#karl urban fanfic

[enchantedflameandflower]

Idea… so maybe Y/N is laying in bed with billy, and she’s lazily jerking him off while whispering dirty things in his ear. He’s kinda laying on your chest, head nuzzled into your neck and he grunts and groans, his hips bucking up as sweat beads down his hairy chest. You both are so caught up in the moment you don’t hear the door open.. Hughie. Hughie is standing in shock and Billy covers himself up, ashamed at the idea that he was seen somewhat vulnerable. Maybe some goofy stuff afterwards with Frenchie finding out and Y/N teasing Billy about it too. 🤭🤭 Ignore this if it’s too much!! ❤️

I can’t believe this took me so long!!! 😭 Life is rough, man. But thank the gods we at least have Billy. Please let me know what you think ❤️

———————

“Fuck. I’m too bloody tired for this.” Butcher half-stumbled to the bathroom, flicking the harsh light on and glowering at his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, you’re not…I mean…you did….great.” Hughie stuttered. “Uh, thanks by the way. Thanks for that,” he gestured aimlessly. “Thanks for helping.”

Butcher turned to glare at Hughie instead through the open doorway.

“Aye, well I didn’t think it through.” Butcher splashed some water on his face then unbuttoned his bloody shirt, revealing a gash carved into his side.

“Fuck,” he growled.

“Fuck,” Hughie echoed, his voice pale with the dismay of seeing the wound.

Billy tossed his ruined shirt to the floor, reaching for the gauze in the cabinet, his eyes somehow dark and burning fire at the same time. “Next time you ask for help, we’re doin’ it my way, ya got that?”

“Got it,” Hughie muttered.

When Billy finished patching his side up, he flicked the light off, ignoring his shirt on the bathroom floor and stalking past Hughie without a second look. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You - you might have a concussion. Or something”

Billy scowled. “I’m fine. You can check on me in the mornin’ to make sure I’m still alive.”

“Fine, fine,” Hughie sighed, but he didn't dare get in Butcher’s way.

…

It was late, or actually early - very early, when you got back to the safe house. Butcher was sleeping in the bed in his room - the one you’d been sharing on and off for a couple months now - but his brow was furrowed and you could tell he wasn’t sleeping peacefully. For a moment you couldn’t help yourself, and you stood quietly, watching him. You’d missed him more than you thought you would while you’d been away. All you wanted now was to be wrapped up in his arms and let the entire world fade away.

Carefully, you perched on the very edge of the bed, reaching out to touch his arm, hoping it was soft enough not to startle him. He shifted when your fingertips brushed his skin but he must have sensed you weren’t an enemy and he let himself wake up slowly.

Hey,” you murmured in the darkness.

As he moved again, turning toward you, the blankets slid down his chest and you noticed the gauze just under his rib cage on his side.

“You’re home,” he rumbled suddenly, gingerly trying to sit up then wincing. Your eyes flicked back to the bandage on his side.

“What happened?”

“You didn’t call. Been two weeks.”

You huffed and laughed softly, edging closer on the bed next to him. “You told me not to. You said it wasn’t safe.”

“Since when do ya listen to me.”

You rolled your eyes but you really did miss him, grumpiness and all. “I always listen…” you teased him and he grunted in reply.

For a moment he gazed at you and you could tell he must still be in pain but then he reached up to tug on your hair. “C’mere,” he rumbled, tangling his hand in the strands and pulling gently.

You hummed softly and obeyed, gingerly climbing over the top of him to your side of the bed and sliding down next to him.

“Miss me?” You whispered with a little half smile after a few minutes.

His reply was just another simple grunt but it was enough for you.

You leaned forward to kiss him, letting your lips brush teasingly over his before he slid his fingers deeper into your hair and captured your mouth completely. After all you’d been through together, you two had finally been seeing each other for a while now but with the time you’d been away, combined with the fact it was still fairly new, his touch made your stomach flutter and flip flop with sparkling anticipation.

When you slid your hand over his waist though he flinched and you remembered his injury. “Oh I’m sorry,” you breathed, pulling back from his kiss. “What really happened, are you okay?”

Butcher groaned, shifting to lay back against the pillows in a more comfortable position. “Hughie took me to track down some supe. Swore up and down it’d be a piece of cake, made me pinky swear to go easy, and then it all just went pear-shaped. Had to save him again.” Billy added grumpily.

You couldn’t help the quirk of your lips. “That sounds absolutely horrible,” you said in agreement, trying to hide a grin.

“It were,” he huffed.

“Maybe I can make it up to you, make you feel better?” You asked, letting your hand slip over his flat stomach underneath the blanket.

“Well, aye, that’s probably the only thing that would help,” he agreed, a mischievous twinkle coming to his eyes.

It only took you a second to find the start to the dark trail of hair below his belly button. He rumbled as your hand kept going, until your fingers brushed his rapidly swelling length.

“Like this?” You asked, watching his face as his eyes closed and he focused on what you were doing to him.

“Aye,” he breathed.

A moan almost slipped out of your own mouth when you wrapped your fingers fully around his thick cock. His skin was hot and he felt so good and, fuck, you wanted him too but you needed to do this for him.

He groaned when you began to move your hand and as you reached the tip he bucked helplessly into your palm. The blanket slipped down his muscled thighs when he moved and he tugged on the soft material pulling it away from his body completely.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him, hot and hard and wanting you, making a soft little sound of need escape your throat.

“Sweethear’…” he rumbled, in that gravelly, husky voice. Reaching up he twisted his fingers in your hair, pulling your mouth to his again.

He kissed you like he needed to suck the air from your lungs to survive and it set your entire being on fire. His cock seemed to swell even more and you moaned into his kiss. You continued to stroke him lazily, all the way from the base to the head, rubbing your thumb across the tip as precum started to bead there.

You pulled back to watch and he groaned harshly, the sound of it going straight to your center. The dark room was warm and sweat started to form on his temples. One drop rolled down his neck to his chest and you lifted your other hand to rub your palm over the curly dark hair there. He groaned again, turning toward you to bury his face in the curve of your throat, nuzzling hotly, his fingers still tangled in your hair. “Your cock feels so good, Billy,” you whispered against the shell of his ear, making him moan again.

Just as you were starting to unbutton your shirt with the other hand, the door to the bedroom swung open with a bang and suddenly Hughie was standing right there staring at the two of you with wide, shocked eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“Oh fuck! I’m so - fuck - sorry… I thought - it sounded - fuck - sorry…”

You froze, completely unsure of what to do, your fingers still wrapped around Billy’s cock, but you had to let go as he surged up from his supine position. He grabbed all the blankets in one fist to cover his lap and you were glad you weren’t already naked yourself or you’d be fully on display for Hughie now.

“Hughie, I fuckin’ told ya you could check on me in the morning! What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?!” Butcher roared.

Hughie screwed his eyes shut and you almost had to laugh at the varied shades of horror written across his expression but you held it in.

“I didn’t know! I thought - you were hurt. I heard -“

“Just get the fuck out son and leave me be! I’m tryin’ to recover here,” Billy growled, his face flushed with fury.

“Sorry, sorry, okay, sorry” Hughie started backing toward the door then finally turned and bolted out into the main room, slamming it closed behind him.

“Fuckin’ twat,” Billy growled. You held your tongue as you climbed off the bed to lock the door.

“The kid can’t even let me have a shag in peace after nearly gettin’ me killed.”

He was really in a mood now and you had to bite your lip to keep from teasing him. He must hate to have one of the boys see him in such a vulnerable moment but you couldn’t help the swell of affection it made you feel for him.

You were worried about calming him down but when you turned back from the now locked door, his gaze was hot on you despite the scowl that was still on his face. Your shirt was half unbuttoned, slipping down your shoulder and there was nothing underneath. You were sure he could see the bare curve of your breast as his gaze lingered there. Maybe that could help turn the night back around again. As you took another step toward him, you tugged at the rest of your buttons and let your shirt fall to the floor.

It seemed to work.

His gaze was hot enough to burn straight through you and you saw him swallow thickly. “Let’s quit fuckin’ about now,” he finally said. He was frowning but his voice was gruff from need, even more so than before. He tossed the blankets away with a flick of his wrist. “Take the rest o’ your kit off, love, and come sit on my cock,” he husked. “Playtime is over.”

You felt the immediate, undeniable rush of heat and wetness as your body desperately prepared itself for him. “Aye, aye Captain,” you teased, but still your voice was noticeably breathless.

His eyes were glued to your form as you shimmied out of your jeans. He laid back on the bed as you climbed over him, carefully straddling his hips.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he husked, his hands going to your hips, his gaze travelling over you, all the way up and back down. “Take me in, love.”

You bit your lower lip as your body throbbed in response and you guided his cock to your entrance. Slowly, you sunk down on him, relaxing your muscles as he stretched you open, taking him as deep as you could.

As soon as you started to move, he slid his hands up from your hips, and cupped and squeezed your breasts roughly, pinching your tight nipples and tugging.

The bite made pleasure surge through you and you clenched around his cock, almost coming from his subsequent growl, but you held back somehow, letting the heat grow more between you first.

He shifted like he was going to sit up but you held him down again, your palms against his broad shoulders to keep himself from making his injury worse and he growled in reply, his eyes flashing with passion and heated challenge.

Snaking his hand down your stomach, his fingers found your clit with practiced ease. And he knew exactly what it did to you. He knew it made you wild for him. You bounced on his cock, a little bit harder, a little faster, taking him as deep as you could, release just within reach. “Please Billy,” you whimpered, almost beyond words. “Oh…”

He thrust his hips up, and the perfect angle along with the perfect touch of his fingers made your climax come on fast and hard. You cried out as your body shuddered and squeezed around him. His hands went back to your hips, fingers digging into your soft skin as his own climax started to overtake him and he gave a low groan as he held your hips to his.

His gaze was so focused on you as he came, so full of passion and wonder and heat and genuine caring… It felt like your heart could burst.

The pleasure was nearly overwhelming and after a few moments you collapsed against his chest, his strong arms coming tight around you. Nothing had ever felt this good.

You couldn’t imagine anything in your life ever going right, but, fuck, you knew then you would fight like hell to hold on to this man.

-------------

The next morning was blissfully calm and quiet and you sighed contentedly as you checked Billy’s bandage and found the wound healing well. Everything was perfect. Until Billy offered to make you coffee and bagels just before Frenchie emerged from his own room.

“Eh, Monsieur Charcutier…need a hand?”

——————

Please comment or reblog if you like!!! Thank you for reading!!!

More Billy here! Billy Butcher Masterlist

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2023-11-05

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Dr. Leonard McCoy stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✵ An Apple a Day by annathewitch • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "An unexpected encounter with Leonard McCoy at the Academy leaves you with a poor impression. Will he manage to redeem himself when you encounter him again years later?"

✵ An Apple a Day by cas-kingdom • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "...apparently doesn't keep the doctor away. You've come down with the flu, and only Bones can make you feel better."

✵ April Showers Bring Flowering Feelings by hobbit-historian • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "When you get caught in a sudden rainstorm, McCoy comes to your rescue."

✵ Because Why? by geminiwritten • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "After five long years of pining for the doctor and a whole month of him acting weirdly distant you finally decide to go on a date, but when you get called in for your routine medical you end up finding out exactly why bones has been acting so strange."

✵ Concentration by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul▪︎18+▪︎〔E᜶F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎

Summary: When you answer a work call on your day off your husband decides to punish you by making it very hard to concentrate.

✵ Doctor of My Word [Soulmate!A.U.] by grandtheftstarship • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "To almost everyone on the Enterprise, it was... obvious that you were pining after the one and only Doctor Leonard McCoy. Everyone also found it glaringly obvious the CMO was pining right back."

✵ Dr. Dreamy by geminiwritten • 〔E᜶A〕 •

Summary: "it's been a while since [you got] laid, and it's starting to affect your mood... Jim offers his help before quickly realising that you're still hung up on a mysterious 'Mr. Dreamy' from your academy days... but he soon finds out that the man [you're] in lovewith... is, in fact, the enterprise’s best doctor."

✵ Drunken Promises by grandtheftstarship • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Waking up with a hangover and a ring around your left hand is not how you wanted to spend your shore leave.

✵ Game Night by geminiwritten • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "After… injuring yourself, you refuse to go to MedBay before attending a games night with the crew and your favourite grumpy (and very jealous) doctor."

✵ Hobgoblins and Hospitality by thatfanficstuff • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: {…}

✵ Joanna by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✵ Our Choices by imagines-for-the-fangirls- • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: The enterprise crew has returned to earth and you and Leonard are getting married.

✵ Paper Roses by ladyideal • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: It's your birthday and your boyfriend, Leonard planned a special surprise.

✵ Pick Me Up by grandtheftstarship • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When you're sick, your boyfriend stays home to take care of you, making sure you're comfortable and building you a pillow fort.

✵ Proposal

✵ Roomies by geminiwritten • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "..."jim’s determination to play matchmaker leads to a very awkward roommate situation… Not to mention, there’s only one bed .

✵ Sick by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✵ Southern Charm by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "..."

✵ Things that Go Bump in the Night by annathewitch • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[When you're] having trouble sleeping… McCoy tries to help [you] with [your] unusual problem."

✵ To Annoy a Doctor by cas-kingdom • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "You're a very difficult patient, and unfortunately for you, Bones has very little tolerance."

✵ 214 by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 •

✵ Blundering Infatuation

✵ Clean by pendragonfics • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Come Back to Bed by dreaming-about-fanfictions • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Dammit by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Dive by thatfanficstuff • 〔F〕 •

✵ Either Way by ivorydragoness44 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Favours by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Germs by thatfanficstuff • 〔F〕 •

✵ Glasses by space-helen • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Grumpy Cuddles by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ It's My Job by shenanigans-and-imagines • 〔F〕 •

✵ Just Perfect by imamotherfuckingstar-lord • 〔F〕 •

✵ Marriage in the Rescue, the by kaitymccoy123 • 〔F〕 •

✵ Not Just Yet by ivorydragoness44 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Right Here, Darlin' by thesteveharringtonclub • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Sickness by marvelmymarvel • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Well Adjusted Adults by ladyideal • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ What's on Your Mind? by ivorydragoness44 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❧ Being Married to Leonard McCoy… by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ Dating Leonard McCoy… by octopodeez • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✵ First Kiss w/ Leonard… by space-helen • 〔F〕 •

See Also: Navigation || Leonard McCoy Master Index

Authors: @annathewitch | @cas-kingdom | @dreaming-about-fanfictions | @geminiwritten | @grandtheftstarship | @high-functioning-lokipath | @hobbit-historian | @imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul | @imamotherfuckingstar-lord | @ivorydragoness44 | @kaitymccoy123 | @ladyideal | @marvelmymarvel | @octopodeez | @pendragonfics | @shenanigans-and-imagines | @space-helen | @thatfanficstuff || @thesteveharringtonclub || @thranduilsperkybutt ||

[avastrasposts]

Some Sunday night Billy Butcher smut? Don't mind if I do!

So basically a short one shot, 1600 words, where Billy's got six and a half minutes to finish.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A little bit of self indulgence this Monday. 

ʚ Pairing: Commander Vaako x Fem reader

ʚ Summary: After helping the Lord Marshall conquer yet another planet, Count Vaako goes in search of something to keep, of someone he killed. What will his search reward him with?

Warnings: Slow Burn | NSFW content | Explicit content | First time |  Penetrative Sex |  Fluff

You keep what you kill. That is the Necromonger way. That was what was taught to Andromedus Vaako when he converted, and he made great use of it, amassing ranks and wealth in no time.

Ten years had passed since the day of his marking, and Vaako was now the youngest commander in the armada. He thought he had everything, until an impertinent breeder on New Terra dared to challenge him to one-on-one combat.

The Lord Marshall watched, as did everyone else. Vaako wasted no time, easily dispatching his adversary with no harm to his own person. He dusted himself off and turned to his men.

“Most impressive,” the Lord Marshal said as he made his way to his most promising officer, picking up the dagger the challenger had dropped. “And I believe this is yours now?”

Another dagger. Vaako eyed the blade with barely disguised contempt. “Another knife for my collection.” He said. “I am running out of room for them all.”

The blade in itself was hardly noteworthy, with nothing special to set it apart from the others. “Indeed. Perhaps something else would suit.”

The Lord Marshal looked at the crowd that had gathered. “Who is this man? Where does he come from?”

The locals looked around, mumbling, wondering who should talk.

“He is Prince Irubaan, sire,” someone called out from within the crowd. “He has a palace by the lake.”

That piqued Vaako’s interest. “A palace by the lake?” The Lord Marshal mused. “Perhaps there you will find something more to your liking?”

“Indeed,” said Vaako. Given that it would take several days for the inhabitants to be converted, Vaako had plenty of time. “I will have Toal keep you updated on any developments,” said the Lord Marshal, as he was eager to inspect the new planet that had been conquered. “Good luck.”

                                                         ---*✧*---

The palace was breathtaking, as were the lands it sat on.

"The Prince may have been a poor fighter," said Vaako to his men. "But he certainly had good taste." They all nodded in agreement.

Had he been anything but a Necromonger, Vaako would have settled here as the new Lord. Still, the anticipation of new discovery proved to be too much and Vaako marched inside, only to find himself being greeted by a small battalion of servants. Clearly, word of the Prince’s passing had reached their ears. Vaako stood by the entrance while they all bowed.

"I will expect all of you to convert by the time we leave this place," he said. "And I will expect all of you to bear the mark of conversion."

