#billy butcher fic

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

High Enough

Billy Butcher Masterlist

Summary: When Billy Butcher receives a flower, he doesn’t really understand why or what to do with it. Something seems off with the plant, but when Butcher understands, it’s too late. And there’s only one person he can call for help.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Dubcon due to the sex pollen (even if everyone is okay with it, I'm still puting the warning), smut, p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, attempted murder, swearing, mention of past violent trauma, toxic plant, being high on a flower

Word Count: 2840

Square: sex pollen for @anyfandomdarkbingo​​

A/n: This fic was requested by @strife4life​ that requested Billy Butcher with the square sex pollen! Hope you like it!

Don’t forget to leave a feedback!

It was only a flower, for fuck sake.

Since when does people need to be warry of a fucking flower?

Of course, when that lovely lady gave him the flower, at first Butcher had been confused. Then, he tried to refuse the present, but the person was gone. What could the flower do? It was a sweet gesture, and no one ever gave him a flower before. It was pretty, delicate, and it smelled so good. 

As Butcher walked back to the Boys’ headquarters, he brought the flower closer to his nose and smelled it tentatively.

It smelled like...

At first, the flower reminded him of Becca. When they were together, she kept talking about the garden she wanted where she would grow vegetables. Mostly to force him to eat them because only eating junk food and meat was bad somehow. 

“Why not flowers, heh?” He had said then, trying to make her forget about the veggies’ diet. The smile that then stretched her lips meant two things. She knew he was trying to change the subject on purpose to avoid any green food. And growing flowers was already in her plans.

The flower reminded him of her, at first. But when he smelled it, it didn’t remind him of Becca. 

It reminded him of Y/n.

Y/n that joined the Boys because of Frenchie. In one of his missions with Kimiko, they found her. Kneeling in the blood of the one that just got killed by the fucking supes, holding in her arms what was left of her husband. At first, Frenchie and Kimiko didn’t want to bring her to Butcher, telling her some shit about that life being even bloodier. That her anger would only turn her into a monster if she kept feeding it with the need of revenge. But she didn’t listen to them and joined the Boys.

Y/n was everything but Becca. So much anger and rage was boiling in her veins, her desire for revenge and payback probably as strong as Butcher. And it shouldn’t turn him on, to see someone filled with the anger caused by the loss of people she cared about. But there was something in that rage that felt just so… Familiar. Like someone finally understood all the mess he was feeling. Of course, the rest of the Boys also had their own tragic backstory and anger on their own.

But her… She was… She was just… Y/n. 

The flower smelled just like her, and it should have ring a bell. Red flag. Alarm should have gone out in his head. But it smelled good, like she was standing right in front of him, and he felt at peace, so Butcher kept on smelling the flower until he was inside the headquarters. Even inside, he kept the flower in his hand. Even when he sat down on the couch, he continued scenting it, and the more he did, the closer he seemed to get to her.

The closer he seemed… To… His head was spinning, or maybe it was the surroundings. Not like Butcher was looking anywhere else than the flower, his gaze was focused on the plant. That, or he closed his eyes and pictured her, sitting on his lap, grinding his crotch and getting off on just that… 

Butcher snapped his eyes open in a second of lucidity.

Something was wrong. 

Detaching his eyes from the flower was so hard, like his eyes would pop out of his skull if he even tried, but he managed to look around. The place… was so blurry, like he was underwater. And when Butcher tried to stop breathing in the scent of the flower, he found himself unable to.

Glancing down, he avoided the sight of the plant to look at himself. Nausea filled his senses when he saw the ground move, just like he was on a boat and the ocean was filled with big waves moving him all around. He felt sick. Sick if he stopped looking at the flower. Sick just thinking about not breathing it.

Sick if he didn’t do something about the fucking boner he now had.

“What the fuck,” Butcher managed to say, slapping himself hard on the cheek. It seemed to help, so he did it again, and again, until he was awake enough to take his phone and dial her number.

“What do you want?”

Hearing her voice was the same as heroin. His body was possessed with a surge of energy, of high, and he groaned. Butcher just couldn’t help it, he felt so… So high… High with that fucking flower… Flower he was still holding and smelling like a fucking drug addict…

“Need… Help…”

It was the only thing he could say before the phone dropped to the floor.

-

“Butcher? Hey, Butcher! It’s better not be a fucking prank, or I swear to god-”

The moment you received the call, you knew something was wrong.

When Butcher stopped talking, stopped answering his calls, flashbacks of what happened to your husband came back like a punch in your guts. Red filled your sight, his blood painting the walls. The blood you were scared to see when you would find Butcher.

After tracking his phone, you found where Butcher was, so you left everything behind and rushed to him.

“Butcher?” You called again, walking in the huge place, trying to find the bearded man.

“Ugh…”

A groan alerted you, and immediately, you had your gun drawn out and were walking towards the noise. Another groan followed the first and then you finally found Butcher. 

“The fuck happened?!” You rushed to the man laying on the floor, still making sure there was no one else in here. Perhaps some supes found the place and tried to kill him? “Butcher!” You put your hand on his shoulder to turn him towards you, but the moment you touched him, the world took a turn and you were on your back, pinned by a heavy, burning mass. “The fuck!” You yelled, tried to push him away, hell, fire your gun on him if you still had it in your hand, but you dropped it when he pinned you on the floor. “Fuck off!”

���Y/n…” Butcher sighed, and you stopped struggling. That wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He would never… “Help… Please… Flower…”

Butcher wasn’t making a fucking sense and you tried once again to push him away. Maybe it was a supe with the shapeshifting ability that took his place and now wanted to kill you. He would strangle you to death, or take his gun and put a bullet in your head and then-

Hands didn’t touch your throat, but something else did. As his beard brushed against the sensitive skin of your throat, you froze, feeling his nose and then breath on you. Harsh, hard and fast. Butcher was breathing so hard, it was like oxygen couldn’t enter his lungs properly.

If this was the shapeshifter technique to kill you, it was weird as shit.

“Let me go!” You struggled again, and by trying to avoid more touch of his body, you turned your head to the side. That was when you saw it.

Motionless on the floor, it had white petals and a very bright yellow center. And you just knew if you were an inch closer to the plant, its pollen would drive you crazy with the smell of someone you desired more than anything, slowly killing you unless you bang them. And the only reason you knew all that was because you worked on those. You basically created that shit.

Back when you were working for the enemy. Before the incident that had your husband killed, before you decided fuck Vought and that you would destroy that company and burn it to the ground.

“Please… Y/n…” Butcher sighed your name and snuggled his head into the crook of your neck to take a deep breath. Immediately, a shiver ran through his body and he moaned softly.

“Butcher,” you swallowed, knowing very well what would happen if he didn’t immediately get what he needed. And somehow, the person he desired was you. Luckily it wasn’t someone that was dead, then he would be fucked up. “It’s the flower. It has a pollen that boost your sex drive and kills you unless you fuck-”

“Fuck,” he repeated, his body growing heavier on yours. You couldn’t know for sure about his consent, not in the state he was in. At least, you had the confirmation Butcher wanted to bang you for some time now, or else, the flower wouldn’t be that effective.

This was your mess. You had to do something about it. It was to save him. It was to save him from something you created. You had to keep that in mind, he wanted you. 

And fuck did you always wanted him too.

“I’m gonna help you, okay?” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to make him step back, at least to go somewhere more comfortable. But the situation took a whole other turn as Butcher manhandled you to put you on your stomach. Now that he had your consent, he could do whatever he wanted and let go of his inner desires. 

At least, it seemed he still had some of his consciousness.

On your stomach, you couldn’t see anything, but oh boy could you feel it. 

The material of your jeans being ripped off of your body, like it was nothing as Butcher rushed to remove your pants.

His impatient and needy grunts, his breathing fast and uneven as he destroyed your clothes until he got access to what he needed. What he craved. What would save him.

By the time Butcher freed your cunt, you were also a dripping mess. Glancing at the flower, you made sure it was still far enough from you, one of the two had to keep their head clean until it was done. 

The plant was still at the same spot. And you felt remotely in control of your body and mind.

Too focused on the cursed flower, you were surprised to feel something else than a cock on your intimacy. Rough hand pushed your cheeks apart and you gasped, feeling something wet and warm between your folds. Glancing back, you met black eyes filled with lust as Butcher was licking you up completely, moaning at the taste of your juice on his tongue. And fuck, was the sight beautiful, seeing how fast his beard started glistening with your juice and his spit…

As suddenly as he started, Butcher stopped. A simple, pathetic and needy moan slipped out of your mouth and you bit your lip, trying to at least some kind of dignity out of this.

But it was too late. Butcher heard you.

It was so fast, all you could do was fucking moan and try to remember how to breathe.

His length was already inside you completely, filling you up so much it knocked the air out of your lungs. God, you didn’t have the chance to see his cock, but just feeling how good it filled and stretched you… You knew it was big. Big and so hard and burning…

Butcher didn’t wait before he started moving, and you could understand why. You weren’t even affected by the flower and yet you felt the uncontrolable need to be fucked and to cum. Your body wanted his touch, your cunt wanted his cock. You couldn’t even imagine how bad it had to be for him.

“Fuck… Fuck…” You moaned, your nails scratching the floor every time he bottomed out. His pace was merciless, giving you no time to do anything but moan and try to breathe, and it felt so good, him fucking you into the ground, like you were just some cheap whore he would pay 40 bucks to have an hour with… 

Just him using you with no other purpose than getting his release, being no one but a hole and a body to own and use.

It felt good. Because as he fucked you hard and fast, you didn’t think about all the things that made you hate yourself. You didn’t think about anything. Your mind was blank, empty, only your body mattered as Butcher fucked your brain stupid.

You lost count of how many times Butcher made you cum.

At first, he fucked you from behind on the floor.

Then, between two orgasms, you managed to climb on the couch, where he doggy style fucked you again. 

The more you came, the more he seemed to regain control of his body, because next thing, you were riding him as he was now sitting on the couch and he was slapping your ass, groaning things about how much of a fucking slut you were.

Butcher seemed to have endless stamina. Or it was the flower. In any case, you completely didn’t fucking care. It felt so good, you were in sweats, even if you were now both completely naked. You didn’t even know when the clothes got lost, who removed what, or what got destroyed. All you knew and cared about was his cock buried inside of you, and how good it made you feel.

“Fuck, Y/n, wanted to fill your cunt since the first day…”

It was the first complete sentence he was saying.

“Wanted you to fuck me since the first time I saw you,” you answered, still jumping on his cock. You were slower, your body quickly losing its remaining amount of energy and strength.

“Still got some for a last one, luv?” Butcher groaned, his hand already between your legs, his fingers stroking your bundle of nerves at a quick pace. Breathing was already hard, but now, it stopped completely as your body got seized with overstimulation’s shivers, Butcher easily forcing another orgasm out of you. You cried out as it was almost painful by now, and finally, the roar reached your ears and you felt it.

His cock was so deep inside of you, you felt the ropes of cums shooting inside of your walls and filling your already full channel. Butcher seemed to cum for seconds and seconds, shaking under you, his arms circling your body and holding you impossibly closer.

Both of you were covered in sweat. Both of you were breathing hard. Both of you were exhausted and overstimulated.

You would have fallen asleep right there and then if it wasn’t for his hand roaming every single inch of your body, like finally, he was awake after a long, endless dream. Like he was discovering you, meeting you for the first time.

“What… Happened,” he said after a few attempts to find back his breath, and remorse started creeping all over you. Fuck. You abused him. Clearly. The flower was your fault, you tried to fix your mess, save him, but ultimately, you abused him- “What did I do to deserve you sitting on my cock, luv?”

“Don’t you…” You started, frowning at his comment. The biggest, most satisfied smirk you ever saw on his face was stretching his lips. “Remember?”

“I remember a flower alright,” he tilted his head to the side, his hands now resting on your waist. “Then, everything was… confused, and I felt high, so high, all I could think about was to sink my cock in your cunt,” he gestured to you, still on his cock.

You never felt more embarrassed in your life. Yeah, that was Butcher, straight to the point.

“Okay so,” You tried changing the subject, tell him what really happened. “The pollen in the flower drugged you and well, kinda my fault, it’s something I worked on back then…” You turned your head away, trying to find your inner strong imperturbable self, but it was too late.

“Figured,” Butcher muttered. “That shit is dangerous and strong as fuck…” He glanced at something behind you, and you didn’t need to turn your head to know it was the said flower. “I think someone tried to kill me by giving me this. Good thing you were there eh. Good thing you worked on it, so you knew how to save me.”

“Yeah,” you said, still feeling bad for what happened. Of course you saved him. But ultimately, it was still all your fault. You tried to get off his lap, but hands put you back where you were. That had the effect of a thrust and you couldn’t help but moan, feeling his cock push the cum out of your abused hole as it sank back in. “Fuck…” You closed your eyes, feeling him so deep inside.

