Patrick Bateman Does Coke Off of Fem Readers Boobs
gif by @/taissaifarmiga
No warnings just cocaine usage
A silly note from me - Patrick is a little less unhinged since he's married and goes to therapy 💀I've had an idea like this forever but a character I've been hyper fixated on just didn't fit and now that I'm in love with Patrick and it's canon he does coke this was my perfect chance to do this. also this is my first fanfic I've posted 💀Lol okay yeah now read 💋
"Be right back, going to pee." I say as I get off the bed heading to the bathroom after another second round with Patrick. Reaching down, picking one up of his white button downs from the floor and my underwear.
While making my way to the bathroom, Patrick went to change the song to Blue Monday by New Order. I gave him a mix of my favorites which he seemed to enjoy. I'm a little surprised he would like anything I picked due to his specific taste in music.
As I’m walking out of the bathroom my eyes begin to focus. It’s Patrick in some silk pajama bottoms. He looks at me with his charming smile. As if he wants to sell me something. I've seen this look before in meetings with him when he's presenting a new idea. He just has a look in his eyes that makes me feel so wanted.
"Patrick I'm done for the night." I give him a puppy eye look leaning on the bedroom door frame.
He continues to look at me while holding a little bag of something "No (y/n). Not that. Not until after this." Winking at me.
I look down to see the contents of the bag. Blow. I'm a little taken aback he would want to do it at home. It's not like we haven't done coke together before. He just seems to prefer to do it in a small bathroom of a restaurant or club.
I smile walking towards the bed "So what idea do you have Mr. Bateman?"
"Haha well Mrs. Bateman, I was thinking of doing some blow, but I don't want to get my tables dirty. It also seems you haven't showered yet."
I listen to him carefully and lay sideways on our shared bed with some of the softest sheets from Santa Fe. I honestly could look at his body all day. The way his muscles curve and flex with every step he takes. He just looks so unreal.
"Mmhmm. So where should we do it? We can just get one of my cards. I do have my heart spoon necklace in my purse." As I point to my bag that was thrown in the living room.
"No, I have another idea and I need to have your full attention (y/n)."
I give him a concerned yet listening look. "You have it."
Patrick walks towards me with a devious look. He takes my sideways legs and brings them to hang off the edge of the bed.
"Scoot back, I want a better view."
I do so by giving him a smile, resting my head on the pillow while he straddles me. I stare at him then to his hands, still unsure of what Patrick is thinking.
"Even though you look stunning in Tommy Hilfiger, take it off." The ending of that sentence sounds so demanding, but so sexy.
He stares at me as I start unbuttoning the shirt. We lock eyes. I unbutton the shirt slowly giving him a delicate look. He looks somewhat impatient.
"God (y/n) you're such a tease." Patrick uttered with a scoff as he pushed my hands to unbutton the shirt himself. Giving me the small bag of blow. I only giggled to lighten the mood a bit and seemed to work. Patrick started to have a little grin. Again I could stare at him forever. I watch as his hands unbutton the shirt on me exposing my boobs to him.
"Ahh now I see. You're gonna fuck me then use me as your personal table? Woah Patrick and I thought I was your wife." I asked
He grabs my left boob to shut me up. "If you don't keep your words to a minimum we'll have round 3 right now."
I nod my head showing I'm now taking it more seriously. Patrick moves his hand from my breast and opens his palm for me to hand him the coke. I do so as he opens the bag. He comes closer to me and takes the edge of the bag. He starts to take the bag pouring it in a straight line along my right breast right above my nipple. As he does so I feel every move Patrick makes with his hand as he has his left hand on my side while his right hand continues making a line.
"Mm perfect." Patrick says pleased with himself. "Are you ready (y/n)?"
"Mmhmm go for it."
Patrick lowers his head down making direct eye contact. As he does so time feels like it's slow down. He connects his nose with the start of the line making sure it's precise. Patrick seems to have a calm eagerness about it. I continue to track his face with my eyes. He starts to move his head from left to right as the drug goes up his nose. He lifts his head up sniffing to make sure the coke goes down his nose. Then time goes back to normal.
"Fuck. Surprised you stayed so still" Patrick grumbles sitting back up straight straddling me still.
"Me too. If I'm being honest. I think I was just too forced on your face" I smile stating my sentence. "I actually really liked that we should do that again. Maybe when we're out."
"You're right. Your tits are amazing to do coke on (y/n). Hmm just like I thought. "
"OH please Patrick. Okay now get off so I can get my necklace from my purse." I say patting his chest.
He does so and I get up walking to the living room. While walking I button up the shirt a bit.
"So Patrick, what gave you that idea? It seemed very spontaneous, especially for you." I question him.
"Well if I'm being honest whenever I see you in a push up bra I always think about putting a glass on top with the way your tits just sit so nicely. Then I thought about what it would be like if I could coke on them." Patrick answers. I'm not oblivious, I've seen the way Patrick looks at me whenever I wear a dress that would showcase my boobs when we decide to go out to dinner or the club. Never a day in my life I would think something so childish is a thought Patrick would have.
"Now that's a different thought of yours. I like how honest you are now." I say walking through the door getting into bed with Patrick. He hands me the baggie of snow smiling. I dip my tiny gold spoon in the bag and sniff it. I sat up next to him. I look at the wall clock, "I mean it's only 11:30 and we don't have an appointment tomorrow morning till 12 in the afternoon. We could go out or-" My sentence was stopped by a heated kiss from Patrick.
He breaks from the kiss staring into my eyes. "How about you go take shower, I'll meet you there, and we’ll do round 3 there? How does that sound?"
"It does sound better." I give him one last kiss, grinning and head to the bathroom smiling.
I’ll Keep a Light in My Window (Starlight x Reader)
Summary: After her Believe Expo speech, it feels like everyone’s eyes are on Annie. Among the messages flooding her Instagram DMs is an encouraging one from you, an old friend from her Capes for Christ days. The two of you reconnect, and Annie finds more than friendship with you this time around.
Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is my first Starlight fic! I hope I did her justice since this is mostly from her perspective. Inspired by the song from The Get Down because it’s so Annie. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: This is pretty much fluff with some angst, related to canon events and mentions of homophobia in the context of American Christianity. Obviously playing with the plot of S1 for this fic. Do not interact if you’re under 18.
Despite the crowd’s chaos in response to her speech, Annie felt her smile falter when she got backstage and was met with varying degrees of rage and disgust. Her own mother looked like she’d spent the past five minutes sucking on sour candy.
‘Hello!’ Annie wanted to shout. ‘Did you see what I did out there? Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?’
Hughie had disappeared after meeting Ezekiel. She tried to pretend that him not even saying goodbye didn’t bother her. If she could get up on stage and bare her soul to thousands of people in person and millions at home, at the very least she could admit to herself that she was hurt.
The drive back to the tower was tense. Everyone seemed to avoid making eye contact with her. As if she’d done something wrong. The longer she sat with what she said and did, the more she was convinced she made the right choice. Between what The Deep had done to her and how she was treated after saving a girl from suffering the same fate, they were just mad she called them on her complacency.
As soon as she made it back to her suite, she pulled out her phone to find her Instagram had blown up even more than when she first joined The Seven. Her phone nearly crashed from the amount of notifications she had. Thousands of comments and messages, either rants or support. She scrolled through her clogged DMs, her stomach churning at the glimpses of abuse that piled on from irate strangers. One DM caught her attention, addressing her by her real name rather than Starlight.
Hesitantly, she tapped the message to see the full contents.
‘Holy shit Annie!! You’re so badass🤩 Our Capes for Christ counselors must be shitting themselves right now lmao way to go!’
There were a lot of people from her Capes for Christ days, a constant rotation of hopeful young superheroes ready to use their powers for the glory of the Lord. Looking back, it was just a self-righteous vanity project for their parents and whatever religious sycophants hovered around. She tapped your photo, bringing her to your profile. Your brief bio gave your first name and that you were living in the city, but your supe name was nowhere to be found.
She tapped your most recent photo. In a brightly lit hospital hallway, you posed in black scrubs with a handful of balloons. You’d posted it just a week earlier, the caption celebrating working as a nurse for three years. Most of the comments were congratulating you, but one comment finally jogged her memory.
‘might be thinking of someone else but were you red heart?’ someone commented.
You replied with, ‘Yeah I was a million years ago! Lamest name ever😂😂’
Right. Red Heart. Healing powers. Red Cross spokesgirl. White top with a red skirt and sparkly red shoes that reminded her of the Wizard of Oz. You were on the Capes for Christ circuit with her. At one point she considered you a close friend, close enough to invite you to the roller skating party she begged her mom for when she was ten, only allowed to invite three girls because that’s all they could afford. Memories of skating to Britney Spears songs and balancing a paper plate with room temperature pizza on her lap came back to her. You’d bought her one of the special edition birthday Barbies. Her mom never let her take it out of the box, claiming it’d be worth a lot of money some day. It was probably still collecting dust in their attic.
She could remember you going off to college after high school, dropping your superhero identity not long after. With healing powers, it made sense you’d go into nursing. Her mom had expressed a judgemental disbelief at your decision. Annie wished she at least had a choice like you.
She scrolled through more of your photos. You seemed to be doing well since you got out. Got out. Like it was a cult. Maybe in a way, it was.
Annie hit the follow button on your profile and messaged you back.
‘Thanks Y/N! I made a lot of people mad, but I’m glad I did it 😊’ she hesitated a moment before typing, ‘We should catch up sometime! You're still in New York right? I’m pretty new to the city.’
Before she could get too in her own head about whether asking you to hang out was weird when the two of you hadn’t spoken in years, you responded with the names of a few coffee shops on the Upper East Side and that you were off work the following day.
Her mood had tanked before meeting up with you, getting chewed out by Stilwell and feeling some guilt for Ashley losing her job. She had to remind herself it wasn’t her fault. If they hadn’t enabled a sex pest for years, she wouldn’t have had to make her speech.
Following the directions on her phone and getting a bit turned around in the subway, she walked up to the coffee shop a few minutes after eleven, when the two of you had agreed to meet. She rushed inside when she noticed you were already sitting at a table with your drink.
Annie sat down across from you with her coffee, playing with the cup sleeve. “I’m so glad you had time to hang out. I still don’t really know anyone here, and it’s nice to see a familiar face.”
“Yeah! I'm not really in touch with a lot of people from back then, but I can totally introduce you to my friends. It’s an adjustment, but the city has a lot to offer if you know where to look.”
“Way more to do than Des Moines at least.”
“I can’t believe I nearly forgot,” you said, lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “congrats on getting into The Seven! Out of everyone in our weird ass group growing up, I always had a feeling it was gonna be you.”
“Thanks.” She gave you a strained smile. “It’s not exactly what I expected, but I’m making the best of it.”
“Sometimes that’s the most you can do,” you said.
“How about you? What part of the hospital do you work in?”
“With my powers, they have me all over the place, but it’s good. I can see I’m really making a difference.”
“That’s what I want. Sometimes I feel like they just parade me around to look nice, but they won’t let me do anything,” she said. “Like that stupid new costume. It’s like they make me wear it just to humiliate me for helping that girl because I didn’t do it their way. I feel like a joke.”
“Not after the Believe Expo. Anyone would be an idiot not to take you seriously now,” you said. “I mean, you said what so many people were thinking but were too afraid to say. It’s bullshit they’re treating you like this.”
“No, it’s—I’ll deal. We’re supposed to be catching up, and I’m like dumping all my problems on you. How have you been? Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.
She wasn’t sure how she’d answer the question if you’d been the one to ask. Hughie could be so hot and cold, like he was hiding something.
You were silent for a few moments before answering. “Not really. My girlfriend and I broke up a few weeks ago.”
“That’s great! I mean—not great that you broke up, I’m so sorry,” Annie said frantically. “Just you being—dating women. I’m happy for you.”
“That means a lot, Annie. I kind of parted ways with Vought because of it. I mean, they have this progressive face, but then they let Ezekiel spout his bullshit and put their name on that too?” you ranted. “That’s just me. It’s pretty much impossible to have a career as a supe without Vought, so I don’t judge.”
“Do you think I’m crazy for trying to change things from the inside?”
“It can’t hurt to try. Then at least you know you did what you could.”
She smiled. At least she could vent to someone who understood and actually gave a damn. Hughie was nice, but he didn’t quite get it. There was always some kind of disconnect. Maeve wasn’t nearly the mentor she was hoping for. She got it a little better now. Maeve had been in The Seven for years, Annie could only imagine how much it’d wear her down.
On her way back from getting coffee, Annie stopped in front of a bookstore with a huge Vought display in the window. Her comics were front and center, a cardboard cut-out of her next to one of Homelander. The Deep’s comics were barely visible with clearance stickers slapped on the covers. Serves him right. She couldn’t believe he’d been her favorite at one point.
Sleepovers with the other Capes for Christ girls almost always led to a “who’s your favorite member of The Seven” discussion. The answers were always a lot of Homelander, some Lamplighter or Marathon Man, but you always answered Queen Maeve. Back then, she thought it was because you admired her strength, her trailblazing as the first woman in The Seven. Maybe it wasn’t that simple.
“That’s her! I swear to god it is!” Annie overheard someone whisper-yell.
“Who?”
“Starlight, over there!”
Annie kept her head down, speed-walking up the street. She ducked into the nearest subway, getting on the first train that stopped even though it was going further uptown. Pulling her hoodie up to obscure her face, she sighed. She had everything she ever dreamed of, but it seemed more and more like it was turning into a nightmare.
The following weeks were busy between her obligations with The Seven and helping Hughie with whatever cryptic stuff he was up to. She still found time to see you. Hanging out with you was the only thing that made her feel normal anymore. You were so confident in who you were, she felt comfortable finding out who she was outside of Starlight. With you, she could just be Annie.
All of a sudden her association with Hughie had Homelander nearly turning on her. Maeve took up for her in nothing less than a Hail Mary moment. Then, to make matters worse, her entire world came crashing down when she agreed to meet up with Hughie despite his fugitive status. She wasn’t born with her powers, no supe was. Instead her mom signed her life away to Vought and allowed them to basically experiment on her. The cherry on top of the melting ice cream sundae that’d become her life was definitely getting shot immediately after finding out the news.
When she came to in the hospital, she saw you in your scrubs, slouched in the chair next to her bed. She reached out, taking your hand in hers.
“Y/N?” she croaked out.
“Annie!” you exclaimed, jumping up from the chair. “Holy shit, how are you feeling? I did what I could when you got here. You heal fast, so you should be—“
“It’s all a lie! Our whole lives, Y/N! They fucking lied about everything!” she raged, her vision blurred by tears. “At least you got out. I feel so stupid.”
“Hey, don’t call my best friend stupid.”
She laughed weakly, sniffling a bit. “Thanks Y/N, for everything. All this time I was thinking I was doing what I wanted, but it was what everyone else wanted for me. It always has been.”
“Then start living for you, whatever that looks like. It’s never too late,” you said.
Her hand still intertwined with yours, she pulled you closer to her, your faces inches apart. Taking in your features, she admired how pretty you were. She’d always thought so, but didn’t know how to place it before. Since you’d reconnected, however, it was different. Butterflies in her stomach when you'd smile at her. Texts from you brightening her day. Hanging out with you being the highlight of her week. She didn’t have to try when it came to you.
“I think I’ll start now,” she whispered.
In a moment of nerve-wracking bravery, Annie pressed her lips to yours. Relief swept over her when you kissed her back, smiling against her lips. Whatever happened next, she knew she could get through it with you by her side.
Trigger warning: DV, parental alienation, Homelander being Homelander.
