeks heat up at the mention of Billy. She’d met Lana’s younger brother when he’d started at the same secondary school as them and, although he was a couple of years below them, she’d always thought he was cute. He was tall, if a little on the lanky side, and his floppy blonde hair and big blue eyes instantly attracted her to him. She’d kept the fact that she fancied him to herself though, feeling it was inappropriate to lust after her best mate’s brother, especially a younger brother.
As the years had passed, Billy’s seemingly permanent cheeky smile had faded into a persistent look of misery. He’d done badly at school, left with failing grades and been rejected each time he’d tried to apply to join the army.
Meanwhile, Lana had flourished, leaving school with a handful of As and Bs. She’d enrolled at college, before enlisting in the army and from there her career in the police force had taken off. She’d moved away from home, had a place of her own and had made her parents proud.
Billy, on the other hand, had struggled with chronic unemployment, eventually falling in with an alt right group who had set him up for a potential terrorist attack. He’d barely escaped the explosion on Cranstead Gardens, and had never really pulled himself back together afterwards. His relationship with his long-term girlfriend, Becky, had broken down and he’d moved out of their flat and back in with his parents, where he’d been living for the last six months.
She hasn’t seen Billy since they left school, but Lana tells her all about him whenever they hang out or chat on the phone. She’s always felt strangely protective of him, where Lana and her parents have given Billy a hard time, she has opted for a softer touch, believing he just needs someone to understand him.
“You can’t be so hard on him,” she says, finger pinging against the ringpull of her can absentmindedly, “he’s been through a lot.”
Lana sighs, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s not paying any rent, never tidies up, isn’t bothering to look for work. We can’t help him, he won’t let us, doesn’t wanna help himself.”
“Where is he at the moment?”
“Skulking around upstairs,” Lana nods towards the staircase. “First Christmas he’s not spent at Becky’s mum’s in a long time and he’s taking it…well, I couldn’t tell you how he’s taking it, he never leaves his bloody room.”
She nods sadly, letting the topic go as they settle back into the sofa cushions as the opening credits for Die Hard begin to roll.
“I’m empty,” Lana says around twenty minutes into the film, shaking her beer can. “You want another?”
“It’s alright, I’ll go,” she tell hers, taking her empty and heading towards the kitchen, eager for a break from a film she had no interest in watching last year, let alone again this year.
She chucks the cans into the recycling bin, before opening the fridge and retrieving two more. She yelps as she closes the door, startled by Billy standing there.
“Jesus, Billy–”
“Sorry, sorry…” he mumbles apologetically, a tinge of pink dusting itself across his cheek bones, as he averts his gaze. “Wasn’t tryna scare ya, just came down to make a cuppa.”
She exhales through her nose, a smile tugging at her lips. “S’alright. How are you getting on, anyway? It’s been a while.”
“Yeah…” he says uncertainly, filling the kettle from the sink and then flicking it on to boil. “Guessing you heard what happened then?”
She nods, placing the cans on the side and wiping the condensation off of her hands onto her jeans. “Lana told me. I’m so sorry, Billy, I really hope you’re okay.”
He says nothing for a moment, dropping a tea bag into a mug, followed by a generous pour of milk.
Milk first. Ugh.
“It’s been hard, y’know,” he finally says, “tryna find work, but there’s fuck all out there. What are you up to these days? You’re looking well.”
The sudden shift in focus doesn’t go unnoticed by her, he’s clearly not keen to talk about himself, but she can’t help but smile at the small compliment, feeling herself grow bashful.
“Got a job at a marketing agency,” she tells him, “nothing fancy, but it pays the rent.”
She’s actually a high ranking executive, living in one of the area’s most expensive flat blocks and has a tidy sum saved away for a deposit to eventually buy a place of her own. She’s unsure of why she’s downplaying her achievements, perhaps on some level she feels she owes it to Billy to not rub her success in his face when he’s clearly having a rough time of it.
The kettle boils and Billy fills his mug, stirring the tea bag around with a spoon, before squeezing it out with his fingers, making her wince - that has to burn, but if it does it doesn’t appear to bother him. He discards the used bag on the side, before turning to her. She can see what Lana means about him not tidying up now, it would have taken two steps for him to put it in the bin, and he hasn’t bothered. The laziness almost makes her want to laugh.
“So you and Lana doing your film night then?” He asks, noisily slurping his tea, then fixing her with a soft, yet unblinking gaze.
The intensity of his baby blue eyes flusters her, and for a moment she forgets what he’s asked, feeling the same old butterflies from their school days return. She clears her throat, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the feeling.
“Y-yeah…I’m surprised you remember. You were a teenager the last time we did one of those with you here,” she smiles warmly.
He nods, keeping a hand wrapped around his mug, pushing off of the kitchen side towards her and suddenly she’s aware of just how tall he’s grown, her throat running dry as she feels the kitchen counter bite into her back as she presses herself against it.
She deflates slightly, letting go of a breath she wasn’t aware when she’d been holding, a little disappointed when he brushes past her, lingering in the kitchen doorway.
“I remember,” he says, a ghost of the lopsided smirk she loved so much from their school days playing upon his full lips, “remember what a racket you and Lana used to make pretending you weren’t pissed on that nasty blue stuff.”
She grins, her gaze dropping as she fiddles with the cuff of her jumper sleeve, thinking back to all those years ago. “Sorry, Billy,” she finally says, looking up at him, “we’ll keep it down tonight.”
“No worries, I’ll be upstairs,” he tells her. “Enjoy your film.”
“Billy?” She calls softly after him as he moves to go back upstairs.
He turns, looking at her questioningly.
“You’re looking well too, by the way.”
The dusting of pink that had appeared across his cheekbones earlier now returns in earnest and he gives a simple nod before turning and heading up the stairs.
She deposits his now cold, used teabag into the bin, then grabs hers and Lana’s beers from the side and goes back into the living room.
The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, her and Lana finish off Die Hard, then move onto Gremlins.
On the couple of occasions that she goes upstairs to the bathroom she can hear the sound of Billy playing Call of Duty through his closed door. She thinks about knocking to invite him down to join them, but figures if he had wanted to do that he’d have asked in the kitchen, so she leaves it.
They’re halfway through Jingle All the Way when she feels her eyelids start to grow heavy. She leans forward, placing her half drunk can on the coffee table and turns to Lana.
“I’m gonna have to push off home, babe, I can’t keep my eyes open.”
Lana nods, pausing the film and sitting forward with a yawn. “Yeah, should probably get to bed myself. You gonna be alright getting home? Need me to call you a cab?”
“Nah, it’s only down the road, I’ll be fine walking,” she insists as she puts her shoes and coat back on.
“Alright, well, text me when you get home, yeah?” Her friend says, pulling her into a hug.
“Course,” she smiles, hugging her back and heading towards the front door. “Have a great Christmas. See you for New Year’s.”
Lana waves her off and as the front door closes behind her, she’s about to head back down the pathway when the glowing ember of the end of a lit cigarette catches her eye.
She turns to see Billy leaning against the side of the house, smoking a roll up.
“You off?” He asks, exhaling a plume of smoke that’s made larger by the cold that clings to the puff of his breath.
“Yeah. Was good to see you, Billy,” she says, trying to ignore how her pulse races at the way the soft glow of the street lamp illuminates the sharpness of his side profile.
“I’ll give you a lift, if you want?” He offers, crushing his cigarette beneath his foot.
“You don’t have to do that, I’m only twenty minutes down the road,” she says, suddenly feeling awkward, putting her hands in her coat pocket.
“And you could be five minutes down the road if I drive,” he retorts with a smirk.
She sighs, her gaze softening. Not having to walk home in the cold would be nice, actually. “Yeah, go on then.”
Billy walks around to the front door, opens it and fishes around on the key hooks until he has the set he needs. They walk down the road until they reach a red VW Polo and he unlocks it.
“New car?” She asks nonchalantly, having expected to see his old silver Vauxhall Cavalier.
“Nah, this is mum’s. Haven’t had a car since…well…y’know.”
Since it blew up. Fuck, how could she be so thoughtless?!
“Oh god, Billy, I’m so sorry, I–”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, opening the driver’s side door. “Do you mind just giving me a minute before you get in?”
She nods, keeping her hands in her pockets, watching as feels all around the car’s interior, checking inside the glove box and under the seats.
Checking for explosives.
He finally settles behind the steering wheel, gripping it tightly, attempting to calm his breaths.
“Honestly, Billy, I don’t mind walking…” she says quietly.
He looks up at her, as though just remembering she’s there. “No…no, it’s fine. I want to do it. It’s good for me, I have to.”
“Can I get in now?” She asks, giving Billy a reassuring smile.
He nods, and she walks around to the passenger’s side, climbing in and buckling her seatbealt.
Billy starts the car and they drive in silence for a few moments before he finally speaks.
“You must think I’m such a loser,” he mutters, fingers flexing against the steering wheel.
She turns slightly in her seat, shocked by what he’s said. “I’ve never thought you were a loser. Please don’t say that.”
“I’ve got no job, no car, I live with my mum and dad, can’t even drive without needing to check I won’t fucking blow up first,” he scoffs, “don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not!” She protests. “You’ve been through so much, Billy, you need to give yourself a break.”
His lips quirk, he pulls a hand away from the steering wheel to pull at the collar of his t-shirt. “S’not just what happened though, brought it on myself dad says. I’ve always been a loser, ever since school.”
“I never thought you were,” she assures him gently, “I actually really fancied you back then.”
Billy draws in a sudden breath, glancing sideways at her as he pulls up outside of her block of flats.
How does he know where she lives? Lana must have told him.
“And now?” He asks, turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to look at her.
It feels as though all the air has left the car suddenly, as they stare at each other. She isn’t sure what possesses her, perhaps the three cans of lager she’s drunk throughout the evening, but she finds herself leaning over the centre console and pushing her lips against his.
He reciprocates, soft and unsure at first, but quickly gains confidence, his mouth moving against hers with more urgency.
She cups his face, her fingers grazing over the stubble at the corner of his jaw that he always seems to miss when shaving and she smiles into the kiss, enjoying its roughness against her fingertips.
Billy seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and she moans softly as it slides against her own.
Their pupils are wide with lust, the windows of the car fogged up when they finally part for breath, keeping their foreheads pressed together.
He strokes his large hand over the back of her head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I come up?”
She swallows thickly, not wanting to reject him, but knowing it’s not a good idea to rush things. “Not tonight, Billy, I–”
He jerks away, hurt flashing across his features, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Right, yeah, sorry, was stupid to think you’d want that…”
“No, no, it’s not that!” She says, reaching over and taking his hand in hers, running her thumb over his scarred knuckles. “We’ve waited so long for this, I don’t wanna rush it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Can I text you then?”
“I’d like that,” she looks at him through hooded eyes, “let me give you my number.”
“I’ve got it, don’t worry.”
Oh. Something else Lana must have given him.
“Alright then. Well, goodnight.”
She leans over and pecks him on the lips, then exits his car.
When she goes to sleep that night it’s with a smile upon her face, knowing that her childhood crush feels the same way that she does. In the back of her mind, she knows that Lana will go mad when she finds out, but that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she gets to it.
She is less than enthused when she awakens the next day realising it’s Christmas Eve and she needs to make her annual visit to her great aunt’s for room temperature sherry, mince pies and questions about why she isn’t married with children yet.
Her face lights up when she sees a text on her phone from an unknown number and realises it’s Billy.
She grins excitedly to herself, calling her great aunt and feigning a migraine, before showering and readying herself for her day with Billy.
True to his word in his text, the buzzer to her flat sounds an hour later and he is at her door a few moments later.
It’s awkward at first, as they both stand there sizing each other up, unsure of what to say or do, until he takes the initiative and steps forward to kiss her.
It all feels so easy and natural, as though it’s something they should always have been doing, and when he takes her hand in his as they walk into town she can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at how perfectly her hand slots into his.
They walk around the Christmas market together, hand in hand, drinking mulled wine. For the first time since they were at school together, she sees Billy laugh, a genuine, happy laugh. He makes jokes, a sparkle returning to his eyes and he looks so relaxed, she is finally able to see his potential again, all that he could be if he wasn’t constantly wallowing in self pity, lurking in Lana’s shadow and taking his parents’ criticisms to heart.
When he walks her home that evening, she doesn’t hesitate to invite him up. Gentle affirmations of “I had a nice time today” rapidly escalate to needy kisses as they tug at each other’s clothes. This is the Billy that she wants, and she sees no point in waiting any longer.
His large hands eagerly grasp at her hips as she pushes him down onto the sofa, straddling his lap.
They are a frenzied clash of lips, teeth and tongue, her hands finding their way into his hair, pulling his head back slightly to mouth at his jaw and neck. He groans at the sensation, hips bucking up to meet hers.
When he slides down his tracksuit bottoms and boxers to free the ample hardness that has been pressing against her thigh for the last five minutes, she lifts herself, meaning to remove her tights. She gasps when his long fingers pluck at the crotch, tearing them open and pushing her knickers to the side.
His digits swipe through the wetness of her folds and she shudders against him. “You on the pill?” He asks gruffly.
She nods in affirmation, a whine escaping her as he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, slowly pressing into her.
The sounds he makes against her ear as he thrusts up into her are lewd, but with every grunt and breathy moan she clenches around him. This is a purely carnal act of desire, fulfilling years’ worth of pent up animalistic need. There will be plenty of time for gentle lovemaking, but right now she just needs to feel him, and judging by the way slams her down to meet each quick thrust, jaw slack and brow furrowed, she is certain he feels the same way.
The throbbing of him inside of her, as he spills deep within her, drives her over the edge and she peaks with a strangled cry, tightening around him in quick successive pulses.
They remain like that for a long while afterwards, resting against each other on the sofa, in the darkness of her living room.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, you’ve got no idea,” he whispers eventually, once his breathing has returned to normal.
“Me too,” she whispers.
“I wanna stay, but–”
“It’s Christmas Eve, Billy, it’s alright. You should get home before your mum gives you an earful.”
They pull unsteadily apart, adjusting their clothes, and she walks him to the door.
“I’ll text you, yeah?” He says.
“Yeah,” she smiles before kissing him softly, “Merry Christmas, Billy.”
“You an’ all,” he murmurs, pulling her into a tight hug and then walking away.
Christmas Day is uneventful. Presents and a roast at her parents’, followed by an afternoon of board games and films.
She gets a happy Christmas text from Lana, and smiles when she gets one from Billy too - the first he’s ever sent her.
By the time Boxing Day rolls around, she’s already thoroughly fed up with her family and eager to be back in her own space. She grins when her phone buzzes with a message from Billy.
She pulls out her phone, thinking carefully about what to send to her best friend, before typing a message.
She arrives at Billy and Lana’s parents’ house an hour later and is given a warm welcome by everyone. It’s strange not being able to interact properly with Billy, considering how close they’ve become so quickly over the last few days, however, he carries himself with a confidence she’s never seen him have in front of his family before.
He stands a little straighter, actually bothers to make eye contact when he talks to people. It spreads a warmth within her chest to see him no longer looking so downtrodden and defeatist, she can no longer sense the anger that used to simmer just below the surface like she used to be able to.
His eyes find hers whenever no one’s looking and she can’t help the smiles that she directs his way.
The leftovers have been dished up and they’ve been sitting around the TV for an hour when she goes upstairs to use the bathroom.
Noticing Billy’s bedroom door ajar on her way back downstairs, she can’t resist a peek inside. She’d never dared go in when she’d come to see Lana when they were younger. She pushes the door fully open, nose wrinkling at the rumpled bed sheets and assortment of dirty socks and boxers that litter the floor, but smiles as she casts her eye over the Oasis poster on the wall and the acoustic guitar that leans against the chest of drawers.
She twiddles absentmindedly with the PS4 controller, when a box that’s been shoved haphazardly beneath the bed catches her eye. She drags it out, pulling out a scrapbook that sits on the top.
Her heart hammers in her chest, her blood feeling as though it runs ice cold as she flips through it. It’s filled with old school photos of her, plus newer pictures that have clearly been printed off from her social media accounts.
Rummaging further into the box she pulls out items she’d assumed she’d either lost or that Lana had borrowed on the occasions she’d stayed over - there are scrunchies, old lip balms, even a pair of her underwear. Disgust causes bile to rise in her throat, a mixture of fear and disbelief quickly spreads its way through her body.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Billy’s voice says quietly from the doorway, causing her to gasp as she looks up in fright. “Doesn’t matter now though, don’t need that shit anymore, not now I’ve got the real thing.”
“Billy,” she pleads, her voice shaking, “what is all this?”
“I’ve always wanted you, never thought you’d feel the same though. She looked like you, y’know,” he tells her, stepping closer and shutting the door behind him.
“Who?” Tendrils of icy fear spread to her belly, every nerve in her body screaming at her to run, yet she stays rooted to her spot on the bed.
“Becky,” he says simply, “she was the spit of you. Only reason I went out with her, to be honest. I was gutted when she ended things, but she doesn’t matter now. Don’t need some cheap knock off, not when I have you.”
“Please, Billy, you’re scaring me,” she whispers, tears pricking her eyes.
“Everything’s gonna be alright. Job hunting, the bomb, none of it matters because I’ve got you.”
“Listen to yourself, this isn’t you,” she pleads, backing up on the bed away from him as he towers over her.
“You’ve seen how much better I am with you, you can’t take that away. I need you. And I make you feel good too. Look, you just need a reminder.”
He looms over her on the mattress, his hand darting between her legs and she whimpers.
“Billy, no, please…”
She wants to scream, to cry out and make him stop, but the thought of attracting the attention of Lana and her parents and them coming up here and seeing all of this is more than she can stand. So she lays there, lets Billy slide his hand up her skirt and into her underwear, hating the way her body responds to his trust.
