#billy butcher x supe!reader

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

One Mistake

Billy Butcher Masterlist

Summary: Homelander got you. According to him, Butcher made one mistake, and it was to fall in love with you. He thinks you’re his weakness. But it’s actually the opposite, he makes you stronger. Jokes on Homelander, he’s the one that made a mistake by bringing you here...

Pairing: Billy Butcher x F!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1728

Warning: Violence, sequestration, blood, mouth bleeding, fight, humiliation, fluff, soft!Butcher, you’ll feel satisfied reading this

A/n: This fic was requested and I had so much fun with it! (you’ll see why!!)

“Butcher made a mistake. One, single mistake.”

The room was cold. The open window behind you was letting the night breeze enter right on your bare skin, causing strong shivers to fill your skin with goosebumps. You knew why he made you undress down to your undergarments before tying you to the chair, and it wasn’t to freeze you to death.

Humiliation.

Homelander loved to humiliate people, make them feel like utter shit. Because his whole life was spent trying to please the public. Trying to make everyone love him. But instead, disappointment and humiliation were leaving a trail of shame behind him, wherever he went.

So of course, he wanted to humiliate you to feel superior.

“I can’t believe he didn’t learn his lesson with… Hm, what’s her name again… His whole revenge is because we fucked and I got her pregnant. Becky?”

“Becca,” you spat. The name of the person Butcher lost. That scar he dragged with him that would never heal. You had a similar scar and knew how much it hurt. All those nights dreaming about them, only to wake up with the other side of the bed empty and cold. “Her name was Becca.”

Homelander opened his mouth in an O, his brows raised as he nodded. “Right. I thought he would learn not to have another person in his life after her.”

You scoffed, not at all impressed by the hero. You stopped being scared ever since you lost your husband. Ever since you met Butcher. By his side, you felt powerful, like nothing could hurt you.

He was the first man you allowed to love since your husband.

One moment, Homelander was pacing in front of you, his cape moving fluidly behind him, a look of disappointment in his face. The next, his despicable figure was inches away from you, one of his gloved hands around your throat. “Because I love to snatch them away from him.”

The smile of a maniac stretched your lips, your eyes wide as you sent your forehead right in his face. Pain exploded in your head as it collided with his, but you ignored the throbbing, the smile still living on your lips.

Confused, Homelander stepped back, touching his face to be sure there was nothing. Then, his blue, icy eyes laid on you and he frowned. “Why did you do that?” He shook his head. “I’m invincible, you only bruised your face. Are you fucking stupid?”

“I’ll tell you something,” you spat on the floor, some blood mixed in your saliva. A grin stretched your lips as you knew what it meant. “This whole thing… When you saw me with Butcher the other day, kissing, me telling him how scared I was of you. That night you knew I would walk home alone.” You tilted your head to the side, blood now running down your chin.

“What?” Homelander asked, not so amused anymore. His gaze was resting on your chin, not understanding how headbutting him could make you bleed so much from the mouth.

You leaned towards him, your teeth red as your smile widened. “It was all planned. Do you think we were on that street at the same time as you by accident? Do you think that phone call I had, when I said I had to walk alone the next day… Loud enough for anyone nearby to hear… Do you think it was a coincidence?”

Homelander shook his head, his lid spasming in confusion. Nervosity filled his face. “It’s…”

“I wanted you to kidnap me, actually. See, that was your only mistake…” The rope that was bounding you to the chair snapped as you moved your arms. You stood up, now free of your restraints. Your eyes burned as they lit up red and lasers shot from them, hitting Homelander right in the chest. It was so violent, his body was pushed back strong enough to create a hole in the wall. You walked to where he was, still on the floor, his costume fuming where the laser hit him. Confused, he didn’t even think of getting up, he just stayed there and stared at you. “Your mistake was to think I was the poor little girl that fell in love with the wrong guy. Your mistake,” you stood above Homelander and crouched to grab him by the collar and lifted him off the ground, “was to think me headbutting you was to hurt you. See, I was made in a laboratory, just like you,” you threw him as far as your new strength allowed you, creating another hole in the wall from the impact. “I was created as a… contingency plan, if you prefer!” You shouted to be sure he heard you. 

Homelander was back on his feet and already flying towards you, his eyes red with anger. “Who the fuck are you!” He shot lasers at you, but you only used your own laser to counterattack. It hurt and you felt more blood pouring in your mouth. 

He was very strong.

Feeling you were about to fall under his attacks, your body feeling weaker by the minute, you flew towards him and kicked him hard in the groin. Homelander fell to the floor once more, holding his family jewels, his face deformed in pain.

“All I needed to do was touch you… Skin on skin… But with that stupid costume, it’s almost impsosible to have skin to skin contact with you. It was either I hit your face or let you rape me. And I didn’t feel like being disappointed by the small thing you call a dick,” you mocked, waiting for him to get up again.

“Shut the fuck up! It’s impossible!” Homelander shouted, throwing furniture at you. You avoided them without any problem. “I am unique! I can’t be copied!!”

“You’re a knock off,” You spat again on the floor. “Stan Edgar created me with your DNA, just in case you get too much to handle. But then, it turned out… I wasn’t special, so he threw me away. See, we have that in common! Except, after that I lived on my own,” you shrugged. “I got married. I was happy. And then, one day, Supes broke into my house. They were wasted, drunk and high as fuck. My husband tried to stop them and well, they started beating him up. I hit one trying to save him, that’s when it started. I copied his power,” you smiled, knowing full well Homelander didn’t care about your sad story. 

“I don’t care! I’m gonna fucking kill you either way!” He yelled, his eyes red again, ready to go for another round. You didn’t know if you could handle more of his lasers, yes, you could copy his powers, but your body wasn’t as used as him. Copying powers always left a bitter taste on your tongue, and he had the strongest super powers you ever had to copy.

He had his powers ever since he was a baby. You got them 3 minutes ago.

“I know,” you smiled as, around your wrist, your watch beeped. “But I didn’t share my story for you to pity me… It was to buy some time.”

The red in his eyes was extinct the moment he understood. It wasn’t like you didn’t tell him, after all… That whole thing was a set up. 

Only a second later, there was something covering his mouth and toxic gas filling his lungs. Homelander tried to fight, but Kimiko was holding him as best as she could. You joined her, your arms circling around his body, squeezing with all of your strength. M.M was holding the mask on his mouth while Frenchie was a bit behind, another mask in his hands in case the first one wasn’t enough.

Homelander’s scream got lost in the gas mask as it was impossible for him to get it off. His anger was so strong he almost got free a few times, but you held on, only a couple of seconds more…

“Can he fucking fall already?!”

Finally, the gas started working and his body fell limply to the floor. 

You look at the hero laying on the floor. Motionless. Vulnerable.

Fuck, you hated him so much.

“Motherfucker,” you kicked him in the stomach with all of your strength- well, his strength, for that matter. His body jolted a little bit, and you were about to hit him again when a voice stopped you.

“Luv. He can’t hurt you anymore, ye? It’s alright.”

Warmth covered your shoulders as Butcher put his coat around you. You completely forgot you were almost naked. Frenchie put his hand on his eyes the moment you met his gaze and you smiled at the gesture. What a gentleman.

Hughie arrived right after and stopped near the entrance, his head turned away to avoid looking at you. “Wow! You’re almost naked. Okay. Wow. Homelander is down. Awesome. Alright. Mallory is on her way with the cryogenic box. Since it worked with Soldier Boy, it’ll be able to keep Homelander down. At least until they find a way to better get rid of him.”

“Good… Good to know,” you muttered, suddenly feeling weak. It was done. It was over. Homelander was down, they would take care of him like they did with Soldier Boy.

God, it was done.

Relief washed over you, your legs giving out. Strong hands caught you immediately.

“Easy there… Knew taking his power would be too much for y’a,” Butcher tsked, helping you sit down on the floor. He kneeled next to you.

“Yeah… you were right,” you coughed in your hand and smiled. You knew there was blood in your palm but it didn’t matter. “But beating the shit out of him and seeing the fear in his eyes? Fuck, it was so worth it.”

“I know luv. I know.” Butcher stroked your arm softly, his face burying against your neck. “Hope you’ll never need it again.”

You smiled at the gesture of affection. Butcher usually never showed it when there were people around. Showing a softer side of him? Hell no. But he kept his head there and his arms around you, holding you softly against him.

“Awn, you two are so cute eh. I want a hug too. Petit Hughie?”

“No thanks- Oh, you’re going for a hug anyway- Oh, Kimiko too? Alright then.”

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

#the boys fanfiction #billy butcher #Billy Butcher x reader #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x y/n #the boys fanfiction homelander #homelander #the boys homelander #homelander getting his ass kicked #badass reader #supe!reader #billy butcher x supe!reader

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Super Hearing

Homelander x Reader

Word Count: 927

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

Warnings: None.

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#the boys #the boys diabolical #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #john gillman #the boys fanfic #the boys fic #fanfiction #billy butcher #hughie campbell #supes #supe x reader #homelander fanfiction

[gatorbites-imagines]

*knock knock* If it's possible I'd like to request a Butcher x Male reader where they meet each other and starts dating and then Butcher learns that his s/o is kind of Homelander's brother and he feels conflicted af? But it ends up in fluff?

Thank you so much if you can do it! <3

Billy Butcher x Male reader

Headcanons

Reader is a supe, cuz I love characters having powers hehe. Reader looks kinda like Homelander in this, but just enough that they could be siblings ya know?

-          You and Butcher met in a very normal way, at a bar for the less than legal people who did the type of work you both do. Butcher wants to get rid of supes, you want to get rid of supes. You were both good at what you did and had similar opinions, so you started to get to know each other.

-          Now, you had never known your past. All you knew was that you were a supe yes, but your adoptive mother had rescued you from somewhere. You had been so little at the time that you didn’t remember more than white cold walls, and someone’s hand holding your own.

-          Your mother never told you much about where she rescued you from, just that it was a horrible place. You learned after she died that she was a scientist for Vought, so you could only assume that was where she rescued you from.

-          Your mother was killed by supes, you knew it had to be Black Noir. Your family had been hunted for most of your life, you assumed because Vought wanted you back. Your mother had succeeded in removing the tracking chip from your body when she rescued you, but they still followed you.

-          Because she was taken from you, your hate for the supes and Vought grew and you started to work in the business of taking them down, using your powers.

 -          You had always assumed you hadn’t discovered all your powers, but you could fly, was indestructible and had super strength and speed. That was all you needed in your opinion.

-          In the beginning you and Butcher just got along as allies, but as time passed you got closer and closer. He was cautious because of your powers, but overtime he calmed down and you became friends.

-          When The Boys became a thing after Hughie’s girlfriends death, you and Butcher had been friends for a while so you were the first to join up. When the whole thing with translucent happened the hero had looked at you when you entered and for a second thought you were there to save him.

-          When he called you Homelander you almost snapped and killed him on the spot, but Butcher calmed you down enough to leave him alone.

-          It was always something you had suspected, and Butcher had had his theories as well. With your powers being so similar to Homelander and the fact that some of your facial features were similar to the number one hero.

-          But you had never looked into it, not wanting any connection to that monster who claimed to only want the best for the world.

 -          The two of you starting to date just kinda happened. You two had gotten closer, both physically and emotionally. One day you just noticed how you Billy would lean against your shoulder or your arm would go around his waist.

-          It was when your teammates asked if the two of you were dating that you both had to confront your brewing feelings. Now, neither of you were good at talking about feelings so it just ended with the two of you sitting in Butchers car as you drove.

-          You both ended up just confessing, and Butcher pulled the car over on the side of the rode where no one could spot you, took of his seatbelt, leant over, and kissed you. In the end you accidentally ripped your seatbelt as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in close.

-          You never outright said you were boyfriends, but you both knew you were together and your teammates knew, so that’s all that mattered.

-          Your dynamic didn’t change much after that. Butcher was still rude ass Butcher, and you were the one supe he didn’t want to take out back and kill. You just were more open with your affection now and your kisses.

-          It was during one of your passionate moments that your eyes flashes red for the first time. You had been so consumed by feelings with Butcher above you, suddenly your eyes felt so hot, hotter than ever before.

-          Butcher had frozen in what he was doing and looked at you with a shocked expression. Seeing his expression you had panicked too, not knowing what was wrong, and the heat in your eyes disappeared.

 -          You didn’t continue your passionate time together. You both got cleaned up and Butcher was quiet and tense. When you asked what was wrong, what had happened, he didn’t say anything for a while until he told you that your eyes as glowed, bright red, like Homelander.

-          At first you had chuckled because you thought it was a joke, but the seriousness in Butchers expression told you he wasn’t trying to make you laugh. You could feel your heart sinking and fear gripped your heart.

-          Your worst fear was being related to Homelander in any way, especially because you knew what he had done to Butcher, what he had taken from him.

-          You tried to come up with any excuse on why it was like this, tried to come up with a logical explanation on why your powers were an exact copy of Homelanders, but it all came back to you being related to him, his brother.

-          The apartment was quiet after that, until Butcher got up, grabbed his keys, and said he was going for a drive. You knew he needed it to clear his mind, but it still made you want to curl up and cry, fearing he would leave you.

 -          After Butcher left you had sat in the apartment for a while, staring at your hands in your lap trying to figure out any way to not make him leave you.

-          Feeling frustrated you left the apartment and went flying, flying high above the clouds to have some time to think and time to yourself. You had always had great senses, but it was like this stressful situation was the last kick your body needed to truly power you up.

-          Suddenly your senses were greater than ever before, and you clamped your hands over your ears as you could hear everything. The only thing that kept you from not losing your mind was the fact that you could hear Butchers heartbeat, calm and not in danger.

-          You noticed a red glow coming from your eyes, the heat from before was back, but this time it wasn’t summoned from passion but from stress and rage. You despised what you were because you feared it would take the one person you cared for away from you.

-          Before you knew it the heat gathered and gathered until bright red lasers shot from your eyes out across the clouds, a beam of death that disappeared from sight and ceased to exist after a while. You panted, letting your hands fall to your side with shaking fists.

-          Staring out in the direction you had just shot lasers, you took a deep breath, and returned home. You took the long route, hearing that Butcher had retuned yet as his heartbeat was further away. You didn’t go to sleep when you got home, you just say in your living room with the tv turned off, trying to learn to control your new senses.

 -          When Butcher returns a few hours later you art still sitting on your couch, eyes clenched shut in fear of them glowing again, a horrible migraine present because of the influx of sounds you could hear or things you could smell.

-          You don’t react much when he sits down beside you, scared to break the silence fearing what he will say. But you do relax some of your tense muscles when you take in his scent and listen to his heartbeat, knowing he is right there with you.

-          Finally Butcher is the one to break the silence, and you still keep your eyes clenched shut as they start to burn again as he hesitantly starts talking about his feelings. Its no secret Butcher hates talking about his feelings and would rather do anything else, but here he is confessing how it scares him sometimes that he could lose you, or how he doesn’t know what to do with himself because of your relation to Homelander.

-          You must have made a face at the mention of the blonde hero, because Butcher gives a dry chuckle, and reassures you that you aren’t Homelander and never will be him. When Butcher takes your hand you almost star crying, feeling his warm rough palm in your own.

 -          Butcher reached up with his other hand and cradles your face, carefully turning you to him. He’s silent for a bit before he softly asks you to open your eyes, to which you shake your head fearing you’ll accidentally kill him with your newly discovered powers.

-          His voice is soft when he tells you that you won’t hurt him, because he loves you and trusts you, the brit leaning in afterwards and softly kissing you. The action makes tears gather in your eyes again and you finally dare to crack them open.

-          You can tell they’re glowing, and for a split second you fear Butcher will flinch or back away, but he just smiles softly and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “There are those pretty eyes of yours” he says, voice soft and adoring in a way that makes your chest ache in a good way.

-          The heat in your eyes stay as you lean in and kiss him again, gripping onto his jacket in a desperate manner as his arms wind around you and pull you against him. The kiss is full of love and devotion, and your fears lessen as he only holds you tighter like you’ll disappear if he lets go.

-          Even as you cuddle into his arms and rest against his chest the heat stays, though lesser than before, but Billy says nothing against it and just holds you as he turns on the tv. You would figure out your new powers together, Billy was still by your side, and that’s all that mattered.

#male reader #the boys #billy butcher #supe reader #the boys imagine #the boys headcanon #the boys x male reader #the boys x reader #the boys x supe reader #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher headcanon #billy butcher x male reader #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x supe reader

[kaleldobrev]

A Simple Misunderstanding

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hughie might of overheard something he probably shouldn't have between you and Ben

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Sexual Innuendos, Implied Drug Use, Soldier Boy (Yes, our macho man gets his own warning)

Authors Note: So, this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I've been going back and forth debating if I was going to post this or not. But once I gave the summary to @zepskies she said she was intrigued, so I said, "What the heck?" and now it's posted for your enjoyment | This is my first time writing for this universe so I hope I was able to do these characters justice | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was the middle of the night and Hughie couldn’t sleep. Although him and The Boys were in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors for miles, it surprised him how noisy everything could be. He had lived in New York City all his life; he was used to the noise. The bustling sounds of traffic, the occasional gunshot or stabbing, airplanes always flying overhead, or a supe destroying some vehicles while trying to catch a culprit. But the noises he heard were much different; it was the sounds of the crickets, droplets of water hitting an unwashed plate in the sink, and random incoherent whispering. The hustle and bustle of the city had become white noise to him.

Looking over at the clock it just struck 1:59am. He hadn’t been in bed long trying to sleep, only attempting to just a little past midnight. Since joining the group, it was unusual for him to actually get to bed at a normal time or even go to bed at all. He was used to going a day or two without sleep. Frenchie tempted him with some sort of drug to keep him going or an energy drink, MM would usually offer coffee which was the preferred method for Hughie. But at this point, the caffeine wasn’t working anymore, as he had started drinking it like water. Unhealthy for sure, but so was not sleeping for one, two, or three days straight.

This was the first time in a long time where everyone was actually sleeping, even Butcher. It was strange, because as long as Hughie had known him, he never once saw the man sleep. The closest he ever got was when he would get knocked out; but even then, that was kind of a rare occurrence.

Getting up from his bed he sat on the edge of it for a moment rubbing his face. He had wanted to stay in bed and keep trying to fall asleep, but he knew that there was no use. So he decided to implement a trick that he remembered his mother using when she couldn’t fall asleep or get back to sleep. When she had trouble falling asleep or getting back to sleep, she would do various things to occupy herself until she felt tired enough to try and sleep again. Her usual go-to’s were either reading in the living room or listening to Billy Joel quietly to herself. Once, Hughie remembered waking up in the middle of the night and had found her humming quietly to herself while she read a book in the living room. The only light came from a single table lamp next to her.

Leaving the bedroom he started making his way down the hall toward the living room where he decided to watch some TV. There would probably be nothing worth watching at this time; just infomercials about grills or some kind of cleaning agent that didn’t work. He really wasn’t picky about what he watched, he just wanted something to help him fall asleep.

As he walked down the hall, he heard faint whispering coming from one of the bedrooms. He thought that he had been the only one up - guess he was wrong. The room in which he heard the whispering coming from was Soldier Boy's room - something that he didn't find surprising in the slightest, as he was someone that actively fought sleep. "I've slept enough," he would say.

He started walking away, but didn't move far as he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" That was your voice. What the Hell were you doing in his bedroom? And at this hour? Hughie thought to himself. He knew that the two of you were friends of some sort, as you were the only person that SB genuinely seemed to like and get along with, but for some reason, it didn't really occur to Hughie that you would be spending time with him this late into the night.

The next thing he heard was chuckling, chuckling from SB. "Trust me." The next sounds Hughie heard actually made his eyes go wide. It was the bedside drawer opening and closing just as quickly, the sound of some kind of plastic being opened, and then bed springs squeaking. The squeaking was so loud that he could only assume that it was the two of you moving in unison, not just one of you.

“Oh wow that’s…huge.” You commented, emphasizing the word ‘huge.’ Huge? Hughie thought. Gross.

Again, SB chuckled. “Never seen one so big Princess?” Princess?! Hughie was surprised he didn’t gag right then and there. Never did he ever want to hear SB say the word Princess, nor did he ever want to hear it in the context of it being used to describe you; his best friend since kindergarten.

“No, never.” You replied back, sounding as if you were embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve heard they can be that big but…” you trailed off.

So many emotions were taking over Hughie: but disgust was the main one. There were two things that his brain automatically came up with in this scenario. The first: barge into the room and stop you and Soldier Boy from having sex, the second: move far away as possible from the door and pretend this never happened. As much as he wanted to do the first option, he valued his life too much, didn't want to see Soldier Boy in all of his naked glory (once was enough when they were in Russia), nor did he want to be a cockblock for one of the oldest and most powerful supes in history. He knew, that being a cockblock would have been the very last thing he would do in life if he barged in. Option two it is, he thought to himself. With that decision, he never moved so quickly in his life.

The morning finally came and you were greeted by Ben having his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath his chin. His embrace around you was tight, but not so tight that if you needed to move, you could (not that he would let you move any way, he was too comfortable). He's getting better at not crushing me when we cuddle, you couldn't help but think. The position the two of you were in was an intimate one, and it had become a somewhat regular occurrence over the past couple of weeks. It was something that you never thought would ever happen, especially when you first met him a few months ago.

Your relationship with Ben had drastically changed in the short amount of time that you had known him and took a complete 180. When you first met him, you were initially excited to meet him because you had watched all of his movies on repeat growing up as your father was a huge Soldier Boy fan - it was something the two of you had bonded over. But when you met him, he was far from how you envisioned him to be. He wasn't this all-American hero who stood up against injustice - he was a misogynistic racist asshole.

As time went on, Ben had somehow started to grow on you. Although there were still elements of him that radiated misogynism and racism, you gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to certain things. How it wasn't entirely his fault, as he had spent 40 years essentially in isolation being tortured by the Russians; completely unaware of the massive changes that took place in the world. Once you had "remembered" that, and started spending more and more time with him, you had started to fall for him - and it happened relatively quick.

"Good morning." He said to you, his voice lazy as he kissed your bare shoulder.

"Good morning to you too." You replied back, pressing your back and ass closer into him.

"Your heart's beatin' a little fast there Princess." He smirked.

"It's just nice waking up like this, that's all." You said. "Well, you kissing my bare shoulder doesn't hurt either."

"You know, I can kiss other parts too." He said, keeping the smirk on his lips.

"Hmm, I know you can." You said, turning to face him. He leaned in and kissed you, a little surprised that he was the one that initiated. "Can I ask you something?"

