could you write breeding hcs for the boys? pretty pleaseee
A/N: breeding is slowing becoming a fave fanfic trope idc idc (also warning of pregnancy mention in these HCs)
Butcher:
Billy is a feral son of a bitch, he’s obsessed with filling you up with his cum and is even more so obsessed with the thought of getting you pregnant.
Does he want kids? Not really, no.
Does he want to have the thrill of potentially impregnating you? Absolutely he does.
“Fuckin hell you’re gonna get pregnant if ya don’t stop squeezin’ around me like that… but I suppose you’d like that wouldn’t ya?”
Hughie:
Hughie has a softer approach to it, my man wants to be a dad so fucking bad and the thought of you being a mum just has him absolutely light headed with love and affection.
He also just loves the idea of you swollen with his child, doting on you every second of the day just so you’re comfortable and safe in his care.
“God baby - I wanna make you a mum so badly, getting you pregnant and full of me- fuck…”
MM:
MM is a delicious mixture of feral and sweet about breeding you. I just have this vision of him plowing into you from behind, hands kneading at your ass as he watches his cock slip in and out of your sopping pussy.
And when he fills you to the brim with his cum he stays inside of you, making sure you take every single drop of him.
“Yeah sweetheart, gonna make me a daddy again? Im gonna take care of you so fucking good baby…”
Frenchie:
Frenchie is definitely a mixed bag - it fully depends on how he feels in the moment. But one thing is for certain is he will not stop talking you through it all, mutting and whining about how pretty you look dripping with his cum.
“Oh my pretty girl look at you… gonna be such a pretty momma, mon couer…”
Butcher’s two fingers are all he needs to make you beg for more. He loves how you squirm as soon as he flicks your clit. Your wet slick greets him. Your warm, tight walls hug his thick fingers. His fingers curl and hit all the right spots. He doesn’t pull them out when you reach climax.
The pulsing sensation of your clenched walls after your orgasm is Butcher’s favorite. He slathers your wetness onto his twitching, hard cock. You can see his pre-cum mixed with your slick. He doesn’t need lubricant, especially when it’s your peak season. His cock now glistens with your ecstasy and his own.
Butcher’s tip lightly taps your clit, strings of slick visible once more. The plapping sounds are music to his ears as he slowly drags his full length from your entrance to your clit. It’s not in yet, but you can’t help yourself. A needy whimper escapes your lips as you beg him to put it in, your hips lifting in silent invitation.
Not yet
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he watches your frustration grow. He’s in no hurry. Tonight, he’s going to make you wait for every inch.
celestia is such a funny character like she's constantly manipulating twilight and friends to do shit instead of just asking and you could arguably frame that as being bc she's a "god" and pushing fate to her design or whatever, except that she engages with the group like a normal and relatable person, which makes it more like villainous machinations, except 90% of this manipulation goes towards things like "I don't want my party to be boring shit again. put my little country girl blorbos in there with zero prep so they fuck it up bad"
Celestia instantly makes more sense as a character when you ignore the princess stuff and remember that she's a 1000+ years old wizard. Of course she does manipulative trickster stuff to teach moral lessons and/or cause chaos to amuse herself, that's classic wizard behavior. Of course sometimes she's actually socially awkward and bad at personal relationships and has bad ideas that she thought were good that result in her eating shit embarrassing style, that's classic wizard behavior. Of course she lets the aristocrats and nobles run around being assholes she's still running on wizard advisor programming, she's basically trying to merlin the entire upper class of equestria instead of just a king and some knights. "Yeah uuhhh we'll release the incarnation of chaos himself from his ancient prison because we think this shy girl can be friends with him", terrible plan if you're thinking like a ruler, amazing plan if you're thinking like a wizard. Just look at Canterlot 'Castle' for five seconds and ask yourself if that's in any way a castle. No. Wizard tower, yes. Wizard.
Summary: you keep knocking on his door. He keeps being goddamn shirtless. [WC 2.3K] [Ao3]
Warnings: flirting, shirtless billy, cocky billy (well, duh), teasing
@prettybubblesintheair87 did you order a shirtless Billy? Because I got your order hot, fresh, and ready to roll.
Shirtless Men Series
It starts as an accident. That’s the thing you’ll tell yourself later—over and over again—like it somehow makes this whole situation less humiliating. Because the truth? You really didn’t mean to walk in.
You barely even knocked. Just a quick rap against the doorframe before pushing it open, already halfway into your sentence—
“Hey, have you seen—”
And then you stop. Completely. Butcher. In his room. Standing with his back half-turned toward you, digging through a duffel bag like a man on a mission. Shirtless. Your brain goes blank. Not slow. Not buffering. Just gone. Short circuits. Broad shoulders. Scars scattered like stories you don’t get to hear. Muscles shifting under skin like he doesn’t even realize what he looks like. Or worse like he does.
“Door’s not just for decoration, love.” His voice snaps you back so fast it almost hurts.
You jerk, eyes darting anywhere but him. “I knocked!”
“Didn’t wait.” He turns then. Slowly. And that oh my FUCK, that’s worse. Because now it’s not just seeing him, it’s him seeing you seeing him.
That crooked smirk spreads like he’s been handed a gift. “…bit early in the day to be starin’, ain’t it?”
Heat floods your face. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Course you weren’t,” he hums, completely unconvinced. He doesn’t move to grab a shirt. Doesn’t even pretend to. Instead, he leans casually against the table, arms folding like he’s settling in for a show. “Go on then,” he adds. “What d’you need?”
You forget. Actually forget. “…what?”
“What. Do. You. Need?” he repeats, slower this time, eyes sharp with amusement.
Right. Right. Focus. “I—uh—I was looking for—” you gesture vaguely, brain scrambling, “—a file. Frenchie said you had it.”
