#trigger point series

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

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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[assortedseaglass]

Come Back To Me - Epilogue

Billy Washington x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ Language and Smut.

Author’s Note: How are we feeling after the photoshoot, pals? Are we okay? Have we gone insane? Have we gone completely feral? It came just at the right time for the epilogue…

This is the last instalment of Come Back To Me. Thank you all so much for your support with this story - as I have said before, sharing my writing has been very nerve wracking but you have all made it so worth it! Your kind words have meant the world, and I feel much more at ease to share more in the future.

Billy and Ida occupy such a lovely little corner of my mind, and I must admit I’m sad that this fic is over. I’m glad that my version of Billy has been received so well, and that Ida has been so accepted by you all! Maybe in the future, I’ll write more about the pair of them. Send any suggestions, requests or ideas my way! Here goes…

Word Count: 5.6K

Billy stepped off the train and was met by the gentle smell of foxglove, campion and cow parsley. May, ten months after Cranstead Fields. Spring in Woodwell was in full bloom; bunting was strung from the village pub, swifts split the air with their wings, and scent of suncream was brought in with the season’s first tourists.

Billy breathed deeply the fresh air, shouldered his bag and followed the few other passengers that had left the train to the station steps. Flicking his glasses off his head and onto the sharp bridge of his nose, he rounded the corner into the warmth of the sunlight and began the short walk home. A sharp whistle rang through the evening air. Billy was grinning before he even turned around.

“Where you heading?” Her hair was lit by the setting sun. Billy watched insects flutter in the hazy light around her, and occasionally a robin or blackbird darted out to feast on them. Billy knew they were catching dinner before settling in for the night, but it looked as though she had summoned them herself. His wild thing. As she leant against the door of her car, a seductive smirk played on her lips, whether she knew it or not.

“Got a girl waiting at home,” he replied, walking slowly towards her.

“Lucky thing,” the woman snaked her arms around Billy’s neck and leant against the car, bringing him with her. Billy laughed as he kissed her. He pulled away and she pulled him back. He laughed once more, kissing her between chuckles.

“You’re insatiable.”

“If you only knew,” she smiled against his lips. “How was it?”

“I fucking hate the city.” Billy stood back to admire her. “You look nice.” She blushed and flattened her skirt a little. He moved towards the passenger side but was stopped by her voice.

“You’re up, big boy.” She threw him the car keys and laughed brightly, touching his arm as she passed him by. “You feeling up to it?” Billy kissed her cheek and nodded. He opened the door to the driver’s side, glancing around at the spring scene. Taking a deep breath, he sat down. The leather of the steering wheel creaked as he gripped it. He checked the mirrors, checked his seatbelt, and leant over to check the glovebox. A hand snapped out to grip his wrist.

“You’re ok,” she said soothingly, rubbing the skin with her thumb. Billy swallowed, nodded almost imperceptibly, and started the engine.

*

After the events at Cranstead Fields, Billy wouldn’t go near a car. Couldn’t. The smell of leather or petrol made him gag. A single thought about driving saw him dissolve into a sweating, sobbing frenzy. For a while, he got the bus, train or even walked between his parents’ house, Ida’s flat and his weekly therapy sessions at the hospital.

Through it all, he and Ida talked about leaving the city. Sofia and Faisal had launched into their wedding plans, and Ida offered to move out so that they may begin married life alone. They had protested, but really, Ida was keen to start her own life. She had never felt quite at home in London. She craved the wild intensity of the country. Of the coast. To be bustled about by the wind and rain rather than the city dwellers.

Billy, too, found London life stifling. There were too many painful memories lurking around every corner now. He remembered once telling Ida that she had outgrown him, outgrown their life on the outskirts of London. But now, he felt he had joined her. Every day he felt the tips of his fingers yearning to reach out and grab something. What that was he wasn’t sure, until Ida burst into the flat one day beaming from ear to ear. A heritage charity based near Dungeness had heard about her work from one of her PhD tutors. Impressed by her dedication to teaching, they offered her a position and cottage in nearby Woodwell. Not a month before Ida earned her PhD and they moved to the cottage, Has appeared on the Washington’s doorstep. Was Billy around? He had recently left the service citing “bad knees and enough adrenaline to take him to the next millennium” and had started a charity using sport to help rehabilitate military veterans. And so, Billy found himself studying sports therapy with funding from Has’ charity while helping veterans find community in the form of weekly football matches.  

The winter months passed them by in a blur of packing, teaching and exploring. Billy hadn’t been able to face the two-hour drive from London to the village, and so when Sofia and Faisal finished helping them load the moving van, he boarded the train and met them at little Woodwell station. He had felt ashamed, childish and heartily embarrassed. Recognising the first signs of Billy drifting too far into his own mind, his three closest friends boosted his ego by asking him to carry the heaviest boxes.

Slowly, with the help of Ida, Billy was gradually reintroduced to driving. When they first moved to the village, Ida drove them to nearby beauty spots so that they might explore, fuelled by picnics or flasks of soup. Occasionally, Billy drove. Only short distances, dropping Ida at the train station or grocery shop. His first big journey was to Dungeness, thirty minutes away. They stopped three times to calm Billy’s nerves and Ida had driven back, but boy did she reward him afterwards. When spring first arrived, Ida took him to a drive-in cinema to see Casablanca. Only last weekend, they’d been to watch dirt track racing with Lana and Thom. Ida was determined to rewrite his memories of driving with happy ones. Today was no exception.

*

“Mum and dad send their love,” Billy said, his arm resting against the open car window. He looked at Ida briefly and winked. Not long after Cranstead, Ida visited the Washingtons and apologised for her behaviour the day of Billy’s birthday. She still stood by what she said. Perhaps, just not the way she said it. Water under the bridge. That’s what Jeff had said. Ever since he nearly lost Billy, he was a changed man. Quieter, gentler.

“Did you see Gran?”

