Butcherâs 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 doesnât pull them out when you reach climax.
The pulsing sensation of your clenched walls after your orgasm is Butcherâs favorite. He slathers your wetness onto his twitching, hard cock. You can see his pre-cum mixed with your slick. He doesnât need lubricant, especially when itâs your peak season. His cock now glistens with your ecstasy and his own.
Butcherâs 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. Itâs not in yet, but you canât 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. Heâs in no hurry. Tonight, heâs going to make you wait for every inch.
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Butcher figured you hadnât seen much action, but he had trouble believing youâd never given a handjob before. What kind of chaperoned, all hands on deck, home by ten prom had you been to?
That was alright. No better time to learn than the present.
He had you on your knees between his spread thighs, breath deep and rasping as he instructed you to gently nuzzle and tease him through his trousers before you really get started. No need go rush the main event.
âGentle, sweetheart. Got all night, donât we?â
When he was properly worked up enough, he lifted his hips and let you manage to work his belt loose, tug his trousers down and set eyes on him for the first time. He was big, and thick, and the head was already leaking precum that glistened softly in the dim light from the lamp.
Butcher tilted his head to the side and gave you a low, rumbling chuckle at your look of slightly intimidation.
âDonât bite,â he tisked. ââLess you ask real pretty for it.â
When you tentatively took him in hand and started to stroke him, his breath caught and his lip pulled back just slightly. His thighs flexed and he shifted, thick brows furrowing slightly.
Before long, he gruffed and placed his larger hand over yours, the callouses on his palm gently scratching over the backs of your knuckles. âEver heard of a rhythm, darlinâ?â he said, beginning to guide your hand in a deep, steady pace. He made sure to twist your hand on the upstroke, giving the head of his aching cock perfect friction. âThere you go. Ainât nothinâ to be âfraid of.â
You kept up that rhythm he liked, and eventually his hips started to twitch, his chest heaved deeper, his head tilted back against the cushion of the couch.
âFuck, yeah,â he rasped out. âJust like that, darlinâ. Fuckinâ perfect.â
You watched with rapt attention as he moved above you, those hands now gripping the edges of the sofa and his hips twitching. His grunts and groans and gruffs began to grow louder.
âFuckâfuck. Thatâs it. Ah, shitâŚâ
As Butcher grew closer, you experimentally quickened your pace just a bit, gripping his cock a bit harder on the downstroke. His jowls lifted and he beared his teeth, snarling out a ragged sound.
âYeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck. Fuckinâ⌠shit!â
You watched, fascinated, as Butcherâs body jerked and his cock throbbed, shiny streams of pearly cum weeping from the head and streaming down your hand. He gasped softly for breath, letting himself slump back on the couch, head tipped back and lips parted as he attempted to come back to his body.
One of his eyes peeked open when, curiously, you leaned yourself forward and stuck out your tongue to give a kitten lick along the tip of his shaft. You gathered warm stickiness with the flat pink muscle, and he cracked another crooked smile. One of his wide hands reached out to cup your chin.
âGettinâ a jumpstart on our next lesson, eh?â
Butcher figured you hadnât seen much action, but he had trouble believing youâd never given a handjob before. What kind of chaperoned, all hands on deck, home by ten prom had you been to?
That was alright. No better time to learn than the present.
He had you on your knees between his spread thighs, breath deep and rasping as he instructed you to gently nuzzle and tease him through his trousers before you really get started. No need go rush the main event.
âGentle, sweetheart. Got all night, donât we?â
When he was properly worked up enough, he lifted his hips and let you manage to work his belt loose, tug his trousers down and set eyes on him for the first time. He was big, and thick, and the head was already leaking precum that glistened softly in the dim light from the lamp.
Butcher tilted his head to the side and gave you a low, rumbling chuckle at your look of slightly intimidation.
âDonât bite,â he tisked. ââLess you ask real pretty for it.â
When you tentatively took him in hand and started to stroke him, his breath caught and his lip pulled back just slightly. His thighs flexed and he shifted, thick brows furrowing slightly.