“Mm.” He pushes off the table, walking past you. Too close. Way too close.
You can feel the heat of him, the faint scent of smoke and something darker, something that sticks. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t need to.
“Next time,” he says quietly as he passes, voice brushing your ear, “might wanna keep your eyes up here.”
You don’t turn around. You can’t. Because if you do, you’re not sure you’ll look away.
You tell yourself it won’t happen again. You’re smarter than that. More careful. Which is why the second time you see him half naked is somehow worse.
You knock. You wait. You even call out, “Butcher?”
“Yeah, come in.”
Clear invitation. Safe. You open the door. And immediately regret every life choice that led you here. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed this time. Still shirtless. Hair damp like he just got out of the shower, a towel draped lazily around his neck. Water still clings to his skin, trailing down in slow lines that your eyes absolutely should not be following— But they are. Oh, for fuck's sake, they are.
“…you do this on purpose?”
The words slip out before you can stop them.
He looks up. Grins. “Do what?”
You gesture at him, vaguely furious. “This!”
He glances down at himself like he’s just now noticing. “Oh,” he says, deadpan. “Forgot my shirt.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Swear on it.”
You give him a look.
He leans back slightly, bracing his hands behind him, completely relaxed under your scrutiny. “Funny though,” he adds, eyes flicking over your face, “you keep showin’ up for it.”
Your stomach flips. “That’s not— I knock!”
“And I answer.”
“That’s not the same as—” you stop, exasperated. “You could put a shirt on!”
He tilts his head, considering. “Could,” he agrees. Doesn’t move. Silence stretches.
Your heartbeat gets louder. And louder.
Then—
“You done lookin’?”
Your eyes snap up to his.
He’s watching you. Really watching you now. Not just teasing. Not just joking. Something sharper underneath.
You swallow. “I wasn’t—”
“Right,” he cuts in softly. “Still not starin’.”
There’s a beat. Then he reaches for a shirt beside him. Pulls it on. Slow. Deliberate. Never breaking eye contact. “…happy now?” he asks.
You should be. You’re not.
After that, you start avoiding him. At least—you try to. Butcher makes that difficult. He’s always around. Always close. Always watching just a little too close, like he’s waiting for something. For you.
There’s the third time. You don’t knock. You should. You know you should. But you don’t. You push the door open cautiously, peeking in. “…Butcher?”
Silence. You step inside. Empty. Relief washes over you so fast it almost makes you laugh.
“Right,” you mutter to yourself. “Finally—”
“Miss me, did ya?”
You jump. Actually jump, spinning around— And there he is. Behind the door. Shirtless. Again.Of course. Your hand flies to your chest. “Are you serious?!”
He looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Bit jumpy today.”
“You were hiding!”
“Wasn’t hidin’,” he shrugs. “Just standin’.”
“Behind the door.”
“Details.”
You stare at him. He stares back. And something shifts. Because this time— You don’t look away. Not immediately. Not at all, really. Your eyes flicker over him but you don’t flinch. Don’t scramble. Don’t pretend. You just… stand there.
And he notices. Of course he notices.
That smirk falters. Just a fraction. “…well,” he says slowly, “that’s new.”
Your arms cross over your chest, more for something to do than anything else. “What?”
“No running off,” he says, studying you now. “No excuses.”
You shrug, trying for casual and landing somewhere dangerously close to bold. “Maybe I got used to it.”
His eyes narrow slightly. Not angry. Interested. “Yeah?” he murmurs.
You nod. Big mistake. Because he steps closer. Slow. Measured. Like he’s testing something. And you don’t move. Your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. But you don't move. You stand there.
“Used to it,” he repeats, voice lower now. “Or just enjoy it?”
Your breath catches. You should joke. Deflect. Do literally anything other than what you do next. “…maybe I do.”
Silence. Heavy. Charged.
His gaze sharpens, something darker flickering underneath the usual cocky amusement. “Careful,” he says quietly. “That sounds a lot like an invitation.”
Your pulse stutters. “Maybe it is.”
The words hang between you.
You don’t even recognize yourself right now. But you don’t take them back.
For a second— A long second— He just looks at you.
Then he huffs out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Bloody hell,” he mutters. And suddenly he’s right there. Close enough that you have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes. Close enough that the air feels thinner. “Been wonderin’ how long it’d take,” he says.
“For what?”
“For you to stop pretendin’.”
Your stomach flips. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“Always am.”
“Cocky.”
“Gets results.”
You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. Not now. Not when he’s this close. Not when you can feel the heat of him again, stronger this time, intentional.
“Still think you’re not impressed?” he asks, quieter now.
Your throat feels dry. “…didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t deny it either.”
His hand lifts—Just slightly. Like he’s going to touch you. But he doesn’t. Lets it fall. And somehow that’s worse. “Next time,” he says instead, stepping back just enough to break the tension—just enough to make you notice the absence, “try not to take so long to admit it.”
Your breath comes back all at once. “…next time?”
That smirk returns. Slow. Dangerous. “Oh, there’ll be a next time,” he says easily, reaching for a shirt and finally—finally—pulling it on. But his eyes never leave yours. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint my favorite audience.”
And then— Just like that— He walks past you. Leaving you standing there, heart racing, thoughts a mess, one very clear realization settling in: You’re definitely going to walk in on him again. And next time? It won’t be an accident.
You last exactly two days. Two. That’s how long you manage to avoid him after… whatever that was. You throw yourself into anything else—helping Frenchie, reorganizing supplies, even willingly sitting through one of Hughie’s rambling explanations just to stay occupied.
Anything to not think about the way Butcher looked at you. The way he stepped closer. The way you didn’t move. Didn’t want to. It’s embarrassing, honestly. You’re better than this. Smarter. More in control. So yeah—two days.