The servants bowed once more before rushing about their duties. Vaako walked around, taking in everything before him, silently earmarking certain pieces to be given as tribute, for his Lord Marshal would expect no less.

While he was walking around, making his way to the second floor, you rushed out upon hearing the commotion downstairs.

"Come to collect your loot already?" you ask in a huff.

Vaako stood there, stunned. "If you mean did I come here to claim what is now rightfully mine, then yes, I have. And you are?"

"Princess y/n. I am, or was, Prince Irubaan’s wife."

"Commander Andromedus Vaako." Your lack of sorrow aroused his interest. "You are not in mourning for your husband?"

"I will not shed my tears for such a dreadful man," you snort as you study him quietly. The strange armour, oddly enough, suited him, as did the battle-hardened face. A very handsome, battle-hardened face, with kindly eyes. Odd, given he was one of them. "Are you the one that sent him off to the ether?"

Vaako looked at his chief lieutenant, utterly confused. "They believe souls go to this place of eternal rest," came the whisper. "They call it the ether."

The Underverse Vaako had seen evidence of, but the ether? "The Lord Marshal was right, they truly are a strange people," he whispered back before answering you. "Yes. I did indeed send your husband to the… ether."

"Hmph," you never look away or down, instead choosing to look him in the eyes. "I suppose you and your men would be staying for dinner?"

Your lack of fear only served to make him even more interested. Vaako was an invader, part of an army that destroyed millions of lives and reduced entire worlds to dust, and yet you talk to him like he was just another guest. No one had done that before. 

And he was rather hungry.

"Yes," he said, never taking his eyes off of you. "We will be staying for dinner."                                                        ---*✧*---

While dinner was simple, conversation with the commander was not. "So your Lord Marshal is a holy half-dead?" you ask over your wine. "How is that even possible?"

"He had to travel to the Underverse itself," Vaako and the rest started on their food. "It is part of a test all Lord Marshalls must undergo, to prove themselves worthy of the title."

"I have heard of this Underverse," you say with a raised eyebrow. "I also hear your kind does not reproduce? Does this mean relations between mated pairs are prohibited? I mean, it would be a great pity to go to all that trouble of converting, only to spend the rest of your days in forced celibacy."

Vaako was more intrigued than offended by your free way of speaking. "Do not let the Lord Marshal catch you talking like that."

"And yes," Vaako continued. "Propagating the species is forbidden to us," he said archly. "However, physical relations are not."

"That is good then, for the life of a convert would have been one of abject misery otherwise."

"That impertinence of yours will get you into trouble one day."

"So my late husband kept telling me," you retort.

"Your late husband might not have wanted you to say something foolish."  Vaako found himself more interested in talking to you and less interested in his food.

"And yet he was the one challenging a high ranking Necromonger to one-on-one combat. So who is the fool here?"

You were rewarded with a slight twitch in his lips. The others looked on, wondering what was going on.

"Him, most certainly."

"Indeed," you say, nodding and returning to your meal. "Speaking of your race, I also hear you keep what you kill? All of what you kill?"

"Indeed," Vaako said, growing oblivious to everything around him now.

"Even a fallen challenger’s spouse?" you asked nonchalantly, your pulse raising by the way he was looking at you, as if the the others did not exist to him. Even your late husband would never look at you that way. 

Vaako, upon remembering there were others present, dismissed his men and the servants, leaving only the two of you at the table. "Yes, but only if the widow desires it, and only if the Necromonger is unattached."

Interesting, you think to yourself. "So no force?"

"Even we do not believe in force," Vaako said as he looked you over his goblet. "Not in such a delicate matter." 

You simply smile and go back to finishing your meal, while a pair of rich brown eyes watch you the entire time. 

                                                      ---*✧*---

You take Vaako to his new rooms. "These are yours now."

He looked around, taking in the ambiance, the lack of anything feminine. Clearly only one person slept here. “These are not yours as well?”

“No. My rooms are in the other corner of the floor.”

The husband slept in one corner of the house while the wife slept in another corner. “Strange sort of marriage you had.”

You shrug and look around. “I simply made the most of my situation. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes,” The bed looked too big, and he wanted someone to talk to. “I would like it if you stayed here, and kept me company.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I would like for you stay here,” he repeated his words as he looked out the window, to the fields and valleys beyond. In a week, everything would be reduced to dust and ash, and he almost felt sorry for it. “And keep me company. Nothing more, I assure you.”

You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms. “Nothing more you say? You just want my company, you say?”

He smirked this time. “If you had to be around the lot I came with, you would understand.”

That gave you pause, for some of the others he came with were indeed dull. “Very well. I will change for the night and join you.”

                                                         ---*✧*---

Vaako looked on with barely disguised amusement when you set up a line of pillows down the middle of the bed. “And these are for your protection? or Mine?” he said while watching you, taking in how your shift clung to you as you moved. “Or is this yet another odd custom of your world?”

“They are for my protection,” you say, although you find yourself regretting setting up the barrier. “If you get too close in the middle of the night I can bash you on the head with one.”

“Then perhaps I should have kept a panic button with me, so my men can save me from being drowned in goose feathers.”

His chuckle was echoed by yours. “Just stay to your side, please.”

“Fine,” he got into his side of the bed, while you get into your side.

You make yourself comfortable, while listening to the sounds of him settling in. “For how long will your Lord Marshall stay here?”

“A week, maybe a little more, if he hesitates in destroying your world,” Vaako said, as he looked up into the ceiling.

“A week, maybe a little more before this world is turned to ash?” You ask, shocked by the revelation.

“We do not tarry unless necessary,” Vaako could pick up the scent of roses filling the air. He found it was coming off of you. It appealed to him. “And we rarely tarry.”

“Never settling down, always on the move? A bit sad, no?”

“That is our way,” said Vaako, confused now as to what he was feeling. Why was he suddenly questioning what he was taught?

“Strange,” you say. “But I suppose I must accept, since I too will have to follow it now.”

Vaako went silent, only to look up when he heard steel panels moving. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at the night sky of my home-world, I will not see it again when I leave.”

You had opened up the skylights revealing a night sky dotted with a million stars. “Oh,” Vaako sounded relieved. “You wanted to just see the night sky?”

Did he think you were trying to attack him? “Yes, commander. I just wanted to see the night sky. If I wanted to attack you, you would not even know.”

He propped himself onto an elbow. “Oh really? This I would dearly love to see.”

A pillow hit him with a soft thud. “There,” you grin in the darkness. “Satisfied?”

Vaako grit his teeth. “That I was not prepared for,” he said. “Next time I will-- stop that!”

Another pillow, another soft hit. You were giggling now. “You challenged me! If you did not want to--”

The pillow striking you resulted in a pillow fight. “Get back here!” Vaako commanded as you shot out of bed, pillow in hand. “I am the commander and I order you to--”

You took off after playfully throwing the pillow at him. “Make me!” you cry as you run. Vaako straightened himself and chased you, all the while wondering why he enjoyed it so much. 

He catches you just before you make it to the door. “That was uncalled for!”

“But you challenged me,” you giggle. “Let go of me.”

“Or what?” He refused to yield. “What will you do to make me let...”

                                                   ---*✧*---

Your kiss caught him by surprise.

Vaako wanted to pull away but could not bring himself to do so. “Wha--”

His eyes looked down on you in shock. “Have you never been kissed?” 

He brushed your hair back, marveling at how soft it felt. “Never.”

“That is too bad,” you murmur and pull away, only to find yourself being pulled back when Vaako drew you in for a kiss.

It felt awkward, clumsy. Vaako did not know what to do. “Sorry,” he mumbled as his nose kept bumping into yours. You grin, and place your hands against his cheeks. “Keep still.”

This time it was soft, hesitant. His lips brushed against yours, gently at first, his hands resting on your waist before his arms went around you completely.  Vaako had never experienced anything like this before. Not the golden light that lit up behind his eyes, nor the heat that swelled up in his belly. His grip tightened like a vice, his moan as you melted against him was like music to your ears. 

“Yes?” he mumbled as his kisses skimmed your neck, his body pressing up against yours when you grabbed onto his hair.  This time you pull him up and bring your lips to his. “Please,” you breath. In one swift move, Vaako lifted you up and carried you to bed. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, with you straddling his lap.

"You have no experience at all?" You ask as you undo the lace ties on his tunic.

"None," Vaako kept still, his hands on your waist, his temple resting on yours. How wondrous, he thought, that the simple act of you undressing him was enough to make him go weak in the knees, how your very touch was enough to make his breath go ragged. "Perhaps... Perhaps you can teach me."

Perhaps you could. You slip the tunic off of him, your eyes resting on the hardened muscles they hid. How they fluttered beneath your touch. "So warm," he breathed. 

Soft, warm palms drifted over the surface, fingers tracing lines over old scars, little imperfections on the skin. "Did these hurt?"

"They did," Vaako could feel his breath deepen when your hands neared his abdomen. "But not anymore..."

The barely audible curse stopped you cold. "Please," Vaako takes your hand into his, noting how it fitted perfectly with his. "Do not stop."

Feeling bolder now, you run your hands lower, to between his thighs. Vaako's eyes fluttered as you run a palm over his already erect cock. It felt good. So very good. Vaako fell back into bed, his hands on your waist, his eyes on yours as your hands rested on the top of his trousers. "Yes?" You ask.

He guides your hands to where he wants them to go. "Please."

The lacings were undone, and the deep, strangled moan you hear on that first stroke was intoxicating. Vaako simply surrendered body and soul to you. Surrendered himself to the current that wanted to sweep him away. Nothing in all of his life compared to this. Nothing in all the realms could compare to what you were making him feel, from the desire to wanting to lust. He savoured them all, hoping against all hope that he could experience everything with you, again and again, and again. His hands drifted all over you, gliding up your arms, all over your belly, caressing your breasts. His eyes locked with yours when he heard your breath catch, his arms manoeuvring you so he could be on top of you. 

Vaako's full weight coming to rest on top of you caused a sigh to rise from your toes. Nervous hands tugged on the hem of your night-dress, pulling them over your outstretched arms and tossing them to the ground, leaving you exposed.

Vaako took in every inch of you, his eyes feasting on every part of your body. "You're beautiful, y/n. So beautiful." 

Unable to help himself, Vaako lowered his head, his lips barely grazing over the soft swell of your breasts. Your skin felt so soft and fragrant that he grew bolder, gently nipping and sucking on an already taut nipple, while callused fingers played with the other. You cry out softly, your fingers bunching up in his hair, urging him to take as much as you gave until you pull him back up to crush your lips on his. His mouth felt so warm, his lips so soft, his tongue running against your lips, seeking entry. Arms pulling you up made you yield and you whimper into his kisses while his tongue flicked against yours. How a battle-hardened warrior could be so tender, you muse, as those sturdy arms now hold you like you were made out of fragile glass. So gentle he was, running his fingers up your spine, his kisses fluttering over your skin making you grow slick and hot.

Vaako felt you, all of you. How you whimpered when his teeth grazed your skin, how your breath would suddenly pull in deep whenever he squeezed your breasts, your fingers raking over his skin as lust overwhelmed you, and him. Grinding his hips into you convinced Vaako to take the next step and he went in slowly, moaning as he felt you sheath him with every inch he took. He stopped, wanting to make sure this was still what you wanted. Eyes darkened with lust greeted yours, while your own body was screaming for him to go on. "Do not stop," you press your lips against his as he pushed in deeper, going slow on that first thrust. 

His moans match yours with each passing second, his cock going in deeper and deeper, bringing the both of you closer to the edge. Vaako would let out strings of curses whenever he felt your walls tighten around him, or your nails raked down his back. He would slow down at your urging, then pick up the pace again, his heart racing with every thrust, his body melting into yours as you kept crying out for him, his kisses finally drowning you out as his body gave you your release, his own following with a grunt and a final thrust when he felt himself empty inside of you.

The two of you cling to each other, exhausted and satisfied. Vaako gently eased you back into bed, taking you with him when he rested on his side. A palm resting on his heaving chest made him open his eyes, and he smiled when his gaze rested on you. You grow anxious as this could very well be the only time you have with him. He might lose interest or be expected to be with someone else. It would hurt too much, to see him with another. "What troubles you, y/n?"

He cupped your cheek gently, leaving little kisses as he held you closer. "Y/n, please tell me what troubles you."

You sigh but talk all the same. Better now than never. "What happened between us... Will I have to forget about it, about you, when I go onto that ship?"

He was stunned. Why would you ask such a thing after what the two of you shared? "No. Remember the motto of my people?"

"You keep what you kill." And Vaako killed your husband in honourable combat. That meant you were his.

"I keep what I kill," eyes filled with hope looked into yours. "And I want to keep you by my side, always."

It was your turn to grow stunned. "What?"

He kissed you again, this time with tenderness instead of passion. "Stay with me," he said. "Be mine. Be my lady. What do you say?"

You look up at him, certs in of your answer now. Your place was by his side, and no one else's. "Yes. I will be yours. From now till Underverse come."

Vaako broke out into the biggest smile you had ever seen. He kissed you again, watching you as you fell asleep. When he fell asleep it was with you in his arms and a smile on his face. 

[chaotic-iguana]

desperate | billy butcher x reader

a little something in spirit of kinktober and my delirium. lmk what you think. nsfw below the cut. mostly denial/teasing.

“fuckin’ look at you, doll.” butcher flashes you a shit-eating grin before reaching up to pinch your nipples between his thumb and forefingers harshly, rumbling a chuckle at the whimper it draws from you. you’re all splayed out for him with your hands tied to headboard above, thighs wrenched open by his shoulders; skin hot and flushed under his touch. he’s told you to stay still twice already but you can’t, not when he’s been leaving featherlight brushes on your skin for hours and cruelly laughing at every sound that comes from your mouth, smiling at the way your hips buck in his hold- 

and then he’s leaning in just to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sternum, beard stinging against your sensitive skin, jaw working to nip and bite until your tears are falling and he’s pulling back with a mocking tut, eyes twinkling.

“all these pretty tears just f’me, love?” your frantic nod makes him raise a brow, hand coming down to swat the inside of your thigh - the impact shooting straight to your poor, neglected cunt. 

“use y’words, chatterbox.” 

his tone makes you want to curl in on yourself, because he knows you’re too far gone to form words right now, too far gone to think about anything beyond the fact that you need him and that you might actually die if he stops touching you. but you know butcher, and you know how mean he really is - he’ll keep you writhing on the bed for hours to fix your attitude if he doesn’t hear an answer now; uncaring of the fact that you’re barely grasping at thoughts and completely fucking gone. and like the devil, you  he starts rubbing circles into the juncture of your thighs while you struggle to answer him.

“y-yes, da-butcher. ‘m cr-crying for y-you.” he hums, and suddenly runs a knuckle through your folds, making you keen, tears sticking to your lashes. 

“yes, who?” bastard. he knows you can never bring yourself to say it - not even if it rests on the tip of your tongue every time - and despite yourself, you bite your tongue and shake your head, hiccuping. 

“oh we’re being shy now? fuck me, honey, where was this when i had my cock in your ass?” his hands rest just above where you need him now, thumbs stroking your abdomen in careful, downward brushes. your back arches into the touch, hips chasing him even when he pulls his hands away, and then you’re sobbing in earnest. 

another tut, dripping with condescension. “no more cryin’. tell me what you want, baby.” and you’re gasping another breath and gulping air, wrists straining against the rope before stammering out another response, too delirious with your need to register what you were saying. 

“need you to t-touch me, d-daddy, please.” he shuffles up, gripping your chin to turn it towards him before capturing your lips in his, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. his thumb presses gently on your buzzing clit, making you jolt with surprise. you blink at him, frowning. he’d never cave this quickly. 

until- he’s reaching down to plant a kiss to your forehead, smoothing over your hair before nuzzling against your cheek. 

“gotta give my pretty girl what she needs, don’t i? 

masterlist

taglist: @bastardmandennis and @amanitacowboy (no one else would be into the boys i think) love u both @imherefordeanandbones

@cafekitsune’s divider.

[geminiwritten]

undercover ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you have to go undercover as butcher’s wife to vought’s annual supe celebration - prompt (that i don’t remember where i saw it, i’m sorry!): “I bet you one hundred dollars that you’re hard right now.” *he stands up and drops $100 on the table*

notes: i wrote this in one day and you can tell!!! it’s so rushed, i’m so sorry, but also i’m just hot for this man and refuse to stop??? let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, very small alcohol consumption, very light smut, and a bit of harassment from an unwelcome dude

word count: 6496

“You have a thing for Butcher?” Hughie gasps, the apartment door swinging open as he steps inside.

Annie’s eyes grow wide, her hand covering her mouth to try and hide her cheeky smile. You scowl at her before turning to Hughie, his face a comical mixture of disgust and amusement.

“What have I said about eavesdropping on movie night, Hubert?” you demand, calling him by the stupid nickname you know he hates.

He rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I texted Annie to say I was on my way home. It’s not my fault you’re practically shouting about the fact that you want to fu-”

“Hughie,” Annie giggles, “be careful.”

“Hey,” he says, turning to her, “I’m just repeating what I heard.”

You hold your face in your hands and groan, sinking back into the soft couch cushions and praying that they might open up and swallow you into a different dimension.

“I’m sorry,” Annie sighs, “I honestly just lost track of time.”

Hughie drops his keys and wallet on the kitchen bench alongside two plastic bags that wreak of cheap Chinese food. Your stomach grumbles at the smell, and you reluctantly pull yourself off the couch before dragging your feet toward the kitchen.

“So,” Hughie says with a grin, “how long has this been going on then?”