Prompt: Anonymous asked: I don't know if someone already requested Homelander as a girl dad. But could I request him to have a supe daughter who is really close to him and loves him and yet also hates, fears him and can’t wait for the world to be rid of him.
This work is written as first a headcanon then transitions into a story. Enjoy!
You were Homelander's personal assistant and from the moment Ashley hired you, Homelander was infatuated. He would drop not-so-subtle hints of his affection and shower you with gifts and experiences you never thought you’d get. He’d take you to movie premiers and had you meet the members of the Seven. He would give you any and all dresses, shoes, and accessories you’d want. You were always attracted to Homelander; to his charm, his heroism, and his good looks. So, when you realized that the affections were mutual and he told you to call him John, you felt like the luckiest girl on earth.
When the relationship moved towards a physical one, John was as gentle as he could be with you. There were a few times when you had to remind him that you were just a normal person and not to be so rough. John would often say he’d want a family with you and that having a child would be the greatest gift anyone could ever give him. When you became pregnant and told John, both of your worlds were turned upside down. For better or worse, well it depends on your perspective.
You were okay with being in the public eye when working as Homelander’s personal assistant, and even more adjusted to it when the two of you started dating. Once the world heard that the two of you were expecting, the paparazzi increased tenfold. You were not able to go anywhere without paparazzi taking pictures and asking questions. One time the crowd of photographers was so dense, that a paparazzi accidentally bumped your baby belly too hard and made you stumble over in pain. Once that story went public, you were not allowed to leave John’s penthouse without him accompanying you. There were rumors that Homelander ‘took care’ of the photographer, but you chose to not believe them. Your sweet and charming John wasn’t capable of something so awful.
John is a busy man, attending meetings, social events, and the occasional hero work. You spent the majority of your days in the penthouse, there were people cooking for you and waiting on you hand and foot. You grew lonely, most of the people there either working in their positions to get a paycheck or out of fear, not speaking to you often. Whenever John came home, you’d run to him and embrace him, him being your only source of interaction. You’d ask him how his day went, sometimes he’d tell you, other times, he’d ask how the baby was.
When you gave birth, John was a little disappointed that it was a girl. You would reassure him that girls can do whatever boys can and that sometimes a father-daughter bond is stronger. John perked up after hearing that. In the beginning, John would be put off by the care of having an infant. They stink, they’re loud, messy and so goddamn needy. He did like the perk of you breastfeeding, it was always incorporated into sexy times with him. You thought of it as an undiscovered kink of his.
When your daughter was older, around toddler age, that’s when John started to take more interest in being a father figure. He’d teach Callie, your daughter, how to walk, how to use the potty, how to read. In the beginning, you were fine with it, it gave you a chance to take some time for yourself and watch the two of them bond. As time went on, you noticed that John would start to leave you out of the conversation and bonding experience as a family.
As time went on, John pushed you out more and more when interacting with Callie. He’d be the one taking care of her daily needs, ignoring you when you’d ask for updates on how she was doing in school, how her doctor’s visit went, and other important information. When you spoke to John about how you were feeling left out, he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before. Hatred, malice, disdain. John wanted to be the sole caregiver to Callie. There were times that he’d shut you away in a room all by yourself, making you a prisoner in your own home. There were times when John would make the move to smack or attempt to hit you, but he’d always stop himself. After a while, he revoked your privilege of calling him John, you now had to call him Homelander.
You’d ask Homelander what went wrong in the relationship for him to treat you this way, but your inquiry was met with hostility. You began to contemplate leaving the penthouse whenever the two of them left for an outing. You know Homelander would never hurt Callie, he adores her. So, one day, you left…
“I’m home dad!” Callie said as she threw her schoolbag on the floor and walked into the kitchen to grab a snack. It’s been a few years since her mother left and she was told by her father that it was because her mother didn’t love her anymore. Callie was hurt by what her father told her, but she had no reason not to believe him.
“Hey sport, how are you today?” Homelander said as he threw his muscled arms around Callie. Callie grimaced but accepted the hug. Homelander noticed the change in her mood, he pulled himself away from her and asked,
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh huh, don’t lie to me missy. Tell me, what’s up?” Callie looks around the room, wanting to look at anything besides her father.
“I… uh… don’t think that you can help me with this. It’s something moms usually talk about.”
“Of course, I can help you, Callie. You can trust me with anything.” A few moments of silence and then Callie said,
“I got my period today.” Homelander blinked at Callie. Damn… I don’t know how to help her with that he thought. Homelander grabbed Callies’ hand and the two of them went to the entrance of the penthouse.
“Where are we going?”
“I have someone we’re going to talk to.” The two of them appeared in front of Ashleys office. Homelander opens the door, and a voice rang thru the large room,
“What the fuck have I told you about knocking Ashley?” Homelander and Callie came through the threshold. Ashleys demeanor went from hardened to frightened the moment she laid eyes on the man. Callie noticed this was a common theme with anyone that came across her father.
“Homelander, Callie. H-how can I help you?” Ashley said as her hand flew up into her red hair. Homelander sat Callie down on the sofa in the lounge area and went to mute the TV that was displaying the news.
“Callie here is now a woman. She needs to know some helpful tips about periods.” Callie turned to her dad and gave him a look that can be conveyed as ‘what the fuck?’ Homelander just shrugged as Ashley cleared her throat. Ashley walked from behind her desk to sit herself onto the armchair to the left of Callie. Ashley let out a nervous chuckle, looking at Homelander before she spoke,
“We’ll, as you know, periods are a normal thing for women…” Ashley looks around the room, trying to find inspiration in what she’s telling Callie. “Periods are a beautiful and natural thing for a young woman to have! They mean that—Oh my god!” Ashleys attention went to the TV screen, as did the other two. Displayed was a picture of a tall, bearded man in a trench coat and next to him, was you. The caption on the picture stated, “SUSPECTS WANTED FOR THE DEATH OF TRANSLUCENT” Ashley began stuttering, mumbling, and furiously twisting her hair in her fingers. Callie stood up and walked towards the TV, closely inspecting the picture of you in your disguise. Homelander approached the TV and promptly turned it off.
“Okay that’s enough for today. I think this kiddo has some homework to do dontcha bud?” Homelander grabs Callies hand and drags her out of Ashleys office. A million thoughts ran through Callies mind. ‘Why would mom join the bad guys? Why did she kill Translucent? Why did she leave me?’ Homelander picked up on the hurt on Callies face and said,
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll get it all taken care of.” Homelander took Callie back to the penthouse and said that he needed to step out for business and that she could order a pizza for dinner. When gone, Callie gathered her key fob and left the penthouse in search of you.
*
It had been a few hours looking in the area you’d been photographed, but Callie had finally found you in the subway, tucked away in a corner waiting for the train to arrive. She took in your appearance; sunglasses, ballcap and a leather jacket with the lapels pulled up to hide your face. Callie approached you slowly,
“Hey mom.” You spun to face her, freezing at the young girl standing before you. It’s been years since you’d seen Callie, at least in person. You’d seen her on TV many times, making appearances with your ex. She was a perfect mix of both you and Homelander.
“Callie. What are you doing here?”
“I saw you on TV.”
“It’s not safe for you to be here honey.”
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that after how you left us. After how you left me!” Callie began raising her voice, emotions starting to grow inside her. You approached her slowly after noting the fists Callie was making and said,
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” A tear ran down Callies cheek. You desperately wanted to reach out and wipe it away, you however treated her like she was a frightened animal, careful with your movements.
“Why did you leave?” You never wanted to answer that question, wanting Homelander to have that special bond between father and daughter untarnished. Before you could open your mouth, you heard the train approach, looking in its direction, you were torn. Now was your chance to escape, but you also wanted to set things straight with your daughter.
“Callie… I-”
“Trains ‘ere.” The man that was with you earlier on the TV broadcast appeared next to you, voice heavy with a cockney accent. Callie looked at both you and the tall man, named Billy Butcher. Callie had heard her father speak of him from time to time and how he was the bane of his existence. Once the train stopped, you made the difficult decision to part ways with Callie, you didn’t want her getting caught up in all your bullshit. Homelander will keep her safe, he would never let anything happen to her. As you found your seat on the train, Callie sat down next to you.
“Callie!”
“You never answered my question, why did you leave?” Looking between Callie and the subway train floor, you told her everything. How Homelander was the nicest man you’d ever met, and he slowly showed himself to be a monster. You told her of the domestic abuse and the times that he would alienate you from being a mother to Callie.
“I love you so much Callie. I never wanted to leave you, but I couldn’t stay with your father. I knew he would never lay a finger on you, you’re all he’s ever wanted.” Callie’s world was rocked. Her whole life she’d heard from her father that she wasn’t loved by you, that the only reason why you wanted to be with her Homelander was because of fame and fortune.
The train rolled to a stop a few stations from when the three of them went on. As you got off the train, Callie followed you and Butcher. Callie noticed the whispers between you and Butcher, you look back at her.
“Callie you can’t come with us.”
“I’ve finally found you after all these years and now you want to push me away?! It’s not fair!” Callie clenched her fist and punched a brick pillar, knocking the blocks loose. Callie’s face widens in shock, she’s never done that before. She didn’t even know she had the strength.
“Callie, what we do, is too dangerous for you. I’ll give you my number so we can text but know that I can’t always reply. Butcher, go ahead to the hideout, I’ll take Callie back home.” You and Callie catch a train ride to a subway stop just a block from Vought tower. On the train, you two talk about school and what her favorite subjects are, its art, what flavor ice cream she likes, it’s the same as yours, and Callie asked you what to do when it came to periods.
“It’s important to keep yourself clean, shower at least once a day. There may be times when you will have a stain, don’t worry. This happens to all of us at some point. If it happens at school and it’s on your pants, wear a sweatshirt around your waist if you can. Also, don’t wear white pants if you can help it.” Callie absorbed as much information you had to give about the subject, appreciative that you’re willing to talk about such a sensitive topic. Callie was beginning to question her father’s animosity towards you, you were so warm and welcoming and kind, the opposite of his descriptors was for you. Finally reaching your destination and standing outside of the tower, you give Callie a quick hug.
“Text me anytime but please, don’t tell your father about this. I don’t know when I can see you again, but if this plan pulls through then it may be sooner than later.” Callie nodded her head and went inside the building and into the elevator. Callie stepped into the penthouse and saw a worried Homelander standing next to the kitchen island.
“And where were you?” Homelanders voice low, eyes narrow, almost like he knew what she was up to, he just waiting for her to confess. Callie met his menacing glare with one of her own, and replied,
“Out.” She then left to go into her room, revulsion filling her thoughts about her father. Homelander the world's greatest and strongest superhero, was a calculating cruel man who filled her head with lies in an attempt to hate her own mother. Callie hoped whatever plan her mother had up her sleeve worked.
Synopsis: You’ve got a newborn baby and bills up your ass. You’re offered big bucks to work as an escort, but it’s only on your way to your first job that you find out your client is the Homelander himself.
Word Count: 4071
notes: reader is an escort, reader recently had a child/descriptions of post-childbirth body, paid sexual encounter, adult breastfeeding, improper use of breast milk
The job was going to pay off two of your massive credit card debts in one fell swoop. That’s how much it paid. And that’s what you reminded yourself as the car rolled to a stop inside a darkened parking garage, which had been accessible only when the driver submitted a security code and held his face up to a digital scanner. That this job was going to pay a lot… a lot.
And if he liked you, there might be more jobs in the future. More credit cards you could paid off. Loans you could wipe out. A college fund for your newborn son. Only if he liked you, though, is what the agency told you; only if he wanted you to come back after this first job.
But who, exactly, was your client? That had been kept mum, even as you were led into a black car with tinted windows, even as you were led through security clearance upon security clearance. A gated road, an underground tunnel, and now a private parking garage…
summary — after maeve was ruthlessly outed by homelander vought had the bright idea to make one of the first sapphic superhero couple. that’s where you come in, and since you’ve been out vought has used you for profit so it’s not much of a surprise, what surprises you is the feelings that grow between you and maeve.
warnings — smut, oral (r receiving ), scissoring, some, bits of angst, fluff, and vought and Homelander just being really annoying
word count — 6,240 words
authors note — im so excited for this I’ve been wanting to write for her since I first started watching and finally I got to its. anyways I hope you enjoy this and happy reading. gif credits. also got some inspiration from @venus-haze fic kick it out so if you hadn’t read that please of because it’s amazing!
queen maeve masterlist | the boys masterlist
“Are you fucking crazy,” Maeve snapped as she stood in front of Ashley with her arms across her chest. Her face hardened as soon as Ashley said those stupid words. Maeve could feel the blood inside her start to boil and she had to refuse to punch her in the face.
“I’m sorry this is just what The Seven needs their first lesbian-,” Ashley began to say.
“Bisexual,” Maeve interrupted with a glare in her eyes.
“Bisexual superhero in The Seven and in a relationship with another woman. The world will love this, it will bring a whole new meaning to girl power,” Ashley ranted as her face was filled with excitement.
“I’m sorry I’ve done this shit already with Homelander why would I want to do this again,” Maeve questioned as the word ‘Homelander’ came out her mouth, er stomach was burning with vile and chest filled of vitriol towards the man who thinks he’s the best thing to ever be conceived.
“This will be different, this girl isn’t like Homelander, she’s actually not murderous and she won’t cause as much drama as him,” Ashley defended the idea she came up with.
Maeve sighed as she stood in Ashley's office, she didn’t know what to do, she hasn’t been with a girl since Elena, and yeah she’s had lots of sex with guys but girls are different. She had such a strong bond with Elena and she didn’t know if she could do it over again with this girl Ashley was talking about.
Not to mention that Homelander is a jealous prick even though Maeve and him aren’t together, he’ll cause her life a living hell and this girl as well. Maeve didn’t know if she could bring this random superhero into this already heated up drama.
“You know what Homelander is like,” Maeve muttered knowing that he could be listening at any moment and barge through the door. “You know what he might do to this girl and you want to bring her into this,” She questions.
“Trust me he won’t do anything,” Ashley reassured Maeve. “And plus I think this girl can handle her own,” She says.
“Who is the girl anyway,” Maeve asked, as she was piqued with curiosity. There weren’t many openly gay superheroes and she doesn’t have enough willpower to recognize all of them or she just wasn’t interested.
“Oh it’s The Traveler,” Ashley whispered and Maeve nodded. She’s heard of you, of course, you were one of the few lesbian superpowers. She knows that you can travel between time and make portals to travel place to place.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Maeve's head snapped towards the direction and Ashley said, “Come in,” and you came through the door.
You walked through the door and Maeve couldn’t deny that you were a beautiful woman. You were dressed in your superhero costume, a black skirt and a black leotard for a top and leather jacket to cover it. There were purple gems glittering all over your outfit and the end of the outfit was topped with some black boots.
“Can you hurry up Ashley I don’t have all fucking day,” You snap as come to walk next to Maeve without even giving her a glance.
“I know you probably heard that Queen Maeve here is now part of the LGBTQ+ community and we wanted to make something good out of it,” Ashley told you and you rolled your eyes.
You had great sympathy for Maeve as she was outed on public’s television at the hands of Homelander and if you were in her position you would have never worked with a man as vile as he is. But you understood that getting out of the Seven and getting out of Homelanders sight is a hard thing to do.
Plus she wasn’t hard on the eyes.
“You mean you want to capitalize on her sexuality,” You say, letting your arms fall to your sides. It wasn’t surprising since it was what they do to you all the time. Having you do commercials for Vought as one of the lesbian superheroes. It was especially hard during pride month where they used you for monetary gain, having you speak at conventions and on talk shows about how you were so proud of your sexuailtiy and you were but you hated how they took advantage of you. But hey at least they pay you graciously.
