could you pls write a male edministrator?? I need more fanfics of him arghhhđđmaybe smut? Bunny jealous/possessive endministrator????đmake him an eater too tyyyđđ¤
DESPERATION
Edmin gets jealous then drags you away to show you that you dont need anyone else.
Content warning: sub!top edmin x dom!bottom fem!reader, jealous edmin, edmin goes down on you, slight dacryphilia,18+!!!
(very little plot)
You're laughing with another operator. It's harmless. They're telling a story. You're smiling, just being polite. Maybe it's because he's been swamped with so many errands that he barely got to talk to you. But you laughed a little too hard and it echoed in his ear.Â
"Are the two of you close?"
An innocent question. Absolutely not motivated by jealousy.
"Oh, no, they needed directionsâŚ"
He wasn't really listening, he was trying to, he swears! But your lips were captivating all his attention as your words were now drowned out. They curved upward in that beautiful polite smile you were giving that person only moments ago. He nodded slightly hoping whatever you were saying wasn't important. But it seems you moved the conversion elsewhere, and now you're looking at him with a not-so-sweet smile. Now, it was tugging teasingly across your face.
"Hello? Earth to EdminâŚ"
Please don't make him spell out this new found desire he has, he's already a rather quiet person, don't make him plead, pleaseâŚplease. You place your hand on his shoulder when you don't get a response from him.
You wanted to know what emotions were flowing through him, he would only talk if it was something important, so knowing he asked such a simple question, means it probably meant more to him then he lets on, though you of course didn't fail to notice the slight whine in his voice when he asked.
"You want me to put your feelings together myself huhâŚ"
You see him put his head down slightly, gripping the edge of his coat. With his head closer to your ear you hear his breathing. It was normal for the most part, until he sucked in a breath through his teeth.
"You're mine, right?"
His voice was noticeably deeper, yet much more breathy. That's when you're suddenly pulled in a familiar direction.
His room.
.
He pushes you on the bed, your back hitting the bed with a thud. Before you could get out a word his lips were on yours, a hungry kiss you don't normally get from your nonchalant boyfriend.
You reach up and tug off his mask, that's when you're met with a sight that makes a heat pool in your stomach.
His eyes were watery as he looked into your eyes, lashes damp and clumped together slightly as they flutter shut from the sudden intrusion of light. Trying to say his name was no use, his tongue running over your bottom lip with a sudden fever as he simultaneously rubbed his clothed groin into yours.
Finally he let you breathe, lowering himself down your body, he now watches as you remove your shirt. Immediately latching onto the exposed skin of your stomach. Then rubbing his cheek against you like a cat. You couldn't help but laugh at the unusual sight. Your boyfriend, wet and teary eyed, rubbing his nose on your crotch with a now raging hard on. Truly a sight you must burn into your memory forever.
In his mind, this is how he expressed his emotions and resolved conflicts without having to verbalize it. And what better way to combat jealousy than to show that there's no better partner out there for you.
He grabs the waist band of your pants, dragging them down your legs before you kick them off to the side. You watch as he removes his coat and sweater with shaking hands, pure determination reverberating through his whole body. Almost vibrating.Â
He moves closer, quickly wrapping his arms around the back of your thighs. His face right back where it was between your legs, rubbing his nose against your clothed clit. He whines feeling your hips move a little closer to his face. Pushing his tongue against your now soaked folds, before pushing his crotch into the bed to relieve the growing pain of arousal.Â
Before you could ask him to go further he already had your legs spread and your underwear pushed to the side, the only sounds were your and Edmin's heavy breathing, soon interrupted by a wet slurping and panting as a pleasure shot up your body.Â
His mouth was so hot, it made you wince and pull away for a second at the overwhelming feeling. But before you could push yourself back a loud whimper was heard from between your legs, he opened his eyes to look up at you. His eyes begin to water again, so you pick up your hand from off the bed, reaching down and run it through his soft black hair.
He clearly takes care of himself, you grip the base of his scalp as another whine vibrates against your body that had you clench your teeth. His head was almost as warm as his tongue moving against a bundle of nerves that had you grip his hair harder and push his head closer to you. His fingers gripping your thighs harder, you felt your vision go blurry as you clamp your thighs against the sides of his head.Â
What pushed you over the edge was the look in his eyes, a stubborn fire burning behind the wet exterior as his lashes flutter at you before shoving his tongue deep into you for the last time. You swear you heard another please through your climax.Â
The air went quiet again, the only thing heard was breathing once more. Looking back down at your boyfriend, you see him pick his heavy head up reluctantly. His tongue licks the corners of his lips before leaning over your body..
"You didn't answer my questionâŚ"
You smile, your hand now gently stroking his hair. You take your other hand and finally wipe away the tears in his eyes.
"Want me to show you that I'm yours?"
He gasped feeling your hand glide from his hair and suddenly clasp his erection straining his pants. Leaning his head against your palm as he nods frantically.
hopefully you still wanted this request fulfilled lol.
could you pls write a male edministrator?? I need more fanfics of him arghhhđđmaybe smut? Bunny jealous/possessive endministrator????đmake him an eater too tyyyđđ¤
DESPERATION
Edmin gets jealous then drags you away to show you that you dont need anyone else.
Content warning: sub!top edmin x dom!bottom fem!reader, jealous edmin, edmin goes down on you, slight dacryphilia,18+!!!
(very little plot)
You're laughing with another operator. It's harmless. They're telling a story. You're smiling, just being polite. Maybe it's because he's been swamped with so many errands that he barely got to talk to you. But you laughed a little too hard and it echoed in his ear.Â
"Are the two of you close?"
An innocent question. Absolutely not motivated by jealousy.
"Oh, no, they needed directionsâŚ"
He wasn't really listening, he was trying to, he swears! But your lips were captivating all his attention as your words were now drowned out. They curved upward in that beautiful polite smile you were giving that person only moments ago. He nodded slightly hoping whatever you were saying wasn't important. But it seems you moved the conversion elsewhere, and now you're looking at him with a not-so-sweet smile. Now, it was tugging teasingly across your face.
"Hello? Earth to EdminâŚ"
Please don't make him spell out this new found desire he has, he's already a rather quiet person, don't make him plead, pleaseâŚplease. You place your hand on his shoulder when you don't get a response from him.
You wanted to know what emotions were flowing through him, he would only talk if it was something important, so knowing he asked such a simple question, means it probably meant more to him then he lets on, though you of course didn't fail to notice the slight whine in his voice when he asked.
"You want me to put your feelings together myself huhâŚ"
You see him put his head down slightly, gripping the edge of his coat. With his head closer to your ear you hear his breathing. It was normal for the most part, until he sucked in a breath through his teeth.
"You're mine, right?"
His voice was noticeably deeper, yet much more breathy. That's when you're suddenly pulled in a familiar direction.
His room.
.
He pushes you on the bed, your back hitting the bed with a thud. Before you could get out a word his lips were on yours, a hungry kiss you don't normally get from your nonchalant boyfriend.
You reach up and tug off his mask, that's when you're met with a sight that makes a heat pool in your stomach.
His eyes were watery as he looked into your eyes, lashes damp and clumped together slightly as they flutter shut from the sudden intrusion of light. Trying to say his name was no use, his tongue running over your bottom lip with a sudden fever as he simultaneously rubbed his clothed groin into yours.
Finally he let you breathe, lowering himself down your body, he now watches as you remove your shirt. Immediately latching onto the exposed skin of your stomach. Then rubbing his cheek against you like a cat. You couldn't help but laugh at the unusual sight. Your boyfriend, wet and teary eyed, rubbing his nose on your crotch with a now raging hard on. Truly a sight you must burn into your memory forever.
In his mind, this is how he expressed his emotions and resolved conflicts without having to verbalize it. And what better way to combat jealousy than to show that there's no better partner out there for you.
He grabs the waist band of your pants, dragging them down your legs before you kick them off to the side. You watch as he removes his coat and sweater with shaking hands, pure determination reverberating through his whole body. Almost vibrating.Â
He moves closer, quickly wrapping his arms around the back of your thighs. His face right back where it was between your legs, rubbing his nose against your clothed clit. He whines feeling your hips move a little closer to his face. Pushing his tongue against your now soaked folds, before pushing his crotch into the bed to relieve the growing pain of arousal.Â
Before you could ask him to go further he already had your legs spread and your underwear pushed to the side, the only sounds were your and Edmin's heavy breathing, soon interrupted by a wet slurping and panting as a pleasure shot up your body.Â
His mouth was so hot, it made you wince and pull away for a second at the overwhelming feeling. But before you could push yourself back a loud whimper was heard from between your legs, he opened his eyes to look up at you. His eyes begin to water again, so you pick up your hand from off the bed, reaching down and run it through his soft black hair.
He clearly takes care of himself, you grip the base of his scalp as another whine vibrates against your body that had you clench your teeth. His head was almost as warm as his tongue moving against a bundle of nerves that had you grip his hair harder and push his head closer to you. His fingers gripping your thighs harder, you felt your vision go blurry as you clamp your thighs against the sides of his head.Â
What pushed you over the edge was the look in his eyes, a stubborn fire burning behind the wet exterior as his lashes flutter at you before shoving his tongue deep into you for the last time. You swear you heard another please through your climax.Â
The air went quiet again, the only thing heard was breathing once more. Looking back down at your boyfriend, you see him pick his heavy head up reluctantly. His tongue licks the corners of his lips before leaning over your body..
"You didn't answer my questionâŚ"
You smile, your hand now gently stroking his hair. You take your other hand and finally wipe away the tears in his eyes.
"Want me to show you that I'm yours?"
He gasped feeling your hand glide from his hair and suddenly clasp his erection straining his pants. Leaning his head against your palm as he nods frantically.
hopefully you still wanted this request fulfilled lol.
