#homelander x you
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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter three )
18+ 7.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, assault (not perpetrated by HL), violence, smol murder, manipulation/gaslighting, hurt/comfort. nebulously takes place post s1. part 3/4. AO3 link. CH I CH 2
Homelander will do whatever it takes to convince you that he's the hero you need.
a.n: hello, friends! hopefully this chapter being longer than the first two combined makes up for the fact it took me three months to write it. as you can tell, it sort of spiraled out of control from being two chapters, then three, and now four. the good news is that chapter four (the last one! i promise!) is complete, and i'll be posting it next week. i hope you enjoy it! 🖤
It’s shortly after one o’clock when Homelander knocks a whimsical melody against your office door, deciding he shouldn’t be precisely on time, lest he look as eager as he feels. He can already smell your perfume wafting through the doorway–the same scent he feverishly pumped his cock to the night before–as a teaser of what’s to come.
“Come in,” you call from the other side.
Homelander takes in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He screws his eyes shut, pinching his expression in a tight squeeze before he replaces it with a flashy grin, squaring away his anticipation in favor of his showman persona.
“Goooooood afternoon,” he drawls, strolling in with the same feigned level of confidence he’s entered every other moment of your life since stumbling across you, whether you knew it or not. He’s taken aback almost immediately, slowing in how he closes the door behind him.
You look nicer than usual. Your hair is styled with more conscious effort, and he’s been in show business long enough to recognize the makeup on your face. The shine of your blouse is a quality silk blend, and he can’t hear the scrape of cheap cotton underneath it anymore. No, you’re wearing something nice below, too. His lips slowly spread into a self-satisfied smile.
You dressed up for him.
Homelander takes the seat set across from you, sweeping his cape to the side with a flourish. He watches you tuck an empty container–your lunch, presumably–into a side drawer of your desk. His eyes closely track the way you lift your thumb to the corner of your mouth and swipe residue from it, sucking the mess from your digit. A distinct pang of arousal hits him just watching your cheeks hollow.
Imagine what she could do with that mouth.
“And good afternoon to you, Homelander,” you respond, straightening up in your seat. His gaze briefly dips to the swell of your breasts as you adjust yourself, casually dusting away any remnants of your lunch. Saliva gathers on his tongue at the instant memory of you scantily clad in your sleep wear, nothing but a thin sheet of worn fabric between you and his hunger. His eyes snap back up before you can take notice of how they wandered.
Lucky for him, you’re busy splaying out the folder he brought you the day before, scanning over the list of bullet points he’d slapped together for the sake of having enough talking points.
“I wanted to start with your concerns regarding the marketing for your upcoming miniseries,” you say, glancing up at him.
He clicks his tongue. “Wow, alright. Straight to business then,” he says, absently rolling his palms over the ends of the armrests on either side of him.
“I’m very bad at small talk,” you say. Probably to diffuse any notion that you were being rude on purpose.
“Ch’yeah, I’ll say,” he says, smiling thinly. “Lucky that you’re good at your job.”
“Shockingly, I was actually a personality hire. I don’t know what any of this means,” you say, matching his thinly veiled snark while gesturing to the spread of documents in front of you. He snorts softly. You have a knack for using that sharp wit to diffuse, but he doesn’t feel manipulated. You actually are funny. “I was hoping you’d explain your concerns.”
Smooth segue, he thinks, his eyes narrowing appraisingly. He’s worked enough interviews to know when he’s being led, but he takes the bait anyways, widening his smile.
“Sounds great.”
Homelander knows that you’re sharp, good at your job, but he needs to needle you into giving him what he wants. He wants to understand you, and the stack of his films he found hidden in your apartment. What he gets in the meantime is ample taste of your silver tongue, parrying his every jab with an equally sharp counter.
He can’t keep the smile from his face.
Gradually a level of familiarity slips into the air between you. He can see some of that tension in your shoulders easing. He’s steadily wearing down the walls you’ve managed to construct.
“I still think audiences will be confused,” he says, feigning a profound concern, stretching out the time of your little appointment.
“Well, audiences are a lot like celebrities,” you say, the hard candied shell of your professional exterior thinning with every back and forth, poised to crack at any second. “They’re smarter than we think they are.”
“Oohh, ouch,” he purrs. “Nice backhand you got there.”
A twitch at the corner of your mouth. He knows you’re fighting a smile of your own, and pride blooms warmly in his chest. He likes sparring with you, but he likes pleasing you even more.
“I disagree about market confusion. Your diehard audience will already be up to speed, your broader target audience will show up for anything with your face on it, and anyone more casual than that likely won’t have seen the miniseries anyways, so there’s nothing to confuse it with,” you say, scanning down through one of the pages of the document he gave you.
Perfect opening.
“And which audience is it you fall into, exactly?” He asks, cocking his head a degree. “I mean, given your position, I have to imagine you’ve seen my range of film and television.”
“I’ve done my due diligence,” you say vaguely. You’re good at answering without answering. Normally it would irritate him, but your forced aloofness combined with your closely guarded–and inexplicably secret–veneration of him makes it into tantalizing bait begging for the sharp sink of his teeth.
“So you’ve seen all my movies, then?” He extrapolates, setting a line of his own.
You chuckle, gaze flickering to him before back down to the pages. Too brief a glance to even come close to satisfying his hunger. “I didn’t say that.”
He scoffs lightly. “But you’re a fan of mine?”
“I definitely didn’t say that.” He can sense he’s hit a vein, and like any good predator would, he’s eager to bite into it.
“C’mon. Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he continues to prod, leaning forward slightly in his seat.
You inhale a breath that you barely prevent from sounding too obviously irritated. His grin remains untarnished by the scrutiny of your unwavering stare. There it is, that’s what he wants. The weight of your gaze upon him, evaluating, taking him in fully. He doesn’t care how he gets it, he just knows he wants it.
“You are shy,” he accuses, knowing you aren’t.
“I’m not shy, I’m a professional,” you say curtly, the scratch of your pen scathing while you write notations on the document.
Good, he thinks. More likely to slip up now.
“Jeeze,” he laughs. “You’re wound up tighter than my fictional manager in Darkest Day.”
“You didn’t have a manager in Darkest Day, that was Origins,” you correct. After a beat, your hand stills.
Homelander’s gaze slowly slides to meet yours. He watches your face fall and clicks his tongue. He positively relishes how your mask of indifference slips into subtle dismay at your misstep. Such a simple bit of trivia, and yet it spoke volumes.
Got’cha.
“You do watch my movies,” he said, tone dropping to a near whisper. He revels in the quiet way you groan, leaning back in your chair.
“Only the ones I was paid to,” you say, straightening up in your chair, but he can hear the defeat in your voice.
“Liar,” he says through his perpetual grin. “Don’t be embarrassed. How long have you been a fan?”
“Stop,” you say, burying your face in your hands. Oh, this is good. Was he your first crush? Your favorite hero? He must be still, judging by the flush of heat moving through you.
All that pretense, all that haughty glowering, and beneath it all you’re a fan girl. He almost laughs at the thought of the face you’d make if he called you that.
“Which was your favorite?” He asks, burying the knife deeper, eager to cut through flesh and muscle and bone to get to the heart of truth beneath. “Bright World? Rise of a Hero? Justice Dawning?”
“I despise you,” you say melodramatically, digging your thumbs into your temples. “Also, Justice Dawning was cheesy, I’m offended you’d even offer it.” You try not to smile, but it happens anyway, and as soon as that secret little smile sneaks onto your lips it brightens Homelander’s eyes, reflecting your amusement back to you. Not just that, but amplifying it.
“You’ll learn to love me,” he tells you with confidence. You drop your hands, looking at him with subtle surprise. He holds your gaze. The earnestness of his words seems to dispel your mortification and replaces it with something more difficult to define, but he likes the shine it brings to your eyes.
The taste of your defeat is sumptuous. He’d prefer licking it straight from your tongue, but he’ll settle for this for the time being. An easiness settles into the air between you, deeper even than before your hackles rose with the lurking reality of your hidden opinion of him. It’s like a bubble has popped, dissipating uncomfortable tension, replacing it with something warmer.
He has every intention of turning up the heat even further.
The meeting moves forward. You work your way through his folder, and during a natural lull in conversation, he finally broaches the topic that’s been plaguing him since he stepped into your office.
“So,” he begins, interlacing his gloved fingers in his lap. “Gonna tell me what you’re all dressed up for?” He asks, wearing the same smile and speaking in the same tone he had when he baited you into admitting your secret love affair with his cinema.
He wants to hear you say that it’s for him, but he’ll settle for a flustered deflection. They’re as good as the same.
“Oh,” you huff with an airy little laugh, the sound like silver bells chiming. “I have a date tonight.”
You say something else, but Homelander doesn’t hear it over the tidal-like rush in his ears. He watches your pretty lips form words that he can’t understand. Everything falls out of focus as he tightly reins in the white hot rush of furious jealousy that floods his gut and erupts up the back of his throat like bile. He swallows the burn of it, jaw tight, and manages a tense smile.
“Great,” he barks, not realizing–or perhaps not caring–that he interrupted you. “First date?”
“First date,” you confirm, your tone less conversational than it had been a beat ago. The walls are going back up, but he’s too fixated on what feels like a stabbing betrayal.
“Exciting,” he says, adjusting his tone and mannerisms until they once more resemble something genuine. Something civil, despite the hostility in his gut. “Someone you know? Going anywhere special?”
“No, and not really,” you say evasively. He loathes how withdrawn you’ve become. You should be pleased he’s put off. Gloating even. It’s proof he cares, isn’t it? “It was his suggestion.” His. The leather of Homelander’s glove creaks subtly in the fist he makes. “I forget the name of the place,” you say, avoiding his gaze.
His right cheek tics. Liar, liar, pants on fire. People always underestimate his ability to read them.
You’ll learn not to lie to him.
“But you have an out if you need it, don’t you? Someone to bail you out in case he turns out to be some kind of freak,” he says, huffing the word with a lick of venom. It takes significant effort to keep the disdain from his face to imagine you as you are now sitting across from some nobody schmuck, lit by candlelight and smiling sweetly for them instead of for him.
“I always do,” you say, smiling thinly. He curates his own tone often enough to hear it in yours, and it pierces his ears like a thistle. He taps his fingers on his thigh, scrounging for something, anything else to needle you for, but your responses don’t give him much to work with.
“Well. If you did need someone–”
“I’m a big girl,” you interrupt, surprising him. He’s rarely interrupted. “I can take care of myself.”
At that, a thought strikes him. The slack line of his lips curls into a thin smile, and his hands relax on the armrests of the chair.
“I’m sure you can.”
Shaking off the aftermath of your one-on-one with Homelander proves to be more difficult than you’d anticipated. You replay it nearly moment for moment in your mind while freshening up after work.
Homelander has an uncanny knack for moving through demeanors as though he’s trying hats, determining which one best suits the situation. One moment he’s a slick carnivore licking his chops in anticipation of his meal to come, and the next he’s every ounce the hero they market him as. He’d been relentlessly charming during the meeting, his charismatic smile becoming one you’d wanted to earn again and again.
Then came the news of your date, and all at once Homelander possessed the ominous calm of a sentient statue. The moment still sends an eerie chill down your spine, even in recollection. How radically his appearance can change with mood or thought alone. You’d hate to ever see him truly angry.
“Get a hold of yourself,” you say to the bathroom mirror. You have a date tonight, and the last thing you need is to bring this kind of nervous energy to it. Powers or not, the commonality of man is easy to rely on, and you’ve developed the tactical mindset of an aloof cat. Never beg for what can be given freely. Never give more than you get. Never settle. “Be the cat,” you tell yourself affirmatively.
A directive which, unfortunately, winds up being exceedingly easy to follow through the course of your date. James, bless his heart, struggles to wring more than the occasional piteous chuckle from you. Conversation with him is akin to drinking seltzer water–he is neither offensive nor particularly exciting, being only a step above plain water.
Perhaps James’ blandness isn’t entirely his own fault, but rather the basis of comparison he is subjected to. Throughout the night, you find yourself critical of the way he looks at you–or rather, the way he fails to look at you. Your thoughts keep drifting back to your meeting with Homelander and the way he looks at you. The intense ocean-blue caress of his eyes summons a blush to your cheeks even in hindsight.
He looks at you in a way that no one else does. It's as if he's trying to memorize the smallest details in your skin, to uncover every secret trapped behind your guarded gaze. He has a stare determined to lay you entirely bare to him.
James’ wine dulled ogling could hardly hold a candle to that. Looking into his eyes, you see only the planning for whatever dullard comment he was going to make next.
Still, it’s not until the end of your date–an exceptionally long two and a half hours thanks to a mishap with your order–that James displays a behavior unsavory enough to elicit a truly unpleasant feeling in you. He’s quite clingy after a few too many glasses of wine. He walks you out of the restaurant with an arm around your waist, and more than once you have to bat his hand away from the seam where your blouse is tucked into your skirt.
“You in the parking garage or the back lot?” He asks, smiling in a way he must mean to be salacious, eyes half-lidded like he’s lost control of them.
“The back lot.” Parking was a nightmare with how late you arrived after work. “Is that where you are?” You ask, hoping it isn’t.
“No, no, I actually took an Uber in,” he says, and you know immediately by the way he starts tapping your hip with his index finger why he chose to do that.
“Want me to wait for you here until your Uber arrives, then?” You ask, turning out of his grasp to stand face to face with him outside of the restaurant. It’s late enough now that the streets have calmed some, at least by New York’s standards.
James’ expression falters, but he tries for a recovery with a hopeful smile. “Well, you know, I was sort of hoping we might continue this elsewhere,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets. Is he trying to look suave?
“Oh, no,” you say, putting forth your very best sympathetic head tilt, matched with a well placed brow furrow. “No thank you.”
This time his expression doesn’t recover. His hands lift from his pocket and he makes a helpless gesture with them, very nearly pleading. “Really? I thought we were having a nice time.”
“And I’m so glad for that,” you say, and even you can hear the corporate edge sliding into your tone, which doesn’t seem to soothe him any. “But it’s for the best that we part ways here, James. Thanks for your time.”
“But–” Your inarguable dismissal staggers him. He gropes for recourse. “I paid,” he blurts out, which proves to be his final mistake.
Your polite facade drops. “For what?“
His booze addled panic shifts into confusion. “F…For dinner, but I didn’t mean–”
“And that entitles you to fuck me?” No sense in mincing words now.
His expression morphs again, this time into mortification. “No! No, but–”
“You thought this would be a transaction? God, and here I was thinking your gravest flaw would be how mind-numbingly boring you are. But to be boring and stupid?” You scoff, waving a dismissive hand.
“Goodnight, James,” you say, the kindest dismissal you can muster. You turn on your heel before he can sour the evening any further, and luckily for him, he doesn’t pursue you further.
Unbelievable. As if you hadn’t offered to split the check. As if he expected it to be a transaction that he cashed in your bed. As if the cost of dinner was worth anything more than a polite smile from you. As if.
New York doesn’t sleep, but it does grow very, very dark. You’re on a narrow street, not an alley exactly, but not a main road, either. Still riled up, you bring up the parking app on your phone as you walk, swiping through to get ready to pay for your crummy back lot space. A clatter brings your attention up, and that’s when you see them—two men. One wearing a black leather jacket, the other with a kerchief slung around his throat.
You stop walking, caught between turning around, which would mean putting your back to the men up ahead, or continuing forward, which would mean passing within arm’s reach. They haven’t noticed you yet, or at least they’re pretending not to, but now they look right at you and smile.
The men don’t look dangerous, not like they do in the movies, but you know that means nothing—plenty of the worst people in the world looked safe. Yet the longer you stay put, the more you sense the ill intent wafting off of them like cheap cologne.
“Hey, baby,” says one of them, moving toward you. “You lost?”
“No,” you say curtly, taking a step back. “Not lost. Excuse me.”
“You sure? We’re real good with directions,” says the second man, leering. Your eyes snap between them, phone clutched tight in your hand. “Y’look like you could use some.”
“No,” you say again, louder. How loud would you need to be for anyone to hear you over the sounds of the streets? Panic swells in your throat.
You don’t know how they got so close so quickly, but as you turn to run, a hand catches your collar. The guy in the leather jacket wrenches you back against him, one arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your phone clatters to the ground.
“Hey now, what’s the rush?” He asks, yanking you backwards.
“Get off me,” you snarl, but he’s squeezing you tightly across the chest, making it hard to think, let alone breathe. You struggle until you feel something hard dig into your hip. A knife? No. You realize coldly that it’s a gun, the handle of it jutting out from his waistband and digging into you. In a desperate bid, you twist in his grip, trying to grab it.
“Careful,” says the other one, moving in front of you, closing in. “She’s got spirit.”
You kick out at the other guy but he jumps back, laughing at you. They’re both laughing, relishing in your fear. Your fingers skim the gun, but you can’t quite get it.
The first man’s breath is hot and sour on your cheek. “Come on, now, let’s have some fun.”
You slam your head back into his nose—or try to, but you only manage to clip his chin. Still, you hit bone, hear the crack of a tooth, and just like that you’re free, stumbling to your hands and knees as the man reels. You hit the ground hard, the shock of landing lancing pain through your arms and legs. The gun tumbles from his waistband. Without thinking twice you lunge for it, fingers successfully closing around the grip right before one of the men grabs your ankle and pulls.
The street bites into your elbows and scrapes your knee bloody as you twist around and raise the gun, barrel leveled at the man’s heart. “LET GO!” You scream, heart hammering against your chest.
“Oh shit,” says the man in the kerchief, eyes wide at seeing you armed, but the other one sneers at you, blood spilling from his mouth. There’s fury in his eyes, and the unmistakable intent to hurt you.
“You ever held a gun that big, baby?”
“Let go,” you say again, voice firmer than the tremble of your hands. Your finger flexes on the trigger.
“You even know how to use it?” He asks, using his grip on your ankle to pull himself over you, his other hand falling to your thigh. He gives a pointed squeeze as he lifts himself up to tower above you. He reaches to take hold of you again, but you won’t let him. Can’t let him.
“Yes.” You squeeze the trigger as you say it, bracing for the recoil, the bang. It’s always so loud in the movies.
Nothing happens. You panic, looking at the weapon in your hands in dull shock. The safety isn’t on. You pull the trigger again, but the chamber rings hollow. It isn’t loaded. You look up at the man as his shadow falls over you. He bares his teeth at you, painted an ugly dark red with the blood spilling from his mouth.
The man laughs, a short barking sound, and knocks the gun from your hands with a harsh slap. It goes skidding away.
“Stupid bitch,” he says, raising his boot as if you were an oversized bug, something to crush. You close your eyes and scream as he brings it down hard.
Or at least, he started to, but his leg locks up halfway, and then he topples, a single horrifying sound leaking from his clenched teeth. Your eyes open just in time to see his body hit the ground, a smoldering wound smoking from his chest. An instant later, the second man falls.
This time you see the flash of crimson light that drops him.
Homelander’s cape billows in the wind with all the majesty of the flag it’s designed after as he descends from the sky. He lands in front of you, backlit by the distant street lights that give him an artificial glow. He’s beautiful, a perfectly manufactured angel delivered straight from some market tested Heaven.
“Hey, you hurt?” He asks, reaching for you.
Awestruck, all you can do is stare at his outstretched hand. Tears well in your eyes. Shock is setting in the aftermath of all that adrenaline in your veins crashing your system. Through the blur of your tears, Homelander’s expression shifts from concern to that of determination.
“It’s alright, I’m here now. They can’t hurt you,” he says, bringing your arm around his neck while he slips his own around your waist, effortlessly lifting you from the ground. Before your gaze can drift to the corpses–whose burning flesh you can smell mingling with the acrid city air–Homelander rotates, taking them from your line of sight.
With a flourish, he unhitches his cape from his shoulders and swings the fabric over yours. It settles on you heavier than you expected it to be, and impossibly warm. Moving back in, Homelader readily takes you back into his arms. He cradles you in his embrace, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other drawing lines up and down your back.
You try to choke out a sound, to ask him, how? How did he find you? How did he know you needed him? But none of the noises you make form any actual words. Your throat is too tight, and your tongue feels too big for your mouth, gnarled silent by panic. Everything is just too much. Your breaths only grow sharper as tears burn hot streaks down your face.
“Sssshhhhhhh,” he shushes by your ear, lifting you just enough to keep you on your feet, but take the weight of your body from you. His hold is compressive, but not oppressive. It takes everything you have left to lift your other arm around his neck while the sobs overtake you. He continues to hush you, whispering a menagerie of honeyed assurances in your ear, the core sentiment always the same.
I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.
You cry harder, coiling your arms tighter around his neck. He lets you cling to him, lets you sob away your makeup and soak the collar of his suit with the mess of it.
You don’t know how much time passes in your addled state of panic, but eventually your breaths begin to even out, though your heart continues to thunder. Your body isn’t convinced that the danger has vanished yet, eager to turn to flight now that your fight has gone.
“That’s it, just like that,” Homelander praises. “Breathe. Breathe. Good… Light as a feather now, okay? Like you can fly,” he tells you. The weightlessness you feel in his arms helps the idea, helps you to feel like you aren’t being crushed by the terrible weight of such a moment of horror. That’s all it had been, a moment–two at most–and yet the torment of it had felt hours long. Exhaustion falls over you in the wake of adrenaline, and you’re glad for Homelander’s arms around you. You doubt you’d be standing without them.
“Home,” you manage to croak. “Please.” You can still smell the man’s sour breath, the memory even more powerful than the stench of reality.
“I can take you home,” he coos, maintaining that same soothing tone of comfort. “Is that what you want?”
You nod, focusing instead on the vetiver fresh smell of him. You’ve never been near enough to him before to notice it, but now you fixate on it. Anything to drown out the stink of the alley. He smells so much cleaner, like fresh linen drying over green grass in the summer sun.
His arms flex around you before he adjusts them, lifting you smoothly into his arms. Your stomach flips the way it does when you go down a hill in the backseat of a car, gravity loosening its hold on you. You can feel the motion all around you, the wind ghosting over you, but Homelander himself feels motionless against you.
Flying. He’s flying. And so are you.
His cape shields you from the night air bite, pulled snug around you and secured where your bodies are pressed together. You haven’t felt like this since you were a child, cradled with such care and strength that feels beyond your comprehension. Homelander serves as both place and person–somewhere safe, someone kind–and you tuck yourself closer into the sanctuary of his arms, hands fisted in the protective fabric of his cape.
“I’ve got’cha,” he assures you, voice warm in your ear.
Without a shadow of a doubt, you believe him.
Homelander doesn’t need to ask where you live. It’s an easy detail to brush off if you question him. He doubts you will with the way you’re clinging to him, though. You feel good in his arms, settling so naturally against the contours of them he might convince himself you belong here. He doesn’t mind your weeping when it comes with your arms around him, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck.
A small shiver rolls down his spine.
Of all the ways Homelander expected the evening to unfold, he hadn’t properly anticipated you. While he cradles you, he replays again and again the moment you were snatched. You fought without hesitation. You wrenched the gun free. The fierceness in your eyes as you aimed it had been exquisite. The resolve in your gaze as you fired it even more so.
He’d known you were confident, but that kind of clawing survival can only be learned of a person in action. He’s known many supposedly strong people–supe and human alike–who walk as stone giants, but shatter like glass when faced with any real danger.
You couldn’t have known that you weren’t in any real danger. You couldn’t have known that he’d told those thugs to scare you, but not hurt you. You couldn’t have known he’d ensured the gun wasn’t loaded. You fought as though it was for your life, and it enthralled him.
He hadn’t planned on killing them in front of you. They would have been loose ends to tie up after his heroic rescue, but somewhere along the line that stupid bastard lost the thread. He hurt you, bloodied those pretty knees of yours, and he moved to strike you. To grind you beneath his heel as if you were the vermin instead of him. For that–and for so flagrantly going against Homelander’s own direct order–you witnessed his downfall.
As far as he’s concerned now, everything happened precisely as it needed to. You’re in his arms now, and he’s still half hard from witnessing you choose fight when your instincts kicked in. You’re too fragile to choose it so readily. Your bones feel bird-like compared to the scope of his strength. Hollow and brittle. You would make for a hell of a supe, though.
Still, he won’t break you. He’s spent his entire life learning what it takes to snap bones like party favors, and more crucially, what it takes not to. Yours are safe from him. In fact, you’re the safest person in the whole world now.
Homelander glides down to a soft landing on your driveway. Your car will be an issue for another time. For now, he walks you to your front door before gently placing you on your feet.
“Believe this is you, young lady,” he says, leaving space for plausible deniability. If it occurs to you to interrogate him about it, it doesn’t show on your face. With hands still softly trembling, you fish your keys out of your purse. He watches you fumble with them for only a moment before he steps in behind you, one hand gripping your upper arm to steady and pause you while the other covers your shaking hand, helping you to slide the key into the lock and turn it.
Your hand fits nicely in his.
“Thanks,” you whisper. It’s the first thing you’ve said since asking him to take you home. He takes the liberty of opening the door for you while he’s at it, swinging it wide to allow you in. You grab his forearm, and he thinks you’re only balancing yourself, but when you don’t let go he steps with you, letting you lean on him as you guide him into your home. He closes the door behind the two of you, smiling to himself.
He may not need an invitation to enter, but it’s charming to have one.
Your movements are stiff, a slight limp to your gait. You fell hard, and the delicate flesh of your knee had ripped apart against the concrete when you were dragged. You hesitate at the stairs, but Homelander doesn’t. You inhale sharply when he scoops you back up into his arms with ease and starts up the stairs. He keeps his gaze ahead, but he can feel yours on him.
“Thanks,” you say again, the word barely more than a hiccup, adjusting his cape over yourself like a blanket.
“It’s what heroes are for.” He smiles. It’s a party line, one he’s said a hundred thousand times before, but you make him mean it. This is what heroes are for. To be worshiped and loved, understood deeper than pop stars and false idols like them. There’s a reverence in your stare that transcends the vapid starstruck way most people look at him. You understand now. You know how much more he is.
He brings you to your bedroom and sets you on the edge of the bed, adjusting his cape back up over your shoulders. You’ve scarcely let go of it since he wrapped you in it. Will you sleep with it tonight? He bets you will. The thought sends a pleasant tingle through him.
“Alright, let’s get a look at those knees,” he says, crouching in front of you. There’s blood running down your left shin. He lifts the edge of your skirt hem just enough to catch a glimpse of shredded skin. It looks rough, dirty and embedded with bits of debris. He blows out a breath. “Got a first aid kit?”
You nod numbly. “Under the bathroom sink.”
It’s odd to see you so subdued. He forgets sometimes that you humans can be as emotionally fragile as you are physically. Surely the death of two measly thugs isn’t enough to break you.
Rising, he moves to your bathroom. He feels slightly unbalanced without the sway of his cape behind him, the garment as integral to his physicality as any limb. He rummages through until his hand lands on a bright red fabric pack with a zipper. He gives it a little toss and catches it, bringing it back to you, alongside a wetted towel. He gives the pack a victorious little shake.
“H’okay, down to business.” Homelander kneels before you, splaying open the kit and placing it on your lap. He’s never used one of these before, but he’s pretended to do it on set. How different can it be? He cups your leg, thumb absently smoothing back and forth on your skin while he uses the towel to gently wipe up the blood, dirt and debris from your shin and knee.
You flinch, tense a moment before you relax. “Homelander, you really don’t have to–”
“Am I doing a bad job?” He asks, glancing up at you through his lashes. There’s a playful lilt to his voice.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, the smallest hint of exasperation in your voice. He’s pleased to hear it. Perhaps you’re less wilted from the encounter than he thought. “I just mean that I can–”
“I know you can,” he says, and this time he definitely sees a flare of annoyance. You don’t like being interrupted any more than he does, but you don’t protest further. He smiles, triumphant, and focuses back on the task at hand, petting you the same way one might soothe a wild animal.
There’s a novelty in doing this for real that he hadn’t anticipated. It’s entirely unlike wiping away congealed red corn syrup from an actor. Your skin is sweeter, softer. He suddenly resents his gloves for the barrier they provide, despite his usual reliance for that very thing. He’s meticulous in flicking out the little stones embedded in your skin, spotting each one with ease.
Next, he tears open the alcohol wipes with his teeth and uses them to disinfect, rubbing at the sores. You flinch, sucking in a loud breath through your teeth. “Oopsy-daisy,” he says, switching to gently patting. He has no real concept of what you’re feeling right now. He’s never had a scraped knee before. The scientists at Vought had to get much more creative in order to gauge his capacity for healing.
He imagines they were disappointed to realize that, once damaged, he healed as slowly as a human.
“How’d you find me?” You ask, snapping him out of his unpleasant reminiscence. Your shock seems to have worn off entirely. You look more present, alert to his every move.
“Heard you scream,” he answers simply, unraveling a roll of gauze. That much is true.
“But how? How did you know where I was?” You push, watching him wind the white material around your knee.
“I didn’t,” he lies smoothly. He’s followed enough scripts in his life to do so very well. “If I’d known exactly where you were, I would have been there sooner. I was minding my business on 5th Avenue when I heard you. Familiar voices can…” He makes a vague gesture. “Cut through the din. Voices I want to hear.”
He thinks he catches you flush at that. Just a touch. He bites back a smirk, pleased with himself. Does it matter if it’s true when it makes you look at him like that?
“I didn’t know your hearing worked like that,” you say, fidgeting with the hem of his cape.
His gaze flickers up every so often to watch your finger pick at the seam, inexplicably charmed by it. “Well, there’s some things not even a super fan can glean,” he teases, securing the gauze with tape. He expects to see a familiar indignation in your expression, but when he looks up, he’s caught off guard by the unmistakable fondness in your eyes.
“I was over the moon when I got my job at Vought,” you say quietly, like you’re whispering in a confessional. “I always wanted to work with heroes.”