Then you’re standing outside his door again. You don’t even remember walking there. Just suddenly… there. Staring at the wood like it personally offended you. “This is stupid,” you mutter under your breath. You should leave. Turn around. Make literally any good decision.
Instead you knock. Once. Soft. There’s a beat of silence. “Door’s open.” Of course it is. Your hand hesitates on the handle for half a second. Then you push it open. And step inside.
He’s not shirtless. That’s the first thing you notice. And weirdly? That’s disappointing. He’s leaning back in the chair, boots kicked up on the table, shirt on (tragic), sleeves rolled, watching you like he knew you’d show up. Which he probably did. “Thought you were avoidin’ me,” he says casually.
You shut the door behind you. “I wasn’t—”
“Mm.” That sound again. That I don’t believe you for a second sound.
You cross your arms. “I’ve been busy.”
“Sure you have.”
God, he’s annoying.
You take a step further into the room. “You always this full of yourself?”
“Only when I’m right.” He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “Miss me?”
Your stomach flips. You hate that it does. “No.” Too quick. Too sharp.
His smirk widens. “Liar.”
You open your mouth to argue.
“Door.”
You blink. “What?”
“Lock it.”
Your brain stutters. “…why?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Because I said so.”
That should annoy you. It does annoy you. But something else curls underneath it—something warmer, heavier, pulling at your instincts in a way you don’t fully understand. “You don’t get to just—”
“Either lock it,” he cuts in, voice dropping slightly, “or leave.”
Silence. A challenge.
Your pulse kicks up. You turn. Slowly. Reach back. And lock the door. The click echoes louder than it should.
When you turn back,. He’s already standing. Closer than before. Not too close. But closer. And watching you like he’s finally got what he wanted. “Good girl,” he says quietly.
Your heart is racing now. “Happy?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed.
“Getting there.”
He takes a step toward you. You hold your ground. Barely. “Y’know,” he continues, circling slightly—not touching, just there, “most people knock, get what they need, and leave.”
“I do that.”
“You wander in, stare at me like I’m somethin’ on display, then pretend you don’t like what you see.”
Your breath catches. “I don’t—”
“Don’t lie.” Soft. Firm.
Your back hits the table before you even realize you’ve been stepping back. He notices. Of course he does.
A flicker of something satisfied crosses his face. “Been real patient with you,” he says, voice lower now. “Thought I’d let you come to it on your own.”
You swallow. “Come to what?”
His eyes drop—briefly—to your lips. Then back up. “To this.” And then he’s there. Close enough that there’s no space left to pretend. Your breath stutters. “Still gonna tell me you’re not impressed?” he murmurs.
Your voice comes out quieter than you expect. “…no.”
“Yeah,” he hums. “Didn’t think so.”
His hand comes up again. This time it doens't stop. His fingers brush your jaw, light at first, like he’s testing if you’ll pull away. You don’t. You can’t. That small touch sends something electric down your spine. “Been watchin’ you,” he admits, almost lazily. “Every time you walk in. Every time you try not to look.”
Your grip tightens on the edge of the table. “That supposed to make me feel better?”
“Not really.” Honest. Of course it is.
His thumb shifts slightly against your skin, tilting your chin just enough. “Supposed to make you stop pretendin’ you don’t want this.”
Your heart is pounding so hard it almost hurts. “And if I don’t?” you whisper.
A beat.
“Then I let you walk out that door,” he says. No hesitation. No bluff. “But,” he adds, leaning in just enough that you can feel his breath now, “you won’t.”
Your breath hitches. “…you’re very sure.”
“Always am.” There’s that cocky edge again.
But underneath it, Something steady. Certain. Waiting. And God help you— He’s right. Because you don’t move. Don’t push him away. Don’t make a joke. Don’t break the moment. You just look at him.
And that’s all he needs. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”
Then he closes the distance.
The kiss isn’t soft. It’s not rushed either. It’s deliberate. Controlled. Like everything he does. His hand shifts from your jaw to the back of your neck, firm enough to keep you there, not enough to trap you.
Giving you the choice.
You make it. Your hands find his shirt—gripping, pulling him closer—and that’s when something in him snaps. The control cracks. Just a little. The kiss deepens, rougher now, more intent, like he’s done waiting, done pretending this isn’t exactly what he’s wanted.
What you’ve both wanted.
Your back presses harder against the table as he crowds closer, heat everywhere, overwhelming, impossible to ignore.
“See?” he mutters against your mouth, breath uneven now. “Knew you’d come around.”
You should argue. You don’t. Because right now? He’s right. And you hate that you like it.
When you finally pull back, your breathing is a mess. So is his—just slightly. His forehead rests briefly against yours, a rare pause in all that sharp confidence. “…took you long enough,” he murmurs.
You let out a shaky breath. “You’re unbelievable.”
A faint smirk tugs at his mouth. “Yeah,” he says. “But you keep comin’ back.”
Your heart stutters again. And this time? You don’t deny it.
The neck biting and sucking thing, but while riding his lap. 🥹
Butcher would be so damn weak for it.
He still has control of course whilst your riding him, gripping your hips and moving them in time with his thrusts, but the minute your lips attached to his neck he couldn’t help the almost needy groan leaving him.
He loves the feel of you sucking marks onto him, even more so when you lick the spot to soothe it right after.
Another thing he’d fucking obsess over is feeling your teeth sink into him, makes him go even harder into you.
Author's Note: Hi y'all. I am writing this while feeling like a zombie and I wanted to start with that, I also want to say I'm not British so I apologize I am writing the character to the best of my ability, and, I usually chicken out of posting any smut I bring myself to write so I'm also sorry if this awkward
Billy Butcher x F!Reader
Warnings: language, Billy being sad and having feelings of fear+worry, cyst on brain, migraines, language, sex, piv, possibly awkward writing of smut because I'm nervous about it and because of my migraine+exhaustion, age gap (Reader is 28), sweet undertones, Billy crying and crying during sex and after, Butcher steals something important, Hughie and Butcher bromance, 18+ this does have smut/mdni please
"Go check on her," M.M tells Hughie to check on you. He had sent you to lay down an hour before and was stern about it. He had entered full dad mode and wasn't accepting no for an answer, not having the physical strength to argue anyway you simply agreed and had gone to lay down.
