p☆nk

⋆.˚ ★ she/her 17 | men dni i'm a minor! if you have issues w me interacting with your content, kindly lmk <3

[miyseilish]

𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 . . ℬ𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾ℯ ℰ𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : billie has been trying to get in your world for awhile now , while you don’t seem interested she still tries .ᐟ ＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／

ˊ ꪆৎ ݁ 𝓪uthor 𝓷ote ⦂ do u guys want another ghosted part if so slip a note in my inbox hehe (and also an idea for the next part cus idk 😣) and also i finished the prologue of childhood best friends i jsut dk when to drop it 😕😕

[malaya-s-diner]

Welcome home

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a candle on the nightstand—a scent of vanilla and sandalwood drifting through the air. I dropped my bag by the entrance, my eyes already scanning for her.

And there she was.

Laid out on our bed like a gift I hadn't known I was waiting for. Her hair spilled across the pillow in dark curls, and she wore that pink lace—a delicate, almost translucent set that clung to her body. The fabric was so thin I could see beneath.

But it was her smile that undid me.

Innocent. Sweet expression that made her look like she had no idea what she was doing to me. But she knew. She always knew. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the lace at her hip, tracing the line where fabric met skin.

"Welcome home," she said, her voice soft and breathy.

I didn't answer. I just walked toward the bed, unbuttoning my jeans as I moved. The sound of the zipper was sharp in the quiet room. She watched my hands, her smile flickering into something hungrier.

I climbed onto the mattress, my knees sinking into the bed as I straddled her waist. My hands found her wrists, pinning them above her head. She let out a soft gasp, her eyes widening—that faux innocence flickering into something real. The thrill of submission.

"You've been waiting," I said. Not a question.

She nodded, her lips parting.

"How long?"

"All day," she whispered. "I put it on right after you left. I've been lying here thinking about... what you'd do to me."

I leaned down, my mouth hovering just above hers—close enough to feel the heat of her breath but not close enough to kiss. "Tell me what you want."

She squirmed beneath me, her hips rolling instinctively. The lace of her panties was already damp, a dark spot blooming at the center.

"I want you to fuck me," she breathed. "Please. Use your strap. I need it inside me."

A shiver ran through me. I released one of her wrists and reached for the nightstand drawer, pulling out the harness and the silicone cock I'd cleaned and prepped that morning. She watched with wide, eager eyes as I fastened the straps around my hips. It was a deep red, slightly curved. Just enough to fill her completely.

I settled between her legs, pushing her thighs apart with my knees. The pink lace of her panties was now a wet mess. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled them down her legs, letting them fall to the side. Her cunt was bare, glistening, the lips swollen and parted.

She was beautiful like this—exposed, needy, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the lace bra. I reached behind her back and unclasped it with one hand, sliding the straps down her arms until she was completely naked before me.

"Look at me," I commanded.

Her eyes locked onto mine.

"you're going to beg for it. You're going to tell me exactly how much you want this. And when you're close, you're going to ask me for permission to cum. Understood?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling.

I guided the head of the strap to her entrance. I didn't push in. I just let it rest there, the silicone cool against her heat, teasing her. She whimpered, her hips bucking, trying to take it deeper.

"Please," she said. "Please, I need it. I need you inside me."

"How much?"

"So much." Her voice cracked. "I've been thinking about it all day. I touched myself a little, but I stopped I wanted you to be the one to make me cum."

That was enough. I thrust forward, burying the entire length inside her in one smooth, wet stroke. She cried out, her back arching, her fingers clawing at the sheets. I stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, feeling the tight heat of her around the silicone.

Then I began to move.

Slow at first—long, deep strokes that dragged against her walls. Each pull-out pulled a moan from her lips. Each thrust pushed it back in. I watched her face, the way her mouth fell open, her eyes half-lidded and glazed with pleasure. Her breasts bounced with the rhythm.

"Harder," she gasped. "Please, harder. Fuck me harder."

I grabbed her hips, digging my fingers into the flesh, and increased the pace. The sound of a wet, obscene rhythm that matched her gasps and cries filled the room.

"Like that?" I growled.

"Yes! Yes, fuck, yes!"

I angled the strap slightly, aiming for that spot inside her that made her see stars. Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I drove into her with brutal precision. Her moans turned into a string of incoherent pleas.

"Please—please, I'm close—I'm so close—please let me cum—"

I slowed down, pulling out until only the head remained inside her. She let out a frustrated whimper, her body trembling.

"Not yet," I said. "You beg me better than that."

"Please," she sobbed. "Please, I'll do anything. I'll be so good. Just let me cum. I need it so bad. Please, mommy."

The word sent a jolt of power through me. I thrust back in, fast and hard, and resumed the punishing pace. Her body was shaking now, her breath coming in ragged pants. I could feel her muscles clenching around the silicone, her climax building.

"Now," I commanded. "Cum for me."

She shattered.

A scream tore from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her, her body convulsing around the strap. I kept fucking her through it, drawing out every wave, until she collapsed onto the mattress, limp and gasping.

I pulled out slowly, the dildo slick with her arousal. I unfastened the harness and set it aside, then lay down beside her, pulling her into my arms. She curled into me, her face buried in my neck, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

"Good girl," I whispered, kissing her forehead.

I held her tighter, feeling the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin. The candle flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Outside, the world continued its endless hum. But in here, in our bed, there was only her—and the quiet, satisfied breath of someone well-fucked and deeply loved.

A/n - my little fantasies with @laylalovesbillie 👅

[byeilish]

CONTROL billie eilish

synopsis; as you take on the stage during your set at the o2, billie finds herself unraveling more with every song. she knows you’re putting on a show, but she can’t shake the feeling that it’s meant just for her. by the time the lights go out, she’s convinced she’ll finally get what she wants. what she doesn’t expect is for you to turn the tables completely. by the end of the night, the question isn’t who wants who—it’s who will end up in control.

warnings; gip!billie, popstar!fem!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, size talk, switch billie, switch reader, public teasing, oral r!receiving, fingering, recording, dirty talk

an; thank you so much to my lovey @mscomet for being the best and helping me out with the pictures and synopsis, 💋

The bass from the stage vibrated through the floor, through the soles of Billie's sneakers, up into her bones. She stood in the VIP section of the O2 Arena, surrounded by the people who mattered most—Ava, Jane, Quen, Odessa, her brother Finneas, Claudia, Alex, Rozzi—all of them packed together on the elevated platform, drinks in hand, eyes fixed on the stage. On you.

You were in the middle of your third song, the one that always brought the house down. The one where you changed into that bodysuit.

It was barely anything. A shimmering piece of fabric that hugged every curve, cut so high on your hips that the bottom swell of your ass peeked out, so low-cut that the valley between your breasts was practically on display. The material was sheer enough to hint at the dark circles of your nipples beneath. And when you moved—when you dropped into that slow, rolling grind that made the crowd roar—the suit rode up, exposing the crease where your thigh met your hip.

Billie's throat went dry.

She felt it before she could stop it. That familiar stir low in her belly, the thickening between her legs as her blood rushed south. She tried to shift her weight, cross her arms, do something to hide what was happening, but the baggy black sweatpants she'd worn suddenly felt like they were made of tissue paper. Her cock began to fill, pressing against the soft cotton, and she knew—knew—it was only a matter of seconds before it became unmistakable.

On stage, you dropped to your knees, arching your back, running your hands down your own thighs as you bounced in time with the beat. The crowd screamed. Billie bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. Her dick swelled further, the head now clearly outlined through the fabric, a thick ridge that pointed upward and to the left. She tried to adjust herself discreetly, but her hand only made it worse, pressing the fabric tighter against the shaft.

"Whoa," Alex said, elbowing Finneas. He didn't bother to lower his voice. "Dude, did you know she was packing that much heat? Look at that thing. That's not just a chub, that's a full-on boner."

Finneas glanced at his sister, then quickly looked away, a mix of embarrassment and brotherly concern on his face. "Bro, keep it in your pants. Or everyone's gonna see. Seriously. There are cameras everywhere." He lowered his voice to a sharp whisper. "Mom would kill me if she saw this on Twitter."

Billie let out a strangled laugh, trying to play it cool. "Shut up, it's fine. I'm fine. It's just... the adrenaline. The lights. Whatever."

But it wasn't fine. Her dick was now at full mast, a clear, thick tent stretching the front of her sweats. The tip was so hard it looked like it might poke through. She could feel the weight of it pushing against her waistband, the way her balls tightened up against her body. She tugged at the elastic, tried to angle it downward, but it sprang back up immediately. The lights from the stage swept over the VIP area, and she could feel eyes flickering to her crotch, then away.

Ava leaned closer, her voice soft and teasing. "I mean, I get it. I'd be like that too if my girl was up there doing that." She giggled, bumping her shoulder against Billie's. "Don't worry, we're all friends here. But seriously, your girlfriend knows exactly what she's doing. She's looking right at you."

She was right. On stage, you had turned around, bent over, and were shaking your ass directly at the VIP section. The sheer fabric of the bodysuit pulled so tight. You glanced over your shoulder, caught Billie's eye, and winked.

Billie groaned. A real, audible groan.

"I'm not worried," Billie muttered, but her voice cracked. Her hands were clammy. She couldn't take her eyes off you as you stood up, spun around, and began to grind your hips in a slow, deep circle that made your ass bounce with each rotation. The crowd roared. Billie's cock twitched, and she saw a small, dark spot appear at the tip of her sweats—precum soaking through.

Finneas noticed too. He leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. "Billie, for real. You're leaking. Go to the bathroom or something. I'm not kidding."

"I can't just leave," she hissed back. "She'll think something's wrong."

"Something is wrong," Alex said, grinning. "You've got a fucking fire hydrant in your pants and she's on stage spreading her legs like she's offering you dessert."

"Alex, shut up," Rozzi said, slapping his arm. But she was laughing too.

The song ended. The lights dimmed. Billie exhaled a shaky breath, her entire body trembling with the effort of not touching herself. She watched you take your bow, then blow a kiss directly at her. The crowd went wild.

Backstage was chaos. Crew members rushed past, the hum of the crowd still vibrating through the walls. The hallway was narrow, packed with equipment cases and people. Billie stood near the door to your dressing room, hands shoved in her pockets, trying to will her erection down. It didn't work. If anything, the anticipation made it harder.

And then you appeared, still in that bodysuit, glistening with sweat, your face lit up with post-show adrenaline. Your hair was damp, your skin flushed. The thin fabric of the bodysuit clung to every curve, the triangle of your pussy clearly visible beneath it.

"Billie!" You ran to her, throwing your arms around her neck. She hugged you back, but her body was stiff, her breathing uneven. When you pulled away, you saw it—the strain in her jaw, the way her hips were tilted back as if trying to hide something. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown.

You glanced down. The tent in her sweats was impossible to miss. A dark wet spot had formed at the tip, right where the head pressed against the fabric, subtle for the rest, but you recognized it the second you saw it. You could see the outline of the corona, the slight curve of the shaft.

"Oh," you breathed, a smile spreading across your face. "Someone had a good show."

Billie groaned, a low sound of pure misery. "Baby, I'm literally dying over here. I mean it. I think I'm going to pass out. My balls hurt."

You giggled and grabbed her hand, lacing your fingers with hers. "Hold on, let me just say hi to everyone. Then we can go."

You moved through your friends, hugging Ava, high-fiving Alex, thanking Finneas for coming. Claudia asked about the encore, Rozzi complimented your vocals, Odessa and Quen pulled you aside to talk about the lighting. Billie stood behind you, her hand still in yours, her entire body thrumming with tension. Every time you moved, the scent of your sweat wafted toward her. She could see the sheen on your skin, the way the bodysuit rode up your ass crack every time you bent to pick something up.

Finally, you were done. "Okay, let's go back to the hotel now."

The car ride was torture for Billie. She sat with her legs pressed together, her hands clasped in her lap, trying to think about anything other than the way your thighs had looked under those lights. The chauffeur was a professional—he kept his eyes on the road, his face impassive. But Billie couldn't relax. Her cock was still painfully hard, the head now fully wet, the precum soaking through her boxers.

You were scrolling through your phone, the glow illuminating your face. Then you stopped.

"Babe," you said slowly, a smirk curling your lips. "Look at this."

You turned the phone toward her. It was a fan video from the show, but the camera wasn't on you. It was zoomed in on the VIP section. On Billie. The caption read: "bro billie's about to put that to good use, wish we could see it."

In the video, Billie was visibly adjusting herself, the outline of her erection painfully clear against the black fabric of her sweats. Her hand moved, but it only made it worse. A few people around her were sneaking glances, laughing.

Billie's face went red. "Fucking hell. I'm going to kill them."

"Don't worry," you whispered, leaning close, your lips brushing her ear. "You're gonna put it to good use tonight. I promise."

The chauffeur didn't react. But Billie felt your hand slide onto her thigh, squeezing, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. Your fingers moved higher, brushing against the bulge in her sweats. The fabric was damp. She felt your fingertips trace the outline of her cock, from the base to the tip.

"So hard," you murmured. "How long have you been like this?"

