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bluemerakis · 3 months ago

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Imagine . . .

❝ Lover Boy Butcher ❞

This is my yapping ass session about what I think Butcher could be like when he’s smitten over you ~

Warnings: mentions of naughty bedroom stuff is all

All likes & reblogs deeply appreciated! Enjoy it my Butcher Babies ᡣ𐭩

Everybody loves talking about mean Butcher, and yeah, well that man is a grade A dick, let’s take a moment to imagine that once he’s actually quite fond of you: he’ll take the time to do the little things that he knows makes your day a little brighter — making you that extra hot cup of coffee/tea in the mornings when the sun’s still rising and the crisp air around your lips thaw with each breath; randomly throwing in a one-line reference of a book or movie you can’t stop talking about (and that you didn’t think he paid attention to) whenever the two of you banter; turning up the radio when a song he knows you love comes on—hell, sometimes he’d catch himself thinking of a snippet of the song you can’t stop randomly erupting into sing over whenever you’re mindlessly tending to chores. You’re all he wants to get back to when he’s out on a job, and definitely the last thing he wants to leave behind when it’s time to go.

When that man loves you, he LOVES you—against his hard-ass will and everything, and he’s still going to be comfortable enough to call you a wanker whenever you’re being a bit of a prude, but it’s never not followed by some form of Billy affection to soften the blow. . . even when you’ve one-upped him with some ball-bruising insult. If you fight—which can be often due to his impulsive brutish nature—he might storm off, or turn to short-lived alcoholism, but he’s always back in your shared bed come nightfall, taking you into his arms, even when you’re not ready to talk to his dumb face. It’s all right, though because depending on how mad you are, he’ll start caressing you in the places he knows you’re sensitive, and if he’s daring enough, he might go in to plant a kiss or two on whichever part of you is most accessible. He might even throw in a crappy, vulgar joke just to elicit some form of acknowledgement from you.

Let me not even get started on how he’ll act in the bedroom—jokes I’m going to tell you anyways: it’s rough—he’s a rough man, he’s unapologetically mean and abrupt in getting to the point, but he’ll slow things down for you. He’s not so much in the rush when it comes to you—why wouldn’t he want to delay every moment spent inside of you, on top of you, in and out, up and about every inch of your body? Come on, what a fucking zone of euphoria to get lost in! Consider him a goddamn hobbyist explorer when it comes to folding you over below him, or hoisting you onto his hard on, or pressing down on the small of your back until you’re wedged between the pillow he’d laid under your lower stomach and the greedy, propulsive thrusts of his hips. Oh, and he’s always going to simultaneously target that clit with a rough fondling of his fingers. This is a man that KNOWS how to pleasure a woman right, good god!

Initially, Billy was not the most educated on aftercare—he’s usually a hit it and quit it type of guy. But since being with you, he’s learning little by little on what he could be doing differently to make the post-sex experience as comfortable and as healthy as possible for you. After holding you close for a few selfish moments, he’ll get up to pour you both a glass of water and bring it to the bedside table before fetching a towel to dab yourself dry. He’ll take off the sheets while you fetch new ones, and you both work to equip the new, clean bedding. If you’re in the mood for it, he’ll draw you both a bath, or steal you away to the shower. But his favourite part? Settling back into the bed, arm hooked around you and pressing you as close to him as humanly possible—your fingers entangled as you chat about the day, about anything and everything, and of course about that one wanker Billy nearly laid to an early grave. Most of the time, it’s you doing the talking, and he’s more than content to listen on—he’s mostly just watching you exist, anyway because he still can’t believe you’re all his. All his. And god, does he love you. He’d do anything for you, kill anybody for you—lay himself down for you.

Okay I’m done now (for now). Enjoy these procrastination thoughts, this is what my brain juice went towards instead of studying because, you know, priorities!

This is not really proof read so apologies if there are any errors—but let’s be real, you just came here for a good wank (jokes?)

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bluemerakis · 3 months ago

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Imagine . . .

❝ Carnival for kisses ❞

Imagine forcing Billy to go with you to your favourite neighbourhood carnival—one you’d always gone to as a child—for the sake of nostalgia. He’s unhappy about it, but he can’t always say no to you—well, that combined with the fact that you’d sorta compromised to thank him for his valiant efforts later tonight.

Warnings: implied innuendo, cussing, fluff, nothing hectic

All gifs made by me ⋆˙⟡

All likes & reblogs deeply appreciated! Enjoy it my Butcher Babies ᡣ𐭩

Not long after entering the premises, you spotted a live carnival performance happening onstage, smack-bang in the centre of all the boisterous activity. You dragged an unwilling Billy over to the amassing crowd, and he begrudgingly stuck it out beside you as you watched the performance unfold. The few times you’d turned to get a glimpse of your boyfriend’s reaction, you found his head swivelling about the crowd, and you could tell by the furrow in those thick brows that he was just about judging every cunt around him to help pass the time.

— ᡣ𐭩 –

You tell Billy to lose the Men-in-Black glasses, stating that it looked out of sorts in such a light-hearted setting.