“With me?” He pushes, lifting his brows.
Very slightly, you smile. “Yeah. With you.”
“Busted,” he says, his own voice equally soft.
You give him a little nudge with your foot. “Gauze won’t stay by itself. Need to use a roll of self-adhesive wrap,” you say, plucking the beige roll from the kit. He likes the shy warmth in your voice. He would have done much worse to see this side of you. Have the intimacy of your pain, fear and relief all to himself. This glowing affection you’re so full of. He feels drunk on the cocktail of it all.
“Right, obviously,” he says, taking the wrapping from you. “I knew that.”
“Probably should have put a gauze pad under it, too,” you continue, eyes heavily lidded, expression soft.
“Everyone’s a critic,” he laments, affixing the textured bandage around the gauze. You laugh, and the sound of it feels like a space he could belong in.
He checks your other knee, your elbows and your palms, but nowhere else on you calls for anything more than some antiseptic and a few bandaids. With the wrappings secure, he shuffles the mess of supplies haphazardly back into the kit, zipping it up much more bulging and misshapen a state than he found it in. He pushes it under the bed with the towel atop it, standing.
“Good as new. Or close to it,” he says, making a small show of dusting off his hands for a job well done.
You stand, letting his cape slide off of your shoulders for the first time since he put it on you, the fabric pooling on the bed. You step forward, and of all the things he expects in this moment, you blow them out of the water by suddenly wrapping your arms around him, the soft curves of your body slotting against his in a way that trips something primal and needy in him. He puts his arms around you the second the shock wears off, holding you with the barest fraction of his strength.
Tension drains from your body. Were you nervous he wouldn’t reciprocate? It’s an endearing thought. He gives a deeper, brief squeeze. He can’t remember the last time someone held him.
“Thank you,” you say after a long beat, drawing back. He reluctantly loosens his grip, but not by much. He’s loath to relinquish you so soon after he’s gotten hold of you. “It’s not enough, but I don’t know what could ever be.”
I could make a few suggestions, he thinks, but he doesn’t give voice to the lewd thoughts that follow.
“I’ll never forget what you did for me tonight,” you say. Your face is so near to his, it makes it difficult to focus on anything other than the curve of your lips as you speak.
Instead of responding, Homelander leans in, eyes falling shut.
“Oh,” you say sharply, your soft body suddenly going tense in his arms, stopping him in his tracks. Both of your hands are braced against his chest now, creating a distance that feels craterous.
He blinks, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“I’m really tired,” you say, tone shifting to mild diffusion. It reminds him of the way you spoke to James, and his ego stings with both the rejection and the comparison. He’d laughed listening to you reject that pathetic, simpering man. It seems less funny now.
He scoffs an incredulous little huff. But I saved you, he thinks, indignant panic flaring in his chest. To his dismay, however, the thought doesn’t sound like his own voice. It sounds like James’.
But I paid!
Repulsed, Homelander swallows the thought like bile. If the comparison comes so readily to his own mind, there’s no way you won’t make the connection yourself. He feels his skin prickle like there are fire ants crawling beneath his suit. The memory of James’ pathetic begging is the only thing that keeps his composure together.
“Of course you are,” he says tightly. His smile is forced, slightly too wide. “You should sleep. Rest up. Take the day off tomorrow,” he says stiffly, rattling off lines like they’re pre-recorded. Only then does he surrender his hold on you, hands moving to his hips instead. You take a step back, and he stands straighter to disguise the sting of rejection.
“Thank you,” you say, tone indecipherable. It’s full to the brim with something, but nothing Homelander can parse in his current state. “I–”
“No need,” he dismisses, jumping on the opportunity to end the conversation on his terms. “Really. Just doing my job,” he says, tossing you a little two-finger salute off of his brow, already moving towards your balcony door. You don’t move, watching him from the foot of your bed, arms wrapped around yourself.
“Catch you at the office,” he says. He knows he’s speaking too quickly, but it’s all he can do to keep himself in check. Anger and misery broil in him like vinegar and baking soda, the caustic brew threatening to erupt.
“Okay,” you say, which isn’t particularly what he wants to hear. He turns his back to you, and his smile drops, his ego violently stung. With a force that billows wind through your bedroom, he takes off into the night sky.
You just weren’t ready, he tells himself, gritting his teeth. It’s easier to be angry than embarrassed. He wants to make as much distance between himself and your rejection, flying higher and higher until frost begins collecting on his lashes. He flies until there’s no sound, no oxygen, no life but his own. He flies until gravity releases him and he can finally relax, suspended by cold, vast space.
The earth glows beneath him, reflecting the light of the sun where it illuminates a distant portion of the globe.
Closing his eyes, he tips his head back.
He’ll fix this.
#heavy breathing#icb i actually did it#tysm to everyone who let me scream and cry at them about this fic as i wrestled nonstop with it#homelander x you#homelander x reader#x reader#homelander fanfiction#yandere x reader#my writing
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The Bet (Homelander)
Description: Homelander and Y/N make a bet that ends sexual
Warning: Smut
Word Count: 1,545k
Homelander and Y/N had an odd friendship. Not many people that meet the man put up with him or consider him a friend except Y/N. She knew he was fucked up and not okay in the head but he wasn’t an asshole to her like he was everyone else. She didn’t think much of it given the fact that she seemed to be the only one nice to him. Annie questioned her about it all the time, telling Y/N he was awful and that she couldn’t understand what Y/N saw in him. Y/N seemed to be the only one that put up with his bullshit. Y/N always told her the same thing. “He doesn’t act like that towards me.” Cuz he didn’t. Nobody knew why or understood it but that’s how it was.
“Black Noir would kick A-Train’s ass. Are you kidding me?” Homelander said. Y/N Shrugged. “I don’t know. A-Train is fast.” “Fast is all he has.” Homelander says. Y/N stood up. “Alright then. Why don’t we make a bet?” She asked. “What kind of bet?” He asked. “If I win you have to be my personal slave for the entire week.” “And If I win..” “That’s up to you.” He smirked. “If I win I get to fuck you. Here on this table.” She was taken back by what he said. Her jaw dropped and he held the smirk. “Wait what?” She asked. He stood up from his chair. “Oh come on, Don’t act like you don’t want me to.” He said. He was a cocky son of a bitch that’s for sure. But she hadn’t really thought about it. She did find him attractive and they had a decent friendship but the thought of them having sex never crossed her mind before. “I can change it if that was too much.” He said. She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Deal.” She said and they shook hands.
Her jaw dropped as she watched A-Train fall to the ground. Black Noir won so quickly and easily she really didn’t stand a chance at winning this bet. Homelander had a huge smile as the scene played out in front of him. He wanted to shout “yes” at the rooftops but he looked over at Y/N and she looked defeated. He wondered if that was from the bet itself or from the fact that she lost. Either way his dick was going to be inside of her by the end of the night. She looked at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t even stand a chance.” She said. “Well I don’t know about you but I’d rather be in your shoes than A-Trains.” He said and she laughed. “And besides at least now you’ll be fucked like you deserved to be.” He whispered in her ear. That sent shivers down her body. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm herself. He smirked at her reaction and walked away.
She stood inside the quarters for the seven as she waited for Homelander to arrive. Her nerves were through the roof as she paced around the room. She went and bought a matching set that was red and it was under her clothes. She wasn’t in her costume but she figured he would be. She heard the door open and she stopped pacing and turned to see Homelander with a smirk on his face. She looked at him as he walked over to her. He didn’t look the least bit nervous but she was. “How long have you been in here for?” He asked her. “An hour.” She whispered. He chuckled and got closer to her. “Are you nervous?” He asked her.
She nodded and he backed her up to the table. His gloved hand put strands of hair behind her ear. “Well don’t be beautiful. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He whispered the last part in her ear and bit it gently. She closed her eyes and sighed. His hands traveled down to her hips and lifted her on the table. She looked at him and they kissed. His lips moved against hers roughly and she pulled back. “Be gentle baby, we’ve got all night.” She whispered against his lips. Her calling him baby turned him on even more but he listened. She cupped his jaw as they kissed softly this time. His hands went under her shirt and cupped her boobs making her moan into the kiss. She pulled back from the kiss and took off her shirt revealing the red lace bra. His eyes darkened at the sight of her. He pushed her so she was laying down on the table and he kissed down her chest to her abdomen. He undid her jeans and pulled them off her revealing the red panties that matched the bra.
He took in the sight of her and sighed. “You are so beautiful.” He said, making her blush. He hooked his fingers in her lace panties but saw a hole where her pussy was showing out of. “So you wanna be fucked in the lingerie?” He asked. “Yes.” She said which made him smirk. He dropped to his knees and got the scent of her wet pussy. She smelled delicious and sweet. He nuzzled his nose in her making her gasp out and grab ahold of his hair. He took a big sniff and moaned. “Fuck, you smell so good.” He moaned and licked a big stripe up her pussy. She let out a loud moan. He took that as a sign to continue. He pulled her legs so they were over his shoulder and he started sucking and licking her pussy like it was his last meal. Her noises were loud and whiny. He was thankful the room was soundproof or some of the other heroes staying there could walk in.
He wouldn’t care if they did but he also didn’t want anyone else to see her like this. Her moans were so pretty and hot that he was getting so hard just hearing her. Her hips started humping his face and she screamed out at the feeling. His nose managed to bump perfectly on her clit making her sob. He groaned at the noise getting more turned on by the second. She was clenching around nothing and was so close. “Homelander.” She cried. “John.” He told her his name and it was all she could moan. Her breathing was getting louder and she started panting like a dog. “John, I'm gonna cum.” She whined out. He hummed against her and didn’t stop. Both of their movements were sloppy and seconds later she came with a loud moan of his name. He lapped up her juices as they spilled out of her and onto his face.
She pushed his face away once her climax had settled and she felt sensitive. He laughed and looked at her. Her chest was moving up and down fast and her eyes were closed. He stood up and she opened her eyes. She looked at him and was instantly wet again at the sight. His mouth and nose were covered in her slick. “You taste pretty good.” He chuckled. She let out a breathy laugh and sat up. She watched as he pulled down the bottom of his suit. His dick was huge and it made her shiver at bit just the thought of that inside of her. He chuckled at her reaction and pulled her closer to him. “I plan on making you cum 100 times tonight.” He growled as he entered her. She moaned out at the feeling and he groaned. She was squeezing him so hard. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He growled and started moving his hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her head on his shoulder. His arms were already around her holding her as close as possible.
They were basically hugging as he fucked her hard. The table was making a weird noise but it could barely be heard over her loud moans and his groans. “I’ve dreamed about this moment.” He growled and she moaned in response. She never would have thought that this would be the best sex of her life but it was. His hips knocking into hers. His name was all she seemed to know. He was moaning too but to her that was the hottest thing she has ever heard. Her body was falling onto his as she was getting close to her orgasm. He felt her clenching around him making him whine her name. “I’m so close, baby.” He moaned out and she nodded and looked up at him.
She managed to lean up and kiss him with everything she had. He kissed her back and she whined into the kiss and he felt her cum all over him. That triggered his release and his hips lost their rhythm. They pulled away from the kiss to moan and to breathe. They were both panting at this point and Y/N collapsed on the table. He didn’t pull out of her and got hard again. She looked up at him and he smirked at her. “I told you I was making you cum 100 times tonight.” He smirked. Boy he wasn’t kidding.
#the boys#the boys imagine#the boys amazon#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander imagine#homelander smut#homelander x you#antony starr
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𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐓 || 𝐇.
pairing || homelander × fem!reader
summary || Homelander constantly destroys your underwear to the point where you have none left. In conclusion you force him to buy you new ones and have the whole media see it.
warnings || SMUT; we've got tittie sucking, fingering, sublander (I love that word) but also domlander? p in v, unprotected sex, big load (he's a supe so ofc), rough sex, did I forget something?
note || this is my first homelander you guys and sure ain't the last... idk what my problem is with these difficult men and making them soft, please reblog/comment and give feedback!
BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST
“Yes, and tomorrow you have an interview with Fox,” Ashley told Homelander as she trailed after him, clipboard clutched in her hands. The blonde nodded, not even listening completely because his mind was already on you.
He was only meters away from you and could already hear your light humming over the music that played in the background. Ashley kept talking to Homelander’s dismay, not that he wasn’t interested, especially if she was talking about his ratings.
However, you took over his thoughts and body, god, his body longed for you. With his heavy footsteps he walked towards his penthouse and thinking about every position he would put you in.
Homelander opened the doors, and Ashley was still there. He was close to cursing her out, but stopped in his tracks once he laid eyes on you.
You stood in front of the trashcan, throwing away your lingerie. Completely naked. His eyes went wide, as naked as the day you were born you stood there.
Ashley squeaked, holding her clipboard in front of her eyes, “I’m sorry, god, I’m so, so, sorry,” she apologized profusely. Quickly she run out of the room, shocked as to what she just saw and hoped that Homelander wouldn’t punish her.
“What the fuck are you doing,” he questioned you with a glare, slowly making his way over to you.
In response you pouted at him, pushing all your destroyed lingerie into the trash, “well, you see all my pretty lingerie is destroyed and now I have to throw them all away,” you looked up at him with innocent doe eyes.
“Doesn’t explain why you’re naked,” he pressed, although Homelander didn’t mind but he hated anyone else seeing what’s his.
“I have no underwear, dummy,” you teased him with a smile, one that turned his mind around. He had known for years by now and knew exactly that you acted dumber than you actually were.
His patience was waning and he fought himself to not look at your perfectly hard nipples touching his suit coveted chest.
“I can’t even wear my plain once because my handsome boyfriend ripped them when I was on my period,” you added, acting as if you didn’t know what else to do. Your arms snaking around Homelander’s neck.
“Then buy fucking new ones and don’t let anyone see you naked,” he growled as his hands found a vice grip on your hips. “Mhm, but you know the rule. If you break it, you have to replace it,” scolded him, rubbing your breasts against his suit covered chest and pulling on his concentration.
“Fine, take my card,” Homelander hissed, he wanted to get over this topic and simply fuck you. He pushed you back against the wall, his leather gloved hand stroking along the back of your thigh.
“Don’t think so, you will come with me baby boy,” you grinned at him, hooking your leg around his torso.
Homelander didn’t like that, he couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized and how would it look if a superhero was buying lingerie?
As if you could read his thoughts – which by now you could – you pushed back, caressing his cheek while pushing him back onto the sofa. He laid back with you on top of him, still gripping your waist in a way that was sure to leave bruises.
“Imagine how good your ratings would be if you buy your pretty girlfriend all that lingerie. Men would love the control you have, and women will love seeing a devoted boyfriend,” you whispered, praising him as you moved your cunt over his clothed erection.
He released a strained groan, already painfully hard, “everyone will love you,” you whispered into his ear. You leaned down, your nipple hovering over his lips.
You knew how much he loved sucking your tits and you knew what to say to get everything you wanted.
“And don’t you wanna choose what I should wear? I’m too stup-,” “Fine, I’ll fucking go with you,” Homelander hissed and switched you around, now on top of you and his pearl white teeth bared.
Your thighs clenched, your cunt already soaking wet, but you had to suppress the smirk of triumph.
Homelander latched onto your nipple, sucking on it hungrily while his right hand kneaded your unattended breast. You threaded your hand through his gold-blonde hair, harshly tugging on his roots.
His tongue licked around your nipple before gently biting down causing you to arch your back, “John,” you moaned.
With a ‘plop’ sound he released your breast, looking up at you through his beautiful lashes.
Slowly his hand trailed down to your core, the cool leather of his glove causing goosebumps to dance along your skin. He rubbed his thumb over your clit as his attention directed towards you other breast.
You could feel his desperation, it wasn’t from the conversation just moments before, no. It was because of the other team members had gotten his last nerve, VOUGHT had gotten on his last nerve, everyone had gotten on his last nerve.
“Oh, baby,” you mused with a loving smile, taking a deep breath. The pressure on your clit increased, and your breath quickened.
John immediately picked up on your behavior, you were close to your high. He inserted his middle and ring finger inside you, “fuck,” you groaned at the new feeling of his thick fingers.
“They’re all brainless idiots, can’t do a thing right,” he gritted his teeth, curling his fingers against your g-spot. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tried to come up with words to response, John expected it from you.
“Mhm, yeah, they’re-,” your sentence was cute off by a loud moan slipping from your lips as he bit onto your nipple.
He sucked harder, a desperate call for praise, “you’re right, they’re all brainless, but you, you’re the best of them. John, you’re smart, pretty and the greatest supe,” it rolled off your tongue naturally.
To you he was perfect, he could do no wrong and maybe you were sick in the head for thinking that.
“Make me come, please make mommy come,” you pleaded, grip still tight in his hair. Without hesitation John brought you to your orgasm, a pornographic moan fell from your mouth as you bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.
“You did so good, you’re perfect John,” you praised as your high rushed through your blood, god you felt amazing.
Homelander reeled in your praise, he needed it to function properly. While he enjoyed, loved, controlling you, telling you what to do and not to do, John worshipped the ground you walked on.
-----
Ahley organized the press along with fans to stand in front of your favourite lingerie shop, Homelander was for once wearing something casual – you forced him to.
“It looks better, trust me,” you told him with a pointed look, “you want them to love you, don’t you?” you added, knowing this would push him over the edge.
Now he wore dark jeans, sneakers and a matching polo shirt. He had a charming smile on his face as he escorted you into the store which was empty – expect for a cashier. Never before did you have the chance of shopping private like this, online shops were your best friend.
Your man looked around, already picturing you in some of the lingerie that catched his eye. “What do you think of this one?” you asked, showing him a blue piece, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just a baby blue lace set.
“It’s uhm, pretty,” boring, fucking boring, was what he wanted to say. You rolled your eyes playfully and continued looking around, until something unique came into your sight.
Quickly you took your size and vanished into the changing room, of course Homelander heard you and followed you curiously.
You put on the hot pink bra, the underside was see-through, and the top was decorated with flowers. The slip was the same, meaning most of your vagina was visible add to that it was connected with two strings on each side.
The accessory that made you pick it was the choker, it came with a chain that went down between your breasts and was attached to flower shaped belt which fitted your waist perfectly.
Homelander waited outside, impatiently looking around the room until you were ready. Then you opened the curtain, revealing yourself.
You smiled at him innocently, “how does this look?” you asked. He took a step towards you, hand tracing along the fabric and causing a shiver to run down your spine. Suddenly he hooked his point finger around the chain, slowly dragging you to him.
He leaned down, lips hovering over yours, “you’re playing a dangerous game little lady,” he whispered. You pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly close.
“I’m not playing any game,” you told him honestly, playing with the tiny hairs on his nape. “Don’t think just because they’re many, many people out there I won’t fuck you till you can’t walk anymore,” Homelander threatened, but was it really a threat if you would enjoy every second of it?
“Promise?” you smirked and within a second you were pressed against a wall. Homelander slid his hand down to your core, in your mind you already knew what was about to happen.
With that he snapped the pink panties in half, pushing his two fingers inside you, “look at that, little slut is already wet,” he taunted you.
Your head fell back as he curled his fingertips against your cervix, his unoccupied hand came up to lift your leg around his torso.
“Does that feel good mhm? Come on let me hear you, let them hear you,” he rubbed his thumb over your clit, finally drawing a moan from you. Homelander kissed you, hard, pushing his tongue into your mouth.
He showed his dominate side, hand leaving your side to undo your hand around his neck. Slowly moving it towards his belt, a silent order to open it which you follow without hesitation.
The trousers of his suit fell to the ground, Homelander hosted you up into his arms and entering you in one stroke, giving you no time to adjust to his size – as if he ever did.
You moaned, biting your lip in pleasure. For a moment he stilled inside you, his heavy breathing hitting your skin. Slowly he moved his hips upwards, you could feel him stretching your cunt, feel him hit that spongy spot inside you.
“Fuck, you’re fucking me so good, so good,” you groaned, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Homelander grinned at you, “yes, yes, tell me how good I’m. Fucking tell me and I will let you cream all over my fat cock.”
“You’re good, fucking amazing, baby. No one compares to you, you’re so good,” you chanted as he pounded into you at a ruthless pace.
Sometimes you wondered if your cervix could form bruises, but what you knew was that it could become difficult to walk out of this store.
A tight knot formed in your stomach, pleasure building up and you gripped Homelander’s hand, guiding it towards your clit.
“That’s right, I’m fucking you and you love it, you love me. Say it, come on,” he growled, letting go of your thigh and you closed your legs around his waist, sucking his cock deeper in. You need to feel more of him.
His hand came up to your throat as you didn’t answer, stilling inside of you, “I said, tell me you love me, or I will fill you until my seed is dripping down your legs and you can’t take it anymore, but you little lady, little slut won’t get to come.”
Tears welled in your eyes, you wouldn’t even mind it and he fucking knew it, but for your own sanity you had to answer him. Play into his game, because in your sick twisted mind you enjoyed it.
“I love you, I love you so fucking much,” you whimpered, clutching your hands on his shoulders, begging him to move.
“You do, don’t you? Want me to make you come, want me to fill you up?” he asked, though he knew the answer he, wanted to hear it from you.
“Mhm, yes, want you to make me come, please, please and fill me up, I want it so bad,” you begged, and he finally moved again, rocking his hips up. They you begged him brought him closer to his high, he loved having you at his mercy, doing everything he wanted.
A pornographic moan slipped from your lips as he rubbed over your clit and hit your g-spot. You reached your high, the knot exploding and smashed your lips onto Homelander’s to muffle another moan.
He barred his teeth, releasing his cum into your cunt and his pace slowed down. “Come, paint me baby,” you whispered into his ear.
----
“These please,” you grinned at the woman working the register, letting a pile of lingerie fall onto the counter. Every sort of color and shape, nervously the woman cashed you up, “a bag?” she asked to which you nodded.
“That will be 300,36 please,” she said, “cash or card?” she added, looking at you and not daring to spare Homelander a glance.
You held out your palm to your boyfriend who huffed before putting his card into your hand, “thank you,” you said and laid the card down, then stepping aside once it signaled, “pin, “ you told him and gestured to the machine.
Homelander put in the pin while the cashier packed everything up, handing it to you, “thank you very much,” you smiled.
Finally, she found the voice to ask Homelander for an autograph, “oh, sure everything for my fans! You guys are the real hero’s,” he showed her his pearly white teeth and signed her card.
“We could do this a lot more often, go shopping together, maybe have a little lunch date,” you trailed off, teasing him.
Outside there was a lightening of reporters and fans, all wanted pictures and asked questions. In Homelander style and because of Vought, he answered some of them, but he had to keep himself together.
"What is it like to have such a devoting boyfriend?"
"Anything else you do for your girlfriend?"
"How is you future looking? The two of you are a beautiful couple!"
"Thank you, thank you! The future is bright and what my girl wants she gets, there is truly nothing I won't give her," he smiled at them brightly. You posed for pictures, getting bolder with every flash.
Homelander wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side to whisper in your ear. "You better behave little lady, I will punish you until you can't walk a fuckinf millimetre."
"Promise?"
please reblog/comment and give feedback! I would love to know if you like my Homelander fics, I have so many ideas
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#homelander fic#homelander fanfiction#homelander x reader#homelander smut#homelander#homelander x you#homelander x y/n#homelander fluff#homelander the boys
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Lay All Your Love on Me (Homelander x Reader)
Summary: A communication breakdown has unintended consequences, but it’s all because Homelander loves you.
Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on a request from @judyfromfinance and the ABBA song which is so Homelander coded. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: Jealousy, possessive behavior, violence (not toward the reader). We love miscommunication for plot reasons here! Do not interact if you’re under 18.
Homelander had no reason to believe you were hiding from him. Your job kept you busy, and ironically enough, working for the same company didn’t guarantee that you’d see each other nearly as much as he’d like. When his texts went unanswered and he couldn’t so much as hear you during the day, though, his mind went into overdrive presenting him with every worst case scenario it could possibly conceive of.
Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.
His gloved hands balled into fists at his side. You would never cheat on him. He knew that. He did. But sometimes, it seemed like your heart didn’t ache for him the way his did for yours. You had a life outside of him, and as much as you tried to include him in it, he resisted. Things would be easier if it were just the two of you.
Trying your phone again, he called you, frustrated when it went straight to voicemail.
“Hey babe, it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Give me a call back as soon as you can. I love you,” he said, adding a quick. “Call me back" for emphasis.
He groaned, throwing his phone aside and folding his arms over his chest. It was fine. He didn’t care that much anyway. At least that’s what he told himself as he glanced at his discarded phone every few seconds in hopes you’d call or text back. No dice.
As a last resort, he headed to the crime analytics department. You managed a small team of analysts who consulted with the state and federal government on Vought’s behalf. The two of you had met when Vought was trying to get supes in the military, and as far as Homelander was concerned, it was love at first sight.
Never mind that it took a few weeks to win you over, frustratingly committed to your job and hesitant to date a coworker. Even though he’d hardly consider the two of you coworkers. Sure, you both worked for Vought, but that was it as far as he was concerned. In his determination to woo you, he’d made some valuable connections in your department. At least, people who he knew would have some kind of scoop on you when he needed it.
“Hey Annika,” Homelander said, startling the young crime analyst as he approached her desk. “How’re you doing, pal?
“Hi Homelander,” she said, not quite able to keep eye contact with him. “Sir. I’m good. H-How are you?”
“You haven’t seen Y/N around today, have you?”
She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“Alright,” he said tensely, a painfully fake smile spreading across his face. “Keep up the good work.”
His smile faltered as he heard your name come up in a conversation on the other side of the room. A masculine voice, younger than his, far too much mirth for his liking when he spoke about you.
“Dude, I was in Y/N’s office for like an hour yesterday. I could barely concentrate. They are so fine.”
“You’re insane,” someone else laughed.
“What? Have you seen them?”
“They’re dating Homelander, dumbass.”
“Whatever. It won’t last. He and Maeve will get back together, and yours truly will be there to pick up the pieces.”
“If you say so.”
Homelander hadn’t noticed his eyes glowing red until Annika squeaked. Letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he looked at his…acquaintance.
“See you around,” he said, his chipper tone clearly strained.
Since you weren’t answering your phone and he still had no clue where you were, Homelander had all the time in the world to wait around for your sleazy subordinate to take a bathroom break. He wondered if you were aware of the man’s interest in you. It was a possibility, but he had to assure himself that you wouldn’t do anything to encourage it. He knew you wouldn’t bother with a miscreant like that, of all people, but the point needed to be made. No one could speak so vulgarly about you and expect him not to do something about it.
Fifteen minutes or so had passed, and Homelander spotted his name badge. Josh.
“Hey Josh! You have a minute, buddy?” Homelander asked, voice booming through the hallway, causing Josh to flinch. Homelander smirked a bit.
“Homelander! Is there something you need?”
“Yeah, actually, I just have a question about the crime analytics office.”
Josh nodded. “Sure, anything.”
“Did you see any Greek letters in there?”
“Wh-What?”
“Did you see any Greek letters in there? Maybe a keg and some drunk idiots wearing togas?”
“I don’t—“
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why were you in there talking about my partner like you were in a fucking frat house?” Homelander asked, cornering the slimy analyst. “You know Y/N and I are dating, right? Your idiot friend told you as much.”
Josh’s mouth flopped open and closed like one of the disgusting fish The Deep crusaded for. “I—I didn’t mean—“
“So either you’re incredibly stupid, or you have a death wish. Which one is it, buddy?”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Homelander.”
Homelander chuckled, empty and hollow, reveling in the way he could practically smell the fear radiating off of the man in front of him. “You will be.”
With the way Josh was carrying on, Homelander would’ve thought he’d actually killed the guy. All he’d done was snap his arm and throw an elbow to his nose. He’d just bought the asshole a free rhinoplasty, far more generous than he deserved after what he did.
Homelander sneered at the blubbering crime analyst, work shirt covered in his own blood. Pathetic, really. And he had the audacity to act like he was worthy of you. Throwing one final glare Josh’s way, Homelander walked off, wiping the blood off his gloves and onto his suit. It could be dry-cleaned out.
The outburst made him feel better than he had all day, though it didn’t answer the question of where the hell you were and why you weren’t answering him. Besides, he swore he heard the familiar sound of your footfall in the lobby.
He supposed you wouldn’t be too happy if you came back to see one of your subordinates brutalized in the hallway. Just his luck, he spotted an intern in one of the unoccupied offices.
“Hey,” Homelander said, pausing a moment to read the intern’s badge, “Sammy, there’s a mess over by the crime analytics office, can you get someone to clean it up?”
“Sure,” Sammy responded cheerfully.
“Thanks, it’s the little things that make this place run. You’re doing great,” he complimented, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Sammy returned his smile, obviously not questioning his sincerity. Homelander knew if he framed the whole thing as a favor, she’d be more likely to follow through. It was always good to have reliable people in his back pocket for things like that, worker bees who thought they were friends or something. She walked off, strides purposeful as she set off to complete her personal mission from Homelander.
Rushing over to the elevator, he listened for you, getting out on the fifteenth floor where he saw you just as you walked out of the bathroom.
As soon as he made eye contact, he melted, making a beeline for you.
You smiled, wrapping your arms around Homelander. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“Where were you?” he asked, almost painfully returning your embrace.
“I told you I was presenting for the security council at the UN all day. No phones, remember?”
He huffed, releasing you from the hug. Fuck. “I guess—maybe that rings a bell. You shouldn’t tell me something so important while I’m distracted.”
“How much did you miss me?” you teased, holding up your pointer finger and thumb to pinch the air. “This much?” You spread your fingers wider. “This much?” Wider again, except before you could ask, Homelander scooped you up in his arms.
“Why don’t I show you?”
“Please do,” you said, tilting your head up to kiss him.
He retreated into the elevator with you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss laced with longing. You giggled at him. You’d only been gone for a few hours, yet he was acting as though it had been days.