“Nothing is going on,” you state, “and it’s certainly none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone,” he begins helping you unpack the bags of food, “besides, I had a sneaking suspicion. You do kind of look at him like-”

You pull a butterknife out of the draw and point it at him, “Like what?”

He freezes, his hands flying up on either side of his head in surrender.

Annie laughs again, “Okay, you two, cut it out.”

You put the knife down and retrieve three full sets of cutlery before setting a stack of bowls beside the containers of food. Hughie serves himself first before Annie fills her own bowl and you last, already shovelling mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth as you move back toward the couch.

“You know,” Hughie says between mouthfuls, “if you wanted to talk about it, I might be able to help.”

You scoff, “Yeah? How?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, talk to him.”

“And say what?” you drop your fork into your bowl, mocking Hughie’s voice as you say, “Hey Butcher, do you think Y/N is hot, because I know she dreams about fucking you.”

He scowls at you, “I can be subtle.”

Annie giggles, hiding her face behind her bowl as Hughie casts his glare toward her.

“I appreciate your concern, Hughie,” you say, “but I think I’ll just stick to fantasising about him in the shower.”

His expression morphs into disgust as he begins choking on his mouthful of food, his face turning bright red. Annie’s laughter fills the room, and you join her while Hughie struggles to compose himself.

To your surprise, and relief, Hughie agrees to keep your little secret to himself. He doesn’t even make a stupid face the next day when the three of you arrive at the boys’ current hideout, finding MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and the man himself huddled around the dining room table.

“Righ’ on time,” Butcher says with a grin, “let’s get to it, then.”

You knew he was excited about this next mission, if you could call it that. Everyone was, in fact, because thanks to Annie’s excellent intel, you were all attending Vought’s annual ball. A night of celebration to thank the mighty Supes for keeping the streets safe, or as Butcher liked to call it, Vought’s annual wank-fest.

“Your invitations are all sorted,” Annie says, pulling a small handful of envelopes out of her bag. “Hughie came up with all your aliases, so please stick to them, or you’ll be kicked out in a heartbeat. Security is tough at this thing, and there’ll be no talking yourselves out of a bad situation.”

She looks pointedly at Butcher, but his smirk only widens.

“Frenchie,” Hughie says, “you’re going as a member of the tech team, so you’ll be behind the scenes and keeping an eye on the cameras for anything suspicious.”

Frenchie rubs his hands together excitedly, taking the envelope from Annie and tearing it open.

“Monsieur Felipe Lavigne, senior security technician,” he announces, reading the ID card aloud.

“MM and Kimiko, you’ll be with me,” Hughie goes on, “we’ll be posing as press on behalf of the city council. There’s a huge group of council members and associates, so all we have to do is blend in.”

MM takes two envelopes and passes one to Kimiko.

Hughie turns to you, “I originally had you listed as press too, but then decided it might be smart to double down on Butcher’s alias, give him another level of cover, you know?”

You frown, tilting your head sceptically as he hands you and Butcher an envelope each.

“You’ll be attending as prospective stakeholders, invited by corporate to bask in the glory of Vought in the hopes that you’ll invest in their cause,” Hughie explains. “An affluent couple from upstate New York, recently immigrated from Britain after growing bored of your rich English lifestyle.”

You’re almost positive your brows have reached your hairline as you stare at the envelope in your hands, your trembling fingers struggling to pull the ID badge out.

“Brooklyn Williams,” you read aloud.

Annie shoots Hughie a look, promising that he would be paying for this later, and you realise that he must have made this decision in the past twelve hours without consulting her.

“William Williams,” Butcher says, frowning at Hughie, “really?”

Despite being the target of several unhappy stares, Hughie chuckles.

Frenchie snickers too, “At least you will not forget it, eh?”

“Smart move, Hughie,” MM speaks up, “Butcher is the one most likely to be caught, but with Y/N in tow, he might think twice about putting himself in danger.”

Butcher rolls his eyes, “Do none of you ‘ave any faith in me?”

Hughie, Frenchie, and MM respond in unison, “No.”

The seven of you spend the next two hours going over the details of your aliases and the agenda of the function. It’s going to be a huge event, which meant little risk of actually running into Homelander or anyone who might recognise any of you. Annie won’t be able to help on the night, being one of the spotlight attendees, but that isn’t what’s was making you nervous. You’re going to have to spend a good five hours pretending to be married to Butcher, the one man you desperately want and the one man you were trying very hard not to fall in love with.

After what feels like forever, Frenchie announces that he is going to get dinner and Annie bids you all goodbye to check in at Vought tower. Hughie sets his laptop up at the desk in the corner of the lounge room while MM excuses himself for his nightly facetime call with Janine.

Kimiko turns to you, signing a question about what you were all going to wear on the night.

“Annie helped me organise some things,” you reply, gesturing toward the suitcase by the door. “You should try it on now, and if you don’t like it we can find something else.”

You know Kimiko isn’t a fan of cocktail attire, and you definitely didn’t want her walking into the dragon’s den worrying about the way she looked or if she’d be able to fight should the need arise.

“What ‘bout me, love?” Butcher asks, his signature smirk curling the corner of his lips.

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, “You don’t get a choice, you’ll be wearing a suit.”

He chuckles, “I do love a stubborn woman, must’ve been why I married you.”

Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you fail to think of a sarcastic retort, instead turning away in the hopes that he hasn’t already noticed the bright colour in your cheeks.

Kimiko drops the case on its back with a thud, unzipping it quickly and throwing it open to pull out each of the bagged costumes. There are four suits of various styles with varying accessories, and two dresses. She stands holding the one labelled with her name, dragging the zip right down the middle and revealing the soft black fabric of her dress. It isn’t quite full length, hemmed just below the knee in a pencil skirt style and devoid of any embellishments. A simple black dress with long sleeves, fitted but flexible.

She grins, signing to you that it is perfect and thanking you for not putting her in anything ridiculous.

“We chose two pairs of shoes too,” you say, “in case you don’t want to wear the heels.”

Butcher strides toward the suitcase and picks up the last bag, but you follow him, quickly snatching it out of his hands before he can pull the zip.

“My dress can wait until the night,” you hold it behind your back for good measure, “I’m still not sure about it.”

He quirks one brow, “You’re not wearin’ latex, are ya?”

You roll your eyes before turning on your heel, taking your dress into your room and tucking it into the back of your closet. You fall back on your bed, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you try to calm your erratic pulse. It’s just one night, you can hold it together for one night, right?

The next two days pass in a blur of preparations and planning, and before you know it, you’re staring at the dress hanging in your closet with a towel wrapped around your body. Your hair is clean and curled, pulled into a half up do with twisted gold pins creating the illusion of diadem just below the crown of your head. You took a little longer to do your makeup than usual, out of practice in the art of winged eyeliner and false lashes, but in the end, you were proud. Now, the dress.

Your fingers are numb as you pull the zipper down, revealing the red silk material of the gown that Annie convinced you would be a good idea. You blame her for this just as much as Hughie.

“Come on, Y/N,” MM calls through your bedroom door, “we have to go.”

You sigh and throw your towel aside, hurriedly pulling the dress off its hanger. The material is cool against your skin, sliding easily over your curves and fitting your body like a tailor-made glove. You twist awkwardly to secure the zip before turning to the mirror.

The dress is floor length, a few inches of the red silk pooling at your feet, with a long slit reaching scandalously up to your left hip. The straps are about an inch thick, and the neck cowled, showcasing your breasts and the perfect amount cleavage. The silk hugs your torso, and you’re a little startled at just how good you feel in this dress.

Another knock at the door has you rushing to slip into your beige heels, and you check that your underwear are pulled high enough to not be seen in the slit of the dress before opening the door. MM’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You blush, “Thanks.”

Being the gentleman he is, he tears his eyes away from you, offering you his arm with a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

In the lounge room, Kimiko is helping Frenchie with his tie and Hughie is struggling to secure his suspenders to his trousers. Your breath catches when your eyes land on Butcher, dressed in a classic and perfectly fitted black tux. He has even trimmed his beard and styled his hair, still a little dishevelled but holy shit, does the sight of him make your mouth water.

“Damn,” Hughie says when he sees you, “nice dress.”

“Nice suspenders.”

He chuckles, “Are we ready?”

Butcher turns to you, his jaw going slack and his eyes dark. Your chest squeezes, your lungs struggling to draw enough breath as your head spins from the lack of oxygen.

“Ready,” MM says beside you.

“Good,” Hughie tucks his ID badge into his shirt pocket, “I’ve organised two cars, one for Y/N and Butcher, and the other for the rest of us. Once we’re there, we can’t slip up, keep your masks up and don’t even look at anyone you think might recognise you.”

You check your small black clutch for your ID badge and phone.

“Earpieces are too risky tonight,” he continues, “so keep your phones on you, and if one of us is out, we all abort.”

Kimiko checks her own purse and the boys check their pockets before you all shuffle out the door. Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko exit the building first, leaving you and Butcher alone in the lobby.

“You ready, sweethear’?” he asks, gazing at you with the same dark eyes as before.

You nod, “As I’ll ever be.”

After a minute, you exit the apartment and climb into the awaiting car. Butcher greets the driver as the car pulls away from the curb, and you take the chance to pull your phone out, typing out a quick message to Hughie.

‘I’m going to kill you.’

Your phone pings before you can put it away, and you quickly turn it to silent before reading his reply.

‘You’re welcome ;)’

A warm hand on your bare legs startles you, the heat sinking into your blood and making it sizzle through your veins.

“You sure you’re alrigh’?” Butcher asks.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “just nervous.”

His thumb rubs soft circles on your thigh, sending shockwaves of desire right to your core.

“Nothin’ to be worried ‘bout, love, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes almost roll back in your head at the sound of his deep voice. He truly does not know how much he does have you, all of you.

“Thanks, Billy,” you whisper, your voice unsteady.

His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of car ride, and your pulse refuses to settle. Anxiety and desire tangle in your stomach, twisting it into loops and winding the knot in your core even tighter than it already was.

Eventually, the car stops, and you both thank the driver before climbing out. You’re not at the main entrance of the building, but there is still a ridiculous number of security guards standing around, and barriers preventing anyone without an invitation from getting within twenty feet of the door. Butcher wraps an arm around your waist to guide you forward, his warmth shielding you from the cold night air.

“By the way,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you look fuckin’ delectable in that dress.”

Another wave of heat washes through your veins, and it takes every ounce of focus for you to not stumble up the walkway. Two security guards step forward as you both flash your ID badges.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” the guard in front of Butcher says, scanning the barcodes on the badges, “welcome to Vought tower.”

The security guard in front of you is younger than the other, his blonde hair slicked back and his mouth etched into a sleazy smirk as his eyes rake up and down your body. He winks as he steps aside, and Butcher notices, his expression twisting into a scowl.

Just as you reach the doors, Butcher’s hand slips from your waist to your ass, squeezing it as he dips down and plants a hot kiss against your neck.

“Fuckin’ perve,” he mutters, before guiding you through the doors and down the corridor.

Your mouth is dry and your knees wobbly, but you move with practice and manage to appear cool and collected as you step into the huge event room. It’s extravagantly decorated with drapes of sheer fabric hanging from the high ceilings and a huge crystal chandelier in the centre. There are dozens of round tables, all set with fine silver-wear and obnoxious centrepieces made of red and white roses.

“Nice to know where all our money will be going if we decide to invest, darlin’,” Butcher says with a cheeky grin.

You giggle, letting him guide you through the clusters of elegantly dressed attendees toward where you assumed your table would be. You don’t remember ever finding out that piece of information, but you assume either Hughie or Annie told Butcher while you were still reeling about having to play ‘happy couple’ with him.

You listen carefully to snippets of conversations as you pass, waiting for anything interesting to catch your attention. Butcher stops at an empty table and pulls out a chair, you smile in thanks before taking a seat, quickly shuffling forward to avoid flashing everyone due to the ridiculously high split in your dress. Butcher notices though, chuckling to himself as he takes the chair beside you.

Before you can speak, he places a hand on your bare leg and squeezes, knocking every thought right out of your head.

You gasp, “I-It’s hot in here, is it hot in here?”

“I think that’s jus’ you, sweethear’,” he replies with a wink.

The room quickly fills with guests, conversations growing louder and drowning out the soft music playing over the speakers. Eventually, a woman takes the stage and the room falls quiet, listening to her lengthy introduction about how grateful Vought were for this night and how wonderful it is to be able to celebrate America’s finest superheroes. You can barely hear her though, your ears filled with the thrum of your pulse as Butcher’s fingers draw patterns on your leg. Your core aches, and you shift in your seat only to feel the dampness between your legs.

When the room erupts into applause, Butcher’s hand freezes, and you turn to see Homelander striding onto the stage, his hair blinding beneath the bright spotlight.

“Hey,” you whisper, placing a hand on top of Butcher’s, “you okay?”

He turns to you and his scowl relaxes, a soft smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah,” he replies, “I’m good.”

You slip your other hand beneath his, praying that he doesn’t notice how sweaty your palms are as you play with his fingers beneath the table. Although you had started in the hopes of calming him, you find your own sense of relaxation in his touch, focusing on the feeling of his skin as Homelander drawls on about Vought and The Seven.

After what feels like an eternity, he finishes his speech and the room cheers again. The woman returns to the microphone to announce the first course of food before music and conversation fills the air, and you turn your attention toward the centre of the table. Butcher grips your hand as you attempt to move it, entwining his fingers with yours and only allowing one of your hands free.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you two at one of these events before,” the woman beside you says.

She’s older but extremely elegant, with a pendant around her neck that you don’t doubt costs more money than you’ll ever get to see in your bank account.

“We’re new in town,” you reply, your voice very slightly lilted, “just moved from London’s east end, actually.”

“How charming,” she places a hand against her pendant, “I’m Lucille, and this is my husband, Jack.”

The podgy man beside her nods, his cheeks and nose bright red as he guzzles from his glass of champagne.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, “I’m Brooklyn, and this is my husband, William.”

You cast a glance at Butcher, only to find his eyes already locked on you, sparkling under the soft yellow lights. He has dopey smile on his lips and an emotion you can’t discern floating behind his gaze. Your stomach flips.

“You do make a charming, if you don’t mind my saying,” Lucille says.

You nod, your cheeks tingling with warmth, “Thank you.”

“So,” her husband, Jack, speaks up, his voice gruff, “what brings you here?”

You wait a beat for Butcher to reply, but he only watches you with that same expression.

“To be totally honest with you, I’m not sure,” you reply with a half-hearted laugh, “we have been thinking about investing, but I do wonder why a company of this immensity even needs investors.”

Jack chuckles, “You’ve got that right, seems greedy, doesn’t it?”

Lucille frowns at her husband before turning back to you, “We don’t do it for them, we do it for our grandkids, for their future. In the hopes that they will have a future, a safe one. This world is a nasty place.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” you sigh.

She nods, “That’s why it’s important to protect what you love, and hold on to it.”

Butcher’s hand squeezes yours, making your heart thump violently within your chest. You turn to him and meet his eyes, the fire in your veins blazing with a new intensity and heating every inch of your skin.

“I-If you’ll excuse me,” you stammer, pushing your chair back, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Butcher nods as you stand, and you can hear Lucille strike up new conversation while you weave between the tables toward the exit. Fresh air fills your lungs the moment you reach the foyer, and you pull your phone out of your bag, finding Hughie’s contact name with trembling fingers.

‘If I survive tonight, I WILL kill you.’

You hit send and turn toward the bathroom, almost stumbling when you see the same blonde security guard who had been stationed at the doors.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his slimy smirk loading the question with innuendo.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “thank you.”

He steps forward before you can move, “You sure? You look a little flustered. Perhaps a step outside might help? It does get awfully hot in here.”

The first spark of fear rattles up your spine.

“I appreciate that, but I just need to use the restroom,” you say.

His smirk doesn’t falter, “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’d be more than happy to escort you. Can’t have a stunning woman such as yourself wandering the streets alone.”

You force a polite smile onto your face as you step around him and hurry down the corridor toward the bathrooms. With one subtle glance over your shoulder, you see him watching, still standing at the end of the hall looking almost predatory.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, turning sharply into the first stall.

You close the toilet lid and sit on top if it, holding your head in your hands and counting your breaths. After a minute of trying to wrangle your wild thoughts, you decide that Butcher is either a fantastic actor or… in love with you. Your heart aches to agree with the latter, but your brain fights for reason, reminding you that you’re in an incredibly sensitive situation and he is only acting like this to keep up the façade.

You sigh and stand up, panic piercing your chest when you remember the pushy security guard waiting for you in the foyer. You find your phone again, tapping on Butcher’s name and quickly typing out a message.

‘Don’t freak out, I’m totally fine, but I need you to come get me. Foyer.’

You count to thirty before exiting the stall and washing your hands, pleasantly surprised by your reflection in the mirror, aside from the deep red splashed across your cheeks. You walk calmly out of the bathroom and down the corridor, ignoring the spike in your pulse when you see the back of the security guard still standing there.

He turns around at the sound of your footsteps, a smirk curling his lips. “Hey gorgeous, are you-”

“There you are,” Butcher calls, striding toward you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand splayed across your lower back as he presses your body against his. You don’t have time to respond before his lips capture yours. Your knees almost buckle, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as his mouth moves against yours and your mind goes completely blank.

He pulls back ever so slightly, his forehead still touching yours as he whispers, “I missed you.”

The feeling that bubbles in your chest makes your heart want to explode.

“Better get back in there,” he says, carefully releasing you.