He stopped in his tracks and pivoted on his boots to face you with an indignant expression. “Oi, this is ma fuckin’ look,” he argued.

“Is the so called look a hunt for your next interrogation victim?” You jabbed at him, flashing him a wide grin as you reached your arm over in an attempt to clasp the nose bridge of the glasses between your thumb and index finger.

Billy caught you at the wrist and pulled you into his broad frame in one fluid motion, only releasing your arm once your own body was flush against his. You offered a scoff at his blatant fondling of you, hyperaware of the arms he’d snaked around the small of your back, and the flat press of his palms against the upper curves of your buttocks. He flashed you that devilish grin now, and you averted your attention to take in a self-conscious sweep of your surroundings.

“People are watching, Billy,” you warn him, finally meeting his intense gaze with a simper.

“I could give two shits about those snoopy little cunts, I ain’t here for ‘em,” he said, his eyes darting across what felt like every intricate carving of your facial features, before his jaw dipped to press his lips against yours. The intrusion was rough, the coarse hair of his moustache grazing your nose as he hungrily claimed your upper lip. When he finally released you, his hand lifted to frame your jaw, and he passed his thumb over your lips to eradicate the moisture of evidence. “You, Love, however, are a force to reckon with, so I’ll entertain your little request to lose these stinkin’ glasses—but only ‘cause I’m actually the one gettin’ everythin’ I want.”

You shake your head lightly at that, offering an ungenuine roll of yours eyes as Billy released you from his hold. He cocked his head knowingly and moved to pluck the glasses from his face, neatly folding the accessory before reaching out his index finger to hook the v-line of your shirt. You relished the cool touch just shy of your cleavage. Billy smirked knowingly and tugged lightly at his position to pull you closer to him. He replaced his finger with the glasses, giving it a light pat once he’d secured it to your blouse.

“You hold onto that, then,” he said before offering you his hand. “Come on, let’s get this cesspool of crack and candy over with.”

— ᡣ𐭩 –

You both grabbed a bite to eat as the two of you stroll through the stalls littered around the area, and Billy was happily chomping down on his choice of a snack, his foul mood starting to lighten a little. You eyed the cone in his hand, and he noticed before slowing to a stop and offering you the treat.

“What, ya want a taste?” He asked. “All you’ve got to do is ask, Love.” He offered his characteristic smirk as he watched you take up a handful of the popcorn and plop them into your mouth a little bit at a time. You flashed him a thumbs up as you chowed through the last of the buttered snack, and Billy chuckled in response. “Well, if you fancy it that much, how ‘bout I go and get us some more?”

— ᡣ𐭩 –

One of the carnival booths was a well-displayed plushie utopia that you just had to dip into. If there was something you loved more than the carnival, it was the odds of walking home with a stuffed bear as large as, well, your boyfriend.

“We have to give that a shot!” You told Billy eagerly, beckoning to the colourful stand with all manner of stuffed animals framing the overhang. “It’s not a tricky game, you’ve just gotta have the eye for it. Come on, Bill, whaddya say?”

Billy tilted his head in disbelief. “I say big hairy bollocks to that,” he scoffed, passing a scratch over his beard. “Those carnival games are a right scam. They take all o’ ya money and you ain’t eva have shit to show for it. If I wanted to do somethin’ as brain-numbing as tha’, I’d pay a fuck ton o’ dollars to sit and have tea with a fuckin’ Supe.”

“Oh, enough of your bloody squawking!” You groaned, taking his hand into your own as you began to pull him toward the stand. Billy began mumbling a generous stream of cusses but relented to your guidance nonetheless.

You went about playing the game for a considerable amount of time, your eye set on winning the large, brown grizzly bear propped at the corner of the main counter. Billy loitered about with a permanent scowl on his face, intermittently flashing the stand owner a needlessly intimidating glare, as though warning off any mischief he might try. And low and behold, once you’d perfectly knocked down the target and earned your reward, the stand owner attempted to deny your win.

Before you had a chance to argue your victory, Billy stormed over to the stand. “Oi!” He called, lifting his hand in a pointing gesture. “Open ya fuckin’ eyes, mate—she won that bloody bear fair ‘n square, yeah? It says it right there on that board o’ yours.” He gestured to the bright and flashing sign above the target you’d knocked over, which proudly displayed winner! “Take a look, will ya? ‘Cause none o’ us here are fuckin’ blind.”

You slipped in beside Billy and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to glance at you, his frown briefly softening and his jaw clenching to stifle his wicked mouth. “Leave the bugger,” you told your boyfriend. “We both knew the risks beforehand, remember? Besides, I’m over it now. Let’s go and see what else’s around.”

Billy gave a brief pause before nodding a surrender, but not before delivering the stand owner one last stare. You slipped your hand from his shoulder, taking a step back as you prepared to leave. You expected Billy you trail after, but instead, he stayed rooted to his spot, placing both palms onto the booth counter as he leaned over to confront the store owner. You gave a dramatic sigh before inching your way back over, just in time to catch your boyfriend’s words.