"Since the third song," she admitted, her voice strained. "Maybe earlier. I don't remember. I can't think."

"Good." Your hand squeezed harder. "I want you to stay hard until we get to the room. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," she breathed.

You smiled in the darkness of the car, your hand remaining on her thigh, fingers tracing slow patterns. Billie squirmed in her seat, her cock twitching under your touch. The car hit a bump, and she jolted, the friction making her gasp.

"Easy," you said.

She shook her head frantically. "I can’t."

The hotel suite was all glass and marble, with a king-sized bed dominating the center of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, you pushed Billie against it, your body pressed against hers. She was taller than you, not a lot, but you had her pinned, your hand sliding down her stomach to the waistband of her sweats.

"Not yet," you said, pulling away. You held up a finger, a wicked glint in your eyes. "I'm in charge. Got it?"

Billie's breath hitched. "Yeah. Okay."

"You're gonna do exactly what I tell you. And you're not gonna cum until I say so."

"Fuck," Billie whispered, her hips bucking toward you involuntarily.

You made her undress slowly. First the hoodie, then the t-shirt, revealing the lean muscle of her torso, the curve of her hips. She was toned, her stomach tight, her shoulders broad.

When she pulled down her sweats and boxers together, her cock sprang free—thick, hard, the tip already glistening with precum. It stood at attention, curved slightly upward, the veins visible along the shaft. Her balls were tight against her body, heavy and full.

You circled her, running a single finger down the length of her shaft. She shuddered, her eyes closed. The touch was feather-light, tracing the ridge of the head down to the base. You did it again, and again, until she was trembling.

"Look at me," you commanded and she opened her eyes.

"Get on the bed. On your back. Hands above your head."

She obeyed immediately, crawling onto the massive bed, lying down with her arms stretched out. Her cock lay against her stomach, thick and wet, a drop of precum gathering at the tip. You climbed on top of her, straddling her thighs, still wearing your bodysuit. The fabric was damp from sweat, clinging to you like a second skin. You leaned forward, letting your breasts brush against her chest, and whispered, "I want you to watch me take this off. Slowly."

And you did. You peeled the straps down, one by one, revealing your breasts, your nipples hard and dark. The fabric caught on your skin, peeling away with a soft sound. Billie's hands twitched at her sides, desperate to touch. You took her hands and brought them to your chest, letting her cup your breasts for a moment before pulling away.

"No touching," you said firmly. "Not yet."

You shimmied the bodysuit down your hips, over your ass, your thighs. The fabric gathered at your knees, then fell away. Finally, you were naked, your pussy slick and glistening, inches from her cock. The scent of your arousal filled the air.

"You're so wet," Billie breathed. Her voice was hoarse.

"All for you. But you don't get to fuck me yet." You reached down, wrapping your hand around her shaft, stroking her slowly. Her hips bucked into your grip. The skin was hot, smooth, the precum making your hand glide easily. "First, I want you to eat me out."

Billie's eyes widened, but she didn't argue. You shifted forward, positioning yourself over her face. Your knees on either side of her head, you lowered yourself, feeling her warm breath on your thighs. Her hands came up to grip your ass, pulling you closer.

And then her tongue was on you.Warm, flat, dragging through your folds in a long, slow stroke. You moaned, grinding against her mouth. She lapped at your clit, circled around it, then sucked it between her lips. The sensation shot through you like electricity.

"Fuck, Billie. Just like that."

She obeyed, her tongue diving deeper, fucking you as you rode her face. You grabbed her hair, pulling, guiding her rhythm. The pleasure built fast, coiling tight in your belly. Your thighs trembled, your breath coming in short gasps.

"I'm gonna cum," you gasped. "Don't stop."

She didn't. She doubled down, her lips sealed around your clit, her tongue flicking fast. One hand came up, two fingers sliding into your pussy without warning, curling up toward your g-spot. You cried out, your whole body tensing as the orgasm hit you. Waves of pleasure crashed through you, your pussy clenching around her fingers, your juices soaking her chin. She kept licking you through it, gentler now, until you slumped forward, panting.

You slid off her face, collapsing onto the bed beside her. Her chin was slick with you, her eyes hazy with lust. Her cock was still standing, wet at the tip, a bead of precum rolling down the shaft.

"Good girl," you said, your voice hoarse. You crawled over to her, taking her cock in your hand again. "Now. I want to ride you."

She started to sit up, but you pushed her back down. "No. Stay like that."

She obeyed, her eyes locked on you. You straddled her again, not over her face this time, but over her cock. You lined it up with your entrance, the head pressing against your slick folds. The tip caught on your clit, and you both moaned. You held there, teasing, barely pushing in before pulling away.

"Please," Billie whimpered. Her whole body was shaking.

"Please what?"

"Please let me fuck you."

You smiled, then sank down.

The stretch was perfect. She filled you completely, the length of her sliding deep, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. You both cried out together—a raw, primal sound. Her cock pulsed inside you, and you felt her hands grip the sheets, fighting the urge to grab you.

You started to move. A slow, deliberate grind, your hips rolling in circles. The friction was incredible, the head of her cock nudging against your g-spot with every rotation. Billie's hips bucked up to meet you, but you slapped her thigh.

"Don't. I'm in control."

"Fuck, you're so—" She couldn't finish. Her head fell back, her mouth open, as you rode her. The sound of your wetness, the slap of your ass against her thighs, filled the room. You picked up the pace, bouncing on her cock, taking her deeper.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, clicked the camera open. Billie's eyes flew open. "What are you—"

"Recording," you said, breathless. "So we never forget." You panned the camera down to where your bodies connected, the wet sounds loud in the speaker. Then you turned it to her face. "You thought she was the one in control? Look at her. Look at how desperate she is."

Billie's face was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes half-closed. She was panting, her chest heaving.

"Say something," you commanded.

"I—I need—" She swallowed. "Please, let me—"

"Let you what?"

"Let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Hard."

"Not yet." You kept riding her, your thighs burning, your clit aching. The pleasure was building again, coiling deeper this time. You reached down to rub your clit, your fingers wet with her precum and your own juices. "I'm going to cum on your cock. And then—"

But you were losing rhythm. The pleasure was too much. Your thighs burned, your clit ached for more friction. Billie saw the crack in your resolve.

Without warning, she flipped you.

You landed on your stomach, a gasp escaping your lips. Before you could protest, she was behind you, her body covering yours, her cock pressing against your ass. She grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your face into the pillow.

"Change of plans," she growled, her voice low, different. Possessive. "I'm taking over."

She didn't ask. She grabbed your hips and slammed into you, all the way to the hilt. You screamed—a raw, broken sound—as she started fucking you hard, fast, desperate. The bed frame banged against the hotel wall. Her balls slapped against your clit with every thrust.

"That's right," she panted, her hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back. "You think you can tease me all night? Make me hard in front of everyone? Spray precum in my pants like a teenager?"

"Billie—fuck—I'm gonna—"

"Cum for me. Now."

She reached under you, her fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The pressure was perfect, her thrusts slamming into your g-spot, her fingers on your clit. You came undone, your orgasm ripping through you, your pussy clenching around her cock. You screamed into the pillow as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your whole body shaking.

She kept fucking you through it, chasing her own. The sound of her hips slapping against your ass was wet, obscene. Her breathing was ragged, her grip on your hips bruising.

"I'm close," she gasped. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Cum inside me. Fill me up."

With a roar, she buried herself deep, her whole body shuddering as she emptied into you. You felt it—hot ropes of cum painting your walls, filling you, the sensation triggering another mini-orgasm. She pulsed inside you, her cock twitching, her breath coming in gasps.

She collapsed on top of you, both of you panting, drenched in sweat. The weight of her was comforting, her body pressing you into the mattress.

But it wasn't over. She stayed inside you, still hard, still thick. She shifted, and you felt her cock twitch again.

"Round two," she whispered.

She pulled out slowly, turned you onto your back, and spread your legs wide. Your pussy was messy, cum leaking out, mixing with your own juices. She knelt between your legs, took her cock in her hand, and smeared the head through your folds, collecting the wetness.

"Look at you," she said, her voice full of wonder. "Look at what I did to you."

She drove into you again, slow and deep. This time it was different—no urgency, no desperation. It was deliberate. She watched your face as she fucked you, watched your eyes roll back, watched your mouth fall open.

"I love watching you fall apart," she said, her thrusts growing faster. "I love that I can do this to you."

You couldn't speak. You could only lie there and take it, your hands clawing at the sheets, your legs wrapped around her waist. She leaned down, kissing you, her tongue sliding into your mouth as her cock slid into you.

"Don't stop," you managed to whisper. "Please don't stop."

She didn't. She fucked you through the next buildup, her pace relentless. Her hand found your clit again, rubbing in time with her thrusts. The second orgasm built slower, deeper, an avalanche threatening to bury you.

"Come on," she murmured against your ear. "One more. One more for me."

"Billie—I can't—"

"You can. Let go. I've got you."

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your entire body arching off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat. Your pussy milked her cock, the clenching too much for her. She buried herself deep one last time and came again, her hot cum flooding you, adding to the pool already inside you. She kept thrusting, shallow, riding out the aftershocks.

Finally, she pulled out, collapsing beside you. Your cum-slicked thighs pressed together, the sheets a mess beneath you. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just breathing, just existing.

After a few minutes, Billie got up. Her legs were shaky. She walked to the bathroom, and you heard the faucet run. She came back with a warm, damp towel. Gently, she spread your legs and cleaned you, wiping away the cum and sweat from your thighs, your pussy, your stomach. The towel was warm against your sensitive skin. She was careful, tender, her touch soft.

Then she cleaned herself, wiping her dick and balls, the towel coming away stained. She tossed it into the hamper and climbed back into bed, pulling you into her arms.

You nestled against her, your head on her chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin. The room was quiet now, the only sound was the hum of the city outside.

"Thank you," she whispered, her lips pressed to your hair. "Thank you for letting me ruin your pretty pussy, mama."

You laughed softly, the sound muffled against her skin. "God, I need to let you be more in charge, Billie. That was amazing."

She kissed the top of your head. "Any time. I mean it."

You lay there, tangled together, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. The hum of the London night filtered through the curtains. Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, but inside the room, everything was perfect.

Then your stomach growled. Loudly. Making you both burst out laughing.

"Room service?" you asked, your voice hopeful.

"Hell fucking yeah."

She reached for the phone on the nightstand, her arm stretching over your head. You watched her dial, her fingers moving lazily over the numbers. She ordered a feast—vegan burgers, fries, an insane amount of water—and when she hung up, she pulled you closer.

"Best night in a long time," she said.

"Best night in a looooooong time," you agreed, and snuggled deeper into her arms, ready for round three—or at least, ready for the food to arrive.

🏷️; @m4ybejojo | @thecuntiestangel | @b1lsvrq | @maybelu7 | @jisselsposts | @sxrvsposts | @verysweetly | @hellsofhearts | @mscomet

[feluhnies]

NEW THEME EATSSSSS

THANK YOU!!!

I hardly check and answer my inbox but you're so sweet for noticing mwah

[chrissv4mp]

BILLIE EILISH

author's favorite's are marked with 𝜗𝜚

SERIES ::

ONE HELL OF A SUMMER

── warnings. smut, minor injuries, arguments, smoking & drinking.

PETALS TO THORNS WRITING MARATHON

ONE SHOTS ::

01. BRING THAT OVER HERE : n/a words

── warnings. smut, dom!billie, sub!reader, fingering, praise, begging, pet names(mamas, baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc.), oral, restraints, blindfolds, etc.

02. CANINES : n/a words

── warnings. vulgar language, oc's, short mentions of blood, smut, billie's super needy&whiny!!, bathroom sex, oral, fingering, strap-on usage, multiple orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, praise, hair pulling, choking if u squint..., she's down bad.., power bottom!billie & dom!billie!!

03. HIT ME HARD (AND SOFT) : n/a words

── warnings. smuttttt literally pure filth, restraints, mentions of edging, strap-on usage, degradation, praise, hair pulling, begging, dom!billie, sub!reader, fingering, mommy kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation if u squint, very fluffy aftercare.

04. DON'T FUCK AROUND : 3.6k

── warnings. smut, edging, degradation, humiliation kinda, fingering, strap-on usage, hair pulling, begging, a LOT of begging, dom!billie, she makes fun of youuuu, mean!billie, sub!reader, billie takes a picture (dunno if thats a warning?) etc.

05. LACY BLACK PAIR WITH THE LITTLE BOWS : 4.3k 𝜗𝜚

── warnings. smut, language, spit, oral, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, crying, mommy kink, degradation, dirty talk, masturbation, strap-on sex, etc.

06. I FEEL MORE AND MORE LIKE I WAS MADE FOR YOU : 1.3k

── warnings. some language, mentions of a long-distance relationship(?), fluff, a little suggestiveness but no smut.

07. SHE CAN'T COMPARE : 6.2k

── warnings. smut, sorta angst(?), strap-on sex, choking, orgasm denial, degradation, squirting, dom/sub dynamics, meandom!billie, brattysub!reader.

