#billy butcher fanfic

[little-wicked10]

*screams and squeals*🥵😍🤤

Billy Butcher x you oneshot!

Billy knows how to really take care of you when you need it most…

18+ only smut, piv, cock warming, creampie

Merry Christmas! 😘

~*~*~

It was getting late. Butcher was watching a movie on the couch, but you were sitting at the table, finishing up some work.

When you were finally done, you gave a huge sigh of relief and checked your email one last time.

"Fuck," you groaned as you opened the 5th message from your boss that night asking you for a report on one of your projects. Frustration and tension and anxiety surged inside of you like the tide, and for a moment all you could do was sit there and stare at the screen.

Butcher had paused halfway through his movie as he got up to get a drink and seemed to sense what was happening. Honestly, you were stressed a lot these days. Most of the time he wouldn't notice, or at least would just let you be but right now you felt like you were at your tipping point.

"C'mere doll," he said from behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder to tell him you were busy, but the fierce look in his eyes told you he was not going to take no for an answer.

You sighed when you stood up and went over to him but all you were thinking was 'he noticed.'

Butcher slid his hands around your waist, tugging you against him. "You've been workin' too hard."

All of the breath in your lungs seemed to escape in one big whoosh. "It's just how it is this time of year.

I just have one more report to work on. And I need to do my laundry. And it's Thursday."

Butcher leaned back, lifting his eyebrow at you.

"Dusting day," you explained meekly.

Billy gave you a look. "I'll do yer laundry with mine and dustin' can wait. What can I do tonight to make ya sit still for a while and let yerself go?"

You leaned forward wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his broad chest. He was right, you felt like you were about to collapse but there was still so much to do...

"Maybe just hold me," you said softly.

"I'd be chuffed, love, but yer mind would still be whirlin' wouldn't it. Need somethin' to distract that pretty head o' yours too."

He rubbed your back for a moment as he thought and a soft, but tired, little sound escaped your throat. He knew you, and he knew it had to be something different to truly get your mind off of your worries right now.

He glanced at the tv where the movie was paused, then back to you. "Up for a little playin', love? I've got an idea."

The look in his eye told you it was something interesting and you couldn't help immediately being intrigued. "Maybe...what would I have to do?"

"Nothin' love. Go and change inta somethin' comfy. Just a shirt, nothin' else, then come back out and sit with me."

"Ok." You gave him a kiss before you retreated into your shared bedroom.

When you came back out he was sitting on the couch and he groaned as soon as he saw you.

"Fuck me," he muttered.

You grinned at him, pleased. You'd changed into one of his shirts, and you'd left it unbuttoned, though it was pulled around you at the moment. It was soft and it barely came to the tops of your thighs.

"Well c'mon," he husked, patting his lap and letting his heated gaze roam over you.

You climbed into his lap kneeling over him and sitting back on his thighs. "If your idea is to fuck me..." you deadpanned.

He smirked wickedly, his hands sliding to your hips. "Nah it ain't that. You know you'd be comin' in minutes, love, then you'd be right back to your troubles again wouldn't ya? Need somethin' to relax yer brain fer a lot longer than that. Besides I need t'finish me film."

Well...he wasn't wrong.

For a moment you met his eyes, gleaming with mischief, and you could feel his cock swelling beneath you...and then you realized what he wanted to do. A surprising pulse of lust surged through your veins and you knew you were immediately wet for him. It wasn't something you'd ever thought of before but now that you did...now that you did you were more than eager to try. That might actually work.

His hazel eyes glinted with desire even as they darkened. "Be a good girl and get me cock out, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding your head and sliding back off his lap. He gave you a look and you obeyed instantly, working his belt free and opening his jeans. He shifted his hips so you could tug them down just enough to free his cock, already hard and ready for you.

"How do you want me?" you whispered.

"Facin' the telly, yeah? Wouldn't want you to miss the rest o' the film."

You hadn't really seen the first half as you'd been working at the same time, but you had a feeling that didn't matter. And maybe it would help to have something to watch to help distract you from his...distracting.

You stood up and turned around as he slid one big hand around the base of his cock to steady it, and gripped your hip with the other.

"Ready, doll," he murmured low, and you moved to sit on him slowly, his hand positioning you with a tight grip.

When you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, a little moan left your lips but he kept guiding you down without pause.

"Fuck..." you breathed. Without much preparation, the fit was tight and he stretched you almost uncomfortably but you knew your body would adjust.

"Fuckin' hell, love, your gushin'," he groaned. "Must've liked this idea more than I realized."

You wanted to argue but a broken moan was all that left your lips. You took a breath as you took him all way, you ass quickly pressing flush against his thighs. "Oh my god..." you whimpered. Syrupy pleasure flooded through your body, making your clit throb and your cunt flutter around his length as you thought about staying like this.

Billy gripped your hips hard with both hands and you felt another gush of wetness around his cock. "Easy now. Take a deep breath fer me, love. Yer gonna have to calm down if you yer gonna be a good girl and let me keep ya on me cock till I'm done watchin'."

"Oh fuck," you moaned breathily, closing your eyes and biting your lip hard. Breathe.

His hands rubbed soothingly over your hips and outer thighs and you took a slow deep breath and licked your lips, focusing on the tv in front of you. You caught sight of the time bar and you almost groaned at the amount of time that was left, just a little less than an hour. Breathe.

He felt so thick inside of you, the size of him alone lighting up every nerve ending you had. But you had a long way to go so you took another deep breath, and finally your body let go of some of the tension, just a little.

That's my girl," Billy murmured low from behind you. He slid one arm around you and urged you to lean back against his chest. "Just rest here for a bit, filled up with me cock, not thinkin' 'bout nothin' else."

Your only answer was another whimper and he gave a low chuckle.

Starting the movie again, he moved a pillow to your side, and another on his shoulder so you could rest your head against it and still watch the movie. Your bare legs were draped over his jean clad thighs and you had to be careful not to let his open zipper scrape across your inner thighs or worse. Incentive not to move, you supposed.

You swallowed again, trying hard not to clench around him, but you couldn't help the little flutters of your cunt anytime his cock twitched or he shifted even the tiniest bit.

How he was keeping his own control so easily, you had no idea. Probably had a wank in the shower earlier, you sighed to yourself.

His chest was warm against your back and his big hand was rubbing your thigh. You really tried to watch the movie, but fuck, he was so deep like this. His cock was fiery hot inside of you and you swore you could feel the veins that ran the length of it. You felt every inch af him.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and you did your best for almost 15 of them, but as pleasure continued to pool in your center, and your body adjusted to his size, relaxing and taking him deeper, all you could think about was getting relief. You were dripping and you were sure he could feel it, but still he seemed as relaxed as ever, lazily stroking your thigh as he watched the tv.

Then before you could try to stop yourself, your hips rocked on top of his lap and a soft little cry escaped as bliss erupted inside you, making your whole body tense and buzz, making your fingertips tingle.

Billy rumbled and caught your hips with both hands, gripping hard, holding you still. "No movin', doll."

Your clit throbbed helplessly, completely neglected and you had to bite your lip to keep from whining pathetically, clenching your hands on your thighs.

"Breathe," he murmured, his beard tickling the curve of your neck as he leaned forward. You took a gulp of air, and then another, not even realizing you'd stopped.

Breathe.

Finally, you caught your breath and your lust lowered back to a simmer.

"That's a good girl fer me," Billy said, kneading your hips in reward but all you could do was groan at his praise and it made your cunt flutter around him again.

"Don't say that," you whimpered.

He gave a quiet laugh and patted your leg. "We'll have to keep practicin' this," he said low against the shell of your ear, then went back to watching the movie.

You slumped back against his broad chest again and his arm came around you. Instead of thinking about the way his cock was filling you, you tried to focus on letting your palm play over the little hairs on his forearm. After another 15 minutes, a hazy-sweet fog started to drift over your mind, some combination of dazed and still wildly turned on.

Anytime he moved it sent a jolt of pleasure through you but you were starting to get used to it, learning to let it soften into your body, banking it for later. After a while you couldn't even tell where he ended and you began, he was just a part of you.

At some point you must have completely spaced out, because you suddenly realized the tv was off. Billy was smoothing his hands slowly over your stomach and your thighs and your hips, still thick and big inside of you.

"Did I do it?" you murmured languidly.

Billy leaned closer, kissing the side of your neck, his mustache and his beard scratching sensitive skin spectacularly. "You did it. Such a good girl. My girl..."

You made a lilting, blissful sound and wrapped your fingers around his forearms, desperately needing to hold on to something.

"Think you can come for me now, pet?" His voice was gravelly and rough in your ear.

"Mmmm...mmhmm..." You gripped his arm tighter, unable to get your mind to even form another word. Every single worry was completely gone and you couldn't care less about anything except this right here.

Billy shifted underneath you, pushing his jeans further down his thighs and the movement made him thrust up into you.

You cried out, trembling with need, and he made a low sound to soothe you. "I've got ya, love. I'll take care now..."

It was too much to hold yourself up so you fell back against him and he rumbled approvingly. The vibration in his chest only added to your pleasure.

He pulled the edges of his shirt that you were wearing apart so you were totally exposed and tugged it down so your shoulders were bare but didn't bother taking it all the way off. Then he wrapped his hands around your bare waist and began to thrust up into you. "Fuck," he groaned. "Wasn't gonna last much longer either, love."

One of his big hands slid up to engulf your breast, kneading the weight of it in his palm then pinching your tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your heart stuttered as you gasped for breath, every nerve lighting up. Billy knew how to make your body sing.

Lifting one arm, you curled it around him to thread your fingers through his hair and let your eyes flutter closed, just feeling him.

Every single thrust hit the right spot and made you whimper or moan or cry. Pleasure seemed to only crest higher and higher inside you, no limit in sight.

Within moments, as he had predicted earlier, you were on the brink of orgasm, but you wanted more, needed it. Grabbing at his hand on your waist, you pushed it down, guiding his fingers to where you were joined.

Billy moaned, his lips brushing the nape of your neck. "Mmmm, needy little thing, ain't ya..." he teased, but he deftly nestled two fingertips right over your swollen clit.

The second he started to circle over the throbbing nub your bliss heightened ten-fold...it had been left ignored for too long.

Your cries now were so much that you vaguely wondered if the neighbors would be concerned but there was nothing you could do, and Billy didn't seem to care at all.

His fingers slowed when he sensed you were almost there and he used his free hand to move your knees to the outside of his so he could push your legs farther apart with his own, wide open for him, and stuffed full.

Then his fingertips returned to their fast, slick circles with haste.

The eruption of your climax happened immediately. Your entire body tensed in pleasure, wave after wave crashed through you in relentless pulses as he continued to stroke your clit.

The growl Billy let loose against your shoulder in response was earth-shaking. You had never felt an orgasm this intense before and you could tell your thighs and his fingers and his cock were drenched.

"Fuckin' "ell," he groaned. He moved to grip your hips with both hands one last time, the fingers on one hand still slick with you, and he bucked up into you, rough and erratic as his own orgasm began.

Burying his face against the curve of your neck, he bit down, moaning, low and gruff.

Broken whimpers and unintelligible words fell from your lips as every sensation continued to bounce and ping through your body like a pinball machine.

You could feel his come, hot and thick, spurting deep inside you. It felt just as good as everything else this night.

By the end of it you were completely expended, weak in his lap. You wouldn't be able to move even if the apartment caught on fire.

Billy was slumped into the couch now too, but his arms were around you and he was still inside you.

You had no idea how long the two of you lazed there, but eventually Billy regained his strength.

You whimpered as he finally slid out of you then gathered you up in his arms.

Your own strength was long gone and it was not coming back. He carried you into the bathroom and you were too fucked out to even care he stayed. After he cleaned both of you up, he scooped you up again and set you on the bed. He found your favorite, softest long t-shirt to sleep in and tucked you in. In the next minute he was sliding under the blankets too and he hauled you against his chest.

"Alright love?" he murmured.

"Mmmmmm. Mmmhmmmm." You were nestled in his arms, his skin warm beneath you and your face pressed to his shoulder. You wanted to say thank you but you were pretty sure only a mumble of half-formed words came out. His hand rubbed soothingly over your back and you felt him nuzzle the top of your head only seconds before you were out.

You couldn't go to work the next day, much to Butcher's smug amusement.

~*~*~

thank you for reading 🥹 thank you for all the inspiration to write this ❤️

(post tags are not working for this so doing my best to figure out what the issue is, and tagged people instead, I’m so sorry bleh tumblr)

@chocolategiverzombie @kus-babygirl @jynx15 @cassiopeia-grimm @karlurbanism

@butchers-girl @bluemerakis @bohemianblasphemy @crispydragonwhispers @dustie-faerie

@weallhaveadestiny @violent-darkness @norman-b @fenyxhawthorn @smallsadjellyfish

@butchersboobs @shirley-girly @bobabilbil @galaxyshifting @angelically-yours

@burntsaltsblog @multifandomqueen199032 @waerwena @rebelled-angel @spikycritter

karl urban masterlist

[bohemianblasphemy]

OOOOHH WAIT I HAVE MORE TO ADD!!!!! What if reader got her nipples pierced a couple weeks before and she’s been kind of pushing off anything sexual with him because she wants to wait for them to heal and so when she calls him up telling him that he better be in a pair of boxers, a Santa hat, and nothing else and she walks in with that lingerie 🫠🥴🥴🥴 I think he would absolutely lose his mind!!!! Like she was waiting to surprise him as his Christmas present from her 🤭

OHHHHHH YESSSSS

you’d have gotten them done a few weeks before Christmas, making up every excuse under the sun to Billy to not see you naked or touch you just to make sure the piercings are healed.

It was absolute agony for the both of you, BUT… it was going to be worth it.

As Christmas rolled around, the piercings weren’t tender or sensitive to touch- and they looked fucking good.

You were admiring yourself in the mirror, finishing tying up the perfect bows around your body before Billy gets home- smoothing the lingerie on your body, fluffing up your hair and swiping on the last of some red lipstick to match the ribbon.

“I’m home!” You heard the front door slam, his heavy boots echoing through the hallway.

“In here! But- don’t come in just yet…” you called back out to him.

“Now why the hell not?” He chuckled from the outside of the closed bedroom door. “Not until you come in with just your boxers and that Santa hat in the living room.” You giggled, settling yourself down on the edge of the bed.

