You and Butcher listening to everyone (Annie and Hughie, Frenchie and Kimiko) getting it on soooooo obviously Butcher has to out do them and rock your world🫣🤭
Loooovee this! Because uh yes. He would be all over this (and you.) Combined this ask with one from @karlurbanism to write a scene for reader reuniting with Billy after Episode 1 of Season 5! Thank you!
As soon as everyone else broke off into their own rooms in the old school building safe house - Hughie and Annie one way, Kimiko and Frenchie the other way, and MM and a bottle of whiskey another way - you turned off the lights and quietly snuck through the hallway you’d seen Butcher disappear down awhile ago.
Fuck, had it really been almost a year? You had missed him more than you’d ever imagined you could, but you’d never given up, not even for a second. He would rescue you or die trying.
As horrible as the stint in the camp had been, the few months before that had been even worse. Just trying to grapple with the fact he had cancer. The two of you had gone back and forth for weeks trying to decide if he should take the V or not. And then after, the way it had almost taken over him, but for you helping him fight it. It was still there. You both knew it was. But together you had figured out a way to control it.
Then you’d been taken. Ripped right off the street in front of your apartment. And the only thing that had truly scared you was what would happen to Butcher if he tried to rush in and save you - without a plan, without help.
When things had gotten bad before you’d been detained, you made him promise he wouldn’t try to rescue you unless he had a real strategy, and real help and support. Maybe he had actually listened to you for once…
Sliding to the ground, you grabbed the automatic rifle that was laying where a dead guard fell and started shooting before you could even stood back up.
In the distance you saw Butcher, that signature smirk on his face, as you mowed down one guard and then another.
He caught site of you as well. “That’a fuckin’ girl,” he rumbled under his breath, voice full of pride, then went back to fighting until you were all out and safe. Well, safe-ish.
At least for now this old school in Pennsylvania seemed a good place to hide out.
You knocked softly on his door then let yourself in, closing and locking it behind you. Billy looked up from where he was sitting on a makeshift bed. For a second he just stared before he spoke. “Oi, oi, beautiful.”
For the most part the two of you had been trying to keep your relationship a secret. One, because it was dangerous, but it was also something you just wanted to be yours. Yours and his. At least for awhile.
Standing here now, with that expression on his face like he’d never seen anything better in all his life, none of that mattered.
In only a few long strides you were across the room and he was standing to catch you in his arms.
He held you so tight you couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t care. This was it. This was home.
When he pulled back just enough to look at you, he cradled your head in his hands, his eyes intense as he looked you over. “You alright?” he asked. “Really alright? They didn’t hurt ya in there did they?”
“No,” you shook your head. “I kept my head down.”
“Good girl,” he husked and he pulled you against his chest again.
Despite his gruff demeanor and penchant for violence, Billy could always find a way to be soft with you. As you burrowed your face into his chest, he wrapped his arms tighter around you, his body relaxing at the familiar feeling of having you in his arms.
His hands rubbed up and down your back, feeling every inch of your body to make sure you were truly unharmed. No scrapes or bruises, no sore muscles or aches.
“Fuck, I missed you,” you murmured against his shoulder. You didn’t even know if he could hear you, but you didn’t want to let go or even move back an inch.
“Missed ya like hell, luv.” His voice was rough, like gravel, as he spoke. Like if it were up to him, he’d never let you go. Ever.
Slowly, reluctantly, he gently eased you away from him so he could look down at you, taking in your face, your eyes, your smile. His thumb traced across your cheek, over your lips.
You slid one hand up to rub over his bearded jaw. “Thank you for listening to me,” you said softly. “For waiting until Annie and Kimiko could help before you rushed in.” A small smile curved your lips. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
A snort of laughter escaped him at that. His smirk returned full force as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath against your lips. “Don’t go gettin’ used ta it,” he warned, but there was no real bite behind the words.
His thumb pressed down on your lower lip as his expression softened again, and his eyes went dark with heat. Then he kissed you - hard and possessive and six months overdue all rolled into one rough press of mouth on mouth. His tongue slid over yours almost immediately - no hesitation, no teasing - just pure, filthy need.
When he pulled away it was only long enough to growl, “…missed this too.”
Your fingers curled into his shirt and you pressed up on your tip toes to claim his mouth back but just as your lips were about to meet his a soft little whine sounded from behind him. You paused, shifting to look over Billy’s shoulder. Terror, sweet, perfect Terror, was laying on the bed looking quite mournful he had yet to get any attention from you.
The noise caught Butcher’s notice too, and he glanced over his shoulder, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest when he saw the look on Terror’s face.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, shifting back slightly though his arms remained wrapped around you, “can’t even get a proper snog ‘round here without someone else beggin’ for affection too.”
Your heart squeezed with emotion, for a moment you had forgotten he was here. “Terror,” you breathed as if you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.