“See?” He murmurs again the shell of her ear. “Only I can make you feel like this. Everything is gonna go my way now that you’re mine, you’ll see.”
Her vision goes watery, a combination of tears and building pleasure causing the poster on the opposite wall to blur.
She tenses as his fingers work her quickly towards her climax and she screws her eyes shut, shuddering with a quiet whine as she falls apart.
“There you go,” he coos gently, “I’ve got you now, and I’m never letting you go.”
The way he says it sends a shiver down her spine. Billy is a man with nothing to lose. He means it. He’ll never let her go.
#billy washington#billy washington x reader#billy washington x you#billy washington x y/n#billy washington smut#billy washington imagine#billy washington trigger point#ewan mitchell#billy washington fan fiction#billy washington fanfiction#billy washington fanfic#billy washington fan fic#trigger point
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Every Little Bit | Billy Washington x SexuallyConfident!reader
Summary: Billy has never been the confident one in the relationship. So you endeavour to make him feel how he deserves | Word Count: | Warnings below the cut!
Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Billy W Taglist
requested by @randomdragonfires, sorry it's taken me so long to get round to it 😅
Warnings: mentions of a bad past relationship, p in v sex, mentions of feeling inadequate, confidence issues, masturbation (f and m), cumplay, voyeurism, use of sex toys, overstim
Out of all the guys she’d been with, Billy Washington seemed the most innocent-looking.
He had the face for it. With those big blue eyes, messy blonde hair and the irresistible way he would nervously lick his soft pink lips when he was anxious.
She wasn’t ashamed to say that it excited her.
In complete contrast to that, he was tall, broad, with a sharp jawline and a sometimes striking gaze when his eyelids were hooded. Sometimes she found herself just looking at his hands as he wringed them, how his long, thick fingers curled around each other, tucking into his palms.
He was a somewhat introverted guy, she found out. But it was endearing. He was a listener, when he was sober, fading into the background as much as a tall guy could, his eyes darting to whoever was speaking. But when he had a drink in his hand and some beer in his belly, he began to come out of his shell a little, yet still softly spoken. Choosing his words carefully to not draw too much attention to himself.
It was a shame, she mused.
She chalked it up mostly to his ex-girlfriend, who, from what she’d heard, had done very little to quell his nerves and insecurities. In fact, it seemed like she nurtured them, in order to perhaps feel better about herself.
That was the biggest crime of all. Forcing Billy to feel lesser than he was.
Than he deserved.
In their moments of quiet within his flat, legs tangled beneath the sheets, with his head pressed between her shoulder and chest as she absent-mindedly played with his hair, he would often say.
“Why the hell are you with a guy like me?”
The question didn’t come from nowhere. It was a familiar one, and asked often.
She never knew why he’d even ask?
“You could have any guy you wanted”
But she wants him.
What about that is so difficult to understand?
She quickly discovered though, that it was because Billy thought he wasn’t satisfying her.
So often had his ex expressed disappointment, with faked orgasms or huffs of annoyance, that Billy thought himself incapable of giving a single female pleasure.
She thought it was absurd.
The way Billy approached sex was another thing.
It was clear he wasn’t confident, unclear more so if he ever had been. He’d obviously had his fair share of girlfriends, had sexual relationships with most of them, but had never really allowed himself to be vulnerable with any of them intimately.
Not to mention, she doubted he’d ever divulged what he liked.
A people pleaser, through and through.
She knew he was only human. That beneath that good boy exterior there was something. Things he liked, but wouldn’t dare to ask for. Things he might have wanted to do to her, but wouldn’t say out loud.
It was a mission, to find out what made Billy Washington click.
Being unapologetically sexual was never an issue for her. Nor communication with previous partners (at least on her side anyway). Not that she was perfect in her opinion by any stretch, but she always, always, knew what she wanted. In her eyes, there was no need to be embarrassed about what you desire, or about telling that to the person that you trust and love.
Clearly, Billy’s trust had been shattered before she came into his life.
She looked up from her phone as she heard the front door, the clanging of keys in a bowl and shuffling of long, muffled footsteps.
A mischievous smile grew on her face as she laid atop his bed, in only his long t-shirt and nothing else, one hand pressed between her mid thighs to warm and comfort the hand that wasn't scrolling through her phone.
She heard his exasperated sigh and saw his sandy, blond hair as he turned towards the bedroom, halting on the spot as his baby blue eyes locked onto her legs first, trailing upwards to where the skin was covered by his shirt.
His cheeks were flushed. He'd obviously had a pint.
"Have a good time?", she asked warmly.
She saw him swallow thickly, his full lips parting to remember to breathe, "Mmhm".
Flopping her phone onto the bedside table, she rested her head in her palm, "What's up?"
Billy had to shake his head a few times to rid himself of what he thought was a trance, no doubt doubled by the little bit of alcohol in his system, "U-uh, nothing…" he murmured, pulling off his jacket and stepping across the threshold.
"Were you uh…waiting up for me?", Billy asked with a hint of hope in his voice that was difficult to miss.
She slides off the bed, shuffling up to his tall, broad figure, having to crane her neck to look at him properly through her eyelashes. Billy shivers noticeably as her hands drift across his chest, her fingers teasing the skin of his torso through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Though they'd been together for some time, even Billy understood, there was something different about tonight.
"What if I was?", she replies, a teasing lilt to her voice that makes Billy's hairs stand up on end.
He presses his lips together, feeling increasingly pent up by the second, as if her touch is setting off a chain reaction inside him, and he is fit to burst.
“What if I was thinking about you?”, she muses in a low tone, smiling when she feels him tense under her touch.
“About me?...”
“Yeah”
“In…what way?” he asks innocently.
She thinks, feigning disinterest for a moment as she bites her lip.
“I’ve been thinking, that you don’t tell me what you want”.
She watches his brows lower a bit in confusion, “...what I want?”
“Mmhm”, she replies, “in the bedroom anyway”.
“Oh”
She smiled with delight as his cheeks warmed, the redness blooming over his face, making his deep, blue eyes gleam from beneath his sweeping blonde hair.
Almost in a trance, Billy's hands drift beneath her arms to her waist, sucking the large shirt she wore to the actual shape of her body. She watched his face as his lips parted.
Billy didn't know what to say.
"I, uh…"
"You can tell me, Billy" she reassured quietly, watching his breath hitch, and his chest move more steadily as her fingers brushed the skin beneath his shirt.
She stopped when his hands came to hers, to gently, but firmly, push them off him.
“Not tonight…” he whispered, so quiet she nearly had to strain to hear him, “...please”.
How he said it was so vulnerable, his eyes blinking quickly, that she knew and took the cue to not even go about asking what was really wrong with him. She suspected it was something much deeper, something that needed a lengthy explanation, and one that right now he couldn’t give her.
She gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know that he needn’t feel like he was disappointing her.
She thought with a warmth in her heart, that Billy had come home, wavy from only one pint, only wanting to be held, have her fingers stroking his hair until he fell asleep.
So tonight, without judgement, she gave him comfort.
And would let him come to her when he was ready.
She loved mornings like this.
Lazy, hazy Saturdays.
The middle of the weekend. Leaving the stressful memory of Friday, flung headlong into the lull that Saturday offered, and without the threat of Sunday, knowing that the work week would just continue all over again.
With the bed sheets tucked around her idly, she scrolled through her phone with heavy eyelids, she could hear the faint tapping of the shower in the background and the occasional splash of water as Billy washed his hair.
The dust was illuminated as it drifted through the air, the atmosphere one a kind of homely, cosiness. The music from one of the speakers in the other room filled the gentle silence.
It was so domestic, she could only describe it that way. One that filled a space inside her that made her feel as if she could stay like this forever.
She thought of him, in the shower, water running off of him and his blonde hair all wet and pushed back from his forehead with his fingers. And for some reason, though they’d been together a long time, the idea of that still excited her.
It was useless to ignore how she pressed her thighs together.
It had been a few days since she and Billy were last intimate. And though she tried the night before, it was clear as anything he was in no mood for anything overtly sexual, favouring instead to bask in their closeness. She didn’t mind it. She would much rather him state if he wasn’t in the mood, than for him to push it aside, and struggle to keep the momentum going and be passionate once they were in the throes of it.
Because that would only fuel the inadequacy Billy felt.
And she wasn’t having that.
Tucking her phone beneath the pillow, she sighed as her hand slipped between her legs, finding herself already wet and wanting at the mere thought of her boyfriend in the shower. If she weren’t so pent up, she would have said to herself it was slightly pathetic, to be this aroused just by thinking about someone she saw everyday naked.
But she just couldn’t help herself.
She pressed her lips together, suppressing a sound that bubbled up there as her digits moved through her slick folds, her hips jolting slightly when her middle finger began to rub in micro-movements over her bud. Imagining it was him. His long,thick fingers…
She sunk further into the bed, the idle sound of muffled music in the background granting her the confidence to part her lips and let her quiet moans rumble in her chest.
With one hand pleasuring herself, the other slipped beneath her shirt to touch her own breast, again pretending they were his, large and calloused, gripping at her flesh hungrily, squeezing her nipples between his fingers desperately.
That dull buzz began to throb between her legs, and she paid more attention to her clit where she increased her movements.
Her head whipped to the doorway, her eyes flying open and breath caught in her chest, all movements ceased.
Her first instinct was to blush in embarrassment as Billy stood in the doorway, his blue eyes slowly drifting from where her hands were tucked and then to her eyes, absorbing the hedonistic and shy expression on her face.
Billy just stood there, clad only in his sweatpants that hung lowly on his hips, and the appearance of his body so unabashedly bared, the little trail of dark blonde hair leading down from his navel beneath the waistband, made that little buzz only ache tighter inside her. His hair was towel dried and pushed back off his forehead, the sandy strands darkened with moisture and laying messily on his head.
She wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
He saw her swallow nervously, seeing her not know what to do as he’d happened upon her in a very delicate moment, so lost in her pleasure that she had not heard him turn off the shower and open the door.
Her mouth went dry as she saw beneath his dark sweatpants, that he was undeniably hard, his erection pressed against his thigh.
Billy breathed steadily, his eyes flitting down once he realised she had stopped what she’d been doing.
His throat bobbed and he wet his lips as he spoke, “Keep going”.
Heat crawled up her neck to her face, and she was certain she was blushing furiously at what he’d said.
Never in their relationship had she seen him speak to her like he just had. All low and deep in his chest, with his usually gleaming, blue eyes darkened by his pupils expanding into the colour.
After she was sure she heard him correctly, she resumed her motions slowly at first, getting back into the motion steadily as she had before. Her head felt like it was full of hot air, once she saw Billy’s large hand slip past the waistband of his sweatpants and grip his length in his palm. Even from her spot on the bed, she saw the way he fisted his erection, his eyes fixed on her core, all wet and hot, peeking out from beneath the hem of his own shirt.
It felt so erotic, pleasuring himself when he was right there watching her, annoyingly far away where she couldn’t touch him.
A sound largely between a groan of annoyance and a moan of pleasure as her movements increased tumbled past her lips. And she was sure that she saw Billy’s eyes light up as he saw how irritated she was that she couldn’t reach out to him. To touch him as she so often couldn’t help herself from doing when they were intimate with each other.
“Billy...” she breathed, hoping that her tone of voice would be enough.
“Show me” his voice was firm, but with a waver at the end as his motions beneath his sweatpants increased, his chest all tense as his core tightened with pleasure.
Feeling her face all hot with both embarrassment and arousal, she pushed her ankles apart even more, doing as he said and exposing herself to him as he pleasured herself, finally sinking her fingers inside her. Her arousal audibly clicked against her fingers as she hastened her ministrations, trying so badly to achieve fulfilment herself.
But with him in the room, so far away but within reach, all she felt was that she needed him to give it to her.
Billy sighed, his pink lips parted as his gaze returned to her weeping arousal between her legs, seeing the effect he had on her without having touched her.
Using his other hand, he pushed the waistband slightly off his hip, pulling his length from its confines to show her the effect that she had on him.
She felt her insides clench around nothing, hungrily wanting him inside her when she saw him pleasure himself, his fingers wrapped around his cock and pumping in sure, confident movements.
She thought that if she closed her eyes and opened them again, he might take pity on her and just come over to the bed and fuck her, as she so desperately wanted. In all their relationship, she’d never been left wanting for him, ever. She’d always been the one to give to him, to give him pleasure, and in the bargain have some fun for herself, as she so often enjoyed feeling as if she was the only one who could give it to him.
And right now, she thought he must look utterly pathetic, not even having the energy to beg for him to fuck her.
The ends of his hair had begun to dry and she felt her tummy do backflips as he moved from the doorway towards her. Without thinking, she had slowed her movements, expecting him to have finally caved.
The mattress dipped at her ankles where he was knelt, but other than the brush of them against her flesh, he didn’t touch her, and he certainty hadn’t ceased the movements of his hand around his length.
Now, knelt over her like this, his tall form casting somewhat of a shadow over hers, she felt her walls flutter around her own fingers with excitement, desperate to be stretched to accommodate to his length that was so close to her.
“I don’t think I said stop, did I?”
She felt her mouth go all dry, the strands of his hair moving with every tug of his fist on his cock.
Billy looked down at her, watching with a sort of curiosity as she resumed, taking his words to heart. Wanting to please him.
She’d never felt so small in her life.
And, fuck, it was exciting to see this side of him.
He began to pump his cock in earnest, a slight pinkness to his cheeks from the effort, lips parted in hurried breath. He reached over, into the bedside table and threw the mini vibrator he knew was there onto the spot next to her.
She looked up in brief confusion, he wasn’t going to use it on her?
She felt entirely pent up, just wanting him to touch her.
“Billy, please…” she caved and begged, her face warm with slight humiliation at having to ask.
He batted her hand away when she tried to touch his torso, watching with a blank expression at the brief annoyance on her face.
“You can touch me when you cum”.
He had such a serious expression on his face, it was difficult to detect any sign in him that he was actually enjoying this.
She swallowed thickly and gasped when her other hand pressed the vibrator against her clit, pleasuring herself in two separate ways as her fingers continued to shallowly slide inside her with a wet, soft smack of her arousal. Having these two sensations at once was borderline overwhelming.
And part of her was flushed, that Billy was just right there, pleasuring himself while he watched her.
She closed her eyes, but Billy was quick to it.
“Look at me”.
She felt her core tighten impossibly, her movements becoming quicker and more needy as she neared that point of no return. The point where she would lose herself entirely.
And so she pressed the vibrator against her clit harder, using her slick to move it around in micro-movements as she canted her hips up to assist the friction there. Her eyes pulled up to him, and for some reason, looking into his eyes as he stared down at her instead of watching the way he pleasured himself right in front of her, was much much more intimate and erotic.
Billy himself began to breathe heavier, his chest moving erratically up and down, a sheen of sweat over his skin there, his grip on himself tightening.
“You close?” he asked breathily, feeling as if he was about to explode with arousal.
She nodded quickly, and without noticing circled the vibe around her bud, aided by how wet she was, “Yes - yes, Billy -”
She felt her hips shift down into the bed, thighs shaking as her orgasm rolled over her in waves. Her fingers dragged through her fluttering walls, the vibrator still buzzing incessantly on her clit as the numbness flooded her limbs, warmth flooding through her to the place where she needed him the most.
She wanted to pull the vibe away, overstimulation beginning to gnaw at her pleasure, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she looked up at Billy again when his other hand reached down and held her wrist in place. His eyes boring down into hers, just daring her to say something in response.
But she didn’t.
“-fuck, Billy-” she whined, her stomach clenching and unclenching in brief discomfort as yet another rush threatened to overcome her. Her lips hung open, and she wanted to shut her eyes badly, to cut off at least one feeling so that she could concentrate on the other between her legs.
It was too much.
She thought with a sort of bashfulness that she wanted to cum again purely at the feeling of his fingers on her flesh.
She felt moisture around her eyes, the pleasure so closely nearing on pain, but never quite overstepping that fine line between them. It was almost as if she could feel every erratic beating of her heart through her core, the second orgasm completely draining all the energy out of her.
Billy moaned loudly, partly cut off with a full body shudder as he tugged at his length to completion. The moan lingering on his sweet voice as he painted her pussy with his cum, sighing as he continued to pump himself, as if the sight of her covered in his spend was just too erotic to comprehend.
She flinched, her hips jolting upwards to meet him when he leaned down to rub the head of his cock over her clit and entrance, smearing his cum over her pussy, in a gesture that tugged at that pleasurable spot deep in her gut.
The only sound either of them were able to make were the tired remnants of moans on their hurried breaths.
When her heavy eyelids lifted to him again, she thought he looked like a piece of art. Broad and tall, his flesh tied with wiry muscle, subtle beneath the soft surface of his skin.
And for a moment, as Billy rode out his high that seemed to take everything out of him, they simply looked at each other as if something in the dynamic of their relationship had irrevocably changed.
There was something else in his baby blue eyes she’d never seen before. A shift.
Something inside him had been awakened, like he had enjoyed exerting a power and assertiveness over her that he’d never tried before.
He reached over, his palm pressing into the space on the mattress next to her head as he leaned over her. Her lips parted in surprise and pleasure when he dipped down and slid his length past her slick folds and slowly sank inside her, stretching her already abused and tender walls out around him, moulding her insides to the shape of him.
Billy sighed, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of her pussy gripping him hungrily, already clenching around his overly-sensitive cock. But as soon as his eyes opened again, his face now close to hers as he pushed inside her to the hilt, the hair at the base of him brushing against her clit, she raised her legs to hook around his hips.