Maeve looked at you covering her surprised face with her usual hard shell. You were right, they were just going to use her and bleed her dry until she was just a shell of her old self, as if she wasn’t already.
“You know that’s what I mean,” Ashley defended herself and you let out a huff when she said those words.
“Do we even have a choice,” Maeve questioned and you nodded alongside her. You were curious if you could even say no to Vought.
“Yes of course you do,” Ashley says.
“I guess I‘ll do it,” You muttered looking at the ground at your boot-covered feet.
“Maeve,” Ashley questioned, her tone dropped to a more serious tone.
“Whatever,” Maeve responded in her bitter tone and you understood it all too well. You were just like her when you came out and Vought used you, and plus she was a part of the Seven, she’d be more valuable and by proxy more profitable.
“Then it’s settled we’ll have the both of you post something to your social media about how you two were in a secret relationship and decided to be out as a couple in the public,” Ashely says, her eyes back on the iPad she had and her tone more happier.
Maeve rolled her eyes at the ‘decided to be out as a couple in the public’. Homelander outed her on fucking live television there was option as coming out but she swallowed her words as she always did with Vought. She didn’t like it but it was something she was used to and something she was starting to hate more and more.
You on the other hand were looking at her with sympathy, being outed sucks and you knew this. When you were younger your friends decided to out you as lesbian so you understood to an extent. She was outed on live television where most people watched and now everyone knew.
Letting out a sigh you look at the ceiling getting ready for the shit storm Vought was about to do and how they were going to get money out of it.
It’s been a few weeks since the ‘relationship’ between you and Maeve went public and least to say people loved it. Not the conservatives and the bigots who thought that the LGBTQ commiunity is infecting the youth. But you and Maeve were the number one trending Supe ship.
After the social media post went up the two of you went on talk shows and talked about how you were excited to finally be out and proud.
Obviously not meaning any of the words either of you said. It was just Vought scripts that were as lifeless as a corpse. Nor you or Maeve didn’t believe any of the shit Vought told you to say because you two weren’t in love. At least not yet.
The two of you got along well and you could tell that Maeve was closed off to you and you weren’t mad, you were closed off as well. But when you two did speak it was only for a few moments and it tended to be more awkward than anything, but you had a mutual respect for each other and that was all that you needed.
Maeve on the other hand didn’t want to get you hurt, you seemed like a nice person and you didn’t deserve the wrath that Homelander held, her on the other she felt like she deserved. You didn’t. So if she kept her distance with you unless the two of you were expected to show up somewhere or public dates the two of you go on.
To be completely honest Maeve was starting to like you, you were cute, you made jokes that made her stifle a laugh and that was more of a reason to distance herself. She couldn't get you involved her fucked up mess. She didn’t know if you liked her but you liked her enough to make small talk and to seek her out and ask her about her day. Even if you didn't, she needed to do what was right.
She couldn’t do that to you even though she was finding herself more and more into it, the more she found out the more she was interested. The more she was in this ‘relationship’ was way more comforting than the one she had with Homelander and deep down she was loving every second she had with you. But she would get a happy ending with you or with anyone.
The two of you enter an elevator after a long day of work, going out and stopping criminals and least to say the both of you were tired.
“God this day was really tiring,” You mutter leaning against the wall of the elevator.
“You can say that twice,” Maeve muttered, crossing her arms across her chest looking down at the elevator floor.
“Is it getting any better,” You blurted out the question that you've been wanting to ask her but didn’t want to be too intrusive.
“Is what getting any better,” Maeve questions even though she knew what you were talking about.
“Believe it or not I know how you feel with the whole outing situation but I can’t imagine what you’re going through, especially since Homelander did that to you. But all I know is after I was outed it took me a while to get comfortable in my own skin,” You say and Maeve does her best not to react to his name being brought up. She sure as hell knows that he’s probably listening so she’s going to have to be herself.
“Things are….. better,” Maeve says with uncertainty in her tone and you gave her a look of pity knowing that she was lying.
She had her walls built up higher than you can ever imagine and you wanted to help her break those walls down, so that she could look at herself and see what you see. A beautiful strong woman. You felt your heart start to race as it usually did when you were alone with her.
“Hey,” You say, approaching her and putting your hand on her upper arm and she tenses as you do so but she’s not willing to admit that your touch caused some sparks to go up her spine. “Just so you know if you need anything from me, or just to talk I’m always here for you, just because Vought is making us do this doesn’t mean I don’t care and talking about it really does help. So just remember that, any time of the day you need something, don't be afraid to knock on my door,” You say with a soft tone that almost made her melt, that almost made her just say screw it and kiss you but she held back.
“Thanks, right back at you,” Maeve says and you give her a soft smile before removing your hand.
“I’m gonna need to take something before I go and see Ashely because she is getting on my fucking nerves,” You say to break the tension.
“Trust me you’re gonna need a lot more of anything you have,” Maeve snorts and you let out a small giggle.
“I know and I’m hoping that she’s either too tired to talk too much or just is gone at her home because I can’t wait to go home and finally get some rest,” You say, resting your head against the hard wall.
“Or maybe she’s just getting fucked and even then she might be even grouchier,” Maeve blurts out.
“Maybe, just maybe she finds the love of her life and decides to just quit but hey dreamers can dream,” You shrug your shoulders with a slight eye roll.
“Cheers to that,” Maeve gives you a nod.
The elevator finally reaches level 99 and the two of you walk out and prepare to go your separate ways, no matter how much the two of you want to stay and talk the night away.
“See you tomorrow,” You give her a wave before heading to Ashley's office, getting ready for everything she has to say to you.
“Bye,” Maeve gives you an awkward wave as you turn around and she curses herself and shakes her head.
God she was so awkward with this, with someone she actually liked, not guys she brought up her to just fuck and to get her mind off everything. You were different and she was using all of herself to not just say screw it and try it with you. Because he would always be there and taunting her.
“See you two are getting along,” Homelander says walking up to stand next to Maeve.
Speak of the fucking devil.
“What do you want,” Maeve questioned, her hands turning into fists beside her. She did not want to deal with him right now, she didn’t want to deal with his condescending tone and him just bothering her when she didn’t want it.
“What I can’t see if my teammate is doing well in her relationship,” Homelander says feigning hurt and Maeve rolled her eyes at that. He didn’t feel hurt, he was just upset that he didn’t have her anymore.
“Why the fuck do you care, you and I both know that you’re not hurt by that, you were the who practically had it happen,” Maeve commented, telling the truth. If he didn’t out her, she wouldn’t be in this relationship with you, hell she might not even know who the fuck you are.
“That is true but is it so hard to believe that I hope you two are happy, that you guys happen to be just like the two of us. Starting out fake and ending up in a real relationship,” Homelander says putting his hands behind his back and Maeve had to bite her tongue so she wouldn’t tell him how much she fucking despised him.
“Just leave her the fuck alone please,” Maeve says her tone with an underlining of fear. Fear for you.
“Why would you think I want to hurt her? If anything I might thank her for making you happy, and who knows we all might be friends in the end if things work out right,” Homelander calmly says and Maeve could hear the subtle threat. Even if he wasn’t outright threatening you, she knew something would happen to you if she didn’t do something to protect you. Staying away was out of the question. She needed to make sure you were okay.
“Plus, you seem really comfortable with her, especially with that talk you guys just had,” Homelander says with a grin. Maeve could swear she felt her heart stop but she kept a straight face. “Hopefully she knows what she's in for when she signed up for this, literally,” He chuckles.
“Whatever, can you please just leave me alone,” Maeve snapped and Homelander gave her a shocked and surprised look.
“You know you might want to keep your eye on her, I mean who knows what could happen to her, especially at night,” Homelander says with a cryptic tone as his shoulders tense before he leaves.
Once Maeve made it to her penthouse she finally let out a breath of air that she’s been holding. She knew that he wouldn’t out right kill you right now, so she had some time to get a game plan. She had to protect you. No matter what it took.
Taking a swig of her whiskey she took a seat on her couch as her shoulders slouched with tiredness and stress. Besides everything she couldn’t wait to see you, no matter when.
It’s been a few days since that day in the elevator, but you don’t know what’s changed in Maeve. She’s been more into talking to you and you can’t say you’re upset. She’s been more of a comfort, and you loved that.
But she’s been flirting with you at least more outwardly.
You can’t lie when you say that you've been loving it. Ever since this relationship started a few weeks ago you’ve been trying to talk to her and now she’s actually talking to you. Whatever changed in her you loved it.
She’s also been very sad whenever you have to leave, whether it was to go to work somewhere else or go home. She always looked a bit upset and you didn’t know why, it couldn’t be she’d miss your presence. At least you didn’t think so.
But you've always reassured her that you’d be back whether it's the next day or a few hours from then. She seemed to like the reassurance you gave her and you’ve been using that so she doesn’t get so sad, upset, or hurt when you leave. It sometimes left you up at night wondering if she was just lonely or she acutely did like you.
On the other side of the fence Maeve has been keeping her eye on you after Homelander not so subtly threatened you. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy flirting with you. Even though it’s been a while since she has flirted, you seemed to enjoy whatever line she threw your way based on the shy smile you’d give her, or the tiny laugh.
Even though she enjoyed flirting, she’s been getting more and more clingy due to Homelanders eye now being on you. Asking you if you were going to be okay, or when you’re going to be back and you’ve always reassured her that you would be back and you were fine.
It helped but it didn’t help the thought that you may be dead the next day and when you walked in the room with your signature smile she felt herself relax. What usually helped her get through the night is alcohol but she hated drinking that shit even though it helped her clear her head.
On this particular night, Maeve sat down on her couch trying to just watch tv but her thoughts kept coming back to you. If you were okay and if you were, what were you doing? It was only 11 at night so you wouldn’t be doing much and she hasn’t had any alcohol today. So nothing stopped her when she stripped herself out of her costume and into some jeans and a flannel t-shirt.
Looking in the mirror she cringed a little, it’s been a while since she’s been in casual clothes.
Putting her hair into a ponytail and then she shook it out trying to figure out what to do with it. She decided to just leave it down and put some sunglasses on to make sure no one recognized it was her, people were probably already asleep or in their homes so hopefully they didn’t recognize her.
Walking out of the Vought tower she looked around to make sure no one knew her or even worse, if Homelander was following her. He’s been in and out of it recently so she hoped he set his eyes on something else.
She walked in the direction of the Vought owned apartment building where you lived. You told her where you lived, if she needed to see you or if she just wanted to talk.
In this particular moment she just needed some comfort, whether it be talking or just being in the same room as you. Anything would do, if she were there, she would be able to make sure to keep you safe. At least try.
Standing in front of the door she raised her hesitantly and stopped trying to control her racing heart, but she took a deep breath as she knocked on the door and took a step back waiting for you to answer it and took her sunglasses off as well.
No going back now.
At first she was worried that you weren’t there, or worse that you were just dead because you weren’t answering the door but she felt her shoulders drop as soon as she heard you walking to the door.
Once you opened you were surprised to see Maeve standing there, especially in casual clothes since you’ve never seen her in anything else. But you saw her give you an awkward smile and you licked your lips before deciding to say something.
“Maeve what’s wrong,” You question, clearing your throat moving out of the way so she could come into the apartment. Luckily you were still awake because you were about to go to sleep, she probably knew due to you wearing sleeping shorts and an oversized t-shirt.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted to come over since you always said I could if I needed to,” Maeve awkwardly rambled as she entered the room and you closed the door behind her.
“Don’t worry I wasn’t asleep yet, I was about to but you got here just in time,” You reassured her standing in front of her.
“I just needed to talk to you, or to just be here next to you,” She says while shaking her head as she feels her body finally relax. You were safe.
“Oh well, I’m glad you did, I did say you were welcome here anytime,” You give her a cheeky smile making your way into the kitchen. “Want some water, or any other beverage,” You questioned.
“Water is okay,” Maeve answers, scratching the back of her head as she makes her way to sit on your couch. Your apartment was very homey, nothing like the lifelessness of her penthouse back at the tower. This place made her feel safe, like she could just live here with you.
“Okay here you go,” You say, giving her the glass of water before sitting down on the couch next to her leaning against the cushion and facing your body so that you were looking at her. “Since you are here, do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you or do you want to just watch tv, that’d be fine as well,” You question not wanting to feel too pushy.
“Let’s just talk,” Maeve softly replies before turning her body to look at you as well. It was pretty dark but not dark enough to see that Maeve looked really happy and that made you feel good.
“What do you suggest,” You ask, contorting your body so that one leg was under you.
“Uh what do you do besides being a superhero that works with Vought, or is this your full time job like me,” She asks.
“Well I do like to volunteer on my own time, without any cameras to talk to kids in children's hospitals, I just feel like Vought would just use that to monetize it so I just kept it to my spare time,” You answer looking down at your lap.
“Wow, so you're just a real superhero,” Maeve says, looking at you with adoration. She always wanted to be a hero and when she started, she felt like it, she really wanted to help people but Vought ruined it like they always do and soon she was just another person they could get money from.
“Well so are you, I mean you’re Queen Maeve for fucking sake, you make a difference even if you weren’t out in the front line,” You chuckle.
“I don’t think I do,” Maeve answers with a tiny cringe. She wishes that she was everything you said about her but she wasn’t and that just made her heart almost stop.
“Come on, you’re an inspiration to little girls all around the world and now you’re probably helping a lot of kids come to terms with their sexuality and trust me I wish I had someone like you to look up to when I was growing up,” You say, your tone full of happiness.
“I don’t see it,” Maeve laughs, taking a swig of her water.
“I wish you could see what I see when I look at you,” You muse looking at her with such warmth that would make her feel like the only person in the world. You put your hand on her arm giving a smile caress.
“Vought just fucking sucks,” Maeve remarked and you give her small nod.
“That is true, I mean I’m only doing it for the money now,” You say with contempt. “It’s just another greedy corporation that doesn’t care about anything they say it does.”
“It just feels like I’m projecting this persona and no one knows the real me, with all the fucking scripts and talk show interviews, its just fucking tiring,” Maeve sighs, resting one of her hands on your knee just taking in the comfort you’re offering her. “It’s just one thing after another they want you to do and it’s never enough.”
“That’s true nothing will ever be enough for fucking greedy companies like Vought, but you knows what helps me,” You say leaning in a bit.
“What,” Maeve questions, using her thumb to rub figure eights on your knee as she unconsciously starts to move it a little higher.
“Knowing that someone out there, no matter who they are, and they need inspiration and we can give them that, even if it’s just to stand up to their fucking boss or kick a guy in his balls if he can’t take fucking no for an answer. People who just look up to us and know that we make that difference, I know it sounds kind of stupid but it really does help me sleep better at night,” You say knowing the stories your fans have told you, about how much you helped them.
Meanwhile Maeves had started to give your leg some goosebumps. You were already a bit hot and bothered due to her just being her and now she was teasing you.
“That makes sense, I just wish I could look through those lenses,” Maeve lets out a tiny giggle.
“I hoped that helped you though, because I totally see where you’re coming from,” You say with a bit of worry.
“Don’t worry you totally helped me, you just being here and listening to me helped me,” Maeve reassured you, giving her hand a squeeze on your thigh, she moved a bit closer to you as you felt your heart start to race a bit. “Can I uh try something,” She asked with a laugh.
“Of course, anything,” You say with a swallow.
Maeve leaned in closer til she pressed her lips to yours and you put your hand on her cheek and moved your lips along hers. It’s been a while since you’ve even liked someone so kissing someone felt like eons ago.
