Ooooh careful, Alastor! Your line between manipulation and genuine care is getting blurryyyyyyyyyy 👀!
I missed drawing them man! Miss Sweet and mister Scary in situations together is my favourite! ❤️ (but did it have to span 9 coloured pages I almost died?!)
warnings: ceo!billie, sub!reader, dom!billie, strap (r!receiving), dirty talk, smut, heavy power imbalance, restraint usage, spanking, degradation, praise kink, hair pulling, a lot of tension/build-up, cocky!bilie
an: this is filthy oh my god. thats all i have to say. cmon 5sos title!! (not proofread)
18+ minors dni!!!
3.3k words
The office starts to quiet down, a steady hum of printers and keyboards thinning into silence as employees pack their bags and slip out for the evening. You remain at your desk, the glow of the monitor reflecting across your tired eyes. Your reports are neat and organized, like everything you’ve worked hard to prove since you first started here. It’s late, but you don’t mind. Staying late has become a habit, a way to show your dedication. And maybe, if you admit it to yourself, it’s also a way to keep yourself within her line of sight.
Billie Eilish. CEO.
Her attention, when it lingers on you, is dangerous. You’ve noticed it, at least you think you have. When she stops by to review a file on your desk, she doesn’t just glance at your work. Her eyes drag slowly over the paper, then over you the same way, as though committing every detail to memory. When you stammer in response to her sharp and low voice, offering her criticism, you notice her mouth curves up, giving you a cocky smirk.
It’s impossible to hide the way you look at her. You know it. Everyone probably knows it. You’ve caught yourself staring when you should be working, multiple times. A crush doesn’t even begin to describe it, it’s an ache, a longing. You know she is your boss, but she feels like something more taboo than that.
You blink back at the computer in front of you, forgetting what you were even doing in the first place, and you think about packing up for the day when the sound of heels cuts through the silence. You stiffen before you even turn towards the unmistakable sound. She’s here still? Your eyes meet hers as you look up towards the direction of the sound, her dark suit tailored close to her frame, blouse just unbuttoned enough to show a sliver of her fair skin. Her hair frames her face in a loose, intentional mess. Her pale blue eyes lock on you through her glasses, taking in your exhausted expression.
“You’re still here.” Her voice is smooth and low, carrying the weight of unspoken expectation, but it’s not really a question.
“I… I was just finishing up,” you answer, too quickly and slightly breathless. The flush on your cheeks betrays you, as always.
She tilts her head, assessing you silently, making the seconds drag on as you hold your breath. She’s reading you, dissecting you, and your heart pounds harder in your chest. Then her lips curve, just slightly.
“Come to my office.”
There’s no room for refusal, no hesitation in her tone. It’s a command. She turns, not bothering to check if you’ll follow, because of course you will. You rise from your chair, legs unsteady and heart hammering.
Billie leans against the edge of her desk as you step inside, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. Her gaze stays on you, pinning you in place, like she’s already decided what comes next.
“Sit,” she says.
You sit down in the chair opposite of her desk, trying to look calm when every nerve in your body feels wired and hot. The leather is cool under your palms and on your thighs, but it doesn’t ground you. Not when Billie is standing right there, perched casually against her desk, arms folded like she has all the time in the world.
Her eyes drag over you, steady and unhurried. You’ve never been so aware of the silence between words, or the way her presence seems to fill the entire room.
“You’ve been working late a lot,” she says finally, her voice smooth and soft, more so an observation than small talk. “Most people can’t wait to get out the door at five.”
“I… I just want to make sure I’m keeping up,” you say quickly, fingers twisting together in your lap. “There’s still a lot I don’t know, and I don’t want to—”
“You don’t want to disappoint me.” The corner of her mouth twitches. “Is that it?”
Your breath stumbles, caught in your throat. You blink at her, flustered, and then nod. “Well, yes, I… I guess so.”
Billie leans forward slightly, and you swear the air shifts, suddenly feeling heavier somehow. “You’ve done more than enough already. I notice things, even when people think I don’t.”
