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geminiwritten · 1 year

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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

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raz-writes-the-thing · 5 months

Text

Something New (The Boys Drabble)

Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: Slapping Billy doesn't go the way you think it would.

CW: slapping, rough sex, name calling

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

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

It wasn't necessarily an accident, but it wasn't on purpose either. Billy had been up in your face for the last twenty minutes telling you what a filthy whore you were for him with his dick buried balls-deep in your cunt. He was that mean kind of dominant that you lived for deep down— your best well-kept secret.

But he was getting a little too mean, a little too cocky, and you'd slapped him. Not hard, mind you. Just a little wake-up call to snap him out of it. And the look he'd given you? Sent chills of pleasure down your spine. He stopped thrusting to look at you, a wide, massive predatory grin spreading over his features.

"That's how you want to play, eh, love?" Punctuated with a brutal thrust right into your g-spot. "You slap like a girl. Do it again. Harder."

Your hitched breath had given way to a yelp at that hard thrust, and that cocky glint in his eye had you clenching around him tight. You slapped him again, a little harder this time. Billy shook his head and tutted comically with his tongue.

“You call tha’ a slap, do y’ah? Pathetic.”

You grunted with frustration, but the harsh slap to your clit that he gave you stopped that right in its tracks. You slapped him once more, hard. He groaned, eyelids fluttering with pleasure.

“That’s more fucking like it, love,” he growled, gripping you by the hips and slamming inside you over and over, not caring about the way your entire body began to shake with the pleasure of your oncoming orgasm.

“Once more love, eh? One more and you can fucking cum like the pathetic little whore you are,” he grunted, panting and fucking himself into you so harshly you were worried about bruising on your lips. Not that you could really think about the ramifications of that behind the fuckdumb haze clouding your thoughts.

Between your pants and mewls of pleasure, you managed to land one more hard slap to his cheek and Billy snapped, surging forward to bite down on the join between your neck and shoulder almost hard enough to draw blood.

His hips jack-hammered against your cunt and between the relentless stimulation of your g-spot and the bite on your shoulder, you came. Roiling waves of pleasure made you scream out his name, your body jerking like a pornstar possessed.

You couldn’t control the way you moaned and jerked against him, and when he finally pulled his teeth off your shoulder, his eyes were practically black with desire.

“My little fuckslut, eh? Yeah, tha’s right. You know what you are,” he grunted, pressing a hand down on your chest as he got closer to his own orgasm. “Been fucked absolutely fucking dumb, haven’t you?”

You nodded mindlessly, overstimulation starting to set in.

And then he finally came, his chest rumbling as he fucked his cum into you. His head rolled back with pleasure as he finally let go, and the way his fingers squeezed against your chest had you grunting too.

Fuck, you think you’ve discovered something new about yourself today.

And possibly something new about Billy, too.

#the boys #the boys x reader #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #butcher #butcher x reader #billy butcher smut #butcher smut #butcher x reader smut #billy butcher x reader smut #amazon the boys

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deanoheartspie · 6 months

Note

hi:) can you please do soldier boy x reader where reader is from Butcher's team and very shy and kinda afraid of soldier boy and one night when everyone is sleeping she is awake (in her fluffy pyjamas which soldier boy finds cute) and eating she realizes soldier boys shield is there and starts examining/touching it AND of course suddenly soldier boy is right behind her so she gets scared but he makes jokes etc so they start talking

Well aren't you cute

Pairing: Y/n fem! x Soldier boy

Warnings: none.

A/n: feel free to send me more asks! I hope I did well!

Y/n had been with Butcher for a few months, working along his side with a few others like Hughie. Butcher complained and cussed as he wondered how they'd possibly take down Homlander little did he know what was coming.

••••

Next thing Y/n knew she was sitting in a motel quietly watching the news when Butcher and Hughie walked in with no other than Soldier Boy... “Well well, what do we have here... A cute lady it seems” the man states with a teasing smirk, her ears red and she turns off the TV disappearing off to the bathroom to hide out.

The woman was never good at being around new people, it made her nervous and shy so sometimes she needed a moment to herself to ease the nerves. When she came out she was dressed in her favorite pink fluffy pajamas that kept her nice in warm in shitty motels such as this one.

Butcher and Hughie were nowhere in sight, they had sent her a text that they had separate motel rooms but that she was in charge of Soldier Boy. She didn't see the man around so she assumed he was tucked away in bed, so digging through her backpack she pulled some snacks out and watched TV. The sound of her bag rustling, chatter coming from the screen of people trying to guess the answers on a game show that was rigged when she heard footsteps behind her causing the woman to freeze.

“Seems like you know how to dress for a party” He snickered, looking her up and down in all honesty he found the pajama set fitting and overall cute since that was exactly what she was.

She blushed and pulled her hands out of the chip bag ripping her hands on some napkins, she didn't say a single word to him but she couldn't help but notice the shield proped up against the bed. “Woah...” the details on the shield were beautiful, she's never been this close to something like this before and honestly? It was pretty cool, it was quite heavier then she thought it would be.

“How did you carry this all the time?” she softly asks her eyes sparkling curiosity.

“Theres handle on the back of it sweetcheeks.” Ben lifts it up like it weighs nothing, which it most likely wasn't heavy at all for him.

As they night went on, the tv was still playing in the background as they both cuddled in the bed while she tried her hardest to explain technology to him, it was not going very well.

“This shit is stupid. Why make everything harder then it needs to be?” Ben huffed out trying to figure out how to work an iPhone.

“You can ask all the rich people that” she whispered with a slight shrug.

•••••

“Good night sweetcheeks.”

#soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy #butcher x reader #hughie x reader #billy butcher #hughie campbell #jensen ackles #the boys amazon

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 9 months

Text

Fixing Bad Dreams

masterlist

summary: without even realizing, you’ve been using your powers to turn butcher’s bad dreams into good ones.

pairing: billy butcher x female supe!reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, talk of sex

timeline: set after season 3

gif source

When Butcher had realized you were a Supe, obviously his first thought was that he had to kill you. But he soon realized you weren’t like the others. Not in a “oh she’s still a good person” way, but in a “wow she’s fucking weak, she’s basically still human” way. It was true. Essentially all you could do was send telepathic messages to people. That was it. (You also had a slight healing factor, but even that wasn’t very strong.) You couldn’t read minds, you couldn’t move things with your mind, you were barely a Supe.

Or, maybe he was just trying to justify sleeping with you. Whether he’d admit it or not, he really liked sleeping with you. Not just the sex, he liked physically sleeping next to you. With you. He’d sleep best when it was next to you. He wouldn’t wake up in a cold sweat, he wouldn’t have nightmares about watching his wife die bloody.

Most of the time, you woke up before him. You’d find his shirt from the night before and put it on, along with your panties if you could find them. Although, Butcher tended to rip your more delicate ones.

As you tiptoed around the room looking for where he had thrown your underwear you heard him mumble something in his sleep. You hurried next to him, his brows furrowed as he clenched the sheets in tight fists.

You held his cheek, bent down, and kissed his forehead. That always calmed him right down, you didn’t know why. And it did just that; he unclenched his fists, unfurrowed his brows, and let out a soft breath of air.

You smiled at the thought. The great William Butcher like forehead kisses in his sleep. That’s what calmed him down.

He stirred awake shortly after, seeing you looking around the room still.

“Mornin’ love,” He yawned. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

“Good morning,” You smiled and walked over to him, taking a seat on the bed. “You sleep okay?” You ran a hand through his hair then down his cheek, stopping to bend down and kiss him sweetly.

“Great, love,” He smiled. “Was havin’ a bit of a nightmare but it turned into us making out in the office the other day.”

“Really?” You furrowed your brows a little.

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh…no reason,” You shook your head a little.

“So, what were you looking for?” He asked, intentionally changing the subject.

“Where the hell did you throw my panties last night?” You asked, turning to glance around the room. He reached under his pillow and pulled out what you’d been looking for.

“I may have hid ‘em so you’d make me breakfast without wearin’ ‘em,” He smirked.

“All you had to do was ask,” You smiled. You leaned down and kissed him again before you stood up. “Bacon and eggs ‘ll be ready in a few minutes, come meet me in the kitchen?”

“I’ll be right there.”

“You seem to be in a good mood this morning,” Butcher chuckled a few days later. You walked up to him cooking pancakes, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Smells amazing,” You hummed. You got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

As you sat down at the table you let out a soft laugh.

“Okay, seriously, why’re you in such a good mood?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You shrugged.

“Cause the A/C stopped working halfway through the night and we both lost a good two hours of sleep?” He raised a brow.

“Remember last summer? We went to that water park with Hughie and the others after the tests came back negative and you were cancer free?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He turned to look at you fully, suddenly very interested in each word you said.

“After the A/C went out I had the best, most intense dream about it! I mean, the smell of the chlorine in the wave pool, the sound of those birds that kept trying to take your fries, everything!”

“Huh…I’ll be fuckin’ damned,” Butcher mumbled, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“What?”

“Nothin’ love, I remember that day too.”

Grass so green it looked fake, the sky so blue and clouds so perfect it all looked like a Bob Ross painting. Birds chirped in the trees as Butcher dipped down and kissed you again.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” He smiled. He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, under your floral dress.

A picnic in the park with William Butcher. A fucking dream come true.

The cruel sound of the alarm jolted you awake. Butcher stretched his arm out and over you, hitting the snooze button.

“Perfect fucking timing,” He grumbled. “I think I was about to get lucky.”

“Me too, actually,” You laughed a little. “Guess we’ll have to make it up to each other.”

“Hey, let’s eat breakfast outside,” Butcher suggested.

“You hate eating outside?” You laughed a little. You took a sip of your coffee as you watched Butcher cook breakfast.

“Don’t be silly! On occasion, picnics can be fun!”

“P-Picnics?” You furrowed your brows. “What gave you that idea?”

“Just a dream I had.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Were you putting thoughts in his head? Messing with his dreams enough that it influenced his life when he was awake? How else were you messing with his head?

“Earth to Y/n!” Butcher pulled you out of your head.

“Huh?”

“I said food’s ready. Now, c’mon, get off your ass and eat outside with me.”

“Okay,” You smiled, hiding how worried you actually were.

You followed him out to the balcony overlooking the busy city.

“So what was your dream?” He asked when you both sat down at the outside table.

“Wh-What dream?” You asked.

“Remember? We both woke up to the alarm, both said we were about to get lucky in our dreams, and then we had earth-shattering morning sex. So, what was your dream?”

“I- I don’t really remember it…now all I’m thinking about is the earth-shattering morning sex,” You smirked a little.

“Ah ha!” He matched your expression, but added a sense of pride. “That’s my job, love.”

“Butcher, we need to talk,” You said later that night. He was ready for bed and already under the covers.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows knitted with concern.

“I- I don’t think I sh-should sleep with you anymore,” You replied, tears in your eyes.

“You’re breaking up with me? Why?”

“No! I- I fucking love you and that why I need to get as far away from you as fucking possible!”

“Y/n, you’re not makin’ any sense,” He got out of bed and walked up to you. You backed away from him, shaking your head.

“I- I’ve been- I think I’ve been messing with your h-head somehow,” You let the tears fall. “Not on purpose, I swear! But I- I’ve been controlling your dreams, so who knows how else I’ve been controlling you!”

“I know about the dreams.”

“What?”

“I figured it out a couple weeks ago. You were going into detail about a dream you had the night before, and it was the same dream I had.”

“Why didn’t you say something! Butcher I could be completely controlling you! You probably don’t even really want to fucking be here! Fuck!” You put your hands on your head.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to act how you’re acting right now. I knew you weren’t doing it on purpose, otherwise you wouldn’t have told me your dream.”

“B-But what if…”

“What if what, Y/n? You really think you could accidentally force me to love you?” He took a few steps closer to you, this time you didn’t back away. You nodded. “Alright, how ‘bout this. Right now, try your absolute hardest to make me do something.” He put his hands on your shoulders and touched his forehead to yours. “Go on, use your powers on me.”

“I’m trying!” You exclaimed. You really were, but he was right; you weren’t nearly strong enough to mind-control someone. You let out a breath of relief. “Fuck, that would’ve been a fucking nightmare!”