You heard an annoyed sigh from him. "You're going to ask if I say no or not Sweetheart." He responded with his usual bluntness.

"Yeah you're right." You said. Ben couldn't help but slightly roll his eyes. "So my question," you began, turning to face him completely as you propped up your elbow on the pillow. "Why didn't you try and have sex with me last night?"

Ben looked at you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "You're disappointed that I didn't try and fuck you?" He let out a small chuckle at your question.

"Honestly...Yeah. I mean, everyone was sleeping, and I know you want to. Plus, I barely had anything on." When you came to his room last night, you had purposely wore more revealing clothes in order to tempt him - a tank top and boy shorts.

"You wouldn't've been able to stay quiet." He began. "Although, it would have been fun to hear you attempting to be quiet and failing miserably." There was that smirk again.

"You don't know that." You said, your fingertips running up and down his bare arm.

"Y/N, trust me. You wouldn't have." His confidence was almost radiating arrogance.

"Is that a promise?" You asked. Your question more bold than you had intended it to sound.

"Oh, it most definitely is." He said. "I'll tell you what. We can test it out tonight." He leaned in, inches away from your face, moving a strand of lose hair that had fallen in front of your face.

"Promise?" You asked, your voice low, a little hesitant.

"I didn't stutter did I?"

"No Sir." You said, leaning in and kissing him again.

The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, glasses of orange juice on the table. MM and Frenchie making breakfast for everyone while Kimiko helped to set the table. Butcher sat on the barstool on the island in the kitchen, every once in a while taking a sip of coffee and reading the paper. Hughie walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Butcher, his face looked like he had seen a ghost. Putting down the last plate, Kimiko looked at Hughie and walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t respond to her touch, which made her slightly frown with concern. Frenchie looked over at her and she signed something to him. “Petit Hughie, she wants to know what’s wrong.” Frenchie translated.

Hughie didn’t respond, he just sat there on the stool looking off into space. Frenchie waved his hand in front of Hughie’s face. “Petit Hughie?” Frenchie and MM exchanged looks, and Butcher put down the paper.

“Oi, lad.” He waved his hand in front of his face too. He looked over at MM and Frenchie. “I know what to do.” Without hesitation, Butcher slapped Hughie in the face, causing him to almost fall off the barstool.

Hughie started rubbing his cheek where Butcher had slapped him. "What the fuck was that for?"

"For being a creepy little shite and not saying anything when we're talkin' to ya." Butcher responded.

"I had uh, a rough night." Hughie said. He pointed at his cheek. "This isn't going to bruise is it?" He asked, Butcher rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to make it bruise?" He asked, smirking.

"Good morning everyone!" You practically sang as you walked into the kitchen. Everyone besides Ben had been there, as he was still currently pre-occupied with taking a shower. Everyone was currently sitting at the dining room table, slowly taking bites of their breakfast. Every so often, they took glances at you before looking back down at their plate of food.

Sitting down at the table, you took your usual spot next to Hughie and gave him a quick smile, before taking your fork and started digging into your pancakes. "MM, Frenchie, did you guys make this?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"Uh, yeah." MM responded, almost too quietly. It was a little strange to you how quietly he had responded, but at the same time, you didn't really think anything of it, as the last couple of days has been a little rough for everyone. Despite being in a safe house, you knew that MM was at least up some of the night making sure that all of you were actually safe. You weren't sure if it was because of the situation you all were in, his military background, his OCD, or a combination of the three.

After a few moments of silence Hughie finally spoke to you. "So, how did you uh, sleep?"

You took a sip of your orange juice before responding. "Pretty good actually. Best I've slept in quite a while." Which was true. "How about you?"

"Rough night." Hughie said, responding very quickly to your question, as if he already had his answered prepared.

You frowned at his answer. "I'm sorry. Nightmare? Couldn't sleep?"

"A little of both." He said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Ye-" Before he could finish his sentence, Ben walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a t-shirt that you had gotten him about a week ago. Without saying a single word, Ben took his usual spot next to you and started digging into the plate of food in front of him.

You cleared your throat and looked at him, which caused him to look at you. "What?" He asked, a mouth full of pancakes.

"Isn't there something you'd like to say?" You asked.

"Christ on a cross..." He mumbled, before looking up. "Morning." He said, forcing a smile before looking down at his plate again. "Happy?" He mumbled just low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled at him. "Very." You whispered back.

"The things I fucking do for you." He mumbled.

Hughie stood up very abruptly, the utensils and plates shaking a bit. This abruptness had caused everyone to look at him (except for Ben, who didn't even seemed bothered in the slightest). "You know what, I'm just going to come out and say it." His voice confident.

"We know you're gay." Ben said, very nonchalantly, still not looking up. "It's uh, good for you." He looked up now, focusing his attention on Hughie. "Be proud or...whatever." He finished, flashing him a forced smile. Ben then turned toward his attention to you, looking for some kind of approval from you regarding what he just said. Trying to adjust to the modern age was hard for him, but he was thankful that you were there to help him navigate things.

"What? I-I'm not gay. For the last time, I'm with Annie." Hughie said, trying his best to defend himself.

"I've been told that's called a beard." Ben took another bite out of his pancakes, and your hand automatically went to his thigh, giving it a small squeeze. It was your way of basically telling him to stop talking. He looked at your hand before looking at you again. "What?"

You turned your attention to your friend. "Hughie, what did you want to say?"

"Okay. I'm just going to come out and say it. Ask it. Whatever!" His voice sounding insanely flustered. "Did you guys fuck last night?"

You felt your eyes go wide, your fingernails digging into Ben's pants. You didn't know what to say, you were speechless. "What's it to you?" Ben asked, not even seeming to be remotely fazed by Hughie's question.

"Because she's my friend." Hughie responded. He knew that his response wasn't good enough.

"Okay, and?" Ben gave him a confused look, unsure of what Hughie's point even was. "I'll repeat, what's it to you? Y/N doesn't ask every time you blow Butcher."

"Again, I'm not gay." Hughie said, his voice sounding defeated.

"Whatever. Point is, she doesn't fucking ask. So why are you asking?" You couldn't help but agree with Ben, who seemed to be very reasonable in his questioning for once.

Hughie looked at Ben and you, and then looked at the rest of the group - all of them staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "Because..." he tried to find the right words. "Because you two are the reason why I couldn't sleep last night!" You and Ben exchanged looks, not understanding. The two of you focused your attention on him. Before either you or Ben could say anything, Hughie started talking again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He looked at you. "Never seen one so big?" He looked at Ben. "You're even wearing his fucking shirt!" Hughie pointed to the shirt you were wearing.

You looked down at your shirt before looking at Hughie again. "I always wear Ben's shirts." You stated.

"No, you don't actually!" Hughie's voice was starting to sound so frantic now.

"She looks damn good in them though." Ben commented, taking yours and his empty plate to the sink.

"Hughie, I can assure you. Me and him didn't have sex last night." You said, really trying your best to reassure your friend, even though - to Ben's point - it wasn't remotely his business anyway.

"We will tonight though." Ben said, his voice calm as it has been throughout this entire exchange.

"They didn't need to know that." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren't embarrassed that Ben said that, but it was something that you didn't think he needed to add to the conversation.

"Sure they did. I mean, your friend here seems interested." Ben walked over back to the table, placing two mugs of coffee before sitting back down next to you again.

"For the love of..." You mumbled. "We smoked a blunt last night! There! Happy?" Your voice was the one that sounded frantic now, with a small hint of annoyance added.

"You guys...smoked...a blunt?" Hughie felt his cheeks heating up, embarrassed by this whole exchange now. "So you guys weren't talking about the size of his -"

"Hughie you better not finish that fucking sentence I swear to God." MM said, his voice sounding as if he had lost all of his patience already for the day, and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet.

“Ben and I were talking and I had mentioned that I’ve never smoked a blunt before, or have done any kind of drugs so he offered to let me try it. That’s it.” There was much more to the conversation, but you didn't feel like adding anything else. The rest of the gang didn't need to know that you and Ben were planning on going some place far away from New York when all was said and done.

"You never smoked a blunt before? I'm shocked." Butcher stated. "Swear you have." For as long as he had known you (which was quite a while now, as you joined The Boys about a year before Lamplighter had killed Mallory's grandkids), he could have sworn up and down that you were on some kind of drugs, but he never could put his finger on it. He thought about asking you of course, but he always decided against it.

"It's shocking I know." You shrugged. "I guess it's never appealed to me."

"Well it's a good thing you're with Mister Coke Head over here." Butcher said, adding a little chuckle at the end.

"Just because we're together doesn't mean I'm gonna start doing drugs with him Butcher." You defended.

"She'll be too busy doing other things." Ben smirked, before winking at you.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @zepskies If you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #ben x you #ben x reader #reader insert #female reader #the boys amazon

[anundyingfidelity]

BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS — Billy Butcher, Soldier Boy

Summary: A normal night where Butcher and his new pal, Soldier Boy, fuck just their stress out with a new toy, you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female reader x Soldier Boy

Word count: 1.5k.

Warnings: porn without plot, dom!butcher, dom!ben, one thought of dub-con but not really, double penetration, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, unsafe sex (creampie and switching holes basically don't do it, this is just porn), squirting, dirty talk, blowjobs, facial, degradation (usage of whore, slut, etc.), cumplay, some dacryphilia, choking, hair pulling, blood, mentions of violence, Ben and Butcher being kinda jerks, normal misogyny coming from SB, some ego competition, hints to aftercare.

Notes: You already know english is not my main language, not betad and barely revised, lol sorry for the mistakes in here. The amount of horniness I have for these two I swear is not fucking normal. Normally I'd apologize for writing this, but I'm ovulating.

the boys/jackles tags: @k-slla

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

A pair of rough hands held your legs open. Your empty pussy was throbing as Butcher knelt between your thighs rubbing the tip of his cock against your cunt.

You gasped, the man behind you spreading you further for his new team mate to get better access while he fucked your ass senseless. His cock reaching all the right spots. You moaned loudly, almost screaming when Butcher finally pushed inside you. Soldier Boy never seemed to cease his insane thrusts from behind.

"Luv, you're so fucking tight," Butcher grinned, your walls engulfing him perfectly.

They both soon set up a rhythm, one pushing in while the other almost slide out of your hole. Each stroke of their massive cocks inside you exploded something you never felt before. It was a new kind of spark eliciting from the deepest places, and you wanted to come undone there, over and over, forever, between their strong bodies.

"Oh, fuck! Yes right there, god!" you growled, screamed, and cried out incoherences as the two men continued fucking you to bliss.

A layer of sweat covered your skin and you rolled your eyes back, the familiar knot on your belly building up yet again. You didn't have an idea of how much time had passed since you arrived back to the dirty motel. All three of you arrived covered in blood, dirt and the weight of murder, and you still let them take you and you welcomed them the same way. You let them have fun with you however they pleased.

The last thing you remembered from that night was coming back from a mission. Your aching body begging for a shower and good sleep, but Butcher and the new supe found other ways to take their own stress out. You doubted at first. Of course you didn't know it could feel this good. They left bite marks all over your neck, nipped your tits, spanked your thighs open for their mouths to devour you while the other fucked your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks.

They continued bruising and marking your skin. Like a canvas, they left their prints, covering your flesh with different colors all over and used your mouth and pussy as they fucking wanted, granting access to the other, spreading your legs, manhandling you all over the disgusting, shitty room. Then Soldier Boy had the idea of using your ass, just for him, and at first, you were fucking scared. It was all too much. But once he had you ready and stretched enough with his fingers, you quickly fell for his rough touch and his dick, which was as huge as his ego. He was fucking addictive. Both were, in fact, fucking you amazingly hard.

One of Ben's hand wrapped around your neck, climax reaching its peak as Butcher rubbed your clit with his thumb. Your walls clenched around both of them and the vulgar sound of your pussy filled the place along with their skin hitting yours.

"Little slut, gonna cum for us?" Ben said, voice full of lust, pressing your back against his bare chest. You clenched again, his dark chuckle enhanced heaven down your cunt.

Wetness increased between your legs, and you moaned. Louder than ever. The whole place might already know what was happening in the room, but neither Ben or Billy made you shut up. In fact, they wanted you to scream your lungs out.

"Oh, she's definitely gonna cum," Butcher followed, a smirk on his lips. "C'mon sweetheart, don't be shy. Give us one more."

"I-I feel like- fuck!" with a loud cry you squirted all over them, their dicks sliding out of your holes. Shit, that was the harderst you came for the night.

Immediately you tried to close your shaky legs, but Butcher's hands held you in place, pussy clenching around nothing as your fluids coated their hard lenghts and thighs.

"Fucking hell. I'm gonna break you, sugar," Ben hissed, taking your legs and fixing your position on top of him, sliding you down his dick, but this time he claimed your pussy, pistoning in and out of you without any mercy. Even if your body still trembled and you were so fucking overstimulated. You moaned.

Butcher tskd as he watched you, tears streaming down your face and lost in pleassure. "That was mine, pal."

"Yeah, I don't give a fuck- Jesus, she's fucking tight!" Ben hoarsed.

He didn't care about Butcher, he just wanted to fuck you until you passed out and his name was the only thing on your mind.

You whimpered softly. "Please, please," you were getting there again, under the brunette man's dark eyes as the soldier fucked you insane.

But before you reached that sweet peak again, Ben pulled out of you. His strenght forced you to bend over the matress on your hands and knees, Butcher positioned himself right in front of your face. It was so fast and they moved quickly, like a dance already choreographed between them to take advantage of all you got to give.

"Open wide, baby" Butcher ordered. You complied happily, letting his cock touch the back of your throat smoothly.

Ben's rough hands gripped your hips, down your ass, giving a spank on one of your cheeks, making you jump slightly. He grabbed your ass cheeks spreading them to expose your hole, the tip of his cock teased your ass until he slid in a swift motion. You whimpered with your mouth stuffed. He filled you up perfectly and you fucking loved it.

"Such a good cumslut, taking my cock so fucking well," Ben praised, voice husky. He roughly gripped your hair, forcing yourself down more around Butcher's shaft. You gagged, he smirked. "Might just keep you around as my little, personal fuckdoll."

"Fuck- easy there, mate," Butcher warned, as you worked your tongue and lips on his cock as much as you could. "We have another deal, remember?"

Ben smirked cockily at him as you clenched around his cock. You let out a moan muffled by Butcher fucking your mouth. Both their thrusts harder than ever. "Still, I don't give a shit."

Ben's gaze admired you, hands on your hips, as he watched himself shoving into your hole. "You're gonna fucking cum again, you dirty little bitch," he ordered.

"Mmm..." You nodded as best as you could with the twitching cock on your mouth.

Butcher suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva leaked down your lips to the tip of his cock. He kept your head in place as much as he could and jerked himself off with his other hand. He came with a hard groan all over your pretty face. His white seed painted your cheeks, lips and your tongue sticking out as you shut your eyes.

"Bloody hell, don't you look ravishing," Butcher whispered darkly. His thumb collected his cum, now mixed with your tears and a small stain of dry blood on your face. He dragged it to your lips so you could taste it. Your plump lips closed around his finger with a moan.

"Insatiable slut, just how I like them," Ben hissed, pulling out of your asshole, making you whimper. "Now, I'm gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy."

He rubbed the tip of his dick on your slit and entered slowly. You felt every inch stretching you out and he slammed into you brutally, he was so fucking close. You could feel it. It surprised you how much they actually endured, their stamina was endless and you lost count of how many times they made you cum already. And yet, you felt that precious sensation anew, soft walls clenching repeatedly around him.

"C'mon whore," Ben gripped on your hair, pulling your back against his muscular chest, taking both your wrists with his other hand. "Cum around my cock."

Your cunt pulsed, he grunted. And you came, again, with shaky legs, shaky breath and the sight of a naked Butcher, who already had taken a seat on the couch in front of the bed. Your orgasm triggered Ben's, and he filled you up completely. You cried out when his fingers found your clit, the grip on your hair long gone now. He continued fucking his cum inside you, balls deep, until he started to soften inside you. His thrusts slowed down little by little.

Ben finally pulled out, letting go of your wrists and you collapsed on your hands and knees on the mattress. He spread out your pussy with his fingers and admired his white cum dripping out of you.

"Well, that was a fucking ride," he smiled. His middle finger wiped his seed and forced it back inside your pulsing cunt. "Fuck, where do you find these kind of women?"

Butcher shrugged. "I have my contacts."

"I'm still here, y'know," you breathed out, rolling on your back.

Ben hovered over your tired figure. Messy hair, cheeks stained with Butcher's cum, teary eyes, and some dry blood spots decorated your face. They did break you and put you back into pieces. He was damn proud of that. He leaned down and sucked into the skin of your neck. You moaned, your fingers tangled on his scalp as his lips carressed your neck, his beard burning on your soft skin.

"Ben, I'm tired," you said, and he stopped his kisses. He shared a suspicious look with Butcher and then locked his lustful green eyes with yours.

The supe winked at you. "Later, doll."

You rolled your eyes and heard Butcher standing up.

"Gonna prepare you a bath, luv," he said as he disappeared inside the bathroom. "Have to take good care of ya."

#soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #billy butcher smut #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x female reader #billy butcher imagines #billy butcher x you #billy butcher imagine #soldier boy/ben #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy x reader x billy butcher #jensen ackles #karl urban

[geminiwritten]

undercover ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

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

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

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

word count: 6496

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff, “Yeah? How?”

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

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

He scowls at you, “I can be subtle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MM takes two envelopes and passes one to Kimiko.

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

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

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

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

“Brooklyn Williams,” you read aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You blush, “Thanks.”

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

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

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

“Nice suspenders.”

He chuckles, “Are we ready?”

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

“Ready,” MM says beside you.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “As I’ll ever be.”

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

‘I’m going to kill you.’

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

‘You’re welcome ;)’

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

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

“Yeah,” you mutter, “just nervous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m okay,” you reply, “thank you.”

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

The first spark of fear rattles up your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, “No.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, “Maybe a little too convincing.”

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

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

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

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

You frown, “What is?”

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows thickly, “Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

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

He smirks, “Good girl, so responsive.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that your mistress?” you tease.

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

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

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

His voice is almost a groan, “Never.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“This old thing? Nah.”

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

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

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

‘We’re here to WORK, not fornicate.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Frenchie?” MM asks.

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

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

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

“Not a word,” Butcher mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

END.

#billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #karl urban #one shot #oneshot #homelander #hughie campbell #starlight #mm #mothers milk #frenchie #kimiko #the female #fanfic #fanfiction

[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.

#billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #the boys #the boys tv #the boys fanfic #billy butcher #william butcher #billy butcher fanfic #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #by jean #by mind empty just fictional people #by ​mind empty just fictional people #< still no clue why these are two different tags

[lilacliquors]

kinktober day seventeen: dirty talk

pairing: billy butcher x reader

word count: 398

notes: day seventeen! wow, i can't believe we're over halfway done with the month. work today was iffy but writing this made me feel better. and i'm interviewing for the full time position on monday!!

“fuckin’ hell, look at you …”

you were riding him like your life depended on it. he’d been gone for days, away on yet another dangerous supe chase, and just the sight of him home safe drove you wild. you practically tore each other’s clothes off, and there you were, lost in the feeling of him.

“mm, missed … missed you so much,” you panted, and he looked up at you with a smirk.

“i can tell. god, the way you take my cock … feel it fill you up? makes you feel full, doesn’t it? like you’ve been missing somethin’ the last few days?” he asked, and those questions alone made your stomach flop and your pussy throb.

“oh, god yes,” you breathed, nodding your head quickly.

“atta girl. and that’s not all you want to fill you up, is it? hm? want me to cum in that tight cunt, mark it as mine? no one else can fuck you like this, so why should i?”

you shuddered slightly and braced yourself on his abdomen, whining as you rocked your hips. he always knew just what to say, he had the foulest mouth of any man you’d ever met, and you loved it.

“tell … tell me more,” you begged, your legs starting to burn with exertion.

“more? such a naughty girl. tell you what, you milk my fucking cock dry, and i’ll bury my face between your thighs for as long as you want me to. that pretty pussy is nothing short of a feast, and i’m starving. hell, i’ll let you ride my fucking face and i won’t let you up until i’ve had my fill.”

you whimpered as his hands wrapped around your hips, and he began to buck up into you, hitting that sweet spot just right. you gasped, then threw your head back as he fucked into you, grunting and groaning as your walls clenched around him.

“that’s it, just like that. feels so fucking good …”

he relished your cries of pleasure, and he knew he had you right where he wanted you. too drunk off of him to protest, too needy for him to tap out. and it was the most beautiful sight in the world. he just couldn’t get enough, and he was going to make good on his promise to you.

you were in for a long night.

#atomwritez #billy butcher smut #billy butcher x reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober2023 #atomwritez kinktober2023

[little-diable]

First Impression – Billy Butcher (smut)

I'm back on my Billy bullshit, y'all just have to endure it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader needs a date to a gathering, and since Hughie can't keep any of her secrets, she finds herself tangled in a fake dating situation with Billy

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, fake dating, friends to lovers, the reader has awful parents

Pairing: Billy Butcher x fem!reader (2.5k words)

“Just say it.” Billy’s voice echoed through her kitchen, darkening eyes set on her frame. An expression torn between embarrassment and annoyance tugged on her features, forcing a sigh to leave (y/n). She momentarily turned her back on Billy, allowing her eyes to flutter close while she took a deep breath. “C’mon doll, spit it out, I don’t have much time eh?” 

“Fucking Hughie.” The words left her like a whisper, making a breeze into a storm so furious no people surrounding her were safe. “Look, just forget it, okay? I’ll figure it out.” 

“No, that’s not the way we do it, and you know it.” A somewhat amused smirk began to widen on Billy’s lips, hand running along his beard as he kept watching her. It felt like he was interrogating her, which he kind of was, though not because of any supe mess they were tangled in, but because Hughie couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut.  

“Fine. I need a date for a family thing, I’m done with being looked down on because I apparently can’t keep a man for long.” Billy’s raspy chuckles flushed another wave of embarrassment through her, body finding shelter on the kitchen chair vis-a-vis his. Billy studied her for a few more moments, dragging out the passing by seconds he clearly found enjoyment in. 

“And you want me to be your date? Could have just said so, love.” He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest. (Y/n) fought against the angry groan wanting to leave her, making a silent promise that she’d strangle Hughie the next time she crossed paths with him. 

