A/N: Headcanon/Drabble bullet list about our dear, dear Commanders. I’ve been having major feels about them lately.
Sorry if it’s crap lmao I wrote it on my lunch. It’s what came to my head first for each and I needed to get these thots out of my brain! 🤣
Warnings: NSFW. 18+. Clone Commanders x Reader. (Mayday, Cody, Wolffe, and Fox)
Pls enjoy~
Mayday
There’s making love, and then there’s making love with Mayday.
This man WORSHIPS you like the god(dess) you are.
He knows every inch of your body, every part of you that makes you giggle, sigh, moan, beg for more, etc.
He’s very intimate and loving, and gets off on getting you off.
Mayday wants nothing more than to pleasure you and treat you with the utmost reverence.
Favorite position: Missionary. Mayday wants to be as close as possible and look you in the eyes as you fuck, seeing how much pleasure you’re receiving and how good he’s making you feel.
He loves when you wrap your legs/arms around him and pull him impossibly closer, seeing every expression on your face as he thoroughly takes care of you.
Praise praise praise. Mayday loves whispering to you how good you are for him, how incredible you feel, how much he loves you, etc. He loves hearing it back, too
Idk I just think he’d be an intensely romantic partner and treat you so right 🥰
Cody
This man is precise and in control at all times.
Cody doesn’t want to rush. He’s a man who takes his time to undo you, warming you up to the point of you begging for him to just take you. He knows you inside and out.
BUT call him “sir” or “Commander” and it’s all over for him.
His dominant facade crumbles and loses his control, his hips driving faster and deeper into you with wild abandon.
Favorite position: You sitting in his lap since it gives him total access to your body.
Cody’s hands can roam and grope your thighs, ass, he can leave his marks on your neck and chest while being so close to you.
That’s really what he wants. Just to be close.
Hearing your whines, the sighs of his name as you bounce on his cock. It really gets him going. He knows that you’re his and he is yours.
He’ll groan orders hotly in your ear to go faster, slower, when you’re allowed to cum, how perfect you are when you’re doing so, etc.
Cody is also a secret romantic. After, he’ll kiss your hands, your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead.
He loves laying with you after, feeling your body against his as you both doze off in one another’s arms.
Wolffe
This man is intense, but passionate.
Loves being in control, his favorite thing in the world is hearing his name leave your lips in pleasured moans.
The louder you are, the better. It makes the man go feral knowing he’s making you feel this way.
Favorite position: you flat on your stomach and him laying on top of you.
He loves the carnal aspect of it, mounting you and driving deep, feeling your ass on his hips, his lips at your ear growling and groaning how you are his. He doesn’t last long in this position but it drives him absolutely wild.
Is a little possessive, gets off knowing no one else can make you feel like this.
After awhile of being in a relationship he’d be comfortable enough to let you take charge in the bedroom. It’s a vulnerable position for him and only something he’d allow with someone he fully truly trusts.
And when that does happen, he loves it. He might not admit it at first, but he’d ask for it again.
Wolffe’s aftercare is next level, though. When the wild fucking is over, he’ll curl up to you, kiss you so gently and clean you up, handling you with tender care.
He’ll murmur sweet words, making sure you’re okay and telling you how much he loves you.
Fox
As we all agree, this man needs a damn break.
He loves being taken care of by you.
Fox doesn’t mind relinquishing some control and just laying back and letting you take charge of his pleasure.
That’s not to say he won’t reciprocate, he absolutely will. He loves giving oral and undoing you completely with his hands and mouth.
Favorite position: cowgirl / you on top. Seeing you take what you want and having the perfect view of your body while doing so just does it for him.
You can practically see his stress melt away as you ride him, his eyes never leaving yours as he thrusts almost desperately back up into you.
It’s the only time he can just get lost in you, and forget his burdens, even just for a little bit. You take such good care of him, and he you.
After you ride him and have your fill, he’ll spoon you and fuck you that way, slow and deliberate, kissing your shoulder and mumbling soft praises in your ear, wishing this could never end.
Being with you in this intimate way is his favorite distraction from his high-pressure job, and he’s going to enjoy every second of it.