Billy wouldn’t hesitate; not having had you for weeks had lead up to this moment as he quickly stripped himself off and grabbed that hat from the lounge- knocking on the door and opening to reveal you as you were- ribbons and all.

All he could do was stare- running his tongue over his lips. “Fuckin’ hell…” he smirked, walking over to you as you looked up at him.

“Merry Christmas Billy…” you smiled, batting your eyelashes at him.

“All this f’me?” He chuckled, his hand reaching down to stroke your cheek as you nodded.

“Go on, unwrap me…” you teased, standing up so he could see the bows adorning you.

Billy’s hands fiddled with the bows on your hips, pulling them in a swift motion as the material fell to the ground before reaching to your chest, tugging at that as the ribbon joined the other bit of material on the floor.

His eyes widened, seeing the new addition of jewellery on your body. “Fuck me… you’ve been hiding these from me?” He groaned, cupping your breasts and looking at the shining silver bars in your nipples.

You nodded. “Didn’t wanna ruin the surprise…” your breath hitched as his thumbs ran over your nipples gently, testing the waters. He chuckled, the puzzle pieces of why you didn’t want to have intimacy with him those past few weeks falling into place. “Was startin’ to think you didn’t want me no more…” he placed some kisses along your neck, the sweet scent of your skin invading his senses.

“Wouldn’t dream of it…” you giggled, twirling your fingers on the Pom Pom of his Santa hat, the small bell attached to it ringing slightly.

He hummed against your skin.

“Cmon love, wanna enjoy my little gift… lay down f’ me…”

[muldermuse]

Calling Butcher Daddy by accident in bed and his reaction

ok so I like to think the first time you call him daddy is when he’s fucking you really hard and mean

like your ass is raw from being spanked with his big hands, your slick and butchers spit are sliding down your inner thighs and every time butcher slides his thick cock in you- it’s an audible squelch

the room feels so hot that it’s bordering on claustrophobic. butchers hairy chest is hot against your back and you can feel a sheen of sweat covering your writhing body

you look completely fucked and you definitely feel it. you’re utterly under his control, cumming on his cock without warning- too far gone from how good he’s making you feel

he tilts your head up to look at him, he smirks at your glazed over doe eyes and your small smile back at him

“aw, is my cock too much darlin’?” his voice taunting you from above

“s’so fuckin’ good daddy” you fall back on your front, pushing your ass back onto butcher’s cock

he stops his movements, gripping your hip to still his thrusts. he tells you to repeat yourself and all you can do is slur “daddy daddy daddy” into the comforter you’re lying on- mouth agape

“huh, s’that right. i’m your fuckin’ daddy?” he starts fucking you again- his thrusts hard and precise; tapping your gspot repeatedly. butcher smirks as your eyes roll back, “s’alright baby, daddy’s gonna give ya all his cum. daddy’s girl wants his cum deep- right?”

[macfrog]

fucking diabolical | one shot

i don't have a semblance of an explanation for this one. i've fallen off the ledge and i'm never coming back. if you know, you fucking know.

pairing: billy butcher x f!reader summary: you move in across the street. butcher notices. warnings: unspecified age gap, infidelity, unprotected car sex, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink (one mention of pregnancy), softdom! & soft!billy...? weird. word count: 3.6k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

Six days. He made it six days.

He’s not this weak a man, is he? Is he really? To stand by the living room window, whiskey in hand, white-knuckle grip threatening to shatter the glass. Five minutes. Only five more minutes.

To watch your figure float between rooms, flicking lamps on and flitting blinds closed. A patchwork façade, now become an almost nightly routine. Polite little home on a polite little street, on this polite little evening.

You’ll leave the radio on in the hallway. Your neighbors will never know.

He’s not so weak to feel himself harden at the mere thought: your body bending backwards under his, his every move stealing the sweetest of sighs. Leaden weight in his pants, painful and premature and at the same time – a fucking relief, honestly.

Relief that he’s still alive, somewhere inside himself. Relief that he can feel something other than burning rage, simmering resentment. Relief that he can still spot a right fucking sort when he sees one.

Billy’s not a weak man.

You just might be testing his willpower, is all.

It’s been a month since you moved in. Since you first crossed paths across the street. He was walking Terror, cooling off after another spat with the missus. Never fucking listens, does she, old boy? Never. I ain’t tryna cause a fight, but she makes it so bloody –

Hang about. Who’s this?

You looked too good to be true. Boosting yourself up into the back of the moving truck, dipping into the shadows for the one, two, three steps it took him to reach the curb. He could feel the ricochet of his pulse through every vein in his body.

You resurfaced in the light, nudging a brown box towards the ledge with the heel of your shoe. Skimpy little shorts, Billy noted, your skin glistening with sweat and sun.

When you hopped back down, your breasts – Jesus fuck, your breasts – they bounced so perfectly into place. Full and round and fucking delicious beneath that tank top.

Billy loves a challenge, doesn’t he? Fly little bugger. Didn’t matter to him when your little twat of a husband came scurrying out, scooped up the box and, following your direction, staggered like some pathetic drunkard back inside.

Didn’t matter to him, and didn’t seem like it mattered to you. At least, not when you caught sight of your new neighbor and took one looping glance – from raveled boots to rugged beard, lingering on the Hawaiian shirt in the middle – and then smiled.

Smiled like you knew you were about to ruin his fucking life.

Hi.

Hello, love. Moving day, is it?

You gestured to your feet, then to the Tetris block boxes in the back of the truck. Bit of a shitshow so far.

Looks like it. Need a hand?

He could’ve sworn you were considering it, the way you paused. The way your hands crossed to cover the ring on your third finger.

You rolled your tongue from one cheek to the other. Thanks, you decided, I think we’re good.

And then, just as Billy made to cross the street, you cast another line.

Nice neighborhood?

His mouth twisted into that sick smirk of his. Muscle memory. He had you ensnared already. He glanced over his shoulder. Hm?

I’m not from around here. Is it a nice neighborhood?

He staggered back over, stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘s alright, yeah. Few wronguns, couple curtain-twitchers.

Terror sniffed a trail between the boxes at your feet. His leash wrapped around your bare legs.

You knelt to cup his blocky head, scratch the folds of fur between his ears. Curtain-twitchers, huh? you echoed to the pup. And which category does your daddy fall into?

Billy’s fist locked around the leash. He could already feel it: the rush of blood heading somewhere he knew it fucking shouldn’t.

Neither, he replied. Yet.

You looked up at him. All doe-eyed and innocent. Younger than him by a decent amount, so it looked. A light in your eyes and a fullness in your cheeks that gave you away instantly.

You looked brand new. Lovely little thing; a baby crease between your brows as you ruffled the dog’s snowy fur and stood up, mirroring Billy’s suspicious smirk.

So fucking sweet. So sweet, in fact, that Billy wanted to chew you up and spit you back out. Wanted to see how much of a mess he could make of such a pretty girl.

He’s always known just how to ruin a good thing, hasn’t he?

Well, you cleared your throat, it was nice to meet you, uh…

Butcher, he said, holding a paw of a hand out. Billy Butcher.

Billy Butcher, you echoed. I look forward to seeing where we both turn out.

Forty-five seconds still on the clock, he gives in.

Gives in to the need thrumming through his bones, so electric he can’t stand still. Gives in to his fluttering heart and the way it falters with each sighting of your silhouette.

Gives in to the fucking brick in his pants, the painful ache and the feeling like bruising each time it ruts against his jeans.

Can’t help himself, can he? He’s already bursting at the seams. He hasn’t touched you in – Christ, Billy, it’s only been eighteen hours – but fuck it.

You’re the only good thing about his day. The only relief he gets, the only time he feels like himself.

The only thing Billy has to look forward to these days, is pushing his cock inside someone else’s wife.

Ain’t that a fucking thing? Fuuuckin’ hell.

He thinks, swaggering down his front steps, that he should feel bad about it. He almost wishes he could.

He thinks, watching you mirror him across the street – collar up, head down, the way he’d taught you the first night – that he should call it quits. Tonight, last night, last week. This affair should never have started in the first place.

He thinks, as he sighs into his car and you strut off in the opposite direction, that he should let you go. Tell you to turn around, head back home. Back to your husband, back to your life – unblemished by Billy’s messy, poisoned hands.

He should let you go back to that girl he met on the side of the road. Ring on her finger, dimple in her cheek. A twinkle of innocence as bright as sunlight in her eye.

But you pause at the end of the street. Billy catches it in his rearview. You pause, twirl on your heel, and stare back at the Cadillac. Your arms come up – something of a signal, a prompt. He should have the engine running by now. He should be on his way to the meeting spot.

Billy thinks, if he’s half the man he’s spent his entire life trying to be, that he owes it to himself not to turn the key. To get back out of the car, and never watch for the shadow of you ever again.

He knows he’s not half the man he should be. And why the fuck would he be, anyway? He ain’t exactly got a decent lineup of role models to choose from. A seed planted in shit can grow into as tall a tree as it wants – the roots will always be steeped in shit.

Sod it.

The engine rumbles to life, and so does he.

Billy pulls the Cadillac in to the usual spot. A couple blocks from your street, the place is perpetually deserted – save for a couple stumbling teenagers last week and a meddling raccoon the week before.

You’re loitering beneath the cover of some trees, avoiding the splotches of amber streetlight. Hands in your pockets; shoulders bunched. Almost a month of sneaking around and still, each time, he almost mistakes you for some other ghost on the street.

The door whips open. You sink into the passenger seat.

“Don’t tell me you almost got cold feet.”

His eyebrows quirk. “That sound like me?”

You bite down on a cheeky grin. That dimple of yours makes itself at home. “Thought you were about to bail on me. Car trouble? Couldn’t get it to start?”

“Hm,” Billy pinches your chin, “That don’t sound like me either.”

He could swear he feels you nuzzle into his grasp; could swear your gaze softens just a little. But it’s dark outside, even darker in here, and he’d do well to remember exactly who you are, and exactly who he is.

Selfish, careless, irresponsible. A right cunt. Broken from the inside out, a black chasm which splits the four chambers of his heart. It’s in his bones, in his blood.

The kind of man who flirts with the neighbor, who meets her in a backstreet and fucks her in his car. The kind of man who goes home afterwards and showers her perfume from his skin; who plays with himself until he’s hard all over again just from the memory.

The kind of man whose wife reckons the new couple look happy. Honeymoon phase, she’ll say, and then drift off into some other corner of the house.

Billy lets his hand drop. “Come on, then,” he says, putting the car into park. “Ain’t got all night.”

He’s never bored of it.

Never bored of the smutty smirk on your face, or the way you skip around to the backseat. Never bored of that first touch, the heat on his skin that meets your frozen fingertips. Never bored of the way you melt into him, the need pouring from your body as soon as Billy pulls you into his lap.

There’s a thrill to it. A kind of ecstasy he hasn’t felt in years. For the sliver of night that you share together, he can be exactly who he wants to be.

It just so happens to be who you want, too.

He lifts the tee from your shoulders, teeth dragging between your collarbones. Across red lace and strap, pausing only to suck a delicate mark into the plush of your chest.

You giggle, throwing your head back. “No proof,” you pull his jaw away, “He’ll see that, you know he will.”

Billy nips at your bottom lip. “Tell ‘im he left it.”

“Ha,” you roll your eyes, “Good one.”

He toys with the lace on your hips, slipping a hand between your legs. “Poor baby,” he pouts, “Ain’t got no one to touch her at home.”

Your spine curls when he cups your mound. Tongue pokes at the corner of your mouth, eyes flood black; a wild animal eyeing her next meal.

He swirls his middle finger, teasing your clit over your underwear. “Make a mess in ‘em, sweetheart, just for me.”

“They’re already a mess for you,” you grit, nails digging into his shoulders. You grind into his palm, hips stuttering. “They’re – always – a mess – for you.”

He can feel it – the damp material at his fingertips, the warm wet on the inside of your thighs. You need this as much as he does. And that’s all this is, right? Helping each other out, being neighborly. A favor asked and answered inside of an hour.

Lend me some milk, water my houseplants. Fuck me until I can’t fucking think straight.

His cock strains against his jeans. Any longer and he’ll be making a mess in his own fucking underwear.

He kisses along the ridge of your jaw, sliding a hand up your spine to unhook your bra.

You shake the lingerie from your body, fucking perfect tits jiggling between your arms. Bare on top of him now – nothing but a scrap of lace over your hips and a sinful smile on your lips.

You fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, writhing still with the pressure he’s quickly building between your hips. Grinding into him, hungrier and hungrier.

“Stupid fucking shirt,” you groan, ripping the floral pattern from his shoulders. Your hands find the plain of his chest; solid, dappled with dark hair, chain catching the streetlight and reflecting it in your eyes.

Billy laughs to himself. He pulls his hand from between your legs, sucks the tease of slick from his fingers, and guides your lips down to his. “Come here.”

No, he’s not a weak man. He’s been a fighter his entire life. Fists that have broken bone, words that have crumbled foes to dust. If you ain’t already a cunt, the world will make a cunt of you, yeah?

But here, now, you – undoing his belt, tossing it to the footwell; pushing the denim from his hips. You, giggling when he bucks you up to rid himself of his underwear, and your head hits the roof of the car.

You, taking his stiff cock in both hands, biting down on a moan when you feel the weight of him –

You might just be the thing that breaks him.

He thrusts up into your grip. “Drivin’ me off my head, you are,” he groans, burying his face in your chest when you squeeze.

“Good,” you reply, spitting into your palm. “’s what you do to me, anyway.”

You drag warm saliva over his length, slipping lower to massage his balls. So big and heavy in your hand, though Billy knows you’re being gentle.

Everything about you is gentle. Even while breaking your most solemn vow – the bullshit promises you made to that cunt at the altar – you’re so sweet with it. A favor, sure – but you want to make him feel good. You still want to pretend it’s real.

Only – there’s not enough time. Your husband will be home any minute, Billy’s wife has probably already noticed he’s gone. There are only so many excuses that an hour can allow, and the longer he spends admiring the way you caress his ball sack, the more of those excuses are written off.

For now, the back of his Cadillac behind a dilapidated Burger King will have to do.

“Alright,” Billy croaks, pausing your movements with a light hand on your wrist. “Gotta let me fuck you now, sweetheart. Been waiting all day for it, haven’t I?”