I saw this x reader fic on my timeline by @l0s3rd0wnt0wn that really tickled my fancy. Where sukuna and yuji are tiger brothers and fell in love with the reader. Anyway I thought you guys would enjoy the drawings I made of this AU since I enjoy the concept.đ
HYBRID TIGER!YUJI AND SUKUNA TIGER BROTHERS FIGHTING OVER THERE SLEEPY OWNER
Sukuna kicked Yuji again, trying to shove the other big cat off the bed as he cuddled up closer to you if that was even possible. He was practically in your skin.
âBack off, brat. Theyâre mine,â he growled, sharp fangs poking out like spears as he tried to scare off Yuji. It never worked; it only made Yuji pout like a little cub.
â[Name]! Kunaâs pushing me off the bed again! Tell him to stop!â Yuji pouted, his soft, puffy tail brushing against your nose. You let out a tiny yawn, trying to shift away from both of them.
âSukuna, be nice to Yuji. Yuji, donât fuss,â was all you managed before drifting off to sleep.
Just as you began to relax, they started tugging at you again.
âYouâre supposed to share, you know!â Yuji growled something very unlike him, but Sukuna always brought out that side of him without even trying.
âThe eldest gets first choice. Or did you forget that in the womb, brat?â Sukunaâs tail waved wildly, flicking against the bed and nearly whipping you in the face. His clawed hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his side, while Yujiâs softer hands tugged gently to bring you back to his.
âYouâre being rude! Iâll tell Master!â Yuji argued.
âYou think they can save your hide? Admit that youâre just a weakling,â Sukuna shot back.
Now the two brothers were going head-to-head while you suffocated under their orange and black fur and heavy bodies. All you wanted was a nap after work, but no this was what you got.
They pulled at you again, and you felt like you were being torn in two.
âEnough! Both of you out!â
Your two little tigers slunk out of the room, tails drooping.
âThis is all your fault! If you knew how to share, this wouldnât have happened!â Yuji hissed.
Could you possibly write a ardashir x readerđđ where it's like the reader is a yearner for ardashir but is very aware that ardashir yearns for the endministrator so she's pretty contented with just being by his side but then maybe something happens??? Like without thinking he gets super protective or possesive over reader but he's not aware of it yetđââď¸đââď¸đââď¸
A KIND OF LOVE
The cutest prompt I've received. I love this.
Ardashir x gn! reader (fluff for the most part, barely angst)
Short fic
He's unaware of how much you love him, and for such an observant person, you were surprised he didn't catch on to that. It's not like you were being obvious about your feelings, but... you were kinda hoping it at least crossed his mind so you wouldn't have to spell it out for him.
The things he does for you? It makes your heart hurt even more, is he just playing with your feelings? You wouldn't put it past him if that was the case.
But, then again, he seemed like he cared. His words were filled with love.
"You look like this flower." Tucking the freshly plucked plant behind your ear.
So was he truly unaware?
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to see endmin? I want to go with you next time."
You know he doesnt dislike you.
Actually, that's what makes it hurt.
He'd insist on accompanying you during dangerous operations with some practical excuse that sounds reasonable until it happens for the tenth time.
He clearly cares.
He remembers things you say.
"I know you get cold this time of year, so take my jacket. Please."
If somebody jokingly flirts with you, he'd feel irritation immediately and then spend the next hour trying to figure out why he was being irrational.
He worries. He seeks you out. He trusts you so much.
.
But then the Endministrator walks into the room, and you sees that look in his eyes. The one that makes it obvious where his heart naturally drifts.
So you settles into being his companion, his confidant, the person who stays beside him through everything.
Maybe it was you who needed to learn the look in his eyes.
Because his body does drift to edmin, his eyes do stay focused on them. But, it's the almost the same when looking at you.
He looks deeper into your eyes, his body drifts a closer to you.
Sure he looks at endmin with admiration, but he looks at you with lidded eyes, passion.
And Ardashir, completely oblivious, keeps growing more protective until other people start noticing before he does. Even before you do it seems.
You thought you had it all figured out, turns out feelings are a lot more complicated than that.
He feels the need to protect you, it was something he knew was love. But, why do you look at him like that? Why do you look at him differently then the other people you've said you love?... Is there different kinds of love?
It clicks.
loneliness follows Ardashir wherever he goes. a shadow he refuses to acknowledge. But you were there, a companion that made him smile. Maybe a little harder than you both realized.
That flower, still tucked behind your ear, the strands of your hair still laying behind your ear the way his fingers made them sit. Then he moved closer, touching a petal.
"Ardashir, are you listening?"
Then drifting to the stem.
"Ardashir...?"
His hand was cupping your ear now. Finally parting his lips to speak.
"Sorry, the next stop right?"
You lost your train of thought, you knew he wasnt listening so why bother continuing. Your just staring at him now to see what he was planning.
He freezes before his lips are on yours.
Why does he want to do this so bad? Your lips are so nice. Would any others' lips feel this good? No, that doesn't feel right. He doesn't care what others feel like. He wants to gently press his lips on yours, so lightly it's barely considered a kis.
.
"Ardasher-"
He pulled away. "Ahh... I'm sorry I don't know what came over me." Then a scoff, he looked back at your face. "'Bout time." A silence, "what?" You reached to grab his hand that was slipping from your ear. "You kept me waiting."
HALLOOOO!! Can I req for a M! Or GN! Reader that have so much similarities with a cat? Maybe like a bit touchy with someone they're most comfortable with, or idk- cat things?(Team akuta) A head cannon or a short fic is fine. <Reader is 16-17 in my head. And I don't know if you write for M! Or not, so please ignore that..)
This is so random, ily enjoy
Cw: masculine presenting reader, READER AGE IS UNSPECIFIED (sorry) but you can imagine anything
F: rudo,zanka,enjin,riyo
On missions, the team doesnât even really notice when you disappear anymore. One second youâre there, the next youâve slipped out of sight like you were never part of the team in the first place. Then, just as quietly, you reappear, often right before anyone can comment or decide to go looking for you.
Sometimes itâs something small: a quick hand darting out to snatch an object and tuck it into your pocket or bag before anyone can react.
âNo, I saw you put something in your pocket. What was that?â
Youâd hear some version of that at least once per mission, from just about everyone.
And just as consistently, you rarely answer. If you do, itâs vague. If you donât, itâs like the question never reached you.
By the end of each mission, whatever youâve collected ends up back in your room, added carefully to an already enormous junk pile. Nobody is allowed to touch it, at least not when you first arrive. It isnât treasure in the traditional sense. You donât go after shiny or valuable things. You collect fragments of the world instead: broken buttons, bent nails, bottle caps, odd gears, scraps that most people wouldnât even notice twice.
One day, Rudo ends up in your room.
At some point during his visit, he goes quiet. Youâre sitting nearby, listening to him talk to himself as he pokes around the space, when you notice his attention drift toward the farthest corner of the room, a large, dark mass of stacked and scattered objects.
âWoah⌠can I look through that?â
He turns back to you, practically glowing with curiosity. But the moment he catches the faint glare in your eyes, he hesitates.
ââŚuh p-please?â
A pause.
âSure.â
Heâs honestly shocked you agree so easily. Youâre usually so reserved, almost closed off with everyone. Especially with that look, you always seem like youâre weighing whether someone can be trusted. He assumes thatâs exactly what youâre doing now.
Still buzzing with excitement, he gets up and starts digging through the pile.
After a moment, he glances back, just to make sure youâre still there.
You are.
In fact, youâre much closer than before.
Rudo stiffens slightly when he realizes youâre now right behind him, practically pressed in, peering over his shoulder with intense focus.
âYou can have that,â you say suddenly.
He blinks. âHuh?â
He follows your gaze to what you were looking at: a rusted microwave tangled in black wire, half-buried like it had been swallowed by the pile.
âI saw you staring at it,â you add. âYou can have it.â
For a second, he just stares at you like he didnât process the words properly.
Then something in him lights up again, not just excitement, but understanding. Like heâs been let into something quietly important without being told what it is.
From that point on, Rudo starts showing up more often.
When the rest of the team goes out, he sticks around sometimes, helping you pick through scraps that might be worth keeping. In return, he brings you things he thinks youâll like, odd pieces, forgotten objects, things with potential you didnât have to explain.
And instead of saying thank you, or showing it in obvious ways, you just give him the slow, deliberate blink of a cat that has decided you are acceptable company.
Honestly, Zanka was probably your favorite. Maybe because he was so quiet and easy to read. Since Zanka is someone who values directness and competence, on those days where enjin puts zanka in charge, you would hear an order from him and responds with: "Maybe."
You disappear when people need you and then magically show up exactly when you're useful.
.
You absolutely poke at Zanka's temper for entertainment. One day you show up after days of absence, no one could find you and they were getting worried. Zanka would be the first to call just so he could be the one to tell you to come back.
That's when he was startled to hear your voice behind him, and turning around to see you standing there with a grin on your face.
"Where were you?!"
"Busy."
"...Doing what?"
"Thinking."
Before he could scold you, you just lean in and wrapping your hands around his slim forearms. "I got you this since I knew you'd be mad at me." You grab his hand and set multiple full bandage wraps in his hand, the confusion on zankas face was apparent.
"It's for assistaff." You watch his eyes narrow slightly, "Or you could keep it on you during missions, I know how much you like getting hurt."Â You couldn't help but smirk waiting for his response, it wasn't true, you knew he just had bad luck. But seeing his face bloom red slightly from embarrassment made you laugh internally.
"Thank you."
'...um yeah, no problem."
After that strange interaction with you Zanka couldn't help but overthink.
Maybe you're just easy to read.
How did you know he would like this? Do you just rummage around hoping to find this stuff? Was it just a coincidence?