“I don’t want you as my date.” She stared him down, eyes challenging his without needing to speak any further words. Both knew that Billy had her trapped, both knew that Hughie knew all about the emotions both harboured, emotions not shared with one another once. 

“Why don’t I believe that? But, you sure you want your parents to meet me?” Amusement dripped from Billy’s words, slowly rising to his feet to round the table, hand finding her chin before (y/n) could pick up on his movements. “I wouldn’t make the best impression as your boyfriend, would I?”

“You’re a fucking cunt, Billy, but Hughie’s right, you’re my best shot.” His thumb ran along her lower lip, tongue kissing his teeth as he pondered over her words for a few beats of his calmly pounding heart. 

“Well, what’s in for me then?” 

…… 

“Fuck, doll, you want me to concentrate on anything while you wear this?” Billy’s eyes wandered down her frame, taking in the dress she was wearing, fingers aching to feel the fabric. His cock twitched in his dress pants, begging to feel her close, wanting to bury himself inside of her as she’d choke on his name.

The memory of their first night together haunted Billy whenever he got a few minutes to let his thoughts wander, caught up in the sounds she had produced, her whimpers, moans, and the sweetest call of his name. Fuck, he wasn’t proud to admit that he had fucked his hand to the thought of her whenever he needed a quick relief ever since that night – something he had been aching for since he had been fortunate enough to bury his face between her tights. 

“Don’t give me that look, Butcher, otherwise we won’t make it to my parents' house.” Her chuckles left him smirking, hand taking hers as he walked her to the car, helping her inside. She didn’t pick up on the “Would that be so bad?” leaving Billy, unable to let go of the memories of (y/n)’s naked body thumping through his mind like a shot of Compound V. 

The drive went by too quickly, though (y/n)‘s eyes kept flickering down to the hand placed on her knee, thumb stroking circles into the fabric. The heat his touch pushed through her left her trembling, wondering if it was humanly possible to feel whatever she was now held hostage by. 

“So, you always run around dressed up like this when meeting your parents?” Billie’s teasing grin had an all too familiar touch to it, and yet she still wasn’t used to seeing it directed at her. She had always envied those that managed to gain his attention for longer than just a few seconds, painfully oblivious to the way he stared at her for minutes whenever she wasn't looking.

“You‘ll understand once you meet them.” 

……

“Fuck me, how did you turn out like this with an upbringing this fancy?” Billy murmured the words against her skin, breath fanning her neck as he held her close. Their eyes wandered through their surroundings, taking in the strangers that filled her parents' mansion. (Y/n) barely recognised any of the people walking past her and Billy, not sparing the two a glance. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turned around in his grasp, eyes finding his as she sipped on her champagne, hand finding the back of his neck. He looked undeniably handsome, the suit hugged his frame perfectly, an unfamiliar, welcomed view, even though (y/n) would always prefer his Hawaiian shirts. 

“Oi, you know exactly what that means, eh?” His smirk left her giggling, eyes rolling as she murmured a soft “You cunt”. Their bickering was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, forcing (y/n) to meet two pairs of all too familiar, curious eyes. Her parents stared at her and Billy, all too obviously wondering who the man was. 

“Mom, dad, it’s good to see you.” She shared a quick hug with them, nothing warm nor soft, perfectly matching the rather distanced relationship she and her parents had never worked on. “That’s William Butcher, my boyfriend.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Billy shook their hands before his hand found his way back to (y/n)’s waist, softly squeezing her side. He could tell that she didn’t feel comfortable, counting the passing by seconds till they could leave without her parents noticing. 

“Well, it was time for you to finally settle down. Let's hope you won't mess it up this time. You two should come visit soon, now, if you’ll excuse us.” With an almost pained gaze she watched her parents disappear, blending in with the big crowd all too easily. Only the pressure Billy used to squeeze her waist managed to rip (y/n) out of her thoughts, forced to blink away her tears before she dared to meet his dark eyes. He studied her for a few seconds as if he was looking at a painting, trying to decipher symbols, trying to match meanings to colours. 

Wordlessly Billy began to pull her through the crowd, fingers interlaced to keep her close. The chilly air wrapped itself around them like a translucent veil, hugging their limbs as they walked through the quiet garden. (Y/n) wasn’t used to feeling Billy close, at least not this close, and yet it felt as if she had dared to taste the forbidden fruit, already addicted, unable to work against the crush she had harboured for endless weeks by now. 

“You okay?” His murmurs broke the comfortable silence, hand finding (y/n)’s warm cheek. Their eyes didn’t dare break contact, forced closer together till not even a piece of paper would fit between them. Billy had always been gentle with her, not daring to toss her around like the rest of his crew, but the way he looked at her in this very moment was unfamiliar, nothing she could pinpoint. 

“I’m used to it, it keeps on hurting, but I’ll be alright. Thank you though.” A few more moments passed before Billy closed the gap between them, lips finding hers. Her surprised gasp rumbled through her, vibrating on the lips that moved in sync with hers. (Y/n)’s hands found his neck, toying with the dark hairs she had pulled that night when he had fucked her into oblivion, making her forget her own name. 

“Want to get out of here, doll?”

……

The door to her apartment fell close with a thud, sound swallowed by the moan leaving (y/n) as Billy hungrily kissed her. His hands worked on her dress, letting the fabric fall to the ground, with his suit jacket following moments later. Wordlessly she guided him into her bedroom, thoughts set on the orgasms he’d push through her system that night, desperate for any kind of distraction. 

Both parted to allow Billy to undress, giving (y/n)’s eyes the chance to wander up and down his frame, already aching for his touch, needing to feel his hands on her skin, between her thighs and on her chest. With only their underwear clinging to their frames, they found one another again in her bed, sharing kisses as Billy pressed her against the mattress, trapping her. 

“Won’t be gentle with you tonight, doll, hope you know that.” She could only moan in response, begging him to leave his marks, to remind her of the power he held over her. Billy’s mouth found her collarbones, kissing them as his hands worked on her bra, freeing her breasts. Ever since they had slept with one another all these weeks ago, (y/n) had tried to mimic his touch whenever she was needy for another high, and yet she had never managed to take care of herself the way Billy could. His big hands worked on her breasts, tugging on her hardening nipples, sucking on them to force a few more moans out of her. 

She felt his cock pressing against her thighs, aching to feel her wrapped around him, to feel her close. Though before (y/n) could even dare to think of touching him, Billy murmured her name, commanding her to hold still. 

“Hands over your head where I can see them, tonight is all about you, doll.” A whine of protest left her, a sound Billy couldn’t help but chuckle at. His eyes kept staring her down as he worked on her panties, pulling them down her leg to gain access to her dripping folds. “You’re soaked, baby. All for me, huh?”

“Fuck yes, just for you.” The second his tongue brushed her folds, (y/n) threw her head back, allowing her body to produce the most sinful sounds. Her heart was racing in her chest, working on the adrenaline he pushed through her, leaving her trembling beneath him. Billy’s tongue worked in wicked ways, pushing her closer to the edge in no time as he dug his fingers into her skin to keep her close. 

“How many can you take, eh? Two? Three?” (Y/n) couldn’t reply, eyes squeezed shut in order to stop herself from giving in, not yet ready to let this moment pass. Without another warning, Billy pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls like his cock would do in a few minutes. His name rolled off her tongue like a prayer, and yet the moment was too sinful for any god to hear the call, letting the devil darken the clouds above them. “Atta girl, so good for me, don’t know how I’ve managed to refrain from fucking you for the past weeks.”

She wanted to reply, wanted to tell him that she had struggled just as much, and yet no words managed to push past her lips. All (y/n) could do was choke on her gasps, on the whines he coaxed out of her, about to let go. But Billy knew her body all too well, letting go of her before she could fall from the cliff, allowing the heavenly feeling to rush through her. 

“Condom?” (Y/n) pointed towards her nightstand, watching him pull the silvery packet free as she was catching her breath, trying to find words she could use to curse him, hating him from pulling away too soon. Her lust drunken eyes watched Billy free his cock, rolling the condom down his twitching cock, aligning himself with her heat. 

One of his hands found her throat, keeping her pinned to the mattress as he pushed into her, forcing her walls to adjust to his girth. Both moaned in unison, foreheads pressed together in a desperate try to ground themselves. Their hearts kept skipping beats, unable to hold back as Billy started moving, building a ruthless pace that made (y/n) claw her fingernails into his shoulder. 

Their bodies moved together, skin meeting with every thrust that pushed them closer to the edge. Billy’s hand tightened its grip on her throat, heightening her senses, making her blood rush in her ears. (Y/n)’s gasps for air left him smirking, finding a sick sense of satisfaction in the way he had her trapped, how easily he could guide her body like he was owning her. 

“Billy,” she moaned his name, glassy eyes finding his, begging him to keep on going. “Fuck I’m close.” The sensation he had ripped from her moments ago was back, flushing through her system like a drug, pushing her towards the edge once again. He didn’t reply, kept ruthlessly snapping his hips against hers, not daring to let go just yet. 

“Look at you, drunk on my cock, so desperate for me.” His words left her groaning, eyes fluttering close as her orgasm washed through her without another warning. With a smirk tugging on his lips, Billy watched her come undone, fucking her through the sensation till his own orgasm started to rock through him. 

Their trembling bodies stayed connected for a few more moments, trying to catch their breaths before Billy parted from her. He got rid of the condom, wordlessly cleaning her up with a towel, careful not to put pressure on the marks his lips and fingers have left on her skin. 

“You okay?” He kissed her, arm finding her waist to pull her close. She nodded her head as a content sigh left her, head placed on his chest. His fingers drew shapes into her skin, letting his thoughts wander till her soft whispers interrupted them. 

“Will you leave again?” (Y/n) could still remember the morning she had woken without him near, disappearing in the middle of the night. Back then she hadn’t been able to bite down her hurt, feeling used by the man she couldn’t help but long for. 

“Do you want me to?” Their eyes met as (y/n) tilted her head towards him, hand cupping his bearded cheek. She gave it a few seconds before she softly kissed him, murmuring a quiet “Never”.

#Billy Butcher smut #Billy Butcher imagine #Billy Butcher x reader #the boys

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— ALL I WANNA DO

SUMMARY : aka. part 2 of jump on into the fire. in which she finally makes a decision about ben’s previous offer to start a family together.

PAIRING : soldier boy x supe!reader (f)

CHARACTERS : billy butcher, hughie campbell

WARNINGS : nsfw (18+), smut, mutual masturbation, cum play, dacryphilia (Ben, *said scoldingly*), angst

WORD COUNT : 5.9k

A/N : title from splashh song. daydreaming is so fun, this is the birth of my imagination as i watched the boys. also, i chose the reader’s super name to be ‘guardian’ bc I play too much destiny 😔. edited this to be part two of jump on into the fire Xx

To say things were awkward and tense between her and Soldier Boy was an understatement. Even the rest of the team could feel the tension between them, but since Y/N tried to be as discreet as possible about their relationship, they chopped it up to her being upset at him. Especially after the events at Herogasm. 

She could have handled the situation better, but the implication that he liked her, as in enough to have kids with her, set alarms off in her head. He put her on the spot and she wasn’t ready for that for multiple reasons. 

For one, she didn’t always buy that pathetic, wide-eyed look he’d give them when he was talking about his mistakes, because he didn’t really feel all that bad about it. He’s a soldier, those were just collateral damage, casualties that occurred as he did his job, and so it doesn’t actually matter to him, and it probably never will. The problem wasn’t that he was evil, because he wasn’t, that was all Homelander. The problem was that Ben simply didn’t care. He’s a soldier meant to be ordered around, it didn't matter if he was right or wrong. 

 That night, just for a few seconds, she stopped seeing him that way. He said something sweet and instead of laughing it off or saying ‘shut up’, she actually liked the idea of being his, of starting a family. 

That realisation was terrifying. 

What would the rest of the team say? Even without MM, Annie, Frenchie, or Kimiko around, she could imagine their faces if they ever found out that she and Ben had a complicated relationship. Especially MM, and she empathised with him the most. She felt like she was betraying them, for what? A crush?

“You alright, Guardian?” Butcher asked, standing next to her. He was trying to analyse her, trying to get into her head and why she was now staring off past the glass door. She looked at him, eyes flashing up to his face and then to his posture, curiously tilting her head to the side at the sudden interest he had in her spaciness. 

“Yeah, why?” She asked, looking away from him to stare out the door again, the nice view from the Legend’s place. She knew he’d probably, finally, bring up the awkwardness between her and Ben, his sudden sour mood, and the way he hadn’t tried to make a move on her since that night. Or maybe Butcher was going to sweep it under the rug like he seemed to be doing these days, focusing mainly on the fact that both her and Ben were still getting the job done properly. At least she was. 

Ben seemed to have a lot of other stuff going on and what had happened at Herogasm made it clear that he wasn’t as okay or as in control  as he liked to pretend he was. She was there after all, when Ben had confessed to Hughie that he’d blacked out, with those wet, puppy-dog eyes, claiming to be a good guy. 

He was a bully, but more than anything, Ben was truly pathetic. He wanted to be the best, to stay at the top, to prove he was worth more than anyone else, and he hated it when anyone threatened that. It’s why he was on board with ending Homelander. It’s why he treated everyone around him like complete shit, especially if he felt they were trying to rise above him. 

“Soldier Boy don’t want you to come,” he said bluntly, gazing at her without much of a fuck about how she’ll react. She quickly turned to look at him, confused and irritated as soon as those words came out of his mouth. 

“What the fuck?” She glared at him, but mostly, she was pissed at Ben. Could he not tell her that himself? Then Butcher had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction and she narrowed his eyes. He only raised his hands with a smirk on his face when she shoved him for laughing. “Assholes!” She didn’t wait for him to say anything, just rolled her eyes and started to walk angrily to where Ben was now changing into his uniform. 

When she slammed the door open, the doorknob cracked a hole into the wall and she could hear the Legend shout asking what the noise was but she couldn’t give two fucks about answering. Ben turned around to look at her, his face was serious at first when he zipped up the front of his suit, but then he froze when he saw her fuming.

“Why the fuck are you benching me?” She heard some shuffling by the door and she glared at Hughie and Butcher who were being nosy, only catching Hughie scrambling away and pulling Butcher with him. 

“I’m not benching you,” Ben started, turning away from her unnecessarily to cover his chest with the heavy armour piece. “I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

“I’ve been doing this alone for years. I don’t need you to protect me.” She narrowed her eyes at his back, staring at him as he practically ignored her. This was probably the longest conversation they’ve both had since that night, but the room was still thick with awkward and even sexual tension that set her skin on fire. “I’m going, fuck you if you don’t like it,” she said firmly after a few minutes of silence. 

“The fuck you are,” he replied angrily, finally turning around to face her. 

She hated herself, the way her body was already reacting to his hard stare. With his stupid green eyes practically boring into her, trying to force her to listen to him rather than get in the way of his focus. Because he knew he’d be too busy worrying about her getting mind-fucked to actually focus on anything. He could get Butcher and Hughie killed, but actually he didn’t give a shit about them, he could get her killed. 

He couldn’t tell her that. If he did, she’d push him further away than she already had. To think he fucked up the one good thing he saw coming out of this shit mission, the one good thing in his entire miserable and disappointing life. He wanted her so bad and he wished he could take back what he said so things weren’t awkward between them. Because having her in any way that he could get her was better than this, but it was already out there. The implication of what he really wanted from her. 

He couldn’t force her to want it. He couldn’t force her to like him. Hell, he didn’t even like himself. He was a fucking disappointment, so why would she think he was more than that? He was a fool and she was better than him. She didn’t sign up to work for Vought, she didn’t wear some stupid fucking suit for a slut, or get paid for saving the lives of the people in her city. She doesn’t give a shit about fame. She’s just her. 

Y/N L/N, with a normal, boring job, and a secret life living up to the name her city gave her, the Guardian. 

“Give me one good reason why it’s too dangerous for me to go.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited expectantly for him to give her something. She knew he’d have way too many things to list and that each one would mean nothing to her. So, all he did was glare at her, cursing softly under his breath knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument, but fuck if it didn’t make him like her more.

It hadn’t gone as bad as Ben had thought it would go. Y/N didn’t get injured or even have to fight at all. Whether he’d liked it or not, he has Hughie to thank for that. There was no struggle or any big fight that broke out when they found Mindstorm with Hughie and Butcher, who was now awake. 

Dan was distracted with Hughie and from a distance and at an angle, Ben threw his knife at Dan’s eye, preventing him from using his abilities on them. Y/N had been shocked, almost as much as Hughie when he’d bashed his head in with his shield, but the news he’d gotten from Mindstorm was something that left him feeling conflicted and angry, but most of all completely disappointed after calling Homelander. 

“Everything good?” He heard Y/N speak up from the doorway. He forced himself to smile at her, not because he didn’t want to see her and wanted her to go away, but because he didn’t want to show that anything was wrong. Nothing was wrong anyway, not necessarily, he just didn’t want to believe that Homelander was his son, but it all made sense. Homelander was as disappointing as Ben’s father thought he was. Basically, Homelander was not the son Ben would have liked to have had.

“Yeah,” he responded, eyeing her every move guardedly. She shut the door behind her and looked around the room at first, probably expecting him to have had some granny or a sexworker in the room. He rolled his eyes, but knew she had every reason to think that about him. When she saw no one, she walked closer to him and he straightened up a little since she clearly was here for more than just small talk.

She didn’t seem to be avoiding him anymore, but that didn’t make him feel any better. She practically rejected him that night and made him feel unwanted. He still remembers the sting he felt when she just brushed him off. Earlier, she’d been pissed at him for slapping Hughie, for abandoning Butcher, and for being insensitive about the nun and the priest he’d killed, and he knew probably other things he did made her angry, but she got over it quickly. Despite having seen him lose it on more than one occasion, she always seemed to see straight through him and he hated it. Like right now, she tilted her head to the side slightly and her eyes moved across his face, trying to and succeeding in easily getting a read on him. 

“Liar. You can’t hide that pathetically sad look on your face. You look like a kicked puppy,” she chuckled, looking away to trace random patterns on the surface of the table she leaned against. He narrowed his eyes at her and scoffed, looking away to stop her from doing that again, even though he missed hearing her and seeing her. “You’re not gonna tell me what Mindstorm said to you?” She bit her lip, watching his reaction to her question. 

“Stop doing that,” he warned, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth thoughtfully. He looked up at her again, really took her in because he missed her despite what she might think about him and despite the irritation she made him feel when she tried to get him to open up or talk about his feelings like he was some sissy. He couldn’t help his next actions, the expression on her face was so gentle and troubled that he found he’d somehow closed the distance between them and thoughtlessly pulled her into a kiss to ease all those things from her face. 

He expected her to hit him or push him away, hell, all of those things, but she just stood there for the fleeting moment in which he pressed his lips against hers. When he pulled away, just slightly, he tried to gauge her reaction and saw mostly confusion on her face. He licked his lips and gently held her face, frustrated and needy for her, but all he did was gently brush his thumbs across her warm and soft cheeks. 

“You don’t hate me,” he said quietly. It was the one thing he was sure of at this point. No one really treated him like he was a person. They were scared of him, for good reason, or they just needed his abilities. Not her. She wasn’t scared of him, not always, and she definitely wasn’t using him despite working with Butcher which she met through Maeve. 

His brows were furrowed, just watching her curiously as she gazed at his face, analysing every twitch in his face, every change in expression. Her mouth opened slightly to respond, but she mimicked his face, brows furrowing as she thought about why she just couldn’t hate him the way everyone else did or even why she wasn’t afraid of him. 

To be fair, she didn’t know anything about him except from what she’d seen of him getting tortured. Somehow, that meant more to her than all the people that died while he was doing his job. Somehow, her feelings for him seemed to sprout and bloom despite knowing how MM felt about him. She cared about the team, probably more than they cared about her, and that made Ben angry. They didn’t deserve her and neither did he.

She should have been afraid, she should hate him the way everyone else does, especially with knowing he’s killed dozens of innocent people, with his temper that would drive him to be unnecessarily violent, the toxic masculinity that exuded from him. He was everything she’d hate in a person, but for some unknown reason, she didn’t hate him. She wanted to help him get better and to be there for him every step of the way. As foolish as it sounded, she felt she could fix him or at least soften his personality because so far, she’s learned all the reasons why he is the way he is, and she thinks given the chance, he could actually change. Not that he’d ever let her help him. 

That was why she was so panicked when he’d shown genuine care and interest in her. What if she gave him the chance to be with her? What if she ended up falling for him only to be discarded once he was bored with her? What if he was incapable of changing and he treated her just like he treats everyone else? If he loved the Countess and he treated her the way he did, why would it be any different with her? 

He interrupted her thoughts with another kiss, a gentle and almost sweet kiss that was so unlike him. It was meant to put her at ease and it nearly did, she felt her stomach flutter either nervously or because it made her swoon. She felt how loosely he held her face, giving her an out, and easy escape from being anywhere near him. And even though her mind once again screamed at her to get out, her feet were planted where she stood and she started to kiss him back just as softly. 

HIs beard tickled the skin around her lips, but she didn’t mind. Instead, she had memories of other times she’d felt that when he kissed her, times where he worshipped every inch of her body with his mouth, and had his head buried between her legs. Her heart was beating quickly and roughly in her chest at the feeling of him kissing her so gently, for the first time, it wasn’t rough and careless. His lips moved tenderly and slowly against hers, stealing the breath from the lungs and making her knees weak. 

She’d never been kissed quite like that and she didn’t think Ben even had the capacity to give someone a kiss like that. He was gentle and he wasn’t pressing, but there was still a hint of desperation and need for her that made her cling to the straps on his thin waist. 

His warm hands slowly moved from her face to the hem of her shirt, which he played with contemplatively before simply moving them underneath it. He grasped her hips and tugged her forward until she was pressed tightly against his body with a quiet moan from her being muffled against his mouth. He could feel all of her even when clothed fully, but the soft and flimsy material of her sleepwear only triggered all the memories he had of her own body being trapped beneath his. The way she felt so perfect under his hands, every curve and every dip of her body felt as if it had been sculpted just for his touch. 

He pulled away from her plush lips just to pull her shirt up and off her body. Carefully and deliberately, he stripped her, dragging his hands and mouth along her form to replace every article of clothing removed from her. Her skin started to heat up the longer he took, her body tensed with each teasing touch of his, waves of shivers following every touch, kiss, suck, and bite. And soon, she was standing naked in front of him. Her skin was flushed and she was breathing as heavily as he was. Her eyes just stared up at him, filled with an endless conflict and desire that he understood, but it also hurt more than he’d like to admit.