You missed him too, resolving to focus your attention on him for the rest of the night.
Until your phone rang.
“I should get this.”
“Now you’re able to pick up a call?” he grumbled, setting you down.
“One minute,” you whispered, grabbing your phone, “then I’m all yours.”
He pressed the button to his suite, having forgotten to do so in the heat of passion. “You better be.”
You picked up your phone, amused at Homelander still clinging to you, kissing your neck. “Hello?”
“Josh from crime analytics?” you asked, tensing a bit when Homelander grazed his teeth on the crook of your neck. “I haven’t heard from him since he gave me the homicide report yesterday.”
Homelander hummed against your skin, and you let out a whimper only he could hear at the way it vibrated through you. He was smug, and it took you a moment to piece together why.
“Okay, talk to you tomorrow,” you said before hanging up. “What did you do?”
“Something chivalrous to defend your honor,” he mumbled, his lips unrelenting on your shoulder as he pulled your shirt down to expose it.
“I guess I should thank you properly, then? My knight in shining armor?”
He lifted his head, grinning, “If you insist.”
#homelander x reader#homelander x you#the boys x reader#the boys amazon#the boys tv#the boys#homelander
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All he needed.
Pairing: Homelander x F!Reader.
Summary: After two years of being together, you dissapeared from Homelander's life. Vought had told him you killed yourself but one file left on his desk by someone unknown, told him a different story. And when he sought you out, he was surprised to see you alive and well, with an eight month old son, blonde hair and blue eyes, just like his father.
Warnings: Heavy swearing. Blood and murder. Mentioning of smut. Mention of suicide
You were with Homelander for only a short two years. But it was the best fucking two years of both your and his life. You adored Homelander before you even started working for Vought. You always offered him kind smiles when you saw him. And he could hear the way your heart skipped a beat when he was near. You were taken with him from the start and he was taken with how much you adored him, how much you loved him.
At first, Homelander would only watch you through the walls of your office. He could watch you for hours, but honestly, you never did anything exciting at work. So then he began watching you at home. He watched through your walls as you danced around in nothing but a shirt and panties while making dinner. He watched you dress, watched you bath, watched you whenever you pleasured yourself, and even watched you sleep.
He couldn’t get enough of it. Of you. And soon he was forcing his way into your life. He forced Stillwell to make you his personal assistant and you were all too happy for the job. He made sure you had to follow him around the whole day, except when he was out fighting crime. He made them move your office next to his own so that he could comfortably watch you through the wall.
And then one day he showed up at your apartment. He invited himself in, made friendly talk and even stayed for dinner. Being with him for your whole workday, made you two close, and then suddenly he was at your apartment every day after work. You got yourself into the habit of cooking for two and always having fresh milk in your fridge. He seemed to quite enjoy the beverage.
One night you admitted to having a crush on him when you were younger and not before long you were laying naked across the bed, being fucked senseless by the supe. Your relationship developed fast and strong after that. Homelander moved you into his penthouse in the Vought building, so you’d truly be around him nearly 24/7. This created a co-dependency for you.
To Homelander, it truly seemed like you enjoyed his company. You didn’t mind having him around all the time. You didn’t mind listening to him rant. You always praised him and agreed with him on everything. You were truly just perfect.
And then you just had to go and fucking kill yourself.
When the cops found your burned car, there was barely anything left to identify you with. That’s what Vought told Homelander. It was believed to be suicide because of the cans of gasoline that were found not so far from your car.
For a whole year and five months, Homelander mourned you. He was confused, heartbroken and angry. He didn’t understand why you had to leave him. Was he not good enough? Were you not happy? He gave you fucking everything and you just ripped his dead and cold heart right out of his chest.
That’s until one faithful day when things changed. He stepped into his office, finding a brown file on his desk. He sighed in irritation, thinking Ashley had dropped it off. He wasn’t even going to bother with it until he saw the red stamp on the file. ‘Highly confidential.’
His eyebrows furrowed and more irritation filled him. Was Ashely that fucking incompetent to leave a highly confidential file on his desk. He sat down and opened the file, eyebrows furrowing when he was met with your gaze. The photo pinned to the inside was not one he had ever seen before. Your hair was shorter than it was when you were still alive.
His eyes scanned over the file, reading only a few words that stuck out to him. Two simple words struck something inside him. ‘ Witness protection.’ He read it over and over. Nowhere did it say why you were in witness protection, but it gave the exact date you entered the program through Vought. Exactly seventeen months ago.
He was raging by the time he reached Stillwell, who happened to have her infant son in the office with her. He demanded to know why they lied to him, where you were, and why you left. At first, she was reluctant to speak, but with one flick of his red eyes at her son and she began speaking. She told him where you were, but spun a story that you were scared of him and begged her to help you get away.
He didn’t buy it but soon he’d get his answers. Within minutes, he was in front of a cabin, tucked away far away in the middle of the woods. He stared at the house, noting the zinc inside the woods that obstructed his vision.
Inside, you were walking barefoot through the house, still in your pajamas. Your blond-haired blue-eyed baby was in your arms, dressed in a blue onesie, his blue blanket in one hand and his dark red pacifier between his lips.
“Alright buddy, let’s get breakfast in that belly.” You coeed to Noah and the eight-month-old registered the word ‘food’, and an excited spark slipped into his blue eyes. You carefully placed him in his highchair and he grabbed for your shirt. “You can have milk after you’ve eaten.” You said you pulled his hands off your shirt before walking around the kitchen, serving him a bowl of yogurt with mashed banana.
You smiled at the baby when he grew even more excited when you brought the food over to him. You only got into feeding him a few bites before your front door was slammed open so hard that it ripped from the hinges and fell with a thud to the floor.
A gasp slipped from your lips at the sound and your eyes widened. Noah began wailing and you shushed him softly as you picked him, cradling his head against your chest. Your heart beated painfully in your chest as you heard the slow thuds of footsteps approaching down your hallway.
There was no back exit through your kitchen. There was only one way in and out, and that was through the same hallway the footsteps were approaching from. You slowly backed up as the footsteps grew closer, but you froze in your steps when a familiar tall and blonde supe stepped into your kitchen.
Your chest clenched at the familiar face blankly staring back at you. ”John?” You whispered as your eyebrows furrowed, confusion filling you just as much as it filled him. His gaze darted down to the baby in your arms, and his eyebrows knitted together. “Oh my God…” You let out a soft sigh, a relieved sigh. “You found me.” You said softly as the smallest smile tugged at your lips and tears filled your eyes.
“Y/n…” He whispered as he continued to stare at you with furrowed eyebrows. Stillwell’s story and your reaction to his presence didn’t match up. “I…I don’t understand.” He muttered softly as his eyebrows furrowed even more. His gaze darted towards Noah when the baby sniffed softly, his blue eyes still full of tears. “Whose that?” He asked as he pointed at the baby.
“Noah.” You replied with a soft smile as you glanced down at your son, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “Our son.” You informed Homelander as your gaze returned to him.
His eyes slightly widened as his gaze shot towards you. He was silent for a long while as he just stared at you. His head cocked to the side and he opened and closed his mouth for a second, unsure of what the fuck to say. He was silent for another second again. “Our…our son?” He repeated softly as his eyebrows furrowed.
You slowly nodded your head as your gaze diverted down to the floor, tears pooling in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you shook your head, your gaze returning to him. You loved Homelander with all your heart, but at that moment, you felt scared of him. Scared of his reaction.
“We have a son?” He repeated as he raised his eyebrows, slowly and hesitantly taking a small step towards you, his gaze darting down to Noah. “I have a son?” He whispered.
“Yeah.” You replied softly as you nodded your head and slowly approached him. When you stood toe to toe, Homelander hesitantly reached out and to the baby from your arms. He cradled Noah in his arms, staring down at the baby who was a mirrored image of him. The perfect creation of him. “I’m sorry.” You repeated as you lowered your gaze, wiping the tears from your eyes.
Homelander’s gaze returned to you. He silently stared at you for a long time, listening to your heartbeat. It didn’t sound like the heartbeat of a woman so scared she had to fake her death to get away. It sounded like the heartbeat of a woman broken.
“They told me you were dead…and then they told me you ran away because you were scared of me.” He informed you, eyeing your face closely to see your reaction. Homelander was so deeply hurt by everything he had found out in the past few hours. He didn’t know who or what to believe.
You looked shocked at this, your eyebrows furrowing and your lips parting as your gaze darted towards him. “They told you that?” You asked softly as your gaze darted around, slowly shaking your head in denial.
“Why did you leave?” he asked, and you could hear a hint of anger slip into his voice. Anger towards you. Because for what fucking possible reason could you have left him for. “Why did you leave with my son?” He asked as his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze darting down to Noah.
You sighed softly, sitting down at the kitchen island, running a hand through your hair. “I was going to tell you I was pregnant when I found out.” you began speaking. “Somehow Vought found out and found me before I could get to you. They didn’t want you to know because they were scared your priorities wouldn’t be them anymore.” You explained as you turned your head to look over at him. “They gave me three options. They kill me before I get the chance to tell you. They keep me locked up until I give birth and take the baby, raising him like you were, and threatened to kill me if I told you. Or I leave, live in isolation with my baby.” You informed him and his lips twitched into a snarl as his grip gently grew tighter on Noah. “I know how much you suffered…I couldn’t do that to him.” You said softly with a shake of your head as you glanced at Noah.
“Vought…Vought made you do this?” He questioned softly, his voice a low growl and his eyes briefly flicking red as his gaze diverted away from both you and Noah.
You nodded your head and he inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you got up to your feet and slowly approached him, gently placing a hand on his muscular bicep and he slightly relaxed underneath your touch. You didn’t leave because you were scared of him. He just knew that was fucking bullshit. “I wanted to tell you, I wanted you to be part of it, of everything, my pregnancy, the birth, his life. All of it.” You whispered as your gaze turned to Noah and you ran a hand through his blonde hair. He was quite peaceful in his father’s arms.
“They said…they said you left because you were scared of me,” Homelander muttered in a low voice, and you could still hear the hint of anger. But his anger wasn’t directed at you anymore. Now it was directed at Vaught and every fucked who lied to him. “They said you wanted them to fake your death.”
“No.” You immediately denied it with a shake of your head as you reached out to cup his cheek in one hand. “I loved you…I still love you.” You whispered as he leaned into your touch. You sighed softly and your gaze flicked towards Noah for a brief second again. “I tried to take him and leave when he was a few weeks old, to go and find you.” You inform Homelander in a soft voice. “So many men with guns showed up. They didn’t point their guns at me to get me to come back, they pointed their guns at him.”
Homelander’s lips twitched into a snarl again as he thought of his son being put in danger. He didn’t care if the kid had powers or not, he fucking despised the thought of anyone even thinking of hurting his son. First, they wanted to fucking take him away from his mother, raise him in a fucking lab, then they DID take him away from his father and pointed guns at him. Someone was going to fucking die today.
“Who knew?” He asked in a low voice. You looked at him hesitantly. His voice was trembling with anger and his blue eyes flicked red again, like a broek light flicking on and off, constantly. It was like he had no control, or he was dangerously close to losing it.
You breathed deeply, hesitant to tell him. You knew he was close with Stillwell because he had her pressed nice and firmly underneath his thumb. “Stillwell.” You whispered and he inhaled sharply again. “She gave the orders, made the threats.” You informed him and Noah was immediately shoved into your arms. “John?” You muttered in confusion as he spun on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen. You hastily followed after him as he stormed out through the broken door and flew off. “John!?”
You let out a soft sigh as he disappeared into the sky. You felt confused, wondering where he was heading. Surely he wouldn’t kill Stillwell. Were you and a kid he’d just met a few minutes ago truly more important to him than a woman he’d worked with for years, a woman who gave him whatever he wanted and always had his back?
You waited there by the broken front door for a long time before you went back into the kitchen, calling the men who patrolled around the woods like guards, keeping you and Noah in like caged animals, but no one answered. You were supposed to always call them if you needed something but after five missed calls you figured you'd have to fix the door yourself.
You finished feeding your son and got him dressed in a saige colored green shirt and brown overalls before you dressed yourself in a plain blue t-shirt and some black leggings. You sat on the steps of your front porch, silently staring at the broken door. Noah sat a few inches away from you, playing with his toys.
He crawled his way toward you, dumping a few pieces of his toys on your lap. He leaned against your thigh as he played, using your legs as a play area. You smiled down at the boy, running a hand through his hair. “It’s okay buddy.” You whispered. “Me and you, we’re gonna be okay no matter what happens.” You assured him.
There was a loud woosh in the air, followed by a thud on the ground, your head shot towards the side, eyes widening at the sight of Homelander, standing a few feet away from you, covered in blood from head to toe. The sight made you gasp.
You slowly got up to your feet and picked Noah up in your arms. “John…” You whispered as you slowly approached him, lips parting as your gaze drifted over the bloody man before you.“Who?” You asked softly, knowing not a drop of the blood that covered him, was his.
“Stillwell.” He muttered in a low voice as he blankly stared ahead of him, his eyes looking dead.
Stillwell was already writing a form of resigning and packing her bags when Hoemalnder found her. He could have made it quick for her, lazering her head in. But he made it as painful as possible. He dragged it out for as long as she could take before she choked on her own blood. When he left her house, Madelyn Stillwell was barely recognizable. She was scorched into almost nothing.
You slowly nodded your head. You shifted Noah onto one hip and with your free hand, you placed a hand on Homelander’s shoulder, almost flinching at the wet and cold patch of blood that stuck to his suit, smearing onto your palm. “Let’s go inside.” You insisted as you let him inside. “You can clean up in the bathroom.”
You washed your hand, scrubbed it until the skin was burning and red then you waited in the living room as Homelander cleaned himself in the bathroom. Noah was sitting on the floor, nibbling on one of his toy cars.
You glanced up when you heard Homelander’s footsteps approaching. He was clean now, his blonde hair damp. His face was blank as he sat down on the couch opposite yours. Noah’s attention was drawn to Homelander and he abandoned all his toys and crawled towards his father.
Homelander stared at the baby who now sat by his feet. He was unsure of what to do when Noah lightly slapped his leg. Hesitantly he reached out and picked up his son, resting Noah on his lap. Noah’s interest immediately went to Homelander’s cape, pulling and biting at the fabric. Homelander didn’t even care about the drool now on his cape. He watched his son in awe.
You slowly got up from the couch you sat on and moved to sit next to Homelander. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you looked at him, a frown tugging at your lips. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them do to him what they did to you.” You muttered softly as you shook your head.
“You’re a good mother, Y/n,” Homelander replied as he wrapped one arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. You leaned into his touch like you always used to do. It brought strange emotions forth in Homelander. Having a woman who loved and adored him and a son. A fucking family. HIS family. “He’s lucky to have you.” He said softly as his gaze turned to Noah.
“Now he has you too.” You whispered as you turned your head to look up at Homelander, his gaze never leaving Noah. Never had you seen the man so much in awe of something or someone. Your gaze also turned to Noah and you pursed your lips. “They ran tests on him when he was born.” You informed him softly and he tensed up for a second until you continued speaking. “He’s like you, but he hasn’t shown any of his powers yet.” You explained as you looked back at Homelander again. “He’s a real gentle kid actually.” You said as a smile tugged at your lips.
A smile tugged at Homelander’s lips as well. He felt proud knowing his kid was like him. He turned to look back down at Noah again, gently running a hand through the baby’s hair. “He looks so much like me…” He noted softly as he let out a soft, pleased huff.
“He does.” You agreed with a nod of your head. “I took so much comfort in that.” You admitted softly as you smiled sadly. For the past eight months, Noah was all you had of Homelander. Of the man you loved with all your heart.
“Vought’s not going to hurt you or our son.” Homelander assured as his hold on you tightened and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “And they won’t take either of you away from me ever again.” He promised softly as he leaned his head against yours.
After fixing your front door and informing you that all the guards around the woods were dead, Homelander spent the entire day playing with his son. They played with toy supes, and cars, watched cartoons together, and played a little outside. After eating dinner and getting a bath from his father, Noah was beyond tired. You let Homelander put the baby to bed. It was the least you could give him after he missed eight months of his son’s life.
You sat in the living room, looking up when Homelander returned to you. “He sleeping?” You asked softly as he sat down next to you, shifting to lay his head on your shoulder as he closed his eyes.
“Yeah.” He replied softly as he slowly nodded his head.
“You really knocked him out.” You said softly as you let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips as you leaned your head against his.
“I couldn’t let him go.” He spoke softly as he inhaled slowly. “I just wanted to spend every single second with him.” He said as he turned his head to look up at you, his face barely an inch away from yours. “I’ve missed so much.” He whispered.
You sighed softly, reaching out to brush your finger across his cheek. “Now, we all have so much time together.” You whispered as you offered him a small smile, cupping his cheek. “I’ve dreamt of this day for so long.” You admitted. “Wondering how it would be if you found us…meet him.” You muttered before sighing again. You silently stared at him for a second before resting your forehead against his. “I love you, John.”
“I love you.” He replied as he reached up to cup your cheek as well before pressing his lips against yours in a yearning kiss. Now he had all he ever wanted. A family. A son. And a woman who loved him. He had it all. All he needed. And fucking pray for anyone trying to take it from him again.
#the boys#the boys x reader#the boys x you#homelander#the boys x y/n#homelander imagine#homelander x reader#homelander x you
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His Haven
Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.
Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.
You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.
Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.
You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.
He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'
You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.
Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'
'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.
The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.
You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.
'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.
#homelander x you#reader x homelander#gender neutral reader#homelander x reader#homelander fanfiction#homelander#the boys fanfic#the boys#the seven#tw: homelander#psychiatrist!reader#psychiatrist x character#fem!reader#male!reader#nonbinary!reader
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no place like home.
rating: explicit. 18+ only.
length: 17,578
content: The Homelander x f!reader, dead dove do not eat, dark themes [kidnapping, dubious consent], Homelander is very much so Homelander, controlling behavior, smut [masturbation - public for Homelander, fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [breeding, semi-public]
Homelander doesn't just want to be loved by everyone, he needs to be loved by everyone...but most of all, he needs to be loved by you.
“Homelander saves the day once again.”
“Homelander is our hometown hero after another heroic weekend.”
“Welcome home, Homelander!”
One of his favorite things to do when he returned home was to flip through the news channels, swimming in the sea of compliments all for him…for whatever they’d scripted for him to do this time. He often found himself wishing he could drown in this sea - if he weren’t so fucking good at everything, maybe he could. This was always his favorite way to pass the time. The high he felt from the various phrases of approval for him would give him enough gratification until the next time he was let loose to do exactly what he was created to do. Your voice flooded his ears on a particularly cold mid-October afternoon, yet the sweet sound only provided poisoned words.
“Homelander - Hometown Hero or Homegrown Hoax? On this episode we’re-”
A hoax? Despite the chill of the day, Homelander found his body immediately surged with heat at your selfish words of disapproval. Not that these petty chores were any real risk to him, but there was no law that he had to help people. In fact, he could choose to never help a single person ever again with his gifts, and there was nothing anyone else could do about it. Who was strong enough to stop the Homelander from doing exactly what he wanted? And yet, here you were, with a voice entirely too sweet to be saying such ugly things about him – about the one true god of this sorry planet.
Failing to drain out your words, he found himself turning his attention away from the news channels on his tv praising him, and instead focusing on the laptop in front of him – on pulling up the video for your silly little podcast. He had to see what the woman who dared speak of him this way looked like – to see who such a sweet voice could belong to. And he was quite possibly the furthest thing he’d ever been from disappointed when his eyes finally saw you for the first time.
You were so beautiful, so tempting and delicious, and yet you were tarnishing all of the perfect things you presented about yourself by speaking so poorly of him. Who were you, with your insignificant podcast, to sit here and pass judgments about anything he’d done? Who were you to threaten to expose the things he deserved to do – the things that were his right to do? You were nothing, and yet right now, you were everything that consumed him as he wrapped his mind around your words, as he tried to process the hatred you felt you could so freely spout for him.
The half an hour show felt like an eternity as your words washed over him like fire. He was red hot by the time the show wrapped up and he found himself breathing heavily through clenched teeth. Pausing with his eyes glued to the frozen image of you the ending video had left on his screen, he found himself rising to pace the room, eyes never leaving the screen. He’d saved an entire bus load of stupid kids tonight, and this is what he came home to? To this entitled little bitch talking about the things you thought he did wrong? Right or wrong – it didn’t matter, because it was what he wanted to do.
He found himself unable to rest. For the entirety of the day, it seemed, he worked his way through the archive of your work – from the beginning, desperate for any mention of his name falling from your negative lips. Episode after episode took up hour after hour of his night as he set out on his treasure hunt, becoming desperate as years worth of cookie-cutter journalism flooded his ears. But there was nothing. No comments about The 7, no comments about Vought, no comments about him…he almost found himself wishing to hear his name slip from your lips dripping with hatred rather than he wished for you to ignore him completely.
His efforts were not rewarded until he reached a podcast dated November 07 of one year prior - the last episode uploaded until about a month ago. It almost made him giddy to hear his name on your lips again, and the feeling didn’t falter as the story of the short-than-usual episode took place – you were sorry you hadn’t updated the channel in a while, and let your loyal followers know that you would be taking a break from journalism to work through some personal trauma. The trauma was that in October of last year, Homelander had been told “no” a few too many times and decided to throw a tantrum to get his point across – laser beaming into a building full of innocent people without regard for their safety…without regard for their lives. Amongst the dead that day was a young man, the one with whom you’d planned to spend your life with.
This wasn’t the story Vought told, of course – they could never tarnish the shining reputation of their golden boy who simply needed to learn how to accept disappointment sometimes. The story that capitalistic cunt-filled company twisted into the media for themselves was that Homelander had tracked an extremely dangerous group of gun-wielding terrorists to the building and taken the route with the least amount of damage by using his laser eyes to take out the terrorists (and half of the building with them in a tragic loss). He’d rehearsed the speech the company had written for him enough times to where his apology sounded sincere, though you seemed to see right through that little façade, according to your podcast.
He could feel the hollowness in your voice as he watched you speak about how the last couple of weeks had been for you - about how you’d been feeling since you lost Adam. Homelander found that every time the name Adam fell from your lips, every time you mentioned how good of a man Adam had been , his eyes gave an involuntary roll. I mean, honestly, he worked in some totally unspectacular building on an unspectacular street - how special could he honestly be? This nobody was good enough for you to speak so highly of on your podcast, yet Homelander wasn’t worth an ounce of that attention? Who the fuck cares about Adam when Homelander exists?
The first episode you’d uploaded since then was from a month ago, and Homelander had to admit that the anger forming in your features as you spoke about him made you look so deliciously pretty. To his absolute pleasure, you hardly seemed to even mention Adam by name all this time later, but Homelander fell from your lips like a symphony…no matter how angry it was. He could listen to you say his name laced with every emotion for hours, and he desperately wanted to hear how you’d sound saying his name with praise.
But you had no words of praise for him, not a single one. Every good thing Homelander did was scripted, and you pointed that out frequently. The real Homelander was the one who threw tantrums and killed innocent people. A hoax. You’d called him a hoax a lot over the last month across several episodes, and that word was not particularly pretty when you were saying it about him. You hated him. He was “everything wrong with being a superhero”, and a “mockery of the word hero”...blah, blah, blah.
The feeling surged through him like fire and he swiped the laptop from his desk, sending it crashing into the nearest wall and snapping. No one talked about him like this. No one dared speak his name alongside such negativity, alongside such open anger. He was outside and landing on the roof at Vought in almost no time at all, making his way down to crime analytics - to Anika. He knew she could never refuse what he demanded. Dropping an image of you he’d printed on her keyboard he placed his hands firmly behind his back.
“I need an address for her,” he snapped, tone serious enough to let Anika know the man wasn’t in the mood to wait today. “If an address isn’t possible, I need somewhere to find her. Today .”
All Anika could do was swallow and nod as she immediately began her work, searching for a trace of this poor woman who, for some reason, had Homelander’s attention. He never gave a backup option without her suggesting one, and the fact that he suggested anything other than an address meant he was desperate. Anika – and everyone else in the room – could feel the tension dripping from the dangerous Supe as he waited. Anika almost regretted handing over the information he asked for, but dared not to deny him what he asked.
It was a genuine joy when he found himself outside of your meek apartment, gazing into the privacy of your home. It was getting late, well after 8pm now, and yet you still weren’t home. Just as the possibilities began swimming in his head about what could be keeping your attention this late at night you walked through the front door, dropping your keys in a bowl on the counter and immediately walking to the bedroom. He gulped down as you pulled your shirt over your head, reaching behind yourself to unclasp your bra. You lived high enough up in the building to where you felt safe enough to do this – to undress in front of an open window, free from the prying eyes of the streets. But you weren’t free of him now. You’d probably never be free of his obsession again.
You wiggled your hips as you worked your jeans down the curve of your hips, your thighs, dropping to the floor and giving Homelander a glance of what you had to offer him – though with your back to him, he still couldn’t see what he wanted the most. Still, the view was enough to make him begin to tent his pants despite the cool evening air on the rooftop. You let your hair down from the messy updo it had been in all day and run your fingers through your hair as you walked to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine in your underwear. Taking in a big drink you turned to walk back to your bedroom, and Homelander couldn’t help but push his pants down, face cold and emotionless as he watched you parade around your apartment looking delicious for him.
You walked to a record player and began an old jazz album before walking to the bathroom to run some water for a bath, right as Homelander grasped his cock in his fist, hissing at the feeling into the dark night. You swallowed another large drink of your wine and walked back into your bedroom, grabbing a vibrator from the nightstand and laying back on your bed. You would be sick to your stomach if you knew you were on complete display for him like this and the thought made his cock twitch in his hand as Homelander began working an orgasm from himself right as you ran the toy along your folds. He had never been more thankful for his sense of hearing than the moment he heard a moan fall from your lips.
Groaning at the combined visual of the vibrator slipping into you and the beautiful sounds you made (which he felt was a much better use of your pretty mouth than your little podcast), he began to pump himself faster and harder, eyes briefly rolling back into his head before he pulled himself together again. His eyes needed to stay glued to you right now – needed to watch you pleasure yourself. Clearly your life wasn’t so fucking miserable, after all.
Homelander didn’t last long before he came into the air, not giving a single thought as to where it would land as it fell from the building’s roof, nearly yelling out a groan as you moaned once more. Allowing yourself a moment to come down from your high you then slipped the toy from your sopping core before throwing back the rest of the wine and walking your way into the bathroom to finish unwinding from your day. When you disappeared into the bathroom where Homelander could no longer see you he took this as his opportunity to return to his own home.
It was infuriating for him…wanting you to adore him as everyone else should, knowing you despised him, and witnessing how fucking hot you could be. It was obvious your life couldn’t be so bad considering you appeared to have a job, an apartment, and enough drive to pleasure yourself the moment you got home. For a moment Homelander wondered if you had been with a man who couldn’t please you tonight, so you finished the job yourself when you returned home – but he pushed the thought from his mind when he felt the anger boil within himself again.
It just wasn’t fair. He should be allowed to have whatever he wanted – he was a god, and god didn’t have to ask for things. They shouldn’t have to convince anyone to love them. Fear and respect for those superior should come naturally to everyone, and yet here this weaker non-super powered human was having the audacity to say such horrible things about him…having the audacity to ruin his homecoming this way. All he’d been able to focus on since he got home was you and your hatred for him when he should’ve been masturbating on his couch to all of the beautiful things people had to say about him. A journalist in his city as beautiful as you who only had negative things to say about him? That wouldn’t do, and he would get you in line no matter what he had to do. He would do anything to hear your praises, including putting in a phone call to an old acquaintance for a favor involving kidnapping his pesky journalist to get a point across – and he didn’t even have to ask nicely.
And so as you slept that night a nightmare came true as a stranger crawled through your window to do Homelander’s bidding.
There wasn’t much to decipher about your current situation, and as day after day passed you began to lose that fighting spirit you usually displayed with pride and the pit in your stomach seemed to grow. You were fairly certain you’d been on this concrete floor in a windowless room for at least 3 nights now, and you were beginning to come to terms with the horrible facts about your situation – you probably weren’t going to like whatever came next, whether it was trafficking, or worse. You hadn’t heard another human voice in the time here, despite the fact someone – a man – stuck his arm in through the door to hand you food and water. It wasn’t exactly comforting to know that he was trying to keep you alive.
The time passed slowly in isolation and only seemed to pass slower as new aches and pains sprang forth everyday from the harsh concrete beneath you. It felt like every couple of hours you were crying again, desperate to be home and in your bed, desperate to feel the sunshine on your face, desperate to hear someone, anyone talk to you. But reality was often cruel to you and now was no exception. Fortunately for your breaking spirit, the third sleep would be your last. There was no way to discern what time it was when crashing sounds could be heard above you, startling you and immediately sending you into a panic attack. Whatever it was upstairs sounded horrible – like the tossing of furniture, yelling, loud thuds – and you were certain this could only mean bad things for you.
As the door to the small prison you found yourself in was ripped off its hinges you felt the tears flow down your cheeks faster than they ever had, a sob leaving your lips as you buried your face in your knees, fearing for the worst. The sound of boots came closer and it felt like your heart was going to stop before that voice filled your ears – a voice you knew well, and often wished you didn’t, but right now it was the best sound you’d ever heard.
“Uncover your eyes, ma’am,” his overly-confident voice slipped into your ears, his tone even and soothing in all of the uncertainty you’d been feeling. “You’re safe now.”
You uncovered your eyes from the curtains of your shaky hands and they found their way to his outstretched hand before settling on the two sapphires that embedded themselves as eyes in his skull. You reached out one of the hands to his, which he used to firmly, yet surprisingly gently, lift you to your feet, pulling you against him to steady you as your legs began to give out. You hadn’t gotten to do much moving the last couple of days, and the concrete had done your muscles and bones no favors.