The admission makes your chest tighten. Your pulse beats like a drum in your ears, and you try to answer with something polished, something professional, but all you manage is a clumsy, “That means a lot. Thank you.”
Her eyes narrow, amused. “You’re easy to read, you know.”
Your stomach flips. “What do you mean?”
She tilts her head, studying you again with a slowness that makes heat climb up your neck, the pink shade apparent on your cheeks. “Most of this office keeps their faces blank, emotionless, just going through the motions of work. But you?” She lets the pause linger, savoring it as you hold your breath. “You wear your thoughts right here.” She taps her own cheekbone lightly.
The realization lands heavy, and your words come out rushed, your blush impossibly deepening. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
Billie cuts you off with a low knowing chuckle. “Relax. I like it.”
Your throat feels too dry to answer to her. You shift in your seat, caught between embarrassment and something far sharper you’re afraid to name. Billie pushes off her desk slowly, walking behind her chair, her movements unhurried but deliberate. She lowers herself into the seat, resting her elbow on the armrest, chin against her hand, eyes never leaving yours.
“You make this place… interesting,” she says. The words are casual, but her tone implies more.
You blink, your mouth opening before you even think. “I—really? I didn’t think you even—”
“Noticed?” she cuts in smoothly. “You underestimate yourself.”
The room feels too warm, your pulse skipping out of rhythm. She’s looking at you with that same deliberate intensity she always has, but now there’s nothing between you, no coworkers, and no distractions. Her attention is sharp and unwavering, and your own clumsy crush laid bare in every nervous shift and every glance you can’t hold long enough.
Billie’s lips curl again, like she knows exactly what effect she has on you. “Tell me something,” she says softly. “Do you always stay this late… or only when I’m around?”
Her question hangs heavy in the air, and you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Heat crawls up your throat, panic and some weird need all tangled together.
Billie doesn’t give you the mercy of time to scramble for an answer. She leans forward across the desk, one hand resting on its polished surface, and the other resting on the arm of her chair. Her eyes hold yours, unblinking.
“I’ll make it easy for you,” she says, her voice low. “I know you like me.”
Your entire body stiffens at her accusation. “I—what? I—”
She laughs quietly at your reaction. “Don’t bother denying it. You’re not exactly subtle.” Her gaze flicks to your lips, then back to your eyes, making your stomach flip. “And honestly? I don’t want you to be.”
The breath you suck in is sharp and shaky. “I didn’t mean for it to be so… obvious.”
Billie rises from her chair, moving around the desk, every step measured. She stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell her perfume, dark, expensive, and something intoxicating. She rests one hand on the back of your chair, boxing you in without touching you.
“You think I don’t notice who stares at me when they think I’m not looking?” Her voice drops, husky now. “You think I don’t see you freeze up every time I walk past your desk?”
Your pulse is pounding wildly as your voice falters. “I just… I didn’t want to cross a line.”
Her smirk deepens, sharp but not cruel. “I know… that’s my job.”
One of her hands on the chair slides down slowly, brushing against your shoulder as she leans in, her lips inches from your ear. Her words come out soft and litter your skin with goosebumps, “If I wanted you to stay later tonight… would you?”
It takes every ounce of your self control not to melt into her. You nod before you can even think, your voice breaking on a whisper. “Yes.”
Billie pulls back just enough to look at you, her blue eyes bright and satisfied. “Good answer.”
She studies you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before her thumb grazes your jaw in a touch so light it almost doesn’t feel real. “You’re not nearly as oblivious as you pretend to be,” she murmurs, though her tone suggests she enjoys watching you fluster yourself.
Before you can stammer a reply, Billie tilts your chin up and closes the distance, her mouth pressing against yours in a kiss thats pure need. It’s slow for only a moment, then deepens with sudden hunger. You gasp against her lips, and she seizes the opening, her tongue sliding against yours.
Your hands instinctively reach for her shoulders, clutching at the crisp fabric of her blouse, and you melt under her. Billie tastes like power and something sweet you can’t name. When she pulls back, just enough to breathe, her eyes catch yours, sharp and burning with lust.