Enjin had such strong hands, the first time you ever noticed was when he saved you out in the wasteland, or when you would get injured, carrying you by the shoulder. And you loved it, his hands were something you wanted to be touched with constantly.
But he was someone that took a LONG time for you to trust, and get to that point.
But on those random nights where you would go missing for days, he would wake up in the morning to feel you hugging his side tightly. No marks, no injuries, nothing. When he would ask you where you were, you just shrugged and tightened your grip on his waist.
He wasn't very fond of your clinginess, but that only made you want to cling to him more.
After a while he'd just let you hold into him when you felt like it.
"You know, for a dude you act alot like a desperate girl." He sighs looking down at your hand gripping his. "Is that something you want?" When your eyes meet he just looks at you and scoffs like that was a stupid question, "nah, I think I prefer you anyway." He smiles at you.
A slow blink, what does that mean again?
Ehh, probably nothing important.
You didn't like Riyo very much at first, mainly because it felt like she was always trying to pry into your business. Every question made you suspicious, and you couldn't tell whether she was genuinely interested or just being nosy.
Over time, though, you realized she was actually pretty chill. More importantly, she respected your boundaries once she understood them.
One day, while passing by, she casually patted you on the back. The moment her hand made contact, she felt you instantly stiffen like a startled cat.
She quietly took the hint.
Never again.
Riyo never brought it up or made a big deal out of it. She simply adjusted. Instead of trying to be physically affectionate, she stuck to compliments, small conversations, and letting you approach her on your own terms.
Honestly, that worked out much better for her.
The more she respected your space, the more comfortable you became around her. What started as cautious tolerance slowly turned into genuine trust.
Nowadays, it's almost funny how much things have changed. Riyo will be in the middle of working when you casually pat her on the shoulder as you walk by, or sit down beside her without a word. Sometimes you're even the one throwing compliments her way, earning a surprised smile before she thanks you.
Riyo never pushed. She just gave you the room to decide when you were comfortable.
And somewhere along the way, you decided you were.
I love your works please make more youâre doing so great
Hands only
Wđ: double stimulation; Hand job (char receiv), fingering (chara receiv), gris x dom!gn!reader (implied male?), use of y/n once, cliff hanger lol, porn with little to no plot
A/n: this is not proofread. Let me know if anything is hard to understand, and I'll edit/clarify. I LOVE MY SWEET BOY GRIS
The guy was always someone you could lean on, whether it was emotion or not he was always there for you. with his arms around your waist and his words speaking "your so perfect," vibrated against your lips.
He was never one to lie of course, so when it came to his touch he was sure to tell you what he wanted you to do, just a quick "please..." into your ear as he tugs on your waist band. His other hand resting on your neck.
"Won't you make love to me y/n?"
He asked so sincerely, so politely, in the same tone of voice you hear everyday. You would be heartless not to let a heroic gentlemen like him do as he pleases. So you gently grab his wrist, giving a verbal "of course i will." just to make sure he doesn't have to ask again. Which made him smile warmly, you wouldn't think this guy wanted to get in your pants just from his smile. But here he is, you made sure to burn that look of need on his face into your memory.
He hummed looking from your crouch back into your eyes, then he leaned in, planting another gentle kiss to your wet lips, keeping his hands firmly planted on your hip. "Your restraint is always amazing. " You muttered watching the way his eyelashes fluttered at your praise before you continued. "Let me take care of you this time around." The bed creaked below the two of you as you lay Gris down on the bed and pull down on his sweatpants. "Should I kiss you as I please?" He was nodding before you even finished saying the word kiss, which would have made you laugh if it didn't turn you on so much. Now, almost in synce, he pulls your pants down your thighs, as do you. Your bodys now no longer hiding from eachother, as you were the one to kiss him this time.
Your crouches rub together and Gris can't help but lift his hips, chasing the pleasure overriding his body. You knew he was a strong man, physically and mentally. But seeing him so vulnerable, made a shiver run up your spine as you gripped his thrusting hips. For such a big guy that could easily overpower you, he was very obedient. Even when you flipped him on his stomach he just got into a comfortable pose before looking back at you with his arms pressed against his chin.
Seeing him look at you made you want to keep kissing him, so you lean over his body, kissing the exposed side of cheek and trailing down his toned back. He let out a groan when you got to his lower back which made you smirk into his skin.
"Want me to make you feel good?" Thing is, you can't exactly tease the guy, he's just along for the ride. So you just settle with making him come over and over again. "Arch for me, Gris." As soon as those words left your lips he lifted his hips enough for you to slide your hand over his front and squeeze his cock firmly, dragging your hand slowly from the base to the tip.
You slid your other hand over the front of his chest, traveling up and around until you reached his throat. Then slipping between his Adam's apple and the bright red choker, watching his body react to your fingers. He really had such a beautiful neck, and it felt so nice to hold gently.
"F-fuckkk...." Gris groaned as he spread his legs slightly, you feel the vibrations against the pads of your fingers and you lean in close. You nip at his mouth and he moans, and then groans again when you reach around to press two long fingers in. His walls are hot and tight and silky, and in all your familiarity with his body, it doesnât take more than a second for you to find that spot inside him and curl the pads of your fingers into it with devastating accuracy. "You feel good..." is all he managed to say before you attacked his pretty mouth with your tongue.
Heâs fully hard now, dick flushed a pretty red as it bobs against his stomach, weeping. You feel his walls flutter around you when you take him in hand, smearing his precome over his tip with your thumb. Despite his own wetness, the pad of your finger is dry enough to be rough. But you were interrupted by his voice, "Can- can I turn over?" He whispered. "Please?" He turns his body and lays on his back when you nod, "-wanted to see me?" you give him a kiss on the cheek. He let out a breathy chuckle before grabbing your hands that were still inside him and on his dick.
God his hands, so big and slightly calloused. Gently wrapping around the back of your hand, you couldn't help feeling aroused knowing his fingers tightened slightly at the feeling of you moving. "Hnngh, ahh... it feels so good when you do it." He tilted his head away at his slightly embarrassing confession, blushing when he feels you kissing his exposed neck. "Yeah?" You press down on a spot inside his walls and squeeze the tip if his dick in unison. "Do I do it the best?" He clenched feeling your words invading his ear, nodding while looking back into your eye. You pump your hands faster through his warm walls, feeling his hands easily keep up with the movement of your wrists.
Watching him get himself off with your hands made a wetness pool in your shorts. Making sure to watch his expression get more and more pathetic, you knew he was close, so your curled your finger and pointed your thumb up so everytime you stroked up it rubbed his tip. "Hngh... shit-t...sorryY!" His voice broke as he wrapped his legs around your waist, humping your hand through a wave of his orgasm. "Don't apologize Gris." You said pressing down on tip of his dick and feeling it twitch alive again.
"Let's go all the way." He squeezed your wrist just enough without hurting you with his grip.
Synopsis: Homelander has never felt such a connection with anyone before, and although you canât feel it yet, you will. (Loosely inspired by the book You)
Title inspired by the IDK How But They Found Me song: Modern Day Cain
TW: stalking, he jerks off, previous r@pe (not Homelander), an ex is involved and I donât really like e/n, so I just used the name of one of my exes, kidnapping, voyerism, surprisingly no smut but again he does jerk off to you, murder, profanity, dead dove do not eat
@blindmagdalena I donât really know u but I love all of your homelander fics and they inspired me to write my own!
When Homelander first noticed you, it was during a bus jacking. It was routine for him, but traumatic for everyone else involved. The bus jacker may have been lasered, but allâs fair in self defense, right? There was one curious thing that caught his eye-a young, plain, weak girl stayed calm. Collected. Even comforting other hostages. You smiled, and for gods sake, even got them to laugh.Â
   It was something Homelander had never seen before.Â
   And people fawned over you for it. They thanked you, almost as much, if not more, as they thanked him. And at first, Homelander despised you. Despised the way you blushed and brushed their praise off, saying you were just helping where you could. And you left, to continue your droning, mindless existence. He followed you home out of spite. He contemplated killing you, flying you to the highest building and dropping you off so it would look like a suicide.Â
   But after days of obsessively watching you, learning your routine and habits, he grew fond of you. Saw your potential. Saw the way you were kind to everyone who didnât deserve it. You dropped old clothes off at your local Good Will, tipped more than was necessary, and always gave that homeless guy by your street corner money, or takeout, or attention that he didnât deserve. You paid more attention, more care and passion and love, to the smallest things than had ever been given to him.
   Sure, he was loved. By the mindless public. Not by Maeve, not by Madalyn, not by anyone who had ever seen the real him. Not by anyone who matters.Â
   But neither had you. You helped people from a distance, cried when your friends hung out and didnât tell you, read books and watched movies instead of going outside and talking to people. Homelander watched you and an idea, a desire grew within him. Maybe you, with your fix-it complex and unending empathy, could love him. And he, battle worn and alone, could love you.Â
   And maybe together, neither of you would ever have to be alone again.Â
   He took a risk one day. Followed you into your favorite coffee shop. He even was in line behind you, waiting to get his coffee. He had ordered the same as you. And although his super senses and seen you, smelt you, known you, he had never felt you. His heart palpitated at the closeness, his fingers ached to just reach out and touch you, pull you into his chest, wrapped his hands around your throat until you loved him-
   And so, he did. His hands had a mind of their own. He was often overcome by emotions, but the feelings you brought out in him were new. Carnal. Animalistic. He was a slave to them, to the temptation your lewd body screamed. He tugged at your sweater, gently, impulsively, wanting you to see him, really see him in the way he knew only you could.Â
   You turned around slowly, curiously. He quickly let go of your sleeve, an uncharacteristic blush adorning his chiseled features. âUm, hello?â You ask, eyebrows pulled together and biting your lip nervously. He fidgets anxiously with the string of his black hoody, more awestruck than he had thought he would be.