Your exhaustion was blatantly obvious, you were yawning consistently all day and fighting to stay awake. The exhaustion showed in your eyes, how they were drooping closed and it was all you could do to fight them open and help the team. Ultimately it was one of the days you were rendered useless to them and in general. The pain from a migraine you had sense waking up this morning only made matters worse. You felt and looked like a zombie, if zombies could comprehend feeling pain. You woke up after eight this morning and before two M.M was scolding you and sending you to rest; for breakfast you had birth control and Excedrin and wished you had a RedBull to chase it, when you finally could eat through the day you had part of your leftover philly cheese steak sub and later a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was right after the sandwich he sent you off and since then you really had been trying so damn hard to sleep because you wanted to, you needed to, your body was screaming at you to. Yet, here you were, who knows how many ASMR videos in, which usually helped, and nothing, the same body screaming at you to sleep wouldn't let you. You weren't tired because you didn't get proper rest, as of late your going to bed early and sleep schedule had been fucked but you despite going to sleep later woke up later and still got your 7-8 hours give or take.
"Y/N.....," you hear the door open and even more light slips into the room. "Hey, MM sent me to check on you.....," you were hidden completely under the blankets and stuck your finger out to flip him the bird. "Yes ma'am," he caught the hint and closes the door and returning to the team in the office.
"Well--," MM asks him, he starts to speak to answer when the office door closes softly behind him and he turns to see Billy.
" 'ow is she gents?" He walks over to them, his boots sounding on the floor
"She flipped me off, she's buried under the blankets--," Hughie answers
"I sent her to bed about an hour ago......she's not sleeping?" He asks Hughie who shakes his head
Billy sighs, "Thanks gents, now get the 'ell out'a 'ere, you too," he looks to Kimiko
"You kicking us out man?"
"Yes, it would appear so. Go see Janine and Annie, yeah? Kimiko, go buy some new pain' for ye' nails, yeah?" He holds up a twenty between his fingers that she happily takes
"Yeah, alright man....let me know how Y/N is doing later," MM agrees as he grabs his coat and he and Hughie leave. He stops shy of the office door, "what's that?" He points to the bags Billy is carrying.
"It's nuffin', fuck off will ya?"
"Why are you so eager to get rid of us?" MM asks, somewhat defensively.
Billy rolls his eyes, "what? Woul' ya like ter stay 'n 'ear me fuck 'er to sleep?"
"Absolutely the fuck not. Later man," MM grabs Hughie's shoulder, pushing them both out of the door, "let's go see Annie and the baby"
"Yeah.....me too Hughie....me too, give the Mrs and the li'le one my love"
"Will do," Hughie smiles and leaves with MM
When the office room clears out Billy lets his head fall for a moment and then releases a sigh, his knuckles turn white as his grip tightens around the handles on the bag and he wills himself to go to the room you're in trying to rest.
Once again more light seeps into the room, Billy didn't bother knocking because it would cause more noise.
"Oi, playin' 'ide and seek are ya?"
"Oi, listen here 'Arry Pot'a whatever Honeydukes bullshit you're tryna sell me, I ain't in the mood, take your Fizzy Whizbees and shove 'em or I'll grab you by your Curly Wurly's and punch you in the Camel Balls"
"Feelin' like dog shite and still mock'n me, making 'Arry Pot'a references and you don' even have 'da proper' str'enf' ter hold up yer 'ead or not sound like cornbread yer'self," Billy smiles seeing you still fight to have wits about you and to be witty even feeling so weak and defeated. He almost lets a small chuckle out when you flip him the bird and mumble "Fuck you, kiss my cornbread ass"
"That is the plan my love," he closes the door to stop that light from seeping in and then walks to the window. He sits the bag down in the chair by the window and reaches into it. The room becomes darker and you glance over to see he had gotten a dark gray fabric to cover it like curtains, making the room as black as it could be without the walls being painted. You sigh in relief, "Oh thankyou Jesus," you say in a soft breath.
"Far from him love...."
"Ain't we fuckin' all," you muster a soft laugh, "I can still thank him"
"Right good point ya got there," he smiles and slowly comes over to the bed, kneeling beside it where your head sticks out from under the blankets. He strokes the hairs on your forehead with his thumb, his hand gently resting on your head. "Light is hurtin' you more in'nit?" You nod.
"Billy, I ain't dyin', it's the same old shit just a different day"
"Well I do believe you told me to fuck you and kiss your arse," he pushes himself to stand
"Billy.....like you said, I can't even hold my head up....I am so tired and it hurts so bad I want to cry," he sees the tears brimming your eyes, "I can't even cry, I'm too tired to cry....," you literally were, you had no strength, "I want to sleep and I can't.....I need to sleep and I'm trying I just can't ....," you explain and watch him walk over to the Excedrins and grab two, placing them in your hand before going back to the bag and giving you a pink Wild Berry Red Bull.
"To wash 'er down, yeah?" You graciously accept the gift, taking the pills and some sips of the drink and he takes it once you've enjoyed half of it he takes it and places it on the table with the pills.
"I know love, I know you like to par'icipa' yeah, but, this time, just lie down there and be my pillow princess, yeah?" He asks, placing a finger under your chin as he gets in the bed, sitting on your side. "I 'eard this old wives tell, if ya fuck a woman right, she either gets really ditzy or she gets really sleepy, 'alls right ter sleep," he smirks as he says it and slides his trench coat off, tossing it on the floor as he lays down next to you, looking in your eyes. "Wat' do ya say love?"