Still, she was the one who slid her hand to the back of his neck to pull him back down for a searing kiss. Her fingers threading through his hair, keeping him close as he busied himself with taking his suit off with her help. He was impatient with himself, undoing every buckle and loosening every strap, zipping everything down as swiftly as he could until he was as naked as she was. 

This was new for him. He wasn’t in a frenzy to fuck. He took his time, moved slowly, watching her desire for him bloom the longer he took. Suddenly, it hit him that it felt different and new.

He stared down at her, eyes sweeping over the expanse of her face as he slid his hands down her back and he bent his knees to reach the back of her thighs. Looking up at her and the way she looked down at him, it turned him on. Like he was worshipping her. It was short-lived when she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him control of her body. He moved forward with her in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist and he kissed her neck and shoulder, nuzzling her sensitive skin and inhaling the clean scent of her skin. 

Her uneven breaths and the little sighs that slipped from her parted lips spurred him on the whole way to the bed he’d claimed as his own. He placed his knees on the soft mattress and carefully dipped her until she let go of him and let herself bounce slightly against the soft sheets. There was a little smile on her face when he gazed down at her, and for once, she wasn’t thinking about what her team would want or how anyone would feel if they saw her with Ben, she focused solely on what she wanted and how she felt. 

At that moment, everything seemed to click. When she reached out for Ben’s face, he leaned down to meet her resting his arm by her head. Her fingers once again tangled in his soft hair when he sealed her lips with his in a purposeful kiss, firm and full of promise before he moved his mouth down to her jaw. His teeth grazed her jawline, sliding down until he bit gently at her pulse point, drawing a gasp and a little moan when he swiped his tongue across the spot and sucked possessively. Her fingers tightened in his hair, her nails pushing into the muscle of his shoulder.

Heat flooded between her legs and she arched her back, his hand sliding up her side and under the curve to hold her in place. She couldn't decide whether to squeeze his legs in attempts to close her own or to open them wider for him. He pretended not to notice that and continued to kiss her neck, his lip lingered on her skin, proprietorial and ravenous as they trailed down her body. He took his time and made sure his mouth had been on every inch of her skin as he moved lower, biting at her collarbones and sucking on the skin above her breasts. 

Little by little, she became more impatient. His plump lips wrapped around one of her nipples, lapping and sucking so her breathing would pick up. He slid his hand up from the arch of her back to tweak her nipple and pinch it between his forefinger and thumb, on the edge of being painful and pleasurable. Her clit throbbed, desperate for him to pick up the pace or give her what she wanted, and she could feel just how wet she was as the air around them hit her core. 

She could have touched herself if she wanted, but she liked the torture, the ache that grew between her legs just waiting and letting him take his time with her body. It was hard to stay in control and she pulled roughly at the soft strands of hair that she clung to in order to stop herself from ruining the fun. Everything felt so sensitive and a million times more delicious, as if induced by drugs, but there was something about him that gave her that high every time. Maybe it was the fact that she’s never quite been fucked or touched like this before.

He’d look up at her every now and then, smirking occasionally at the sight of her with her head tipped back, moaning and squirming impatiently. He gently teased her skin with his nose, trailing his lips down the centre of her stomach, squeezing her sides when she wiggled her hips to get his attention. He smiled and nipped at her hip bones, dragging his bearded mouth across her thighs while avoiding where she clearly needed him. 

Eventually, there was no part of her body that was untouched by his mouth and hands--except for her aching and wet cunt. But when he got to it, he just huffed out a breath over her dripping cunt to watch her squirm and lifted himself back up her body. He pressed a hard kiss to her neck and then kissed her lips, his tongue easily entering her hot mouth. They both moaned into each other’s mouths as he practically devoured her mouth, firm and needy while holding the back of her neck and tilting her head so he could kiss her as hungrily as he wanted.

“You’re so goddamn delicious, doll.” He pulled away from her breathlessly, his lips wet and swollen. He sat back on his legs, enjoying the sight of her looking just as wrecked as he felt. She was flushed and warm and her hungry eyes were slowly dragging over his face and down his body. She licked her lips when she got to his cock, hard and throbbing and leaking at the tip. 

“Ben,” she murmured, a hint of neediness in her voice that made him smirk. Using her elbow to lift herself up, she reached over to wrap her hand around the base of his cock before he could continue to tease her. 

“Shit,” he groaned. His hips bucked into her hand and she slowly started to lift her hand up, thumbing some precum over the soft head, and squeezing all the way down until he let out a strangled moan. 

“Touch me,” she whispered, and even though he detected it being a command more than a plea, he complied. He dragged his hands up the back of her thighs and spread her legs, his hooded green eyes glued on her glistening folds. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart,” he praised, dragging two fingers from her slick entrance to her clit. He lifted the wet fingers to his face and she blushed when he inhaled the scent of her arousal before slipping the two fingers into his mouth with a satisfied moan. “Christ, you taste so good.” He brought his fingers back to her pussy, pushing his two fingers into her entrance, his fingertips curled to rub against her walls everytime he pushed them in and out, going deeper and deeper, slowly, and only going fast when he felt the way she expanded inside. 

“Holy fuck, Ben,” she gasped, her pussy squeezing his fingers and gazing up at him with her pretty glazed eyes. 

Even in her dazed state, she continued to jerk him off with quick, stuttered and uneven tugs. He could feel his own orgasm beginning to form with the way she was looking at him, his stomach tightening when his eyes flickered down to her hand, now wet and coated in his precum. 

She moved her hips eagerly against his hand and only stopped when he flattened a large hand on her stomach, a small cry leaving her lips when he added a third finger into her squelching cunt. “That’s right, baby, cum on my fingers,” he encouraged, lowering his hand to her pelvis to quickly massage her clit with his thumb.

“Shit… Ben,” she hissed, letting her orgasm wash over her, wave after wave of pleasure making her body shake. He groaned softly, shoving his fingers deep into her cunt to brush his fingers against the sensitive spot deep inside over and over until she collapsed onto her back, her hand becoming still on his cock to wrap around his wrist instead. 

“That’s my good girl,” he lauded, slowly slipping his fingers out of her. She murmured his name softly at the praise as he slid his hand up and down her sides comfortingly and stared down at his fingers. They were coated in clear slick and creamy cum that made his mouth water. “Shit, look at that,” he chuckled, licking his lips. He leaned over her, shoving a clean hand to the back of her head to grasp her hair. With a harsh pull, he forced her eyes open so she could watch him lick away her release from his fingers. “Make me cum and I’ll fill you up,” he promised, then shoved two of his saliva-coated fingers into her mouth, thrusting them in and out of her mouth the way he would if it was his cock. 

He scooted closer, close enough so that her thighs were thrown over his and his cockhead brush against her stomach with every quick drag of her hand on his wet cock. He purposely pushed his fingers deeper into her mouth, moaning softly when she gagged momentarily and closed her eyes to blink tears away when he kept shoving them as deep as he could into her throat. 

“No, no, look at me, honey. You’re so fucking pretty when you--oh, fuck,” he rasped, grunting softly in surprise. His cock twitched excitedly as hot tears flowed down her cheeks and she moaned softly when he tightened his grip on her hair. He came with a soft growl of her name, spilling hot and messy on her stomach and breasts, feeling an overwhelming intensity in his orgasm while gazing into her watery eyes. He didn’t know if it was the eye contact, or the way her eyes glazed over with tears with her lashes sticking together that pushed him over the edge, but whatever it was, it made him cum faster than they both expected. 

“Jesus, Ben,” she laughed softly, releasing his now limp cock. He just panted heavily, leaning back on his legs with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He basked in the aftershocks of the mind-blowing orgasm he just had with his hands on her hips and she licked her lips while wiping away tears from her cheeks and eyes.

He looked back down at her once he recomposed himself, catching her playing with his cum splattered on her chest and in the middle of lifting her fingers into her mouth. She looked at him and snickered when she saw the look on his face as she started to lick at the cum on her fingers, his eyes darkening and his cock hardening all over again. 

 “I can’t get enough of you,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss her roughly. She moaned softly, pleasantly surprised when he rocked his hips against hers, sliding his cock through her folds and over her clit teasingly. He reached between their bodies and lined himself up with her entrance, easily thrusting into her with a snap of his hips. 

He carefully rocked his hips against hers, lifting himself up slightly so they parted from the searing kiss to gaze down at her. Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn’t protest, just slid her hands along the hefty planes of his back, stopping only when she got to his broad shoulders to hold onto them. He stopped suddenly after letting his eyes drift over her face, then he hid his own in her neck and slid his arm under the small of her back.

“Homelander’s my son,” he mumbled against the connection between her neck and shoulder. She froze and her eyes widened when she deciphered what he’d said and slid her hands from his back to push at his shoulders, but he didn’t budge. “That’s what Mindstorm told me,” he added quietly.

“What the fuck, Ben?” She grumbled, yanking his hair in attempts to get him off her, but he just growled and swivelled his hips defiantly. “You’re gonna tell me that now?” She protested and he gave an unhumourous nod into her neck, lifting himself up just to kiss her to distract her from what he’d blurted out. She kissed him back begrudgingly with her eyes open.

“I knew you’d react this way,” he said softly against her lips. She bit his lip roughly and he hissed, pulling away to glare at her and was met with a fierce glare from her. 

“Yeah, fuck you,” she muttered, squirming angrily in attempts to get away from him. She felt used, as if he’d hide that from her just to get a quick fuck. 

“Please,” he whispered, pulling out when he realised she wasn’t giving him a chance to explain himself. 

“Please what?” She spat, shoving him away to think about what he just revealed. Out of everyone she’s ever met, Homelander was someone she truly despised. He was an utter piece of shit and he had a long list of vile traits that she despised in people, supe or not. He was a fucking child and he was out of control, no one ever having told him ‘no’ his whole life. “What the fuck do you want from me?” She asked, moving away to pace around the room or even to leave Ben the same way she had before.

“You know what I want,” he retorted, suddenly it wasn’t about Homelander. Fear of being left alone again made Ben grab her arm to stop her from getting out of bed. “You’re not fucking stupid, sweetheart,” he reminded, gently tugging her back to him. She didn’t budge, but she looked over at him when he let her go. She caught a glimpse of the resignation on his face, the vulnerability she’d rarely seen on his face, before he could mask it. She sighed in defeat, deciding to hear him out after all.

“Ben…” She sat on the bed, facing him and reached out to brush his hair away from his face. He moved away from her touch, sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to her. She dropped her hand in her lap and watched him, her eyes drifting to the large window in front of him that let her see what he could no longer hide from her.

“If you’re not gonna say what I wanna hear, don’t say anything and get out,” he said harshly, his shoulders slumped and overall, he looked defeated. She’d expected him to lash out or to hear how he didn’t want to kill Homelander, but it was probably worse to see him like this.

“Ben, it won’t work out.” She said it softly, but it hurt him like a million knives in the chest. In reality, the hurt he felt hearing her say that didn’t compare to the forty years of torture he was put through in Russia. 

“It could work… I could make it work,” he said quietly, “when we’re done with Black Noir and Homelander, and I will kill him… It’ll just be you and me, Y/N. Maybe… we can start a family somewhere else, far away from all this bullshit.” He looked over his shoulder slightly just to read her face when she remained quiet. 

She chewed on her lip, frowning as she considered his words. He was still willing to kill Homelander, his son. That should be worth something. He actually wanted something normal when he was done with this and she was more surprised than doubtful of his words. He spoke so softly, as if he’d had this plan all his life and finally found someone who could fill in the faceless mother of the children he wanted in his fantasy. He was willing to retire and he wanted that with her.

After spending years being an abusive and toxic asshole, then wasting decades more of his life being tortured, it made sense to her that he just wanted to cherish the rest of his time doing shit he’s always wanted rather than trying to prove he was worth something. In many ways, being a father could fulfil that need to prove he wasn’t a complete disappointment. After he’d been told that so much by his father, he was incapable of seeing himself as anything but a disappointment. This was his way out and she could easily open that door up for him.

Or she could slam that door in his face like a coward. She could continue to be too afraid to be hated by a team that didn’t give two fucks about her. Why she prioritised their opinions on her puzzled her as much as Ben being vulnerable right now. 

“Get out,” he muttered, staring at her with his face hard. She blinked and focused on him again, her mouth fell open to say something, but he turned away and was sitting straight. The walls he’d let down were up again, probably stronger than ever before, and she made her way over to him on her knees, sliding her hand up his neck to cup his chin and tilt his head back so he’d look up at her. 

He stared at her with steely eyes, but she kissed him, painfully squeezing his chin until he moaned and opened his mouth to let her tongue slip past his lips. He reached up to wrap his fingers around her wrist, silently telling her to loosen her grip and she did, kissing him firmly, saying everything she couldn’t say with the heated kiss. He melted into her, turning slowly until she had to pull away to accommodate the new position he was kissing her in. 

“I’m not gonna let you push me around and tell me what to do,” she murmured between kisses, moving up the bed with him until her head was settled against the fluffy pillows. 

“I won’t do that,” he promised, taking his soft cock in his hand and jerking it until he was stiff and ready again.

“There’s a lot more,” she murmured distractedly. 

“I can imagine,” he laughed softly, gently pushing himself into her, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

➥ your sword versus my dagger

taglist

@syrma-sensei @murdockscumsock @candy-coated-misery0731 @kellynickelss @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #the boys #the boys smut #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x fem!reader #soldier boy x female reader #3.3

[storiesforallfandoms]

alone on christmas ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 2253

request?: no

description: in which the two members of the team who are alone on christmas eve decide to spend the night together

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

The elevator dinged, signaling that you had arrived on the floor of your office. Well, "office" was a generous word. It was a small, open space in a super old building (MM claimed it was "historic") with a couple of desks that were rarely used. The room was dimly lit by the multi-colored Christmas lights strung around the room, as well as from the small tree in the corner of the room. Kimiko had gotten the idea to decorate the office and everyone else was on board, even grumpy Billy Butcher.

It was Christmas Eve and everyone else was home with their families. Your families lived a state over, and normally you would've gone home for the holidays, but your parents had gone on a Christmas cruise and agreed to do your celebrations when they got home. Since you had no one else to celebrate Christmas with, you decided to pick up some paperwork you had at the office and work on it at home while some Christmas movie played in the background.

You approached your desk, unaware of anyone else in the room until a voice said, "Evening, love."

"Jesus!" you hissed as you jumped.

Butcher chuckled. "Nope, just me."

He was sat at his desk, mostly covered in darkness. You could only make out the outline of him through the Christmas lights.

"What the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark like a fucking creep?" you asked as you turned back to flick on the lights. The two of you winced as the dark room suddenly became very bright.

"I was just finishing up some work and liked the mood lighting better," he explained. "What are you doin' here on Christmas Eve?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I don't celebrate Christmas anymore. Not since..." He trailed off, his eyes dropping back to whatever he had been working on. "Just not in a long time."

He didn't have to specify. You knew exactlu what made him give up on Christmas.

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out.

"My parents are gone on a cruise for Christmas, so I won't be going home till sometime around New Years. I came to get something I was working on to finish it at home."

"You're not celebrating with anyone else?"

"Who else would I celebrate with? My siblings have their own families, and the only friends I have are you cunts."

This earned a low chuckle from Butcher. You couldn't help but smile. You returned to your desk to collect the papers when a thought crossed your mind.

"Hey Butcher?" he looked up at you. "Do you want to come over? Maybe we could have our own Christmas Eve celebration."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "What did you have in mind?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I could make us something to eat. Pour up a few drinks. Watch a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie."

You weren't sure if he'd agree. It didn't seem like his scene. Butcher was probably the exact opposite of holiday cheer. Sitting in a dark office doing paperwork about taking down Supes was probably a much more appealing offer to him than Hallmark Christmas movies. But you wouldn't feel right if you didn't at least offer. Billy Butcher may have been a cynical prick that got on everyone's nerves, but no one deserved to spend Christmas alone.

To your surprise, he closed up the file he had been working on and stood. "Text me the address, I'll meet you there."

About ten minutes later, you were pulling into your driveway while Butcher was parking on the side of the road. He followed you up to your door and stepped inside as you opened it for him. He looked around, taking in your space as you kicked off your boots and hung up your coat.

"What are you feeling for drinks?" you asked.

"Do you have any bourbon?" he asked.

You opened your fridge and pulled out a full bottle of bourbon. "Want it straight or mixed with some eggnog?"

He made a face of disgust that made you laugh. You grabbed a glass and poured him a glass of straight bourbon, adding a few ice cubes before passing him the glass. You opted for the spiked eggnog approach for something a little more festive. You pulled a frozen pizza from the freezer and pre-heated the oven.

"Not exactly a Christmas feast," Butcher commented.

"If you're going to be ungrateful, you can go back to the office by yourself," you retorted. "Oh, since you're here, I do have a gift for you."

He watched as you walked to your living room where your tree was shining with yellow lights. The presents underneath were mainly for your family, but you had gotten a gift for each member of The Boys too, since they were like your second family.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he said.

"Shut the fuck up and take the gift," you teased, thrusting the gift bag into his hands.

He shook his head, playfully smiling. He sat down on the ouch and you sat next to him. He pulled the tissue paper from the bag and discarded it onto the floor. You would've been a little annoyed if you weren't waiting to see his reaction to the gift.

The first thing he pulled out was a Spice Girls CD. You couldn't hold back your giggles as he gave you a dirty look. "Your favorite band."

"This is the worst insult you could've ever given me," he said.

"There's something else in there that might make it up to you."

Butcher pulled out a bundle of white tissue paper. Wrapped in it was an ornament you had gotten custom made. It was a gingerbread wearing a black trench coat and black boots, and had a black beard on its face. He held it in his hand for a while. You studied his face, trying to gauge some reaction to the gift.

"You're kind of an enigma," you explained. "And I guess I understand why, but it makes it incredibly impossible to buy you a Christmas gift. So I went with the Spice Girls CD as a gag gift, and then I found this lady who makes custom made Christmas ornaments that are gingerbread men made to look like certain people. I thought it was better than nothing."

"You had this made for me?" he asked. "That must've cost ya a fortune."

"It doesn't matter what it cost."

He was still holding it, looking at it. When he looked up at you, you were captured by his eyes. There was something warm bubbling inside of you. You figured it was the eggnog, but a little voice in the back of your head whispered that it wasn't.

"It's very thoughtful," Butcher said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas, Butcher."

You were so close to him. You hadn't noticed just how close you were sitting. Your noses were inches away from touching.

And then the pre-heat on the oven went off.

You quickly got up to go put the pizza in the oven. You stood in the kitchen afterwards, trying to talk yourself down from whatever just happened. You were sure it was just the alcohol mixed with the holiday feelings. There was no way you were getting all fuzzy and lightheaded for Billy Butcher of all people. Not that you had any ill feelings towards Butcher. He could be an annoying asshole that pushed your patience levels, but you didn't hate him by any means. On the other hand, you didn't think you could've had those kind of feelings for him. He was your team leader and that was it.

But he was also very handsome. In a rugged type of way anyways. You couldn't deny that.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of all those thoughts. You went to the fridge to pour up another drink.

Once the pizza was ready, you brought the pan to your living room and placed it on the coffee table with a dish towel under it, and two plates along the side for both of you. You topped up Butcher's drink before sitting next to him.

"Let me guess, your favorite Christmas movie is Die Hard?" you asked.

He chuckled. "And you said I'm an enigma."

"Not so much so that I'd think you would want to watch cheesy Christmas movies."

"Eh, don't write me off from all Christmas movies. I would love watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation every year."

"Okay, we're starting with that one then. That is a classic."

You turned on the movie and settled into the couch. You pulled a fuzzy blanket over your lap and started eating away at the pizza. You initially started on separate ends of the couch, but you found yourself inching closer to Butcher. First it was offering him some of the blanket. He agreed and you shuffled close enough that he could throw a corner of it over his lap. Then it was him reaching for a slice of pizza, scooting a little closer because he "couldn't reach the food" (his words). At one point, you both just shifted closer for no reason at all. When Butcher put his arm along the back of the couch, you leaned into him.

It almost felt normal; cuddled up on the couch, laughing at the hijinks of the Griswold family during Christmas, the only thing lighting the room being the Christmas tree. This is what you imagined Christmas would be like if you were actually in a relationship, not just tipsy and getting a little too close to your team leader.

"See, this movie just cements why I am okay with not celebrating Christmas," Butcher commented. "All the bullshit with family stressing you out and annoying the living shit out of ya. I don't know why anyone ever puts up with it."

"Because despite the chaos, it's time together with family," you said. "Most people love time together with family, even if sometimes family members know how to get on your last nerve."

Butcher shook his head. "Not me. Even when Becca was around, her family..."

He trailed off. You lifted your head to look at him. You couldn't read the expression on his face, so you couldn't tell if mentioning Becca had hit a nerve for him, or if he regretted bringing her up given your current...closeness.

"You can talk about her you know," you told him. "If you feel up to it, I mean. I know it's hard."

"It's easier now that I finally have a definitive answer," he said. "I went years not knowing if I should believe that she was alive or dead. It's fucked up to say, but knowing now that she's gone is a bit of closure for me at least."

"And you still have Ryan," you added. "Even if he's the spawn of Supe Satan himself, that kid is still a part of Becca."

"Thank God he's more like his mother than his father."

"You have us too," you said, playfully nudging his shoulder to try and lighten the mood. "The Boys, I mean. We're like a family now."

He chuckled. "That doesn't exactly help with your point. You lot annoy the fuck out of me too."

"And you annoy the fuck out of us, so we're all even then."

He turned to look at you, finally smiling again. You smiled back at him. There was a brief pause before suddenly he was leaning forward to press his lips against yours. It took you by surprise, but it didn't take long for your muddled brain to have you moving in response, kissing him back.

He pulled away just as quickly as he had moved in. "Sorry. That was, uh...I shouldn't have done that."

Instead of saying anything, you leaned in to kiss him again. He was receptive, which told you he didn't actually regret kissing you first. He gently cupped your face while you wrapped your arms around his neck. The blanket fell to the floor as you sat up on your knees to try and deepen the kiss.

"Whoa, slow down," Butcher said, pulling away slightly but still resting his head against yours. "You've had a few drinks."

"I'm fine," you responded, although you were now more aware of the fact that the lightheadedness you were feeling was from more than just the kiss.

"Either way, I'm not pushing things further when you're not sober," he said.

"Will you stay the night?" you asked him. "I have a guest bedroom...or you can stay in my bed."

He chuckled and kissed your forehead, pulling you in so you were cuddled up against his side again. "I have a feeling if I sleep in your bed I will have a harder time restraining myself."