You chew on your lip, guiding his cock to your entrance.

His tip notches at your hole, so warm and snug just for him. He can feel how tight you still are, even after a month of him. Still not used to the size, the way he punches the air straight out of your lungs with that first thrust.

He wonders if you’re still having sex with your husband. Stupid question, maybe, but he does. He wonders whether, when the bloke slips inside, you feel yourself aching around him. Feel your cunt needing more, needing him.

The thought drains his head of any blood and sends it straight to his dick. He leans back against the headrest and pulls your cunt down over him.

The sound you make is almost enough to send him over already. A tiny squeak, a yelp which shatters into the most beautiful sound he’s heard all day. Need. Need and want, laced up and tied into the form of a pretty girl on his cock.

Need and want, which happens to push the word over her tongue just as he goes to ask for it.

“Daddy,” you whine, head rolling across Billy’s shoulder. Your hips are still, split open on top of him as your cunt adjusts to the intrusion.

“There she is,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, smirking. “’s my girl, let Daddy open her up a little.”

So fucking tight, it almost hurts. He can’t remember the last time he was inside someone who gripped him this much. Like you don’t want him to move at all, just stay put between your walls and let you call the shots.

“That feel okay, darlin’?” Billy asks, helping you straighten.

You look down to where your bodies connect – the dark trail of hair on his groin meeting yours. The twist of lace, underwear warped to make room for the width of his cock.

You brace yourself with two hands on his stomach, and push up. Only an inch, barely enough for any relief, but when you drop down on him again, you wince.

“She’ll get there,” he says, slipping a hand around the small of your back. He cradles you in the crook of his arm, kisses the hinge of your jaw. “Just gotta give her a little bit a’ time, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” you reply, in a bottled voice. You link your own arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him.

He lifts his hips, gently bucking until your whimpers quieten. Until the crease between your brow smooths, replaced with creases at the corners of your lips. A smile, a satisfied thing – her daddy always makes her feel better, doesn’t he?

Always blurs the edges of her pain. The relief after a long, shitty day; the escape from a long, shitty marriage. The need met; the want fulfilled. The hunger satiated, until eight p.m. the following night when you pull your hood up and go for another one of your walks.

You chant it to him, like with each syllable you’re turning the pain into pleasure. Daddy Daddy Daddy. Each one higher than the last, each one more desperate.

Your walls squeeze around him. You grind down against the thick hair at his base; clit swollen and soaked with your wet and his.

Billy’s eyes roll closed. He slips his fingers through yours, feels the cold brush of your wedding ring on his skin.

A good man would snap out of it. A good man would glance down at the strip of gold around his own finger, and call the whole thing off. Stuff himself back into his pants, drive the both of you home. Never look the road you’re on again, never look at another woman who isn’t his wife.

But his wife’s not here. Hasn’t been here, for longer than Billy would like to admit.

You’re here. Dove of a girl, soft coos from her lips and little fluttering movements. Good girl, right in his lap, begging him to tear her apart.

And thank fuck he’s not a good man.

He grits his teeth, jaw clenching around a pathetic moan. “Daddy’s gonna come, darlin’, gonna fill her right up.”

“Daddy,” you pant, “Daddy, I’m – I’m ovulating, please –”

“Good,” he grunts, slamming in again, “Means you’ll take it all then, won’tcha?”

You slur something of a laugh into his chest. Your thighs clench around his waist, rutting begins to falter. You dig your nails into his shoulders and, with a sobbing moan, you come hard around his cock.

“Oh, my God – Billy,” you gasp, hands grabbing the hair at the base of his skull. You give it a sharp tug and tilt his head skyward.

Billy comes with a guttural moan, a sound that tears from the base of his throat and echoes into your mouth. His cock pulses inside you, emptying into your little cunt.

Nothing has ever felt so fucking right, he realizes, than this cramped backseat. A tight squeeze, all of it – the sweet pinch of your pussy around his cock, the sweat and sex coating the windows in a hazy film.

The stars in his vision spatter, fading into the dull car. He settles back with a sigh.

You giggle, swaying to and fro in his lap. When you slip off, his cock settles heavy and soaked on his groin.

“Hold it,” Billy says, snapping your underwear back into place. “You hold it all in there.”

“Okay,” you smile, wrapping your arms around one of his, “Okay, Daddy.”

He closes his eyes. For a moment, he allows himself to fade out of this stifling backseat and to somewhere fresher, cleaner. Unbroken and untainted. No vows or golden rings suffocating either of you.

For a moment, he could almost believe it.

At his side, he hears the ruffling of denim. The flick of a lighter, once, twice, and then the soft crackling of a cigarette burning. The thick stench of tobacco fills the car.

“You wanna know something?”

You ask it quietly, timidly.

Billy snaps back to the Cadillac. His eyes flutter open. “What?”

You twirl the cig between your fingers, watching the snaking smoke bend and twist. “This is all I have. The only time I feel like I’m above the waves. Everything else is just…fucking…”

“…drowning,” he says.

You hum an agreement and lift the cigarette to his lips. “Isn’t that awful? I mean, we’re fucking awful people, aren’t we?”

Billy takes a long drag. The question fills his lungs, sour as smoke. “Not you,” he says, lifting his chin to exhale over your head. “Not you.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “How come you get to be the cunt, and I don’t?”

He answers with an empty shrug, another cloud of smoke obscuring you from his vision.

“What would we do if you got me pregnant?” you ask, wafting the air.

He scoffs. “You’re askin’ if we’d pretend it was his?”

You shrug. “Sure. Would we?”

He rests his chin on your head. “S’pose we’d have to,” he utters, watching the blur of headlights soar by the parking lot. “You want to admit this is what you’re up to every fuckin’ night?”

“No.”

“No,” he repeats.

“It would be a shitstorm, though,” you snicker. The cherry glows again as you suck on the end.

“Fuckin’ diabolical,” Billy agrees.

[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.

[velvette-creations]

Bite the bullet and run

The Boys: Billy Butcher x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI) 

WC: 1.9 k 

Prompt: Held at Gunpoint for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: spoilers for season 4, injury/blood, oral (f receiving), fingering, c*m eating, overstimulation, a bit of angst, alcohol consumption, anger, hallucinations 

Summary: Billy Butcher is living on borrowed time

Billy is staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, and he knows it. The trigger is cocked, bullet warm in the chamber, just itching to fire into his brain. Karmic retribution; he’s done his fair share of lousy shit under the guise of being a hero, and now it’s catching up to him. Took the V and paid the price. He’s living on borrowed time as the tumor destroys his brain, bringing him closer and closer to death. He knows it, but he can’t admit it. Even as the hallucinations of Rebecca and Kessler make it painfully honest.

He wonders how long he can keep spinning out of control, keep blacking out, and keep pushing reality down; god knows it’s already wreaked havoc on his mental state. It’s not like he can escape it; eventually, the cold, hard reality will come knocking on his front door. His mind flickers briefly to the thought of you and the citrus smell of your perfume, of leaving you behind to handle the mess. You’re a cold-hearted bastard, Bucher; just admit, it will do you good, Kessler sneers. But he’s not; Billy Butcher is flesh and blood, human, and he’s not ready to bite the bullet just yet.

He downs the shot, the whiskey burning his throat and dulling his senses. The liquor won’t change anything but allows him a moment's sweet respite from reality. He can hear Kessler’s sardonic laughter from the stool next to him, the outline of him in Billy’s peripheral vision. He’s not fucking real, the cunt ain’t there, Billy seethes in his head.

That’s where you’re wrong, Billy Boy. I’m a part of you now; better get used to it—the devil on his shoulder.

Billy orders another shot, nearly jumping out of his skin when your hand presses against his shoulder. He’s ready to throw an enraged punch to your face until he realizes it’s you.

“What has you so pissed off that you were ready to knock me through a wall?” you ask dryly as you slip into the stool beside him, Kessler’s form dissipating. You turn toward the bartender and order two shots: one for him and one for you.

“A bit of this, a bit of that, love. This Neuman business has got us all on edge, don’t it?” he grumbled, wrapping his blunt fingers around the shot glass. You want to slap him right across the face. You know it’s more than that.

You hmmm softly before downing your shot, then tap your fingers against the sticky bar counter.

“Sorry, but I’m not buying that bullshit. You’ve been off for weeks. You’re hiding something.” You don’t mean to sound so accusatory, but you’re tired of dancing around the issue. It pisses you off that he’s withholding, and you’re tired of letting him crawl between your legs so he can avoid reality.

“Ain’t none of your business, love,” he snorts, and you slam your hands against the bar.

“Fuck you, Billy! It is my fucking business! If I’m gonna wake up to you dead next to me in bed one morning, I deserve to fucking know,” you growl, making heads turn in your direction.

Tell her, Billy. You don’t have to be alone. I don’t want you to be alone. Sweet, sweet Rebecca, the angel on his other shoulder.

He glares up at you, anger dancing in his dark eyes, but you can see the pain pushing through. You’re ready for the explosion; you welcome it. Anything to prove that he still has a fight inside of him, that he isn’t giving in so willingly. Glass shatters as he slams it against the bar, tiny pieces embedding in his skin and blood oozing from the shallow cuts. You hold your hand out as the bartender storms over.

“We’re going,” you assure him, leaving enough cash to cover the shots and a generous tip to compensate for the disturbance and broken glass. You grab Billy’s upper arm and tug him towards the door.

The bartender was kind enough to lend you a clean rag to wrap around Billy’s injured hand, and you guide him toward your apartment, which is a couple blocks away. The silence is deafening as you both sit hunched over in your small bathroom (the light is better there) as you remove the glass from Billy’s cuts with tweezers. Once you’re assured you’ve gotten them all out, you wash and disinfect his hand before wrapping it in a clean bandage. How many nights have you spent cleaning blood and stitching up wounds, avoiding the hospital if able? How many nights have you spent with his mouth hot on your cunt as his tongue brings you to the edge of sweet oblivion? Intimate in so many ways, yet the art of communication is lost.

“I ain’t trying to lie to you, love. I just don’t wanna say it,” he murmurs, his gaze cast to the floor, counting the white tiles to glisten in the bright light.

Tell her, Billy

You gently grasp his uninjured hand, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles. “Are you sick?”

He nods.

“Are you living on limited time?”

He nods again. He’s told you all you need to know without saying a word.

“Will you let me be there for you?”

There is a hesitation before he nods a third time. He can see Rebecca smiling at him from over her shoulder.

“Thank you. I won’t say anything to the rest of the team,” you assure him. Secrets are for him to share, not you. You won’t betray his trust in that way.

“Thanks, love.”

“Come on, you can crash with me tonight.”

You find a show to watch that isn’t under the Vought umbrella and share Chinese takeout with Billy, squished together on your small couch, the space he’ll be sleeping on tonight. You made it painfully evident with the extra pillow and blankets sitting on the small coffee table in front of the TV. The truth may have been revealed, but you’re not ready to completely mend fences.

“Night, Billy,” you whisper, brushing your lips over his warm cheek, feeling the soft stubble of his beard scrape against your skin.

“Night, love,” he sighs, and you disappear into your bedroom.

Eventually, you’re finally caught in the hazy space of sleep and the waking world when you feel the mattress dip. Billy’s warm body settles against your back, and his bandaged hand rests on your hip.

“I’ll go if you want me to, love, but I’ve missed you,” he whispers in your ear before his lips ghost along the curve of your neck. Need palpitates in your belly. You don’t want him to go. Maybe you’re more forgiving than you thought.

“Don’t…don’t go, Billy,” you beg, your words holding a heavier meaning as tears sting your eyes.

“I’m right here, love, I’m right here,” he assuages, pulling you closer with his other hand before it slips under your tank top to cup one of your breasts. His thumb circles around your nipple until it hardens. His cock presses against the swell of your ass. Your citrus perfume tickles his nose.

You rut against him, grabbing his hand and moving it down your belly. He plunges into your shorts, his warm palm finding your damp cunt immediately. His rough fingers stroke your folds, gathering up your arousal.

“Billy,” you whine. His bare chest radiates warmth, and you yearn to curl into it.

“I’m right here, love,” he breathes as two fingers slip inside you. You clench around him, rocking your hips as needy mewls spill from your lips. It never takes much for him to make you come completely undone. You try to push away the thought that he’s living on borrowed time, which could be one of the last moments you share with him. Might as well make the most of it.

Your eyes roll back as his fingers pump steadily in and out of your pussy, making your toes curl before you spill into orgasm. Animalistic lust surges through you as Billy removes his fingers and tugs your shorts down your legs. You roll over, tugging off your tank and his boxers before lowering your mouth to suck on the tip of his cock. Once he’s coated in your salvia, you mount him, sinking deep onto his cock.

“Bloody hell,” he groans, his good hand gripping your hip tightly before slipping up your belly to take a handful of your tits.

You bounce on his cock, working your muscles and riding him like it might be his last night. You try to push away the thought that it very well might be. You reach down to cup his face as sweat pools down your back.

“Billy, fuck, Billy,” you moan, tracing your thumb around his plush lips.

“Love the way you scream my name, darlin’,” he grins, all cocksure. There he is. There’s your Billy.

“Don’t I know it,” you purred, squeezing around his cock as his hips thrust beneath you. A chill sets in the outside air, but inside is all heat. His flesh is sweaty and salty, and you can’t get enough of it.

Billy finds his fire and his strength, remaining buried inside you as he changes positions, placing you on your back underneath him so he can pound you. Your legs tighten around his waist as he leans down to capture you in a fiery kiss, one where you can taste his passion and the salt of his skin. Your nails skim down his back as flesh smacks together. Wet sounds fill the air, intermingling with his grunts and your pants. You tremble beneath him as you reach your peak, and he spills inside you, making you milk him for all he’s worth. He stays pressed against you as your fingers drag lazily through his damp, dark hair.

Billy gazes into your eyes, thinking it was well spent if this was his last night on earth. Better to go out with a bang and in between the thighs of a woman he loves. Not that he’s ever uttered those words out loud. Almost feels as if he’s betraying Rebecca, but fucking hell, how long can he hold onto ghosts? He gently slips out of you, leaving kisses along your neck, over the swells of your breasts and your belly, before he reaches your soaked, swollen cunt. He can’t help but swipe his tongue over the mess of himself mixed with you.

“Billy,’ you gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair as you squirm against his mouth.