“I did, actually. She was heading out with her fancy man!”

“Maybe we’ll have another wedding to go to!” Ida laughed, but the idea of her grandmother finding happiness after all she had been through filled her heart with starlight. “Turn left here.” Billy did as he was told, mind flooding with images of Ida in a white dress. They turned onto a narrow country lane lined with high hedges.

“Where are you taking me, woman?”

“It’s a surprise! Left again at the end of the lane.” Ida reached behind her to grab her bag, and Billy swallowed hard when the slit of skirt parted. She had gained some happiness weight since their move to the cottage, and fuck he loved it on her. The flesh of her thighs looked so soft and beautifully warm. She pulled down the passenger mirror, applied some lip balm and teasingly puckered her lips at him.

Billy barked a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

Ida wound down the window and Billy saw, from the corner of his eye, her hair whip about her face in the breeze. He placed a hand on her thigh, and Ida felt the first frisson of excitement fizzle there. “See that track, up the hill?” She rasped, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “Just up there.” Billy removed his hand to change gear. Ida could still feel the heat of where it had rested on her. The car hobbled over the track and broke through a clearing of trees. Woodwell came into view at the bottom of the valley. From their vantage point on the hill, the ocean could be seen on the horizon, hazy in the evening light. The swifts were still screeching overhead, and Billy watched as a few deer pranced in a field below.

“Ida-”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it!? I told that old lady in the pub, you know, the one that always sits by the fire? Never takes off that fur coat? Well, I told her that we were new to the area and exploring, and she told me about this place. Apparently, it’s the best place to see the stars and no one comes up here!” Before Billy could open his mouth to reply, Ida dashed out of the car and round to the boot. She opened it up and came back with blankets, pillows and a flask of hot chocolate. “It’s not quite summer yet, hey?”

Billy gazed at her. His girlfriend. His best friend. His Ida. “I love you.”

Ida stopped pouring the hot chocolate and looked up at him. “Where did that come from?”

“I’m just making up for lost time.” And it was true. Billy was making up for all the lost I love yous he should have given Ida over the years.

“I love you too.” Her breath caught. His smile barely left his beautiful face these days. “I didn’t think it was possible to love you as much as I do, but it just keeps growing.”

“Don’t be soft,” he laughed, though his eyes watered and his hand moved to cradle her face and bring her into a tender kiss.

For an hour or so they sat with their seats reclined, watching the sun descend beyond the sealine and stars rise to freckle the navy sky. They spoke about plans for the cottage. Ida wanted to paint the door red; she had always dreamed of a house with a red door. Billy had already made work on the garden, planting the sweet pea seeds Gwen had given them and the nasturtiums that hung in baskets by the door. Billy had plans to build Ida a little reading nook at the far end of the garden, under the willow tree. The reason was selfish. Ida loved to read, but he loved watching her read more. The way her mouth twitched into a small smile, or tears glazed her eyes. The unusual positions she sat in, legs propped up against the table while her hair dangled over the back of a chair. No matter how closely Billy would come to know Ida, she forgot the world and herself when she was reading.

Every now and again, Billy turned on the radio to see what music was playing. When Say You Love Me played he sang along, and Ida had to fight every urge to kiss him senseless. The night was dark now, the only light coming from the moon, stars and dim car dashboard. Ida poured the last of the hot chocolate into their flasks and handed one to Billy. She watched his lips curve around the cup.

“I’m so proud of you, Billy.”

He smiled. “What for?”

“For so many things. But today, the driving.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he finished the last of his drink, placed it in the footwell and reclined once more in his seat, cushioned by pillows and blankets. Ida did the same, lying on her side to look at him. “’Rewriting the memory’ for me.” He finished, quoting her.

Ida’s voice was low when she replied, not once looking away from his face. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Goosebumps of anticipation spread over Billy’s skin, and suddenly he felt shy. “It’s getting cold,” he whispered, though he knew full well his goosebumps weren’t caused by the chill air.

“I’ll warm you up.”

Billy swallowed.

In the reclined passenger seat, Ida leant on her elbow. Her face was still turned towards Billy, and she was thankful that the red light of the car was dim; she didn’t want him to see the nerves so brazenly decorating her cheeks. What he had said was right, Ida was insatiable. She had always loved sex, even more so now that she had Billy, and Billy’s body. But part of Ida was terrified by that side of her. She had always struggled to reckon people’s view of her as serious and studious with the free and lusty person she knew she could be. It was something she so often read in her books, sadly; women have minds or bodies, not both. She pushed the thought away. She had been waiting for this all day, had planned it for longer, and nerves were not going to ruin it. Ida pulled one of the pillows between the reclined seats so that she wouldn’t fall into the well between the two. She really had planned this. Ever so slowly, she leant towards Billy. He tried to keep composed but his eyes widened, just a little, and a bolt of confidence shot through Ida.

“You’ve been so good,” she whispered in his ear. Ida ran her nose down his neck, saw his pulse quicken and bit the taut skin of his collarbone before running her tongue back up his to his ear. “So, so good.”

“Fuck,” Billy’s breath staggered. Ida leant her arm against the head rest of Billy’s seat and lowered herself so that her breasts pressed against his chest, bringing her lips to his in an open, languid kiss. Billy hummed when her hot tongue skirted over his lower lip. She pulled back. Through heavily lidded eyes, he watched her gaze as it flickered hungrily to his lips. She ran her tongue over them once again but gave him nothing more. As Billy raised his head to chase her kisses, he caught sight of her hands untying the knot that held her skirt together. Ida had worn it intentionally; this was the same outfit she wore that first night when Billy turned up at the flat, rain-soaked and hungry for her. The thin fabric fell away, leaving Ida in her simple top and a pair of lace knickers that barely covered the ample flesh of her bottom. Her body, exposed to the cold, tensed and Billy found his voice.

“I’ve not seen these before,” Ida swung her leg over his hip as he said this, and his hands flew to her waist. She hovered over him, arms either side of his head.