Supporting your full weight against his solid frame with an arm around your waist the strongest man in the world helped you outside, failing to push the thoughts of how your body felt against his from his mind to try to be the best hero he could for you right now. When the cool, fresh air sucked into your lungs for the first time in days the tears came harder. Your mind continued to go into hyperdrive as the sirens surrounding you flooded your ears and the cameras of far away yet too close news vans. Your chest began to rise and fall faster as a sob fell from your lips, your lungs desperately attempting to find stability.
He turned to you as your breaths became more desperate, your eyes darting around at all of the different people, all of the noises, everything happening , frantically trying to make sense of things you didn’t understand – that no one should have to understand. His hands reached to cup your cheeks in his hands and he turned his head down to look at you fully, eyes burning like ice into yours. His thumbs brushed themselves over your cheekbones lightly as his voice dropped so only you could hear him.
“Hey now, miss,” his voice was gentler, less arrogant yet still confident as he tried to bring you back to Earth. For the first time you understood how so many people could find comfort in this Adonis of a man – this close to him the world didn’t matter because there was nothing that could ever hurt you, because there was nothing that could come close to him. “I need you to breathe with me. Deep breaths, right with me. I know you can do that.”
He was so reassuring, and hearing this man that could truly do anything instill confidence in you being able to do something with him gave your brain a moment of clarity. You nodded your head in his surprisingly soft hands and found yourself incapable of looking away from his eyes as he began to coach you through deep breaths, your body relaxing as the oxygen settled within you and thanking this man by relaxing into the safety of his grasp. When your breathing steadied enough you clenched your eyes closed, tears spilling onto his hands. At another time, in another place, he’d have licked the salty liquid off to sample what you had to offer, but here, in front of these cameras, he was intent on being your perfect hero.
“Thank you, Homelander,” you managed out with a shaky, unused voice that caused his eyes to close, his fingertips to sink into your skin at your cheeks just a little deeper before he remembered himself and stepped away, swallowing a whine at the loss of warmth beneath his hands. His eyes opened again to meet yours and he gave you his best smile, one that you couldn’t deny made your heart skip a beat, despite where you were and what you’d lived through the days prior.
“I need you to go to Vought to file a report…to have photos taken of your condition…before we can get you home. The best doctors in the city will take care of you if anything is wrong,” he spoke dutifully, like he had done this a million times because he had , but this time it was more important to him than ever to ensure his words carried weight. To ensure that you felt the safety of him. He dropped his voice lower to continue, “I will be there to take care of you every step of the way.”
All you could do was nod and relinquish yourself to this man – this man who you knew was so dangerous. The reasonable voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to remember your hatred for him but the horrible, terrified part of your soul that longed to be cared for latched itself onto him, anchoring into the act he was putting on display for you. He steadied you against his frame just as he had before to escort you to a black suv, helping you into the backseat before leaning against the roof to speak into the car to you.
“These drivers will take good care of you,” his voice was soft, reassuring, coaxing you into relaxation you craved as you felt the first soft surface against your body in days. He noticed how your features relaxed and a light smile played out on his lips briefly. “I will meet you at the Vought medical center when you arrive. I’ll arrive before you.”
“N-no,” your voice was louder than it had been before, desperate to silence the plan he had in mind. Your hand reached out to grab anything you could on his suit, and when the fabric wouldn’t give your hand found its way to his shoulder, grasping like he may disappear at your fingertips at any moment. “Please.”
You were tired and it was all you could manage, but he didn’t need to hear more than those two words from you to understand what you wanted of him – what you needed of him. Your eyes were once again widened with worry, and he found himself slipping into the backseat of the car next to you, shooting a look to the cameras as he went. He didn’t know why he did it – perhaps it would make him look good to be with a victim every step of the way, gain him more points with women. Deep down, however, the supe knew that the real reason he found himself riding in a fucking car to Vought for the first time in so long was because you had choked out the most broken, desperate ‘please’, and he just couldn’t bring himself to refuse you what you wanted.
It wasn’t long into the drive that Homelander was rewarded for his desperate ploy for your attention when you succumbed to the comfort of the vehicle, falling asleep with light breaths cascading from your lips as your head rolled from the headrest to his shoulder. He’d never felt more justified in his actions than in this moment. He started dreading moving you away from him prematurely, and instructed the drivers to take a longer route. He deserved this moment to last as long as he wanted it to.
When he was content with the length of the drive, content with the way you seemed to melt into his side as your sleep deepened, he allowed the drivers to return to Vought, where he gently reached a hand up to touch your cheek, voice gentle as he spoke your name to bring you back to consciousness. Forgetting your safety momentarily you jolted awake, hand shooting out to grab his where you clutched it against your face, eyes finding his and realizing yourself again. His hand melted against your cheek and he didn’t mind your grasp around it in the slightest – it’s not like you could ever hurt him or stop him if you really wanted to, and your hands were soft.
Giving you a moment to center yourself and taking obvious, deep breaths beside you, in this proximity he enjoyed the flecks of color in your eyes and the freckles that formed constellations across your nose and cheeks. He hadn’t noticed these smaller details about you before, and he wondered how many more small details he could find decorating your body, but he once again pushed the thought down before he became too eager. His performance of the day was far from over.
He released your face from his gentle hold and exited the vehicle first, shooting a look over to the crowds of people holding cameras and phones to see their favorite hero do what he did best. As the door opened you heard the noise from the building again and your breath seemed to catch in your throat again. The bewildered, frantic look returned to your eyes that reminded Homelander of an animal stuck in the path of a predator, and he exhaled deeply, turning back to face the crowd and analyze the best way to address this situation. He’d never turn cameras away from capturing his glory, but you needed to be taken care of by him.
He offered his hand to you again to direct you to exit the car. You hesitated, unwilling to feel crushed by the weight of the world around you outside of the vehicle, but ultimately slipped your hand into his and allowed him to assist you off of the comfort of the soft seat. His eyes flickered down into yours as he kept you between the car and himself, blocking you from the cameras that awaited your arrival. What a world you lived in where you couldn’t be rescued from being kidnapped without your image being everywhere.
“We’re going to have to walk past them,” he spoke low and direct, leaving no room for a counterargument to his plan. All you could do was stare up into his eyes, surrendering to the fact that you would ultimately listen to whatever he asked of you, not that he really asked. “If you trust me, I can make it more comfortable for you.”
Your head bobbed in a nod before you really thought about what you were agreeing to, unsure still due to the lack of details until he pulled you under his arm, keeping a firm hand around your shoulders as he used his other hand to reach down and wrap his cape up to cover you, shielding you from the harsh world. He smiled his most dashing smile for any cameras he could, all the while speaking soft praises about how well you were doing as the two of you walked toward the building. Several times he declined to stop for a selfie with those who asked, stating that he had a more important job to focus on right now.
This was definitely why millions of people loved him. This is why people had spent the past year relentlessly attacking you online, saying you had no idea what you were talking about when it came to your criticisms of him. You had said so many horrible things about him and yet today he ripped a door from its hinges from you, and now he was ensuring you made it into the privacy of the building without slipping into another state of panic. He was a hero. Right now he was your hero.
Once inside he released you from under his cape and spun you back around to face him, his hand resting on your shoulder as his eyes met your face again, scanning for any sign of discomfort. The two of you were immediately joined by a team of people, primarily medical professionals and the Vought equivalent of detectives who started to maneuver you into an elevator. You desperately reached for his forearm, not ready to let him go and relinquish the safety net that he had enveloped you in. He was happy to oblige your need for him and he stepped next to you, mentally noting how your fingernails sank into his skin. He could get used to that.
He stayed next to you for the majority of the day after that. While you were being examined he’d gone to get you water – a whole 32 ounces of electrolyte balanced water and he’d asked you so nicely to drink it. After the medical examination and clearance (you had some bruises he definitely wasn’t privy to or happy about, but that could be addressed later), he’d gone to fetch you some wet wipes and a change of clean clothes, wishing for once that he had a real shirt to provide you with. Of course, he’d stashed your underwear in his suit instead of turning it in with the evidence…surely someone would ask, but it could be covered up. It could always be covered up for him.
You’d been offered many places to stay tonight other than your own apartment – Maeve’s spare bedroom, Starlight even jumped in to offer her bed (she’d take the couch), Vought offered to pay for a hotel room after being urged to by Homelander. You’d passed on every offer, insisting that you wanted to sleep in your own bed, that you needed to use your shower. You did have one, simple request, however.
“I…would feel better if you came with me, Homelander,” you’d barely spoken above a whisper, your voice still coarse undoubtedly from the screaming you’d certainly done throughout your ordeal. He couldn’t stop the light smirk that fell across his features at your request, his ego feeling the boost of your desire for him. “If you could check my doors…and windows.”
And so he had escorted you home, once again joining you in the back of an SUV and once again enjoying the heat passing between the closeness of your bodies. Walking into the confines of your apartment punched him in the face with the overwhelming scene of you everywhere, all around him, and he had to close his eyes in the doorway to pull himself together before he set off on his final job of the night – making you feel safe in his absence.
The door was checked twice, and he pointed out that he would have the locks changed the next day. Each and every window was inspected top to bottom, locked and pulled on, and checked for any cracks before he returned to where you sat on the couch, curled into the corner with a glass of wine in your hand, staring at nothing, your mind actually miles away. He moved to the side of the couch and crouched down, reaching out to touch your arm gently to coax you from your trance. With another jump your eyes found his and a relieved breath passed through your lips.
“Everything is locked tight…no one is getting in here. I put my phone number on your nightstand…just in case,” he was choosing to act so nonchalant but in actuality his insides were marveling at the way you seemed to be holding on to his every word. Your eyes found his again and he could see the conflict in them, and briefly considered asking you to stay with him, to allow him to protect you…but he knew you’d say no. Staying with him would be too much on top of the last four days. “Try to sleep tonight, your body needs it.”
You nodded and finished the glass in one swift drink, setting the glass on the coffee table before turning your head to look back up at him again, contemplating the questions in your mind that you weren’t entirely ready to face. As you attempted to stand your knees gave out, muscles caving to the pain from sleeping on the concrete floor and from walking the most you had in days for hours. Luckily your hero was there and he had the best reflexes on the planet, and he only had to reach out one arm across your waist to stabilize you, pulling you close to his chest in the process to ensure you didn’t actually fall. As he looked down at you his eyebrows furrowed so quickly a camera would miss it in a genuine show of concern for you.
“If I leave here tonight, are you going to start falling all over the place?”
You couldn’t help the light laugh that left you with a huff of breath through your nose, and you shook your head, rolling your eyes at his light humor. Laughing at him and enjoying his attention felt wrong, but the part of you that craved his protection shoved the guilt down. “Maybe you can just help me to bed? I probably won’t move once I’m there.”
With a nod he faced you forward and took his place by your side, wrapping an arm across your lower back to steady you as he took you to bed, head swimming with the many different ways he’d rather be carrying out this task – but to truly win you over, he needed to be kind. A gentleman. A true American hero – and he had practice. Once you were comfortably laying against the familiarity of your own bed you released the most delicious, pleasured breath from your lips and Homelander’s heart wrenched at the sound, filled with the desire to work those sounds from you himself. He kneeled next to the bed, face close to yours, eyes serious as he wished you a goodnight in the best way he could while playing this role.
“I will catch the man that did this to you,” he assured, and noted how your eyes seemed to melt at his declaration of intent to seek justice for you. “And I will make sure he can never hurt you again.”
It had been four days since Homelander had left you alone that night. You opted to stay home, only leaving the walls of your apartment to meet delivery drivers for food. Going to the grocery was not something you were quite ready to tackle. To your surprise, Homelander had not returned (to your knowledge, at least – in actuality he had returned every day, sometimes twice a day, just to peek through that wide open window and hope to see a glance of you) since he’d brought you home that night. While you repeatedly reminded yourself that he was likely trying to capture whomever had done this to you.
Even still, you found your mind frequently wandering to him – wondering when you’d see him again, swallowing the disgust you felt toward yourself for wanting to see him again, thinking about how safe it felt to be held against him. This fourth night was particularly difficult – you were lonely, yet weren’t ready to face the questions of your usual friends or leave your apartment, for that matter. As you settled yourself onto the couch for yet another old black-and-white film, a knock at the door caused your heart to jump and your stomach to sink. Standing and walking toward the door cautiously, you decided to use your voice before unlocking the new locks that had been installed three days before. Just because Homelander hadn’t been around didn’t mean he wasn’t upholding promises.
“Who is it?” You tried to sound intimidating, you really did, but the fear was rising in your torso and settling in your chest and you suddenly felt like you weren’t breathing enough at all. You tried to suck in a steady breath, remembering the way Homelander had taught you to do so just days before, as the voice you most wanted to hear sounded through the door.
“I wanted to let you know I found the man,” he stated simply, ignoring the question you’d asked altogether. You didn’t need him to answer it, anyway – the moment you recognized the familiar ring of his voice you were unlocking the doors, and were soon face to face with him. You gulped as you realized this must have been recent, as he was covered in dirt, and a mixture of blood and sweat painted his face and caused pieces of his hair to cling to places it normally didn’t. He continued as you opened the door and his eyes met yours, “he fired a gun at me, so I had to eliminate the threat. He won’t be bothering you again.”
You released that breath you’d been trying to focus on and leaned against the door frame, closing your eyes to take in the news for a moment. Maybe you could go outside again. Maybe you didn’t have to be so afraid. Maybe you’d never meet another man like that again – one willing to create this fear in you. Maybe Homelander would always be around to protect you now.
And he would. Mentally he knew that now. He couldn’t stay away despite any effort he put into the task. Yesterday he’d told himself he would only stop by your apartment once to check-in on you, needing to put some distance there, needing to get over this infatuation he had. Instead, he’d shown up at your apartment four times that day, finding himself rubbing his cock fiercely and coming over a photo he’d printed of you and him – it had printed in the newspaper and was of the day he rescued you, with his hands cupping your face as he reminded you how to breathe. He was trying to stay away from you, from this human who had created such a response in him, but he couldn’t help himself any longer. He needed your attention, he needed your gratification, he needed to hear you praise him…he needed you to need him.
And so he’d done what thousands of other men have done in history: he murdered a man to impress and win a woman. He reached out a gloved hand to you to lightly tap your chin, asking you without words to look at him. He needed you to look him in the eyes – he needed to see how you flushed under his attention. You granted his wish and he noticed the tears in your eyes, tears that appeared not to be from sadness, but from gratification. Of relief. Of sheer joy. And it was all because of him.
“Thank you. I don’t know what to say other than…thank you,” you were bashful under this intense gaze from him and tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he gave you a smile somewhat different from his normal – somewhat genuine. Somewhat natural. He couldn’t stop himself from catching the tear that fell from one of your eyes on his gloved finger, and he fawned at the way your lips fell open at that simple gesture. His mind could only wonder what your reactions to more serious actions from him would be. Ignoring the thick tension between you he leaned slightly closer, his arm resting above yours on the door frame, towering over you.
His eyes met yours as he spoke, the smell of him entering your senses – the sweat, the dirt, the blood, but something else there…something alluring. You had to swallow the thought down as his suddenly unscripted, unpracticed, uncalculated words slipped an invitation to hell with him into your ears. “To thank me…you could come to a Vought fundraiser. Tomorrow night. It’s short notice, but I want you there.”
Your lips parted in that way that made them look so kissable again, and he had to resist the urge to dip his head down and sink his teeth into that tempting bottom lip. You seemed to accept that you were in no position to deny him, in no position to question anything he could ask when he’d proven to be your hero, proven to keep his word to you…you would never be able to say another bad thing about him again, and you knew that. He had ensured that the world knew he was your savior, and truthfully, you didn’t mind. He was your hero. He had righted the wrong that was done against you.
You nodded and tucked another falling piece of hair behind your ear, breathing in the scent of him again and beginning to feel slightly warmer than normal under this intensity of his gaze. “If you have someone send me details, I’ll make sure I’m there. Since…you asked so nicely,” he smiled again as you spoke and you couldn’t help but swoon at these genuine smiles he was giving you so freely right now, wondering how many other people got to see them. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow to…make sure I know what to do?”
You’d call him. The words repeated themselves in his head as he nodded. They repeated themselves for the hours that passed before he spoke to you in the morning. A dress would be at your apartment that afternoon. A car would pick you up for the event at 5:45. The event started at 6:30. And so the hours passed as both of you prepared for the event, both of your minds occupied with the possibilities an evening like this could hold – both of you unsure what these thoughts you were having meant.
Homelander had followed through and sent you everything you needed – including a dress that felt far too expensive for you, shoes, and a necklace that had the most beautiful, unique white gemstone cut into its center. It was all far too expensive – far too nice – for you, and you elected to opt out of wearing the necklace, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the extravagant gifts. It was easier to collect yourself, to remember the stance you’d had on him for over a year now, when you weren’t frozen in his gaze. If you knew the truth of the desecration that went into Homelander’s chosen attire for you – that he’d rubbed the dress all over his body to cover you in his scent and that the unique gemstone was actually his cum encased and designed to look like a gem – the grand gestures would seem so wholesome and kind. In his mind, however, this was affection…or at least a form of affection he could provide.
He, of course, arrived at the event far before you did, far before most people did, but immediately began his waiting game for you, itching to see how you looked in the dress he’d chosen for you. When he caught a glimpse of someone’s watch, his jaw briefly clenched, despite the mask he was trying to present to the world right now.
Where were you? He couldn’t pay attention to whatever this dumb whore was talking about because his mind was burning with questions – were you just running it dangerously close to being late, or were you not truly coming at all? Just as the rage started to bubble in his stomach a new heartbeat entered the room and his head immediately turned to find its owner. When he saw you, he couldn’t have taken his eyes off of you if he wanted to. He gently moved shoved the woman who had been trying to work for his attention out of the way so nothing was in the way of your view of him as you made your way further – closer to him.
It wasn’t that he was particularly stylish, but he understood what made people look good, and that fact was proven once again by the way that the dress he’d chosen for you made you look tonight. The thin, metallic gold fabric clung and flowed around your body in a way that mimicked liquid. The v-cut line gave enough away to inspire Homelander to drag his tongue across his lips and stand a little taller, but kept enough up to the imagination that he didn’t feel the need to rip the heads off of every man who looked at you.
But you got closer and more of his senses kicked in, and he soon realized his earlier actions had been rewarded and you smelled so deliciously like him , mixed with the sweet scent of you. As the scent consumed him his cock twitched in his pants and he had to force a smile to cover the real things he was feeling, though anyone would be a fool to think he, or anyone else for that matter, would feel differently looking at you right now. You moved so gracefully, so lavishly as you made your way to him, a small smile dancing on your lips despite your best efforts. It wasn’t often you held the attention of the most famous man in the world.
There were too many eyes on you that weren’t his own and though there was comfort in the delicious mingling of your scents, he needed the room to know you looked this way for him tonight. You wore this dress for him, you’d clearly had your hair done for him, you were wearing the perfect shade of red on your lips for him…it was all for him. You were all for him. Maintaining what slight composure he could hold over himself when you looked like this, he covered the distance between the two of you and looked down at you over his nose, his blue eyes sparkling with something sinister as you looked up at him.
“I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to show,” his confession caused you to still, your mind still not quite able to process these niceties from him, unable to comprehend that you may have been wrong about him. Giving you his best smile he enticed you to fall deeper into his trap, like a bee clumsily finding her way into a venus fly trap. He offered his arm to you and despite the parts of your brain screaming no you took it, wrapping your hands to clasp together around his bicep. His gloved hand found its way to your lower back, where the dress dipped to right above the curve of your ass, and he made a mental note to himself to take his gloves off at some point in the evening. “You didn’t like the necklace I sent you?”
Your cheeks burned red as you started walking with him, highly aware of all the eyes on the two of you as you made your way to the front of the room where a small stage awaited, surely, him. You shook your head and glanced up at him, voice still soft and timid since your ordeal. It only made him make another mental note – to find a way to make you be louder later. “Oh, it was lovely, I just…”
“Didn’t appreciate it?”
It was, in some ways, the same arrogant tone that he always used and yet different – insecure, questioning, maybe even a little frightened, and certainly much quieter than usual, much more intentionally for you alone. Your eyes glanced up to his face to find him facing forward, jaw set in a harsh way you hadn’t seen on him in person yet. He always looked so happy, so pleasant, so perfect around you…but now, he looked like a man fighting his own battles like everyone else.
“I loved it. It was so lovely. Everything is so…lovely,” fell from your lips in a desperate plea for his face to soften, for him to lighten the tension passing between the two of you. His features faltered slightly and his eyes glanced down at you briefly before r eturning to his hardened position. You lowered your voice to ensure only he could hear you. “Everything smelled so…good…when I opened the box from you earlier. That was a nice…touch.”
His lips parted slightly as his head turned down to look at you, shock written clearly across his face from your words of praise for him, in front of all of these people. When he remembered the surrounding guests he closed his mouth but immediately smiled, turning his eyes forward again to lead you abruptly to the right, away from the crowd. Sucking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Homelander chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly.
“You have no idea what you just did to me,” his voice was low, rumbling, and yet dripping with desperation as he led you away from the event. Finally reaching an elevator he dragged you inside, pressing the button for the floor he needed. Waiting for the elevator to rise for a moment he connected his fist with the emergency stop before turning to face you, placing your body between the wall and him. His eyes dragged down you so slowly as he leaned forward to inhale deeply, allowing a quiet groan to slip through his lips as he exhaled. “You should smell this way all of the time.”
Your body seemed to reach a boiling point immediately at his words, at how close he was, and how he felt like he was staring straight into you, examining exactly what made you tick – it was the only explanation for how he seemed to know exactly what the worst parts of you were crying for deep within. Pulling a glove from one hand he reached out to drag his fingers along your clavicle before flattening his hand at the base of your throat, sliding it up to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back to look at him fully. As he slipped his hand around your head and into your hair he dropped his voice again, “who do you look so gorgeous for tonight? Who made you show up looking so delicious?”
“You,” the affirmation came out as the saddest, most desperate moan that had ever passed through your lips and he smiled, his fingers gripping your hair at the back of your head and bringing you closer to his face. His eyes darted across your face, paying particular attention to your lips, as his free hand reached behind to start the elevator again. “Where…are you taking me?”
“Wherever I want,” was the reply that came from his mouth, quickly dismissing any idea of argument you had in your mind. He leaned his face closer to yours and breathed in deeply, groaning when the elevator door opened. Stepping away from you he gestured for you to exit ahead of him. “Through the door down the hall.”
For a moment part of your brain that was probably correct told you to refuse, to stay on the elevator and take it back down to the event you were here for, to avoid whatever Homelander was shepherding you toward. Your feet, and the embarrassing heat growing in your stomach from how he’d touched you and groaned for you betrayed your brain and delivered you exactly where he’d desired – The Seven meeting room.
Ignoring the door entirely and closing the distance between you when the realization hit he grabbed you by the back of your head again, voice quiet as he spoke, “why can’t you say nice things about me all of the time, hmm?”
His hand that wasn’t tangling fingers into your hair snaked its way down to your side, pulling you flush against him to which you both released a strangled, breathy moan. The room was on fire and you felt like your skin was melting as he walked you backward toward the table, forcing you to sit on the surface when you got exactly where he wanted you. Leaning over you fully he gave you no time to protest as his lips sought yours in desperation, releasing another groan at the feeling. Everything about him was pulling you in, anchoring you into him further and further and you couldn’t stop yourself from returning his kiss – from giving him what he wanted.
He didn’t ask to slip his silver tongue into your mouth but you didn’t deny him it either as his hand slid from your hip up to your left breast, squeezing firmly and moaning into your mouth once again. You pulled back, desperate for air right as his fingers pinched your nipple through the fabric of the dress he’d given you, and the most earnest of moans slipped from your mouth as your eyes rolled back, desperately grasping the edge of the table with your fingers. His voice was hurried, flustered, needy and yet so commanding, so precise as he leaned forward to speak in your ear, “you need to take this fucking dress off right now before I tear it to shreds. And I will.”
Your heart skipped and you felt how he huffed out a laugh against your neck briefly before pressing his lips against your neck, eliciting another moan from you. This was all it took from him to make you come undone? He chuckled again as he dragged his lips lower, to that tender spot where your neck and shoulder met where he dragged his teeth lightly, breathing in deeply. Your voice could hardly reach you when you managed out a hurried, “I…I’m not sure if…if this is okay, if we should…be doing this.”
The sound that left him was nothing more than a growl as he stood back over you, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. His eyes had become the ocean on a stormy night and he looked so dangerous, so much like a predator as he looked down at you, releasing his hold on the back of your head and sliding both hands to your hips. His voice was low, matter-of-fact and offered no hint of compromise as he repeated himself, “you need to take this fucking dress off. Right now. Before I tear it…to little…tiny…shreds. And I will.”
Your hands had already found the zipper at your side before he finished speaking and you lowered it, trying to shimmy the tight fabric down your body as you sat, unwilling to tell him you needed help. He was more observant than that and saw your struggle, lifting you to your feet and effortlessly lifting you up, smirking as the dress fell down your body. Sitting you back on the table he took a step back, drinking in the sight of you on his fucking team’s table. He crossed his arms, raising a hand to rest his chin on it as he looked at you in adoration before continuing with a lighter tone. “That’s better. We just have one thing to talk about.”
As your mind instantly went into a state of mild panic at what he could possibly want to talk to you about he moved to run his hands to your thighs, giving them a squeeze. You couldn’t help but moan quietly and found yourself unable to voice your protests as he used his knee to bump your legs apart, running the hand that remained gloved to your core, slipping it into your panties. As the gloved finger found your clit he pressed firmly, earning another desperate cry from your lips as your eyes widened up at him. He smiled his false innocent smile and rubbed that same finger in a circle, pausing when exactly one circle had been completed.
“You have said so many mean, ugly things about me on that little podcast of yours,” his voice was laced with disappointment, with genuine anger and a whininess you weren’t aware he could speak with. He rubbed another circle and finally took direction from the gasp that fell from your lips to slip his gloved middle finger down and straight into your pussy. You momentarily clenched at the intrusion but when the sweetest whimper fell from your lips he smirked, and removed the finger all too quickly. “I think I have been the perfect gentleman to you, and I would appreciate it if that depressing podcast could be erased. All of it.”
He reached to switch hands and slid his ungloved hand into your panties, immediately slipping his index finger into you as his gloved hand reached your mouth and he stuck the finger that had been inside you moments ago into your own mouth, groaning at the dumbstruck look that formed on your features as you tasted yourself. Keeping his finger in your mouth he forced your head to nod by placing his thumb under your chin and he looked so proud of himself as he added a second finger and began pumping them in and out of you, cherishing the flustered sounds of mild protest that came from your lips.
“That’s right, just agree. There’s no use telling me no,” his voice was teasing, low and laced with a sinister tone as he began pistoning his fingers in and out of you, looking down to watch how the digits disappeared within your tight, slick cunt. When he curled his fingers to rub the spongy patch deep within you the moan that left your mouth around his fingers was your loudest yet and he smirked, the blue pools eyes flickering back up to yours. “You sound so fucking pretty for me. Tell me how it feels.“
He removed his finger from your mouth so you could have free reign of your responses now, and he slid that now free hand back to your chest. He cupped a breast in his hand as his head followed the pursuit, leaning to slowly flick his tongue across your nipple, earning a gasp from both of you. You knew if you didn’t respond to his orders he was just going to get angry. “God, Homelander…your fingers feel so good. You’re so good at that.”
Your words of praise went through him like a knife and with a wanton groan his mouth attached itself to your breast, suckling your nipple and flicking his tongue across the sensitive nub as his fingers continued their assault. His fingers pumping in and out of your cunt were causing the most downright pornographic noises from your body as you continued to grow impossibly wetter, your body preparing for the sweet high of release. When his thumb connected with your clit and began rubbing rushed circles he removed his mouth from your breast to look deep into your eyes.
“I want you to come for me before you take my cock,” was his simple statement as his fingers inside you curled again, hellbent on discovering what made you come undone for him. He could feel your clenching walls around his fingers and the moans falling from your lips told him he’d have you under his spell. “I want you to tell me you’ll delete the podcast, and I’ll let you come, and then I’ll reward you with my cock.”
You couldn’t stop his name leaving your mouth as a moan which only pushed him further — only made him want you even more. With a low growl the speed his fingers were moving picked up as he connected his lips to your neck again, sucking softly at the skin over your pulse. If they didn’t know already, everyone downstairs would certainly know who you belonged to when you returned with his purple masterpieces covering your neck, chest, and shoulders. As the building feeling deep within you reached the point of no return your walls clenched around him and you whined as his fingers left you fully, his eyes glancing up expectantly at you. He wasn’t going to continue without you giving him what he wanted.
“P-please don’t stop,” were the desperate words that left your mouth as you planted a half kiss against his lips, your breath still leaving you in gentle pants. The heat inside your core was too much and being on the edge wasn’t enough — you needed him to push you. “I’ll delete it. You can delete it, we can delete it just please let me come for you.”
You weren’t coming for yourself, you were coming for him, and your confession earned his fingers entering into you again as he groaned, leading you toward your orgasm as he reached to work his cock free from his pants. With a cracking moan your walls clenched impossibly tighter around his fingers as your orgasm washed over you, panting breaths falling from your lips as the world seemed to melt around you. There was no time to waste (he did have a speech to make, after all) and the moment your orgasm finished you found his fingers exiting to make way for the head of his cock slipping into you. You’d hear the grunt that fell from his lips into your ear for the rest of your life.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he praised, his eyes never leaving the sight of inch by inch of his cock disappearing into you as you moaned again, your hands grasping his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself. If there was any point in arguing you’d tell the man he had to wear a condom, but you knew giving him orders would be futile. His thumb still attached to your clit rubbed a circle again, his lips meeting yours in a gentler kiss as he bottomed out within you, groaning as the head of his cock pushed at your cervix. Surprisingly, he did still to allow your body to adjust to his impaling. “Tell me how it feels.”
