Butcher and Ben had only one common goal, and that was to screw with Homelander— and what better way to screw with Homelander than to screw with his girl? But without the with. They’d had the delight of finding out that you weren’t actually Homelander’s girlfriend, just a pretty, innocent little thing made into Vought’s own darling.

Tragic.

Even those two didn’t know how they’d walked into a hotel swarming with Vought personnel without being intercepted, but hey, they rolled with it. So they walked into the hotel room you were in — pretty luxurious place — and found you there, and to say they were stunned? Cuttin’ it short.

You were such a gorgeous, big-eyed beaut, all innocent, pouty lips that definitely told them that you were just a poor, misguided girl that was oblivious to supe politics. It wasn’t like they were just doing it cause they could, they did want to— especially now that they saw how pretty you were.

“So, y’ must be Homelander’s fucktoy.” Ben grinned, seeing the way your eyes widened— he knew, you were thinking ‘bout how he got in there, but he’d make sure you couldn’t think at all. After all, he’s what you’d call a real man, not sure about Butcher.

“Awh, guv’nor, be nice.” Butcher’s accent was crisp as hell, and the two of them were tall, and reeked of masculinity that would make any woman crumble. And they knew what they were doing, obviously, and you were getting so blissfully numb and dizzy in that pretty lil’ head, weren’t you, huh?

You were.