“Well, good thing that’s your specialty then, love. Turning nightmares into the best fuckin’ dreams I could ask for.”

“I love you, Butcher,” You smiled and he did the same.

“I love ya, too,” He mumbled as he kissed your lips.

#the boys #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #the boys fanfic #the boys fluff #billy butcher #billy butcher x you #the boys tv #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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plum-writes · 7 months

Text

Black Noir x Piano!Player!Reader

Summary: Black Noir is known for having a knack of taking over the piano when anyone from your agency is sent to play for Vought. You’ve been warned of this, and although you have played for Vought before, you’ve never come across the mysterious hero. Something you are very grateful for. But your luck can only last for so long.

A/n: this baby doesn’t get enough love so I had to write something xx

Your fingers were on autopilot as they played the music for the prestigious party. Your ears mindlessly listened to the gossip and conversations around you as you played. The music was rather somber, the conversations consisting of information you’d rather not ever know, and no one was really paying attention otherwise to the notes you played. No one ever did, really.

The music at these Vought parties served as a filler. It was there to ward off any awkward moments, and fill a light vibe in the air between the many governing officials that more or less put up fake appearances when interacting with each other. It was just background noise to the dull, materialistic atmosphere that surrounded the party. You had done this same routine every time you were scheduled to play for Vought, and almost every time things went the same.

You got hired to play at a party by Vought for 5 hours, sitting all night long at the piano, and had a 30 minute break in between your hours. The same routine you followed whenever you were booked by Vought. No one came to check up on you throughout the party, or really make sure you were playing the music, and you were in charge of making sure you didn’t skip your break.

So it wouldn’t hurt to kick things up a bit now, would it? Not like anyone would notice, or more likely care, would they?

Your fingers fluidly transferred the slow melody into an upbeat one, your hands now dancing over the keys instead of gliding over them, a jubilant tune washing over the party. You let a little smile break your professional exterior, and your rod straight posture used when playing, relaxed slightly. As expected, no one turned around at the change of the music, too invested in their conversations to notice or care. And a little selfishly, you preferred it this way.

You played on and on, taking this opportunity to practice some music you had been rehearsing on your downtime, those moments being the only times where you spared a glance towards Madelyn Stilwell and the other Vought officials, seeing if they noticed you weren’t playing the pieces of music they requested of you. Of course, they didn’t even so much as twitch their heads in your direction, and your posture relaxed some more, this comfort allowing you to play the unapproved music for longer than what was allowed. But no harm, no foul right? No one noticed you going off script, so why not take advantage. If only you knew about the hidden eyes that were watching you from the shadows.

After about an hour of passing the time indulging yourself, you fell into the light flow of music again and went back to the scheduled sheets of music. You huffed slightly, a little disappointed at having to quit the lively tunes, but keeping the self satisfied little smile plastered on your face as you played on. After all, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to play something else other than the same 12 melodies.

So yet again, you fell into the muscle memory of the notes, eyes glazing over in the disassociation that came with doing a repetitive action, mindlessly humming the notes lowly to yourself. So blissfully oblivious and unassuming of your surroundings at the time. So when looking back at this moment in the future, you would want to slap yourself for not noticing the approaching figure that had snuck up next to you. Because you really should’ve with how many times you had been warned.

You quickly choked on your hum when you felt the weight of someone else sit down next to you on the bench, and your ghost of a smile immediately vanished when you spotted the black combat boots placed closely to your own black professional shoes.

You knew exactly who it was.

How couldn’t you?

He was somewhat infamous to you piano players who were always scheduled for Vought. The many tales of Black Noir’s taking over the piano when someone was playing for the party was one too many. Thomas, a man who played for Vought more than you, warned you many times about Black Noir’s tendencies.

“Aye, he has a knack for sitting down next to you, and just waiting for you to leave.”

You swallowed to yourself now, hating how you were in the same position right this second, your body quickly feeling a buzz that urged you to run. The only thing stopping you was the memory of the next words Thomas had told you.

“Don’t fight him on the piano if it ever happens to you, lass.” His face was uncharacteristically serious, dulled down with a grim expression, his Scottish accent losing the playful hitch it always had. It scared you a bit, quite honestly, never having seen Thomas act this way.

You had tilted your head at Thomas then, looking down, and thinking about it at the time. Of course, you would never fight Noir on the piano if he had ever done what he had done to every other piano player that played for Vought. You were so scared of the advantage supes had on you that you equated fighting any average C-List supe to fighting Homelander. But the way Thomas talked about it, holding a more serious tone rather than a bitter one of having to give away their working time just cause a supe demanded gave you a more chilling feeling than anything about them.And when Thomas had continued, it just solidified your thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter if he butts in just two hours after you started playing, and you don’t get paid for the rest of the night- It’s better not to cause any problems at Vought, lassie.”

God, did you ever agree with Thomas right now more than you ever have before.

You were tense, so tense next to Back Noir, playing with a rigid frame, and resolutely keeping your eyes on the sheet of music in front of you even though you didn’t even need to read it. Your heart was beating fast and you wondered minutely if he could hear it before scratching that thought out of your brain, and finishing the rest of the notes of the melody. The keys faded out, the music slowly dying, and you rested your hands on the keys for a few more moments after the song ended before raising them up. There was another beat of silence as you sat impeccably still, and his eyes burned the side of your face.

You turned towards him with a stiff neck, heart jumping at seeing him already looking at you. It made your hands tremble, and you clenched yours fists tight as you forced the words out of your mouth as you gestured to the piano with a small flick of your eyes. “I- it’s all yours, sir.”

You got up, trying not to make it obvious that you were in a haste to leave and at the same time trying to get the fuck away from him as fast as possible, but a gloved hand gripping your wrist had you paralyzed again.

Your breath stopped. Why? You screamed to yourself. This never happened to anyone else, Black Noir always let them leave without any struggle, what is so different about now??

You gave a trembling gasp, and turned towards Black Noir calmly. You gave him what you hoped was an inquisitive look, but you knew yourself too well to know it was anything but. Especially because he was looking at you dead in the eyes, his black mask creating an unnerving stare that you tried your best to meet. Your head snapped down at his hand that gently placed a little piece of paper on the piano keys.

‘keep playing’

You felt your breath slowly release itself, and you looked towards him again. He was still staring at you in the same way as before, but this time you felt a little less threatened.

It’s okay, it’s okay, he didn’t threaten you, and there’s too many witnesses for him to do something, right?

After a few moments of calming yourself you slowly nodded at him, your once fleeting stance relaxing some. He released his hold on your wrist, and you turned towards the keys immediately with a seat, sitting down a few more inches away from him. Your body felt a bit more grounded, and face turning more composed. Your heart was still racing, but one glance towards the person next to you let you know that he could honestly care less about that. Just play, that’s all you have to do and then he’ll leave you alone. With another deep breath that you would later chastise yourself for being so obvious, your hands started pressing down on the keys, and you resumed playing the songs Vought gave you. Though, the melody hardly went past the first eight notes because you quickly stopped when a hand reached out to grab your wrist again, this time harder to stop your from playing. You abruptly stopped with a fearful gasp, and harsh press of the keys that had some people glancing over before they looked away again.

You internally screamed to yourself, knowing that if Noir suddenly decided that he didn’t want to be so calm, no one would come to your help. You don’t allow yourself to know much about supes, but you know that they get away with almost anything.

Your head snapped up at him, and you couldn’t even hide the fear written all over your face if you tried. He placed another note next to your hands.

‘Play what you were playing before’

What the fuck? You desperately thought to yourself, immediately racking your brain for what he could mean. Is he talking about the song I played before he told me to sit back down-?

‘Not the Vought songs Play from before’

You had a look of realization on your face before you looked up at him again. He was looking at you straight in the eyes, and you felt your cheeks flush for just a second.

He heard you playing your other songs??

You felt like crawling under a rock, because dammit you thought no one had noticed you indulging in your guilty pleasure of being unnoticed at these parties to stray off script- something that would surely get you in the hot seat since Vought was notorious to always making sure everyone was sticking to directions. Instead, you swallowed the newfound terror stick in your throat and, nodded once again and turned back to the keys.

You were still so tense, your heart was still beating against your chest like a sledgehammer and you felt the weight of Black Noir’s presence weighing so heavily on your head that it felt impossible to play right now. But even so, you forced yourself to.

Your hands started dancing over the keys again, and the only reprieve you felt in this suffocating situation was that you had to focus more intently on the notes since they came from memory, and it helped you ignore the person sitting next to you. As time passed, you got more and more comfortable, and you eventually fell into a steady rhythm, transitioning into the different melodies with more emotion now. Everything started to feel a bit more natural, and a little less forced.

Next to you, you noticed how Noir leaned his head back slightly, sitting up almost as rod straight as you were, hands resting on his thighs as he slightly swayed his head to the music. You could see him tapping his fingers along to the notes on his thighs, almost as if he were playing on the keys and not you. He was listening to the music. He was listening to you play the music.

It made you more nervous than you’d like to feel right now.

Especially when people started now glancing at you two.

You could imagine the picture you two made, with Noir clearly enjoying the music with a lax posture, and you with your rigid one, fingers flying over the keys with your pale face. You would’ve laughed with how comical and absurd this all was if you weren’t solely involved in this.

You’re grateful when Madelyn Stillwell comes over and puts on her PR smile, informing Black Noir that he is needed for a charity event, notably meeting your eyes when she says this.

Yes, yes, take him. I won’t keep him from you.

You keep playing as she tells him, just lightly pressing down on the keys so as to not play over their conversation, eyes resolutely staying away from them. You do feel Black Noir turn towards you, his eye grazing your side profile, and you try not to look up once again.

“C’mon, Noir. I’m sure you’ll see her very soon again, we don’t want to bother her any longer.” Madelyn’s voice carry’s over you like a cold chill, making you shudder and clench your jaw even tighter.

She talks about you like you’re not even there, and she talks to Noir like a child- no. More like a dog, you conclude. Her mother knows best tone grates on your nerves, and you can hear the demanding undertone it carry’s when she talks to him.

You don’t know why you feel for him at this moment, why you feel for all supes that have to always be on a tight schedule for publicity. It doesn’t last long when you remember they’re supes and will always have more privileges than you and everyone else you know.

So you’re not too torn up when Noir gets up, and turns to follow Ms. Stillwell. They both leave you alone at the piano, playing with tense fingers and not even bothering to care about the timing you come in nor about how you press the keys too harshly and lightly at some points. You’re finally able to breathe, able to relax without a killing machine sitting next to you.

You’d say you’re allowed some leverage on your poor playing.

You sneak a look at the clock on your wrist, and finally let out your shuddering sigh of relief.

Only two more hours, and you can go home.

Only two more hours.

Once the two hour mark hits, you’re closing up with a small, light melody. One that you admittedly rush through, and as soon as the last note hits, you don’t wait for it to reverberate all the way before you’re closing the lid of the piano and getting up. You push in the bench, and straighten your work suit as you rush to the exit doors.

You walk briskly to it, smiling quickly, and nodding your appreciation to the few people who half meaninglessly praise your playing. You open the doors of the room with a desperate push, greeting the muted hallway like it’s your savior.

You feel so much better already.

You go to the elevator, and as the doors are closing you don’t know why you expect Black Noir to come out at this moment, but you do. You’ve been feeling it ever since he sat down next to you, expecting him to influence a preemptive event after all this, and you wait with baited breath as the doors close. Your stomach is turning in anxiety and fear, and you’re just waiting for the moment he comes in and- shit, you don’t even know- kill you or something. It’s something you’d most expect to happen at these Vought parties.

You were paid to much attention to to not have something happen, right?

The doors close without any interruption, though, and you go down to the bottom floor alone without anything happening. You immediately walk outside when you reach your designated floor, not wanting to push your luck. You don’t heed the front desk clerk who is wishing you a good night, feeling a bit rude but needing to get home as soon as possible.

You get in your car and practically race home, driving a little over the speeding limit, and swerving your turns. When you reach your house, the porch light still on, and nothing looking too disturbed, you park in the driveway and sit in your car for a few moments in the dark.

