How do you think Homelander would react to reader pretending theyre /totally/ not jealous of the time attention he has to spend with the new intern/stylist/etc
Warnings: Reader is explicitly AFAB (has a vagina and breasts); Explicit sexual content / detailed smut; Rough intimacy / wall sex; Unprotected sex / creampie; Possessive Homelander; Obsessive attachment / emotional dependency themes; Jealousy and possessiveness; Canon-typical violence references; Blood mention.
A/N: Thank you for your request! I got a little carried away with this one. đ Iâm writing with season 1&2 Homelander in mind.
Word Count: ~1k
Pairing: HomelanderxF!Reader
Youâre so good at pretending.
Even now, as Homelander lounges against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his private Vought quarters, recounting yet another tedious afternoon with the new stylist, you keep your expression perfectly neutral. You lean against the sleek console nearby, scrolling through your phone with deliberate nonchalance while some wide-eyed girl from marketing flutters through his story.
âShe has such a delicate touch,â he says, that signature smirk curling his lips. âKept telling me how strong I feel under her hands. Can you believe that? These people worship me like God.â
âSounds like sheâs really dedicated,â you reply lightly, not glancing up. âThatâs good. You deserve someone who takes the details seriously.â
The words drip sugar-sweet and theyâre utterly unconvincing.
He stops mid-sentence. The air grows heavier, that familiar low hum of his power prickling across your skin. When you finally look at him, heâs watching you with that sharp, delighted predatorâs smile. The one that says heâs already peeled back every layer of your act.
âOh, sweetheart,â he purrs, voice dropping into that velvet register that curls low in your belly. âYouâre jealous.â
âIâm not,â you insist, too quickly. You set your phone down and cross your arms, but your gaze flicks to his chest, betraying you.
Heâs across the room in one stride, towering over you, cape whispering behind him. One large hand braces on the console beside your hip, caging you in without quite touching. The heat rolling off his body is immediate. Warm, electric, alive with barely-leashed strength.
âLiar,â he whispers, almost affectionate. His free hand catches your chin, tilting your face up so you canât escape those too-blue eyes. âYou think I donât see the way your pulse jumps every time I mention her hands on me? The way youâre pretending you donât care while your pretty little heart is screaming for me?â
You try to scoff, but it comes out shaky and years prick your eyes. His smirk widens. He loves this. Craves the proof that youâre just as obsessed with him as he needs you to be.
âSay it properly,â he coaxes, thumb stroking your jaw. When you stay stubbornly silent, his grip gets tighter, while he leans in, lips brushing your ear. âOr better yet, show me how much you hate sharing me.â
Your hands move before you can think. Pressing flat against his chest, feeling the solid, unyielding muscle beneath the suit. You squeeze, digging your fingers in, and he lets out a low, pleased sound that vibrates under your palms.
Thatâs all it takes.
He lifts you onto the console in one effortless motion, thighs spreading around his narrow waist as he steps between them. His mouth crashes into yours. Hungry, claiming. Tongue pushing deep like heâs erasing any doubt. You yank at the zipper of his suit, desperate for skin. When your hands finally map bare muscle, broad shoulders, thick biceps, the carved ridges of his abdomen, he groans into your mouth like your touch is better than worship from thousands.
âThese hands,â he growls between kisses, guiding your palms over his chest, âonly touch me. Not some pathetic intern who couldnât handle a fraction of what I am.â
Your breathing gets heavier, that familiar heat pooling in your belly. You egg him on. âYouâre so strong, John. You could rip her to shreds faster than she could flirt with you again. And youâd do it for me.â
With that, the tension snaps completely.
He rips your clothes aside with casual strength, fabric tearing like paper. When he frees himself, his cock is flushed, heavy, and already leaking from how thoroughly your jealousy has wound him up. He hooks your legs over his arms and sinks into you in one long, relentless thrust, stretching you open around his thick length until youâre gasping against his neck.
âFuck, yes,â he hisses, forehead pressed to yours, eyes glowing faintly red. âFeel that? This is yours. Every inch. Every fucking time.â
He fucks you hard and deep on the console, hips snapping with enough power to make the surface creak under you. Each thrust grinds against that perfect spot inside while his muscles flex and roll under your greedy hands. You canât stop touching him. Squeezing his biceps, clawing down his back, feeling the godlike strength that could destroy cities but chooses to bury itself inside you instead. Sweat beads on his golden skin. His breath comes in hot pants against your throat.
But heâs not finished.