   And so, you meet him. At last. The strings of destiny pull you to him as he knew they would. âHey, uh, hi!â He stammers, glancing around the cafe. Not exactly the first impression he was going for, but how else do you react to a-a-
   A goddess. You were perfect, far more divine in person. Your perfume is musky, sweet, and graces your natural odor marvelously. You had opted against wearing too much makeup today, and Homelander is thankful, you are much more beautiful natural. He had watched you curl your eyelashes and brush on a bit of Vaseline, and that was enough to make you turn heads. At least, his head. You were much more stunning than his first impression on the bus.Â
   âUh, do you-do you need something?â You ask, still bright but obviously uncomfortable. You pop a hip, quirk a smile, and Homelander can hear your heart beat faster, and he understands that you are nervous. Maybe you can already feel an inkling of what he feels.Â
   âDonât you recognize me?â He asks.
   You smile, uncertain and embarrassed. ââŚshould I?â You chuckle nervously. âHave we met before?â
   On one hand, Homelander was annoyed. Who did you think you were to not recognize the Homelander? Your savior? Americaâs hero? He was on the news every night! For fucks sake, there were more movies about him than there were those shitty slasher movies you loved. His fists tightened as he grimaced at your naivety, your stupidity, at not recognizing a god among men.Â
   On the other hand, he had a chance here to be someone else. A person. A human being. He didnât know what that felt like, and you didnât know what you were offering you to him. You didnât know you were handing him your life on a silver platter. His fist relaxed, and he chuckled, a deep hum from his chest.
  âYes, actually,â he lied smoothly. âLast week. You forgot your purse on the bus, so I grabbed it for you.â You had lost your purse on the bus, but he hadnât grabbed it for you. He was merely lucky enough to witness it, lucky enough your memory wouldnât remember the difference between the man who had grabbed it for you and himself.Â
   You gasp, your eyes widen. âThat was you?!â You say excitedly, grabbing his hand forcefully. âOh my gosh, thank you! Iâm so sorry, Iâm so forgetful!â You laugh anxiously, nervously glancing at your feet. Forgetful enough to be fooled into thinking you remember him, and hopefully forgetful enough to forget his name. âJ-Jake, right?â You question, blushing and releasing his hand, awkwardly rubbing your head but still smiling at him. He mourns the contact immediately.
   He pretends to cringe. âHo-â he hesitates, grimaces, forced to degrade himself to the boring, common name he had previously been known by; the only other thing he knew he could respond to. âJohn, actually.â The manâs real name had been Jamie, but of course you wouldnât remember that.Â
   You giggle. âJohn. Okay. I need to thank you again, I wasnât sure Iâd ever see you again. Small city, right?â The barista calls your name, and something in Homelander tightens at the way he seems so familiar with you.Â
   âOne sec!â You say brightly, and quickly grab your latte, talking with the barista and laughing at something he says. Homelander glares daggers at him, almost wishing you werenât there so he could laser his eyes out. Then again, if you werenât there, he wouldnât be either.Â
   âSorry!â You hold your cup like a life line, your natural social anxiety and otherness oozing out of your pores. Homelander smiles, the way youâd smile when a small child does something cute. You were kind, but anti social; traits that had endeared you to Homelander in a way he hadnât thought possible. Youâd go out of your way to help others, giving the homeless money or donating food to a church, but kept yourself separate from the world for the most part. You cried about it, sometimes, the way you never seemed to really be able to connect to anyone on a deeper level. Homelander believed this to be because most people, tedious and dull and boring, didnât have a deeper level the way you two did. Didnât have the passion, the potential, the-
   Loneliness. Homelander saw himself in you. Just a little bit. You were polar opposites in almost everything; you were kind while he was brutal, you were soft where he was rough, childish in all the areas he was mature and mature in all the areas he was childish. You complimented each other perfectly, with one big similarity; you were both lonely.Â
   You both were driven, searching for love in all the wrong places. You ate alone every night, rarely went out, and while you had friends Homelander could tell that they werenât good for you. Asking you to go out, go on a date with this guy, continuously taking you out of your comfort zone when really, you were just fine. You had your routine, your dreams, and even if you really didnât know it yet, him.  Homelander knew all this, knew you had dreams, goals, and was almost sorry to deprive the world of you. Almost. But gods need sacrifices to be appeased. And Homelander has sacrificed enough for this country to be deserving of one goddamn woman, no?Â
   âNo problem.â Homelander smiles. âHey, actually, wanna sit down and get to know each other?â He smiles, Prince Charming, mouth quirking slightly to the right.Â
   You hesitate. No. Heâs losing you. Itâs like fishing; you have to bait, be patient, and wait for the fish to bite. You being the fish. âOr if you have somewhere to be, I can give you my number and we could meet some other time.â He says quickly, hope obvious in his eyes.Â
   You relax, shoulders settle, and you smile softly, genuinely. âSure. Iâd like that.â Homelander grins cheekily. He put you in charge of the situation, showed how gentlemanly he is. Itâs your choice now, and he knows youâll make the right one.Â
   The barista calls his name, and he watches as you quickly pull out your phone and hand it to him. âSame coffee order?â You laugh. âSeems like a meet cute.â You canât tell, but Homelander is screaming internally inside as he types his number in your phone, triple checking for a mistake. Heâs shaking and sweating and nervous and god, heâs never felt this way before.Â
   âWhat can I say?â Homelander teases, walking to the counter. âWe have great taste.â
   He watches as you wave, exiting the cafe and entering the bustling street outside. His smile faded quickly as he turns to the barista, memorizing his name for a future errand. He glares, and his powerful hatred engulfs the cafe, creating a startlingly volatile atmosphere. He doesnât say anything as he grabs his coffee, but as the freaked out barista hands him his cup he smiles coldly, it not reaching his eyes. âHave a nice day, Aaron.âÂ
   The words were polite, normal, not threatening in the slightest, but Aaronâs face drains of color as the man leaves. Heâs shaking, and heâs really not sure why, but he hopes you donât have anything to do with the man he saw talking to you.Â
   The same man whom you decided to text that same night, despite a harrowing gut feeling telling you not to.Â
   Hey.Â
   Itâs boring, simplistic, but how else do you start a conversation with a stranger? He texts back almost immediately. Hey. What are you doing up this late?
   You glance at the clock. 12:21. You shrug, turn down the tv, and snuggle closer into your blanket. Watching a movie. Whatâre YOU doing up this late mister? Homelander smiles at the phone, at your mock authority and playful nature.Â
   I have a late job. Homelander texts back simply, at a loss at what would constituent as a normal response to that question. Heâs sitting at the edge of a rooftop, kicking his feet like a school girl, smiling ridiculously hard as he watches you from a couple buildings over.Â
   You smile at your phone, shitty horror movie almost forgotten as you text the mysterious stranger. Ohhhhh interesting. What is it exactly that you do? You bite your lip, wondering if youâre prying to much already, having only texted him three times thus far. The dots stay on your screen for a while, Homelander pondering how much he should divulge about his life to you. I work in law enforcement. He decides on. What do you do? He already knows, of course, heâs seen you on your way to and from your job everyday.Â
   Law enforcement? Thatâs so cool! You get to help people! Iâm just a nail tech. You hesitate, deciding to over share regardless. If he canât love you at your weirdest, then he doesnât deserve you at your best, you decide, although youâre nervous at his response to you sharing your passion.Â
   I want to be a writer though.Â
   Homelander lights up. You trust him enough already to tell him that? This is great progress, quick, and maybe he wonât even have to convince you to live with him.Â
   Thatâs really interesting! Anything in particular you want to write? He watches the dots excitedly, bouncing in his seat.Â
   I donât really know, you write back finally. Homelanders heart plummets. No. No. No no no! He groans. Where is all that openness, that vulnerability you had moments ago? Did you always want to be in law enforcement? You ask, the movie ending and credits rolling.
   I never really thought about anything else. Homelander writes honestly. The people who raised me kind of raised me for it. What an odd way to refer to oneâs parents, you think, leaning on your doorway. You shivered, you donât sleeping in pants, and quickly climb into your bed and under your covers.
   Homelander stares at you, phone almost forgotten in his hands, positively enamored by the sight of you, until his phone buzzes. Wanna meet for lunch tomorrow? You text.Â
   He smiles. Not quite dinner, but a start. Too much of a slowburn romance for him, but heâd do anything for you. Iâd love to.Â
   You smile. Goodnight, John.Â
   Goodnight, y/n. Maybe if you were less tired youâd remember you never told him your name. Maybe if you were less tired youâd remember he gave you his number; he wasnât supposed to know who was texting him. But all you do is smile as you turn your phone off and settle into bed, Homelander watching love struck in the distance.Â
   You sit at the simple cafe you had selected, the one with the salads and wraps you liked, in a flowy summer dress and converses. You had done some makeup, but nothing out of the ordinary. Strangely, you were nervous, tapping your foot while you wait for your admittedly handsome date. You had chosen a familiar, comforting place for the date, somewhere where youâd hopefully feel more at ease and open up. The vintage cafe soothes you, reminding you of your hometown, and youâre thankful for your foresight of your own anxiety.Â
   You hadnât gone on a date in a while.Â
   John wasnât late, but he definitely wasnât early. Is this what they call a beige flag? Being on time? You check your phone for the umpteenth time, but all that greets you is the time: 11:57. Three minutes until heâd be late, and you were worried you looked sad to the customers and staff, sitting alone and waiting for a date who might not show. If he didnât, you couldnât come back, and you quite liked it here.Â
   The bell above the door jingled, and you look up to find John waving at you as he made his way to your table. âSo sorry for the wait! It took me a minute to find this place!â He laughs it off, sitting in the chair comfortably, a man who had never felt out of place.