His words were desperate, pleading against your lips as one of his hands gripped your waist impossibly hard, surely leaving more purple in their path. The feeling of him stretching yours wall combined with this being the first you’d felt an unprotected cock inside of you had your chest tight, your heartbeat fluttering as you searched for the words he deserved. The words left your mouth in a pleasured sigh. “You feel perfect inside of me, Homelander . Please, please move.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. No longer needing to see how your face reacted to him claiming you, he forced you to flip on the table, your stomach against the cold material as he began to thrust in and out of you, his hips finding the pace that worked for you both almost immediately. His groans were damning and your moans only matched his sin as you pushed back into him, coaxing him to use your cervix as a punching bag.
One of his hands maintained its position at your waist as the other slid to connect with your neck, moving it to loosely wrap around your throat. The gasp that fell from your lips at the slight pressure of his hand told him to move faster and he did, plummeting into you like this was the only time he’d get to claim you. Without words the two of you knew that would never be the case. You were his now.
“That’s a good girl,” he purred out as he leaned down to connect his lips to your shoulder blade, sucking a mark in the spot for good measure. You took his praise as scripture and pushed back into him again, earning a deeper angle that resulted in a groan to erupt from his chest again. “That’s my good girl. My golden girl. Are you going to come for me again?”
You could only moan as his hand that had been on your hip slid south to reconnect a thumb to your swollen clit, beginning to rub relentlessly against the nub as his cock continued to be milked by your cunt. It was a good thing you had an implant, because convincing this man to spill his cum anywhere other than deep within you would have been pointless. To him, the best reward he could give you when you were being so good for him was his hot load deep within you. You should be so lucky to have his seed inside you.
“Yes,” you managed to breath out, your words hinting at your desperation for another release. His grasp on your neck tightened and despite that you fought to coax him toward his own finish alongside you. “You feel so good. You fuck me just right. P-please give me your cum, Homelander.”
The sound that erupted from him was probably best described as a roar as he picked up his pace, trying to remind himself not to break you but unable to stop the ferocity at which he began pounding into you. As the world shrunk to only this room and the two of you in it the euphoric state began to wash over you once again and you felt your walls clench around him, his name leaving your mouth as a scream. Hoping that everyone downstairs could hear you, hear what he was doing to you, he gave another harsh thrust before painting your walls with his cum, his movements becoming sloppy as he worked every last drop out of himself.
When he was certain he’d finished he removed himself from you, tucking his cock within his pants and grabbing your panties from around your ankles and raising them to their rightful place again just as his seed began to leak from you. His hand found its way to your cheek and his thumb brushed a gentle line across your cheekbone, his lips lowering to yours in a kiss. His words showed no sign of tiredness from his time with you.
“You’re going to keep those panties on and my cum is going to stay in them all night,” he placed another kiss to the corner of your mouth before continuing. “We’re going to go downstairs, we’re going to be the perfect couple for these fucking ingrates, and then you’re going to take me to your apartment so we can delete that podcast.”
As you re-entered the elevator with him your eyes connected with the smashed emergency stop button before drifting back up to him, soaking in the proud look that covered his face as he leaned against the elevator wall. A realization washer over you as your eyes cling to him like a sculpture in a museum — you were completely fucked.
Fucked, as it turned out, was a slight understatement. The moment the elevator doors had opened and the two of you stepped out he had wrapped an arm securely around your waist, holding you against him as he made his way back to the center of the room where a round stage was awaiting him. The event had gone on in your absence and the room was full to the brim with Supes and people kissing their asses.
There was no rush to his step as he proudly displayed you to everyone who could see, stopping to say hello and make pleasant, drawn out introductions to seemingly anyone who asked. His arm maintained its hold around your waist the entire time, his fingers occasionally pressing harder into you. The purple hickeys decorating your neck and shoulders went unnoticed by none.
By the time you made it to the center of the room it was time for him to give his speech, and he made sure to give your side a brief squeeze before leaving you next to The Deep…one of the only idiots he still felt he truly had control of. His eyes connected perfectly with camera after camera as he monologued for several minutes about the honor it was to protect New York City. When it was clear he was wrapping things up he stepped to the edge of the stage in front of you, his eyes meeting yours once more as he tapped your nose.
“Mostly, I have to say the best part about the job is getting to save the beautiful people of this city,” he practically cooed, his gloved hand cupping your face in a gesture that caused the cameras around you to flash and several voices to "aw."
There were immediately noticeable perks to being this close to Homelander, and even you couldn’t ignore him. People were more respectful to you, and consistently prepared to shower you with compliments at his prompt – “Doesn’t she look so lovely tonight?”. Men kept their eyes anywhere away from anywhere that wasn’t your face, afraid what offering true appreciation toward you would bring unto them. You were constantly brought snacks on trays to choose from and had three glasses of champagne before he decided to cut you off.
“I don’t need my golden girl sloppy for me tonight,” he tutted quietly, leaning from behind you so his mouth nearly connected with your ear. You could hear the smile in his voice that formed when your heart rate picked up and goosebumps decorated your skin. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that I’m not done with you.”
It was only a mere two hours before he decided it was time for the two of you to leave. It took a considerable amount of back and forth between the two of you before he conceded to allow you to take a car back to your place. As he helped you into the back of the SUV with a hand on the small of your back he pressed a firm kiss to the side of your head, leaning in to buckle you into the seat. His voice was once again lower, free of the light lilt he used to be camera ready.
“You know,” just those two words dripped with sarcasm and you knew whatever was to follow would match. “You’d be safer flying with me than driving around in these big metal death boxes. Some junkie could hit you with a truck…and what, you really think I’m going to drop you?”
A soft laugh fell from his lips before he pressed a final kiss to your forehead, withdrawing from the car before taking off into the sky. Finally alone you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, laying your head back and closing your eyes as you soaked in these moments alone, processing the evening. The more familiar your surroundings became the more your worries grew, remembering what he had promised to do. Your heart was pounding by the time you stepped out of the car, the cool air sending a chill down your spine.
From the sidewalk you could see the silhouette of Homelander standing on your rooftop, awaiting your arrival with his arms crossed firmly behind his back. You were certain he could hear you as you made your way inside, leaning against the wall of the elevator and preparing yourself for what awaited you – not that anything could really prepare you for what awaited you. When you exited the elevator and rounded the corner toward your apartment you nearly froze at the sight of your door wide open, his star-spangled back waiting for you in the doorway already.
When you approached the doorway yourself he finally turned, his eyebrows pulled together and his mouth set in a hard line. The annoyance in his voice was evident, and now that you were truly alone his voice was free of any mask. As you closed the door his right hand raised, the necklace he had sent to you dangling from his fingertips, his gloves having been placed on one of your counters.
“I wished this was on you all night,” his voice rumbled in your ears as he stepped closer to you, circling around you much like a predator. As he stepped around behind you he brushed your hair away from your neck, placing himself right up against your backside. “Hold up your hair so I can see how perfect you could have looked.”
Your cheeks burned hot as you reached behind yourself to lift your hair into your hand, your fingers shaking lightly with the nervousness of the situation. The metal of the necklace was cool against your skin as he placed the delicate chain around your neck, fastening it with little fuss. His hands slid across your shoulders and down your arms before turning you to face him, his eyes eagerly dragging downward toward your chest.
His hands reached to grasp your hips, pulling you forward toward him with a hum of approval as he soaked in the experience that was you wearing exactly what he wanted and already covered by purple hickeys from him. Lowering his head he crashed his lips into yours, grasping you tighter as if he feared you may try to stop him – not that you could. Your lips were still tender and lightly bruised from your earlier kisses and yet you pushed yourself to return his kiss, unwilling to leave him feeling rejected.
As his tongue worked your lips open one of his hands slid to work the zipper to your dress, eager to see you on full display for him again. As he tasted the remnants of champagne and chocolate on your tongue the dress fell to the floor, making up for you removing your heels by lifting you to his height with ease. As he pulled away from the kiss he released another hum of approval at the warmth of your body even through his suit – but it wasn’t enough.
Taking a few steps further into your apartment he placed you on the kitchen island, spreading your thighs when you instinctively closed them. His voice was firm, commanding, and somehow laced with desperation as he took a few steps away from you, beginning to remove his suit. “That bra and those panties better be off by the time I make my way back over there…” he huffed out, his eyes now cloudy with lust as he watched your fingers immediately set in on the task.
When you released your breasts from their restraints and tossed the fabric to the side you noticed how his hands faltered, his breath catching at the full sight of your breasts accompanied by the necklace hanging just above them. Running his eyes down you again he removed his own boots, lifting the torso of his suit up and off with slight hesitation.
He hadn’t been barred to you this way before and he caught the way your breath caught in your throat and your heart rate skipped momentarily at the sight of him. The way your body responded to him was a sweet compliment, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the need he had to hear everything you were thinking. It was impossible to mask the desperation in his voice as he barked out another order to you, his voice slightly breathless.
“Tell me what you think,” he begged, his blue eyes meeting yours as he worked his boots off, kneeling as he did so. It ended up being the perfect height for him to receive the beautiful view that was presented by you removing your panties and tossing them across the apartment. “About how I look without the suit.”
Feeling self conscious about how exposed you were to him as he stood up and dragged his eyes across your body you moved to play with your hair, aware covering yourself would make him angry. His hands moved to work his pants free from his body as you bit your lip, your cheeks heating up as he truly started to just look like a normal guy, albeit an incredibly attractive one. His eyebrows beginning to pull together again was your cue that you were taking too long to respond.
“You’re…a very attractive man, Homelander,” you breathed out, an unfamiliar tone of submission filling your voice. His pants dropped to the floor at your words and his cock sprang free, giving a slight twitch at your compliment. Your eyes met his and with that simple look you knew what you’d given wasn’t enough. At the same time, you found yourself unable to give more, unsure what words would be enough for him and still figuring out how to navigate around him.
Resorting to a more universal language you beckoned him forward, your hands seeking out the firm muscles on his biceps to pull him closer to you as you placed a soft, experimental kiss to his chest. Tilting your head barely backward, your eyes sought his to find his filled with hunger, his hands finding your shoulders to hold you closer. Leaning downward he placed a firm kiss to your forehead which instantly buried your worries that you weren’t doing enough, only to have them reignited as he pulled you from the counter, carrying you across your apartment. You assumed he was headed toward your bed, but as he approached your desk and sat your ass against the cool glass top you were quickly reminded of his real reason for being here.
The podcast.
Sinking into the chair you’d spent so many hours of your life in he clicked your computer to life as his eyes scanned every inch of your torso that he was granted access to earlier in the evening. Keeping his right hand on the computer mouse he reached his other hand lazily to your chest, cupping one of your breasts and rubbing his thumb over the nipple as he pulled up various websites – your website, your YouTube channel, Twitter, and the DropBox you kept everything stored in. Once satisfied he had everything on the screen he needed he pulled you closer to the edge of the desk, sliding the chair to the side to sit in front of you.
He hadn’t gotten the proper opportunity to showcase to you exactly how much he appreciated your breasts, and decided the podcast could wait just a few minutes longer while he took this moment to do so. His hands – almost lovingly – slid up your stomach to eventually cup both of your breasts, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest at the feeling of the soft tissue beneath his fingertips. Satisfied that he couldn’t fit them in his hands fully he began to knead into them lightly eyes seeking yours again.
His mouth pressed hot and wet kisses down the space between your breasts before he turned, eagerly taking your already hardened nipple into his mouth and circling the nub with his tongue. With a moan he began suckling, rolling your other nipple between his fingers in his other hand. He continued his attention on your breasts for a few moments before pulling his mouth away, dragging your nipple between his teeth as he did so. His voice was desperate, unhinged, and a tone you had only heard him use for you – in a way, it was special, and you recognized it as such.
“Come here, you remarkable little -” he tried to purr before he cut himself off, forgetting his intended term as he chose to suck a purple mark into the side of your breast, easing the brief pain with a light brush of his tongue across the skin.
Grasping his cock in his hand he motioned for you to come to him, which you found yourself almost eager to oblige. Climbing into his lap to straddle him you found the head of his cock slipped into you almost with ease as you were already embarrassingly wet from the attention he had been providing you with. A sinful groan slipped past his lips as your walls welcomed him in again, both hands grasping your hips to steady you.
“So fucking tight,” he practically whined, lowering his face into your neck to make an attempt at covering such a pathetic noise. As you accepted inch by inch of him again another whine left his chest and his teeth brushed against the hollow of your neck before you’d taken all of him, his well-trimmed curls brushing against your clit. When he was completely inside you he reached behind you to press play on one of the podcast episodes, using his other hand to hold you still. He chuckled at your feeble attempt to move your hips against his, forgetting for a moment who was holding you. “I wish I could fuck you, sweetheart, but…we have to take care of this podcast first, don’t we? I wish we didn’t, but we do.”
You whined and stilled your attempt at movements as your eyes met his, a small nod giving him enough of a response at the current moment. Bringing your hands up to his shoulders you clutched to him, prepared to raise yourself off of him at his instruction. Another chuckle left his lips as he shook his head, his hand holding you down to him. His voice, while still low and desperate, was now full of affection and adoration as he spoke to you.
“Oh no, baby…you’re staying right here, with me inside of you…feels too good,” he breathed out deep, leaning forward so your foreheads connected in a moment of what at any other time would be considered intimacy. Now, however, your own voice was filling your ears from the speakers of your computer, an episode of the podcast you’d made months ago playing in the background. “But you’re going to apologize for all of these mean things you’ve said about me.”
Almost on cue your voice from the past said words you remembered saying well – “Homelander is everything wrong with superheroes.” His eyes were pained as he heard the words once again, his head shaking. To his surprise, he didn’t even have to prompt the words from you.
“I’m sorry, Homelander,” you breathed out quietly, closing your eyes tightly and anticipating an explosion from him as he withdrew his forehead from yours. With firm and swift movements he pushed your head against his shoulder, his fingers lacing into your hair to hold you against him as he focused his attention on deleting content.
It went on like that for over an hour, with him inside you, holding you closely and playing clips of your own words while you apologized to him with words, gentle kisses, and soft caresses. Eventually, there was only one episode left – and you recognized the episode from the title alone when he read it aloud.
“This is what confuses me, darling,” he stated plainly, pulling your hair slightly to tilt your head back to fix your gaze on his. His other hand pressed play as his icy eyes met yours once again, his eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “In parts of your podcast you say some really intelligent, hard-hitting stuff.”
“If there’s anyone on this planet who is a bigger fraud than Homelander it is Stan Edgar himself, who should absolutely be looked at for a litany of legal and ethical issues – yet somehow manages to live above everyone.”
“I was so proud of you the first time I heard you say that,” his words were genuine, the look in his eyes matching the tone as he brought one hand up to cup your cheek. He paused the podcast for a moment to brush his thumb across your cheek, his movements slow and intentional. “How could you possibly say something so intelligent, so brave for someone with no powers…only to follow it up with something as cruel as this.”
He didn’t need to press play for you to know the words you were about to hear from yourself.
“I do have to say that some days I just feel bad…because Homelander is definitely the result of someone who wasn’t hugged enough as a child.”
As soon as that phrase was done he pressed delete, removing the last of the official evidence of your podcast from the internet. His eyes stayed on yours and you noticed how his features twitched involuntarily, a trait that seemed to happen when he was attempting to cover an annoyance. Was there an apology that could suffice for that one?
“Homelander, I -”
“Shut up,” it was firm, unquestionable and even slightly threatening as he stood from the chair, keeping his hold on you steady so his cock remained buried in you as he made his way to your bed. To your surprise he laid on his back, allowing you to straddle his waist and lean over him. His eyes immediately went to your breasts, his tongue darting out to slicken his lips. “Do you want to apologize to me?”
“Yes,” your response was pathetically fast and little more than a whine, eager to do anything to take the edge off of his voice again. You would have never guessed his next words, nor would you have expected the dripping desperation in his tone.
“Use my cock to come,” he whined, his hands now eagerly grabbing for your breasts to pull you closer, his mouth seeking the soft flesh of your breasts again. His face was mostly hidden by the flesh of your breasts as he ran his tongue over one of your nipples, his voice barely audible as he begged in a way he had done for so few in his life. “Please, take what you want just…tell me how good I am.”
Finally free to move as you pleased you immediately ground your waist down into his, moaning at the feeling of him finally moving inside you slightly. With a moan of his own he took the nipple he’d yet to pay attention to into his mouth, suckling eagerly and stealing a glance up into your face. As the two of you reached orgasms together, his eyes rolling back as his hands grasped your hips in an impossibly hard grasp, his hot seed painting your inner walls like his own personal art display. Finally releasing his mouth from your breast he whined quietly as his head leaned against your chest, soaking in a true moment of comfort. He had only experienced a few moments like these in his life, but this one was the most authentic, the most unscripted, and Homelander resigned himself to having at least a thousand more moments like these.
You had a new routine to get used to over the following weeks, and by the time December came around there was no leaving your apartment without the flash of cameras or strangers pretending they knew you. It was often too much, the attention and niceties you were paid everyday by people who weeks ago would never have paid any mind to you overwhelming you and making you wish for a moment to yourself. If you were lucky, Homelander would show up in these moments and instruct those around you to “stop their fussing”, adding another entry onto the perks of being with Homelander list.
In these beginning weeks he was being kind enough to allow you your own space still, and you had continued to sleep at your apartment, though it was seldom alone. Which is why when he told you that you’d be alone for two weeks while he accompanied a politician to Europe, it was almost panic-inducing to think about 14 days without him, and what that would mean for you. It wasn’t surprising when he instructed you that you’d spend the time in his apartment, which you had only briefly stopped into once thus far. He promised Ashley or The Deep would check-in on you daily and that you’d have everything you needed (except for him).
The night before he left he had displayed a moment of fear and weakness for you again, this time choosing to act out the frustration by fucking you so hard on his couch you’d be forced to stay in Vought Tower for at least a couple of days. For the first three days he was rewarded for his efforts during your nightly calls to hear that you’d really stayed in his apartment thus far, lounging on the couch and whining that he’d bruised you with his “super dick” – you could hear the smile and pride in his voice at your words, though you hardly meant them as a compliment. On the fourth day you were in better spirits, and had apparently invited The Deep to stay around for dinner – it was the first time Homelander had been forced to feel jealous over you.
“Well, I guess you don’t need me to come home, then,” he tried to cover the pain in his voice with indifference, though at this point he couldn’t get away with that with you. Still, his pride insisted he try. “I guess you prefer The Deep’s company, hmm? You replaced me quickly.”
“There is no replacement for you, Homelander,” you’d cooed, instantly soothing over the insecurity he felt and reassuring him that he had truly won you. There was no fighting the smile that spread on his face as you giggled, continuing with your kindness toward him. “As if The Deep could ever compare to you – as if anyone could come close to you.”
That particular phone call had stretched out to over an hour of you giving into his need for reassurance, filling the passing time with compliments and wishes that he would come home – filling the passing time with whatever he needed. Thus far, you had mostly managed to avoid driving him too far to anger, and he did reward you lavishly by ensuring you continued to want for nothing. The phone call ended with you confirming you were still sore from your last morning together, which had made his cock twitch in his pants.
After a week of you still feeling sore he was beginning to worry that he may have taken it a bit too far, and had even nearly expressed such when you whined on the phone to him once again, but insisted that you would be fine. For one of the first times in his life Homelander was genuinely worried about someone, and opted to call you on the ninth day much earlier than he had thus far. He expected you to sound surprised, yes, but he didn’t expect you to not be in his apartment – and he especially didn’t expect you to not be alone.
The voice he heard in the background of the phone call was clearly a man, and he was telling you he hoped you’d feel much better now. Despite the fact that Homelander desperately wanted to hear your voice he had hung up the phone immediately, leaving the boring, old ass building he was stationed in for the remainder of his trip to launch himself into the sky, his only focus returning to you – Vought and the entire U.S. government be damned. Seeing as you couldn’t get Homelander to answer your return call, you figured he must have gotten busy and had returned back to his apartment once your afternoon of errands was complete, intent on finally relaxing.
When he landed on the main balcony attached to his own apartment the sun had set, and yet none of the anger boiling within him had subsided. He stilled for a moment, focusing his ears on the sounds he could hear from inside. On the surface there was enough going on for him to know you were inside – a record from the 50s he recognized from you playing it before, the sounds of water filling a tub…you were inside relaxing in his apartment after having the audacity to betray him. Focusing deeper, he finally heard your heartbeat – alone – and the soothing rhythmic beat he’d grown to recognize and adore over the last few weeks nearly calmed him. Nearly.
Forcing the door open he stepped inside, his anger nearly faltered once more at the lingering smell of you overwhelmed him. Hearing the broken door had caused you to rise from the filling bath, turning the water off and clutching a towel around yourself as you walked with wet feet into the dark hallway, calling out a soft ‘hello’ into the night. You weren’t greeted with words – instead, from the darkness emerged two glowing red lights, and as they approached closer you backed yourself against a wall.
The red glow against his features, all of which were hard set in clear annoyance and anger, made you remember the horrible things he was capable of, none of which you were equipped to handle. When you realized there was nowhere left for you to step, you closed your eyes, holding a deep breath as you prepared for whatever was to come. When you felt him in front of you you were certain your heart would burst, until you felt his hand on your cheek, and heard the pain behind his voice.
“Who is the man you were with today? And don’t you dare fucking lie to me,” his fingertips dug into your skin lightly, your eyes still closed tight for fear you’d be met with glowing red. “I’ll know if you’re lying to me. Look at me.”
With an elevating heart rate you slowly forced your eyes open, and despite expecting your own pain, instead you were faced with his. His blue eyes were wide, contrasting to the harsh line of his mouth, and tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks. Where you had expected to find anger and harshness you were faced with the broken pieces of him, which only raised a further question – which was worse between his red-hot anger or his jagged, broken edges?
You began to raise your hands to his shoulders tentatively, your fingers shaking as your brain screamed at you to just stay still and answer him. Honesty, however, was not the only thing Homelander needed – he needed love, and the look behind his eyes proved it to you. This was him – the real him. The realization that you were wearing his necklace had helped level his head somewhat – but the sternness in his features let you know you needed to answer, quickly.
“The man you heard in the background was the pharmacist,” your voice was soft, hands settling on the sides of his neck lightly in the hopes that skin-to-skin contact would settle him further. “I went to the gynecologist this morning because I was still…sore. From the morning you left.”
His features noticeably softened, a new look of curiosity forming on his features that pulled his eyebrows together slightly. So far, he was content that you were being honest – but you weren’t giving him enough information, either, and the annoyance that lingered was evident in his voice. “Did the doctor have an answer for you?”
Nodding, you hesitantly reached up to lace your fingers in his hair with one hand, your eyes cautiously watching his every reaction. Still, you held strong and continued your commitment to answering his questions – despite the fact this was information you had initially planned to keep from him.
“I…we…you,” you breathed out carefully, choosing the words for your explanation carefully. “You…broke my birth control implant…probably that morning based on when the pain started. It had to be removed and so…they prescribed pain medication for a few days.”
It was impossible to miss the hunger that flashed in his eyes, or the low rumble to his voice. “And did they replace it? The implant?”
“No.”
His hand left your cheek and he took a step back from you to drag his eyes down your body. Aware that meant he was likely being invasive and using x-ray vision to see for himself you suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed, and your cheeks burned red to emphasize the fact. When his eyes met yours again he was pulling the gloves away from his hands, tossing them to a nearby surface so he could step close to you again and cradle your face with his bare hands.
For a moment his eyes expressed only conflict as they burned into yours, his fingertips digging a little too deeply into your skin as he analyzed the conversation – as he thought about his feelings. Moments of silence passed before his emotions seemed to land on entirely new territory – new territory for you, at least. His thumbs tenderly brushed along your cheek bones, his grasp lightening as an almost sinister smile spread across his face.
“So exactly what is going to stop me,” he started, leaning forward to brush the tip of his nose against yours lightly. You were keenly aware that he was being entirely too nice. “From getting you pregnant?”
A shaky breath slid past your lips as he placed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, sliding one of his hands down to take hold of the towel that was wrapped around you. Your voice was embarrassingly small. “I guess...you’ll have to…to use a condom or pull out?”
A deep laugh burst through his chest that rumbled against your own torso now that he was flush against you, his lips kissing a small trail to your ear where he pulled the lobe between his teeth for a moment before growling out a quiet, “No.”
One swift movement from his hand and the towel was on the floor, goosebumps immediately forming across your skin at the cool air. With a hum of approval at your lack of covering now he turned his head, connecting his lips to yours in a starved kiss. It was nature now for your lips to part for him and allow his tongue entry, and the two of you shared a heated kiss until you were breathless as he carried you to a room you’d yet to see, as you had spent your time in his apartment in a guest room – his bedroom.
“You were supposed to be gone for five more days,” you breathed against his lips, working some of the few buttons on his suit that you’d grown to understand. Pushing you onto an oversized bed with satin sheets, he began to work at his own suit, a cocky smirk covering his face.
“If you think I’m going to stay away when I hear another man in the background on my girl’s phone…you must not know me very well,” he shook his head as his boots were kicked to the side, his movements a little more desperate and uncalculated than they’d previously been with you. When his pants were pushed to the floor he continued. “You’ve got another thing coming, doll.”
His torso took too long to free and by the time he was climbing onto the bed with you he was starved, desperate to devour any part of you his mouth could connect to. His lips pressed firm and intentional kisses along the insides of your thighs as he made his way to your sweet core. Running a stripe through your folds with his tongue his eyes searched for yours as his hands reached to caress your breasts, a quiet hum vibrating your skin as a moan left your lips.
It was truly as if he hadn’t eaten for days, his tongue thoroughly swiping along every inch you had to offer, savoring every drop of arousal that came across his tongue, alternating to suck your clit softly. He hadn’t been this hungry for you until now, and it took him no time to cause a rising heat to build in your core. Your fingers found their way into his hair and you threw your head back as he began to fuck into you with his tongue, moaning in appreciation at the noises you made for him.
His way of thanking you for not needing the instruction to come against his tongue was to slip a finger into you, curling it right against your tender spot deep within as you threw your head back for him. “ Oh, god… ”
Sucking your clit into his mouth once more with a sinful noise his eyes found yours once more as he leaned back, grasping his cock in his hand. “No, not god,” he breathed, beginning to stroke himself in preparation for you. He leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips, his eyes closing as he rubbed the head of his cock against your opening. His voice was hardly above a whisper against your lips as he began to slip inside of you. “Not god, not Homelander…John.”
You moaned out his name for the first time, and he clutched to your sides as he forced himself to behave tenderly and slowly with you, aware that you must still be sore. Burying his face in your neck to place soft kisses he eased in inch by inch until he was fully within you, finding the comfort that only you could bring him. For a moment he stilled, enjoying the feeling of simply being encompassed by your warm walls, before he slowly, lazily began dragging his hips back and forth.
He hadn’t been rhythmic like this with you before, his movements always thought out well in advance for the maximum impact. Now, however, his movements only aimed to bask in this moment with you, this moment where he could truly claim you for the first time in his mind. Lifting your hips and wrapping your legs around his waist to beckon him deeper you found yourself unable to do little more than moan his name and claw at his back.
Trying impossibly to push into you deeper he held you against him, leaning down to suckle one of your nipples into his mouth as his movements picked up some speed. As he flicked his tongue over your nipple his blue eyes gazed adoringly up into your own, grinding against you to hit that perfect spot deep within you. You rewarded him for his effort by moaning out his name again and clenching your walls ever-so-slightly tighter, but he was greedy for everything you had – and he needed more.
“Please,” was all he could beg you for, his hands grasping at your hips as he tried to do anything he could to pull you closer. His lips reached for yours in a wet, heated kiss which he cut shorter than he truly wanted to await your response.
“I missed you inside of me so much,” you whined, meeting a couple of his thrusts by raising your hips at the same time, moving one hand to the back of his head. Pulling your head back slightly you were able to take in the sight of his sweat-slicked, messy hair and the way his lips were parted slightly. Seeing him this way, in a way you knew could only truly be for you, added a new depth to the dynamic between the two of you – and though for you that could go unspoken, for him, hearing it was everything. “Want…want you like this every day.”
His fluid movements were coaxing another orgasm from you and your words could hardly leave as more than strangled whines, but you had given him everything he needed and in a sign of appreciation he picked up his speed. Normally, he only restrained himself enough to not completely break you, but tonight he was truly making an effort to reign in his strength and make sure his thrusts were enjoyable for the both of you, and you could tell.
His grunts confirmed that this worked for him, too, and it wasn’t terribly long before your legs were shaking around him, a second orgasm rushing through your body. When he felt your walls tighten around him as you rode out your high by thrusting sloppily up into him he could barely restrain himself, knowing that his own release was chasing yours.
“Tell me…tell me that you want my cum,” he moaned, burying his face in your neck in preparation of being unable to hold back anymore. All you could manage in your fucked-out buzz was was a quiet ‘yes’ and a kiss to the top of his head as his orgasm rushed through him, painting your inner walls white with hot ropes of cum.
When he was certain both of you had finished your orgasms he slowly removed himself from you, laying on his side next to you to keep his gaze transfixed on your bliss-filled face as you returned to earth. With your eyes closed, you had no visual warning when his fingers slipped back to your core, his middle finger pushing the cum that was leaking from you back inside. When your eyes flew open in question he leaned over to place a soft kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours in a moment of intimacy.
When he was satisfied with the amount of times he’d repeated this motion he left only long enough to get a towel for you, tenderly wiping your legs and discarding the towel before crawling back into the bed next to you. Laying his head on your chest he closed his eyes as you began running your fingers through his hair, enjoying a rare true moment of peace. Eventually, he pulled you to roll you to your side, his hand finding its way to your cheek again.