"Okay...can't hurt, but, I ain't movin'.....," you try to smile and he kisses your forehead and taps your thigh, "lie on your back love"
You comply, turning from laying on your tummy to your back, he waits letting you get comfy, "please just don't make my head move too much"
"Yes love, don't worry, I plan on going easy," he says as you get situated he unbuttons his Hawaiian shirt and lets it fall to the foot of the bed and he crawls over you and brings his hand behind your neck to bring your lips to his. The kiss isn't like when you and Billy usually go at it like wild animals, hot, heavy, passionate. It's soft, gentle.
You close your eyes and kiss him back as his hands slip to slide your shirt off over your head.
His lips move to your neck as he buried his face in it and you hum and gently reach to grip his hair, he moved back to kissing your lips ever so gently, it wasn't so gentle that it was a wisp of a peck, it was still incredibly sensual and he was lingering. You almost think for a second you feel his hand on behind your neck shake and his lips quiver but think nothing of it when he proceeds.
His hand on your neck slides down your back and unhooks your bra and he slips it off of you, only then did his lips move from yours. You're thankful so you could breathe but also he was thankful your eyes were closed. It gave him a second to quickly wipe his face on the back of his hand before bringing his thumbs to tease your nipples just how you liked, he brought his head down to suck one as he flicked and slapped the other, listening to your soft moans.
"Ya know I love t' 'ear your pret'y lit'le sounds for me love, love to 'ear you get loud for me when we are go'in wild yeah, but today, you don't 'ave to. I'm 'appy just see'in' the pleasure on your face," he smiles and kisses you again when moans begin to slip from your lips, your eyes remain closed
Your mouth falls open into an o when his hand slips grips your thighs and parts your legs and his hand slips between them, then two thick fingers slip into your wet folds and he began pumping them in and out agonizingly slow when you whimper. He knew that was a sign you didn't like that. "I'm 'orry love," he quickens the pace and your head falling back tells him that is much better. He chuckles softly and begins rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb.
"Oh love, you really are ti'erd aren't you? Ya usual'ly love to torture me 'till I'm leakin', ridin' on me thigh before ye' even let me stick me dick in ya...yer' legs are shakin'," he stops, removing his fingers from your pussy, he kisses your thighs before slipping his pants and boxers down to free himself from the confides of his clothes and leans back over you.
He holds his weight on one arm and lines himself up with the other, he slowly, gently sinks in and bottoms out with a grunt. "So fu'ing warm love...," he moves slowly, easy thrusts, only easy thrusts, keeping his promises to you. "It's workin' love," he smiles down at your face.
"Stay awake a bit longer," he instructs gently.
"Wait," you tell him softly and he stops, "everything al'ight love?" His brows furrow as he's worried he's making the pain in your skull worse. You nod and move into downward dog, one of your favorite positions. Honestly, you weren't a huge fan of missionary.
"Harder," you give the best smirk you can muster in your current condition, he's biting his lip at your ass and cunt on full display for him.
"Love-"
"Billy please~," you whimper and he nods, ramming himself into you, he chuckles at the sounds that escape you, a loud groan. He leans over your back to whisper in your ear, "you are a 'errible pillow princess you are," he smirks, thrusts hard but not rough and you giggle, you're almost drooling, the sleepiness was taking over but the pain was no longer at the forefront of your mind, your head was still killing you but he was making you feel so good you could at least try to not think about it
"Barely awake and still so 'ilthy you are," when you're not paying attention he wipes another tear threatening to slip so you don't notice and continues to pound you, hard like you want but careful not to hurt you as promised. You know he's close when he starts grunting but he keeps the steady rhythm he had going as he reaches around to your clit and breast. He finishes deep in you and slowly pulls out, laying your sleepy body down and kissing your head.
"I'm going to clean up yeah?" He goes to fetch a warm wash cloth to clean you up and then tucks you in. It worked, you were sleeping peacefully, out like a light. "Oi, almos' forgo', dint' I?" He smirks and leans over, kissing your ass. "Sweet dreams love," he grabs one last thing from the bag he had brought and looks at you then grabs his shirt and jacket to redress himself. He stops, stares at you for he didn't know how long and then grabs the birth control pills from the table and sticks them in his boot. His trench coat pocket felt too easy, too obvious.
Then to let you sleep he quietly leaves the room and goes to the office, "Oi, they let ya ou' alrea'y?" He smiles seeing Hughie come in with Annie and the baby. "Wel'ome lit'le bloke," he greets the child.
"Tell him," Hughie says excitedly nudging Annie who rolls her eyes. "Okay," she smiles and kisses Hughie.
"Ge' a room will ya?"
"You're fucking crying," she says shocked
"No I ain't!" His outburst made the new baby wail and he kneels down on the floor to soothe it, "uh....no no.....don't cry uh...."
"His names William," Hughie blurts out as if he'd been holding it in, Billy looks over his shoulder at him and he stands
"Excuse us yeah?" He yanks Hughie out into the hall with him, "I'm alrea'y cryin' and you go and name your boy after me!?" He shoves Hughie who laughs, "Yeah......how's Y/N?"
"Sleep'n......she's getting worse......."
"Listen Billy....Butcher-.....she's not.....she's not dying.....the doctor said the cyst wasn't anything to worry about......Hey, come'er," the moment had finally come, Hughie was pulling Billy Butcher's head in to hold it as he sobs, "I've got you man, I gotcha," he pats his back
we’ve seen jealous butcher, but what about jealous reader 👀👀
Butcher would absolutely use your being jealous to his advantage.
He’d love to see you tense up at the sight of him talking to another - whether or not he was flirting with them he’s see you seething and he’d smirk, which aggravated you further. Even more so if he feigned ever doing so.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” He’d grin, watching you pause your actions before you lunged to him, grabbing his collar and tugging him to eye level.