“Indulge a dying man, would you, love? Don’t deny me my favorite last meal,” he murmurs against your damp thighs.

“Oh, you’re an asshole,” you laughed, giving his hair a sharp tag.

“Don’t I know it?” His tongue swirls against your core, dipping inside you.

You’re oversensitive from earlier, and it doesn’t take long for you to cum against his mouth, feeling absolutely spent by the time he’s finished. You’re coated in sweat, and a shower sounds so good, but you can’t be fucked to move. You barely muster up the strength to drape yourself over Billy’s naked chest, holding tightly to him. His bandaged hand rests lightly against your lower back. You snuggle your face against the crook of his neck, committing his scent and flesh to your memory.

Billy Butcher is staring down the barrel of a gun, but for now, he only cares about the feeling of you in his arms. He’ll bite the fucking bullet another fucking day.

[burntsaltsblog]

hi hi!!

if you could write a billy butcher x reader about finding out that butcher is using temp v and the reader finds out that he could die.

orrrr

when billy comes out of mind readers trance, angst on lenny and his family, comforting him, him pushing the reader away but then needing to be comforted.

just a thought, i love your stories, thank yooou!!

hello!! thank u!! ur so kind <3 i wrote an imagine a little while back about the reader finding out about butcher taking temp v right here

thank u for ur request and i hope u like this little imagine i whipped up based on ur second request <3

tw: this story contains a retelling of abuse. pls don’t read if that may be triggering for u.

༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻

"I'm not waking him up," declared Mindstorm once again. He was quite bold for someone so old, frail, and, most noticeably, naked.

"Alright then," I shrugged. "Say goodbye to one of your eyeballs." I strived forward, pocketknife outstretched, before Huhgie grasped my shoulder tightly, halting me in my tracks.

"Stop. There's no need for violence," Hughie said, trying to calm me down.

"Haven't you lived long enough in this world to realize that violence is the only way to get what you want?" I growled at him, tearing myself out of his hold. "You're not leaving until you wake up our friend," I continued, facing Mindstorm. "And I don't care how many fingers of yours I have to cut off in the process."

Mindstorm narrowed his eyes, and I quickly looked away so as not to meet the same fate that Butcher did mere hours ago.

"I'll teleport you. Anywhere you want to go," Hughie offered, and I sighed at his meek attempt to reason with the stubborn supe. "The options are endless. I can take you to fucking Anartica if you want, and then you'll be far, far away from Soldier Boy. All you have to do is wake up our friend first."

Mindtsorm studied Hughie, and I could see the cogs turning in his head as he pondered this proposition. "You haven't seen the inside of that guy's head like I have. He's real messed up."

"You're one to talk," I muttered, glaring indignantly on Butcher's behalf. Hughie promptly elbowed me in the ribs, signaling me to shut up, but I scowled at him as well. I was highly protective of Butcher, and this situation only intensified that. Hughie should be thankful I hadn't sunk my knife into Mindstorm's jugular for his little comment.

"Just think about it," Hughie said, his voice significantly quieter. "Wouldn't it be nice to live in a place where you wouldn't have to worry about Soldier Boy breathing down your neck?"

Mindstorm grumbled under his breath, reluctantly agreeing. "Fine. I'll wake him up. And then," he pointed to Hughie, "You're taking me to Jamaica."

"Yes, deal." Hughie nodded vigorously. "I heard Jamaica is lovely this time of year." He chuckled nervously, and I rolled my eyes before stomping over to Butcher's body, falling to my knees beside him.

I hyper-analyzed Mindstorm's every movement with narrowed eyes as he sunk to the forest floor and placed his hands on Butcher's temple. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, whispering unintelligible words.

Anxiety riddled my body as each silent second passed by. I laced my fingers through Butcher's lifeless ones and willed him to wake up. "C'mon, Butcher. Please wake up," I whispered as unwanted tears stung my eyes. Until now, I hadn't considered that Mindstorm might not be capable of waking him up. But I was wrenched from my worries when Butcher gasped loudly as his eyes flew open.

"Oh, thank fuck," I sighed, full of relief that was soon replaced with worry.

Butcher's pupils were blown as he frantically looked around the woods we were gathered in. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and panicked apologies fell from his chapped lips. "M'sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."  

"Sorry for what?" I asked, confused.

"S'all my fault," Butcher mumbled. "It's all my fuckin' fault. I killed him."

"What is your fault?"

But it was as if he didn't hear me. Butcher continued looking in every direction as if the trees held a secret he was searching for. "Butcher, look at me," I shook his shoulders gently. "Butcher, please."

Butcher's eyes finally landed on me, and I cupped his cheek, tracing the tense lines to soothe him. "There, we go," I praised softly. "Good job. Now, can you breathe for me? Give me a nice, deep breath, yeah?"

I inhaled slowly, showing him how to do it, and he mimicked my actions. "That's it." I smiled. "You doing ok?"

Something inside Butcher snapped, and his demeanor hardened as he forcefully shoved me away. "Get your bloody paws off me. M'fine," he grumbled, rising to his feet on shaky legs. Hughie immediately reached forward to help steady him, but Butcher slapped his hand away. "Oi, I said I'm fine; I don't need help from either of ya' cunts."

I was stunned as I watched Butcher walk several yards away before fishing a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and swiftly lighting one.

"Here," Hughie said, offering me his hand and helping me stand.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked lowly, continuing to eye Butcher from afar.

"His mind is just catching up to the present time. He'll be fine in a little while," Mindstorm interjected.

I looked at the supe, wanting to know more details about Butcher's recovery timeline, but saw that his attention was already on Hughie, regarding him expectantly. "You owe me a trip."

"Oh, right," Hughie replied before turning to me. "You stay here with Butcher while I take Mindstorm to Jamaica, ok? I'll be back as soon as I can."

I nodded wearily and watched Hughie and Mindstorm disappear with a resounding pop.

༺༻

"I'm worried about Butcher," I mumbled to Hughie as we perched on our motel bed together. "We haven't heard from him since we checked in hours ago. How do we know he's still in his room?"

"He has the same locator app on his phone like the rest of us. If he went somewhere, we'd know," Hughie replied, keeping his eyes trained on the cracked television displaying re-runs of old sitcoms.

I shook my head, rising to my feet. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling. I'm going to go check on him."

"Are you sure?" Hughie asked, glancing up at me as I headed for the door. "Butcher hasn't been in the best mood since waking up."

"And that's precisely why someone needs to check on him," I said, slipping on my boots and unlocking the door before pocketing the rusted motel key. "I'll be back in a minute." I looked back at Hughie, but he was distracted by Chandler Bing singing "I Will Survive" on the TV and giggling profusely.

I decided to leave him be and wordlessly slipped out of the door.

Butcher's room was next to ours, so the entire trip consisted of three and a half steps. I lightly knocked on his door and waited for him to grant me entrance, but that never came.

"Butcher? Are you in there?" I called through the door and strained my ears for an answer. But I heard nothing besides an ambulance that wailed on the highway behind the motel.

I sighed, biting my lip before I made the rash decision to try opening the door. To my surprise, the knob turned easily before the door swung open on hinges that squeaked in protest.

I peered inside as I hesitantly stepped over the threshold. "Butcher?" I tried again as I slowly roamed the room. The bed was still made, and the only proof that the room was inhabited was Butcher's overnight bag that he'd dropped on the floor by the door.

I was just considering leaving when I heard a small clamor from the attached bathroom, and I tiptoed over to peek through the cracked door. My breath caught in my throat at the scene before me, and I swiftly shoved open the door before falling to my knees beside Butcher's crumpled form.

"Jesus," I breathed as I closed my fingers around his chin, angling his head to better look at his face. His eyelids were drooped, and I was about to question him for his lethargic state when I spotted the empty bottle of whiskey that he clutched to his chest.

"Butcher, can you hear me?" I asked, tapping the side of his face, trying to revive him. He groaned, popping his lids and staring blankly into my face. His eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of the alcohol he had ingested.

"Butcher," I prompted again. "How much did you have to drink? Please do not tell me you had the entire bottle in one night."

"Oops," he said, pursing his lips lazily.

I sat back on my heels as I cursed harshly. "Fuck, are you trying to die of alcohol poisoning?"

Butcher chuckled softly, running a hand down his face. "Don't worry 'bout me, love. It would take a lot more than a little bottle of booze to send me to God's front door."

I squinted at him as I deliberated about how to handle this situation. There was no way I could leave him here on the dirty bathroom floor. "Can you stand?" I asked, wanting to move him to the bed so he could lie down properly.

"As it so happens, m'quite comfy here. Why don't ya' come and join me?" Butcher drawled, holding his arms out unevenly and curling up the side of his mouth in a smirk.

"As delightful as that offer sounds, I'm not really in the mood to curl up on a floor that I'm fairly certain has about fifteen different STDs on it."

"Well, I’m all clean, doll, and that's the only thing ya' need to worry about."

"You know, I hate to break it to you, but you're a terrible flirt when you're drunk," I snorted. "Now, can you at least try to stand for me?"

Butcher huffed out gruffly. "Fine. But if I fall over on me arse, it's your fault."

"Fair enough."

I guided his arm around my shoulder and slowly stood with him. He was a little wobbly at first, but after gathering his bearings, we shuffled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom with my assistance. Butcher collapsed on the bed before gazing around, puzzled. "Where's me whiskey?"

"You drank it, remember?" I snickered, gesturing to his disheveled appearance. "That's how you ended up like this."

"Huh."

I sat on the edge of the bed and cautiously ran my fingers through Butcher's dark, tangled hair, pulling it back from where it had stuck to his forehead, slick with a light sheen of sweat. At first, I thought he might push me away as he did earlier today, but to my surprise, he closed his eyes, and a slight sound of contentment vibrated in his throat.

"S'nice."

A smile played at the edge of my lips, and I kept repeating the action, watching the tension that the whiskey couldn't remove from his body dissipate. I thought Butcher had fallen asleep when he whispered almost too quietly for me to hear. "You're too good for me. All of ya'"

"That's not true, and you know it," I replied immediately.

"But I'm a bleedin’ murderer," he said louder as he opened his eyes, and my heart clenched when I saw he had tears in them.

"Butcher, we've all killed people. You're no worse than I am. Or Frenchie or MM."

Butcher shook his head adamantly. "No. I killed him, an innocent fuckin' person."

"Who?" I pressed, wanting to understand the source of his pain. "Who did you kill?"

"The one person I was supposed to protect." Butcher's voice broke, and he coughed weakly. "I shoulda been there to protect him, but instead, I fuckin’ killed him when he needed me the most."

Even in the midst of my confusion, I didn't cease stroking Butcher's head, wanting and needing to console him in any way possible. "I'm sure it was an accident. You're not a killer, Billy. And there's nothing in you that would ever convince me otherwise."

"Ya' don't understand," he croaked, looking up at me with sad, hazel eyes. My throat tightened, and I swallowed harshly to clear my emotions. Seeing Butcher so tormented clawed at my heart, especially when I didn't know how to help him.

"Then explain it to me," I plead softly.

Butcher looked unsure, and his unease was palpable. "I've never told anybody before," he admitted lowly.

"You don't have to tell me. But, Butcher, it might help to talk about it." I paused briefly as I carefully chose my following words. "Does this guilt you're feeling have anything to do with what Mindstorm did to you today?"

Butcher nodded, closing his eyes. "It's the one thing from me past that I've tried to outrun. But today, it finally caught up to me."

I was quiet as I watched the internal battle rage within Butcher. After several deliberary minutes, he omitted a sigh and began to tell his darkest tail.

"I had just turned eighteen. I'd been counting down the days until my birthday when I'd be a legal adult and could get the fuck outta my mum and dad's house. My old man...he was a fuckin' cunt. His temper was uncontrollable, and he loved to take it out on my younger brother, Lenny, and me."

Lenny.

I had heard a bit about Lenny from Butcher's aunt last year, right before her house blew up, but I never got any details. All I knew was that he had committed suicide as a child. It was tragic and involved a sort of heartbreak that I couldn't even comprehend, so I never asked Butcher about it.

"I tried to take the brunt of my dad’s shite to shield Lenny, but I was a kid, so there wasn't much I could do. There were times when little Lenny would be so hurt-" Butcher's voice wavered, cutting off the ending of his sentence, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he composed himself before continuing. "Our mum never hit us, but she never tried to protect us either. That twat of a woman never lifted a fuckin' finger as she listened to us scream."

Butcher's eyes drifted behind me as he recalled the painful memories. "I couldn't fuckin' take it anymore. I decided that on my eighteenth birthday, I'd run away to join the army. The idea of being shot at was worlds betta' than living under the roof of my piss-poor excuse of a father. But I couldn't take Len with me." Butcher paused, hesitating. "Even after he begged me to."

"Our father was awful to him," Butcher said, meeting my gaze, and I saw fresh tears well in his eyes. But he couldn't suppress them this time, and they ran down his face, wetting his cheeks. "He beat Lenny far worse than he ever did me. I think he was bitter that I'd been able to escape, and hurting me little brother was his act of revenge."

"I'm so sorry, Butcher," I mumbled, knowing that my apology did nothing to ease his pain.

"After six months, the army gave me a short leave of absence, and I used it to visit Lenny." Butcher's tears increased as his voice grew strained. "He looked terrible. He'd lost so much weight and was covered in bruises, so he didn't even look like the same person."

I softly dragged a finger under each of Butcher's eyes, wiping away his tears, but every tear I collected was quickly replaced with a new one. Carefully, I urged Butcher closer so his head could rest in my lap. I resumed running my hand through his hair, hoping it would have the same calming effect on him that it did before.

"He blamed me for our father's behavior," Butcher continued. "He said that I had abandoned him when he needed me the most. He said he couldn't fuckin' bear it anymore, and he'd rather be dead than be beaten every night by the one person who was supposed to love him more than anything."

Butcher closed his eyes and breathed shakily through his nose as he uttered the tragic ending of the story.

"And then he pulled out a gun and shot himself."

His words hung in the air and settled over us, blanketing Butcher and me in a morbid and melancholy feeling.

"And it was all my fault."

I was startled by Butcher's accusation of himself. "What are you talking about? It was your father's doing. You weren't the one beating Lenny halfway to hell every night."

Butcher looked up at me, slowly shaking his head. His eyes were puffy as they continued to dispel tears of his anguish. "If I hadn't left, Lenny woulda been safer, and he wouldn't've been driven to suicide. I practically signed my brother's death certificate."