"Maybe that's my plan."

He shook his head, a smile on his face. "I'll stay the night. If this is how you're feeling in the morning, we can try again then."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from his words. You weren't sure how you were going to be able to wait another 12 hours for him to make good on his promise. You appreciated him respecting you enough to wait till you were sober, but also you wished he wouldn't be so respectful.

"Merry Christmas, Billy," you said.

He kissed you on top of your head and said, "Merry Christmas, love."

#billy butcher #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x reader #karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban imagine #the boys #the boys imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #christmas #christmas imagine

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Little Kreature (The Boys Drabble)

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

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

Fic type: fluff (gore mentions).

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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

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

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

"What, Butcher?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kreature it was, then.

#the boys #the boys x reader #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #butcher #butcher x reader #billy butcher fluff #butcher fluff #butcher x reader fluff #billy butcher x reader fluff #amazon the boys #prime the boys #the boys fic #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #the boys drabble #the boys one shot

[writing0305]

Trouble. Pt.1

Pairing: Billy Butcher x F!Reader.

Summary: Six years ago you got pregnant with Billy's kid and you ran away without telling him. Now he was back, wanting you to return to the boys so you could get your revenge on Translucent, but you gave him a big fuck you and turned your back on him. But one visit from Homelander and a threat later, you went crawling back to Butcher, unsure how to explain how much you've fucked up.

Warnings: Heavy swearing. Child harming threats. Billy butcher. Homelander. A child???

Pt. 1 - Pt.2

You were already working with Grace Mallory when Butcher and the boys began working for her. Butcher has just lost his wife and was on a war path to kill every supe he could get his hands on. You were on the same warpath at that time, since Translucent killed your brother and then spun the story that your sixteen-year-old brother had attempted to attack him.

You formed a trauma bond with Butcher which made you grow closer with him. Two years in, and one drunken night spent together, you got pregnant. You told Grace but no one else. You didn’t want Butcher to know for so many reasons. He still wasn’t over his wife, he never wanted children to begin with, and his lifestyle wasn’t one to bring a baby into.

So one night, Grace helped you pack your bags and leave. Butcher tried to look for you but Grace had managed to convince him you wanted out of this life and finding you would put you in danger all over again. Because that was what the life meant. Danger.

And now it was six years later and you had a daughter named Willow. You still lived in New York and by God’s grace, you never ran into anyone from your past. But after the death of Grace’s grandchildren, the boys split up and all went their separate ways.

Your daughter was the constant reminder of Billy. Not because she was his daughter, but because she was the exact copy of her father. She had tanned skin, dark thick black hair with dark hazel eyes, and even his big dimples that always seemed to be present, even when she wasn’t smiling. If anyone who knew Billy, saw the little girl, there would be no doubt in their minds that she was his kid.

To keep a low profile, you lived on the shitty side of the city, in a small two-bedroom apartment, and worked a shity job at a diner. But your daughter got everything her little heart yearned for. She just had to ask and you’d give it to her. By no means she was a spoiled little girl, but she had a good life.

You woke up with a soft sigh on the day your life would change. Oblivious to how the day would go on, you got yourself ready for work, made breakfast, and fed your daughter before getting her ready for school.

Just as you pulled on your jacket, you wandered over to your daughter’s bedroom, poking your head inside. “Baby, come on, you ready for school?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at the little girl who franticly darted around her room, searching for something.

Willow turned to you with pouty lips and eyes filled with tears. “I can’t find my bunny.” She said softly as she wrapped her arms around herself.

You offered your daughter a small smile as you entered her room. “It’s probably in this messy bed.” You said as you walked towards her bed, lightly running a hand over her long dark hair when you passed her. You looked between the sheets of her unmade bed and found the pink plush bunny. “Oh look, here she is.”

Willow gasped as her eyes widened, a smile tugging at her lips. “You found her.” She squealed in excitement as you handed her the bunny and she rushed to her Barbie backpack, yanking the zip open.

“You can’t take her to school, Willow.” You stopped her as you crouched down next to her, placing a hand over hers before she could shove the bunny into her bag.

Her lips pouted again and her eyebrows furrowed as she stared up at you. “Why not?” She asked softly as she hugged the bunny to her chest, afraid you were going to take it away from her.

“What if you lose her?”  You asked her as you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head to the side.

Willow thought bout it for a second as her hazel eyes darted around. “I won’t lose her.” She promised as she shook her head, giving you a toothy smile, her dimples popping out.

“She’s safer here at home, baby.” You told her gently as you reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing a thumb over her tanned skin.

She sighed softly as she slowly nodded her head. “Alright.” She whispered as she handed you her bunny and you placed it on her bed, resting it against her pillow.

You took Willow’s bag in one hand and held her hand with your other hand. You walked her to school, listening to her babble about everything that came to her mind. You loved listening to your daughter talk about the smallest things. She could see a worm on the ground and talk about it with no stop.

As you came to a stop in front of her school, you crouched down in front of her, taking her face in between your hands. “Have a nice day at school baby.” You said softly as you placed multiple kisses across her face, making her giggle as she pulled away.

She wrapped her arms around your shoulder, nuzzling her head against your chest. “Love you, mommy.” She spoke softly.

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, baby.” You replied before pulling away from her, standing up to your feet as she ran towards her teacher with a big smile, greeting the much older woman with a hug. The teacher sent you a wave before letting Willow into the classroom and you waved back before walking toward your job.

Four hours into your shift, you were working behind the counter, taking the to-go orders. Your manager, Jenna approached you with a tray, with two steaming hot cups of coffee on it. “Hey, can you take these two coffees to table two?” She asked as she placed the tray on the counter.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded your head, handing her your small notebook and taking the tray from the counter. You waved through the tables and the few people standing around. Before you could greet the people at table two, you froze. Your eyes met familiar hazel eyes and your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

Butcher gave you his one-sided smirk. “Hello, luv.” He greeted you and the skinny and lean man sitting opposite him, shifted in his seat to look at you. The stranger’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly seeing how upset you were at Butcher’s presence.

 “No…” You whispered. Your mind ran through a million reasons of why Billy could be back. Him showing up at your shity job that barely anyone in New York has fucking heard of, was no coincidence. Your mind felt fuzzy and your limbs heavy. The tray slipped from your sweaty hands and everyone in the diner jumped when the mugs shattered to the floor and the tray clanged.

You didn’t see Bily’s reaction to your clear disapproval of his sudden presence as you spun around and rushed off into the backroom.  Your breathing was heavy and tears burned in your eyes. You leaned against a table, placing a hand over your beating heart.

How did he find you? How did he know where you worked? If he knew that, what else did he know? How much did he know? Why was he here now, after all these years? So many questions and not a single fucking answer.

“Y/n?”Jenna called out as she rushed into the room with a concerned look on her face. “Hey, are you alright?” She asked softly, eyebrows furrowing as she reached out, placing her hands on your arms. “Y/n?”

“I…” You whispered, your breathing speeding up even more as a tear slipped down your cheek.“I have to…” You whimpered, closing your eyes as you struggled to find the words. You didn’t know what to do.

“Y/n?” Jenna spoke again, squeezing your arm softly. “Hey, are you okay?” She asked softly and you frantically shook your head as you let out a whimpering breath.“Who are those guys?” She asked, having seen Butcher and his friend at the table you were sent to.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Your eyes opened and you wiped the tear from your cheek as you looked at her. “The one with the beard…he’s Willow’s father.” You whispered.

Jenna’s eyes widened as her lips parted. Your work friend didn’t know about your previous life, but she knew Willow’s father didn’t know of her. “Oh…” She whispered as her hand dropped from your arm.

You were silent for a second before your mind went to your daughter. You let out a shaky breath. “I need to go get Willow.” You insisted as you ran a shaky hand through your hair. “Please…can I take the rest of the day off?” You pleaded softly.

“Yeah.”Jenna replied with a nod of her head. “Yeah, of course.”

You gave her a soft thank you before gathering your things. Before leaving the diner, you called Willow’s school and informed them there was a family emergency and you were going to pick her up early. The second you stepped out of the back room, your gaze darted towards table two, eyebrows furrowing when you saw it empty.

You rushed out of the diner and turned in the direction of your daughter’s school which was only a few streets down.  “Oi, Y/n,” Butcher called out from behind you and you halted in your steps.

You slowly turned around to face him and his new friend. They were leaning up against a dodgy-looking grey van, their gazes settled on you. You stood completely still for a second before storming towards Butcher so fast, that you saw his friend flinch back. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped at Butcher. “Why the fuck are you back?”

“Comin’ on a bit strong there luv,” Butcher muttered in a low voice as he stared at you, unfazed by your attitude, just like he was all those years ago. “You’re gonna make me mate Hughie here think you ain’t like me.” he mused as he nodded his head at the tall and lean man next to him.

“Was me running away in the middle of the fucking night, not enough to make you realize I don’t want any part of this bullshit anymore?” You questioned Butcher with a huff as your eyebrows deeply furrowed.

He sighed as he pursed his lips, his head tilting to the side. “Look, I know things back then were a bit fucked-” He started but you cut him off with a scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“A bit?” You questioned his understatement as you quirked your eyebrow before shaking your head, spinning around and starting to walk away again.

“We have Translucent, Y/n,” Billy called out in a low voice after making sure no one was around to hear him.

Your body went rigid for a second, your chest tightening as your blood ran cold. You slowly turned around to face Butcher, eyebrows furrowing again. “You…what?” You asked softly, a slight shake to your voice. You thought you misheard him for a second. But the smirk tugging at his lips told you that you did in fact hear him right.

“We managed to catch the fucker.”He informed you as he nodded his head, crossing his arms over his chest, making his shirt strain around the muscle. “Frenchy’s working on a way to kill him.” He added.

You silently stared at him for a second before you shook your head. “I don’t want any part of this.” You insisted as you waved a denying hand through the air.

“That fuck killed your brother.” Butcher snapped as his eyebrows furrowed and he took a step closer to you. To everyone else he looked intimidating, even threatening. But not to you. “You ain’t want revenge for him?” he questioned.

You took a shaky breath. For so long, it was all you wanted, revenge for your little brother. But now, you have more important things to worry about. Like your daughter’s safety. “I can’t.” You whispered with a shake of your head as your eyes filled with tears again.

“Why the fuck not?” he questioned as a frown tugged at his lips, his eyebrows furrowing even deeper as he stared down at you.

“Because I have too much to fucking lose!” You snapped, your voice loud enough to startle Hughie again.

Butcher scoffed in amusement as he rolled his eyes. “Like what?” he questioned as he raised his eyebrows. “Your shitty diner job?” he asked as he nodded towards the small building of the diner.

“Just go, and don’t drag me into this shit.” You muttered in a low voice as you shook your head. “Just fuck off.” You snapped before turning around and storming off. On your hasty walk to the school, you send continuous glances over your shoulder to make sure the dodgy grey van wasn’t following you.

When you arrived at the school, you signed your daughter out and she was brought to you in the front office. “Mommy.” She called out with her usual toothy smile, her once adoring dimples now taunting you, like every other feature she got from her father.

“Hi, baby.” You greeted with a small smile as you crouched down and wrapped your arms around her, hugging her tightly for a second before you stood back up and took her hand. You walked out of the school building with her but barely got a few steps in when you once again were frozen in your steps.

Willow squealed excitedly as Homelander dropped down in front of you “Look!” She called out as she pointed at the supe, oblivious to the fear and disgust from her mother at the sight of the man.

“Homelander…” You whispered as he approached you with a blank look on his face, his hands hidden behind his back. Your heart clenched with fear and a knot formed in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/n.” He greeted you curtly before crouching down in front of your daughter, and in response, your hand tightened around hers. “Little Willow.” he greeted as an eerie smile tugged at his lips and his hands slipped from behind his back. Your blood ran cold at the sight of the pink plush bunny in his hand. “I brought you something.” He said as he held the bunny out to your daughter.

“My bunny.” She squealed excitedly as she took the bunny from his hands, hugging it to her chest.

Homelander got back up to his feet. His smile dropped as his gaze met yours. His eyes were cold and dead and his face blank. “Translucent is missing.” He informed you.

Just like Mallory trained you, you kept your heartbeat steady and your face blank. “He is?” You asked softly as you raised your eyebrows.  “He’s invincible, how can you tell?” You asked with a shrug of your shoulders.

He softly hummed as he nodded his head, reaching out to brush his finger across your cheek. “You know anything about it, Y/n?” he asked as he raised his eyebrows.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your head tilted to the side, tilting away from his touch. “Why would I?” You asked softly.

Homelander’s top lip twitched into a snarl and he grabbed your jaw, leaning in very close to your face. “Don’t fucking  bullshit me.” he gritted out in a low voice. “He killed your brother.” He reminded you as his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. That one incident was enough for him to deem you guilty of whatever happened with Translucent.

You kept yourself composed, so as to not upset your daughter who watched your interaction with the supe. “I don’t have anything to do with this.” You insisted softly, and that was the truth, but still, the supe remained skeptical.

“I hope that is true.” He muttered softly as he leaned into your ear. “We don’t want anything to happen to little Willow, now do we?” He asked softly and your lips parted as your heart plummeted to your stomach.

He let go of your jaw before flying off and Willow stared up at him in awe while you stared ahead of yourself, your eyes filled with tears. It took you a second to snap yourself out of your fear and you picked up your daughter, rushing her back home. You locked your door and closed all your curtains, tossing your daughter's bunny in the back of your closet without her noticing as you placed her tablet in her hands.

While Willow watched videos on her tablet, you went onto your Facebook and searched for Butcher’s friend, Hughie. It was a while before you found the account with the familiar face and by luck, his job was listed on his Facebook information.

You had hoped to find Butcher through Hughie. You knew Butcher was a hard man to find when he didn’t want to be found. And a man holding supe hostage, would not want to be found. You felt a little selfish wanting to seek him out now, after telling him to fuck off not long ago. But he was indirectly responsible for the whole shit storm you were about to find yourself in. And you would truly go to any length to protect your daughter. Even going to Butcher and telling him about her.

Taking a big leap, you got in your shitty old beaten-up Volvo and went to the small technology shop he claimed to work at. Your hold on your daughter’s hand was tight, still shaken by Homelander’s threat. One you knew was not empty, as he showed that by giving your daughter the bunny you had made her leave at home.

A red-haired man sat behind the counter of the shop and you approached him with a tight-lipped smile. “Hi.” You greeted him softly.

He looked up from the comic he read and a big smile tugged at his lips when he met your gaze. “Hello, what can I help you with?” He asked as he raised his eyebrows.

You took a deep breath and your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips. “Umm…I’m here because of an employee of yours, Hugh Campbell.” You explained to him as your lips pulled into a tight smile again.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hughie quite a few days ago,” he informed you with a shake of his head as he set his comic aside.

“Oh.” You muttered softly, feeling your hope at finding Butcher, deflating. Your eyes darted around for a second as you thought of something else and when you did, your gaze returned to the man. “Is there any way I can get his phone number?” You pleaded softly.

“I can’t give that out.” The man informed you as he pursed his lips and shook his head.

You sighed softly as you prepared yourself to stoop lower than you had ever before. You turned to your daughter, offering her a small smile. “Baby, can you go over there for a second?” You asked as you pointed at a shelf just a few feet away. Far enough for her not to hear you but close enough for you to see her. When she nodded and walked away, you turned to the man and leaned in a little closer over the counter. “Look…that’s his daughter.”You muttered softly as you nodded your head, Willow. “I really need to talk to him…to tell him.”

You could not for the life in you, believe how low you were stooping in your time of desperation. Claiming another man the father of your child when you couldn’t even tell her real father about her. How you were going to explain any of this to Butcher if you did manage to find him, you still didn’t know.

The man’s eyes squinted as he glanced at the little girl who looked nothing like Hughie. And then his gaze returned to you. “He doesn’t have kids,” he replied as he shook his head.

“He doesn’t know.” You muttered softly as you shook your head before giving him a look of desperation. “I’ve been looking for him for years.” You muttered as you sighed softly, wiping at the non-existent tears in your eyes as you lowered your gaze. “Please…”

The man stared at you silently for a second before sighing softly. He didn’t get paid enough to care and he didn’t know Hughie that good to care either. “Fine,” he muttered as he typed at his computer for a second before writing down a number on a piece of paper, handing it over to you.

“Thank you.” You said, offering him a small smile as you took the paper from him. You turned to your daughter, holding out your hand. “Baby, let’s go.” You called out and she ran over to you, taking your hand.

You were extremely aware of your surroundings as you made your way to the nearest gas station you could find, taking your daughter into the bathroom before pulling out your phone. You couldn’t risk going home to have this conversation, not with the knowledge that Homelander had been in your home and was already suspicious of you.

You dialed the number with trembling fingers and Hughie answered on the second ring.  “Hello?” He hesitantly called out in confusion, not recognizing the number.

“Hi, is this Hughie?” You questioned softly as you ran a shaky hand through your hair, your gaze on your daughter as she walked the lines of the tiled bathroom floor to entertain herself.

There was silence on the other end of the line and you feared he was going to end the call, but then he hesitantly spoke up again. “Whose this?” he questioned.

“Y/n.” You replied softly before taking a deep breath. “Is Butcher there?” You asked as you closed your eyes for  a brief second.

There was shuffling and soft mutters on the other end of the line before a gruff voice called out to you. “Hello?” Butcher spoke and you could hear the confusion in his voice. Of course he was confused, not too long ago you yelled at him and told him to fuck off.

“Billy.” You breathed out softly as tears filled your eyes. “I think I’m in trouble.” You whispered as you sniffed.

Butcher couldn’t hide his anger or bitterness. “Tought ya told me to fuck off?” he questioned in a low voice.

You sighed deeply as you ran a hand through your hair again, eyes briefly darting towards your daughter who was in her own little world. “Billy…look, I’m in shit because of you.”  You told him, you voice giving away how scared and frustrated you were.

There was silence for a second before he grunted. “I’ll send ya our location,” he said before ending the call and a few seconds later, a pin location was sent from the unsaved number.  You closed your eyes, placing your hand over them as your tears began to slip and you bit back hard on the sob that wanted to slip from your lips. You were backed up so far into the corner you had made for yourself. You knew you were fucked, one way or another.

#the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher imagine #homelander

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 9

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 6,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, peril, blood, and angst. 

Part 9: Breach

Loco’s eyes widened as he watched the surveillance feed. 

“Coño carajo,” he cursed in Spanish. “Hey, boss.” 

Frank was just about to step out of their “office” (a dusty back room behind the library). He stopped at his subordinate’s voice and turned back, frowning when he caught sight of the large triple screens. 

A helicopter had just landed on the roof of the mansion. It had a red banner painted with “Fiesta Tours” on the side. The door slid open, and out tumbled a skinny kid who fell onto his knees and threw up on the ground. 

His blonde girlfriend came out and patiently rubbed his back. Though she rolled her eyes at something the pilot said. 

It was Billy Butcher, which meant the other three assholes jumping out of the helicopter were the rest of his team that had eluded Antonio’s men in Medellin.  

“Damn it,” Frank muttered. “How’d they get through our airspace without tripping any alarms?”

“They stole a fucking tourist trap, bro,” said Loco.

By the time he glanced up, Frank had already moved back to his desk to unlock a large safe with both a code and a fingerprint. Out of the safe came a briefcase. Loco stood from his chair and grabbed his gun.

Frank popped open the case and grabbed one of several vials. He gave one to Loco and pocketed two more before he locked the briefcase again.

“Keep them busy,” Frank said. He pressed a finger to the communicator in his ear. “Saul, we have company. Meet me upstairs, then prepare the getaway as a contingency.”

“Got it,” Saul responded. He was currently on patrol on the east side. Frank knew it would take him roughly two and a half minutes to get back.  

“Y el Capitán?” Loco asked. And the Captain?

Meaning Soldier Boy. Instead of answering him, Frank pulled out his cell on his way out of the room. Loco was on his heels. 

“What?” said Ben. As usual, he sounded annoyed at being bothered. 

“Sir, we have a breach,” Frank said. “It’s Butcher.” 

Fuck. Ben grimaced, though he didn’t voice his displeasure. His hand tightened on the cell phone at his ear.

“Where is she?” he asked. He heard Frank give a command to check the feed. It was Loco’s voice that gave the reply.  

“In the garden,” Frank answered. 

Typical, Ben thought. The garden was your favorite place. You hadn’t told him that, but he’d caught you there often enough.

“All right, get her to the helicopter,” Ben said. “Take her to the next house. I’ll deal with Butcher and his cocksucking crew.” 

Frank resisted the urge to raise a brow, even if his boss couldn’t see it. Extracting you from the house was not the original plan. But he agreed and parted ways from Loco with a nod. 

When Saul caught up with Frank in the hall on the top of the stairs, second floor, Frank handed him a vial of V24. Both men shot up together, each taking sharp breaths at the intensity of unnatural green-hued chemicals running through their veins. 

Frank recovered first, rolling his shoulders as new awareness made his senses sharp, his blood already pounding with adrenaline. 

“The most expensive damn high I’ve ever had,” Saul remarked, smirking. 

Frank didn’t take the same pleasure in it, but he conceded that with a nod. Being able to see through walls was an advantage, at least. It just took a moment for his vision to even out and normalize.

“Get it done,” was all he said.

While Saul continued on to the roof with super speed, Frank made his way down the stairs, and through the French doors to the backyard. He found you there, sitting on the grass with a book in the garden. 

Good, he thought in approval of your jeans and V-neck top. You would be easier to transport this way. 

He called your name, and you greeted him with a smile, until you noticed his sternness.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

Frank pulled you up by your arm, firm but not painful. 

“We have to go,” he said. Despite your protests, he led you back inside, then up the narrow staircase that you realized would have to lead to the roof. There was nowhere else to go on the roof but up, and away. Frank was taking you away from the house. Why?

“It’s my team, isn’t it,” you said.

You stared up at Frank’s profile. His mustache often obscured his expression, but you caught the way his brows tightened, as did his hold on your arm. It felt tighter, stronger than usual, and not just because he hadn’t manhandled you in a long time. 

It raised your suspicions, but your heart was also thumping faster as you realized that your friends were here somewhere.

“Where’s Ben,” you demanded to know. A tendril of worry laced up your spine. “Where the hell are we going?”

“To a secure location,” Frank replied. But he didn’t give you more than that. You dug your heels in on the stairs and tried to work your arm out of his grip, but he was unrelenting. 

“Let me go!” you snapped. “I have to talk to them.”