“The pollen wore off,” Butcher muttered. “I’m alright. Now, how about we fuck for the good reason, eh? I wanna see your pretty face when I make you cum… Again.”

You tried to deny it. But fuck, you were still high from your previous orgasms, and your body reclaimed more.

The flower and the attempted murder could wait.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @b3autyfuldisast3r @eevvvaa @fictional-affairs @wickedinspirations @awkward-and-indecisive @cryptichobbit​

[enchantedflameandflower]

A Billy Butcher Christmas

YOU try celebrating Christmas with Butcher...

Co-written with CheshireCat

*-*-*

Waiting alone in your dark apartment, you wondered what could possibly be keeping Billy so long.  

M.M. had texted you that they were wrapping up the stakeout for that Supe they were trying to tie in with a known gun-runner and explosives smuggler. His contact had gotten spooked and never showed. 

You stopped pacing and sat down on the couch again with a huff and then a long sigh. Billy was probably in some bar drinking away his anger. You only hoped he didn't start a brawl. "I suppose I should check my first-aid supplies," you griped at the empty room as you got up to check the kit you kept in a cupboard in the bathroom. 

On your way back to the living room, you glanced out at the Christmas lights on the houses below your balcony twinkling like multi-colored stars in the dark. "Yeah...Merry Christmas," you said softly, thinking the best gift you could have would be Billy coming home safe and not too badly banged up.

Sighing softly, you went to the kitchen to pour a glass of whiskey. Pulling the bottle down from the top cupboard you tipped a bit of the liquid into your glass and then you poured some more. It was rich and warm on your tongue and burned just the right amount going down. Kind of like Billy. 

Turning all the lights down, you went curl up in your favorite chair and just gaze at the lights. Billy would be here soon, and the alcohol helped to calm your worry.

For a bit, you made yourself relax but when you finally heard the keys jingling in the lock you jumped up from the couch, almost spilling your drink.

Damn...you could hear him grumbling and cursing through the door before it even opened. You knew how any perceived failure that amounted to wasting a night without nailing the perps they were after frustrated and angered him. You just hoped the end result wasn't too bad. Well, at least you knew you had plenty of everything to patch him up, if needed.

Setting your glass on the coffee table, you went to the door just as Billy got it open. “Hey,” you murmured. You couldn’t help but scan him head to toe checking for both injuries and his mood. He had a small cut on his temple, but that seemed the extent of his physical ails, at least. 

You inwardly breathed a sigh of relief but put on a sympathetic face nonetheless.  "M.M. told me tonight was a bust. What happened?“ 

You knew it was good to let him grumble a bit and get it off his chest while he actually processed things. As soon as he shrugged out of his coat you took his large hand and pulled him inside leading him to the couch. 

Good thing you'd thought to bring the bottle of whiskey and an extra tumbler to the coffee table. 

He sat down heavily and looked up at you, dark eyes swirling with emotions but warming and calming a little as he gazed up at you. He poured himself a measure of whiskey and put his strong arm around you when you curled up on the couch beside him, pulling you in against him, tucked into his side. 

Happily, you nestled in against him and waited while he gathered his thoughts.

“The cunt never even showed,” he growled. “Worthless piece of shite. I should have known better than to think he would come through. He were only someone Frenchie knew through someone else and M.M only met the fucker once.” He huffed a sigh and took a long drink of the whiskey before setting it aside. “Fucking waste of a whole night.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, nestling closer to him and rubbing your hand over his chest. “There’ll be another chance. It’s Christmas Eve, maybe something just threw his plans off.”

Billy turned to look at you. “It’s what?”

"It's...it's Christmas Eve," you said again softly then cleared your throat. You'd told yourself you would not be disappointed if he didn't remember, but you'd still kind of hoped maybe he felt a little of the magic in the air and would want to share that just with you. 

You looked over at the little tree you'd bought and his present you'd wrapped last night and tucked under the branches. You knew he didn't have the fondest childhood memories of Christmas and had hoped to maybe make it special for him this year. 

You swallowed down your own disappointment. "I just meant he might have family or a girlfriend or something and had a last minute change of plans. We’ll get another chance.”

Billy looked out the window as if he was seeing the Christmas lights for the first time and the expression on his face lightened just a little…

*-*-*

Let us know if you want more! 🎄❤️

Part 2

[winchestergirl2]

March Reading Recs

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

2023 Reading Recs | 2024 Reading Recs

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

You're On Your Own Kid Part 2 @my-proof-is-you

Authors Summary: You’re used to being on your own. You’d been on your own as long as you could remember. Could Sam show you that it isn’t the only way to live?

Don't Worry About Me @my-proof-is-you

Authors Summary: Anon Request: hi! could you do a sam imagine where he’s been really stressed with work/researching for a big hunt, y/n can’t sleep and sees him still awake and tries to make him feel better? maybe some hidden feelings for both of them?? just really fluffy cute stuff please!! thank you! i love your work!

Requited Love @uhohnotthisagain

Authors Summary: Sam discovers his love for you in a not so clean dream, he doesn't realise his actions following the realisation would effect you so much.

10 Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly

The Miracle Man @zepskies

Authors Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

Centerfold Dance Party @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms

The Boys

Soldier Boy

The Bet @quin-ns

Authors Summary: butcher leaves you to keep an eye on soldier boy and things become interesting when a deck of cards gets involved

Let's Dance @impala-dreamer

Authors Summary ~If there's one thing she knows, it's that she fucking hates Soldier Boy. If there's one thing he knows, it's that he can change her mind.~

I'm A Ruin Part I | Part II | Part III | @anundyingfidelity

Authors Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Billy Butcher

And So It Goes (Masterlist) @zepskies

Authors Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job — and more importantly her life — and helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca.

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Take Me Home Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | @zepskies

Authors Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

Jurisdiction @waynes-multiverse

I need your hand but I don't want to burn it Part 1 @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: You receive a phone call letting you know a family member has passed. The news rocks your world, especially when you find yourself flying back home for the services, returning to a place you'd rather forget. As your best friend, Beau is trying to be there for you but you're determined to go it alone. But since you've known him, when has Beau Arlen ever not had your back?

[mlmxreader]

Securing Reservations | Billy Butcher x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ heyyy bud, is me Aldo on a brand new blog and I have a request :]

If you could write the prompt "Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now you fucking stupid bastard! You fucking bastard!" Whit Billy Butcher from the boys and an m!reader I would absolutely adore that!

Like maybe getting kicked out of a restaurant somehow or just him arguing whit somebody about restaurant reservations, also some soothing from the reader afterwards, anything unhinged and possibly gore-y is welcomed :]

Have a nice night too! - @slutordo ❞

: ̗̀➛ getting reservations for swank restaurants is a ball ache, but when it comes to you, Butcher is at least willing to try... however that looks.

: ̗̀➛ eyeball gore, gore, fighting, swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You and Billy had decided a while ago that Sundays would be your date nights, as usually, there wasn’t much going on those days and it tended to be a lot quieter than normal; you both took turns planning where you would go and when, and while his ideas were often relatively small and intimate, yours weren’t exactly huge and extravagant either.

The biggest thing that the two of you ever did for date night was when you had had the idea of going into the city centre to check out the holiday markets that were littered along the high street; stalls adorned with various cheeses and chocolates and beers, clothing and jewellery, different little trinkets as well as every form of media from old school vinyls to blu-ray DVDs.

Billy wasn’t huge on the big and flashy, the lavish and luxurious; a pint down the pub and a takeaway chip shop meal would do just fine and he could grin and brag about it for the next week.

Yet, he knew that you deserved better than that; he scrimped and saved and skimped whatever he could, knowing that you deserved better than a pint down the pub and some shit Chinese takeaway.

He was trying his best, for fuck’s sake.

It was Saturday night, when Billy found a fancy restaurant that was taking cash reservations, but there were only a select few left, and the queue consisted of him and some fucking Vought cunt who proudly wore the company’s name on his briefcase beside his full name - Sean Patrick Bale; Billy clenched his jaw, eyeing him up.

He was muscular in build, but the type of muscle that was lended more to starvation and constant exercise rather than actual strength; neatly styled dark brown hair that came down to his white shirt collar; hazel eyes that were full of malice and contempt.

He wore a long black coat that went down to his calves, designer black shoes, designer black blazer, designer black trousers. Designer white shirt. Designer red tie with a subtle white pattern.

Billy knew the type, shallow and all shout flaunting Daddy’s money; he knew the type, middle class White men from suburbia who got into the big business because Daddy got him a high position job.

The type of cunt who went to that type of restaurant frequently; clearing his throat, Billy dared to approach, tapping him on the shoulder as he smiled falsely.

“Sean!” He hoped he sounded friendly enough as he leaned back slightly. “What are you doing here?”

Sean looked disgusted, sneering at Billy as he scoffed. “Who are you?”

Billy grinned, licking his lips. “Y’know, Donald! From accounting!”

Sean rolled his eyes, he never much cared about those on the floors beneath his office, so he sighed, and upon realising there were other people around, forced himself to smile. “Right! How could I ever forget! I’m so sorry, Donald! What are you doing here?”

Gotcha. Billy did his best not to laugh as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, smiling. “Well, I was just gonna book a reservation for me and my… partner.”

Don’t be too obvious, Butcher. He knew what Sean was like, the contempt held for anyone different. He had to watch his fucking mouth, but Sean merely shrugged as he nodded slowly. 

“What a coincidence,” Sean hummed. “So am I.”

“Tell you what,” Billy hummed, taking a quick look around. “Why don’t we got a smoke, eh? Only us two here, anyway.”

Sean was apprehensive, but shrugged as he followed Billy into the alleyway; the fucking cunt kept muttering under his breath about how much he hated to spend time with underlings, and once the two were well out of earshot and eyesight, Sean sneered at Billy once again. 

“Look, man, I’m not in any position to fucking promote scum like you,” he started, “and I’m certainly not going to fucking promote someone who dresses like he hasn’t seen an iron in years… do you even summer outside of the State? No. You’re just a-”

Billy didn’t hesitate, grabbing the back of Sean’s head and slamming it against the nearest wall; the bloody imprint stayed there as Billy dragged Sean’s face up and down the harsh bricks, slowly grating away the sloughing skin right down to the muscle.

But Billy wasn’t done, putting Sean on the floor and straddling his waist; he brought his fist up, slamming it down against his face again and again and again until he could hear the crunch of teeth falling from gums. The grinding of bone.

But the cunt was still breathing, so Billy pulled the knife from his back pocket, and shoved the blade into Sean’s eye; he could feel it pop as it deflated upon the blade, blood and fluid spurting as he dragged the knife out before slamming it into the other eye. He grinned as the blood spat upon his face. 

“Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now you fucking stupid bastard!” Billy howled, plunging the knife into Sean’s throat and dragging it down to his sternum. “You fucking bastard!”

Panting heavily, Billy got up, and wiped the blood from his face on the back of his leather jacket before he went back to the restaurant; the only one in the queue, he managed to get the very last one available, and relief crashed over him like wildfire as he smiled calmly.

He checked his phone, and nearly grinned when he realised that he had a text from you asking to meet at the end of the street; a slight skip in his step, he was surprised when you prevented him from hugging you, tilting his head and furrowing his brows. 

“What’d I do?”

You gestured to the wet patch on his leather jacket, daring to smile a little. “Care to explain?”

Billy shrugged, lighting up a cigarette and offering one to you. “Nothin’ really, just some cunt from Vought got in me way.”

“Billy,” you gently took his hand, examining his knuckles. “Look at your hand, love.”

He did as told, his gaze dropping to his knuckles for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak; but he knew that you were already a step ahead, as usual and as always, so he just raised his brow slightly, and frowned. “What?”

“I appreciate what you did,” you said soothingly, shaking your head before pressing a kiss to his bloodied and bruised knuckles. “But you don’t have to get violent, y’know. I would’ve been okay to have gone anywhere else.”

Billy scoffed, taking a step back as he lit up the two cigarettes. “Would you, though?”

You nodded, taking a long drag as you hummed. “Bills, as long as I’m with you, I’m happy to be and do whatever the fuck. I do not give a pig’s tit, as long as I’m with you.”

“I got the reservation.”

You grinned, doing your best not to laugh as you shook your head so fondly. “Fuck’s sake… you’re a nightmare, y’know, my favourite fucking nightmare.”

At that, Billy grinned. He knew that he had done right by you, and if he was honest?

The fight had taken a lot of the frustrations of the week from him as well; he was just about ready to take you home, to spend the night doing whatever you liked, and then getting to bed quite early.

He wasn’t so tense about everything, and he wasn’t so on edge either. But then he looked into your eyes, and even more of that tension dropped as he gently reached for your hand and held it rather tightly; not enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough that you would know he was actually listening, and that he did actually want you to open your mouth.