And felt as if she’d seen someone else she’d never met before.
Her eyes rolled shut as his palm laid flat on her tummy, drifting up and taking the shirt with it, palming needily at her breasts as he began a mercifully soft and careful pace.
One she had no doubt would become more eager.
Part of her worried she wouldn’t leave this bed for a long while. The other wanted to smile, happy that Billy had felt comfortable and confident enough, finally, to demonstrate what he really, really wanted.
It seemed trivial perhaps to some, that a confidence, even sexually, could give so much power to a person and enhance the personality that was already there. To help them feel as loved as they deserved to feel.
She’d suspected for so long that he’d been hiding something. Something he was too nervous to ask for. Fearing perhaps that she would judge him.
But as he pressed his chest to hers, his hands snaking around her waist and her buttocks to push her body up to meet his desperate thrusts, she only felt relieved and undeniably happy, that she had been able to give him this freedom.
And she thought with a hint of selfishness…
…that she could get used to this.
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Little Games That We Play - Billy Washington x reader
Pairing: Billy Washington x semi-girlfriend!reader (?)
Word count: 2k
Summary: you pick Billy up from the police station after he's smashed up a butchers' shop. You're sick of him, but not so sick you can say no to getting fucked.
AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, penetrative sex, clothed sex.
Content warning(s): rough sex, mentions of Islamophobia, very brief domestic violence (reader slaps Billy)
Rating: E
For Ez, one of my beloved muses.
You march out of the police station with anger in you.
"Sunglasses?" Billy asks as he strides to keep up with you.
You pull them from your bag and shove them to his chest. "A halal butchers?" you ask, your voice full of disgust. He doesn't answer you as you make your way quickly down the stairs and to your banged up old Corsa. Not as sorry as his Cavalier, but nothing to be especially proud of.
"Thanks for coming to get me."
You can't even stomach looking at him. When you're both in the car, you open the windows and screech out of the car park and into the road, barely making it to third by the time you hit thirty.
"Aye, ease up," he tells you in a strained tone.
"You reek," is the only reply you can muster.
The rest of the drive is in silence. On the steering wheel, your knuckles are white. It takes twenty minutes with traffic to get home, and you're too angry to park neatly - half your wheel is on the pavement, and you'll probably get a ticket, but fuck it. Billy can pay for it - when he finally gets a job. The thought makes you snort, and he looks over at you.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"You ain't even got that to your name."
When he laughs in reply, it's dry, humourless. A cheap shot, you know, but Jesus. You're so angry you could push him into traffic, you really could-!
After a long pause, Billy speaks. "I int got my keys."
Silence is the answer you give him. He follows you across the road and up into the flat that you share. It's cluttered and messy and dirty, and you've been spending more and more time back at your mum's place than here lately. It's been a while since it felt like home.
On the stovetop, dirty pans wait to be washed. There's a half-finished Pot Noodle next to it, and a dish of used teabags. This isn't how you saw your life turning out. "Didn't have five minutes to clean up?"
He pours boiling water into two mugs and stirs them both without looking up. He's still wearing those sunglasses. "Didn't know when you'd be home. Didn't see the point."
"You don't help yourself, you know?"
He winces at your raised voice. "Save it, will you? My head's killing me."
"How many did you have last night?" you press. He hands you the cup of tea and you take it without thinking.
"A few."
"How many's a few?"
"I dunno. It was a wake, for fuck's sake, I wasn't counting."
"Yeah? Well, maybe you should've. A butchers', Billy, a fucking butchers'?"
Billy shrugs slightly. His chin is tilted down. Without taking a sip, you set your mug on the dirty counter and grab him by the front of his black shirt.
"What are you playing at?" you hiss.
His lip curls and he turns his face away. "Leave it."
"No! You're throwing your life away, and dragging other people down with it!"
"No one cares enough to be dragged down with me."
You slap him, hard. Across his sharp cheek your hand comes, and it knocks those stupid Aviators right off his nose. "No one cares enough? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"
Sometimes, Billy is as meek as anything, and he takes the nasty things people say with shining eyes and tight lips. But other times, he comes to the edge of losing control. There is no shine in his eyes now - just the glisten of something dangerous. A thrill goes through you. He catches your wrist and squeezes until it hurts. "The girl who promised she'd never leave. But you're leaving me, aren't you? You're giving up, just like everyone else."
"What do you expect me to do?" you challenge. There are butterflies in your stomach when he pulls you closer, but you fight it. He's stronger than you, though. "Sit around and watch you waste the best years of my life? Watch you drain my bank account?"
"You promised."
"Look at the state of you." Your voice is low, angry. "Dirty clothes. Dirty face. Dirty fucking life."
His lip twitches, but he makes no reply. At least not with his words. One hand winds suddenly into your hair, fingers gripping hard at the root, and he pulls until your neck is arched, and your hands grab desperately for his arms. He doesn't go to the gym anymore, but his biceps are tensed and you hate how much you love the strain in the muscles.
"You're not a man," you hiss. "You need to grow up."
The hate in his heart has put distance between you. But the fire in his eyes is nothing but passion and love for you, you know. It's not enough for you anymore.
It still makes your pussy wet.
And when he shoves you against the messy counter, stomach first, you know what's coming. "Then why are you still here?" he mutters against your ear.
With his half-hard cock grinding in his filthy joggers against your backside, it's difficult to keep your mind on words, let alone an answer to such a complex question. Because you love him. Because you're filled with hope. Because you promised to stay.
You think of how ashamed he sounded on the phone this morning when he asked you to pick him up. You had been the one that he wanted when everything had gone to shit - when he had ruined everything. It was still you. "Because you called."
It comes out more tenderly than you intended. He grunts, and his hips stutter. "You fucking love me. Don't you?"
Gripping onto the countertop, you suppress a shiver and shake your head slightly. "No."
"Yeah, you do." Behind you, Billy shoves up your dress and presses his hand between your thighs. His long fingers rub over your underwear, and with his soft breaths at your ear, he slips them underneath. Between your folds he dips, and he groans to find you hot, the beginning of slickness pooling at your entrance. "Oh, yeah, that's what I thought."
"You don't deserve me," comes your defiant reply. It's punctuated by stiff breaths that give you away, though.
He smells unwashed, and stale beer clings to him like dust. It wraps you up in a haze of devotion and disgust. When he pushes his joggers down, you think of where they've been. He was wearing them when he carried out a hate crime, and when he was picked up by police sitting on the filthy pavement. In the police car and then the cells he wore them, and there are stains on them that you dread to think the origin of.
"Bend over," he tells you.
"No."
He growls against your ear. "Bend over."
"Make me."
And he does. With a hard hand on the back of your neck, he forces you to bend over where you stand. Before you have a moment to think, the blunt head of his cock nudges between your spread thighs, and he sinks into you like he owns you.
"Don't pretend you're too good for me," Billy mutters once he's deep inside you, his groin pressed against your backside. "That's not a fun game."
Your head rests on the counter, eyes closed. In front of you is the dish of teabags. It smells strangely comforting. "This isn't a game."
"Yeah, it is." He slams back and forth into you, once, twice, thrice, and then he pauses. "You love these little games that we play."
You hiss very quietly. "Get on with it."
"Oh?" There's a smirk in his voice now. Smug cunt.
"Just- just do it."
"Do you need it?" he asks. His pace begins smooth and slow. He knows what he's doing.
"Billy," you say through gritted teeth.
"What?"
You are going to have to swallow your pride. At least for a moment. Hopefully it'll be worth it. "Fuck me properly or not at all."
"You want it hard?"
Shit. He knows exactly what he's doing. You hate him for it. "Yes."
"Say it."
"No."
The hand on the back of your neck squeezes in a silent threat. His voice turns cold. It makes your blood run hot. "Say it."
"Fuck you!"
Billy scrapes his nails over your scalp before grasping your hair again and yanking you up slightly. He hisses against your ear. "Say it for me. Or I'll stop."
In a moment of quiet, you consider him. You could walk away now with your dignity. But, God, you feel so empty without him. And now he's inside you and you shift your hips slightly and even that tiny stimulation makes your eyes roll. "Oh, God. F-fuck. Fuck me. Hard."
And he does.
He fucking does.
The noise of your coupling in the little kitchen is obscene. Your skin slaps together as the slickness between your bodies echoes, barely covered by Billy's groans and your laboured breaths. His cock fills you perfectly, pounding into you again and again like you're unbreakable. He fucks you like you belong to him.
It makes your thighs tremble. He doesn't have the decency to touch you anywhere else this time. Sometimes, he spends hours worshipping your whole body, kissing and caressing your skin until you feel like a shrine of his love, godly and devotional. But here, now... he fucks you like he doesn't love you. But like he needs you.
"Fuck!" Billy bites your ear before licking around it. "You gonna keep your mouth shut next time?"
"No," you whine. "You're a piece of shit."
He slides his hand from the back of your neck to your throat, and pulls you up slightly. It makes your hips tilt and back arch, and the new angle makes your knees weak.
"I think you will." Words are punctuated by hard thrusts that feel so good they almost hurt. "Gonna make me come."
"Hand," you tell him. With one still around your throat, the other goes between your legs and his fingers rub a brutal rhythm over your clit. He presses your hot flesh hard and fast until you go weak in his arms. He holds you upright like it's nothing. Like you're nothing.
"Fuck, fuck-!"
"Billy, yes, yes, don't stop, don't-!"
He groans your name. "Fuck, fuck, gonna make me come, I'm-! Yes, oh, God yes, yes, yes-!"
Your orgasm crashes over you at the sound of him reaching his peak, and your knees give way. He holds you tight and strains up on his toes to bury himself as deep as he can, spilling inside you with a gutteral cry. Pleasure erupts from between your legs through your whole body, crashing over you in waves. The hand against your cunt holds you firm, giving you something to keep focus on as aftershocks make you twitch.
"I've got you," he mutters after his moans have subsided. You lean back in his arms, utterly spent. There are no thoughts left in your mind. Floating. You're just floating.
But what goes up, must come down.
"Let go," you mumble.
"Hmm?" His lips are at your neck, soft kisses making your skin tingle.
You push him away. It makes you wince when his cock slips, half hard, out of you. He made your underwear chafe against your thigh when he pushed it aside, you realise now. "Get off."
Billy hangs his head. Hastily, he pulls up his joggers and grabs his mug from the side. You notice the cuts on his knuckles have opened up again. Whatever. That's his own fault.
"Stay."
You look up at him. He avoids your gaze. "Billy..."
"Just... stay."
"Don't ask me that after... after that. You know I..."
"You what?" he asks. And then he looks at you with shining eyes.
"I can't say no to you like this. You... you know that."
He nods. "Yeah. That's why I did it."
It should make you hate him. It's bad enough that he did it, let alone admit it - he fucks you like this to keep you tied to him. But you don't hate him. Instead of leaving, you take your tea and follow him to the couch. Together, you sit down, and drink in silence. You'll stay. Come what may.
#billy washington x reader#billy washington x you#billy washington x y/n#billy washington x oc#ewan mitchell#mine#ewanverse#NOT PART OF ITS ALL FOR U SERIES..... THIS IS JUST A NASTY SIDE PIECE.... EHEHEHEEH
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❤️ Gee-sus Christ Mas request! ❤️
Prompt: From Christmas (but make it sexy), number 9: “Tipsy fondling, softened giggles and muffled noises as they fool around with each other after having a little too much to drink” 🥂
With Billy Washington! And if I may add a kink… 🤭 voyeurism? Or exhibitionism? 😘
A/n: My first time writing Billy W as a prezzie for my lovely Inka ❤️✨
Words: 2.3k
Warnings: 18+, fingering, voyeurism, kinda dub con?
Main Masterlist
You spot him because he’s the tallest person in the room, leaning against the wall by the balcony, taking small sips from a bottle of Heineken. It takes you a minute, but you recognise the messy mop of dirty blond hair, the lowered chin, the cautious way he looks around at his surroundings, like an unsure puppy. Billy Washington has always had a way of pulling at your heartstrings and tonight is no exception. You feel a bit sorry that he’s alone, standing at the edge of the room at a Christmas party.
The host, Laura, is one of your friends from uni. Once you’d found somewhere to put your coat you had gone up to her to say a simple “hi! Haven’t seen you in ages!” before she pulled you into a suffocating hug. It gave you a chance to get a look at him though, peering over her shoulder.
Billy’s already looking at you, slightly bewildered. You wonder if that’s a good sign or a bad one, but surely now you just have to go over to him?
So once Laura lets you go and you grab yourself a drink, you weave your way through the other guests, all the way over to the wall by the balcony and come face to face with Billy. He’s a little undressed, in a black t-shirt and black Adidas joggers. You’re in black too, a long sleeved dress and black tights, but it looks like you’re not even dressed for the same event.
“Hi,” you say, noticing a humiliating tremble in your voice and hands.
Up close, you realise he looks completely different from how you remember. His face is sterner and sharper in the lines of his jaw and cheeks. And he’s tall. Really tall. But then he presses his lips together in a familiar, shy little smile.
He says your name and it almost sends you into a state of shock. “Long time no see.”
Over a decade now, you think. You and Billy had grown up in the same area of Nottingham, gone to school together, until his family moved down to London after you’d finished your GCSEs. You weren’t really friends, but you were familiar, you’d seen his face every day from the age of four to sixteen, that had to count for something. Seeing him now gives you a happy sense of nostalgia, the boy who didn’t need to try hard to make you laugh every French lesson, who sometimes tagged along with you on your walk home and bought you sweets from the corner shop.
He’s a lot more subdued now, only natural with age, but as you start to chat more you realise there’s an innate sort of sadness about him. That, with the intensity of his blue-eyed gaze, makes your heart flutter. You soon learn he’s been working as a marketing assistant for the last year, which is how he knows Laura.
“I thought you were set on the army,” you say, “like Lana, right?” Billy’s older sister. You’d never seen much of her but you knew he idolised her.
His face drops a little and you can only hope you haven’t touched a nerve. “Didn’t work out,” he says, looking down at his beer bottle. “She works with the police now, explosives officer.”
“Sounds dangerous,” you say.
Billy raises his eyebrows. It looks like he’s going to say something else when he brings the bottle to his lips, jutting his chin out slightly as he finishes it off.
You take a long sip of your own drink, finishing it off a lot more quickly than you had intended.
Billy nods at your now empty glass. “Can’t be having that at Christmas,” he says with the slightest hint of a smile
He takes your hand in his and leads you towards the kitchen. The alcohol must be doing a number on you because all you can think about is how large Billy’s hand is compared to yours, how warm he is, how tightly he’s holding onto you. And when he has to duck to fit under the doorframe, you can’t help but bite down on your lower lip at the way your belly flutters. When did he get so fucking fit?
But you tell yourself not to get carried away. It’s just a Christmas party and he’s just an old acquaintance, probably best to take things slow and hold off on the drinks.
So how you and Billy end up sitting on the sofa at midnight, with an empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s between you, is a complete mystery. But to be fair to the two of you, the bottle was nowhere near full when you started drinking it.
The party continues around you, but you and Billy are in a world of your own, chatting about the good old days back in Notts, ending up in fits of laughter over silly stories, like the time he nearly goaded your Year Eight History teacher into a fist fight.
“Oh God, I was awful,” Billy laments, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face.
You’re staring again, but you’re too tipsy to stop yourself. The room is mostly dark apart from the warm glow of fairy lights on the Christmas tree, and you keep staring as the light hits his hair, the tip of his nose and the curve of his lips.
You open your mouth to tell him that he’s not awful, but the words dissolve on your tongue as Billy turns his head towards you.
You can’t explain it but there’s a moment of knowing between you, his blue eyes burning into yours, the little smirk on his lips. Nervousness ripples through your body again but it’s a feeling you find you’re enjoying. You giggle and Billy tries not to, but smiles back.
Then he looks down at his hands, clutching his empty glass between his legs. You feel a flicker of fear in your chest, like he might get up or just leave altogether.
“How are you finding London?” You ask suddenly, shuffling closer into him– much too close, you realise. Your legs are tucked under you, knees pressing against his thigh.
His eyes move around your face, glancing quickly down, then up again, and his lips are restless. “Fine,” he says, “it can be lonely sometimes.”
“That’s what I think,” you say. “It’s such a big place. Sometimes I think it’s too big.”
“Nah you’re always going to be alright,” he says. “You’ve always been smart, and nice. You’ve got friends, nice job, yeah?”
“Yeah I guess.”
Billy hums to himself and twists his mouth into a little pout. “What about a boyfriend?”
“Ah,” you say, keeping determined eye contact, “the one thing I don’t have.”
“Good to know.”
“Why would that be good?”
Billy just shrugs, then tries and fails to suppress a pleased grin.
“What about you?” You ask. “Girlfriend? Or Boyfriend?”
“A boyfriend’s not on the cards for me,” he chuckles, “and no girlfriend, not for a while, I’ve been trying to focus on myself.”
“Oh,” you say, trying not to sound too pleased about the lack of a girlfriend, “that’s good.”
“Yeah,” he says, tapping his fingers against the glass– his long, lithe fingers. “I don’t wanna bore you with the details, but I was in a really rough spot last year. Couldn’t get a job, did some stuff I regret, got myself in a really fucking stupid situation, but it was all a wakeup call, you know?”
He looks across at you again, with the sad puppy dog eyes. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath against your skin, your neck and along the neckline of your dress.
He keeps looking into your eyes, you think it might be a dare or an invitation.
It’s a question you don’t need to answer when he closes the space between you, kissing you gently.
It’s over as quickly as it happens and soon you’re met with the sight of his eyes again.
Your heart is humming in your chest and you can’t quite catch your breath. “What was that for?” you whisper.