08. WHY CAN'T I FIND NO ONE LIKE YOU? : 4.5k 𝜗𝜚

── warnings. smut, cheating, fuckgirl!billie, innocent!reader, cunnilingus, bathroom sex, boyfriend!oc, fingering, hickeys, praise, language, slight manipulative!billie, and drinking.

09. EYES FOR YOU : 2.5k 𝜗𝜚

── warnings. tiny outburst, small argument, jealous!reader, and billie acting like a huge cornball.

10. SOUNDS BETTER : n/a words

── warnings. smut, breeding kink, cum-filled strap, strap in v, subtop!billie × dombottom!reader, nipple play, pet names, use of y/n a few times, fluff.

11. YOU'LL ALWAYS BE A DUMB BLONDE : 3.4k 𝜗𝜚

── warnings. angst, mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicidal ideation, mental health struggles, hate comments, toxic fame, and language.

12. BEFORE YOUR KISSES TURN INTO BRUISES, I'M A WARNING : 5.7k

── warnings. smut, scissoring, fingering, nipple play, fluff, angst, and language.

13. ONE MORE DANCE? n/a words

── warnings. angst & fluff.

14. ONE DOOR DOWN 3.7k 𝜗𝜚

── warnings. smut, use of y/l/n, masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex, subtop!billie, dirty talk, mild praise kink, language.

15. IN THEIR SECOND-HAND SMOKE 2.7k

── warnings. angst, smoking and drinking (mentioned not glamorized), secondhand smoke exposure, language.

16. MISS ME? 6.7k

── warnings. smut, angst, fluff, fingering, g!p (girl penis), p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, car sex, switch!billie × switch!reader, added characters, porn with some sort of plot, language.

MISC. ::

⟶ BILLIE'S SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS . . .

01. christmas instagram post!

02. new years instagram post!

⟶ BILLIE'S HEADCANONS & AU'S . . .

01. producer!reader

02. prince!billie × barista!reader

⟶ BILLIE'S BLURBS . . .

01. in the mirror.

02. think about it.

03. stay quiet.

04. stay quiet v2. 𝜗𝜚

05. oh yeah?

06. november.

07. front row seat. 𝜗𝜚

08. wanna do bad things to you.

09. mess for me.

10. mad at me. 𝜗𝜚

11. from the back.

12. my mama house.

13. vocals.

14. know me. 𝜗𝜚

15. "just friends."

16. in the dark.

17. first time. 𝜗𝜚

18. stupid crush. 𝜗𝜚

19. last time.

20. her day.

21. need you. 𝜗𝜚

22. die alone.

23. games. 𝜗𝜚

24. pass the salt.

25. dress. 𝜗𝜚

26. study sesh.

27. shoot your shot. 𝜗𝜚

28. here with me.

29. loser! 𝜗𝜚

30. tough girl

31. invisible string theory 𝜗𝜚

32. tattoos

33. tucked in

34. come on then, cowboy 𝜗𝜚

35. lovers rock 𝜗𝜚

⟶ BILLIE'S EXTRAS . . .

01. nsfw alphabet.

02. camera roll while dating billie

── camera roll while dating billie pt2

── camera roll while dating billie pt3

03. videos girlfriend!billie would send you 𝜗𝜚

── videos girlfriend!billie would send you pt2

[statementofthefuckingproblem]

RESTRICTED ACCESS: Hungrier

au: you are a woman of composure, calm, poise. but inside that specific folder in billie's phone, a restricted access to anyone, contains multiple videos of you that is only for billie's eyes to see.

contains: face riding, filming of sex, use of dildo, fingering, scissoring, scratching, a little edging, subtle praising

an here youu gooo. moved away from g!p cuz this is so delishhh??a bit detailed b4 i leave again lol. (not proofread) PART III of Restricted Access

Clip 15: hotel bathroom

➀ Video ▹3:12

billie is holding the phone at arm's length, filming the two of you in the mirror of a dimly lit hotel bathroom. she's standing behind you, her front pressed against your back.

she's is buried in your neck, but her eyes are locked on the camera. watching you break under her touch. you reach back, your fingers tangling desperately in her dark hair, and you yank. her head snaps back, exposing her throat, but she doesn't flinch.

instead, she lets out a sharp, jagged laugh and smirks at the lens.

"yeah, do it again," she dares you, her voice a low vibration you can practically feel through the screen.

she's working her fingers into you—deep, fast, and rhythmic. the audio picks up the wet slap of her hand hitting your thigh. you're a mess, whimpering and leaning all your weight into her.

"b-billie…" you broke.

you grab her forearm—the one she's using to ruin you—and dig your nails in. you see the skin turn white under your claws before red lines start to rise.

but then again, she didn't even flinch. she just hummed and placed a soothing kiss on your damp temple.

billie zooms the camera in on her arm, showing the fresh, angry scratches you’ve left. she looks from the marks back to your face in the mirror, her expression pure, smug satisfaction.

she whispers, "damn, look at what you did. you're such a brat," before she bites the shell of your ear and the clip cuts.

Clip 12: the fucking throne

➀ Video ▹4:10

the phone is propped up on the headboard, tilted down. it captures the back of billie's head and the full view of you pinned beneath her.

billie is sitting directly on your face, her weight fully supported by your shoulders. the camera captures her arched back, the muscles in her spine tensing as she grinds her clit against your mouth.

"that's it baby. shit—right there. stay there for me."

the audio is muffled—your gasps for air mixed with her low, steady moans. she's reaching down, her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your head to make sure you’re hitting every spot.

she starts to pick up the pace, her hips moving in a frantic, circular motion. needy and desperate. you can see her hand come into frame, reaching down to pull her own folds open so you can get deeper.

she's vocal now, a "fuck, fuck, fuck" rhythm that matches her movements. the camera shakes as you try to buck upward to meet her.

billie stiffens, her fingers digging into your scalp so hard her knuckles go white. she presses down with everything she has, cutting off your air for a second as she rides out the wave.

the clip ends with her collapsing forward onto your chest, gasping for breath, the camera catching her sweaty, stupid grin.

Clip 10: needy bitch

➀ Video ▹5:12

the phone is held in billie's left hand. the flash is on, creating a high-contrast, cinematic look that highlights every bead of sweat and every drop of moisture.

the frame is filled with the sight of her rings—heavy, cold silver—slowly parting your folds. you're visible only from the waist down, trembling so hard the bedsheets beneath you are rustling.

but billie didn't like that. she moved her hand to press against your abdomen, stopping you from thrashing around.

"stay fucking still." she commanded and that made you obey against your own will.

when you behaved enough, billie started using her index finger to trace your length, over and over, never quite hitting the center.

the audio is a symphony of your broken whimpers. you hear her voice, a low, sandpaper rasp just off-camera "look how wet you are for me. you're literally dripping, baby. do you want it?"

you hear yourself beg. a soft, pathetic "please, billie," and she just chuckles.

she shifts the camera angle slightly to show her hand moving. in the clear view, her middle fingers are soaked—showing the camera how fucking easy you are. billie lifted her hand slightly to emphasize your slickness, pressing her middle finger and thumb together before pulling it apart — creating a thin string of your own arousal stretching. she catches the thick, clear pre-cum on her fingertips and brings it back to the frame, smearing it over your clit and deep into your entrance.

"fuck—" you gasped. billie leaned the camera to the end of the bed and placed her palm over your mouth.

"better stay quiet for me, hm? do you want mom to hear how much of a fucking slut you are?"

oh.

my.

god.

you totally forgot about maggie and patrick and shark who's pawing outside the door.

and you forgot about how thin the walls are. you whined against her palm. there's nothing you can really do. she's stretching you with her thumb, prepping the tight skin, making sure you’re glistening under the red LED light of her room.

she brings the head of the dildo into the frame. strapped onto her. it's huge, veined, and you can see your future limping. she doesn't go in. she just rubs the head against you, catching on your hood, dragging the length of it through your slickness. you're sobbing now, your hips jerking upward instinctively to find her, but she stays just out of reach.

"tell me whose it is," she demands. you can hear her own breath hitching. she’s just as close as you are.

the camera shakes as she finally commits. she lines herself up and pushes—not fast, but with a steady, crushing weight. the audio captures the loud, wet squelch as the head disappears inside you. your fucking moaned into her palm, a strained note as your body stretches to accommodate her.

she pauses halfway in, letting the camera focus on the way your skin is pulled taut around her base, white-knuckled and pulsing.

the clip ends with her letting out a raspy "fuck, you're so tight," before she slams the rest of the way in, the phone tumbling onto the bed as she grabs your hips to finish you.

Clip 21: stretched

➀ Video ▹6:45

the lighting is professional—dim warm light from her lamp that make the slickness of your skin look like gloss.

billie has you propped up on a stack of pillows, legs spread so wide it's almost clinical. she's not even touching you yet—she's just holding the phone inches away from your clit. you see the pulse of your own heart in your folds.

billie's voice is a dark, velvet rasp off-camera "look at that. look how much you're leaking for a piece of plastic. you're literally steaming."

she brings a massive, dark silicone dildo into the frame. it's thick, realistic, and glistening with a fresh coat of lube. she doesn't put it in. she uses the head of it to circle your entrance, catching the strings of your own moisture and stretching them out. she's filming the way your body reaches for it, the way your pussy literally winces and gapes every time the head brushes past.

so fucking needy.

she finally commits. she pushes the head in just an inch and stops. the camera captures the way you're forced to expand, the skin turning a pale, tight pink. she pulls it out with a loud, wet pop and then rams it back in, three inches deeper.

"nngghh…" you whimper a broken, pathetic sound.

billie zooms in close—you can see the texture of the silicone disappearing into you.

she whispers, "you're so fucking greedy, princess." as she begins a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm.

"oh my fucking god," you breathed out, accidentally block the view of the camera.

that's when the clip ends.

Clip 27: ✂️

➀ Video ▹ 5:45

the bed is stripped down to the white sheets, making the flush of your skin and the harsh scratches on billie's thighs stand out in high contrast.

four rounds in when billie decided to try scissoring.

you're both on your sides, legs intertwined in a tight "X" shape. billie has her top leg hooked high over your hip, pinning you down. the camera is zoomed in on the center of the frame—where your clits are locked together.

you can see the moisture already pooling between you, creating a shimmering, wet seal. billie is staring at you, her face inches away, her pupils so blown out her eyes look almost black.

she starts a slow, agonizingly heavy grind. it's not about speed—it's about pressure. the audio captures that thick, squelching sound of skin-on-skin friction. every time she pushes upward, you let out a broken whimper.

"yeah, you like that?" billie smirks, her hand reaching down to grab your waist and pull you even tighter against her.

"listen to that," she whispers, her voice vibrating against your lips. "you're so fucking loud for me."

the pace picks up. bad. desperate. billie is breathing in sharp, jagged hitches. you see the muscles in her calves and back tensing as she drives her weight into you.

the friction is creating a visible lather of slickness. you reach out, clawing at her shoulder, your nails leaving fresh red lines. the clip ends with billie biting her lip with her head thrown back to keep herself from screaming as you both hit a crushing, synchronized peak, the camera shaking from the force of her trembling.

Clip 17: my baby

➀ Video ▹ 1:45

this isn't a sex tape anymore. it’s a "morning after" video billie filmed while you were asleep in her arms. the lighting is soft morning sun filtering through the blinds.

the camera pans over her own body. her shoulders are covered in purple bite marks, her forearms are a map of long, jagged scabs from your nails. girl looks like she’s been in a fight with a tiger and happily married her after.

spoiler: the tiger is you

she turns the camera to you, fast asleep and looking completely innocent. she pans back to her own face—no makeup, tired eyes—and she just shakes her head with that small smile.

billie whispers to the camera, "she's fucking crazy. look at this."

she touches a particularly deep scratch on her bicep and winces slightly, but the smirk never leaves her face.

"i love you so much, angel," she whispers before the clip ends with her leaning over to kiss your forehead.

[dragoneyelashart]

yo we need a mechanic billie because you would write that shit so good

can you fix it? — b. eilish

⤷ warnings. g!p billie, p in v, oral (bil receiving), degradation, praise kink

summary. your car breaks down and everyone at the mechanic shop is pissing you off, but one person.

postcards. i've had many asks mentioning whether i will be stopping writing for billie, and the answer is no. my updates for her are just slower than usual as of right now, but there are a couple billie fics lined up for kinktober!

you really should’ve called your assistant.

but pride got the better of you.

so here you are, standing in the middle of a gritty backlot garage, high heels clicking sharply against the cracked concrete. your custom pink mercedes gleams under the harsh sun, a flawless diamond in the dirt, utterly out of place beside rusted pickups and weathered mustangs.

you hate it here.

the air hangs heavy with burnt rubber and cheap cigarettes. inside, the men pause what they’re doing when they spot you. one drops a wrench with a loud clang. another mutters something low under his breath that sets the others laughing.

you pretend not to notice. you’ve been raised above this noise.

still, your voice is sharp and clear. “i need someone to look at my car. it just shut off on the freeway.”

one of the guys, tall, dripping sweat and arrogance, gives you a slow once-over. “you sure it’s the car that’s broken, sweetheart?”

you level him with a steady look. “are you always this brave when you know the woman you’re talking to could buy the whole building?”

he whistles low. “touché.”

you ignore him.

another man steps forward, wiping his hands on a rag, trying and failing not to stare down your blouse. “you uh… got a number for it? the car, i mean.”