You nod, unable to summon a single word as he looks at you like that, his pupils blown and his lips swollen from the kiss. He takes one of your hands in his and pulls you toward the doors before casting a menacing scowl over his shoulder at the security guard.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, his voice low.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Good.”

“Wait,” you tug on his hand before he can walk through the doors.

He frowns as you pull him to the side, into an alcove beneath the grand stairs that lead up to the private rooms above the event hall. He doesn’t resist when you press him against the wall, your hands on his chest and your body covering his. You look up at him through your thick lashes, and you can feel a soft groan rumble through his chest.

“I’m not sure we were convincing enough,” you whisper, before surging up and pressing your lips against his.

His hands hold the back of your head as he tilts his own to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and making you whimper. Your ears fill with the erratic thrum of your heart and the soft moans from the man in front of you, making you forget about everything that isn’t him. The fire rushing through your veins collects at your core, burning with need and making you clench as his hands wander down your back to cup your ass.

Time loses all meaning as you tangle your limbs with his, your body throbbing almost painfully. You have to stop yourself from clawing at his clothes, every desire within you craving to tear his suit apart and absolutely devour him.

Eventually, your lungs begin to burn, and the short gasps between kisses aren’t enough to appease them, so you pull away. His pupils are huge, consuming almost all of the colour in his eyes as he studies your face with a small smile.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth to tell him the same when someone clears their throat, and you both snap toward the sound. Hughie is standing a few feet away, his ID badge now on a lanyard around his neck and a notebook in his hand. His face looks pained, struggling to contain what would be a hysterical laugh if you weren’t all supposed to be undercover.

You stumble back from Butcher with wide eyes, your mouth trying to form words but no sound comes out.

Butcher straightens his jacket and clears his throat, “Sorry, mate, as you were.”

Hughie takes a deep breath and turns toward the room, and you have to commend him for his self-control.

Butcher looks down at you, “D’you think that was convincing enough?”

You giggle, “Maybe a little too convincing.”

He smirks and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping at the smeared lipstick. You know you must look like a wreck, your makeup smudged and your face blotchy and red, but you don’t care.

“Better get back in there before you get me arrested for public indecency,” he says, taking your hand in his.

You laugh again as he leads you back into the room, guiding you through the throngs of people and toward your table. Lucille greets you with a smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she surveys your flustered state. Butcher sits and shuffles his chair closer to yours before placing a hand on your thigh, much higher than where it was before.

“It’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Lucille whispers to you.

You frown, “What is?”

“That love and passion,” she replies with a grin. “He just adores you, I can tell. Don’t ever let go of what you two have, it’s rare.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s almost impossible. “I won’t.”

You’re not sure what you’ve missed but you assume it was Annie’s speech as the chatter around you is filled mostly with her name. The woman from before returns to the stage to rave some more, though you don’t bother trying to pay attention. Butcher is watching you with hungry eyes, filling your head with filthy thoughts and absolutely soaking your panties.

“So, Mrs. Williams,” he says, his voice low, “got any plans after this?”

“Not really,” you reply, “but I do think there’s a toy in the top drawer of my dresser calling my name.”

He swallows thickly, “Is that so?”

You nod, “I’m feeling a little wound up.”

“Perhaps I could help you unwind,” he whispers, “think I’d do a better job than that fuckin’ toy.”

“That’s a bold statement, are you sure?”

His fingers dig into your thighs with enough pressure to bruise, making your whole body jolt.

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

His hand slides up your thigh and you part your legs instinctively.

He smirks, “Good girl, so responsive.”

The burning in your core pulses, sending white hot waves of desire up your spine to cloud your mind. His fingers brush the crotch of your panties, barely a touch but enough to make you sigh softly.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, “so ready for my c-”

Cheers erupt throughout the room, drowning out his voice and startling you out of your stupor. His hand slides back down your leg and his smirk breaks into a devilish grin when you look at him with a scowl.

“Sorry, love,” he says as he retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, drawing steady breaths and trying to focus on anything but the man beside you. He chuckles at his phone before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Was that your mistress?” you tease.

He raises his brows, “Is that jealousy I’m hearin’?”

You slide your hand up his thigh, stopping just below his crotch to squeeze.

“You tell me, do I have anything to be jealous of?”

His voice is almost a groan, “Never.”

“Good.”

You slide your hand over his crotch, relishing in the way his whole body tenses before you pull back and fold your hands in your own lap. He sighs and takes a generous gulp from his glass of champagne, grimacing at the taste before leaning toward you with an arm over the back of your chair.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You turn to him, your face barely an inch from his, “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He leans back in his chair, his jaw tense but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You fond of that dress?” he asks casually.

“This old thing? Nah.”

He nods once, “Good, because I’m goin’ to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The woman sitting on his other side chokes on her mouthful of champagne, casting an abhorrent glare toward the two of you before completely turning her back. You have to swallow your laughter, averting your gaze to your lap as Butcher chuckles quietly.

You feel your purse vibrate at the same time that Butcher reaches for his pocket. You pull your phone out and check the messages, finding several from Hughie.

‘We’re here to WORK, not fornicate.’

‘I just spent five minutes laughing to myself in the toilet.’

‘The shows closing soon, we should leave before the crowds. Unless you and Butcher are busy ;)’

“D’you think you can make it out of here without your knees bucklin’, love?” Butcher asks with a smirk.

You tuck your phone away and twist in your chair so that your legs are toward him, parting them slowly. The red silk slides against your skin and the split opens with your legs. Butcher’s gaze drops, his whole face turning red as his eyes grow wide.

“I bet you a hundred dollars that you’re rock hard right now,” you whisper, leaning forward.

His jaw twitches as his gaze moves to your chest, and you smirk before twisting toward Lucille.

“We’re going to duck out before the masses, but it was lovely meeting you,” you say, “and best wishes to your grandkids. They’re lucky to have such incredible grandparents.”

She smiles at you, her eyes watery, “It was lovely meeting you too, dear.”

Her husband grumbles a farewell and you smile politely at the rest of the table who you hadn’t bothered to meet before turning back to Butcher expectantly. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the way he shifts in his seat.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he nods toward Lucille and Jack.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, drawing a hand out of his pocket and dropping two fifty dollar bills onto the table before stepping back. A grin breaks across your face as you snatch the money and stand up, taking Butcher’s outstretched hand and letting him lead you out of the room. You almost stumble at the pace at which he drags you through the crowds, not stopping until you’re through the foyer, out the doors, and a good distance from the building’s entrance.

“You owe me,” he growls, yanking on your wrist so that you fall into his arms.

“Take whatever you want,” you whisper, “I’m all yours.”

Another rumble vibrates through his chest, and the knot of anticipation in your stomach twists tighter.

“Good, you’re here,” Hughie calls, his feet slapping against the pavement as he jogs toward you.

Butcher’s hold goes slack, and you take a reluctant step away from him as MM and Kimiko follow a few paces behind Hughie. The cold air nips at your bare skin, making you shiver.

“Where’s Frenchie?” MM asks.

“On his way,” Hughie replies with his phone in his hand, “and the car is close.”

You startle at the feeling of material falling around your shoulders, and glance up as Butcher steps in front of you, his arms guiding his blazer over your trembling body. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your thick lashes as his lips curl into a soft smile. He moves back to stand at your side and wraps one arm around you, pulling you against side.

Hughie’s grin is so wide you want to slap it off his face.

“Not a word,” Butcher mutters.

Hughie chuckles, “I didn’t say anything.”

MM is clearly amused, and even Kimiko is giggling when Frenchie comes jogging up behind them.

“Did I miss something?” he asks, his brows raised as he looks from Butcher to you.

“Car’s here,” Hughie announces, and you all step toward the curb.

Hughie climbs in the front seat and greets the driver before texting rapidly on his phone, no doubt messaging Annie to let her know you were all safe and heading home. Kimiko and Frenchie shuffle toward the back of the van, and MM grumbles when neither you nor Butcher volunteer to join them. He squeezes between the two of them on the backseat before Butcher helps you into the van, and you take the single seat behind the passenger as Butcher falls into the last seat behind the driver.

You shrink into his jacket, enveloping yourself in his scent and relishing the warmth that his body had left behind. His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of the trip, studying your face, lingering on your lips, and moving up and down your body over and over again.

The drive feels much longer than it should, but the car finally pulls up outside your apartment block and you all pile out. Frenchie begins rambling about pieces of information he overheard, and MM fills in some of the gaps with snippets that he picked up in the press crowd. You almost feel guilty that you did nothing but dry hump Butcher and chat with an elderly rich woman, but that guilt washes away the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Bed, now,” Butcher tells you, tugging you by your hand toward the master bedroom.

“Y/N,” Hughie calls before you can disappear, “I thought your bedroom was that way.”

You turn to him with a frown, finding that stupid boyish grin stretched across his lips as the rest of the room watches you with amused faces.

“I’m not going to sleep, Hughie,” you say, before turning to Butcher, “I’m not tired.”

You catch a glimpse of his disgusted expression before you turn and rush into Butcher’s bedroom, followed closely by the man himself. His hand catches the collar the jacket and pulls it off of you as you step toward the bed.

“Not tired?” he asks, starting on the top button of his shirt.

You sit on the edge of the bed and kick your heels off. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

In two strides, he’s right in front of you, using his knee to nudge your legs apart so he can stand between them. His eyes trace up your bare leg, stopping where the red material reveals an inch of your black panties, and he sighs.

“So,” you say, leaning back with your hands on the bed, “what do I owe you?”

His self-control snaps and his hands yank at the opening of his shirt, ripping the rest of the buttons apart before he shrugs it off his shoulders. He straddles your hips and pushes you back, his lips assaulting your neck as you writhe beneath him.

“You said, I could take whatever fuckin’ I want,” he mutters against your skin.

You only moan in response and he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise before soothing it with his tongue.

“I’m gon’a take all of you,” he growls, “but first-”

He sits back suddenly, his fingers making quick work of his belt and the fastenings of his trousers.

“I made a promise to this dress,” he finishes, before gripping the material on either side of the slit and ripping it.

You gasp as the silk falls loose around your body, tearing right up to the neck and cleaving the dress apart entirely. His eyes rake over your bare skin as he licks his lips and drops onto his hands to hover over you, grinding his hips down and eliciting another moan from your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs, “you’re gon’a kill me with those pretty noises, sweethear’.”

“Butcher,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need you.”

His elbows buckle and his body falls on top of yours as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss.

“You have me,” he murmurs against your mouth, “you’ve got all of me.”

END.

[storiesforallfandoms]

can't get too close ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 3939

request?: no

description: in which they have feelings for one another, but he's afraid to admit it after losing his wife. instead, he decides to sabotage her dates, and she's tired of it

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of becca's death, a bit of angst, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in The Boys knew how Butcher felt about (Y/N). Hell, anyone with eyes knew. He was absolutely enamored with her, and she felt the same about him.

But, in true Butcher fashion, he was fucking up a good thing.

See, Butcher loved (Y/N), but before her he loved Becca. And even though he finally had closure on Becca, that closure came in the form of losing her. He was still hurting from her death when (Y/N) came along and took his breath away. He felt guilty at first for what he felt for (Y/N), but then that guilt quickly turned to realization that he couldn't have her. Not unless he wanted to put her in danger of Butcher's greatest enemy; Homelander.

That didn't stop him from making it so that no one else could have (Y/N) either.

Not that being a member of The Boys left much time for dates anyways, but on the rare times (Y/N) was able to get a date, they either mysteriously cancel last minute, or the date would go so terribly that there was definitely not going to be another one. She'd be getting frustrated with dating if she didn't know it was Butcher sabotaging everything for her.

(Y/N) wanted to go off on him for this. She wanted to tell him to either man up and take her out, or to leave her the fuck alone. She even thought about leaving The Boys and going far, far away, where Butcher would never find her and never fuck with her life again.

But Annie had other ideas.

(Y/N) was going undercover at a Vought event as an investor. The goal was to try and plant a bug on the new Vought CEO, Ashley Barrett. She wasn't as intimidating as Stan Edgar, according to Annie, so she should be easy to bug. Since (Y/N) was relatively new to the team, they figured it was safest for her to go into the event undercover, with Annie there in her Starlight persona as back up, and the rest of the tam listening from their van across the street.

Annie had picked out an outfit for (Y/N) to wear: a black, satin dress that hugged her body, had spaghetti straps and a V neck that showed off her cleavage, and a slit on the front for a little tasteful leg action.

Annie was beaming as she and (Y/N) looked at (Y/N) in the dress. "Oh yeah, he's going to want to tear this off you the second he sees you."

(Y/N) had to admit, she looked hot. Butcher was definitely going to think the same.

"Hey, are you guys ready to - whoa."

Hughie was at the door, staring at (Y/N) with wide eyes. She and Annie shared a smile before Annie spoke up, "Yes Hughie?"

He seemed to snap out of his trance upon hearing his girlfriend's voice. "We're ready to go."

"I'm ready," (Y/N) said. To Annie she asked, "When will you be there?"

"I have to go back to the Tower to get changed, then Homelander wants all of us to arrive together. I should be there shortly after you arrive."

(Y/N) nodded. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then went to follow Hughie out of the room.

All eyes were on her the moment she stepped out of the room. Kimiko was giving her the same smile Annie had, while the men were all looking at her the same way Hughie had. But the only person (Y/N) cared about was Butcher, who was letting his eyes rake over her body, from top to bottom then back up again. She felt a little pride rising in her and mentally reminded herself to thank Annie for the dress.

"We have to get going," M.M. said, finally breaking the moment between (Y/N) and Butcher. "The event is starting, and you don't want to be too fashionably late."

They piled into the van, sans Annie, and drove towards the event location. They went over the plan once more, but (Y/N) was only half paying attention. She kept glancing at Butcher. He had been silent the entire time, and he looked like he was trying hard not to look back at her.

They dropped her off a little ways away from the event so it didn't look suspicious if anyone saw her getting out of the van. She walked up to the event, nervousness finally setting in. What if the security saw through her fake ID? What if they found the bug in her clutch? What if one of the Supes saw her and somehow recognized her as a member of The Boys? The "what if"s were swirling in her head as she stepped up to the security and handed them her fake ID. She held back a sigh of relief as the security passed it back and waved her in.

"I'm in," she whispered to the mic she had been given to keep in contact with the others.

"Great. Barrett should be there by now. All you have to do is get access to her phone and plant the bug," M.M. said.

"Simple," (Y/N) muttered, sarcastically.

She surveyed the area until she found the familiar face she was looking for. Ashley was in conversation with another investor. She was smiling and nodding, but it was clear she wanted to get away from there as soon as possible.

"Eyes on Barrett," she said.

After some time, Ashley excused herself and started to walk towards (Y/N). She started reaching for her phone, which gave (Y/N) an idea.

"I'm going in."

She started towards Ashley. Ashley was distracted, so she didn't see (Y/N) moving close enough for the two of them to collide. As planned, the phone fell to the floor. (Y/N) quickly covered it with her foot.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" she said. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Ashley sighed in frustration, but plastered on a smile. "It's fine. No harm done."

She started walking away, not realizing she had left her phone. (Y/N) picked it up and slipped the bug from her clutch. Luckily, Ashley's phone case slipped easily from her phone, and (Y/N) was able to plant the bug in a few seconds flat. She put the phone case back in place and turned to where Ashley was still walking away.

"Wait!" she called. "You dropped your phone!"

Ashley turned on her heel as (Y/N) rushed to her to give her her phone. "God, thank you. I would've been so fucked if I lost this."

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. When Ashley walked away, she finally let her body relax. "Bug is planted."

"You work fast, mon amie," Frenchie commented.

"Well, Annie was right when she said Ashley was easier than Stan Edgar would've been." (Y/N) grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server. "I'll miss around and socialize for a bit to keep up the ruse, then I'll be out."

She downed the champagne and placed the empty glass on a nearby table.

"Whoa, slow down there. The night is still young."

(Y/N) jumped. Suddenly, stood beside her was a handsome young man, smiling a dazzling smile at her. He seemed to be just another investor, so she let herself relax just a little.

"I don't intend to be here long, so may as well take advantage of the free champagne while I can," she responded.

"I don't blame you. These things are all the same; sucking off Vought while they suck off their own heroes, then giving them money to do it again. I only come here because they have the finest scotch and the best food."

"I haven't gotten to try either yet."

"Well, let me introduce you to the best shit you've ever tasted."

He extended a hand to (Y/N). She knew it was potentially dangerous to let this go any further. Who knows how connected this guy was to Vought, and if she stayed for too long, she risked getting spotted by Homelander and having him figure out her true identity. But, she'd be lying if she said she didn't think this man was extremely attractive. And really, who was it going to hurt if she flirted with him for a bit? Worse case scenario, he gave her his number and she never actually called him. Best case scenario, she'd be waking up in his bed the next morning.

So, she took his hand. His smile was bright enough to light up the room as he led her towards the refreshments table.

"My name is Dan, by the way," he told her.

"Maggie," she responded, giving him the fake name they had agreed on when making her fake ID. If she was never going to see him again, may as well make sure he couldn't actually find her.

"(Y/N), what are you doing?" came a voice through her earpiece.

It took her just a second to realize it was Butcher.

When Dan turned away, she turned to whisper into her mic, "Having a bit of fun."

"No way, get out of there," Butcher commanded. "Don't let yourself be seen, it's too dangerous."

Instead of listening, she switched off her ear piece and put it into her clutch before Dan turned back to her.

"So," he said, "here is the spread."