“Well, you’ve been such a good boy,” she smirked. “You deserve a reward.”

Billy’s hips involuntarily bucked, desperate to meet hers. Ida laughed and, agonisingly slowly, pressed her clothed core to Billy’s hips. He moaned as she ground against him. She could feel just how painfully hard he had become through the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Already hard and I’ve barely touched you.” Billy whimpered as she dragged her core over his bulge. The grip he had on her tightened as he helped to rake her hips across his. Ida moaned at the friction the rough fabric caused on her centre. Continuing to roll her hips against Billy, she took the hem of her top and pulled it over her head. She felt a rush of power as Billy’s pupils blew wide with lust. He reached out a hand to cup one of her full breasts, the bare flesh warm under his hand, its pink nipple hardening instantly as his fingers ghosted over it. Ida rolled her hips once more, the action pushing her breasts further into his touch. Billy reached to grab the other, and he marvelled at how perfectly they filled his hands. Ida moaned, tipping her head back and rubbing her clothed pussy needily against him.

“Fuck, Ida.” His large hands trailed down her sides and came to rest on her thighs. He gripped her hard, holding her in place against him. Billy watched as she lifted her arms to tie back her hair. He didn’t think he could get any harder but this angle granted him the perfect view of the curve of her breasts, and he watched as they bounced a little with the movement of her tying her hair.

“Your tits are incredible,” he whispered, smirking. Ida giggled and rolled her hips to silence him. Billy’s head fell back against the head rest and he scrunched his eyes shut. His arousal was beginning to hurt. “Ida. Please.” Without warning, her weight disappeared from his hips. I didn’t want her to stop! Billy’s eyes flew open to be met with Ida’s face a hair’s breadth from his.

“Patience, my love.” She kissed him again, this time with hunger. She wound her hands into his hair and tugged. She rubbed her body across Billy’s. She moaned wantonly into his mouth, and Billy was seeing stars. When Ida broke away to bite at his neck and rub her hand across the swollen bulge of his trousers, he almost sobbed.

“No, no don’t go!” He was desperate now, pleading as he watched her return to her seat, kneeling to face him. Ida slid a hand into her own underwear, lips parting as she used her fingers to release some of her arousal. Billy watched, frozen, as Ida pleasured herself opposite him. He stared with burning intensity as one hand worked at her core, the other massaging one of her pink nipples. Each whimper and moan from Ida’s lips sent Billy further into madness and his breath became ragged. All those lonely years of moaning her name shamefully as he pleasured himself, of keeping his sinful thoughts at bay when she didn’t know he was watching her closely. To think now, that she had always wanted him as much, and that he could induce this kind of reaction in her only made him love her more. Want her more.  

“Take them off,” Ida commanded breathily, indicating to his trousers. Billy fumbled with the button and zip of his jeans. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he shoved them roughly to his feet along with his boxers. His cock was freed and Ida felt her core clench. It was rock hard, the tip swollen and glistening with precum. She wanted nothing more than to have him inside her, but that wasn’t part of the plan. Yet. Billy’s breath hitched, his mind dizzy. Bending forward, Ida brought her face to his length and ran her tongue its shaft.  

“Oh fuck,” Billy’s head flew against his seat, then snapped backto watch Ida work him. She ran her tongue along him a few more times, savouring the scent of his arousal as she did so. Spit coated her lips and, lit by the red light of the car, her eyes bore a wild glint as they stared into his. She looked like she was going to devour him. It occurred to Billy that she probably would, and his stomach twisted with excitement. No sooner had Billy come to this realisation were Ida’s lips on him and he gripped the seat belt with white-knuckle focus. The sensation of her hot mouth around his cock caused his hips to buck and she hummed with pride, the vibrations sending pleasure straight to Billy’s balls. He was transfixed as Ida bobbed her head, hollowed out her cheeks and took him into her mouth as deeply as she could.

“I swear to God every man dreams of this.”

Ida released him from her mouth and smiled. Pure and proud and so eager to please. She wrapped a small hand around him and pumped his length a few times, watching as precum dripped from his tip. She brought her tongue to lick it away from his slit and enveloped him with her swollen lips once again. “You taste so good,” she said when she next broke for air, before going back for more. Every now and then, she would stop to sing more praise between ministrations. “You’re so big,” “Your cock’s so pretty,” “I can’t wait to have you inside me”. That last almost had Billy spilling into her mouth. His chest heaved with staggered breaths, the act doing nothing to ease his light-headedness. A few more times Ida swirled her tongue along the tip of his shaft, her hand working at its base. When she finally released him with a sloppy pop, a trail of saliva connected his cock to her mouth and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Billy brought his hands to rub his face, as though he were dreaming.

Ida’s plan was to drag his pleasure out for as long as possible, but my God did he make it hard for her. Watching him, a panting, quivering mess before her, did nothing to quell the throbbing between her legs. Sitting back in her chair she hastily removed her underwear and straddled Billy’s hips. Ida grabbed him by the shirt and yanked so that he was forced to sit up.

“Take this off.” Billy obeyed. He discarded his shirt and brought his hands to run along Ida’s sides. Ida, in turn, ran her hands along his chest. The toned muscle, each little freckle, the sprinkling of hair and the chain that hung around his neck. Her core throbbed again. “Are you ready for your reward?” Billy nodded eagerly. Excitement curled in both of their cores. Hands moving to grip her behind, he helped guide her as she lowered herself onto him. It took everything for Billy not to thrust up into her. For a moment, the pair paused; Ida’s mouth open, Billy’s own lips parted as he watched himself disappear within her. The tight heat of her pussy overwhelmed him momentarily, and he bit his lip to contain the whimper that threatened to escape him. Instead, he focused on Ida. Her brows were tight with concentration, lips parted as she sank further onto his cock. When he was fully inside her, she shuddered. “Billy,” she breathed. “You feel amazing.” They kissed each other desperately. Billy was silent for a while, utterly intoxicated by Ida. No woman had ever loved him this way. He understood how he could let people down with his actions, this last year had shown him that, but that was his doing and under his control. And yet, whenever he had opened his heart to someone before, shown them the most vulnerable parts of him, as he was in this moment with Ida, they were unsatisfied and unsatiated. Near the end of their relationship, after yet another loveless encounter with Becky, he snapped.