“i don’t give my number to men who stare at my chest instead of my eyes.”

“damnn.”

that shuts them up, for a moment.

then she walks in.

heavy boots, sleeves rolled to the elbow, a black tank streaked with oil clinging to muscles that ripple with every step. her biceps speak of strength. she moves like she owns every inch of this place, like the cracked concrete bends under her weight.

when her eyes land on you and your pink porsche, your lips part without thought.

she’s hot. unfairly hot.

“who called?” she drawls, wrench slung casually over one shoulder.

“yeah,” one of the guys says, grinning. “barbie over here broke down.”

you shoot him a sharp glare, but billie’s gaze never leaves you. it travels slowly, deliberately, from your heels, up your legs, to your face, unreadable, intense.

her brows arch in amusement. “lost, princess?”

you stiffen. “no. i just need someone competent enough to check the engine.”

that earns a low whistle behind her, but billie doesn’t flinch.

she steps forward, slow, unbothered planting one large hand on the hood of your car. her bicep flexes as she leans in, veins prominent beneath skin glistening with sweat. sleeves rolled up, muscles taut effortless strength that makes your breath catch.

then she looks at you.

not just seeing you, reading you. picking you apart, piece by piece, and clearly liking what she finds.

you open your mouth to speak to reassert yourself but your throat dries up. her scent hits you: clean sweat, oil, and something warm and dark that unsettles you more than 

it should.

she notices.

a slow, soft smirk curls her lips. “oh, would look at that,” she murmurs, voice dipping low. “mouthy little thing went quiet.”

your brows twitch, but words won’t come.

“what’s the matter, princess?” she whispers, stepping closer. her eyes twinkle with amusement. “you’ve been handing those boys their asses since you walked in, and now you’re all…” she sizes you up, voice dropping to a teasing drawl, “quiet hm?.”

you manage a breath. “i’m not—”

“no backing down now,” she grins, clearly entertained. “i think i like you better this way.”

you try to roll your eyes, but your body betrays you, fingers tug at your bracelet, your weight shifts nervously, your mouth presses into a tight line that’s anything but indifferent.

it doesn’t fool her.

she leans in just enough to brush her arm against yours.

“let me guess,” she whispers, voice low and teasing against your ear, “you’ve got a whole world that caters to your every whim… but look at you right now, can’t even look me in the eye.”

you don’t answer. can’t. your throat tightens, your cheeks burn.

her grin widens, victorious. “that’s what i thought.”

you flush, hating every second of it. “m’ not nervous.”

billie laughs low, dragging her knuckle slowly across your car’s hood as if sizing you up again. “no? then why won’t you look at me?”

you bristle, eyes flickering up. “i—i… um”

that makes her grin, wide, shameless, slow. “come on, where’s that big mouth of yours gone, sweetheart”

she says it like it’s nothing. like she means it.

you freeze. the image strikes deep.

her biceps flex as she pushes off the hood big hands, strong shoulders, muscle under that rolled-up tank and suddenly you’re painfully aware of just how easily she could press you down.

“don’t worry, princess,” she adds, voice dropping as she leans in close, “i’m real good with my hands. especially when something needs… adjusting.”

“c’mon let’s get somewhere a little more private,” she says, voice steady and low.

you hesitate, just for a moment. but her presence is magnetic, impossible to resist.

her hand slides around your waist, firm and sure, guiding you away from the noisy garage floor toward a narrow hallway behind the bays.

the hum of engines fades behind you as she leads you into a smaller, dimmer room smelling of grease and metal, and a hint of a musky vanilla, but charged with something else entirely.

she stops just inside the door, her bicep pressing lightly against your side as she looks down at you, eyes shining with that bold, challenging spark.

“better than having those greasy hands all over you,” she says with a slow, wicked grin. “now i’ve got your full attention.”

your heart hammers wildly despite yourself, you’re already craving what comes next.

you swallow. hard.

“pop the hood,” she orders, stepping back.

you do, fingers fumbling just a little, and she watches every movement like she’s already figured out how you tick.

and fuck, you can feel your heartbeat in places it shouldn’t be.

the heat is stifling.

your silk top sticks to your back, and your thighs press together under your skirt as you lean against the hot metal of your car’s hood. she’s behind you, sleeves rolled up, arms flexing as she wipes her hands clean with a rag. her gaze hasn’t left you since she got here.

“you break down often?” she asks, voice a husky drawl.

you try to keep your voice calm. “not—not really”

she steps in close. too close.

“maybe you should…,” she murmurs, her fingers sliding under the hem of your skirt. “gives me a reason to get my hands on you.”

you gasp, but you don’t stop her. you should. you don’t.

“billie—”

her hand grips your hip. firm. possessive. she leans in, breath warm against your ear. “try again, princess, cmon”

your knees nearly buckle. “please billie”

you should walk away. but instead, you arch your back when her fingers slide along your inner thigh.

“you’re soaked,” she growls, knuckles brushing your panties. “why didn’t you use your words for me, mama? you clearly were using them early. dripping like a needy girl.”

“i—”

your voice catches as she pulls your panties to the side, then down, letting them hang off one ankle like a trophy. you feel the cool air on your exposed pussy and the hard press of something hot and thick against your ass.

you glance back. her cock, long, veiny, flushed at the tip, already leaking for you. 

“you’re not scared, are you?” she teases, stroking it, slow and deliberate. “big girl like you? bet you’ve never had cock like mine.”

“fuck me,” you whisper, shameless now, “please, bil.”

her hand snaps around your hip, firm and possessive, anchoring you in place. she leans in, warm breath grazing your ear, voice low and teasing. “always so spoiled, princess. are you so used to getting what you want right away.”

you swallow hard.

“you know what i’m thinking, baby,” she purrs, her voice low and commanding, “this time… you’re gonna have to wait. show me some respect, yeah?”

your knees threaten to buckle. “please—please,—” you start to beg.

she cuts you off with a smirk, stepping back just enough to size you up. “if you want me to fuck you, princess, you gotta prove you deserve it. you really think you deserve my cock, hm mama?”

your pulse spikes, heat rushing through you.

billie’s eyes darken, sharp and teasing. “walking in here in that tiny skirt and a big mouth. what happened to all that talk, baby? guess you just need someone to put you in your place.”

you nod, unsure what exactly you’re agreeing to but too eager to question it.

with a slow, deliberate motion, she gestures her head. you drop to your knees, trembling but determined, hands gripping her hips as you take her in. 

her breath catches, hips pressing forward. “that’s it,” she growls, one hand threading through your hair, guiding you like you belong to her.

your tongue swirls over her tip, tasting her precum, before you lick it clean and kiss it softly. you take her deeper, gagging slightly on her length. she bucks her hips, lost in the sensation, fingers weaved between the locks in your hair.

soft moans and whimpers spill from her lips as she nears her edge.

“good girl,” she murmurs, not pushing you too far too fast. you whimper, grinding your hips against her boot, craving some relief from the ache building inside you.

“dirty little slut,” she taunts, pulling away. “can’t wait for me to fuck you, huh?”

you shake your head, overwhelmed, throwing your head back as a shudder ripples through you.

she pulls you up, pressing you against your car, her body hot and solid against yours. her lips crash onto yours with fierce hunger.

her hands slide down, pulling your skirt up and your panties aside, tip of her cock teasing through your slick folds.

“please,” you beg, voice trembling. “need you inside me.”

she laughs softly but wastes no time. her hands grip your hips, and with a brutal thrust, she sinks deep inside you. you cry out, arching your back against the cool hood.

“god, so tight,” she growls, pulling out halfway then slamming back in harder. the metal groans beneath you. “made for my cock, fucking perfect.”

her pace is relentless deep, and rough, claiming every inch. you’re soaked, your walls fluttering around her as she fucks you in plain sight.

a car door slams somewhere nearby. you don’t care.

only thing on your mind being her.

“louder,” she pants. “let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

“b-billie!” you cry, knuckles white as you grip the hood. “don’t stop—”

her hand tangles in your hair, pulling you flush against her chest. she fucks into you harder, one hand sliding around to rub your clit. her lips brush your ear.

“you gonna come for me?”

you nod, desperate and wild.

“gonna be my messy little girl? make a mess all over my cock?”

“yes—please, bil—i’m—!”

“gonna let me fill you up, princess?”

you nod frantically, trembling as the knot inside snaps. your legs shake, pussy clenching tight around her as she moans deep in your ear, spills inside you. 

she doesn’t pull out. just holds you there, chest to your back, both of you panting in the heat and the sweat the scent of her perfume dominating the greasy smell of the garage. 

then her voice, low and smug:

“next time you want your car fixed, just call me directly. i’ll bring my tools.”

© dragoneyelashart

𖤓 tags. @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @too-sapphic-to-function @thebluediner @vijaxx @thinkshespretty @belovedbil @hopingforgoodblogs @dousleepanymore @billiesbabygirll @hehehehannahthings @clairescrown @malefantasy23 @sky-brooks8 @callsignwidow @rhearipleysbrutality @foliverfallsinlovewcassi @greenbttrflyy @deardariaa @bunnyxslutt @slvtforladies @ilomilobabyy @billiemirror69 @siredtohotvamps @wewerewildandfluorescent @bilsbabyma @karaeilish @chrissv4mp @bitchesbrokenpromises @aka-persephone @emi-inspace @ermmmidkk @marieilish1823 @evilcr0ne @bilsvndaes @cantlandonmyfeet @idkbruhdoyou @urjustsosweet @ijustlovemaths

[statementofthefuckingproblem]

WANTED

sophia . bisexual . wlw . calm . billie eilish . cats . listen before I go . teatro . guitar . 5'11 . music. inactive .

interact w/ me - @statementoftheproblem

➣ this blog is solely made for the wlw community and billie.

dni: minors, men, perfectionist, racist, homophobic people…

➣ masterlist (will update soon)

➣ sop's reco (will update soon)

dm's:

i swear, i am really approachable! i do read my inbox and dm's and reply when i can. hit me up and i'll answer:) if i do take long to reply, i do make time to go through them ❤️

posting:

if i do post, it's most likely scheduled for release at a specific date. i do have a lot of drafts that are all ready for posting, i only get back at it to add the pictures before scheduling it for posting.

requesting/writing conditions:

- the only person i write for:

in terms of requests, i only write what i am comfortable to write. it will take time tho:)

Official name for the reader: Deianira Yves Estlavhant

must read!

a person behind this blog works two jobs and is a full-time student with a hectic schedule. i try to be active when i am allowed. don't hesitate to hmu if u have more questions or just want to be moots!<3

[sxxphe]

Boss lady

CEO! Wife!Billie! X wife! Reader! bottom

Warnings: smut, filth, danger of getting caught, semi-public sex, strap, oral sex

The sleek, towering glass doors of Eilish Enterprises gleamed under the midday sun as you stepped into the bustling lobby, the warm paper bag containing Billie’s forgotten lunch held carefully in both hands like a precious offering. At twenty-nine, your wife had built this tech empire from bold ideas and relentless drive, turning it into one of the city’s most formidable companies. The marble floors clicked softly under your sandals, and the air carried the faint scent of expensive coffee and ambition. You smoothed the skirt of your light sundress, feeling the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Life as Billie’s housewife was everything you had ever wanted—peaceful, loving, and deeply fulfilling. You spent your days tending to their beautiful hillside home: watering the garden, baking fresh bread, folding her crisp shirts with care, and creating a soft haven for her to return to after long days of board meetings and high-stakes decisions. You loved every minute of it. Yet moments like this—venturing into her powerful corporate world—always made you feel a little out of place, like a soft bloom wandering into a steel forest. Still, she had skipped breakfast and forgotten lunch again. You couldn’t let her go hungry.

The receptionist greeted you with a bright, knowing smile. “Mrs. Eilish! She’ll be thrilled to see you.” You nodded shyly, clutching the bag a little tighter as the elevator whisked you up to the top floor. Your reflection in the mirrored walls showed flushed cheeks and slightly nervous eyes. Billie’s world was fast-paced and cutthroat; yours was gentle and domestic. The contrast thrilled you, but it also made your heart race whenever you crossed into her domain.

When the elevator doors opened, Billie’s assistant waved you straight into the corner office with a discreet wink. The room was stunning—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, sleek modern furniture, and the faint scent of Billie’s signature cologne mixed with leather. Billie looked up from her massive desk, those piercing blue eyes locking onto you instantly. At twenty-nine, she was even more commanding: platinum hair styled with effortless authority, tailored black suit hugging her tall frame, sleeves rolled up to reveal her inked forearms. She looked every bit the powerful CEO.

“Baby…” Billie’s voice was low and warm, melting something deep inside you. She stood, rounding the desk with that confident stride. “You came all the way here for me?”

“You forgot your lunch again,” you said softly, offering the bag with a shy smile. “Avocado toast with spicy honey drizzle, the quinoa salad you like, and extra strawberries on the side. I packed it fresh this morning.”