Summary: Your perfect summer by the pool comes to a screeching halt when terrorists put a hit on your father's life...and yours! Now you're forced to spend your last remaining months of freedom hidden away in the middle of nowhere, stuck with a grumpy, (but kind of hot) bodyguard that wears a bucket hat and thinks you're a spoiled princess. Could things get any worse?
Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.
So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.
So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!
Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))
I Knew, Sweetheart
A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in.
Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress.
T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.
John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.
Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.
Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.
You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.
A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.
John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.
At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.
Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.
God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.
Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.
Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.
“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.
“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”
He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”
Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.
He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”
You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.
John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.
“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.
You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.
“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.
“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.
“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.
Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.
“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.
“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.
“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.
“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.
He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.
“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”
“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”
“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”
His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.
John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.
In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.
“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.
Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.
Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.
“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.
“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.
“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.
“Give me hand, Captain?”
He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.
The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.
“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.
“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.
His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.
John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable
With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.
Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.
“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”
His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.
John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”
“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.
Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.
Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.
“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.
It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.
“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.
Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.
God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.
Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.
“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”
Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.
“Please, I want this. I want you John.”
Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.
“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.
“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.
Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.
“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.
Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.
Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.
Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.
“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.
You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.
“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.
You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.
He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.
Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.
Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.
“I love you, John. More than anything.”
He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
“You’re my best friend.”
He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.
“You’re mine too.”
yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.
Summary: Your perfect summer by the pool comes to a screeching halt when terrorists put a hit on your father's life...and yours! Now you're forced to spend your last remaining months of freedom hidden away in the middle of nowhere, stuck with a grumpy, (but kind of hot) bodyguard that wears a bucket hat and thinks you're a spoiled princess. Could things get any worse?
Was it the way his hair fell down onto his forehead, or was it his tall dark, and handsome demeanor? Was it the way he always looked at you with those dark blue eyes that had hints of sadness and loneliness behind them? No, no perhaps there was just something about loving a villain. The danger and excitement were fun and you could never escape the aquiver of it. So now you stood outside his layer with no way in. You would just watch and wait, eventually, he’d know you were here and bring you up himself. Only this time you came for something else, you came to end it once and for all. The problem was you loved him and at the end that only made you a fool. So you wiped away the tear that seemed to keep coming down your cheeks and before you knew it he was in front of you. The blue electricity wafted through his suit. He stood tall, never taking his mask off as he stalked towards you.
“What?” he asked with a hint of a growl in his voice
You tilted your head, a little confused. Usually, he wasn’t this mean to you, but this was another reason to end it. He didn’t seem to care about you as much anymore. You guys would have hard rough sex, but then he’d leave without a word. It began to really hurt you, he had neglected and used you.
“I think” you cleared your throat “we should stop,” You say trying to keep your lips a straight line
“And why do you think that?” he asked, seeming annoyed
“You don’t seem to care anymore” The last part came out quiet but he still heard.
“You don’t love me” you continue “I’m just something for you to use when you can and want”
Zoom walks closer to you at first he’s slow, something you’re not used to. It doesn’t last and before you knew it he had grabbed you and taken you up to his hideout or whatever it was. His hands were around your waist holding you tightly.
“I do...I do love you” He presses his forehead to yours and even with the mask on this was the most he had shown you love.
“I’m sorry y/n...please let me show you...I can and I will love you” his voice is softer than before.
“Let me show you”
And just like that the whole reason you had come was gone. You really were a fool, a fool for him. He was so much bigger than you and something about him in his suit really did something to you.
He kissed you through his mask, his hand gently running up and down against your waist.
“I annoy you, I am only a burden” you try to pull away from him but he holds you tighter pushing you into his chest.
“No, no, no you’re my everything, I am sorry”
He gently began to pull your shirt up and you let him. You weren’t wearing very cute underwear in hopes that the breakup could go better. You couldn't see his face and it kind of worried you, but at the same time excited you. He pressed his face into the side of your neck. Growling a little as his lips ran across your neck. Even with the mask, you could feel his breath against your skin. His hands gripped your waist again and he held you like this. You weren’t exactly sure what he was doing but he kept his face burried into your neck, kissing your skin through the mask.
