If I Play With His Hair And Braid It Maybe It Will Calm Him Down?

pussy flavoured

the literal origin of “mansplain”

butcher waking up after a great nut

i said what i said

i love billy butcher

me and the gals talking about fictional men's cocks on tumblr dot com

homelander writes about his fights against billy butcher with a pink glitter pen in his sparkly pink diary like a schoolgirl

is it slutty of me to say that i want to give him forehead kisses and call him a good boy?

me if i dont get dicked down by billy butcher in the next 5 minutes

TO ELABORATE ON YOUR MOST RECENT ASK REPLY, he would def be the type to tell you he loves you in the midst of absolutely wrecking you 🫶

he absolutely would throw out the most beautiful love confession of all time while being balls deep in you with his hands around your neck.

i don't make the rules

Too Sweet

Pairing: Billy Butcher x fem!reader

Word Count: 700-ish (Just a blurb, I’m working on longer stuff but I wanted to give y’all something. As a treat)

Warnings: Reader is described as being feminine and somewhat high maintenance (in terms of self-care), Billiam being a pervy old man, Butch wanting to corrupt reader, and reader alluded to being a lil kinky. In summation, he breaks into your room and jacks off in your bed pair of your panties. Y’know, the usual.

Author’s Note: I’m genuinely so sorry if this sucks booty cheeks. I also know this isn’t the fic I mentioned, but I had to feed the fellow rats. If you have any feedback AT ALL, please let me know. I appreciate the response I’ve gotten on all of my little drabbles. I’d love to respond to prompts and brainrot, as well, so hit me up! I love y’all!

smut below the cut • 18+ mdi

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Butcher knows you're too sweet for him.

Yet, here he was, in your room that you always seemed to leave unlocked. He's splayed out on your mattress; that's way too comfortable to be in a shithole bunker. Your space smelled divine. The scent of all the sweet lotion, body oil, perfume, and whatever in the feminine fuck you wore seemed to be everywhere.

In his drunken stupor, he'd stumbled into your room instead of his own. At least, that's what he'd continue to tell himself. After flopping onto your plush bedding, he clumsily grabbed a photo off your nightstand and squinted. You and Hughie beamed back at him through the frame.

"Mmm, pretty little thing, ain'cha?" He mumbled and moved to rest a boot on the opposite knee, but felt something under the weight of his foot. He sat up on his elbows and looked at the obnoxiously girly fabric now resting on his thigh. "What do we have here?"

The baby pink, cherry-patterned panties were soft against his calloused palms. Billy whistled lowly, running his thumb along the lace on the hem. He rested the picture frame on his lap so he could hold them with two hands. Of fucking course, they had a little bow on the front.

"Well, ain't that just typical?" The swelling stiffness in his pants was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Butcher dropped his boot back to the floor with a heavy thud. His mussed, dark head of hair met your silky pillows. He hummed in faux contemplation.

He'd like to say he felt guilty, or gross, about what he was about to do. His senses were too clouded by your scent, both from your fragrances and the panties crammed around his nose, to protest. You smelled even better than he'd dreamed. You were so fucking sweet.

"Fuuuuckin' hell.." Billy's guttural groan was muffled by the frilly fabric. His free hand had fallen to his fly. He moaned as he was finally free from the confines of his jeans. He was grateful that he’d gone commando again. He took one final, deep inhale as his eyes rolled into his skull. His cock twitched at the action. He needed you carnally.

His hand was furiously fisting his cock now. Your adorable undergarment felt perfect against his angry, leaking tip. He moaned unabashedly at the photo of you. He'd seen the way you looked at him. It was so precious. He couldn't possibly let you be with someone like him, though. right?

Butcher thought about those cherry-flavored, glossy lips wrapped around him. He bucked at the idea of your wispy lashes fluttering as he made you squirm. He shivered at the picture of your perfectly manicured nails digging into the muscles of his back. He panted at the notion of your sweet, intoxicating scent wafting at him as you bounced on his cock. His perfect little doll, his sweet girl.

Billy came with an alarmingly loud, strangled cry of your name and clapped a hand over his mouth. He watched the white, hot ropes hit the bottom of his Hawaiian shirt and smear over your panties. God, he had to run everything he touched, didn't he? He paused, realizing that somehow, you'd still remained this way despite being taken under his wing. He hadn't ruined or tainted you, not yet.

He hastily cleaned himself up with the fabric, wincing at the contact. He tucked himself back into his jeans and huffed at the sensation. He was about to pocket your panties, but he decided against it. He'd give you something to think about tonight. He dropped the panties where he'd found them with a grin. He left your sheets purposefully unkempt, secretly hoping he'd left behind some of his masculine musk. Maybe he’d hear her pretty, wanton whimpers through their shared wall, again. He hoped so.

On his way past your dresser, he opened the top drawer. Bingo. He grabbed another pair of panties and pocketed those. He made note of the fuzzy pink handcuffs, the girthy pink didlo, and the rose toy that also resides in the drawer. He snickered, leaving the drawer open. Just in case his hints flew over your head, which they often did, he left a cigarette behind. Surely, that’d do it. All Billy had to do was wait for his deceivingly sweet, innocent girl to come to him.

This would be fun.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