“You’re too good for me,” he told you. “Y’know that, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes at the remark. “Billy. I’m your boyfriend. As far as I’m concerned? We’re good enough for each other as long as we’re happy.”

[queenxxxsupreme]

To Be Scared (Billy Butcher x f!reader)

A/N: I asbolutely suck at titles lol anywho I love Becca and I think this was interesting to write.....

Warnings: nothing outside of canon, it’s a bit angsty, there is a very brief mention of child loss but it’s just a bit, 

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You struggle with handling the presents of Becca Butcher at the hideout. 

“Jesus fuck, Billy.” You slammed the door to the hideout shut behind you, then began to rather angrily stomp down the stairs. “The next time you send me out to talk to that fucking witch, I’m going to kill you in your slee-,” 

You stopped upon seeing an unfamiliar woman in the room. Frenchie, Kimiko, and M.M. were around her, almost crowding her. 

Their heads turned in your direction. The smile fell from Frenchie’s face and M.M. cursed under his breath. 

“Oh, fuck.”

“How, uh, How did the meeting with Madame Mallory go?” Frenchie stood up and began to move towards you. 

“I can’t fucking stand her.” You shrugged off your jacket, briefly looking at the unfamiliar woman. Frenchie took the jacket from you and put it over his arm as he stepped in front of your line of sight. The action was a bit odd. Frenchie was always sweet and nice, so having him take your jacket wasn’t weird. But he appeared to be trying to block your ability to see the woman. 

“She can be a bit of an ass, no?”

“A bit?” You repeated with a raise of your brows. You stepped around Frenchie and began to approach the unfamiliar woman. “Who’s this, M.?”

“This?” He gestured to the woman. “Uh, um, this is– She’s a, uh–,”

“Becca Butcher.” She gave you a kind smile. “Billy’s wife.”

Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach. You stared at the woman as your skin broke out in goosebumps. 

All of the background noises in the hideout became distant. The sound from the TV was incoherent. Whatever Frenchie was saying to you was muffled as if you were underwater. 

“His-His wi–,” You were cut off. 

“Ah, son of a fucking–,” Butcher cursed as he walked into the room. He had hoped to greet you upstairs before you arrived. He wanted to explain everything to you before you saw Becca.

You turned your head to him, your lips parted. You wanted to speak, but your voice was gone. You couldn’t even catch your breath enough to breathe. 

“Alright, alright. Let’s give her some air.” He moved towards the couch where she sat. Where Becca sat.

Your brain was still trying to compute what was happening. You had hoped that this day would never happen, that you would never have to meet the woman who had Billy Butcher’s heart. 

“I-I have to–,” You took a step back but bumped into a chair. Your hand automatically came up to make sure the chair wasn’t going to tip over. 

Without another word, you left the room hastily, making your way back up the stairs. 

“Damn.” M.M. shook his head, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes. 

Butcher let a heavy sigh out through his nose. 

Frenchie sat back in his seat. 

“Who was that?” Becca asked curiously, her eyes looking around at those in the room with her. 

“That was Y/N.” Frenchie explained. “You should go check on her, Charcutier.”

Butcher brought his hand up to his brow. 

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes. Stay put.” He told Becca before following after you. 

***

You were standing on the curb outside of the pawn shop. There was a cigarette between your index and middle fingers. 

Butcher came to stand next to you with his arms crossed.

You glanced over to him then shook your head. Your gaze found a large box truck as it passed by.

“It would’ve been nice to have a heads up that your wife was here.”

“I wasn’t expectin’ her.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Me too.” 

You took a long drag of the cigarette. 

“Doll, I know–,”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, closing your eyes. “Don’t call me that. Not right now. It makes me…. It makes me feel fucking sick to my stomach.”

“She’s here ‘cause her son was taken by Homelander. She came to us for help.”

“To you.” You corrected him quietly, but he didn’t hear you. Maybe he did hear you and he was just ignoring you.  

“Now I know this makes things difficult for us, but it’ll be back to normal soon.”

“It doesn’t have to be difficult, Billy.” You flicked the ashes off of the end of the cigarette. “She means a lot to you.”

Butcher was quiet. He didn’t know how you felt about the situation. Your tone was oddly calm and passive. He was sure you would’ve been raising hell about it. 

“She’s just as pretty as you described.” You smiled a little, though it was a sad smile. You feared what this meant for your relationship with Butcher– whatever kind of relationship the two of you had. 

You turned your head to look at him. Butcher gazed at you, his brows slightly furrowed. The two of you looked at one another for what felt like forever. 

He was lost in a mess of emotions, emotions he didn’t want to talk about or even acknowledge. He just wanted to push them deep down somewhere inside of his being, to shove them away. 

The more you looked at him, the more you found yourself on the verge of tears. You knew without a doubt that if he had a choice, he wouldn’t pick you. Becca meant everything to him. Becca was his world, his universe. Her disappearance eight years ago had driven him nearly mad. And every day since that moment, he had relentlessly tried to find out what happened to her, to bring Homelander down. But now she was alive. She was alive and she was in his life once again.

You took a deep breath and put the cigarette out on a light post. The nicotine wasn’t enough to dull your pain. You would need something stronger.

“We should get back inside. Need to figure out where her son is.” Your voice was quiet. 

As you were passing him, Butcher grabbed your arm to stop you. He looked down at you, his gaze softening. 

“I…. M’sorry.”

You gave him a little smile, shaking your head, then you continued on into the pawn shop.

***

As you made your way down the stairs, you did your damnedest to keep your eyes away from Becca. 

You passed through the main room and made your way to a room in the back. 

Becca’s gaze followed you the whole way. She was leaning forward in her seat, her hands holding the couch cushion. 

“Alright, let’s get to it.” Butcher said as he joined the gang in the room. 

“What about Y/N?” Frenchie asked. 

“She’ll join us later as needed. So, Ryan ain’t on any of their social media, which is good on one hand, but it don’t help us none.” 

“So you think he’s in the Tower?” Becca questioned. 

“Not sure. You stay here. Rest up. I’m gonna go do a little diggin’.”

Butcher started to pick up his jacket and head for the stairs, but Becca followed him. 

“Hey, Billy? I’m sorry, okay? I have no right to ask you to help me after what I said to you, but–,”

“Look, don’t you worry, alright?” He placed his hands on her arms as he looked down at her. “I will find your son.”

She nodded as she gazed up at him with teary eyes. 

Without a second of hesitation, Becca leaned up to kiss him. Butcher, not even realizing what he was doing, turned his head so she would kiss his cheek. 

As they parted, Butcher happened to glance over to his teammates. They were watching the whole ordeal. 

“Fuck off you lot.” He growled. 

“Are you just going to leave Y/N with us?” M.M. raised his brows. He was concerned that you would lose your shit. You weren’t known for your patients or good temperament. 

“I’ll deal with her when I get back. Just…. Leave her be and everything will be alright.”

***

You sat in a room by yourself. Your boots were propped up on to the table and you were throwing darts at a poster of Homelander. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw movement. Without even looking at her, you knew it was Becca. Frenchie and M.M. wouldn’t have seemed so hesitant. 

You gripped the dart in your hand a little tighter and launched it at the poster, hitting Homelander square in the forehead. 

“Excuse me, Y/N?” 

She means everything to him. She is everything to him. You needed to remind yourself of this so that you wouldn’t say something stupid, so that you wouldn’t cause her any sort of harm. You didn’t want that, but sometimes your emotions got the best of you. 

You let out a stiff breath and put your feet down on the floor. Your eyes flickered over to her. 

“Mrs. Butcher.”

“Please, just Becca.” She smiled softly. That smile. Fuck, did it make you sick. Why did she have to be so nice? “Can I just, um, have a word with you?”

Wordlessly, you gestured to the chair across from you. She sat down, her eyes gliding over the numerous big guns and weapons laying on the table. 

“No one else will be honest with me.” She spoke quietly. “You…. You have something with him, don’t you? With Billy?”

Your eyes stayed on her for a little longer than necessary. You didn’t answer her at first. It took you a few moments to make sure you wouldn’t break down or lose your shit. But as you gazed at her, you couldn’t help but think about everything he had ever told you about her. 

“The only thing we have is sex, Mrs. Butcher.” You murmured quietly. 

She nodded her head and looked down at her hands. 

“The way you…. The way you froze up when you found out who I was. I’m not stupid, Y/N. I saw it on your face.” 

You hated how gentle she was being, how compassionate she was. She was everything Billy Butcher wasn’t. It made you wonder if perhaps he was a kinder man before Becca disappeared. 

Perhaps if she wasn’t so nice, you’d feel better about things. 

“It’s more than just sex, isn’t it?”

It was your turn to look down at your hands. Tears blurred your vision as you rubbed the back of your hand. 

Becca let you have a few moments. She could see how you were on the edge, how you struggled to hold in everything. She expected to see tears on your cheeks as you looked up at her. But your eyes were just glossy. There were no tears.

“I-I don’t want to hate you.” You whispered, shaking your head softly. “You are…. You are the most important person in his life. He would scorch this entire earth if it meant he could see you happy.”

Becca didn’t know what to say. What could she say to the woman who was sleeping with her husband? Granted, she and Butcher were parted but she still loved the man with all her heart. 

“How long has…. How, um….” Becca didn’t know how to get the words out of her mouth. 

“Four years.” You nodded a little. 

“I’m just…. I guess I am happy that he’s had someone there for him.” She smiled a little. “Billy can be a bit of a prick.”

You wanted to chuckle. She was the only other woman on the entire planet who could understand what it was like being with Billy Butcher. But even then, you were sure the Butcher you knew and the Butcher she knew were two different sides of a coin. 

“He told me about what you said to him.” 

Becca’s lips parted.

You picked up the carton of cigarettes on the table and pulled one out. You offered one to her. She took it wordlessly and after you lit your cigarette, you passed the lighter to her. 

“I get it.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, letting the smoke come out of her mouth. 

“You do?”

You nodded your head slowly, eyes flickering down to the weapons on the table. 

“I had a daughter once.” You paused to flick the ashes into a cup. “So I know what it’s like giving everything up for a child.”

“I’m-I’m sorry for your loss.”

You said nothing in response. 

“I want to hate you, Mrs. Butcher.” You told her. Your eyes found hers. “I want to hate you with every fiber of my being. But I can’t. I-I can’t bring myself to feel that way. Not entirely at least.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it would hurt him even more to see me try to kill you. It would hurt him to see me hostile and shitty towards you. He’d never admit it, but I know him. He loves you with a love that not many people have.”

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching the room made Becca look towards the door. You took a drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke upwards. 

Butcher stopped in the doorway, hesitant and cautious. Becca gave him a little reassuring smile while you kept your eyes on the Homelander poster covered in tiny punctures from darts. 

“What, uh, what are we havin’ here?”

“I was just talking to Y/N.” Becca told him. 

“I see.” Butcher’s eyes found you. You were avoiding him. “Becca, can you come talk to M.M.? He’s got some questions for ya.”

“Of course.” She nodded, taking one last puff of the cigarette before putting it out in an ashtray  on the table. 

As she left the room, you turned your head to look at Butcher. He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed. 

“What?”

“Half expected to find you both havin’ a good ole screaming match.”

“Over what?”

“.... Me.”

You grinned a little, shaking your head. 

“Oh, Billy. You must have a pretty big ego to think we would fight over you.”

“Just a little bit.” He chuckled at your teasing. It made him feel a little better to know that you were able to joke. 

He moved towards you, pulling up the chair next to you so that when he sat down, he could slip one knee between yours. 

“Heard what ya said.” He spoke quietly. His hand came up to cup your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning into his touch. “It means a lot to me, how you’re handlin’ this.”

“Shut up.” You whispered. Your hand came up to hold the back of his that cupped your face. You squeezed his fingers before pulling his hand away from you. “I don’t want you being soft on me right now. It makes me want to puke.”

He grinned. 

“I’m scared, Billy.” You admitted. Your eyes were focused on his chest, but more specifically, on the necklace he had that he always wore. 

“Scared? I’ve seen you face to face with Homelander and not even bat an eye.”

You shook your head. 

“Becca…. She can take you from me if she wanted to.”

Butcher tilted his head to the side a little, his features softening up. 

“That ain’t true, doll.”

You wanted to fight him, to yell at him and tell him that he was lying to your face. You wanted to let all of the anger and rage in your bones out. You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs. 

But you didn’t. You stayed there gazing at the stupid necklace. 

“Hey.” Two fingers slipped under your chin. Butcher tilted your head up so that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “Just keep in mind who I’m sleepin’ next to at night.”

You smiled a little. 

“In your luxurious full size bed underneath a grimey pawn shop.”

The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. 