   He had known exactly where you wanted to go. He just wasnât sure whether you preferred men who arrived early and showed responsibility, or men who made you wait in anticipation. He decided to play it safe.Â
   âNo problem! I wasnât sure you were actually coming.â You joke, leaning back into your chair and settling down.
   Got it. Arrive early. The cafe bustles around you, and he glances around. âDonât be silly, of course Iâd come!â He glances at you wryly. âWho wouldnât want to have lunch with beautiful lady?â You blush, glance at your shoes, a small smile blossoming on your face. You fluster easily, and Homelander smiles with a fondness and familiarity you mistake for laughing at your shyness.Â
   âWell. Where are the waiters?â He asks, glancing around at the cheap flooring and old tables. He represses his disgust. When youâre with him, heâll take you to nicer places, places with wine other than the boxed kind.
   âI told them someone else was joining me today, so they said theyâd waiting to take any orders until you got here,â you explain, taking a sip of water. âSomeone will be out in a second.â You take another sip of water, not sure how to start a conversation.Â
   âDo you come here often?â John asks, voice light and, dare you say it, flirtatious?Â
   âActually, yeah, the place I work at is only a couple blocks away,â you point vaguely out the window. âSome of us usually either come here or go to the Chinese place a little closer.âÂ
   Homelander knows you come here a lot. Heâs watched you. He knows exactly what youâre going to order: spring salad wrap with chips, and an iced white mocha. He knows you. You donât know him yet, his preferences and taste and orders, but you will.Â
   âReally? How,â he hesitates, nose wrinkling just a bit, âquaint.â This place was below you and you didnât even realize it. Oh, he canât wait to take you to real dining, in Paris or Rome. Youâll feel so lucky he saved you, like your very own Cinderella story. He, of course, is your knight in shining armor.Â
  You donât notice the underlying condescension of Johns words. âYeah, I think so. I love this place.â You smile brightly at Homelander and he could swear his heart stops. Heâd do just about anything for you to beam like that forever at him, although heâd prefer it to be about his heroism rather than some dirty cafe.Â
   âIs your lunch break long?â You ask John, twiddling your ring. âMines only about forty-five minutes, so I can only stay for about thirty more.â
   Homelander blanches, panics, before deciding on a random time. âMines about an hour, so I should head back the same time as you.âÂ
   You smile. âPerfect.â
   The waiter approaches the table, notepad in sight, and apron disheveled. âHey y/n, this your date?â The waiter smirks while you blush, and both of you miss Johnâs wry, possessive glance at you.
  âSam, this is John, and this isnât a date-â you hurry  to explain and divert the conversation.
   âIsnât it?â John asks, mouth quirked, a glint in his eye.Â
   Your blush deepens, and you smile softly, unable to look either of them in the eyes. âI-I guess. A-anyway, can I get an iced white mocha with my usual?â The waiter writes that down, before turning to John. âAnd for you, y/nâs not-date?â
   He pretends to think. âThe same thing, but with a glass of milk.â Â
   âSure thing. Itâll be out in a second,â they walk away quickly, leaving you alone with your date.
   A glass of milk is odd, you think, but decide not to bring it up. âYou donât even know what youâre getting,â you smile, quirking your head to the side.Â
   He leans back in his seat, folding his fingers together comfortably. âIâm sure whatever you get will be great.âÂ
   The two of you spend the rest of the maybe date getting to know each other, finding out you have a lot in common. Both of you never knew your real parents, both of your last relationships ended horribly, and both of you were fairly isolated people. Closed off. Although, while you shared many of your other interests and hobbies, every time you asked about his, he would change the subject. You figured it just boiled down to the closed off thing again, and that he would open up more as you two got closer. You two were actually discussing the prospect of the next date as he walked you back to your job. (He had insisted, slightly forcibly if you wanted to analyze it, but you believed ignorance is bliss)Â
   âSo, y/n, when do you want to meet next?â He says smoothly, stopping at the door to the nail salon. You pretend to think, biting your lip. âWhat about tomorrow night?âÂ
   He smiles, genuinely excited, âokey-doke. Iâll pick you up at seven.âÂ
   âYou donât even know where I live,â You laugh. âAnd I donât even know where weâre going.â You fiddle with your purse, glancing through the doorâs window to at least three pairs of eyes on you.Â
   âItâll be a surprise. Text me your address,â He opens the door, quickly-he had almost messed everything up, forgetting he wasnât supposed to know where you live. Â
   âOkay, sure. Thanks for lunch, John,â you step through the threshold. âSee you later!â You smile and wave, a horde of excited girls greeting you as you walk in.Â
   âBye, y/n.â He shuts the door, and walks away quickly so he doesnât do anything embarrassing or incriminating in your eyesight. He smiles, and resists the urge to fly into the air and start screaming in delight.Â
   Tomorrow night, heâs giving you a taste of your future life.Â
   Heâs watching you get ready. He thinks itâs sweet how much effort youâre putting into getting ready for him. Singing along with some niche pop artist, someone called Ari Abdul. Doing not only a full face of makeup, but paying extra attention to your dark, sparkly eye makeup, which was the one part of your makeup he could get behind. You looked like you were having fun. You had curled your hair, and had yet to get dressed, clad only in your pajamas when Homelander decided to pick you up early.
   He knocked at your door, and you yelled back, âjust a sec!â He knew you were finishing your hair, and although he enjoyed the voyeurism, he almost wished he had more self control so he could see you open the door and be completely surprised. Luckily, he was a good actor, and when he opened the door he pretended to be surprised. âWow. You look,â he swallowed down many lewd remarks, âgreat.â He gestured to your pajamaâs, âis that what youâre wearing?âÂ
   You blush, and he smiles. âOh, no, I just havenât gotten dressed yet,â you open the door a little wider, revealing more of your pajama shorts to his perverted eyes. âWanna come in?âÂ
   Homelander follows you into your cramped apartment for the first time, but he had the layout already memorized from watching you. âCute place,â he says, eyeing your books stacked against the wall, many mugs and cups scattered throughout, and clothes on the bed through your door.Â
   You clear off a place on the sofa for him. âSorry for the mess, I didnât think youâd arrive so early!â You laugh nervously. âIâll go get dressed so we can head out.â Â
   âItâs no problem,â John said smoothly, making himself at home. âItâs very.....you.
   You smile, and quickly walk into your bedroom and close the door. You have no idea how little that door protects your privacy, with Homelander watching you through your door with his X-ray vision. He leans back, legs spread as he watches you. You were quick to take off your pajamaâs, pulling out a pair of lingerie to wear under your dress. Itâs red, and although you donât know this yet, he appreciates the use of one of his colors. Itâs as if this is fate.
   He pants tighten as you put on the lacy, see through thong, the way you pull your breasts up so your bra can hug them tighter together. You pull the dress out of your closet, a short, babydoll black one he hadnât seen yet, buried in the back of your closet and rarely used. It hugs your breasts before flaring out and resting at your mid-thigh. You look entrancing, and it takes everything Homelander has to not break in there and ravish you right now.Â
   You creak open the door slowly, shyly, smiling at the ground as you walk out. âWhat do you think?â You ask, spinning around while the dress floats beside you.Â
   John stands up and clasps his hands behind his back, strict and straight; a soldier at heart. âY/n, you look,â he fumbles, looking for words that could even encompass half of the beauty before him. âAmazing.â He stutters out, kicking himself in the shins for not thinking of something more clever. Â
   You take the compliment anyway, and are quick to grab your coat and purse. âWhere are we going?â You ask, leading John out the door.Â
   âJust a restaurant I think youâll like,â he says vaguely, walking quickly and hardly giving you time to catch up as you exit the building.Â
   âMysterious,â you mummer, regretting the heels immediately, calluses forming already. If youâre lucky, you wonât be able to feel your feet by the end of the night.Â
   Homelanderâs mouth ticks upward just a notch, super-hearing picking up every little sarcastic thing you say, every foot step and breath and heartbeat. He had yours memorized already, of course, but having it right next to him, living and breathing and talking about some mundane thing to fill the silence-you hated small talk, but hated awkwardness more-was comforting. He could hear everything at once, but, god, was it hard to comprehend what you were saying-he had only gathered enough to recognize that you complimented his tuxedo.Â
   âA tux seems rather nice for a mystery date,â you rambled, as you two wait for his car to pull up, âit suits you though.âÂ
   He grins cockily at you, âit would look better on the floor.âÂ
   The limousine pulls up just in time to hide your blush, and youâre too preoccupied trying to calm yourself down to even think twice about getting into it. You scoot over, the seats smooth and soft. The interior is shiny, new, unused and unloved. Laminated and showy, but lacking any obvious personality aside from an ostentatious display, and for a movement, you compare it to John. You feel uncomfortable in the sterile environment.Â
   âA limo?â You half smile at him, âwhat is your job again?âÂ
   He smirks. âDonât worry about it. Iâll explain the details later.âÂ
   You sit alone in a strange car with a near stranger, barreling towards an alien location. Your palms sweat, your heart races, but you smile. This is new, exciting, completely out of character and you love it. The apprehension is welcome, and your legs squeeze together by themselves.Â
   Homelander notices.Â
   Of course he does. He can feel your heart palpitating, the way you leak just by his nearness, the pure, unadulterated, adoration you feel. As you should. He reciprocates in full, his dick hard as a rock, a tent in his pants only unnoticeable through your fog of excitement and blissful naivety. He would say something, he would, but youâre not supposed to be aware of his full infatuation just yet. Soon. Soon.Â
   Not soon enough. He inches closer, grabs your thigh, slowly tracing his hand upward. âWhat say we scrap dinner and go back to my place,â he purrs, âput something else on the menu.âÂ
   The tension snaps so quickly even Homelander, lost and disheveled in his own mindless besottedness, can feel it. The driver quickly rolls the partition up. Johnâs hand stays still, but his fingers continue to draw gibberish on your leg. You gently pick his hand up and set it down next to you. âJohn,â you whisper gingerly, âIâm not.......ready for this yet.âÂ
   He frowns. His eye twitches. He all but snarls, âI thought we-â
   âYou thought wrong,â you interrupt, turning to look out the window. âI have some........bad experiences. Iâd rather move things slow. If youâre looking for anything more, Iâm......sorry.âÂ
   He softens imperceptibly, tent falling but mind churning. â.....who?â He growls, glaring at nothing and everything at once.Â
   You glance at him quickly, eyes darting around the car, subconsciously making sure you have an exit plan. âThatâs none of your business.â You snap, palms sweating and heart racing for a different reason.Â
   âY/n.â He breathes out angrily, âtell me who. What happened?âÂ
   Suddenly, the knowledge you really donât know this man is frightening. The excitement at stepping outside your comfort zone is gone, replaced with the grim reminder of why you never leave. âJesus Christ, John! Itâs kind of personal! And, quite frankly, Iâd rather not relive it!âÂ
   He closes his eyes and rubs his temple, impatience gnawing on his psyche. âY/n.â He doesnât open his eyes, reminding himself that itâs not your fault, and trying to calm himself down. Your refusal to tell him what happened only strengthens the terrible feeling someone did something obscene to you. âIâm not asking again. Tell me what happened before I do something we both regret.âÂ
   You gulp, the finality and resolve in Johnâs voice tell you that you really ought not piss him off. The silence persists, and the mask of Johnâs patience was slipping with every twitch and purse of his lips.