Before long, he gruffed and placed his larger hand over yours, the callouses on his palm gently scratching over the backs of your knuckles. âEver heard of a rhythm, darlinâ?â he said, beginning to guide your hand in a deep, steady pace. He made sure to twist your hand on the upstroke, giving the head of his aching cock perfect friction. âThere you go. Ainât nothinâ to be âfraid of.â
You kept up that rhythm he liked, and eventually his hips started to twitch, his chest heaved deeper, his head tilted back against the cushion of the couch.
âFuck, yeah,â he rasped out. âJust like that, darlinâ. Fuckinâ perfect.â
You watched with rapt attention as he moved above you, those hands now gripping the edges of the sofa and his hips twitching. His grunts and groans and gruffs began to grow louder.
âFuckâfuck. Thatâs it. Ah, shitâŚâ
As Butcher grew closer, you experimentally quickened your pace just a bit, gripping his cock a bit harder on the downstroke. His jowls lifted and he beared his teeth, snarling out a ragged sound.
âYeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck. Fuckinâ⌠shit!â
You watched, fascinated, as Butcherâs body jerked and his cock throbbed, shiny streams of pearly cum weeping from the head and streaming down your hand. He gasped softly for breath, letting himself slump back on the couch, head tipped back and lips parted as he attempted to come back to his body.
One of his eyes peeked open when, curiously, you leaned yourself forward and stuck out your tongue to give a kitten lick along the tip of his shaft. You gathered warm stickiness with the flat pink muscle, and he cracked another crooked smile. One of his wide hands reached out to cup your chin.
âGettinâ a jumpstart on our next lesson, eh?â
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naked, on my knees, licking at billy butcherâs jean clad bulge until my tongue starts to hurt but hearing him moan that iâm such a good girl so i keep going đĽ°
butcher fucking you too hard so you call him daddy
his thrusts are precise, his calloused thumb rubbing your clit and his eyes are burning into yours- checking for any signs of potential discomfort because the conversation you had prior
âi just want it really hard billy, like i want you to fuck me so hard that i canât thinkâ
âthink thatâll be a bit much for ya, darlinââ
âwell letâs just try it, i promise iâll tell you the second it gets too much okay?â your nimble hands trailing down his shirt and slowly unbuttoning until you see the dark thatch of hair on his chest âi just need you, butchâ
âfuckin âell⌠you know i canât say no to thatâ
your moans are loud: a mix of expletives, begging for it harder and his name. butcherâs smile is wicked, completely in awe of the way that youâre coming undone on his cock. his head is tilted back when he hears it slip from your lips, a whimper of âdaddyâ
your eyes are brimmed with tears and his thrusts stop immediately. butcherâs hands find your face, cupping your flushed cheeks
âis it too much?â heâs surprised when you shake your head, shocked at the contact of your hands trailing to his ass to push him deeper into you
âneedta use your words baby, donât wanna hurt yaâ
his thumb brushes the stray tear from your cheek, âfeels good daddy⌠please keep going, i-i can take itâ
âpromise?â
your nails dig into the plush of his ass, moaning out a promise
âgotcha babyâŚdaddyâs gonna take care oâ youâ
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Summary It's not much, as far as office parties go. But you and Butcher make sure to rearrange some furniture. Only to mark the occasion, of course.
CWs The Boys getting shitfaced. Typical Butcher-isms. Cream pie. Rough sex & a glimpse of sweet Billy.
1.3k words
The Boys masterlist | Mini collection masterlist
âAlright, ya cunts,â Butcher says, and you nearly spit out your drink when you look over at him. âReady for some fuckinâ Christmas cheer?â
âWhat the fuck are you supposed to be?â M.M. asks, a disturbed expression on his face. âCrack Clause?â Frenchie gives a dirty chuckle, while Kimikoâs eyes are huge.