Billy’s face falls. “Oh,” he says, “I’m sorry I just thought–”
He starts to pull away and all you can think to do is reach for him, haul yourself onto his lap and weave your fingers through his hair. “No, what I meant was, why did you stop?”
After that he doesn’t waste a single second. He surges up to kiss you again, desperately, harshly, sucking and nipping at your lips while his hands grab at your waist.
Your hips start to move against each other, with his guidance, desperate for friction, to ease the tightening feeling in your stomach but all it seems to do is make you want more, especially when you feel how hard he is underneath his joggers.
He keeps kissing you, keeps grinding you against him, panting and huffing against the back of his throat in the brief moments when your mouths are parted. You can only hope Laura’s too drunk to notice the two of you dry humping each other on her sofa, and giggle against his lips at the absurdity of it,
It’s too easy to get carried away. One moment you’re just enjoying the feeling of his lips and tongue against your own, the next his hands are moving from your waist, dragging you tights down and rucking up your dress so he can feel his hands over the skin of your bare ass and thighs while he kisses your neck.
Then he runs his fingers over your clothed centre, curls them around your panties and starts pulling them to the side.
“Billy,” you whine, instinctively lifting your hips to escape him but he just pulls you right back to where he wants you.
“No, no, no, you stay right where you are,” he mutters into your neck as he starts to circle over your clit.
The pleasure he brings you is surprisingly overwhelming and goes straight to your head. You can’t tell if you want him to stop or never let you go again.
You hold onto him by his neck, rutting your hips against his hand to his praises of “good girl, just like that, feels good, doesn’t it?”
And just when you start to feel like it’s not enough you feel one of his fingers slip inside your soaked cunt. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, already feeling just how much deeper he can reach than you can on your own.
But it’s wrong, isn’t it, letting him touch you like this with other people in the same fucking room?
“Billy, we shouldn’t do this here–”
“Come on,” he grunts, “fuck yourself on my fingers, I know you want it.”
And you do, you really do.
“What if someone sees?”
He grabs you by your chin and drags you into him until your foreheads are pressed together. “They’re not looking at you,” he says, “so you just keep your focus on me, yeah? Keep looking at me, keep thinking about how it feels to have my fingers deep in that tight little pussy of yours, can you do that for me?”
“Yeah,” you breathe.
He lets out a low hum of content that makes your cunt clench around him.
You start to rock your hips against him. Your mind is hazy but in a way it only makes you feel lighter, more sensitive as his finger nudges against your soft spot, as he circles your clit, kisses your neck and lets his warm breath tease your skin. It’s careless and desperate and you want it, you need it.
You curl over him when your orgasm washes over you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing as much of your body against his as you can manage. You barely stifle a moan by pressing your lips against his temple.
You feel one of Billy’s hands run over the back of your head. “Shh, there you go, that felt nice, didn’t it?”
You feel his finger drag against your walls as he slips out of you, and hear a wet sound as he cleans it between his lips.
You’re content not to move, feeling the heat of his body and the light drumming of his heart beneath you, the apparent hardness he’s trying not to grind against you. You snake a hand between your bodies when he grips at your wrist, and commands your attention to his eyes.
“What about you?” you ask.
“We can go back to mine for that,” he says, “if that’s something you’d be interested in, obviously.”
Only Billy Washington could be this awkward despite having just been inside of you.
You smile, running your fingers over the golden stubble along his jaw. “I’d like that.”
Billy keeps gazing up at you, and takes a breath like he’s just remembered how to.
You don’t bother checking the time when you eventually go to leave Laura’s flat. You almost forget to say “goodbye,” but the last people standing are all shouting an off key rendition of Fairytale of New York, which you don’t think you want to interrupt.
You and Billy stumble down the street arm in arm, giggling softly when you keep bumping into each other only to pull yourselves back into each other.
You make it back to his flat in Cranstead Fields, which takes a grand total of three night buses to get to. The moment you’re through the door he’s pinning you between his body and the wall, holding your face between his hands and kissing you with as much enthusiasm as before.
“I’m so glad we ran into each other again,” he whispers with a little grin.
You run your palms over his chest, slip them under the hem of his t-shirt to feel the way his stomach clenches, and snag your fingers on the waistband of his joggers. If the pleading look in his eye when you start to palm over his bulge is anything to go by, you’d guess he’s utterly desperate.
You only intend to kiss him once on the lips, but find yourself coming back again and again because just once isn’t enough. “I’m glad too.”
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A Beautiful Gift
Billy Washington X (Girlfriend Reader)
Warnings after the cut
Word Count: 3020
Billy Washington Masterlist
Full Masterlist
Banners and dividers by @arcielee
Based on THIS request
Warnings:: Emotional abuse, Depressed Billy, use of a collar and leash, use of restraints, sub/dom behaviors, slight choking if you squint, teasing, whimpering and whining Billy, orgasm denial, established relationship,unprotected p in v, oral male receiving.
Going out to dinner for Billy's birthday should be a fun experience. Unfortunately, whenever you go out with Billy and his parents, you know it is going to be anything but.
You know his parents love him, and are worried about his lack of success in life, but you have come to know Billy well enough to know that asking him repeatedly when he will get a job or why he isn't doing anything is not going to help motivate him.
"Calm down," you say to him gently as you button up his dress shirt. He is clearly nervous. His fidgety hands and tapping foot give this away all too easily.
"I am calm!" He sqauks. "It's just a bloody dinner." He pushes your hands away from his shirt. "I can do it myself. I'm a man"
You chuckle and sigh. "Of course you're a man, Billy. I was merely attempting to help." You hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers. "Small fingers, easier for me to get those little buttons. Now come here, " you pull him back toward you by his shirt collar.
"You are a man. A wonderful man." You smack your lips down on his and press your body up against him. Your favorite way to ground him when you feel his anxiety starting to overtake him.
"Oh, don't you start this." He laughs as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly tight up against him. "You'll make us late"
"Hmmmm," you giggle. "I don't think it would be too big a problem if we're a little late." You kiss him again, this time pushing your tongue past his lips, savoring the taste of tea and cigarettes.
"We wouldn't be a little late." he grips your waist tightly, scrunching the material of the cute black dress you had put on for dinner.
"You sure? I happen to remember a few times that were pretty quick, " you giggle again and lean in for another kiss.
Billy brings his hands down over your ass and squeezes tight before letting go and giving you a smack. "You're real funny, ain't ya?"
"I think so." You wink at him and then pull back briefly to finish buttoning his shirt before placing your hands flat on his chest. "You ready?"
"Yeah." He sighs and squeezes the bridge of his nose. "Let's get this over with."
The ride to the restaurant is awkward and quiet. You look over at him periodically as he drives. His jaw is tight, and his shoulders tense. You can see the tendons in his neck going down to his collar bone. You wish you could take this stress from him. Demand, he turn around and leave his parents at the restaurant alone, wondering why their failure son has declined to show up. But you know he would never do this, for there is a part of him that believes, believes that he will someday be the son his parents so want him to be. Something you doubt very much. Their minds are made up about Billy, and you fear if he should reach one goal, his parents would simply set the bar higher.
Once he pulls into the car park and stops the car, the two of you sit there in silence for a moment. You know better than to push him so you wait patiently as he builds himself up enough to go inside.
You know it's in vain, yet you decide to hope anyway. Hope that his parents won't take this dinner as an opportunity to tear him apart. To judge him, scold him, demand more of him. Especially on a day that is meant to celebrate him and his very existence.
Billy lets out one last deep sigh before stepping out of his old beat-up clunker of a car quickly rounding the vehicle to open your door for you.
He was like that. Little things like holding the door open for you or making you a cup of tea without asking were his love language. Acts of service. He had trouble outwardly expressing his emotions, no doubt a conditioned response. So he showed you how he felt, and everyone of these little gestures made you love him just a bit more.
You step out and link your arm with his, patting his forearm in a quiet sign of support.
The walk into the restaurant is silent. You can almost hear Billy's brain running a mile a minute, his self-confidence shrinking with every step.
When you arrive at the table, it's no surprise to you that Lana, Billy's sister, was unable to attend. She worked an important job and missed most family events. Although it almost felt like she was there with how much her parents spoke about her skills and achievements. As if to make it clear to Billy that he would never be able to rise to the occasion the way his ambitious sister had.
The two of you were sat down for no more than 5 minutes before the questions started rolling in from his parents.
"How is the job search going?" Was the first question from his father, and as Billy attempted to explain how many applications he had put in and how he is getting no response, his father shakes his head and simply states "if you really wanted a job you would have one by now."
His mother quickly joins in on the conversation with little tips and tricks of how to land a job and ways to motivate himself.
If only they knew how motivated he is. Billy wants a job. He wants to impress his parents even half as much as Lana. Unfortunately, just like his parents, the world underestimates poor Billy and squishes him down more and more with every rejection.
Dinner continues on in much the same manner, your tongue nearly bleeding at how hard you were biting down on it.
You keep one eye on Billy and watch with a heavy heart how he shrinks by the moment. How could they not see what this is doing to him?
When the dinner finally ends, Billy's father hands him money, a birthday gift of sorts, but of course comes with one last comment to bury Billy just a little bit more.
"You can use this to help pay the rent. I can't imagine that girl staying with you much longer if she's forced to support ya" he pats Billy on the shoulder while Billy stands in place frozen. You feel a fire rage in your belly and wish you could tear into his father. Let him know you would support Billy forever if that's what it took. But you knew this would only upset and embarrass Billy further, so you simply grimace and attempt to hide your eyeroll.
His parents say their goodbyes, not even noticing the state that Billy is in. You sigh again before sliding your hand into his and giving him a gentle tug to signal that it's time to go.
The ride home is silent, and your heart breaks a little bit more every moment he doesn't speak.
"I have some presents for you at home." You say softly, hoping to potentially lighten the mood.
Billy nods his head, his jaw clenched and eyes glued to the road ahead of him. He isn't mad at you. He isn't even mad at his parents. He is mad at himself, and you hate it.
Once back in the flat, Billy immediately goes onto the balcony and smokes. You know he feels awful right now, and you want to badly to make it better. He tries hard and just never seems to succeed in the way everyone expects him to, and the pressure makes it all the worse.
You take the two small gifts you have for him in your hands and join him on the balcony, handing them to him with a big smile on your face.
"Thank you," he grumbles, his voice so quiet you could hardly hear him over the traffic below.
He sits in the chair opposite yours and begins to unwrap his first gift. Inside a collar and a metal chain leash.
He chuckles quietly as he takes them out of the package and looks up at you. "Oh?"
You smile back at him, pointing to the gift that still lies in his lap.
"Open it," you bite your bottom lip as he starts to tear off the paper and lifts the lid of the small box, pulling out two black silk ropes.
He pulls them out of the box, slowly turning the material back and forth in his hands.
"Now I'm gonna go take off my makeup and take down my hair." You say while rising from your chair and moving towards the balcony door. "And when I return to the bedroom, I expect to find you, wearing only your collar." You don't wait for his response opting to instead enter the flat and head to the restroom.
You giggle to yourself as you hear him clamor through the door and take off toward the bedroom, half the buttons on his shirt already undone.
You take off your makeup and let your hair down, making sure not to finish up too fast. You want to give Billy enough time to get ready and give him a moment to sweat it out.
You take off your shoes but leave the little black dress and thigh high stockings you were wearing on. Knowing how Billy feels about you in a pair of thigh highs. It's his special day, after all.
When you enter the bedroom, Billy is lying in bed, his collar, and leash on, covered only by a sheet with the silk ropes placed neatly on the nightstand.
"Who said you could cover up?" You quickly pull the sheet from his body. Revealing his entire naked form to your eye. "I believe my instructions were nothing but your collar." You run just your finger up the skin of his leg as you work your way up to the top of the bed.
When your fingers reach his hip, he shudders.
"Oh?" You place your hand palm down and slide it across his belt line. The side of your hand just barely ghosting by the tip of his now fully erect cock.
Billy's back arches slightly at the touch. "Please don't tease," he begs.
"Me? Oh baby, I never tease you know that" you brush your fingertips through the blonde curls that surround the base of his cock as he whimpers. "Never"
You pull your dress up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your black lace bra and panties and thigh-high stockings.
Billy reaches his hand out to touch your thigh, and you quickly swat him away.
"Oh, be a good pet baby, so I can give you your treat" you climb onto the bed swinging one leg over his hips so you are straddling him yet hovering above him just out of reach.
"Sorry, sorry," he whines as he crumples the sheets beneath him in his fists.
"Oh, that's ok baby, let me help you be a good boy, ok?" You lean over him, taking the silk straps from the nightstand.
"Thank you," he says between heavy pants. You click your tongue at him knowingly as you tie up his wrists and secure them to the bedposts.
Once you have his hands securely fastened, you lay your hands flat on his chest, rubbing your palms over his quickly hardening nipples.
Billy takes on a sharp breath, his hips lifting slightly from the bed.
"Down boy," you coo, moving your flattened hands in small circles.
"Please baby please" He whines, undulating his hips.
"Please, what? my sweet pet. " You bring your tongue to his nipple. Lightly licking the small bud as he squirms.
"More, please more," he gasps as your tongue continues to swirl around his oversensitive nipple.
Billy pathetic and squirming beneath you. Your favorite sight on earth.
You sit up straight and grab his leash, wrapping it around your hand twice and yanking him up from the bed so that his shoulders are lifted.
"You're gonna be a good patient boy, aren't you?" You bring your face close to his as he nods excessively. "Good. Good boy."
You loosen your grip around the leash, allowing him to sink back down onto the bed while you still keep the leash coiled around your hand.
Billy sighs contendly as you return to his chest, and speckle kisses down his sternum and further to his belly.
He loves these small movements and sensations. They drive him completely wild, and you revel in the power they afford you.
You gently lick the rim of his bellybutton, and he whimpers loudly.
"Shhhh, pet. Shhhh, " you rub your hand along the skin of his waist in a soothing manner while your kisses continue down the path of his body until you reach his hips, his painfully hard cock, next to your face.
"I always take care of you, do i not?" You tease, Billy simply whimpers back at you, leaning his head back in anguish.
You take his cock in your hand and he shudders before bucking his hips whispers of "yes" desperately flooding from his mouth.
You stroke him leisurely while rubbing your nose against his leaking tip. His heavy breathing and the obvious tension in his legs make this all the more tantalizing for you.
You know he is holding back, trying to be a good boy. You lick just the head of his cock. Circling your tongue around the bulbous tip.
Billy thrusts his hips forward, pushing himself further into your mouth, seemingly unable to control himself. You grip him tightly by the hips holding him flat against the bed as he whines.
"Please, please," He whimpers between huffs. "I can't take much more."
You crawl back up his body, situating yourself by straddling his stomach and look down at him, a gentle, caring smile on your face.
"You can't, can you baby?" You brush your fingers along his cheek and sigh.
You step off of him and slowly shimmy your panties down your legs. Billy's eyes watch them as they go, licking his lips, his panting growing heavier. You move back and line up the tip of his cock with your slick entrance.
As you slowly lower yourself down, Billy's body reacts by his hips raising and his legs shaking. The look on his face, a mix of pleasure and pain.
His fingers wrap tightly around the silk straps that connect him to the bedposts as you sink down his shaft at an agonizingly slow pace.
As your ass becomes flush with his thighs, you smirk at the look of relief that crosses his face.
Before you start to move, you again pull him off the bed by the leash, this time coiling it ever tight around your hand.
"You excited, baby?" You start to roll your hips, his cock bullying the spot inside you it never misses when you ride him like this.
"Yes, yes!" He pants, jaw slack looking up at you like the perfect little puppy you know him to be.
You hold him tightly by the leash as you increase your pace, his whimpers, and whines, getting louder with each movement.
You know your Billy. He won't last much longer at this stage, and knowing that brings you almost to your own peak. The friction between you building as you grind against him.
He's so beautiful like this. Panting beneath you, not worrying about disappointing anyone or not being good enough.
He's your silly little pet to be used as you see fit, and he loves it. His eyes roll back and his mouth opens wide.
"Not yet, baby." You move faster against him the knot in your stomach, pulling tighter as your thighs clamp around him.
"Not yet, not yet," he chants to himself. This little sign of obedience is what finally pushes you over the edge into bliss. Your peak washes over you, almost violent in its onset.
Your cunt clamps around him tightly as you continue to grind against him riding out the blissful moment almost to the point of over stimulation.
"Please," He gasps before biting his bottom lip impossibly hard. Poor baby is still holding back.
You make him wait for just a few more rolls of your hips before finally allowing him his release.
"Go ahead, baby." You coo, and almost as soon as the words leave your lips, he moans loudly, his hips stuttering as he spends himself inside you.
You sit patiently atop him as you watch his face contort in pleasure, small grunts of relief coming from his chest until he finally stills exhausted.
You lean forward and kiss his open mouth as he pants and smiles up at you, his arms now hanging limp from the silk straps that bind him.
"Such a good boy you are," you gently stroke his face, him turning his head towards your hand.
This is your favorite Billy. Freshly spent Billy. No worries, no stress, and he actually feels good.
You lift yourself off of him and release his hands from the straps. He quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you in tightly and kissing the top of your head.
"So, did you like your gifts?" You snuggle up next to him and reach up to help him take the collar off.
Billy simply smiles as you remove the collar, rubbing your hand against the slightly red irritated skin.
"I hope you don't bruise!" You say worriedly. Lifting yourself up on your arm and leaning over him to get a better look.
Billy chuckles and looks up at you, resting his hand on your cheek.
"I hope I do. A bruise necklace from you? Now that's a beautiful gift."
He pulls you back against him, your head on his chest hearing his heartbeat in your ears. Little does he know that to you.