With a low growl, he lifts you off the console and presses your back to the wall, never pulling out. The new angle lets him drive even deeper, slow and powerful now, savoring every clench of your body around him. Heâs almost clingy in the way he keeps kissing you, murmuring praises between thrusts.
âMine,â he breathes, voice rough. âOnly yours. No one else gets this. Theyâre all nothing. Weak, desperate insects. Iâd turn her into a smear on the wall before she finished her next pathetic giggle. But you, you matter. Youâre the only one who gets to have me.â
âOnly me,â you moan, legs tightening around his waist as pleasure coils tighter. âYouâre mine.â
Thatâs what breaks him. He pounds into you with deep, rolling thrusts, hitting that spot over and over until your composure shatters. You come hard around him, clenching and pulsing, dragging him over the edge with a guttural groan. He buries himself to the hilt, flooding you with heat as his hips keep grinding through every aftershock.
Afterward, he doesnât let you go. He stays buried deep, holding you against the wall with effortless strength while his face nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His breathing slowly evens, warm and reverent against your skin.
âI like it when you get jealous,â he admits quietly, pressing a soft kiss beneath your ear. âMeans you understand. Iâm yours, and youâre mine.â
Right now, with his cock still twitching inside you and your hands still mapping every inch of his powerful body, youâve never felt more certain that you are the only one he truly needs.
The new stylist wonât be a problem anymore. Youâre almost certain of it. She would disappear a few days later, anyways.
(You're Vought's breeding machine and your milk has no where to go but the pathetic dangerous man who gets to his knees and begs to be fed)
MINORS DNI 18+ FIC DONT READ AHEAD IF YOU DONT CONSENT TO READING SMUT AND LACTATION KINKS
Homelander was obsessed with you. He practically worshipped the ground you walked on and you knew exactly why. He had a fetish for pregnancy and even more so lactation. He had known you since he was just a kid, you were a regenerative supe which meant your cells always regenerated and you didn't age after you became a supe. Your only job in Vought was to pop out as many supe children as they needed. You had given birth two weeks ago and you were back in normal shape, apart from your breasts. They were still full and producing milk for a baby you would never meet. You were making your way to the dining area for some breakfast when you felt arms wrap around you from behind.
'I can smell your milk leaking,' Homelander whispered in your ear.
'I'm gonna pump after breakfast,' you said sternly. His grip tightened on you and he kissed your neck.
'Is this still about yesterday?' he grumbled.
'When you played the sound of babies crying and made me lactate in the middle of a meeting? Yes, that is in fact what it's about. So, as punishment you have to sit and watch my pump,' you said as you broke away from him. He followed behind you like a love sick puppy. You began getting some breakfast and making a coffee. Once you sat down Homelander sat across from you, his eyes were glued to your swollen breasts.
'They're so full today,' he whispered.
'Yes, and they're fucking killing me. You get to sit and watch me eat, and then you have to sit and be a good boy while I pump and you don't get a goddamn drop,' you said with a smirk. He clenched his fists as he watched you eat. 'And don't even think about giving me attitude.'
After you had finished breakfast you made it back to your apartment with Homelander close behind you. You grabbed your pump and sat on the couch as Homelander stood in front of you. 'On your knees. Don't move until I say,' you said. He slowly sank to his knees and looked up at you as you lifted your shirt up. A pathetic sound left his lips when he saw your bare leaking breasts.
'Y/N, fucking hell. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I made fun of you in front of everyone. Please just let me drink,' he begged as his whole body trembled.
'No, this is your punishment,' you said as you attached the pump. It began to pump out your milk and your other breast began to leak as a result. Honelander was practically drooling as he watched the pump work. You opened your phone and began mindlessly scrolling as the pump did its work. Homelander whined and moved closer, he nuzzled into your leg and watched as the pump took what was his. He moved down and kissed your leg and down to your foot.
'Please... I'm so sorry, let me taste you. I'm sorry,' he whispered over and over as he worshipped your feet and legs. You ignored him and let him continue his pathetic begging. You only looked up when you heard him sniffle. You glanced down to see him crying and practically humping your leg. 'Mommy please... Please, I'm sorry,' he cried out as he grinded against your foot.
'Look at you, humping my leg like a needy dog,' you teased as the pump finished. You sighed and gently took it off. You were about to put it on the other breast before Homelander stopped you. His eyes began to glow red as he glared at you. 'Keep going with the attitude and I'll make you watch me pump for a whole week,' you warned in a dangerous tone. He stopped and went back onto his knees, his cheeks wet with tears. He nuzzled into your leg and let out a pathetic little sob.