Billie took the bag but immediately set it aside, pulling you close. Her hands settled on your waist, firm and possessive. “My perfect little housewife. Fuck, I don’t deserve you. You take such good care of our home… of me.” She leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss that made your toes curl.

You melted for a moment before reality hit. The low hum of voices and footsteps filtered in from the open-plan area just beyond the partially drawn blinds. Your nerves spiked. You gently pushed against her chest, breaking the kiss. “Billie, wait… not here. This is your office. People are right outside. I should go—I just wanted to make sure you ate.”

Billie’s blue eyes darkened with desire, but she respected the hesitation, letting you step back. You turned toward the door, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. “I love you. I’ll see you at home tonight, okay?”

As you reached for the handle, Billie’s hand caught your wrist—gentle but insistent. She pulled you back against her chest in one smooth motion, spinning you to face her. Before you could protest again, her mouth claimed yours in a passionate, soul-stirring kiss. One hand cradled the back of your head while the other pressed firmly at the small of your back, holding you flush against her. The kiss was deep and loving, her tongue sliding against yours with tender insistence until your resistance softened and you whimpered into her mouth.

When she finally pulled back, both of you breathing heavily, Billie rested her forehead against yours. “I know you’re nervous, baby. But I need you. I need to thank my beautiful wife for everything she does for me. Door’s locked. No one’s coming in. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Your breath trembled. “Billie… I said no. What if someone hears? Or knocks? I’m not supposed to be—”

She kissed you again, softer this time, full of adoration. “I’ve got you. Always. Trust me?”

The combination of her intense blue eyes, the warmth of her body, and the overwhelming love in her voice made your hesitation crumble. You nodded shyly, burying your face in her neck for a moment. “I do trust you… I love you so much.”

That was all she needed. Billie lifted you effortlessly onto the wide mahogany desk, papers scattering as she pushed your sundress up to your waist. She dropped to her knees with reverence, kissing along your inner thighs until you were trembling. Her mouth found your center, licking slow, worshipful stripes over your damp lace before pulling it aside. You bit your lip hard, fingers threading through her dark hair as her experienced tongue circled your clit and dipped inside you with loving strokes.

“Billie—oh god—” you whispered, panic and pleasure mixing as footsteps passed nearby.

She stood, unbuckling her belt with practiced ease and retrieving the thick black strap from her drawer. Securing it around her hips, she looked devastating—powerful CEO with piercing blue eyes, ready to claim her wife. She rubbed the tip through your slick folds, then pushed in slowly, stretching you open until she was buried deep. The fullness drew a soft moan from you.

“I love you more every day,” Billie murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “My devoted housewife… you make everything worth it.”

She began thrusting—deep, rolling strokes that hit every perfect spot. The desk creaked softly. Your nervousness peaked with every distant voice and footstep. “Someone’s going to hear us—” you whimpered, eyes wide.

Billie’s hand clamped gently but firmly over your mouth, her blue eyes blazing with lust and tenderness. “Shh, my love. This pussy is mine right now. Only I get to hear those pretty sounds.” She fucked you harder, hips snapping with controlled power, grinding against your clit while her free hand gripped your hip possessively.

“That’s it, baby. Take your wife’s cock like the good girl you are,” she praised huskily. “I’m coming home tonight to worship you for hours—bathe you, feed you, make love until you forget everything but me.”

Your orgasm hit hard, body shaking, walls clenching around the strap as you moaned desperately into her palm. Tears of overwhelming pleasure slipped down your cheeks. Billie followed with a low groan, grinding deep as her own release washed over her.

She stayed inside you, kissing away your tears and whispering endless “I love you”s once her hand left your mouth. After helping you down and straightening your dress with loving care, she pulled you onto her lap to share the lunch you’d brought.

“Best lunch break I’ve ever had,” she murmured, feeding you a strawberry, blue eyes soft with adoration. “Go home and rest, my sweet wife. I’ll be there by six to spoil you all night.”

You left flushed and glowing, heart full. Being married to Billie Eilish was the most thrilling, loving adventure of your life.

[saintofdecayyy]

๋࣭ ⭑𝓂ovie night {B.E}

summary: you record billie as she’s getting fucked out by you!!

word count: 1.4k

cw: EXPLICIT CONTENT, strap usage, swearing, degradation, SMUT, subtop!billie,dom!reader

the red light of the camera blinked, a tiny, hungry eye in the dim hotel room. it was aimed at the bed, at the chaos of sheets and the sprawl of limbs in the center of it. at billie.

“fuck,” she breathed, the sound half-gasp, half-whine. her back was arched, a perfect, desperate bow, pushing her tits up towards the ceiling. they bounced with every sharp thrust of your hips, a mesmerizing rhythm you were capturing forever. “look at ‘em. are you gettin’ how good they look right now?”

you angled your phone down slightly, panning from her face, scrunched up in pleasure, to her chest. the screen was a perfect, glossy window to her debasement. her nipples were tight, dusky peaks, begging for a mouth that wasn’t there. “i’m getting it,” you murmured, your voice a low, steady counterpoint to her frantic whimpers. “i’m getting everything.”

she preened under the attention of the lens, even as her body was completely subject to yours. it was a delicious contradiction, the core of what made her so addictive. she’d flex her arms, a show of strength that was utterly betrayed by the way her pussy clenched around you, slick and welcoming. “you gonna watch this later?” she asked, a sly, fucked-out grin stretching her lips. “gonna watch me when you’re all alone and remember how i fuck you?”

“i’m going to watch it and remember how i fuck you,” you corrected, punctuating the statement with a particularly deep roll of your hips. the sound she made was somewhere between a sob and a moan, her head falling back against the pillows, her throat a long, vulnerable column. the chain of her necklace glittered there, catching the light.

“god, yes,” she agreed, no longer able to manage her teasing braggadocio. her hands, which had been flexing on your biceps, flew to her own breasts. she cupped them, squeezing them together for the camera, presenting them like an offering. “play with my nipples,” she demanded, but it came out a plea. “please? pinch ‘em. make it hurt.”

you set the phone on the nightstand, propping it against the lamp for a stable, wide shot. the frame was perfect: her entire body, yours moving above her, the slick sheen of sweat on your skin. freeing your hands, you leaned over her, the strap shifting inside her and drawing a fresh cry. you did as she asked, your fingers finding her sensitive peaks and rolling them, pinching hard.

her reaction was instantaneous. her whole body jolted, legs tightening around your waist, pulling you deeper. “fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck—” the chant was a prayer, a litany to the pleasure-pain you were administering. her hips began to move in earnest, meeting your thrusts with a frantic, sloppy rhythm. she was trying to take control, to set the pace, but it was a losing battle. every grind of her hips was just a plea for more, a surrender in a different form.

“you’re so fucking desperate for it,” you whispered against her jaw, your teeth scraping the skin there. her whole body shuddered, a silent acknowledgment. “look at you. putting on a show for the camera, but really, you’re just a mess for me, aren’t you?”

she couldn’t answer. she just shook her head, a denial that was a confession. her tits were still pushed up between your bodies, soft and pliant against your chest. she was trying so hard to be the one in charge, the one with the power, flexing and showing off and demanding what she wanted. but with every stroke of the strap, every cruel twist of your fingers, she was proving the opposite. her body was yours. her pleasure was yours. the video you were making was yours.

“say it,” you commanded, your hips snapping forward, hard and fast. “tell the camera who’s fucking you.”

her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, trying to find the little red light. she licked her swollen lips. “you are,” she breathed, the words cracking. “you are.”

“and whose tits are these?” you squeezed one for emphasis.

a whine escaped her throat, high and broken. “yours.”

“whose messy little pussy is this?”

she whimpered, grinding against you, chasing her release. “yours. god, it’s yours.”

“good girl.” you reached over, picked up the phone, and brought it in close, right to her face. “now, look at the camera,” you said, your voice soft but absolute. “and show me what it looks like when my cock makes you cum.”

her entire body locked. for a single, suspended second, she was a statue caught in the headlights of your phone’s lens. her pupils swallowed the blue of her irises, a wide, black abyss of pure sensation. the muscles in her neck stood out like cords as her head tipped back, a silent scream caught in her throat. then, the dam broke.

a choked sob wrenched its way out of her, raw and unrestrained. “gonna— gonna—” she managed to gasp before the words dissolved into a high-pitched keen. her body convulsed, a violent shudder starting in her core and radiating outwards. her thighs clamped around your waist like a vise, her heels digging into your ass, pulling you impossibly deeper as if she could fuse you into one being. her tits, still pressed between you, shook with the force of her orgasm, a frantic, final jiggle for the camera. the slick, wet sounds of the strap driving through her clenching heat were louder than her cries now, a percussive rhythm to her undoing.

you kept your phone steady, a merciless documentarian, capturing the flutter of her eyelids, the tear that escaped and tracked a path through the sheen of sweat on her temple, the way her jaw went slack with utter abandon. you didn’t stop moving, giving her no quarter, drawing out the pleasure until it was an agony.

“still looking,” you prompted, your voice a dark murmur. “give them more.”

she seemed to hear you through the fog of her orgasm, a flicker of awareness in her dazed eyes. with a monumental effort, she focused back on the lens. a fresh wave of heat washed over her face, a deep blush at being so seen, so recorded, so completely owned. her breath hitched. she tried to speak, to form one last, witty, defiant retort, but all that came out was a broken, breathy, “oh, fuck.”

her body went limp then, a complete and total surrender. she sank back into the mattress, boneless and spent, her limbs falling away from you. the only movement was the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the occasional, full-body shudder that traced the ghost of her orgasm. you held the camera on her for a long moment, capturing the aftermath: the blissed-out expression, the swollen lips, the tousled dark hair spread across the pillow like a halo. a perfect, ruined masterpiece.

finally, you stopped the recording. the red light vanished, plunging the room into a deeper, more intimate gloom. you tossed the phone onto the bed beside her, the soft thud startling a whimper from her.

she blinked slowly, turning her head to look at you. the bravado was gone, evaporated in the heat of her release. all that was left was a soft, pliant need. her tongue darted out to wet her lips again. “did you get it?” she whispered, her voice raspy.

you leaned down, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to her shoulder. “i got it all.”

a slow, lazy smile spread across her face. “good,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. “now show me.”

you didn’t move, letting the silence settle, thick and heavy as the humid air in the room. her breath was the only metric of time, a slow, even rhythm that gradually calmed from the frantic panting of moments before. after a long minute, her eyelids fluttered open, the blue of her irises soft in the gloom, hazy and unfocused like the aftermath of a storm.

“show me,” she repeated, the request a bare whisper now, stripped of all demand. it was a plea, a vulnerability she only showed you in these quiet moments after the tempest had passed.

you smiled, a slow, private curve of your lips. you reached for the phone, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. you lay down beside her, propping yourself up on an elbow, and shifted the screen so it was between you. your thumb found the playback button.

the world shrank to the six-inch rectangle. the video started with a slight jostle, your hands finding the perfect angle. and then there she was. on screen, billie’s head tipped back, a perfect column of throat presented to the camera as you entered her. a small, sharp gasp echoed from the phone’s speaker, a ghost of the sound you’d just heard live.

💬TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird

If you haven’t yet, be sure to comment “🐼” to be added to my taglist

[saintofdecayyy]

๋࣭ ⭑𝓂ovie night {B.E}

summary: you record billie as she’s getting fucked out by you!!

word count: 1.4k

cw: EXPLICIT CONTENT, strap usage, swearing, degradation, SMUT, subtop!billie,dom!reader

the red light of the camera blinked, a tiny, hungry eye in the dim hotel room. it was aimed at the bed, at the chaos of sheets and the sprawl of limbs in the center of it. at billie.

“fuck,” she breathed, the sound half-gasp, half-whine. her back was arched, a perfect, desperate bow, pushing her tits up towards the ceiling. they bounced with every sharp thrust of your hips, a mesmerizing rhythm you were capturing forever. “look at ‘em. are you gettin’ how good they look right now?”

you angled your phone down slightly, panning from her face, scrunched up in pleasure, to her chest. the screen was a perfect, glossy window to her debasement. her nipples were tight, dusky peaks, begging for a mouth that wasn’t there. “i’m getting it,” you murmured, your voice a low, steady counterpoint to her frantic whimpers. “i’m getting everything.”

she preened under the attention of the lens, even as her body was completely subject to yours. it was a delicious contradiction, the core of what made her so addictive. she’d flex her arms, a show of strength that was utterly betrayed by the way her pussy clenched around you, slick and welcoming. “you gonna watch this later?” she asked, a sly, fucked-out grin stretching her lips. “gonna watch me when you’re all alone and remember how i fuck you?”

“i’m going to watch it and remember how i fuck you,” you corrected, punctuating the statement with a particularly deep roll of your hips. the sound she made was somewhere between a sob and a moan, her head falling back against the pillows, her throat a long, vulnerable column. the chain of her necklace glittered there, catching the light.