“I would like…” he started, clearly having been deciding on his words for several of the quiet moments that had passed between the two of you. Sliding the hand that was on your cheek back into your hair and running his fingers through the strands gently he continued on, his normal confidence wavering slightly. “I would like for you to call this home.”
masterlist.
#the homelander#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander smut#homelander fanfiction#the boys smut#the boys fanfiction
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♡‧₊˚✧˖°💌 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐭𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
TW: ftm reader, v!sex, oral (f!re), dirty talk, afab anatomy, reader is a femboy, wearing skirts, sex without a condom, praise, rough sex, dom!homelander, dark concept, degradation, dom!homelander, male x male, porn plot, smut, use of aphrodisiac, creampie.
A/N : finally a request from homelander! yey! For some reason Tumblr doesn't let me answer my asks anymore, but hey- I took a screenshot of all the ones I'm going to make >< so sorry if your order isn't notified!
⸺ It was a miracle that you caught the attention of the most feared man in all of America, the most powerful man in the entire world, Homelander.
You were just a normal kid who worked at Vougth's main headquarters, taking care of the schedules of some secondary supers; however, you soon felt the pair of oceanic blue eyes burn you - the infamous hero staring at you from afar, practically fucking you with just one look, he drank in all your curves - from the stockings that squeezed your thighs, to the short skirt that you wore, in addition to the breasts shyly hidden through the blouse you wore.
You had awakened something in him, something he didn't know how to put into words, he was always a more submissive man in bed but you made all his sexual fantasies create another type of direction, he wanted to fuck you like a beast - like a hungry animal, beautifully destroy every piece of your delicate body and make you his boy.
So, you were lovingly notified with a mild threat from the company board, either you had a meeting with the hero of the seven, or you lost your job.
And you didn't hesitate to choose the first option. The meeting was at a luxurious restaurant in the city, closed to just the two of you, the hero seemed more polished, more... Different? An improved version of the man you saw fighting with everything and everyone in the buildings every day - the smell of fresh cologne coming off him also made you try to close your thighs, feeling your core get wet every time you saw his muscles flex under the fabric tight blue uniform, you had never paid due attention to him, so it surprised you to see him so... Attractive, as if a new light was placed in your eyes and mind, as if with each touch you wanted more and more - perhaps the aphrodisiac he put in his perfume would have helped, but you would never know it.
He was a gentleman, treating you like a prince, like his prince - carrying you in his strong arms to his apartment, you were adorable, and you were as he expected you to be: shy and wet. Your sweet scent of excitement and desire filled every atom around him, so it wasn't difficult for Homelander to convince you to let him into your house... It was too easy, even, and as soon as the door closed, a predatory smile covered his features. of the blonde man, as he towered over you like a mountain.
"-Are you nervous baby? there's no need.. I'm going to make you feel good pretty boy... lift that skirt for me... now." You couldn't help but feel weak in the knees as you did as he told you without protest, exposing your wet, needy flesh for him and for him. Homelander smiled, his piercing blue eyes fixed on your exposed, glistening pussy. He moved closer, his presence looming over you, radiating power and dominance- His hand reached out, his fingers brushing the lace of your panties.
"-Good boys are rewarded... Now, let's see how wet you really are." he whispered hoarsely, his voice sending shivers down your spine. His touch was electrifying as he slowly pushed your panties to the side, exposing your throbbing clit and your slick folds to his hungry gaze. "-Such a receptive little slut for me" His fingers dug into your flesh with more force than they should have, leaving bruises that would later turn into sickly beautiful property marks - his tongue tracing slow circles around your entrance before dipping deep inside you. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—his warm, wet tongue probing and teasing your sensitive folds, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your entire body.
You arched your back involuntarily against the cool concrete wall, moaning softly as he devoured every inch of your tight cunt. The lust was overwhelming, the sensations intensified by the knowledge that this sadistic hero could have anything and anyone he wanted, but he chose you - Moans fell freely from your lips as he continued to pleasure you, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to take your to the limit. Each stroke, each movement of his tongue, sent waves of ecstasy through your body, elevating your arousal to new heights.
You couldn't help but grip his hair, encouraging him, your breathing becoming ragged as you neared the peak of pleasure. Homelander sensed your imminent release and intensified his efforts, his tongue working faster, his fingers slipping inside you to increase the stimulation.
"-You like that don't you? Having me worship you?" he said with a roguish smile, eating you from the outside with even more intensity - however, when you were about to cum, the blonde took his tongue out of your pussy, making you feel a practically painful burning, begging on your knees like a puppy for him to fuck you soon, like the good boy you were.
Homelander's dominance over you intensified as he pinned you face down on the bed, his strong grip holding your head gently against the mattress - the pressure against your face felt a thrill of submission through your body, fueling your desire and excitement, you could feel his hard cock pressing against your ass, teasingly grazing your entrance with each movement. "-You like it rough, don't you, pretty boy..." he growled, his voice dripping with unmistakable horny.
"-You want me to fuck you until you can't walk straight, don't you?" Homelander's thrusts grew more intense and you could feel the pain building inside you - the pain sent waves of ecstasy through your body.
Your screams and moans filled the room, music to Homelander's sadistic desires. He leaned close to your ear, his voice dripping with a dark intensity. "-Do you think it hurts now, doll boy? Wait until I'm done with you," he whispered, his words fueling the fire of submission in your veins.
"-I'll take care of you, every inch of you, after I'm satisfied." Homelander's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing irregular, his balls hit your clit messily, making you breathless, with each slap on your ass or even the rough and sloppy way he squeezed your soft breasts, using the fabric of your skirt to further leverage each wild rhythm of your hips.
"-Fuck boy-! You take me so good... Good boy- good boy, just cum for me with that slutty pussy." When Homelander's thrusts reached a feverish level, he squeezed your head once again, his fingers digging into your hair. He growled deeply, a primal sound of pleasure as he reached his climax -- with one final, powerful thrust, he released himself inside you, filling you with his cum. You felt the heat of his release, mixing with your own wetness, as he continued to reach his orgasm. A feeling of satisfaction washed over him, and he slowly withdrew from you, his grip on his head finally loosening -- Homelander kissed your body tenderly, his lips tracing your skin, marking you as his.
"-You were a good slut, baby prince", he murmured, his voice filled with a possessiveness, giving you chaste kisses on the back and loving pats on your red ass from his own slaps. "-And I always take care of what's mine... Good boy..."
©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023
#yanderestarangel#tw smut#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander x male reader#homelander x ftm reader#ftm reader#smut#the boys#the boys x reader#the boys x you#the boys x male reader#the boys x y/n#the boys fanfic#the boys homelander#homelander x y/n#homelander smut#the boys headcanons#the boys smut#the boys series#the boys fandom#male reader#male!reader#ftm!reader#male reader x male character#ftm reader x male character#afab reader#the boys x afab reader#dark smut
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I am super sorry if you have been asked this multiple times before. 🙈🙊I was wondering if Homelander would be the type of person to proudly show off a hickey if his s/o can give him one or would he view it as "can't show anyone I can bruise" kind of thing? I think he would privately love the idea of his fav person showing a claim on him, but I also think he would be insecure about it.
I just like hickeys lol
-👻
ohhhhh this is SUCH a good thought! i was split on the answer at first, but you know, if Homelander had an s/o who had the kind of power necessary to bruise him with just their lips...
he'd have a hard time not being a total perverted braggart about that. 😂
he would stress the narrative of how they're the only ones capable of marking each other. as it should be. two gods among demigods and mortals. and you better believe he would be returning the favor ten times over so that there was no doubt they belonged to each other.
#slasher-smasher#ask and you shall receive#homelander x reader#homelander headcanons#homelander x you#x reader
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Infatuation
Summary: What is it about you that has Homelander so infatuated?
(The reader is gender neutral. The ethnicity/race is preferably a person of color.)
Why you?
That was the million dollar question that kept going through Homelander's mind. There was nothing truly special about you. You were nothing like him and his teammates. You were - he couldn't help how hard his face cringed at the reminder - human. No Compound V or Temp V. Only regular red human blood coursing through your veins with no harmful or life-changing chemicals. Just human. Sure you were good-looking. Sure you were smart, and polite, but so were many of the other dumb, cocksucking fans he had to smile for and pretend to give a fuck about. So what made you different from them?
When did this even begin?
He couldn't really pinpoint the exact date that your beauty, poise, and civility had caught his attention. He thinks maybe a month or two ago. He could distinctly remember how pissed off he was at Ashley, not because she had did anything herself, but because she was the one delivering the bad news to him, and how that was the first day, you had spoke to him.
"What," he asked, his voice low and strict, while dripping with disbelief at what Ashley had said. He tried his hardest to keep facing the large windows of the Seven's meeting room, and keep a cool composure, his arms crossed behind his back.
"Um-um," she repeated, her mouth opening and closing, almost resembling a fish. Her green eyes widened in fear at what the Supe in front of her may do.
"Ashley," he said, his irritation at her hesitance to speak was making him even more angrier by the second. "Say that again."
"Well, I-you,...uh," she gulped and tried to speak again, her words coming out easier this time. "Your points has gone down significantly, by at least 60."
Hearing it repeated made his crystal blue eyes become engulfed in ruby red and he kept his gaze towards the windows, already sick of hearing and smelling the rank fear that was emanating from Ashley, and not wanting to make the smell worse. "How the fuck are my points down that much?"
The calmness of his voice made Ashley want to hurry and leave the room, but instead she nervously gulped down some of her fear again, and spoke, "People have not truly forgiven the Stormfront situation and the civilians that you accidentally lazered in half on the last mission made it worst. Their families and friends are all in mourning and sharing their grief online."
"Oh come on," he yelled, finally turning away from the window and seating himself in his usual seat at the large table, his face frowning in irritation. "Both of those things were fucking accidents! Stormfront is dead and those people have been dead for, what, weeks now. Almost a fucking month!"
Ignoring the harshness of his raised voice, Ashley continued, "Vought thought it could really help if you made an apology video or interview to get people back in your favor-"
"Abso-fucking-lutely not," he said, his tone stern and leaving no room for argument. "It was a fucking accident and they need to get over it already." The rage inside him was rising higher and higher and he knew that more redness was coming to his eyes the more he listened to Ashley and the bullshit that she was spouting. He was sick of having to apologize for who he is and how powerful he is.
"Mr. Edgar thinks that-"
At the very mention of his name, Homelander's fist quickly connected with the surface of the table, leaving a large crack in the glass. The sound of his fist hitting it made Ashley quickly quiet and she instantly took a deep breath in, waiting for his next words.
"Get the fuck out," he told her, closing his eyes, and laying his head back against the chair.
"Yes sir," Ashley quickly replied, rushing out.
At the time, she had quickly forgotten that you were with her, and had left you alone with the most dangerous Supe of them all.
"Mr. Homelander, sir," your voice, while small, had still interrupted the quietness that had taken over the room and was beginning to calm Homelander, and he quickly opened his eyes and looked to you, his red gaze freezing you in place.
"Who the fuck are you," he asked.
"I'm (Y/N)," you replied, nervously holding your folders and documents close to your chest. "I'm Ashley's assistant."
"And...?" Every part of his body language screamed that he was ready to murder anything right now.
"I was just gonna say that I'm sorry that you're under so much pressure," you told him, your voice still meek, but a little more confident as you see that you have kept his attention. "I'm pretty sure for a person like you, it can be hard to be like others and make mistakes."
"Exactly! Fuck! Thank you!" he suddenly exclaimed, making you slightly jump, but you quickly hid it, and returned the wide smile he threw to you, happy to see the redness from his eyes finally cool down to blue again. "No one gets how hard it is to be me. No one is ever truly grateful for what I do. Right?"
You silently nodded your head, happy to see the Supe no longer angry.
"I have to pretend to like and listen to these fucking idiots and apologize to them for helping them!" He let out an incredulous laugh at the thought of apologizing to the public again.
An idea came to you when he said that, and you quickly voiced it, "Maybe you can get their favor again without having to apologize for it."
He quickly furrowed his brows at your idea and quickly gestured for you to continue.
"Plenty of celebrities make apology videos and people always know that it's fake. Maybe you should donate money to the families of the victims instead. You won't have to make some embarrassing video or do an interview."
"A donation?"
"Yeah. Fans love when famous people donate something of theirs. Money, clothes, cars. You win the favor of fans you lost, and more."
He was silent for a second, his face full of contemplation and for a second you were scared that you had gone too far, proposing an idea like this. He might see it as an insult that an assistant was giving him advice on how to get fans. You had sworn your heart was about to beat out of your chest by his silence, but a suddenly growing smile on his face quickly calmed it.
"That is perfect! No having to grovel to those idiots."
"Would you like me to get Ashley to help set everything up?"
"Yeah! Do that! Now!"
You made your way to the door and was about to leave the room, when suddenly his voice made you stop. "Hey! What's your name, again?"
"Um, it's (Y/N)," you told him.
"(Y/N)," he repeated, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. "Thanks."
You quickly left the room after that and went to get Ashley to tell her about the idea, and you didn't know it, too naive to realize it, but Homelander had already began making a plan in his head to see you again.
That was it. That was what caught Homelander's attention. Unlike other regular people, and even other Supes, you were the one who understood the pressure he was under, who understood how great he was, how better he was. Soon after that he began making an effort to talk to you. After Ashley would report things to him, he made sure to pull you aside and make conversation, and he surprisingly found it addictive to hear your voice, whether you were talking about your day, your favorite meals, current shows you were watching, he needed to hear your voice. Every now and then, he could hear the tremble in your voice as you spoke to him, fear still running through you at the fact that you were speaking to him of all people. That tremble did things to him. He disliked hearing it as he wanted you to be comfortable around him and trust him, but at the same time, he loved hearing it, reminding himself of the immense power he had over others even when he doesn't do anything.
It wasn't long before he used this power to find your address. He found himself relieved that you lived in a pretty safe neighborhood, not wanting anything to happen to his favorite person. HIS? Yes, HIS. Just the thought of you accepting his affections, a life of being with him, of coming home to finding you ready to hear about his day and please him was already making him loose his already deranged mind, but he knew that you needed time. You needed to still be fearful of him, but at the same time, realize that he would be the best partner for you. And now as he looked at your sleeping form, he listened to the soothing beat of your heart, wishing he could lay his head upon your chest and take a deep slumber with you. Wishing he could wake up next to you, and make love to you first thing in the morning. Make love to you at Vought. Make love to you when he comes home from work. Make love to you before going to sleep. But he knew he needed to wait just a little bit longer. Not too long or else, some dumb imbecile will think they have a chance with you and he'll have to take care of them. But soon you would realize you belonged with him and no one else.
#the boys#the boys tv#the boys x reader#the boys imagine#the homelander#homelander#the homelander x reader#homelander x reader#homelander imagine#homelander x black!reader#homelander x y/n#homelander x you#homelander x poc!reader#homelander x woc!reader
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PERFECT FAMILY
homelander x fem!reader (+ryan)
summary — Homelander wants to find the perfect mother for ryan since the incident with becca happened. just someone to take of ryan when he’s out or when he’s working. just a maternal for ryan. maybe someone to comfort him as well and that’s where he finds you.
warnings — dark fic, Homelander being a warning in itself, stalking, kidnapping, kinda Stockholm (it’s dark), violence, blood, angst, a bit of fluff
word count —
authors note — I legit just had this idea when I was reading @noforkingclue s fic. so go read that one because it’s amazing
homelander masterlist | the boys masterlist
“Now I know Ryan, no one can replace your mom, your mom is your mom,” Homelander stated as looked down at his son who stood next to him. “But I need someone, maternal, to take care of you when I’m away, even for your stability and mine,” He says as Ryan looked somewhat hopeful. “Now if you don’t want me to find you a new mom I won’t it’s your choice son,” He says putting his hand on his shoulder.
Ryan looked down thinking about it, he loved his mom, more than anything and she was gone, because of him. But if he could have someone who could love him at least half the way she did he would love that. Someone to just care for him like a mother can.
It could be a second chance for him. Even if he knew she wasn’t his real mom, she could love him like one. Treat him like one and he wanted that choice, someone other than Homelander to be a parent.
“Now what do you think buddy,” Homelander questions after a few minutes of silence.
“I’d like that a lot actually.”
“Me too buddy.”
“I’ve been hired by the Homelander to teach his son,” You question with a bewildered expression on your face. You stared at the woman sitting in front of you.
Yes you were a teacher but the kids you usually taught went to the school you were in at this moment. But no one could really blame your shock, you were just a normal teacher at a normal school who taught normal kids. This was on a whole different playing field.
Of course you’ve heard about Homelanders son, everyone on planet earth has probably heard about him. Ryan was his name you learned. Of course you felt a great deal of sadness for the young boy, it seemed like he didn’t have a mother and his father was a little on the crazy side from what you’ve heard. But could you really handle this?
This boy was the strongest kid in the world, and his dad was the strongest man in the world.
Anyone would be nervous to even think about accepting this offer. You were leaning more on the yes side, due to the fact that they were going to pay you a lot of money and since a teachers salary wasn’t much you didn’t really have a choice.
But some other reason inside you felt bad for Ryan, you wanted to help every kid that needed it, even if he was the strongest supe kid. You were also kind of afraid to say no to Homelander, you’ve read stories about what happened to people who said no to him and it made something burn inside of your stomach and your whole body tense up in fear.
“So what do you say, Miss. Y/L/N,” The woman in front of you asked as you looked around at the class from.
“I’ll take it,” You accepted tentatively.
And before you even knew it you signed your life away that moment and you probably could not do anything to reverse it in any way.
Today was your first day to teach Ryan and your first day actually meeting him in fact. You hadn’t even met Homelander who was his father, it seemed like if you were going to teach his son he would’ve at least wanted to call you.
But nope. Nothing. Not even an email.
You shook off those worries and just tried to put a smile on. You didn’t want to worry Ryan and wanted to help him and his journey on learning
Taking a look at yourself in the mirror you put your hair in a ponytail before shaking your hair and pulling the hair tie out and shaking your head and running your fingers through your hair trying to sort it out. You decided that having your hair down was best for you. You dusted off the pencil skirt you were wearing and tried to straighten the lavender blouse you had on. You didn’t even know why you were caring about what you looked like this was going to be just like teaching the kids at the school. But just one on one.
But you knew the reason why you were so nervous. Homelander, his father. You didn’t want to have one single thing wrong with you that would tick him off and him deciding to kill you right there. You were pretty sure that Homelander was a fickle guy due to who he was and to the public. But you hoped that his son being there would stop him from doing anything rash but you didn’t put anything past him.
“Fuck it I look fine,” You whispered to yourself in the mirror before grabbing you bag that had everything you needed in it.
Getting in the car you put the address into your phone and started driving to Homelanders place. Which you had to agree was weird. You thought he lived at Vought and his son would live there as well but no from the looks of it and where you were driving it looked like he had a house in a suburban neighborhood.
The house looked just like any house on a family sitcom. It wasn’t too big, or too small, it was normal. That ticked a red flag in your head because there wasn’t anything normal about Homelander. You were pretty sure he had people dressing him and cooking for him every night and he was living here in this normal house.
You had this horrible feeling in your stomach but you pushed those feelings out as you sat in your car for a few minutes before exiting the house and walking up to the door where you froze for another few minutes. You took a deep breath before pressing your button to the doorbell.
Rubbing your wrist, you tried calming your nerves but it wasn’t working. You had every right to be nervous. This man was the most powerful man in the world and by default the most dangerous man in the world. You didn’t want to do anything to tick him off.
He seemed very high maintenance and wanted everything to be perfect so it confused you why he asked for you to teach his son. You weren’t the smartest teacher out there, hell you weren’t even the smartest person in the school you taught. The question kept running through your brain as you stared at the door waiting.
Suddenly the door opened to reveal the man himself. Homelander. Standing there in his suit with that same smile plastered on his face as he saw you. Luckily he didn’t seem angry so maybe luck was on your side today.
“Ms. Y/L/N I was worried you weren’t going to show up,” Homelander says and you look at him confused. You didn’t think you were late.
“Oh I’m sorry sir I didn’t realize I was late,” You say taking a look at your phone that you pulled from your pocket and you were only a few minutes late. Well you weren’t wrong about the high maintenance.
“It’s only a few minutes as long as you don’t make a habit out of it,” Homelander waved it off as he opened the door wider so you could walk in. You didn’t know what he meant by that. Were you seriously going to have to be here on time every fucking day.
Walking in the house it seemed brand new which seemed about right, since you thought that Homelander lived in the Vought tower. He must’ve just bought it for him and his son, and you were a bit curious about Ryan's mother and where she was. Nothing in the news stated anything about her and that made a child run up your spine about the possibilities of what could’ve happened to her.
Back on the topic of the house. It was perfectly clean and you wondered if a kid even lived in this house. You’ve been around kids all ages and they weren’t the cleanest so to say you were kind of dumbfounded at this.
“Ryan come to the kitchen please,” Homelander called out as the two of you stepped in the kitchen. You put your bag on the table looking at him to make sure you weren’t angering him at all. “He’ll be down here in a second, he’s been waiting for this all week, jittering like fucking cokehead,” He said leaning against the kitchen counter.
The language threw you off. You didn’t take Homelander for someone who swore at all and you shook off the shock and gave him a smile.
“Well that’s good, you don’t see it that often, kids wanting to learn,” You say, wringing your fingers in front of your stomach, the pit in your stomach was still there but it was shrinking as the conversation kept going.
“That’s all what I’m about, wanting Ryan to get a good education so that he can be successful in life, that’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Homelander told you, putting his hands behind his back. “…..And to be honest he wasn’t the only one looking forward to this meeting,” He gave you another smile showing off his pearly whites.
“Oh that’s a nice thing to hear as well,” You say bashfully, giving a smile.
He wasn’t lying when he said he'd been waiting all this time for you to show up. Ryan was wanting to see you as much as he was. It took them some time for them to pick you out from all the other teachers and you were perfect for him and Ryan. You were in your late 20s, no boyfriend, no kids, no family you talk to, and not many friends, or at least he thought that. You don’t go out much. And to top it off you had that maternal side of you, working in a school, you helped kids all the time and knew exactly what they wanted. It also helped for Homelander that you were an attractive woman.
Homelander knew that it was going to take some convincing to get Ryan on board for this but surprisingly Ryan was genuinely excited to meet you, for you to take care of both of them. Homelander need that, someone to help him with this and everything, someone he could come to and someone who would caress his cheek and run her fingers through his hair. Someone who would hug him and let him cuddle against her chest. Someone to just coddle him.
Ryan needs a mother to essentially do that as well, someone who could help him when he’s sad or mad or just confused. Homelander wasn’t good at that stuff so needed someone. Someone that could be at their beck and call. Someone who could help Ryan with school and read him bedtime stories so that he could fall asleep. Or when he had a nightmare and needed someone to talk to.
You were that person. You were that perfect person for them. It would just take some time and convincing.
Ryan came running down the stairs as you said that sentence and ran up to stand in front of his dad who put his hand on his shoulders as you gave both of them a soft smile.
“Hey Ryan it’s nice to meet you,” You say, holding your hand out for him to shake.
You were expecting the boy to shake your hand but he ignored your hand and wrapped his arms around your body giving you a hug. You were a bit gobsmacked at this. No kid has ever been that affectionate. But you did reciprocate the hug not wanting to upset him. He was just a kid.
“Told you he has been waiting for this,” Homelander says, giving you a smug smile this time as you caress the back of the kid's head.
“Sorry just a bit shocked no kids ever acted like this,” You say as Ryan still had his head buried in your stomach.
“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Ryan muttered into your stomach as it was muffled by the fabric of your blouse.
“Ok come on Ryan she’s here for a reason,” Homelander intervened putting his hands back on his shoulders beginning to tug him back but Ryan resisted as his arms stayed locked around you muttering a no into your stomach.
Surprisingly you weren’t scared, he wasn’t hugging you tightly and you weren’t a psychologist but it seemed like he had some attachment issues but you didn’t want to judge too soon. You weren’t privy to his background and didn’t want to make him feel bad for this. To be honest, the maternal side of you was melting from this, wanting to comfort the boy as he stood hugging you.
Meanwhile Homelander was in awe. It didn’t even take you 5 minutes for you to break. You were so perfect for the both of them that made a pang in his heart as he watched you hug Ryan. Although he also couldn’t help a pang of jealousy coursing through him watching you comfort his son and deep down wished it was him you were comforting.
Mentally shaking his head. The time will come, he thought.
“Ryan come on,” Homelander says, giving another tug on the boy he could use his whole strength but he didn't want to hurt Ryan or you for that matter. But he didn’t budge.
You put your hand on top of Homelanders' gloved one trying to reassure him that this was okay. Deep down you this would cause some problems in the future but you didn’t honestly give two fucks at the moment. Homelander tensed as you did that, not expecting but loving it.
“Hey Ryan, why don’t you let go of me,” You whispered, running our fingers through his hair.
“Don’t want you to leave,” Ryan muttered into your stomach again as a confused expression came across your face. You weren’t even here for two minutes and he was worried you were gonna leave. Yeah you knew there was something wrong, this boy was getting attached to your hip and you knew deep down that something must’ve happened to his mother, for him to be attached this much.
“I’m not gonna leave, not yet,” You muttered as you felt him move a bit against your stomach. “I promise and when I do leave, I’ll be coming back tomorrow don’t worry,” You tried reassuring the boy and was a little worried when he gave you a little squeeze at the mention of leaving. But eventually he let up on the hugging.
“Promise,” Ryan says looking up at you.
“Promise, even ask your dad I’m pretty sure if I don’t show up, he’ll do something about it,” You say waving your hand at Homelander.
“Don’t worry buddy I promise you she’s going to be coming here every day,” Homelander promised, giving his shoulders a squeeze. You didn’t want to intervene and say you wouldn’t be coming here on the weekends.
“Okay,” Ryan says, giving you a smile, removing his arms from around you and moving to sit at the kitchen table, where your stuff was.
“Okay buddy lets get started….”
For the next few weeks, everything was going amazing. Ryan was amazing at the stuff you were teaching him and you were proud that he was this smart bright kid. But he was getting more and more attached to you.
To the point that you had to stay a few hours extra, past your planned time and coming over on the weekends as well. Homelander didn’t stop it, he loved it and you knew it but you didn’t know why at the moment. Luckily you didn’t have many friends so you could spend time helping this kid. Plus you liked spending time with both of them and to be honest you were beginning to like coming here everyday, being greeted by Homelander and teaching Ryan. Homelander usually stayed in watching the both of you and you paid no mind, so you didn’t see the longing look in his eyes as you taught his son math.
On his side he was beginning to lose patience and wanted you with the both of them at all times and considered it as he watched over you at nights. He could easily do it. You left your window locked since you lived on an apartment building, you didn’t have any security system, hell you didn’t even own a fucking dog. Honestly he thought your nativity was adorable, you needed someone like him to protect you. He just couldn’t wait to have you in his arms so you could take care of him and Ryan.
You on the other hand were trying to gather up the courage to ask Homelander about what happened to Ryan's mom since his attachment to you became bigger and bigger. It was also quite worrying because Homelanders' attachment was becoming bigger and bigger as well. He was more subtle at least.
Although you weren’t scared of him or Ryan. They hadn’t done anything to indicate that you should be scared. So at the moment you just stayed in your schedule as the times staying with Ryan increased more and more.
On this particular Friday everything was normal as you came to the house but Homelander left in the middle of your session. Muttering something about work. That worried you, you didn’t know what’s going on, and how long you should stay here with Ryan but you tried to brush off the worrying not wanting to worry the boy out.
By the time it hit 6 o’clock you were still worried about Homelander and where he was. But Ryan didn’t know anything which helped you, he didn’t need to worry about his dad.
“I’m hungry,” Ryan stated as the two of you sat and watched tv.
The session had ended an hour ago and the two of you decided to watch tv so that you could help your nerves and Ryan would get a break from school work. But as soon as the tv started the both of you started talking and it felt so normal talking to this boy as though he was a part of your life.
“Oh I could make you something to eat,” You say getting off the couch and he followed you as you entered the kitchen again moving around so that you were in the kitchen as Ryan sat on the chairs that were in front of the kitchen counter. “What do you want,” You question, giving him a smile.
“Mac and Cheese,” He answered with a smile of his own, after some pondering.
You were quite nervous, you didn’t know if Homelander stocked any food here since you barely ate here and Ryan only ate snacks. But when you opened the fridge and cabnits everything was there and you let out a sigh of relief as you started the dinner and began to talk to Ryan casually.
“So Ryan who usually does the cooking here,” You question as you got the noodles ready on the stove, boiling at the point you wanted them.
“Well dad usually gets a chef here since he doesn’t know how to cook and the chef only comes when dads here,” Ryan answered as he watched you cooking. He began to think of his mom and became sad. He sometimes has thoughts about her and he doesn’t like it.
“Hey Ryan what’s wrong,” You asked worriedly, putting your hands on his and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumb for comfort.
“Nothing,” He sniffed, not wanting to cry in front of you. Homelander told him showing his emotions was weak and he especially should do that in front of you as that would make him appear weak.
“Come on bud you can tell me,” You cooed, giving his arm a squeeze. “You don’t have to hide your feelings in front of me Ryan,” You reassured him.
“It’s just my mom,” He muttered as a tear slid down his cheek and you gave him a look of sympathy as you wiped the tear from his cheek giving his forehead a kiss. You definitely knew something went down with his mom.
“That’s fine thinking about your parents especially ones you don’t see anymore can make you sad and make you want to cry and you should, crying isn’t bad Ryan it's good that you can. It shows that you are strong,” You told him in a soft tone,
“But dad said crying in front of people makes you seem weaker,” Ryan says, looking at you with wet cheeks.