He discarded the rest of your clothes and held you up against the wall. You knew he wouldn’t take the mask or any of his suit off and you honestly didn’t mind. It was kind of hot being completely naked under him while he was completely covered, even his face. He pressed into you and whimpered. Lifting your head up exposing your neck again. His face went right back to it and ran his masked face along your collarbone and neck. His thrusts were slow and gentle, but you realized you liked it when he was rough.
“hm faster...please”
He growls and grabs your jaw with one hand. “I thought you wanted me to be gentle”
“I changed my mind, I want you to degrade me”
You knew he was smirking a little under his mask.
“Just tell me you love me after”
“I will”
His thrusts got harder and he kept his hand on your jaw.
“You like this more?” he growls again
“mh y..yes”
“Fucking slut” he slaps your face, not hard enough to hurt you but hard enough to get a noise out.
His gloved hand moves to your throat and he pushes his thumb over your lips.
“Who’s pussy does this belong to” his fingers brush against your clit and you buck your hips.
“Y..yours” you whimper out
“Who do you belong to? huh?”
“Yo...you I belong to” you couldn’t get the rest out.
“My perfect girl” he pushes his forehead against yours again
“your mine” his face buried back into your neck. He repeats the words as he moves from your neck to your jaw “mine” and then to the back of your ear “mine” he says one more time. You look up at him with doe eyes and you feel his hips stutter for a moment.
“Z...Zoom” you whimper his name.
He rips his mask off and crashes his lips into yours. His thrust stayed the same and it was perfect, his fingers still vibrating on your nerves. An amazing trick only a speedster could accomplish.
He pulls away from your lips “Hunter...my name is Hunter”
“Hunter” you repeat his name and he growls again
“Fuck y/n” he kisses your neck, “say it again” he sucks on your skin leaving marks as he does it.
“H..Hunter.”
“Again.”
“Hunter I’m close” you whisper.
“Me too.”
A few more thrusts and you are both coming. He continues to hold you against the wall. His forehead falls to yours again and he smiles.
“You are so beautiful” he kisses your forehead and then your cheek while he held you from falling. He then picked you up bridal shower and carried you to his room. Gently placing you on the bed and regarding the rest of his suit he crawled into the bed next to you. Pulling the covers over the both of you he held you against him.
“I was scared...I was scared that something could happen and if I get attached” He choked a little at his words “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” You felt his grip tighten on you.
“You’re not going to lose me...as long as you take care of me” you smiled at him
“I will” he kissed you once more “Get some rest, Love.”
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.”
now that ive seen u write “You’ll be safe, yeah? You come straight to me and Hughie the moment you’re out.” I simply have to request a scenario in which it happens - maybe r really doesnt think she's going to make it out but she manages it and when she gets to hughie and butcher she's so overwhelmed that she just starts to cry, and soft moments w butcher ensue I CAN SEE IT
screaming, crying, a puddle on the floor rn. let's do this. THIS GOT LONG uhh slight tw for refs to the deeps misogyny
You don't know how Hughie managed it last time. Going undercover, planting a bug. You've only been in the building for ten minutes and you're wrestling with your nerves, trying to keep your heartbeat down and your breath steady.
Your boss at work was sent an NDA from Vought after having one of his office buildings destroyed by Homelander. When you mentioned it during dinner one night, all Butcher saw was an opportunity for infiltration, and the planning began.
The man who's taking your meeting is an Everyman type, dressed well, glasses, matter-of-fact tone of voice. Clipboard in hand, he leads you into the largest meeting room you've ever seen. The windows are floor to ceiling, walls were decorated with flatscreen monitors, and the table with seven seats is shaped in a curve that stretches along the entire back half of the room, leaving large gaps between the seats.
"This is where the Seven usually take meetings," the man says contentedly, taking a seat in the middle. You eye the room warily.
"Don't they need it to be available, then?" You ask, wondering about the odds of a member of the Seven walking in. But he simply shrugs with a lucked-out smile.