“You know- exactly what you were doing. Have fun flirting your way out of that situation, butcher?” You would sneer, which made him chuckle further.
“Nothin’ wrong with a little banter love.” Hed reply. “Besides, you know I like seeing ya get a bit hot headed, makes us fuckin’ later on even sweeter.”
all I can think about is the Butcher's erectile dysfunction, and I would constantly tease and torture his dick with a vibrator
me https://pin.it/6MGMCk6xO
OKAY ANON🥵 I see the vision. Here’s mine! inspired by your prompt!
NSFW down below 👀🔞
//////
Imagine him being uptight about it. He doesn’t like when you have the upper hand. But, there’s something about you that makes his gear turning seeing you all dominant.
“Try to get there before me~” as you slid your tiny vibrator in your soaked pussy while prying open his jeans
“Tch no fair, luv…y’already half way there. Can see that wet sparkling cunt of yours from a mile away.”
“Don’t get to do this often…just sit back and relax…old man” you pushed him on to the sofa. He falls immediately, jeans and boxer fling across the room. You persisted to play rough this time.
“Handcuffs ON and I won’t let you go until you cum on my face” you teasingly said while reaching onto both of his hand.
He smirked and willingly put the handcuffs himself.
“Y’aren’t gonna play nice no more?” his tone was somewhat begging for you.
“No…I want you to spread your leg wide open for me and enjoy a new friend of mine”
The buzzing sound of the vibrator and the rushing excitement is flowing through both of his head
“Can’t y’see my twin’s head already bobbing f’you, luv?”
some of my favorite the boys fan-fictions I’ve ever had the pleasure reading. all credits to the amazing authors please show them love by commenting or rebloging or both!
S= smut F= fluff A= angst
ᢉ𐭩 BILLY BUTCHER
♰ toxic ex | blond3ang3l | s
toxic ex butcher who just won't leave you alone.
♰ fingers | bohemianblasphemy | s
butcher licking his fingers before putting them in you
♰ stuffing | opal-opulence | s
Your father's Thanksgiving dinner is tense. Billy can't keep his mouth shut about the little romp you had on this holiday last year. It leads…well, where else would it lead?
♰ million dollar man | scarletwants | f + s
billy butcher finds solace and deepens his bond with you during a tender, intimate night after a rough day.
ᢉ𐭩 SOLDER BOY
♰ herogasm pollen | pittsick | s
Ben wasn't here for the pleasure of Herogasm, this time. Followed by Butcher, Hughie and you, he's searching the TNT Twins, trying to make them his next victims. Though, the idea disappears from his mind when he is accidentally hit by a supe's power, making him all warm and needy.
♰ give them hell | jollyhunter | a
America loves Happy Endings - and so does Vought! If you or a loved one is struggling with your supe life partner, call Happily Ever After® today at 1-800-122-8585. A proud subsidiary of the Sage Grove Center®, which is a proud subsidiary of Global Wellness Services®, which is a proud subsidiary of Vought International®. Don't let the intrusive thoughts win (this includes burning or decapitating your supe), because your supe-partner is only as strong as your love is for them!
ᢉ𐭩 BLACK NOIR
♰ in the night | seeds-and-sins | f
Your friend drags you along to one of Vought's many exclusive social events. You get so bored, and annoy her so badly, she sends you away with a mission... Go find the piano.
♰ under my skin | Venus-haze | f
Just when you think you don’t have a chance with Black Noir, an investor gala gives you a new opportunity to get under his skin.
♰ I wanna fuck you like an animal | dollerina | s
the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings
♰ would you like an almond joy? | dollerina | f
after a long day of work, you try to unwind by watching your comfort show, but your solitude is interrupted by yet another visit from noir, who seems to be finding more and more excuses to spend time with you…
ᢉ𐭩 JORDAN LI
♰ facade | lilyswritings | f + s
your ex cheats on you and then flaunts his new relationship in front of the whole school, leaving you hurt, embarrassed, and more than a little pissed off. jordan li comes to you with a solution — pretend to date them to piss him off. what could possibly go wrong?
Thinking of Butcher with Super!Reader who has super stamina... 👀
In a realistic scenario… butcher would probably struggle to keep up with super stamina 😭😭Doesn’t mean he won’t try though, stubborn old man (lovingly)
He would find it hot, even if he won’t say it out loud he loves that you’re ready to go when you both are in the mood- and for the first couple of rounds he’s fine, you’re not as affected of course since you’re barely out of breath or breaking a sweat.
By the time more rounds pass he’s struggling to keep up, too proud to admit it, still worked up into needing more of you.
“What’s the matter?” You cooed, a teasing smirk on your dial. “Too much for ya?”
“Fuck no…” he gruffed, still a little out of breath. “Maybe- give me a moment, I still ain’t done with you.”
hi hi :) i had a thought today and i haven’t stopped thinking about it and thought i would share it with you: butcher dating a “girly girl” who loves to dress cute, makeup always done, dainty jewelry, the whole works but also has SUCH a foul mouth and he is just so whipped for her cause she looks so pure and innocent and beautiful but can also hold her own and read anyone to filth and the stark contrast of her looks vs. her mouth is enough to give anyone whiplash
I LOVE THE DYNAMIC SO BAD.
From the outside, the dark, rough and brooding figure of butcher in comparison to his cutesy, dressy girlfriend was a drastic contrast to those in passing.
Billy saw the way your appearance enchanted those around you - forever dressed to the nines, makeup all perfect and every single accessory paired with your outfits - you were a vision.
People would think that your personality would match, but boy were they wrong (kinda). You were sweet, kind- but you also had a mouth that would make a priest faint.