“Why bother when you detest being near me? Why not go and find someone else to fuck?” He spat bitterly at her.

“Shut up, Billy.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a dreadful fuck. You’re mind is always elsewhere. With her.”

“No it’s not-”

“Maybe we’d both enjoy it more if you imagined I was Ida.” She said nastily. In that moment, Billy wanted to hurt her. How dare she sully Ida’s name like that. Drag her into their mess.

“Get out.”

Ida ran her hands through Billy’s blond hair. “Hey, are you ok?”

“S’good,” Billy swallowed. “It’s good. Please don’t stop.” Ida raised her hips before bringing them down on him. Billy groaned as she sank on to him over and over, any thoughts of Becky and his worthlessness fading. The slow pace that Ida tried to set didn’t last long. Every flex of Billy’s muscles as he held on to her, every grunt that rumbled through his chest drove Ida into a frenzy and she wildly slammed her hips onto him. Heat from their bodies steamed up the cool windows of the car, and sweat was forming on Billy’s forehead. He frowned, jaw clenched as he focused on Ida’s body. Her plump flesh glistened with sweat, a few beads running between the valley of her breasts which bounced mesmerically as she fucked him. Her hair, still tied up, was coming down around her face and plastered to her cheeks. From this position, Billy could just about see himself disappearing into her with every thrust, her slick arousal coating their thighs.

“What’s that grin for?” Ida panted as she looked down at him. An idea had popped into Billy’s head. In one fluid movement, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled himself to a sitting position. Ida made the most of this new closeness and kissed the underside of his sharp jaw. Billy smiled and kissed the side of her head, before reaching behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked again.

“Patience, my love.” He echoed. Still holding her steady, Billy reached his hand for the rear-view mirror, angling it down. “Perfect,” he whispered to himself before laying back in his seat. “Keep going,” he nodded to her. Ida looked over her shoulder, and at the mirror, before turning back to him.

“You dirty boy,” she smirked. He huffed a laugh back.

“Move,” he whispered.

“Only if you say please,” Ida whispered back, rocking her hips just a little.

“Please.” Ida gripped onto Billy’s shoulders for purchase and resumed the quick pace of her hips. Billy’s eyes travelled from her breasts to the column of her exposed neck as she tipped her head back, to the rear-view mirror. There, he watched the ripple of Ida’s backside with every slam of her hips. The moan that escaped Billy was obscene, as was Ida’s when his hands gripped the flesh of her cheeks and pulled her harder onto him. How he wished he had moved the side mirrors before the condensation settled on the windows. Seeing her from every angle awoke the animal in him, and soon, Ida was no longer in control. Billy grabbed Ida roughly and pulled her flush against him. She squeaked in surprise, and Billy brought his foot up to brace it above the footwell. This new angle gave him greater control over the harshness of his thrusts and the pace of their fucking. As he took one of her breasts in his mouth and resumed pounding into her heat, Ida cried out. Billy brought a hand to hold her waist down on him, and the other ran gently up her back to hold her neck. Ida sighed at his touch and he released her breast from his mouth. Billy ran his thumb across her bottom lip. Bliss was etched on her face. She took his thumb into her mouth and sucked gently.

“Oh my god, Ida-” He removed his hand to kiss her fervently. “You take me so well.” Ida whimpered against his lips. “It’s like you were made just for me.”

“Billy,” his last admission sent joy straight to her centre and pleasure to her core. “Billy, I’m close.” His thrusts sped up and the hand that had caressed her face found its way to her sensitive bundle of nerves. Anything for his Ida. He grazed his thumb over her clit and Ida’s hips bucked unsteadily. She pressed her forehead to his as she ground herself harder on him, desperate for any friction she could find. “Harder,” she moaned. Billy gripped her waist so hard that she knew she’d bruise. One hand on the steamy window, the other on his chest, Ida forced herself frantically down on him. The car was creaking now, though the sound was barely audible over the slap of their skin and lusty moans. Billy’s hips juddered, his pace becoming sloppy. It was over for Ida the second Billy released a few deep grunts with every thrust into her. Blinding heat spread through her body, every inch of exposed skin crackling with electricity. She cried out, tensing around Billy as an earth-shattering orgasm washed over her. Through the haze of her climax, she heard him rasp her name and felt the heat of his seed leak out of her. Looking down through half-lidded eyes, she watched him shudder beneath her, eyes tight shut, biting down on one hand while the other braced against her belly. They stilled, both shaking as their paroxysms of pleasure died away.

“I love you,” Ida said simply, smiling down at him. Billy giggled.

“I love you too.” When he giggled again, Ida joined in. His happiness was infectious. Billy patted his chest and she lay there while he remained seated within her. A few minutes passed while they caught their breath.

“The lady at the pub told you about this place?” Ida hummed a yes. “I’ll have to tell her thank you.”

*

Woodwell, a year to the day that Ida saved Billy’s life. Having left the car at the end of the lane, Ida walked to her and Billy’s little cottage laden with flowers and a cake fresh from the bakery. The pink evening sun was still warm, and Ida welcomed it on her face. From over the clematis border Ida heard music and, rounding the corner, found Billy sat on the front step with her Grandad’s guitar. A glass of beer was forgotten by his feet as he strummed, the chickens digging up weeds happily around him.