Walking around the counter and wrapping your arms around him and he immediately receives it, tightly hugging you and definitely not hugging at his full strength. You ran your hand down his back, comforting him as he sobbed into your chest. You had a feeling Homelander had these values as he seemed like one of those men. You weren’t mad as you know these were taught to him but you were going to have to talk to him about it. Because it wasn’t good for Ryan to hide his emotions especially from his dad.
“Don’t worry Ryan, everything's going to be fine,” You mutter. “I’ll talk to him, don't worry,” You tell him. “And as for your mom she’s always going to be there for you she’s going to be all around you especially in here,” You say putting your hand on his head.
You felt Ryan nodd into your chest as he was still sitting in the chair and you were standing and leaning down. It was uncomfortable but it didn’t matter at the moment.
“Okay,” You say, pulling him away from your chest. “Now let’s get your food ready so you can fill your tummy,” You say, giving him a chipper smile wanting to change the subject. He nodded as he wiped his tears and you walked around the kitchen counter and checked on the noodles.
The rest of the night was spent eating dinner and talking to Ryan about multiple things as his moods got more and more happier and you didn’t really care that Homelander was gone now. You were having an amazing time with Ryan and you definitely weren’t going to leave him all alone here with no one around.
After dinner the both of you sat on the couch again and started to watch tv again and Ryan eventually ended up with his head in your lap as you watched tv. He eventually fell asleep a few minutes after he laid down on your thighs. You began to run your fingers through his hair as you soothed him into sleep. You didn’t want to move him to his bed as that would wake him and you didn’t have the heart to do that at the moment so you just kept caressing and watching the tv waiting for Homelanders arrival.
When Homelander eventually came home it was around midnight and you were still up and to be honest he was surprised that stuck around but he knew that you cared for Ryan and that made his chest fill up with warmth especially when he watched you with Ryan’s head in your lap. God he wanted you so bad but he needs to practice patience.
“Hey Y/N,” Homelander greeted you at the couch and gave you a smile.
“Hey Homelander,” You greeted him with a tight smile. After calling him sir for so many times he told you to call him Homelander and you caved.
“Sorry I made you stay so late. I had an emergency at Vought and had to do some work,” Homelander apologized as he tightened his fist behind his back. He was initially sorry but now he was happy because he could witness you helping his son.
“It’s fine me and Ryan had fun,” You say as you stop moving your hand. “Speaking of him, we should get him to bed it is midnight,” You say.
Homelander melted at the words you said. We. We should get him to bed. As if you were already a family and it made him so happy that you may be coming around to this and you may want this as well.
He nodded and the two of you successfully got Ryan to bed without waking him and you tucked him into his covers and gave him a kiss on the forehead and left the room to greet Homelander in the hall who still had this smile on his face. But you tried to keep your mind on the target, you wanted to talk to him about Ryan.
“You got any wine,” You asked with a tired tone and you were tired but you needed some relaxation.
Homelander chuckled and gave you a curt nod and even though he didn’t drink he knew you had the occasional wine here and there.
Once you got the wine you chugged it down in one instance and Homelander knew he was going to have to do something about that once he got you under the roof. Ryan didn’t need a drunk for a mother and even though you don’t do it often, he knows how addictions work.
“I also need to talk to you about something,” You say, wiping your mouth after chugging the wine like it was your last drink.
“Ask away,” Homelander says, pointing his hand at you, giving you the floor.
“Ryan told me something today that worried me and I wanted to talk to you about it,” You say and Homelander raised an eyebrow at the mention of his son. “He said you didn’t like it when he cried in front of him and other people and I know I’m not his mother or guardian in any way but I know what makes kids turn into angry adults and this is one of the reasons why boys turn into angry men,” You say sternly. “I know you’re his dad and I would normally not even bring this up but I just want to help him and you for a matter of fact and if you want to fire me that’s fine I just wanted to give you a piece of advice,” You say and immediately take a deep breath from all the words you just said.
Homelander looked at you flabbergasted at what you had told him. He didn’t think you had the guts to stand up to him and honestly seeing you angry was definitely a turn on for him. Even though he does think these values, if he wants you to even think about staying with him once he does get you under this roof he has to try it with you. He needs to take your advice even if he doesn’t like it, and he knows once you become a more permanent figure in the house he’s going to need some of your opinions.
“I know I know,” Homelander runs his glove hands over his face feeling out of energy. “I honestly didn’t think about it when I said it just came out,” He mutters looking down at the floor feeling kind of ashamed as though you were disappointed in him and he would hate you being disappointed in him.
“Hey it’s okay I know these things are taught and I’m glad you see these things,” You say reassuring him, also happy he didn’t burn you alive. You cautiously bring your hand to his cheek and begin to rub your thumb along his cheek bone trying to comfort him.
Luckily for your life it seemed like he enjoyed it as he leaned into your hand and slowly closed his eyes at the comfort of your hand. You felt amazing and he immediately preened under your touch and by the sound of your heart beating a little faster he knew you liked it as well.
“You can stay the night if you want since it’s so late,” Homelander whispers, turning his head, giving your palm a kiss, making your whole body heat up under his lips.
“That’s nice of you and I’ll take you up on that offer,” You say, giving him a genuine smile. “But only if you are comfortable with that I would hate to make you or Ryan uncomfortable,” You say fiddling with your wine glass.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Homelander laughs. “Ryan would love to have you here as well as I so don’t worry about our comfort,” He says, finding it cute that you were so worried about his and Ryan's comfort, it also filled his whole body with happiness.
“It’s probably a good idea that I stay here, you have no idea what kind of creeps are out there at this time at night and I wouldn’t want to take a chance with that,” You say, knowing what would probably happen if you did leave and you didn’t like the ending of that story.
“I’ll show you to the guest room,” Homelander states as he stands up and starts walking towards the stairs expecting you to follow him. Expectedly you do as he thinks and follow him up the stairs.
“So anything new interesting going on in your life,” Homelander questions once you reach the top of the stairs.
“Eh not much I don’t go out much, definitely not as much as the people in my age group, that probably explains why I don’t have many friends,” You nervously laugh shaking your head. It’s true you don’t have many friends since you don’t live your life that exciting.
“I get what you're saying, I didn't have many friends when I was younger,” Homelander lies partially. He didn’t have any friends but that’s because Vought was keeping him as a fucking lab rat and he didn’t have any chances to make any friends.
“It’s probably due to my fear of making connections with people, too afraid to let them in,” You say as the both of you trail across the carpet to the guest room, keeping your voices down for Ryan. He gives you a weird look at what you just said and to be honest you would as well. “That’s what my therapist says at least,” You chuckle running your hands over your face as you feel fatigue creep inside your bones.
Homelander makes an ‘ohhh’ face but internally he knew he would have to do something about that. You didn’t need a therapist, especially now since you have him in your life. All that therapist would do is try to keep you away from him and that’s just not what he needs at the moment. He just needs you with him and Ryan, if he had that it would be happiness that he’s wished for, for his entire life.
“Anyways here’s the room, there’s a shower in there and some extra clothes for you to sleep in,” Homelander opens the door as he gives you a look over knowing you couldn't sleep in your clothes.
“Thanks again,” You say, trying not to show how confused you were by the fact he has extra clothes here.
“I’ll be off now, I’ll see you in the morning,” Homelander says his goodbyes, giving you a wave and strolling off to his room but not before you could say anything.
“Goodnight Homelander,” You say.
“John,” He says, keeping his back towards you.
“Huh,” You turn around not understanding what he meant.
“My name it’s John,” He whispers, hoping you heard it and by the extra skip in your heartbeat you did.
“Goodnight John,” You whispered.
“Goodnight.”
After the two of you bid your good nights you both made your way to your respective rooms where the both of you were doing totally different things.
You immediately took off your clothes and made your way to the shower and you were shocked nonetheless seeing a plethora of shampoos and body washes. You tried not to be freaked out that it was the same ones you use, It’s probably a coincidence a lot of people use this you thought to yourself before turning on the shower and making it hot. It was specifically cold tonight and you just wanted to relax.
Once you enter the hot shower your body immediately relaxes as the hot water drips down your body and you hum slowly loving the comfort from this. After a few minutes of just standing there under the water you started to bathe yourself, starting with your hair.
Homelander on the other hand had other plans for what he was doing. He sat his body down on the perfectly neat bad that he almost never sleeps in. Compound V does that to you. He has his body facing towards the room you're sleeping in. He honestly had to have so much self control on not following you in there when he wanted to so badly. With his hands on his knees he watches you undress and get in the shower.
It’s not like it’s something he hasn’t seen before, he goes to your apartment every night after Ryan goes to sleep just watching you do your mundane task. Obviously he got hard from all of this, especially when you took your clothes off or when you touched yourself to relieve stress.
His eyes clothes when you start humming feeling his body start to lock in comfort that he just wishes he could lay down on your lap whilst you coddle him. To comfort him and give him praise. But he knows you're warming up to him as he notices every time you come over you’re wearing some that accentuates your chest so that he would always notice. Your body temperature always rises when he’s around and your heart rate spikes when he’s standing next to you and he loves it. He just loves it so much and he knows how it feels since he feels the same way when he’es around you.
Once you get out of the show you wrap a towel around your body and start to dry yourself and make your way into the room and put on some underwear and an oversized shirt. You don’t even want to know where he got this shit from. You’re just so tired that once your head immediately hits the pillow you're out like a light. But some of it was due to the wine you have to admit.
After about an hour into your sleep Homelander makes his way into your room and he knows you're asleep by the way you snore quietly into the pillow. He notices that you left the light on and he knows that you have the tv on at your home and he wonders if the dark scares you. He shakes those thoughts out of your head as he comes to stand next to the bed and brings his now ungloved hand to caress your cheek.
Luckily for him your body is facing him so he has more leeway. His thumb gently strokes your cheekbone as you sleep and he’s noticed that you were a deep sleeper from the first time he’s entered your apartment. Homelander just loves everything about you even though he thinks humans are beneath him, you don’t count as one of those. You’re special.
Leaning down gently he presses his lips to your forehead. He makes an exit out of the room knowing the next time you sleep here it would be in his bed one way or the other.
The moment you wake up you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth before looking through the drawers and finding that there were some jeans and you immediately thanked god as you put them on and made your way down the stairs knowing it was only 9 o’clock in the morning. Luckily you didn’t have to teach today which caused some stress to exit your body.
Your stomach was growling from hunger and you knew you had to eat something and while you were at it you could make something for John and Ryan as well to thank them for letting you stay here.
Once you got the pancakes ready someone in front of the kitchen counter said. “Hello,”
You jump and immediately turn around to see Homelander standing there with a grin etched onto his face as he watches you cook.
“God John you scared the absolute shit out of me,” You let out a deep breath as he gives you this warm look that makes your body heat up. You’ve always thought he was attractive but you can’t help the ways he makes your heart skip a beat.
“Sorry once you woke up, that woke me up and I came down here wondering what you were doing,” Homelander softly says and you give him a confused look. “Super hearing and a very light sleeper,” He says pointing to his eyes and you have a look of realization on your face.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here and what other way to thank you by making you and Ryan breakfast,” You rush out not wanting to make him mad but in reality nothing you did could ever make him mad at you.
“Don’t worry, it’s sweet that you thought of it and I know Ryan will love it, he usually wakes up around this time so, perfect timing,” Homelander says clapping his hands. “So how’d you sleep last night,” He questions.
“Amazing, the bed was so comfortable that I’m kinda upset that I have to sleep on my own mattress tonight,” You laugh as you take a bite out of the pancake.
Homelander subtly frowned that he forgot that you weren’t going to be here tonight and suddenly he felt his heart race at the thought of that. But on the other hand he was glad that you didn’t want to leave the house, it showed that you were comfortable around him and in his house. He was going to have to move the date of his plan soon because he was going crazy at the thought of you not being here for him or for Ryan.
“Well you’re more than welcome to stay another night, and it makes me happy to know that you feel comfortable here,” Homelander says.
“I just- I don’t know it’s just something about this place and about you and Ryan that makes this place so homey,” You tell him fiddling with your fingers.
“You know that makes me really happy to hear,” Homelander says with a chuckle, making you smile at him.
Suddenly you hear Ryan come running down the stairs and that makes you break out in a grin as he comes into the kitchen with a huge grin on your face.
“You’re still here,” Ryan says with happiness written all over his face alongside the huge smile on his lips. He comes up and wraps his tiny arms around your waist giving you a squeeze and you wince a little. When he usually hugs you, he’s gentle but sometimes he forgets his own strength and squeezes a bit too hard. But it never caused any long term damage and you could handle it since he was so happy to see you.
“Of course I am buddy I would never leave without saying goodbye to you,” You say leaning down and kissing his forehead while putting your arms around his shoulders giving him a squeeze too, not as hard as his but a squeeze nonetheless. “But I am going to have to go home soon you know that right,” You say not wanting to lead the poor kid on that you’re staying here forever.
“No I don’t want you to go,” Ryan sternly mumbled into your stomach as you felt his shoulders stiffen and you looked up and saw Homelander with a melancholy expression on his face and you frown in confusion.
“I know Ryan but you know you’ll see me soon, I’m not going to up and leave you forever,” You try to reassure him but giving his head a light caress.
“But why can’t you just stay here, it would be easier for you, and you wouldn’t have to drive here everyday and-and you wouldn’t be worried about the time,” Ryans words stumbled out of his mouth.
You didn’t know what to say to that, it was still obvious that Ryan wanted you here all the time and now it was bigger than the first day you met him and your heart started to race as the thought that you let this happen. You didn’t want to hurt Ryan, he’s such a sweet boy and you never want him to be sad but you can’t just break these boundaries. Even though deep down you know you’ve already broken a lot of boundaries.
“Ryan sweetie I know you don’t want me to leave but-,” You say but you were interrupted by Ryan.
“No don’t leave, please just don’t leave, dad make her stay,” Ryan says as he starts to cry into your stomach and you feel your throat start to dry up and your eyes begin to water.
His arms tightened a bit more and you held in a whimper not wanting to upset Ryan even more, you knew he didn’t want to hurt you so you just stood there and caressed his hair trying to remain calm.
“I know you’re upset Ryan and and you just- your dad can’t-,” You began to say again but this time you were interrupted by the man you were talking about and you were relieved at first but once the words came out of his mouth your heart rate increased.
“Okay I’ve had enough of this I didn’t want this to be today but it can’t go on like this anymore, you’re staying here and that’s final,” Homelander sternly said pointing this finger at you as you stood there agape at what he just said.
You could feel yourself stiffen and begin to sweat a bit as nervousness began to set and you swallowed as you tried to keep your calm but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat. Suddenly there was this knot in your stomach, the type of know that made you want to throw up and pass out, but with Ryan’s vice grip around you couldn’t even move.
“Homelander- John I can’t just stay here I don’t live here,” You rush out as you try to keep your breathing calm.
“Well know you do,” Homelander snapped. “I know this might be upsetting for you at first but soon you’ll love it here and I know you love it here when you come here everyday so why not just stay here,” He says trying to calm you down as he hears your heart increase and your breathing become more shallow.
“Because I don’t fucking live here John,” You snap giving him an angry look as Ryan nuzzles into your stomach and you can tell he’s starting more anxious due to the fighting but right now his father was being unreasonable.
“Hey you watch your language in front of my son,” Homelander snaps at and you swore you could see his glow red for a second and then you felt your stomach fall to your ass as your hands began to shake while you were caressing Ryan’s head.
You tried to say something but nothing came out as your breathing became more and more erratic as the reality of your situation began to flood your head. You felt a few tears roll down your face as you bit your lip trying to keep your sobs in. Breathing in and out you tried to calm yourself down but it wasn’t helping. When panic attacks usually happen to you, doing that usually helps but it’s not.
Homelander closed his eyes as he listened to your uneven breathing. This isn’t how he wanted to do this but, Ryan was freaking out and it was going to happen sooner or later so he just figured that why it not me now. He knew it would take time for you to settle but soon it would be like paradise for all three of you, he knew it.
“Okay Ryan bud,” Homelander came around the kitchen island to put his hand on Ryan’s other shoulder to get his attention as you looked up at him with fear in your eyes. “Why don’t go outside and play for a bit while me and Y/N talk okay,” He says, squeezing his shoulder.
“Why,” Ryan grumbled into your stomach and you closed your eyes as you felt Homelanders hand run down your arm.
“We just need to talk and situate everything,” Homelanders said. “Don’t worry she’s not leaving you can count on it,” He says as he gives you a look. Ryan doesn’t move and Homelander sighs. “Isn’t that right Y/N you’re not going to leave,” He says and Ryan looks up at you.
“Uh yeah,” You say as a tear trails down your cheek you put your hand on Ryan’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, I'm staying,” You say with a tremble in your voice.
Ryan nods and gives you one last squeeze before running out. You rub your sides as you try to keep calm. You stand completely still as Homelander approaches you and puts his hands on your cheeks wiping the tears. You let out a little whimper not knowing what he was going to do.
“Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you, I would never hurt you,” Homelander says at least not on purpose he thinks. “I know this must be hard to deal with but trust me when everything falls into place you are going to LOVE it, you won’t have to worry about anything any more,” He says giving you a pleading look.
“Homelander-Homelander-,” You stutter trying to begin your sentence but you were interrupted again by him.
“Don’t call me that, call me John,” Homelander says with annoyance coming across his features.
“John,” You begin to say. “I know it must be hard being a single dad but I-I can’t stay here,” You tremble underneath his hands as he looks at you in what you could describe as disappointment.
“Yes you can, you can stay here and take care of Ryan and take care of me, you can quit your job, you won’t have to worry about having to pay bills anymore, or about how you’re gonna eat with what money you have. You won’t have to worry about the guy who keeps fucking harassing everytime you leave your apartment. You just won’t have to worry,” Homelanders rants and your face looks as if you’ve seen a ghost. “I love you,” He whispers as he
You’ve never told him about your money problems. You never told him about your neighbor Ted who keeps flirting with you and groping you, and that information makes you stare up at him in shock. But on the other hand it feels nice to have someone wanting to take care of you, to care about you, to make sure you’re okay. Someone just to love you. You haven't been in a relationship in such a longtime that this is making you almost want to smile up at him.
“John I-I If you felt this way about me this isn’t how you go about it, you ask me on a date and then we work up to it,” You say, hesitantly raising your hand and putting your hand on his cheek giving it a gentle caress.
“I knew you weren’t going to like this but it’s a part of the risk, I need you here, and I know in due time you'll realize how right I am,” Homelander whispers as his lips hover over yours.
“I-I what about my stuff? What about my life?,” You say as the panic starts to come back.
“Don’t worry I’ll go and get it and you’ll feel like you’re just at home,” Homelander says before giving you a short peck on the lips. “Now,” He claps. “That's settled, I can finally relax and eat those pancakes that you made,” He says before sitting down.
You give him a wary look as he gives you a wink before delving into the food.
It’s been a few days since the whole Homelander kept you here and you were in denial for a bit. You thought he would send you home and that this whole thing was a prank and you could go on with your normal life.
But reality sunk in when Homelander moved your stuff into the room you slept in. You cried yourself to sleep that night not knowing what you were going to do. But you were woken up to Ryan shaking you and going on and on about how happy he was that you were here.
You didn’t want to admit it but it made you happy that Ryan was so happy to have you here but you wanted to keep a hold of your sanity, not wanting to fall into the trap. But you knew that you were going to give in, it was just a matter of time and you also knew that you didn’t mind it.
The past few days though Homelander has barely been at the house making you wonder if you could actually get away with packing and leaving. You could just run but it didn’t matter anymore, he would find you. No matter what. How could you run from him, he probably had eyes on you this whole time. You didn’t want to be on the reciprocating end of his anger so you just decided to stay put.
Another reason was Ryan. You didn’t want to leave him alone. You didn’t want him to feel abandoned by you, he’s already been through so much and you did want to help him and in the end you just decided that you would suck it up for Ryan. You would do this for him.
And he was so happy every day when he woke up he came to your room and climbed into your bed whilst resting his head on your chest. The two of you talked like it was just a normal day and you wanted it to stay like that.
But while Homelander was gone, you found yourself missing him, maybe this was Stockholm settling in but your heart was starting to ache for him. You wanted to feel his touch and feel his love, you couldn't keep that from him, he would just hear your heartbeat.
On the fifth night you were sitting on the couch with a glass of wine as you watched tv. You just put Ryan to bed a few hours ago and you wanted to catch up on some of the tv shows you watched.
Suddenly a whoosh made you jump a little and turn around to see Homelander standing there with a look of sadness on his face. His shoulders were slumped as he looked at you and it made you want to coo at him and ask what’s the matter.
“John, where’ve you been,” You say softly as he shakes his head softly and feels his heart race at the thought of you being worried.
“You’re not mad at me…. Anymore?” Homelander questions with a sullen tone and with a little pout on his lips that almost made your lips quick in a smirk but decided against it just in case that would make him angry.
“John you have to understand why I’m mad, you’d be angry if you were in my position, hell you’d probably set the house on fire if you were in my position,” You say with a tiny chuckle.
“I just don’t want to make you angry at me, I did what I did for my son and…. For you,” Homelander whispers as rounds the couch you were sitting on and points at the seat next to it subtly asking you if he could sit.
You nod and he sits next you and his body stiffens as he does not know what to do. You notice his saddened look and you feel your heart skip a beat at that.
“C’mere,” You sigh, opening your arms and the two of you lay down on the couch with Homelanders neck nuzzled into your neck and you running your fingers through his hair and he lets out a sigh of relief.
Meanwhile your other hand carefully caresses down his back trying to make him more happy and as you place a kiss on his forehead, you can feel him smile into your neck making your heart race.
His hands carefully wrap around your waist as he minds his strength while hugging you. This is heaven to him. This is what makes him happy.
As you keep running your fingers through his hair, he rubs his nose against your clavicle and gives you a few kisses there that makes a shiver run down your spine and you don’t want him to notice but he does and he gives your hip a squeeze. He knows you don’t want to admit it deep down that you like it but he can feel that you do. You love it.
“I’m glad we’re finally making progress,” Homelander whispers into your ear giving you a kiss right below it and you shake your head and chortle. “You’ll love it soon enough.”
“I just know it.”
And deep down he was right and you knew that.
#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander x oc#homelander x y/n#homelander x you#homelander imagine#homelander headcanons#homelander smut#ryan butcher#the boys x reader#the boys x oc#the boys x you#the boys x y/n#the boys smut#the boys imagine#the boys headcanons#the boys
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At First Sight (Homelander Drabble)
(aka: Knock em' off his feet) Homelander x F!Reader (18+)
+ His first time seeing you. Actually, he's seen you in his peripheral a handful of times. This? This is when he gets a good, long, look at you. He's a little stuck to say the least.
Words: 657 (Short & sweet, I just couldn't help making a point.)
A/N: Oh how I LOVE down bad man. You can't watch the show and not know that whoever has his affection HAS him. This is my first fic on this blog, I've written a lot before, deleted my blog, and came back, Maybe this will bring me back in, who knows. (Ask box open).
Warnings: Cursing, Homelander craving you, a little too wanting.
+ + +
Homelander likes you. No, listen, Homelander likes you. These days he’s so brazen with it, and you can hardly walk into the same room as him without buzzing under his stare. However, I wanna start it off a little slow at least. He started it off slow at least. Kind of.
It’s your third week in when he takes a good look at you. A rushed mission brief is called and Ashley, idiot, decides now is the time to try out a new presentation method. Handouts. She’s so fucking proud of herself when she steps to the front of the room and says, “I want to ensure everyone has a thorough analysis of the plan, as well as some facts about the landscape that I think—“
Oh please, he’s so close to asking her if she was shaken as an infant when he notices you. Supe by supe you walk around, placing a sheet of paper in front of everyone, & God the sight of you. You know how hard it is for someone to catch him off guard? You do it instantly, unknowingly, unabashedly. Honestly, it’s your eyes – wait – your lips. He can’t stop looking at your lips. Then you smile at The Deep and he has to sit back in his seat a little bit, scooch down, and lean over, chin in hand just to get a good look at you. You’re just about to reach Noir when Ashley musters up the gumption to ask, “Homelander, how would you feel about starlight leading this mission while you stay as backup?”
He’s almost too slow to take his eyes off you, but he does & laughs incredulously at Ashley. “Why would I do that?”
She actually quick steps towards him, hand extended holding a sheet of paper, & places it in front of him before you can make it. “We’re working to establish your image with our female audience, ages 25 through 45, as a softer protector.” She says softer with a wince, like she can hear how fucked it sounds. He’s annoyed, and has to deep breathe his way out of showing it. What the fuck is he reading? It's a mess of statistics and a – quite honestly –l ameass excuse for a game plan that he’s happy to pass on to StarLight. Ashley finishes with “Currently you’re doing amazing with our male audience, but we’d like to shift towards a team player, lover of women image.”
He’s a lover. Through and through, and sometimes hard to find. It’s there though, eventually you’ll get it.
You walk behind him, and reach beside him to place a sheet down in front of Queen Mauve. You smell good. He tilts his head just enough to catch a sight of you without being too honest about it. You’re a sight. You know that? It’s enough to make his eyes drag down your body, stopping at your ass and then making a slow track down your legs. He’s a dog about it, and internally says fuck it, because then his eyes are back up and locked on yours.
He hears your heart jump a little, but you’re a pro, because you just smile it off —fuck, you’re beautiful — and say “Good morning.” Before walking away.
Fuck off, ‘Good morning’ , he’s salivating.
“Good morning” he says kindly.
He hasn’t been this turned on, this quickly in a long time. For a human at that? You’re a new feeling, one he can’t even tell if he’s comfortable with. So he’s gotta lock his eyes back on Ashley and pretend like he isn’t gonna think about you later. “Yeah, absolutely –” He waves his hand, & smiles, “– let’s show some girl power, huh?”
One last glance at you, and you’re looking right at him. He doesn’t even hide his stares this time. His dick jumps a little at the fact that you don’t look away, and he makes a mental note to get your name after this.
+++
A/N: *Screams in wanting him*
#the boys#Homelander#The boys fic#homelander x reader#homelander fanfiction#homelander x you#the boys series#the boys tv#Kash Writes#fanfic
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You're My Best Friend (Homelander x Reader)
Summary: Homelander was a test tube baby, raised in isolation in a cold, clinical lab. But that doesn’t inspire America, does it? Vought tasks you with creating the idyllic backstory for its hero, and what starts as a limited comic run spirals out of control when Homelander himself demands your help in making the story a reality.
Note: Gender neutral reader, but no other descriptors are used. Based on a request by @crash-and-cure as well as a bastardization of one of the sweetest love songs ever written (sorry, John Deacon!) This got kinda meta? Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Emotional manipulation, I guess some gaslighting on Homelander’s part? Do not interact if you’re under 18.
When Vought hired you to create their long-awaited Homelander origin comic series, you were thrilled—until they gave you so little information about his childhood to work with, you weren’t even sure you could come up with one comic, let alone the ten they requested. The details about his childhood were minimal, not even a full printed page—a loving mom and dad, played baseball, did well in school, strong sense of justice from a young age, his friends called him “Johnny.” Your requests to meet with Homelander so you could get some stories from the man himself were constantly denied.
You almost considered dropping the project, until you decided to throw caution to the wind and pull from your own childhood and set it in good ol’ generic suburbia. Some of the storylines were based on your own experiences or things that had happened to people you’d grown up with, though you changed enough names and details to not link it to anyone in particular. Except yourself, of course. Using a pseudonym professionally meant you felt no need to change your own name in the comics. Sure, making your cooler fictionalized self Homelander’s childhood best friend was a bit self-indulgent, but no one would know, really.
To your relief, the editors at Vought loved your ideas, making minor changes before bringing the storylines to their comic artists to bring it to life. The result was Finding Homelander: A Boy’s Journey To Be a Hero. The issues flew off shelves when they were first released, ironically praised for their relatability and authenticity. Vought extended your contract, asking you to produce the cartoon adaptation and another ten issues.
Still, in all of that, you’d never met Homelander. A representative from Vought emailed you to let you know to tune in to his interview on a talk show one day, saying that he’d be talking more about the cartoon project on it. You recognized the host, Tracey, always chipper and having some extravagant giveaway for her audience members. Daytime TV was never your thing, though.
“I think what resonates with so many people is how relatable your childhood is,” Tracey said, holding up a copy of Finding Homelander issue #3, where he saved ‘you’ from getting hit in the face with a baseball at one of his games, catching it with ease. It’d been the happy ending to a short storyline of him struggling to find his place on the team and you encouraging him to not give up. “You and Y/N were pretty close, do you still keep in touch?”
“You know, Tracey, not as much as I’d like, unfortunately. Adulthood can be so busy, you need to cherish those childhood memories,” Homelander said. “I did give them a call when the comics first came out, and wow, the laughs we had over those old antics of ours. Talk about a walk down memory lane!”
You guessed the bullshitting was all part of the promotional circuit for Homelander. Knowing this childhood of his was your own fabrication, you couldn’t help but wonder what else about him was fake. Maybe he wanted to maintain his privacy, you could certainly understand that. You couldn’t shake the voice in the back of your mind that said it wasn’t so simple, that the narrative Vought pushed was a cover to hide something in Homelander’s past.
“Now, I’ve heard rumors of a cartoon show based on the comics in the making, is this true?”
“It is! I’m excited for this project, getting back to my ‘roots’ so to speak. I’ll be voicing myself, of course, but it’s funny you’d bring up Y/N, because they’ve agreed to voice themself, too.”
“How fun!” Tracey exclaimed over the roar of the talk show crowd’s applause and cheers. “I guess this is the hopeless romantic in me, but I hope this reconnection leads to something a little more. I’m just a sucker for childhood sweethearts!”
Homelander laughed along with the host’s giggles, “Well, you never know.”
You balked at the television, mouth agape. Surely he couldn’t be talking about you. ‘Y/N’ could be anyone with your same features. Vought had probably hired a professional voice actor for the role and were pushing the authenticity angle. The whole situation felt odd.
