🌟bILLIE eILISH smut 🌟

QUICK CUM HERE (pt.5)

You wake to the feeling of Billie's breath against the back of your neck, warm and steady. Her arm is still draped over your waist, her fingers curled against your stomach like she doesn't want to let go—even in sleep. You barely move, afraid of breaking the quiet spell of the morning.

But then you feel it—her lips press softly to your shoulder, then pause.

You smile to yourself, eyes still closed. "You're awake."

A low hum from her. "Barely."

You roll onto your back, turning toward her. Her hair's messy, the corner of her mouth creased from your pillow, and she's never looked more beautiful. Sleepy and open and real.

You reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You stayed."

"I meant to," Billie says, her voice rough from sleep. "Wasn't gonna leave after that."

Your hand lingers near her jaw. "After what?"

"That kiss," she says, like it's obvious. "That look you gave me. Felt like... you trusted me."

You lean in slowly, pressing your forehead to hers. "I do."

There's a stillness between you then. The kind that's not empty—just full of choices waiting to be made. Your fingers trail down the front of her shirt, stopping just where the fabric gathers above her ribs.

"Last night," you murmur, "you said you wanted to do this right."

"I did say that."

"You still do?"

Billie's eyes meet yours, sharper now. Awake. Wanting. "Yeah. But I also wanna see how right it can feel when we stop holding back."

You don't answer with words. You get what she's saying. You kiss her.

And this time, it's not hesitant or soft. It's slow-burning but urgent, mouths parting with a hunger that's been building quietly for weeks—months, maybe.

Her hands are already under your shirt, palms warm against your skin. She touches you like she knows the shape of your body by memory but wants to relearn every inch with her hands.

You pull her on top of you and she fits there like she always has—only now it feels earned.

When she kisses down your neck, it's not teasing. It's reverent.

Clothes come off in pieces, pulled away gently and with intention. You strip her shirt off first, fingers brushing the piercings you remembered, tongue trailing heat down her chest until she gasps, grounding herself in your hair.

She undresses you slowly, like unwrapping something she's waited too long to touch properly. When her hand slides between your legs, she doesn't rush—she learns. She takes the time to make it feel intimate unlike every other time where she's been merciless, pounding you into a mess.

She watches your face. Presses, circles with her fingers, waits for your breath to catch before pushing further.

You're soaked. And the way she moans when she feels it is quiet, primal. It makes you even wetter.

She slides two fingers in, slow and deep, curling them just right, her thumb finding your clit like it's second nature. And she watches you fall apart—eyes locked to yours as you gasp her name, as your hips move into her hand like they have a mind of their own.

You pull her into a kiss, messy and desperate, your hands on her hips, nails digging in as you grind up against her. She groans into your mouth and presses harder, faster, until your body tenses and you cum—silent at first, then gasping, clutching her like you're afraid she'll disappear.