Butcher doesnât let that get him down, though. He drags the lit cigarette from the corner of his mouth, walks into the room past the first few desks to where you and the other Boys are sitting in a circle, bottles being passed while the shittiest Christmas tree in the world stands just a foot away, twinkling sadly.
âMarvin, my son,â he says, coming closer. âYa gotta get into the festive spirit. After all, we could all be dead tomorrow.â Frenchie widens his arms.
âThat almost sounds like positivity,â he says, looking around the group like heâs looking for help in a burning building. âIt is disconcerting, n'est-ce pas?â
âJust wait âtil you see what Iâve got in my big sack for you,â Butcher says with a broad, dirty grin that makes you bite your lip. Frenchie makes a disgusted sound, but itâs Hughie who quiets everyone down.
âGuys, guys,â he says, hands raised. âThis is nice, okay? Itâs important to, yâknow, celebrate sometimes, andââ
Kimiko waves, interrupting him, then signs something. Hughie frowns as he watches her.
âWhat did she say?â he asks, and just as Frenchie opens his mouth to translate, you reach into the cooler next to your chair, grab a can of beer and throw it towards Hughie. He catches it, barely, before it hits him in the chest.
âShe said you should shut up and get drunk,â you say, and Kimiko gives an âOKâ gesture and a bright smile. You see Hughie wanting to double down, but then he shrugs, opens the beer, some of the foam running over his fingers.
âA-fuckinâ-men,â Butcher adds, taking another drag from his cigarette.
The party continues, people splitting off into groups. M.M. is getting his ass handed to him at darts by Frenchie, while Kimiko and Hughie are doing something that can only be described as interpretive dance to the DMX version of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer. Butcher is sitting near one of the windows, looking down at the city, cigarette burning up between his fingers as you saunter over to him.
âNeed a top up?â you say, raising the bottle youâre holding by the neck. He turns, looks at you, gaze wandering down your body once and then up. This isnât the kind of Christmas party you dress up for, but, just maybe, you opted for something a little tighter today. No particular reason.
Butcher raises his empty glass, holds it out, and you fill it nearly to the brim, something Butcher only raises his eyebrows at. You fill your own glass, put the bottle down, then sit on the desk next to him.
âYou know, Hughie might be an annoying little bitch,â you say after taking a sip, then reach for the cigarette in Butcherâs hand, take it and lead it to your mouth. You exhale slowly, and when you look at him again, his gaze is on your mouth. From up close you can see how incredibly cheap the costume is, kinda ratty too, but somehow it fits him.
âIs there a but cominâ, darlinâ?â he asks and you chuckle, hand the cigarette back to him.
âBut,â you continue, âheâs right. Itâs important to celebrate. Itâs sweet of you. That you planned this, I mean.â Butcher scoffs, looks down at his glass.
âYeah, Iâm a proper sweetheart, alright,â he mumbles, then takes a long drink. You watch him, the way his nose scrunches a little, how his jaw and throat work. You part your lips as you study him.
âAnyway,â you say, not wanting things to get too awkward by being genuine. âAny chance you got something in that big sack for me, Santa?â
Butcher lowers the glass, then slowly turns his head towards you. Jackal grin spreading his lips.
âDepends,â he says and you raise your chin, indicate for him to continue. âYou gotta sit in Santaâs lap to get a present, ainât you?â
âButcher!â M.M. calls in that second from across the room. Butcher keeps his gaze on you for a second longer, then looks past you at his friend.
You take another sip. Grin to yourself.Â
You end up in his lap, alright.
Everyoneâs gone home, wasted but merry, and you stay behind on the pretext youâll do some cleaning up. Nothing clean about what youâre doing though. Nothing at all.
âFuck!â you cry out, hands going out to grab for the edge of the desk as Butcher, somehow, fucks you even harder, crowding in closer when you were actually spreading yourself over the desk to move away from him and the intense, blinding stimulation of his cock. A stapler goes flying while his fingers dig into your hips, the large room filled with obscene slapping noises every time he drives into you.