“That’s right.” He leaned in to kiss your lips. “Just keep that in mind, doll.”

Taglist: @butcherdom @would-die-for-bucky-barnes @sojuxxi @salemmea @mrdcks-spaghetti 

[butcherdom]

I’m so behind on the Butcher fanfics/smuts!!! Agh I need to find the new ones!!

[slut-for-evans-stan]

Mission Accomplished

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Summary: Ben and you can't stay in the same room without wanting to rip each other's hearts out. The Boys, tired of dealing with you, decide to take matters into their own hands by tricking you two into completing your most crucial mission yet— resolving your problems. One thing leads to another and you discover that there was an easier, much more enjoyable method to resolve everything between you all along. (I'm sorry I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (18+), Enemies to Lovers, Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy, Dirty talk, oral (m+f rec), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), hate fucking!? (kind of), rough sex, swearing, choking, squirting, creampie.

a/n: this is my very first time writing smut. Not proofread, please pardon me for errors if any! I tried my best :')

I'd really appreciate if you could like, comment and/or reblog, it'll make me really happy <3

Being a Supe with extraordinary powers didn't mean you were ready to exploit people for clout, with how things were at Vought. So when Starlight and Hughie learnt that you declined Ashley's offer to have you join the Seven, they convinced you to join hands with The Boys to ensure that the arrogant liars claiming to be "Saviours of the World" got what they deserved. Despite feeling a bit unwelcome at first due to Butcher's distant behaviour, you quickly settled in and felt accepted, and connected to everyone in the team, everyone except the newest member to join forces with you all to help in taking down Homelander and others; Soldier Boy.

In the dimly lit room, stood Soldier Boy in his silk robe, a cigarette in one hand, one leg on the bed, the other supporting his weight on the floor; his back facing the door. Upon hearing a soft knock, he turned around with a smug grin on his face. He began,

"Well, hello there gorgeous! You've sure kept me waiting long enough for someone who made eager promises to choke on my dick."

Unamused, and somewhat disgusted by his comment, you shot him a stern look,

"I'm not here for your entertainment, I need to run a few tests on you. So it'll be nice if you'll please spare a few minutes before you run off to get your dick wet. We need to be sure that you're not going to explode and kill us all."

Soldier Boy's smirk echoed through his room as he eyed you with an amazed expression. Undeterred, he sauntered over to you, leaning in and mistaking your seriousness for a mere challenge.

"Sure. Whatever it is, let's get it over with. Maybe after this, you and I could-"

You cut him off with an icy glare

"Save the charm for someone who cares. I don't have time for this bullshit, we've a mission coming up."

From your very first meeting that started with a misunderstanding, it would've been an understatement to say that Soldier Boy annoyed every living cell in your body. You were both constantly arguing and bickering about something or the other, always at each other's throats.

Soldier Boy's deep, intimidating voice echoed through the room, your comment having hit a nerve.

"You know what, you're insufferable."

"At least I'm not stuck up." he shot back.

What should've been a meeting to discuss the upcoming mission, turned into yet another baseless argument between the two of you. Making your teammates uncomfortable with every passing moment. Hughie, Frankie, Kimiko and others exchanged uneasy glances as the tension thickened. You continued,

"I can't believe I've to be stuck with an unbearable asshole as you. Butcher I think I'm gonna skip this mission. Don't want us to end up in another mess like the last time."

At this point, it seemed like you were both minutes away from strangling each other. Soldier boy chuckled,

"Why, you're so intimidated by a real hero you want to hide away like a pussy?"

Eyebrows raised, you retorted, "Real hero!? More like a reckless liability. I've seen toddlers with better impulse control."

Sensing a storm brewing, Hughie spoke with a shaky voice, attempting to intervene and diffuse the situation. "Can we focus, guys? We have a mission-"

Your gaze never wavered from the supe. "I'll focus when he stops acting like he's better than everyone else. He is not the only one with superpowers here, he might be strong but he doesn't scare or intimidate me in the slightest."

Rolling his eyes, Soldier Boy muttered, "I wouldn't need to if you could follow a plan for once in your life."

Butcher commented shutting you all up "Oi. Enough! No one is backing out. You two should go fuck it out or something, whatever issues you stupid cunts have with each other. Don't need any fuck ups in the mission."

The tension spilled into the supposed battlefield, your bickering a dangerous undertone to the chaos around you. Clashing on missions, your mutual disdain fielding your actions, each vying to outdo the other. Yet beneath the surface, a spark lingered, an undeniable attraction that you both, despised and desired, but neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

On a particularly precarious mission, your incessant bickering almost jeopardized the entire operation.

Amidst the mayhem, you found yourself pinned down by one of the opponents, wounded and unable to use your powers, and Soldier boy reluctantly came to your rescue.

You grunted, "I didn't need your help."

He shot back, "Don't get used to it. I'm saving the mission, not your sorry ass."

Watching the scene unfold from a distance, your teammates exchanged knowing looks. After the mission, they decided they'd have enough, and decided to take matters into their own hands, realising that the unresolved tension between you two threatened not just personal dynamics but the success of missions itself.

On Butcher's suggestion, the team tricked the two of you into thinking there was another mission but instead locking you up in a safe house together,

"Sort this out, or we'll all end up as collateral damage."

warned Hughie before haphazardly shutting the door and leaving, forcing you to confront your issues, facing a choice: either talk and resolve the conflict or risk tearing each other apart. Silence filled the room. However, it was short lived.

Taking a deep breath, you plopped on the sofa across from where he sat and spoke as calmly as you could.

"Great, those little shits tricked us."

Soldier Boy scowled, "This is ridiculous. I don't need couple's therapy, I need a way out of here. I'm gonna beat the shit out of these fucknuts."

This made you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Maybe if you weren't so intolerable, we wouldn't be stuck in this situation in the first place."

As another argument filled the space, the air in the small living room of the safe house shifted. Soldier Boy's tone somewhat softened, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"You think I enjoy being like this? Constantly on edge, wondering if I'll turn into a goddamn weapon."

You sighed, your defenses momentarily crumbling.

"I didn't sign up for this either, you know. Being a supe's babysitter wasn't in my job description."

As you bickered, underlying desire simmered beneath the surface. Soldier Boy's gaze lingered a moment too long, making a very visible flush rise in your cheeks.

A smug grin playing on his lips, as he said,

"You can't resist me, can you? Admit it, there's something between us, more serious than all this bickering. You know, I think you want me-"

You cut him off, but your voice wavered. "Keep dreaming, I still can't stand you." This remark gave rise to another banter.

"Don't get over yourself. I was only pulling your leg. You're insufferable."

Accusations started flying like daggers, each word cutting deeper than the last. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, making your way back into the living room, catching him intently staring at you. Frustration morphed into a heated exchange of longing glances.

Tension crackled in the air, and just when it seemed the room might implode, his expression shifted.

He got up from the sofa, walking over to you, cornering you till your back hit the wall. He leaned in, his eyes darkening with a growing desire, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone.

"You know what? Maybe you're right. I can't stand you, because everytime I look at you, this is all I want to do."

You arched an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Wait, what?" But before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss, making the beer bottle fall from your hands, effectively silencing any protests. You caught hold of the shirt he was wearing, kissing him back with equal fervour, savoring the moment as if it was a dream that would end all too soon. All your pent up anger and frustration showed up as the two of you desperately tore at each other clothes, never once breaking the kiss. A battle of tongues. He only pulled back for a second, with a sly grin on his face, his eyes dark, pupils dilated with glimmers of lust.

"There, no need to argue when we can do this instead. We should've figured this out sooner." Rubbing you over your panties with two of his fingers, he groaned.

"You're such a slut. So wet already and I haven't even touched you. You want to get railed till you can't walk, don't you?"

Before you had a chance to say anything, he reclaimed your lips in a hunger fuelled kiss. The room once filled with tension, now crackled with a different kind of energy. Pieces of both your clothings flew across the room. Soldier boy lifted you up and carried you to the small table in the kitchen and set you down hurriedly. The two of you continued to kiss while he rid you both of the remaining pieces of clothing. He kissed you like a mad man, biting and marking every inch of your skin he could in his desperate need to be close to you. Starting from your neck, moving to your tits, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting it while palming and squeezing the other roughly, then switching and doing the same to the other one. He moved back up to place another rough kiss to your lips, both of you moaning and biting each other's tongues and lips, intoxicated with the feeling of being so close. With an animalistic growl he parted, giving you a look so intense, it could scare the bravest of people.

"When you feel the need to scream, moan my name. Scream it as loud as you can."

With that he roughly nudged your legs apart as wide as they could go and dived right in, eating you out like man starved, licking and sucking your most sensitive parts like it was his last meal. You pulled his hair, legs shaking and trembling with pleasure. His gruff beard giving you a delicious burn, that would heal in no time. He started flicking your clit with his tongue and entered two of his fingers inside you, moving them in and out rapidly. When he added two more fingers, you lost it. Screaming his name and cumming all over his face, your legs wrapped around his head, making it impossible for him to move away.

"Fuck. Ben. I can't-"

you tried pulling away but he didn't stop even then, holding you down with his arms, making you cum two more times before finally deciding to let go. You were dazed in pleasure, but still wanted more. Jumping down the table, and on your knees, you made eye contact with him as you slowly took his long, thick and veiny cock in your hand, stroking him and giving a few kitten licks from the base to the tip and sucking off the beads of precum, moaning at the salty taste, making him groan. You then looked up at him, taking him as far as you could before pulling back again and asking him to fuck your face. He hesitated for a second but his resolve crumbled as soon as you opened your mouth, showing him you were waiting for him. He grabbed your head with both his hands and pushed himself into your mouth, roughly thrusting in and out again and again, moaning your name, cussing like a maniac. You could tell he was close, and then he held your head as close as possible, making you gag a little, his eyes closing, his head thrown back, as ropes of his cum shot down your throat.

In ragged breaths, he said "Be a good little slut and swallow it all."

As you did, you opened your mouth with your tongue out, showing no remnants of his release. He chuckled, pulling you up by your arms, surprising you with a softness in his gaze as he asked

"You sure you want to go further? If you don't, we'll stop right here and pretend this never happened-" you cut him off with an aggressive kiss "Fuck me as hard as you can. I won't break. Take all your frustrations out on me."

With that he smirked and rapidly turned you around, bending your back and shoving your face on the table with his hand, setting it for support right by your head. He entered you with one brutal thrust, making the both of you moan and groan loudly, not giving you a second to adjust as he started ramming his cock into you, hard and deep, his hips moving at an inhuman speed.

"That's it. This is what you wanted right? Now take it. I don't think I'm ever going to let you go after this. You feel so good. Gonna make you my personal little fuck toy. Such a perfect fit."

Hearing all the filth leave his mouth made you clench around him, making him throw his head back in pleasure, never once letting his pace falter.

"Ah you love this. I can tell by the way your tight pussy's choking my dick."

At this point, all rational thoughts had left your brain and all you could do was moan and revel in the pleasure he was giving you. One thing you knew for sure was that he had ruined everyone else for you. After a few moments he moved the hand on your back between your legs to rub your clit and you started screaming in pleasure, feeling yourself flying close to the edge. As soon as Ben realised how close you were, he pulled out and turned you around, lifting you on the table and onto your back, swiftly entering you again.

"I know you're close. I wanna see your face when you cum all over me."

He moved his hand back between your legs to rub your clit in circles, while his other hand moved to your neck, choking you, as he went back to thrusting at his original, rough pace. This new angle somehow making him go deeper than before, hitting that one spot that made you see stars.

"Fuck. I don't think I can last long either."

To that, you finally managed to say

"Cum with me."

which sounded more like a moan than a sentence. You both looked into each other's eyes, moaning, grabbing each other, raking your nails all over his gorgeous, broad shoulders, not breaking the eye contact once. After a particularly hard thrust, you felt a funny sensation, one that you have rarely ever felt, only while pleasing yourself and before you knew, you screamed and started squirting your release, coming undone while Ben kept thrusting into you.

"Oh yes. Fuck. That's so hot baby. Cum all over me. I don't think I'll ever get enough of the look on your face right now. I think I've finally managed to shut you up, fucked your brains out. Fuck I'm cumming."

His thrusts grew frantic, and much harder than before, kissing you roughly, your teeth clashing, and he finally slammed his hips into yours one last time, holding your hips so tight, you were sure you would bruise for atleast a few hours, despite your super healing abilities. Groaning and grunting in his deep voice as thick ropes of his cum filled you to the brim, triggering yet another release out of you, making you squirt even more. He collapsed on top of you, careful that he wasn't crushing you with his weight.