'You are so beautiful, you are everything to me. I love you so much, I love you, Mommy. Please just let me drink, please. I'll be such a good boy for you. I won't ever be bad again, I love you, please,' he whispered through his tears. You looked at him and gently played with his hair. You sighed and looked down at him as he whimpered.
'Tell me how pathetic you are compared to me,' you said. He looked up at you, his blue eyes brimming with tears as he shifted closer to you. You moved your foot a little to press against his crotch and he let out a small whine.
'I'm so fucking pathetic, I am so disgusting and pathetic, Mommy. You are so beautiful, I don't deserve you at all. You're a Goddess, I need you more than air. I would kill everyone just for you, mommy. Just for you,' he whispered as he humped your leg again.
'Good boy, such a pathetic little boy... You want to drink, baby?' you asked. He freezed and stared at you like a starving man who was just offered a buffet.
'Yes... Yes, Mommy. Oh god please let me drink,' he whined.
'Come on then, I suppose missing out on one breast is enough of a punishment,' you said. He leapt up and laid his head on your lap. You could see him physically restraining himself as he watched your breast leak. You gently cradled the back of his head. 'Go on, baby,' you whispered. He grabbed your breast and guided it into his mouth as you hissed a little in pain. 'Easy, baby. They're sore,' you said. He let go of you and let you hold his head as he sucked your nipple and let the flow of milk stream into his mouth. He let out a patheticly loud moan as he tasted you. You continued to play with his hair and leaned your head back with a sigh. You wouldn't admit it, but letting him empty your breasts hurt a lot less then the pumps. Plus, you always loved to see how pathetic he was for you. You felt relaxed as you played with his hair and let him drink, you reached down and rubbed his chest gently with your other hand. He let out a small whimper when you touched him. 'Shh, it's okay, baby. Such a good boy for me,' you whispered as he opened his eyes and you saw how drunk he was off you alone. 'Look at you getting drunk off my milk, hmm? Or do you just get drunk off Mommy?' you teased as he watched your with half opened eyes. He pulled away when the flow slowed down and gently lucked over your nipple to help with the pain.
'I love you, Mommy,' he whispered as he kissed your nipple and continued licking at it.
'Nice and full now, baby?'
'Yes...' he whispered. You could see a small buldge in his stomach from the amount of milk he drank. You chuckled softly at the fact the worlds most dangerous man had a stomach full of your breast milk. He nuzzled into your stomach and closed his eyes.
'I'll wake you up in an hour, okay? You've got a meeting,' you said. He nodded and nuzzled into you even more.
'Thank you, Mommy.'
'That's okay, baby.'
--
Two days later you felt like your breasts were going to burst. You woke up in the morning and whined when you felt the pain of how swollen you were. 'Fuck,' you whispered as you gripped the side of the bed. You watched as your breasts leaked and soaked your shirt. You knew you would be pretty full because you had fully drained then two days ago, but you hadn't expected them to be so full. You picked up your phone and called Homelander.
'What? I'm in a meeting,' he grumbled.
'I need your help,' you said with a small whine. He paused for a moment and you knew he would be gripping the table to resist you. You took a quick photo of your breasts leaking and almost bursting through your shirt and sent it to him. 'Please, baby?' you asked as you heard him suck a breath in.
'I have to go,' he grumbled to everyone in the room before hanging up. You chuckled softly, stood up and made your way to the kitchen to get some coffee made. It hasn't even been a minute when Homelander burst through the doors of your apartment. He rushed up to you and forced you up on the counter. You yelped in shock and held onto his shoulders. He leaned in and licked over your wet shirt.
'Don't worry about the begging... Just help me, please. I'm so fucking sore,' you whispered. He lifted your shift up and instantly latched onto your left nipple. You let out a gasp and held onto his hair as you felt a small sense of relief. 'Fucking hell... That's it, baby. Fuck Mommy is so full,' you whispered as you leaned back against the wall behind you. He held your hips in place and kept drinking at a fast pace. He moved onto the next breast and you gasped softly when the milk flowed out. 'Such a good boy cutting your meeting short for Mommy... My good boy,' you whispered as you heard him moan softly at the praise.
After he was done he leaned back and panted softly. You glanced down to see he was hard under his suit. 'You want Mommy's help, baby?' you asked. He whined and nodded as he nuzzled into you.
'Please let me fuck you before I go back,' he whispered.