“Boss’s orders,” Frank said, his jaw tightening. You could tell he didn’t want to hurt you, but he would drag your ass up the rest of these steps.

You were reduced to pleading. “Frank, please! He’s in danger.”

His eyes sharpened at that. 

“You may not believe it, but they can take him down,” you said. Desperation shone in your eyes, and you fought the conflicted nature of your emotions in what you were about to say.  

“If I’m there, maybe I can talk down both sides,” you argued. “I know you’re just following orders, but if you care about your next paycheck, you’ll fucking listen to me.”

Frank seemed to consider your words for all of three seconds. 

Then he continued to haul you up all the way to the roof. You were struggling and shouting, but you were made to go all the same. 

When the door opened to the roof, however, Frank caught a slender fist in his face, knocking him right out. You gasped as the man careened back and nearly bowled you over, but that same hand caught him by the collar and kept him from crushing you. 

You looked up and brightened with an incredulous smile.

“Kimiko!” 

The smaller woman gave you a smile and a small wave with her free hand. But before she could finish Frank off, you raised your hands against her raised fist.

“Wait! Don’t kill him,” you asked. “Just leave him here.”

Kimiko looked confused for a second, but she did as you asked and helped you let him down gently to the ground. You noticed the blood hastily wiped from her hand and face—onto her black leather jacket.  

“Where is everyone?” you asked. 

Kimiko signaled ahead, but you opened the door to the roof real quick, just to see the littered bodies of dead men on the ground. You blanched at the sight. 

You turned away from the scene and followed Kimiko, who lowered her head as she continued down the stairs. 

Despite yourself, you hoped Loco and Saul had gotten away, at least. They were your captors, but they’d never treated you badly. You’d even cooked for them, hung out with them, listened to them bicker and bitch, and watched them cheat one another at cards. They were criminals, but they weren’t monsters. 

And not wanting to see them die only scratched the surface of your conflict when you thought about Ben. 

As you and Kimiko jogged through the mansion, heading toward the sounds of fighting and yelling and destruction downstairs, your guilt began to grow. 

You knew very well what Ben had done. But the truth was, you no longer had the heart to condemn him.

To play jury and judge and executioner—interning him into an ice box until he could be neutralized, or until the end of his unnaturally long life.

To continue making him pay beyond his forty years of imprisonment. 

You’d seen the worst of him: his salaciousness, his temper, his trauma, his destructive coping mechanisms, and painfully outdated ideals. 

Yet, Ben was more than all of that. He’d allowed you to see more. 

But the moment you said any of that, you knew how he would react. Just as you knew how M.M. would look at you. And it made your chest ache and your mind spin faster than it already was. 

What the fuck am I going to do?

You got your opportunity to answer that question when a star bolt shot right in front of you and Kimiko—through the open door of a large room. 

It was big enough to be a ballroom for parties, but right now it was a battlefield between your friends, a support team of CIA officers, Loco and his team of men, and of course, Ben at the center. He was in his full Soldier Boy gear, complete with the stupid-ass helmet. 

While Hughie had clearly been made to hang out at the fringe of it all. He stood there, looking worried with a gun in his hand that he didn’t look all that comfortable with.

He noticed you and Kimiko first and called your name. You smiled and accepted the joyful hug he gave you (after he carefully tucked his gun in his pants). 

“You’re actually okay! I can’t fucking believe it,” he said. But then he quickly amended, “I mean, we all hoped you were still alive, I just mean—”

You just laughed and teasingly slapped his cheeks between your hands to stop his fumbling. “Thanks for coming to find me.”

Ben ears must’ve been perked up, because he sharply glanced over. You getting free wasn’t part of his plan, you knew, and he did not look pleased. Your amusement fading, you let go of Hughie and met Ben’s gaze across the room.

You were worried. About him. About everyone. 

“We don’t have to do this,” you told Hughie. Kimiko had already joined the fray to stop a gunman from clipping Frenchie from behind. 

Your earnest gaze met Hughie’s confused one. “He’s not what you think he is…well, not exactly, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “He fucking kidnapped you!”

“Technically, he didn’t. It was one of his overzealous groupies,” you replied, your expression firming at the thought of Antonio. “That guy’s dead. But there are more reasons. I’ve gotta stop this somehow—”

“That’s…not a good idea,” Hughie was saying, and even tried to stop you when you took the gun from his pants. But you ignored his protests and headed right into the jungle of bullets and star bolts, and the crunch of bone and blood. 

You didn’t shoot to kill, evading and defending yourself more than fighting back. Annie noticed you with a happy smile, as did Frenchie and M.M. Butcher was busy shooting at Ben with a fucking launcher. 

But Ben avoided the massive projectile with a simple knock of his shield. It sailed through the back windows, eventually exploding into the sky. 

For a moment, there was enough of a lull in the room that you took the opportunity to open your mouth, prepared to call out to both men.

However, something else broke through the windows—from the opposite side. 

It was a dart that landed between Ben’s feet, black and flashing a small red light. He rose a brow. But before he could just kick the thing away, it detonated.

The explosion was bigger than even Ben anticipated. It blew up a huge crater in the ground, knocking him and everyone else surrounding several feet away. 

Even you were tossed back. Your gun clattered away from you as you landed painfully on the ground, most likely onto a dead body. You blinked the haziness out of your vision as you struggled to recover, to pull yourself up. 

“What the fuck?” you heard Ben utter. 

When you turned your head, you couldn’t help echoing his statement. 

Black Noir was standing just before the large crater, the one he’d apparently created.

He’s dead, you thought dizzily. Or at least, he was supposed to be. Homelander killed him six months ago. 

Seriously, what the fuck. Ben was bewildered, to say the least. He’d been told that his unfortunate spawn had offed Noir, but yet here he was, the little shit. 

“Fucking Noir,” Ben said with a laugh, after he’d stood and made a show of rolling his neck. “What frosted hole did you crawl out of?”

The supe didn’t respond. Didn’t even move a muscle from where he stood in the center of the room. And the rest had gone quiet by now, waiting and watching as two predators approached one another.

“I heard you became a fucking mute,” said Ben. He smirked at the crater in his floor. “You’ve figured out how to make an entrance, I’ll give you that. But we both know you’re not up to this. You could never even shine my fucking shoes.”

Ben tossed the first punch. He expected the way Noir deflected, but not the force behind his blow, which pounded below Ben’s ribs and forced a grunt out of him. He actually felt it.

Along with subsequent punches Noir got in before Ben finally remembered to raise his shield and get back on the offensive. But now he was annoyed. Noir was never this strong, not even on his best day. What kind of bullshit does Vought got him hopped up on? More V?

And then, a solid punch to his face had Ben stumbling back. He caught his smarting jaw with no small amount of irritation, and he wiped at his nose. 

It came away bloody. Ben stared at it in disbelief, and then, in anger. Back from the dead or not, he was going to put Noir back in the fucking ground today. 

His blood burned hot. So much that he realized, belatedly, that his chest was starting to get that nuclear glow. 

Good, he thought. He’d blow a third hole through this cocksucker, and whoever else got in his way. 

“Ben!” 

Your voice cut through the whirring in his ears as he grappled with Black Noir, just loud enough for Ben to notice you. You weren’t far from your friends, but he realized then how close to danger you were. 

He was impossibly hot now, and still fighting hand-to-hand with Noir. His jaw locked as he tried to focus on the fight and figure out what to do. It was getting harder and harder to focus—on Noir, on the power growing inside him, on your worried face. 

Shit, wait—

And he lost control. 

It was all of seconds. 

Annie was just ahead of you, closer to the blast zone. So in those last precious moments, you made a decision: you pushed Annie out of the way.

Then your feet were once again swept from under you, and you flew back even harder than the first time. You blacked out before you had the chance to feel any pain.

That came later, the next time you opened your eyes.

When your vision was able to clear of the mess of colors and shapes, sharpening into focus, you saw Frank as he pulled you out of the rubble. But it was at your expense, as a sharp flare of pain erupted in your side. 

You didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice, a strangled groan. In the distance, maybe you heard Annie’s voice. Or even M.M.’s, you couldn’t be sure. You flashed in and out of consciousness after that. 

The next scene you truly remembered was being laid down on the floor of a helicopter. A backpack was tucked under your head. The engine was loud, rearing to go. Frank was shouting to someone, whoever the pilot was (you hoped it wasn’t Loco). 

“She needs more than a medic,” you heard Frank say. For a man who was usually so stoic, you thought you heard grave worry in his voice. 

You managed to look down, and you frowned at the long piece of wood protruding from your side. It wept blood beneath your ribs.

Your light green shirt was slowly getting stained, but your mind was so fuzzy, it was hard for you to understand what was happening.

“Let’s go!” Loco shouted. 

Oh, no, you thought. He was going to fly this thing.

“We can’t take off yet,” said Saul. “Where’s—”

A soot-stained hand grabbed onto the frame of the helicopter’s open door. You recognized that hand, followed shortly by the rest of Ben. His helmet was off, shield tucked onto his back. He looked pissed.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he snapped. His frown deepened the moment he saw you, which you didn’t quite understand.

“Ben,” you said, even though it was an effort to do so.

Every breath was like a hot knife cutting deeper into your side. Your eyes closed at the pain, and at tears that burned down your cheeks. It also cut through the brain fog enough for you to realize this was bad.

It was very bad. 

A splintered chair leg had impaled your body. 

“Get a vial,” you heard him say. 

What? You struggled to open your eyes again. Ben was there, looking down on you with a different kind of frown, and something deeper in his green eyes. His sweaty hair fell over his brows, and you had a sudden itch to brush the strands aside. 

You were pacified a little when his half-gloved hand came to rest on your head, over your hair. His thumb traced over your brow. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Frank,” he said, briefly glaring over your head. Frank soon appeared at your side. He held a green vial in his hands, tinged with blue. Your eyes widened. 

“What…”

“That needs to come out first.” Frank nodded at something you couldn’t see. You didn’t have the strength to look down anymore. You knew this was it, though.

You were going to die.

Ben’s hand braced your shoulder. His eyes met yours. 

You didn’t understand the thoughts crossing through them, or his hesitation. But you did feel it when he grabbed the large wood splinter and slowly pulled it from your body. Your scream sounded almost inhuman to your own ears. 

At least the pain was enough to knock you out once again.

Ben had no such reprieve as he looked down at the gaping hole in your side. Scarlet blood ran and pooled by his knees, even slipped through his fingers and around his hand when he tried to clamp down on the wound. 

“Fucking do it already,” he said through gritted teeth. 

With a short nod, Frank injected V24 into your arm. 

You healed in minutes. 

Breath drew into your lungs—a reflex as chemicals flooded through your blood and knit your organs, muscle, and skin tissue closed, even regenerating the blood you had lost. And it felt like a switch had turned on in your brain, set to “high voltage.”

You sat up as a ragged sound erupted from your throat. A hand closed on your shoulder, and you instinctively fought it off. 

“Hey. Easy,” said Ben.

Your breathing was shallow as you met his eyes, focused on his face. You noticed Frank on your other side, poised to support you if you needed it. You looked down and noticed your blood-soaked shirt, the blood on the floor of the aircraft, and the empty syringe in Frank’s hand. 

“You shot me up,” you realized. Your voice shook, but anger drew your brows together before you whipped your head back to Ben. “You shot me up with V24!”

He stared back at you, his expression tightening. “I saved you.”

“And you kidnapped me. Again!” you shouted. 

“You were hurt, and I saved your fucking life! Again,” Ben countered, gesturing at you with his blood-stained hand. But you glared at him.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you snapped. 

At that, Ben glared right back at you…but he stayed quiet. 

Good. You huffed and turned away from him. You folded your knees up to your chest and rested your forehead against your knees. 

You had nothing else to say to him. 

You ignored Frank’s helping hand when the helicopter finally landed at the next house—this time on the gravel driveway.

This place was at the top of a hill on the outskirts of a thick jungle. Once you were led inside, you could tell this house was smaller, though just as lavish as the last one.

Ben seemed too exasperated with you to follow you, instead going his own way to find his room upstairs. Frank led you to a guest room downstairs, where he informed you that he’d find you some new clothes. You were dismissive with him, and he left you alone soon after.  

Part of you felt bad for giving him a hard time. You knew he had saved you after the explosion. He’d likely gone out of his way to find you and pull you out of the rubble, but you couldn’t help it.

You were still salty about his part in your re-capture. Not to mention the fact that he’d given you temporary Compound V against your will. 

And speaking of which…

You sat on your new bed and looked down at your arms and hands, clenching and unclenching your fists. What mystery power had V24 given you?

As basic as it was, you felt…strong. Like you could run a marathon without stopping. Like you could punch straight through that wall, and not even feel it. You felt more than just confidence coursing through your veins, like no one and nothing could stand in your way.

Was this how Ben felt all the time? If so, you could almost understand why he could be such an asshole. 

But you also thought of how he’d been with you for the past couple of weeks; how much he’d shared with you about his parents, about his life before becoming Soldier Boy. And yes, how he’d saved you more than once. 

It just didn’t change the fact that he took you—away from your friends, and your chance at freedom. 

True to his word, Frank delivered a bag of clothes to your door about two hours after he’d left you in your new room.

You opened the door just enough to snatch the bag out of his hand, before closing the door in his face. You heard his tired huff on the other side, but soon enough, he walked away from your door. 

So you took your time in the shower, scrubbing grime and blood out of your hair, off your skin and from under your nails. Then you dressed in a shirt and some yoga pants from the bag Frank gave you.

And you tried not to miss the house in the mountains while you wandered this one. You opened every door you came across, finding more guest rooms, a laundry room, the kitchen.

But you stopped once you reached the gym, complete with an elliptical, a couple of treadmills, hand weights, a sparring mat, and a large punching bag.  

Venturing inside, you found some sports tape to wrap up your hands. Then you wandered over to the punching bag. With a resigned sigh, you aligned your hips correctly, bending your knees with your fists raised up to your chest. And then, steeling yourself, you tested out your strength with a single punch. 

It sent the punching bag flying on its chain and hitting the wall. A loud thump echoed through the room, even making you flinch. 

Yep. Definitely got super strength, you thought with a frown. Basic, but useful, you supposed. 

“Whoa,” Ben said with a chuckle. You turned your head and found the man leaning casually in the doorway. He was out of his uniform, freshly washed, and wearing a plain black shirt and dark wash jeans. It was a more modern look for him. You couldn’t help eyeing him from head to toe.

His sharpening grin told you that he noticed.

“At least you got something good,” he remarked. 

“Leave me alone,” you groused. You threw another punch. This one tossed the bag hard and created a massive indent and several hairline cracks in the wall. 

Feeling a suspect prickle across the back of your neck, you twisted and aimed your next punch behind you. Ben caught your fist with an amused grin. You found it damn infuriating. 

So you tossed out a left hook. He evaded it with a tilt of his head, but when he pushed you back, you actually felt his strength behind it. It only forced you a couple of steps back though. 

Ben baited you with a beckoning hand and a cocky smirk. “Take your best shot, sweetheart.” 

You narrowed your eyes. If nothing else, you were going to wipe that smirk off his bearded face. 

He let you come at him first, blocking your first and second blow before throwing a punch of his own. You grabbed his wrist and put all your strength in cracking your elbow into his face, making his head snap back with a grunt. 

Ben’s hand went to his nose, and actually came away bloody. He hummed, and his gaze flicked up at you. It was your turn to smirk. You got back into your ready stance and tilted your head at him in challenge. 

Ben chuckled and rolled his neck. “All right, baby doll. I’ll give you that one.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you retorted.

You ducked his attempt to grab you and drove a knee into his gut. Then you stepped between his feet, breaking his stance and his balance by flipping him over your shoulder. You just didn’t expect him to drag you down with him.   

The two of you tussled across the ground, rolling off the sparring mat and onto the hard wood floor. Ben managed to pin you down for a moment, but apparently, you’d been endowed with superior flexibility as well. You grabbed his neck and kneed him in the ribs with all the force you could muster. 

Ben uttered an annoyed grunt. He flinched and unwittingly allowed you the opening you needed to wrap your thighs around his hips and flip you both over—until you were the one pinning him down. 

You knew he wasn’t trying his hardest, however. He was trying to subdue you, not fight you for real, or he would’ve thrown you off by now. He was going easy on you, and it made you irrationally angry.

So you slapped him. Ben blinked and looked up at you, incredulous. 

“Oh, you better be fucking careful—” 

You cut him off with another slap. “Fight me!” 

Ben grabbed your wrist before you could slap him again. His green eyes glittered dangerously, but you stared down at him, unafraid.

Both of you were breathing hard. You were straddling his waist, your free hand braced on the floor by his head. A line of sweat rolled down from your cheek to your neck. His eyes followed the path of it down your shirt.

By the time his hot gaze snapped up to yours, you knew you were in trouble. And there would be no escape. 

Ben hooked a hand on the back of your neck and crashed your lips against his. You slapped a hand against the floor, but you didn’t pull away. You did demand from him in turn, forcing your tongue into his mouth and grabbing at his hair. 

Ben wrenched up your shirt, and you helped him raise it over your head, followed by his shirt and belt. He sat up enough to drag your yoga pants down your thighs, while you broke open the button and zipper of his jeans. 

His lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking and biting until you cried out in his ear. You gripped his hair tight when his thick fingers found their way between your folds and slipped inside you.

Your sighs turned into moans of pleasure as his fingers worked you over, gathering your wetness and rolling over your clit roughly. 

“Ah, shit,” you uttered. All you heard from him were his sharp breaths as he concentrated. 

You instinctively squeezed his hips tight between your thighs. You knew he could get you off just like this, but you were too impatient. You stopped his hand and pushed him down, and with your newfound superhuman strength, you were actually able to do it. 

His back hit the ground with a thud, and he smirked up at you, letting you tug his jeans and boxer briefs down. 

You didn’t stop until his cock was freed, and once you positioned yourself, you sunk down, burying him into your wet heat. Both of you groaned in relief, and your inner walls tightened around him on reflex.

Ben’s grip on your hips became crushing. Had you been normal, it would’ve broken your bones. “Fuck. Gonna take me for a ride, baby girl?” 

“Hell, yeah,” you said, panting for breath. “Buckle the fuck up.”

You were surprised that he was letting you stay on top, but his eyes were alight with desire. You braced your hands on his shoulders and began, rolling your hips at a slow, deep, almost torturous pace. Ben’s head snapped against the floor in frustration, his eyes closing.

“Christ. If you don’t fucking move, I’m gonna do it for you—”

You snapped your hips hard, cutting him off from his words with a guttural sound. Your own release was building. You could taste it, but you could also admit, while pleasant, this pace wasn’t going to cut it. Bracing a hand on his chest, you increased the tempo of your rolling hips. 

Ben’s hands reached up to palm your breasts over your bra, then forcibly freed them without taking it off. You gave a pleased sound when he roughly squeezed and rolled his thumbs over pert nipples. Your hands wandered down his chest, over his arms, whatever you could reach. 

Then Ben’s jaw clenched, and he sat up with you in his lap. You felt his body tensing beneath you. With little warning, he spilled hot inside you. You gasped at the feeling of him, then at his insistent fingers above your entrance, roughly rubbing at your clit. Soon enough, you came along with him.

Gasping for breath, you clung to his shoulders. Both of you were dewy with sweat. Your bra was tucked up all the way into your shoulders, and neither of you had been able to completely slip out of your pants. His hair was wild, as was yours, you were sure. 

Ben’s hands pressed against your lower back, and his cock was still bottomed out inside you. But all you could do was hold onto him.

“See?” Ben said. His voice was deep and full of grit in your ear. “Isn’t it better this way?” 

Your brows furrowed, and you pulled away enough to see his face. 

“You…you prefer me as a supe, don’t you?” you said. Ben’s mouth closed, but he rose a brow as if to say, why not?

You finally noticed the deep cracks in the wall, the small craters in the floor under your knees, and by Ben’s head. There was still a bit of blood congealed around his nose from when you’d hit him.

“This isn’t me,” you said, though you hated how your voice shook. Emotion burned in your eyes, threatening to create tears.

You let go of his shoulders and slid off of him, pulling on your yoga pants and tugging down your bra. Ben watched you from his seat on the floor, with a tensing of his jaw and knitted brows. 

“I don’t know if you just like playing with me, or if you actually care about me,” you said, scooping up your shirt. Your eyes met his with an angry glare. 

“But if you ever give me Compound V against my will again, I’ll never forgive you.”

Butcher stared into his fifth of whiskey, already anticipating his second. If nothing else, Soldier Boy kept a well-stocked liquor cabinet. 

While the CIA combed through the half-ruined mansion, Butcher sat in the kitchen while Hughie and Annie’s arguing grated on his ears.

“She fucking took my gun, had this crazy look in her eye, like she was gonna talk Soldier Boy down. By herself,” said Hughie. “But her exact words were, he’s not what you think he is.”

“She saved me,” Annie said. “She wouldn’t just go with him.”

“She went willingly,” said Butcher. “Ain’t no other reason why she’s alive.”

“Nah, man,” M.M. said. He shook his head, then rested it on a thoughtful fist. “I saw it. One of his guys pulled her out after the blast. He took her.”

“But for what? Why would they want to keep her?” Annie said incredulously. 

“You think, maybe…Soldier Boy likes her?” Hughie asked.     

Butcher considered that with a dark chuckle, then a long sip of his whiskey. 

“We can work with that,” he said. “O’ course, now we got Black-fucking-Noir to deal with as well. Question is: was he after us, or Soldier Boy?”

Trust M.M. to address the elephant in the room. 

“And how the hell is that motherfucker alive?” he added.

Ben was contemplating that very same question. He sat at an old mahogany table in a stuffy old room, while his men argued in front of him. 

“He had regenerative abilities,” Saul reasoned. “Vought probably got him to a hospital after Homelander left him for dead.”

“No way, man. I heard his fucking intestines were hanging out of his stomach like a goddamn fish,” said Loco. 

“Maybe it wasn’t him,” Frank suggested. 

“No,” Ben said. He had his chin propped on his fist. “It wasn’t him. Not the real Noir.”

He didn’t know how he knew, but it was a gut feeling. Whoever that had been behind that black mask, he was strong. As strong as Homelander had been, which made Ben’s gears turn on the possibilities… 

“Saul.” Ben looked up at his subordinate. “Assemble a team. You’re going back to the States for some reconnaissance. I want to know exactly what the fuck Vought did, and what else they’ve got in their fucking arsenal. If Stan Edgar’s after me, then he’s gonna get it up the ass.”