The two of you stayed like that, entangled with each other for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath, before he slowly pulled out of you, making you both wince at the sudden loss. As he walked to the living room, "That was it" you thought, a one time rendezvous with Soldier Boy that might have either helped you two or made things worse. He sauntered back in with a towel in hand, towards the sink to wet it, also filling up a glass of water and quietly walking to you, cleaning you up without a word, handing the glass for you to drink. Taking it from him, you looked at him mumbled a soft "thank you", getting down the table, you nudged him to walk out with you, sitting down on the couch and covering yourself with a blanket, while he picked up his surprisingly untorn boxers, putting them on and sitting next to you, making you turn to face him. You both understood you needed to talk about what had just happened.

The shared realisation that the animosity between you two that had led to this impulsively passionate encounter, had somewhere blurred the lines between desire and hate.

Ben began to say "Look, about earlier... I didn't mean half the things I said."

You replied "What? You didn't mean it when you said you want to kiss me and do other filthy things to me everytime you see me?"

Taken aback, with a raised eyebrow and confused express Ben said, "Oh no, no lies there. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you."

You cut him off saying "I know, I was just pulling your leg. I've felt the same way about you. Your reputation preceded you and it made me crazy knowing I still wanted you."

He replied, "I think we let our tempers get the best of us." sighing, he continued "I care about you more than I let on."

Which made you sigh in response. "Then why do you never act like it? Making me think of you as a douche who loves berating me?"

Ben ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess I feel scared. Scared of how much of a hold you have had on me from the very beginning. It made me feel like a fool at times, I thought the only way I could supress these feelings were by acting like an asshole towards you. I'm really sorry."

Your gaze softened, "I'm really sorry too, my behaviour towards you hasn't been any better either." You continued, "I thought we were destined to be enemies. I don't hate you, I never did. I just wanted you to see the person I am beyond the righteous supe everyone else sees."

Ben slowly took your hands in his, making you look into his eyes. "Now I see you more than I ever thought I would. Maybe.. maybe there's something more here."

You replied, "Maybe there is. What happens now?"

To which he said "We talk. Like normal people. No more running away or avoiding things and arguing for no reason. We figure out where we stand, one step at a time, together."

You smiled, nodding your head. "Agreed. No more hiding how we feel. Besides, I guess I like this way of solving our issues much more." Which made him chuckle and pull you into his arms, staring at you intently, pressing his lips to yours.

Back at the Flatiron building, Hughie sat at his table across from Frenchie, fidgeting with his cup. "I'm worried. What do you think? Will they make up or kill each other?"

Butcher entered the room, a smirk plastered over his face "I'm pretty sure they are fucking like rabbits back there." And boy, was he right.

The two of you went multiple rounds, thanks to your super stamina, christening every possible surface of the safe house. From the couch, to the bedroom and the floor, and the shower too. You had both awoken a hunger, only the other could satiate.

"Now that we're not at each other's throats for the wrong reasons, I think maybe, we'd make a good team after all."

Said Ben, holding you close, running smooth circles on along your arms, with the two of you lying on the bed, tired and basking in the afterglow. You smiled, turning to face him. "We'll have to see about that, you might just be right. For now, I can't believe I'm saying this but I need sleep, we both do. You've worn me out completely."

He chuckled, tightening his arms around you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead and lips, and the two of you drifted off to sleep, feeling content in each other's embrace.

It was a start of a connection and understanding that arose from the most unexpected places, even amidst the chaos of a world filled with superhumans and the fight for good. Fiery exchanges and whispered confessions bringing in an unexpected depth to your dynamic, proving that there can be a fragile, pure connection between two polar opposites. Serendipity, often painted as an unusual force, interweaves with fate, guiding people towards love where they're least expecting to find it.

Your story a testament to the unpredicted twists of the heart, proving that even the fiercest adversaries can find redemption in each other's arms.

a/n: Finished watching Season 3 of 'The Boys' just a few days ago and let me just put this out here, Jensen as Soldier Boy is one of the best things to ever happen to this world. Oh! the things I'd let this man do to me-

Been planning this fic for a week now, I really hope y'all enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this.

I'd really appreciate if you'd comment any thoughts, improvements, suggestions or requests that you have! Thank you ^_^

Credits: Banner by @mykento

post divider by @saradika

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters fluctuate between past and present, beginning in 1934. SPOILERS FOR THE BOYS S3

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered the Door

Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor

Chapter 3: Summer Has to End Someday

Chapter 4: It's My Party and I'll Eat Cake If I Want To

Chapter 5: The Man, The Myth, The Legend

Chapter 6: Batter Up

Chapter 7: Are We Old Friends Or Old Enemies?

Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...

Chapter 9: Wedding Bells or Gong of Destruction?

Chapter 10: How Did It End Up Like This?

Chapter 11: I Can't Think With You Yelling At Me!

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Chapter 13: You Made A Plaything Out of Romance

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Chapter 16: Coming Soon!

Last Updated: 04/28/2024

***************************************

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @abramswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit

(Photos on mood board from Pinterest)

[tomboxed]

the world would be perfect if there was 300x more butchie in it

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Shut Me Up

Billy Butcher Masterlist

Summary: Butcher needs information on a supe. He hates that he has to go to her to get them, especially because of how it ended last time. Fortunately, she’s easy to find. It’s not everyday that you see a woman amongst other bikers.

Pairing: Billy butcher x F!Biker!reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 1854

Warning: Smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, angry sex, p in v, facial

Square: @anyfandomgoesbingo​​ The Boys Custom card: enemies with sexual tension

A/N: Hey people! So this fic is for @fictional-affairs​​ 500 readers challenge! I had Biker!Reader as the AU character. Also, remember this is an AU, so some things don't follow the tv show!

He hated that he needed her help.

There was a big, endless list of people he could go to to ask for that favor. People he had by the balls, scared of what he knew about them, frightened of how much he could destroy their life with proof of their dirty little secrets.

Butcher could go anywhere, threaten some people, force them to spill out the beans, but yet, he ended up choosing to go to her. 

Maybe it was because he wanted to see her again, but then, no, it couldn't be the reason. She was everything he hated in someone, someone that wasn't a supe, that is.

Maybe he enjoyed being an ass, and it was so easy to piss her off.

Or maybe… the anger, the rage, even, she had to feel after what happened last night would be enough for her to say yes.

Finding her was easy. Already, a woman driving that kind of bike was not something he saw often. But a member of a biker gang? 

One of the chiefs, even?

Y/n was the only one.

"Bunch of cunts," was what Butcher thought as he approached the place. The thought was so loud, he could almost feel the words leave his lips.

"Hello lovely people. I'm here to see Y/n. I don't believe I have an appointment, though," he said instead.

The headquarters of the Bad Moon Rising gang was hidden in the far end of the state. At first glance, it looked exactly like a place where homeless people were living, well, if it wasn't for all the bikes resting at the entrance.

The moment Butcher pronounced the name of the woman, he was now circled by men, all ready to beat the shit out of him. It didn't matter what he wanted from Y/n. The simple fact he was there and said her name was enough to be sent to the hospital.

"Easy," Butcher sighed, lifting both hands in the air to show he meant no harm. "Here to talk, is all," he muttered next, but it didn't seem to calm down any of them.

"Everyone, put your dicks away," a feminine voice finally made from behind him. A shit eating cocky grin stretched Butcher's lips at only hearing her voice. "You're not welcome here, Butcher," she ended saying once all the other bikers were gone.

Butcher turned to her.

Not at all hiding his interest, he let his gaze wander up and down her body without any shame. Enemy or not, she was bloody sexy. 

"I'm not here to feel welcomed, luv," Butcher grinned as finally his eyes settled in hers. "I need infos. A favor."

"You always fucking need something," she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms on her chest. "I got nothing for you, get the fuck out."

She turned on her heels to leave but his voice made her stop immediately. What he said then immediately froze her.

"One of your guys got killed last night," he grinned, knowing he got her. As he spoke, Butcher walked closer to her and she didn't make any move to stop him. "I know who did it and why. What I want to know is… What you and your lovely gang or bikers know about him. And if you're finally ready to accept the deal I made to you 6 months ago. And then maybe, I would finally be able to catch the fucker."

Y/n was still frozen on the spot. The mention of the person they lost last night was still fresh, so fresh and painful, it was like Butcher was stabbing her in the back again and again. 

God, she hated him so fucking much. If she wanted to know who killed Zach, she had to make a deal with Butcher. Fucking hypocrite.

"Come in," she ended up saying. Without waiting for his answer, she headed towards her room, knowing he would follow.

-

"So," she said once they were in her room. The door was closed, locked, so if one of them wanted to kill the other, it would be too late for anyone to intervene. But right now, she didn't really want to kill him… Well, not unless all he said was bullshit. "Who."

"Soldier Boy," Butcher said, simply. His lips curved downwards, grimacing his clear disgust and anger just at saying the name of the supe. Y/n's body tightened with rage. "Cams took pics of what happened. I can send them to you if you don't believe me-"

"I believe you," she said. With the anger that was building inside of her, it was impossible for her to say more than those two words.

"He was bored, if you wanna know the reason," Butcher continued, staring at her, hoping to force a reaction out of her. Make that anger explode somehow. He knew it was boiling inside of her. Ready to explode at any time. "See, luv, that's why I wanted you so bad to join us." Taking a step forward the woman, he tapped his finger on her shoulder. "Those cunts kill because they are fucking bored. If your guys only agree to keep their eyes open when they drive around, with a little camera on their bike, we could have more evidence of what they're fucking doing. And this wouldn't happen again."

Until now, Y/n was staring out the window. Outside, bikers were walking around, pushing each other playfully, others were washing their bikes, it was peaceful here. Okay, sometimes they caused some chaos and drama here and there, did some not really legal stuff… but they never hurt or bother anyone. 

It was so fucking unfair.

And then, there was Butcher.

Butcher that came here, 6 months ago the first time, with a proposition. His group and him would defend and protect her gang if her guys would accept to add cams to their bikes and film everywhere they went.

She answered they could take care of themselves alone and he could go fuck himself.

The second time he came around, it was to ask for help. The latest guy in his group was in deep shit, and he knew for a fact one of the bikers had evidence that could get him out of trouble. She accepted to give it to him, and to thank her, he fucked her hard, right here in this room, pinned against the wall.

The third time, it was her time to ask for help. There was a war between gangs, and she needed more arms to fight and get back her territory. It wasn't something Butcher did usually, but because he owned her, he accepted. With two men and a woman, he arrived to the fight, and Y/n was about to beat him for showing up with only 3 people when she witnessed them fight.

They won.

Between Butcher and her, it was more hate than love. He worked for the CIA, fought supes, and her, well, she was against the law in a way. 

But in the end, they were even. Until today.

The day after a fucking supe, the cunts Butcher were hunting, killed one of hers.

"Okay," she said.

Butcher blinked multiple times, clearly not expecting her to accept so easily. "That is an unexpected answer, luv, and here I was with more to offer to you," he muttered, walking even closer to her now.

What could she do? She was pissed. Angry. So fucking angry, at the supes, at that supe that killed Zach, at Butcher for always getting what he wanted…

She pinned him to the wall of her place, and it was so sudden and brutal, she could hear his breath getting cut at the impact.

"Shut the hell up," she ordered. But her mouth could say one thing, her eyes were telling a different story. And as her hands tightened around Butcher's stupid Hawaiian shirt, hey gaze shifted down to stare at his lips.

"Shut me up yourself, dove." His lips curved up when he said that, grining. Clearly, he knew what he was doing to her, what power he had on her. Anger mixed with arousal and the simple and primal need…

Her lips crashed on his, effectively shutting him up. No more words left his mouth, well nothing else that grunts as he kissed back with as much anger.

His hands were already on her waist and lowered down to her hips, squeezing. An almost quiet moan left her lips, and he swallowed it as his hands went more to the South to grab her ass firmly. This time, her moan was louder. Just like he wanted.

Their clothes didn't stay on for long. Buttons and tissue got ripped apart until there was only flesh on flesh. Once again, neither of them could make it to the bed, there was no time for that. They needed it now.

Butcher grabbed her ass once more and incited her to jump in his arms, pinned her back to the wall, and in one swift motion, entered her wet channel.

Usually, during sex, Butcher would talk dirty quite a lot. But with Y/n, there was no time to talk. No time to say cocky things or pet names. She was tight, so fucking tight around him, and wet, and needy for his cock that was stretching her so good, but he didn't say any of that. Instead, he grunted, groaned and cursed as he fucked her hard and fast against the wall.

She was a mess of moans and whimpers, and the whole leader facade she had was completely gone as he drove his cock in and out of her. It was barely if she could breathe, that was how rough it was, the need to feel something else than what life brought them. Feel the other, fucked the other, hard, fast, and cum an impossible amount of times.

It wasn't long before her first climax, and then Butcher forced a second out of her immediately after the first one. She cried out, her body shaking and then going softer under his grip. In a breathtaking kiss, he thrust deeper into her, and when he felt like his climax was close, he pulled out and forced her on her knees in front of him.