This is when you feel like you can breathe.

When you wake up the next morning, you feel a bit better. When you had came home last night you reasoned to yourself that things weren’t really as bad as it had felt in the moment. I mean, Noir could’ve done a lot worse, couldn’t he? And he would’ve if he wanted to surely, maybe he just really liked your playing and that’s why he decided to stay by your side for who knows how long. You got lucky, luckier than most anyone you knew.

So when you sit at your table, little dog rubbing by your feet, and a steaming cup of coffee blowing against your face, you don’t feel lucky when you open your phone and see new text messages in your box from multiple people. There’s one from Thomas, one from your hard ass boss, and one from an unknown number. They all vary in tones that an anxiety fueled pit twists your stomach. You open them before you can think, hoping that reading this messages will calm your cramping stomach. It doesn’t.

Thomas: Lassie, what’d you do?? Everyone’s going bonkers right now

Giovanni Cruz(boss): You must’ve made quite the impression at Vought. Good job, this is the type of work I’m expecting.

Impression? Your stomach dropped, and you looked at the message from the unknown number, seeing part of it in the little notification box. Before you can allow yourself to stay scared, you open the text message.

Unknown: Congratulations! Vought was very impressed by your piano skills, and our Party Planning Committee has decided to book you for all of our events this fall. Here are the dates and times, along with the prices we are offering…

You didn’t even bother to finish reading the whole text message, your phone slipping from your hands, and thumping onto the table. You were motionless, your hand limply hanging in the air where you were holding your phone, and eyes wide and unblinking as you just processed what the fuck Vought had sent you.

After a while, you started laughing.

Because when you would go back to play for Vought three weeks later, and you played a new sheet of music filled with the songs you had played for Noir last time, you didn’t even have to feel his gaze to know he was the one who wanted you back.

And when he sat down next to you on the bench, content to listen as you played, you were surprised to find yourself less tense. Less scared. You didn’t think he’d hurt you.

You hoped you weren’t wrong.

***

Thank you so much for reading <3<3 Thinking about doing a part two but idkkk, maybe🤭

#black noir #black noir x reader #black noir x you #black noir the boys #the boys x you #soldier boy x reader #butcher x reader

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tojirights · 15 days

Text

getting into a fight with billy and he pushes you against the wall, arm against your throat. he wants to be mad, to keep snarling in your face but he stops dead in his tracks when you moan. embarrassment surges through your body, taking the place of anger very quickly. "d'ya like this, hm?" billy smirks, finding yet another weakness he can use against you.

you struggle to get his arm off of you, but his muscles flex and hold you firmly in place. "fuck you." you cough out, barely able to find any air. butcher actually laughs this time, kicking your feet apart to slide his knee between your thighs. "i bet you’d love that, ya filthy little girl." he coos into your ear, breath ghosting over your skin. you can't help the strained whimper that leaves your constrained throat.

"are we fighting or fucking, butcher?" you snarl, gritting your teeth and trying to stand your ground but you can't deny the throb taking place between your legs. butcher relaxes the pressure on your throat in favor of pushing his body against yours. you can feel his cock digging into your hip, straining against the zipper of his jeans. "oy well, ain't that the million dollar question..." he grunts, and you're greatful that his body is reacting the same way.

"i do love me a good ol' hate fuck..." he mutters to himself before his lips crash into yours. its a frenzy to get his jeans undone and free his cock. unfortunately for you, your leggings weren't long for this world as butcher rips a hole straight through the crotch.

his hands quickly fly down your sides before landing on your hips. butcher's fingers dig into your skin, sure to leave puffy bruises in his wake as he easily lifts you up. it's almost insulting, the way he can just toss you around, but your body has thoughts of its own. in one swift move, butcher's pushing the thick head of his cock slowly inside your aching cunt. the stretch makes your thighs shake even while wrapped around billy's waist.

"aye, what a good little cunt..." billy groans, warmth enveloping his cock as your pussy takes in every thick inch. "fucking christ, billy." you whine, your arms coming around to dig into his back. he doesn't give you nearly enough time to adjust to his size, quickly bouncing you on his cock and using the wall as leverage. "what's that, love? too much cock for ya?" he teases, pushing impossibly deeper until the head of his cock has nowhere else to go.

you shoot him "shut up and fuck me, you perv." your words lack their usual venom, too turned on to bother with really insulting him. the amount of times you've thought about this exact scenario was maybe slightly embarrassing, but you can't say you're upset now that you finally have butcher balls deep inside of you. "aye, i never keep a lady waitin'..." he snickers, his lips finding the exposed skin of your neck and collarbone.

each nip of his teeth has your head spinning, pleasure and pain mixing in an incredibly intoxicating potion. you're going to have no good explanation for the bruises tomorrow, but all you can seem to care about is butcher's hand sneaking between your bodies to play with your swollen clit. "yer gonna sing pretty for me when ya cum on my cock, right princess?" he's pushing you to the edge, faster than you could have anticipated, your legs shaking with every tandem thrust and flick of his finger.

butcher's cock rubs so snugly against your sweet spot, your vision going blurry as the pleasure consumes you. "f-fuck you, billy." you gasp, back arched off the wall as he pounds your cunt relentlessly. he just chuckles, feeling the way your pussy flutters around him. "wouldn't wanna be doin' anythin' else right about now." the growl in his voice is enough to push you over the edge, stars exploding behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm you've ever had rolls over you.

you're left gasping, panting for breath as butcher keeps fucking your pulsing cunt. "fuckin' hell... just milkin' the cum out, ain't ya? ya want me ta fill this fuckin' cunt up, leave your poor pussy drippin'?" you whimper at his filthy words, clenching around his length as he puncuates every word with a thrust. butcher's groan is animalistic, coming deep from his throat as he releases deep inside of you. each thick rope of cum coats your fluttering walls before dripping down billy's legnth.

he holds you for a moment, panting as he rides out the pleasure. but the silent bliss only lasts for another moment before billy's hand is back around your throat. "don't think this gets you off the hook. still pissed about you lettin' that piece of shite live..." he grumbles, kissing your puffy lips before placing you gently back on your feet and turning his back to you.

you roll your eyes, leaning heavily against the walls as you regain feeling in your legs. "butcher i need pants!" you call as he goes to walk away from you, but he just gives you the middle finger over his shoulder while smirking, leaving you to find new clothes while still leaking cum down your thighs.

"what a fucking gentleman..." you groan.

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obsessedwrhys · 9 days

Note

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

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cheynovak · 4 months

Text

Light in the darkness part 1

Reader x Billy Butcher

Warnings: Age difference (not explicit told), cursing, abuse, smut, 16+, ... It's Billy Butcher what not to warn about..

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 3894

Part 2 now online

Y/N is the owner of a blues bar in New York, she is used to all kinds of customers even the ones with a secret you don’t want to know. One day the boys and Billy Butcher walk in. The connection between Billy and Y/N is undeniable, but the recent divorce from her aggressive and dominant husband for Y/N and Becca’s dead still lingering in Billy’s mind makes it hard for them to admit their feelings.

Cursives are from Buchter’s point of view.

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

It was a quiet night at the bar, Y/N was thinking of closing for the night when 4 men walked in looking in a rough shape. The tall one looked around before noticing you leaning on the bar “Gentlemen, why don’t you try and find yourself a table.” You joked welcoming them.

The 4 fellas took the table behind the counter, close for you but out of side for anyone who might walk in.

“What can I get you?” Y/N asked while looking at them one by one. They stayed quiet for a second. She looked at the tall skinny guy, who looked just old enough to be in her bar, considering to ask his ID, she noticed his lip was busted. While the other man who had dark hair and a beard looked Y/N up and down. “Scotch.” He said raising his bleeding eyebrow. “All four?” They nodded. When Y/N came back she brought the drinks and an extra glass with ice and tissues. “It looks like you all could use it.” She said looking at the one who seemed to do all the talking. “Thanks darlin” he answered with a thick accent, looking in your eyes. Y/N quickly looked him up and down before meeting his eyes again, ‘If there is anything else I can get you, give me a sign.” When he kept staring at her, the corner of her lip curled into a soft smile before she turned around.

The boys decided to go for a victory drink at pub they saw passing on their way home. When Billy walked in, he noticed the place was empty part from the young woman who was leaning over the bar looking at her phone, she welcomed them. Before she walked over to their table, she turned down the music slightly. Billy couldn’t help but staring at the bartender, the softness of her eyes told him she was young, innocent, but something made him see the pain and struggle she had been through. He looked her up and down, she was just wearing a black jeans and a low V cut band t-shirt tugged in her pants, he liked that it was showing of her curves. Before she walked back at her bar she smiled slightly, giving him a warm feeling.

Y/N could hear the men talking but didn’t listen to a word they were saying, that was one thing she learned as a bar owner, unless they talk to you, none of their conversations are your business. Specially not in a rougher neighbourhood here in New York. But of course, every now and then you pick up some details of a story, as long as they paid the bill, you smiled and pretend not to know a thing.

You hear the door opening, Steve your ex-husband walked in, seemingly drunk. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t answer you but took a seat at the bar. You could see his bloodshot eyes looking at you, roaming his eyes over your cleavage. “Showing them off now, are we?”. Y/N tried to stay calm but feeling the goosebumps on her back, “Steve, what are you doing here?” - “What, I can’t pick up my wife from work?” “I’m not your wife anymore.” Y/N said looking over at the table, the 4 men were looking now at the two of you. “If you had shown up at court today you would have known that.” Y/N said still peacefully while moving on with drying a glass.

Steve got up ripped the glass from your hands and threw it behind you at the wall. Y/N froze not knowing how to react to this even though she was used to his aggression by now. “Oi, is there a problem here?” The guy said walking slowly to Steve. “Mind your own business.” Steve said. “It is my business isn��t it, me and my lads are trying to enjoy a nice evening and you, cunt, are ruining it. I suggest you get your shit together leave this lady alone, now get the fuck out here before I bust ya teeth ey.” Steve looked at the man and looked at the guys behind him who now all stood up from their chairs. He nodded slightly, looked one more time at Y/N “We’re not done yet.” He said pointing a finger at her before leaving through the door.

Billy noticed the girl was still clenched up when the man left. “You ok luv?” He asked while she moved her hand over her face. “Yeah, yes thank you. But I would like to close up for tonight, if you guys don’t mind?” He saw her eyes tear up, trying to fight it. “How much do I own you?” He asked grabbing for his wallet. “Nothing” Bily looked at her. “It’s on the house, for helping me.” she clarified. “Do you live close?” The youngest guy asked nervous. “I mean, I don’t like for you to walk around alone. You never know... You know.” - “My car is parked a few blocks away.”

“Right, MM you bring the boys home.” Y/N hears him saying while he tossed his keys to the quiet man. “I’ll walk you to your car.” He looked at you. Y/N knew this was probably as dangerous as walking alone but somehow, she felt save around him. So, Y/N nodded. “I still need to close up, I’ll be ready in 5.” He grabbed his coat “I’ll wait outside.”

Y/N turned off the music and lights, took a deep breath before walking through the door. The man did indeed wait for you, leaning against the wall.

The yellow light from the lamppost gave an extra touch to his rough shape, she had no idea if it was the adrenaline from earlier or his intriguing eyes that kept staring in hers that made her gasp for air, but somehow, he took her breath away. “Before we go.” She took a step close. “What is your name?”

“Billy, Billy Butcher.” “Nice to meet you, Billy.” She shakes his hand like nothing happened earlier. “Y/N, Y/L/N. At least now I won’t walk around with a complete stranger.” She joked. He let out a chuckle. They walked a few minutes in silence. “Do I look that scary to you luv?” He asked without looking at her. “I’m still trying to figure out if you are a serial killer or a 90s porn star.” He stopped walking, turning to her, for a second Y/N regretted the choice of words. “Well, you’re bloody honest aren’t you.” He burst into laughter. “What makes you think I'm a killer?” Y/N answered by pointing at his wounds. “Ok, I get that, porn star?” She chuckled before answering. “The shirt.” Few words had been said, but the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Well, this is my car.” She said leaning against the driver's door. “Great, well, Y/N have a great night.” - “You need a ride home?” Y/N asked when he turned his back to walk away. “Won’t say no to that.” He smirked. Part from billy’s directions to his apartment they didn’t say much. She parked in front of it but before he jumped out the car, he looked once more at her giving her a half smile as token of gratitude. “Hey Billy?” She looked at him through the window as he leans into it. “Thanks again, for Steve and... You know not killing me.” “You’re welcome sweetheart. I hope to see you around sometime ey.” “You know where to find me.”