This is the most beautiful gift.
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#billy washington fanfiction#billy washington x reader#billy washington x you#billy washington#billy washington smut#ewan mitchell verse#ewan mitchell fanfic#ewanverse#ewan nation#ewan mitchell#jess fics
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Curl Into Me
Billy Washington x AFAB Reader
Summary: Billy looks after you during your period.
Content Tags: Fluff, Drabble, Language, Talk of Feminine/Reproductive Health, Suggestive Language, Talk of Period Sex
Notes: Guess what came early? 🩸🩸🩸
“Babe?” Billy kicked the door closed behind him with a trainered foot. “Babe? Took a while ‘cause they didn’t have any of those ones you wanted in Boots. Had to pop to Superdrug to get ‘em, then off to Sainsbury’s for supplies.”
Nothing.
“Babe?”
Shrugging of his jacket and kicking off his shoes, Billy padded through the small flat and into the lounge.
He’d left you there an hour ago, curled amongst the cushions watching some trash on the telly. A few scrunched up tissues remained, an empty packet of paracetamol and an unwrapped chocolate bar.
The open plan room was empty. He filled the kettle in the small kitchenette, placed a peppermint teabag in one mug and a Yorkshire tea in another, and made his way to the bedroom.
“Babe?”
He pushed the door open a little. Light was streaming into the room, the white sheets invitingly crumpled and glowing under the bright sun’s rays. Billy would never get over this room.
In the old flat, his bedroom was like a cardboard box. Dark, brown, damp, uninviting. Made simply for sleeping, clothes littered the floor along with empty glasses and dirty plates. Whether it was an old habit or the result of his trouble state of mind, Billy wasn’t sure, but he’d never drawn the curtains nor made the bed. Here it was different.
You bounded into his life like a whirligig, full of curiosity, patience and open-hearted joy. Spent endless nights in the pub listening to him pour his heart out. Tentatively invited him to back to your new flat, the one you’d since decorated together. Helped piece himself back together, along with the small home you’d made your own, with picture frames and matching mugs. Your record collection alongside his games.
The little flat was just as bright as that day you’d unpacked the final box. Sure, the bookshelf needed dusting and there were a few dirty mugs in the sink, but you’d get to those later. Together.
Billy looked around the room. At the pillows rearranged on the bed. The abandoned romance book on the duvet. The blanket hanging of the frame.
-I will but you a bottle of wine
And we’ll laugh and toast to nothing
And smash our empty glasses down
Let’s have a round for these freaks and these soldiers
A round for these friends of mine-
Shit. Joni could only mean one thing. Her voice crooned from the record player and, at the sniffle from the corner of the room, Billy found you.
You’d dragged a pillow from the bed, folding yourself around its lumpy shape on the floor. Your comfy jogging bottoms and been discarded, and the two hot water bottles you owned were pressed against your back and tummy.
Through the mess of uncombed hair, you looked up at Billy from your position on the floor.
“Did you get chocolate?” You croaked.
He laughed a little and held up the plastic bag of essentials. He couldn’t help it. Some sick part of him loved seeing you so weak and needy. At last, a chance for Billy to step up and look after you, just as you had always done for him.
“Get on the bed?”
“I don’t want to move,” your voice was a pathetic whinge of pain and tiredness.
“Alright,” Billy got down on the floor beside you. “Here,” he handed you a sharing bar of Dairy Milk and, with his back braced against the bedframe, pulled you back onto his chest.
You groaned as your muscles stretched. “Kettle’s on, I’ll refill your bottle in a minute.” Billy’s hands wound their way to your front and removed the hot water bottle there. The skin beneath your tatty tshirt was red raw and hot to touch. “You’ll burn yourself,”
“It’s the only thing that helps,”
“Let me,” In slow, tender semi-circles, Billy massaged your lower stomach.
God, he was good to you. “Thank you,” you whispered.
“Bath later, yeah?”
You could do nothing but nod. His hands rubbing your tender body, the chocolate, the heat from the hot water bottles. This was all you needed. If you could stay like that for the next, you would. Fuck, Billy would let you if you asked.
When you’d brought Billy home to meet your parents, they were nervous. You’d told them about his past; better to be transparent. Billy was best taken at face value. What you saw was what you got, and why complicate it by skirting over what had happened to him? Their worry had eased at once, however, when they saw how dedicated he was to you. How he made the effort to talk to each of them, interested in what they had to say. How he pressed his hand to your back and gazed at you, even when you weren’t talking to him. They couldn’t have chosen gentler soul for you.
“Billy?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you,”
He looked down at you, kissing your temple as he did so. “What for?”
“Going out and getting my stuff. Looking after me-”
“Jesus Christ, I’d be a prick if I didn’t-”
“I know,” you laughed at him. “But thank you.”
You sat there on the floor together, Billy rubbing circles into your stomach and back until Joni finished her singing and the record crackled on the deck.
“How you feeling?”
“Better, a little crampy, but better.” You sat up and turned to face him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.
“You know,” Billy smirked as he chased your lips and settled his hands on the skin of your hips. “I did a little reading about what else helps periods, you know.”
“Billy Washington, you angel.” You teased, kissing his neck tenderly.
“Mmm,” he rubbed your sides lazily. What was the rush? A day of cuddles and cups of tea was all either of you needed. “Rosemary tea is meant to help the cramps, stretching your legs too, for some reason. And erm,” he faltered as you kissed his collarbone. “Sex, apparently.”
You stopped your kisses and looked at him with a smirk. “Getting ideas?”
Billy blushed. “It doesn’t heart to try. Said orgasms can help relax the muscles, and make periods shorter.” He was rubbing his neck, trying not to let his ulterior motives show. He’d do anything for your comfort, but if it was nice for him too? Even better.
You were still staring at him. What if you thought he was disgusting?
“We don’t have to, you know, fuck or anything.” Jesus Christ, he felt like a teenager. “But, I can give you an orgasm, if it would help-”
You shushed him with a finger to his lips. “Don’t be so embarrassed.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Maybe later?”
Billy nodded. “No pressure, though.”
“I know,” you laughed and settled against his chest. “Rub my back again?”
He did so diligently, and you hummed. “I love you, Bill.”
His hands squeezed you gently against him, and you inhaled his scent of laundry detergent and cheap cologne.
“I love you too,”
Notes: Fluffy fluffy fluff fluff.
General Taglist: @arcielee @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @babyblue711 @ewanmitchellcrumbs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @humanpurposes @whoknows333
#ewan mitchell#billy washington#billy washington x reader#ewan mitchell x reader#trigger point#assortedseaglass
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The Aftermath
Summary- Near death experiences have a habit of changing relationships.
Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. DUBCON due to persuasion. Female reader. Arguments. Bigotry/Islamophobia. Discussions of near death experiences/trauma. Dark-ish/toxic Billy. Fingering. P in V sex.
Author's Note- Okay so I've never actually seen the show in its entirety because it's not available in my country so I'm working off the wikia and what I've seen in scenes. Please forgive any mistakes/misinformation, he looked too sad and pathetic not to write for. Full link below :)
She doesn't bother to knock when she arrives at Billy's flat, storming inside with little regard for his privacy. He had given her a key not long after he moved in, promising that she could come over whenever she wanted, though she isn't sure this is what he had in mind at the time.
She makes her way passed the trash building up at the front door, forcing her way inside and finding him exactly where she expects to, lounging on the couch with some football game playing on the TV. He sits up when he spots her in the doorway, the smile that graces his face when he sees her slowly fading when he catches sight of her expression. She is sure it is a storm, her anger obvious, but she doesn't give him a chance to speak first.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
He looks at her blankly for a moment before a realization seems to come over him. "Lana told you then?"
"Yeah, Lana told me. What the hell were you thinking?"
He rolls his eyes, pushing forward to grab the beer bottle sitting on the coffee table and taking a swig. Her eyes catch the cuts on his knuckles, the opposite hand covered with a bloodied bandage, and watches the skin between his brows crease when the abused skin stretches. "Why does it matter to you? It's not like anyone was there anyway, was there? And you can't tell me they didn't deserve it."
"Why does it- Billy, you're not this stupid."
In all the years she's known him, she has never known him to be cruel. Quiet and insecure, surely, but never vicious. She almost hadn't believed Lana when she had called her, informing her of the one man attack he had pulled at the butcher's. It seemed so entirely out of character from the friend she had always known it nearly scared her, hearing about how he had destroyed the storefront for the crime of being owned by a Muslim family. But more than fear, it made her skin crawl, a disgust for him she had never felt toiling in her gut.
She isn't an idiot. She knows how he has been struggling lately. From his breakup with Becky to his consistent unemployment to his family ragging on him to make something of himself. Nothing has been easy for him as of late but she never would have expected him to let his rage out like this.
"If you only came here to bite my head off about it, save us both the trouble, yeah? Lana already beat you to it."
"So you don't regret it at all? Any of it?"
She wants him to say yes. And not just for the criminal record he has now contracted for it but for the guilt of screwing over innocent people. She wants him to prove that he is still her friend, to believe that he hasn't fallen down this path without so much as a blink.
He does little to assuage her fears. "What do I have to regret about it?"
Her disgust increases tenfold with that- she is grateful for it, as it manages to cover the pain of his confession- and she feels her face contort. "Why would you do it? What was the point?"
"They're the reason the world has gone to shit. It's 'cause of people like them, their whole fucked up religion. They're the animals here, not me."
She physically recoils at that, not bothering to hide her repulsion now. "Jesus Christ, Billy."
"Well I don't expect you to understand it. You're too nice, got a fucking bleeding heart for every poor bastard that walks past ya. It's 'cause of people like you that Nick and I-"
That catches her attention. "Nick? Was someone else with you when you went to the butcher?"
His face drops as if he realizes he has said something wrong but he still shakes his head as nonchalantly as he can manage. It isn't indifferent in the slightest. "Nah. Just my friend."
Read the rest here
#billy Washington x reader#billy Washington x fem!reader#billy Washington x you#billy Washington smut#billy washington trigger point#billy washington#trigger point#trigger point 2022#billy Washington fanfic#billy Washington fanfiction
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Reader and Michael can’t come to Billy’s due to exam season and revision. However, doesn’t mean they can’t send him videos of there own personal ways to de-stress so he doesn’t feel left out. Better yet, cause readers exams are longer than Michaels, Michael is round Billy’s when she sends him her latest round. And Billy and Michael get a little too hot and bothered to not do anything about it
Warnings: kissing, scratching, biting, masturbation, anal (m receiving), handjob, spicy video making, orgasm denial and control, Michael is a bratty sub.
NSFW and 18+ only please!
You and Michael have different dates for your exams this semester; usually there's a couple of days of difference, this year, due to the sudden illness of one of your professors and none of the TAs being available, your class is forced to sit this last exam a week later than everyone else, leaving all of you with almost no days off before the start of the term.
You are frustrated and angry, the stress for the whole situation turns your horny knobs to the maximum, not having the chance to have a quickie, with either of your boyfriends, makes having to bunk down in your room and study all the worse.
And you miss them!
It's not just the sex, it's the intimacy of sharing Billy's old couch while reading and watching telly, chatting about everything and anything, hearing them bitch and moan because you're taking too long to get ready: all those little things that let you know how much they love you, and you them.
And there's the sex, of course: making Billy beg and cry, fight against Michael for dominance, feel your mind shut down with every orgasm they give you.
You miss their hands on your body and falling asleep lulled by their warmth: your room feels so cold and empty that you just want to throw all the study materials on the floor and run to Billy's flat to finally have a good night's sleep.
You stand up before you do anything stupid and walk the length of your room like a caged lion: two days of this miserable life, you have to hold on for two more days.
Your phone pings with a message, a friend from your study group slowly losing his mind over the most difficult part of the exam; you send him an encouraging text, offering to do a last study of that bit of the syllabus tomorrow.
You close the chat and your eyes fall on the group chat with your boys, the last message being a photo. It's not the raciest pic you three have shared, this one is Billy laying on his tummy with a fucked out expression on his face, droplets of sweat adorning his naked back, already marked by Michael's bite marks. It turns you on immensely because you know it's a post fuck pic and that Michael has made him beg like a whore, only to fuck him like he doesn't love him, as if Billy's feeling don't matter, as if he's only a toy.
The idea makes your cunt tingle; you can still ignore your body and throw yourself into your notes, the problem is that you don't want to.
Billy stretches his back with a groan. Between the long hours at the pub, and the vigorous fucking, his body is a mess of overused muscles and carpet rashes.
Michael has been ravenous from the moment he was finished with his batch of exams; it doesn't help Billy's case that he has been quite defiant in the spicy videos he's sent him during the last few weeks, egging him on, saying he wouldn't be able to fuck Billy for hours, that he'd be too tired for the task. Michael had enthusiastically showed him how wrong he was and is now eyeing him like he's dessert.
It still surprises Billy how voracious Michael is, sex wise, that the lanky nerd with a grandpa style would, and could, reduce him into a begging mess and could go at it for hours. If he didn't know you and him had been an item before he met you two, he'd chalk it up to the fresh discovery of sex and hormones, but you two were a couple for almost a year and Michael was as ravenous as he was the first time he slept with you.
The dual ding of his and Michael's phone distracts Billy from his train of thoughts: it must be you, still trapped in exam hell.
He's worried about you, as is Michael, you look tired and stretched thin, the delay in the exam adding to your usual burden of stress and the fact that you are not leaving your college premises, to maximize your dwindling energies, means that you have no way to recharge your batteries. Billy is afraid you're going to burn yourself out and Michael knows how close you're teetering to the edge, because you've been not that active in your shared chat, not even after the last photo he's sent: if not even fucked silly Billy elicits a response from you, then something is truly wrong.
Billy carefully pads to the sofa where his phone is laying, his arse sore from Michael's use and the muscles of his legs burn with each step. Michael waits until he's sat on the sofa, before opening the message.
The video starts playing immediately: you're almost naked, wearing only your black undergarments, looking ravishing, ravenous in the way you're playing with yourself, calling their names with a broken voice.
"Christ." It's the only thing Billy manages to say.
Both him and Michael can see the desperation in your eyes, it explodes in the hurried way you make yourself orgasm, only to slow down and start again.
Unconsciously Billy's hand finds home on Michael's long neck, his thumb caressing the velvety skin as his fingers grab his poorly cut hair; he hasn't even realized he's got an erection, too focused on your body and your pleasure to feel his own and desire explodes in his loins when the video stops.
Michael is in no better condition than him, his breath comes out in short pants and his hand has already sneaked under his horrendous trousers to grab the base of his erection; he moans when Billy gently curls his fingers tighter in his hair and pulls his head backwards, forcing his long neck to arch, a temptation Billy can't resist.
Billy's teeth nip Michael's exposed Adam's apple and then his lips soothe the small harm, only to repeat the slow torture on the available skin, leaving glaring proofs of his need for Michael.
"Don't" Billy whispers as his hand grabs Michael's wrist. "Not yet."
"Don't tell me what to do." Michael pants back, without a bite, he's already too far gone.
"Come now and you don't get to do that later."
"Bastard!" Comes out whiner that Michael would like.
"Payback is a bitch, innit?"
Without you functioning as a buffer, their lovemaking is always rougher, the power struggle more prominent than when you're around to keep the situation under control; but you're in your college room, neck deep in your study material, and not in Billy's living room, pressed between them on the couch, sharing kisses and small love bites.
Michael tries to gain the upper hand again, but his tongue fails to subjugate Billy's and the latter's hand right around his base strips Michael of any vestige of control: Billy is going to fuck him, raw and fast, until Michael loses any form of sanity.
Michael's body arches when Billy's hand starts jerking him fast and rough, your last video on repeat in the background because you look too fuckable.
"Asshole!"
Michael shouts when Billy releases his cock with a smirk. This pleasure in exerting control is a new rush Billy is still trying to understand, used as he was to be the more submissive one: the way his cock seems to swell when Michael stares at him with accusing eyes, full of tears and frustration, still surprises him.
"I told you, not yet." He's still not sure where this cold voice comes from, but he likes it. "On your knees, face on the sofa."
"Make me".
Michael is nothing short of a pain in the side even when he wants to be taken and fucked stupid, Billy is happy to oblige with a hand in his hair to roughly push him on the worn carpet, the other busy with removing his ugly trousers.
The blatant show of brute strength flies directly to Michael's cock, who almost comes untouched. The hand on his back that keeps him face first on the sofa drives him absolutely mad with the need to misbehave, just to see what Billy would do.
Billy stares at Michael's long back, the fine, almost white hairs illuminated by the dying light of the day a beautiful contrast with the marks his nails have left there. On a whim he licks a long stripe where the deepest ones lay, his lips suck on the inflamed skin until Michael moans and tries to kick back with his arse.
"Are you going to fuck me, or what?" Michael barks from under him. "For someone with his arse up in the air, you sure talk big a lot."
Billy tries to infuse his voice with control, in truth he doesn't know how long he's going to be able to not ravish Michael: the way he struggles against his hold, the shift of his muscles under his pink skin and your moans in the background are driving him absolutely mad.
Michael tries to push back again, his ridiculous lack of strength clear against Billy's, who is used to move around kegs of beer for a living. His umpteenth act of disobedience wins him a round of spanking, given with Billy's full strength, that reduces him into a puddle of pain and want.
"You done?" Billy is tethering on the edge and hopes Michael doesn't realize.
Michael doesn't respond but shoots him a dirty look.
"You're always going to be a pain, aren't you, genius boy? All that brain and still you play the brat."
Michael's erection is painful, hanging between his legs; it hurts to wait but he doesn't want to bend his stiff neck. He brushes his arse against Billy's hardness, enticing him to fuck him like he deserves; this time Billy doesn't punish him but presses his raging erection between his arse cheeks, grinding against the abused skin until Michael whines in pain.