âFuckinâ take it,â he pants and you manage to get one arm under you, turn your upper body around far enough to look at him. Pulsing vein on his forehead and the snarl of a wolf. Heâs looking down at where heâs driving into you, but when he sees you looking, one hand leaves your hip, comes down with a loud slap on your ass. You cry out, moan, something in-between.
âWas worried Santa was too old to get it up,â you press out, voice cracked and broken and shaken by his thrusts, and the laugh that follows turns into a yelp as Butcher grabs you, pulls you up until your back is against his chest, the material of the suit he didnât take the time to strip out of itchy and gross and perfect.
âFull oâ surprises, darlinâ,â he says, pistoning his hips up into you with a punishing thrust, making you whimper. He holds you against him with one hand, your feet on their toes in your high-heeled boots, your back arched to the point of pain to make up for the height difference, sends the other one traveling down your front to between your legs, pinches your clit at the next thrust, then begins rubbing you fast and hard as he sets a rhythm that could just about melt the Northpole.
âGâ fuck, Bilââ you press out, and then you need to throw your head back against his shoulder as you come again, crying out for real this time, your voice echoing around the room, bouncing off the wide windows and back into you.
While youâre still shaking and twitching, Butcher rams into you, once, twice, a third time, then stills, deep, as he grunts into your ear.
âFuckinâ âell,â he groans, drops his forehead against the side of yours. You feel him twitch in you as he unloads, pumps into you, warm and full.
The two of you stay like that, despite the fact that your legs are threatening to give in, and youâre sure Butcher canât be faring much better. You can feel him softening inside you, and itâs when the first plop of his come dripping out of you onto the ground can be heard that you shake yourself out of it.
âLook at that, itâs snowing,â you mumble, your throat feeling broken from its earlier sounds. Butcher snorts, and then his shoulders are shaking, the movement making more of him drop out of you.
âYouâre a sick, sick bird,â he mutters and you grin, then turn your head, lids still heavy as lead.
His dark hair and beard come into view, scars adorning his rough features, but itâs his eyes you look into.
âYou fuckinâ love it,â you reply, voice low. Butcher returns your look, then huffs. He leans in, kisses you, deep but soft. When you separate, you stay close.
âYou know it,â he says, smacking his lips. âAlright. Lemme drive you home.â
âOn your sleigh?â you ask, raising your eyebrows. Butcher just chuckles and shakes his head.
He stays the night, for the first time. Who knew. And it really does start snowing the next morning. A true Christmas miracle.Â
Thank you for reading! âĄ
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content warnings; soft cock penetration / cockwarming, breeding kink / impregnation talk, heavy sensory detail, heat, and filth
billy butcher as a bear is a different creature entirely, thick through the shoulders and stomach, broad everywhere, the kind of man who runs hot even when heâs not hard, the kind of man who breathes like a growl caught behind his teeth as he looms over you. heâs never delicate and never unsure, except in that one raw place he hates admittingâthose nights where his cock wonât stay up no matter how fiercely he wants you, no matter how much his chest heaves with frustrated desire, no matter how his hands shake because he needs you and canât perform the way he thinks a man like him ought to.
and thatâs exactly when he becomes the clingiest beast of all.
he mutters first, always does, voice rough like heâs been gargling gunpowder and gravel, his lips brushing your cheek as he adjusts his hips and presses the broad head of his softened cock against your entrance. the blunt warmth smears slickness across you, and he curses under his breath, a guttural âbloody hellâŚâ that trembles with wanting. heâs annoyed, yes, but not with youâwith himself, with his own body, with the sharp throb of desire that wonât translate into hardness. you can feel how badly he wants the motion, the connection, the pressure, even if his body isnât rising to the occasion.