Y/N dropped her purse on the kitchen table, she walked lifeless to her bathroom, while she removed her pants and bra, removed her make up, ready to go to bed. She was tired but couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. Even though her world had been upside down for the last couple of months with the divorce she felt a strange but nice feeling with Billy. There was this constant feeling of wanting to be close to him, she liked that he checked her out without shame, looking at every curve, every inch. A lot of customers did, but with him she felt safe. Probably just the fact that he stood up for her right? She felt threatened and he helped, that would be the reason. She tried to convince herself.

A few days gone by Y/N hasn’t seen Steve in a while, but Billy dropped by almost every night. Sitting at her bar, talking about Steve and his wife. He didn’t say much but she could see the hurt in his eyes, that he really loved her and that he became a totally different man after her death.

But tonight, when she wanted to open her bar someone had broken in and smashed the entire place to pieces.

By the time Y/N wanted to let the police out the door Billy walked in. “What happened here?” He asked her while looking at the cops. “Steve trashed the place.” Y/N answered. “Well, we don’t know who did it yet.” The police reacted to her allegations. “Who else would have done this!?” She yelled “That Steve is an asshole, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. He smashed a few glasses when drunk, a few days back. Threatened her.” Butcher tried to defend Y/N’s reaction, but the cops walked out without much to go on by. Butcher looked around, the entire bar was broken down, furniture burned, glass mashed, even graffiti on the walls.

“Are you ok luv?” He asked her, holding his hand on her upper back, between her shoulders, without hesitation she let her head fall on his shoulder holding on to his jacket, crying. “I can’t believe this, every last penny I put into this place.” She said softly, her voice sounded muffed in his clothing.

Billy felt her head fall on to his shoulder, his immediate reaction was to hold her closer, caressing her back. He felt like kissing her head but managed to hold back just in time. “It’s ok, we will figure something out.” He said instead. That seemed to shock Y/N out of her bubble. “Oh god, I’m so sorry Billy.” She took a few steps back, drying her tears. “I didn’t mean to... You don’t have to help me. You already did so much.” The second she moved her head away he could feel the warmth of her body against his leave. “I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” He answered walking over to her pulling her back in his arms for a hug.

Over the course of the last few days Billy spend time with Y/N trying to help her with the new interieur choices, he absolute hated it, interieur was always Becca’s thing, but he would do anything to be close to Y/N. He felt like a completely different man around her, more at peace. He forgot about supes, he drank less, he even smiled at her silly jokes. Her optimism was like a light in his darkness.

Billy agreed to go shopping together trying to find new furniture and paint. Y/N was surprised he agreed to it, he didn’t seem like the shopping type. But being around him made her feel good. He wasn’t the chattiest, happy, open person, but he was honest, or at least that was the vibe she got from him. Billy offered to take the shopping cart while Y/N picket out a few decorations before walking over to the paint aisle. "What do you think?” Y/N asked as she was holding two different lights up. “Left one” he said noticing an older couple smiling and looking over.

Y/N placed the right on in de cart. Butcher gave Y/N a grumpy look. “I thought you wanted my opinion.” - “Yeah, I do, because I know that your choices aren’t always the most... fashionable.” She said standing next to him, pulling slightly at the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt while she smiled her well practised cute smile, standing very close to him, she could see the amusement in his eyes. Before walking on to the next aisle.

“Get used to it, women, they do that to us.” The old man said to Billy. “I’m sorry?” he responded. “We’ve been married 35 years, I never got to pick any furniture. She made the decision for me... But she made that house, our home. I’m sure your girl will do the same.” He laughs, his old lady picked up on the conversation. “You two seem like a cute couple, I can see you have at least good taste in women.” She smiles. Billy wanted to correct them saying they were just friends. But something kept him. He smiled and walked his was towards Y/N. “Where were you?” She asked happy. “Well, I think I have everything I need.” - “Great, about fucking time.” She smacked his arm. “You loved it.”

“You need a hand with painting?” Billy asked when he dropped everything off at the bar, helping her spreading out the plastic on the floor and over the remains of the furniture. “Well, I wanted to start now, but I don’t want to waste anymore of your time.” - “Bullshit.” He dropped his jacket behind the bar, pouring himself a drink. “It will be an all nighter then?” he grinned lifting his brows. Y/N walked towards to bar taking his glass. “Well, I can think of worse ways to spend the night with way worse company.” She winked taking a sip walking around the bar.

Billy felt his face getting hot after that comment. But when she walked over to him behind the bar his heart started to beat so fast, he was scared she would be able to hear it. He stood still afraid his actions would show his emotions. Billy felt Y/N’s hand on his shoulder, he looked over to see her walk passed him towards the stereo. “I’m glad this old piece of junk still works.” She said with her back towards Billy, swaying a little at the song.

He couldn’t help himself, he placed his hands on her shoulders turning her around to face him, his eyes roaming her face. He closed his eyes, moving closer to her, but right before he wanted to kiss her, he couldn’t help but think of Becca. So, he stopped himself, touching her forehead with his and whispered, “Maybe we need to get started.”

Y/N felt his strong hands leave her skin, she almost wanted to whimper when he took a step back.

She could have sworn he wanted this as much as she did, she saw it in his eyes. He looked like a man possessed with her, the hunger in his eyes the way he licked his lips. All of that changed within a second, his eyes turned cold and so did his posture.

Each of them started to paint on another corner of the room. Y/N could feel the awkwardness throughout the room. She kept looking over at Billy, but he kept his eyes on the wall, his expression looking like a teenager who was punished.

“Billy, you don’t have to do this, if you... I don’t know, want to go home you can leave.” She said turning towards him, throwing her brush in the bucked. “You want me to leave?” He said not looking at her. “That’s not what I said, I ...” She sights “I just don’t what it to be awkward between us.” He stopped painting but still wasn’t looking at her, so she continued. “Listen, I like you being here, I know we only met a few weeks ago but... I’ve had a rough couple of months and being with you, even when things are shitty, being with you makes me happy.”

She took a few steps towards him. “And I know that you at least feel... something when you are with me.”

Her words made him look up at her. She was right, he liked being with her, she was the opposite of his live, the peace he needs, the light he missed in the dark.

“I can’t drag you into my mess.” He said laying down the brush.

“You won’t.” She answered.

“My job, my life it’s, so fucked up.”

“So, is mine.” she said soft.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” he walked over to her, slowly.

“That won’t happen.”

“I’m horrible at sharing my feelings. I have secrets I can never tell you and I have trust issues.” he said standing in front of her, holding one hand on her neck.

“I don’t care.”

He thought for a second. “I can’t cook.”

She laughs soft laying he head in his hand. “Oh no, so horrible.”

He felt her hands on his chest, he looked at them before he looked back at her lips. Closing the space between them. Kissing her soft lips, tasting her was better than he had imagined.

His large hands cupped her neck and cheek while he lowered his lips. Y/N felt his lips touch hers, she would have thought he felt rougher, but they were surprisingly soft. She felt a spark starting at their joined lips traveling all over her body, her hands moved up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Billy’s tongue touched her bottom lip, asking for permission which she gladly granted him. The kiss quickly heated, both of them starting to breath heavier, moving their hands over each other's body.

Billy walked Y/N backwards, but she tripped over the carpet that was covered in plastic and fell on to the floor, Billy couldn’t hold her in time and fell beside her on his knees with one hand beside Y/N’s head. “Oh my god... how romantic.” She couldn’t contain her laugh saying that.

Billy was still focussed on her. He moved a small piece of hair out of her face and kissed her again, hovering over her. She felt his hand moving lower over her side holding her, pulling himself closer. He quickly made sure their breaths were deep and full of lust again. She could feel the weight of his body on top of her. And when his lips moved to her neck, she couldn’t hold back the soft moan.

His hand moved under her shirt feeling his callused fingers over her stomach, between her breasts back to her neck, before she could lift herself so that he could take them off. That same hand moved to one of her breasts, holding it over her bra. While his mouth was kissing and licking her neck. She could feel his breathing in her ear. “I want you.” he whispered so soft Y/N feared she misunderstood him. “Say that again.” she asked while her nails found their way to his back.

Billy lifted himself enough to look in her eyes. “I want you.” He repeated. Y/N pulled him in for a kiss. “Then take me.... I want you too.” she said between kisses.

Those words seemed to be the only thing that held you two back, Y/N helped Billy out of his shirt and opened his belt, as he took the rest off of his body, he then ripped your pants and panties down your legs while you unbuckled your bra. Billy Hovering back over you, almost covering your naked body, you could feel his hands move in between your thighs to where you wanted to feel him the most. Y/n’s back arched when his fingers found her wet folds, spreading them, while moving his finger up and down to her clit. “Fuck sweetheart, so wet already ey.” he hummed in her ear. Y/N wanted to answer but his finger entering her made her gasp for breath clinging to his shoulders.

Y/N felt his beard scratching her softly while he moved his lips towards her breast, licking her hardened nipple. Her hand flew to the back of his head, moaning his name. “Tell me luv, how long has it been?”... “How long ago when someone made you feel good, worshipped that wet cunt of yours?” He added a second finger curling into that spot rubbing his palm against her clit. By the way his hand and lips moved she knew Billy wouldn’t want to make love to her, he wanted to fuck her. She felt that the lust he was building drove him wild and so did she. She could feel the fire in her stomach building. “Billy... don’t stop... Please.” She begged him. She could see the satisfaction in his smirk. “Do it, I want to feel you come on my finger before I fuck you so hard you won’t be able stand.” That was all she needed to hear.

Billy pushed her over the edge, but before she could take a breath, he already thrusted his cock in her without a warning. He felt her clench around him, he kissed her soft. “Relax luv.” He said looking at her face. “Just wait sec, ok? I’m not used to... your size.” She said out of breath, kissing him back. Those words made him twitch inside her. He pulled back slightly before thrusting in her. He heard her hiss soft. “I’ll go slow.” he said looking at her. She smiled “No you won’t.” biting his collar bone softly.

She heard Billy grown, holding her shoulders, his thrusts became rougher every time he pulled back and slammed back in until he found a rough and steady pace. Y/N’s moans turned into prayers singing his name, she noticed how he loved her nails scratching his back, pulling his hair while her teeth bit his neck and shoulder. The noises he made, made her even wetter. She wrapped her knees around his hips. “Oh Billy... harder. Don’t... hold back.” - “Say that again.” - “Harder... Fuck me harder.” Y/N could feel her second orgasm building. Her nails dug deep into his skin when the rush of her orgasm moved over her body. Billy pulled out short after, holding his cock while his head fell on her breast breathing hard. She could feel his warm seed dripping on her thigh and abdomen.

“Sorry for the mess.” He said kissing her shoulder before getting up to find a towel. “I just didn’t know if you wanted me to...” - “Oh no, good thinking.” she said.

They both got dressed. “So, what now?” she asked him while watching him closing the buttons of his shirt. “Here let me.” He looked at her, cupping her face again kissing her passionately. “All I know is that I want more of this, more of you. And I don’t mean just sex.”

“Take it slow?” she said laughing slightly.

“You know we won’t.” he grinned.

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

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#fanfic #smut #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys hughie #billy butcher #butcher x reader #billy butcher x reader #y/n #x y/n #x y/n smut #the boys smut #16+

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iluvnewports · 4 months

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Canary

An AU one-shot of Butcher from The Boys where years after Becca dies, he finds himself fighting his feelings for you and finally gives in. + fluff & angst

minors dni

—

“You were always like my canary, I suppose.” Butcher breathes out painfully as he looks over to you across the console. “I knew when I couldn’t hear you anymore I had gone too deep.”