"All that brain flies out of the window when you want some cock, innit?"
Michael moans when cold lube is poured over his hole and Billy prepares him fast and rough, forcing his hole to gape, just because he can.
Billy grabs his hips, pulling him backwards, forcing Michael to put his weight on his arms; Billy's phone is in front of his eyes, your video all Michael can see now, your pleasure makes him moan with the need to smother his face in your wet pussy until he can't breathe.
Both men groan when Billy's head breaches Michael's hole.
"Always so bloody tight." Billy spats and Michael's hole clenches reflexively.
With slow pushes and pulls, Billy sheaths himself in Michael's arse, grinding cruelly when he finally bottoms out, making Michael keen and buck under him.
"Shh, shh, be good." Billy caresses his sweaty hair. "Do you want to do something for our baby?"
Michael can't find the words to respond, he can just nod his head with an empty brain: he'll do anything for you.
Michael's phone is shown in front of his face, set on record; he can see his own expression, his slackened mouth and the spit almost falling from his lips.
"Let's put on a show, shall we?"
Michael's begging starts immediately, Billy's pushes are too hard and fast for him not to, his insides accepting the invasion without a fight, his arse clenching painfully when Billy fucks against his prostate brutally, sparks of pleasure exploding in his belly that turn into a fire when Billy grabs his shoulders and forces Michael's back against his front, sitting him on his erection and bucking under him wildly.
Michael's head lolls back, spit falling from his mouth, desperate moans and high pitched keens spilling from his lips without his control. Billy's hands keep him still, forcing him to take all he's giving, Michael's erection slaps painfully against his tummy and he feels like Billy is going to split him in a half.
"Oxford's math genius fucked like a whore. What would everyone think of you if they could see you now?" Billy pants.
The way Michael's arse curls around his erection after his words almost hurts and he has to redouble the strength of his pushes.
"Would you like that? For everyone see you like this?"
"No...ah!"
"Then why is your arse tightening this way?"
Michael's body arches, his hands scratch and grab all the skin he can reach as Billy grinds cruelly against his prostate.
"You're going to come now." Billy says grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at the phone. "Let our sweetheart see your face, how much you love this."
Michael's hands grab Billy's hair to try and keep himself in position, one of Billy's hands curls around his cock to jerk it fast and rough; Michael has to force himself to keep staring at the phone, showing you what you can't see now, but the pleasure is too much, his nerves scream with it, his brain complete mush and he can't scream anymore, he comes with his eyes rolling back in his head, his body a mere ragdoll for Billy to fuck.
Billy isn't too far behind, the feel of Michael's body letting go completely kicks his own orgasm and he comes with a tortured moan and slumps against Michael, the two of them falling on the sofa, breathless.
"Mmmh, don't" Michael whispers when Billy tries to pull his softened cock out.
"You'll get cramps. Behave."
"Or you can get hard again." He moans, trying to wiggle his arse.
"He's insatiable." Billy says to you through the recording.
Michael mewls when Billy's fingers grab his hair to pull his torso up again, to show you his face, the reddened cheeks and the spit on his chin, his almost vacant eyes.
He's so pretty after he's been thoroughly fucked.
"We're proud of you." Billy continues. " And we miss you."
Billy lets his cock slip out of Michael's hole and the other man slumps against him, pliant and ready to be fucked again.
"Do you have anything smart to add?"
"Come soon." Michael manages to say, he's so tired, he wants to be touched and to eat your pussy so bad!
"You're probably going to do that sooner." Billy answers. "Do you want to film it? Show our baby how much you need to be fucked again?"
"Yeah." He keens, hiding his face against the curve of Billy's neck.
You're in for a treat when you finish your studies for the day. Billy will make sure of it.
Cringefail throuple taglist: @fan-goddess @solisarium @lexwolfhale
#cringefail throuple#billy washington x reader x michael gavey#billy washington x y/n x michael gavey#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey x y/n#billy washington x reader#billy washington x y/n#michael gavey#billy washington#answered
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If it hasn’t already been requested for Kink-tober, may I please request Billy Washington - Edging/Denial. (But he has to come in the end, please. Can’t let baby boy suffer. )🔥🔥🙏🏻🙏🏻
Authors Note: Exactly my sweet boy needs to cum he’s been so good 🥺 this feels horribly done and I’m so sorry it’s taken so long! But for some reason my brain got left writing the ones that took me the hardest last so that’s why all these ones took so long! But at least after this IM DONE! 🥳
Warnings: Sub!Billy and Dom!reader, m oral, p in v sex, talk of self doubt, depression, bad relationship talk, lack of self worth, Billy is a self anxious, not sure how to exactly describe the whole thing really (if I miss any let me know!)
Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat @helaelaemond @anjelicawrites
Becky, throughout the entire train wreck Billy had defined as a relationship, had insisted that he needed to be the one on top at all times, whether he wanted to be or not. He had no idea why, but that was always what he was told he needed to do. What he had to do. What was expected of him.
So when Billy eventually managed to break up with her and begin dating you, it was much of a shock and a revelation to him when you allowed him to be the bottom for once whilst you rode him for the first time ever. He remembers afterwards laying there with his brain all fuzzy, honestly thinking he must’ve saw God standing in the corner of his bedroom.
Now, he insists with what he denies to be a pouty face, to be the one on the bottom nearly every time. And you, ever the willing partner, were all too happy to oblige by his playful almost bratty commands.
“Please baby! Please let me touch you!” Billy begs, practically humping the bed as he attempts to resist himself from touching you.
Your hands though continue to play with yourself as Billy watches, and it only serves to make you wetter and your actions more lewder.
“I told you baby, you’ve got to behave if you want me to let you fuck me! Don’t you wanna be my good boy?” You smirk, teasing him as you whine slightly and begin to bite your lower lip with your teeth.
He whines in agreement, and it all comes tumbling out, whines and cries included. “Yes yes yes please I really want to! Please ride me! I promise I’ll be good!”
How could you say no to that? His pure sobs of relief sending shivers of pleasure running down your spine. You use a vacant hand of yours to grab his cock, which stands fully erect and practically pulses in your hand, even weeping arousal straight into your palm. When you move to position him at your entrance, a sigh of pure relief comes from both your lips while Billy whines likes a bitch in heat beneath you.
Your head feels like it’s spinning as you begin to move your hips back and forth, chasing the delicious friction of his pubic hair on your clit, and the feeling of his cock that somehow manages to already press and abuse the rough little patch deep inside you.
“Such a good boy Billy…you’re such a good boy for me!” You whine, relishing in the delicious feeling of his hands now clutching tightly against the skin of your upper thigh. His unkempt nails digging deeper into your skin that’s sure to leave marks for morning you to deal with later.
His own murmurs of praise are muffled by his slurs of pleasure as his eyes role back and his hands leave even more marks in their wake from how they’re now gripping your flesh. It even begins to sting slightly, but it seems to only serve to make you more enamoured with the sweet boy whining between your glistening thighs.
You can even somehow feel Billy’s hardness throbbing inside of you. Yet when his eyes begin rolling back into his head once more and his hips spasming erratically, that’s when with a menacing grin you quickly hop off his aching dick, much to his horror, as he whines like a child being told no dessert after a gruelling dinner.
“I’m just making sure you behave baby!” You simply say, giggling when you see how he’s already practically crying with how desperately he wants you. It’s actually flattering really when you think about it.
To get Billy worked up again though, you lick a strip of his wet cock before moving to kiss his bite swollen lips deeply. And while he’s distracted, moaning at the taste of his own precum that smears across his lips, you quickly get back on his dick, and ride him like your life depends on it.
“Oh fuck! Shit! Baby please don’t stop! Fucking perfect! Fuck fuck fuck!” He whines. Noises of all kinds spilling from his lips as his hands go back to their stations at your hips. His fingertips leaving further marks in all new areas. Practically making you into his own little art canvas. Not that you mind of course. You’ll make sure to get him back for that later though. You can’t have him forgetting his place.
You feel the coil in your stomach tighten as Billy manages to hit that spot inside you he never realises he’s hitting, yet you make sure to vocalise how well he’s unknowingly doing by practically screaming his name and praises for all to hear. The neighbours be damned at that moment.
“So good Billy such a good boy for me! Always so good never want anyone else!” You scream, your head tilted all the way back as you feel your orgasm shooting it’s shot and your eyes rolling in the back of your head. You’re barely comprehensible as you feel Billy awkwardly jerking his hips to help you cum quicker, yet you make sure to scream your thanks as you feel your walls practically death grip Billy’s cock as you cum hard around him.
It’s a familiar addictive feeling, but even still. As your catching your breath and trying to calm your erratic heart, you realise there’s a feeling your missing. The warmth of Billy’s cum in your pussy.
Your eyes hazily look at Billy, who in turn looks back at you like a lovesick puppy, but you ignore the way it makes you smile as you realise you can still feel Billy’s hard cock inside you.
The poor boy didn’t cum.
“Why didn’t you cum?” You find yourself outright asking as you try to lift yourself up to look at him, though admittedly fail as you flail around slightly like a baby deer walking for the first time.
“You didn’t tell me too…” He murmurs, his eyes shy all of a sudden as they look somewhere in the distance away from you. Your own eyes widen in surprise, as to be honest, you had expected him to cum with you. But now that you think about it, Billy has told you how before in the past he always felt like he had to put in the extra effort to make himself feel like he was worth something. So it’s honestly so sad to you to realise he felt like he needed to hold back on himself now in an attempt to make you feel proud, and make himself feel better.
Your hand caresses his face gently, and even though all your energy feels drained, you still manage to somehow move to kiss Billy softly on the lips. Smiling even when you feel him kiss you back with equal underlying passion.
“Billy, baby…” You begin, pulling back slightly yet smiling when you see his small pout of annoyance. The sweet brat… “Never withhold on these sort of things cause you think you need too. I wanted to cum with you. I’m sorry you felt like you had to hold back baby…” You give him another peck on the lips before with a smile and annoyingly a few awkward huffs, position yourself between Billy’s legs. The two of which are amusingly enough very obviously wet and glistening from where your arousal had dripped and smeared onto them.
“I want you to cum this time baby. Don’t tell me when though, leave it a surprise for me…” You say, moving to take his throbbing length deep in your mouth before Billy could make a protest of any kind, and moaning around him when you feel Billy’s rough hand tightly quickly wrap itself tightly in your hair.
You can’t help but groan at the salty taste already steadily spreading on the surface of your tongue. The taste of Billy being such an addictive thing you swear you could easily eat nothing but him all day everyday if it wasn’t weird at all. Not that the two of you probably haven’t done weirder things though in the time the two of you have been going out.
You take your mouth off him for a moment, using one of your hands to stroke him steadily whilst you drunkenly praise, “So fucking good.” to an equally delirious Billy, before eagerly going back down on him. You slowly push him deeper down your throat, till you feel his scruffy pubic hairs scratching slightly against the tip of your nose. You must admit that you’re not the biggest fan of doing this with a male partner, but it’s all worth it to hear your lovers sweet high pitched moans from above you, especially when you swallow and gag around him and hear Billy practically screaming from the feeling. It almost amusing to begin to feel his length pulsing in time with his no doubt erratic heartbeat.
It’s not a surprise to you though that after barely even a minute after you began to suck off your lover, you can feel Billy’s fist in your hair tighten and his length throb significantly before he all of a sudden spills himself down your throat. Your small sounds of happiness smothered under Billy’s own long high pitched whine of pleasure. Again, neighbour’s be damned.
You take your mouth of him slowly as you swallow all you could in your mouth, and when you stare at his cock, which slowly begins to soften, you almost giggle at the sight of his cock twitching slightly as it goes down. As if it was trying to desperately tell you it had another load in it. But with how much you just had to swallow, you honestly doubt that.
“Good?” You smirk at Billy, humming gently as he moves to pull you up so he could place his head under your chin.
“Fucking perfect.” He says back, sounding tired already as he cuddles your body tightly. You respond just as enthusiastically, clutching him as you shuffle a little to make yourself more comfortable before shutting your eyes as your own wave of exhaustion hits you.
You shut your eyes and allow yourself to be immersed in your lovers presence, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as you swear your heart sinks up with his. Your breaths evening out together as you clutch each other desperately, addicted to each others skin, soul and body.
#billy washington x reader#billy washington x you#billy washington#trigger point#ewan mitchell character#ewan mitchell fanfic#ewan mitchell fanfiction#my works#kinktober 2023#my kinktober#kinktober#trigger point fanfiction#Billy Washington/reader#Billy Washington/you#Billy Washington smut#ewan mitchell x reader#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell imagine
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Dashboard Confessional
Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader
Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, mild angst, smut, semi public sex.
Word count: ~1.7k
Summary: Billy is forced to deal with past trauma when his girlfriend's car breaks down on the side of the M1, while driving home to Nottingham for Christmas. She finds the perfect way to ease his mind.
Author's note: Day four of the Smuffmas prompts - "reassurance and car sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.
Her hands tighten on the steering wheel, eyes flitting nervously towards the check engine light that’s just lit up on the dashboard panel. They’re only an hour outside of Nottingham, and if she was by herself she’d simply ignore it, finish the journey, and take her crappy old Skodia Fabia to a garage in the New Year. But Billy sits in the passenger seat next to her, and she knows that that little red light will look like a fiery beacon to him, a reason to panic. The best thing she can do in this situation is pull over onto the hard shoulder and call AA Breakdown Recovery.
Billy used to joke that she’d spent more on keeping her shitty little car roadworthy than she had when she’d actually bought it. He’d insist on driving them everywhere, his Vauxhall Cavalier the more reliable of the two vehicles.
That feels like a lifetime ago now though, before the Explosive Ordnance Disposal team had pulled him from it and it had exploded into a fiery ruin in the middle of Cranstead Gardens. Billy doesn’t joke at all anymore, and he’s not gotten behind the wheel of a car since.
He has spent the last four months attending weekly therapy sessions. It’s only in the last month that he’s been willing to allow her to drive him anywhere, and that’s not before they’ve done rigorous checks of the entire car to make sure it’s safe; the wheel arches, under the bonnet, the boot, beneath the seats and in the glovebox all need to be examined thoroughly before he’ll even consider getting in.
When it had come time to arrange their annual visit to Billy’s parents’ for Christmas, he had suggested they get the train. However, a return ticket would be close to one hundred pounds each for them. She had argued they would spend less than half that on fuel if she drove, and it would save them the effort of lugging gifts all the way there, only to have to take all of the ones they inevitably receive back with them the same way - everything could just be stuffed into the boot if she drove.
He had relented eventually, and she had regretted it almost as soon as they’d gotten in the car. For the last two hours of the journey his leg has bounced anxiously, and she’s been met with snappy one word answers to each of her attempts to make conversation, despite his insistence that the radio stays off.
If she were a weaker person she’d have decided that this was all too much and ended things long ago, however, Billy is her everything, he always has been. He has never thought much of himself, but she loves him enough for the both of them. Where he sees a failure, someone that lives in the shadow of his successful older sister, she sees a man with a thousand watt smile, someone that lights up the room just by entering it. That light has dulled over the last few months, but she is determined to help it shine once more.
It’s with this in mind that she clicks on the left indicator, pulling over onto the hard shoulder, and switches the hazard lights on.
“What you doing?” Billy asks, frowning slightly as he removes his thumb from his mouth, the nail of which he’s been chewing absentmindedly on for the last few miles.
She turns the engine off, turning to him with a slight smile, an attempt to appease and keep him calm. “Check engine light’s come on, I need to ring the AA.”
“Fuck’s sake!” He seethes, unclipping his seatbelt and forcefully pushing open the passenger side door.
She watches him, illuminated in the darkness by the motorway lights, rounding the car, before stepping over the crash barrier and onto the grassy verge. Sighing, she unbuckles and climbs out.
“Billy–”
“I told you we should’ve got the fucking train!” He shouts, though there is no anger in his tone, she hears it in the wobble of his voice, sees it in the barely concealed tears he’s attempting to hold back. He’s close to breaking down.
“I know, babe, and I’m sorry,” she soothes, “I should have listened to you. But I promise you it’s nothing serious. You know how this old shitheap gets when it’s damp, remember last time it rained and the electric windows stopped working?”
It’s an attempt to lightheartedly downplay his fears, but it’s obviously unsuccessful. She watches as he fishes his cigarette packet from the pocket of his jogging bottoms, pulling one out and lighting it with shaky hands.
She takes out her phone and calls the recovery service, straining to hear over the roar of the traffic that speeds past on the M1. It’s going to be a forty five minute wait for anyone to get to them, though she should consider herself lucky, bearing in mind it’s December 23rd and there are cars nationwide breaking down on their way home for Christmas.
When she ends the call and tosses her phone onto the driver’s seat, she turns back to see that Billy is three quarters of the way through his smoke, his gaze downcast as he stands there shivering. The sight makes her heart ache.
“It’s freezing,” she calls out to him, “at least come and get your hoodie.”
She opens the door to the backseat, grabbing his Adidas zip up from it and holding it out to him. His head remains bowed, though his eyes look up at her, before he crushes his cigarette beneath his trainer and slowly walks towards her.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, slipping the hoodie on and perching on the edge of the backseat, facing out of the car, long legs stretched out in front of him.
They remain in silence for a few moments, Billy simply sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, staring at the ground, as she stands before him, looking out towards the steady stream of cars, eyes narrowed at the oncoming headlights that rush by.
“How long until you get fed up?” He finally asks, looking up at her.
“Well, I’m fed up already,” she jokes, “but we’ve gotta sit tight until someone comes to get us.”