“god, yes,” she agreed, no longer able to manage her teasing braggadocio. her hands, which had been flexing on your biceps, flew to her own breasts. she cupped them, squeezing them together for the camera, presenting them like an offering. “play with my nipples,” she demanded, but it came out a plea. “please? pinch ‘em. make it hurt.”

you set the phone on the nightstand, propping it against the lamp for a stable, wide shot. the frame was perfect: her entire body, yours moving above her, the slick sheen of sweat on your skin. freeing your hands, you leaned over her, the strap shifting inside her and drawing a fresh cry. you did as she asked, your fingers finding her sensitive peaks and rolling them, pinching hard.

her reaction was instantaneous. her whole body jolted, legs tightening around your waist, pulling you deeper. “fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck—” the chant was a prayer, a litany to the pleasure-pain you were administering. her hips began to move in earnest, meeting your thrusts with a frantic, sloppy rhythm. she was trying to take control, to set the pace, but it was a losing battle. every grind of her hips was just a plea for more, a surrender in a different form.

“you’re so fucking desperate for it,” you whispered against her jaw, your teeth scraping the skin there. her whole body shuddered, a silent acknowledgment. “look at you. putting on a show for the camera, but really, you’re just a mess for me, aren’t you?”

she couldn’t answer. she just shook her head, a denial that was a confession. her tits were still pushed up between your bodies, soft and pliant against your chest. she was trying so hard to be the one in charge, the one with the power, flexing and showing off and demanding what she wanted. but with every stroke of the strap, every cruel twist of your fingers, she was proving the opposite. her body was yours. her pleasure was yours. the video you were making was yours.

“say it,” you commanded, your hips snapping forward, hard and fast. “tell the camera who’s fucking you.”

her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, trying to find the little red light. she licked her swollen lips. “you are,” she breathed, the words cracking. “you are.”

“and whose tits are these?” you squeezed one for emphasis.

a whine escaped her throat, high and broken. “yours.”

“whose messy little pussy is this?”

she whimpered, grinding against you, chasing her release. “yours. god, it’s yours.”

“good girl.” you reached over, picked up the phone, and brought it in close, right to her face. “now, look at the camera,” you said, your voice soft but absolute. “and show me what it looks like when my cock makes you cum.”

her entire body locked. for a single, suspended second, she was a statue caught in the headlights of your phone’s lens. her pupils swallowed the blue of her irises, a wide, black abyss of pure sensation. the muscles in her neck stood out like cords as her head tipped back, a silent scream caught in her throat. then, the dam broke.

a choked sob wrenched its way out of her, raw and unrestrained. “gonna— gonna—” she managed to gasp before the words dissolved into a high-pitched keen. her body convulsed, a violent shudder starting in her core and radiating outwards. her thighs clamped around your waist like a vise, her heels digging into your ass, pulling you impossibly deeper as if she could fuse you into one being. her tits, still pressed between you, shook with the force of her orgasm, a frantic, final jiggle for the camera. the slick, wet sounds of the strap driving through her clenching heat were louder than her cries now, a percussive rhythm to her undoing.

you kept your phone steady, a merciless documentarian, capturing the flutter of her eyelids, the tear that escaped and tracked a path through the sheen of sweat on her temple, the way her jaw went slack with utter abandon. you didn’t stop moving, giving her no quarter, drawing out the pleasure until it was an agony.

“still looking,” you prompted, your voice a dark murmur. “give them more.”

she seemed to hear you through the fog of her orgasm, a flicker of awareness in her dazed eyes. with a monumental effort, she focused back on the lens. a fresh wave of heat washed over her face, a deep blush at being so seen, so recorded, so completely owned. her breath hitched. she tried to speak, to form one last, witty, defiant retort, but all that came out was a broken, breathy, “oh, fuck.”

her body went limp then, a complete and total surrender. she sank back into the mattress, boneless and spent, her limbs falling away from you. the only movement was the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the occasional, full-body shudder that traced the ghost of her orgasm. you held the camera on her for a long moment, capturing the aftermath: the blissed-out expression, the swollen lips, the tousled dark hair spread across the pillow like a halo. a perfect, ruined masterpiece.

finally, you stopped the recording. the red light vanished, plunging the room into a deeper, more intimate gloom. you tossed the phone onto the bed beside her, the soft thud startling a whimper from her.

she blinked slowly, turning her head to look at you. the bravado was gone, evaporated in the heat of her release. all that was left was a soft, pliant need. her tongue darted out to wet her lips again. “did you get it?” she whispered, her voice raspy.

you leaned down, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to her shoulder. “i got it all.”

a slow, lazy smile spread across her face. “good,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. “now show me.”

you didn’t move, letting the silence settle, thick and heavy as the humid air in the room. her breath was the only metric of time, a slow, even rhythm that gradually calmed from the frantic panting of moments before. after a long minute, her eyelids fluttered open, the blue of her irises soft in the gloom, hazy and unfocused like the aftermath of a storm.

“show me,” she repeated, the request a bare whisper now, stripped of all demand. it was a plea, a vulnerability she only showed you in these quiet moments after the tempest had passed.

you smiled, a slow, private curve of your lips. you reached for the phone, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. you lay down beside her, propping yourself up on an elbow, and shifted the screen so it was between you. your thumb found the playback button.

the world shrank to the six-inch rectangle. the video started with a slight jostle, your hands finding the perfect angle. and then there she was. on screen, billie’s head tipped back, a perfect column of throat presented to the camera as you entered her. a small, sharp gasp echoed from the phone’s speaker, a ghost of the sound you’d just heard live.

💬TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme @peunkzilla @sylvymilky @bilsluvbird

If you haven’t yet, be sure to comment “🐼” to be added to my taglist

[47lake]

billie eilish masterlist

guide: almost everything contains or alludes to smut, series: ★ separate series are marked by a designated emoji drabbles: i

needy girl

⤷ synopsis: billie is struggling to keep herself together while she’s away on tour, she shows you how much she needs you in the middle of your important meeting.

pretty on camera

⤷ synopsis: your best friend billie eilish calls you late at night and guides you through it.

i love you

⤷ synopsis: billie loves how pretty you look in the morning, especially when you’re taking her fingers.

sex tapes

⤷ synopsis: you and billie make tapes together to post on your sites, you’re one of the most popular content creators. everyone can see it’s two people but no one knows who you’re with..

interview me

⤷ synopsis: you are the new interviewer for the chicken shop date show. billie is coming back on today for another interview. she’s very interested when she sees you, and that intrigue doesn’t stop even after the interview is over.

i’m sorry ★💧

⤷ synopsis: billie has always been the type to prioritize your pleasure over her own, but how far will she go to please you?

payback ★💧

⤷ synopsis: you always loved it when billie got frustrated, but something about this night specifically drove you absolutely wild. plus, you had to get your payback.

i’m yours

⤷ synopsis: billie had a lot of fun at a party, you take her home and show her how much more fun it is to be your good girl.

asleep

⤷ synopsis: billie has an eventful dream about you, becoming so eager for you that she can't wait please you, even when you're asleep.

home to you

⤷ synopsis: while billie is away on tour you get desperate and call her, she guides you through a quick release with the help of her voice and a pillow.

need me

⤷ synopsis: you’re on a road trip when you run into eva at a gas station, it’s getting late and she invites you to her place. things quickly grow hot and heavy as the magnetic stranger lures you in further.

talk to me

⤷ synopsis: you're trying to tell billie something but she can't help cutting you off.

don't move. part I ★💰

⤷ synopsis: you just started at your new job as a bank clerk when things take a turn for the worst, until you find yourself met with a familiar face.

don’t move. part II ★💰

⤷ synopsis of part II: you searched your boss's office for the code to the safe, and then things took a much more interesting turn.

just like that

⤷ synopsis: this is literally just smut, all the way through, enjoy!

who’s your daddy?

⤷ synopsis: you joined billie for her big meeting this quarter, met with good donuts and bad jokes. afterwards the two of you rush home to sort out some pent up frustration.

after hours ★🗂️

⤷ synopsis: your boss has been giving you lots of lingering glances and extra work, she keeps you very late one night and things take an interesting turn.

say please

⤷ synopsis: you and billie have been dating for a while, she is the perfect girl for you. though, sometimes she can misbehave a bit.. but she loves when you put her in her place.

© 47lake all rights reserved. i am not on wattpad. don't steal, translate or post my work across tumblr or onto other apps and platforms. 🖤

please send any requests to my inbox! click here to read my request rules!

[47lake]

who wants subillie 🧟‍♀️

[sllverlake]

just wanna get her off or whatever billie said

[byeilish]

FUCK THE BEAT INTO YOU billie eilish

synopsis; You’re stiff, nervous, you need to learn the rhythm of the song you’re making with billie for a collab, when she notices, she decides to help you both, learn it and calm yourself.

warnings; Gip!Billie, dirty talk, no ask for permission, p in v, unprotected sex, squirting, degrading if you squint, you tell me if there’s anything else I should put.

The studio in Billie's LA house felt like a cocoon of creativity and quiet intensity, tucked away in the sprawling modern home she called her sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the twinkling city lights, but heavy curtains were drawn, keeping the outside world at bay. Inside, the air hummed with the faint scent of incense and fresh coffee, mixed with the subtle musk of long hours spent chasing perfection. The grand screen set up dominated the space, its polished black surface reflecting the soft amber glow from the desk lamps. Posters of Billie's past tours and album covers adorned the walls, a testament to her empire, while scattered notebooks and a half-empty bottle of water cluttered the nearby table.

You'd arrived that afternoon, nerves buzzing like the synth lines in the track you were building together. As industry colleagues, your paths had crossed at industry events—quick hellos at the Grammys, nods during producer meetings—but this was different. This was intimate, collaborative, just the two of you hammering out a song that blended her edgy vocals with your piano-driven melody. The track was sultry, pulsating with a rhythm that demanded precision, especially from the keys. You'd been at it for what felt like eternity, your fingers aching from repeated attempts, but every run-through ended in frustration. The notes slipped, the timing fractured, and the whole piece fell apart.

Billie lounged against the edge of the piano, her black hair falling in loose waves over her forehead, those striking blue eyes fixed on you with a mix of amusement and impatience. She wore her usual oversized aesthetic—a baggy black hoodie that swallowed her slim frame, loose sweats that hung low on her hips, and chunky sneakers kicked off by the door. At 24, she carried an effortless cool, but up close, there was a raw energy about her, something magnetic that made the room feel smaller.

"Alright, let's take it from the bridge again," she said, her voice that signature low rasp, laced with a teasing edge. She pushed off the piano and paced a slow circle around you, hands tucked into her pockets. "You're overthinking it. The rhythm isn't in your head—it's in your body. You gotta feel it, like it's breathing through you."

You nodded, wiping sweat from your brow, and positioned your hands over the keys. The melody started strong in your mind: a steady pulse building to a crescendo, evoking late-night drives through the city, hearts racing in sync. But as you pressed down, your timing wavered. A note hung too long, another came too soon, and the whole sequence crumbled into dissonance. You slammed your palm lightly on the wood in defeat, exhaling sharply.

Billie stopped pacing, her smirk widening as she leaned in close, her breath warm against your shoulder. "See? Too stiff. You're like a robot trying to dance. Loosen up, yeah? Let me help you find the groove." Her tone was playful, almost mocking, but there was an undercurrent of something hotter, more insistent. Before you could respond, her hands were on your hips, firm and guiding, steering you to bend forward over the piano bench. The cool surface of the keys brushed your forearms as you braced yourself, heart pounding not just from the failure but from the sudden proximity.

"Billie, what are you—" you began, voice catching as you felt her press against your back. The bulge in her sweats was unmistakable, hard and unyielding, nestling right against the curve of your ass. She was different—everyone in the inner circles whispered about it, but feeling it was another thing entirely. A girl with a cock and balls, thick and ready, hidden under that casual exterior.

"Shh," she murmured, lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm gonna show you the rhythm. Trust me, it'll stick this time." Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it up slowly, exposing the soft skin of your thighs. The air in the studio felt thicker now, charged, as she slid your panties to the side with a casual flick. You were already damp—frustration and her teasing presence had done that much—and she let out a soft hum of approval.

She freed herself from her sweats, the sound of fabric rustling followed by the heavy drop of her length against your skin. Her cock was impressive—thick at the base, veined along its length, the head flushed and leaking a bead of precum. Her balls hung low, full and swaying slightly as she gripped your hip with one hand. She dragged the tip along your folds, coating it in your arousal, teasing your entrance without mercy. "Look at you, already wet for the lesson," she whispered, voice dripping with that small, dirty tease. "Think you can play while I fuck the beat into this pretty pussy?"

You gasped, gripping the edge of the piano, but nodded, determined to try. With a single, deliberate thrust, she pushed inside, stretching your walls inch by inch. The fullness was overwhelming, her girth filling you completely as she bottomed out, balls pressing flush against your clit. She held there for a moment, letting you adjust, her breath hot on your neck. "That's the intro," she said, starting a slow, measured pump—deep in, slow out, mirroring the song's opening pulse.