You have half a mind to slap him upside his head, gripping his stupid beach shirt by its collar to hoist him up from leaning against the door. “Stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re fucking dying.” You place both your hands back on the wheel, making a sharp turn that makes Butcher groan. “You’re going to be fine.” You look over to his blood-soaked pants and his bloodied hands atop it.

“Keep your fucking hands on it, Butcher, Christ.” You look between his hands and the road. You knew it was only a matter of time until his luck ran out and something didn’t go his way. You’re the most wanted criminals in the country for fucks sake, it was only a matter of time. Everyone wants your head.

“Oi, stop fucking shouting, they didn’t shoot my ears out.” Butcher barks at you as you make another hasty turn which causes yet another groan. Serves him right, snapping at you like that, all when you only care about his well-being.

“Just shut up.” You slam on the brakes a little harsher than you should’ve so he lunges forward a little with a pained groan. Pulled up next to the curb, you hastily unbuckle your seatbelt, turning to look at Butcher who’s already staring daggers at you.

“Can’t even let a tender moment stop you from being a cunt, can ya?”

You smile, one corner tugging up further than the other. “There he is.”

You move around to the other side of the car and help the injured man out, escorting him down the steps as he wobbles on his hurt leg. You kick open the door swiftly, though it’s not anything impressive as it is more of a small nudge, heads turning as you two sleuth into the dingy basement.

“Jesus Christ, Butcher!” M.M jumps up from his seat as Hughie looks around panicked, unsure what to do he stands up and grabs the back of his head, mouth hanging open as he stutters.

Kimiko’s brows raise as Frenchie mutters a curse, everyone rushing to their feet to help guide Butcher to the table. He’s practically pulled from your arms and you feel a bit defensive at this, furrowing your brows as you almost pull him straight back into your grip. It’s as if he isn’t as safe unless he’s in your hands.

“What happened?”

“Vought happened.” You murmur, helping Butcher sit down in the chair, his pained groans not particularly worrisome to you until now. You grab his shoulder in comfort, watching as M.M assesses his leg.

“Butcher the bullet is still in there, there’s no exit wound.” He props his leg on another chair, cutting the fabric of his pants around the wound. Blood pools around the wound, his leg hair around it turning slick and red as flesh pokes out around the bullet wound, crimson red flesh peeling like a lotus flower around the gaping hole.

“So, what, you’re going to dig into his leg?” Hughie looks as if he’s breaking out in a cold sweat as he swallows dryly, his voice becoming high-pitched with worry.

“What the hell you want me to do, huh?” M.M raises his arms in question before pointing back to Butcher’s leg. “Just leave it in there?”

“I don’t know—! Shouldn’t we get him to a hospital?”

“No!” You, M.M, Frenchie, and Butcher all say in unison.

“Hughie, go find your nuts, they’re probably hidden beneath your twat, and fuck off,” Butcher says roughly, head thrown back as he winces. M.M is quick to sterilize a pair of forceps, pulling around his spinning chair. He pours alcohol on his leg without warning, causing Butcher to grit his teeth and wail out a “Fuck!”

You grab his hand, your palms clasping together with a squeeze as you cling to his arm as if you’re the one getting a bullet dug out of you. You rub his shoulder gently as your other hand clasps his, watching as M.M digs the forceps into his leg, causing Butcher to jerk and startle. Frenchie grabs his other side, trying to keep him still.

“Be still, Mon Ami.” Frenchie says as delicately as always.

“You wanna swap fucking seats then?” Butcher snaps. He’s always so curt, so rude, and you all just withstand it. Because, hey: that’s just Butcher.

You give his hand a squeeze, signaling him to ease up a little. He only grunts, shooting you a look. He doesn’t say anything, though. M.M continues digging around, tongs deep in his leg as the handle sits at an awkward angle.

“I found it.” He murmurs, squinting his eyes as he pushes the two handles together with a tugging motion.

“Fucking hell!” Butcher curses as his head falls backward, hair falling into his face as sweat beads his chest, which you can see since his top two buttons were popped off. Eyebrows pulled together and eyelids crinkled close, you allow your eyes to wander down his glimmering chest. His pecs are large, which you’ve always loved in a man, even the harsh lamp light making his skin look appealing. He’s just so… rough. In a good way. His body carries stories, tales of the past, tales of how hard his life has been and what he’s carried, what he’s endured.

M.M gives another harsh tug to no avail, causing Butcher to curse again. “Just fucking pull it out!” You yell, feeling nauseated. Not because of the scene, but because it’s him.

“I’m fucking trying, Jesus!” M.M snaps at you, whipping his head up to meet your eyes. “Do you want to try? Since you’re such an expert all of a sudden.”

“I’m just saying—!”

“For fucks sake don’t yell at her.” Butcher defends, which causes M.M to quiet down. Your eyes snap to him, unsure how you feel about it all. He’s always been a bit… defensive over you? It makes you feel almost embarrassed like you can’t handle yourself.

M.M is quiet for a moment as Butcher groans more, shrugging Frenchie off of him with a small “fuck off,” as he stares down the barrel of his leg as M.M grips the handles and slowly pulls out of the wound, presenting a bullet dripping in gore, clanging against the metallic dish he throws it into. The blood flows off the bullet, saline becoming pink as crimson floats upwards in a somewhat beautiful pattern.

M.M is quick to grab his needle and suture as he begins stitching the wound up, murmuring something under his breath as Butcher tilts his head back to look up into your eyes, hazel as beautiful as any moss-covered tree. You feel a chill at your side as your heart warms under his gaze. It’s not completely foreign to you but this time, it’s more intense.

You both pull your hands apart slowly, your touch lingering longer than necessary. You lift your head, noticing M.M looks at your hands and back up to you. He says nothing, shooting a look you can’t exactly decipher, shooting Butcher a look.

Butcher, never one to be the silent type, also says nothing.

“You’re gonna be sore, but you’ll live.” M.M breathes out a murmur, wrapping up his tools into a cloth before discarding the bloodied gauze.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

—

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” Butcher slices his hand through the air firmly, tilting his head and raising his brows as he nods in confirmation. “Right.”

“Butcher, Jesus, it’s just a few days, stop being such a baby.” You collapse onto the dirty couch and tuck your legs beneath you as you curl into the corner. You pat the cushion next to you. “C’mon. That old Translucent movie is up next…” You trail off with a smile. Butcher wobbles closer, groaning as he rolls his eyes.

“I’m glad the old cunt died before he could make a sequel.” Butcher stands nearby, watching the TV. “I feel fine, it don’t even hurt.”

“You’re wobbling, you can hardly walk.” You pat the cushion again, though harsher this time. “C’mon, sit. Even super badass wanted criminals need a day off.”

Butcher groans but eventually walks over and sits beside you, maybe just a few inches away, your legs almost touching. He puts his arm up to rest on the back of the couch almost wrapping around you. The silence is comfortable, endearing.

You turn your head to look at Butcher some minutes into the movie and you can tell he’s deep within his thoughts. A dark place, one you know too well. So you shift your whole body, turning to him as you rest your chin on your arms which rest on the tops of your legs. “Do you remember when we first met?” You ask with a smile.

Butcher leans his head back onto the couch, turning to you with a half-tilted grin. “Like it was yesterday, sweetheart.”

“I really didn’t like you, you know.” You smile softly, looking behind him as you think. “Which is so weird because you’re just so likable.”

Butcher chuckles. “Like you’re some dainty flower yourself?” He scoffs in humor. “Right bloody nerve you must’ve had, throwing a drink in my face. That’s how I knew you had balls.”

“A compliment? Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” You bring the back of your hand to his forehead as if feeling for a fever.

“Oh piss off.” He waves you away, humor laced in his tone even if he doesn’t smile. You laugh and your hand falls to his shoulder, remaining there as you look at one another.

In an instant, all in one fluid motion, grabs you by the back of your head, pulling you into him as he angrily devours you, kissing you harshly as he grips your hair, fingers tangling into your hair as he pushes them along your scalp. His other hand moves to the small of your back as he pulls you into him, still sitting side by side as you kiss.

He bites your lower lip harshly, almost harsh enough to make you bleed, soothing it with the lapping of his tongue before moving to your top lip, moving between the two repeatedly. He’s dominating you already, pulling at you as if he needs you. You couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to. You can feel your lower stomach aching, pulsating for more as warmth bubbles in your abdomen.

He pulls away, breathing heavily as his focus moves across your face. You are beautiful, beyond beautiful, in every state he’s ever seen you. Dirty and tired, bright and happy, pissed off. “I ever tell you how knock-dead you are?”

You get what he’s saying, blushing, but you shrug it off. “You know nobody ever understands what you’re saying.”

He pulls you in closer so you’re flush against his side, holding the back of your neck as he buries his face into the side of it, kissing and nipping at you until he licks up to your ear. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Your face burns as you chew on your inner cheek. You don’t know what to do with yourself, especially when someone compliments you. And Butcher of all people feels so unfamiliar. You let your head fall to the other side, eyes fluttering close as he licks up your neck and nibbles your ear.

Butcher pulls back and shifts himself so he’s between your legs though not putting his weight on you as he drags his hands from your neck all the way down to the waist of your pants, pausing as he looks up to you. “May I?”

You nod, though a bit hesitant. He immediately removes his hands, backing up a bit. “Are you uncomfortable?” His tone is gentle, something you don’t see often.

“No!” You’re quick to exclaim, shaking your head. “No, no. I want to.”

Butcher smiles cockily, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans. “Say it.”

You look at him with furrowed brows in confusion, which he immediately picks up on as he pushes himself back between your legs and leans forward into your lips. “I want you to tell me what you want.” He whispers.

You hesitate, breathing out slowly in embarrassment. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Of course, I will, sweetheart.” He breathes against you as he’s quick to pop the button of your jeans and strip them down your legs so you’re left in your thin cotton underwear. He backs away, looking down at your slightly parted legs, and dives his large, warm hands down between your thighs to spread them wider, craning his neck to the side as he examines you. You sink in on yourself, blushing, the cushion beneath your bare ass is scratchy and you sort of feel bad knowing this is where your friends sit.

You’re wet, leaving a damp spot right center of your underwear. He runs a thumb down over it, making you jerk slightly as he chuckles to himself. “Don’t be shy.” He looks to you as he hooks a finger into your underwear from the side, pulling it away to reveal your glistening slit.

He looks in awe as he stares at you, his lips parting slightly as he absorbs such beauty. He feels hypnotized, wanting nothing more than to fall to his knees and please you for hours until you’re screaming and raw just so he can worship you and his tongue can memorize you, every crevice and curve.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip as he dips his head down and you can’t help it, “What’re you doing?”

“How do you mean?” He looks up at you confused.

“I thought we were just gonna…” You trail off.

Butcher shakes his head slowly, looking at you as if you were crazy. “I’ve been fantasizing this a long time, love.” Truth be told, it gets him off just thinking about making you cum with nothing in return. “And all I really want is your thighs wrapped around my head until you’re hoarse.”

You almost gasp at his forwardness, though you’re not sure what you expected; it’s Butcher, after all. Even his soft side isn’t very soft. You feel a pit in your stomach, you’re sort of scared. What if it’s bad? And then you’ll have to face him, forced to live with him in this shitty basement, knowing that he doesn't particularly know his way around a pussy, despite most of his vocabulary consisting of ‘cunt’ and ‘twat’.

His finger curiously runs up your slit and you shudder, tucking your lips together as you try and quiet yourself. Butcher yanks at your legs so you’re now flat on your back, head resting on the couch as he displays his wet finger with some sort of pride, glistening in the light before pushing them past your lips and pressing down on your tongue. You suck on his finger slowly, a groan falling from his parted lips as he watches you intently.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs, pulling the finger from your mouth and grabbing your chin so you’re forced to look up at him. He leans down to kiss you, grinding against you and you can feel the hardness of his bulge against your cotton underwear.

His finger slips down and rubs circles around your clit as he kisses your open, moaning mouth. Your eyes pinch close in agony at the slowness of it all, feeling the way he wants to draw out each and every second of pleasing you. “Look at me darling, come on.” You open your eyes to see him watching you intently. “That’s it, good girl.”

