!The Boys overhear you having sex with (Character).
Butcher
You two barely made it through the door. His lips were on yours instantly, nipping at your lower lip with that sharp hunger that always left you dizzy. Before you could even catch your breath, Butcher had you pinned against the bed, hands rough and greedyâtugging at clothes, gripping your hips, sliding up your thighs like he couldnât get you bare fast enough.
The old bed creaked loudly beneath you as he slowly lowered himself into you, thick and unrelenting. You gasped sharply, mouth falling open in a perfect, silent O, eyes fluttering shut at the stretch. He eased in inch by inch, deliberate and deep, a low, guttural groan rumbling from his chest the whole way. No words. Just the wet, slick sound of him sinking into you, your shaky exhale, and the way your nails dug into his back as you braced yourself.
In the next room, the boys were tryingâvery, very hardâto pretend they werenât hearing every single second of it.
Hughieâs face burned scarlet, eyes glued to the floor like it might split open and swallow him whole. MM rubbed his temples hard, jaw clenched tight, muttering under his breath about âgoddamn animals.â Frenchie leaned back with a smirk, cigarette dangling from his lips, one eyebrow raised in quiet amusement. Kimiko tilted her head, watching the wall with calm, fascinated curiosity, like she was listening to a particularly interesting song.
Another loud, broken moan ripped from your throatâhigh and desperateâas Butcher hit that perfect spot deep inside you, making your toes curl tight. The bedframe slammed harder against the wall now, rhythmic and violent. His grunts turned rougher, deeper, almost animalistic snarls every time you clenched around him, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder.
âChrist,â MM finally hissed, voice low and strained. âTheyâre not even trying to be quiet.â
Frenchie exhaled a slow curl of smoke, soft laugh slipping out. âI do not think they remember we exist right now.â
Hughie made a strangled little noise and yanked his hoodie up over his head like that could possibly block out the soundsâyour whimpers climbing higher, Butcherâs heavy, ragged breathing, the relentless creak and thud of the bed.
Back in the room, your legs were trembling violently around his waist, voice cracking into soft, needy whimpers as he fucked you through it, hips snapping with raw, primal force. His breathing was harsh and uneven against your neck, each thrust punctuated by a deep, guttural groan that vibrated through your chest.
One last, wrecked âfuckâ tore from himâlow and desperateâright as you shattered. Your high, trembling moan spilled out, raw and broken, mixing perfectly with his deep, satisfied growl as pleasure crashed through both of you. The bed finally stilled, the only sounds left being your shared, panting breaths.
Silenceâblessed, mortifying silenceâsettled for half a second.
Then Frenchieâs voice drifted through the thin wall, dry as bone:
ââŠWell. At least someoneâs having a good night.â
You buried your burning face in Butcherâs sweat-slick shoulder, half-laughing, half-mortified at how loud youâd been. He just chuckled darkly against your hair, the sound rough and smug, arms tightening around you possessively.
âLet âem listen, love,â he murmured, voice gravelly and low. âLet the whole fuckinâ world hear what you sound like when I ruin you.â
Soldier Boy
The team had only been back at the safehouse for twenty minutes when the noises started.
At first they figured Soldier Boy was just being his usual destructive selfâpacing, throwing shit, whatever. But then the bedframe started slamming against the wall in a steady, filthy rhythm. Loud. Unmistakable.
âWhat the hell is he doing now?â MM muttered, already heading toward the hallway.
Then it hit them: a sharp, breathy gaspâfeminine, surprised, melting quickly into a soft, needy moan as the creaking intensified.
The room went dead quiet.
Hughie blinked hard. âWait⊠thereâs a girl in there with him?â
Another moan slipped through the thin walls, higher this time, raw and trembling. The wet slap of skin on skin grew louder, faster, paired with deep, guttural grunts from Soldier Boyâlow and arrogant, the kind that said he was enjoying every second of wrecking whoever was under him.
Kimiko tilted her head, listening with quiet curiosity as your voice cracked into a desperate whimper, the bed thudding harder.
MM stopped outside the door, hand raised like he was about to knock and tell the asshole to keep it downâuntil another broken moan rang out, clearer this time.
That voice.
MM froze.
Hughieâs face went pale. âThat⊠that sounded likeââ
Your moan cut him off, loud and shattered, as Soldier Boy hit that spot that made your toes curl and your back arch. The rhythm turned brutalâbedframe cracking against the wall, your high, needy cries mixing with his rough, animalistic groans. No words. Just pure filth: the slick, wet sounds of him pounding into you, your legs shaking, voice climbing higher and more desperate with every thrust.