   âI-my ex,â you whisper finally, suddenly ashamed and guilt ridden. âIt was his birthday. He wanted to have sex, but I wasnât in the mood. I said no, and he started calling me a âwhoreâ and a âslutâ. I got so fed up that I just started leaving, but-â you take a single, shuddering breath, âbut he wouldnât let me. He grabbed my arm and then he-he-â you sob, instinctively leaning into Johnâs open embrace.Â
   He shushes and calms you down, but his own mind is screaming. Who did he think he was?! To stalk and rape an angel like you?! To tarnish you, like you werenât a person?! He takes a deep breath, the smell of your hair only serving to anger him further. Youâve been claimed by him, you were his, and some cheap, loser dickwad had no right.Â
   But you werenât done. âI think the worst part was that his friends were in the room next door. They heard everything, they just.....didnât care.â Homelanderâs heart cracks, and he contemplates flying you to whatever shit hole this douchbag lives, just so you can watch and not care while he fucking kills him.Â
   But then you look up. The tears in your eyes stream down. Homelanderâs heart breaks now, and he shifts uncomfortable. His rage bottled for now, he gives you the full attention you deserve from him. âHe hey hey, donât cry!â He cooâs, wiping away tears from your eyes as he rubs your back reassuringly. âIâm here. Iâm here now, and Iâm gonna make damn well sure no asshole like that can ever be near you again, okay?âÂ
   You sniffle, looking up at him through teary eyelashes. âOkay?â He prompts again, slightly more forceful.
   You nod slowly. â.....okay.âÂ
   âYeah?â John smiles at you, and twirls your hair. âThatâs my girl.â He murmurs, burrowing you closer into his chest while he rubs you comfortingly. He rolls down the partition, âtake us back to her place.âÂ
   The driver nods silently, quickly (or as quick as you can) turning the car around to drop you back off. The drive back is silent, save for your occasional sniffles and Johnâs vaguely patronizing cooâs. When the driver finally pulls up, you try to open the door but John, with a strength you hadnât expected, holds you still. âAllow me,â he smiles, all teeth, while he opening the door and carrying you bridal style to your apartment.Â
   âMy keys are in my purse,â you murmur, face in Johnâs, eyes closed and breathing calmer.Â
   âRighty-oh,â he sayâs, surprisingly up beat, but you didnât know he was just excited to be invited back into your home. At night. Maybe his dick would get wet tonight after all. Â
   The door unlocks with a click, and Homelander slides in as though he owns the place. Well, a shell company of Vought, but he practically does. His form seems massive in the cramped apartment, and he looks as if he doesnât belong. He feels as if he doesnât belong. Itâs claustraphobic, but he likes the way you seem to slit in perfectly anywhere you are.
   He settles you on your bed, still covered in the clothes you had been trying on before the disastrous date. âGet comfortable, yeah?â He smiles, caressing your jawline, before leaving the room and closing the door to give you a minute to collect yourself.Â
   You sit up shakily, looking around your room dully. You really want to be alone for a bit, but have no idea how to ask him to leave, especially after he comforted you. Instead, donning an old band tee with some sweatpants, you grab an oversized shirt for John, hoping it will fit him, and steady yourself to leave the comfort of your room.Â
   âThere she is!â A booming voice from the kitchen bellows through your apartment. âFeeling better?âÂ
   He smiles, leaning against the entryway to your kitchen. Behind him, a mess of cookware and food covers your kitchen counter. âUh,â you blink, confused. âHereâs a shirt, if you wanna change. Whatcha,â you tilt your head, âwhatcha doin?âÂ
   âWhat, this?â He scoffs a bit, looking surprisingly bashful for a man who has made himself right at home. âI was, uh, I was trying to make us dinner. You know, because we had to cancel our plans.â The smallest of blushes adorns his face, his eyes are downcast, but a slight smile causes his mouth to quirk slightly.Â
   He really is beautiful, you think, awestruck at the man whoâs seemingly wandered into your life. His blue eyes sparkle in your dim apartment lights, his bleach blonde hair looks surprisingly touchable, and he looks tall in your tiny apartment, muscular, but above all, he looks safe. Trustworthy. Sweet.Â
   Looks can be deceiving, but with both of you desperate for connection, itâs hard to tell.Â
   You smile at him, touched and amused by his lack of culinary skills. âWhy donât you get changed, and then we can figure this out,â you hand him the oversized Nirvana shirt, which he takes after you practically force it into his hands. Itâs soft from use, a favorite heâs seen you wear countless times to sleep in. He has to grind his teeth together, smiling forcefully, to prevent another untimely boner.Â
   âBack in a jif,â he says, walking towards the room you just left. Your bedroom.Â
   Once the door is closed, he grips the shirt like a lifeline. He brings it to his face, stuffing his nose into it and breathing you in. He can smell your perfume, your deodorant, your shampoo; everything hits him at once like a truck, and it almost causes an orgasm by itself. He quickly takes off his tuxedo, shoving himself into the piece of you gifted to him. Itâs tight on him, his lean muscles showing through it in what he hopes is an attractive way. He moves to your clothes hamper, grabbing the thong you had been wearing before changing into your lingerie. He brings that to his nose, moaning as quietly as possible,  bringing his hand under his boxers, an experimental pump bringing another groan out.Â
   He breaths heavily into your thong, his pace getting faster and faster. He can smell the scented candle you just lit through the panty, can hear the music you turned on and can hear you singing along quietly. Youâre so pretty, everything about you; your voice, your hair, your eyes, body, and soul. He pictures you in his mind, uses his x-ray vision to watch you through the walls. He shoves the thong in his mouth, silencing the moans threatening to out him. He can taste you on his tongue, and heâs oh so excited to taste the real thing. He cums, watching you, the hot stream making a mess on your floor. He pants as he finishes, quickly shoving the panties into his pants pocket for later. He grabs some tissues on your bedside table, mopping the mess off the floor. The bathroom, connected to your bedroom, is a godsend-he throws away the tissues, washes his hands, and tries to touch himself up for you. He quickly splashed his face with cool water and fluffs up his hair. He takes a deep breath before stepping back out.Â
   âSorry for the wait,â he says, perching himself behind you. âI had an important phone call.âÂ
   âItâs okay,â you said, whisking the pancake mix you had made in his absence. He hugs you from behind, arms wrapped around your waist and head pressed into your hair, floral shampoo tickling his nostrils. âPancakes?â You ask, stepping forward and trying to exit his clingy grasp.Â
   He follows you closely, never letting go but following you instep. âMm hm,â he closes his eyes, lost in the music you turned on.Â
   âYou know weâre not hooking up, right?â You ask, suddenly worried you led him on by letting him in and telling him to change.Â
   âYes, maam!â He sing songs, charmingly joking around, pulling you into him tighter.Â
   âOh, well, okay then,â you settle into him easier, not uncomfortable but not comfortable either. He feels the subtle release of tension, and moves his mouth to your ear, testing the waters. He kisses it gently, before releasing you.
   âAnything I can do to help?â He asks, lost in the kitchen and looking for the stuff he had out not too long ago.Â
   You turn to look at him. âUh, have you ever actually cooked anything?â You laugh, âwhat were you trying to make?Â
   âUh, well, I uh, I was-â he never felt as inept as he did now, but he had never needed to cook anything for himself so he never bothered to learn. âI was gonna figure that out along the way.âÂ
   His hands are very expressive, but whenever not in use rest behind his back. That was something youâve noticed about him. âThatâs not really how cooking works. Why donât you go find a movie on Voughtflix?â You say, gently trying to edge him out of the kitchen.Â
   âAlrighty then,â he practically groans, reluctant to leave you. He walks to the living room, only a couple feet away, but heâs comforted by the view of you regardless.Â
   You dump some pancake mix onto the preheated pan. âDid you use to be a soldier?âÂ
   He turns the TV on, uncomfortable, beginning to scroll on Voughtflix. âKind of. Special forces,â he says after a pause. âIâd rather not talk about it.âÂ
   You flip a pancake. âYeah, of course! If you ever do want to talk to someone, Iâm here.âÂ
   He watches you. Legs crossed the couch, neck turned to watch you cook. You look nice, bathed in the lights of domestic bliss. âIâll hold you to that,â he says, scrolling. âWhat about 13 Going On 30?â He calls.