"Fortunately, nothing is booked for the rest of the day. Please, take a seat."
So you do. You begin to listen to him at first, but then you zone out: not only are you supposed to plant a bug, but Butcher gave you a chip to plug into one of the PC's. That would help you gain remote access to the server.
The material of the seat's becoming sticky as you grip onto it, heat radiating from your palms. Your gut has twisted into a maze of knots, a boulder settling into the space between your stomach and diaphragm: you're struggling to breathe properly.
"And to seal the deal, just sign here," you zone into the conversation again just as the man finishes his spiel. "Oh! Let me find a pen for you," his eyes blow wide and apologetic, and he turns away from you to dig through his bag. You notice it's stuffed full; the cuff of a jacket spilling out amongst two notepads and a few packs of tissues. You're amused briefly -- you've never known a man to cary packets of tissues before.
While he's distracted, you slip the bug from the inside of your pocket mirror, pretending you're checking on your makeup. He's struggling to find a pen; packets of tissues fall onto the floor and the rustling's more urgent. He bumbles out an apology but he's still folded over the arm of his chair.
Your heartbeat is in your ears, heat flooding to your cheeks, the backs of your knees. Under the table, you peel off the plastic and stick the bug to the table. While you stuff the plastic into the smallest pocket of your jeans -- with a mental note to flush it later -- the man sits up, flushed and dazed. He holds up the pen for you to take, and you sign the document. Before he can conclude the meeting, you sweetly ask if there's a bathroom you can use.
Footsteps echo loudly in the boardroom, and the further away you get, the more confident you feel. An exhilarating thrill rolls through your body with every heartbeat and you're almost out of the room when red leather boots turn the corner.
You stand rooted to the spot, face to face with one of the most evil people alive. Homelander's eyes meet yours, unblinking, not a soul behind them. He's intimidating; tall, he looks you up and down and sniffs, before a smile spreads onto his face. It reminds you of a clown, a performative mask, hiding his true emotions, preparing to manipulate any situation to his advantage.
You're no match: a sensitive soul with flowers in her eyes. You couldn't dream of a fraction of the acts he's committed. You feel sick to the stomach. He looks up at the man behind the table, "And who's this?" He looks back to you. "Where are you going?"
"NDA client," the man at the back says.
"The bathroom," you say as lightly as possible, not wishing to poke the bear. He hums and nods.
"Well, you'd better hurry then! I was going to offer you a tour," he sucks air in through his teeth, "but I suppose that's more The Deep's thing, right?" He chuckles at his own 'joke', and your heart thuds in your chest. He looks you up and down, you find your feet and excuse yourself, just catching him roll his eyes at you as you pass.
Hot. You're very hot. It's trickling down your palms and your legs, all tingly and fuzzy. Your cheeks burn with the stress of the encounter, just standing in front of the man has made you want to cry.
But you have one more job. You take a deep breath and continue through the almost empty corridors. While you make your way out, you'll find a computer room. The bathroom appears on a left corner, but the signs say the exit is to the right; the moment you turn, you catch red and blue out of your peripheral vision.
You look up and see, to your relief, the door to the men's bathroom. Without looking, because you already know what you'll see, you spin on your heel and enter the ladies, as if you had misread the signs.
You scan the bathroom stalls, and, confident that they're empty, you catch yourself on a sink. Did he recognise you from somewhere? He must have been able to sense your panic. In which case, he knows you've tried to do something. In which case, he'll follow you out.
In which case, you're screwed.
You swear a few times to yourself, taping the cold ceramic edge with your fingertips. Turning the tap as cold as possible, you let it splash across your inner wrists to help lower your temperature.
Then, you apologise to Butcher under your breath because you need to leave. Now.
You leave the bathroom without looking behind you. Fixing your eyes on the exit signs, you follow them, down a flight of stairs, another hallway, why is this building such a maze? Even though you aren't looking for him, you hear another set of footsteps somewhere distantly behind you. They're heavier, steeped in layer after layer of anguish and rage, except it's only simmering.