She took the cue, opened her mouth and accepted his release like it was the only source of water in the whole world. Butcher jerked his cock until he reached his own end and painted her tongue and lips white with his seed.

"Fucking whore," he panted, his whole body covered in sweat, muscles bulging, cock twitching in his hand.

"I hate you," she said, licking her lips slowly.

"Shut the fuck up," Butcher groaned, lifting a brow when he saw her remove his hand from his cock to replace it with her own.

"Shut me up yourself."

It was her turn to grin, her plump lips parting to swallow his sensitive cock between them.

Butcher gasped, fingers tangling between her soft, messy hair.

"Oh, luv, you didn't see anything yet."

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @eevvvaa​ @fictional-affairs​ @wickedinspirations​ @awkward-and-indecisive​ @cryptichobbit​​

[enchantedflameandflower]

Glimmer 29/? Billy Butcher fic

Tag List: @2dead2function @secretdreamlandmentality

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter (28)

Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I did recently receive an anon ask and I'm excited to work on it (tho I know I am so slow!) Thank you!

_____

Chapter 29

It was well into the middle of the day before they could leave the site. Addison sat with her legs curled up in the backseat of Butcher’s car with the door open while he spoke with Mallory. 

When he finished, Addison noticed Mallory shoot her a concerned look as he walked back to her from across the parking lot, but to be honest Addison didn’t feel much of anything except exhaustion. She wasn’t scared of that piece of shit and he hadn’t really hurt her. Whatever knockout gas he’d used had done a fine job of keeping her loopy and out of it. 

“They won’t stop until they find the cunt,” Billy rumbled as he came up, leaning against the car door. “And she swore to call us as soon as she did.” 

Addison nodded, and finally took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to track the bastard down herself, she could hardly keep her eyes open except for the fact that she was still covered in soot and dirt and blood, sticky and gross.  

Billy let his gaze soften as he looked her over. “Don’t think it’s safe to go back to either of our places right now,” he said, rubbing at his jaw. 

“I’ll get a hotel room,” Addison replied, and she turned to her bag without waiting for him to answer. An agent had gone by her apartment earlier for her to grab clothes and her phone and a few other important things she didn’t want left there. 

Fuck the moral high ground, she thought as she plucked her cell from her bag. She’d use her black card to get a fucking suite on the top floor of one of those hotels uptown with as much security as the White House. They’d earned it. 

As Billy drove them across the city, Addison reserved a room on her phone, making sure it was a place where you could check in and get a digital key card on the app without having to talk to anyone at the front desk. When they pulled into the parking garage, she scrubbed at her face in the mirror on the sun visor then pulled a loose sweater on over her bloody tank top. With Billy’s duster and a pair of sunglasses added, she thought they could probably get through the lobby without being arrested. 

She was right and they made it inside. Her key code was needed not only to get into the elevator but to get to the floor their room was on as well and Addison gave a quiet sigh of relief. She needed to rest, and she could not bear it if anything else happened to Billy because of her. They double locked the door of the room with a deadbolt and the thick metal door guard. 

The room had a small sitting area and a huge bed, with a bathroom to the side. For a moment Addison stood there, not even able to think what she was supposed to do next. She tossed her bag on a chair then looked up to find Billy watching her. 

Once more, when she met his intense hazel eyes they were drawn to each other by something outside of themselves - or maybe by something deep, deep inside. Billy took one step forward and wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her hard against his broad chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Addi. I was such a prick, it was my fault…”

She shook her head against his shoulder, sliding her fingers into his hair and pulling back to look at him. “I wasn’t any better,” she murmured. “I’m not hurt but I shouldn’t have put you through that…”

“He’s after me, Addi, he’s using you to hurt me, I can’t…” his voice was thick and gruff. “I can’t let -“

Addison shook her head again, and pulled Billy to her. “Fuck him. We’ll get him.” 

“If something happens to you because of me I couldn’t live with myself, Addison, I won’t…” he broke off, his eyes dark and intense. “You’re better off -“

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m here. I’m okay. I’m going to fucking kick that guy’s ass.”

Billy smirked, but Addison knew he was still struggling with the guilt. She could sense this was not something he was going to let drop but exhaustion was weighing her mind and her body down. “We’ll talk about it more later.”

Billy finally nodded and turned to kiss her temple again. “Let me start the shower for you, eh?” he murmured. 

Addison nodded gratefully. “You too. I need to patch you up after.”

He sighed, but didn’t argue. He knew just as well as she did that her cuts had long healed but his injuries would not. 

She pulled her sweater off and tossed it over a chair then threw the rest of her clothes in the trash in the bathroom. She felt disgusting and looked just as bad but it was Billy she was worried about. After he adjusted the shower spray, she watched him as he undressed, cataloguing every bruise and patch of raw red skin she could see and desperately wishing there was some way she could just make them disappear. 

Billy wasn’t bothered at all though. He held the shower door open for her and she stepped under the warm water, groaning in utter relief as everything immediately started to wash away. 

Billy stepped in behind her, reaching for one of the little hotel bottles of soap and pouring it into his palm before he started gently rubbing his hands over her body. He started at her shoulders, smoothing and kneading, then urged her to turn around. The grotesque, disfigured B was still visible above her heart, and he ran the tip of his thumb over the dried blood with dark eyes before he washed it away along with everything else. 

Addison closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of the spray of water on her back and Billy’s touch washing away everything that had happened. He ran his soapy hands carefully over her breasts, then her stomach and her hips, before turning her around again to wash her back. Addison felt her body filling with warmth, her muscles relaxing one by one like magic as he took care of her. 

After he helped her wash her hair she twisted it into a knot on top of her head and turned to him. “My turn,” she murmured in a tone that brokered no discussion. 

She did the same for him, but was especially careful over each burn and cut she came across, not all of them new. She made a note to herself of which ones needed to be tended when they got out whether he liked it or not, she savored the bits of him that were unmarred, lines of hard muscle and firm skin, and she reverently stroked the scars left over from god knows what horrible things. 

The water was still warm when she finished, so she whispered “just a few more minutes” and Billy made a low noise of agreement in response. He sat on the wide tile bench in the shower and gathered in his lap and he held her there in the water until she started to fall asleep against his chest. 

Finally Billy reached out to turn off the water and they dried off with thick towels. Addison pulled on a clean oversized tank top but Billy didn’t bother with anything. “Bed,” she directed him and he did as he was told. She pulled her first aid kit out of her bag and started to dab a little salve on the worst of the burns, adding bandages to ones that needed it, but trying not to be overly attentive. 

“How did you get through the explosion?” she asked as she gently prodded at a patch of red skin on his arm, reaching for the burn gel again.

“When I saw the bomb I legged it for the back of the place but I knew I weren’t gonna make it out. Shut myself up in a walk-in freezer just in time and then I found a way out that weren’t totally in flames yet.”

She put her stuff away then reached up to slide her hand along his jaw. “Thank you for coming for me…” She had to let him know, she had to tell him what it meant for him to never give up the way he did. 

He nodded then moved her kit off the bed. “‘Nough playin’ doctor, sunshine. Ya need sleep.”  

He pushed the heavy blankets away and helped her lay down before pulling them back up and gathering her close. He nestled in close to her, slipping his arm around her waist and she wrapped her arms around him as he lay along side her settling with his head on her shoulder.

She thanked the universe over and over in her head that she still had him. After a moment she realized she could tell he was still thinking, not falling asleep.

“What are you doing?” she hummed, carding her fingers through his hair as he tightened his arm around her waist, his ear pressed to the flat of her chest. “Not that I’m complaining…”

“Listenin’ to your heartbeat,” he murmured gruffly. “Go to sleep.”

Addison smiled, closing her eyes, and she did the same, listening to his. 

They were woken up hours later by Billy’s phone ringing from the nightstand. He jerked awake, moving his free arm to reach for it before he’d even fully opened his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice hoarse. 

“We found him,” Mallory replied in her customary clipped tone. Billy sat up so fast from where they were tangled together on the bed Addison tumbled out of his arms.

“Who is it,” he growled. 

“It took some digging but we traced the phone to a company called Dynamite Consulting, which is a subsidiary of Atlas Group, owned by NovaStar. Which is owned by James Stillwell.”

“Stillwell? The fuck?!”

“Madelyn Stillwell’s brother.”

_____

Please let me know what you think of this chapter! Thanks!

[alissssssaka]

this is truly... our The Red Leash of Fate.... thank you @murdertrashbabyrat i love you very very much

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Super Hearing

Homelander x Reader

Word Count: 927

Summary: You forget Homelander has super hearing, while trying to explain something to your friend in a crowded coffee shop.

Warnings: None.

Masterlist

Sandra’s voice drones on and on about the way climate change is ruining everything. You sip on your tea with a disgruntled look. She promised shopping and gossip, not channel five news. Your attention is caught when the bell beside you chimes. Letting everyone know a new customer walked in.

Your eyes widen in shock, this is the last place you’d expect to see him. The Homelander, at Starbucks. It helped that he had his son with him, his eyes ,almost as wide as yours, look at the extensive menu. This must be his first time. You look at his childlike wonder and remember being 14 and ordering cake pops with Sandra.

You look across from you and your jaw drops. “Sandy! Look who it is!” You whisper. She rolls her eyes, not fond of him. “God, please let the earth swallow me whole.” She says, dramatically resting her head on the table.

“You know I can’t stand him, or any supe for that matter.” She says rolling her eyes at your excitement. “Well. You know how I feel, I respect him, the good he does far out weighs the bad. He’s earned being a cocky ass.”

Speaking of ass, you take the time to admire his, he was wearing his suit, but no cape, must be too dramatic for errands with a kid. Someone blocked your view. A stereotype of a woman stands behind him, tapping his shoulder with her bottle tanned hand and long fingernails. “Can I get a picture?” You swear her voice sounded normal but it shot hot streaks through your veins, filling you with an annoyance.

“Sure thing.” He says, plastering a fake smile on, that looked like it hurt. He leans over for the picture, keeping a foot of space between them, even though it was obvious she wanted him to wrap his arm around her for the picture. You scoff, “He’s here being a dad to Ryan, why even bother him with pictures?”.

You see as the barista throws herself at Homelander as he orders for Ryan. She’s leaned halfway over the counter, her top buttons recently undone. “Look how tense he is right now, he probably never catches a break from women.” You say, never taking your eyes off him.

“I bet he has a new one of them in his bed every night.” Sandra says, downing the rest of her black coffee. You shrug your shoulders, it was probably true, you’d be one of those girls too, if you had the chance.

Sipping your tea once more you watch as they stand at the end of the counter, not immune to restaurant wait times. “I just know those girls can’t take care of him like he needs.” You feel bad for him, “They want a big strong supe to wreck them, I bet all he wants is to be cared for, genuinely.”.

Sandra laughs at you and it breaks your attention from the tall man. “As if it would be you.” She laughs again when you shoot her a confused look. “You’re so not his type, skinny blondes seem more in his range.” She says.

Your friends words hurt, but you knew they were true. You could sit in the corner fantasizing about him all day, it wouldn’t change the fact the he would never approach a girl like you. “What’s so wrong with dreaming?” You say, giving your friend a fake laugh to let her know you wanna change conversation topics.

Sandra pulls her phone out when ‘beez in the trap’ starts filling the small Starbucks dining area. “Hello?” She says, and you take the chance to look back over to the supe. Except he’s not standing there anymore, you see Ryan waiting by the front door and before you know it, blue fills your vision. Homelander is at your table, a paper business card in his hand.

You’re dumbfounded for a minute, wondering what it could possibly be. You look up to his face and meet his eyes. They glimmer as if he didn’t expect you to dare make eye contact with him.

“Can I help you, Sir.” You say, not wanting to say the wrong thing and embarrass yourself. Sandra groans from across the table, while still having the phone pressed to her ear, you don’t owe him anything and yet here you were serving yourself up.

“I hope so, call me. That is, if you like cocky asses.” He drops the card on the table and turns towards your friend to give her a grimace, letting her know how dissatisfied he was with her. He walks away without another word. Leading Ryan out of the trendy coffee shop.

Your face turns beet red, he heard you. If he heard you calling him names, then he heard how much you want him, a glimmer of pride sparks in your chest, she was so wrong, maybe you are just his type.

Sandra slides her phone into her purse, silently fuming. “Are you serious right now? We’re supposed to be having a girls day, not picking up guys.” She says, annoyed with everything you do. You wonder if she’s even your real friend.

“We were supposed to go shopping, not sit in Starbucks and talk about ice caps melting.” You shoot back, not letting her bully you any more.