You met Billy’s eyes again and his smirk softened. “Aye.”
The need to see Terror was too strong to resist. Pulling away from Butcher, you sat next to the little old rascal on the bed rubbing behind his ears with both hands. “I’m so glad he’s okay.”
Butcher watched the two of you for a second - something unreadable flickering in his eyes, before he let out a rough sigh and dropped onto the bed beside you, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours as he reached over to scratch at Terror’s scruff with one hand.
“Needy little bastard,” he muttered, gruff but always warm when it came to Terror. His other arm slid around your waist again like muscle memory had taken over entirely now that you were next to him again.
“…knew I could count on ’im,” Butcher added quietly after another beat; an admission disguised as what sounded like an offhand remark if not for how tightly his fingers curled into your shirt just then too…
Out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of the small bottle of prescription pills for Terror on the bedside table. You knew he was getting up there in age but it was still too hard to think about him not being here. You didn’t want to bring it up now though and ruin the moment. “Good boy,” you murmured, returning to rubbing his favorite spots.
Butcher’s gaze flicked to the bottle too, his jaw tightening for a split second before he exhaled through his nose. He didn’t say anything - not about that - just nudged you lightly with his knee as Terror wriggled next to you like an overgrown puppy who’d forgotten how old he actually was.
“Oi…” Butcher rumbled after a moment, reaching out to catch your chin and turn your face back toward his, thumb brushing over a spot where some bruise or cut might’ve been fading from weeks ago, one he might’ve missed earlier when he was distracted from checking every inch of you after so long apart…
“…still owe me more than a kiss,” is what came out instead though; low and rough around edges but soft enough in ways only ever reserved specifically for moments like this, with you. When you both felt lucky beyond measure to have each other still after everything trying to tear you apart since day one.
Your heart fluttered as you gave a slow smile and leaned toward him, but once again a foreign sound made you stop. After a second you realized… it sounded like Annie…thoroughly enjoying herself…
Butcher froze mid-motion, his grip on your chin going slack as the sound registered. His face twisted into pure, unadulterated disgust.
“Fuckin’ bollocks,” he hissed under his breath like he had been personally betrayed by the universe itself. Terror perked up at the noise too, ears flicking toward the hallway it was coming from with an intrigued tilt of his head while Butcher just looked like he wanted to strangle something (possibly Hughie).
You rubbed your hand over his chest, trying to be soothing. “You can’t blame them.”
“Don’t bloody defend them,” Butcher grumbled, though he relaxed slightly under your touch. His gaze flickered away from the wall toward you again.
“Eleven months, luv,” he reminded you, lifting his other hand to brush his knuckles over your temple. “Eleven bloody months, I’ve been waitin’ to ‘ave ya again an’ - ” He gave a sharp shake of his head, anger bubbling up once more. “An’ they’ve got the nerve ta ‘ave it off right next door.”
You bit back a wider smile and smoothed your hand up his chest to flick open the top button of his shirt (well the top one that was actually buttoned.) “They’ll be done in a minute. Maybe we should return the favor…” you joked.
Butcher watched you open the button, his gaze turning sharp and intent as his eyes roamed over your face…lingering for more than one reason on your lips.
A low sound rumbled in his chest when you gave a coy little smile at your not-so-subtle flirt, and suddenly his hand slid up to grip the back of your neck, tugging you forward against him, the rough pad of his thumb stroking over the pulse point on your neck.
“Cheeky lil’ minx,” he rumbled in an altogether pleased tone.
Then a smirk quirked his mouth and you knew exactly what he was thinking - he could do better. The sounds he could wring from you would out do anything else in this old building…
That smirk widened into a wolfish grin, and you saw something familiar flicker in his gaze, a fire there that seemed to make the air itself crackle as he tightened his arm around you, pulling you until you were in his lap, legs spread across his firm thighs.
“Reckon you’re right,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. “Think I could make ya drown out every damn one of ‘em, if I put me mind to it.”
A shiver of desire rippled through you and you pressed closer. “If you do that, I don’t think our little secret will be so secret anymore…”
That didn’t seem to bother him much as his grip on you tightened. “Don’t care.”
His teeth grazed your earlobe in warning before he nipped at the sensitive spot just below, hard enough for a sharp gasp but not hard enough to make you cry out. Yet.
“…Unless,” Butcher added after another beat, voice dropping into something almost dangerous now, heat still burning beneath every word spoken, between every kiss shared since walking through his door; “You’d rather I stop?” His hand slid up your thigh and the heat of his palm seared through the denim.
“Don’t want you to stop.” Your words were breathless, almost a gasp, raw honesty. Everything felt different now; you didn’t want to let go of him ever again.
The earnest admission was all the confirmation he needed. Butcher had barely even heard you past the sound of his own need pounding through his blood anyway, his mind already working at how he could shut out every other noise in the building with the sounds you’d make for him.