'Take your suit off, baby,' you said. While he managed to get his chest plate off and then the rest of his suit, you took your panties off but left yourself in your shirt. He moved over and spread your legs further before burying his cock into your without a word. You gasped and gripped onto him as he began to thrust into you. 'That's it, baby. My pathetic little boy,' you whispered. He nuzzled into you and whined as he felt you clench around him.
'Mommy... You feel so good,' he whispered as he began to stutter. You knew he never lasted long inside of you. He whined and gripped you tighter. 'I'm going to cum...'
'Already, baby? Is that how good Mommy makes you feel?' you teased. He whimpered and looked at you with teary eyes. 'Go on, baby. Cum inside me,' you said. He grabbed your hips with a bruising grip and thrust into you. He let out a pathetic whine and moan as he came inside of you. 'There you go, sweetheart. Did that feel good, baby? You like Mommy's pussy?' you asked. He panted and kept himself inside of you and nodded.
'Feels so good,' he whispered before pulling out and pulling his suit up again.
'Get back to your meeting, okay? I'll see you later,' you said. He looked at you and paused for a moment.
'Can I have your shirt?' he whispered shamelessly. You smiled and took it off to give it to him. He held it to his nose and smelt the stained milk on it. 'Thank you, Mommy.'
Warning: Mature content, drinknig, metion of SA, pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, sexual content, kidnapping, held captive, threats, and insults.
Homelander x (f)reader
3,362 words
Madelyn's office was like being called to the principal's office. Something that sent your stomach into your throat. The worse park of that rollercoaster of anxiety was if one of the Seven joined that meeting. Especially if it is a golden locks, bright blue eye, patriotic man known as the world's most powerful Supe. Homelander. A god among the living, but bad luck wrapped in red, white, and blue to you. A dangerous man kneeling at the foot of a dangerous woman. Madelyn Stillwell, the Senior Vice President of Hero Management, a extraordinary machine that threw every match onto each pile of gasoline. Out performing or disobeying her was a death wish. She held more power at her finger tips than most humans. Leaving her ultimately at the top for people to admire and inspire to be her. But just as much as she was a idol and an executioner. She could have some humanity under all her strength.
Madelyn becoming a mother was a mistake some might say. From where you sat on the other side of her desk, it was a blessing. Mistakes happen and most can move pass it. Not this time for your case. Four months, four months was all it took till things started to fall into place. The puzzle pieces had connected perfectly and now everyone knew. There was the first month of missing the red death, then another month of being in disbelief. End of the second month came the strange gifts. Cravings you were hiding while working had suddenly appeared on your desk. More whispers and compliments started to fly around you. A lot of women telling you that you were glowing. Each time making your hands sweat as you could tell this wasn't going to be secret anymore.
You were right as nausea had you running out of meetings. Those whispers became questions of when and with who. Some even connecting the dots as the only dutiful man appearing near your desk was high in the ladder. Four months, four months ago was the estimated time you last slept with someone. That someone was the worse possible man to end up with. A terrifying man who had probably the most women swooning for him while carrying the world on his shoulders. The golden symbol for the country's biggest company. Homelander. A one night stand that left you pregnant and not being able to part from the sweet life growing inside.
"So tell meâŚwhen did this happen?" The voice snapping back into the room from your inner panic room. Madelyn had her hands clasp over each other with a grinning prideful symbol of hope standing behind her.
The red creeping into your cheeks recall back to the gala. The company gala that allowed the employees to attend as a reward for great numbers. An open bar and endless snacks. Not having the best restraint you had let yourself get glutenous. Drink after drink, the world had spun for hours. Brief cuts between each scene that you can recall. Leaning against a man who you worked with. Ending up in the back of a taxi trying to tell him your home address. Finding yourself watching the streets become foreign and the guy's hand creeping up your leg. Closing your eyes to open them again not in the taxi anymore. Feeling the air hitting your face and a warm body curling you up from looking down. The feeling of being safe as you ended up home with pressure of someone holding you. Then quick flashes of your bed, the ceiling, a shoulder, and then stars. A beautiful ending to waking up the next day with the worse headache and a mess to clean up. You dreaded what might happen with the lack of protection, but prayed it wouldn't come to anything.
Unfortunately, Plan B can't guarantee safety as many might think. "The gala for all the employees." Your voice was small the way when you got in trouble as a kid.
"When did you find out?" Stillwell asked.
You open your mouth to speak, but Homelander interjected with the answer. "2 months in, missed a day at work to get the appointment and cried in the bathroom the next day."