Frenchieâs cigarette nearly dropped from his lips. âNon⊠no way. Thatâs notââ
But it was. The next moan was unmistakableâyour voice, raw and trembling, cracking beautifully as you tried and failed to stay quiet.
Hughie looked like he was about to be sick. âOh my god. Thatâs⊠thatâs her.
MMâs hand dropped to his side, eyes wide with pure shock. âYouâve gotta be fucking kidding me.â
The pace inside grew frantic. Your whimpers turned into frantic little sobs of pleasure, body jolting with every deep, punishing snap of Soldier Boyâs hips. His grunts got louder, rougherâalmost snarlsâcocky and satisfied as he fucked you , the headboard slamming like it might break.
Your voice broke on a long, high, trembling cry as you came hard, legs shaking violently around him. Soldier Boy followed with a deep groan, hips stuttering once, twice, before the bed finally went still.
Heavy, ragged breathing filled the sudden silence.
The boys stood frozen in the hallway, stunned into complete silence.
Frenchie was the first to speak, voice hushed and disbelieving. âPutain⊠itâs really her. With him.â
Hughie pulled his hoodie up over his head like it could erase the last five minutes. âIâm never going to be able to look at her again. Or him. Or⊠anyone.â
MM just stared at the door, rubbing his temples hard, muttering, âOf all the people⊠Soldier Boy? What the fuck is she thinking?â
Kimikoâs lips twitched with quiet amusement, shrugging one shoulder as if to say surprise.
Inside the room, you were still catching your breath, face buried against Soldier Boyâs sweat-slick chest, a soft embarrassed laugh bubbling up. He smirked down at you, one big hand lazily stroking your spine, voice low and smug.
âSounds like the peanut gallery finally figured it out, sweetheart.â
Hughie
You and Hughie had waited until the safehouse felt dead quiet.
The team was supposed to be out for hours, so the second the door clicked shut behind the last person, Hughie had pulled you into his room with that shy, eager grin. Clothes came off fastâhis hands a little clumsy with nerves, your laughter soft against his mouth as you tumbled onto the bed together.
He eased into you slowly, careful like always, and the old mattress creaked under you both. You let out a quiet gasp, mouth falling open, fingers digging gently into his shoulders. Hughie answered with a low, shaky groan, burying his face in your neck as he started to move.
No talking. Just soft, breathy soundsâyour little moans growing sweeter and higher every time he rolled his hips, his own quiet, desperate grunts mixing with the rhythmic creak of the bed. It felt safe. Private. You didnât hold back, letting yourself get louder as pleasure built, your voice turning into needy whimpers that made Hughieâs breathing hitch.
The bedframe started knocking gently against the wall. Then harder.
You were both so lost in itâyour legs wrapped around his waist, his thrusts getting a little faster, a little deeperâthat neither of you heard the front door open.
In the living room, the team had just walked in.
Frenchie stopped mid-step, eyebrows shooting up. MMâs expression shifted from tired to confused. Kimiko tilted her head. Butcher leaned against the wall with a slow, shit-eating grin.
Then your moan floated down the hallwayâsoft at first, then louder, higher, cracking beautifully as Hughie hit that spot that made your toes curl. The bed was really creaking now, steady and unmistakable, paired with Hughieâs low, embarrassed little grunts that somehow still sounded desperate.
Hughie froze for half a second when he heard voices, but you clenched around him and he couldnât stopâhis hips stuttered, a choked groan slipping out as he kept going, both of you too far gone to quiet down.
âOh fuckâŠâ Hughie whispered against your skin, mortified, but his body betrayed him with another deep thrust that pulled a high, trembling whimper from your throat.
In the living room, the silence was deafening.
Frenchieâs smirk grew. âWell, well. Little Hughie is not so little after all.â
MM rubbed his face with both hands. âJesus Christ. They thought we were gone.â
Butcher chuckled darkly, voice carrying just enough. âSounds like the kidâs finally getting some. About time.â
Your moan peakedâloud, broken, and completely unawareâright as Hughieâs rhythm turned frantic and uneven. His quiet, ragged groans mixed with your shaky cries until you both fell apart together: your high, trembling voice and his deeper, embarrassed moan echoing through the thin walls as the bed finally stilled.
The sudden silence was brutal.
You buried your burning face in Hughieâs chest, whispering a horrified âOh my godâŠâ while he looked ready to die on the spot, cheeks flaming red.
From the living room came Frenchieâs amused voice, loud and clear:
âDonât stop on our account, mes amis! We can wait!â
Hughie groaned againâthis time purely from embarrassmentâand pulled the pillow over both your heads like it could hide you from the entire team.
You could still hear Butcherâs low laugh and MM muttering something about âkids these daysâ as your heart hammered with pure mortification.