He should’ve never let that little weasel get even an inch of a hold back into him. Now Stan thought he was going to double cross him? Again? 

Yeah, fucking right. The thought stirred the rage in Ben’s blood…but he forced it down to a low simmer. This time, he would be smarter about this. 

Stan had a bad habit of playing God. Ben wanted to know how he did it this time…though that same gut was telling him that he already knew.

No matter how you tossed and turned, the chemicals of V24 still coursing through your blood wouldn’t allow you to sleep. 

After another fruitless hour, you turned onto your side. This time, you had a room with an old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand. It read close to two in the morning. 

You huffed and dragged yourself out of bed, but you didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas before you slipped on your sneakers and left the confines of your room. 

You still weren’t being watched, but you knew better than to try and escape either. You noted the newly installed surveillance cameras in every hallway and every room. 

You wandered a bit aimlessly, but somehow, your feet took you down to the kitchen. There you found Ben, sitting at the kitchen table with his third beer. To be fair, you were sure it was like water to him. 

He looked up at you when you came in, making you stop short. You weren’t sure where you stood with him after today. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to be in his presence.  

But when he gestured to the empty seat in front of him, you found yourself grabbing a beer from the fridge and joining him at the table. 

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. It wasn’t the first time, and Ben was just as evasive. His eyes roamed your face before they returned to his beer. 

Regardless, you suspected what his answer might’ve been if he were honest. Because that moment—calling his name, seeing that nuclear light, pushing Annie out of the way, being pulled back into the world by searing pain in your side—it was keeping you up too.

“What do you feel when your chest lights up?” you asked. Maybe it was too bold of you, but right now, you felt confident enough in your super strength to test him.

Ben’s gaze found yours dryly. 

“Hot,” he replied. 

“Well, yeah. You’re pretty much radioactive,” you quipped. “I’ll be surprised if I don’t have fucking cancer yet.” 

He frowned at you in annoyance while you sipped at your beer. 

You hummed, tapping your nails on the glass in contemplation. “Maybe Vought could help you neutralize it. Even I can admit, they have some of the best scientists in the world on their payroll.”

“I wouldn’t let Vought handle a cup of my fucking piss, let alone poking and prodding and studying my fucking blood,” Ben snapped. He wouldn’t be anyone’s fucking lab rat. Not again.

“Like an experimental drug, for example. Given to you against your will,” you wryly supplied. But your voice was edged with agitation.

Ben’s face tightened into a glare. “If you wanna say something, fucking say it.”

You could later admit, you lost your temper then. You shoved away from the table, too angry to even take your beer with you.

“You know, you still haven’t even apologized!” you said. But before you could leave, Ben’s chair scraped across the ground as he stood and grabbed your wrist. He tugged you back to face him, and he stood looming over you with a steely frown.

“You want a fucking apology for saving your miserable life?” he asked. 

“If I’m miserable, it’s only because of you,” you spat. 

Ben scoffed, though his grip on your wrist tightened. “We both know that’s a lie.” 

You just stared up at his face and spewed words you knew you didn’t mean.

“You don’t know anything about me, Ben.” 

His body was wound tight, his frown tight and almost sneering. You were furious—at his smugness, at your inability to completely hate him. But you both faltered once your eyes met his. 

When his lips once again crashed against yours, you opened your mouth to him, pulling him down to you by his shirt.

Ben dragged you flush against him, first by your hips, then by your hair. He forced your head back so he could deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours. 

His fingers then pressed their claiming marks into your side, in the same spot where you were stabbed this morning. Where you had only been healed with the chemicals still coursing through your veins. 

That thought alone cut through the intoxication of his kiss, and made you remember yourself.

You pushed hard against his chest. You were still strong enough to force him back a step or two. Ben stared back at you in irritation. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” he shouted. “Would you rather I’d let you bleed out on the fucking floor?”

“I know! I know I would be dead,” you said, matching his volume.  

No matter how you felt about Compound V, there was no doubt, he’d saved your life. 

But what you’d said to him then still stood. 

“If you hadn’t tried to waste Black Noir with a power you can’t control, then I wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. That’s the definition of collateral damage,” you said. 

Ben crossed his arms defensively. 

“You’re the one who jumped in front of the bullet like a goddamn moron,” he said. “Ain’t my fucking fault if you get yourself killed.”

And just like that, your anger faded…into dismay.

He might very well care about you, but in many ways, he was still an asshole. And you were exhausted.

“Fine, Ben.” You blinked past the well of tears burning in your eyes, but your refused to let them fall. 

After you turned away from him, you didn’t see how his face fell, with both disappointment and guilt breaking through his anger. Your next words would sear into his mind for days to come. 

“Just leave me the hell alone.”

AN: 🤭 Please don't hate me! loll They'll get back on track soon enough...

Next Time:

“Why are you trusting me with this?” you asked. 

Ben’s lips quirked wryly, but there was little humor in it. His hand, half-covered by his glove, reached up to brush your chin. 

“I’m not,” he replied. “I expect you’ll jump at the chance to get back with Butcher and your asshole friends. But either way, I’m gonna find out if you were worth it.” 

Keep Reading: PART 10

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#Breach #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy fic #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 9 #zepskies writes

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

You Aren’t My Boyfriend - Billy Butcher

A/N: Hi all, sorry I’ve been away for a minute, October has been a busy month. I bring you my next Kinktober fic. Influenced by the song, Boyfriend by Ariana Grande & Social House.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Reader Word Count: 3.3k Synopsis: Billy has to teach the reader a lesson about who she belongs to. 

Kinktober prompt(s): rough sex, marking, possessivness

You are a fucking brat. 

Billy knows this about you. He knows what you do in large crowds, what you do when all the male attention is on you. He knows the way you flirt, the way you turn everyone’s favor towards you.

And he knows that while you are doing all of this, you keep your eyes locked on his. 

The boys were currently gathering intel on Supes in a seedy bar just outside of city limits. The place was crowded, due to underground Supe fights that went on in the basement, $100 a ticket just to watch. Billy had chosen this place, footed the bill even, because if MM’s sources were correct, there was a person here who could help him get one step closer to bringing down Vaught. 

But trying to focus on finding one face in the crowd was proving more and more difficult with you across the bar, drink in hand, a man practically drooling down your neck. You smirk the moment that Billy’s eyes land on yours. In one quick movement, you pull the bloke in closer and his lips land on your neck. 

Billy grips his glass in hand tightly as you let out a little sigh and tilt your head back. When the man pulls away, Billy sees the hickey that is forming on your neck and the glass shatters in his hands.

A few heads turn to look at him, but he doesn’t give a fuck. Still looking at him, you smile and push away from the other man. 

“Did your new friend tell you anything about our anonymous source?” he asks as you saunter over to him, slowly, making sure that he is watching every movement.

“We didn’t do much talking.”

“What the hell are we here for then?” he asks. 

“Relax, boss, I just wanted to blend in,” you say, giving him another easy smile, the same one you had graced the asshole at the bar with. “I’ll start looking now.”

“You’ve got a little something,” he says, stepping closer to you to keep you from walking away. His chest barely an inch from yours, with a gentle thumb he brushes over the forming bruise on your neck. He fills with pride when he notices your breath has become shallow. 

“Is it noticeable?” you ask softly.

“No, it’s just small.”

“Oh, good,” you say. You begin to move away from him, but as you move past him, he grabs your wrist, squeezing it just a little too tightly. Again, he hears your breath hitch. 

“The ones I give you tonight,” he whispers, “Will be.”

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

“Well, a bloody waste of time that was,” Billy grumbles as the boys all pile into the safe house. No one said anything in the car on the way home. After a good couple of hours at the bar, all you had to show was your hickey, Hughie’s black eye, and Billy’s terrible mood.

“We just got unlucky,” MM offers, trying to soothe the tension that was forming in the group. “We can try another night.”

“No, fuck it. Fuck your source,” Billy says with a roll of his eyes. He stalks down the stairs to the basement, to the bedroom he had chosen in the abandoned house. 

The room is silent for a few moments after Billy leaves. Eventually, everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. Coincidentally, your bedroom is also down in the basement, which, as you walk down the stairs, you realize probably isn’t coincidence at all.

Billy’s door was shut - not that you would have gone knocking anyway. You go to your own room and shut the door. You start to peel off the skimpy dress you had worn to the bar. The once glittering number now reeks of stale beer and is sporting stains in a few places.

As the dress falls to your floor, you hear one strong knock from your door. Heart racing, you open the door to Billy, who’s towering over you in the doorframe.

“He--”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What?” you ask, shaking your head.

“First you act like a slut at the bar, teasing me all night with that limp-dicked asshole, then you open the door to me in nothing but your skivvies, when you should have been the one pounding on my door, begging for forgiveness.”

“I have nothing to apologize for,” you say, looking up at him defiantly. Billy gave you a harsh smile. In one quick motion, he grips your cheeks in his hands, backing you up into your bedroom. The door shuts behind him with a hard click. 

“You have nothing to apologize for?” he asks, his breath quick. “You let that fucker touch you, mark you, while I watched.”

“I’m allowed to do that,” you say, putting your hands over his, trying to pull them away. “You aren’t my boyfriend.”

You hiss in a breath as Billy moves towards you. His mouth is a breath away from yours. He stares into your eyes, but not lovingly. Billy is thoroughly, royally pissed, and he is about to show you just how much. A small, cruel smile works its way across his face. “You aren’t my girlfriend,” he agrees. Seconds tick by agonizingly slow, and when Billy finally does move, he turns your head as his beard scratches against the skin of your neck. His breath is hot and makes gooseflesh break out across your skin.

“You whore,” he murmurs, his lips only brushing your neck minimally. “This neck is mine, and you let someone else touch it,” he says, his thumb sliding down the column of your neck, squeezing just slightly. Your breath picks up. “Kiss it.” His lips close softly above your pounding pulse. “Mark it.” Sharply, his teeth sink into your flesh and he sucks hard. You moan his name as you fall into his arms.

One strong hand is squeezing your throat, not too harsh, but just enough to make your breath quicken, to awaken every part of your body to him. You grip Billy’s strong shoulders as his mouth trails down your neck inch by agonizing inch, leaving a trail of bruises of his own.

“This neck,” he says, the words tickling against your skin as he works his way back up, behind your ear, “Belongs to only me.”

“My neck belongs to me,” you try to say firmly, but when he nibbles on your ear lobe it’s a little hard to keep your voice steady.

“No love,” he says, standing to his full height as he looks down at you. You don’t have to glance in the mirror to know that your neck is red and covered with his marks, his claiming of you. “All of you, belongs to me.”

“If I agree, will you leave me alone?” you ask.

“Is that what you really want?” he asks dangerously low, stepping closer to you. When you don’t answer right away, he takes your chin and tilts you face to look into his smoldering eyes. “You know the word. Say it, and I walk out of here.”

“I know,” you say quietly.

“So, why don’t you agree, because it’s the truth? Because,” he says, his hand trailing down your chest to squeeze your breast roughly. You whimper and stumble a little bit towards him. “Because you want me to fuck and claim you so badly. I know why pulled that little stunt at the bar.”

“Maybe I liked him.” In a quick motion, Billy’s hand rips down one of your bra straps, exposing a breast. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinches your nipple. The pain is sharp but the breath that hisses out of you is more moan than anything else.

“What was that you just said, love?” Painfully slow, he pulls down your other bra strap so that you are bare in front of him. His thumb is still pinching your nipple and if they weren’t already, your panties are soaked.

“Maybe I—” He closes his mouth over yours, devouring the lie before you can say it. You wrap your arms around him, clawing at his shirt covered back. Billy groans into your mouth as you tug his shirt off of him. When you break away from him to pull it over his head, he snaps your bra off with a quick motion. At the present moment, you don’t care that it is probably broken.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You open your mouth to argue, just for the sake of disobeying him, but he slaps your ass hard, stopping the words from coming out. “Be a good girl for once.”

You decided to obey him, but in your own way. You close the gap between the two of you, pressing your bare chest to his, rubbing up against his jeans and the hard-on that is threatening to break lose. Your hands go to his face to bring it to yours. You kiss him just as fiercely, your teeth biting on his lip as your fingers make their way up to his hair. You pull on it as you lead him back towards the bed. You fall back first and notice the gleam in his eyes as Billy watches your breasts bounce.

“Fucking hell,” he says.

He is on top of you in a moment, kissing you rougher still. He bites and pulls at your lips, your tongue, until your mouth is swollen and still begging for his touch. He trails back down your neck, leaving a few more bites, but his primary focus for now is your chest. With his hands gripping your hips harsh enough to leave bruises, he starts to mark every inch of your collarbone and chest before he even gets to your breasts.

He is straddling you and with his hands now on both of your breasts, kneading them as he looks into your eyes, listening to your moans, he is back to the Butcher you know. To the man in charge. It brings out something defiant in you.

“Have you satisfied your male need to take what isn’t yours?” you ask. Billy smiles wickedly at you.

“How many times do we have to go over this, darling?” he ask, bsending low until his lips are over yours, but not kissing. “You aren’t my girlfriend, but you aren’t going to see anybody else. This face?” he asked, gripping your cheeks with one hand tightly, leaving your breast lonely. “This face is mine. These tits?” he asks, flicking your nipples so that you let out another cry. “Mine. And this pussy.” His hand trails down your stomach until he has one hand pressing onto your wet panties hard. “All mine. I don’t care how many times I have to claim them, they will always belong to me. Do you understand?”

He slaps your face enough to make you jolt and bring your eyes to him, but nothing harsher. “Do you understand?” he asks again. “Be a good girl and say you do so I can get back to these incredible tits of yours.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl,” he says, rewarding you with another breathtaking kiss. When he pulls away, he brings his attention back to your breasts, which are practically heaving with each of your heavy breaths. He closes his mouth around one. You writhe underneath him as his lips move over every inch of your breast, nipping and sucking and leaving marks, too. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, he moves to your other breast and drives you crazy again.

“Billy,” you beg.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he says, his mouth still around your breast.

“I want you to fuck me,” you pant.

“Already?” he asks, sucking hard. You cry out and try to grind up against him, to get some relief from the need that is coursing through your body, but he puts a strong hand on your hip and keeps you pinned to the bed.

“Please, Billy.”

“You haven’t earned it yet,” he says, moving up so that his face is in front of yours. One hand trails down your skin dangerously, reaching the band of your panties. His fingers hook the sides of them and in a quick jerk, pulls them down to your knees. You can’t help the pathetic moan that comes from you.

Again, Billy grips your cheeks and brings your gaze to his eyes. He can see the lust in yours and the sight makes him grin. His large palm cups your pussy, but nothing more. You try to grind against his hand, but he pulls it away.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “You heard me. You haven’t earned it yet.”

“What do you want me to do?” you asked, your voice shallow. He smiles and rewards you briefly. He sits up and turns your hips, spreading your legs. His tongue makes one long, slow stroke up your pussy. And then he pulls away.

“Get on your knees,” he commands. You do as he instructs, too horny to argue with him just now. You drop to your knees by the bed, taking a moment to kick your panties away. This is the way that Billy likes you best: naked and ready to do whatever he wants. He grins at you as you find your place in between his legs. You start to pull at his jeans, but with a rough hand, he grips your hair into a ponytail and pulls you away.

“Did I tell you to take off my pants?” he asks.

“No,” you say. He raises an eyebrow. “No, sir.”

“Good girl. Why don’t you just start through the jeans,” he says, readjusting his grip in your hair. “I’m not sure you’re ready for anything else yet.”

“Please,” you whimper as he brings your head down to his bulge. You kiss him through his pants. He’s already rock hard as you start to massage him. You hate touching him like this. You give everything to him, but he always keeps himself from you, once step at a time.

Going against him, you unbutton his jeans. He starts to argue, but you’re not listening as you pull him out of his boxers.

“You naughty girl,” he groans as you rake your tongue up his large shaft slowly. “Never listen to orders.”

“I needed to taste you, baby,” you say sweetly, looking up at him as you work him in your hand. Billy shakes his head but eases his pants down lower. Your tongue traces over a vein along his dick, all the way to his tip. Billy lets out a groan and when you do it again, pushes your head onto his dick when you reach the tip. You gag on his massive dick, and have never felt more turned on in your life.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his breathing heavy. With his hands in your hair, he guides your head up and down his dick, until you are a sloppy mess. You hum as you take him deeper and you can see the thought cross his mind to come in your mouth. Not that you would mind having him spill into your mouth, but you crave him inside of your pussy so badly. When he lets you pull away for air, you are panting and wipe the spit from your lips as you look up at him. He reaches out to massage your breasts, looking at the mess he has made of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead.

“I’m fucking your mouth, ain’t I?” he asks, bringing your lips back to his dick. You are being a good girl, following his command. You take him in your mouth and swirl your tongue around his shaft. “Look how pretty you look with my dick down your throat,” he says. You whimper and the sound vibrates against his dick.

“Think you’ll look even prettier with my dick in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you pant.

“Before I do that,” he says, gripping your face as he stands with you. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Mine,” you say, unable to help yourself, the defiant part of you hard to kill.

“Ah,” he says, his thumb hooking in your mouth. “Let’s try that again. Whose pussy is this?” His hand again cups your pussy, this time two fingers sliding through your folds.

“Yours.”

“And who gets to touch it?”

“Only you.”

“Who gets to fuck this pussy?” he asks.

“Only you.”

“Good girl.” He pushes you onto the bed. You watch as he kicks off his pants and stalks towards you. He repositions you on the bed, bending your knees and pulling your legs around his hips.

“Are you ready?” he asks. Before you can answer, he slams into you and you cry out. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust to him, not that you really need it as you’ve been wet for him since he walked into your room.

Each thrust is harsh as he again grips your hips and waist. You can see clear bruises along your hip bone. You are crying out with each of his thrusts, quickly losing your control. With his thumb, Billy rubs your clit as he continues to pound into you.

“Billy,” you whine.

“Yes, love?”

“I love being fucked by you.” He smiles and leans down until your chests are touching. He grips your wrists and brings them up over your head.

“I know you do.”

“No one else fucks me the way you do.” You whimper as he adjust your positioning and turns your hip to the side.

“Look how good you’re being now that you’ve got your way,” he says. Your only reply is a moan. He continues to thrust into you, his movements staying steady as his breath quickens and his own orgasm grows near.

“Billy,” you cry out. “You aren’t my boyfriend.”

He stops his thrust immediately and looks at you with fiery eyes.

“What’s that now?”

“You aren’t my boyfriend,” you say quietly, “But I don’t want you to touch anyone else.”

“I know, love,” he says, picking up his pace inside of you slowly. “I don’t want you to either.”

“No one fucks me like you,” you say again. Whether you had more to say, Billy doesn’t hear it. He drops your hands and instead puts his own around your neck as the other strokes between your legs. With every thrust of his hips, every squeeze of his hand, and every flick against your skin, you get closer and closer to your orgasm until you fall apart around him. You are screaming out his name as you come and as your body clenches around Billy’s cock, he comes too. Saving a little for your skin, he pulls out and marks you one last time.

As his warm seed cools on your skin you look at your body. There are hickies all along your chest and breasts, and if you could see your neck, you know it would be coated in his mark. Your hips and wrist bare his bruises as well. He has thoroughly claimed you as his own – you have never felt so content.

“Love,” he says, brining your attention back to him. He’s on his knees next to you, his body coated in sweat. Even as spent as you are, you still crave him. “Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.”

“What stunt?”

“This one,” he says, his finger brushing over the hickey the man in the bar left.

“I don’t have to listen to you,” you say. “It’s my nec—”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth. “This heart,” he says, his fingers tracing over your pounding chest, “Beats for me. These lips,” he says, kissing you gently, “Beg for me.” His hand grips your pussy one last time. “This pussy? Comes for only me. You understand?”

“Maybe I need one more lesson.”

“Naughty girl,” he says, claiming your mouth with his own.

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher smut #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x you #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher fanfiction #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #reader insert #kinktober

[geminiwritten]

i’m yours ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you find out that butcher slept with maeve, and attempt to ignore your feelings by going m.i.a. and going home with a complete stranger, only to awake the green-eyed monster living inside of butcher

preface: this isn’t set in canon timeline, it’s basically just using the bit where butcher sleeps with maeve as a bit of a jealousy catalyst

notes: this man has a hold on me... and i feel like this got a little rushed at the end but i still kind of like it, please let me know what y’all think! (also, i’m sorry all my stuff has the same formula, i promise i’m trying to mix it up!)

warnings: a lot of swearing, the ‘sewer-slide’ word, google-translated french, sexual content, and some soft smut

word count: 5315

Things are good, too good, but you’re doing your best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hughie and Annie are happy, MM is content, and Frenchie is excitedly creating new methods of blowing up Supes almost daily. Butcher is… well, Butcher. He’s grumpy and brash, but seems to be feeling a little more positive lately, focusing more on recon and intel rather than running in with guns blazing.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you had managed to go grocery shopping without anyone stumbling home bloody and bruised. Frenchie is humming along to the song that had been playing on the radio, carrying most of the plastic bags while MM carries one with you on his back. You were all in such high spirits that he had let you jump on his back at the bottom of the apartment stairs, carrying you up four flights as if you weighed no more than a hiking backpack.

Frenchie chuckles at the two of you as he unlocks the apartment door, entering first and pushing it open all the way. You have to duck a little, giggling and holding on to MM for dear life as he starts jogging toward the couch. He drops the bag on the floor before falling into the sofa, and you squeal as he squashes you.

“Hey,” you exclaim, still laughing, “what the fuck? Steeds don’t sit on their riders!”

“You want to ride me next, petit ange?” Frenchie calls from the kitchen.

You writhe until MM moves, standing up with a satisfied grin across his lips. You flip him your middle finger as he turns away, ushering Frenchie out of the kitchen so he can put the groceries away. You find the TV remote buried in the couch cushions, and just as the old screen flickers to life, Kimiko emerges from the hallway. She looks at Frenchie with a small smile, signing hello before her nose crinkles, and she signs another sentence you struggle to catch as your attention is called toward the master bedroom doors.

Frenchie frowns curiously, “She says that it smells in here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you lot are stinkin’ up my fuckin’ apartment,” Butcher says, running a hand through his hair.

He looks like shit. His shirt is wrinkled and the buttons are fastened crookedly, his hair is standing up in all directions, and the circles beneath his eyes are several shades darker than usual.

“It is our apartment, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “it is the least you can after making me blow up my last two places, eh?”

Butcher rolls his eyes before dropping into one of the dining room chairs, holding his face in his hands as he takes several deep breaths.