Butcher slips his fingers down your slit and teases your entrance, causing you to gasp slightly, which he reacts to by letting out a deep breath before kissing you deeply again. His touch leaves you needing more and every sense hones in on it as your back arches off of the couch as he slowly draws moans out of you.

As he pushes in and out slowly, he pushes down on your hips with his other hand, ensuring your stillness for him as he works you over and over. Your underwear begins to chafe slightly as you let out a light moan, looking down between the two of you. Lowering his head down between your propped legs, he kisses between your thighs, and his beard scratches against your skin lightly, almost drawing a small smile from you.

He hums into your thigh before dragging his other hand to scoop beneath your thigh, giving you a warm squeeze, fingers spread across your skin. As he kisses down, he begins leaving sloppy kisses that leave your skin wet, nipping you on the way, breathing heavily against you, ready to burst. His head dips down further, though slowly, teasing you as you buck your hips further.

Eventually making contact, his fingers stall as his tongue swipes up your cunt in a long stride before pulling away and savoring the way you taste on his tongue. He chuckles to himself as your hips jolt, going back down to lick up you again, his large, flat tongue trailing slowly as he runs circles on your clit. You gasp out, sitting up halfway and leaning back on your elbows as you look down at him working wonders on your pussy. His hand shoots up to rest on your stomach, pushing you back down onto your back.

His fingers pick back up again, curling up into you as he sucks on your clit, lapping circles against you as you breathe out a string of moans. Butcher grabs the bottoms of your thighs as he pushes your knee back into your face, exposing you further to him, digging nails into your flesh. As you moan again, he moans against you, causing your sensitive skin to vibrate as you dampen his beard. He devours you as you secrete onto his tongue and he finds you oh so sweet.

Your fingers push into his thick dark hair as you pull at him, wanting him closer and closer to you as he curls into your g-spot. Your back arches, one hand moving down to feel his jaw and the way it stretches to mold around you perfectly, moving up and down to lick you raw. Your moans turn into pants as your chest heaves up and down, every movement of his fingers and tongue pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

He notices this, keeping his fingerwork consistent as he pulls his mouth away, wanting nothing more than to watch you fall apart in front of him as he watches.

“That’s it,” he praises, leaning above you as your face contorts in delight, eyelids falling gently as you breathe deeply. “Just like that, gorgeous.”

His praise pushes you over the edge as the bubble in your lower stomach bursts and you’re riding the high of your orgasm, jerking your hips so you’re essentially riding out the high atop his fingers. It’s a good thing he’s as strong as he is, otherwise, you might feel self-conscious.

Butcher plants soft kisses along your collarbone as you heave out another string of moans, coming to the conclusion of your climax as your head spins in a blur. This doesn’t stop the pumping of his fingers, though, the overstimulation of it all causing you to jerk, your eyes flying open as you smack at his shoulder with a cry. “Billy!”

His fingers stall, not yet pulling out, and you almost gasp thinking you went too far, wanting to kick yourself for ruining the moment. You can’t read his face and you’re half-expecting him to curse you as he pulls out of you, leaving you alone and half-naked on the couch.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes forward as he kisses you deeply, passionately, hand cradling your face as he breathes against you, noses touching as he looks down into your eyes. He pulls his fingers between you too, your sweet slick coating his fingers thickly as he inserts them into his mouth to lick them clean.

You can smell yourself on his breath and you push him back, two hands on his chest as you sit up, pushing him down into the couch. You claw at his shirt, ripping it open with such ferocity and desperation that it rips completely, buttons flying off and clanging to the ground. His chest, god how you could stare at it all day, your hands coming up to scoop and grab at his pecs as you dive down to kiss his neck. You can’t get enough of him, quickly diving your head down to kiss his chest as you lick down his torso, leaving wet kisses behind, biting at him. You bring your head back up and kiss along his pecs, close to his nipple, before you’re stopped by a hand laced in your hair, pulling you backward.

Face to face with Butcher, his hand wraps around your cheeks as he squishes your face slightly, chuckling lowly with a head shake. “That’s not how things are gonna play out sweetheart.”

In one fluid movement, he throws you onto your back, towering over you menacingly as he grabs at your throat. “I ain’t half the bitch you must be used to.”

Your pussy clenches at his alpha-male-esque as he shrugs off his ripped button-down, diving down to kiss you as you hungrily kiss back. Attempting to pull your own shirt off your head, he settles to rip your shirt as well, ripping the collar apart as you gasp a startled laugh into his mouth. “This is my favorite shirt, you know.”

“Oh I know love, and you look lovely in it.” Rip. “But you look a lot better out of it.” Riiiiiip. He pulls the loose, torn fabric from beneath you, discarding it on the floor. You sigh slightly, though humorously.

“You rip mine I rip yours.” He shrugs, dipping back and kissing you as he claws at your back with dull nails, unhooking your bra and pulling it off your arms as he goes down to kiss your chest, all the while he unbuckles his belt to give himself a bit of relief from the hardness within his jeans.

Licking down between the valley of your breasts, Butcher pinches your nipple and rolls it between his rough fingers as he nips at you. You arch your back in delight, gasping at the sensation as he takes your other breast in his warm mouth, flicking his tongue over your nipple before sucking on your breast, now rubbing his hand up and down your bare torso.

Your fingers knit in his hair as you throw your head back in a moan. “Fuck, Butcher.” You’re sure not to push your luck by calling him Billy again, which he’s always hated from us for some reason.

Your body breaks out in chills as his fingers lightly graze your skin, clearly more focused on pleasing you than himself. After giving your nipple a nip, which causes you to jump, you push at him and he hovers over you, lips parted as he adjusts himself in his pants. “Tell me you want it.” He groans.

“I want it. You.” His head tilts to the side. Not good enough.

“I want you to fuck me.” You groan in need to which he nods, unbuttoning his pants as he dives his hand down into the front of his jeans.

Pulling himself out, fuck he’s huge, you feel intimidated as he aligns himself with your entrance, running his large tip along your slit which causes you to shiver. Fuck. Your legs are already shaking.

Butcher places a hand on your lower stomach, rubbing slowly. “Relax.” He purrs, tugging at his cock so precut beads over the top. “You’re okay.”

You nod as you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he pushes his tip within your entrance, the sudden fullness causing you to gasp as he stretches you out to fit himself snuggly within you. You whine aloud at the sting, shaking your head. “I don’t think it’s gonna—“

“We’ll make it fit.” He whispers a coo, pushing himself in slowly with a slow sway of the hips, moving back and forth in rhythm with what length he’s already accomplished.

You nod, eyes crinkling shut as you push past the burning sensation. It’s odd—it hurts, yet feels so good. Your pussy throbs, a deep ache you never knew had become prevalent, a hunger deep within you igniting as you wish you could swallow him whole. He continues to thrust deeper, laying forward as his chest meets yours, kissing you passionately as he rocks into you, inch by inch stretching your cunt so you’re personally molded for him. He groans into your ear which breaks your skin out into chills, cursing under his breath as he buries his face into your neck, two hands gripping your ass to spread you apart for him and his liking.

His cock hits the sweet spot as he rocks fully into you in a primal need, picking up his pace as he pushes himself above and hikes up your leg against his side, arm scooping beneath to hold it there as he slows himself to a painful pace, cocking his head to look down at your glistening face, sweat beading down between the valley of your breasts as you moan out into the air.

“You were made for me.” He huffs out, throwing his head back with a groan as you tighten around him from his praise. You can feel yourself climbing that same high from earlier, chasing it more ferociously now, his cock ramming into you until the walls of your pussy are raw from the friction. Your other leg shoots up so they’re not hooked around his waist, pulling him into you so you can kiss him because god is he sweet.

You kiss into his open, moaning mouth as you slink your fingers up his rough backside and rip your nails into the flesh, ripping down his back as he slams into you harshly, cursing under his breath. You can feel yourself tightening around his cock, building more and more pressure for the two of you as his hand wands to press down on your lower stomach and the other grips beneath your head, fingers pushing through your hair before bunching it in his fist to tug at as some sort of anchor for himself.

“You’re a fucking succubus, you know that?” He whispers harshly, trying to contain himself as he presses down into your lower stomach, causing your pleasure to tenfold as you moan out, trying to ground yourself as you stab your nails into his back to try and not lose yourself completely.

“Cum for me sweetheart.” He urges, wanting nothing more than to serve you before himself. “I know you’re close.”

You nod, mouth falling slack as you moan out his name, tightening your grip within your legs around his side, feeling his motion and rhythm as if it was your own. You suck in a sharp breath, finally pushed over the edge as he fucks you through your high, filling you with a sort of comfort, playing a game of ping pong with your orgasm; you push onto him, and he only pushes you back. It’s wild and wide, your legs shaking around him as he holds you and fucks you into ecstasy. All you can do is gasp, unable to even speak, feeling as if you are within the heavens themselves. Who knew you could feel so good, especially at the hands of someone so bad?

You feel Butcher’s cock twitching within you as he breeds you, groaning loudly, louder than before, though you can hardly hear him over the ringing in your own ears. He curses a “fuck” and “shit” as he spills himself into you, heaving like a wild animal as he pushes into your with broken thrusts, his cum serving as some sort of slick cushioning from the burn of friction. You can feel his cum spill out of you slightly as he pulls all the way out and pushes back in, both of you breathing heavily as you orgasm together. An unstopping force meets an unmoving object as you two mold into one beautifully, always meant to pass but never meant to stick.

Butcher pulls completely out of you, collapsing onto you as you both breathe as if you had just run a marathon.

You might’ve well have.

“Fucking hell,” Butcher says between breaths to which you nod, heart pounding within your chest as you stare up towards the ceiling, sweat clinging to your naked body feeling tacky and cool as you two gather yourself. Once ready, Butcher lifts himself off of you and pulls his pants up, laying back onto his back as he pulls you into him, resting your cheek on his chest as he rubs your shoulder, body resting between his spread ones.

He kisses your temple, nuzzling his cheek into the top of your head as he runs his hand up and down your arm gently, comforting silence overtaking you two for a moment as you two reflect on what just happened. You crane your neck up so you can look at him.

“You really remember the first time you met me, all those years ago?”

Butcher nods, looking at you and then off into the distance. “Of course I do.”

You adjust your head back so your cheek is to his chest, nodding. “You’re not as heartless as I thought.”

Butcher is silent for a moment, reflecting on your statement. His instinct is to run away from the statement, to retreat and prove you wrong. But this one time, he allows himself to be vulnerable. And while he doesn’t know what to exactly say (he’s never been the best with words), the action of holding you tighter and leaving a long kiss on your temple tells you enough.

“Me neither.”

part two here

#the boys #billy butcher #hughie campbell #butcher x reader #some fluff #oneshot #mothers milk #hurt/comfort #minors dni #Spotify

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 2 years

Text

High on that Vought BS

Pairing: The Boys x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: Strong language.

Summary: The Boys attempt to tangle you in their mess once again.

You opened the door, ready to grab the pizza boxes and shove a hefty tip in the delivery persons hand when you found yourself staring into the face of an old acquaintance. He also happened to be holding your pizza order.

“This is has got to be a nightmare.” You said as Billy Butcher made his entrance into your home with a younger looking kid trailing behind.

“No, Y/n. We’re about to start some fucking nightmares.”

Locking the door shut, you pulled down the curtains in the living room before dashing around to other areas of your house to lock it down. When you returned, you found Butcher admiring the tealight candles on the fireplace mantle.

“What are you doing here? We had an agreement.”

Butcher nodded, “We did - but if I recall correctly, you didn’t want to see my ugly mug until I had something concrete. Well, now I do.”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes widened. “You’re high on that Vought bullshit again, aren’t you?”

“It’s not bullshit, we can take ‘em down.” Butcher rolled his eyes, tired of not being believed in.

“We?”

Two sets of footsteps descended down the stairs and you jumped around only to find more familiar faces. Whipping back around, you glared at Butcher.

“Are you serious? You brought Frenchie and MM into this again? For fuck sake.”

Butcher merely shrugged like it wasn’t anything. His nonchalant behaviour had you ready to tear him into shreds, and you stepped in his direction only to be distracted by MM.