   âI love that movie!â You practically yell back, placing the last of the pancakes on two plates and pouring the syrup. âHowâd you know?âÂ
   âYour liked movies,â he says as you settle down next to him.Â
   You hand him the plate, fork resting precariously on top. âHere you go,â you sing song, pulling your legs closer to you as John drapes his arm over your shoulder. âGo ahead and start the movie,â you say, shoving bite of pancakes into your mouth.
  He does as you say, stifling a chuckle at your ability to be purely, unadulteratedly you. Throughout the movie, he spends more time watching your reactions then he does the movie. Your laughs, giggles, little smiles; you pretend not to notice him staring at you. Near the end of the film, you drift off. Homelanderâs plate of pancakes is practically untouched, while yours were demolished rather quickly. When the credits roll, he picks you up, weight nonexistent to him, and carries you to bed. He comes back to clean up a little bit before he joins you, picking up your plates and scraping off his own before placing them in the dishwasher.Â
   He enters your room now like a chapel-and getting in bed with you feels like divinity. He wraps his arms around you, and you nuzzle into his unnatural warmth instinctively. His breath catches in his throat, but he has never felt this comfortable before, never had the ability to let his guard down so easily with anyone else. He kisses your neck before joining you in unconscious bliss.Â
   He wakes up to his phone buzzing in his pocket. He ignores it for as long as he can, but when he feels you stir in your sleep, phone rousing you, he gets out of bed to check it. Ashley. Fucking Ashley. Of course. He closes the door to the bathroom, answering the call unwillingingly. âAshley,â he says curtly, âcanât this wait until itâs not four in the fucking morning?!âÂ
   âHomelander, sir, with all due respect, where the fuck are you?!â She practically screams into the phone, âMadelyn has been looking for you everywhere! What the fuck are you doing?! You have an interview at six this morning that we still need to prep you for!âÂ
   Homelander rubs his temples, huffing. âAshely, if you donât calm the fuck down right fucking now, I will laser your tongue out and watch you choke on it, okay?âÂ
  Ashely shuts up. âI will be there in ten minutes, so you can tell the upper brass to shove it up their asses. I have other things to be doing then pushing their fucking agendaâs.âÂ
   âYeah, well, itâs my head on platter if you donât show up, so ten minutes and not a second longer.âÂ
   Homelander hangs up abruptly, clenching his fists, reminding himself not to blow up, you being in the room next door. He takes a second, calming himself down before reentering your bedroom where you still rested, dead to the world. God, you were so pretty like this. He kneeled down, resting his head next to yours, watching you sleep. He stayed like this for a couple minutes, the sound of you breathing and your slow, steady heartbeat calming him down. He could move faster than the speed of light, so he wasnât in any rush.Â
   He grabs a notepad on your desk, writing you a quick note; he knew youâd appreciate the romantic sentiment, and he himself craved the type of bond he had never seen in real life. He was a big fan of sitcoms and romcoms, the old ones, where people did little domestic acts such as this all the time. He didnât really have any other exampleâs of what domesticity was supposed to look like. Hey, pretty girl, he writes, something important came up at work, but Iâll call you later.
   He hesitates, but decides to close it with this; love ya. Sweet, but not overbearing, not jumping the ship to early. He leaves his suit here (grabbing your panties, of course) and leaves wearing your Nirvana shirt, giving himself a reason to come back.Â
   He leaves quickly; doesnât need fucking Ashley to cause a problem for him.Â
   Not now, when everything is finally going fucking right. Â
   You wake up late, your alarm off for the weekend. You roll over, not expecting John to still be there but disappointed regardless. Your phone had been left in your pocket, and you pull it out. 10:28. Not horribly late, but you had a bunch of errands. Your battery is low, so you plug it in and set it on your bedside table, turning on some music to do your morning routine. You stand up, walking sluggishly to the bathroom. A note taped to your door stops you.Â
   You read it, smile blossoming in your face. John was the rare romantic you used to dream about as a kid; handsome, protective, leaving notes instead of just ghosting you or texting you. If you were being completely honest, you might be falling for him.
   But time will tell.Â
   You finish your morning routine, doing skincare and getting dressed, before making an early lunch at 11:30. Thankfully, Eliza, your co-worker, was working this weekend (although youâre working the next), you eat quickly and pack your purse, ready to finally finish some errands that have been on your to do list for weeks. You shrug off your pajama top, hurrying through your closet for something to wear when your phone starts buzzing. You answer it intuitively, not even checking the caller ID, and put it on speaker.Â
   âHey, y/n, sorry for rushing off on you this morning, work has been really hectic lately,â John exclaims, something in the background sounding muffled. You ignore it, assuming heâs in a car or something.Â
   âItâs no problem, John. It was sweet of you to write a note, though,â you smile, pulling a simple shirt-another band tee, Radiohead this time-out of your closet, pairing it with a pair of ripped jeans.Â
   âYeah, well, Iâm sorry anyway!â He laughs, a deep rumble, into the phone. âSometimes I feel like they need me to breathe.âÂ
   âMaybe they do,â you reason, âyour job sounds pretty important.âÂ
   âYeah,â he stresses, âbut itâs just a job. I have a fucking life.âÂ
   You begin to say something reassuring, but he interjects. âThatâs actually what I wanted to talk to you about. What are you doing this afternoon?âÂ
   âJust running some errands,â you say, grabbing your purse, car keys, and pepper spray.Â
   âMind if I join?â Itâs not really a question, but you act like it is.Â
   âNot at all. I can text you my location when I get there, and then we could meet up? Just a warning,â you step out of your apartment, locking the door behind you, âitâs gonna be boring.âÂ
   âWhat! With you? Never.âÂ
   Itâs cliche and stupid, but serves its purpose as you blush, pink tinging your cheekbones, and youâre thankful that this is a phone call and he canât really see you.Â
   âOkey-dokey,â he preens, âsee ya then.âÂ
   âYeah, okay, drive safe!â You tell him, getting into your own car.Â
   âAll right, all right,â he chuckles, knowing he doesnât drive. âLove ya.âÂ
   You hesitate. âLove you too.âÂ
   Homelander hangs up, pocketing his phone, and turns to the bound man in the corner. The apartment was small, even smaller then yours, and the man was small as well. At least, to Homelander, he was.Â
   âGabe, Gabe, Gabe,â he tsks, âdo you know who that was?âÂ
   Mock sympathy clings to his words, but his composure is strict-he is in full costume, blood dripping down the sides, and he stands rigidly with his arms locked behind him. He looks in control. His eyes darken with blood lust as he steps closer to the man in front of him.
   Your ex.
   He sighs, âI suppose that in order to answer that,â he rips off the duct tape covering his mouth, âyouâll need to be able to talk. Howâs that feel, Gabey boy?â He cooâs sneeringly, mouth quirking up in disgust at the manâs pathetic cries for help.Â
   âPlease-â Gabe gasps, tearing up, âplease, Homelander, sir, why are you doing this? I-I didnât do anything!â He shakes in the chair, mouth quivering while tears pool in his eyes.
   Homelander rolls his eyes. âThe question,â he proclaims, standing straight again to begin pacing, âwas, do. You.  Know. Who. That. Was?â He emphasizes each word as if heâs talking to a child.Â
   In all fairness, Gabe responds like a child, nodding excitedly at know the answer. âY/n!â He blurts, desperate.Â
   âGood! Very good,â he looks down at him condescendingly, âturns out those brains of yours still work after all, eh?â He pats his head roughly, patronizingly.Â
   âS-sir-âGabe stutterâs, but Homelander brings his fingers to his lip, shushing him.Â
   âShut up, Gabe!â He spits out his name spitefully-a monster like him had no right to even think your name, much less lay his filthy hands on you. âYou wanna know whatâs gonna happen? Huh?!âÂ
   He passive aggressively backs away from him, running his hands through his hair. âRemember when you touched her? When you raped her?â
   Gabeâs eyeâs widen fearfully. âTh-thatâs not what happened-âÂ
   He slapped him. Not enough to break his neck, but with more force than a normal person could produce. âI told you to shuuuuuuttt uppp, Gabe!âÂ
   Gabe quickly shuts up. âRemember when you disgraced her body with your sinful fucking hands? With your fucking poor excuse of a penis?âÂ
   Gabe begins shaking in his bindings.Â
   âAwwwww,â Homelander pouts, âis somebody going to cry?â
   âHow pathetic,â he sneerâs, âcanât even take any fucking responsibility for your actions.âÂ
   His eyeâs light up red as he stares down the quivering, blubbering man in the chair. âRemember you did this to yourself. Nobody touches my thingsâÂ
   It was time to wrap this up. He had a date with you, after all.Â
   The dates multiplied, and soon enough your six month anniversary was upon you. John was almost perfect; full of compliments, charming, all your friends loved him-although, as you planned a celebration dinner, you realized you havenât talked to or even heard from any of them in months. Almost perfect. There were cracks in Johns mask. Small glimpses of rage. He would say condescending things with a smile, touch you too intimately when you were uncomfortable, and more often than not you got the feeling he looked down on otherâs.Â
   But that was insane, right? Especially because he worked in law enforcement-he just hadnât divulged much of anything else involving his work. Just that it was important, and secret.Â
   You let it go.Â
   You were planning a dinner date in celebration of the occasion, at the cafe where you had your first date. John had called earlier, to tell you work would be keeping him a little later today. All the better-now you had more time to get ready.Â
   So did he, but you didnât know that he was âbusyâ filling his closet, soon to be your shared closet, with finer replicaâs of your current wardrobe. He had bought a second home, somewhere in a forest somewhere-just so you can become comfortable with the idea of dating the Homelander. After your celebration dinner, heâd take you back to your place, tell you to pack a bag full of keep sakes for a getaway, a honeymoon of sorts. Then, heâd fly you there. Youâd be shocked, at first, but heâd explain everything when you arrived. You had been dating the Homelander. He was anticipating some.....distress, at first, because of the transition and overall shock, but thatâs why the cabin is so remote. To give you an adjustment period.