"Butcher-"

"If I had just stayed, then my father wouldn't have-"

"Butcher-"

"So it's my fuckin’ fault that-"

"Butcher! Your brother's death was not your fault, do you hear me?"

I hauled Butcher up from my lap and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to look at me. "How dare you try to take responsibility for the actions of a fucking monster. You are a good person, Billy. And I will spend every day telling you if that's what it takes for you to believe me because I can't bear to sit back and watch you punish yourself for a crime that you did not commit."

Butcher looked stunned by my outburst as he opened and closed his mouth without dispelling any words. I had never seen Billy Butcher speechless, but I assumed it looked like this.

"You're one of the best people I know," I continued, wanting to finish everything I had to say. "And I'm going to personally hunt down Mindstorm and rip his stupid, little shrimp dick off and shove it down his throat for forcing you to relive something so horrific. And then I'm going to cut his toes off and- what?"

Butcher had lowered his head, and his shoulders shook ever so slightly as he chuckled.

"Oh, you think I'm bluffing? Hughie dropped him off in Jamacia, so all I have to do is get on a plane and- seriously, Butcher, what are you laughing at?" I asked incredulously. How on earth could he laugh at a time like this?

Butcher raised his head, regarding me softly as his laughter died down. "No one has ever protected me like you do."

His profession took me aback, and I raised a brow, needing him to elaborate.

"Hughie said ya' almost carved Mindstorm's eye out after he put me to sleep."

"And I would've carved out both eyes if he didn't stop me. Buzzkill."

A smile played on the edge of his mouth as he shook his head back and forth. "You're something else, ya' know that?"

I bit my lip as I looked down, but Butcher grasped the side of my jaw so it'd meet his eyes again. "Why do you do it?" he whispered.

"Do what?"

"Take care of me. Anyone else on the team woulda let me drown in me whiskey on that bathroom floor, but not you. Why?"

I swallowed audibly as I stuttered. "I, uh, just thought it was the right thing to do."

"No, s'not it," Butcher murmured, raking his teeth over his bottom lip. "There's more to it. I don't believe you spent your whole evening consoling the broken mind of your boss because ya' thought it was the right thing to do."

When I didn't reply, Butcher sighed, leaning his forehead against mine and closing his eyes. "Why are ya' so hellbent on convincing me that I'm not a fuck up like I know I am."

"Because I care about you. More than I probably should."

Butcher pulled back, searching my face for any hint that I may be joking, but when he saw nothing but the raw truth, he nodded. "C'mere."

He drew me close before pulling me down on the bed till I was curled up on my side, and he was directly behind me with his chest up against my back. Butcher slung an arm over my waist as he nuzzled his nose in my neck, breathing me in.

"Stay for the night, please. I don't wanna be alone."

I reached for his hand, which rested on my stomach, and intertwined our fingers. "I'm never leaving you."

༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻

i hope u liked it!! i'm accepting more requests right now, so pls send one in if you'd like!!

-xoxo

[redroses07]

Like this and i’ll return from my temporary hiatus to write a Billy Butcher fanfic.

[lokidjarin-7567]

Kinktober Day 3 - Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen

Billy Butcher x you Contents: pwp, fem!reader x Billy Butcher (The Boys), 18+ MDNI, there's only one bed (!!) W/C: 2.2k So I've read a lot of sex pollen fics, normally Mando ones actually, and then this idea got stuck in my head so yeah, here it is! It's a little longer but my next two are a lot shorter, so this is to make up for it. Anyway, hope someone out there is as obsessed with Billy Butcher as I am! Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” You could’ve shouted at the receptionist, hands balling by your sides.

“Sorry, just the one room left tonight.”

“We’ll take it.” Billy replied, shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“You can’t be serious…”

“How much do I owe you, darling?”

He ignored your complaints the whole way to the room as well, your bag slung over his shoulder. He unlocked the door, swinging it open and laughed heartily.

“What?” You pushed him aside, to see… one bed. For fucks sake.

“No getting away from me now, sweetheart…”

You’d just gotten out of the shower when you heard a deathly silence come over the room next to you. That was unlike him. He’d had the TV blasting since you’d been in the bathroom, and now it was silent. Something wasn’t right.

You wrapped your towel around yourself and peeked your head around the door. He was standing, his leather coat abandoned on the bed, head cocked as he looked towards the window. He turned his head when he heard you, pressing a finger to his lips and creeping closer. It was cracked open, a soft evening breeze causing the curtains to billow, but you couldn't hear anything else. You opened your mouth, about to ask him what was going on when a figure moved into frame.

“Fuck, cover your mouth!” Billy shouted, backing away, but it was too late. The figure raised their lips to the window, and a baby pink smoke filled the room before you could even react to it. It left you coughing, doubled over as you waited for it to clear. When it finally did, your head was hazy, as though you had literally put on rose tinted glasses and smoked a joint. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it meant that it took longer than you normally would've to figure out what just happened.

“Cupid…” you muttered, cursing lightly under your breath and moving to close the window. She was the Supe you had been tracking for the last few days, with the ability to produce a powerful aphrodisiac that was nearly incapacitating to whoever it affected. Not exactly the best superpower, although it felt pretty fucking awful right about now. Billy had perched on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “But why would she…”

“To distract us, to throw us off…”

“That makes no sense, we’ve already stopped for the night.”

“Didn’t you do your research, darling? It can last a full day, even two.”

“Fuck!” You were pacing now, trying to ignore the fog that was lowering over your mind. “Well, lets go after her! She can’t have gotten far.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not in any way to drive. Plus, you’re only in a towel.” You looked down, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

“Ok… ok I guess we just have to ride it out and hope it doesn't last too long… what?” You had looked up to see him gazing at you, pupils dilated, a dark expression on his face. His eyes were tracing your body, and you hadn’t realised until that point how short the towel actually was, your legs on display for him, droplets of water from the shower still clinging to you. “Billy!”

“Fucking hell, love, I’m sorry, but we just got blasted with some kind of sex potion so you can forgive me…”

“Just… go and have a shower or something. Maybe a wank, clear your head.”

“Sure thing, boss. Wanna watch?”

“Fuck right off.”

He had been in the shower for a while now, and you were starting to struggle. When you had agreed to go with him on this Supe hunt, you never thought this was the situation you would end up in - trapped in a hotel room, only one bed, with Billy Butcher, after a maniac just filled the room with a potent aphrodisiac. And you were really starting to feel it. Every single nerve ending in your body felt like live wires, and you were so turned on it was painful, squirming on the bed as your core physically ached with lack of attention. You had managed to get changed into a t-shirt and shorts, but you still felt too warm. You were halfway through tying up your hair to try and help cool down when Billy emerged from the shower, towel around his waist. Sweet Jesus that wasn't going to help. He was ripped, his arms and chest looked almost chiseled from stone, save for the light smattering of hair over his torso, following down his stomach into a happy tail that lead under the towel. You could almost feel your mouth watering as you noticed a tent in the think fabric. He was hard, and from the way he winced when he moved, painfully so.

“Did it help at all?” You asked feebly, trying to ignore the hardening of your nipples as you watched him move.

“No.” He answered sternly, sitting down with his back to you. You couldn’t help but gaze at it. His wide shoulders, the way his shoulder blades rippled with his shuddering breaths, what it would look like when you were done with him, red welts and scratches after he fucked you into the mattress…

Nope, no. Can't go there. He's a colleague - even if only technically. Work would be unbearable.

Although, this was pretty unbearable too.

He’d said something.

“Hm?” You asked, not noticing the way he was looking at you over his shoulder until your eyes had traced his entire back. You blushed.

“I need to change…”

“Oh shit, sorry.” You headed to the bathroom quickly, closing the door behind you and collapsing to the floor. Fuck this was a mess. A horrible, terrible mess. Maybe it would help if you just… just a little bit…

Your hand found its way below your waistband, and as soon as your fingertips brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves there, your entire body relaxed, an audible moan escaping your mouth. Shit. Hopefully he didn't hear that. You carried on quietly, biting your lip to try and stay quiet, but it was hard, the relief flowing through you unlike anything you’d ever experienced. And then you heard something from the other room. A soft grunt, and then another. And fucking hell it was a beautiful noise, almost pained but so relieved, perfectly echoing how you felt at that moment. God, he was awful and frustrating and horrible to work with but his voice was so sexy, and the noises he was making now were no different.

You couldn't deny it was helping you along, and you couldn't tell if you were imagining it or not, but every time a whimper escaped you, he groaned just a little louder. You reached your peak quickly, your entire body crumpling as it overtook you, a last moan falling from your lips as you caught your breath on the bathroom floor. You stood up to wash your hands and face, legs shaking, only to realise… it had barely done anything. The ache was back almost instantly, nipples hardening again at the thought of Billy in the next room, and you cursed into the icy cold water.

He had been quiet for a little while now, so you knocked cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m decent, doll.” The new pet name sent another wave of arousal to your centre, and you cursed internally with it. Every word he said feel like he was physically touching you, but not quite enough. It was driving you insane.

“How the fuck do we make this stop?” You gasped out, frustration clouding your mind as you flopped onto the end of the bed, laying down with your hands over your eyes. Maybe if you just didn't look at him…

“Well, I can think of one way…”

“Billy…” you muttered warningly, but you couldn't bring yourself to say more than that, just letting your hands drop from your face to see his dark expression looking you up and down.

“Do you really wanna stay like this for the next day…”

“We might still be like this… after.”

“We don't know until we try.” Fuck, you hated how much sense he was making in your sex-addled brain. “You can't say you haven't thought about it…” You opened your mouth to snap back that you hadn’t, that he repulsed you… but you couldn't get the words out. The truth was, you had thought about it. A lot. He might be a pain in your ass, but he was undeniably attractive. The smirk. The confidence. Those stupid fucking Hawaiian shirts that showed off his biceps in just the right way…

“Please I… look, it's killing me here love…” he sounded breathy, strained. Needy. Hearing him beg was almost enough to send you over the edge.

Fuck it.

You sat up before you had a chance to change your mind, grabbing him by the neck and pulling his lips to yours. He practically growled into your mouth, reciprocating with a ferocity you hadn't expected. His hands were instantly all over you, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap, his strength making you gasp sharply. His teeth found your bottom lips, biting and pulling as he forced your hips down into his, grinding into you in a way that felt so fucking perfect. You needed him closer. Your shaking hands reached for the hem of his tee, pulling it over his head and pushing him to the bed, lips marking a path down his chest.

“Fucking hell, love, get those clothes off.” You obliged quickly, standing to rip off your tee, then shorts and panties as he removed his own bottoms, letting his cock spring free. He was big. Really fucking big. You needed him inside you now. Needed…

He was a step ahead of you, grabbing your arm and pulling you face first to the bed. He set himself up behind you, pulling your hips into the air and his hand found its way to your hair, pressing your face into the mattress. And then you felt two fingers dip inside your wet core. The sound that you made was filthy and animalistic, pressing your hips back into his hand as he chuckled, desperate for more of him.

“God you’re needy like this aren't you?” He pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you whining, and you heard him pump his length a few times with your slick. And then he was there, his size pressing against you, and you had no time to adjust as he rolled his hips into you. You couldn't breathe as he split you open, full to the hilt, hands scrabbling across the bedspread trying to find purchase on something.

“Fucking hell…” he grumbling, hand smacking your ass hard. You yelped, and he laughed again. “I can feel your pretty cunt fluttering around me when I do that.”

“Fuck… you…” You managed to choke out between laboured breaths.

“As you wish, doll.” He started to drag himself out of you, so painfully slowly you were squirming, but he just pressed your face further into the bed. And then he started to just fuck into you. It was debilitating, every single nerve in your body on fire. His pace was merciless, hard and fast and blinding, hitting a spot inside of you that turned your body to jelly. His hand on your hip was the only thing keeping you upright, squeezing in a way that was sure to bruise. And then his hand left your head, and you gasped in air, only to realise it was snaking around to your clit. The instant his fingertips found your sensitive mound, your world went black, and you were coming hard around his cock.

“Fuckk, there we go, sweetheart. Good girl, let it all out...”

By the time you could see again, it didn't take you long to start winding up for another orgasm. Your body had completely crumpled, pressed to the bed apart from the arm he had around your hips, keeping him in the perfect position to keep hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

“Goddd, Billy…” you cried out, sound after filthy sound filling the room as he continued to rut into you, his breaths becoming shorter and his curses becoming less coherent. “Please.. that's it… inside me please…” Your fucked-out babbling seemed to help bring him to the edge, and he pressed his hips into yours as he came, his teeth clamping onto your shoulder enough to help you reach another pinnacle.

You could barely breathe when you were done, his entire body weight pressed to your back, his lips pressing sloppy kisses to the back of your neck. He was still inside you, and it wasn’t until you tried to move that you noticed…

“Billy?”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re still hard.” There was a beat where he stopped kissing you shifting his hips just slightly with a groan, then he sighed.

“I guess its gonna be a long night, doll.”

[enchantedflameandflower]

This week we’re thankful for T & A 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😌

Amen.

[bohemianblasphemy]

“Feel this? It’s just for you”. Gawd I need that so bad!

I’m so sorry for lack of posting yall - my course is getting busy and I’m in a bit of a mental health slump but here we go MORE BUTCHER✨

Another late night at the iron building had come again - research after research, another piece of paper to file away, it was an endless rabbit hole of corruption and scandal when it came to taking Vought down.

The quiet clicks of your keyboard filled your little corner of the office, your eyes often drifting to the desk parallel to you where Billy sat. His focus was on his computer monitor, scrolling through his folders upon folders of information.

Seeing his eyes dart back and forth, his head in his palm to hold himself up, index finger placed on his upper lip and running over his moustache… you couldn’t help but stare.

Your gaze didn’t go noticed by him, his eyes quickly darting over to you which made your heart skip- having been caught.

“You right there?” His voice was gravelly- a sly smirk spreading across his face, his question bouncing off the walls of the once still room.

“Sorry…” you mumbled, turning your attention back to the computer monitor. Billy chuckles to himself, switching off his device.

Pushing his chair out from his desk he grabbed his bottle of whiskey that he had on display, pulling two glasses from his drawers.