“See?” she whispers, her breath hot against your lips. “You were never going to say no anyways.”
You don’t even try to deny it. You can’t. Instead, your eyes flutter shut and you chase her mouth again. She lets you, briefly, before she takes hold of your wrists, pulling you up and off the chair.
In one fluid motion, Billie spins you toward her desk, the cool edge pressing against your thighs as she bends you forward. You let out a startled breath, half-moan, half-shock, and her hand presses lightly but firmly between your shoulder blades to keep you in place.
The sound of leather sliding through belt loops fills the air between you. She pulls her belt free from her slacks, the faint metallic clink of the buckle echoing through the empty office.
“Hands,” she orders, her voice low and controlled.
Your fingers tremble as you obey, offering them behind your back. She wraps the leather around your wrists in a firm, unyielding loop, her movements skilled and practiced. The restraint isn’t painful, just tight enough to remind you who’s in control.
“There,” Billie says, satisfied, tugging the belt once more to test the knot. “Now you’ll stay exactly where I want you.”
Her hand slides along your hip, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath stutter as she continues. “Not that it was ever hard for you to begin with, huh?” She leans over, her body flush against your back, her lips brushing your ear.
“You’ve been driving me crazy with those looks of yours,” she whispers hotly against the shell of your ear. “All that sweet dedication… all those late nights… Don’t act surprised this is where it led.”
Her words sink into you like fire, every syllable hitting deep and tightening the coil inside you. The office is silent except for your uneven breathing, the soft drag of her hands down your body, and the faint creak of the desk under your weight.
The leather belt around your wrists digs in just enough to remind you of where you are, bent over against her desk, nothing to cling to as you try to crane your neck back. Your heart races, your breath unsteady, and behind you Billie still moves with a calm precision.
You hear the low metallic clink of her pant button again, then the sound of fabric shifting. A moment later, something hard presses against the curve of your ass, the unmistakable outline of her strap beneath her slacks, firm and heavy.
Billie’s hand slides up your spine slowly, almost tender, before fisting in your hair and tugging your head back. Your lips part as you let out a sharp gasp. She leans in closer, her strap pressing against you, her mouth at your ear.
“You feel that baby?” Her tone is soft but laced with dominance. “I’ve been wearing it all day, thinking about you. Thinking about bending you over like this.”
The words send a shiver down your spine. You nod, breathless, and she tugs your hair harder until you whimper.
“Use your words.”
“Yes,” you gasp. “I feel it.”
Her low laugh vibrates against your skin, making you shiver in anticipation. “Good girl.”
She shoves your skirt up with one hand, dragging it over your hips, then hooks her fingers into your panties and pulls them down in one swift, unceremonious motion. The cool air hits you for a second, then the warm, heavy press of her body replaces it. She grinds against you, letting the thick ridge and head of her strap drag along your soaked folds, slow and taunting.
“Already wet for me,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”
Your reply comes out choked. “Yes, please—”
Billie doesn’t let you finish. With a single sharp thrust of her hips, she pushes inside you, her length filling you fast, stretching you until your breath breaks into a moan. She groans low against your ear, pulling your hair tighter as she drives deeper, setting a ruthless rhythm.
The desk creaks beneath the force of her movements, your body jolting forward with every thrust. The leather around your wrists digs harder as you struggle against it, not to escape but because you want more, need more.
“You take me so fucking well,” she growls, hips slamming into you with perfect control. “Look at you, bent over my desk, tied up, begging for me. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes!” The word tears from your throat, high pitched and desperate. “Yes, I wanted this—”
Her hand releases your hair only to slap your ass, sharp and stinging, before gripping your hip to yank you back onto her strap harder. She fucks you deeper and rougher, each thrust angled to hit exactly where it makes your legs shake.
“Good girl,” she purrs again, her tone almost mocking with how sweet it sounds against the brutal pace of her hips. “So eager. So obedient. You’ll stay late every night if I tell you to, won’t you?”
Your head spins at her words, your voice breaking. “Yes, anything—”
Billie leans forward, her chest pressed to your back, her hand sliding under your blouse to palm your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple. Her thrusts don’t slow, if anything, they grow sharper, each one dragging a helpless cry from your lips as your back arches almost painfully.