Sandra gives you a look of surprise, like she didn’t expect you to talk back to her. “I think I’m gonna go.” You say, leaving her open mouthed at the table. You had to go celebrate yourself, alone.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Little Kreature (The Boys Drabble)

Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader (only indicator for gender is the phrase 'atta girl') / requests are open

Summary: The mission goes well and Butcher's found a surprise for you.

Fic type: fluff (gore mentions).

The Boys: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Oi, love," you hear Butcher call from the other end of the hall. "Come take a look at this, eh?"

You roll your eyes but do as you're told, wandering down the hallway, streaking your fingers along the walls and trailing them through the blood that was splattered up and down and all the way across the eggshell-white walls. Well, they were eggshell. Hmm. You think you like red better.

You reach Butcher, giving him the side-eye when he gives your ass a slap and an accompanying "atta girl."

"What, Butcher?"

He nods his head towards the opened door, and what you see when you look inside has your jaw dropping open in shock.

"Don't you say I do 'nuffin for y'ah," he groused, checking down the hallway to make sure no more guards were coming up the stairs.

It's almost startling, seeing the spotless room when you've just waded through the guts of about twelve people splattered across every surface you could lay your eyes on. Yeah, you were the one who gutted them all, but still. What could you say? It was a gift.

But right there, sitting on the edge of the bed, was a puppy. A little speck of a thing, all soft-eared and floppy-skinned. He was precious, and the way Butcher was looking at you- you knew he'd already decided you could keep the thing.

"Oh, aren't you a precious little baby," you cooed, wiping the blood off your hands and onto your jeans before you reached out for the puppy to sniff your hand. His little head flopped to the side and you just about melted right then and there.

"Oh, Billy, look at him," you pouted, turning around and showing your boyfriend-cross-boss-cross-situationship the baby in your arms.

"Yeah, yeah, cute little cunt, ain't 'e?"

When you stood there content to coo at the thing for another however long, Butcher grunted, fingers shifting around the trigger on his handgun. He wanted to leave now that you'd taken out the Vought exec and her guards. Clearly, she was a fan of dogs. It almost made you feel a little guilty. Almost.

"Right love," Butcher said, deciding you'd both dicked around long enough. "Let's get this show on the road, eh? We don't want to be here when they send more supes to figure out what's happened. Grab y'er pup and let's boogie."

"Sir yes, sir," you replied with a flirtatious wink before making your way back through the blood-soaked home and out the door where MM and the others were waiting for you, guards and mission all but forgotten.

Now you only needed to pick a name for your little friend.

"How about Kreature?" You asked the pup as Frenchie opened the van door and ushered you inside, Butcher hot on your heels.

"Whatever you want, love," came Butcher's voice, assuming you'd been speaking to him.

Kreature it was, then.

[marrziy]

The Boys x Male Reader

.•✪ Resumo: os personagens de "The Boys" usufruindo do seu peculiar e prazeroso superpoder. ⋆͙̈

Leitor!bottom

Você se considera um super-inútil, mas não odeia completamente estar em tal posição. De qualquer forma, você não se vê salvando o mundo e, mesmo que ser uma pessoa comum fosse o ideal para você, ser o melhor parceiro sexual de qualquer um lhe garante muito mais do que você conseguiria em um emprego comum numa vida comum.

O seu corpo não chega a ser indestrutível, mas é resistente. Afinal, é preciso ser forte para aguentar tanto pau e porra. Você não sabe como funciona, apenas aceitou que a sua bunda vicia e que quem prova vai à loucura. O seu buraco é requisitado; quem te fode sempre acaba tendo o melhor orgasmo da vida e pede bis, isto é, quando não morre de prazer.

🔞 Dark | sexo rude | protuberância na barriga

HOMELANDER empurra os quadris com tanta força que faz você, alguém que desde virgem sabe trepar como ninguém, gritar. O seu corpo está curvado contra a mesa de reunião dos sete há pouco mais de uma hora. Você perdeu a conta de quantas vezes Homelander gozou dentro nos últimos minutos, apenas sabe que não foram poucas.

O seu estômago cheio e a quantidade gritante de sêmen escorrendo da sua entrada confirmam isso.

A porra acumulada no seu buraquinho esguicha para os lados a cada investida bruta. O choque de peles espalha a bagunça gosmenta no chão e na mesa, para que um pobre funcionário se encarregue de limpar mais tarde.

O pau inchado do loiro orquestra uma cantiga molhada enquanto se afoga na própria porra ao desaparecer no seu corredor esponjoso. O sêmen quente, plantado com pressão em seu interior, às vezes borbulha, vazando para fora com bolhas pouco duradouras na composição espessa.

Você sente os efeitos do composto V estalando no ato curvar o pescoço e ver o seu ventre contendo o pau de Homelander, que só não atravessou seu estômago graças à sua resistente pele maleável. A protuberância em sua barriga some e aparece de acordo com os movimentos desesperados do super entre suas pernas.

Você pode até afirmar que está fora de si por estar babando e gemendo, mas não se compara ao homem choroso te comendo. Ele treme, tão desleixado que erra o seu buraco vez ou outra. Os olhos azuis dele estão marejados e os lábios vermelhos de tanto morder. O herói evita te tocar com as mãos, com medo de acabar quebrando o brinquedinho favorito dele.

Há 30 minutos, você tentou pará-lo, já cansado, dolorido e também por ter mais o que fazer, mas foi ignorado. Ao insistir, inutilmente tentando empurrá-lo pelo peito, você quase teve suas mãos desunidas dos pulsos.

Agora você se mantém pianinho, contraindo para ouvi-lo gritar e apressar aquele que talvez fosse o último orgasmo dele te inundando.

— Porra! E-eu te amo! – ele geme alto, e você sabe que não é sincero, Homelander sempre reforça isso. Ele fica assim quando fode, manhoso e estranho, sem a imponência usual. — Queria que você tivesse um útero pra eu encher de menininhos! Todos seriam fortes igual ao pai!

Manhoso e estranho pra porra.

Ele urra rouco e prolongado, forçando-se dentro do seu anelzinho dormente até não deixar espaço vazio dentro de você, arruinando suas entranhas com mais uma carga abundante do líquido branco. O membro grosso incha no seu interior e o formato exato do pau de Homelander marca o seu abdômen, cada vez mais robusto devido às investidas duras.

Ele cai exausto em cima de você, sentindo a própria liberação lambuzar o pau pela incontável vez seguida. À medida que geme no seu ouvido, ele volta a meter preguiçosamente com o pau meia-bomba - que permanece grande ainda assim - e, mesmo três minutos depois, consegue o feito de gozar mais uma vez, contraindo as bolas e liberando jatos grossos no seu reto judiado.

🔞 Degradação | Leitor dom | Hughie brat/sub

HUGHIE é uma vagabunda, uma cadelinha que adora latir entre quatro paredes. Você, mesmo sendo um dos sinônimos de vadia, sente-se puro o suficiente para chamá-lo de putinha.

Ele duvida dos seus poderes, assim como você também duvida às vezes, afinal, não dá para comer o próprio rabo. A única evidência que você tem são as expressões exageradas - semelhantes às feições bizarras de uma garota num hentai - dos homens que te fodem quase que loucamente nos seus dias úteis e inúteis.

Mas aquilo não é dúvida, é vontade, do tipo que pulsa na calça.

É notável que Hughie quer que você prove para ele a veracidade dos boatos que ele escuta nos corredores da empresa sobre você e o seu cuzinho de mel - apelido que te rouba um ano de vida sempre que você escuta.

No momento em que ele abre as pernas, afastando as coxas e exibindo o volume marcado no terno, passa a ser visível que o que ele realmente quer é um gostinho do que muitos já provaram.

Depois de tanto ouvir as experiências dos colegas de trabalho, o pobre homem se sentiu tão tentado que doeu todos os dias até hoje, quando ele finalmente criou coragem, entrou no seu escritório e se sentou na poltrona em frente à sua mesa, sorrindo ladino com a provocação na ponta da língua.

Deu certo.

Você pousa as mãos nos joelhos dele, agachado no carpete com o rosto próximo à virilha coberta do homem mais novo. Com a língua para fora, você desliza o músculo pela saliência de Hughie, sentindo o pau dele contrair através da lã azul. Mas você é interrompido por duas mãos nas laterais do seu rosto, apertando suas bochechas e erguendo seu olhar. — Pelo que eu saiba, o seu buraquinho gostoso não é a boca… – ele murmura, sorrindo jocoso.

Você ri soprado, convicto de que irá derrubá-lo e maltratar. — Quanta pressa… tá tão desesperado que não aguenta uma preliminarzinha? – você se apoia nas coxas dele para levantar e, propositalmente, afunda as unhas na carne censurada. — Ok, vou te dar o que você quer, só não vem com chororô pra cima de mim se a sua piroquinha não der conta do recado, tá? – sentado nas coxas de Hughie, você empina a bunda, arrastando o quadril em cima dele até estar pressionando os glúteos na área necessitada do rapaz, que grunhe em resposta.

Você desabotoa o zíper da calça social dele e ele faz o mesmo com a sua. Hughie fica com a peça estagnada no meio das coxas, enquanto você se levanta para se livrar totalmente da sua antes de retornar para o colo do mais alto. Você resmunga ao sentir o zíper dele roçando na sua pele, mas logo esquece.

Ambos se encontram de cueca e com a camisa branca parcialmente desabotoada, friccionando seus membros enquanto se beijam furiosamente e trocam apertões sedentos em regiões aleatórias no corpo um do outro.

Hughie suspira durante o beijo. Com dificuldade, ele consegue falar contra seus lábios. — Em quan-quantas rolas você teve que sentar pra… pra conseguir um ca-cargo tão bom em… em tão pouco tempo? – Hughie impulsiona o quadril para cima, simulando estocadas, já dominado pela vontade de afogar o ganso.

— Em algumas, e todas eram maiores e mais grossas que a sua. – o homem abaixo de você estremece, principalmente por ter os mamilos provocados pelos seus dedos astutos, mas as suas palavras também têm peso nisso.

Hughie gosta desse tipo de coisa.

— Puta merda… – um risinho acompanha suas palavras. Você se diverte testemunhando a agitação patética dele. — Cê nem disfarça. – você torce os biquinhos inchados de Hughie entre os dedos, se deleitando com as contrações que arranca dele. — Se orgulha? Tem culhão pra assumir que é uma putinha patética que fica de pau duro quando pisam em você? – sua mão desce, apertando o pau de Hughie na cueca, enquanto a outra reveza entre apalpar o peitoral e o abdômen do mais novo. — Depois eu que sou o pervertid…

Você congela ao ouvir o som de algo rasgando.

Sua face neutra captura o sorriso maroto de Hughie. É a primeira vez que você deseja tanto fazer alguém chorar.

Ele tem as mãos firmes na sua bunda, separando as bandas com a ponta de três dedos ameaçando entrar no seu anel rugoso, agora exposto após Hughie rasgar sua cueca.

— Era a minha favorita… – você finge denguice, forçando um lábio trêmulo enquanto sorrateiramente desfaz o nó da gravata dele.

Lerdo. Você constata.

Ele está perdido nas próprias sensações, tão focado em esfregar a ereção no seu corpo e em dedar seu buraco que nem percebe as suas intenções perversas.

— Não é como se você não pudesse comprar outra. – responde Hughie. No momento em que você rodeia a seda no pescoço dele, ele sorri ainda mais largo do que antes.

Ele anseia que você dite quando ele pode ou não respirar.

Isso te deixa fraco, faz com que você se imagine empalado no pau dele, que prova não ser pouca coisa ao saltar glorioso da cueca, batendo no abdômen e ultrapassando a altura do umbigo, contrariando suas provocações anteriores.

Você bate na cabecinha inchada com a ponta dos dedos, arrancando um resmungo de Hughie. — Até que é grandinho. – você finge não estar surpreso. — Mas, não é questão de eu poder comprar outra, seu estúpido. – com uma mão na extremidade esquerda da gravata e a outra na direita, você estica ambos os lados. A pressão no pescoço de Hughie limita a chegada do ar nos pulmões, mas, em compensação, faz o sangue pulsar quente e forte nas veias do pau. — Eu comprei porque gostei, porra.

Hughie abre mais as pernas, criando um vão entre as coxas que quase te leva ao chão. Ele agarra a base do pau, batendo-o contra seu estômago, esfregando ele em seu corpo, espalhando pré-porra em você enquanto te encara pidão, implorando com um olhar brilhoso de cachorrinho. — Por favor… bota dentro! Eu não aguento mais!

Você se ajeita no colo dele, encaixando a ponta sensível no seu interior, também cansado de prolongar.

Hughie grita de prazer quando você senta de uma vez, o engolindo por completo com o seu anel de músculos, esmagando as bolas dele com sua bunda. — Shhh! – você aumenta o aperto na garganta dele, sufocando os gemidos escandalosos do homem eufórico.