“Care for a drink with me? You’ve been workin’ hard all day…” he poured his own drink, looking over to you for your answer. “Yeah, thanks Billy…” you smiled softly at him, turning off your own computer and stepping away from your desk.

Billy grunted in acknowledgment, pouring you a glass and passing it to you as you walked toward him. Taking a sip of the brown liquor, the burn of the alcohol slid down your throat causing you to cough, making Butcher laugh softly as he tossed back his drink as if it were water.

“Cmon love surely that little sip didn’t make ya cough like that.” He teased.

“Shut up, butcher.” You replied back sarcastically. The second sip you took going down smoother but the grimace still appeared on your face.

Butchers eyes never left your body as he poured himself another glass, drinking you in. Watching the way you stood nursing your whiskey, giving him the odd nervous glance in which he found himself admiring.

You both stood there, sipping your drinks in the stillness- occasionally interrupted by sounds of the streets below.

“You know love…” he broke the silence and stepped forward toward you, looking down at you.

“I see the way ya look at me…” he was close enough to you to feel his hot breath on your cheek, the lingering scent of alcohol on him.

The look in his eyes made your heart race, your breath hitching in your throat. “Billy…” you croaked making him smirk, knowing what he was doing to you was making you got.

Taking your glass and placing it on the table next to you, he pulled you into him by the waist. The desire between you two was undeniable, your hands pressed against his muscular chest and his lingering along your hips and backside.

Billy could see the want in your blown out pupils, pressing himself against you- hearing you gasp as you could feel his hardened cock against your pelvis.

He took one of your hands that was on his chest, running it down his abdomen- feeling the soft material of his shirt before guiding it further down to the rough texture of his jeans and placing your palm right where he wanted you most, feeling him twitch under your touch.

“Feel this?” He whispered in your ear, leaving soft kisses along the side of your neck. “It’s just for you…”

You sighed softly at his words, a shiver of lust tingling in your spine. He brought his head back up to look at you, seeing your eyes filled with a mixture of suprise and longing, making your cheeks flush a dark shade of red.

“Now now, don’t get all shy on me love…” he cooed, bringing his hand up to your face. His thumb caressed your chin, gently playing with your bottom lip.

His action encouraged a small whimper from you, making him chuckle.

“Ya want me sweetheart? Ya want me as much as I want you?” His lustful timbre rang in your ears, awakening every single nerve in your body.

His embolden comment caused you to become bold, looking up at him with challenge and want filling you to the brim.

“I want you bad…” you breathed, your hand still on his length as you squeezed him gently, causing a growl from within him and sending butterflies to your stomach.

Without hesitation he closed the distance between you both, encapsulating your lips with his in a fiery embrace. You were both hungry, feral for each other’s touch.

His hands gripped under your ass, lifting you up and placing you upon the wooden desk behind you- laying you down as his fingers fiddling with the fastening of your pants and underwear pulling them down your legs, discarding them to the floor.

Butcher soon reached for his own jeans and undid them, pulling them down enough for his cock to spring free before returning to you- looking at you laid out on the desk with your legs spread, tracing his digits along your inner thigh toward your glistening cunt.

A small gasp left his mouth as he felt your wetness, fingers rubbing between your folds and circling your clit- his eyes flickering to your face seeing you bite your lip at his touch.

“That’s just for you…” you whispered, echoing his words from earlier. He suddenly stopped, letting another growl fall from his throat as he moved forward, sliding his dick along your folds gathering your wetness.

“Damn fuckin’ right it’s just f’me…” he grumbled, tapping your clit with his tip and making your hips jolt, slowly drifting himself down to your entrance and pushing into you slowly.

You gasped and held onto the edge of the desk, feeling him fill you to the brim as you let out a deep sigh, adjusting to his length.

“P-please butcher, please move… I need it.” You asked, butcher happily obliging as he snapped his hips into yours. He dragged his thumb down to your clit, circling it for extra stimulation.

The sound of slapping skin and grunts from the both of you filled the room, endless profanity bounced off the walls as Butcher railed into you.

“B-Billy!” You whined, your head falling back as you felt the warmth within your stomach build, thighs quivering around him as you neared your orgasm.

“Fuckin’ cum f’me love, I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” Butcher grunted, loving the way your walls clenched around him. His thumb continued to circle you as you came hard, hearing your strangled sounds echo through the room.

His thrusts became laboured as you came on him, his cock twitching as he came deep inside you with a gutteral moan.

Butcher stood there for a moment to admire your flushed face and parted lips, humming softly as he pulled you up to sit at the edge of the desk, kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

“Butcher…” you whispered, looking up at him as you pulled away from the kiss. “Shhh… just kiss me.” He replied back, bringing you in for another kiss, holding you in his embrace- the outside world seeming to be put on pause as you were entwined with one another, not letting go.

[muldermuse]

Headcanons for being Butcher's questionably young hookup??

fuck it il bite

loves being out at a bar with you, seeing guys your age eye you up but knowing full well that he’s taking you home. if he’s especially lucky, someone will try and buy you a drink but you’ll just point at butcher who waves at the now terrified looking lad

is obsessed when you wear baby t shirts. you send him ones you find online all the time that say shit like ‘throat goat’ and ‘i ❤️ older men’ and he lowkey desperately wants you to get one so you can ride him just wearing that

billy can be a fucking asshole so i feel like he wouldn’t tell anyone about you, which tbh you kind of get off on. when you’re on your knees with his cock slick in your hand with your spit, you’re telling him that you ‘love being his dirty little secret’

he gets off on the differences between you. he feels haggard and rundown and you’re full of life. you kinda dote on him, like getting him skincare and a water bottle. he rolls his eyes and tells you he’s a lost cause but does start up a skincare routine (just washing his face and moisturising lmao but it’s an improvement!!!) and drinks at least a tiny bit more water every day

adores fucking you in his car. preferably on top of you on the backseat so he feels so fucking big compared to you

[angelically-yours]

Disease

Butcher’s already snapped. Will you be next?

After the disaster with Neuman and the supe-killing virus, you find yourself trailing alongside Butcher on whatever road trip he’s taking you on. Where? He won’t say but the car rides are long. Every now and then he’s talking as if having a full conversation with someone else in the caddy, despite it only being you two. You’re terrified of him, for obvious reasons, after seeing what he was capable of.

Coming Soon…

Will contain dark themes, talks of murder and blood, smut, dub-con, angst… and more.

((Please let me know how we feel about this prompt 😭))

[butchersboobs]

Twist

A Billy Butcher pov fic.

Tissues at the ready...

NSFW below the cut - MDNI

Words: 1,771

PART TWO

Tags: @babyfri3dric3 @dumpy-little-nobody

_____

It's a bloody miracle - supermarket's dead, for once. No screamin' kids, no pensioners 'avin’ a barney over the last tin o'custard. Just me, me basket, and a list o'shite I can’t be arsed t'buy. Bread. Milk. Whiskey. The usual bollocks.

I’m by the biscuits, tossin’ up between 'obnobs and bourbons when I see ya. Strollin' down the aisle, clear as day, pushin’ a trolley like you just stepped out the life we 'ad together and into some domestic fuckin’ fantasy.

And you ain't alone. There’s a kid wiv yer. A boy, ‘bout three, maybe four. Dark 'air, big eyes, and I swear to Christ - he’s a bloody photocopy of me.

Me blood goes cold. Can’t move, can’t breathe - I just stand there like some prize twat, starin’.

You clock me. Yer face does this wide-eyed panic fing, like a fox cornered by a pack o'dogs. “Billy,” ya say, gobsmacked.

I nod atcha, casual-like, even though me 'eart’s bangin’ like a fuckin’ drum. I glance at the kid, then back at you. "Who's this little bloke, then?"

You 'esitate - a bit too long, if ya ask me - then put yer 'and on 'is shoulder, all protective. Like you’re expectin’ me t'kick off. "This is Oliver," you say. "Oliver - say hello to Mummy's... old friend."

Old friend, my arse.

I crouch down, meet the kid’s eyes. E’s lookin’ at me like he’s sizin' me up, and bugger me, it's like me own bloody face is starin’ back at me. "Alright, Oliver?" I say. "I’m Billy. Nice t'meet ya, mate."

The kid nods, all shy-like, and grabs 'old of yer leg. And before I can ask another bleedin’ question, yer mutterin’ some excuse about bein’ in an 'urry, and you 'n the kid bugger off sharpish

But it's too late to run now, love. I know full well that li'il lad is mine.

I fuckin' know.

-----

I coulda left it there. Shoulda, really. But you know me - can’t leave well enough alone, can I?

So I drop me basket right there, leave some poor sod to restock the 'obnobs, and I follow ya. I keep me distance, mind. Stay outta sight. Ain’t tryin’ to scare ya - just... I dunno. Just wanna know where you're takin’ 'im.

Ya lead me to this little 'ouse on the edge o'town. Curtains drawn, toys littered in the garden. You get the kid inside, shut the door, and that’s that.

I stand there for a bit, feelin’ like a right cunt. Should I knock? Walk away? What the fuck ya s'posed t'say to a woman who walked out on ya years ago wivout bovverin' to tell ya she was up the duff? Or that she'd dropped yer sprog?

-----

Didn’t sleep a bloody wink that night, did I. Nah. Tossin’, turnin’, replayin’ the 'ole fing in me 'ead. 

Oliver’s face, your panic. That gut-punch of realisin’ I got a kid. My kid. Couldn’t shake it.

By the time the sun came up though, I’d made me decision.

I’m back at yer door before I’ve even 'ad me morning cuppa, knockin’ loud enough to wake the dead.

You answer in yer dressing gown, 'air a mess, lookin’ like ya just rolled outta bed. “Billy,” ya say, pissed off. “How the fuck did you find me?”

I shove me hands in me pockets, tryna look casual. “We need to talk.”

You sigh, step aside, and let me in. The 'ouse is nice enough - small, cosy. There’s toys everywhere: blocks, cars, some dinosaur wiv one leg missin'. But no sign of Oliver.

“Oliver’s mine, ain’t he?” I say - no point pissin' about, is there.

You stiffen. “Billy—”

“Don’t bovver tryna lie to me. I seen 'im. E’s me all over. Ain’t no denying it.”

Yer shoulders sag, and ya look at the floor. “Yes,” you finally fuckin' admit. “He’s yours.”

The room tilts. I grab the back of the sofa to steady meself. “Bloody'ell.”

I should be angry. Furious. But all I feel is this weird, 'eavy mix o'pride and terror. I’ve got a son. A son.

“Why didn’t ya fuckin' tell me?” I ask, me voice low.

“Because you’re you, Billy."

That stings, but I can’t argue. You ain't wrong. My life’s a fuckin' mess, and it’s no place for a kid. Told meself that a thousand times since I met 'im yesterday. But the need to see 'im again just won't fuck off.

“Look, I can't just walk away, alright - not wivout... I dunno. Seeing 'im. Properly, I mean.”

“Billy, I don’t—”

“I ain't asking for much,” I cut in “I just... I just wanna meet 'im properly. That’s all.”

Then a little voice pipes up.

“Mummy?”

We both turn. Oliver’s standin’ in the doorway in 'is pyjamas, rubbin’ 'is eyes.

You soften instantly. “It’s okay, baby. Go back to bed.”

But 'e don’t. 'E just stands there, lookin’ at me.

“'Ello again, Ollie,” I say, crouchin’ down to 'is level. “Sorry if we woke ya., mate”

He don’t say anyfin, just keeps starin’ at me wiv those big brown eyes.

You sigh, running yer 'and through yer hair. “Fine,” you whisper “You can see him. For a little while. But he doesn’t know who you are, Billy. He’s too young to understand.”

I nod. “Fair enough.”

-----

I never thought I’d be 'ere. Never thought I’d be playin’ bloody games wiv a kid. I mean, I’ve been in worse places, yeah, but this… this is summink else.

Oliver’s sittin’ on the floor, this scrappy little toy truck in his 'ands, lookin' up at me like I’m some sorta mystery he’s tryna solve. Me - Billy Butcher - the last fing a kid like 'im should be dealin' with.

“So, you like trucks, ay?” I ask, squattin' down beside 'im, tryna make me voice sound less like a bloody crook. Can’t be talkin’ all gruff and growlin' at the poor lad, can I?

Oliver looks up, eyes big as saucers, 'is little 'ands gripping the truck like it’s 'is best mate. “Yeah! It goes vroom vroom!” 'e says, 'is voice 'igh-pitched, full of excitement.

I blink at 'im, a bit taken aback. Kid's got more energy than a bloody power station.

I chuckle, leanin' back on me 'eels. "Yeah, I can see that. Goes fast, does it?" I’ve no idea why I’m askin'. I couldn’t care less about toy bloody trucks, but somethin’ about the way 'e says it, so eager, like it's the most important fing in the world—fuckin'ell, it almost makes me wanna play along.

“Yeah!” he nods so 'ard, I’m 'alf expectin’ 'is little 'ead to fall off. “And when it goes fast, it boom boom!” He slams the truck down on the ground, makin’ it bounce.

“Boom boom, ay?” I laugh, a proper one this time, catchin’ myself off guard. Ain't 'eard a sound like that in years. Can’t even remember the last time I genuinely laughed.

The kid grins, lookin’ up at me wiv that hopeful look, like 'e’s waitin’ for me to join in on the fun. I’ve never been good at playin’ games wiv kids, 'specially not after what 'appened with me own bloody family. But 'ere I am, messin' about with some toy truck, tryna figure out 'ow t'not screw this up.

"Alright then," I say, takin’ the truck from 'is 'ands. "Show me how it's done, mate."

Oliver giggles, 'is little face scrunched up in concentration as he starts tappin’ 'is 'ands on the floor, making engine noises. Vroom, vroom, boom boom!

I can't 'elp but smile. It’s awkward as fuck, but I’m damn well tryin'. Maybe I’m not so bad at this after all. Don’t matter that I don’t know the first fing about toys, or that I ain't got a clue what the 'ell I’m doin’. What matters is the look on the kid’s face, the way 'is eyes light up every time I play along.

"Oi, kid, I fink your truck’s got more power than mine," I tease, pushin’ the toy truck across the floor with a bit too much enthusiasm, makin' it slide all the way to the other side of the room.

Oliver looks at me with wide eyes, 'is mouth open in awe. “Really?”

I give'im a little smirk. "Yeah. Faster than a bloody Formula One car, that is. Your truck's a bit of a monster."