“I hope ya have a beautifully shit-filled day, all right?” Billy told the stand owner, his hand lifting to point an accusing index finger. “‘Cause you’re a shite cunt, mate.” With that last statement, he reached over the counter for the giant bear plushie, and yanked the heavy thing effortlessly into his grasp—all while fixing the stand owner with an unwavering, soul-searching glare that caused the kid to clamp down on his lips, instead of calling the carnival cops. With a curt dip of his chin, Billy said, “you have a bad one,” and hoisted the bear into his arms before turning to you and jutting his chin forward for you to take leave.

You followed after him. “Hey!” You called. “We can’t just take that.”

“Sure we can,” he grunted, continuing steadfast in his tracks. “Ya won this bear fair ‘n square, and I’d be a right wanker to stand by ‘n let my girl get robbed in broad fuckin’ daylight.”

— ᡣ𐭩 –

After depositing your questionable win of a bear plushie into the back of Billy’s car, you returned to the carnival to scour the last of the booths for the day. While nearing the end of the row, you came across a den of puppies up for adoption, and you clutched your chest with the largest of grins pitching up the corners of your mouth.

“Look at the furry babies!” You exclaimed, pointing at the little Pitbull puppies pressing their faces through the bars of their enclosure, wailing and barking at the sight of you and Billy.

The lady tending the puppies turned a glance in your direction, then offered a warm smile before she reached to unhook one of the fence gates. The puppies—four of them, scamped out to meet you, but two of them stopped midway to tackle one another, and the third joined onto the play heap shortly after. Only the last one reached you both—an albino Bully with the biggest pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen a dog wear. This puppy had been single-handedly blessed with one of the biggest features of manipulation a dog could own.

The tiny cloud with four legs and a loud bark on it veered for Billy, it’s slim tail thrown about in a waving display of joy as it’s jaws acquainted the toe of his boot. It’s tiny fangs gnawed at the leather, but to no avail other than leaving behind a trail of saliva.

“C’mere, ya lil’ bugger,” Billy chuckled as he crouched over to scoop up the nipping puppy. It yapped a protest at being robbed of the safety of the ground, but quickly settled into your boyfriend’s folded arms. “You’re a feisty little man, aye? Ya got a ball-shivering pair o’ eyes on ya,” he teased. The puppy stuck its head out to lap at Billy’s bearded chin, and your boyfriend chuckled at the sensation. “Greedy little thing. Ya gotta get ya self together, mate, I’m already spoken for—ya see that pretty girl o’er there?” He turned his gaze in your direction, making a tiny gesture with his hand. “Tha’s future Mrs. Butcher—once she swallows tha’ stubborn pair o’ hers and accepts my ring.”

You marvelled at the sight in front of you, unaware of just how much further you could fall—plummet, for Billy Butcher. You giggled at his words. He offered you a charming wink before turning his attention back to the puppy. You reached for your phone in your pocket, retreating a few paces to snap a handful of pictures of your boyfriend coddling the puppy.

Through the digital lens, Billy called to you. “Oi!” You lowered your phone to witness your boyfriend’s face in person. “Come and say hello to our little friend.”

You shoved your phone back into your pocket and trotted over to the pair of them, reaching out your hand to the puppy as a greeting. His pink nosed glazed every surface of your hand before he began to violently lick you.

“Can we take him home, please?” You pleaded, placing a scratch on the puppy’s head. “Just look at those big paws and that wrinkled, little snoot of his. Oh, he’s such a little charmer.”

Billy shook his head and gently lowered the Bully to the ground. “Nah, I ain’t cleanin’ up after that little crap machine,” he said. “You’re enough to work with, as it is,” he added with a mischievous grin, straightening to full height.

You watched the puppy scamper over the grass toward you and bent over to pet him, but the little gremlin only gnawed at your boot for a few seconds before releasing it to scatter back onto his brawling litter mates. You rose back to full height and turned to face Billy, your hand slipping into your pocket to pull out your phone. “Just take a look at this, Bill.” You beckoned your boyfriend over.

“Whatcha got there?” He appeared over your shoulder just in time as you pulled up the picture you’d taken of the Bully puppy in Billy’s arms, looking absolutely smitten over your boyfriend. You understood the appeal, honestly, only in a manner a lot less innocent.

“Check how he stares at you—that’s a profession of love, if I’ve ever seen one!” You teased.

Billy flashed you a close-lipped smile as he took the phone from your palm, his head tilting down to the screen. After a few moments, he glanced up at you, the phone lowering with his hand. “Tell ya what,” he said. “I’ll think ‘bout it.”

You looped your arm around his and leaned into his side, glancing up at him. “Could I weaponise tonight to try and convince you?” You asked cheekily.

His eyes narrowed into a sultry stare, his lips broadening with a smirk before he lowered his head to place a kiss on your lips. “Oh, absolutely,” he murmured after a good peck. “Put on ya best fuckin’ performance.”

— ᡣ𐭩 –

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