His hands slipped down to grip your hips tight, grinding you down in his lap until you could feel how ready he was through the layers of fabric still between you. Then he leaned in to steal the moan forming on your lips in a heated, biting kiss.
When his cock pressed even harder against the inside of your thigh, your need for him intensified. You had to be closer. But before you could say anything he was moving you off his lap and standing. “Stay there,” he ordered, pointing at the bed. Then he scooped up Terror and carried him across the room to his dog bed giving him a few treats before he turned the lights off.
As soon as it was dark and Terror was happily settled, Butcher was back at your side, pressing you down against the mattress. He pushed a knee between your legs, nudging them apart as he reached for the waistband of your jeans and popped the button undone with single-minded purpose.
He didn’t bother taking them off though, before he was hovering over you, one big hand sliding under your shirt, up your stomach, to roughly cup your breast while his mouth latched onto that pulse point at your neck.
Your hands went to grip his shoulders instinctively as your body arched beneath him. He was all heat and hard muscle. When he nipped at the curve of your neck it made your entire body jolt.
He smirked against your neck, feeling you react so readily underneath him. “Already squirmin’ for me,” he husked, voice an octave lower, rough with the heat burning through him as he squeezed your breast before thumbing at your nipple through the thin layer of fabric of your bra.
“Missed this too,” he murmured, fingers moving expertly to unhook your bra.
The moment he tugged your shirt and bra off and tossed them aside, he lowered his head to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, lingering on every freckle and scar he knew by heart before finally closing his mouth tight over one stiff nipple.
His tongue flicked over the sensitive bud while his other hand traced lower, those calloused fingers finally working to unzip your jeans.
Despite his mouth and his fingers and his hard body you somehow gathered enough coherency to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, doing your best to get them open.
Butcher helped by shrugging out of the shirt in one rough motion when you finished, tossing it aside with zero care where it landed. The second his bare chest pressed against yours, warm skin on warm skin, flattening your breasts against him, he let out a low groan that vibrated through your entire body.
His mouth crashed back onto yours, more demanding as he deepened the kiss while finally tugging down your jeans and panties together. You kicked them off somewhere near the foot of bed.
He settled between your thighs and the roughness of his own jeans over his hard cock made you gasp as he pressed himself against your center. “Billy…” you stuttered his name in between heated kisses.
The sound of his name on your lips made him groan. His hips ground down against you, the friction of the rough denim both electrifying and frustrating at the same time, but he didn't care because fuck hearing you gasp like that was better than anything.
As he braced one hand beside your head, the other slid between both your bodies, hastily opening his own belt buckle.
Your center was throbbing, begging for his attention and you bit your lip to try to keep from whining while he unbuckled his belt.
The second it came undone, he wasted no time shoving the jeans down just enough to free himself. The sight of him, hard and aching for you, leaking at the tip, made your breath hitch before he settled back over you.
He caught that bitten lip between his teeth in a punishing kiss as one hand guided himself right to your entrance.
The moment he pressed to that wet heat, a shudder wracked through his entire body. He broke the kiss to press his forehead to yours, breathing hard as he hovered there, teasing you, letting you feel just how much he wanted this, wanted you.
Then with one slow roll of hips, he finally pushed inside.
Your heart nearly stopped. He was so big and hard, and it had been so long. You took a breath, whimpering as you focused on letting your body relax around him.
Butcher’s jaw clenched, his entire body tensing as he fought to go slow, so fucking slow, even though every instinct screamed at him to just take.
He kissed you again, softer this time, a rare moment of tenderness from a man who usually took what he wanted with rough hands. His hips moved incrementally, letting you adjust while his fingers tangled in your hair.
You shifted, parting your thighs wider for him as your body started to remember the feel of him stretching you open. He pushed in a little more and a myriad of nerve endings lit up making you cry out as first rush of pleasure flooded through you. “Billy…”
The way you said his name, no nicknames, no "Butcher", hit him like a punch to the chest.
A ragged breath escaped him as he finally bottomed out, fully sheathed inside you after almost a year without this. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck for a second, just breathing, trying not to lose it right then and there.
Then slowly...he began moving.
You gasped as he slid almost all the way out then thrust back in, filling you up. You arched beneath him then used your feet to push his jeans further down his legs.
They slid easily down his thighs, and now with more skin to skin, finally, he could move better, press closer.
Each deep thrust was deliberate, measured; not frantic or desperate like a man starved (though, fuck, he was) but something more intentional, like he wanted you to feel every single inch of his cock with each roll of his hips.
You tried to wriggle beneath him, wanting more friction, but you couldn’t move beneath his weight pressing you down. You gave a needy whine but he just chuckled, pressing closer, pinning you to the mattress as he rolled his hips.