But it felt good kissing her and her hand lightly caressing your thigh as she kissed you hard and slipped her tongue in your mouth after you lost the battle of dominance. You moaned into her mouth as she started to trail kisses down your neck and started to suck a bruise on your clavicle.
You moaned as you felt yourself get wetter and wetter by the second and the only sound you could hear in the apartment was her heavy breathing and your moans.
“Where’s your room,” Maeve muttered the question as she started to trail kisses up your neck and right below your ear and started to make another hickey right there.
“Uh,” You began to say but moaned when she found your sweet spot on your neck. “It’s straight down the hall,” You say as you clear your throat.
Maeve then surprised you with your strength (which you shouldn’t be really surprised) and picked you up so your legs were wrapped around her waist as the two of you kept kissing as she made her way to your room. Her hand was on your ass and started to gently squeeze, making you moan into her mouth again.
She finally got your door open and walked to your bed and gently put you on the bed but not leaving you alone for a while as she made her way on top of you and started to kiss you again.
Your hands found their way into her long red hair as she ran her hands up and down your thighs which made you sigh into her mouth as her tongue started to explore what felt like every inch of your mouth. You started to grind up into her hips trying to get some friction you most desperately needed even though you were still in the confines of your shorts.
Making her way down your neck she started to pepper kisses along your chest and got frustrated when your shirt got in the way. She moved her hands to the hem of your shirt and you leaned up a little so she could pull it off you. She gave your chest a look of adoration before she started to trail kisses and started to leave hickeys along your chest.
You were letting out little whines and whimpers due to the fact that you felt like your pussy was getting more and more wet each time she kissed your body.
Her mouth finally made its way to your nipple and wrapped her plump lips around the tiny bud that was already hard due to it being a bit chilly. You moaned and arched your back a bit when she began to suck your nipple and you started to grind harder and harder against her own hips.
Moving away Maeve unbuttoned her own shirt and threw it to the side to where your shirt laid. You didn’t even have a little time to stare at her chest before she started to kiss down your stomach and around your belly button and started to toy with the strings of your shorts.
“Please,” You moaned as her hands moved down to your upper thighs and squeezed a bit harder but it definitely didn’t hurt you.
“Please what,” Maeve said with a cheeky tone that almost made you explode into pieces.
“Just touch me please,” You begged, jutting your hips up trying to get more friction on your pussy as you felt yourself get more and more wet if that was even possible.
Her hands made their way to your hips and pressed them down to the bed so you couldn’t move your hips and you let out a whine at that. You felt like you were about to burst into pieces.
“Just relax and have some patience sweetheart,” Maeve said with a sultry tone that made you whimper.
You nodded and decided to relax against the pillow which made Maeve give you a little smile. She moved back to your lower stomach and returned to kissing your body and you closed your eyes and let out tiny moans whenever she decided to give you a little nip.
Once she decided she was done with teasing you which felt like an eternity, she pulled down the shorts and let out a little laugh when she saw that you weren’t wearing any panties. While you moaned as the cool air came into contact with your wet pussy.
“God you are so fucking hot,” Maeve cursed as she moved down little and started to tease your inner thighs and decided to resume her kissing as she slowly made her way up.
You moaned as she sucked another hickey right above your aching clit that was throbbing. Her hands were still on your hips so that you could grind your hips up and that level of strength she held made your insides heat up. She chuckled against your skin as she felt you try to but she didn’t let up.
Once she did decide to take mercy upon you and press a gentle kiss to your kiss, you let out a tiny moan due to the sensitivity. She dragged her tongue along your wet folds, that made you moan and squeeze the blanket that you were laying on and your hand turned into fist.
Her tongue started doing wonders as she ran it up and down your folds multiple times and went up to your clit and your hips stuttered a bit when she wrapped her lips around your clit and started to softly suck on the soft nub.
“Maeve,” You moaned louder this time, that your neighbors might hear you.
Meanwhile Maeve had her thoughts clear of Homelander once you started moaning and she already adored the way she could make you melt with a couple kisses and touches.
Due to her teasing you, you could already feel your organsm rising and you would feel a bit embarrassed but Maeve seemed to know and started to suck harder and her mouth left your clit once which made you whine a bit but was quickly reassured when she ran her tongue up your folds and sucked your clit harder this time. She ran her tongue all around the little nub that she could feel throbbing.
“Maeve, I’m about too-,” You say your voice a little high pitched.
Maeve gave your hips a squeeze and nodded her head in reassurance without removing her lips from the tender muscle. So you just let your body do your thing and you let out strings of moans and yelps as Maeve started to suck faster and harder and with another single suck you let out a loud moan as you came all over her tongue.
Even though you felt like you blacked out, you could feel Maeve dip her tongue into your folds, deciding to clean up your release and moaning at the taste of you. You winced at the overstimulation and put your hand on her arm tugging her back up and luckily she did.
You could taste yourself on her mouth as she started to kiss you again and your hands started to move to her hips wanting to return the favor.
“Come on, take your pants off and let me help you,” You mutter against her lips, which makes her moan into your mouth. She nodded against your lips.
Once she got her pants and panties off and she returned to kissing you, your hands made their way to her hips again and started to move around to her thighs. But deciding that she still wanted to be in control she moved her hands to yours and put them to the sides and gave them a squeeze which made you moan into her mouth.
“I just want to help you like you helped me,” You whimper against her lips.
“I know but just trust me with this,” Maeve muttered moving her lips from yours.
The next thing you knew you felt her grinding her pussy on top of yours and her clit dragging across yours. You moaned but that was quieted once she decided to stick her tongue down your throat again.
You weren’t complaining.
Her grinding didn’t stop or show any hesitance as she felt her own release start to rise. Her clit throbbed against yours as she felt the knot in her stomach start to tighten even more. And due to the fact that she’s been wet ever since she kissed you it didn’t even take one more thrust before she came against your pussy with a strained moan of your name.
You smiled against her lips and kissed her neck and shoulder as she came down from her own release.
Once she felt legs stop shaking Maeve pulled the blankets over both of your nude bodies and wrapped her arms around and rested her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.
“Feel better,” You quested drawing random things on the arm that was wrapped around your waist. You felt her chuckle against your neck and pepper a few kisses below your ear.
“Feel amazing,” Maeve whispered in your ear which made you let out an airy giggle.
“Well I’m glad I could help,” You laugh as you put your hand on top of hers.
“You definitely did more than help,” Maeve says as her eyes look over your nude form. Even though she couldn’t see much she saw something that made her let out a giggle.
“What are you laughing at,” You smile, twisting your body a bit so you could get a better look at her. But you had to admit a smile looked amazing on her.
“I just wanted to apologize,” Maeve says between little laughs.
“For what and you don’t seem sorry for whatever it is,” You laugh along with her.
“I just wanted to say sorry for the bruises,” Maeve sheepishly says and you look down to your hips and you could feel yourself already get more wet by looking at them.
“No need to say sorry, It’s kinda hot,” You say with a smirk.
“You dirty dog,” Maeve laughs, resting her head on the pillow.
“Says you,” You laugh and for what feels like ages you finally feel happy.
SUMMARY while butcher and hughie go on a food run, they make the mistake of leaving you to babysit soldier boy
WARNINGS smut, unprotected sex (which is fake and i do not promote in real life), the boys s3 spoilers NO MALE READERS
REQUESTED yes/no
WORD COUNT 4.2k words
not technically my first time writing for the boys, i just haven't posted the other stuff i've written.
“Are you sure your friends are coming back?”
“They’ve only been gone for like… ten minutes. How impatient are you?” You questioned, turning your head from the quiet television in the corner to focus on the man in front of you. Soldier Boy, the Supe you had been after for the last few weeks. the one that every Supe in the world had heard of, and the one that everyone assumed was long dead. Yet there he was, sitting in front of you with that absolutely stunning face of his.
“I’m pretty hungry.” He grumbled, turning away from you and looking back at the television. “I don’t need a babysitter, you know. I’m an adult.”
“Good thing I’m not babysitting, I just didn’t feel like going out.” You answered, shrugging as you glanced toward the window. “It hurts sometimes.”
His attention was on you in an instant, the slight shimmer on your skin and glow behind your eyes reminding him that you weren’t human. “Shouldn’t the human solar panel love being out in the sun?”
“Sure, it’s good for me. But with too much exposure and not enough usage, it starts to hurt.” It wasn’t very easy to explain, but it was something you had to live with. “Think about if you… you hardly even know about any of the technology I could use to explain it.”
Overcharging a phone was what you had wanted to tell him. But the man hadn’t been out and about since long before cell phones were invented, and you knew that he wasn’t going to have a single idea about what you were talking about. “No, I get it. Like when I get overwhelmed and… blow up.”
“Something like that, yeah.” You’d never wanted to be a Supe, you weren’t even sure if Soldier Boy knew how it happened to him. But you figured adjusting to living in a new time period was a lot, so you didn’t want to lay any more on him than he already had on his plate. You’d seen what happened when he got overwhelmed, and you would rather avoid being blown to bits before you even had the chance to fight back against the Seven.
The Seven, the group for which you had been an honorary member before you decided to run off with Starlight’s friends, were people you avoided at any cost unless you absolutely needed to deal with them. The fear that they would find you, that you would be killed or maimed in some way, was something you wanted off your chest. Soldier Boy was the key to that, according to Butcher, and you were going to fight for things to go your way.
“Isn’t that you?” A question brought you out of your thoughts as your eyes landed back on the screen, a branded ‘Sunrise Tanning Lotion’ leaving you rolling your eyes. “Sunrise, that’s a nice name.”
“It isn’t my name, Soldier Boy.” It felt strange, as you let your real name slip from your mouth. Not many people ever heard it, once you had an identity as a Supe, it was just something that you were stuck with. The sun rose from your body when it erupted, in a sea of energy and devastation to anyone, or anything around it. Sunrise, was the name you were given, and not many people were ever clued in on what you had been called at birth.
“Well Soldier Boy isn’t my name, smartass. It’s Ben.” Your eyebrows raised at the fact that he had shared his real name with you. You’d figured he would be just as extreme as Homelander was when it came to keeping his real identity a secret. But, you figured, it was probably best to not judge a book by its cover. Especially when the cover was the man that you had a poster of on your childhood bedroom wall until you were hired by Vought.
The silence that filled the room wasn’t as uncomfortable as you would have assumed it to be. The only noises that really filled it were the faint noises of distant city traffic, the quiet television, and the occasional growl of Soldier Boy- sorry, Ben’s, stomach. Truthfully, you were probably more comfortable sitting in this room with Ben than you ever were trying to sit in silence with Butcher. He had a very overbearing presence, one that just reeked of some kind of mischief. Ben was different, he didn’t seem scared to be in the future, nor did he seem necessarily confused. There was just something about him that felt docile, that felt like he needed some kind of help because he was somewhere new to him. He was confident and self-assured, but that confidence was going to get him killed. And whatever work they’d done on him in that lab, definitely did a number on the once-charismatic golden boy that you’d been seeing since you were a child.
“Can you teach me how to control it?” He asked, interrupting your thoughts as your head shot over to him. The genuine question shocked you, since you were used to the gruff sarcasm of Butcher by now. It felt refreshing to have someone actually asking for your advice, and not picking on you because your parents decided to shoot you up with an experimental superhuman drug, and ‘not even make it into the seven’.
“I can try, but I’m still learning how to do it myself.” You said, glancing down at your skin. “When I… explode, my skin starts to glow. Right now it’s dull, like glitter, because I’m keeping the energy calm.”
It was hard to teach something you had been working on learning your entire life, to show someone something that you had a hard time understanding completely. But he didn’t try to stop you, nor did he look disinterested as you explained your powers to him. That was your main point of encouragement as you decided to continue, it wasn’t like Butcher and Hughie would be back very soon, you were sure the line was going to be rather long, plus, traffic was a killer.
“I just try to think of things that calm me. Memories, people. Things that are disarming, because if you’re disarmed, you won’t feel the need to fight. But I don’t have it completely under control, if I did, my skin wouldn’t look glittery at all, it would look normal.” You explained, moving from your seat on the couch to sit next to him. “You can see it get worse when I’m in the sunlight, but my powers rely on something out of my control, yours are much more difficult. Your emotions are the driving force of the weapon, and those are the only things you need to focus on.”
You watched as Ben took your arm into his hands, examining the skin that was beginning to glow. “Does it hurt?”
“A little, I’m used to it.”
The truth of the matter was that he was probably the first person to show any genuine interest in your abilities since you were younger. It was surprising and fresh, to have someone who genuinely seemed to want to know more about what it was that you had within you.
It was so refreshing, that it became more and more difficult for you to remember what kind of person you were talking to. He was a ladies man back in his day, and someone who had killed countless people. You saw, first hand, just how much MM hated him for what he did. And yet, you couldn’t help but find yourself entranced with him, with the things he was saying and the way he was acting. Perhaps it was all by design, all those years he spent acting in Vought movies actually paying off for him in the future. But you couldn’t be too sure, and as you felt him release your arm, and allow your eyes to lock together from a new and closer perspective, you didn’t want to completely write him off.
“So, what if I’m in a room full of people and I get overwhelmed. What do I do then?” He asked, turning the conversation back over to how he can control his new abilities. You were sure he had a lot of questions, questions that you were sure Butcher and Hughie wouldn’t have the answer to.
“The first thing you need to understand is trusting yourself, and the second is that you can’t know your triggers before you encounter them.” You said, leaning back against the more plush couch he had chosen. “If they listened to a certain song while you were under, and that makes you explode, you won’t know that until it’s too late. You need to discover these things, otherwise you can’t learn how to keep them under your control.”
“Discover meaning…”
“More people will die, that’s just how it is.” You answered, shrugging as if it were nothing. To you, it didn’t mean much. Being a Supe meant accepting collateral damage, that was something you were trying to unlearn during your time with Butcher and the rest of the boys. But unlearning something you were made to be accustomed to throughout your entire life wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. “Once you know what sets you off, then you can start to figure out what calms you. I personally imagine myself walking through an empty street on a warm night, but for you it might be sitting in a snowy cabin or a diner from when you were… alive.”
Ben seemed to be listening intently to what you were saying, but you could still see the questions just sitting on the tip of his tongue. “But, if I’m already about to… blow up… how am I supposed to think straight?”
“That’s the hard part, you need to figure out how to think straight during those moments. You need to find what calms you now, so you can quickly go there when you need to. It’s going to take time.” You explained, trying your best to teach him all of the things you had learned. You’d been sitting just how he was when this was all taught to you, when you accepted the risks and rewards of being a Supe. You knew it was a lot to process, and a lot to take in, but he had the background of already having superpowers. The ones he had been given just happened to be a little different, and he needed to learn how to use them before more people got hurt as a result.
“You seem nicer than your friends.”
“Everyone in the world is nicer than Billy Butcher.” You retorted, a small smile creeping up on your face. “But no one is nicer than Hughie, I just understand where you’re coming from. You’re a better listener than I thought you would be.”
Ben only hummed in agreement, sitting back on the couch in a far more relaxed state than he had been in before. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous movie he was watching, even though it was a completely serious scene. It was so over the top and dramatic, that you hardly remembered that you were sitting beside the star of it.
“I’m sorry, movies have come a long way.” You said, turning to look next to you to see if he was offended by you laughing. The last thing you wanted was for him to be offended, what a way to go out that would be. But when you did lock eyes with him, all you saw was what seemed to be admiration.