When they speed up with you it's an instinctive reaction to look over your shoulder -- and there he is, striding maybe twenty feet behind you.
Everything in your body jolts with white hot fear, you speed up again, keep walking, looking forward, when Annie appears to be walking towards you. All you can hear in your head is "luck, luck, luck!"
As her face becomes clearer, you catch her eye, wasting no time to widen yours, stare intendedly and flick your own behind you. She subtly follows your eyes and then she's gone, not showing any acknowledgement of you at all.
Before you slip into the elevator, you hear Annie's melodic speech drifting through the air, until the doors shut. She saved you. You still want to cry. But there's a camera in the corner, so you stand as still and emotionless as possible, suppressing any trembling that appears like a tortured game of whack-a-mole.
The doors open, you see the exit, and you're finally thinking about the future. Where are they?
"You come straight to me and Hughie the moment you're out."
That's what he said, and now you've turned the corner from Vought and tears are collecting in the corners of your eyes. Scanning the busy streets and avoiding strangers' eye contact. You see his car first, and then you notice the two men leaning against each side, conversing over the roof of the car.
When Butcher sees you approaching, he's only filled with the raw relief that you're alive and begins to smile proudly. But then the sun catches the glistening streaks on your cheeks and your eyes are bloodshot and your shoulders are quirking unnaturally, and dread pools in his stomach. His gut has been hacked into and when you throw your arms around his neck and begin to cry, he assumes the worst.
"I'm sorry-- I'm so sorry, I tried..." your eyelashes tickle his neck, tears seeping into the collar of his shirt. He's startled, and it takes him a moment to slide one arm around your back and hold your head into his shoulder with his other hand. He looks at a wide-eyed Hughie, who is speechless, features weaved with concern. His thumb gently rubs circles into your hair, and he's bewildered.
Your body shakes against his, so his grip tightens around you while he tries to keep you steady. He hooks his arm around your waist in case your legs give up on you, and he looks helplessly at Hughie. You've never been like this before.
"Christ," he whispers to himself. You're holding onto him for dear life. He begins to rub circles onto your back, making a point to breathe deeply to trick your subconscious into copying him. He kisses the top of your head, and lingers. His breath brushes against your head, his grip the only tether you have to Earth.
When your breaths slow down, you squeeze him again tightly. He pulls you away and swipes at the tears below your eyes.
"What happened?" He asks so gently, so sincerely, that you don't have words yet. From your pocket, you retrieve the chip and hold it out, sniffling. He takes it and frowns, in dialogue with himself, and he looks at Hughie.
You can't decipher the look they've shared but Butcher doesn't say anything when his attention is on you again, already catching more tears with his thumb.
Habitually, you look to the floor, but Butcher's hand at your jaw gently maintains your eye contact. "The bug?" You nod, hoping that the fact will make him less annoyed with you. That you haven't failed. He considers this with satisfaction, and pockets the chip.
"I'm so sorry, Billy, I tried to do both but--" Your voice shatters like glass as a new wave of emotion hits you. But he's patient: only Hughie can see that he's beating himself up for doing this to you. It's obvious in the tick of his jaw, the twitching of his fingers, it's written in the creases of his eyebrows.
"When I was leaving," you clear your throat. "Homelander walked into the boardroom. I lied about going to the bathroom so I could find somewhere for the chip but he followed me, and I just kept thinking, what if he catches me? Am I getting out alive? Will I see you again?"
Billy doesn't blink. Hughie doesn't even think he's breathed. His features soften and he leans forward to press a firm kiss to your forehead.
"Oh, love. I am so sorry," he whispers into your skin. "I won't make you do that again, yeah?" His eyes narrow when he pulls back, "Did he hurt you? 'Cos I swear to God, that cunt's had it comin' for a while now." You shake your head, he thumbs at your cheek.
"No, no, Annie," Hughie perks up at the mention of her name. "She saw me and distracted him. If it wasn't for her, I would've been trapped in the elevator with him."
A beat.
"I'm sorry," you say again. Butcher shakes his head, eyebrows pulling together. He kisses you tenderly on the lips.