“Hey you,” she said softly. He looked up at the sound of her voice and smiled. “Give us a hand.” Ida gestured to the flowers, which Billy took and carried the table in the garden. There was still a lot of work to do on the cottage, with wood and tools stacked against Billy’s worktable. But for today, it would do. Just like at The Swan, Billy had strung fairy lights from the trees. The table was set with glasses and a few bottles of wine, and next door’s cat was already curled on one of the seats, enjoying the last of the day’s sun.

“How long until everyone gets here?” Ida was determined that today would not be one of unhappy introspection and had invited their families over to spend it with them.

“Lana and Thom should be here in about half an hour with Sofia and Faisal. I think mum and dad are bringing your gran for about 6ish?”

“We’ll have to be quick then.” She winked and ran into the house. Billy watched her go, stunned momentarily before coming to his senses. Dropping the flowers hastily on the table, he sprinted across the yard, scaring the chickens and slamming the red door behind him.

“You alright, my love?” Val had asked Ida when they arrived later. She took Ida’s face in her hands and examined her red cheeks and the slight sheen on her forehead. “Your colour’s up a bit.”

“It’s all this country air,” Gwen said from behind her.

“Something like that,” added Sofia, causing Lana to cackle.

“Hush,” Ida whispered to her friends, placing the cake on the table. She watched as everyone began to assemble around the her. The clink of glasses and plates took up. Lana and Sofia continued to giggle, Billy was making Thom and Faisal laugh, and Gwen and Val were  chatting about the garden. Jeff sat in a chair at the end of the table, looking around just as Ida was. When they caught each other’s eye, they smiled gently at each other. Here were their favourite people, happy and altogether. That was enough for them.

Ida dashed into the house for her camera. She hadn’t forgotten, not this time. Unlike all her other photos, she had already picked out a frame for this picture. She stood in the doorway that led from the kitchen into the garden and raised her camera, snapping everyone before they realised she was there. None but billy heard the click of the camera. He looked up, and Ida was quick to take the picture. Her Billy, smiling that lopsided, boyish smile, his hair ruffled and glowing gold in the summer sun. Looking at her as if no one else was around. As if she were the last woman in the world. Ida lowered her camera and smiled back it him, and for a few moments they watched each other.

Billy winked and held out his hand. He was happy, and if any memories of last year were intruding on this moment, he didn’t let it show. With Ida at his side in their little corner of the world, Billy Washington felt for the first time in his life that maybe, just maybe, he was going to be ok.

Note: Woodwell is a village that I made up! And just in case people aren’t familiar with heritage charities (there are a lot in the UK), they generally look after sites of historic interest through research, arts, sciences and public engagement. Quite a few of them are historic properties and have places to live in for the people that work there.

Thank you so much for reading and for all the love. As I said before, any ideas that might make Billy and Ida appear again are welcome!

Tags: @jessssica1234 @anditsmywholeheart @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @aemonds-wifey @slytherincursebreaker @valerie977 @i-killed-ramsey @greenowlfactif @yentroucnagol @schniiipsel @multiple-fandoms-girl @just-emmaaaa @tosiaf @kage-no-sonzai @reblogedworks

#ewan mitchell #billy washington x oc #billy washington #ewan mitchell x reader #trigger point series

[thecruel]

TRIGGER POINT 1.02

#billy washington #trigger point #ewan mitchell #these series are so funny like they really blew up my boy like that #so very unserious #gif

[supanuts]

i'm a gun, i'm a gun, til the day that man destroys me, i'm a gun

#today i bring you: more kenta feelings #pit babe #pit babe the series #garfield pantach #benz atthanin #pitbabeedit #sasa gifs #you really don't need to listen to the song lmao #but if you must #1:10 onwards #no one knows what it means to be held in a hand; to be pointed and triggered to kill #to be labeled a gun with no power to stop all the blood that man shooting will spill #oof #free kim #as in there's kim in one gif but also #PLEASE FREE KIM #the last two gifs being so similar is bothering me a bit but they're both important ok

[goemon-fan]

This was easily one of the best Lupin episodes

#there will be a rant in the tags that you can ignore #but it is so upsetting how modern/current lupin took away the depths of these characters and flimsily tries to restore their earlier depth #i'm one of those people who craves depth in what i watch and it's so difficult to like this franchise because it will be so close to doing #something interesting only to abandon it #this episode and part one as a whole was peak lupin in my opinion with each character having emotional depth yet flaws to overcome #yet modern lupin would have you believe that these characters don't desire to improve in any capacity #if we were to just focus on Goemon for example right here he shows depth with revealing hidden emotional maturity and empathy for Lupin by #comforting him and admitting he himself is afraid (which is a big deal for a character like him who is supposed to be unflinching) #but in modern lupin goemon will literally say that he's not afraid of anything and this is written without any hint of irony or depth #i'm okay with mindless entertainment and i understand that this is a series simply about stealing but the character assassination is so #disappointing #and when this series does try to be “deep” they pick the most triggering subject matter possible to depict to the point where it's #practically unwatchable (this is in reference to Part 4 and its constant SA plots as well as the rampant gratuitous child abuse plots #throughout the entire series) #i want so badly to love lupin the 3rd but it's a huge problem when fanfiction understands the characters better than the source material #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon #arsene lupin iii #jigen daisuke #daisuke jigen #fujiko mine #part 1

[jarchaeology]

my husband on s8 of his spn rewatch when the queer dean agenda finally starts to sink in

#the boy has been humoring me up to this point #tbh mostly to avoid triggering the same series of emphatic lectures from me #but then the ‘are we still talking about sam? or did you break up with someone too?’ hit

[brittlebutch]

a lot of people seem to use Entry #60 as 'proof' for the crux of the "Brian didn't care about Tim, he was Taking Advantage of Tim's conditions and Forcing him to work as part of totheark" thing, but honestly when you think about it there's no possible way Brian could have possibly orchestrated that series of events, like you almost have to interpret that as a baffling group of coincidences