There was no time to question it as you felt a calloused yet somehow soft hand resting on your cheek, warm lips melding with yours. You’d only just met this man, and every thought in your brain was telling him that you needed to push him away and stop him from kissing you, but you didn’t want to. Sure, you had only just met him for the first time less than a day ago and sure, he had almost killed one of your friends. And yes, he had killed more people in the past and didn’t really seem to feel bad about it from what you had heard, but when was the last time you allowed yourself to let go of the (many) inhibitions in your mind and just give in to what your body wanted?
The decision time it took to kiss him back wasn’t nearly as long as you felt like it was, and clearly quick enough to make him confident enough to slide his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck. You felt Ben’s fingers tangle in your hair as you leaned into him, your own hand grabbing onto one of his shoulders as you decided to embrace the kiss. Everything about it felt good, everything about him felt good, even though you knew it shouldn’t.
This man, this man that you were currently making out with while the television played some movie he had been in decades ago, was not the type of man that you had ever wanted to be associated with. He had just killed his former lover the night before, He was on a mission to kill more people who he had been on a team with currently, albeit, those were people who plotted what led to his years of torture and cryostatis, but he was still someone who used murder to cope with things. But who was to say that every single person you slept with needed to be morally just? You weren’t morally just, the things Butcher made you do just to even get to where you were now were unspeakable. You’d killed so many people, bad people, but people never-the-less. So who was really to say that you were better than this man in some way?
Definitely not you, as you felt his tongue beginning to caress your bottom lip, as your main concern stopped being whether or not it was okay to kiss him, and started being whether or not you had enough time to let him into your pants. Ben didn’t seem as concerned about it as you were, as you felt him waste no time in popping the button on the jeans you were wearing, feeling your hands grip the top of his sweatpants.
The both of you were quick in your actions, Ben’s kisses trailing from your lips and further South toward your jaw, while you pushed that jersey he was wearing off of his body. You let him continue to pull your jeans off, thankful that you hadn’t decided to put your shoes back on incase you needed to leave the hotel room. His lips detached from your neck so you could pull his undershirt off his head, while he removed your shirt as well.
“How quick are your friends, again?”
“I don’t know, I’d say the line would be about twenty minutes on a Saturday afternoon. The closest place is about ten minutes from here and ten minutes back on the subway, so I think we have about twenty more minutes.” You watched his face twist into one of amusement at your calculations. “Sorry, I like to be exact.”
“Don’t apologize, it’s cute. Twenty minutes’ll do.” He said, reattaching his lips to your neck while you worked the gray sweatpants off his body. You were both moving with a renewed sense of purpose, you wanted to sleep with Ben and he wanted to sleep with you. But your calculations had a higher likelihood of giving you more time than you had, rather than less. You weren’t about to have Butcher and Hughie walk in on you letting Soldier Boy take you to pound town, especially considering that you had only just met the man.
He seemed to feel the same sense of need to hurry up, as he didn’t even bother to remove your bra before pulling you on top of him on the couch. From where you were sitting, the sunlight was starting to cover your face. But with the pleasure controlling your body, you didn’t let it bother you. You felt Ben push your panties to the side, your eyes locking with his as you helped him tug his briefs down before he slid into you.
“Normally, I’d take my time with you. But we’re in a pinch, another day.” He said, justifying his quick actions as he took very little time to start thrusting rather harshly into you. You were quick to grind down on him, varying between rolling your hips and bouncing on top of his (rather sizeable) cock.
Perhaps being with someone like this shouldn’t feel so good. No foreplay, no getting to know each other, just you deciding to get railed by this guy you hardly knew who also happened to kill people. But something about it felt breathtaking, something about him made it feel right and good. It felt like something that you could have only ever dreamed about, especially since you were always too busy to even try and sleep with people.
It had been a long time since you had done something truly normal. Between trying to pretend that you were loyal to Vought, and helping Butcher and his friends take down the people you were pretending to be loyal to. To going on the run once Homelander caught whiff of what you were up to behind the scenes, and going to try and break some guy you believed was dead out of Russia, you hadn’t done something as normal as getting railed by some hot dude you had only just met in longer than you could even remember.
The sounds of your moans filling the room, and feeling a hand cover your mouth, reminded you of your surroundings. “We’re fugitives, quiet.”
You bit down on his hand so he would take it off of your mouth, a grin covering your lips at his shocked expression. “We’re not fugitives, just in hiding from other Supes.” You corrected him, biting your bottom lip to stop a moan from dropping from your lips. “I’ll be quiet, though.”
The reminder that you were next to people was something you couldn’t deny that you needed, though you were also reminded of why you were there. You glanced past him, making sure that there was no one outside. Thankfully, you didn’t see anyone even close to the parking lot, which meant that your friends were definitely not back yet. In your distraction, you didn’t noticed Ben shifting until you were pressed into the couch below him, his hips pistoning into yours like it was the only thing he was ever meant to do in his life.
It wasn’t hard to see that there was a lot of rage inside of him that he was letting out with his movements, but since you were a Supe, you were able to take his harsh thrusts inside of you with little problem. The feeling of a hand grasping your hips as tightly as he was filled your mind as you stared up at him, pulling his face down to yours so you could pull him into another kiss. It was sloppy and wet, mostly tongues and less of either of you actually thinking through what you were doing.
The kiss served to muffle the moans leaving your throat, not allowing your temporary neighbors to be clued into the fact that there were people having sex in the room next to them. Sure, they probably heard that in hotels all the time, but that didn’t mean that they might not complain. Nor did it mean that a complaint couldn’t get you or Soldier Boy recognized, and that was something that you very much needed to avoid.
When you’d fantasized about him before, before you knew him and before you even knew he was still alive, you had always imagined him to be more talkative during sex. Though, you were sure that he probably was a more talkative person before whatever happened to him down in that lab, before he became a rat for testing and had everyone he knew betray him. You couldn’t sit there and defend him, even with his cock slamming in and out of you at a superhuman rate, but you could understand why he was the way he was. You could empathize, and do your best to help him become better.
But. at some point, any and all thoughts that were going through your mind were completely lost. He felt too good, his thrusts and his talented hips all felt so good that you could hardly process what exactly you were feeling. Everything about Ben was completely consuming you as you fought with everything in you to keep yourself from breaking your messy kiss just so you could moan his name. But it was not a moment for that, and even in your cock-drunk state you could still understand that you needed to keep quiet if you wanted to keep both of you alive.
Your hand trailed down your body as you tucked your fingers under your panties and rubbed circles around your clit, your back arching into Ben’s torso as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your climax. His thrusts were incredibly powerful, forceful but never in a way that was hurting you. There was a lot of pent up anger and rage in the way he moved, and you were sure that this was a more positive outlet than accidentally blowing up in the middle of the city.
It didn’t take much longer for you to finally finish, feeling him pull out so he could spray your stomach with his cum as you panted against him. There was no doubt in your mind that there was more aggression within him, but as you heard the familiar voices of your friends from what sounded like the ground below you both, you were scrambling to make it look as if you had never even touched each other.
By the time Butcher and Hughie were back, you remained where you were, meanwhile Ben had taken a seat at the table. “Oi, your forehead’s glowing.” Butcher said, watching as you turned away from the windows and looked at both of them, your fingers trailing over the skin.
“I was just keeping watch, you never know who could have seen us come in here.” You lied easier than you wanted to admit, but he seemed to buy it. It meant a lot that Butcher would trust you, a Supe, alone with the Supe that he needs in order to take down Homelander. But that didn’t change the fact that he had no business knowing who you let into your pants and who you didn’t, and thankfully, he believed your lie.
“Sunrise here is a pretty good bodyguard.” Ben said, reverting back to your assigned names once the others were in the room. You couldn’t help the way that made a brow raise, but you recalled how he had said he would take his time with you another day. There was a big part of you that was apprehensive around him, knowing that he had the potential to be dangerous and end up getting you hurt or killed in some way. You’d seen what had happened to the Crimson Countess, and you were sure she had her reasons for betraying Soldier Boy, but you couldn’t claim that you would stray away from making her same mistakes. People changed, and you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“And Soldier Boy is a pretty easy person to guard, I’d say it was more like babysitting.” You teased, fighting back a laugh at how he looked ever-so-slight offended. That offense went away the second Hughie handed him the burger that he had been waiting for, thankfully meaning that you didn’t have to listen to his stomach growling anymore. Unless he was way hungrier than anyone could have anticipated, but you didn’t believe that to be the case.
“Whatever the deal was, we have shit to do. Once he’s finished eating, we need to pick up our asses.” Butcher, ever the eloquent man, was all business and wasted no time in getting straight to the brass task, even while Soldier Boy had his nose covered in powder. He was here so Butcher could get his revenge on Homelander for what he did to him, but you wanted to believe that there was a chance that yourself and Soldier Boy would make it out of this alive. Even if he wasn’t a very good person, who really was? You were willing to take that risk, especially if it meant that you were going to have more opportunities to explore the full extent of the body you had gotten a glimpse of in that lab.
Summary: butcher leaves you to keep an eye on soldier boy and things become interesting when a deck of cards gets involved
Tags: (18+), enemies to lovers (not exactly but kinda), canon-typical behavior, soldier boy being soldier boy (yes that’s a warning), humor/comedy, strip poker, bets, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, table sex, surprise ending
A/N: been wanting to write for a jensen character for a while and got inspired rewatching the boys. the character is such an ass but I can’t help but be into him lol
Cross-posted to ao3 • the boys masterlist • writing masterlist
“We’ll be back in a bit,” Butcher announced, stepping in the direction of the door. He looked between you and Hughie, as if still trying to decide which ‘we’ he wanted. “Come on, lad,” he addressed the latter. Hughie seemed relieved, eyeing Soldier Boy wearily before standing and joining Butcher.
Hughie gave you an apologetic look, while Butcher pointed at you and said, “you—keep an eye on him.” He pointed at the supe, as if it wasn’t obvious.
You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at Butcher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“No,” Butcher replied casually, ushering Hughie out the door before he himself attempted to step out. You got to your feet and caught the door before he could shut it. Butcher let out a dramatic sound and cocked his head as he looked down at you.
You didn’t find him intimidating, not anymore. You had squared up against the man more than once. Hell, you thought Butcher respected you more for it.
“You have a problem?” he asked, baiting you.
“He’s gonna try and fuck me,” you said bluntly—albeit under your breath.
Butcher scoffed out a laugh, seeming actually amused. He also knew it was true. Ever since Soldier Boy had laid his eyes on you, he’d been gunning for you. Whether it was lewd comments or hungry gazes, it was obvious to everyone. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it one bit.
“Well, don’t let him then,” Butcher offered in a mocking tone.
Butcher wouldn’t have left you with the man if he thought you’d actually get hurt, you knew that. And it’s not like the supe scared you—at least not for that reason. The only one who seemed outwardly uncomfortable with his behavior was Hughie. You could handle him, but being alone in his company wasn’t an ideal way to spend your afternoon.
“Gee, thanks,” you replied sarcastically.
“Hey lady, I’m a gentleman,” Soldier Boy piped up in a gruff, annoyed voice. He seemed genuinely offended.
“See?” Butcher said in that stupid, I told you so tone. “Like I said, we’ll be back.”
With an annoyed huff, you pulled your hand from the door and allowed the man to pull it shut in your face. You caught his victorious smirk right before. Everything was a showdown with Butcher it seemed, and boy did he love to win.
“So,” Soldier Boy started as you turned back to him. “Are you gonna be a bitch to me this whole time? Just ‘cause I paid you a few compliments?”
You scoffed and shook your head, wondering how he thought saying shit like, “your tits look great in that shirt,” counted as a compliment. Whatever, he wasn’t going to change and you weren’t going to bother yourself with lecturing the stubborn asshole. You and the boys needed him as a weapon, not as a politically correct member of society. You’d burden yourself with whipping him into shape after he took care of Homelander.
“We’re gonna end up with a few hours to kill,” you noted as a change of topic, looking around the room.
You could hear the smirk in his voice when Soldier Boy said, “if you’re looking for suggestions, I have a few ideas.”
You rolled your eyes, but glossed over it. He was attractive and even charismatic—you couldn’t deny that—but he seemed to counter that with the crudeness of his personality. You spotted a deck of cards and grabbed it. “How’s your poker face?” you asked, holding up the cards for him to see.
“Texas hold ‘em?” He actually seemed into the idea.
“Sure, why not,” you decided.
You sat down across from him at the table where he’d been sitting. He pushed aside wrappers and pill bottles to make room. You began to deal and laid out the cards.
“What, you don’t have any chips?” Soldier Boy asked, looking at you expectantly.
“Where would I have chips at?”
“I don’t know, poker was your idea. You can’t play poker without betting.”
“I mean, you can,” you argued half-heartedly. Being alone with him was exhausting already.
“If you’re fucking boring you can,” he shot back. Suddenly, a look you could only describe as devious crossed his face. “We could play strip poker.”
At first, your instinct was to tell him hell no. You should’ve, honestly. Another part of you wondered if it would be fun— it was that impulsive, indelicate side of you that made you work so well with the boys. You must’ve been curious, crazy, or both to agree. But, you did.
“Fine.”
He practically beamed, grinning in victory. You were already starting to regret it. “Now it’s a real game. Gotta have something on the line.”
Even as he said that, you had an inkling that the stakes would be a bit higher for you. And as the two of you played and clothing began to disappear from the both of you, you suspected he wanted to be naked in front of you almost as much as he wanted you to be naked in front of him. That became obvious when he took off his shirt and pants after his first two losses. You’d opted to remove a sock after yours.
Still, the two of you carried on a conversation during the game. It was a shock to you when you began to relax around him. It was even more surprising when you laughed at some stupid joke he made at Hughie and Butcher’s expense.
“You seem like most of the brains behind the operation,” Soldier Boy continued, laying the charm on thick. You could spot it clear as day, but even you weren’t totally immune to it as you grew to actually enjoy the game.
“More like their wrangler,” you replied with a small laugh.
“Maybe they’re too busy grabbing at each other's dicks,” Soldier Boy suggested. It pulled another laugh from you despite the offensiveness of it. Being around the boys for so long you’d developed a darker sense of humor.
A smile crossed his face, seeming proud of himself as he watched you react.
“You startin’ to hate me less?” he asked suddenly, like he just had to know right then.
“What?” you replied with a small chuckle, hardly registering the question for a minute. “Does it matter?”
It seemed to pain him when he replied unconvincingly, “no,” with a scoff. “Well, maybe.”
“Wow, that must’ve been hard,” you commented sarcastically. “Does my opinion actually matter to you?”
“What, a guy can’t make conversation?” Soldier Boy was getting defensive.
Over the past however long, his ego had been deeply bruised. You saw it back when he realized the truth about his team. He’d been betrayed and forgotten. You suspected there was a part of him, a still human part, that was desperately seeking approval. Even if he covered it up.
Still, you dropped it. You could’ve told him that you were beginning to think he wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to risk boosting his ego. He was still a dick, you tried not to forget that.
After a few more hands, you were missing socks and pants—still keeping your bra, underwear, and shirt—and he was missing everything except a sock and boxers. You were sort of in the lead, but things were pretty tied up.
You gathered the cards up again and began to shuffle. “Why don’t we play gin rummy?” you suggested. You were getting a tad tired of the same game over and over.
“What? Why? We’ll keep playing this. Deal.”
You let out a huff, but gave in. You decided to just go ahead and deal.
“One last round,” you told him.
“Whatever,” he replied in a mutter, collecting his cards.
You two played and carried on a light conversation about random things. You weren’t really focused on playing truthfully, but you should’ve been. You lost the hand, meaning you had to lose something else. Soldier Boy seemed eagerly awaiting your decision, most likely assuming you’d take off your shirt. You’d already lost your socks and pants, so it seemed like a natural progression.