When you checked your work email again on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor.
SUBJECT: Meeting with Homelander This Week
The email contained a list of days and times throughout the week wherein Homelander would be free, apparently wanting to meet you to thank you for the success of the comic series and discuss upcoming work. Yeah. That last part you sure as hell wanted to discuss too. You responded with the soonest time available, in a meeting room in Vought Tower the following evening. As soon as you hit ‘send’, you wondered what exactly you were getting yourself into.
Anticipation filled your gut as you went about your day leading up to meeting the supe himself. What would he be like, really be like? Was there even a version of Homelander that wasn’t hopelessly manufactured for the masses? You knew then that his upbringing was a lie, and thus stood the probability that so much else was, too.
When you stepped into that meeting room, you hadn’t been expecting his face to light up at the sight of you.
“Homelander, hi, it’s great to—“
“No need to be so formal, Y/N! You can call me Johnny, just like old times,” he said cheerfully, in on a joke you clearly hadn’t been aware of.
“Sorry, Johnny,” you said, playing along. “It’s great to see you again.”
He pulled you in for an unexpected hug that you returned. “Figured we should catch up before things really start getting crazy, don’t you think?”
You nodded, your nose brushing against him as you did so. Just as your lips parted to offer an apology, he smiled, shooing away the assistant who’d accompanied him out of the room.
He sat down, motioning for you to do the same.
“Gotta say, I’m a fan of your work,” he said.
“Thank you,” you said. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what’s going on, though.”
“What’s there to understand? I’m not allowed to know more about my best friend, our lives together growing up?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“Wasn’t hard for me to put two and two together, but considering everyone else around here has their head up their asses, they have no idea,” he said, before lowering his voice conspiratorially and giving you a charming smile. “I haven’t told anyone. What’s a secret between friends?”
You nodded, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention on you. “What do you want to know?”
He sighed, resting his head on his hand. “Everything.”
So you told him. Not quite everything, of course, but enough to abate his curiosity. At least for the time being. His interviews were sharper, more specific with details rather than rattling off whatever had been in the comics. You watched in shock as convincing photos of his Little League days were posted to his social media accounts, anecdotes provided by his increasingly frequent conversations–or more like interrogation sessions–with you, but in his style, of course. It was almost scary what the graphic design team at Vought could accomplish, not that you’d ever know how, exactly, as they were all under the same strict NDA that you were.
He started spending more time with you, too, and after a while, it did seem like you were old friends. Part of you flinched whenever you called him Johnny, because Johnny wasn’t even real, but with your complacency, this fabrication was slowly morphing into a strikingly tangible memory. With each conversation, he drew you deeper into the world you’d been paid to create for him until you found yourself slipping up.
You’d been showing him a goofy stuffed monkey on your desk, a cute little thing with big sparkling eyes. A prize for getting two out of three at the ring toss. Probably spent more money winning it than it was actually worth, but it was about the effort, the memories made.
“You remember, don’t you? You won it for me at the county fair,” you said without thinking.
He laughed in agreement, as if he actually had. Except he hadn’t. Your high school boyfriend won it for you a week before graduation. Sensing the mood shift, he set down your prize and looked at you with the same intensity he had when you first met.
“It’s been a while since we were there, huh?” he said. “Why don’t we go back?”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “Go where?”
“Home.”
With a strong arm around your waist, he took off for your hometown. You could hardly tell which way was up or down, he was flying so high, but he didn’t seem to mind the way you clung to him at all. When he finally landed, you recognized the community baseball field where all of his fictional games were set.
“Geez, it’s like nothing’s changed,” he said cheerfully.
You looked at him in disbelief. How long was he going to expect you to go along with it? Or maybe the question you should have been asking was, how long were you going to enable him? The end wasn’t anywhere in sight as he took your hand, and you walked him through your childhood, further enmeshing him in it until you arrived at the house you grew up in.
The middle of the day, no one was home, and so you let yourselves in like you owned the place. Suddenly, the house seemed too small for a man like Homelander to occupy, but he was engrossed in the details of it. He scanned the kitchen, no doubt inspecting the contents of the fridge and cabinets with his x-ray vision. Moving onto the living room, he stared at photos on the wall, the magazines and DVDs that were strewn on the coffee table, giving away your parents’ taste in entertainment.
“Which one was your room again?” he asked.
You swore you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as you wordlessly led him to your room. Each step down the hall felt dangerous, as if you were about to walk into a trap. Face-to-face with the closed door, you opened it, standing aside while Homelander looked around, from what you had hanging on the walls to the knick-knacks you’d left behind.
An uncomfortable tension settled over the room when Homelander closed the door of your childhood bedroom. An odd blend of hurt and amusement spread across his face as he observed the way you were eyeing him, body ready to fruitlessly run from him the way a rabbit would a hawk.
“C’mon, after how long we’ve been friends, I would never hurt you,” he said, as if reading your mind. “We’ve been through so much together. I mean, we were each other’s first kiss.”
You froze. Issue #9. That was something Vought’s editors had added, claiming a romance angle would make the series appeal to the younger female demographic. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.
He slyly backed you into the wall, leaning over you as you slinked down the slightest bit.
“Show me how we did it,” he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. “So clumsy and nervous, I can even feel you…quivering.”
“Homelander, I don’t know what you’re—“
He tsked. “Y/N.”
You let out a shaky breath, “Johnny—“
He hummed in satisfaction. “It’s alright. I know it’s been a while.”
You let him kiss you, sweetly in a way that put your actual first kiss to shame. His lips were soft against yours, his tender movements intentional as he cradled your face, pulling you the slightest bit closer to him when you kissed him back.
A sense of familiarity settled over you, warm and comforting like pulling a blanket out of the dryer on a chilly evening. Every time it seemed like you were beginning to overthink the situation with Homelander, he drew you back in with the kiss, a more than effective distraction until you pulled away with a dazed smile on your face.
#homelander x reader#homelander x you#the boys x reader#the boys x you#the boys tv#the boys amazon#homelander#homelander the boys#the boys
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Storm.
Pairing: Homelander x Supe!F!Reader
Summary: You are a supe, part of The Seven and Homelander's girlfriend. What started as a PR relationship, turned into a real relationship when Homelander managed to wear you down. Now you were pregnant with his baby. The first supe baby, born from two supe parents.
Warning: Homelander. Heavy swearing. Toxic and abusive relationship. Homelander''s weird milk thing. Body shaming(of A-train)
Homelander was completely and utterly fucking infatuated with you from the mere second you joined The Seven. He wanted you from the second his eyes landed on you. And like always, Homelander got his way. It took a few months, lots of persuasion, and a forced PR relationship before he finally wore you down.
It was months into your fake relationship that you gave in to the many advances he made toward you. One night together and your whole fucking life changed. Before you knew it, you were his and there wasn’t a single thing you could do. You just had to accept it.
The man was nearly obsessed with you. He wanted you by his side all the time. And when he couldn’t have you with him, he’d track your phone and constantly text you. He dictated who you talked to, what you wore, what you did. Every last thing of your life.
You had learned to live with it, and a part of you had started to get feelings for the man. Almost like Stockholm syndrome. You couldn’t help but love the only man who gave you love and attention.
But things for you quickly turned upside down when you found out you were pregnant. You went to doctors within Vought, when your powers started acting out. The live electricity inside your body ran wild. Like a live wire and sometimes you barely had control over it.
That’s when they informed you the baby inside your womb was interfering with your powers, short-circuiting you. You didn’t believe them until they showed you the sonogram. A baby. Your baby. You were left confused and scared when they told you, you were four weeks pregnant.
You knew supes could have children. There were many supes who had children with none supes. But their was no baby with two supe parents. And with the tight leash Homelander had on you, only he could be the father.
You had always wanted children but many years ago, Vought told you, you couldn’t have children. Because, unlike most supes, you weren’t injected with compound V. You were a test tube baby just like Homelander. Neither of you was supposed to be able to procreate and it left you even more confused in scared.
So much so, that it was now two weeks later and you still hadn’t uttered a word to Homelander. He wasn’t stupid, he quickly realized something was wrong with you. He could see and smell the change in your body. And soon he’d be able to hear it.
For a few days now, he could hear a soft thud, a heartbeat that grew stronger every day. He was unable to find the source and it was driving him crazy. Unaware he was hearing the development of his baby’s heartbeat.
It was in The Seven’s meeting room, on a Monday morning when everything came out from under wraps. You were sitting with the rest of the group, listening to Homelander go on and on about the weeks stats.
He was visibly irritated and growing even more irritated by the second. His ranting was cut off by a long silence as he inhaled sharply. His jaw clenched as he closed his eyes, taking another deep breath.
“What’s that sound?” He asked in a low voice as his gaze darted around the room.
Everyone looked between each other and Homelander in confusion. “What sound?” Maeve asked as she stared up at him with furrowed eyebrows, her head tilting to the side.
“A heartbeat.” He muttered in a low voice, and it didn’t even register in your mind what he was getting at. There were a lot of people in the room with beating hearts and you weren’t aware the tiny baby inside had started developing its own.
Maeve’s eyes squinted as she looked at Homelander like he had gone crazy. Everyone in the room did. “Well, there’s six breathing people with heartbeats in here with you…” She muttered as she glanced between the rest of you.
“I can hear seven.” He muttered and at that very moment, it clicked inside your head. Your heart clenched in your chest and Homelander’s gaze accusingly shot towards you. He stared you down as he focused on you, realizing the sound was coming from you.
“What?” Starlight questioned his words as her eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head as she shared a confused look with Maeve.
You struggled to tear your eyes away from Homelander’s piercing gaze. You softly cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your chair. “I have to go to the bathroom.” You muttered softly as you felt a wave of nausea rise up in the back of your throat.
You felt Homelander’s scorching hot gaze on you as you rushed out of the room. As you stalked down the hall, there were sparks of blue coming from your hands, and the lightbulbs on the ceiling and walls burst as you passed them. Everyone in the hallway was lucky it was only the bulbs and not them being fried to a crisp.
You rushed into the bathroom and as you burst into a stall and fell to your knees, you brought up everything you had eaten that morning. The lights in the room flicked and then went eye-blinding bright before the bulbs burst.
When you were done, you grabbed toilet paper and wiped your mouth. You listened as the door to the bathroom slowly creaked open and heavy footsteps entered. You sighed softly, tossing the toilet paper in the toilet and flushing before you got up to your feet.
With a deep breath, you stepped out of the stall, your gaze immediately meeting Homelander’s. he stood near the door, hands clasped together behind his back and his jaw tightly wired shut. He silently stared at you for a second, his face eerily blank of emotion.
You stood at the entrance of the stall, eyebrows knitting together with fear as you stared back at him. His eyes squinted as his head tilted to the side. “How long have you known?”He asked in a low voice.
You took a shaky breath as your gaze diverted to the ground. “Homelander-” You spoke up, trying to explain yourself to him, but you were quickly cut off by him.
“How fucking long?” He repeated his question, his voice louder now as he took two small steps closer to you. Steps that terrified you.
You silently stared at him for a second before taking a deep breath, your heart completely sinking into the pit of your stomach. “Two weeks.” You whispered as your gaze diverted down to the ground again.
“Two weeks? Two fucking weeks?” He snapped his eyes getting eerily wide as he stared at you. His arms dropped to his sides and his hands clenched into fists. “And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?” He questioned as he raised his eyebrows.
You look up at him again, your head tilting to the side as you sigh, shaking your head. “I-” You desperately tried to explain yourself but he didn’t give you a second to explain yourself. He didn’t want your excuses, he just wanted answers.
“Is it mine?” He asked in a low voice, his head tilting to the side as he took a few more steps closer towards you. His steps were extremely slow yet so determined that it scared you even more.
Your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback by the question. “What?” You asked softly, confused about why he would question your loyalty towards him. At the very least, that was something you always gave him. Even in the beginning when your relationship was a PR stunt, you were loyal to the end.
You gasped as Homelander launched forward. His arm stretched out, his hand wrapping around your neck. He yanked you out of the stall and slammed you against the wall beside it. “Did you let someone else fuck you?” He asked in a low voice as he leaned his face inches away from yours. “Is that why you’re scared to tell me?” He asked as his lips pulled back into a snarl.
“No!” You snapped as blue sparks ran through your vein and Homelander gave you a pointed warning look. You knew better than to shock or electrocute him. And even if your raging hormones did fuck up your powers, you still managed to settle the electricity running through your veins, with just one look from the man.
“Is it mine?” He asked you in a low voice, his grip tightening around your neck. If you were any mere human, he’d have snapped your neck in half, but to you, his grip was barely enough to leave a bruise. “Is it fucking mine?” He repeated his question when you didn’t answer fast enough
“Yes, it is.” You replied with a slight nod of your head and his grip loosened around your neck. You shoved his hand away before stepping towards the bathroom sink, rinsing out your mouth with the cold water.
“Because I’m scared!” You snapped as you turned around to face him, and he was ever so slightly taken aback by your outburst of emotions. You had always been good at keeping yourself calm and collected. This was a new sight for him. “I’m fucking scared!” You yelled, your voice cracking as your eyes filled with tears. “They told me I couldn’t ever have children! And now here I am and I don’t fucking know what’s going on!” You ranted as you sighed deeply. “I’m scared…for the first time in my life, I’m scared.” You admitted.
He watched you, his hands clasped together behind his back again. His jaw clenched for a second. “Then why the fuck did you not tell me?” He asked as he raised his eyebrows.
He silently stared at you for a second before stepping closer. He leaned down so that his face was inches away from yours and he stared into your eyes. “You should have come to me the second you found out.” He muttered in a low voice. “I fucking deserved to know.”
You sighed as you lowered your head, sniffing softly and wiping at your teary eyes. “I know…I’m sorry.” You whispered as you shook your head.
Homelander took hold of your chin and lifted your head until your gaze met his. “You will not keep this baby from me, if that was your plan.” He warned as he slowly shook his head before pulling you closer. “I will rip it from your fucking womb if I have to, but you won’t keep it from me.” He threatened.
You took a shaky breath, knowing Homelander didn’t bluff. You sniffed again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You whispered as you stared up at him with blurry eyes. “I was planning to…I was just waiting for the right time.” You explained before reaching out and taking his hand into yours and placing it against your stomach. “It’s our baby… I won’t keep it from you.” You assured.
Homelander stared down at your stomach, eyes slightly widening when he focused on the heartbeat of your baby. His baby. His lips parted and you swore you could almost see awe in his eyes. He was completely starstruck by what was inside your womb.
Homelander was truly fucking proud of this accomplishment. A baby that will be born from two supes. A baby the first of its kind. His baby.
He was proud enough of this baby, to force Madelyn to call a press meeting to reveal the joyful news to the world. Every news outlet in America was standing in front of the small podium that was set up in front of the Vought building. A few fans had arrived as well.
It was only you and Homelander on the podium. He stood in front of the microphone and you stood next to him, gaze drifting over the many people who had showed up to hear your news. You couldn’t believe so many people cared about supe news. About news regarding you and Homelander.
“You might all be wondering why we’re standing up here today.” Homelander began speaking as he looked over the crowd. “We have some very exciting news to share.” He informed them as he glanced at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to his side. “As you all know, me and Y/n have been going steady for a while now, and we have just received news that we are expecting a baby together.” He said.
The crowds of fans went absolutely crazy. They cheered and screamed for you and Homelander. Camera’s flashed from the news crews and a few congratulations were shouted out from both crowds of fans and news crews.
“Thank you,” Homelander called out as a proud smile tugged at his lips and he held up a single hand to quiet the people down. “Now you have all heard of supes being made by compound V, or supe babies being born from a supe and normal human.” He said before inhaling sharply and shaking his head. His arm unwrapped from your waist and he laced a hand on your stomach, making more cameras flash. “But not our baby. Our baby is the first to be born from two supes. It has been made by our love and will grow in its mother’s womb. It will not be made from an injection, but born from this wonderful woman.” He spoke before turning his head to face you, flashing you a smile. You returned his smile and reached out, placing your hand on top of his, making more cameras flash. “This…this is an important and remarkable thing.”
The crowds cheered again and then a few questions were asked by the news crew. General questions, about how far along you were, if you knew the gender, if you two wanted a boy or girl. After all was answered everything was wrapped up.
New spread fucking quickly and twenty minutes later your and Homelander’s baby was trending number one on every social media platform. Everyone was talking about the baby, your baby. You had always gotten a lot of attention as not only a supe but as part of The Seven. But now you got an overwhelming amount of attention from everyone surrounding you.
The most overwhelming and overbearing was Homelander. He now micro-managed your life even more than before. And he was around you almost twenty-four hours of the day. In completed total, you have maybe an hour's worth of time to yourself throughout the day.
You sat in the living room of Homelander’s penthouse. After finding out you were pregnant, he had you move in with him permanently. He stepped inside, returning from a meeting with the rest of The Seven. You were on maternity leave, even if you were barely just entering your second trimester now. Homealnder’s orders. He didn’t want you or the bay anywhere near danger.
He walked into the living room, eyebrows furrowing at the box of pizza lying on his coffee table. He stared at it for a second before turning to stare at you. “What’s this?” He asked as he pointed down at the box.
You glanced at the box and then at Homelander, eyebrows furrowing. “Pizza?” You replied softly as your head slightly tilted to the side.
His jaw clenched and he took a deep breath as he glared at you, his eyes squinting. He reached down and opened the pizza box, lips twitching into a snarl when he saw it was empty. “You’re feeding our kid this fucking junk?” He questioned as he slapped the box off the table and turned his glare back to you.
You stared at the box on the ground before turning to look at Homelander, standing up with a huff. “It’s your fucking kid that wants it.” You snapped at him as you ran a hand over your growing bump. “It’s all it wants.” You muttered as your lips pouted out into a frown.
Homelander took a step towards you and placed a hand on your stomach. While his touch was gentle his demeanor towards you was still very much hostile. “You are supposed to be taking care of our child inside you.” He muttered in a low voice. “Pizza is not fucking taking care of it.” He gritted out as he stared at you with his usual eerie wide eyes glare.
You sighed and rolled your eyes. “For fuck sake, pizza is not going to hurt it.” You muttered with a shake of your head.
Homelander sighed deeply in agitation. “I don’t care how much you or the baby wants pizza, from now on you’re eating fucking healthy.” He ordered as he gave you a pointed look. “I don’t want a kid with a gut the size of A-train’s.” He snapped.
He turned around and walked off towards the bedroom with his hands clasped together behind his back. You sighed again and looked down at you bump, softly running a hand over it. “It’s okay, what daddy doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” You whispered to your baby.
Homelander turned around at the entrance of the bedroom door. “I can fucking hear you.” He informed you as his jaw clenched. “Do not test me on this, Y/n.” He warned as he pointed a finger at you before turning back around again and going into the bedroom.
You rolled your eyes and plopped yourself down on the couch. Nothing got easier as your pregnancy progressed. Homelander was even more controlling and more protective. But he was dotting on you, you would at the very least give him that.
He was aware of every change in your body before you were even aware, and he was very conscious of both your and the baby’s health. He was always listening in on both your heartbeats and using his x-ray vision. That’s how you both came to know, that even now at four months, your baby was like the two of you. He was a supe.
Like most nights, Homelander lay with his head on your lap, ear pressed against your small growing bump. He truly did love hearing your baby’s heartbeat. Just like he noticed every other change in your body, he noticed when your milk was starting to come in.
With his head on your lap, he stared up at you. Your eyes were fixated on the tv screen that played some old supe movie, but you were extremely aware of Homelander’s eyes on your face. You tried to ignore him but it was hard when one of his hands reached up and brushed over one of your breasts.
“Your milk is coming in.” He commented.
Your eyebrows furrowed and your gaze shot towards him. “Yeah…” You muttered with a slow nod of your head.
“I can smell it.” He informed you as his gaze focused on your breasts.
Your head tilted to the side and your eyes squinted. By now you should have been used to Homelander not having a filter but sometimes he still managed to catch you off guard. “That’s not a fucking strange thing to say to the mother of your child.” You muttered softly as you raised your eyebrows at him.
His gaze met yours for a brief second before returning to your breasts, his hand still brushing over them as well. He seemed almost fascinated and intrigued. “It smells…like vanilla.” He commented and your eyebrows furrowed again. He was silent for a second before his lips parted.“Bet it tastes like vanilla too.” He added.
You stared down at him in confusion. This wouldn’t be the last time he has a facination with your breasts or your breasts milk. As more milk comes in, the more fasinated he becomes. You began pumping right before your due date and more than once did you catch Homelander drinking your stored milk.
It was after the second time you caught him and complaining about aching breasts, that he suggested something that would benefit you both. It took a lot of persuasion and even threats before Homelander got his way.
Before you knew it, every night he would lay his head gently on your bump and drink any milk that you didn’t pump for the day. The first few times you hated it, but you would admit it brought a great relief to your aching breasts. And then you just got used to it.
Admittedly, the ‘bonding’ time between you and Homelander did bring you closer and brought something new to your relationship. Now you were dependent on each other in more ways than one. And you were both fucked in the head in more ways than one.
Soon you were preparing for the birth of your son. Everyone inside the delivery room was on fucking edge as Homelander watched their every move. He questioned every action they made, every tool they picked up, and every word they said. And he nearly fucking killed the male doctor when he went to check how far dilated you were when you first got to the delivery room.
Your delivery only got worse once you were in active labor. You had burst every lightbulb in the room at first and then caused a power outage on the whole grid. But it wasn’t just your powers stirring up. While giving birth, a massive storm had settled in the skies. A sunny and warm sky turned to dark clouds with heavy downpour and lightning within mere seconds.
Your son was born screaming and the storm outside grew heavier. It was only when he was placed on your chest that both he and the storm outside calmed down.
Homelander followed the nurses like a shadow as they cleaned the baby and ran some necessary tests to make sure he was healthy, as both a baby and a supe. You were resting in the room when Homelander came back, cradling the newborn in his arms. “My son.” He spoke softly to the baby as a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re perfect.”
You sat up in the hospital bed as Homelander approached you, carefully placing the baby in your arms before sitting down on the edge of the bed. “He needs a name.” You said softly, smiling down at your baby who slept soundly in your arms.
Homelander hummed in agreement as he stared down at the baby. “Storm.” He muttered softly as his eyes flicked towards yours while his hand reached out to cup the back of the baby’s head.
“Storm?” You repeated as you looked at him, your head tilting to the side and your eyebrows furrowing.
“Did you fucking look out the window when you were giving birth?” He questioned with a blank expression on his face as he quirked an eyebrow, nodding his head in the direction of the large window by your bedside.
You pursed your lips as you stared at the man. “No, I was a little preoccupied.” You muttered with a roll of your eyes before your gaze turned to your baby. Being test tube babies raised in a lab, neither you nor Homelander had a childhood. And you didn’t want that for your son. You wanted him to have at least some sense of normality. “Storm…and Liam.” You replied and Homelander’s eyebrows furrowed at the second name. All supes had a second name, a normal name. “He needs a normal name too…a normal childhood.” You explained softly.
“He’s not normal, he’s a pureblooded supe.” Homelander reminded you as his head cocked to the side and you could see the muscles in his jaw grow tighter as he stared at you.
You sighed, your lips pulling into a tight line as you stared back at Homelander. “He’s a baby.” You reminded him softly. “Just like we were…and look how fucked up we are.” You muttered, referring to growing up with no real childhoods.
Homelander stared at you for a second before his gaze flicked down to his son. You could almost see his expression soften and he slowly nodded in agreement. As he went to finish all the last documents and birth certificate, you stayed in the room. Storm was sleeping next to you on the bed as you sat on the edge, watching the news.
Every news channel announced the arrival of your baby boy. People were lining up the Vought building with flowers and gifts, leaving them around the building. A plane with a banner flew through the air, announcing a boy had been born and people even set off blue fireworks.
Ashley stepped inside the room and her face lit up at the sight of the TV screen. No doubt she had a hand in all this extravagance. “It’s like a fucking royal from Biritan was born.” You muttered as you stared at the TV.
Ashley’s turned to you as a big grin spread across her lips. “I know, it’s fucking amazing, right?” She said and you quirked an eyebrow, staring at her with a blank look that quickly wiped off her smile.
You had but little choice to introduce your son to the world. To the thousands of people waiting outside the Vought building. Homelander cradled your son in one arm and held his other arm out for you to hold onto for support.
Not even supes were immune to the exhaustion, pain, and discomfort of birth. You held onto Homelander’s arm with a tight grip, plastering a smile on your face as you stepped outside the Vought building.
Screaming fans greeted you, and paparazzi were everywhere, taking pictures from nearly every angle. It was chaos. Chaos that disturbed your son from his peaceful sleep. Soon, light and sunny blue skies turned dark, and heavy rain poured down on the streets as your baby wailed from all the noise surrounding him.
You looked up at the darkened skies and then at the people running for cover from the rain. Then your gaze turned to Homelander who proudly smiled down at his son. His gaze then met yours as his smile grew. “See…Storm is the perfect name.” He commented and you chuckled in agreement as your gaze turned to the baby again.
#the boys#the boys x reader#the boys x you#the boys imagine#the boys x y/n#homelander#homelander imagine#homelander x y/n#homelander x you#homelander x reader
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His Haven Pt. 2
Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
As the weeks passed, Homelander continued to integrate himself into your life, blurring the lines between patient and "friend." One evening, after a particularly intense session, Homelander broached the subject of spending more time together outside of the therapy room. "I was thinking," he began, his blue eyes searching yours, "maybe we could grab a bite sometime. You know, outside of this place." Your heart sank, torn between the genuine connection you felt with Homelander and the professional boundaries you knew you needed to maintain. With all your other patients, you had discussed boundaries, but not with the members of The Seven. The Deep, A-Train, and Queen Maeve viewed these sessions as a waste of time. Starlight and Black Noir had kept a very professional relationship. You weren't totally sure why Black Noir still came to the sessions since his sessions were spent in silence, usually with him drawing pictures of Buster Beaver and his little buddies. Starlight was the only one that used the sessions for what they were meant for.
You had not thought you needed to set boundaries with them, and that, since these were America's greatest heroes, the boundaries were obvious and unspoken. Oh, how that had bitten you in the ass now, having to turn down the offer. You let those boundaries slip by allowing Homelander to come to your house, but in that situation, there was not a lot you could do to stop him.
"I appreciate the offer, Homelander, but it's important to keep our relationship within the confines of our sessions," you replied carefully, trying to hide the conflict in your eyes, unaware that he could hear your heartbeat and smell your nervousness. Homelander's expression shifted from hopeful anticipation to a subtle disappointment that cut through you. "Right, professional boundaries," he said, a forced smile tugging at his lips. It is the kind of smile that does not reach his eyes. "I get it." You could not let his dangerous expression get to you.
The following sessions became strained. Homelander seemed distant, his usually confident demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability and irritation. You should be thanking him that he is interested in you. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were stilted. It was clear that your rejection had affected him more than either of you anticipated. Homelander was not willing to give up. You just needed a chance to come around.
One day, after a difficult session, Homelander lingered in your office. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and hurt. Homelander knew you did not have a partner in your life. He had stopped by to do a thorough search of your home while you were out, and there was no evidence of you dating someone, not even the smell of a casual hookup still lingering on your skin. You sighed, maintaining the professionalism that defined your role. "It's not that I don't value our sessions, Homelander. But crossing the boundaries of a therapeutic relationship can be detrimental for both of us," you explained, your words hanging heavily in the air. "I want what's best for you, and sometimes that means maintaining a professional distance."
Homelander's jaw tensed, and he stood abruptly. "So, I'm just another patient to you, is that it?" His eyes bore into yours, searching for a hint of vulnerability that matched his own. "No, Homelander, you're not just another patient," you replied softly, your heart aching at the pain evident in his eyes. "But I have a responsibility to ensure that our interactions remain focused on your well-being." He stormed out of your office without another word, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Homelander is a dangerous and unpredictable man. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, replaced by an unspoken tension that hung in the air during each subsequent session.
Days turned into weeks, and the divide between you and Homelander deepened. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained and unproductive. Of course, for Homelander, he still had his time with you even if you were oblivious to it. Though, he would much rather be in your arms than jacking off on the building next to yours while you participated in a similar activity in the warmth of your bed.
One evening, after a silent session, Homelander was particularly grumpy in this session. He had expressed that he had a bad day. Homelander lingered at the door. "You should be fucking thanking me,” He pauses. “I am giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you're fucking throwing it away. Do you know how many people would leave their whole families just for one glance from me?”
The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders as he walked away, leaving you alone in the empty office. It made you wonder how dangerous Homelander really was and how desperate he would become if you continued to deny him. The once-promising connection had fractured irreparably, and the professional boundaries you fought so hard to maintain had come at the cost of a genuine connection with Homelander.
The weeks passed with a lingering tension between you and Homelander. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, leaving behind an unspoken rift that seemed insurmountable. Homelander attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained, devoid of the genuine connection that had defined your earlier interactions. It became evident that your rejection had affected him more deeply than either of you anticipated. Homelander, usually the embodiment of confidence, now wore an air of vulnerability and loneliness that tugged at your conscience. The sessions were marked by long pauses, resentful glances, and a palpable discomfort that neither of you could ignore. You couldn't shake the feeling of regret that lingered each time you saw him. The haunting realization that you had sacrificed something meaningful for the sake of professional decorum weighed heavily on your conscience. Late one evening, a knock echoed through your home. Homelander stood at the doorway, his usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored the man you had glimpsed in the early days of your sessions. "I need someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice a whisper.
#the boys#homelander#homelander x reader#the seven#homelander x you#homelander x psychiatrist#psychiatrist!reader#psychiatrist x character#psychiatrist x patient#slow burn?#reader x character#character x reader#gender neutral reader#female reader#male reader
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