#N posts stuff #mh lb #it's not like Brian has loads of mutual friends that he could ask to call Tim out one night; Tim's departure right as Brian showed up #just has to be a coincidence ; second yes. Brian does steal Tim's meds & that's a dick move but it's almost safe to assume #that Tim and Brian had been sharing prescriptions back in S1 - that's why the pills were at Brian's house that time Jay broke in #even if Tim no longer remembers that agreement it's not like Brian is brimming with other options so i can see the throughline of it #but there's NO way that Brian knew that 1) Tim was going to immediately turn around and come back home OR #2) be in the throes of an attack when he did so ; there's no Possible way he planned for that -- even if you Could assume that like. what #Brian 'knows' the operator is following him & Somehow orchestrated an encounter 1) no that doesn't make any sense and #2) that Still doesn't make any sense bc Tim has been Plenty Close to the Operator before w/ almost no negative effects (like in #Entry 17 when it's Right behind him) so there's no possible way Brian could have predicted that would unfold this way #sure it's weird he sets up the camera in the closet before Tim comes back but that Could Have been something unrelated #after all sometimes Brian DOES deliberately put himself on camera so someone knows he's responsible for something #or maybe he even planned to leave the camera there for later but it doesn't make Sense to interpret that as him Knowing what would happen #like don't get me wrong i'm not trying to say Brian is a pinnacle of ethics and moral behavior lmfao but also it's like #a kind of incomprehensible argument to make that he was Responsible for Triggering Tim's seizure that night when for all the #information Brian had on hand when he broke in he'd think Tim probably wouldn't be back home until much later #(''but the Creators Clearly intended'' yeah sure but since the creators also failed to establish a coherent series of events that SHOW #it then like. the intent doesn't matter anymore; sure they scripted the events in close succession but that doesn't mean they #scripted Intent & if they meant to then they did a bad job portraying it to the point the supposed intent is meaningless sorry lmao) #and EVEN IF you get this far and you're Still like 'but tim went after Jay and Brian would've Known he'd do that' like. no he wouldn't #because in Entry 18 when we see Tim have a seizure the first thing he does when jay approaches him after it is Run Away #so Again there's no consistent throughline of behaviors that Brian could have Possibly known about to orchestrate jack shit

[rollercoasterwords]

Have you ever wrote something that isn’t about the marauders?

yeah lol i've written many things that aren't about the marauders

if ur asking abt other fanfic/creative writing of mine i have a kenstewy fic on ao3 and a rewrite of the captive prince series from laurent's pov (but i do not recommend reading it unless you have already read + enjoyed the original series). i also have a substack specifically for bits of creative writing i like enough to share :•) and if ur looking for nonfiction i have 3 essays on my other substack, one about jegulus + identity formation + algorithmic social media; one about tiktok + harmful attitudes towards masculine lesbians, and one about 'female rage' + gender essentialism.

aside from substack + ao3, though, i likely won't ever share anything on here that i've written with my full name attached to it because i don't wanna doxx myself lol

#ask #if u are unfamiliar w the captive prince series i recommend checking trigger warnings before reading.. #first book is. a lot #also i went back + reread the beginning of my jegulus essay recently + i think my writing style in it is annoying now lmao #so might edit it at some point but for now idc enough

[kats-randomology]

IM SORRY KNUCKLES WIELDS THE *WHAT NOW*

#knuckles #knuckles spoilers #IS HE THE IBLIS TRIGGER IS MEPHILES AND SILVER GONNA DROP IN SOME POINT #PLEASE OH MY GOD LET HIM BE THE IBLIS TRIGGER MY AU BRAIN STATION IS READY #knuckles the series spoilers

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i just realized setrákus is just ra ra rasputin But Evil and it took an inch off the front of my skull

#lorien legacies #setrákus ra #LL tag #shitposting #RA RA RASPUTIN BUILT AN ELDRITCH MINE MACHINE #HE DIDN'T QUIT THEY WANTED HIS HEAD #i don't have words to describe how i feel about this knowledge #especially given that i made the connection via realizing that most of the first series' cast would legitimately find it deeply triggering #like my brain immediately went into taking-it-seriously mode because god that would suck so much #and from there it occurred to me that given the world events five years beforehand the meme would have VERY different #themes and connotations; and reactions from society at large; if it got popular at all #but also. oh my god. #oh my god? #[spongebob 'that's fcking hilarious/that's horrible' meme] #people being triggered by it isn't funny but the fact that it's fcking ra ra rasputin. and it FITS #to the point where it would have significant and serious individual and cultural impact #i don't know how i am ever going to recover from this

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

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.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

#12 days of smuff #smuffmas #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #billy washington x oc #billy washington x reader #billy washington #billy washington x y/n #billy washington smut #trigger point billy washington #trigger point series #trigger point fanfic #billy washington fluff #billy washington fic #billy washington fanfic

[assortedseaglass]

Come Back To Me

Billy Washington x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Trigger Point (TV) Spoilers, Language

18+. This series will eventually contain violence, specifically related to terrorism; it will be depictions of what happens in the TV series, so those who have seen it will know what to expect. This series will also contain smut.

Author’s Note: Recently rewatched Trigger Point with my family, and I know I’m not the only one here with Billy Washington thirst. First chapter is just setting the scene, in a chapter or two the plot will link up the TV series.

Word Count: 2K

“Mean machine’s seen better days.” Ida slumped into the passenger seat of her best friend’s car, kicking aside an empty crisp packet to make way for her bag. Billy simply hummed in acknowledgment, reaching to turn the radio dial down and turn the ignition.

London, late June. The typically gentle English summer was transforming into a more formidable beast; on the radio a news reader announced that by mid-week the temperature would reach into the 30os. All the windows of Billy’s battered Vauxhall were down, his sandy hair already plastered to his forehead with sweat. Heat bounded off the high rises and bore down onto the street. Curtains flapped through open windows, people trudged wearily along the scorching pavement and the car rumbled towards a red light.

“How’d it go then?” Billy rasped, eyes focused on the traffic. “Fucking tosser,” he added in an undertone as a driver cut across the lane.