Your fingers trembled as you tried to match it, pressing the first notes. The keys responded under your touch, but her movement disrupted everything. Each slide of her cock dragged against your inner walls, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. She picked up the pace slightly, hips snapping in time with the required rhythm—steady, insistent thrusts that had her balls slapping lightly against you. "Feel that?" she teased, one hand sliding up your side to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple through the fabric. "That's the groove. Sync to me."

But you couldn't. The sensation built too fast, her thickness hitting deep with every drive, coiling heat in your core. Your hands faltered, keys clashing as a moan escaped your lips. She didn't stop, pounding steadily from behind, her free hand now gripping your waist to pull you back onto her. The wet sounds of her cock plunging into your pussy filled the studio, mingling with your ragged breaths. Pleasure crested, and your first orgasm hit like a wave—your walls clenching around her shaft, milking it as tremors shook your body. You slumped forward, fingers splaying across random keys, the piano emitting a chaotic jumble.

Billie slowed, but didn't pull out, grinding deep as you rode the aftershocks. "Fail," she said with a chuckle, voice husky from the effort. "Not even close. Restart from the top." She withdrew slowly, her cock slick and shining with your release, a string of your juices connecting you for a moment before snapping. You were panting, thighs quivering, but she gave you no time to recover. Positioning you again—ass up, bent over the bench—she rubbed her tip along your soaked entrance, teasing your swollen folds. "Dripping down your legs. Let's see if you learn."

She thrust back in with ease, the glide smoother now from your wetness. Her balls tapped your skin rhythmically as she resumed the pace, hips rolling in that perfect, unyielding tempo. You braced your hands on the keys, trying harder this time, forcing your fingers to follow the melody. The notes came tentatively—close, but not quite. Her cock filled you over and over, the head nudging that sensitive spot inside, making your focus shatter. "Come on," she urged, breath teasing your ear, "play for me. Or is this pussy too greedy, sucking me in like that?"

The dirty words fueled the fire, and soon your body tensed again. Her thrusts grew firmer, balls smacking with each drive, the friction building unbearably. Your second climax tore through you, stronger than the first—pussy spasming around her length, juices squirting lightly as you cried out, hands pounding the keys in a discordant frenzy. The piano wailed under the assault, the song lost once more.

"Nope," Billie murmured, pulling out with a wet schlick, her cock throbbing visibly, veins pulsing. She stroked herself once, smearing your essence along her shaft, before lining up again. "Restart. You're making me work for it, but fuck, you feel good." Her voice had lost some of the tease, edged with raw desire now, but she kept it light, professional almost, like this was just part of the session.

Third attempt: She sank in deep, the stretch still intense despite your slickness. Her body molded to yours from behind, sweat-slick skin sliding as she began pumping. The rhythm was hypnotic—thrust, withdraw, thrust—her balls heavy against you, swinging with momentum. You managed a full bar this time, fingers dancing in sync for precious seconds, the melody peeking through. But then she shifted her angle, grinding harder, her cock dragging along your g-spot relentlessly. "That's it, almost," she whispered, hand slipping between your legs to rub your clit in slow circles. The added touch was devastating.

Heat pooled low, your breaths coming in gasps as you fought to keep playing. But the dual pleasure overwhelmed—her thumb flicking, cock pounding, balls tapping—and your third orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched vise-like, pulling her deeper as waves of ecstasy pulsed through, leaving you shaking, a keen escaping your throat. Keys blurred under your faltering grip, the music dissolving into noise.

Billie groaned softly, hips stuttering for the first time as your release coated her length. She eased out, giving you a moment to breathe, but her hand stayed on your hip, possessive. "Getting closer, but still a fail. Look at you, cumming so easy. Restart." She plunged back in without warning, the sudden fullness drawing a whimper from you. Your pussy was sensitive now, every inch of her cock sending jolts through your overstimulated nerves.

Fourth round: The pace was the same, always from behind, her chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around to steady you. She thrust steadily, balls slapping wetly now from the mess between you. "Feel how your body's learning?" she said, voice low and encouraging, the teasing softened but still there. "Tighten around me like that—match the beat." You tried, syncing a few more measures, the piano's notes flowing smoother, almost capturing the sultry pulse of the track.

But her hand returned to your clit, rubbing firmer, and the building tension snapped. Her cock throbbed inside, stretching you wide with each drive, the head kissing your cervix. Your fourth orgasm built slower but hit harder—body arching, pussy fluttering wildly around her as pleasure bordered on pain, tears pricking your eyes. You screamed softly, fingers slipping off the keys entirely, the bench creaking under your weight.

"Damn," Billie breathed, withdrawing carefully, her cock glistening, balls drawn tight. She was close herself, you could tell from the way she panted, but she held back, ever the teacher. "One more push. You're soaked, pussy begging for it. Restart." She entered you again, the slide effortless, your walls welcoming despite the ache. The studio smelled of sex now, heavy and intoxicating, the air thick with your shared heat.

Fifth attempt: Her thrusts were precise, hips snapping in perfect time, balls colliding with your clit in a rhythm that echoed the song. Sweat dripped from her brow onto your skin, mixing with yours. You focused through the haze, fingers finding the keys, pressing down with renewed determination. Notes emerged—clean, flowing, syncing to her movements. She noticed, a soft "Yes" escaping her lips, her hand on your breast squeezing gently.

But the pleasure mounted relentlessly. Her cock filled you completely, dragging out with a twist before slamming back, her balls heavy and full against you. The friction was too much; your body betrayed you one last time. The fifth orgasm ripped through, intense and shattering—pussy convulsing, milking her shaft as you wailed, but miraculously, your hands stayed true. The piano sang unbroken, the melody soaring in perfect harmony with her final, deep thrusts.

Billie followed seconds later, groaning low as she buried herself to the hilt. Her cock pulsed, hot cum erupting in thick ropes, flooding your pussy, her balls contracting against your skin. She jerked her hips, riding out the release, filling you until it leaked out around her base. You both trembled, the music fading as she stilled, breath ragged.

Slowly, she pulled out, a gush of her seed following, trickling down your thighs. She helped you upright, steadying you with hands on your shoulders, that smirk returning but softer now. Tucking herself away, she met your eyes, pride shining through. "See? I knew you could do it."

The words hung in the air, simple and affirming, as the studio settled into quiet satisfaction. The track was alive now, etched into your bodies as much as the keys. As colleagues, this was just another layer to the collaboration—intense, unforgettable, but professional at its core. Billie grabbed a water bottle, handing it to you with a wink. "Let's record that for real now. No distractions."

But the echo of her rhythm lingered, a secret beat only you two shared.

an; its my first time writting smut, i’m sorry cause it SuCkS so big omg, but i hope you at least enjoyed it. btw, someone, fuck me like that. please and thank you.

🏷️; @ovrhaetedd @thecuntiestangel @b1lsvrq

[heavensoutofsight]

her favorite assistant | b.e.

SYNOPSIS: billie is an imposing ceo, holding high authority; you are her assistant, at her every beck and call, close by her side. most people view your relationship with her as nothing out of the ordinary, but behind closed doors, you and billie play slightly different roles...

WORD COUNT: 3,026

TAGS/WARNINGS: MDNI! dom/sub dynamics, office au, hair-pulling, crying (the good kind), mention of overstimulation, fingering, spanking, billie gets called sir, inappropriate work behavior (lmao), mention of a humiliation kink, mention of an exhibitionist kink i think, use of gendered term "good girl," everything is fully consensual the entire time

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is maybe the filthiest thing i've ever wrote?? i think my period is starting soon or something. also hello. long time no see kinda 👋🏽 hope you enjoy this as always!! ❤️ please mind the tags!

[taglist: @hannahluvsbillie, @bilssturns, @bla1rxoxo, @billiesrighthand, @weluvwbb, @belleishot, @wilfdflwr8, @likefirenrain, @amara-eilish, @sevikasleftbicep // let me know if you'd like to be removed!! ]

You had an interesting relationship with your boss, to say the least.

You had been working under her as her assistant for months now, and have gotten well accustomed to her not just as your boss, but as a person. You were keen on every little thing that made her tic, and you could pick up on even the slightest shift in her demeanor. As the CEO of the company you worked under, she had a lot on her plate. Regardless, she never made the stress she was under apparent. She was always calm, composed, and collected.

She was very straightforward and direct; she was honest when she was disappointed with her employees' work, and her disappointment was always clear. You could practically feel it if you happened to walk into her office on a bad day. But it was clear when she was pleased, too; because she never really cracked so much as a grin during work hours, everyone knew that if Billie was smiling, it meant she was satisfied, and that things at the company were going smoothly.

To make the long story short, Billie was rather intimidating; she carried with her a strong sense of confidence, and her very presence, even if she wasn't saying anything, was imposing, almost electric. With a single glance, a single quirk of the eyebrow, Billie could communicate everything she needed.

Being her assistant also meant knowing her a bit more personally than others. You knew she liked having a medium Iced Americano every morning from the local coffee shop. When forwarding emails to her, you knew exactly which ones she wouldn't care for and which ones she'd respond to instantly. You knew that she valued punctuality and efficiency and people who were good at following orders but also knew how to generate new ideas. When you first started working for her, you had to prove to her that you could live up to the challenge. That you were more than capable of balancing her workload, and giving her above average results. It took an immense amount of effort, and impressing her certaintly wasn't easy; but now, several months later, Billie had made it clear that she wouldn't let you go, more than pleased with your work.

The dynamic you shared with her was strictly professional, one built off of mutual respect. For a while.

Neither of you expected it to become anything more.

There was no denying that you were attracted to Billie from the start; aside from the fact that she was easily the most stunning women you've ever seen, with her long, dark hair, striking eyes and tailored suits, there was something else about her that was alluring to you. She was so mysterious, so reserved, and the more time that passed, the more you wanted to learn more about her. Not as Billie Eilish, the serious CEO, but just as Billie, the person behind the authoritative mask.

It was risky; becoming increasingly more flirtatious with your boss. You complimented her more often, purposefully letting your fingers brush hers when you were handing her things, so on, so forth. You were putting your entire career on the line, the one you worked so hard for. At first, after weeks of not really getting any kind of reaction from her, you were about to bury your feelings for good.

But slowly, Billie made it more and more obvious that she liked your little games; she smiled at you more often, let your faint touches linger a bit instead of immediately pulling away, and you've even caught her gazing at you during meetings, bottom lip pulled between her teeth as you tried to take notes.

The desire that you both shared for each other was palpable, the tension between you two rising gradually like lava in a volcano, and it was only a matter of time before you both acted on it.

The relationship that formed as a result of weeks of flirting was not… a traditional one, so-to-speak. It was one built on rules. Power dynamics. Punishments and rewards.

And you enjoyed every minute of it.

Billie loved how obedient you were. She noticed it as soon as you started working for her. You followed her instructions so perfectly, and that did something to Billie; it made her realize something about herself that she hadn't even been aware of before. She felt a certain fluttery feeling in her stomach whenever you successfully completed a task of hers, and you would look at her, smiling, communicating to her with your eyes that you wanted to be praised.

And of course, she'd do just that, quickly uttering "good girl" under her breath. It always made your knees weak, hearing those words in her low and silky voice.

On days where you made her really proud, she'd reward you by inviting you in her office and trailing her hands up your pencil skirt, her fingers pistoning into you with such precision and skill that she'd make you come undone in minutes, all while she had her tie in your mouth to muffle your sobs of pleasure.

Sometimes, but only sometimes, she'd bring her sparkly, midnight black strap, and take you while bent over her desk, keeping your arms behind your back, often bound together with her tie just because she knew you liked the loss of control. Those days, you left her office with a slight limp, disheveled clothes, and a satisfied smile.

But as much as you loved pleasing her, at some point you wanted to switch things up with the existing dynamic you had with her, and you soon realized that pissing her off was far more enjoyable than following orders.

It started off with small things. Making a small mistake with her Iced Americano order and getting a small instead of her preferred medium. Sometimes you'd purposefully hand her the wrong files, or show up just minutes late to a meeting, knowing how much she disliked when her employees weren't on time. And then it escalated, and you gradually became more bold. You talked back to her on the days where she wasn't in a great mood, muttered sarcastic comments under your breath.

Billie, of course, quickly caught onto the game you were playing, and like a cat to a mouse, she played along.

That's when she introduced punishments to the dynamic. In the privacy of her office, sometimes she'd get you riled up, only to make you kneel in front of her while she typed away at her computer, ignoring your pleading eyes and the growing wetness in your panties. She'd leave you like that the whole day; unsatisfied and begging for more.

A punishment of hers that was her favorite was edging you to near insanity; either with her mouth or fingers or strap, she'd constantly bring you close to an orgasm before pulling away, and she'd do it so many times that it almost bordered on torture. Sometimes you'd get so worked up that you would eventually have an orgasm anyway if she even just lightly touched you, your body so aroused that you didn't even need much stimulation before coming undone. This would only make your situation worse, as you were only allowed to cum with Billie's permission. Whenever that happened, she'd lean in close, smiling evilly, whispering in your ear:

"My baby wanted to cum? Then I'll give you all the orgasms you want, since you wanna be so impatient."

You knew what those words meant. It meant she'd overstimulate you until you could barely hold yourself up, fresh tears streaming down your face.