“Remember this,” she murmurs against your skin, her words broken by the rhythm of her hips. “Remember who fucks you like this. Who owns you at the end of the day.”
Her thrusts slam into you, sharp and relentless, your body pinned against the desk with no chance of escape. The leather belt digs tight around your wrists, a constant reminder that you’re at her mercy. Every snap of her hips knocks the air from your lungs, and every drag of her strap inside you makes you cry out as your orgasm approaches.
Billie fists your hair again, yanking your head back so your mouth falls open in a strangled cry. “So fucking needy,” she growls into your ear, her tone laced with dark amusement. “I bet you’ve been sitting at your desk, daydreaming about this. About me bending you over and using you like this.”
Your whimper is broken, but you nod, the admission spilling out. “Yes, yes— I did!”
Her laugh is sharp, satisfied. “Pathetic little crush. Couldn’t even hide it.” Her hand slides down your stomach, between your thighs, and her fingers circle your clit roughly. “And now look at you, tied up, dripping all over my strap. Fucking perfect.”
“Yes!” you cry, the word ripped from your throat.
“Good girl.” Her voice drops, darker now, each word punctuated by another brutal thrust. “Good, obedient girl. Taking me so well. Letting me fuck you dumb on my desk.”
The shame and the praise tangle together until your head spins. Every stroke of her strap hits that perfect spot inside of you, her fingers merciless on your clit, your body teetering on the edge.
“You’re going to come for me,” Billie commands, her tone final, leaving no room for disobedience as she speeds up her thrusts for a final time. “Right here, right now. Be a good girl and make a mess for me.”
Her words tip you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you, violent and consuming. You cry out, your body convulsing against her as you push your hips back against hers, legs trembling, wrists straining against the belt. She fucks you through it, dragging it out, not letting up until you’re shaking and drenched, soaking the strap and the desk beneath you.
When you collapse forward, panting and dazed, she finally slows. Her thrusts ease into a grind before finally pulling out, the absence leaving you clenching around nothing. The belt loosens around your wrists with a quick tug, leather slipping free. Your hands fall to the desk beside you, tingling and trembling.
Billie stays with you, pressing her palm between your shoulder blades, grounding you as you struggle to catch your breath. Her other hand sweeps your hair away from your face, fingers brushing lightly along your cheek, steadying you as you come down.
“Breathe,” she murmurs, softer now as you start to slow your breathing, relaxing against the desk. “There you go.”
She helps you straighten, guiding you gently back against her chest, before turning you around to face her, one arm anchoring you close while the other strokes up and down your arm.
“You did so well for me,” she murmurs warmly, no longer the intense woman she was minutes before. “So beautiful when you let go like that.”
Her hand lingers at the back of your neck, gently brushing along your hairline. It’s a subtle, grounding touch. For a few seconds, neither of you speak, the only sound being the low hum of the city filtering through the office windows and your breaths mix together.
“You okay?” she asks quietly, almost casually, though the question lands with genuine weight.
You nod, still catching your breath. “Yeah. I’m… yeah.”
Billie studies your face for a beat, then gives a small nod of her own. “Good.” She straightens, her voice cooling back into its usual tone as she pulls her slacks up, looping her belt around her hips again, clicking the buckle into place with finality. “That’s enough for tonight.”
You start to move, pulling up your panties shakily, but her hand hovers over yours almost immediately, pushing it away gently before doing it herself. Billie smooths down your blouse, buttoning it with care as her eyes stay locked on yours. “Go home. Get some rest.” Her tone is calm, even, but it carries that same authority that always makes you obey without question. Her gaze lingers on you, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth before her demeanor shifts.
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” she says, clearing her throat, turning back toward her desk to stack a few stray papers into neat order. Then, without looking up, she adds, “And when everyone’s gone… come to my office again.”
You pause in the doorway, heart still thudding. She finally looks up then, meeting your eyes. The expression she wears is unreadable, but with the faintest glint of something more.