He huffs a humourless laugh through his nose, lips quirking upwards slightly as he shakes his head. “You know that’s not what I mean. How much more of me can you hack before you finally decide I’m not worth the effort?”
“Oi,” she chastises playfully, ruffling a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. “To me, you will always be worth the effort. I’m not going anywhere.”
Billy bends his legs at the knees, planting his feet flat on the floor and pulls her between them as his arms wrap around her waist. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she says gently. “It’s been a rough few months, but we’ll get through it.
“God, I love you,” he tells her, stroking his palm across her cheek.
“Tell me again,” she smiles, leaning down to bump her nose against his.
“Love you,” he whispers, pressing his lips to hers.
She kisses back, expecting it to be quick and chaste, but gasps in surprise as his hand slides from her face into her hair, gripping and anchoring her to him, as his tongue slips into her mouth. He tastes faintly of tobacco, but she responds eagerly as their mouths move together, the sensation sending heat pooling between her legs.
He leans back against the backseat, keeping his feet planted on the ground outside, dragging her with him. She giggles, pulling away breathlessly.
“Billy, we’re on the side of the motorway, anyone could see us!”
“Best give them something good to look at then,” he grins lazily up at her, fingers tugging at the waistband of her leggings.
It’s been so long since he was this uninhibited and spontaneous, that that’s all the encouragement she needs. She scrambles to pull them from one leg, as Billy lifts his hips, pushing his jogging bottoms and boxers down just enough to free his cock.
As she hovers back over him, his fingers move to push her thong to one side, and she can’t help but smile into the crook of his neck. He’s not even fully hard, though his pushes against her entrance are quickly rectifying that.
There’s no time for either of them to prepare each other properly, not for a quickie on the side of the road, so when the head of him does finally breach her opening the intrusion steals her breath away.
She whines, as each slow withdrawal and thrust upwards from him pushes him deeper, her rapidly gathering slick helping to ease his passage, until he’s fully sheathed inside of her.
He pants along with her when she moans helplessly against his shoulder as he pistons up into her, holding her steady by her hips. The tight confines of the car make it so that every drag of his cockhead brushes against the sweet spot inside of her, making her involuntarily tighten around him.
His pace becomes rushed, sloppy, and the feeling of him pulsating inside of her sends her toppling over the edge, white hot sparks of pleasure shooting through her as she spasms around him. His fingers dig into the meat of her hips as he pushes up one final time, emptying himself into her with a groan.
She shifts to move off of him, but he grips tighter, keeping her where she is. “Don’t,” he whispers breathlessly, eyes closed.
“I need to put my leggings back on, babe,” she chuckles, “I don’t think the AA bloke will appreciate the sight of my bare arse.”
“We’ve got time,” he murmurs, pulling her back to him, stroking her hair. “Just stay like this for a minute.”
She squirms, the chill of the air on her naked skin and his spend leaking out of her around his softening length making her uncomfortable, but she stays where she is. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, slowly blinking open his eyes. “It’s just…this is the first time I’ve been in a car where I haven’t thought about something horrible happening.”
Her gaze softens, and she pecks him on the cheek. “That’s good. So, what were you thinking about?”
“You, just you.”
#billy washington x reader#ewan mitchell#billy washington x y/n#billy washington x you#billy washington smut#billy washington angst#billy washington imagine#billy washington trigger point#trigger point billy washington#billy washington fan fiction#billy washington fanfiction#billy washington fanfic#billy washington fan fic#trigger point#trigger point fan fiction#trigger point fanfiction#trigger point fanfic#trigger point fan fic
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I Gave You My Heart
14/12: Hand Holding & Dry Humping - Billy Washington
Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: grinding, p in v sex, horniness as a result of drinking alcohol
12 Days of Smuff Masterlist
Christmas was always a difficult time of year for Billy.
To most, it was a happy, cheerful time, when families would gather, stuff themselves with as much meat as they could manage, drink as much wine as they wanted without stumbling into the garden shed (as his dad did the year before, to which his mum still hasn’t let him forget) and pass out on the sofa before the King’s speech could even come on tele.
To Billy, as with most years he gathered at his parent’s house, it was just another opportunity for his parents, sister and extended family to badger him with the usual abundance of questions.
How’s the job hunt going? Not well? Aw, well there’ll be something out there for you. Just have to keep at it.
No girlfriend yet?
You’re still looking for a job?
Lana not here yet? She’s doing well isn’t she?
He felt that if he had to go through yet another year of it, he’d go ballistic.
Aunties. Uncles. Cousins. He hugged them all on arrival, but felt very little.
But this year was different.
There was an element of protection she provided. A buffer, so to speak. And Billy being Billy, didn’t want to lean on her for that buffer, but was relieved all the same when she didn’t mind.
How did she do it?
How did she smile through it? Remain polite, despite the fact that it was socially sapping and emotionally draining to be around this many new people at once, all bombarding her with questions.
She was the shiny new item to a mischief of magpies, and all his aunties were babbling like turkeys at her, taking all the attention away from him. To his relief.
He watched her with a warmth to his face, a can of cheap beer in one hand, leaning against the radiator in the hallway to warm his backside.
She entertained them with brief, vague answers, but still somehow managed to keep that smile to her face he loved so much. Perhaps he was just wavy from the alcohol, he couldn’t tell. But he did realise he was flushing with embarrassment when her eyes clapped on him from across the room, and he realised he’d been caught staring.
His heart rate skyrocketed as she excused herself and crossed the room like she was floating, the Christmas cracker tissue paper crown was still somehow perched on the top of her head, whether she realised it or not.
“What you doing here by yourself, Wash?” she smiled.
He’d almost forgotten to move his lips to reply, his face was so hot.
“Making use of the central heating to warm your arse?” she prodded with a cheeky smile, turning to stand beside him, pressing her own back to the radiator and sighing as the warmth spread through her body from the middle outwards.
“Have my aunties bored you to death?” he asked, smirking beneath the rim of his can as he sipped.
She laughed through her nose, “That obvious?” she smiles, “Nah, it’s alright. Much better company than my house on Christmas Day, anyway. At this point, my dad’d be a snoring mess on the sofa and mum’d be fretting about Boxing Day lunch”.
In his alcohol-addled state, the raising of Billy’s eyebrows was a bit unmatched, alongside the lazy smile on his face, “I can picture that”.
She raised her own eyebrow at the way he seemed to subtly sway, despite being stood.
“What number’s this?” she asked with a knowing smirk.
And she watched with amusement as the cogs inside Billy’s head visibly turned, trying to form a memory of how many cans he’d swiped from his dad’s fridge before now.
“Um…4? I think?”
“You think?”
He pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh out of embarrassment.
The heat once again rose to his chiselled features, something she would never not find endearing about him. Sometimes it was worth saying something risque or embarrassing just to see this beanpole of a man blush.
His baby blue’s glimmered with drunkenness as he looked over at her, for a moment searching her face as if he was ticking off all boxes that were labelled with her features. Her eyes. Her lips. The gentle slant of her cheeks. The shape of her nose. How her dimples sank in when she smiled lovingly at him.
He was sure nobody in his life had ever looked at him the way she did.
It made him feel good and also like he wanted to hide at the same time.
“You wanna get home soon?”
He nodded without even thinking. God, he fucking loved her for that. The way she was able to know when he was socially complete without him having to say it.
Leaving in any British household, especially on Christmas Day, is an event in itself.
It takes twenty minutes minimum, to pack up all the things you have, piling the presents you’ve received into various bags for life, and giving a ceremonial hug and a peck on the cheek to all who are still awake and present. Often people who you’d circle back to once you finally made it to the door, graced with yet another hug goodbye.
It was solemnly enchanting, the clear roads on Christmas Day, the ice that clung to the side of the roads, and the grit that coated the middle. Christmas music blared through her radio, muffled by static, and about the sixtieth time that BBC Radio 1 had played ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’. And they’d both laughed, delirious from over-socialising, when she’d realised only halfway through the drive back home, that she was still wearing the shoddy tissue paper crown.
“Was Santa good to you this year?” she’d asked jokingly, briefly turning her head from the red light.
He huffed a laugh, “He’s about to be when we get home”.
She rolled her eyes, shifting the car into first, but unable to help the smile that rose to her face.
Billy’s flat was donned with the basics of Christmas decorations.
Fairy lights along the headboard of the bed, a tiny plastic tree on the side table, several tea lights along the TV stand and finally, the pièce de résistance, the scented faux pine candle sat in the middle of the coffee table. Lit and extinguished this morning, but still managed to fill the room with a pleasant woody fragrance.
Billy talked big when he was a bit drunk. But she knew him better than that.
And though Billy might have wanted to tear all her clothes off, pull her to the nearest flat surface and let her know all he’d wanted for Christmas, all he was able to do was snuggle in behind her on the sofa, throw one arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head as his brain swam.
It was just noise mostly, something to fill the comfortable silence as the late afternoon became late evening, the tea lights illuminating the front room with a pleasant atmosphere. She was sure he’d fallen asleep, the hand that was over her middle now firmly in hers, his long digits intertwined with her small ones. Not that she minded. She simply held his hand, using her other to scroll through her phone with the volume turned down so he wouldn’t wake up.
She clicked her phone off when she felt his arm tighten around her middle, tugging her back closer to him and turned her head up to smile at him, “Billy”.
His eyes were closed as if half asleep, his dark blonde eyelashes moving to betray the fact that he was indeed awake, but he only hummed, his hips chasing hers to grind against her backside. The alcohol had fuelled his desire, but had hindered his actual ability to act on said desires, and he made a noise of frustration when his body hadn’t reacted the way he wanted.
“...‘m sorry…”, he mumbled quietly, speech slurred endearingly.
“For what?”
“...’ts my little soldier…can’t…”
She had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh, not used to or remembering Billy being this loose-lipped under the influence of alcohol. All the while he was still pressing his soft and clothed length against your backside, willing his ‘little soldier’ to life, to no avail.
It was both endearing and amusing, that even in the state Billy was in he was trying, and god he really was trying, to initiate intimacy, fully knowing that the likelihood was that he wasn’t going to be able to. Much much too drunk to even think straight.
“It’s alright, Billy, just go to sleep, ok?”
He huffed much like a child would when you refused him something.
“...but it’s Christmas…”
“Sex on Christmas Day is no better than sex on any other day. Just get some sleep, okay?”
He sighed, slumping his head onto the cushion in something akin to defeat, fingers still threaded through hers on her stomach. But not a moment later, she heard his steady breaths and threw the blanket over him as well as her and laid her head down as well.
Waves of consciousness kept pulling her to the surface, a pleased sound falling from her lips as she parted them, feeling all warm both against her flesh and tugging in her gut as well.
She could feel Billy’s hot puffs of air against her neck and ear, the hair there reacting to his quickened breaths as they stood on end, her brain failing to realise quickly enough what was going on, and why her boyfriend lay behind her, was breathing so quickly.
That was until she heard him whimper, a stuttered moan following it.
“Mm…Billy?..”
Her eyelashes fluttered open, and instead of the warm ropes of sleep tugging her down it was something else, something hardpressing against her and chasing friction. His grip on her hands was so tight, his knuckles were almost white from the effort of holding back.
By now the candles had all burned out, save one, and the sky outside was pitch black, with the smallest flurry of snow decorating the darkness.
Hours had gone by.
She jumped when she felt his hands, colder than she expected, dip beneath her jumper and shirt, pressing his large palm against the flesh of her stomach, his little finger teasingly sliding beneath the waistband of her underwear.
“Sorry - babe, I need you…”
She could feel how impossibly hard he was through his jeans, chasing friction with every cant of his hips, using one hand to unzip them with difficulty as his other held onto her like she might disappear.
Freeing his length from his boxers, Billy almost moaned aloud when he saw that she was pulling her own jeans down as well, having woken more than aroused at the idea he was grinding against her searching for pleasure. So he made use of his hand and turned her face towards him, enveloping her soft, puffy lips with his own in a warm, wet kiss, not pausing for a moment to think about anything else other than having her right now, as he’d dreamt of doing since Christmas morning.
She nearly gasped when he slid his thick manhood into her, sheathing himself inside her in one, smooth confident movement, as if nothing, nothing, was going to stop him from basking in the warmth she offered.
In this position, with her thighs squeezed together, and his hand on her hips, pulling her back to him with each desperate thrust, it felt like so much more. And every blow to the sweet spot that lay deep inside her felt so utterly maddening, that her brain, still rising from sleep, felt like it was being shaken around.
She came with a choked cry, her grip on his wrist where his nimble fingers were applying frustratingly little pressure to her bud as he continued to piston into her. And when she was so close to begging him to stop from overstimulation, Billy leaned back a little, his teeth grazing against her neck and one hand palming her backside to push himself deeper as he too came with a long, broken whine.
His chest moved against her back with his heavy breathing, sucking in air into his lungs after the craze he’d just fallen over.
Billy pressed kisses to her neck and jaw in a sort of admiration, moving slightly with his length still buried inside her, eliciting a whimper from her as well as the friction.
She felt his eyelashes move against her cheek when he opened his eyes, “Did we really just shag with Die Hard on in the background?” he chuckled breathily.
This time, she couldn’t hold back her tired laugh, swatting his arm playfully, “you’re such a dickhead.”
He smiled wearily, turning her face once more to capture her swollen lips in a kiss, more tender this time without the urgency of desire.
“What was that about Christmas Day sex?” he prodded.
She furrowed her brows and double-tapped her phone.
23:49.
Cheeky fucker.
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he’s a 10 but he’s a total pussy whore. he’s drooling for it 24/7. as soon as he gets on his knees there’s not a thought in his head other than pussy.
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Who Needs Cupid? - Billy Washington X Fem!Reader
Summary: Today is the celebration of romance and Billy decides to use this day as an opportunity to ask his neighbor he had been crushing on out on a date. However.. things do not go as planned.
Warnings: Other than the fact it’s using she/her pronouns, it’s nothing really.
Type of story: Fluff
Author’s note: Woohoo! First fic here! I was gonna post this on Valentine’s day but i couldn’t wait any longer. This is my first piece of fanfiction and this is my first time writing for Billy so bare with me please. Plus my writing’s a lil’ rusty so i really hope y’all like it 😭 There is rare use of y/n but it IS a x reader fic with she/her pronouns. But anyways.. let’s see the story! I hope you all like it 🫶
｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ
And there she was.
Here she was outside tending her plants. She always took real care of her outdoor plants.
Billy had come outside to get his mail and he could not help but to take a glance at his neighbor. As silly as it sounded , he may have developed a liking towards her. But how could anyone not? She was kind , sweet , and she is caring. She even brings pastries she cooked around the neighborhood. She was a kind soul indeed.
Her kindness is what drew Billy to her. The two have interacted from time to time but he hasn’t mustered up the courage to ask her out on a date. He was confident that he could do it but at the same time he was scared. What would happen if he did ask her out? Would she reject him? Did she even have a significant other? Those kinds of questions made him slightly anxious.
Was he even her type? Was he even anyone’s type? She was everything. Billy was.. well he’s just Billy. He didn’t see himself as a perfect man. God he was a wreck. He was about to go inside when she waved at him. Billy’s heart fluttered and he waved back with a smile. She went back inside and he sighed before he did the same.
Later in the evening, Billy was at a restaurant having dinner with his sister. He decided to open up to her about his feelings towards his neighbor.
“I don’t understand these feelings, Lana. I want to ask her out on a date and develop a relationship. But I just..” Billy trailed off and took a deep sigh before he looked at her. “I don’t know how to do it. I don’t think I have the courage to ask her out.” He admitted.
“Well-“ Lana was about to speak before Billy cut her off. “I need to have the courage somehow! I mean.. She’s perfect! She truly is a dream girl. I mean.. she’s kind and wonderful and beautiful.. I could go on and on about her.” He said. Lana just sighed.
“Well.. It does not hurt to try. What is there to be afraid of?” She questioned. Billy looked at her and looked down. “What is to be afraid of? Rejection.” He responded. “Again. It doesn't hurt to try it out.” She responded.
He looked at his sister. Maybe she does have a point. It would not be the end of the world if he had tried… right? “Fine. I’ll try to ask her out. Besides, how am I gonna do that?” He questioned. When he asked that , Lana looked like she was thinking.
Billy looked out the window and saw a booth that was selling Valentine’s Day items. It was full of teddy bears, flowers and many more essential Valentine’s Day items. Then he had an idea.
“I could ask her out on Valentine’s day! That’s perfect isn’t it?” Billy said with a proud smile. Lana nods while sharing a smile. Billy beamed and looked confident. “I’ll give her the best Valentine’s gift. Surely it’ll make her want to go out with me.” He said.
It was a good idea. What could go wrong?
__________
It was now the 13th day of the month. A day before Valentine’s Day. Billy was sitting on his couch thinking of ways on how to impress this woman. So far.. he got nothing. What could he give her? What could he do to get her to be in awe of him?
A piece of jewelry? They have been advertising them constantly. No. Too pricey. What about a walk at the park? Would that work? Maybe not. What about a poem? He’s not good at poetry. He could never do that.
Billy sighed and rubbed his face. Why was this so hard? What could he give her for Valentine’s Day? Maybe he should give up.. Wait No. He can’t. He was confident that he would not give up! He has to go for it. He has to shoot his shot.
Billy had stood up and decided to go out. He would go out and find something that he could not only afford , but something that would wow her. He was confident that it would work.
He grabbed his wallet and put it in his pocket before he stepped out of his home. He decided to walk to the local supermarket to see what they’d have to offer. Surely they’d have something good in mind. Right?
__________
After a slightly long walk , Billy entered the supermarket, looked around and tried to find the area that sold Valentine’s day items. He walked around and looked before he saw it. But to his surprise, it was slightly crowded.