“Yeah, ok,” replied Ida. “First years are keen to learn, but they won’t say boo to a goose.”

“To be fair, I’d be terrified of you too,” Billy said with a smirk. “Wouldn’t cross you in a month of Sundays.”

Ida tutted at him but smiled nonetheless. “What’s the plan then, Wash?”

“Park and a pint? Got dinner at Becky’s parents’ tonight so I’ll drop you home around 6?”

“You and Becky back on then?”

Billy winked in response, and Ida tutted again.

“Ah, tune!” Billy ignored Ida’s chiding and turned up the radio.

*

Cranstead Fields at mid-afternoon was full of the typical fare. Young men playing football, dog walkers and a few of what Ida’s grandma called “shifty types”: druggies lurking under the shade of the trees. Billy and Ida sat with their backs against a tree trunk, watching the men kick around the football. Occasionally, it was kicked their way and Billy made a show of kicking it back.

“Go join them if you want, I don’t mind.” Ida’s bag was full of reading she had fallen behind on.

“Nah, you’re alright. Don’t wanna show them up.” He plonked himself back on the grass and lay next to her.

They had been coming to Cranstead Fields since they were kids. When Ida’s grandma grew tired, she offloaded her onto the Washington’s next door. Not that they minded, Billy had too much energy and Ida seemed to anchor him back on earth. Each Saturday, she watched from the side lines with Val or Jeff while Billy was at football club. If they were lucky, they’d get ice creams on the way home. Back at the house they’d bounce on the trampoline, waving to Ida’s grandma over the fence as she sat with a cup of tea and the cat in the sun. Inevitably, when Billy’s rough and tumble got too much for little Ida, she’d wander indoors and hover in Lana’s doorway. Billy’s older sister by ten years, Ida would watch as Lana put on make-up, or listen to whatever she had in her CD player.

Since the day she moved next door with her Grandma, Ida and Billy were inseparable and Cranstead was their playground. It was where their guardians sent them for a run around in a last-ditch attempt to rid them of energy before dinner. It was where Ida followed Billy as he screamed and shouted about Lana being their dad’s favourite after a particularly explosive argument. Where they sat on the swings, downing tinnies as Ida cried about a boy that Billy, quite frankly, didn’t think was worth it. Today, Cranstead served as common ground, somewhere to catch up as adulthood pulled them in different directions. Ida, a PhD student, teaching and researching to make her way. Billy, well, who knows?

Ida’s eyes were distracted from the football by the sound of tearing. Billy was pulling up clumps of grass. She reached out and put her hand on top of his. “Stop that.” He threw the last clump over her, which she wiped from her hair before asking what was wrong.

“This dinner thing tonight. Becky’s parents don’t hide the fact they hate me-“

“That’s not true!”

“Don’t interrupt. They’ve never liked me, Ida. And let’s be honest, who’d want their daughter with someone on the dole?” Billy sat up and put his elbows on his knees, eyeing the flats on the horizon.

Ida sat up and patted his back a moment. “Everyone’s struggling to get a job these days, something’ll come up. And if they say anything about it tonight, send em my way.” She nudged his shoulder, he huffed a non-committal laugh and they both looked at the horizon.

“Why don’t you talk to Becky about it?” Ida said. “Surely she can have a word with her parents? Mustn’t be nice for her to have them slag off her boyfriend!” The ball flew back towards them, and Billy stood to kick it back. He didn’t sit down again.

“Think she agrees with them to be honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck and Ida tutted. When Billy smirked down at her, she felt her cheeks burn.

“What?”

“I love that sound,” he said.

THWUMP

A wayward kick sent the football soaring into the back of Billy’s head.

“Watch it!” Ida shouted at the men, standing up. Billy grabbed the football from the ground, and instead of kicking it back, ran towards the car, laughing wildly.

“Wash! Billy Washington! Christ!” Ida grabbed her bag, heavy and full to bursting with books, and sprinted after him. The sound of the men shouting at them was muffled as her breath roared in her ears. Ahead of her, Billy dropped the ball, got in the car and started the engine. Ida flung herself into the passenger seat once more and they sped out of the car park and towards home.

*

Billy kept the engine running when they arrived outside Ida’s flat above the florist. The lights were already on. Sofia was home then. “Come in for a cuppa?”

“Nah, best be off to beat the traffic.” Billy leant his arm on the open car window and looked at her. Bright, deep and blue, his eyes gave the impression of one trying to hide that they had been crying. Above them were eyebrows set in one of two states; a frown or perplexment. A man with his heart on his sleeve. A flush of red always adorned his nose and the high points of his cheeks, even when he wasn’t embarrassed. When he was, he’d look down and freeze.

They had always been opposites. Where Billy was tall and lithe, Ida was short and soft. He sun-smattered and rosy, she pale and freckled. Ida was uptight, Billy was relaxed. She enjoyed being alone, he craved other people. Her smiles were broad and her laughter small, his were the other way around. Where Ida’s hair was dark and curly, his was like flaxen straw and in desperate need of cutting. A few tendrils were sticking to the nape of his neck, and Ida was just close enough to reach out and curl one around her finger…

“Ida?” Billy was grinning lopsidedly at her, the early evening light catching in his messy hair and bestowing him a halo. Ida laughed at that observation. Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Well, good luck,” she said awkwardly, fumbling with her bag and keys. Recovering herself she added, “And if they say anything, tell em to do one. Text me later, yeah?” Billy saluted in response and without another word, pulled away.

Ida waited until he’d turned the corner, waving as he did, before turning the key and dragging her sun-weary body up the stairs of the flat. She was right, Sofia was home - muffled giggles could be heard from her room.

A few minutes later, Sofia appeared in the doorway of the kitchen as Ida rooted around the fridge. “You been with Billy?”

“Yeah,”

“He got a job yet?”