"Spread" was almost an understatement. There was more food laid out than (Y/N) could ever dream of seeing in her life. It was almost insulting when she realized how many homeless and starving people Vought could be feeding with this amount of food, but they would probably toss the remains in the garbage at the end of the night. Almost, because right now all she wanted was to dig into that food.

"Can I get you anything from the bar?" Dan asked. "Maybe some of that scotch I mentioned?"

"No offense, Dan, but I would prefer to be with you if you're getting me a drink from the bar," she said. "A girl can't be too careful."

Dan chuckled and shrugged. "Hey, I can't be mad at that. There are plenty of creeps here, even in a room with the Earth's mightiest heroes."

Yeah, and the leader of that team is one of the worst, (Y/N) thought to herself. The irony.

They decided to get a plate each before (Y/N) followed Dan to the bar. They ordered a drink each, then took their servings to a nearby table that was empty.

"If only I brought a bigger purse," (Y/N) said. "I'd be taking some of that food home with me."

Dan laughed. "If I thought it would clear security, I'd bring a duffle bag for that reason. I mean, it's all being bought with our money anyways, right? We should be allowed to take as much home with us as we want to."

"Most people don't realize that this is where investor money is really going to," she said. "They think it's just going to the Supes to make sure they can save the day, but why would Supes need that shit? They have fucking powers. Money isn't going to make them any more or less super."

Dan picked up his glass and held it out to her. "Amen to that."

They tapped their glasses and took a sip together. (Y/N) had to admit, Dan was right. This was some of the finest scotch she had ever tasted, and usually she didn't like scotch at all.

"Do you ever wonder why we come to this shit when we don't even believe in it?" Dan asked.

(Y/N) tried not to meet his eye as she responded, "This is my first time."

It wasn't a total lie, but she was sure he would see right through her ruse if she looked at him.

"This is my third, and I'll tell you, it doesn't live up to any of the hype around it," he said. "I had a business partner the last two years, but he quit after last year's and no one else wanted to come tonight. I thought this thing was going to be unbearable on my own."

"I guess it's lucky you met me then."

His dazzling smile returned, taking (Y/N)'s breath away. "Very lucky."

It wouldn't be hard to convince Dan to leave the event early. That was definitely a positive, because (Y/N) didn't want to be here long after The Seven had arrived, which would probably be any minute now. She figured she would finish the drink that Dan was nice enough to buy for her, then she'd make the move to ask Dan to bring her back to his place. A little lean forward, letting the cleavage do it's thing, maybe brush her leg against his for good measure too. She knew he would definitely agree in a heartbeat.

But her plans were foiled when Dan glanced over her shoulder and his eyes suddenly went wide. (Y/N)'s brows knitted together in confusion before she looked over her shoulder and nearly choked at the sight.

Billy Butcher was storming through a Vought event, right towards the two of them.

"C'mon," he said to her, grabbing her arm and trying to yank her from her seat. "We're leaving."

"Hey buddy, let go of the lady," Dan said, standing from his seat.

"You stay the fuck out of this," Butcher growled.

"Butcher, what the fuck are you doing?!" (Y/N) whisper-shouted at him.

"I'm gettin' you out of here before you get yourself hurt," he responded.

"I am fine."

But Butcher wasn't listening. He grabbed her arm again and pulled her to stand. (Y/N) looked back at Dan, wishing she could somehow explain to him, but it was no use. Butcher was dragging her away, Dan watching with a bewildered expression on his face before he disappeared behind a crowd of people.

The security looked at each other then back at (Y/N) in concern as Butcher towed her past them. There was no use in getting their help. She was sure Butcher was about to murder anyone who stood in his way of getting her out of there.

"Let go of me you fucking prick!" she snapped, finally yanking her arm free of him. "You could've blown the entire goddamn operation!"

"Get in the van," he hissed at her.

She was tempted to refuse, to turn around and run back into the event to find Dan and beg him to take her home with him. But she knew that would only cause a scene, and the last thing any of them needed was someone from Vought recognizing Butcher and ruining their entire plan.

So, she got into the van. She climbed into the back and sat between Hughie and Kimiko. Hughie was looking at her with sympathy, while Kimiko took her hand and allowed (Y/N) to put her head on her shoulder.

"Tell Annie I'm with you guys," she told Hughie. He nodded and took his phone out to do just that.

The ride back to their office was silent and tense. (Y/N) could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her, but she wasn't about to let it out now. The rest of the team didn't do anything to her. She was sure they had tried to stop Butcher from storming in there, because anyone with a functioning brain knew that was a stupid fucking idea. Butcher was the outlet to her anger, and he was the one who was going to get the brunt of it eventually.

When they got back, they all went their separate ways without another word. (Y/N) told everyone she had to go back to the office to get something, but none of them really believed her. They knew she needed to let out some steam, and they were going to let her do just that.

She took the elevator up to their office. She was alone at first, which she was grateful for. She didn't think she could handle being in such a small space with Butcher by themselves. She may end up stopping the elevator and killing him with her bare hands. But it wasn't long after she stepped out of the elevator that it went back down to the first floor and picked up Butcher, bringing him back up into the room with her.

And she was waiting for him. The moment he stepped out, he was met with the sting of a slap across his cheek.

"You're a goddamn idiot," she hissed.

"I was trying to stop ya from gettin' yourself hurt, or worse," he argued.

"No you weren't, Butcher! Don't give me that fucking bullshit! You were fucking upset that I was flirting with another guy, so you had to break it up. Don't think that I don't know that's what you've been doing to all my dates for months now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She scoffed. "Oh yeah, right. I guess I'm just talking out of my ass about the fact that every date I've gone on for nearly a year now has ended terribly, or hasn't gone ahead at all."

"Maybe you're just goin' out with the wrong blokes."

(Y/N) buried her head in her hands and let out a frustrated groan. "I'm so sick of this, Billy. I'm sick of you ruining everything for me!"

That seemed to be enough to leave Butcher speechless, so she carried on.

"I thought we had something, or that we could have something. But you never made a move. And it killed me that you didn't, but I wasn't going to push anything if that's not how you felt. I tried to move on, but goddammit it you won't fucking let me! You're always prying on my dates, somehow threatening them into cancelling or making sure the date goes horribly wrong. If a man so much as looks at me, you make it your life mission to ruin him. And I'm so sick and tired of it! If you have feelings for me, just fucking tell me! Otherwise, leave me the fuck alone!"

"I can't!" Butcher snapped, startling her with his raised voice.

"What do you mean you can't?"

And for the first time since she had met him, (Y/N) saw Billy Butcher show an emotion other than anger and cockiness; vulnerability.

"I can't just tell you how I feel," he responded, "because if I do, you might get hurt. Or worse."

"Hurt by who?"

He gave her a look that answered the question for her.

She almost laughed, but managed to stop herself. "Butcher, I'm already a part of The Boys. What I did tonight put me in more danger than being your girlfriend ever would."

"No," Butcher said, shaking his head. "That's not true, is it? Because if I tell you how I feel, if we decided to make this an official thing between us, and he found out? You'd be his next target. There's no place you could go that would truly protect you, because he'd make it his life mission to find you."

He was telling the truth, and (Y/N) knew it. If there was one person in the world that Homelander wanted to hurt the most, it was Butcher. He didn't want to kill Butcher, because that would mean he no longer had an adversary. No, Homelander wanted to mess with Butcher. He wanted to hurt him again and again, to dig the knife in and keep turning it. He did it with Becca first, now with Ryan.

And if he ever found out about (Y/N), she would be his next target.

She stepped towards Butcher, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"What if I'm not afraid?"

Butcher scoffed. "Come off it."

"I'm serious! What if I'm not afraid of Homelander?"

"I'd say you're fuckin' stupid."

"Maybe I am! But I'd put it all at risk to be with you. You wanna know why? Because I know that you would protect me. You wouldn't let him within ten yards of me without standing in his way."

He scoffed. "Yeah, like I did with Becca?"

"Hey." She took his chin in her hand. "Becca was not your fault. You didn't know what happened to her until after she went missing, and then you tried for years to find her. Even when everyone else gave up on her, you didn't. And then you found her. You would've gotten her away from him if it weren't for Stormfront."

There were tears forming in his eyes, but (Y/N) could see he was trying so hard not to cry in front of her.

"I can't let that happen to you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I can't handle losing you, too."

"You won't."

"You can't promise that."

"And you can't promise I won't lose you. Especially when you're doing stupid shit like barging into a Vought event that is armed to the teeth with guards, and is hosting the entire Seven who would mostly kill you if Homelander gave the order."

Butcher chuckled. "Okay, that was definitely a stupid thing of me to do."

(Y/N) looked at him with faux shock. "Hold on, did the Billy Butcher just admit he was wrong? Someone call the press!"

His laugh sounded like music to her ears. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, the walls finally dropping between them.

"I don't think I could ever forgive myself if something happened to you because of me," he admitted.

"Well then, good thing it won't be your fault," she said. "If anything, it'll be mine. I was the one stupid enough to fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I've got to say, not a smart one on your part."

She giggled and leaned into him. Taking her lead, Butcher leaned closer and closed the space between them. When his lips touched hers, it was like fireworks were going off around them. Months of waiting for this moment, and it definitely turned out to be everything she expected. She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing her fingers to run through his dark hair. He was holding her so close to him, as if afraid that she would disappear if he let go. But she wasn't going anywhere, and that was a promise she intended on keeping.

When they finally broke apart, Butcher eyed her again. She finally remembered then that she was still in the black dress.

"I can't believe you were going to go home with that cunt," he said.

"He bought me fancy alcohol and made me feel desired," she responded with an innocent shrug. "Can you blame a girl?"

"Yes I can, because he was a right twat and didn't deserve to be the one to take this dress off of ya."

"Because that's your job?"

And just like that, the signature Butcher grin was back on his face. That stupid fucking grin, oh how she loved it.

"Well, I wasn't going to say it outright, but now that you've mentioned it yourself."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and kissed Butcher again. "Then take me back to your place so you can take it off of me."

She exclaimed as Butcher suddenly picked her up and started carrying her to the elevator. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Too late!"

[eclecticqueennerd]

Bad Idea Right?

*inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea Right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo.

*Language, smut, violence, breakup, alcohol consumption* Billy Butcher x reader

It’s been a few months since you left the boys. The direction Butcher was leading the group was a surefire plan to get you all killed and you wanted nothing to do with it. Convincing Butcher to take a moment to mull plans over instead of going in guns blazing was a tall order, one that ultimately made you decide that a relationship with him was not worth your life. You tried to convince the rest of the gang to leave but all that got you was a bunch of noes and a broken heart. Butcher, even with all his asshole ways, held your heart in his hand and it hurt to walk away from him. At least you have Annie keeping you company.

-Wyd 2nite?

Tearing your eyes away from the TV as you lounged on the dingy bed of your motel room Grace Mallory stashed you in, you typed out your response to Annie.

-nm, u?

-wanna meet up w Kimiko n go out?

-yass!

You and Annie meet up with Kimiko just outside of a nightclub. After you gather and exchange hugs, you go in and begin drinking and dancing to the heavy bass playing on the stereo. Multicolored lights flash all around you as you allow yourself to succumb to the party atmosphere. After the song ends, the three of you spot a booth off in the corner of the club and make your way there, stopping at the bar to refill your drinks. The three of you catch up. Annie was still in Vought Tower, Kimiko still working with Frenchie and The Boys. Kimiko gives a recount of how everyone else was doing in the group, including Butcher.

‘He really misses you.’ Kimiko signs. ‘We all really miss you. You should come back.’ You shake your head.

“No, I think it’s better for me to stay away. Butchers gonna get someone killed.” You could feel vibration coming from your phone in the pocket of your dress. Lifting it in front of your blurry eyes you blink a few times to clear them. You try to make out the name but it’s an unknown number, you declined the call.

“Besides, he probably hates me now.” Vibration came from your phone again. *Decline* Another call from the unknown number.

“He doesn’t hate you, y/n. I don’t think-” Annie begins to say but then you interject,

“I’m sorry, I gotta take this. This asshole keeps calling me.” Walking out of the club, you answer the call and before you can talk, you hear a gruff voice on the other line,

“Y/n?” You’d recognize that voice from anywhere. The last time you heard him speak was four months ago when you told him you were breaking up with him.

“Y/n, you there?”

“Butcher?”

“I need your help.”

“What happened?”

“I’m hurting real bad. I need you to come help me.”

“If you’re really that hurt-”

“Y/n, please.” You hear the desperation in his voice. He never begs for anything; he must be down bad. You let out an exasperated sigh and then *click*.

“Butcher? Billy?” You look at the phone screen and see that the call has ended. *ping* An address pops up on your phone. You sigh again. Tapping the edge of your phone on your forehead in frustration, you make your decision. You meet up with Annie and Kimiko and tell them that you’ll catch up with them later, you’ve got something you have to deal with. Rather, someone. But you didn’t dare tell them that.

Hailing a cab and telling the driver the address, you kept thinking this was not a good idea. From what you heard from the gang; Butcher did not take the breakup well. He broke things, drank more, and pushed everyone to their breaking point. MM had to leave the group to regain his sanity, only to return shortly after leaving. Kimiko recounted that Butcher was better when you were around. So why the hell was he calling you if you caused him so much pain? Watching the progression of your map marker reach its destination on Google Maps, your heart began to beat harder in your chest. The car stopped outside of a tall brick building. Tipping the cab driver you made your way in, texting Butcher and asking which level and unit he was in.

Trekking up the steps, heart pounding in your chest, the blurriness in your eyes from the booze now cleared, you made your way to his door. *knock, knock, knock* The door swung open, and across the threshold was Billy Butcher. Still the same handsome man you turned to putty for not too long ago. He stood before you shirtless, clad in green sweatpants. Your mouth went dry, and the screaming thoughts in your brain telling you to march right back down those steps ceased. The two of you just stood there, staring at each other.

“You uhh… gonna let me in or what?” Butcher blinks and then makes an opening for you to slip through. Hearing the soft click of the door shut behind you, you take in the emptiness of his studio apartment. The only furniture in the room was a pull-out bed with tangled sheets, coffee table covered in empty alcohol bottles and a box TV on a beat-up nightstand. You feel guilty for a moment as when the two of you were together, the apartment you lived in never got to this state.

“You said you were hurt?” You said as you turned around to face Butcher. He just stands there, holding a sweating beer bottle in his hand, eyes scanning you up and down. His eyes settle on your cleavage. You snap your fingers to get his attention. It works.

“What did you need help with?” Butcher explains that he needed to be patched up on his back. Turning him around you see that it’s scratches with some gravel lodged in the deeper lacerations. Most of the wounds were superficial, and none of them needed sutures.

“Jesus what did you do tonight, Butcher?”

“Got in a tussle. You gon help me or not?”

“Yeah, turn around.” As you begin cleaning the wounds on Butcher's back, your thoughts then return telling you that you should not be here and you should have gotten MM to clean his back up. After using a tweezer to pull out the small bits of gravel from his back, you grabbed a paper towel and doused it with hydrogen peroxide.

“This is gonna sting.” Before you got a reply out of him, Butcher hissed at the light dabbing you placed on his wounds with the paper towel. As he hissed, you saw the muscles in Butcher's back tense, reminding you of the times he had you on your back and was fucking up into you, head cradled in the crook of your neck, giving you a perfect view of his shoulders and back. You shake your head.

“Okay all done. Be more careful next time.” Throwing the used items in the trash bag and make your way to the bathroom to wash your hands in the bathroom sink. Splashing cold water on your face, makeup be damned, attempting to slow down the growing desire in your core. Walking out of the bathroom, you spot a Hawaiian shirt on the floor, torn and bloody. You look down to inspect it.

“Aw man, this was the shirt I gave you for your birthday. It’s fucked.” You see Butcher pouring two glasses of amber-colored liquor, and he offers you a glass.

“My favorite shirt.” He replies. You shake your head to decline the drink, but Butcher, being who he is, insists. Yanking the glass out of his hand and downing the amber liquid in one gulp, you set the glass down on the counter. You give him a brief goodbye and walk toward the door. Butcher grabs your wrist; you turn and see a silent plea in his eyes. Your brain screaming at you to fly down those steps and out of the building, your heart telling you to be in his arms again. He’s not good for you, he’ll get you killed.

Fuck it, it's fine. You pull Butcher down into a feverish kiss. His mouth met yours with as much passion. You both shuffle to the edge of the pull-out bed, and you push Butcher backward. He falls back easily, letting you take the lead. You go to remove your dress when Butcher places his hands on yours and assists you in pulling it over your head. Once the garment was removed, you straddle Butcher and continue kissing him with the same fiery passion as before, his hands roaming all over your exposed form. You sit up and rock your hips against his, generating some friction for your needy core. Locking eyes with him, you see that Butcher's hazel iris is now covered by his pupils, eyes entirely covered in black. After a few more hip gyrations, Butcher pulls you back down to kiss you. He poured everything into the kiss, tongues, and teeth clashing. You pull away from Butcher and help him lower his sweatpants. Once free, you grab ahold of his throbbing cock and pump it a few times then line it up to your core, rubbing the tip along your slit. Butcher moans. As you sank down on him, you feel your cunt stretch to take all of him in. Once at full hilt, you take a moment to pause to get used to feeling him inside you again. Butcher sat up and rubbed your cheek with his thumb, wiping a few tears you didn’t realize were falling.