“Hey, it’s alright. We chose to be here.” He insisted and calmed his friend down. Flashing a kind smile, MM gave you a warm hug. “It’s good to see you again.”

MM stepped away and Frenchie took his place.

“Mon très cher ami.” The Frenchman grinned, his hug was so tight it felt like old times again.

Butcher smirked off to the side, “Now that we’re reacquainted, I’d like you to meet the newest addition - step up, Hughie, don’t be shy.”

The boy he arrived with made his presence known. You were so focused on the familiar faces that the kid practically blended into your home decor.

“Hi.” He greeted sheepishly, unsure of what to do with himself.

You glared at Butcher and he had an explanation prepped. “Don’t give me that look. Kid’s girlfriend was vertically split by that speedy fucker A-Train. So he’s very much ‘high on that Vought bullshit’.” He said casually and you noticed the pain on Hughie’s face. Clearly this was a recent incident.

“We need your help - specifically, your intel.”

Crossing your arms, you let out a laugh which took the others by surprise.

“Seriously? Did you think that a single nostalgic visit was going to be enough for me to just roll over?”

“The alternative was torturing you.” Butcher deadpanned.

MM shook his head instantly, “Nope, that was never an option.” He corrected and shot a look at Butcher who merely shrugged.

Butcher stepped forward, “Come on, Y/n. You’re the best person we know who can dig up dirt on the Seven’s weaknesses. Like that almond allergy for Black Noir that you released to the world? That was amazing. His haters were sending him almond scented fan mail for weeks. Fucker was confined to the tower medical bay for weeks.”

You stared at the men in your house. They had broken promises and laws in the span of ten minutes just to get help. You weren’t obligated to lift a finger… but that didn’t mean you weren’t curious to know what they had discovered.

“I’m not ‘joining the fun’ but I need to know what you know before I can offer anything of value.” You told them.

Butcher smirked. “You’re going to love this.”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #the boys x reader #the boys imagine #billy butcher imagine #frenchie imagine #hughie imagine #mm imagine #mm x reader #hughie x reader #frenchie x reader

2K notes · View notes

geminiwritten · 1 year

Text

hot dream ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you fall asleep in butcher’s sweater and have a rather steamy dream, not realising that everyone heard you moaning butcher’s name in your sleep

notes: this is so bad, and it makes me so sad because i was so excited to write it, but work has been so blegh that i just feel like i failed??? i don’t know, it’s definitely not my best writing, but it’s something! hope y’all can still enjoy!

warnings: swearing, google-translated french, some very incorrect chemistry, and a tiny bit of smut (i’m working myself up to actually writing it, i promise!)

^ the sweater

word count: 4691

“It’s fucking cold in here,” you say, rubbing your arms as you step into the living room.

Frenchie and Kimiko are curled up under a blanket on the couch, and Butcher is lounging on the single seat sofa with his feet propped on top of the coffee table. You know MM is on his way back from Monique’s house with spare clothes and comforters, but you also know how caught up he can get when he spends time with Janine.

“You do not have a jumper?” Frenchie asks.

You shake your head, “The last sweatshirt I had was burnt to a crisp two weeks ago.”

New York City is quickly falling into winter, the air turning crisp and heavy clouds rolling overhead as news channels warn about impending snow within the week.

Kimiko looks up at you and wriggles her arms out of the blanket to sign an apology, gesturing to the jumper she wears as the only one she has.

Butcher sighs and pushes himself off the sofa, “I’ve got somethin’.”

The tiny butterflies in your stomach flitter to life, bouncing around excitedly at the thought of wearing Butcher’s clothing. You move a hand from your arm to your stomach and curse the stupid giddiness that this man aroused within you. It’s ridiculous, really, and just a stupid crush, but he never fails to elicit some sort of irritating physical reaction within your body every time he speaks.

He disappears into the main bedroom for a moment before remerging with a black garment in hand. “Here,” he says, handing it to you, “don’t get it burnt though, it’s my favourite.”

You give him a cheeky smile, “I make no promises.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the sweater from his hand, and his eyes capture yours in a stare you cannot break. His lip quirks into that gorgeous smirk you’ve come to enjoy so much, sending those stupid butterflies into a frenzy before he turns back toward the sofa.

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and with numb fingers, find the bottom of the sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. His scent hits you like a truck, rushing through your nose and burning all the way to your lungs. Your chest squeezes around your erratic heart, your ribs aching as they struggle to contain the throbbing muscle. It feels like you’ve been punched in the sternum, and your limbs feel like jelly wrapped in the soft material saturated by his scent.

You know this sweater almost too well, having admired him in it countless times. It’s a little too big on you, but on him, it’s perfect. The thick material hugs his shoulders and fits his torso in the most delicious way. It’s ridiculous that he can make something as plain as this sweater look downright sinful.

“Better?” Butcher asks, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that makes you wonder what he knows.

You nod, “Much.”

Kimiko shuffles over on the couch so that you can squeeze between her and the arm, the side closest to Butcher. You try to focus on the lame action film playing on the television, but the smell of the jumper clouds your mind, and you can feel Butcher’s gaze wandering over to you every few seconds. You want to say something, but every string of words that come to mind are laced with innuendo and teasing, and although you’re very fond of flirting with this man, you’re not sure you can handle it in your current state.

The sun is well below the horizon by the time MM arrives back, his arms full of blankets and second-hand clothing. Kimiko takes two jumpers and a blanket before seeing herself off to bed, and MM does the same shortly after. Frenchie throws another blanket over himself and invites you to share his warmth while Butcher remains on the single sofa with nothing but his trench coat. After almost three movies, your eyelids begin to droop, and you let your head fall onto Frenchie’s shoulder as sleep slowly consumes you.

You startle awake, your mind swirling with images of Butcher. You can still see him hovering over you, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, and his wicked grin as he settles between your thighs. Heat pulses between your legs at the fading memory, and your skin feels like it’s on fire, phantom touches lingering in the shape of Butcher’s hands on your hips, your breasts, your throat.

You have to blink a few times before the living room comes into focus, bright light flooding the space through the drawn curtains as dust mites float through the air. The blankets covering you suddenly feel like they weigh a tonne, and you have to throw them off your sweaty body before you pass out.

“Good morning, mon petit rayon de soleil,” Frenchie greets you, sitting in the sofa where you last consciously saw Butcher.

“Hey,” you mumble as you sit up.

His grin is wide and cheeky, “Did you have a good sleep?”

“It was okay,” you reply, rubbing your neck, “as good as it gets on this old couch.”

“I did not have the heart to wake you,” he says, “you looked so peaceful and were… humming so contently.”

You frown sceptically, “Okay…”

MM is in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a goofy smile as he watches the eggs in the pan cook.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Frenchie responds.

“What?” you demand, “You let me sleep for that long? Don’t we have things to do today?”

MM chuckles, “We didn’t want to wake you, as Frenchie said, you were so content.”

Spikes of panic begin prickling your skin and your eyes dart from Frenchie to MM, searching their impish faces for any sign of what could be making them so smug.

“Where’s Butcher?”

“Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself,” Frenchie says, “but he is awake.”

MM serves the eggs onto two plates and carries them over to the table where Kimiko is sat. She grins at him before digging in to her breakfast, and your own stomach begins to rumble.

“I suppose I will get my own,” Frenchie sighs, pushing himself off the sofa and walking toward the kitchen.

“I’ll have some too,” you call after him, “thanks, Frenchie.”

He smirks at you with the carton of eggs in hand, “Anything for you, mon amour. How do you like your eggs?”

“Hard boiled,” MM replies before you can, snickering as he takes a bite of toast.

Frenchie giggles too, and he quickly turns toward the stove to avoid your dubious stare.

“What the fuck are you two on this morning?”

They don’t respond as their laughter continues to bubble. Frenchie waves a hand dismissively, still refusing to look at you, before placing a pot and a pan on top of the stove.

“I prefer fried,” you mutter, still frowning.

He nods and moves the pot back into the cupboard just as the doors to the main bedroom creak open. Butcher steps out in faded jeans and yet another hideous Hawaiian shirt with only three of the lower buttons fastened. His hair is a complete mess and his cheeks flushed red; he looks as if he’d just sprinted several blocks.

“You’re awake,” he states.

You nod, “So are you.”

He chuckles, “Been awake for a couple’a hours, love.”

MM is struggling with his breakfast, his laughter refusing to subside though he does his best to quell it, his whole face turning red. Frenchie has turned his back to you completely now, but you can still see his shoulders shaking as he giggles into his hand.

“Did I miss something?” you ask Butcher as he falls into the single sofa.

His smirk just as devilish as Frenchie’s, “Nothin’ at all, in fact, I think it’s me who missed somethin’.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “you’re all being weird, and I’m incredibly sweaty, so I’m going to shower.”

“Breakfast will be ready for you when you return, mon amour,” Frenchie says, “take your time cleaning your- uh, humidité.”

Butcher chuckles as another wave of mirth hits MM, and he begins to choke on his mouthful of food. You roll your eyes before turning on your heel and stomping toward the bathroom, leaving them to their stupidity.

The cold air nips at your bare skin as you strip in the bathroom, carefully laying Butcher’s sweater on the vanity before stepping under the warm shower spray. You take your time washing your hair and scrubbing your body, hazy flashes of hot touches and wet kisses invading your mind as you close your eyes and let the water soak your skin. By the time you shut the shower off, you’re thoroughly clean and a little dizzy with desire. You dry off before wrapping the towel around your body and gathering your clothes to dash across the hall toward your bedroom.

You can’t help glancing in the direction of the living room when you step out, your eyes locking with Butcher’s dark gaze for the split second it takes you to reach your room. Your pulse is thrumming at a ridiculous pace as you unwrap the towel and turn toward your dresser. You slip on a fresh pair of panties and jeans, and turn to the sweater you’d tossed on your bed. Your stomach grumbles impatiently while you procrastinate, and you curse quietly to yourself before slipping the sweater over your head without anything underneath.

The living room wreaks of burnt toast when you remerge from your bedroom, and Frenchie is swearing at the toaster in such fast French, you can’t possibly try to understand it.

“Did you ruin my breakfast?” you ask, walking past Butcher and leaning your hip on the kitchen bench.

“I did not ruin anything,” Frenchie says with a frown, “this good for nothing piece of shit machine did.”

You can feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head and you know it’s Butcher, but you refuse to turn around, instead joining Frenchie in the kitchen to take over the toaster. After a few minutes of patience, the toast pops perfectly grilled and you place two pieces on each of your plates before Frenchie tops it with eggs.

“So,” MM says when you and Frenchie join him at the table, “what’s today’s plan?”

“We need to go back to the old safe house,” Frenchie replies.

“The basement,” you note between bites of toast.

He nods, “We need to gather anything we left behind that might be useful. I am running out of materials and I know we left a stash of ammunition there.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t already gone?” MM queries.

Frenchie shrugs, “We do not know, but it is worth a try.”

You want to point out that it isn’t really necessary for all of you to go, but you know that will only end in an argument, so you focus on finishing your breakfast. Once you’re all done, MM collects the empty plates and begins washing up while the rest of you go to gather your things.

You pack a small crossbody bag with your phone and keys before tucking a sheathed dagger into the back of your jeans, just in case. When you step back into the living room, Frenchie and MM are waiting by the door, whispering and giggling about something until they see you approach. You want to demand they let you in on whatever stupid joke you’d missed out on this morning, but Butcher’s heavy footsteps capture your attention before you can speak.

“Righ’ then, lads,” he says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat, “let’s get on with it.”

Your gaze lingers on his lips as he speaks before trailing down his neck and bare chest, finding a mere two more buttons fastened than before. Heat rises to your cheeks, creeping all the way up to the tips of your ears as your mouth begins to water and another blurry image of Butcher fills your mind. You see him on his knees before you, looking up with hungry eyes and parted lips, murmuring something filthy that doesn’t quite reach your ears.

You gasp, blinking rapidly to return to reality and finding three curious faces staring back at you.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks.

You nod, “I’m good, let’s go.”