The glide was perfect, the base of his cock rubbed against your clit when you managed to tilt your hips, making you moan, and it caused another gush of wetness from your body.
That little tilt of your hips, fuck, he felt it. Felt the way you clenched around him, how wet you were for him. A rough growl tore from his throat as he immediately angled his pelvis to do that exact thing again, grinding down on your clit with each thrust now just to watch your face twist in pleasure.
One big hand slid under you, gripping your ass to adjust the angle even more, while the other stayed tangled in your hair.
You surrendered completely beneath him. Every thrust was pure bliss, better than anything you’d ever felt, after so long. Despite your own desire for discretion, your cries became louder as he kept taking you higher.
“Billy…” you moaned his name. The louder you got, the more devastating he became, his thrusts turning deeper, harder. Every whimper and cry from your lips only fueled him further. He didn't give a single fuck if everyone heard. Let them know exactly whose girl was being thoroughly claimed right now.
"Louder," he growled against your mouth before biting down on your lower lip as his hips snapped forward relentlessly.
Your eyes fluttered closed as white-hot pleasure burned inside of you, every time his thick cock hit that perfect spot, every time he rubbed against your swollen clit. You hitched your knees up higher on his waist and let your fingers curl in his hair as you lost yourself.
Butcher's rhythm stuttered for half a second when you gripped his hair, just long enough to press a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw before he picked it back up with even more vigor. Your legs wrapping around him only brought him deeper, and the way you were unraveling beneath him had his vision tunneling.
He was close, so fucking close, but not without you.
You couldn’t help yourself, you were sure the closest city could hear you now. You felt him swell even thicker inside of you and you cried out, bucking under his weight, trying with everything you had to make it last just a little bit longer, to hold on, because you never wanted to lose this again.
Then his rough fingers found your clit. The second he pressed a hard circle over the swollen, throbbing nub, you shattered.
Butcher felt it, the way your body tightened around him like a vise, the sharp cry tearing from your throat as you came hard. That was all it took for him to follow right after, his hips jerking erratically as he chased his own release.
With a guttural groan muffled against your shoulder, he spilled hot and deep inside you.
Your entire body buzzed with energy, your arms shaking as you fell back to the bed, your legs trembling and your body still pulsing around his cock, clenching and releasing as you could only whimper and moan.
Butcher collapsed half on top of you, his breathing ragged and heavy as he pressed lazy kisses along your collarbone, too blissed out to even lift his head properly yet.
Every tiny clench around him still had little aftershocks running through him too, making him shudder with oversensitivity. He didn’t pull out though, not yet, just nuzzled into the crook of your neck while catching his breath.
Terror chose that moment to whine from across the room.
A soft laugh escaped you but you were still overwhelmed with sensation and emotion, still trying to catch your breath, still trembling.
Butcher huffed a quiet snort at the dog’s noise, but he didn’t move, still draped over you like a heavy blanket. His fingers traced idle patterns on your bare hip as his breathing evened out.
Eventually though, reality crept back in, the fact that you were very naked in a safehouse full of people who definitely heard...everything.
He finally lifted his head to glance at you with those sharp eyes of his, softened now by satisfaction and something like affection.
“So…” you murmured. “Did we outdo them?”
That smirk, that fucking smug, shit-eating grin, spread across his face like wildfire.
"Oh, abso - fuckin’ - lutely," he rumbled with zero hesitation, pride thick in his voice. "They didn’t stand a chance."
He pressed one last kiss to your hair before finally rolling onto his back beside you and dragging the blanket over both of you haphazardly. Terror immediately trotted over for cuddles now that you both were quiet.
Billy had to lean over the side of the small bed to help Terror’s pudgy little self up on to the mattress but as soon as he did, he nuzzled at Butcher’s chest then waddled over to lay on top of your feet.
Butcher chuckled, scratching behind Terror’s ears as the dog made himself comfortable, practically squishing your feet under his weight.
For a long moment, it was just the two of you, tangled in blankets, limbs still sticky with sweat and each other. And Terror keeping your toes warm. The quiet felt...nice. Peaceful even.
Then Butcher stretched an arm out to pull you closer against him, like he couldn't stand not touching you for more than five seconds, and pressed a kiss to your temple without another word.
You stayed that way for awhile, still a mess but unable to bear getting up. You wished you could just stay like this forever, forget about the world, but it wasn’t possible.
“Now what?” you finally murmured soft and sleepy against Billy’s shoulder.
Butcher exhaled through his nose, fingers still absently stroking your hair.
"Now?" He repeated, voice gravelly with exhaustion and satisfaction. "Now we get some sleep."
A pause. Then he added, "Tomorrow we figure out the next move. Homelander ain’t dead yet, Vought ain't dead yet...all that shit."
For tonight though? Tonight was yours.
Reblogs, comments and likes are sooooo appreciated! 🫶🏻
season 5 alternate ending
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