Even butcher who is renowned for every second word being ‘cunt’ is shocked, but is all around widely impressed by the way the filthy words roll off your tongue- even locking some inventive words away in his brain to use for later.
He’d watch you insult someone, a supe you’d been hunting or someone with valuable information- and he wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a bit of a turn on seeing someone so taken aback from the seemingly innocent person in front of them.
butcher x reader who has sensitive skin where you have to banish him from long makeout sessions because your face is starting to get irritated bc of his beard. he’s so distraught and just looks at you all puppy dog eyed. he supposes he can go a couple days with shorter kisses…
Omg and he's just a liiiiittle bit sulky about it, before he has a genius idea, neck kisses. It's not the same but he leaves lingering kisses to your neck instead now, even trailing them down your shoulder when you wear tops with looser collars. It gets to the point where he hides every single high-collared shirt and turtleneck in sight, replacing them with similar looking looser ones, just a little happy to himself when he sees you wearing them without complaint.
omg sorry i keep blowing you up i just keep having thoughts!!
butcher x reader where he calls you his missus when talking to someone, and you have to physically hold yourself back so as to not jump his bones right then and there
NEVER apologize Clem, your asks are always amazing <33
The first time it happens, you think you misheard him, freezing on the spot to see if you can catch it again. He's talking to Hughie about something, you weren't paying attention to what, and he noticed how Butcher seemed a little happier than usual, as it, happy.
"Yeah, the little missus whipped up some breakfast this mornin', first decent meal I've 'ad in a while"
You're halfway across the room and you tense up, completely zoned out from your conversation with Kimiko, pausing halfway through a sign.
You feel like you're on fire, not in a flustered way so much as an I-wanna-drag-him-out-that-door-and-not-come-back-for-hours kinda way.
Don't forget to check the Billy Butcher & Soldier Boy Masterlist
Series
None yet
One-Shots
None yet
Drabbles
🦞 Bloody Hell - 💖❤️🩹❤️🔥 (Mature/15+)
When Billy comes home, he finds you curled up in bed hating your existence, and he knows just how to comfort you.
Gender: Female
Relationship: Romantic
Word Count: 700
Imagines
When he calls you his "missus" - 💖❤️🔥
When his kisses give you friction burns - 💖💞
Pulling him into a kiss by his necklace - 💖❤️🔥
His biceps look unfairly tasty in the morning and you just have to take a bite - 💖❤️🔥
You use a worrying amount of ketchup - 🎭
Calling him by his full name -❤️🔥🎭
He hogs the blanket, no matter how hard you try to prove it, he always denies that he does - 💖❤️🔥
How he takes care of you when you're sick - 💖❤️🩹
When he thinks you're making fun of his accent - ❤️🔥🎭
You rescue an opossum, and definitely don't name it Billy Jr - 💖🎭
Headcanons
None yet
Return to Main Masterlist | Return to Main The Boys Masterlist | Billy Butcher Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist | Billy Butcher & Soldier Boy Masterlist
Description: Y/N struggles to earn the trust of The Boys, especially Butcher. She slowly breaks down his walls, earns his respect which, eventually, turns into something deeper.
You'd always known that fitting into The Boys wasn't going to be easy. As a supe with the ability to manipulate shadows—slipping through darkness like a ghost, binding enemies in inky tendrils—your powers made you a target for suspicion from the start. But when Hughie vouched for you, swearing you'd turned your back on Vought's corruption after seeing too much of their underbelly, they let you in. Or at least, most of them did.
Billy Butcher? He took one look at you during that tense first meeting in the safehouse and spat on the floor. "Another bloody supe? What, we short on traitors now?" His voice was gravel and venom, eyes narrowing like you were just another Homelander waiting to happen. He paced the room, chain-smoking, his leather jacket creaking with every sharp turn. Frenchie chuckled nervously, Kimiko signed something crude, and MM just sighed, rubbing his temples.
"I'm not like them," you said, keeping your tone even, shadows flickering faintly at your fingertips despite your effort to stay calm. "I want to take them down as much as you do."
Butcher barked a laugh, cold and mocking. "Everyone wants a piece until the laser eyes come out. Keep your freak show away from me, love." He jabbed a finger in your direction before storming out, leaving the door to slam behind him.
The next few weeks were a grind. Missions came fast—raiding Vought warehouses, interrogating low-level supes who'd sold out for Compound V. You hung back at first, proving your worth in small ways: scouting ahead by merging with the shadows in a vent, relaying enemy positions without a sound. But Butcher dismissed it all. "Luck," he'd mutter, reloading his gun with deliberate snaps. "Or some supe sleight of hand."
One night, things escalated. The team was hitting a black-site lab where Vought was testing a new serum on captured supes. Intel said it was lightly guarded, but as you all breached the perimeter, alarms blared. Guards swarmed, and worse—a rogue supe enforcer, some brick wall of a guy with super strength, barreled through the wall like it was paper.
"Shit," MM growled, diving for cover as the enforcer charged. Frenchie lobbed a grenade, but the brute swatted it away, the explosion lighting up the night without fazing him.
Butcher fired shot after shot, bullets ricocheting off the guy's skin. "Where's your bloody magic trick now?" he snarled at you over his shoulder, not even glancing back.
You didn't hesitate. Shadows pooled at your feet, racing across the ground like spilled oil. They coiled up the enforcer's legs, wrapping his ankles, his knees. He roared, straining against them, but you poured your focus in, the darkness thickening into unbreakable chains. With a grunt, you yanked, toppling him like a felled tree. He crashed down, and before he could recover, Kimiko was on him, her fists a blur until he went limp.
The team pushed forward, securing the lab. Inside, you found the captives—supes broken and begging for release. As you helped free them, guiding one trembling woman through the shadows to evade patrols, Butcher watched from the doorway. His cigarette dangled forgotten from his lips, ash crumbling to the floor.
