I Know, I Know, Another Post, Unnecessary Or Whatever, But Fuck I Can't Just Sit Still Without Talking

has anyone else seen this i’m dying laughing bcs is she dead ass😭 why is this girl crying

who are some of ur fav writers?

this is the best question ever

@whor3ing

@bernardsbendystraws

@cherrygirlfriend

@billzbling

@vijaxx

@biloverd

@vanteguccir

@xoluvx

@leoslaboratory

@karaaeilish

@luvs4matt

@bambisturns

@ariestrxsh

@muwapsturniolo

@gracie-eilish

@thebluediner

@47lake

@rafesangelita

@maybanksprincess

@y3sterdaysproblem

@chrepsi

there are SO many more but it won’t let me tag a bunch of people 💔

I LOVE THIS

You better lock your phone

and look at me when you're alone

Billie Eilish x reader

The low hum of your phone vibrates in your palm, thumb idly scrolling. Blue light flickers in the otherwise dim room, the only other glow coming from Billie’s screen across from you. She’s curled in her desk chair, legs pulled up loosely, chin tucked into her knee. But she’s not scrolling. Hasn’t been for minutes.

She’s watching you.

Her gaze is steady, almost too steady, quietly intense in the way only Billie can be. A slow, deliberate stare that feels like a hand around your throat even from across the room. You feel it before you see it, a shift in the air. A weight. Her silence speaks in volumes: look at me.

You don’t. You keep scrolling, pretending not to notice the simmering heat between you.

The chair creaks as she shifts. You glance up. Just for a second.

Her lips twitch in a barely-there smirk.

Then she gets up.

She walks slowly, barefoot on hardwood, her steps purposeful but casual. Her tank top hangs low, loose around her ribs, the thin strap threatening to slip off one shoulder. When she climbs into bed beside you, she doesn’t say a word. She just lets her fingers ghost along your arm, slow strokes up and down like she’s not doing anything at all.

Still, you don’t look up.

She leans in, close to your ear, her breath warm and sweet. “You better lock your phone…”

Her voice is honeyed sin, low and smooth, each word a drag. You shiver.

“…and look at me when you’re alone.”

Your screen goes dark.

She climbs over your lap, slow and deliberate, straddling your hips and pulling your phone from your hand, dropping it somewhere off the bed. You finally look up at her, and fuck—her pupils are blown, lips parted, cheeks flushed already from anticipation alone. Her arms drape over your shoulders, her body warm and soft against yours.

“You ignoring me?” she asks, like it’s not obvious what she’s doing, like her voice isn’t already fraying at the edges.

You lean back into the pillows, letting her settle fully on your lap, hands gripping her thighs. “Maybe.”

That’s when she really moves. She tilts your chin up, eyes locked with yours, and grinds, slow, deep, deliberate. You groan, head falling back, but she grabs your jaw, forces you to keep looking at her.

“No,” she whispers. “You watch.”

She rides your thigh lazily at first, just enough pressure to make her sigh, her body melting into yours. Your hands trail up her waist, her ribs, feeling her tremble. She kisses you slow, tasting like need and patience running out. Every time she moves her hips, you feel it in your whole body, heat pooling in your core like it’s yours, like you’re the one being touched.

She rolls her hips again, this time moaning into your mouth, and that’s it. You’re gone.

You push her back gently, let her fall into the pillows, and then you’re between her thighs. Her tank top rides up, panties already damp. You kiss up her thighs, slow, teasing, and she writhes beneath you, desperate. Her hands reach for your hair, guiding you closer.

“Please,” she whispers, and it’s breathless. Almost wrecked already.

You pull her panties to the side and bury your face between her legs.

She gasps, sharp, high-pitched, and you groan into her like you’ve been starving for this, like every soft whimper she makes is the only thing you’ll ever need again. Your tongue moves slow, languid, just how she likes it. You feel her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling, trembling, trying to ground herself.

She starts grinding up against your face, rhythm messy, and you let her. You want her to. You’re drunk on the way she tastes, the way she moans your name like she’s confessing something holy.

“Fuck, don’t stop...don’t stop, please—”

You don’t. You moan into her, let her come undone, your hands holding her thighs apart as she arches, writhes, loses control. Her voice is hoarse now, broken little cries that make your whole body throb. She comes hard, loud and shaking, and you don’t stop until she pushes at your head, overstimulated, twitching.

You kiss your way up her body, face flushed and soaked, eyes wild with hunger.

She looks at you like you just gave her the world.