âbloody thingâs useless tonight,â he rumbles, breath steaming against your mouth, irritably nudging forward again as though sheer stubbornness will make him stiffen. his belly drags against yours, thick hair brushing your skin, the heat of him wrapping around you like a furnace. âstill ainât gettinâ off ya, love. so donât even think about movinâ.â
his size pins you down easily, the weight of him indulgent and comforting more than restrictive, his thighs bracketing you as he sinks his softened length inside you anyway, nudging in with a shuddering groan that melts into a shaky ânnnhâ fâthere we go.â even soft, he fills you, thick and warm, the head of his cock pushing in until heâs seated deep in a way only a bear-built man could manage. your slick draws him in with a wet, sloppy sound, and he groans like it embarrasses him, like the sound of his limp cock sliding into you is somehow too intimate to bear. he pushes until his entire length is nestled inside, fat and warm and pulsing faintly even without hardness, buried to the hilt in the tight cradle of your cunt.
when he bottoms out, he freezesânot from uncertainty, but because the feeling overwhelms him. he doesnât thrust. he wonât risk slipping out. he just holds himself inside you, buried to the hilt, his cock pillowy-thick and hot, pulsing faintly as he settles his massive body over yours.
huge arms curl around you, one under your back, the other slung over your waist, dragging you flush against him as though he can fuse your bodies together by sheer need. his belly presses warmly into yours, his chest hair brushing your skin whenever he breathes, and he nuzzles into your neck like an animal claiming a place to rest.
his cock twitches weakly inside youânothing more than a soft flex, but he feels it, and the shame lights across his breath for a moment before he steadies himself with a shudder. youfeel the breath he releases, shaky and warm, ghosting across your skin before he whispers, almost pleading, voice stripped down to raw bone. âdonât go anywhere, love. just⌠keep me in you. thatâs all i need right now.â
you can feel his fingertips graze your lower belly, slow wandering strokes as he palms the slight outward curve where heâs nestled inside you. gentle circles, lazy drags of his broad thumb, the same obsessive affection he gives when heâs fully hard but now tempered with a vulnerability heâd deny if you ever repeated it aloud. he plays with the place where your bodies meet, petting the swell beneath your navel as though he can feel himself through your skin.
he likes imagining it. likes knowing heâs tucked deep and warm and held, even when heâs not performing like he thinks he should. his breath catches every time you clench around him, and he lets out soft, embarrassingly tender soundsâlittle âmmh⌠yeah⌠thaâs itâŚâ grunts that melt into shaky sighs.
sometimes he ruts weakly, just enough that his softened cock drags through the slick heat of your cunt in a thick, obscene glide that makes both of you gasp. youâre wet enough that he sinks and slides without resistance, your folds clinging softly around him, the slickness coating the entire length of his shaft even though heâs not hard. every time he moves, even a little, thereâs a sticky, wet sound that makes his breath catch. he groans into your shoulder, low and frustrated, his voice cracking with need as his hips give another tiny push, more reflex than intention. âoohâfâ bloody fuckinâ hellâŚâ he mutters, his cock shifting inside your soaked cunt with a molten drag that makes your walls flutter around him instinctively. heâs not trying to build rhythm. heâs not even trying to get hard. he just needs to feel that drag, that reminder of your cunt wrapped around him, your walls hugging him tight and warm and welcoming.
but most nights like this, he just paws at you lazily, possessively, running his hand lazily over your body while his softened cock stays buried inside you, cradled in your warmth. his palm slides over your stomach in slow sweeps, then down to your hip, then over your thigh. every time he touches you, your cunt clenches softly around him, answering him, reacting to his presence.
he notices every single pulse. every squeeze. every gush of fresh slick when your body adjusts to his heat.
âfuck, loveâŚâ he murmurs, his thumb brushing your belly while he settles deeper. âyouâre so damned wet⌠youâd swallow me whole if i let youâŚâ
he loves cockwarming more than heâll ever admit.
especially the nights when heâs soft.
those are the nights where he becomes still, almost reverent, where he stays inside you for long minutes at a time, sinking heavier and heavier into you until his full weight rests over you like a massive, living blanket. thereâs something grounding in the way he sprawls across you, his warm body covering yours, his softened cock nudged deep and held by your own warmth.