“I’ve missed you luv.” Butcher said as he stared into your eyes. It was as if he was looking into your soul, searching for something. You leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on his lips as you began moving yourself on his cock. Butcher groaned, wrapping one hand around the back of your head and wrapped the other around your waist. The two of you moved in sync, you grind your hips to meet his light thrusts, gasps and moans filling the apartment. You feel the coil in your belly begin to tighten, Butcher felt it too. He then flips the two of you over to where you’re lying on your back and he’s positioned above you, grabbing your legs to wrap around his waist. He buried his head in the crook of your neck as he began to quicken his pace.

“Billy, don’t’ stop… I’m close.” You pant. Butcher takes his right hand and begins to rub circles around your clit, which pushed you over the edge. Butcher follows shortly after, spilling his cum into you with a roar. The two of you lay on the bed, fighting to catch your breath. After a few moments, you get up from the bed to get dressed. Looking for your dress under the bed, Butcher reaches his hand out and gently places it on top of yours. You look up at him and he says,

“Stay with me.” The internal struggle was real at this moment. Your brain tells you to leave, that this man was no good, but you loved Butcher. In the end, your heart won the battle, and you climbed in next to Butcher, snuggling up next to his side. Butcher whispered sweet nothings into your ear, promising you all the things that he said he would do from now on, and that he loved you. Silence fell between you. Just before Butcher fell asleep, you said,

“You know, Annie was proud of me for getting out. She’s gonna be pissed to hear that we’re back together.” Butcher turns his head to look at you.

“What’re you gonna tell her?”

“Oh, I dunno… maybe that I tripped and fell into your bed.” the two of you chuckle before falling into a restful sleep.

[bowieandqueen11]

Dating Billy Butcher Would Include...

Request: Hello there! Can I please request some headcanons about dating Billy Butcher (The Boys), please? Thank you so much!!

Oooh yay my first the Boys request! Of course I can my sweets! Just an FYI to anyone reading that at this point in time I’m only on season one (although I managed to see some spoilers about Lenny so I thought I’d throw a bit of that in too), so sorry if this is a bit OOC!

Warning: slight NSFW, swearing. strong language, mentions of drinking, mentions of nightmares and mentions of injuries!

(I do not own The Boys or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @supeshunter.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Billy Butcher is... well, he’s Billy Butcher, ain’t he? Even though he looks like a man with an incredibly tough exterior, and even though he’ll try his damn hardest to convince you that his interior is even worse, there’s a stubborn but beating heart in there. Lying behind all those layers of trauma, and fury; between the hurt and fear lies so much bleeding love for you that Billy Butcher has no idea how to cope with it at all.

He’s 100% the type of man to force you to wear his lovely and grimy trench coat when the two of you decide to brave out into the streets of New York. Because he’s so, so suspicious of everyone that even fringes his line of sight, he keeps his sunglasses on but shuffles off his coat as soon as you’re out the door and wraps it tight around your shoulders. He only grunts in satisfaction when you look like a dormouse peeking out from the flimsy material that smells so much of ale, ash, and a hint of amber toffee. He tucks you against his hip before he starts walking, snaking an arm underneath the side of the coat and spreading his fingers protectively over your hip as he begins spouting off about his newest reason to hate the Supes.

You spend far too much of your time standing between Billy Butcher’s knees, cradling his face between the brackets of your arms as you patch up his face after a fight. He’s a touchy - but also surprisingly sweet dumbass, and so usually just a chest-rumbling, throaty groan is the only warning you’ll have before he pulls you down. His hands position your thighs until they’re securely wrapped around his jean-clad hips, thumbs digging into your pelvis as he positions you onto his lap. Every time you try to ignore the feeling of his fingers squeezing into your skin, or the way he tries to tease you by groaning and moving up his legs until they brush more impatiently against you, he always manages to bring your attention right back to him. Even though you’re trying your best to thread a needle and stop his face from pouring scarlet all over the sofa, he keeps nipping your fingers with his teeth and chasing your hands with his lips, until eventually he grows too impatient and just straight up hitches you up. Even though you’re laughing at this point and thumping the hard back of his shoulder to try and get him to stop, you’re more than delighted when you can feel your back hit the wall and his left knee come up to keep your bottom lifted up in the air against his waistline.

‘Hey, you pull that stich on your lips, I’m going to shove the needle up your ass until it pokes out your mouth, and you can fix it then yourself.’

‘Is ‘at a threat, love, or a promise?’

Poor Hughie has to awkwardly scramble away from the two of you so often. So many times lmao the poor man. He’ll come home late after his date at the bowling alley with Annie, having been kind enough to pick up some takeout and actually get Butcher to eat something that isn’t popcorn or bagged sweets. He stops dead in his tracks and inhales sharply when he spots the broad expanse of Billy’s back pressed up against you in the living room, his hands leaving bruises against your side as he holds you up to the cracking wall. Your giggles ring out every time you feel the brush of his beard against your pulse point; every time you feel his wet tongue run out pridefully over the hickeys he’s leaving against your neck, or the surprising plushness of his lips as they map out a careful trail from the dip of your neck down towards your collar bone, grounding himself against you with each kiss. Even the sound of the door slamming and Hughie’s footsteps running away isn’t enough to shame him into stopping anytime soon.

(The beard rashes are 100% worth it - he’s so intoxicating and body worshipping its crazy.)

The two of you often go out for drinks after a long day of work at a nearby pub, and also to get a break from Frenchie and Mother Milk talking shite to each other at the safe house. It’s the happiest he can ever remember himself feeling. Although he’s not massively into public PDA, he does like to hold your hand over the table, just so he can ground himself by rubbing his thumb over his knuckles and remind himself that you’re truly alright. When he gets a little tipsier, he keeps on leaning over his bar stool and kissing your temples with a dopey, love-struck grin on his face - looking over at you from the side of his eye as if he’s still in disbelief that somehow, after everything he’s lost, he could still end up the luckiest man in the world.

You do have to stop him from snarling and nearly snapping at any person who tries to look too fervently your way though.

‘Eyes off, Sir Cuntalot.’

Billy, you can’t keep calling Hughie that, he’s your best friend. Also he just wanted to know if we wanted some nachos.’

Whenever you call him out just... cue *indistinct grumbling noises and reluctant acceptance*, because he doesn’t want to fight with you. 

He wakes up a lot during the night. The man basically never slept before he met you. Although he can get to sleep - mainly through the feel of your head resting heavily on his chest, and by gazing down at you with the milky moonlight reflecting a softness that he’ll never let escape through his harsh cracks during the day, he’ll always be awake again in a couple of hours. Although he’s so gentle when he tries to roll your arm off him and back down onto the mattress, it only take a few minutes for the cold to hit and for you to wake up. When you see him sitting up on the edge of the bed, doubled over as if the world was crushing an unbearable weight upon his shoulders and head heaving in his hands, it only takes you a second to slide over to him. You wrap your arms around his chest, locking tight around his arms as you lean over his back and swing your legs to sit beside his own, knowing he’s had another nightmare about Lenny. Although he finds it hard to fully let go and just allow himself to weep out all the regret, he does finally give in to the hand that cups the side of his cheek and falls down to half-lie on your shoulder. You just stay there, soothingly stroking circles against the freckles of his back as you wait for the sniffling to slow.

If you stroll out to grab some cereal in the morning wearing one of Butcher’s Hawaiian t-shirts that he left in a heap on the bedroom floor... well, let’s just say that Mother’s Milk gets really disgruntled when Billy pounces on you and immediately tries to tear it off.

But my dude... when he looks at you... that look in his eyes. That devotion, that awe, the soft features and smile that tickles his lips. You constantly catch him leaning against the wall during meetings, looking over at you while other members of the Boys are talking, with his arms crossed over his chest and a smile bright enough to melt steel - like you’re the most important thing in the world. And to him, you are. That’s one thing he’s not afraid to admit.

But in the end, my man sees himself as just a ball of resentment and regret. He’s terrified that he’s allowed himself to so comfortably fall into this, to slip into love so easily again, because he’s a lost cause. He can’t bear to lose you too, to drag you down into the depths of hell he's so exquisitely managed to saunter into, and so he battles with his own demons every day because he knows in his gut that this is worth it. Loving you, is worth everything. You are worth fighting every bit of evil in the world for, and so he decides, after the first date, that he’s never going to give this up. The Supes will have to cut his cold, dead heart out of his chest in order to tear it away from your possession.

[staplegrapes]

Mystery Guardian (Éomer Éadig x Reader)

Description: After the battle, you are wounded. You were not supposed to be here. Therefore, you would simply swipe some healing supplies and be on your way. Yet a certain newfound king would not allow it.

Word Count: 1.4k

TW: Canon-typical depictions of violence, blood and battle

A/N: Reader is written as gender neutral, but it is implied for some reason or another they were not supposed to be at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

✨Gender Neutral Reader✨

It was risky being here, you were well acquainted with that thought given that it ran through your head with every passing second. Though the battle had ended in an apparent victory much blood had been spilled. Scores of men flooded back towards the Houses of Healing and you found yourself contemplating going with them.

You weren't bleeding profusely or had any limbs hanging on by a thread, but you knew if you did not see your wounds tended to, you would likely end up quite ill. Seeing as you had managed to not perish in battle, you thought it may be of interest to not succumb to something much more easily avoided than a blade swinging at our face. Yet, there was the added difficulty of the fact you were not supposed to be in this battle. Your presence unveiled from your helmet would turn heads undoubtedly.

You had a simple plan. Keep your head down and armor on as you weave through the masses of injured and only take what you needed to avoid infection. Many more were in a state much worse than yours. As soon as possible, you make a hasty exit and find a safer spot.

You found it relatively easy to make it within the doors, many men were also still fully suited in their armor. The houses were large, yet the thralls of men easily overtook the resources. The hoards pushed you further into building. The stone archways seemed to get narrower the further you walked, more or less shuffled in further. After some time you noticed a free table with what appeared to be some clean bandages and a wound solution. Quickly, you snagged both and tried to make an exit, but the masses pushed you further forward. With some small shuffling, you finally made it out of the mainstream. Taking a breath to orient yourself you caught a glimpse of a pair of broad and familiar shoulders. Éomer was stooped over another, to which it shocked you to see the angelic face of Éowyn void of any life.

It was of no surprise to you she had also found the courage to fight despite the opposition to do so. While you did not know her plan, you knew you both had done so to protect your people. Still, she laid dead and your heart lurched having grown up with her and Éomer. Her bravery was overshadowed by the loss of her. As your gaze widened you noticed Aragon standing over her, while he was concerned he did not appear to mourn her. You saw a look of hope on Éomer's face.

Watching for several moments, you watched as Aragorn tended to her. You saw Éomer's shoulders relax and somehow you knew, she would be alright.

"Where did you get that?" a healer asked you, pointing to the healing supplies in your arms and in that moment you bolted down the hallway back towards the door. Maybe that had not been the most dignified way to deal with it, but your mind grew hazy and you began to rely on instinct rather than intuition. You hastily walked outside the walls and found yourself beginning to walk with no true direction in mind. The sparkle of a small stream down a steep slope caught your eye.

The small stream seemed to be the only place you would be able to tend to yourself safely. So that is what you did, carefully shuffling down the steep grassy slope towards the small glistening stream below. Your breath began to grow weaker as well as your vision did, the surge of battle wore off as the wear from battle grew. Taking a steadying breath, you bent down to the stream and began to dampen the cloth with the clean water.

It was a slow process, given your weakened state, but you made progress. Washing the injuries, keeping them clean with the solution and the water, wrapping them in the bandages and moving onto the next. It was quite awhile as you began to grow near the end of your needs but a voice startled you from your silent pursuit.

"You'd find better aid within the walls of Healing Houses, go there to tend to- oh."

You knew that voice anywhere and given the abrupt ending to his sentence supposedly he knew the back of your head anywhere.

Éomer.

How had you not heard him sneak up behind you?

"I shall be fine, your grace." you timidly turn towards him, ironically, given your fierce demeanor in battle not long ago.

"Whatever have you done? are you hurt badly?" His eyes were wild with concern as he quickly descended down the embankment. You watched him stumble just as you did, likely the most uncoordinated you had ever seen him be in all your years of knowing him.

"I trust Éowyn is alright?" you whisper, still deflecting his concern.

"Y-yes, Aragorn... she'll wake soon." He knelt alongside of you, "Are you hurt?"

"I'll be fine, I'm sorry about your uncle." You wince as you wrap your forearm tightly. He gently places his hand over yours.

"It is better for it to be loose."

You nodded silently as he rewrapped your arm.

A silence takes over the air between you two. It was comfortable in some odd way, given that you had both lived through the battle you were unsure of the outcome.

"It was you." he says in a breath.

"I do not know what you are talking about," you mutter through gritted teeth as you feel him start to clean another spot.

"You're the one who saved me when I had a blade to my neck." He keeps his eyes locked on your shoulder where he continues to clean.

"That could have been anyone." you shrug, looking away.

"If it was not you, then say so." You feel his eyes burning into the side of your head.

You remained silent. He sighs as he leans back on his knees.

"That tells me all." He states. "Why are you here?"

"Others needed to be attended to. I can manage myself."

"No, you that is not what I mean." He gently pulls your chin for you to face him. You sigh.

"You think I a coward?" you ask with a harsh tone much more intense than you had originally planned.

"What? No. In what tone did I-" You see him startled by your change in inflection.

"Then how shall I not defend my people as well as you?" You ask, dropping your tone to a softer, yet defending clarity.

"My job is to defend for you." He says softly, tilting his gaze.

"Well that does not sit well with me. I could not bear the thought of you dead on my account." You shake your head.

"It sits well with me." He says, "but I am most appreciative to breathe another breath granted by you, though I'd prefer it not be at the risk of your safety."

"We will have to agree to disagree on that matter." You turn back to him with a small smile. You understand his chivalry and nobility, yet you truly would never want to be the reason he didn't come home one day.

"Very well then, you feel well enough to walk? Let us return to the Healing Houses, Éowyn will wake soon."

"Will it not look strange for me to be present? Some may be opposed."

"And then they will have to answer to the King, for who is indebted to you with a life debt." he said as he helped you stand up and navigate up the bank.

It never occurred to you till now. Éomer is to be king.

"You may question that, I have more or less stolen the supplies from the houses that I used."

He chuckles, "I'm certain it can be remedied." He kept a solid and stabilizing hand along your arm as you walked back towards the Healing Houses.

"I can stay outside if that is better, give you time with Éowyn." but his grip only tightened.

"Stay by my side, I lost my uncle and nearly lost two of the dearest people in my life, I intend not to repeat that in anytime in my rule." he looked down to you with a protective look in his eye. Though it had been a grim day, you saw light beginning to shine from behind the clouds.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[enchantedflameandflower]

Hi ! Love your Billy content 🫠🫠 can I ask if you could write one where Billy and reader go out shopping together and it starts simple, they hold hand but then reader ask billy to hold her from behind as they walk and she starts teasing him, dry humping and then he put his fingers close to her mouth and she licks them etc etc

Hiiiiiiiiii! Once again, I don’t think I’m great at asks but I do love to try 🫠 Hopefully this is kind of somewhat close and at least a little enjoyable. Let me know!

Billy Butcher Masterlist

Never Enough

Billy x Reader

“Fuck!” you exclaimed under your breath, twisting your body around in ways you had never even tried before to attempt to tug on the very much stuck zipper at the back of your dress.

“Butcher?” you whisper-shouted, hoping he was still waiting just outside the dressing room door, but of course there was no answer.

You groaned to yourself. This dress was way too tight and you were all but bursting out of it. There was no way in hell you were going out into the store looking like this but you were starting to feel claustrophobic.

Taking a breath, or - well - trying to, you cracked open the dressing room door and peeked out. No one. “Billy!” you whisper-shouted again and thank fuck he appeared from around the corner. “My zipper is stuck, can you help me?”

He smirked and slipped in with you, locking the door behind him. “That code for somethin’ love?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, it’s actually stuck.”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathed as he caught sight of you, “give me a warnin’ next time…” his hazel eyes darkened as his gaze swept over your body.

All you could do was huff as you fidgeted underneath the weight of his hot gaze, equal parts uncomfortable in the stupid dress and turned on by the way he was looking at you. Thankfully he noticed.

“Aye, turn ‘round,” he finally said, but you did not miss the way his eyes continued to linger on your cleavage before you did.

“You gettin’ this one?” He tried to ask non-chalantly as he worked at the zipper.

“Nuh-uh,” you muttered. “I’ll just take that black one.” You needed something for an assignment tomorrow and you were tired of shopping. “I like clothes that come off easy. In case of an emergency.”

He gave a low chuckle. “Fair point, love. There got it.”

He drew the zipper down and you took an entirely relieved full breath. “Thank God,” you sighed.

“You’re welcome,” he grinned.

“Haha,” you answered, “now get out.”

“Not even grateful…” he tsked, as you pushed him out.

***

Finally, shopping bag in hand, you made your way out of the store. Butcher seemed in an odd mood, but then both of you had been working day and night for a month. You realized this was the first time you’d been alone together (and not exhausted) in a couple weeks. And well, that dress had seemed to do something to him.

The sidewalk was crowded and Billy grabbed your hand the first time he saw some random guy glance in your direction. As you both slowed to move through a throng of people he let go of your hand to slide his hand over your lower back, keeping you close and steady. When you started walking again, his hand dipped down over your ass for a moment before he curled his hand possessively around your waist.

It wasn’t like him to be like this out in public, or around anyone really, but it was kind of nice and you smiled to yourself. “You’re handsy tonight,” you murmured for only him to hear when the two of you stopped at a corner waiting for the light to change.

