This Is Some ✨sick And Twisted✨ Shit, But I Had A Dream About Rubbing One Out On Butchers Tummy Once

dean winchester might be a sex god, but he is also a little princess that needs to be taken care of

just a daily post about my babygirl

More nasty old man behavior like this.

yes

just yes

i absolutely agree

it's been already 2 years since Eddie Munson and I still cannot stop thinking about how much i need him to finger me

like i am sorry i just know he would be a god at it and it would be a religious experience for me

so im alive still

i had a lot of stuff going on but im alive and i will be back i promise

thigh riding butcher… hnngh

he will make you ride his thigh while he explains the plan to the boys

everyone is embarrassed except for him, he is thriving and not giving a fuck, while you, my dear, are dying inside from the embarrassment and the fact that this setting is actually making you turned on.

you're doing everything in your power to not let out any embarrassing noises, hiding your head in the crook of butcher's neck, biting him occasionally when it gets too much.

he loves teasing you like that

but later when he ends and everyone leaves you two alone and the speed of light?

he is on you, ripping your clothes apart, making you ride his jean clad thigh, leaving one big, wet, visible mark when you come.

he does not care that you are tired, after this, he is making you ride his dick and of you are just too tired he will manhandle you to any position he wants, like a ragdoll, fucking you on every piece of furniture he can.

my writing is more a stream of consciousness, idc that it may not make sense, it's butcher for goodness sake he makes my mind blank and full at the same time

he looks like he needs to be taken care of in every way

let me make him breakfast to bed, bring him his liquor and give him forehead kisses.

also let me read him to sleep so he can finally have a healthy sleep schedule.

i love dean winchester

butcher eats you out for HIS pleasure i swear! he eats you out until your crying, legs shaking uncontrollably and his beard is SOAKED. he wants you to pull his hair and squeeze his head between your thighs because if he could choose the way to die it would be from eating pussy

I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO ELABORATE BECAUSE I AGREE WITH YOU SO HARD OMFG

THIS PRETTY FACE WAS MADE TO BE IN BETWEEN THIGHS AND TO BE SAT ON

I JUST KNOW HE LOVES WHEN YOU SIT AND ON HIS FACE

IT MAKES HIM HAPPY AND IDC HE CAN CUM FROM THIS ALONE

butcher might be a baddie but he is also a sucker for giving head and for YOUR pussy

“You’re not crazy” 🤝 “it’s not subtext it’s clear text”

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✧