Many people were looking around to see what the area had to offer. From lovers looking for something for their significant others to mothers looking for Valentine’s cards for their kid’s Valentine’s party at school , it looked slightly chaotic. Well.. In his eyes it did.
But was he going to back down? No. Billy entered the area and explored the area. Hm.. what could he get her? It was a lot to choose.
Billy strolled through the area, contemplating the perfect Valentine's Day gift for his her. As he explored the shelves, the possibilities seemed endless. From fragrant bouquets to exquisite chocolates, the choices were overwhelming. Yet, Billy was determined to find something uniquely special for her. As he strolled past the section, an idea sparked in his mind.
Fresh flowers! The floral arrangements caught his eye, and he imagined presenting a beautiful bouquet to his neighbor. Billy carefully selected a mix of her favorite flowers, envisioning the delight on her face when he handed them to her tomorrow. “Perfect.” He said with a proud smile.
With flowers in hand, he ventured further into the store, determined to complement the bouquet with something more personal. As he perused the aisles, the confectionery section beckoned him, and he decided on a box of assorted chocolates to add a sweet touch to the gift.
Billy's thoughtful quest didn't end there. He wanted this gesture to be memorable, so he meandered through the store, searching for a charming card to express his feelings. After scanning numerous options, he found one that captured the sentiment he couldn't put into words.
With the bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, and a heartfelt card, Billy approached the checkout counter, excitement and nervousness intertwining within him. The cashier smiled knowingly, recognizing the classic signs of someone gearing up for a special occasion.
As Billy left the supermarket, he couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and optimism. Valentine's Day was just tomorrow, and he was armed with a thoughtful ensemble that he hoped would win over her heart. He was confident with that.
__________
That night, as Billy arranged the flowers, placed the chocolates in a neat package, and signed the heartfelt card, a wave of nervous energy washed over him. He paced around his living room, talking to himself in hushed tones.
“Come on, Billy, you can do this," he whispered, trying to convince himself. He rehearsed what he would say, stumbling over words and then finding the right ones. The weight of uncertainty hung in the air as he debated the pros and cons of confessing his feelings.
“But what if she doesn't feel the same way?" he questioned, glancing at the bouquet as if seeking answers. The possibility of rejection gnawed at him, but a spark of determination flickered in his eyes.
He continued his one-man pep talk, encouraging himself to take the leap. "You've got a great plan, a thoughtful gift. She'll appreciate the effort, right?" Billy mumbled, almost convincing himself that everything would unfold perfectly.
As he prepared for the following day, the internal dialogue persisted. “Is it worth the risk?" Doubts and insecurities clouded his thoughts, but the desire for something more pushed him forward.
With a deep breath, Billy reflected on the moments they shared, the smiles they exchanged, and the connection that had grown between them. The idea of spending Valentine's Day alone, wondering "what if," outweighed the fear of rejection.
With a newfound determination, Billy set the stage for the next day, hopeful that his gesture would be met with warmth.
__________
Valentine's Day arrived, and Billy meticulously groomed himself, selecting an outfit that radiated a charming blend of casual and sophisticated. He spared no effort in ensuring he looked his best, as he hoped to make a lasting impression on his neighbor. He even had a clean shaven face.
As he stood before the mirror, smoothing down his shirt, a surge of confidence filled him. "You've got this," he told himself, determined to approach the day with positivity.
As he made his way to his neighbor's door with the carefully arranged gifts, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through him. The bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates were held tightly in his hands, his heart pounding with anticipation.
He really got this. He is about to do it!
However, just as fate often teases with irony, a moment of clumsiness struck. As he approached her door, he tripped over an uneven sidewalk, sending the bouquet of flowers, the box of chocolates, and the heartfelt card soaring through the air. Panic and disappointment washed over him as he watched his carefully arranged gifts scatter in all directions.
“No!” He exclaimed , looking at the gifts he had gotten on the floor. The box of chocolates was open and out , the flowers looked wrinkled , and the card landed on mud.
Billy's heart sank, and for a moment, he contemplated abandoning the mission altogether. He muttered discouraging words to himself, convinced that this mishap had sealed his fate. "I knew I couldn't do this. It was a silly idea," he murmured, berating himself for what seemed like a comedy of errors. “God.. I’m such an fuck up.”
As Billy remained on the sidewalk, contemplating the shattered pieces of his planned surprise, he heard the door behind him creak open. To his surprise, Y/N, with a curious and concerned expression, rushed outside, witnessing the aftermath of the unexpected mishap.
“Billy, are you okay?" she asked, genuine worry etched on her face as she took in the scene. She noticed the scattered flowers, the fallen chocolates, and the way he looked disheartened.
Feeling a mix of embarrassment and disappointment, Billy stammered, "I, uh, I..”
Embarrassment flushed across Billy's face as he stammered, "I... I wanted to give you something for Valentine's Day." He admitted, feeling vulnerable and exposed. The weight of the moment hung in the air as he awaited her reaction.
To his surprise, instead of disappointment, a warm smile spread across her face. "Really? For me?" she exclaimed, genuine delight replacing any concern she initially had. Her eyes twinkled with a mix of surprise and joy.
Billy nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "Yeah, I wanted it to be perfect, but..." he gestured helplessly toward the scattered gifts, now gathered in his hands. “But, well, it's all ruined now."
To his surprise, she smiled, shaking her head. "Ruined? Not at all, Billy. It's the thought that counts, and this unexpected twist just makes it even more special. I appreciate the effort you put into this."
Perplexed by her response, Billy couldn't help but question, "But, I mean, everything went wrong. I tripped, gifts flew everywhere. How is that not ruined?"
She chuckled warmly, meeting his eyes with understanding. "Billy, it's not about everything going perfectly. It's about the sincerity and effort behind the gesture. The fact that you went through all this trouble to make Valentine's Day special for me means more than anything."
As she spoke, Billy found himself reconsidering his perspective. Perhaps, he realized, the mishap hadn't ruined everything; it had added an element of authenticity to his expression of feelings. His neighbor's reassurance made him appreciate the beauty in the unpredictability of life.
With a smile, she added, "Besides, it's the story we create together that matters. This unexpected twist just makes our Valentine's Day more memorable, don't you think?"
Billy couldn't help but nod in agreement, grateful for the wisdom and understanding his neighbor brought to the situation.
Encouraged by her understanding, Billy took a deep breath, reminding himself of his original intention. The scattered gifts, though imperfect, became a symbol of their shared moment, and he couldn't let this opportunity slip away.
Summoning his courage, he looked into Y/N's eyes and said, "You know, there's something else I wanted to ask you. I was wondering.. if you'd like to go out on a date with me sometime. You don’t have to say yes but..”
His words hung in the air, and a nervous energy surrounded them. The unexpected mishap had paved the way for a more genuine connection, and as he awaited her response, a mix of anticipation and vulnerability played on his face.
Y/N, who had been through the rollercoaster of surprises that evening, grinned warmly. "I would love that, Billy. It sounds like a perfect idea."
Billy's heart swelled with happiness as he processed his neighbor's positive response. A smile graced his face, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement about the prospect of a date.
“I'm looking forward to it. Maybe.. Saturday at six pm?” he replied, a mix of relief and joy in his voice. She nodded and smiled. “Sure. I would love that.” She responded. He can’t believe it. His plan went great! Well.. it wasn’t how he expected but it went great! He was getting the woman of his dreams.
Then with a playful twinkle in her eye, she suggested, "Why don't you come inside for a bit? I've actually made some cake, and I think we could use a sweet ending to this eventful day."
Billy's spirits lifted even more at the invitation. "Sure, I'd love that," he said, appreciating the warmth and comfort she offered.
As they stepped into her cozy home, the scent of freshly baked cake enveloped them. They continued to talk, sharing stories and laughter, turning what could have been a discouraging day into one filled with unexpected connections and delightful surprises.
Feeling a genuine connection blossoming, Billy couldn't help but appreciate the unpredictability of life. In the warmth of her company, he found not only a wonderful Valentine's Day but also the promise of something more meaningful.
Days turned into weeks, and their days together were filled with smiles, shared interests, and the joy of discovering each other. Eventually, what started as a nervous attempt to express his feelings blossomed into a beautiful romance.
In the end, Billy's Valentine's Day plan, despite its bumps and surprises, led him to a happy ending. A love story that unfolded unexpectedly but perfectly, just like the imperfectly perfect bouquet of flowers.
#billy washington#billy washington x reader#billy washington x you#billy washington x fem!reader#this is my first fic#pls be nice ._.#trigger point#ewan mitchell#billy washington imagine#billy washington x y/n#my writings ˚ ༘♡ ⋆
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Closing Time
Summary: You and Billy do your best to make time for one another.
Paring: Billy Washington x Female!Reader
Word Count: 1895
Warnings: Semi-public sex, kissing shenanigans, teasing, oral (f receiving), p in v unprotected.
Author's Note: This is in the same universe, just a smutty continuation inspired by the wonderful, the brilliant @helaelaemond. I cannot thank you enough and I hope I did your husband justice.
Thank you to my brilliant beta reader Angsti, my beloved. 💜
Dividers by @saradika 💜
Billy could be considered your favorite customer.
There was a bias, of course, since you lived together, though lately your schedules were conflicting. You had made the choice to finish your degree while continuing with your shifts at the coffeehouse, to help with income but also because your boss liked you enough to flex with your academic schedule. Meanwhile, Billy had finished his suspended sentence and had impressed enough to receive a job opportunity to work at a warehouse, though its shifts were a bit grueling with four days on for three days off.
But it allowed you to find time together with the fourth day becoming something habitual between you two: he would come in to wait around until you were done with closing, and then you would walk home together. Eventually, your boss allowed Billy to remain indoors once the seasons changed, but only after he had insisted on paying for the free flat you had poured him.
“Such a nice boy,” she tutted along with her permission, though you knew she preferred having a second closer that did not require a separate payroll.
This night felt different. You were aglow from the moment he dipped through the door frame, his cheeks pink from the growing cold outside. Winter was pressing in and the time shift now tucked the sun away earlier, making the days shorter and encouraging a homebody mentality overall.
Billy was seated with his mug–a holiday treat made by you–and his eyes rapt to you, watching as you escorted the last customers out, locking the door behind them.
You were well aware of his unwavering stare throughout your shift, now following your movements as you ticked off your closing duties. You were playing into his want, into his desire that swirled and mixed with the black consuming the blue of his eyes. A smile hints at your lips with the sway of your hips, your languid steps that saunter towards a neighboring table, bending over to unduly arrange the holiday decoration. Your lips curl upwards when you hear him finally stand up.
His chair scrapes against the linoleum floor, the light switch flipping off to cast the coffeehouse in half shadows, half golden glow of the street lights spilling through the windows. His muted steps come up behind you and you feel the press against your backside, his large hands touching your hips and moving to pull you upright, wrapping around until you are flush to his chest. Billy tucks his head into the curve of your neck with a deep inhale, a gentle kiss.
“We’re closed, sir,” you tease, turning in his embrace to face him.
He hums in response, his large palms now resting on your hips with a tantalizing squeeze that sends a jolt towards your core. “I’m almost done, Billy,” you continue with your coy tone, “I think I just have this table and then the bartop–”
He stops you with a kiss. His mouth is warm with the taste of peppermint and chocolate, a drink he only enjoys when you make it for him. Billy steps closer to you, his hands following your curves to cradle your lower back, guiding steps until your backside presses against the solid oak table.
A sigh accompanies your smile now and his tongue curls into your mouth, moving in tandem with your own in response. It is slow, it is searching, it is swallowing your soft noises that threaten to spill and dragging the air from your lungs.
You are dizzy when he pulls away. “Billy…” is all you can manage, your voice barely a whisper.
His nose and cheeks are stained crimson, a crooked smile as he looks you over. “I missed you,” is all that he offers before he captures your mouth again.
Your arms reach to wrap around his neck and he circles your waist, crushing you against his chest. You can feel the heat of his palms following the slope of your back and cupping below your ass, lifting you enough until you are seated on top of the table.
He kneels in front of you and you peer down to watch his long fingers untie your laces, removing one shoe. You quickly toe off the other. Billy looks up, eyes glittering, shining with his desire. “Look at you,” he breathes, standing up to slot himself between your plush thighs; your breath hitches, your fingers grappling to unbutton your jeans; his fingers dipping into the waistline and peeling them away. “So beautiful.”
Your felicity that has been thrumming beneath now rises to the surface, a flush of red that spreads from your face to your neck and lower. “Billy,” your tone is soft and you reach to tuck your fingers in the waist of his joggers, pulling him to close the space created between, “I need you, please.”
His palms cup your face. “So needy,” he murmurs and then kisses you again with a new tensity that curls your freed toes. Billy then pulls away to remove your uniform top over your head, his hand pressing to your chest, “I wanna go slow. Lay back for me, pretty, and raise your arms above your head.”
And you do just as he asks.
One hand wraps around your wrists, holding them to the table, and then Billy leans forward until his lips are barely flitting across your skin, his hot exhale causing it to rise. He takes his time, nipping and kissing and licking, careful to cherish your soft curves until your blood simmers to the surface, until your writhe and plead beneath him.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs again, pulling back so his other hand can dip between your thighs. He cups your still clothed cunt and you cry pitifully. His hum is low: “I love the sounds you make,” he admits, his dimples lining his cheeks.
He finally releases your wrists and your hands move to clamp the edge of the table to brace as you lift your hips, allowing him to finally pull away your underwear. You tilt your chin to your chest, blinking, your eyes wet from your want, watching his smile spread still when he tells you: “I want you to spread your thighs for me.”
They tremble when you do and Billy grabs a chair, pulling up to the table. Your skin pickles when his warm hands press to the insides and push further, dipping his head between. His hold dimples into your skin, pulling you closer to the table edge, his tongue finally tasting you. You mewl tearfully and his moan reverberates your bones beneath, his mouth finally latching to the bloom of nerves above.
Billy knows you, knows your body. His tongue follows the intricate grooves, a merciless suckle until your pleasure is splintering into your bloodstream and returning with vigor to your core. You gasp from the craftful curl of his finger, coaxing that spot within you that has you seeing stars.
He feels the flutter of your walls and hums against your cunt, his tongue continuing to pull a pleasure that courses through your veins. It flares to the ends of your nerves until you feel alight, aglow, and you cry out with your release that pulls the air from your lungs and splits you into a thousand pieces, now floating above.
It is the warmth of his palm that grounds you, guides you, returns you back to your flesh again, aflame and breathless. He is standing now with his hand pressing between your breasts, feeling your heart bruising against, feeling the rise and fall as you slowly catch your breath.
Your name sounds far away and you look up to Billy. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice low, gravelly.
You feel dazed, a chill from your post-climax sheen. You also see the swell of him pressing against the crotch of his joggers, his hand dipping to grab the base and pull it above his waistband. There is a genial glide as he sinks into your warm heat, a fill so satisfying that you can still feel the aftershocks of your peak pulsing around his girth.
Billy takes a sharp breath, pausing to compose himself, a red stain on his cheeks with his concentration. “You feel perfect,” he rasps, his hands moving to the outside of your thighs, coming to hold onto your hips. “You’re just…perfect.”
He moves, his pace brutal but unhurried, and filling you with each thrust. You see flashes of color in the darkness of the shop, your pleasure now white and hot, building and bursting in front of your eyes with each snap of his hips against yours.
“Billy,” you whine, your ankles hooking behind him.
He presses his thumb to your bottom lip and you take it in your mouth, your tongue quick to suckle and coat with your spit. Billy pulls his hand away and presses with intention to a spot he knows so intimately.
Your back arches with his touch and his other hand grips into the softness of your hips. “I got you,” his voice is low, hoarse, punctuated with how his hips rut against you. “I know, I know. I can feel you,” and he draws a shaky inhale, “and you feel so perfect…”
You shatter with his words, a tensity that pulls lower, deeper, until it rattles you to the marrow of your bones. Billy follows after you with the hot pulse of his cock buried in your velvet walls, and your cunt clenches with his release, your thighs tightening around his slender waist.
After a moment, Billy leans forward with golden curls of his sandy locks on his damp brow. He presses a kiss to your hairline and his movement sends another trill of pleasure through you, faint but delicious. His hands grab hold of your thighs and rests them on top of the table where you lay, boneless.
“I believe you might be one of my favorite customers,” you finally say, pushing to your elbows to watch as he tucks himself back into his joggers.
He chuckles. “I wonder how I can become your favorite?” He bends over to grab your puddle of clothes, coming back to give a chaste kiss on your mouth. “Where did I put your shoes–?”
You push to sit upright, your fingers clawing into his shirt and pulling him back towards you. Billy looks at you, his brow lifting in amusement, but follows, allowing you to wrap your arms around his waist and burrowing your head onto his chest. He wraps his arms around you and presses another kiss to the top of your head.
“Let’s go home, Billy.”
His hands drop to both sides of you and your arms fall away, looking up to meet with his eyes. The blue has returned, still brilliant in the shadows of the shop. “We should probably wipe this table off first.”
And you dress quickly, remembering to count down the till, peering over to watch his lean form hunch over the table, thorough to wipe away the smell of sex that was pungent in the crisp air filling the coffeehouse.
Outside, your breath is white and dissipates quickly above. You lock the door and then knit your fingers with Billy’s, which he tucks away into the warmth of his coat pocket. You press close, smiling as you begin to walk home. Together.
Taglist [Tumblr kindred spirits]: @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl
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#billy washington#billy x you#billy x reader#billy washington x you#billy washington x reader#trigger point fanfic#post cranstead au#congratulations ellie my love!
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