So, of course, you had to screw with him.
You reached under your shirt and unhooked your bra. You removed the straps through your sleeves and pulled it out from the bottom of your shirt.
“Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy said huskily under his breath.
You let out a small chuckle to yourself at his reaction. You let him suffer for another few seconds before announcing, “Alright, I’m bored.”
“What?” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows. “No, c’mon, keep playing,” he tried to convince you yet again.
“We’ve been playing for an hour and you refuse to learn any other game,” you argued back.
“I know how to play other games. I just prefer poker.” Soldier Boy frowned as you scraped together the card to put them back in the box. “What about a bet? One last game, winner takes all.”
You eyed him curiously, wondering where he was going with this. You’d let him convince you to play strip poker and that was already pushing it. “What kind of bet?”
Soldier Boy couldn’t bite back his grin and you had a feeling where he was going with this. “How about I win, you let me fuck you,” he stated casually. You scoffed. Of course he couldn’t help himself. He fully registered the bored I’m over it expression on your face, yet continued anyway. “And if you win, you let me fuck you and I’ll thank you for the privilege.”
At that, you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “What kind of deal is that?” Your voice was dripping with amusement. It was actually kinda funny, the level of audacity and shamelessness he had. “No thanks, buddy.”
You moved to stand and heard Soldier Boy curse under his breath. “Fine, fine,” he said loudly, regaining your attention. If you could read people the way you thought, he seemed kinda desperate. It was almost comical. Then, his tone shifted. “I heard you earlier,” he said seriously. It threw you off. “That supe you want dead. Not Homelander, the other one. Personal to you.”
Tek Knight… Why was he bringing up that bastard?
“Heard you trying to slip him onto the list for me to take out,” Soldier Boy continued knowingly. “But your boss won’t let you.”
“Butcher isn’t my boss,” you corrected. It was the wrong thing to focus on, so you did something that was probably going to be very unadvised in hindsight. You heard Soldier Boy out.
“Whatever. Because I like you,”—you raised your brows at that and muttered an uh huh to yourself, because you didn’t really believe him—“you win and I’ll take him out.”
He was groveling, but damn him for figuring out something you wanted. You hated Homelander and pretty much all supes just like the rest of the boys, but also, like they all did, you had a grudge against a certain supe. Tek Knight was the reason Butcher found you. Before he even brought in Hughie, he had found you. Because Tek Knight had killed someone you loved.
Que the tragic backstory, right? You all had one. At one point you had believed the superheroes were heroes. That is, until you saw Tek Knight recklessly kill a bus with civilians in it—one of which was your best friend. Vought covered it up, blamed the criminals he’d been chasing, and praised the supe for his heroism. Needless to say, that changed your preconceptions of superheroes. Not long later, Butcher found you and took you under his wing. You bonded over your desire to kill the so-called heroes that had taken someone from each of you.
Except, Butcher was so determined to kill Homelander after what happened to Becca with Ryan that your need for revenge had been set on that back burner. And now here Soldier Boy was, offering you the only thing you really, really wanted. All you had to do was bet your dignity.
Could be worse, right?
“You in?” Soldier Boy asked, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. He was already grinning, like he knew your answer.
You returned to where you had been sitting across from him previously and smothered any last doubts you had. “Yeah,” you replied curtly.
That cocky smile of his only grew—it was probably the happiest you’d seen the man. He had a nice smile, but you knew his joy was because of your weakness.
You had to win, even if it was only to watch him lose and wipe that stupidly dazzling smile off his stupidly good looking face.
You didn’t trust him to shuffle, so you did. The stakes were high and you could already see the bulge in his boxers when he stood and scooted his chair closer. He was eager and ready to play—and more. You didn’t want to give him the chance to rig the game. You made an effort to avert your eyes as you dealt the cards out.
The cards in your hand weren’t the best, but they were good enough. Hopefully.
Maybe he wouldn’t be thinking with his upstairs brain, he already seemed incredibly impatient, which could work in your favor. Although, that didn’t seem likely since there was no chance either of you would fold. You pushed all the inner back-and-forth thoughts out of your head and tried to focus on the game. You put on your poker face and just hoped he had a worse hand.
You didn’t say much as you played. Neither did he. You avoided eye contact while he threw you a few looks here and there. There was an intensity to the game that hadn’t been there before. Probably because both of you had a good reason to win. At least, a self perceived good reason on Soldier Boy’s part. You thought yours was much more valid.
The game neared the end and it was time to show.
The moment of truth.
“Two pair,” you said, showing the cards that you had.
Soldier Boy let out a breath, which made you wonder if he had been holding one in. That wasn’t a good sign. He laid down his cards. “Full house,” he revealed.
Well fuck. You lost.
“Damn,” you muttered, but it overlapped with his voice.
“Oh fuck yes.” He sounded a little bit too enthused for your liking. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Take it as a compliment, sweetheart,” he commented smugly. “And don’t be a sore loser.”
“You sure got over Countess quick,” you mentioned in an off-handed tone just to mess with his head a little. “I thought you were still into her.”
He scoffed. “She was a bitch.”
“You called me a bitch earlier,” you pointed out.
“I call everyone a bitch.”
“You’re fucking confusing.”
“And you’re hot. I bet you’re a good fuck,” he countered with lascivious tone.
“You’re gross.” You were somehow still taken aback by his crassness even though you should’ve been used to it by now.
“What, you want me to tell you I’m into you?” He said it like it was offensive. “Like actually? Fine, I am. Big fucking deal,” he dismissed. “Now I won, get your ass over here. I’m not gonna fall for whatever mind games you’re playing.”
You could’ve told him no. You should’ve told him no right away. But damn, you couldn’t help but wonder. You couldn’t deny that Soldier Boy was attractive and from the view you got when he stood, you knew he was… large. Yeah, you should be saying no. What were you thinking?
Well, you were thinking you perhaps you did want to fuck him.
That was the truth even though it shouldn’t have been. You admitted that to yourself.
So, keeping with your end of the deal (because you planned to use the bet to justify all future actions to yourself), you stood from your chair. Soldier Boy was running his hands over his thighs when you moved towards him. He just couldn’t wait to touch you. He could hardly contain his excitement.
He pushed back from the table to make room. When you were within reach, his large, firm hands grabbed at you. Soldier Boy pulled you into his lap with a chuckle.
“Hi there,” you greeted in a sarcastic tone when you came face to face with him.
“Hey, darling,” he replied smoothly. Soldier Boy leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your head slightly. You weren’t sure why, you just did it. He scoffed a little, seemingly disappointed. “What—you’re not gonna let me kiss you?”
You eyed him curiously. “Why is that something you want?”
He shrugged a little. “I’m old fashioned.” He leaned in again and you didn’t turn away. “And it wasn’t a lie when I said I liked you,” he admitted under his breath before capturing your lips.
For a guy that hadn’t been in action for a few decades, Soldier Boy was a surprisingly good kisser. His lips were soft and plump, and moved expertly against yours.
When he pulled away, you were left slightly breathless. That seemed to fuel his ego because when he looked at you, a smirk appeared on his lips.
“Maybe we can both be winners,” Soldier Boy decided smugly. You became aware of his hand creeping along your hip. His fingers grazed your skin and then his hand made its way into the front of your underwear.
A spark of pleasure and even excitement shot through you when his thick fingers found what they were looking for.
Soldier Boy let out a deep, content hum when he brushed against your folds. You were already getting wet for him due to anticipation. He pressed one finger into your entrance and you bit back a gasp. Your body welcomed him, which made him chuckle.
You were waiting for some snarky comment, but at the moment he didn’t have one. Soldier Boy was far too focused on getting you ready for him to think of something. He rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock against your thigh as he pushed another finger into you. He moved them expertly, it should’ve been surprising how much care he was taking to elicit pleasure from you. However, you were far too distracted by the feeling of his thick fingers thrusting and curling inside of you to analyze him.
His thumb found your clit and you moaned, writing in his lap. Soldier Boy watched you, lips slightly parted, breaths heavy. His cock was achingly hard—you could feel it against you.
You felt a familiar knot in your belly form due to his motions.
“That’s it,” he said heatedly, feeling your walls begin to tighten around him. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t wait to be inside of you. Want you to come on my fingers first, though.”
His voice did something to you. You shouldn’t have liked it so much, but it was deep and rich and fuck, it was hot. As your eyes scanned his lust blown face, you saw something else. You couldn’t quite place it.
Your body tensed and as he perfectly moved his thumb and fingers in sync, you knew he was going to get what you wanted.
You fell against him when you started to quiver, the pleasure becoming all-consuming. Soldier Boy welcomed you against his firm body.
“For a girl that hates me you’re squeezing my fingers real fucking tight,” he grunted out against your ear.
Barely another second passed before your orgasm crashed over you in a wave. You pressed your lips together to conceal a dizzy moan, but it broke free.
You rode through the aftershocks on his fingers, catching your breath with your head on his shoulder.
When you finally came to your senses, his words rang in your head. “I don’t hate you,” you clarified in a murmur.
You sat up in his lap, head hazy with pleasure and trying to catch your breath, as he withdrew his hand from your underwear. Soldier Boy stared at you, scanning your face with an odd desperation you finally recognized. You meant it and he realized that.
You were yanked from your pleasured daze when his large hands gripped under your thighs.. In a swift motion, Soldier Boy lifted you. He stood as well and suddenly, you were lying with your back on the table, staring up at his lust blown emerald eyes.
His hands flew across your body, ridding you of your last pieces of clothing. Once you were exposed beneath him, Soldier Boy rid himself of his own clothes.
The two of you were completely naked, eyes scanning over each other's bodies. He pulled you to the end of the table and positioned himself between your legs.
Everything moved in an adrenaline filled blur.
There was very little time to prepare yourself as he planted a hand near your head and used the other to grab his cock. You briefly felt him line himself up to your entrance. Then, he was pushing into you. A gasping moan that surprised you both slipped from your lips as he filled you.
You had gotten a glimpse and knew he was big, but that had done nothing to prepare you for the stretch of his thick cock inside of you. There was a twinge of pain laced with the pleasure and it made you quiver around him.
A deep groan came from above. His eyes had fluttered shut. His hand slapped to grab your waist. His fingers flexed and dug into your skin.
“Fuck,” Soldier Boy cursed under his breath.
His cock throbbed inside of you and you could tell he needed a moment. You had to give him credit for maintaining some level of self control given how long it had been for him.
Except, you were getting impatient. In a bold move, you wrapped your legs around his waist encouragingly. Then, you raised your arms to grasp his face in your hands. You pulled him down into a passionate kiss, which he gladly responded to. He pulled back his hips a little, then thrust forward. You gasped against him and he smiled.
He straightened then, moving both hands to your hips. You braced yourself as he withdrew again, fully this time, then shoved forward.
It took a few experimental thrusts before he set a pace, but when he did you could do nothing but lay there and take everything he gave you.
You weren’t sure what you previously thought fucking him would be like, but damn it was good.
Soldier Boy knew what he was doing. He pounded into you hard and fast, forcing pleasure through your body. He was panting above you, then leaning down to press sloppy kisses to your body. His beard scratched against your skin, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was his cock filling you.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Soldier Boy cursed and muttered the praise. His husky voice cascaded over you. You didn’t reply, but he seemed pleased with the fact that you couldn’t. You were doing everything in your power to not let out embarrassingly loud noises.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with panting breaths from you both.
He brought his hand down and pressed his thumb against your clit. Soldier Boy flicked his eyes up to you, watching your face contort in further ecstasy.
He was fervorous, putting everything he had into fucking you. It was going to be quick, he couldn’t hold back much longer,, but he wanted you to come with him.
He kept up his motions, pounding into you, filling you over and over again.
You grasped at his back suddenly, digging your nails in as your body tensed and the knot in your belly exploded. Soldier Boy groaned loudly as your body tensed and shivered around him. You couldn't hold back your moan that time.
That sent him spiraling into his own release.
One, two, three—Soldier Boy slammed into you a final time. You felt his cock twitch. He shuttered above you. Then, he was spilling inside of you. You should’ve stopped him, but you wanted to feel him fill you up.
Soldier Boy let out a heavy exhale and practically collapsed on top of you. He nestled his head into your neck, nose brushing against your ear. The feel of his cock stuffing you full, his come dripping down your thigh, and the weight of his body was all consuming. You couldn’t deny that you loved the feeling.
You ran your hands across his muscular back, listening to his heavy breathing in your ear and his heart pounding from the exertion.
There were no words spoken between you two for several moments as you each caught your breath.
“I’ll take him out,” Soldier Boy muttered into your neck, catching you off guard. It took you a second to register his words, but when you did, you turned your head to look at him. Just in tandem with him to lift himself to hover over you. He planted his hands steady to hold himself up. Your noses were only a few inches apart and you could feel light puffs of breath coming from him against your face.
“What?” you couldn’t help but ask, stunned and wanting to be sure you heard him right.
“That supe you hate,” he clarified. “I’ll kill him for you.” Soldier Boy raised his hand and brushed a few strands of hair back from your face. “If that’s what you want.”
You swallowed. “Yeah,” you told him, nodding slightly. “I want you to.”
“Alright then,” he confirmed with uncharacteristically tranquil demeanor. Seeing a gentle, oddly caring smile instead of a sleazy smirk on his face threw you off.
You thought Soldier Boy was going to lean down to kiss you—he looked like he wanted to—but something caught his attention. He lifted his head towards the door.
That’s when you heard it. The door knob rattled..
A devious grin crossed Soldier Boy’s face. It suited him better than the previous expression.
“Oh shit,” you cursed, knowing what was about to happen and that you couldn’t prevent it.
You turned your head towards the door, just in time to see Butcher and Hughie walking back in.
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
2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.
Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.
this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn. ♡
Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from.
With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it. However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel.
What the fuck?
His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.
With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.
When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No–compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.
You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.
"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.
He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed.
"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."
There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.
It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don’t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.
You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it.
No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to.
However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?
He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.
As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.
You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust.
"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.
I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."
"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.
If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins.
"I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?
"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels.
"No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.
Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent.
He hopes to fuck that it isn’t.
"Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.
He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.
"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low.
You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."
Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it.
"I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."
"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?"
Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.
Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up.
"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.
You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.
"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"
"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."
"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.
He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.
Even a curtain is better than no door at all.
After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to.
“Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.
“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”
“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”
You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.
That’s just what you’ve told him.
From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.
"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.
"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.
His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new.
He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it.
"Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.
You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.
Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.
Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.
Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.
Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.
To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.
Just full of surprises, little mouse.
Maybe you aren't so boring after all.
He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.
When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.
"What was that?" You ask, dazed.
"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.
You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you.
"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."
It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips.
The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them.
“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows.
You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.
“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.
He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.
“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”
Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.
“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.
“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.
Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.
He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.
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?”
Another drabble because I don’t have the concentration to write a full-fledged oneshot or fic right now.
Warnings: a smutty Homelander morsel that includes a concept I’ve been wanting to explore for a hot minute. Might try to expand on later. In short, he can’t get enough of you. 18+
He’s between your legs, tongue delving deep. Your thighs contract just as he swirls the tip along your clit, and his cloaked fingers grip you tighter as if that will pump more out for him to drown in.
You’ve never had someone be as attentive as he is. As obsessive, pacing your folds like he’s in the middle of a life-or-death decision.
In a way, he is. He loses control too much and you cease to exist. You’re surprised by your vehement reaction to that notion, a desperate moan vibrating against your throat he could have crushed minutes prior.
The bridge of his nose severs a precise divide between left and right, split directly down the middle. You undulate and writhe against him as much as you can. He wants you to stay.