   To force you to accept him.Â
   The real him-not the version you currently know, nor the version he shows to the public. For a couple months, at least, it will be just the two of you. The only ones in the world. Vought owes him a sabbatical anyway (he threatened to introduce you to the public unwillingly, with no preparation or makeup, kicking and screaming if he had to), and he said he doesnât particularly want to share you with the world, so the deal was heâd take two months off to âtrainâ you (Madelynâs term), and then when youâd return, youâd be his dirty little secret.
   Some time alone will be good for you. But to get to that, he had to go to the thing you planned.Â
   The limo picked you up, sans John, and drops you off at the little cafe you two had your first date. It wasnât busy, just another couple and a family. You sit down at the same table you always sit at, the same table you and John had eaten at. A different waiter, a bored looking teenager, walks up and ask for drinks.
   You order a whole bottle of champagne, and tell the kid to wait until your boyfriend arrived. He does, albeit a little late, in a tux, blonde hair slicked back. He sits down quickly, grabbing a bottle and pouring himself a glass of champagne.
   âSorry for the wait!â He exclaims.Â
   âTook you long enough,â you smile teasingly at him.Â
   âJust getting things ready,â he sounds surprisingly giddy, âyou know, I have a little surprise planned myself.âÂ
   âOh?â You lean forward, and rest your head on your hand. âAnd what would that be?âÂ
   He leans forward to-âawww, y/n, but that would ruin the surprise!âÂ
   The waiter walks up slowly, star struck. âH-homelander? Sir?âÂ
   You both turn quickly, brows furrowing for different reasons. âSorry, kid, but I think you have me mistaken for someone else,â John laughs, fist clenching under the table. If this kid fucks up his plans, heâs gonna-
   He shakes his head quickly, smiling. âNo, no youâre Homelander! I have all of your merch...âÂ
   You time him out, turning to you boyfriend- âJohn?â You question, confused.Â
   He closes his eyes, clenches his fists-the whole restaurant is looking at him now, whispering. He canât lie his way out of this one.Â
   âYes! Yes,â he proclaims, âI am Homelander. Want an autograph or something?âÂ
   The kids eyeâs light up. âW-wait, actually? Yes! Yes. C-can you sign my notepad?âÂ
   You watch, shocked, as John takes his notepad and signs it with a flourish, sending the kid away to tell everyone in the kitchen.Â
   You stare at John. âWhat the fuck?â You whisper, running through your whole relationship in your head. âWhat the fuck?â You say a little louder.Â
   Homelander reaches out to grab your shoulder, ây/n-â he tried to reassure you, but you jerk your should away, standing up.Â
   âWhat the fuck, John?! Youâve been lying to me for months, and-and you didnât grab my purse for me that day, did you? Because why the fuck would Homelander be on the bus in the first place?â You rant, not even thinking through your words as they come out, just saying them and connecting the dots as you go.Â
   âY/n, youâre making a scene,â he warns, hands outstretched trying to placate you.
   âFuck a scene! You lied when you first met me! If you werenât on the bus, but you knew about-about the purse, then-then you were stalking me?â You ask, voice high pitched and shaking.
   The whole restaurant is quiet now. See, this is why Homelander wanted to do this privately. He makes a grab for your wrist, but you pull it to your chest. He closes his eyes for a moment, pursing his lips as he contains himself. âY/n. Can we maybe talk about this somewhere more private?âÂ
   You shake your head. âNo, Homelander!â You spit it out spitefully, âno, we canât! You arenât even denying it? What the fuck?! No, just, no-âÂ
   You grab your purse, âweâre done! Please, please, just-leave me alone!âÂ
   Homelander quickly stands up, grabbing your wrist and dragging you back towards him. âJesus, y/n, can we just talk about this?â He sounds exasperated, as if youâre being irrational.Â
   You try to pull away but you canât. You try again, to no avail. He doesnât even budge, doesnât even bat an eye. Youâre starting to panic now.Â
   He pulls you closer, mouth moving to your ear. âWeâre going to walk out that door, and talk about this in the car. Okay?âÂ
   You try to pull away again-but he only grips you tighter. You scream. Everyone was already watching, but now everyone is concerned. You slap him with your other hand, and more than anything, it only hurts your hand.Â
   He pushes you back into your chair. âI didnât want you to see me like this,â he murmurs, âbut watch closely, okay? This is what happens when you donât fucking listen to me.âÂ
   In a second, heâs gone. You blink. And heâs back-blood stained hands cupping your face. The walls are red, and everyone in the cafe is dead. The kids-the kids, who were just playing with each other, are dead. He killed kids-your John, the Homelander, a murderer. You canât seem to focus your eyes.Â
   You think you scream, but you canât hear anything above the ringing in your ears. He pets your hair, bloodied fingers getting stuck in every tangle. He squeezes you, hugging you, but he wraps his hands around your neck. He squeezes, tighter.Â
   You canât breath.
   You claw at his hands, âp-please-â you gasp.Â
   His eyes are red, and he looks on the verge of tears. âWhy are you making me do this? This could have been a nice night! Things could have gone so differently if you had just listened-âÂ
   He keeps jabbering, but you pass out.Â
   You wake up somewhere new. The walls are brown, wooden; youâre in what looks like a log cabin, albeit one for the rich, artistically rusted and insulated. The blankets are fuzzy, and itâs warm. You roll over, seeing a window-a winter forest greeting your eyes.Â
   You sit up. You think, the memory of how you ended up here was hazy, but there regardless. The door creaks open, and Homelander walks in, a steaming mug of something in his hand.Â
   âGood morning, sleepyhead!â He chirps. âAlthough, itâs actually midnight. I made you hot chocolate! Thought itâd calm you down, help you settle in.âÂ
   He sits on the edge of the bed, and you pull your knees to your chest. âH-homelander, what is this? W-whatâs going on? Where are we?âÂ
   He grabs your foot anyway, rubbing reassuring circles. âHey, itâs okay, everythingâs gonna be fine.â He hands you the mug, and you take it hesitantly, not taking a sip. âI just thought that we needed some time to ourselves. Just to give you some time to settle into things.âÂ
   âHomelander, you killed people-â you start, but he interrupts.Â
   âStop calling me that.â He snarls, squeezing your foot a little tighter than was necessary for a moment.Â
   âWhat?â
   âDonât call me that. Iâm not Homelander, to you, Iâm John. Iâm still the man you fell in love with.âÂ
   âYou were literally pretending to be someone else,â you argue tersely.
   He scoffs. âTomato, tomoto. Itâs not like I acted any differently. I can hardly be blamed that youâre adverse to watching the news.âÂ
   âYou lied to me-â
   âI didnât lie to you, I never said anything that wasnât true. I just didnât tell you the full truth,â he scoots closer to you, tipping the mug against your lips.Â
   âWhat, you think Iâd drug it?â He joked, reasoned, when you keep your mouth firmly shut. âI already have you here, and trust me when I say I donât need to drug you to kill you.âÂ
  It wasnât comforting, but you took a tentative sip regardless. âGood girl,â he smiles, letting your hands bring the mug to your lap.
   âYou killed them,â you whisper.
   âWhat was I supposed to do? You kind of put me in the corner there,â Homelander runs his hands through his hair, âyou were making a scene, calling me a stalker, turning me into a bad guy-I couldn't have that! Bad press, ya know?âÂ
   You stare at him, appalled. âSo you just.....killed them? Ho-John, there were kids there! You killed kids! Innocent people, and, and, and you just-âÂ
   You catch your breath, slick tears running down your face. âYouâre supposed to be the hero.âÂ
   He scowls. âI am a hero, y/n. Iâm your hero. Iâm saving you! I did that, Iâve done everything for you!âÂ
   âYou.....tricked me,â you say between shuddering breaths.
   âTricked you?â He mocks, getting upset himself. âNo, I saved you! I saved you from living a life of mediocrity! I can give you anything, everything, you want! Why arenât you getting this?!â
   âJohn, why arenât you getting this? These are real peopleâs lives youâve taken-â
   He cuts you off. âCan we just talk about it in the morning? Give you some time to think very carefully about what you want to say to me?â
   âAre you threatening me?â You ask, resigned and betrayed.Â
   âTh-threatening you?!â He throws his hands up. âJesus, y/n, really? Iâd never hurt you.âÂ
   He pauses, and thinks about it. Genuinely lost in thought-this doesnât bode well. âNothing serious, anyway. Maybe only things you donât need.â Like your legs, goes unspoken in his mind.Â
   The words terrify you, but you decide following up on them might not be the best idea.Â
   You canât say anything even though a million thoughts race in your mind, a million questions and a million fears. Homelander takes your silence as acceptance, as complacency, gently setting your barely touched hot chocolate on the bedside table.Â
   He gets up slowly, as if youâre rabid; as if youâll bolt the second he takes his eyes off you.
   You might.
   But you donât. Homelander turns the lights off crawling into bed beside you. You inch to the other side of the bed, and the dark hides his annoyance. âCâmere,â he says, and the words are said playfully but itâs a command. You hesitantly move towards him, and he does more then meet you half way. He pulls you in to his chest with a force you now recognize as inhuman. He breathes you in, nose pressed into your hair.Â
   âThis is nice,â he breathes into your ear.Â
   You donât respond. You stare the wall, praying this is all some sort of sick nightmare. You canât sleep-this place feels foreign to you. Cold. Sterile. Uncomfortable. Johnâs oppressive heat in your back remind you of the bleakness of the situation. Makes you wish you were home.Â
   But with you in his arms, Homelander has never felt more at home.   Â