E’s noddin’, 'is mop of black hair bouncin’ wiv every movement. “It is! It's the fastest in the world!” 'is words tumble out like he’s tryna convince me. 'E really believes it. And that’s somethin’, innit? Kid’s got imagination, that’s for sure.

“Right, right,” I mutter, noddin’ along, but then I get a bloody idea. "Tell you what, Oliver. How ‘bout you race your truck against my truck? Let’s see oo’s faster."

I rummage through me pockets, pullin’ out me old lighter. It ain’t much, but it’s a novelty car one, wiv wheels, so I push it across the floor wiv a cheeky grin. "It’s not as flashy as yours, but I reckon it’s got a bit o'speed in it."

Oliver’s eyes go wide, and before I know it, 'e’s on his knees, eagerly makin’ little engine noises again. "Ready, set, go!"

We both push our 'trucks' across the floor, and I can’t 'elp but laugh as e’s all serious about it. Kid’s givin' it his all, makin’ these wild noises, and I’m just pushin’ a bloody lighter, tryna make 'im fink I’m into it as much as 'e is.

But then, just as we’re about to finish the race, 'e lets out a loud yell and scoops up both trucks, clutchin' 'em to 'is chest like 'e’s won the Grand bloody Prix. “I win! I win!”

I raise me 'ands in defeat, laughin' despite meself. "Yeah, yeah, you’re the fastest, kid. I give up. You beat me."

E beams up at me, so proud of 'imself that 'e can’t even sit still. “I’m the best racer ever!”

I can’t stop smilin’ at 'im, watchin' 'im prance about like a little king. For a second, just a second, I forget I'm me. Forget what a fuckin' mess me life is. I’m just… 'ere. Wiv 'im. Wiv Oliver. My boy.

“Yeah, mate, you are,” I say, me voice quieter than usual, a little softer. "You’re a bloody star, you are."

And that’s the fing, innit? There’s summink about this little lad that gets t'me, summink I can’t shake. I know I said I just wanted to meet 'im, but I’ll be damned if I can just let 'im go now.

That kid deserves a far better man than me for a dad.

But for 'im, I’ll bloody try to be that better man.

PART TWO

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

I Guess So

masterlist

summary: butcher is furious when he learns you’re a supe.

pairing: billy butcher x female supe!reader

rating: R for language

word count: 4.3k

warnings: language, butcher being a complete asshole, cancer

timeline: set in an au after season 3 — in a world where becca doesn’t exist and butcher got into supe-hunting when his sister went missing.

author’s note: when i reference the flash/barry allen i’m picturing grant gustin, not ezra miller lol

It was a quiet day in the office. Everyone was going through the several boxes of information on Vought that they had gathered at the last hospital they investigated.

“Jack pot!” Hughie exclaimed.

“What’d you find?” MM asked from across the room, head still down as he stayed focused on the box he was working on.

“There’s tons of names here of babies Vought dosed,” Hughie said. “And pictures of them now, looks like they were keeping tabs on the ones that didn’t go great.”

“Makes sense,” MM replied. “If one went off the rails they’d wanna know.”

“But why risk it?” Annie wondered out loud. “Why would Vought want these Compound V babies out there if they didn’t respond well to the serum?”

“Yeah, knowing Vought it’d make more sense to round ‘em up and put ‘em down,” Frenchie said.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Hughie’s eyes widened a little as his brows furrowed. “Uh, Y/n? Do you have a twin?”

“No, why?” you asked half-heartedly, buried deep in the box you were looking through. You had found some info on Temp-V and were hoping there was something in there that could help Butcher.

You were confused as to why Hughie hadn’t answered you so you looked up from your desk. Hughie was now standing at Annie’s desk as she read over the papers he’d just handed her. Frenchie and Kimiko looked up from their desks but didn’t bother going to see what all the fuss was about.

“Uh, MM,” Annie called him over. When he saw what Annie and Hughie were so freaked out over, his eyes widened.

“Holy fucking shit,” MM mumbled before he glanced at you. Annie tapped his arm a little and pointed at something written near the bottom of the page.

“What’s wrong you guys?” you asked, even though you had an idea about what they could be looking at.

You thanked your lucky stars Butcher had left to get lunch for the team, even though you knew you’d have to confront him about it at some point. It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t mean to keep it from him! But you were putty in his fucking hands and when he said he didn’t like Supe’s you weren’t gonna tell him what you had coursing though your veins. And after the ‘I love you’s had been said it seemed too late.

“Anything you wanna tell us, Y/n?” MM asked.

“Please don’t tell Butcher,” you said.

“‘Don’t tell Butcher’? Seriously, Y/n? You’re sure that’s what you wanna say?” Annie asked, silently begging you to just come clean.

“Don’t tell me what?” Butcher stepped into the office and you stood up quickly. “What’re you guys all looking at?”

He put down the food and took a few steps closer to where MM, Hughie, and Annie were. Before MM could move the papers around and help you keep your secret a little longer, Butcher grabbed what he was holding and started reading. By the time he finished, angered tears were forming in his eyes before he looked at you.

“You’re a fucking Supe?” Butcher asked you through gritted teeth. You stayed silent, completely frozen as he stormed over to you, papers still in his hand. “Fucking answer me!”

“Y-Yes,” you said quietly, unable to look him in the eyes as he towered over you. (He wasn’t that much taller than you, but right now you felt about two feet tall and didn’t dare look up at him.)

“What’s this mean?” He pointed to a note at the bottom of the pages. “‘Full power unknown’? ‘Extremely dangerous’?” he read. “What the fuck are your powers, Y/n?”

“Billy, please-”

“Oh, no, no, no! Don’t fucking dare Billy me! Answer the goddamn question!”

“I can sometimes run really fast,” you mumbled

“The fuck you mean, ‘sometimes’?”

“The Compound V in my system randomly acts up and I can run like the Flash. It’s always temporary, never lasts longer than a day or two.” (You could’ve used A-Train as an example instead of Barry Allen, but given your audience you made the right call.)

Butcher looked at you and for a second you thought he might just pull you into a hug as tears slipped down your cheeks as well as his.

“Fuck you,” he spat. “How dare you fucking lie to me, about this of all fucking things!”

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Sorry don’t fuckin’ cut it, love,” he said, teeth clenching again.

“Please, Billy I love you so fucking much!” You tried taking his hand in yours.

“No!” He pulled his hand back. “You fucking lied to me.”

“I had to! You said you hated Supe’s and I didn’t want you hating me!”

“Good job with that,” he scoffed, hurt flashing over your features. “Fuck you.”

He turned away from you before leaving the office, ignoring the others as they asked him where he was going.

**

MM was the first to talk to you about the whole ordeal; he went to your apartment that night to see how you were doing.

“Hey,” you said as you opened the door. He pulled you into a quick but tight hug.

“You could’ve told me, you know,” he whispered before pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry about Butcher, has he talked to you since?”

“No,” you shook your head, “but he, uh, I think he’s done with me.”

“I’m sure he just needs time,” he tried to assure you as you both walked to the couch before sitting down.

“He came by and got all his stuff, MM,” you said. “It must’ve been right after he stormed out of the office because when I got home all his shit was gone and the key I gave him was on the nightstand.”

“Fuck,” MM mumbled. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“It’s my own fault, I should’ve fuckin’ told him.”

“Yeah, but he’s always saying shit about Supe’s,” he countered. “He has to understand why you wouldn’t tell him.”

“But I’m not even technically a real Supe! When I’m not fast all I get is the bad side effects of Compound V—headaches, nausea, blurred vision—it fucking sucks!”

“I gotta ask, did Butcher really never notice?”

“He did, I just never told him the real reason. He was worried about my headaches and even asked me to see a doctor. I told him I did and they said it was nothing serious. I think that’s why he’s so mad at me; it’s not the Compound V, it’s the fact I’ve lied to him so fucking much.”

“I think he’s gonna get over it,” MM said. “I think he’s gonna realize how fucking miserable he is without you and just how happy you make him.”

You scoffed a little, “Don’t give me false hope.”

“I’m serious! You didn’t know pre-you Butcher! He was a complete asshole! Now? He’s… Well, he’s still an asshole but he’s not as annoying as he used to be.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “I remember when I first caught on that he liked you; he’d try not to raise his voice, he’d make room for you to sit next to him on the couch, so many little things about him changed whenever you walked into the motherfuckin’ room.”

“He wasn’t like that before?” You smiled, feeling those familiar butterflies over the thought of Billy fucking Butcher having a crush on you.

“Never!” MM assured you. “You need to give him time and space right now, but I know he still loves you.”

**

The next morning you went to work, not knowing what else to really do. If Butcher didn’t want to see you, he didn’t have to come in.

When you got there and saw him at his desk (which was now moved a few feet further from your own) you knew you made a mistake.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Butcher asked.

“She’s part of the team,” Hughie said.

“Come off it! She fucking lied to all of us! She’s a fucking Supe!”

“And we get why she lied!” Annie came to your defense.

“A Supe defending another Supe, what else is new?” he grumbled.

“Butcher,” Hughie warned.

“Alright, let’s take a fuckin’ vote, how about?” Butcher suggested.

“Sure,” MM said. “All those in favor of Y/n staying on the team?” He raised his hand as Hughie, Annie, Frenchie, and Kimiko did the same.

“Five against one,” Frenchie commented.

“Supe’s don’t get a fucking vote,” Butcher said.

“Still three against one,” MM replied. “She’s staying on the team.”

“Butcher-” you started but he cut you off.

“Stay the hell away from me,” Butcher told you. “Don’t you fucking talk to me or touch me or even fucking look at me!”

**

It was a couple days later and you were pouring yourself a cup of coffee when Butcher walked up beside you, clearly wanting coffee as well. You decided you weren’t gonna move from where you stood in front of the little coffee station MM had set up a few months ago. If you stood your ground, Butcher would either have to ask you to move or push you out of the way.

He was getting impatient as you stayed and took a sip of your fresh cup of coffee. You let out a content sigh hoping it would further aggravate him and cause him to say something, anything to you—he’d managed to successfully give you the silent treatment since his angry voting speech.

“Get the fuck outta the way,” he said and you took a step to the side before he instantly went to pour himself a cup.

You were about to gloat a little but when you looked at his face you could tell he hadn’t slept the night before.

“How’d you sleep last night?” you asked, genuinely concerned as you furrowed your brows and turned to look at him more intently.

“Fuckin’ great, I didn’t have a Supe sleepin’ next to me,” he countered. “And don’t fuckin’ talk to me, if it was up to me you woudln’t still fuckin’ be here.”

“So you’d really be okay with me just getting the hell outta here? Never seeing me again?” you asked.

“Drop fuckin’ dead for all I care!” He shrugged a little and took a sip of his coffee before he finally turned to look at you.

“Huh.” You nodded, tears quickly flooding your eyes. “You know what,” you shook your head a little, “fuck you, Butcher.”

“What, now you bruise easy?”

“I have put up with so much shit from you. I have stayed with you through it all and I have proved to you time and fucking time again that I genuinely love and care about you. But this one thing you can’t let go? This one, stupid thing that was given to me without my fucking consent?”

“You lied to me, Y/n!”

“You’ve lied to me, too! You looked me in the eyes and said you weren’t gonna take Temp V then you fucking took it! And what did I do? I stayed up with you all fucking night as you hurled green shit into the toilet! Then you promised you wouldn’t take it again, but you did. And I was angry, but I loved you and I realized you were just doing what you thought was right so again I stayed with you as you puked. I even fucking kissed you after you barely rinsed your mouth out because I just wanted you to know I loved you!” You continued looking at him as his angered expression slowly softened. “And after you learned about the cancer?

“After you made me swear to just ignore it and act like you didn’t have a year to live? I stopped worrying about it in front of you. Instead I lost countless nights of sleep because I’ve been pouring through every bit of research Vought has on Temp V. I even managed to get files that only existed in physical copies kept at Vought Tower. I would’ve done anything for you Butcher because I thought you loved me too.

“The fact you can’t see why I felt I had to lie to you about the shit I’ve got pumping through my veins is ridiculous. And just so we’re clear—you can hate me all you want, but you better start acting fucking professional when we’re on the clock because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Did you have that whole speech planned just to try and get me to fold?” he asked, scoffing a little.

“Fuck you,” you said before brushing past him.

**

It had been nearly two weeks since Butcher and the others found out you were (kind of) a Supe. Everyone except Butcher had gotten over it by now and had even been asking you questions about your “powers”.

Hughie had asked you; “Can you tell when you’re able to run fast? Or is it you’ll be jogging and suddenly you’re miles away from where you meant to be?”

To which you had replied; “No, I can tell when I’m able to run fast; but I can’t predict when it’s gonna happen, you know? Like I have no control over it, I just sometimes know that if I were to try, I’d be able to go super fast.”

Kimko had asked you; “On the days you don’t have your powers, do you ever wish you did? Or are you relieved when you wake up and realize you don’t have them for right now?” (She had texted you while you were seated across from her.)

You had said aloud; “It tends to hurt on the days my powers don’t work. I get really bad headaches and sometimes they’re so bad that I actually puke. I’m happier on the days I can run, not because I’m fast, but simply because I don't have all the bad side effects.”

Butcher managed to ignore you since the coffee incident. He only ever spoke to you about work and never saw you outside the office. Not that you’d admit it, but you missed him like crazy. You hated sleeping without him, you hated waking up and only cooking breakfast for yourself, and you absolutely hated not being able to talk to him about all the random shit you two used to talk about.

He missed you too, though he never showed it. He was losing sleep over how he was treating you, but he figured you wouldn’t want him now. You both knew he only had a little over six months left (nine at most) and he wasn’t gonna go crawling back to you just to die. If he did, you would’ve welcomed him with open arms; wanting nothing more than to hold him while he ignored the inevitable.

**

“Everyone knows the plan?” Butcher asked the group, looking into the back of the truck from the passenger seat. “In and out, no fucking around and finding out what happens when we mess with this guy?”

You and the others beside you (Annie, Kimiko, Frenchie, and MM) nodded.

“I’ll keep the engine running,” Hughie said. “Once we see this guy leave you’ve all got twenty minutes until he’s back—but leave time for getting in and out, so safeside ten minutes.”

“Any questions? We all know what we’re looking for?” Butcher asked, earning nothing but nods. You raised your hand a little and he sighed with (what seemed like) annoyance; “What?” he asked.