The answer wasn't wrong, but him saying it made your blush spread to the back of your neck. Embarrassment and the invasion of privacy left you wrapping your arms around yourself. Your arms curling low to partly cover your stomach before you tried to speak and explain the situation.
"2 whole months and you haven't brought this to my attention." Madelyn's voice and attention directed to Homelander instead of you.
"Well- you were busy with your own child." Homelander uses that excuse with a disbelief tch. He put his hands on his hips as he walked around towards you. "I didn't want you to worry since our pretty lady here." He plants his hands on your shoulders. "Is taking well care of our child and when it gets closer to the date, I'll personally take care of her." Homelander hands slowly slide down as you stiffen. He leans down to your ear as he wraps his arms around you. His voice low in a purr. "Just as I took care of you that night." His lips grazing your ear lobe with each twitch of his words.
You were frozen as your ear felt like it was on fire. His breath dusting your skin as he seemed to be losing himself in thought. His nose pressing into your hair as he inhales. You couldn't move, but your eyes spotted Madelyn who was simply watching in disapproval. Not even speaking up until Homelander moved to rest his chin on the top of your head.
"You know that if you would have informed me I could have had our best doctors to check her."
"Then have her locked up." He chuckles heavy making a strand of your hair dance. "No~ No~ no~" he lifts a hand with a wag of his pointer finger. "I can't have this opportunity pass. I'm not infertile. Clearly sunflower here took so generously and I can't have you ruining this for me."
Stillwell's throat tensed and only you could imagine the look Homelander was giving. You haven't seen it for yourself, but rumors have been going around about the two's dynamic as of recent. Things haven't been going well as for him to hide you from her.
Madelyn took a breath before sighing. "You know I am trying to protect you." She stood up. Her comment directed to Homelander, but she could have meant you. "I wouldn't want your child to be harmed." Madelyn steps around her desk and towards the two of you.
Instead of joining the man behind you, Stillwell steps in front of you. Slowly sandwiching you as she reaches to touch his face. Her other hand landing on his arm resting on your shoulder. The smell of soft floral with a creamy scent hit you like a truck. Your senses had been more sensitive since getting pregnant. As you are stuck between two power houses, you stayed quiet and still. Madelyn's body leaning forward as if she was trying to reach through you. Your face in direct line of her chest and kept from moving thanks to the pressure on your shoulders.
"A god doesn't have to take care of anyone but himself." Her voice sweetly convincing. "Your new dedicated admirer will be in safe hands."
You could feel Homelander thinking. You could sense the uneasy situation of being in this moment. The expectations and outcome sound more than you would have planned for. Danger. That is what it was. Your safety was at risk. Your unborn child was in danger.
"I want him..." You say breathlessly breaking the tension between the two. "I want him to take care of meâŚand our child." You hold your stomach as if was your lifeline.
Your eyes turned up to see a stone cold look that made you regret your words instantly. It cracked into a negotiable smile. "Oh sweetheart. Your mind is going through the hormones." Madelyn pitied as she cupped your cheek softly. An attentive mother who wanted to protect her own kin.
Your nerves were now messing with you. Was it really the hormones? "I-âŚI'm scared." You said simply.
The heavy arms lift to cradle your head. "Don't sugarplum, I got you. I'll take good care of you. You'll be perfectly safe in my penthouse and we'll have the doctors check on you in my bed."
Stillwell was not happy with that answer, but it was better than before. So she clicks her tongue with a small nod. Approval. Approval was all it took to make Homelander let you go. He waited till Stillwell steps away to walk to the front of you. With ease he slips his hands under you and lifts you up. Setting you on her forearm and looks up at you. You felt your heart in your throat as those sky blue eyes looked at you as a precious treasure. His ears twitching as you coul tell he was listening. You rest a hand on your stomach as the other rests on his shoulder to help with balance.
"Let's get you home." Homelander spoke in a dreamy state. That moment you knew that you were going to be more than just a face in the crowd.
Months past by in a breeze to your surprise. The first couple of weeks were a bit rough. Getting used to someone following you around the tower. Having to give up working completely, as that was too much stress on you. Finding ways to entertain yourself. Loosing friends that you cherished. Introducing your parents to their grandbaby in a conference room with a NDA on the table. It was suffocating day by day. Being escorted back to the penthouse where he would be waiting. Swaying side to side with his hands behind his back as your stomach grew.