You step between him and MM and walk out the door first, turning down the hall without bothering to wait. They’re giggling again by the time they catch up to you in the lobby, and even Butcher is wearing an amused smirk. He winks as he walks past you, pulling his car keys from his pocket before holding the front door open for the rest of you. Unlike every other time you’ve all been walking toward the car, no one calls shot gun. Frenchie simply opens the back door for Kimiko to slide in before he does, and MM follows without a single complaint.

You look at Butcher, “What the fuck?”

He shrugs, but his smirk is still saturated with amusement and the glint in his eyes tells you that this has something to do with whatever they were all being so smug about.

“You’re all pissing me off today,” you sigh, before walking around the car to the passenger’s side.

You’re not upset about getting the front seat, nor are you annoyed that you get to sit beside Butcher and practically drool over him while he has to pay attention to the road. You are, however, beginning to panic about what it is that they’re not telling you.

The drive isn’t long, and you spend most of it watching Butcher’s hands on the wheel, fantasising about how they would feel caressing every inch of your skin. It almost feels like a memory as you picture his fingers digging into your hips or wrapped gently around your throat, and you can feel your body growing hot within the thick material of his sweater. You practically fall out of the car when it finally stops, gasping for cool air and willing your mind to focus on the task at hand.

Frenchie leads the way down a narrow alley and pushes open the familiar metal door before the rest of you follow him into the dark, damp corridor of what used to be your hide out. You all stay silent for a few minutes, creeping around and checking for any unusual activity or signs that the place might be bugged or trapped. It’s definitely been ransacked, but there are thin films of dust blanketing almost every surface which indicates that whoever was looking in here had given up a long time ago.

“Okay,” Frenchie speaks up once deciding that you’re safe, “let’s see what we’ve got left.”

You split up and wander around the huge, open basement. There are two curtain dividers sectioning the space into what you used as ‘bedrooms’, and a single chipped, wooden door leading to the tiny bathroom at the very back. MM goes in there first, rummaging around for half a minute before declaring it empty.

“Is there anything in particular that we’re looking for?” you ask, turning to Frenchie, “Because there’s a lot of crap in here, and as much as I’d love for you all to rummage through my old underwear drawer, maybe we should-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Frenchie and Butcher take off, abandoning the shelves they were searching and knocking one of the curtain dividers over as they scramble toward the old dresser you used to use.

“Hey!” you shout, your eyes growing wide as you hurry after them.

They’re giggling like maniacs as they wrench the drawers open one by one, tossing out the few items of clothing that still remained in there before realising that there was, in fact, no underwear left behind.

“I was joking,” you say, “fucking pervs.”

Frenchie chuckles, “Can you blame us, mon amour?”

“Yes!”

MM is snickering in the small kitchenette as he picks through the lower cupboards one by one. As much as you want to enjoy the rare light-heartedness within the group right now, you can’t stop wondering why the hell they were all in such a giddy mood. Are they all high?

“Alrigh’ you lot,” Butcher says, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as his laughter subsides, “stop messin’ about, we’ve got a job to do.”

You roll your eyes and trudge toward where MM is, starting on the top cupboards of the small kitchen while they begin opening old crates and suitcases. Frenchie starts a pile by the stairs, stacking up anything he finds that might be useful or too valuable to abandon. There isn’t much, but there are still a couple of cases of ammunition and packets of powders that you know are combustible in some way.

“Wait!” Frenchie shouts suddenly, crouching beside an electrical socket. “Be careful. Somebody has shorted the wiring, intentionally or not, I do not know, but do not touch the outlets or anything still plugged in.”

You slowly retract your hand from beside the rusty old microwave. “What will happen?”

“You will probably be electrocuted.”

“Good to know,” Butcher sighs.

You all return to your ransacking with cautious hands and watchful eyes, skirting around anything electrical or made of metal. When you approach the refrigerator, you can hear a soft, crackling hum, and MM looks at you with wide eyes. It was never a reliable machine, but now it is most definitely a death trap.

You continue your search through the cupboards, knocking half-full packets of rice and flour off the shelves as you stretch up onto your toes to see inside. This job is probably better suited to someone with more of a height advantage, but you’ve always been stubborn, so you don’t bother asking for help.

The cupboard above the sink, adjacent to the stove – you always thought it was stupid to put the sink right beside the stove – reveals a cluster of cleaning products. You reach as far as you can, straining your arms to reach the bottles on the top shelf and groaning at the tension in your body.

Behind you, MM mimics the noise, only louder, “Ungh.”

You hear Frenchie snicker, “No, no, it was more like, mmmh.”

Your fingertips scrape the bottle closest to the front of the cupboard and you huff in frustration.

“Nngh,” MM groans again.

“Ahhh,” Frenchie moans loudly, before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Determined to ignore them, you try to stretch up even further. Your back aches but your fingers find the bottle once again, scratching at it in an attempt to get it to move.

MM sighs seductively, “Ohh, yeah.”

“Mmm, Butcher,” Frenchie gasps.

Your stomach drops and you lose your balance, stumbling as you whirl around to face them. “What the fuck?”

Frenchie giggles as he meets your stare, “Oops.”

The bottle from the top shelf of the cupboard falls forward and knocks your shoulder, popping the cap off. The liquid inside spills all over your chest just as realisation hits you.

“That’s what all this has been about?!” you exclaim, “you heard me having a fucking sex dream and instead of waking me up, you listened?”

MM can’t stop laughing, with one hand holding his stomach while the other supports his body against the old dining room table. You’ve never seen this man so flustered, and if you weren’t so embarrassed, you might have enjoyed seeing him so overwhelmed with laughter.

Frenchie, however, has gone completely pale, stepping forward with a petrified expression. “Y/N, listen-”

“No,” you snap, “I won’t listen! You are such a-”

“Y/N!” he shouts, “do not move.”

The room falls silent and panic ripples through your body.

“Please, mon amour, stay still,” he pleads as he hurries toward you.

He steps carefully around the puddles on the floor before reaching down to pick up the now empty bottle. He studies the label for less than a second before looking back at you with panicked eyes.

“You need to take off your jumper, now.”

You frown, “What? Why?”

“This is isopropyl alcohol,” he says, “it is highly flammable. If anything in this place so much as sparks, it will catch fire and if the vapours ignite, this whole building could explode.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, looking down at the soaked front of Butcher’s sweater.

Frenchie turns to MM, “Get something, get a bag, and get ready to go.”

You remain still as your pulse quickens, “Frenchie.”

“Butcher,” he says, “you and Kimiko start taking things up the stairs, do not come over here.”

Butcher frowns, “Like hell I’m leavin’ her.”

“Frenchie,” you repeat.

“I will get her out, okay? Just take what we’ve got and let’s get out.”

“I don’t give a fuck about this crap,” Butcher argues, “I care about her, and I’m not leavin’ ‘til I know she’s safe.”

“Frenchie!” you exclaim, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

The room falls quiet once again, and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as each of them turn to you with curious eyes.

“Nothin’?” Butcher asks, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Nothing,” you reply.

Despite the situation, Frenchie is the first to snicker.

“Come ‘ere,” Butcher says, “slowly.”

You step carefully out of the kitchen, avoiding every surface as your boots squelch against the wet floor. Once you’re in front of him, he shrugs off his coat and gestures for you to remove the sweater. Your heart pounds as you turn your back to him, and he holds his jacket up to shield you, though not quite high enough to block his own view. You hold your breath and pull the sweater up, squeezing your eyes shut as it slips over your head. You can feel his breath on your back as soon as it’s bare, and a whole different kind of heat rushes through you.

He drops his coat around your shoulders and you quickly hug it against your chest. His scent envelops you, even more so than it had with the sweater, and your nerves begin to ease almost immediately.

“Give it to me,” Frenchie says, holding a plastic bag open toward you.

You drop the sweater in and he ties it off.

“Let’s go.”

MM, Kimiko, and Butcher grab what they can before you all ascend the stairs. You hurry through the corridor and out into the alley, not stopping until you’re all safe inside the car.

“Did you get any on your pants, mon amour?” Frenchie asks.

You push the bottom of Butcher’s jacket off your legs to inspect. “Only a little.”

“It will not damage the clothing, but we should wash everything right away.”

You nod before glancing toward Butcher. His face is a mixture of concern and mischief, his eyes struggling to watch the road instead of you, sitting beside him and wrapped in his favourite coat.

“Should we tell someone about that situation back there?” MM pipes up.

“I will call somebody to clean it up,” Frenchie replies.

It isn’t long before you’re all quietly climbing out of the car and carrying your finds up to the apartment. Everyone kicks their shoes off at the door, per Frenchie’s instructions, and begins sorting through the bags and boxes of old materials and equipment.

Frenchie turns to you, “Give me your jeans.”

“Right now?”

He nods and you sigh, deciding not to argue. You turn away from them and open the coat, quickly unbuttoning your jeans and slipping them off before wrapping yourself back up. When you turn back around, he’s adorning that same silly grin that he’d been wearing all morning.

“Is this how it started in your dream?”

You roll your eyes and shove your jeans into his outstretched hand. “Just because you kind of saved my life, doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed at you.”

He giggles as he takes your clothes and walks down the hall to the laundry.

“In his defence,” Butcher smirks, “I told ‘em not to wake you.”

“You what?”

He steps toward you and shrugs, “I liked hearin’ those pretty little noises you were makin’.”

The butterflies in your stomach burst to life and your pulse begins to race.

He leans forward as he whispers, “Liked it a little too much.”

You suddenly remember what Frenchie had said this morning when you asked where Butcher was: ‘Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself’.

“Now,” Butcher clears his throat, “you gon’a give me my coat back before you spill somethin’ else on it?”

You raise your brows, “You want it back right now? Right here?”

He glances over his shoulder toward MM and Kimiko before turning back to you, “Maybe not righ’ here.”

You step around him and walk through the kitchen toward the main bedroom, avoiding MM’s eyes as you pass the dining room table. You don’t bother closing the doors behind you, because sure enough, a pair of heavy footsteps follow closely behind. The door clicks shut and you turn around to look at Butcher. You let your eyes wander over his body, your mouth watering as you follow the collar of his shirt down his bare chest where the top buttons lay open.

“I’m not gon’a lie,” he says, his hungry gaze pinning you to the floor, “as much as I fuckin’ loved hearin’ you whisper my name… I can’t wait to make you scream it.”

His words punch you in the chest, knocking all the air from your legs as heat pools between your legs.

“Now, love,” he steps forward, “can I ‘ave my coat back?”

Your fingers tremble as you grip the lapels of the jacket, moving your shoulders so the material falls off before you open it up and let it drop to the floor. He draws one sharp breath, his eyes growing wide as they move up and down your body, devouring every inch of it as if he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He closes the distance between you and wraps his hands around your waist, fingertips digging into the flesh of your back with bruising pressure.

“D’you know how hard I came to the thought of you this morning?” he murmurs.

You can’t do anything but stare back at him, your lips aching to taste him, all of him.

“So fuckin’ hard,” he whispers before capturing your mouth with his.

You moan as you melt against him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your fingers tangling through his hair as he claims your mouth. His hands squeeze your waist and pull you closer, pressing your naked body against him. The friction of his shirt against your nipples makes you gasp, and he takes advantage of your open mouth, sliding his tongue past your lips.

“Can’t fuckin’ imagine,” he mumbles against your mouth, “how hard I’m gon’a come with you on my cock.”

The ball of tension throbbing below your stomach explodes, and you use all of your strength to push him back toward the bed. He chuckles as he falls back, his hand catching your wrist to pull you down on top of him.

“Tell me ‘bout your dream, love,” he says as you hover over him, “where was I?”

You plant an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone before biting down and making him groan.

“You were everywhere,” you whisper against his skin, “marking me, claiming me.”

He moans again as you grind your hips down, the friction of his jeans sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“I don’t fuckin’ need to claim you,” he growls, his hands holding your hips as he thrusts up, “you’re already mine.”

He lifts you up enough to flip you onto your back, his body moving with yours and settling between your legs as he hovers over you. He dips down, his lips finding your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin before biting down hard. You moan loudly, and quickly smack a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

“I don’t think so, love,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pinning it to the bed, “I said, I wan’a hear you fuckin’ scream.”

END.

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