He leaned close then, and you felt him pressing against you, his voice low and whisper soft against the shell of your ear. “I keep thinkin’ about your tits, soft and full spillin’ outta that dress. How they’d look in my hands after I ripped the dress off you. Those desperate, needy little sounds you make…”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. That was not what you had been expecting. You tilted your head to look back at him. His eyes were all glittering fire. “Oh?”

He smirked, and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you right here on the crowded sidewalk but he stopped an inch from your mouth. “Light’s green, love.”

“What?”

He nodded his head and you realized everyone was crossing. You shook your head to clear it and forced yourself to focus on getting back to your apartment. Damn him, but two could play that game.

As soon as you were alone in the elevator, he tugged you closer, but you were ready. Arching your back just a little, you pressed back against him. He was tall, but if you stretched you could nestle your ass back against him just where he liked it.

A harsh, low breath escaped him and his big hand caught your hip, holding you closer. It was only a second before you could feel his cock swelling and you smiled to yourself. “Okay back there?” you asked in a light voice.

“Oh, I’m bloody great, love…”

His other hand snaked around your waist and pressed against your stomach, keeping you close. You couldn’t help yourself, wriggling against his growing cock and he tugged you closer, pressing you tight. “Fuck, it’s been too long.”

The door to the elevator opened and it was all you could do to get through it. You had your apartment door open in half a second and then he had you pinned against the counter.

“It’s probably a good thing I didn’t get that dress or we’d never make it through the job tomorrow,” you laughed.

“Aye,” his hand wrapped possessively around you waist. “I might go back and get it just for me though…”

You laughed but then his mouth was on yours, hot and just a little demanding. He was fully hard now, and everything work and stress and life had made you forget the past few weeks was reawakened.

You slid your hand between the two of you but he caught your wrist before you could reach your prize. “Oi. Not yet,” he rumbled. “Me first.”

With his other hand, he reached up to flick open the top buttons of your shirt, his eyes eager and heated, but you weren’t one to give in.

You grabbed his hand, even while he still held your other, and drew two of his fingers into your mouth, sucking softly before letting them go again. “Please?” You looked up at him through your lashes, letting your tongue flick against his fingertips.

His answer was only a low growl and with the look in his eyes you knew you were in trouble. But you couldn’t wait.

*.*.*.*

Please let me know if you like! I have two more asks I will be doing as soon as I can. A comment or reblog means more than anything!

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2023-11-05

Main

Leonard (Bones) McCoy x Reader

Seasonal

Leonard 'Bones' McCoy x Reader: Autumn Edition￨ Leonard (Bones) McCoy x Reader: Winter Edition (Coming Winter 2023)

See Also: Navigation | Private T.B.R.

[avastrasposts]

Sunday smut

A bit earlier today, please enjoy your Sunday afternoon Billy Butcher smut.

[beyoursbb]

€uro Tra$h Series: Dipped in $ugar (Part 3 - final)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x You (Reader) || Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 1.9k || Link to Part 1 and Link to Part 2 (Not necessary to read to understand Part 3, but here if you want more! Timeline for this work is Season 1 btw).

Summary: Just morning sex with Butcher lol.

Author’s Note: Wrote this shorter cuz I meant to get this out a long while ago, whoops! You can let me know how it was! Likes, dislikes, etc. I love and appreciate feedback in the comments. This 3-part scenario is now complete. @a-rogue-tiddy-bot thought you might want to be tagged!

Warnings: swearing, teasing, vaginal fingering, implied p in v sex, sugar daddy / daddy kink (the name daddy is used 1 time, and a lil talk of those dynamics), age gap (implied, not specified), little bit of praise, begging

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up gradually, each of your senses gathering intel on your surroundings to remind you of where you were. Sunlight streamed through the tiny crack in the motel’s curtains, glinting off the weapon on the table. The bed sheets by your nose still had the scent of laundry detergent despite last night’s action. The faint snoring of the man behind you matched the warm body cuddled up to your backside, and the arm under your neck that you were using as a pillow. You could feel the heat radiating off Billy’s chest and the weight of his other arm hanging over your midsection, as well as something not-so-soft pressing against your butt. 

You stretched your hand back to stroke his neck. “Billy?” you whispered. 

No response. 

“Billy,” you said louder, lightly tugging on his hair. 

He hummed, keeping his eyes closed. 

You took a breath, then gave an experimental shift backwards into his crotch.

“Oi. Morning sunshine,” he mumbled into your hair, his hand already cupping between your legs.

You giggled at how that got his attention. “Morning, Billy.”

“When’d you put these on?” he complained softly, playing with the waistband of your bottoms.

“When I got up in the middle of the night.”

If you thought Butcher’s regular deep voice was sexy, you were wholly unprepared to face this gravelly tone as he woke up. Especially when it was demanding your naked body again. 

“Well fucking take ‘em off, will ya?” 

Billy hardly gave you a moment to comply before shoving his hand in your underwear. He immediately found your clit, but his touch was gentle, and worked tantalizingly slow, tracing lazy circles. Your legs didn’t need much coaxing to open up as Billy eagerly pushed his own thigh between them and hooked yours around it while planting soft kisses to your neck. His beard tickled your jawline, and you sighed contentedly, melting into the sensation with a slight turn of your head toward him. You closed your eyes.

If this was how snug morning sex with Billy could be, you hoped he would let you linger more frequently. You guessed being half asleep was why his demeanor had taken a sharp left turn and a whole 180 flip to be so…calm. Not that you ever minded his roughness. But this right now was a different experience, and it was nice. You were used to trying to help Butcher relax as much as possible during your visits, but there is only so many times a guy can fuck the stress out of his system before needing to face his stressors head-on, like a well-adjusted adult. You knew an unstable, emotionally unavailable man when you saw one; Butcher didn’t have time for that. His mind was always preoccupied, his actions always in a hustle to return to whatever was demanding his attention before you arrived. Hence, why you were surprised he wasn’t already fucking you into the mattress and sending you on your way. 

Instead, Billy’s fingers continued to tease your slick entrance delicately; it was almost unbelievable they were the same fingers that brought you to a searing climax some hours ago. 

“Even first thing in the morning, so wet and ready,” Billy whispered in your ear.

You could hear the smirk in his voice, driving you to push your hips against him to address your growing need for more friction. But Billy seemed satisfied taking his time playing with you, his breathing even as his lips ghosted across the smooth skin of your shoulder. 

A cross between a groan and a whimper slipped off your tongue. You were getting impatient already. “I need more, Daddy.”

“Need more what, luv?” Billy took hardly a second to push your underwear farther down your legs until it was off, and run his hand back up your bare skin.

“More of you,” you answered, reaching behind to grab his increasingly hard length. Hot and heavy in your palm, you started to touch him too, rubbing slowly from base to tip. 

“Oh, you’ll get more, baby.”

You inhaled sharply. Billy rarely called you baby. Shit, you thought. Since when had he picked up on the effect that word had on you when it was uttered by him? You could give less of a shit when your other sugar daddies called you the pet name. But Billy dropping it so casually right now while he toyed with your arousal? You were in for it this morning.

“My baby can be such a greedy girl,” he chuckled.

My baby. My. Baby. My.

This time you visibly shivered, your shoulders rattling against his chest, but you tried to cover it up by twisting your head back at the same time to steal a kiss from his lips. He allowed it, nipping at your lower lip, then removed his arm from under you and propped himself up on it. Butcher was at the perfect level now to hover right above your ear. 

“Did ya know that’s why I say you’re my favorite?” 

His fingers were back on your clit, the pressure still light, but he quickened his pace. 

“Why?” you asked, dumbly, his teasing clearly too distracting for your mind to keep up with the conversation, as well as provide any stimulation for him. Your hand on his length had already slowed to a pathetic, arrhythmic rate. You blushed at the realization when he — rather politely — removed your useless hand from his crotch and placed it under his own to touch yourself with as he continued his ministrations on your wetting pussy. 

“Because you’re greedy, luv. And I know it’s not for my money.” 

A pitifully needy noise slipped out from deep in your throat as Billy’s mouth connected to the soft spot under your ear, tongue flicking at the lobe, before he bit it — harder than you anticipated. 

“You get that everywhere, with however many daddies you have.” 

You drew in a deep breath in an attempt to steady your loudly beating heart. Was there a tinge of spite in his voice? You didn’t have time to analyze. Billy flipped you around to face him, swiftly replacing the hands on your core with his length dragging through your folds. You gasped, gripping at his shoulders, trying not to stare down at the delicious sight of his big hand around his even bigger member, its head leaking precum into your slit. 

“Nah, I know,” Billy growled. Your eyes snapped up to meet his dark, lust-filled gaze. “You’re just greedy for my cock.”

You shrieked at the sudden intrusion, then swore at him. Finally he had dipped into your dripping cunt. Except this fucker switched back to using his fingers.

“Billy— Billy, please,” you cried out, not even sure what you were begging for. You were greedy for his cock, yes. You were just as desperate for your fucking release. Also, you wanted to wipe that smug smile off his handsome face. 

“Let me hear you,” he insisted, two digits pushing in and out of your center. “Tell me, why are you my favorite fuck?”

You willed your mind and mouth to cooperate in forming sentences. “Because I’m greedy.”

The quick response earned you a third digit stretching you out, causing you to bite down on your lip.

“For…?”

Again, you forced yourself to concentrate, despite the lewd noises echoing below you and the feeling of climax in the pit of your stomach hungry to break free. 

“For your cock,” you breathed out. “I’m so greedy for your cock.”

Billy curled his fingers to hit that spot you loved, and you felt your tether to reality loosen. 

“So sweet of you to say, darlin’.” The stillness in his tone matched the precision of his palm now rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Is that what you want now? You want my cock in your tight little pussy?"

Your head drooped forward, thudding against his firm chest, your hands still clawing at his arms for some sense of stability while you grinded down on him, desperately chasing your high. He was stringing you out for all you were worth and you were so, so close, you didn’t care how pathetic you sounded. "Yes, yes! Please— I want it so bad,” you panted.

“Next time, baby, look at me when you speak. Maybe then you'll get exactly what you want.”

With one last stroke of his hand, your orgasm hit hard, much more intense than the two last night combined, and twice as pleasurable. You saw stars with your eyes sealed shut while your pussy clenched with a vice grip around Billy, as strong as your nails dug into his skin. He made you the most writhing, sweaty mess you’d been in months, yet you didn’t — couldn’t — even make a sound, sans the quiet gushing of your juices thoroughly coating him.

You had no idea how many minutes passed before you came back down to Earth in Butcher’s arms and opened your eyes to see him peering down at you gingerly. He pecked your forehead, and you did the same to his neck, collarbone, and chest.

“Fuck, I’m glad you stayed last night, luv.”

“Me too,” you squeaked out.

“You alrigh’?” Billy asked, wiping the tears that had formed at the corners of your eyes.

You nodded, then laughed. “Pretty sure I blacked out.”

“Thought so, too,” he replied, a small, satisfied grin appearing. 

You rolled your eyes and playfully pushed him away. Then for the first time all morning, you got a good look at him. His thick, dark brown hair could definitely be characterized as a bed head, and you aimlessly combed through it a few times. Your gaze drifted downwards to the red scratches you had just gifted him, and you gently brushed over them with the pad of your thumb. A little farther down you carefully studied the still-fresh bruises and past-lingering scars across his broad torso. 

Your turn to inquire. “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” Billy said, a little too quickly.

“I mean from last night.” You traced an imaginary line connecting the marks on his body, to make your point clear. “What happened?”

Butcher shifted his body, but his face remained hardened. “Even MM needs a reminder every once in a while. Captain’s gotta run a tight ship,” he said matter-of-factly. “Job’s stressful, night didn’t go as planned, he took it out on me, but he knows when I’m right.”

You nodded, as if deliberately sidestepping the question about his injuries to explain the one part of his night you were present for was an acceptable enough answer. However, after a restful night’s sleep and an active morning that left you plenty clear-headed, you felt a bit more bold. You didn’t care if it wasn’t a sugar baby’s place to know his job. If he wasn’t ready to discuss the elephant in the room this second, you were at least going to let him know he wouldn’t get away with avoiding it for long.

“Fine, if you want to dance around it. You don’t have to tell me right now why you were gone four hours longer than you expected, or came back with this,” you nudged his taped up hand, “or that,” you gestured toward the semi-automatic on the table, “but at the very least, you should introduce me to your colleagues.”

The flashback of you laying on the bed, thankfully fully clothed, when they stormed in last night flashed through your memory. “You know, the guys who weren’t sure that this is legal,” you added. “Want them to know it’s all good.”

There was a beat of silence, until Billy relented, and you were genuinely surprised at the lack of pushback. “Fine.” 

With his hand on your hip, he rolled you over onto your other side, back into a spooning position, with your ass pulled against him. 

“You’ll meet the boys with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

[sotwk]

The conundrum of using gifs and pics of your blorbo character for fic writing inspiration...

...but they keep distracting you and frying your brain cells instead. How am I supposed to get anything done??

This. This is the gif. Please send help.

[geminiwritten]

hot dream ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you fall asleep in butcher’s sweater and have a rather steamy dream, not realising that everyone heard you moaning butcher’s name in your sleep

notes: this is so bad, and it makes me so sad because i was so excited to write it, but work has been so blegh that i just feel like i failed??? i don’t know, it’s definitely not my best writing, but it’s something! hope y’all can still enjoy!

warnings: swearing, google-translated french, some very incorrect chemistry, and a tiny bit of smut (i’m working myself up to actually writing it, i promise!)

^ the sweater

word count: 4691

“It’s fucking cold in here,” you say, rubbing your arms as you step into the living room.

Frenchie and Kimiko are curled up under a blanket on the couch, and Butcher is lounging on the single seat sofa with his feet propped on top of the coffee table. You know MM is on his way back from Monique’s house with spare clothes and comforters, but you also know how caught up he can get when he spends time with Janine.

“You do not have a jumper?” Frenchie asks.

You shake your head, “The last sweatshirt I had was burnt to a crisp two weeks ago.”

New York City is quickly falling into winter, the air turning crisp and heavy clouds rolling overhead as news channels warn about impending snow within the week.

Kimiko looks up at you and wriggles her arms out of the blanket to sign an apology, gesturing to the jumper she wears as the only one she has.

Butcher sighs and pushes himself off the sofa, “I’ve got somethin’.”

The tiny butterflies in your stomach flitter to life, bouncing around excitedly at the thought of wearing Butcher’s clothing. You move a hand from your arm to your stomach and curse the stupid giddiness that this man aroused within you. It’s ridiculous, really, and just a stupid crush, but he never fails to elicit some sort of irritating physical reaction within your body every time he speaks.

He disappears into the main bedroom for a moment before remerging with a black garment in hand. “Here,” he says, handing it to you, “don’t get it burnt though, it’s my favourite.”

You give him a cheeky smile, “I make no promises.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the sweater from his hand, and his eyes capture yours in a stare you cannot break. His lip quirks into that gorgeous smirk you’ve come to enjoy so much, sending those stupid butterflies into a frenzy before he turns back toward the sofa.

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and with numb fingers, find the bottom of the sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. His scent hits you like a truck, rushing through your nose and burning all the way to your lungs. Your chest squeezes around your erratic heart, your ribs aching as they struggle to contain the throbbing muscle. It feels like you’ve been punched in the sternum, and your limbs feel like jelly wrapped in the soft material saturated by his scent.

You know this sweater almost too well, having admired him in it countless times. It’s a little too big on you, but on him, it’s perfect. The thick material hugs his shoulders and fits his torso in the most delicious way. It’s ridiculous that he can make something as plain as this sweater look downright sinful.

“Better?” Butcher asks, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that makes you wonder what he knows.

You nod, “Much.”

Kimiko shuffles over on the couch so that you can squeeze between her and the arm, the side closest to Butcher. You try to focus on the lame action film playing on the television, but the smell of the jumper clouds your mind, and you can feel Butcher’s gaze wandering over to you every few seconds. You want to say something, but every string of words that come to mind are laced with innuendo and teasing, and although you’re very fond of flirting with this man, you’re not sure you can handle it in your current state.

The sun is well below the horizon by the time MM arrives back, his arms full of blankets and second-hand clothing. Kimiko takes two jumpers and a blanket before seeing herself off to bed, and MM does the same shortly after. Frenchie throws another blanket over himself and invites you to share his warmth while Butcher remains on the single sofa with nothing but his trench coat. After almost three movies, your eyelids begin to droop, and you let your head fall onto Frenchie’s shoulder as sleep slowly consumes you.

You startle awake, your mind swirling with images of Butcher. You can still see him hovering over you, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, and his wicked grin as he settles between your thighs. Heat pulses between your legs at the fading memory, and your skin feels like it’s on fire, phantom touches lingering in the shape of Butcher’s hands on your hips, your breasts, your throat.

You have to blink a few times before the living room comes into focus, bright light flooding the space through the drawn curtains as dust mites float through the air. The blankets covering you suddenly feel like they weigh a tonne, and you have to throw them off your sweaty body before you pass out.

“Good morning, mon petit rayon de soleil,” Frenchie greets you, sitting in the sofa where you last consciously saw Butcher.

“Hey,” you mumble as you sit up.

His grin is wide and cheeky, “Did you have a good sleep?”

“It was okay,” you reply, rubbing your neck, “as good as it gets on this old couch.”

“I did not have the heart to wake you,” he says, “you looked so peaceful and were… humming so contently.”

You frown sceptically, “Okay…”

MM is in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a goofy smile as he watches the eggs in the pan cook.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Frenchie responds.