Hughie peeked out from under the pillow, voice small and mortified. ââŠWe are never living this down.â
Frenchie
The safehouse was supposed to be empty tonight â just you and Frenchie. The rest of the team had left for a lead that would supposedly keep them gone until morning. So when Frenchie pulled you into the dimly lit living room instead of his bedroom, you didnât argue.
He had you bent over the back of the old couch before you could even catch your breath, skirt shoved up around your waist, his jeans barely pushed down his thighs. No slow buildup this time. He slid into you in one smooth thrust, deep and confident, pulling a surprised, breathy moan from your throat.
The couch creaked loudly under the force of that first thrust. You gripped the cushions tight, mouth falling open in a silent cry as he started moving â steady, rolling hips that quickly turned hungry. Soft, needy sounds spilled out of you with every push: little gasps turning into higher, trembling moans that you couldnât hold back. Frenchie answered with low, raspy groans, the occasional whispered French curse slipping out like a prayer.
No real talking. Just the wet, filthy slap of skin, the rhythmic creak of the couch, and the way your voice kept climbing â broken and desperate every time he angled his hips just right and hit that spot that made your knees weak.
You were so lost in it that neither of you heard the van pull up outside.
The front door opened quietly. The team stepped in, expecting silence⊠and walked straight into the soundtrack of Frenchie fucking you over the couch.
Your moan rang out â high, raw, and unmistakable â right as he drove in harder. The couch was really moving now, scraping against the floor with every thrust. Frenchieâs breathing had turned rough and primal, deep grunts mixing with your whimpering cries, the wet sounds echoing obscenely in the open room.
Frenchie froze mid-thrust when he heard the footsteps, but his body betrayed him â hips giving one last involuntary roll that pulled a loud, shattered whimper from you.
Butcher stopped dead in the doorway, eyebrows shooting up. âWell, fuck. Didnât expect a live show in the living room.â
MM turned his head away fast, muttering, âJesus Christ, FrenchieâŠâ
Hughie looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. âOh god⊠thatâs⊠theyâre right there.â
Kimiko tilted her head, a small amused smile tugging at her lips as another desperate moan escaped you â your voice cracking beautifully as Frenchie couldnât stop himself from giving one more deep thrust.
Frenchieâs face burned, but he stayed buried inside you, one hand still gripping your hip. He let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh against your back.
âMon dieu⊠we thought you were gone until morning,â he called out, voice hoarse and thick with accent, trying to sound casual even while he was still pulsing inside you.
Your cheeks were on fire. You hid your face in the couch cushion, mortified, body still trembling around him.
Butcher chuckled low and dirty. âClearly. Carry on, then. Donât let us interrupt the romance.â
The team started awkwardly dispersing toward the kitchen, muttering and laughing under their breath, while you stayed bent over the couch, heart racing, Frenchie still buried deep and trying and failing to stay still.
The embarrassment was overwhelming⊠but the way he twitched inside you told you he wasnât entirely sorry.
Homelander
The boys were out chasing another lead, leaving the safehouse quiet for once.
You knew you were making a terrible mistake. You were supposed to be helping them take him down â feeding them intel, staying on the inside. But somewhere along the way the lines had blurred completely. One secret meeting turned into stolen nights, and now here you were: heart racing as âJohnâ slipped through the back door in civilian clothes, no cape, no suit, just that dangerously soft smile that made your stomach flip.
He didnât waste time. The second the bedroom door clicked shut behind you both, his hands were on you â surprisingly gentle at first, then hungry. He had you on the bed in seconds, clothes pushed aside just enough. When he finally pushed inside you, slow and deep, your head fell back with a shaky gasp, mouth forming a perfect O.
No loud talking. Just breathy, intimate sounds.
Your soft moans filled the small room as he moved â deep, rolling thrusts that made the bed creak steadily beneath you. He groaned low in his throat, the sound almost vulnerable, every time you clenched around him. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, legs wrapping tighter around his waist as the rhythm slowly built.
You were so lost in him â in the way he felt, in the way he whispered your name like a secret â that neither of you noticed the front door opening.
The team had come back early.
They stepped inside quietly, expecting an empty safehouse⊠until your voice drifted down the hallway.
A soft, needy moan. Then another, higher, trembling.
MM froze. Hughieâs eyes went wide. Frenchie tilted his head, cigarette halfway to his lips. Butcherâs expression darkened instantly.
Then it came â clear, unmistakable, wrapped in a broken whimper:
âJohnâŠâ
The entire room went ice-cold.