Ele não consegue controlar os impulsos e guia-se fundo em você, apertando a sua cintura com os dedos trêmulos, empurrando para cima, sentindo e confirmando na prática tudo o que ouviu sobre o seu buraquinho mágico.

É quente, macio e muito, muito apertado.

— Caralho! Você vai entortar o meu pau! – é o que Hughie diz, mas o que você ouve não passa de uma tentativa chorona de fala.

Enquanto você geme de olhos fechados, sentindo seu interior arder, esticado para acomodar o membro necessitado, Hughie esperneia, chora, baba e contrai todo o corpo, encharcando você por dentro com um pau chorão que convulsiona sem parar.

Ele dá três tapinhas nos seus pulsos, pedindo para você afrouxar o aperto, mas como é na sua palma que reside o controle, você resolve brincar, potencializando a pressão da gravata no pescoço dele. Hughie revira os olhos e bota a língua para fora, exatamente como uma peituda num hentai fodido. Você cospe dentro e agarra-lhe a mandíbula, fechando a boca dele e fazendo-o engolir.

Aquilo foi demais para Hughie aguentar.

Você sente o calor e a umidade familiar entupir suas entranhas, te enchendo até a borda. Hughie continua metendo de forma errática e desesperada, gemendo choroso ao liberar cargas grossas no seu interior apertado, lambuzando ainda mais seus corpos com o choque de peles. A porra quente vaza aos montes e Hughie se esforça para mantê-la dentro.

Você sorri maldoso e contrai o reto, estrangulando o pau melado do homem manhoso, sabendo muito bem o que vem a seguir…

Hughie geme sem voz, com a boca aberta, porém muda. Ele volta a foder o seu buraquinho alagado de esperma, à mercê de um segundo orgasmo que escapa do pau superestimulado, mais potente e abundante dessa vez. As bolas dele contraem, batendo nos seus glúteos no ritmo dos quadris, que colidem contra seu corpinho em uma velocidade instintiva.

O último esguicho te enche com o pau grosso fincado, estático nas suas profundezas até o talo. Hughie te abraça com força, tremendo ofegante, tentando se recuperar, desejando descanso, mas o caralho dele simplesmente não amolece. — Você me quebrou…

— Eu te dei o melhor orgasmo da sua vida e você me proporcionou uma foda medíocre. Não me parece justo… eu nem gozei! – você se esfrega para frente e para trás no colo de Hughie, lambuzando as coxas, a cueca e a calça social arriada dele com a porra que escorre do seu anel esticado, ainda com o pau pulsante alojado profundamente em você. — Vai precisar se esforçar bastante pra nivelar as coisas, gatinho… – você sussurra, mordiscando o queixo dele.

Hughie choraminga, levantando da poltrona com você no colo, quase caindo devido ao tremor das pernas. Ele colide seu corpo contra a parede, unindo seus peitos suados e batendo forte no seu corredor esponjoso. — Vou te foder em todos os cantos dessa porra de escritório!

🔞 Sexo rude | sexo com raiva

BRUTO tem os dedos firmemente rodeados no seu pulso, tão agarrados que machuca. Ele puxa você para um beco, o primeiro lugar disponível que encontra, apesar de não ser nada propício.

— Billy, pera aí! Tá machucando meu braço! – você tenta acompanhá-lo, a princípio, passivo às ações contestáveis.

Mas a sua paciência não é santa; ela evapora ao ser testada.

Sua voz estoura em um grunhido quando Billy aperta seus ombros e empurra sua estrutura menor contra os tijolos da parede próxima. — Mas que buceta! Por que você tem que ser sempre tão pau no cu? Que caralho eu te fiz? – o ardor desconfortável nas costas ocasiona na face contorcida e em frustração genuína.

Na mesma delicadeza de quem acorda durante uma cirurgia e sente a incisão, voam os seus punhos fechados contra o peitoral de Bruto, acertando a musculatura coberta. 

Faz, no máximo, ele sorrir.

Você não sabe o que atiçou a raiva dele, apenas consegue supor, certeiramente, que tem a ver com o grupinho de justiceiros que ele lidera, ao qual ele garante a sua completa ausência e ignorância no âmbito. Billy não te quer naquele meio.

Mas algo o frustra, e ele pretende descontar em você.

Dentro de você.

— Era pra doer? Bora, porra… cê consegue bater mais forte. – o desgraçado sabe que aquele é você dando tudo de si. Ele comprime o espaço entre os corpos, prensando-se contra a sua estrutura vulnerável, provocando ao fazer, com extrema facilidade, o contrário do que você tentou impor com seus socos exaltados. — Filho da puta… amarrotou a minha camisa! – ele curva o pescoço, dramatizando o amasso fútil no tecido floral.

Quando ergue a cabeça e pesca o seu estado acuado, Billy ri fraquinho. Nunca divertido.

A voz, as provocações e a feição risonha estão carregadas de luxúria densa, tão evidente que exala feito aura. A irritação também é notada ao fundo de cada frase, faiscando discretamente na fricção dos caninos, e exposta de maneira didática com a brusquidão com que Bruto te toca, aperta e mantém cativo naquele cantinho esquecido de Nova York.

O sol de verão atua no céu, encenando o terceiro ato daquela sexta-feira à tarde. É possível ver a luz laranja na entrada do beco, que pouco ilumina o espaço entre prédios.

Entretanto, o ambiente taciturno não te faz ceder. — Não… aqui não… – seu embargo dá pistas sobre a libidinagem que você tenta esconder e Billy passa a focar mais nas entrelinhas. — Em lugar nenhum, na verdade! Cê me tratou feito um qualquer, de jeito nenhum que eu vou liberar pra… Ei!

Você fecha as pernas quando Bruto tenta abrir caminho entre elas usando o joelho. Suas bochechas coram e você engole seco, testemunhando a feição destemida do mais velho denotar as pretensões maliciosas por debaixo dos traços.

Billy leva as duas mãos até a parte interna das suas coxas, separando-as e se enfiando entre elas sem cerimônia. — Vagabunda ingênua… tentou mesmo esconder sua ereção de mim? – sussurra rouco no pé do seu ouvido enquanto simula estocadas, esfregando o próprio volume latejante contra o seu. — Para de bancar o puritano, nanico. Você não passa de uma putinha incubada. Esse inchaço na sua calça diz tudo.

O apetite do justiceiro é voraz. Os dedos dele escorregam do seu quadril e pousam na sua bunda, afundando os dígitos na carne traseira, estapeando e apertando com gana.

Você pende o corpo para frente, preferindo a dureza de Bruto à rigidez da parede. — Se for seguir essa sua lógica esquisita, você é mais puto que eu. Seu pau falta explodir de tão inchado!

Apesar do desejo salientado a cada arfada, seu orgulho e teimosia sobressaem às vontades da carne. Você insiste nos débeis empurrões para afastá-lo, com o plus das unhas indo de encontro ao pescoço de Billy, arranhando, arrancando sangue e o fazendo grunhir. 

Ser tão facilmente dominado por Bruto te deixa de perna bamba, mas também faz você querer, mais do que tudo, contrariá-lo.

— Cacete… Deixa de cu doce! – o autocontrole o abandona. As mãos de Billy trilham cegamente o caminho apontado por seu instinto animalesco; uma delas se apronta nos seus pulsos, os prendendo na parede acima da sua cabeça, já a outra ajeita-se na barra do seu short e cueca, puxando para baixo num piscar de olhos.

Nu da cintura a canela, você se sente vulnerável. O peito sobe e desce aflito enquanto você analisa os lados, preocupado com possíveis observadores à esquerda e à direita.

Notando seu incômodo, Bruto se compadece; — Relaxa. Não vai ser gostoso pra você se eu enfiar contigo tenso desse jeito. Ninguém tá vendo, então pode afrouxar o cu. – ele acaricia sua palma, buscando transmitir conforto, mesmo com intenções contrárias para atingir os finalmentes.

— Idiota. – você sorri com os olhos. — Pode me soltar agora? Quero te tocar.

— Não. – Billy segura a parte posterior do seu joelho e a articulação dobra quando ele ergue a sua perna. Ele te tem servido bem ali, em pé naquela caverna urbana. — Tô puto, sem paciência e te conheço muito bem. Só seja um garoto obediente, tá? Não quero te arrebentar demais.

Foi tudo muito rápido. Você perdeu o momento em que Bruto abriu o zíper do jeans e tirou o pau da calça, facilitando para ele te predar.

Ele inclina o quadril para frente, pressionando sua entrada com a cabecinha inchada. Billy provoca o anel muscular esfregando e espalhando sua essência na fenda enrugada, intercalando com impulsos ameaçadores, dando a entender que vai meter, mas recuando em seguida, sem nunca cortar contato.

Percebendo que ele não pretende te preparar, você recua, ou melhor, tenta e falha, pois não há nada além de tijolos nas suas costas. — Cê vai mesmo enfiar no seco? E a elegância, cadê? – sua rigidez pulsa com tamanha aspereza, mas o receio ainda é residente.

— Eu não pretendo ser gentil, foi mal, coisinha. – o sorriso cafajeste nunca deixa a face madura. Bruto mordisca seu queixo e lambe seus lábios antes de depositar um selinho casto. — Mas ó… – ele eleva o corpo sobre o seu e, por consequência, aprofunda um pouco mais a carne dentro de você. — Se tu lamber, prometo atolar meu cacete bem devagarinho na sua bunda. – Billy tem o pescoço próximo ao seu rosto, exibindo os vergões que você deu à pele. Dos arranhões, brota uma pequena quantidade de sangue. — O que cê acha, hein? Até eu prefiro assim, porque se eu meter de uma vez, vou ter que ficar um bom tempo sem te arrombar depois.

— Deve estar ardendo… – seus pulsos são libertos e você usa os ombros do mais velho como apoio.

— Nossa, você não tem ideia do quanto dói! – ele se coloca em um falso estado de lástima, fazendo beicinho e enrugando o queixo.

— Dramático. – você revira os olhos, mas acata as condições, ansiando com a barriga fria pela interação libidinosa.

Seu músculo molhado escapa da boca entreaberta, atraído pelo rubro. A língua quente encontra o ferro, que, na ocasião, se assemelha ao suco conservado na polpa de uma maçã. Você troca o suor por saliva e sente o salgado suave junto ao sangue que quase inexiste, nascido das feridas. É viciante e você quer mais, então puxa Bruto pela nuca e inicia uma escavação com os dentes. O ouro que você encontra é vermelho.

— Filho da puta… Era pra você limpar a porra do sangue, não tirar mais. – ele chia, esmagando sua cintura até te ouvir choramingar. — Bem, se você não cumpriu a sua parte, o que me impede de não cumprir a minha?

Você nega freneticamente com a cabeça, mas vê-se lacrimejando, tremendo e gemendo no instante em que Bruto ignora a resistência do seu buraco despreparado e empurra com força. É tão apertado que um impulso não foi suficiente, apenas metade entrou. Billy enfia os centímetros restantes, sentindo seu estômago acomodar a ponta enquanto o comprimento é esmagado pelo corredor esponjoso.

Você o abraça, gemendo palavras irreconhecíveis e descontando a dor e o prazer com mordias e arranhões em qualquer pedaço de carne à disposição.

Está tão fundo. O pau de Bruto esmaga suas entranhas e rouba sua vitalidade, transformando você na vadia perfeita que geme, controce e contrai.

A pélvis dele bate contra a sua a cada investida violenta, o quadril colidindo até o talo. O som molhado ecoa pelo beco e com certeza os ouvidos nos apartamentos acima ouvem os gemidos e estocadas, talvez até estejam se divertindo com o show.

Se fosse com qualquer outra pessoa, Billy duraria horas, mas é com você e esse seu estranho e maravilhoso poder de extrair tudo daqueles que ousam tirar uma casquinha.

As bolas inchadas, cheias de porra para liberar, batem contra seus glúteos no ritmo frenético e desesperado que Bruto adota. Ele geme manhoso, se provando mais cadela do que você.

Quando ele goza, te enche tanto que o sêmen escorre em cascatas para fora do seu orifício dormente. A transparência espessa é quente e abundante, mas o justiceiro não se contenta com apenas uma liberação. A sensação de atolar seu interior com cargas grossas é incrível demais.

O pau dele não para de contrair; você sente cada latejar, cada pulsar das veias.

Prever o futuro não é uma de suas habilidades, mas naquele momento, é perfeita a imagem que você tem da sua figura cambaleando para fora do beco, mancando e andando esquisito para evitar que a porra acumulada no seu buraco escorra por entre suas pernas trêmulas.

⣿A parte do Homelander desse tamanho 🤏 comparada com a dos outros. Perdão qualqer erro, terminei e postei direto, mal revisei

[saudrag]

idk something something about hughie being butcher’s most loyal pet just scrubs me right…