“What?” you demand, “You let me sleep for that long? Don’t we have things to do today?”

MM chuckles, “We didn’t want to wake you, as Frenchie said, you were so content.”

Spikes of panic begin prickling your skin and your eyes dart from Frenchie to MM, searching their impish faces for any sign of what could be making them so smug.

“Where’s Butcher?”

“Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself,” Frenchie says, “but he is awake.”

MM serves the eggs onto two plates and carries them over to the table where Kimiko is sat. She grins at him before digging in to her breakfast, and your own stomach begins to rumble.

“I suppose I will get my own,” Frenchie sighs, pushing himself off the sofa and walking toward the kitchen.

“I’ll have some too,” you call after him, “thanks, Frenchie.”

He smirks at you with the carton of eggs in hand, “Anything for you, mon amour. How do you like your eggs?”

“Hard boiled,” MM replies before you can, snickering as he takes a bite of toast.

Frenchie giggles too, and he quickly turns toward the stove to avoid your dubious stare.

“What the fuck are you two on this morning?”

They don’t respond as their laughter continues to bubble. Frenchie waves a hand dismissively, still refusing to look at you, before placing a pot and a pan on top of the stove.

“I prefer fried,” you mutter, still frowning.

He nods and moves the pot back into the cupboard just as the doors to the main bedroom creak open. Butcher steps out in faded jeans and yet another hideous Hawaiian shirt with only three of the lower buttons fastened. His hair is a complete mess and his cheeks flushed red; he looks as if he’d just sprinted several blocks.

“You’re awake,” he states.

You nod, “So are you.”

He chuckles, “Been awake for a couple’a hours, love.”

MM is struggling with his breakfast, his laughter refusing to subside though he does his best to quell it, his whole face turning red. Frenchie has turned his back to you completely now, but you can still see his shoulders shaking as he giggles into his hand.

“Did I miss something?” you ask Butcher as he falls into the single sofa.

His smirk just as devilish as Frenchie’s, “Nothin’ at all, in fact, I think it’s me who missed somethin’.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “you’re all being weird, and I’m incredibly sweaty, so I’m going to shower.”

“Breakfast will be ready for you when you return, mon amour,” Frenchie says, “take your time cleaning your- uh, humidité.”

Butcher chuckles as another wave of mirth hits MM, and he begins to choke on his mouthful of food. You roll your eyes before turning on your heel and stomping toward the bathroom, leaving them to their stupidity.

The cold air nips at your bare skin as you strip in the bathroom, carefully laying Butcher’s sweater on the vanity before stepping under the warm shower spray. You take your time washing your hair and scrubbing your body, hazy flashes of hot touches and wet kisses invading your mind as you close your eyes and let the water soak your skin. By the time you shut the shower off, you’re thoroughly clean and a little dizzy with desire. You dry off before wrapping the towel around your body and gathering your clothes to dash across the hall toward your bedroom.

You can’t help glancing in the direction of the living room when you step out, your eyes locking with Butcher’s dark gaze for the split second it takes you to reach your room. Your pulse is thrumming at a ridiculous pace as you unwrap the towel and turn toward your dresser. You slip on a fresh pair of panties and jeans, and turn to the sweater you’d tossed on your bed. Your stomach grumbles impatiently while you procrastinate, and you curse quietly to yourself before slipping the sweater over your head without anything underneath.

The living room wreaks of burnt toast when you remerge from your bedroom, and Frenchie is swearing at the toaster in such fast French, you can’t possibly try to understand it.

“Did you ruin my breakfast?” you ask, walking past Butcher and leaning your hip on the kitchen bench.

“I did not ruin anything,” Frenchie says with a frown, “this good for nothing piece of shit machine did.”

You can feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head and you know it’s Butcher, but you refuse to turn around, instead joining Frenchie in the kitchen to take over the toaster. After a few minutes of patience, the toast pops perfectly grilled and you place two pieces on each of your plates before Frenchie tops it with eggs.

“So,” MM says when you and Frenchie join him at the table, “what’s today’s plan?”

“We need to go back to the old safe house,” Frenchie replies.

“The basement,” you note between bites of toast.

He nods, “We need to gather anything we left behind that might be useful. I am running out of materials and I know we left a stash of ammunition there.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t already gone?” MM queries.

Frenchie shrugs, “We do not know, but it is worth a try.”

You want to point out that it isn’t really necessary for all of you to go, but you know that will only end in an argument, so you focus on finishing your breakfast. Once you’re all done, MM collects the empty plates and begins washing up while the rest of you go to gather your things.

You pack a small crossbody bag with your phone and keys before tucking a sheathed dagger into the back of your jeans, just in case. When you step back into the living room, Frenchie and MM are waiting by the door, whispering and giggling about something until they see you approach. You want to demand they let you in on whatever stupid joke you’d missed out on this morning, but Butcher’s heavy footsteps capture your attention before you can speak.

“Righ’ then, lads,” he says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat, “let’s get on with it.”

Your gaze lingers on his lips as he speaks before trailing down his neck and bare chest, finding a mere two more buttons fastened than before. Heat rises to your cheeks, creeping all the way up to the tips of your ears as your mouth begins to water and another blurry image of Butcher fills your mind. You see him on his knees before you, looking up with hungry eyes and parted lips, murmuring something filthy that doesn’t quite reach your ears.

You gasp, blinking rapidly to return to reality and finding three curious faces staring back at you.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks.

You nod, “I’m good, let’s go.”

You step between him and MM and walk out the door first, turning down the hall without bothering to wait. They’re giggling again by the time they catch up to you in the lobby, and even Butcher is wearing an amused smirk. He winks as he walks past you, pulling his car keys from his pocket before holding the front door open for the rest of you. Unlike every other time you’ve all been walking toward the car, no one calls shot gun. Frenchie simply opens the back door for Kimiko to slide in before he does, and MM follows without a single complaint.

You look at Butcher, “What the fuck?”

He shrugs, but his smirk is still saturated with amusement and the glint in his eyes tells you that this has something to do with whatever they were all being so smug about.

“You’re all pissing me off today,” you sigh, before walking around the car to the passenger’s side.

You’re not upset about getting the front seat, nor are you annoyed that you get to sit beside Butcher and practically drool over him while he has to pay attention to the road. You are, however, beginning to panic about what it is that they’re not telling you.

The drive isn’t long, and you spend most of it watching Butcher’s hands on the wheel, fantasising about how they would feel caressing every inch of your skin. It almost feels like a memory as you picture his fingers digging into your hips or wrapped gently around your throat, and you can feel your body growing hot within the thick material of his sweater. You practically fall out of the car when it finally stops, gasping for cool air and willing your mind to focus on the task at hand.

Frenchie leads the way down a narrow alley and pushes open the familiar metal door before the rest of you follow him into the dark, damp corridor of what used to be your hide out. You all stay silent for a few minutes, creeping around and checking for any unusual activity or signs that the place might be bugged or trapped. It’s definitely been ransacked, but there are thin films of dust blanketing almost every surface which indicates that whoever was looking in here had given up a long time ago.

“Okay,” Frenchie speaks up once deciding that you’re safe, “let’s see what we’ve got left.”

You split up and wander around the huge, open basement. There are two curtain dividers sectioning the space into what you used as ‘bedrooms’, and a single chipped, wooden door leading to the tiny bathroom at the very back. MM goes in there first, rummaging around for half a minute before declaring it empty.

“Is there anything in particular that we’re looking for?” you ask, turning to Frenchie, “Because there’s a lot of crap in here, and as much as I’d love for you all to rummage through my old underwear drawer, maybe we should-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Frenchie and Butcher take off, abandoning the shelves they were searching and knocking one of the curtain dividers over as they scramble toward the old dresser you used to use.

“Hey!” you shout, your eyes growing wide as you hurry after them.

They’re giggling like maniacs as they wrench the drawers open one by one, tossing out the few items of clothing that still remained in there before realising that there was, in fact, no underwear left behind.

“I was joking,” you say, “fucking pervs.”

Frenchie chuckles, “Can you blame us, mon amour?”

“Yes!”

MM is snickering in the small kitchenette as he picks through the lower cupboards one by one. As much as you want to enjoy the rare light-heartedness within the group right now, you can’t stop wondering why the hell they were all in such a giddy mood. Are they all high?

“Alrigh’ you lot,” Butcher says, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as his laughter subsides, “stop messin’ about, we’ve got a job to do.”

You roll your eyes and trudge toward where MM is, starting on the top cupboards of the small kitchen while they begin opening old crates and suitcases. Frenchie starts a pile by the stairs, stacking up anything he finds that might be useful or too valuable to abandon. There isn’t much, but there are still a couple of cases of ammunition and packets of powders that you know are combustible in some way.

“Wait!” Frenchie shouts suddenly, crouching beside an electrical socket. “Be careful. Somebody has shorted the wiring, intentionally or not, I do not know, but do not touch the outlets or anything still plugged in.”

You slowly retract your hand from beside the rusty old microwave. “What will happen?”

“You will probably be electrocuted.”

“Good to know,” Butcher sighs.

You all return to your ransacking with cautious hands and watchful eyes, skirting around anything electrical or made of metal. When you approach the refrigerator, you can hear a soft, crackling hum, and MM looks at you with wide eyes. It was never a reliable machine, but now it is most definitely a death trap.

You continue your search through the cupboards, knocking half-full packets of rice and flour off the shelves as you stretch up onto your toes to see inside. This job is probably better suited to someone with more of a height advantage, but you’ve always been stubborn, so you don’t bother asking for help.

The cupboard above the sink, adjacent to the stove – you always thought it was stupid to put the sink right beside the stove – reveals a cluster of cleaning products. You reach as far as you can, straining your arms to reach the bottles on the top shelf and groaning at the tension in your body.

Behind you, MM mimics the noise, only louder, “Ungh.”

You hear Frenchie snicker, “No, no, it was more like, mmmh.”

Your fingertips scrape the bottle closest to the front of the cupboard and you huff in frustration.

“Nngh,” MM groans again.

“Ahhh,” Frenchie moans loudly, before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Determined to ignore them, you try to stretch up even further. Your back aches but your fingers find the bottle once again, scratching at it in an attempt to get it to move.

MM sighs seductively, “Ohh, yeah.”

“Mmm, Butcher,” Frenchie gasps.

Your stomach drops and you lose your balance, stumbling as you whirl around to face them. “What the fuck?”

Frenchie giggles as he meets your stare, “Oops.”

The bottle from the top shelf of the cupboard falls forward and knocks your shoulder, popping the cap off. The liquid inside spills all over your chest just as realisation hits you.

“That’s what all this has been about?!” you exclaim, “you heard me having a fucking sex dream and instead of waking me up, you listened?”

MM can’t stop laughing, with one hand holding his stomach while the other supports his body against the old dining room table. You’ve never seen this man so flustered, and if you weren’t so embarrassed, you might have enjoyed seeing him so overwhelmed with laughter.

Frenchie, however, has gone completely pale, stepping forward with a petrified expression. “Y/N, listen-”

“No,” you snap, “I won’t listen! You are such a-”

“Y/N!” he shouts, “do not move.”

The room falls silent and panic ripples through your body.

“Please, mon amour, stay still,” he pleads as he hurries toward you.

He steps carefully around the puddles on the floor before reaching down to pick up the now empty bottle. He studies the label for less than a second before looking back at you with panicked eyes.

“You need to take off your jumper, now.”

You frown, “What? Why?”

“This is isopropyl alcohol,” he says, “it is highly flammable. If anything in this place so much as sparks, it will catch fire and if the vapours ignite, this whole building could explode.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, looking down at the soaked front of Butcher’s sweater.

Frenchie turns to MM, “Get something, get a bag, and get ready to go.”

You remain still as your pulse quickens, “Frenchie.”

“Butcher,” he says, “you and Kimiko start taking things up the stairs, do not come over here.”

Butcher frowns, “Like hell I’m leavin’ her.”

“Frenchie,” you repeat.

“I will get her out, okay? Just take what we’ve got and let’s get out.”

“I don’t give a fuck about this crap,” Butcher argues, “I care about her, and I’m not leavin’ ‘til I know she’s safe.”

“Frenchie!” you exclaim, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

The room falls quiet once again, and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as each of them turn to you with curious eyes.

“Nothin’?” Butcher asks, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Nothing,” you reply.

Despite the situation, Frenchie is the first to snicker.

“Come ‘ere,” Butcher says, “slowly.”

You step carefully out of the kitchen, avoiding every surface as your boots squelch against the wet floor. Once you’re in front of him, he shrugs off his coat and gestures for you to remove the sweater. Your heart pounds as you turn your back to him, and he holds his jacket up to shield you, though not quite high enough to block his own view. You hold your breath and pull the sweater up, squeezing your eyes shut as it slips over your head. You can feel his breath on your back as soon as it’s bare, and a whole different kind of heat rushes through you.

He drops his coat around your shoulders and you quickly hug it against your chest. His scent envelops you, even more so than it had with the sweater, and your nerves begin to ease almost immediately.

“Give it to me,” Frenchie says, holding a plastic bag open toward you.

You drop the sweater in and he ties it off.

“Let’s go.”

MM, Kimiko, and Butcher grab what they can before you all ascend the stairs. You hurry through the corridor and out into the alley, not stopping until you’re all safe inside the car.

“Did you get any on your pants, mon amour?” Frenchie asks.

You push the bottom of Butcher’s jacket off your legs to inspect. “Only a little.”

“It will not damage the clothing, but we should wash everything right away.”

You nod before glancing toward Butcher. His face is a mixture of concern and mischief, his eyes struggling to watch the road instead of you, sitting beside him and wrapped in his favourite coat.

“Should we tell someone about that situation back there?” MM pipes up.

“I will call somebody to clean it up,” Frenchie replies.

It isn’t long before you’re all quietly climbing out of the car and carrying your finds up to the apartment. Everyone kicks their shoes off at the door, per Frenchie’s instructions, and begins sorting through the bags and boxes of old materials and equipment.

Frenchie turns to you, “Give me your jeans.”

“Right now?”

He nods and you sigh, deciding not to argue. You turn away from them and open the coat, quickly unbuttoning your jeans and slipping them off before wrapping yourself back up. When you turn back around, he’s adorning that same silly grin that he’d been wearing all morning.

“Is this how it started in your dream?”

You roll your eyes and shove your jeans into his outstretched hand. “Just because you kind of saved my life, doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed at you.”

He giggles as he takes your clothes and walks down the hall to the laundry.

“In his defence,” Butcher smirks, “I told ‘em not to wake you.”

“You what?”

He steps toward you and shrugs, “I liked hearin’ those pretty little noises you were makin’.”

The butterflies in your stomach burst to life and your pulse begins to race.

He leans forward as he whispers, “Liked it a little too much.”

You suddenly remember what Frenchie had said this morning when you asked where Butcher was: ‘Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself’.

“Now,” Butcher clears his throat, “you gon’a give me my coat back before you spill somethin’ else on it?”

You raise your brows, “You want it back right now? Right here?”

He glances over his shoulder toward MM and Kimiko before turning back to you, “Maybe not righ’ here.”

You step around him and walk through the kitchen toward the main bedroom, avoiding MM’s eyes as you pass the dining room table. You don’t bother closing the doors behind you, because sure enough, a pair of heavy footsteps follow closely behind. The door clicks shut and you turn around to look at Butcher. You let your eyes wander over his body, your mouth watering as you follow the collar of his shirt down his bare chest where the top buttons lay open.

“I’m not gon’a lie,” he says, his hungry gaze pinning you to the floor, “as much as I fuckin’ loved hearin’ you whisper my name… I can’t wait to make you scream it.”

His words punch you in the chest, knocking all the air from your legs as heat pools between your legs.

“Now, love,” he steps forward, “can I ‘ave my coat back?”

Your fingers tremble as you grip the lapels of the jacket, moving your shoulders so the material falls off before you open it up and let it drop to the floor. He draws one sharp breath, his eyes growing wide as they move up and down your body, devouring every inch of it as if he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He closes the distance between you and wraps his hands around your waist, fingertips digging into the flesh of your back with bruising pressure.

“D’you know how hard I came to the thought of you this morning?” he murmurs.

You can’t do anything but stare back at him, your lips aching to taste him, all of him.

“So fuckin’ hard,” he whispers before capturing your mouth with his.

You moan as you melt against him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your fingers tangling through his hair as he claims your mouth. His hands squeeze your waist and pull you closer, pressing your naked body against him. The friction of his shirt against your nipples makes you gasp, and he takes advantage of your open mouth, sliding his tongue past your lips.

“Can’t fuckin’ imagine,” he mumbles against your mouth, “how hard I’m gon’a come with you on my cock.”

The ball of tension throbbing below your stomach explodes, and you use all of your strength to push him back toward the bed. He chuckles as he falls back, his hand catching your wrist to pull you down on top of him.

“Tell me ‘bout your dream, love,” he says as you hover over him, “where was I?”

You plant an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone before biting down and making him groan.

“You were everywhere,” you whisper against his skin, “marking me, claiming me.”

He moans again as you grind your hips down, the friction of his jeans sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“I don’t fuckin’ need to claim you,” he growls, his hands holding your hips as he thrusts up, “you’re already mine.”

He lifts you up enough to flip you onto your back, his body moving with yours and settling between your legs as he hovers over you. He dips down, his lips finding your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin before biting down hard. You moan loudly, and quickly smack a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

“I don’t think so, love,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pinning it to the bed, “I said, I wan’a hear you fuckin’ scream.”

END.