But you loved it. Every second of it.

So, when you walked into Billie's office today after being particularly mouthy with her after a meeting, you knew what you were in for.

There Billie sat, looking as regal as ever in her chair, hands folded in her lap. She was clearly waiting for you, a lopsided grin etched onto her features as she burned holes into you with her gaze.

"Lock the door." Was all she said; no warm greeting, just a firm command.

You obeyed, turning the lock until you heard that all too familiar click. You felt the anticipation bubbling within you, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

You watched as Billie stood up from her desk, walking closer to you but still keeping her distance. She crossed her arms, eyeing you like a predator stalking its prey.

"You've been giving me attitude the entire fucking day. Bend over the desk." She stated, leaving absolutely no room for disagreement.

But you weren't done messing with her. No, your little game was far from finished.

With a smirk, you didn't move.

"I don't want to." You retorted, jutting out your bottom lip.

Billie quirked an eyebrow, her confident grin faltering. "You know I don't like repeating myself. Bend over the fucking desk."

You still didn't move. You mirrored her stance, crossing your arms as well as you continued to stare right back at her.

"Make me." You said, and as soon as those words left you, you could feel the atmosphere in the room change. It only made you smirk wider, knowing that you were really getting under her skin.

Billie just chuckled, the sound low and dark, and it gave you a rush of adrenaline. When you heard her laugh, that was a sign she was truly fed up with your antics.

You were about to make another snarky comment about her silence until Billie finally spoke up.

"Oh, I see. You're really asking for it, huh? Seems like you've forgotten who the fuck you're talking to."

She stepped closer to you, standing in front of you. She reached a hand out and gently caressed your cheek.

You were perplexed at first. The gentle action contrasted starkly with her harsh words. But it only made you more excited.

She leaned in, whispering her next words, her breath hitting your face.

"You just never learn. Good thing I like putting stupid brats like you in your place."

And with that, her hand suddenly went up to your hair, and she tugged. Hard.

You immediately hissed in pain, hand going up to her wrist, but you made no move to remove it. With her hand still in your hair, Billie dragged you to her desk, before forcefully bending you over it.

It all happened so quick that you were still registering what had just happened, all while Billie had both your hands pulled behind your back, removing her tie as quickly as she could with one hand. You knew exactly where that tie was going.

But suddenly, she had paused before putting the tie in your mouth. From behind, you heard her say, "What do you do when you want me stop but you can't speak?" She asked the question softly, breaking out of her colder, more strict persona for just a moment.

"I… I snap my fingers," you said breathlessly, so aroused you didn't even know what to do with yourself.

"Good," Billie praised. "And how many times do you snap?"

"Three times." You replied.

"Show me." She urged.

You obeyed, snapping your fingers exactly three times in quick succession.

"Very good," Billie said with a grin. "Color?"

You could hear the grin in her voice, a small smile of your own taking over your features.

"Green." You told her.

Once Billie got confirmation to keep going, in the blink of an eye, she returned to her meaner, more brutal attitude. It nearly gave you whiplash with how quickly she was able to switch.

She wasted no time in putting the tie in your mouth, tying it behind your head. You were wearing slacks today, so she pulled them down, tugging harshly, exposing your ass to the cool air of her office.

She took sight of the white lace panties that you wore, specifically for her. You could hear Billie curse under her breath.

"You naughty, naughty girl." She said, rubbing her palm against your backside gently. You knew what was coming; you just didn't know when. The anticipation was practically killing you.

"I want you to count," Billie commanded. "I usually tell you how many I'm giving you, but this time? I'll surprise you." She spoke, her shit-eating grin going from ear to ear.

And then, her hand came crashing down.

The smack reverberated throughout the room and bounced of the walls, it was so loud. It was toward the end of the day, so most people had already left the building, but there were still some people working late, and the thought of them overhearing just made your panties even more soaked. The thought of someone listening was certaintly humiliating and yet it just turned you on even more. All it took was someone walking by. But you couldn't think about that; you had to focus on counting.

"One!" You said through the fabric of Billie's tie, your voice muffled.

Another smack.

"Two!"

She then gave you three, in quick succession, alternating between each cheek.

"Fuck—" you swore, your asscheeks already burning.

Billie tugged your hair angrily. The pain was exhilarating.

"That's not a fucking number. Count."

"Three, four, five—shit—"

It kept going and going, and the minutes started to stretch on seemingly forever. Eventually, you made it to twenty.

By the last one, your ass felt raw, and a few lone tears had escaped your eyes.

"You did so good, baby. You're such a good girl." Billie cooed, removing the tie.

You didn't immediately straighten yourself up, too overwhelmed to even move. Billie just gently caressed your upper back, letting you calm down.

Once you caught your breath again, and you felt like you could speak without it coming out as a incoherent mess, with a dazed smile, you said: "Do I get a reward for being such a good girl?"

"My pretty baby wants a reward? Well then, what do you say?"

"Please."

Billie raised an eyebrow at you. "Please, what?"

"Please, sir. I would like a reward." You said.

"Well, since you asked nicely. You took your punishment so well, who am I to deny you?" She said, slowly pulling your lace panties to the side, rubbing her fingers through your drenched folds.

A sigh escaped you as Billie didn't waste a second in slipping in finger. It slid in so easily because of how wet you were. She let you adjust to the feeling before slipping in a second one, the office so quiet that you could hear the soft squelching noises coming from your pussy that made your face hot.

"Such a good girl," Billie muttered, finding that sweet spot inside of you within a seconds. "Need you to make a mess all over my fingers, yeah?"

You nodded fervently, trying to keep your moans at a low volume. You were biting your lip so hard you were sure it would start bleeding.

"Please make me cum. Please—" You said, the words just tumbling out of you, some of them slurring together.

Billie let out an amused laugh. "Oh, I will, baby. I will—"

Suddenly, at that moment, a knock was heard on Billie's door. You tensed up at the sound, completely caught off guard.

You thought Billie would stop, but much to your surprise (and delight) she kept going.

The other voice outside the door spoke first. It belonged to a man. "Hey, uh, Miss B? Are you still there?"

"Yes, Charles. What do you need?" Billie replied casually, as if two of her fingers weren't deep inside of you and making you see stars. You slapped a hand over your mouth as you felt Billie speed up, hitting your sweet spot over and over again. Your knees buckled as their conversation continued.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know while you're still here that I won't be coming into work tomorrow. It's a family emergency. So I'll miss the meeting, obviously. I'm terribly sorry." Charles explained.

"That's perfectly fine, Charles. We'll get you all caught up, no problem. My assistant will send everyone the notes, anyway."

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Billie gave you one final thrust that sent you over the edge. Your hand was clamped so tightly over your mouth it almost hurt as your orgasm washed over you in waves. Billie's fingers kept moving as she fingered you through it.

On the other side of the door, you heard Charles just chuckle in relief, seemingly oblivious to the absolutely inappropriate act happening inside. "Okay. Great. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss B."

"You too." Billie said sweetly, pulling her fingers out of you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

Finally, you attempted to stand up. You still didn't have full control over your legs, so Billie helped you, holding both of your hands, even helping you pull your pants back up. You winced once you felt the fabric of your slacks gently rub against your still very sensitive backside.

Billie was smiling at you as you leaned against her desk, leaning in to give you a chaste peck.

"You're insane," you said when she pulled away. "I can't believe you just did that."

Billie chuckled. "I can't believe I did it either, to be honest. Thank god the door was locked."

"Yeah," You agreed. "Now, you owe me a hot bath and some cuddles."

Billie held your hand, squeezing gently. "Of course. Was already thinking it."

You both get ready to exit the office. Billie doesn't have to do much to appear presentable. She does stuff her tie in her back pocket though, which is still damp from your saliva. You're able to fix your hair and smooth out your clothes, but there's no hiding the puffiness in your eyes from all the tears. You weren't too worried about that, though. You and Billie were going to be out the building before anyone could even take notice.

Before Billie opens the door, she pauses, and turns to you.

"Will you be on your best behavior next week?" She asks with a smirk.

You giggle. "No promises."

[sxxphe]

begging on my knees for more billie sinners content. PLEASE

She’s a sinner pt. 4

Vampire! Billie x female! Reader

Warnings: none?

The room had gone quiet again.

Not peaceful—just… still. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

Billie hadn’t moved from your side. One arm stayed wrapped tight around your waist, her hand splayed against your stomach like she needed to feel you there—solid, alive. Her chin rested near your shoulder, but her eyes were open, fixed on the door.

Watching.

Always watching.

At first, you thought it was nothing. Just the city settling, pipes knocking, footsteps in the hall like any cheap boarding house.

But then her grip tightened.

Not painful—never that—but enough to make your breath hitch.

“Billie?” you whispered.

“Shh.” Barely a sound. Her voice had dropped back into that low, dangerous register. “Listen.”

You stilled.

There it was.

A creak.

Slow. Careful.

Right outside the door.

Your heart started to pick up again, that same cold fear from the mill creeping back into your chest. But Billie—Billie was already changing.

Her whole body shifted under your touch. Muscles tightening. Shoulders squaring. The warmth of her skin didn’t change, but the feeling did—like being wrapped around something coiled and ready to strike.

Her eyes flickered.

Gray—

to red.

“Don’t move,” she murmured, already sliding out of bed.

You watched her go, your chest tightening for a completely different reason this time.

It wasn’t just fear.

It was her.

The way she moved like a ghost across the floor. The way her breathing slowed to nothing. The way her hands flexed like she was already imagining tearing something apart.

Another creak outside.

Billie stepped in front of the door.

Waiting.

Silent.

Predatory.

Your stomach dropped.

This wasn’t the controlled version of her you’d seen earlier.

This was the version from the mill.

The one that didn’t think—just killed.

“…Billie,” you said softly.

No response.

Her head tilted just slightly, listening harder. Her jaw clenched, fangs barely visible now. You could feel the tension in her, even from across the room—like a storm about to break.

Then—

a stumble.

A muttered curse.

And a loud, clumsy thud against the wall outside.

Billie froze.

So did you.

“…the hell…?” a muffled voice slurred from the hallway.

Human.

Drunk.

Very, very human.

A second later, uneven footsteps dragged past your door, followed by a weak chuckle and another bump into something farther down the hall.

Silence.

Real silence this time.

Billie didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Her eyes were still glowing.

Still locked on the door.

Still ready to tear it open and end something.

You slid off the bed slowly, bare feet quiet against the wood.

“Billie,” you tried again, a little firmer.

Nothing.

She was still there—body in the room, mind somewhere else entirely.

Back in the mill.

Back in the blood.

You stepped closer.

Careful.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out.

Your fingers brushed her arm.

She flinched.

Not away—but sharp, reactive. Like her body didn’t recognize the difference yet.

That made your chest ache.

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, gentler now. “It’s just someone in the hall. A person. You hear him, right? He’s gone.”

Her breathing hitched.

Just slightly.

Her eyes didn’t change.

So you stepped closer.

Right into her space.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

For a second, you weren’t sure she would.

Then—slowly—her gaze dropped from the door to you.

Still red.

Still burning.

But focused.

“There’s no one here,” you said, holding her face lightly between your hands before she could pull away. “No nest. No hunters. No one’s coming for me right now.”

Her jaw tightened.

“They could,” she rasped. “You heard the scouts. They don’t stop. They don’t forget.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But this wasn’t them.”

Her hands were shaking.

You noticed it now—subtle, but there. The aftermath of all that adrenaline with nowhere to go.

“You don’t have to fight right now,” you added. “You’re safe. We’re safe.”

Her eyes flickered.

The red dimmed—just a little.

“I almost—” she started, voice rough. “If that door opened, I would’ve—”

“I know,” you cut in gently. “But it didn’t.”

You brushed your thumb across her cheek, right where those fading gashes had been earlier.

“You don’t have to be that version of you all the time,” you said. “Not here. Not with me.”

Something in her expression cracked.

Not weakness—never that.

Just… tension easing.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

Her shoulders dropped a fraction. Her hands came up, hesitating for half a second before settling carefully on your waist—like she was reminding herself you were real.

“You sure you ain’t scared of me?” she asked quietly.

You gave her a small, steady look.

“I was more scared watching you not come back just now,” you admitted.

That hit her harder than anything else.

You felt it in the way her grip tightened—not possessive this time, but grounding.

Anchoring.

“I’m here,” you said softly. “Stay here with me.”

Her eyes finally faded all the way back to gray.

The room felt warmer again.

Less sharp.

Less… dangerous.

Billie exhaled a slow breath, pressing her forehead against yours.

“Alright,” she murmured. “Alright… I got you.”

“You don’t always have to be the one doing the saving,” you said.

A faint, tired huff of a laugh left her.

“Don’t get used to that,” she muttered—but there was no bite to it now.

You guided her back toward the bed, easing her down with you this time.

No urgency.

No fear.

Just closeness.

Her arm wrapped around you again, but looser now—still protective, still hers, but no longer braced for war.

Outside, the city carried on like nothing had happened.

Inside, her breathing finally slowed.

And for the first time since the mill—

she let herself be still.

“I love you.”