âfeels good,â he mumbles into your skin, voice all rumble and silk, his hips shifting just enough to seat himself deeper with a breathy âhnnhâ yeah⌠thatâs it, pet.â his arms tighten around you, drawing you closer so you canât slip off him even by accident. âcould stay like this all bloody night.â
and he means it.
the moment you twitch, his hand clamps around your waist. When you shift your hipsâeven unintentionallyâhe throws one thick thigh over yours and pins you down with a soft, warning growl that vibrates against your throat. and when you wiggle beneath him deliberately, testing him, he stiffens with a frustrated, breathy sound, pressing his forehead into your shoulder before muttering, rough and low:
his hips roll forward with a slow, luxurious push, not a thrust but a deeper settling, like heâs trying to fit himself into every soft part of you. the motion sinks his cock deeper, the thickness of him stretching you just enough to remind him exactly where he is, exactly how deeply heâs held. his breath catches, then steadies as he buries his face into your throat and inhales you like he needs your scent to breathe. his beard scrapes warmly across your skin as he mouths lazily at your pulse.
and thatâs when he gets honestâsoft, needy, filthy in a way heâd gut a man before repeating aloud in daylight. his breath drags hot down your throat as his hips make that slow, molten shift inside you, his soft cock dragging through the slick mess youâre making around him; every inch of him glides with a thick, obscene wet sound that makes his voice break when he speaks.
âfuck, youâre warm⌠holdinâ me so tight⌠like your cuntâs afraid to let me goâŚâ his words rasp through you, his hips settling heavier, forcing his cock deeper into the plush grip of your walls. âthatâs it, love⌠keep me in⌠keep me wrapped all soft ân sweet around me⌠youâre so damn wet i could drown in youâŚâ
and you areâyour cunt is soaked, clinging greedily to him, slickness coating his soft cock so completely that even the smallest shift sends warmth spilling down the insides of your thighs. every pulse of your body hugs him, draws him in, refuses to let him slip free.
he doesnât say everything heâs thinking at first, but you feel it in the way his hand drifts over your belly, slow and obsessive, fingers tracing the spot where his cock sits buried inside you. he rubs lazy circles, pressing just enough that you can feel the pressure shift insideâhis softened head nudging deeper, your cunt sucking around him, your slick squeezing around the thickness lodged in your core.
and then you whisper, breath catching, âfeels like youâre trying to stay deeper every time you moveâŚâ
his entire body reacts. he loses the last bit of restraint he was pretending to have. his hips grind forward in a slow, claiming push that makes your slick gush around him, heat rolling through both of you. and he murmurs, raw and unfiltered, âcourse i am, pet⌠want you full⌠want ya stayinâ full of me⌠even when iâm soft i wanna be sittinâ right there, right in that sweet little placeââ his hand presses your belly more firmly, just enough to make you feel the inside shift, his cock moving deeper into the dripping heat of your cunt. ââright where youâre meant to carry me.â
your slick tightens around him at the words, a wet clench that drags a groan out of him, low and helpless. his breathing turns rough, almost drunken as he presses his mouth to your throat.
butcher isnât subtle. especially not when heâs thinking about breeding.
he groans against your skin, his voice slurring with heat and helpless want as he keeps moving his handâover your belly, down to your pelvis, directly to the place where he disappears into your dripping cunt. his thumb brushes your swollen lips, gliding easily over the wetness dripping out around him. âgod, love⌠listen to how wet you are⌠youâre makinâ a damn mess on meâŚâ he pushes his thumb in just enough to spread your lips, to feel his soft cock nestled inside. âif i could pump you full every night I would⌠fill you âtil youâre round with me⌠til everyone fuckinâ knows whoâs been inside youâŚâ
your breath catches hard, a sharp, helpless inhale that he feels all the way through your bodyâyour cunt tightening in a sudden, desperate flutter around his soft cock, clenching like youâre trying to drag him deeper even though heâs already buried to the root. the spasm ripples through you, slick warmth tightening and releasing in a pulse he feels with a low grunt as his hips jolt forward, driven by instinct rather than intention.