Back at base, the air was thick with exhaustion. Hughie patched up a cut on your arm from a stray bullet, while Frenchie cracked open beers. Butcher slumped in a chair, staring at the wall, his usual scowl softened just a fraction.
"That was solid work out there," he said finally, voice low, like the words pained him. He didn't look at you, but it was the closest thing to praise you'd gotten.
You nodded, flexing your bandaged hand. "Just doing my part."
He grunted, taking a swig from his bottle. "Don't let it go to your head. Supes are still supes."
But it was a start. Cracks in the wall.
Over the following months, the missions blurred into a rhythm of chaos and close calls. You saved Frenchie's ass during a botched extraction in a Vought gala, shadows smothering the security lights and letting him slip away with stolen files. MM started calling you "Shade" without the sarcasm, and even Kimiko warmed up, sharing quiet moments where she'd trace patterns in the dark with you.
Butcher, though—he was slower to thaw. He'd bark orders at you sharper than the others, question your intel twice over. Yet, you caught him watching during briefings, his sharp eyes tracking how you anticipated threats, how your powers turned the tide without the collateral damage supes like Homelander left in their wake.
The turning point came on a rainy night in a derelict warehouse on the outskirts of London. The Boys had a lead on a Vought exec smuggling Temp V—Butcher's poison of choice. But it was a trap. Soldiers poured in, armed to the teeth, and in the frenzy, Butcher took a hit—a deep gash across his side from a knife that slipped past his guard.
He staggered, blood soaking his shirt, firing wildly. "Get the fuck out!" he yelled at the team, but you saw the exec slipping away through a side door.
"Not without you," you shot back, shadows surging to bind the nearest soldiers, their screams muffled as darkness swallowed their weapons. You grabbed Butcher's arm, pulling him toward cover. He shoved you off at first, stubborn as ever.
"I don't need your help, supe," he growled, but his voice cracked, pain etching lines deeper into his face.
A soldier lunged, and you reacted on instinct—shadows lashed out, pinning the man mid-air. Butcher finished him with a point-blank shot, then leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
You tore a strip from your jacket, pressing it to his wound. "Sit still for once."
He glared, but didn't fight it. Rain hammered the roof as you worked, the team covering your retreat. For the first time, he held your gaze, something raw flickering in those dark eyes—gratitude, maybe, or the start of belief.
"Why?" he asked later, back at the safehouse, stitches fresh and a whiskey in hand. The others had crashed out, leaving you two in the dim kitchen light.
"Why what?"
"Why stick your neck out for a bastard like me? You could've left me to bleed."
You shrugged, shadows idly swirling in your palm like smoke. "Because you're not wrong about Vought. And because... I see you fighting the same fight. Even if you hate my kind."
He chuckled, a real one this time, rough around the edges. "Hate's a strong word. Maybe you're not all wankers." He raised his glass, clinking it against yours. "To proving me wrong, Shade."
From there, it shifted. Subtle at first—Butcher including you in strategy talks without the barbs, sharing a cigarette on stakeouts, his shoulder brushing yours in tight spaces. He'd tease, call you "trouble" with a smirk instead of venom. During a brutal takedown of a Vought puppet supe, he covered you when your powers faltered from exhaustion, his hand steady on your back as he whispered, "I've got you."
One evening, after a win that felt too rare, the team celebrated in a dingy pub. Laughter echoed, but you and Butcher ended up outside, leaning on the wall under a flickering streetlamp. The air was cool, charged with unspoken things.
"You know," he said, voice low, accent thickening with the beer, "I was wrong about you. From the start."
Your heart picked up, shadows dancing nervously at your feet. "Took you long enough."
He turned, close enough that you could smell the smoke and whiskey on him. His hand came up, thumb brushing your cheek, calloused and gentle. "Worth the wait, though."
The kiss was inevitable—fierce, like him, tasting of rain and regret. You melted into it, shadows wrapping around you both like a private veil, the world fading away. When he pulled back, eyes searching yours, there was no hate left. Just respect, and something warmer, deeper.
"Don't go getting soft on me now," you murmured, but your smile gave you away.
Butcher grinned, pulling you closer. "Too late for that, love."
In the fight against Vought, you'd found an ally. And maybe, just maybe, more.
butcher x reader where you wake up next to him, the sun streaming in a soft glow through your shared bedroom window. you wake up before him, watching him through eyes still half closed with the remnants of sleep. he’s so pretty like this. at peace, in your arms. you can’t help what comes next, you really can’t. you tried to stop yourself… you just couldn’t hold back. he looked too yummy. your teeth sink into his bicep, and he wakes up with a groan, looking down at you, confusion swirling in his eyes. “wha’ the fuck are y’doin’?” he grumbles, watching you pull back, placing a soft kiss on the bite mark you left behind. “nothing” you murmur, looking up at him with a devious smile. he just rolls his eyes before leaning down to kiss you, muttering against your lips “fuckin’ menace”
Okay but Clem I'm in love with this!!!
He finally looks like he's resting for once, one arm half reaching for you, fingers barely touching your side. They curl into the shirt you're wearing, his of course, trying to tug you a little closer without waking himself up.
You see the way his bicep twitches just a little and that's your tipping point, you half lunge forward, sinking your teeth into him. He lets out this half broken little groan, waking up to you pulling back, a fresh little indentation of your teeth on his arm.
"The fuck're y'doin' luv?"
"Nothin'. You're just...tasty"
"Tasty, hm?"
You nodded, leaning across to nip at his skin again, just enough to sting nicely. He watched with a little smirk as your tongue darted out to sooth over the not quite visible marks.
"Hm" He hummed, hand coming to the back of your head, guiding you up to face him, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, soft but with the promise of more.
"Guess I could live with bein' tasty, if it's your turn next"