“Uhm, not a question, more like a comment, my uhm, my powers just…turned on?” you told Butcher, and therefore the others in the car. “So just…”

“That’s actually great,” Hughie said. “Thank you for sharing, Y/n.”

“Whatever,” Butcher mumbled.

Another few minutes went by before the Supe left his house and you all broke in.

As everyone looked for what they came for (a file stolen from the office that detailed all the crimes this particular Supe had done with proof that would land him in prison) you noticed something strange in the corner of the living room.

“Is that a camera?” you exclaimed.

Before anyone could answer several shots rang loud through the house. Using your powers, you looked and quickly realized three bullets were headed directly for the back of Butcher’s head. He was looking under a desk on the other side of the room and if you didn’t hurry, he’d be dead in less than a second.

You ran and got between the bullets and Butcher; crouching down and letting them hit you square in the back.

“What the fuck!” the man holding the gun exclaimed. Before he could take another shot, Kimko tackled him and held him down.

Butcher looked at you, his eyes wide as you both realized what you’d just done. You looked down at your chest, fully expecting to be gushing blood.

“You’re fucking bulletproof?” Butcher asked, a sense of awe in his tone.

“I guess so.” You furrowed your brows a little, still looking down and not really believing you weren’t dying. As you stood up, the bullets fell off your back and onto the floor. “Wow,” you muttered, “I’m fuckin’ bulletproof.”

“You…” Butcher looked at you as he stood up as well. He put a hand on your shoulder, turning you so he could look at your back—three small holes in your jacket and shirt, but your skin unfazed. “You just…You were ready to die for me?” He turned you back and looked down into your eyes, keeping his hand on your shoulder.

“Well, I wasn’t about to let you die,” you mumbled, looking up at him. You then looked at his hand and smiled a little before looking back at him. You were prepared to make a snide remark about how he was suddenly willing to touch you, but you kept your mouth shut when you saw his eyes brimming with tears.

He wrapped one arm around your shoulders while the other went around your torso. It actually took you a moment to realize he was in fact hugging you but when you did, you put your arms around him too; one going around his shoulders, the other around his torso.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes to keep the tears from falling. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you mumbled, reveling in the feeling of him holding you. You sensed he was about to pull away so you tightened your grip, not ready to let him go just yet, which caused him to do the same.

“I hate to break up this long-overdue hug,” MM said, “but I found the folder, we should take this guy in.”

“We’ll meet you in the truck,” Butcher replied, not opening his eyes or moving a muscle. “Cuff him.”

When everyone was out of the room, you whispered; “I really do forgive you, Butcher.”

“Thank you,” he replied, matching your tone. “Still can’t fuckin’ believe you risked your life for a guy who’s got about six months to live.”

**

That night you went to Butcher’s apartment and when he opened the door, he seemed surprised; “What’re you doing here?” he asked, letting you walk in.

“A couple months ago, I broke into the labs at Vought Tower and stole a shit ton of files they had on Temp V. I got the name of one of the doctors that helped make it, and I found his address. I was ready to threaten him to get him to find a cure for the Temp V side effects but when I explained my situation he said he’d help me willingly. He said he was actually already working on a cure without Vought knowing, because he felt insanely guilty about the fact Temp V kills people. He succeeded. He found a cure and he’s used it to make a new form of Temp V that gives you powers for a day while healing you and at the end of it, you should be back to your old self.”

“Wait, what?” Butcher furrowed his brows. “Why didn’t you tell me weeks ago you’ve been working with this guy?’

“One, I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Two, you told me to pretend you weren’t sick so we could enjoy the time we had left together. And three, he needed my blood for the new Temp V. Turns out I’m like the Ultimate Temp V Supe, and with my blood he was able to make the new serum. Also, I just came from his house, he perfected the new serum last night and texted me this morning. I was gonna come here tonight whether or not you wanted me near you, and I told the doctor if I didn’t meet up with him by the end of the week he should contact Hughie Campbell at Supe Affairs. I figured if something happened to me, Hughie would make sure you got the cure.”

“So…there really is a cure?”

You reached into your jacket pocket and took out the small bag containing a couple vials of the new Temp V and two empty syringes.

“It’ll either kill you quicker or you’ll be cancer free tomorrow,” you told him, handing over the bag before he looked inside. “You don’t have to risk it, but I wouldn’t be giving it to you if I didn’t one-hundred-percent believe it’s safe. If you don’t trust me, I understand and we can pretend-”

“Of course I trust you,” he cut you off. “And of course I wanna be fuckin’ cured, but this seems almost too good to be true?”

“I know.” You smiled. “The doctor tested it on himself and showed me the proof—he’s taken five doses over the last two weeks and he’s healthier than ever.”

“How long did he have powers?”

“Twenty-four-hours,” you said. “But he had the same side effects as the first Temp V; puking, headaches, all that shit. But, after everything, he was fine—no long term or deadly side effects.”

“If I take this…will you please stay with me while it lasts?” he asked quietly, not wanting to go through it all alone.

“I was planning to, whether you wanted me here or not,” you admitted.

“Thank you.”

You both sat down on the couch and you watched as Butcher took the serum, his eyes lighting up the same way they did before. He tossed the used syringe on the end table next to the couch and leaned back, allowing the serum to do its job and he could almost feel his strength come back.

“How’s it feel?” you asked.

“Fuckin’ hurts,” he said, “but I’m okay. It’s better than wastin’ away.”

“You can say that again,” you mumbled. “Can I scoot closer to you?” you asked, not wanting to be close unless he wanted you to be.

“Please,” he said and moved his arm to the back of the couch as you moved to sit right beside him.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, not really enjoying how quiet things had gotten.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he admitted. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot for how I acted, and you have every right to hate me, but thank you for not leaving when I told you to. Thank you for not walking out of my life for good.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Hm?”

“The only reason I didn’t leave was because I needed to know where you were when I got my hands on the cure. Once I knew you were healthy, I had planned to leave like you asked.”

He moved his arm from the couch and instead rested it on your shoulders; “Are you still planning to leave?”

“Only if you don’t ask me to stay,” you said honestly. “If you want to go back to the way things were a month ago, I’ll happily stay. But if you’re still freaked out about the fact I’m a Supe, I won’t bother you again once I know you’re okay.”

“Please stay,” he said. “I’m sorry about the shit I’ve said and done the past three weeks, but please stay.”

“Stay working at the bureau? Or stay…with you?”

“You can’t quit the bureau, you’re the smartest fuckin’ person there,” he said, making you laugh a little.

“I dunno, Hughie’s pretty smart too,” you teased.

There was another silent pause as Butcher thought of what to say. He couldn’t just ask you to take him back, that didn’t seem fair. He couldn’t just say he’d take you back, because that was even worse. He knew he fucked up big time, and any future the two of you had was entirely up to you at this point.

“Do you want to go back to the way things were?” you asked him quietly.

“I really, really do,” he whispered. “But I was too much of an asshole to deserve another chance with you.”

“After everything we’ve been through together, I’d rather just let all the shit we’ve done be water under the bridge, if that’s okay with you. Just let the lies we’ve both told slide and try to be more honest with each other from now on. Personally, I’ve got nothing else to hide and I know there’s nothing you could say or do that would make me stop loving you.”

“You still love me?”

“Of course,” you said. “Do you…love me?”

“Never stopped,” he mumbled. “And I’d really like all the shit to be water under the bridge too if you’re really willing to forgive me for everything.”

“So it’s settled then; all the stupid, fucked up things we’ve both done up until this point are forgiven and we can go back to normal?”

“I love you so much,” he said, smiling a little as he turned and kissed your temple.

“I love you too,” you replied.

[bluemerakis]

Drabble: Butcher takes care of sick reader

Warnings: cussing, fluff

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: I’ve been under the weather lately, and I want a soft, cutesie Butcher to take care of me. That’s all :p

The apartment door creaked open, causing your eyes to flutter open as your consciousness tethered to the waking world. You blinked a few times to dislodge the disorientation of your nap, a hefty yawn splitting your lips. The door clicked closed soon after, and the sound of heavy boots thudding across the room told you all you needed to know about the identity of your visitor—not that it was a difficult guessing game; nobody other than your boyfriend ever came around to see you.

Riddled with lethargy, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Billy, a migraine weighing so heavily on your senses that you felt you’d throw up with the slightest of movements.

“‘ello, Love,” Billy chirped, the rustle of a plastic bag following shortly after. “Got yer some o’ tha’ shite chinese nosh y’love so much. Now, I know what yer thinkin’—eat first, then give good ol’ Billy one hell o’ a thank ya fuck later. Offer graciously accepted. Yer a lovely, charitable dame, Love—yer just keep on givin’.”

You smiled weakly at the sound of his voice. You’d seen him last two days ago, but within that short time, you’d already come to miss him dearly. Sickness tended to come on strong with you, always rendering you vulnerable and bedridden for the first few days, and it was sure hell to endure. This sickness in particular had come on a day ago with a bang, and honestly, you’d been struggling to cope with it. You hadn’t told Billy about it, though, knowing that he likely had bigger things to tend to with The Boys. However, you couldn’t say that you weren’t thankful for his visit.

There was something about his presence alone that boosted your body’s morale and seemed to help you bounce back quicker—it had to be some sort of mental placebo effect. No matter the reason, you were thankful to have him here with you now.

“Sadly, your English breadstick is going to have to take a rain check on that,” you told him feebly. Your stomach seized up with a series of cramps, causing you to curl into yourself with a groan as you rode out the duration of the pain.

“All right there, Love?” Billy asked as he approached you, large hand outstretched to caress along the expanse of your back. The contact sent shivers up your hot spine. “Feelin’ a tad bit under the weather, are we?” He remarked, alluding to the dampened material of the shirt that clung messily to your underlying skin.

You hummed in confirmation, brows creased and eyes falling closed as you braved the nausea that seemed to arise in conjunction with your stomach cramps. “Not a tad bit—I’m in full-fledged suffering,” you grunted.

“Have yer eaten at all today?” He asked, the hand on your back snaking up to the nape of your neck. His palm hovered over the area, his thumb rubbing comforting circles along the feverish goosebumps of your skin.

“Haven’t had an appetite,” you pushed out. The warmth of his hand against your neck was a relaxation your body subconsciously craved, and it seemed to make the cramps let up an inch.

“Have yer a sip o’ water, at least,” Billy suggested. “Just a second, and I’ll fetch yer some.”

“Thank you, Billy,” you said softly, turning your head with caution to offer him an appreciative smile. You seized the opportunity to drink in his beautiful face, staring as if to burn his image into the memory of your retinas.

“Yeah, I gotcha,” he said with wink, hand neglecting your neck as he turned toward the kitchen. You turned and allowed your head to collapse against your pillow once more, eyes closing to bask in the peace of darkness. “Yer got any ginger?” He called back to you.

“Check the fridge,” you said, then added, “why?”

“I got a killer recipe tha’ll hand nausea’s arse back to ‘er,” he said. The fridge door clanked open, followed by a satisfied grunt from Billy. “There we are,” he said.

“Just don’t poison me,” you said. “I’m suffering enough.”

“Oi, have yer some faith in me,” Billy scolded gently. “S’me mum’s recipe. Woman ne’er once went wrong with ‘er whimsy kitchen faffing. I’ll make yer tha’ shite-tasting cup o’ ginger char, and soon after, you’ll be stuffin’ yer gob with all tha’ bloody chinese.”

The atmosphere simmered into comfortable silence as Billy tended to your mystery tea, the occasional clatter of utensils keeping you from drifting into another sleep. It wasn’t long before he was back at your aid, a gentle thud occurring atop the bedside table beyond your back, followed by the more shrill clink of a glass. You glanced over your shoulder and glimpsed the mug of ginger tea, as well as a cold, sweaty glass of water beside it.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

Billy cocked his chin at you. “Shimmy up,” he ordered.

“I could do that, but if you get whatever nasty thing I’ve got, I don’t wanna hear a single world about it,” you said.

“Don’t yer worry, Love, I’ll have me a good weepin’ of the eyes, then a good wank or two, and I’ll be right as rain after.” He leaned onto the bed, prompting you to shift yourself forward to make space for his broad frame. He manoeuvred about the mattress a few times as he moulded his body to the contours of yours, forming the large, comforting spoon you’d been craving in his absence. “Blimey, have yer got all o’ bleedin’ hell shoved up yer ass? Yer burnin’ up,” he remarked.

“Tell me about it,” you scoffed weakly.

Billy’s one arm slipped between the mattress and the nook of your neck, while the other curled around your waist to hold you against him. His lips pressed against your hair, hovering there for a few seconds before he withdrew to place his chin atop your head. You melted into his hold and his scent, a content breath easing from your nostrils.

“I’ve missed you,” you told him.

“Afraid I know the feelin’ all too well, Love,” he murmured against you, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated against the crown of your head. “Shoulda called to check in with yer sooner.”

You gave a disapproving noise. “You don’t have to worry about me every second of the day. I love you, but I’ll survive a day or two without you from time to time.” You probably wouldn’t, if you were honest with yourself. You’d barely been hanging on as of recently.

“Bloody liar, y’are,” he poked, his hand on your waist shifting to stroke along the sensitive skin of your stomach. “I know you’ve been craving me touch these last two days. Yer absolutely can’t live without it—and don’t yer get the ‘alf the mind to deny it, else I’ll give yer a punctual reminder.” His hand trailed down your stomach and toward your panties, where his fingers teased at the rim suggestively.

You sucked air at his motions, lower lip taken into a playful bite. “You sure as hell do make it tempting to play stupid,” you said, turning to glance at him through a grin.

Billy’s lips spread in a smirk before he leaned forward to impose a rough kiss on your lips. You savoured the taste of his lips, and the ever present underlying trace of cigar smoke, which you’d come to tolerate only because of the constant exposure via his frequent company. Once he pulled away, he moved to hover over your ear.

“Tell yer what—you get better f’me, Love, and I promise I’ll give tha’ stomach o’ yers a real rearrangement to fuss ‘bout, yeah? Sound like a solid plan?”

“Deal.”

Thank you for reading! All likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated. ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

Tags: @babyfri3dric3 @scrmqwn

Comment/message me to be added to/removed from the tag list for any future Billy Butcher works!

Other works: The Boys Masterlist