"Listen. The bug may be all we need, the light at the end of this bleedin' tunnel. And you did that, yeah?" He's trying to be optimistic, he's never optimistic. You offer him a small smile. "I won't let the bastard hurt ya. If you're in any sort of trouble," he finds himself saying, "you call me." He slips an arm around your shoulders to pull you close.
"If we need the bug, Y/N, we'll figure it out. Let's get you home," Hughie says with a kind smile. He opens the back door instead of the passenger, and slides in.
You sit in the passenger seat, trembling slightly, but Butcher puts his hand on your knee when he sees it bounce. He inhales deeply before starting the car, already thinking up ways of distracting you and helping you forget the entire thing.
can i request something fluffy for butcher? maybe where he lets reader get away with things he doesn’t let the others get away with bc he has a soft spot for her??? love your blog! <33
hey excuse me this is i think the cutest idea EVER let me see what i can do thank you millions for this
There's nowhere in the world as comfortable as Butcher's arms. The sofa envelopes you both, surprisingly soft given that you are not in the lap of luxury. His chest is solid beneath your cheek, arm wrapped around you tightly.
At first, you'd been figuring out tomorrow's action plan, but eventually, the timbre of Butcher's voice reminds you that keeping your eyes open feels like an impossible task. The vibrations of his chest, along with his absentminded strokes over your head lull you to sleep.
"Then the little bugger won't 'ave a chance," he says with a spark of certainty, but the smile falls from his face when he notices your closed eyes and steady breathing. He radiates heat, but it's not uncomfortable. Rather, it is cosy, welcoming, kind. All the things he does not claim to be.
He carefully stretches his hand out to the side, fingertips brushing against his coat. He grasps the hem and tugs it towards the two of you, until it covers you completely. He doesn't mind only being half covered.
There's a soft smile on his face that he's unaware of, until Frenchie enters his peripheral with a delighted smile on his face. He meets Butcher's eyes, which immediately harden, and he sticks up his middle finger.
Frenchie snorts and half skips away, endeared by the big, scary William Butcher.
-
The next day, Frenchie celebrates his entrance, holding up two paper bags, one with a splodge of grease painted in the corner. Kimiko smiles brightly, Marvin swoops in to collect the bags and from the corner of the sofa you patiently wait for him to pass out everyone's orders. Hughie first, then Kimiko, Frenchie, himself and two lots to Butcher.
Butcher sits in the middle of the sofa, and passes you your food, before opening his. You haven't had your favourite for a while, and thank Frenchie for passing by two places for the food run.
Even though you're content with your favourite, the smell of Butcher's waffle fries wafts in your direction, and your eyes linger on the box in his hands.
Shifting onto your knees, you shuffle forwards, bracing a hand on his shoulder and reaching for a fry. His eyes follow you as you pop it into your mouth, and he tips the box towards you to offer you another one. He has a lopsided smile and you nab another before he can rescind his silent offer. A barely audible gasp attracts both you and Butcher's attention to the rest of the group.
Frenchie still wears his heart eyes smile, Hughie's jaw is slack, Kimiko looks on happily and Marvin's expression is unreadable.
"What if I want a fry?" Marvin says, looking longingly at the box. Butcher leans back, taking you with him and the box further out of Marvin's reach.
"Sorry mate, gotta get your own," he shrugs.
"Yeah, I thought you were all weird about sharing your food," Hughie says.
"I think it's cute," Frenchie says.
"Alright, fuck off, you lot. No more questions," he says, two fries trapped between his fingers.
-
There's a silent competition as the group approaches Butcher's car. Everyone riding in the backseat in this heat is absorbed into a sweaty, uncomfortable lump. You're not doing that again.
"Shotgun!"
"Shotgun!" It may be a little childish, but you're disappointed when Hughie gets there before you.
Butcher strides to the drivers seat, gesturing to you with his keys, "You're up front."
You're surprised, and a little guilty, but the heat is warping your brain, and you're not going to pass up the opportunity to sit next to the car's air conditioning.
"What?!" Hughie says, incredulous.