Same routine until you broke down in the 7th month of your pregnancy. You were hysterically crying over a plate loaded with eggs. Your shoulders shook as you cover your face. Homelander in the chair next to you bending a fork in half with his thumb. Snapping it as you weren't talking to him. It was all jumbles of sobs and barely proper sentences. The sum of it was how much pressure there was on you and no sense of free will. Basically being locked away in the penthouse and never having a moment to yourself outside of the staged home. Even when you moved in you weren't allowed to change anything. You felt as an ornament added to the decorations mounted on the walls. It was causing more harm than good and Homelander didn't know this till now.
"You need to breathe honey." A name that stuck with you after a month in the penthouse. "The baby is distraught from your sobs." His words sounded too caring as he dropped the fork to get up.
Homelander takes a knee next to your chair. He grabs the edges and turns the chair with ease so you were looking at him instead of the eggs. He took your wrists gently and pulled them to his lips. Kissing them softly as he tried to calm you down. "It's okay." He whispers.
Even in your sobs, you did admit to one thing. Since you have been living with him, he has done everything for you. Only a few times he showed anger that frightened you, but he apologized deeply. Never directing that anger at you, but at Vought. Anything you asked for he would deliver. Any action needed done, he took care of it. He would go as far as massaging you when your ankles swelled up. He was so attentive that it made you guilty for taking this. Taking this away from someone who truly loved him from the start. You had his the pregnancy in the beginning, but you never tried to terminate it or ignore his gifts. You just were ashamed.
"We will take a vacation." Those words brought you out of the tears and self criticism. "I have a cabin. I was going to wait for the baby to arrive, but I think you need this now."
"A cabin?" You ask hoarsely.
"Yes. A small place that you will love." He places your hands on your lap.
Homelander scooted his hands under you as he lifts you with the same ease before. You lean into his shoulder, reminded of every time he did this before. Each time either passed out from exhaustion or your feet pinged with pain. The warmth he provided like a cozy heated blanket. The soft cushions in his suit that allowed you to rest your head. His quick movement mixed in his excitement he strides to the glass door out to the city. An easy balcony he is able to use as an exit. He steps before leaping through the door and into the sky. He soared with such speed that you held your breath. The only time you recall this feeling was back at that night. A night that turn your future to this ridiculous illusion of happy family.
The crisp air chilling you out and freezing the streaks of tears to your cheeks. The lashing of the air rushing pass you had you struggling to breath. You force yourself to breathe which even helped more than you expected. The speed he was going had you falling from the air fairly fast. The descend was slow enough that you finally caught the breath you struggled with. Your eyes looked out towards the world and found it green. A color that almost brought you to tear as trees and plains formed around small homes and fencing. You take in a deep breath as you relaxed as the fresh earthy smell hit you. Your focus on the beauty of the lush fields. His focus on the color returning to you and the soul that hadn't been seen for too long.
The both of you settle on the ground in front of a deep brown cabin that looked well kept. Landscape kept perfectly and flowers growing out in front. Homelander slowly sets you down on your feet. You look around as you cup your stomach and take in the scene. Homelander keeping his hand on your back as he watches your body language and check on your child. Everything steadying and even your blood pressure calming. Something he had been worried about for a while. He believed it only to be due to the baby, but clearly it was more.
"Want to go inside?" He asked softly to not startle you.
You hesitate at the idea of going inside. You wanted to stay out where the grass tickled your feet. You just realized you were bear foot. The ground felt cool in the slight heat. You feel the ground with your toes as you think before ultimately nodding slow.
He smiles and guides you to the steps. Homelander then lifted you and carried you in like a newly married couple. The inside was such a drastic change from the penthouse. It felt more natural than staged. There was some aspects that felt purposeful. A more cabin feel, but some touches of home. The remnants of someone being her within the last week. A spare cape draped over the couch arm that gave away who lives here. The few mugs left around by accident. Carpets moved to the side from walking on them. The screen of the TV lighting up as you were sat down on the couch. You look around to find the remote stuck between the cushions. Already you felt you could breathe easier. A small kick made you groan as you rub your stomach.
"I heard that, he must be happy. " You hear Homelander say as he was getting a bottled water from the kitchen. Something that didn't shock you, but could connect the dots. He really wanted you here.
"Yeah, he hasn't kicked really before. Just movements." You spoke pausing as you just said the same thing he did. He. "Did you-"
"We are having a boy." He said with so much sweetness that it made him look like the proudest man in the world.
Your face became flush. You have seen sides of him that scared you, but seeing these rare soft moments made your heart race. He wasâŚadorable. He was so close to being husband material, but that would be absurd to think he could be more than just a father. Well even then, it was hard to believe, but you saw it.