he reacts instantly. instinctively. like the sound of your breathing and the squeeze of your cunt switch something on inside him.
his hand clamps down over your pelvis, big palm pinning you in place with a heavy, proprietorial pressure. his thumb slides lower, stroking directly over the soaked seam of your pussy, spreading the slick thatâs leaking around him and tracing the outline of where heâs nestled inside you. he can feel every pulse, every flutter, every wet contraction hugging his soft cock.
âyou like hearinâ that, pet?â he murmurs, voice so low and rough it vibrates through your bones. his thumb moves again, slow and deliberate, gathering your slick and smearing it across your swollen lips. âyou like me talkinâ about breedinâ you even when i ainât hard yet?â
your breath shivers out of youâ ây-yeahâŚââand your hips tilt instinctively, dragging your slickness over him in a thick, dripping glide that coats him even more. he can feel the heat of you spreading, feel your cunt tightening again around his softness, drawing him deeper into the mess youâre making.
âgood.â he mutters, thumb stroking your soaked pussy again, pressing just enough to feel you squeeze down on him. âgood girl. âcause youâre mine. and youâre stayinâ right fuckinâ here.â
and if eventually his cock starts to swell, growing slowly inside you from the warmth and the way your body pulses around him, the growl he lets out is deep enough to shake through your bones, his hips rolling in a slow, primal grind as he mouths at your throat.
âohhhâ fuck, love⌠there it is⌠thatâs it, pet, squeeze on me like that, make me get hard for youâŚâ
but even if he never gets fully hardâeven if he stays soft the whole timeâhe doesnât pull out. he doesnât let you move. he doesnât give up an inch of the closeness.
he just holds you, buries himself deeper, and whispers against your skin: âmine. every inch of you. stay right here âtil iâm done feelinâ you.â
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Summary: The sexual tension dam between you and Butcher finally breaks
Pairing: Billy Butcher x F!Reader
Word Count: 300
Warnings: Reader has female anatomy that is mentioned, Butcher's erection, a little of possessive!Butcher
Song/Lyric Prompt: I Wanna Be Bad - Willa Ford / "You make bad look so good"
My second entry into @societynsoelsscribbles June Jukebox Scribbles! Enjoy some making out with Butcher -- Likes and Reblogs appreciated!
June Jukebox Scribbles Original Post
My June Jukebox Scribbles Masterlist
"I'm a bad guy, love," he said, his chest a breath away from yours, "I do bad things to bad people. Ya don't wanna go gettin mixed up with the likes of me."
But you did. Ever since Billy Butcher crashed into your life, all you wanted was for him to do exactly what he was doing now â crowding you against the wall of the dusty safehouse, dark eyes burning with heat.
"I know that, Butcher," you said evenly, "You make bad look so good."
You didn't know who moved first, you or him, but suddenly his mouth was devouring yours. Months of built-up tension easing as you tasted the cigarettes and whiskey on his tongue, shoving his coat off his powerful shoulders. You couldn't help the moan that slipped out of you.
Butcher growled in response, pinning you to the wall by his hips and you felt his hard length through his jeans. "Feel what ya do to me, love?" he asked, punctuating the sentence with a thrust that had your hips respond in kind.
You whimpered in response, almost moaning again as his hand slipped into the front of your jeans and his mouth latched onto your neck. He made quick work of sliding his fingers along your wet heat, biting down when he felt how soaked you were for him. You knew you'd have marks on your neck tomorrow but you didn't care.
"This all for me, love?" he asked into your neck as he soothed the bite mark with his tongue, slipping two of his thick fingers along your seam, finding your clit with surprising ease. The way he worked so quickly had your head spinning.