“Nah.” Ida retrieved a squash from the back of the fridge and waved it at her friend. “Gonna make dinner, you want some?” Sofia nodded. “Does Faisal want feeding too?” Ida continued.

Sofia blushed. “How do you know!?”

“It’s that post-coital glow,” Ida winked and Sofia laughed.

“You could have it too, if only you invited a fella round once in a while.”

“Hush, you, do you want feeding?” Ida waggled her finger. Sofia gave her a knowing look and left to fetch Faisal from the bedroom. What Sofia didn’t know was that Ida couldn’t invite any old “fella” round. Not when one was already stuck in her head.

*

Billy wanted a beer. Why did he drive instead of getting the train? Becky’s parents had opened a bottle of Merlot to lubricate that evening’s interrogation, and he was feeling horrifically sober. When they asked him for the hundredth time whether he regretted not going to university, he looked to Becky but she avoided his eye and became very interested in her empty plate.

“I didn’t get the grades.” He said. Don’t lie to make them feel better. Ida’s voice echoed around his head. For a moment, no said a word.

“Your friend Ida is doing well, isn’t she.” Mrs Walters said, though it was a statement more than a question. “Funny that, really. How different two children with almost identical upbringings can be?” Did they really think him so stupid that he couldn’t pick up that thinly veiled insult? At least they’d presented him with a change of subject.

“Yeah, I picked her up from the uni today actually. She’s been teaching some of the first years.” Both of Becky’s parents looked to her instead of Billy, gauging her reaction. She looked at her father pointedly and continued to ignore Billy.

“Teaching undergraduates is a lot easier than teaching primary school though.” Becky’s dad chimed in. “Becky’s got the responsibility of early years progression on her shoulders. Not to mention all those bloody colds she gets from the little rascals!”

What could he say? Billy downed his water and putting on his bravest smile said, “I’d better be off. Up early tomorrow.”

“For what?”

Billy didn’t reply, only kissed Mrs Walters on the cheek, shook Mr Walters’ hand and followed Becky to the door. Her blonde hair was tied tightly in a ponytail, her arms folded over her crisply ironed blouse.

“Coming back to the flat?” Billy asked, snaking an arm around her waist and kissing her deeply.

“Not tonight,” she said between kisses. “Going to stay at mum and dad’s.”

Billy nuzzled and nibbled at her neck. “What’s the point of paying the rent if you’re always here? Come on, come back tonight,”

“Billy.” She put her arms on his chest and lightly pushed him away.

“Ok. Ok.” He said it more to himself than anyone else. He span around before he left, and kissed her quickly on the cheek. She giggled, then shut the door on him.

His phone was out in a flash. Without thinking, the same way your feet carry you home before you have even realised it, he sent a text to the last person in his messages.

Middle class wankers.

Seconds later, his phone pinged.

Went well then. Meet at the Swan tomorrow? 3ish? x

Starting the engine of his battered car, Billy Washington smiled for what felt like the first time in hours.

#ewan mitchell #billy washington #ewan mitchell x reader #aemond x reader #trigger point #trigger point series

[godlingesque]

interview with a vampire episode 5 trigger warnings:

- self harm (referenced)

- briefly mentioned genital mutilation

- discussed self-starvation (does not happen)

- voyeurism (older men watching claudia as she uses the restroom is discussed briefly)

- graphic depiction of amputation of ligaments

- rape (implied in a fade to black sequence and discussed by characters)

- sexual assault

- gore

- graphic spousal/domestic abuse (Lestat and Louis beat the shit out of each other)

- emotional manipulation and abuse of a child (Lestat calls Claudia a mistake and berates her, also throws her into a wall)

#interview with the vampire #iwtv series #tv: interview with the vampire #trigger warnings #iwtv ep 5 #the vampire lestat #louis de pointe du lac #claudia iwtv #hope this helps someone!

[whats-ur-credit-card-number]

Been watching some (new) doctor who and wtf was up with s8e7. Most preachy transparent anti-abortion message I've seen and it's not even well-written

#love when the moral of the story is 'it's disrespectful for men to let women make their own choices' #and 'one unborn creature is worth more than all of humanity' #and the twelfth doctor was having such a good run before this too #sorry I'm just dizzy-headed at how much this sucked #rant #he talks #also it was just pretty boring and ooc from the start #plus blatant scientific innacuracies that any layman can point out! suspension of disbelief can only take you so far #isn't steven moffat supposed to be the sexist one. when this was the first episode of the series he didnt write and also the most sexist #story ive witnessed #i know i'm probably playing right into the writer's intended 'triggered sjw' reaction but jesus christ

[curlyhairedintrovertsworld]

one of you was reblogging posts about the hunger games the other day, and i was so obsessed with the series when i was younger i tried writing an alternate version of it, and it's kind of embarrassing putting this out here, but i still add to it in my head all the time

when i read a ballad of songbirds and snakes (i gave the book to my dad to read and he hasn't given it back yet-), it had so many elements i considered and had in my version/story, and god i love that so much

anyway, just know, if i follow you and you reblog anything related to the series, i will be right back in my 14-15-16 year old's mind and thriving

#the hunger games #a ballad of songbirds and snakes #suzanne collins #i am so lame but it's okay because i know the series captured everyone's attention #so y'all were all in this with me at one point #i miss when my mind loved writing fiction #a taylor swift song triggered this post

[hella1975]

not the same anon but i havta say. it's better than aftg ngl

this is like saying 'the media you're criticising is better than a pile of dogshit though!' like this is not the take you think it is

#like the reason i read aftg is bc i was pretty young at the time and i had no idea about the triggers #it's become a sort of comfort series for me bc - like i said - i looked past the triggers at the time and latched onto the characters #that is on me. i understand that. i am VERY careful when recommending that series to people #and i have never at any point tried to make out that it's a good series in fact ive made it pretty clear that i think the opposite #so this really isnt saying much anonstie lmao #they're both bad in my eyes #ask