Butcherâs jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. âDid she justâ?â
Another moan from you, louder this time, cracking beautifully as Homelander hit that perfect spot deep inside. The bedframe started slamming harder against the wall, the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin growing filthier. Your voice kept slipping out â soft cries turning desperate, repeating that name like a prayer:
âJohn⊠Johnââ
Homelander answered with a low, possessive growl, hips snapping faster, the sounds turning primal and urgent. Just raw need as he fucked you deeper, your moans climbing higher and more wrecked with every thrust.
Frenchie exhaled slowly, voice hushed. âPutain⊠sheâs with him. She called him John.â
Hughie looked sick. âSheâs supposed to be helping us⊠and sheâs â oh god.â
MM rubbed his face, voice tight with betrayal. âWe trusted her.â
Butcherâs eyes were murderous, but he didnât move â just stood there listening as your high, trembling moan peaked, voice breaking on âJohnâ one last time as you came hard around him. Homelander followed with a deep, satisfied groan, hips stuttering before the bed finally went still.
Silence crashed down.
Then Butcherâs voice cut through the wall, low and dangerous:
âWell, well. Looks like our little moleâs been playing both sides⊠and enjoying it.â
Inside the bedroom you froze, face buried in Homelanderâs neck, horror flooding through you as reality slammed back in. He just smirked against your hair, voice soft and smug, barely above a whisper:
âThey heard you moan my name, darling. My real name.â
Your heart hammered with panic and lingering pleasure. The boys were right outside â and they knew everything now.
I'm thinking of expanding the homelander story. She sees him behind their backs vibes.
Update 4/8/26 - Story has been posted (No More Secrets)
Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!Reader x Joe Kessler (The Boys)
Read part II here.
Summary: Billy comes home to a surprising view.
Warnings: smut, threesome, fingering, pussy slapping, edging, lots of fluids, spitting, voyeurism, daddy!kink, sir!kink, m!masturbation, m!oral, lots of swearing, degradation but also praise, unprotected p in v, creampie, facial, mentions of anal, overstimulation, no aftercare
A/N: I can't help it, Billy and Joe have me all drippin'. đ„” Let's pretend this right here is canon. đ
"Don't break her, Kessler."
Billy Butcher's voice is deep and laced with mischief. You try to open your eyes, but Joe Kessler's fingers, deep inside your quivering pussy, make your body react on its own.
"Nah, not done with her yet. Though she likes it rough, doesn't she?" he asks and you can feel him grin against your shoulder. He retreats his fingers from your hole and lands a couple of quick slaps against your already puffy lower lips, a few of them grazing your clit.
You should be ashamed of yourself for liking his treatment, but your moans betray you.
"See? All slippery and fucking shaking in my lap."
You are on full display, naked from the waist down, top pulled down to expose your breasts. Each of your quivering legs is draped over Joe's strong thighs, his trousers already pooling at his ankles, cock trapped between your bodies. He already edged you for what felt like forever, leaning back into the armchair as if he would do this every day.
"I see," you hear Billy now, footsteps getting closer and closer. "Why the fuck did you start without me?"
Joe laughs against your skin, fingers dipping back into your heat.
"Well, Billy, I greeted her with 'Daddy's home' and she practically dropped to her knees to suck my fat dick. Who could let such an eager little slut wait?"
His fingers pumped faster and faster inside of you, heel of his palm meeting your clit.
"Didn't let her cum though."
You could feel it, the heat travelling through your veins, the unmistakable feeling of euphoria, but as soon as you begin to spasm around Joe's fingers, they are gone again. Instead, he lands one rather harsh slap against your folds, making you whimper.
"Only good sluts get to cum and you, baby? You didn't earn it yet." He playfully bites into you shoulder, soothing the mark with his tongue.
"Go show Billy some love. He dealt with those motherfucking supes all day. Bet he needs some good and slick pussy to calm the fuck down. Or your pretty little mouth."
With fluttering lids you open your eyes, trying to blink away soft tears of sheer pleasure being robbed from you right at the edge of oblivion.
"There she is," Billy whispers with an outstreched hand. "C'mere."
With aching bones you climb from Joe's lap, taking his hand and dropping to your knees in front of Billy who looks at you with dark eyes.
"What a view to come home to." With a sinister smirk he opens his belt, then the button and zipper of his jeans.
"Hands behind your back, sweet thing," he instructs, letting go of your hand.
You do as he says, waiting for him to feed you his length. When he pulls down his jeans with his underwear, you moan lightly at the side. He's hard already, big and veiny, ready to claim your mouth.
"Open up for daddy," you hear Joe behind you. He must have taken off his trousers and the rest of his suit too because when he steps behind you, you can feel his skin on yours. He collects your hair into a makeshift pony, forcing you to tilt your head backwards.