Frenchie looks to Kimiko again before translating, “She says it smells like alcohol and sweat, and a perfume that she has not smelt before.”

“I don’t wear perfume,” you note, “every time we have to haul ass and run, the bottles end up broken or missing, so I gave up.”

MM raises his hands in defence, “Don’t look at me, I haven’t seen anyone but you lot in the past twelve hours.”

“Perhaps it is something we picked up at the shops,” Frenchie shrugs.

Kimiko signs again, and you watch her to listen.

“You can smell a stranger?” you ask with a frown.

“To reiterate,” MM says, “I stayed at a motel alone last night, I was too tired to drive all the way here after visiting Janine.”

“I stayed with Annie,” you point out, “is that who you can smell?”

Kimiko shakes her head, and your heart begins to race anxiously. Neither she nor Frenchie stayed here last night either, opting for one of his old hideouts after scouring the city for any possible missed traces that Vought could use to find you all.

MM turns to Butcher, “Was there someone here last night?”

“Why would you not tell us that there was a break in?” Frenchie demands, his face a mixture of irritation and concern.

Butcher sighs, “There wasn’t a fuckin’ break in, calm down.”

Kimiko pads quietly around the room, subtly sniffing the air around MM and then Frenchie before moving toward you. She inhales above your head and grimaces, before moving to the side and taking a deep breath over the couch.

You shoot up from your seat and stumble toward the kitchen, “Me or the couch?”

She points at the sofa.

“Butcher,” MM says, his voice demanding, “explain before I slap your hungover ass.”

Its only then that you notice the two empty bottles of whiskey, one on the coffee table and one laying on the floor. You back up slowly toward the kitchen, a fresh wave of panic washing over you.

“Someone stopped by,” Butcher mutters into his hands, “that’s all.”

You reach the kitchen bench at the same time Kimiko does, still sniffing like a police dog, and her face twists into a disgusted frown. You startle again, jumping back from the bench as if it had burnt you.

“Care to elaborate?” MM presses.

Butcher sighs, and you can feel a lump growing in your throat.

“We all sleep here too, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “and we deserve to know if it is still safe to do so.”

“‘Course it’s fuckin’ safe,” Butcher says, finally turning his head to face the room. “Maeve came by, alrigh’? Just her, ‘n’ she had some information, so we had a chat and a drink. Is that alrigh’ with you nosey bastards?”

A weight drops in your stomach, anchoring you to the floor as moisture begins to blur your vision.

Kimiko stops sniffing when she reaches Butcher, cringing and stumbling several paces back until she is beside Frenchie.

“You slept with a Supe?” MM gasps.

Butcher huffs and pushes himself up from the chair, “No fuckin’ privacy with you lot, is there?”

MM raises his hands again, “Hey, I’m not judging, just shocked.”

Frenchie’s concern melts into taunting smirk, “No need to be defensive, Monsieur Charcutier, we all have our needs, and I am surprised that you managed to woo such a beautiful woman.”

“Fuck off, Frenchie,” Butcher sighs, dragging his feet toward the fridge.

Their voices blur into white noise as you focus on the slow inhale and exhale of your breath. You wriggle your toes in your boots, forcing yourself to feel your physical body instead of the whirlwind of emotions swirling through your head. It feels like your skull is fracturing with the effort that it takes to contain the storm, but you refuse to let your feelings win. You find a bottle and push them inside, jamming the cork in just as Frenchie snaps his fingers in front of your nose.

You blink, “What?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft crease between his brows.

“Yeah, sorry,” you blink again to quell your watery eyes, “what’s up?”

“Are you hungry?”

You glance over his shoulder at Butcher, his head in the fridge as he ignores MM’s demands to get out of the way.

“Not really,” you reply, “I was actually thinking about going back over to Annie’s, I think I forgot my… my socks.”

The concern between Frenchie’s brows deepens, “You forgot your socks?”

You nod, “My favourite socks.”

“Didn’t know you had favourite socks,” Butcher mumbles as he steps out of the kitchen.

“You don’t know a lot of things,” you state, plastering on a smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes.

You can feel their curious gazes on you as you turn, retrieving your wallet and keys from the couch before striding out of the apartment door without a second glance. You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Annie to let her know that you’re on your way before switching it to ‘do not disturb’ and zipping it inside your jacket pocket, determined to forget about it until you’ve got a handle on your emotions.

The sun is setting by the time you reach the familiar street on which Hughie and Annie’s apartment is located, and you’re rather proud of the fact that you managed to focus on nothing but your steady steps the whole way here. You look up at the brick building on your left, but instead of turning toward the front steps, your feet carrying you across the street toward the park, not stopping until you’re standing in front of an empty bench.

“Something wrong with that one?” a voice asks, and you startle toward the source of it.

A young man is standing beside you, clad in running shorts and a tight exercise jacket. He doesn’t look menacing, but your whole body tenses as your fight or flight instincts battle for dominance.

“I’m sorry?”

He chuckles, “The bench, I mean. You’re frowning at it as if it’s diseased or something.”

“Oh,” you look back at the moss-ridden seat, “no, I just- I don’t know.”

“Are you alright?”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and you let yourself relax, deciding that he isn’t a threat, just an overly friendly stranger.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you sigh, “just had a weird day.”

“That’s nothing to apologise for,” he says, sitting on the bench and looking up at you. “I know the feeling.”

You sit beside him, watching his side profile and slowly realising how attractive he is. His hair is cropped short, shorter than you usually liked, but his eyes are a stunning green and the faint shadow of stubble across his jaw is definitely something you can appreciate.

“Do you often approach strangers in the park?” you ask.

He laughs again, his eyes sparkling under the orange sky, “No, not really, especially not strangers as gorgeous as you.”

You blush at the ground, deciding to focus on your fraying shoelaces rather than the handsome stranger.

“But I figured,” he goes on, “that if I didn’t ask this pretty girl if she was okay, I might not be able to stop thinking about her for the rest of my life.”

You actually giggle, immediately cursing yourself for being so easy, “That’s a long time.”

“I know, right? I didn’t fancy the risk, and hey,” he smiles at you, “looks like it might have been worth it.”

“Maybe,” you smile back, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nate.”

You’re not sure if you’re an idiot or if you’ve just given up on your own personal safety, but you sit and talk to Nate until the sun is well below the horizon. You learn that he’s a journalist and a dog person, and lately he’s been more afraid of Supes than comforted by their presence. You tell him you’re a freelancer, because it isn’t technically a lie, and that you’re in between gigs at the moment but questioning whether you’re really doing what you want to be doing. Also, not a lie.

“I know that this is probably very forward,” he says, his knee bouncing nervously, “but did you want to come back to my place for a drink? I would suggest a bar, but I’m not really dressed for it, and I just get this feeling that as soon as we say goodbye, you’re going to disappear forever.”

You frown, “You’re a real long-term guy, aren’t you?”

His cheeks flush pink, “I don’t have to be.”

As you walk alongside the man you met mere hours ago, you come to the conclusion that you must be suicidal. In the current state that the world is in, who in their right mind goes home with a complete stranger? You, apparently.

His apartment isn’t far from the park, which is a little comforting, knowing that you will have a speedy escape to Annie’s place if this guy does end up being a psycho serial killer. The buildings all look the same as you approach a row of tall brick blocks, climbing the few concrete steps up to the lobby doors before scaling three flights to reach his apartment door.

It’s surprisingly well decorated inside, and you can eye a few expensive items that make you wonder if he really is a struggling journalist, or perhaps a shady underground arts dealer. You take a seat at the kitchen bench as he babbles about how crappy his landlord is and how much money he’s had to spend on the place to make it liveable. The glass of wine he places in front of you is gone within two gulps, and he happily pours you another.

“I feel like I probably should have asked this a few hours ago,” he says with a sheepish smile, “but you aren’t with anyone, are you? Engaged or married, or anything like that.”

You choke on your mouthful of cheap wine, coughing the burn away while he hurries to get you a glass of water.

“No,” you finally reply, “I’m not, at all.”

“Good,” he replies, his earnest grin returning, “I mean, it’s surprising because you’re incredible, but I’m glad.”

You offer him a smile that you hope appears coy and not at all forced before drinking down the rest of your second glass of wine. He moves into the lounge room, and you take the opportunity to pour yourself another generous glass, quickly swallowing the two mouthfuls left in the bottle while his back is still turned. You gingerly place the empty bottle in the sink before following him, dropping onto the soft leather couch as he turns on the television.

A news broadcast lights up the screen, and fiery images of a truck collision flash behind the breaking news banner that reads: ‘QUEEN MAEVE SAVES THE DAY’. Your stomach twists into a knot as the bottle of emotions you had managed to almost forget about begins to break, the glass fracturing and threatening to send you into a full-blown mental breakdown.

“Damn,” Nate sighs, “I know the Supes are pretty sketchy these days, but Queen Maeve is just gorgeous.”

With one last burning gulp of wine, you turn to the man beside you and take his head between your hands, crushing your lips against his. He gasps, but responds quickly, his hands finding your hips and guiding you onto his lap.

The rest of the night is a blur as you attempt to give all of your attention to this stranger that you barely know instead of confronting the green-eyed monster roaring in your belly. He finishes once on the couch, pretty quickly, but you’re not one to judge, before you drag him into the bedroom and away from the incessant news broadcasts of Queen Maeve’s heroic act.

It isn’t your alarm that wakes you, or the sound of Frenchie and MM arguing about how to cook eggs, but rather the unfamiliar scent that douses your breath. Your body trembles with anxiety and your eyes snap open, darting around the strange room as your thoughts scramble to remember how you got here.

“Fuck,” you sigh at the sound of someone snoring beside you.

You gently roll over and slip out of the sheets, cold air immediately nipping at your naked body. You find the nearest item of clothing and slip it over your head before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the lounge room. Nerves and hunger mingle inside of your stomach, making you overwhelmingly nauseous by the time you find your jacket thrown over the back of the couch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter as you retrieve your phone from the pocket.

Dozens of missed calls and text messages fill your lock screen, several from Annie and Frenchie, a couple from Hughie and MM, but the majority of them listed under Butcher’s contact name, ‘Big Willy’. You thought it was funny a few days ago.

You quickly text Annie that you’re okay, you’re incredibly sorry, and that you’ll fill her in as soon as you see her. You find your jeans and wriggle into them before finding your panties and tucking them into your back pocket. You scoop your bra and your shirt off the floor on your way to the kitchen, and check your phone again for a reply from Annie. Nothing yet.

You drink the glass of untouched water from the kitchen bench before splashing your face and trying to calm the vibration of nerves coursing through your body.

“Hey.”

You startle at the sudden voice, turning to find Nate in nothing but sweatpants as he emerges from the bedroom.

“Hey,” you murmur.

He frowns, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-I’m fine, just- uh, my friends have been calling me,” you gesture to your phone, “and they’re pretty worried.”

“Oh,” he lets out a long breath, “I didn’t even hear it ringing last night.”

You smile weakly, not bothering to explain that you were intentionally avoiding your phone all afternoon.

He steps forward, “So, did you-”

The apartment door bursts open, splinters of wood scattering across the floor as you squeal and Nate jumps away from the blow. Your heart is racing, but your body reacts as it was trained to do, and you dive for a knife from the block beside the stove before freezing as you recognise the figure stalking through the broken door.

“Butcher,” you say, “what the fuck?”

His head snaps toward you, the crease between his brows softening and his eyes looking almost vulnerable as realises that it’s you.

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you and why did you just break my door?” Nate speaks up.

Your stomach sinks as Butcher’s attention is turned toward the shirtless man, murderous intent returning to his face.

“Who the fuck am I?” he spits, “Who the fuck are you?”

Nate looks tiny compared to Butcher, his narrow frame absolutely dwarfed by Butcher’s broad height and intimidating stance.

“I-I’m Nate,” the smaller man says, “and this is my apartment, that’s my door that you just destroyed.”

“Yeah?” Butcher taunts, stalking forward, “An’ what’re you gon’a do ‘bout it?”

Nate looks at you, his eyes frantic and begging for help.

“Butcher, calm down, he’s-”

“Calm down?” he whirls toward you, “You want me to fuckin’ calm down?!”

“Hey, man,” Nate says, “we can talk, you don’t have to-”

“Nate,” you put your hand up, “I’m sorry, but please shut up.”

“Nate,” Butcher repeats mockingly, “if you value your life, I’d listen to ‘er.”

You drop the knife on the bench, “Butcher, can we just leave, please?”

“You don’t get to make any requests right now, sweethear’,” he says, taking a heavy step toward you, “not after the shit you put me through for the past twelve fuckin’ hours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls sarcastically, “maybe ‘bout the fact that you fuckin’ disappeared! You didn’t answer your damn phone, didn’t tell anyone where you fuckin’ were! I got a call from Hughie askin’ if you were back home, ‘cause you texted Annie ‘n’ told her you were comin’, but didn’t fuckin’ show up!”

A pebble of guilt drops into your stomach, but you ignore it, squaring up to him with a scowl.

“So?” you shrug, “I’m an adult, I can do as I fucking please.”

“Not without tellin’ me!” he exclaims, “Not if I don’t know where you fuckin’ are or if you’re even fuckin’ alive!”

“You’re not my fucking father, Butcher!” you shout back, feeling another fissure in the bottle of emotions. “I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission to live my own fucking life!”

His jaw twitches, a tidal wave of emotion crashing through his eyes all too quickly for you to try and discern any of them.

“A-Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?” Nate asks timidly.

You and Butcher turn to him in unison, exclaiming at the same time, “No!”

A beat of silence passes, and Butcher’s glare doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath to try and sooth the storm of frustration threatening to consume you.

“Butcher,” you say softly, “can we please leave?”

His head snaps back toward you, his eyes scanning your body as they fill with realisation.

“Did you fuck her?” he asks, turning back to Nate.

He doesn’t respond, his mouth hanging open as he takes several steps back.

“You gon’a answer me?”

“Butcher,” you say again, “cut it out.”

He takes another menacing step toward Nate, “I asked you a question.”

“W-We slept together, yes,” Nate stammers.

The laugh that leaves Butcher’s lips is chilling, sounding almost mad.

“Oh, pardon my French,” he says, “perhaps I should’a asked if you made sweet fuckin’ love to this gorgeous woman right ‘ere.”

“For fuck’s sake!” you shout, “Stop it, stop whatever the fuck this is, and let’s just fucking go!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you fuckin’ disappeared so you could hide out with this fuckin’ twat?” Butcher exclaims, “You let me worry myself fuckin’ sick so you could get a lousy fuck?”

The bottle explodes, shards of glass cutting you from the inside and sending white hot waves of frustration and anger, and despair rolling through your body.

“I can fuck whoever I want, Butcher!” you scream, startled by the volume of your own voice.

His eyes narrow, but his lips don’t move.

“And you can fuck whoever the fuck you want,” you spit, “obviously.”

You snatch your phone off the bench and stomp toward the door, turning to Nate with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, about… this.”

You continue down the hall and the three flights of stairs, not bothering to check if Butcher is following until you’re outside. The temperature is significantly lower than it was yesterday, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you show it as Butcher strides past you toward the car haphazardly parked at the curb.

You climb into the passenger’s seat, sitting as close as you can to the door and hugging your clothes against your chest as you stare out the window. Tears fill your eyes, your nose growing hot and your cheeks undoubtedly red as you use every ounce of self-control you still have to stave of the inevitable. All you need to do is make it home and make it to your bedroom, and then you can cry. You can curl up with your face in your pillow and sob, and admit that you’re jealous, that you’re hurt, and that you love a man who doesn’t even understand the meaning of that word anymore.

“You look like shit,” he grunts.

You sniffle, keeping your face turned away from him, “So do you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get much fuckin’ sleep,” he says as the car comes to a halt, “I was up all night worryin’ ‘bout whether or not you were fuckin’ alive.”

“Well, I didn’t get much sleep either,” you retort, before pushing the passenger door open and stumbling out.

You hear the car door slam as you hurry up the stairs and into the building, taking the steps two at a time until you reach the apartment door. To your great relief, it’s unlocked, and you let yourself in before Butcher has even made it into the hallway.

“Oh, my goodness, mon amour,” Frenchie gasps, “you’re alive! You’re okay… are you okay?”

You don’t realise your crying until you try to look at him, your vision blurred by heavy tears as they fall in fat droplets down your cheeks.

MM steps forward, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, “I’m fine, I was with a-a friend.”

“A friend?” Butcher echoes, the door slamming behind him.

Your blood sizzles in your veins, heated by the overwhelming frustration coiling in your chest.

“How the fuck did you know where I was?” you demand, spinning around to face him.

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you have my fucking phone bugged?”

Butcher blows a long breath out of his nose, the thick vein in his neck throbbing under his red skin. “Look,” he says, “I know that whatever the fuck just happened wasn’t ideal, but why can’t you fuckin’ see this from my point of view?”

“Our point of view,” MM corrects, “we were all worried.”

“I get that!” you exclaim, “I fucking understand that, but what I don’t understand is why Butcher is still acting like such a fucking cunt. You can see that I’m fine! I’m alive, so what’s your problem?”

“What’s your problem?” he snaps, “Why didn’t you answer your fuckin’ phone? Why didn’t you tell anyone where you fuckin’ were? And why the fuck did you go home with a complete fuckin’ stranger?”

“Oh, shit,” Frenchie murmurs.

“Maybe I just needed a fucking break.”

The room falls quiet, the only sound being Frenchie’s soft footsteps as he backs away. You use the clothes in your arms to wipe the fresh fall of tears from your cheeks and try to ease your shaky breaths as you wait for another onslaught of reprimands.

Butcher sighs, “Go shower.”

“What?”

“You need to shower,” he says, stepping forward.

You frown, “Why?”

“You look like shit, and you sm-” he stops himself, pausing when you take a small step back.

“I look like shit and I smell,” you finish for him, “thanks, Butcher.”

You drag your feet toward the bathroom, dropping your clothes on the floor and staring at your wrecked face in the mirror. Your hair is a mess and your face is blotchy and red, with streaks of black painting your cheeks. The shirt hanging loosely from your shoulders is unfamiliar, and something akin to disgust settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Give me your clothes,” Butcher says as he appears in the reflection behind you.

“Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”

He sighs, “I’m tryin’ to help.”

“I don’t want your fucking help,” you turn to him and lean against the vanity, “go offer it to someone else. I’m sure Maeve would love to see your fucking name pop up on her phone.”

His frown disappears, and you can feel the air shift. Fuck. Now you’ve done it. The shards of glass sticking you from the inside have cut right through your chest, slicing it open as your ribcage cracks and unfolds, presenting your pathetic heart to the man who already held it in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back with determination.

“I-Is that what this is-” he struggles for words, running his hands through his hair, “for fuck’s sake, Y/N.”

Your breath comes and goes in short gasps, the lump in your throat crushing your windpipe as it demands to be felt.

“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims, before taking one step forward and slamming the bathroom door shut.

Fear sparks through you, and you whimper, “Butcher, please don’t-”

Before you can finish, he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a vice hold as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You sob into his shirt, tremors wracking your exhausted body as every bit of fear and frustration tears you apart from the inside. You’re not sure how you let yourself get this emotional. Maybe it’s the fact that the world is falling apart, and you’re supposed to act like you’re ready to save it? Or maybe it’s because you’re fucking tired of having everything you love ripped away from you, every chance you think you might have at happiness taken from you by the cunts in the sky who call themselves ‘Superheroes’.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

The turbulence inside of you quells simply because you finally acknowledged it, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Butcher,” you croak, looking up at him through tear laced lashes, “kiss me?”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts it up, leaning in to meet you the rest of the way before his lips brush yours. It’s hesitant and soft, barely a touch, and he pulls away too soon.

“You need to shower.”

“Oh,” you try to wriggle out of his arms, but they’re too strong.

“I can smell that fuckin’ twat all over you,” he growls, “an’ it’s makin’ me fuckin’ sick.”

Realisation slaps you across the face, giving you the strength to remember how to hold yourself up as he pulls away. His fingers curl into the material at the neck of your shirt, ripping it apart right down the middle before pushing it off your shoulders and tossing it on the floor.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and the air in the room shifts again, now thick with a tension that has your heart throbbing in anticipation. Your mind races, your thoughts riding rollercoasters as you struggle to catch up with his fast hands. Your jeans are unbuttoned and pooled around your ankles in less than a second, and he takes another moment to devour your naked body before moving to turn on the shower.

You stumble out of your jeans as he quickly sheds his own clothes before wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you under the warm stream of water and holds your body against his, the feeling of his bare skin making your head spin. He takes the bottle of bodywash from the small shelf and pops the cap with one hand, turning it upside down and squirting a ridiculous amount all over your chest and his.

You giggle and he grins, returning the bottle to the shelf before crushing his lips against yours. The soap makes your skin slide against his in the most delicious way and you can feel your core clench, eliciting a wanton moan from your open mouth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and claiming you with hungry, sloppy kisses.

“Didn’t think you’d be jealous,” he murmurs against your mouth, “didn’t think you fuckin’ cared about me.”

You slide your hands across his bare shoulders and behind his neck, finding purchase in his wet hair and tugging gently as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that you have.

“I do care,” you sigh when his lips leave yours to lap at your neck, “I am fucking jealous.”

“Sweethear’,” he whispers, his hands moving to your breasts, “you’ve got nothin’ to be fuckin’ jealous ‘bout.”

His mouth leaves your skin as he turns you to face the wall, pressing his body against your back before pushing you into the tiled wall. You gasp first at the sudden cold, and then at the feeling of him grinding himself against your ass.

“I’m yours,” he growls, his lips against your shoulder, “always fuckin’ have been.”

You still manage to speak despite the pleasure of him threatening to overwhelm you. “Then why?”

One hand wraps gently around your throat while the other splays across your lower belly, teasing the place just below that aches for his touch.

“‘Cause I never fuckin’ dreamed that I’d have you,” he says, his lips at your ear now.

You reach back with one hand, holding the nape of his neck as you turn so that your mouth can meet his in a messy kiss.

“You’ve always had me,” you murmur, “I belonged to you the day I met you.”

His hips buck against your ass, pressing you against the wall and making you whimper.

“You’re mine,” he says, moving back just enough for you to turn around.

You nod as you lean down to kiss his neck. Your tongue laving at his wet skin before your teeth sink in and he hisses, one hand squeezing your hip as the other smacks against the tiled wall.

“All yours.”

You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back enough for you to drop to your knees, your hands trailing down his body until they reach his hips. You dig your fingers in and look up at him through your wet lashes.

“Show me who I belong to.”

END.

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