Your orgasm tingles across your scalp and spreads, your body falling asleep and jolted awake, weight heavy and light.
He makes sure to lap up what he desires, one of his thumbs circling your clit. And- you’re grateful you catch this act beyond your blissful haze- he removes one glove and uses that hand to gather what melts from your core.
Slowly, he rakes those fingers through his hair, now wet and shiny with your fluids, bits and pieces having sneaked out of perfect, sticky place. He sighs wantonly, inhaling you and making sure you know. You mask the stiff, manufactured scent of what he presents to the rest of the world.
It’s an anomaly you can’t shake. Mere mortal you are, you should be the one bathing in him. You should be at his altar, begging him to spare whatever parts he manages to find useful, rotten apple you are.
Instead, you are being worshiped. Instead, he is vulnerable to your essence, unabashed in his violent, primal pursuit of you and all the love you have to offer.
It’s his.
You’re a life-sustaining perfume; elixir. He looks like the heavens parted, as your legs never hesitate to, allowing your rain to shower him in its pelting affection.
You are his. And when has anything or anyone ever truly belonged to him? You are something unscathed by the cruelty that shaped him. You’re accepting of the mold he leaks from, infecting what was meant to be pure and gold.
You don’t want him god-like. You want him raw and bloody.
You want him as he wants to be.
Right now, it seems he wants to be you- as deep inside as he can go. What else can you do but let him all the way in?
A/N: Homelander x F!Reader. Gore. Smut. Undercover lover or is she?
Homelander is her blonde-haired, blue-eyed cancer.
He is a malignancy. He is a black tumor spreading across her organs. He shuts down her body. He cracks her open. He is an evil, insecure piece of shit, and she’s fucking him.
This alone is a problem.
But it gets worse.
Because deep in the underground of her cells and conscience, she finds it good. The sex. Beneath her layers, Homelander has dug his bare fingers into her ribs and yanked.
“Look what I do to you,” he marvels as he skates a gentle palm down the river of her spine. His other hand slips between her legs, he traces the seam of her cunt as he drops his head to suck a bruise into her neck. She can feel his eyes close to her chest, his lashes tickling her skin. There’s heat. It hurts. She jerks against him and he chuckles. There’s the smell of burning flesh. She’s a roast pig. She’s being held over a fire and lazily turned.
“Did that feel good?” he asks and she glances down to find blisters that pop and crackle above her tits. They are disappearing as he speaks. He slides a finger into her, he adds a second. Her head falls back against the wall as her thighs open despite herself. “Speechless?” he smirks and she swallows the words circulating in her throat. It’s better to let him guess what she’d say. It’s better to let him believe in the fantasy.
Let him control the narrative.
“John,” she whimpers as she tugs on his cape, as her thighs tremble around the heel of his hand that’s currently fucking her. His expression goes slack, borderline drunk.
“Call me that again,” he demands before he’s capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss that bleeds and burns and he eats the “John” right off her tongue before it can hit the air.
***
It starts as a ruse.
Homelander falls for his new teammate. He obsesses. She is the new object of his infatuation before she even realizes it. Annie is the one who lasers in on the fact that he wants her.
“It’s because you’re powerful,” Annie declares. “Your abilities leave Maeve’s in the dust and Homelander is fiending for it. He wants to breed you. He wants a family of unbeatable supes and you've got the right ingredients so to speak."
“Oh,” she says because it’s a lot. She can make anyone do anything with a simple sentence. She leaves minds scraped out and scoured and bruised beyond recognition. She can bury herself into the churning mass of their brains and pull out their nerves, their ticks, their joys and fears and secrets. They brand her Havoc, which sounds like a villain-name more than anything. But she doesn’t protest. She accepts. She joins the Seven because it’s what you do if you can get it.
“We could use this,” Annie explains as she lays her cards on the table. She is outwardly excited, teeth glittering and snapping as she talks and talks. She smells like hairspray and daisies and mint juleps. “Distract him. Keep him busy. Help us.”
Starlight’s tone allows no room for debate. Havoc finds herself nodding. She finds herself agreeing because why be on the wrong side of history? If they win, they win. If Homelander wins, they’re all dead, but maybe a Netflix documentary will paint them as martyrs twenty years in the future.
“Okay,” she agrees. “Sure.”
She’ll play the honeypot for as long as they need.
***
When it’s just them, she calls him John, which he really seems to enjoy. He’s a multitude of contrasts. He is deeply insecure. He is arrogant. He is out of his mind and also desperate to be loved.
When he likes you, you know it. He uses this mild-mannered voice. He coaxes and soothes like he’s gentling a runaway horse. Much to her chagrin, she begins to feel things for him that aren’t borderline disgust.
He shoves her out of the way when a terrorist fires a missile in her direction. He bats it away - throws it like a paper airplane. It leaves him ruffled, but seemingly unphased. He is visibly furious - cold, sneer of fury that turns his eyes to chips of eye. He stalks toward the man who aimed at her and pops his head off with his bare hands. There’s the red-splashed, meat vine of the poor fuck’s spine. It reminds her of a stem and tangle of roots. There’s blood dripping off Homelander’s face. His expression is hellbent. His teeth sharp as a lion’s as he squints at the man’s head and tosses it like a beachball.
He rushes back to her, features twisted into something like panic.
“Are you okay?”
He brushes his knuckles over her cheek, his pupils glinting as a fire rages feet away from them. The terrorist hideout is now a sooty husk. She lifts her hands and places them on top of his. She flutters her lashes, lips parting around a sigh. “I am because of you.” Drama. Exaggerated.
He blushes and she isn’t surprised when he can’t even wait until they’re back at the tower. He hauls her into the woods where the air is crisp and cold. The smell of the gas and the explosion have faded, the odors unable to penetrate the trees that surround them.
He fucks her right up against the trunk of one. Her fingers curled around his red and white striped cape. His hands firm under her ass as his cock stretches her in a way that’s surprising. It’s wet and hot and the snow beneath his boots crackles with every harsh thrust.
“Jesus,” he rumbles. “You feel so good.”
She fists his hair before pressing her mouth to his. She keeps her eyes open.
***
He's growing attached. He's softening by the day. He treats her like she's precious, a pearl in a shell. But he still understands that she's powerful - that she deserves to go out and protect people just as he does. He won't bind her to the tower. He won't put her in the cage.
"I've got your back," he murmurs as he flies them above the Pacific. The wind is howling in her ears. There's salt on her tongue. The frigid temperature is distant as he strokes her hair lovingly. "You never have to be afraid."
She never said she was, but she lets John believe it. Her fears are faraway. Her fears are hollow things. They're what-ifs.
She can't die easy.
She clings tighter to his suit, nuzzles her cheek into his chest. He exhales sharply. Pleased.
***
She doesn’t think he sleeps at all. He just lives - awake and silent and hovering.
His room is his cobweb. His lair.
He has very few allies. The Deep shouldn’t even count. He’s isolating. He’s alone, which makes her his shiny beacon of joy. His purpose.
“The others,” he murmurs through a thick voice. “Madelyn...Stormfront...they were scared of me. They didn’t care, not really.” He flicks her lower lip, his expression mesmerized. “Not like you do.”
He’ll screw her for hours and every time he comes, he promptly pulls himself out of her to see what he’s done. He parts her knees to stare at where his seed is leaking from her sex. He uses his fingers to push it all back in and she lets him. She tilts her head and smiles sweetly down at him as he essentially breeds her.
Homelander wants a family. He wants a damn suburbia, stepford fever dream.
If he can’t have that then he wants to rule. He wants to conquer. He wants to be it.
She thinks it’s better if he focuses on the family track. She’s on the pill anyway.
***
“Look in my head,” John commands one night. “Look and see what you are to me.”
She does it. She sits on his lap and cradles his skull in her hands, his golden hair glimmers beneath the shadows in her bedroom.
She sees herself. She sees herself more beautiful than she has ever thought herself to be. She’s glowing and knocked up and is touching John’s jaw as he gazes down at her with utter adoration. There are children. There’s a dog. There’s baseball and the sugar scent of caramel popcorn and fresh mowed grass. Their kids are untouchable. They’re fierce. She still fights bad guys with him. John coaches little league in his bright blue suit. They save the world.
She’s been fucking him for months. It’s almost been a year. She draws away from him, suddenly hyper-aware that he has crept into her heart. Her stomach flips over. He grabs her wrists, his expression deliriously happy. It’s almost a smidge manic.
“I know you’re scared,” he whispers against her mouth. “Scared to try this, but I think we should. I think you were made for me.”
She could have been. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything Vought does or what their endgame is. There’s no strategy here. There’s just her and there’s John and she can’t remember why she hated him in the first place.
still thinking abt the bath scenario with homelander :(
cw: nudity, implied nsfw, making out, he’s so annoying and s*ft here I think I’m gonna jump out a window
He can hear the soft thump of your heartbeat, the surprisingly relaxed nature of your breathing. You’re chest to chest, if he had any energy he’d probably he harassing you for a few minutes between your legs, but he settles for an ass grab here and there.
Homelander would stay here forever if he could. In the warmth of the bath, your forehead pressed against his while your shitty jazz music plays. What did you call it? Lo-fi? He doesn’t care.
He can see the droplets of water that kiss along your shoulder, your legs still hugging at his hips. He’s got both his hands holding your waist, he can see that his fingers are starting to prune from how long you’ve both been in here. You look like you’re falling asleep.
He nudges you with the tip of his nose, “Hey,” he hears you hum and he waits for your eyes to open before he’s saying, “gimme a kiss."
You twitch in his hold, chewing on your tongue. It’s strange, being this close to him. Face to face, where you can see the fine lines of his cheeks and the golden tan of his skin. The dark-tattooed mark visible on his wrist, usually hidden by his suit. He doesn’t have any scars, it’s impossible for him.
“Go on, I’m not getting any younger.” You resist the urge to curl your lips at him and comply, leaning towards his face and pecking his cheek, narrowly missing his lips.
Homelander scoffs at that, dragging you closer on his lap. Palming at your lower back, he’s feeling around a bit before pinching the top of your ass with lithe fingers, reveling in how you squirm with a startled yelp. Tsking at you with mock disappointment.
"Fuck was that, a kiss for your granny?" You narrow your eyes at him and he looks at you with mocking shock, his brow raised.
"Don't give me that look, kiss me right."
You sigh through your nose, tilting your face and pressing your mouth on his with a softness he's still not used to. Homelander hums contently, molding his lips with yours in a desperate way. Your fingers still splayed through his hair and tugging at them lightly.
He waits for you to part your mouth for air so he can sweep his tongue in. That garners a muffled sound from you, your nails scraping along the back of his neck while he sucks lightly on the tip of your tongue. He can smell your soap, the floral scent flooding his brain. Your mouth tastes like faint chocolate from his PR promotion, sweet and rich. And he’s turning his head so he can glide the slippery pink along the inside of your palate, over the ridges of your teeth and across the flat of your drooling tongue.
You'd think someone like Homelander wouldn't be so sloppy, that he wouldn't like how you swap the taste of each other's mouths - but he loves it. He loves it when he can see how flushed you get, body temperature rising and dopamine flooding through your veins. You're all hot and bothered by a little kiss, it's so cute. When he pulls away there are silvery webs of saliva that connect his tongue to yours, your lips kiss-swollen and he's got lidded eyes.
You whisper his name softly, puffing against his cheekbone.
"See, now that's a real kiss."
He says breathily, squeezing the plush of your naked waist and smirking at how you look away from him, shying away as you plant your palms on his pecs and push yourself back. You’d smack him if you knew it would do anything. You try not to squirm at the feeling of his dick pressed against your tummy, still a little dazed and foggy in the head. Homelander loves that look on you, maybe more then when you’re crying. The glassy eyes and parted damp lips, your cupids bow glistening.
Fuck the seven and Vought, he’s staying here for the rest of the damn week.
imagine being hired by vought to be a sort of housekeeper to homelander, doing his laundry and cooking for him in his penthouse. he’d immediately grow to love having someone to come home to, and would automatically slip into husband mode whenever he finds them doing him some wifely act of service (conveniently ignoring the fact they’re paid to be there, of course)
ao3 link
Working for Vought, specifically Homelander, turns out to be an insanely simple gig.
Typically, you never even see him. You're free to do your cleaning in peace, picking up after America's favorite hero. He rarely ever leaves a mess, but there's enough to keep you employed. Tidying up his towels, replacing his hygiene supplies and tooth brushes. You're trained specifically on how to clean his suits. You empty and stock the fridge. He goes through a lot of milk. You always make sure to get whole. He lodged a complaint the one time it was less than.
You were told initially that your cooking services wouldn't be necessary. Homelander isn't known to be, well... much of an eater.
Still, you didn't want the food you stocked at the start to go bad, so one day you prepare a few meals and put them in containers in the fridge. You include little notes with instructions on how they should be reheated. You sign each one with a little heart simply because that's how you've always done it, and pin them to the fridge. You think nothing of it.
Homelander is dumbstruck by it.
At first he's affronted that you would leave him cold food in his fridge and expect him to heat it up for himself, but there's something distinctly... loving about it.
Coming home to his laundry clean and his shelves dusted never felt like that. It was nothing more than a reset, an automatic process that he didn't dedicate any thought to. But this? This is personal. This reminds him that a living, breathing person was in his home, tending to it, and that person... cooked him a meal, and left him a little note. With a heart.
The next morning you get a text that you will indeed be cooking for Homelander that evening! You're in the midst of it, staying later than you usually do, when he walks in the door. You aren't making anything fancy, just steak and mashed potatoes, but he sucks in a breath like he's inhaling the scent of a gourmet meal. His smile is broad and gleaming. It makes your heart skip a beat.
To your surprise, he introduces himself. He shakes your hand firmly, and holds your stare as you remember your manners and manage to spit out your own name.
"Charmed," he says through that radiant smile, and you feel like he means it. His eyes are somehow much bluer in person. His gaze flickers to the stove, and he clicks his tongue. "Not to question your craft, but is this really enough for two?"
Looking at the steak currently searing, you falter. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you having company? No one told me."
"Well of course I'm having company, you silly goose. You're standing right here, aren't you?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips. It's cheesy, like a moment straight out of a sitcom, but you fluster anyways. This man has such presence to him.
"You... want me to eat with you?" You ask, bewildered.
"Be a shame to cook up a storm and not even feel the rain," he laughs, as if you're the one thinking strangely here. He's already gone to the fridge, and pulled out a second steak. He offers it out to you with that same charming television ready grin. "C'mon. I can hear your stomach growling."
Tentatively, you take the package from him. "Okay."
That night, and each night that follows, you cook Homelander a meal at the tail-end of your shift, and sit down to eat with him. It's surreal, but after the second night, it occurs to you that you've never once seen sign of him having company. There's never extra dishes, or towels. No remnants of a party in the trash. If he does have friends, they're certainly never here.
You can't help but wonder if he's lonely. The thought humanizes him from the larger than life image you had of him in your mind, and you have an easier and easier time engaging him in conversation. He's funny, if not a little strange. There are times when you don't really know how to respond to the things he says, but he often moves on quickly enough to keep things from being awkward.
Truth be told, you're starting to quite enjoy his company.
Homelander begins showing up earlier and earlier into your shifts. The next week, it's barely after 4:00pm when he strides through the door, greeting you with a chipper, "Heya!" and a little salute.
You turn off the vacuum, and despite being a little caught off guard, you smile at him. For the first time, you say, "Welcome home!"
For a second, you worry you've said something wrong. That smile slips off his face, and he stands frozen a touch too long in the doorway. However, before you can add an amendment, his lips stretch back out and he closes the door behind him. "Good to be home," he says. There's less of that showmanship in his voice, you think.