"Is he healthy?" You asked worried for the first time. Not worried about surviving and getting through things. Just worried about only your baby.
Homelander set the bottle next to you and took a knee. He looked at your stomach for a while. You felt nerves bubbling and rubbed your hands over your plump stomach. He then looks up at you with a white smile. "Perfectly healthy."
Homelander began to remove his leather gloves. A small zipper that kept them sealed tightly. He laid them out on the couch and rubbed his hands. Homelander reached up, and for the first time he stopped him. He waited for your permission which you didn't give verbal confirmation. You took his hands softly and pulled them to rest on your stomach. A will action that was more than just a scared nod or shake. His hands were perfect, soft, clean, and touching your stomach like glass. Homelander's fingers gliding along before stopping at the subtle kick from his son.
"He really enjoys being here." He said with the most certainty.
"I do too." You mumble under your breath, but he catches it.
Homelander's lip twitches as they part to say something, but instead he just rests his head against your stomach. Someone so tender and yet so powerful at the same time. He was breathing as if every breath would be his last. You felt yourself gazing off at the cabin's interior. A soft sigh left you with this whole new feeling. You raise a hand to wipe away the crust of tears from before. The rubbing making your cheeks flush naturally as you enjoy the first sounds of nature. Birds tweeting, a breeze flowing in from the front door, and the faint creeks of the floor under him. Him. A time that his hums did not feel like judgment of being around the tower without him. Homelander looked like the ideal prince charming from a fairytale.
"DoâŚDo you remember the night we had-"
"I do." Homelander lifts his head to look into your eyes. "I remember every second that you clung to me and pulled me in so needy. How you sought out warmth and wouldn't let me leave until you begged for me to be inside you."
Your body reacted on cue. He knew exactly what he was doing as his lips curled into a grin that made you want to smack him. Though as he kneeled between your legs with his hands holding your stomach, it all felt as he described. Needy, clinging, and wanting him not to leave until you were satisfied.
"A small blessing for saving you from another man. Putting a baby inside you and being able to experience fatherhood." The topic changed was clearly on purpose, but his actions still tease at that night.
Homelander's hands slide to your hips and give a small squeeze. Your breath hitching as his thumbs rubbed against the dip inwards. Your thighs twitched to pull together, but his body stopped any progress. His hands slide down inch by inch till they rest on the plush of your thighs. Squeezing the plump flesh, pressing the inner side of your thighs. Rubbing circles as you twitch as you feel your blood warm up throughout your body.
"HomelanderâŚ" Your breath hushed and that faint struggle.
"Just like before, so needy~" He teases with a lick of his fangs.
Warning: Mature content, drinknig, metion of SA, pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, sexual content, kidnapping, held captive, threats, and insults.
Homelander x (f)reader
3,362 words
Madelyn's office was like being called to the principal's office. Something that sent your stomach into your throat. The worse park of that rollercoaster of anxiety was if one of the Seven joined that meeting. Especially if it is a golden locks, bright blue eye, patriotic man known as the world's most powerful Supe. Homelander. A god among the living, but bad luck wrapped in red, white, and blue to you. A dangerous man kneeling at the foot of a dangerous woman. Madelyn Stillwell, the Senior Vice President of Hero Management, a extraordinary machine that threw every match onto each pile of gasoline. Out performing or disobeying her was a death wish. She held more power at her finger tips than most humans. Leaving her ultimately at the top for people to admire and inspire to be her. But just as much as she was a idol and an executioner. She could have some humanity under all her strength.
Madelyn becoming a mother was a mistake some might say. From where you sat on the other side of her desk, it was a blessing. Mistakes happen and most can move pass it. Not this time for your case. Four months, four months was all it took till things started to fall into place. The puzzle pieces had connected perfectly and now everyone knew. There was the first month of missing the red death, then another month of being in disbelief. End of the second month came the strange gifts. Cravings you were hiding while working had suddenly appeared on your desk. More whispers and compliments started to fly around you. A lot of women telling you that you were glowing. Each time making your hands sweat as you could tell this wasn't going to be secret anymore.
You were right as nausea had you running out of meetings. Those whispers became questions of when and with who. Some even connecting the dots as the only dutiful man appearing near your desk was high in the ladder. Four months, four months ago was the estimated time you last slept with someone. That someone was the worse possible man to end up with. A terrifying man who had probably the most women swooning for him while carrying the world on his shoulders. The golden symbol for the country's biggest company. Homelander. A one night stand that left you pregnant and not being able to part from the sweet life growing inside.