And all you can do is smile, dazed and hungry, and say, “Next time, don’t make me wait so long to put my phone down.”

guys if we are moots add me to your taglist i wanna see your work!!!<3

This is incredibly random but i love when yall ask the most outrageous things in my inbox.

I’m here for the girlies and i want you all to know tmi doesn’t exist with me, im happy to answer absolutely anything, like literally confess your deepest darkest secrets or just ask me how to eat puss or sumn idk. im telling you theres no such thing as tmi w me and yall. i love u all xoxo

guys I need sub billie right NOW💜

need her fingers on me like that😔😔😔😔🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

sobbing crying throwing up

WE HUG NOW 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

authors note: this song has been stuck in my head for weeks

warnings: angst, divorce/breakup

you never wanted the money.

not the cars. not the spotlight. not the gated houses or the sold-out arenas. you would’ve lived in a tiny apartment, eating cereal on the floor every night if it meant waking up next to her—billie, the way she was before everything got loud.

she used to fall asleep with her head on your chest, murmuring lyrics into your skin like secrets. used to light up when she saw you walk into a room, like the whole world paused just long enough for her to memorize you again.

but somewhere along the way, the world stopped slowing down.

and she stopped looking up.

you started counting the days between her phone calls. between the nights she came home. between the moments you still felt like hers. you told yourself it was temporary. that fame came with distance, and distance didn’t mean detachment. you told yourself she’d remember.

but then came the fight.

you were sitting in the nursery, holding your daughter while she clung to your arm, the weight of the world pressing down on your chest. billie paced in front of you, her voice sharp, accusing.

“do you love me,” she asked, “or just the life i gave you?”

you didn’t have words. it hit you like a slap in the face, and all the breath left your lungs. you would’ve given everything up for her.

but in that moment, you realized she didn’t believe you. maybe she never did.

so you let her go.

the divorce was quiet. clinical. the kind where nothing catches fire but everything still burns.

she left the house. she left the crib. she left one thing behind—a beat-up old phone, screen cracked, tucked beneath the baby blanket in the rocker.

a single voice memo, labeled:

halley’s comet. for her.

you sat in the dim light of the nursery that night, holding your daughter to your chest, listening to billie’s voice crackle through the speaker.

“hi, baby girl. this is your song. i’ll always love you, even when i’m not there.”

she sang like she was still trying to hold on. and you cried like you already knew she wouldn’t.

your daughter is four now.

she runs everywhere instead of walking. she’s all questions and scraped knees and big, open-hearted feelings. she asks about the stars when she can’t sleep, says she feels safest when you hold her.

she knows the song by heart. you’ve played it for her every night since she was born. she calls it her song, like it was written by the universe just for her. and maybe, in a way, it was.

you’re driving her home from preschool one afternoon, the air warm, the sun soft on your arm, and the radio starts playing a song that makes your heart skip.

it’s halley’s comet.

not the voice memo. the full version. studio-polished. stripped-down and haunting and beautiful. billie’s voice, older now, but still her. still yours, somehow.

from the backseat, your daughter perks up, her voice sharp with recognition.

“mama… my song.”

you grip the steering wheel, the pressure of her words making your chest tighten.

she’s staring out the window, her small hand pressed to her chest like she’s holding something fragile, something sacred. and it is.

you force a smile, blinking back the tightness in your throat. “yeah, baby,” you whisper. “that’s your song.”

a week later, your phone buzzes.

someone sends you a clip from billie’s latest interview—she’s on a late-night talk show, radiant, untouchable. the interviewer brings you up like a distant memory, something forgotten.

“so, you and y/n. what happened there?”

billie laughs easily, like it’s nothing. like it’s a joke.

“oh, that. yeah. we ended it on mutual terms. it’s all good now.”

mutual.

like you didn’t stay awake for months, waiting for her to come home, waiting for her to see you again. like you didn’t rock your daughter to sleep, night after night, with the sound of billie’s voice in the dark, your heart breaking quietly every time. like you didn’t love her with every piece of yourself. like you still don’t, a little.

you pause the video.

the house is quiet. the laundry hums softly in the next room. your daughter’s asleep upstairs, her tiny body curled around a stuffed bunny, the old phone still tucked under her pillow.

you sit there, the glow of the screen fading to black.

and you think—

god, she really believes it was nothing.

you’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened.the world ended when it happened to me.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @eloiseluvsbillie @bxllxebxtch | send me an ask, or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

flash us WHAT WHO SAID THAT

im salivating

goodnight 😊🪄