"I didn't know you'd be home so early, I haven't finished-" "Oh, don't mind me, you do your thing. Pretend I'm not even here," he insists, taking a seat on his couch.
You expect him to occupy himself in some way. A book, perhaps, or even just his cellphone. Instead, for the next hour you're keenly aware of the fact the only thing he seems to be entertaining himself with is you.
After that, you cook dinner as usual, and the two of you eat amidst pleasant, casual conversation. It's the same as any other night, and yet somehow this evening feels distinctly different. You can't name exactly what it is, but something has changed.
Homelander begins filling out your time with new requests; he's suddenly become quite fascinated with plants. You had mentioned to him before that you like to keep them, despite the work they take. Your shifts grow longer to account for your new tasks.
All the while, he's been more and more present during your shifts. Although he doesn't directly take or distract you from your chores, you're always keenly aware of of his gaze on you while you work. You try not to overthink it, but the weight of his attention is heavy nonetheless.
One day, you're sweeping up a mess of spilled dirt, struggling to maneuver around the legs of a piece of furniture, when Homelander hops up to intervene. "Let me get that for you, sweetheart," he says, lifting the entire cabinet up as if it weighed nothing at all.
You lose yourself for a moment, standing dumbfounded before abruptly remembering to sweep the dirt out from under it, your heart racing. Your mind keeps replaying the pet name, and with every echo of it, your cheeks feel redder. Homelander smiles, watching you all the while.
The next day, you arrive to find an enormous bouquet of roses sitting in a vase on the kitchen counter. There's a note with your name on it, and a simple message:
Thanks for all your hard work. Keep it up!
The note is signed with Homelander's sprawling signature. Smiling widely to yourself, you tuck the note into your pocket, and lean in to inhale the sweet smell of the flowers.
On another occasion, it's time to clean the blades of the ceiling fan in his room, but you can't find that darn step ladder anywhere. Homelander must hear the way you're shuffling around and muttering under your breath—you swear the man hears everything—because he steps in to check on you.
"Everything alright in here?" He asks, peeking in from the doorway.
"Oh, fine, fine, I just can't find my step ladder anywhere. Have you seen it?" You ask, feeling flustered. Getting put behind schedule never fails to trip a thread of anxiety in your chest.
"Can't say I have," he answers, stepping inside. He looks around the room. "What'cha need it for?"
"Ceiling fan. Uhm, it's okay, I'll get to it later, if that's alright with you? I'm sorry, I could have sworn I left that ladder-" You stop yourself, realizing Homelander is suddenly striding directly towards you. Uncertain, you begin to take a step back, but he's fast. He puts an arm around you, and without warning you're being hoisted up into his arms as easily as a doll.
"Up y'go," he says, supporting not only your weight with ease, but resting you snug against his chest. You squeeze your knees together, arms pulled in tight, as if making yourself tiny will somehow protect you from the embarrassing quicken of your breath, or the rampant beat of your heart. "There you go. Who needs a step ladder when you've got me?" He asks, grinning down at you with that familiar dazzling spread of pearly whites. His smile feels better suited to a Hollywood audience than this quiet little moment, but the only thing you can really focus on is the fresh, woodsy smell of his cologne.
"Uhm, I-I still don't think I can reach-" You stop, noticing the ceiling fan is now within arms reach. "Oh." Looking down, your eyes widen. Neither of your feet are touching the ground. Instead, Homelander is hovering well above it, holding you adjacent to the fan. You can't help the nervous laughter that suddenly bubbles out of you. "Oh my god," you laugh, looking around. "You're flying!"
"As I'm known to do from time to time," he says, voice dripping with satisfaction. His gloved fingers tap absently at your waist, basking in your awe over what is, to him, a wholly unremarkable feat. The sheer normalcy of you makes his every move seem a marvel. He savors your wonder.
You're so enamored with the novelty of it, you remember belatedly why you're up here. Clearing your throat, you reach up with the duster, and gently spin the fan, collecting the strands of dust and the like that had gathered on each one. You try your damnedest to focus on that, and not the fact Homelander's face is less than a foot from yours. Out of your peripheral, you can see that his grin has softened into a content, absent smile. Your stomach does cartwheels as you finish dusting the fan, bringing the duster back down. You clear your throat again, pretending it's not a nervous habit. "All done, thank you," you say quietly, smiling back at him.
"Any time, sweetheart," Homelander purrs. There it is again, that coy little nickname that sends your mind into a tizzy. As if that weren't bad enough, he winks at you, floating gently back down to the ground. Your legs feel so much like jelly, you worry you'll collapse the moment you're on your feet. Luckily, even once he's set you down, he leaves a hand lingering on your back. "You got a thing with heights? Your heart's pounding," he points out, much to your mortification.
You try to laugh it off. "Oh, no! No, just wasn't expecting it. I'm fine with heights," you say, fumbling with the duster for a second before slipping it back into the cover.
"Good," Homelander responds, an oddly cryptic depth to his tone. His smile lingers. "That's good. Alrighty, I'll leave you to it," he says, tipping his head in a polite little nod before he heads for the door, leaving you to your own devices, and the rapid fluttering in your stomach.
Later that same day, you're thoroughly perplexed when you spot the step ladder exactly where it's supposed to be, certain you had checked there a dozen times over.
Two weeks from the day you first shared a meal, he presents you with a gift after dinner.
"Oh, sir, you shouldn't-"
"Please, please! Don't be so formal. It's just a little thing," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Y'know, to show my appreciation. You take such good care of me. Just wanted to return the favor."
Butterflies swarm rampant in your gut as you tug loose the pretty red ribbon tied around the box. Uncertain of what to expect, you feel a measure of relief when you lift the lid, and see a lovely apron folded inside it.
"You wear this print a lot, figured you could use something, you know, matchy. Feminine," he says, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Your other one's seen better days."
You exhale a soft laugh, touching the fabric. It's soft beneath your fingers, and of excellent quality. The gift is a thoughtful one, and it feels appropriate, despite what the expensive looking wrapping made you think.
"You like it?" He asks after a beat, snapping you out of your thoughts.
"I do! Yes, thank you. It's very nice. I've enjoyed working for you, sir—" You stop when he points a finger at you, his brows raised, and you correct, "—Homelander." He smiles, dropping his hand. "And eating with you. I can't say any of my other clients cared whether or not I ate," you say, chuckling.
You think you see his nose twitch strangely at the mention of your other clients.
"Right, well! C'mon, let's see how it looks," he says, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you over to the mirror near the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. Homelander takes the box from your hands and presents it to you, allowing you to lift the apron up and let it unfold. Odd, it feels a touch heavier than you expected.
You sling it around your neck, but before you can reach back to tie it, Homelander has taken it upon himself to do it for you. He cinches it at your waist with a sharp little tug, grinning at you from over your shoulder as he meets your eye in the mirror. "Loooook at that, perfect fit," he purrs, tying the ends off.
"It's beautiful, thank y—" Smoothing your hands down the front of it, you stop. There's something in the right pocket of the apron. Glancing up, Homelander has a mischievous glint to his expression, but his brows raise, and his lips curl down. He's playing dumb.
Curiously, you slip your hand into the pocket, and feel smooth velvet against your fingers. Wrapping your hand around a firm rectangle, you draw it out, and feel your stomach flip as you stare at the distinctly luxurious looking black box now in your hands.
"Oh, geeze, totally forgot that was even in there," Homelander says. His tone is terribly unconvincing, but he does sound very pleased with himself. "Whelp, you've already accepted, so I guess it's yours now."
"I—"
"Go on," he urges, giving your shoulders a little shake. He's watching you eagerly through the mirror. "Open it up. It's all yours."
Swallowing, you crack the box back on it's hinges. Your jaw drops, your chest tightens. You stare at the shimmering three-stone drop diamond necklace in utter disbelief. You don't even feel Homelander let go of your shoulders, or hear him slide off and drop his gloves to the nearby table.
"Oh my god," you whisper. You probably couldn't afford the box this thing was sold in, let alone a single stone on it. "I don't think I can accept this, sir," you say, slipping back into the habit of formality as your brain struggles to catch up to reality.
"Oop, too late for that," Homelander dismisses, plucking the delicate necklace up from the fabric it lay in. "Here, allow me," he says, ignoring your shellshock while he drapes the necklace against your skin, his bare fingers brushing the back of your neck as he gets it fastened.
Breathless, you tentatively touch the bottom diamond. Your mouth feels full of cotton, and your heart is racing. Is this really happening?
Meanwhile, Homelander grips your upper arms, beaming. "Look at you. You know what they say about diamonds; they're a girl's best friend," he laughs, those canines of his looking sharper than ever.
Giving your arms a squeeze, Homelander leans close to your ear. "Happy two weeks," he whispers, the heat of his breath on your neck prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. "Thank you," you whisper back, pushing out a bewildered little smile.
Homelander lingers there a moment, the warmth of his hands on your arms seeping through the fabric of your shirt. His smile has relaxed some, and his gaze is slightly distant as he looks you up and down in the mirror. You see a flash of pink as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue. It isn't until you clear your throat that his eyes snap back up to yours, regaining presence of mind.
"I should get going," you say gently. His fingers flex on your arms, and the corners of his mouth twitch.
"Right," he says, lips pulling into a thin smile that doesn't reach his eyes. This is always his least favorite part of the night. With obvious reluctance, he drops his hands from your arms. "Right, ah, let me—"
"Unless..." You interject, turning to face him.
Homelander's brows shoot up to his hairline. He blinks. "Unless...?"
"Unless you'd like me to stay," you say quietly, your stomach tying itself in knots. "Not as your housekeeper, but maybe as just... Company?"
"Company," he echoes, his parted lips slowly drawing into a smile. This one does reach his eyes. "We could watch a movie."
"I like movies," you say. The words sound dumb to you as soon as they leave your lips, but Homelander looks at you like you've just spun a beautiful sonnet.
"Great, I have movies," he says, putting a hand on your lower back as he gestures you to the living room. His smile is broad now, eager and a touch boyish. You feel a little surge of endearment amidst the adrenaline. "What do you want to watch?"
"Dealers choice," you say, slipping out of the apron before you take a seat at the couch. Homelander immediately busies himself with the television, flipping through Vought+'s enormous repertoire.
Still in a mild daze, you don't process any of the titles that fly by on the screen. Instead, you're hyper aware of the weight of the necklace hanging from your throat, and the lingering heat that Homelander's hands left on your skin.
Ok but Homie being obsessed with his girl taste and going down on her in every chance he gets
18+ cunnilingus, breeding kink, semi-public sex
Whether it be walking into a bakery or catching a whiff of a barbeque down wind, there is something to be said for the specific kind of hunger one experiences when overwhelmed by the sudden smell of something delicious.
This is precisely the sort of hunger Homelander experiences every time he picks up your scent. His mouth waters, his jaw aches faintly. He's turning into an addict.
When you catch him staring down at your lap mid-conversation, seated at the Seven's conference table no less, with that familiar, far-away look of desire in his eyes, you give him a nudge with your elbow. "Have you heard a word that I've said?" You ask, amused.
"You're ovulating," he replies, which tells you no, he didn't hear a single word. His lips are parted, quirked in a lopsided little smile. His eyes flicker up to meet yours.
"I hate that you know that before I do," you laugh, shaking your head. "Can we focus for a second, please?"
"Nope." Homelander slides a hand up your thigh. "See, I'm just not gonna be able to focus on anything... Not with you smelling so fucking good," he tells you, his voice dropping low as he leans in close to your ear. He hears your heart jump.
"John," you whisper, glancing over towards the enormous double doors. "The others could be here any minute."
"Relaaaax, I'll hear them," he says slyly, catching the back of your neck to hold you steady while he kisses you. He fucking loves the way you squirm in his grip, putting a hand on his chest like you have a hope of dissuading him. He uses the distraction to slip a gloved hand up your skirt, swallowing the moan he surprises out of you when he rubs you through your panties.
"Wait, wait," you say, but it's too late. He's a shark, and your arousal is blood in the water. He moves his hand under your ass and hauls you up out of your chair with obscene ease, dropping you down on the edge of the V shaped table.
Homelander wastes no time sliding in between your legs, smoothing his hands up your inner thighs, spreading them wide. He grins, licking his lips preemptively. Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he pulls you forward until his face is nestled nicely between your legs, buried under your skirt, leaving only your back resting on the table.
You cross your ankles behind his back, squirming, desperately pushing your skirt down over his head in an attempt to preserve some modesty. "Aren't there cameras in here?" You ask, biting your lip.
"Sure are," Homelander answers wickedly. He's going to enjoy watching that security footage later. He follows up with a firm, slow drag of his tongue up the already-wet fabric of your panties, cutting off however you may have responded, reducing it to a sharp little gasp. Fuck, the smell of you drives him insane, but it's the taste that has him going truly feral.
Moving a hand to your hip, Homelander holds you steady while he uses his other hand to pull your panties to the side. Immediately, he closes his mouth over your clit, sucking hungrily at you. He effortlessly holds you in place, keeping you from jerking away from him while he pushes his tongue into you, drinking you up like nectar.
Homelander moans lewdly against you, dragging his tongue in deft figure eights before plunging it in deep, coaxing more and more from you, athirst with need. He encourages it with a light slap to your ass when your thighs clench and you start to grind against him. He presses in on your leg, a reminder that you can't break him, you can't suffocate him. You indulge him, squeezing tight on either side of his head, bouncing your hips with what little leverage you have.
The sounds you make are music to his ears, muffled as they are by the press of your thighs. He meets each bounce of your hips, alternating between deep fucks of his tongue and swirls over your clit, sucking at it. He presses his tongue flat against the sensitive nub and that's when you really start to make noise. You cup the back of his head over the fabric of your skirt and hold him there, which feels to him like fucking heaven.
His own cock throbbing, Homelander rocks his hips against thin air, grinding down in his seat, seeking pressure anywhere he can. He's consumed by the fantasy of fucking you with your taste fresh on his lips, pounding your soaked pussy and filling you with his come, putting a baby in your belly to make your tits fat and wet. He moans again, drooling a wet mess onto your panties, your skirt, lapping at you like he'll fucking die without it.
You muffle your cry with your own hand, back arching fully, heels pressed into Homelander's back as you come hard, cunt convulsing wildly against his tongue. He doesn't miss a second of it, luxuriating in the way it changes you on a biological level, endorphins flooding your taste and smell. He drinks it like liquor, and feels just as intoxicated.
Homelander doesn't stop until you beg him to, pushing against his head, over-sensitized. He pulls away with an obscene, wet noise, licking his lips. He looks dazed when you see him, light sensitive and flushed, drunk on you.
Your limbs feel like cooked noodles, useless to you. Homelander eases your legs down from his shoulders and maneuvers you into his lap, kissing the taste of you back into your mouth. Your panties are thoroughly drenched, clinging wetly to you. Homelander grinds up needily against you while you kiss, panting lightly through his nose.
It isn't out of exertion, but sheer excitement.
"Let me fuck you," he murmurs fervently against your lips. He's already reaching between you to unclasp his belt.
"What about the meeting?" You ask, cupping his face, not actually giving a shit about the meeting anymore. Not with him throbbing hot and hard between your legs. You grind down against him to hear the sweet way he keens.
"They can fucking wait," he growls, reaching under the table to press a button that dings softly, flicking the green light above the door to red. Locked. "They can wait while I fuck you."
Which is precisely how the other members of The Seven end up standing awkwardly outside the door of the conference room, exchanging looks, pretending they don't hear Homelander fucking you within an inch of your life on the other side of it.