"You heard me. The rest of you twats are like worms in me ear." Butcher disappears under the roof of the car. Frenchie laughs knowingly, and pats Hughie on the shoulder.
"Relax, Petit Hughie. Monsieur Charcuter has a crush."
Heat pools in your cheeks, and Butcher's door slams shut. Frenchie sends you a wink before you open the door and slide inside and onto the scorching black seats. Butcher's hand hovers over the air vents, testing the cool air, but it doesn't seem like he heard Frenchie.
Everyone else piles into the clown car of the backseat.
-
The first time you do it, you almost don't want him to notice. The television broadcasts Homelander declaring that anti-supe 'terrorists' will be found and neutralised. When he looks into the camera, it's as if he's looking straight into the room, at Butcher, having had him in mind during his speech.
Your fingertips graze the hem of his coat sleeve, needing reassurance that he's still here, that even after numerous run-ins with Homelander, he's still alive.
He barely feels it at first, thinking there's a drought in the room. But then he sees you standing closer to him than usual, swaying a little on your feet. You seem to be miles away though, grounding yourself with the scratchy fibres of fabric underneath your fingers. He pretends he doesn't notice.
Eventually, your nerves cloud your decisions, and instead of rolling the hem between your fingers, you accidentally grab a fistful of the fabric. The force of it leaves him with no option but to notice, having jumped a little himself.
When he looks at you, eyebrows creased, you're worried that he'll pull away, get flighty at revealing himself as anything other than a threat. But he doesn't. Instead, he lifts his arm and places it across your shoulders for a few moments, squeezing you into his side.
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.”
summary: you find out that butcher slept with maeve, and attempt to ignore your feelings by going m.i.a. and going home with a complete stranger, only to awake the green-eyed monster living inside of butcher
preface: this isn’t set in canon timeline, it’s basically just using the bit where butcher sleeps with maeve as a bit of a jealousy catalyst
notes: this man has a hold on me… and i feel like this got a little rushed at the end but i still kind of like it, please let me know what y’all think! (also, i’m sorry all my stuff has the same formula, i promise i’m trying to mix it up!)
warnings: a lot of swearing, the ‘sewer-slide’ word, google-translated french, sexual content, and some soft smut
word count: 5315
Things are good, too good, but you’re doing your best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hughie and Annie are happy, MM is content, and Frenchie is excitedly creating new methods of blowing up Supes almost daily. Butcher is… well, Butcher. He’s grumpy and brash, but seems to be feeling a little more positive lately, focusing more on recon and intel rather than running in with guns blazing.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you had managed to go grocery shopping without anyone stumbling home bloody and bruised. Frenchie is humming along to the song that had been playing on the radio, carrying most of the plastic bags while MM carries one with you on his back. You were all in such high spirits that he had let you jump on his back at the bottom of the apartment stairs, carrying you up four flights as if you weighed no more than a hiking backpack.
Frenchie chuckles at the two of you as he unlocks the apartment door, entering first and pushing it open all the way. You have to duck a little, giggling and holding on to MM for dear life as he starts jogging toward the couch. He drops the bag on the floor before falling into the sofa, and you squeal as he squashes you.
“Hey,” you exclaim, still laughing, “what the fuck? Steeds don’t sit on their riders!”
“You want to ride me next, petit ange?” Frenchie calls from the kitchen.
You writhe until MM moves, standing up with a satisfied grin across his lips. You flip him your middle finger as he turns away, ushering Frenchie out of the kitchen so he can put the groceries away. You find the TV remote buried in the couch cushions, and just as the old screen flickers to life, Kimiko emerges from the hallway. She looks at Frenchie with a small smile, signing hello before her nose crinkles, and she signs another sentence you struggle to catch as your attention is called toward the master bedroom doors.
Frenchie frowns curiously, “She says that it smells in here.”
A/N: Hi all, sorry I’ve been away for a minute, October has been a busy month. I bring you my next Kinktober fic. Influenced by the song, Boyfriend by Ariana Grande & Social House.
Pairing: Billy Butcher x Reader
Word Count: 3.3k
Synopsis: Billy has to teach the reader a lesson about who she belongs to.
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