Opening your mouth as wide as you could, tongue sticking out, you look up at him through your lashes. He spits into your waiting mouth, making you groan and shift from side to side, searching for some friction between your aching thighs.
"Swallow."
You do as he says, bathing in his proud grin.
Without further words, he guides your head to Billy's cock, pushing you down, down, down until you gag around his length.
"Fucking shit," Billy mutters, head thrown back in bliss.
Joe pulls you off his cock. You gulp down air before he presses you down again.
"Here buddy, she's yours. Need my hands to rub one out if you don't mind," Joe says, letting go of your hair.
"Motherfuckin' perve." Billy laughs out of breath, his fingers sinking into your hair, fucking himself into your mouth with shallow thrusts.
"Oh c'mon, who walked in on us having a little fun and wanted to get that dick wet too?"
"Couldn't resist when you offered her like this. Eyes open baby, want to see you."
Your nails bite into the flesh of your thighs while you look up at Billy who fucks your face faster and faster, eyes wild with a burning desire. Your eyes water from the intrusion, it's hard for you to keep them open. The noises you make are nasty, spit dripping from your mouth while Billy uses you to get himself off.
"Yeah, just like this," Billy groans before pushing you away from him some moments later. Your lungs are burning when you suck in the much needed air. He fists his cock with hard tugs before he paints your face in his pearly white spent, some of his come landing on your waiting tongue. You close your eyes and swallow as much of it as you can. "Good fucking slut, damn...fuuuck. Look at me."
"T-thank you, Sir," you breath, voice coarse and needy when you look up at him.
"There he is!" Joe hollers behind you. His gaze meets Billy's after some seconds. Joe still fucks his fist, spitting into the palm of his hand. "Now she looks like the cockslut she is. Good fucking job, Butcher. Mind if I make a mess of her too?"
Billy laughs at his friend, shaking his head in amusement. "Go ahead." Then he looks down at you. "Tell him what you want, baby."
With shaking legs and burning knees, you turn around to Joe. You feel Billy's come running down your face. It should scare and embarrass you but it makes you clench around nothing while you look at the older man with desperation.
"Please...please daddy, fuck me."
Joe chuckles amused, hand still stroking his cock. "She does have manners after all. C'mere, baby, you still remember how to take a seat on daddy's lap, don't you?"
His words make your cheeks burn, but you obey, of course you do. On wobbly legs you make your way over to Joe. When you want to straddle him, he tuts and motions for you to turn around. "Remember, we wanted to give Billy a show. Let him see how goddamn wet your pussy is from him cumming all over your face."
"Yes, daddy," you babble while you climb on top of him again, your back to his front, legs draped over his thighs.
His cock rubs through your sodden folds before he enters you with one swift thrust, pushing you down onto him.
"Fuuuck," you wail, feeling so incredibly full.
"Can't get enough cock, can you? Little cockslut needs to be stuffed," Joe whispers against your ear while his hands guide your hips up and down.
"What a damn nice view," Billy says while he sinks down into the sofa opposite the armchair. He doesn't bother to put himself away nor cleaning his own cum from his hand. He just looks at your quivering form and where Joe drives himself into you again and again. "Make her squirt for me. Like old times."
Joe laughs behind you, one of his hands returning to your pussy. He rubs you in tight circles, his cock filling you perfectly.
"You want to cum all over me, baby? I can hear it already. Ask him. Go on." He slaps your pussy again, the wet sounds obscene in your own ears.
"Fuuuck...Billy, please....may I....fuck- may I come please? Please Sir. Need to..."
"Cum baby, cum all over him."
As soon as Billy's rough voice travels to your ears, you errupt. Joe slips out of you while your orgasm takes over your whole body. Spurts of clear liquid hit the carpet between your shaking legs. Joe doesn't relent, his fingers keep on rubbing and slapping your pussy, the wet sounds and your moans drowning out everything else.
"Fucking shit, baby, such a perfect slut," Billy praises, though you can't hear a thing, your mind is somewhere else entirely.
When you sink against Joe bonelessly, he guides himself back into your used channel, fucking into you with abandon.
"Fuck yes, baby, take my fucking cum." His thrusts border on painful, but you don't mind, not really. You still leak around his length with every inch he feeds your pussy. When he finally cums, he moans loudly, pressing your oversensitive body down into his lap, holding you there while he pumps you full to the brim.
"Damn," you hear Billy's voice, somewhere far, far away. "You think she can handle her asshole stuffed too?"
Joe's laugh is deep and full of mischief. He lifts your body from his cock, observing his cum slowly trickling down your wet thighs.
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