"So tell meâŚwhen did this happen?" The voice snapping back into the room from your inner panic room. Madelyn had her hands clasp over each other with a grinning prideful symbol of hope standing behind her.
The red creeping into your cheeks recall back to the gala. The company gala that allowed the employees to attend as a reward for great numbers. An open bar and endless snacks. Not having the best restraint you had let yourself get glutenous. Drink after drink, the world had spun for hours. Brief cuts between each scene that you can recall. Leaning against a man who you worked with. Ending up in the back of a taxi trying to tell him your home address. Finding yourself watching the streets become foreign and the guy's hand creeping up your leg. Closing your eyes to open them again not in the taxi anymore. Feeling the air hitting your face and a warm body curling you up from looking down. The feeling of being safe as you ended up home with pressure of someone holding you. Then quick flashes of your bed, the ceiling, a shoulder, and then stars. A beautiful ending to waking up the next day with the worse headache and a mess to clean up. You dreaded what might happen with the lack of protection, but prayed it wouldn't come to anything.
Unfortunately, Plan B can't guarantee safety as many might think. "The gala for all the employees." Your voice was small the way when you got in trouble as a kid.
"When did you find out?" Stillwell asked.
You open your mouth to speak, but Homelander interjected with the answer. "2 months in, missed a day at work to get the appointment and cried in the bathroom the next day."
The answer wasn't wrong, but him saying it made your blush spread to the back of your neck. Embarrassment and the invasion of privacy left you wrapping your arms around yourself. Your arms curling low to partly cover your stomach before you tried to speak and explain the situation.
"2 whole months and you haven't brought this to my attention." Madelyn's voice and attention directed to Homelander instead of you.
"Well- you were busy with your own child." Homelander uses that excuse with a disbelief tch. He put his hands on his hips as he walked around towards you. "I didn't want you to worry since our pretty lady here." He plants his hands on your shoulders. "Is taking well care of our child and when it gets closer to the date, I'll personally take care of her." Homelander hands slowly slide down as you stiffen. He leans down to your ear as he wraps his arms around you. His voice low in a purr. "Just as I took care of you that night." His lips grazing your ear lobe with each twitch of his words.
You were frozen as your ear felt like it was on fire. His breath dusting your skin as he seemed to be losing himself in thought. His nose pressing into your hair as he inhales. You couldn't move, but your eyes spotted Madelyn who was simply watching in disapproval. Not even speaking up until Homelander moved to rest his chin on the top of your head.
"You know that if you would have informed me I could have had our best doctors to check her."
"Then have her locked up." He chuckles heavy making a strand of your hair dance. "No~ No~ no~" he lifts a hand with a wag of his pointer finger. "I can't have this opportunity pass. I'm not infertile. Clearly sunflower here took so generously and I can't have you ruining this for me."
Stillwell's throat tensed and only you could imagine the look Homelander was giving. You haven't seen it for yourself, but rumors have been going around about the two's dynamic as of recent. Things haven't been going well as for him to hide you from her.
Madelyn took a breath before sighing. "You know I am trying to protect you." She stood up. Her comment directed to Homelander, but she could have meant you. "I wouldn't want your child to be harmed." Madelyn steps around her desk and towards the two of you.
Instead of joining the man behind you, Stillwell steps in front of you. Slowly sandwiching you as she reaches to touch his face. Her other hand landing on his arm resting on your shoulder. The smell of soft floral with a creamy scent hit you like a truck. Your senses had been more sensitive since getting pregnant. As you are stuck between two power houses, you stayed quiet and still. Madelyn's body leaning forward as if she was trying to reach through you. Your face in direct line of her chest and kept from moving thanks to the pressure on your shoulders.
"A god doesn't have to take care of anyone but himself." Her voice sweetly convincing. "Your new dedicated admirer will be in safe hands."
You could feel Homelander thinking. You could sense the uneasy situation of being in this moment. The expectations and outcome sound more than you would have planned for. Danger. That is what it was. Your safety was at risk. Your unborn child was in danger.
"I want him..." You say breathlessly breaking the tension between the two. "I want him to take care of meâŚand our child." You hold your stomach as if was your lifeline.
Your eyes turned up to see a stone cold look that made you regret your words instantly. It cracked into a negotiable smile. "Oh sweetheart. Your mind is going through the hormones." Madelyn pitied as she cupped your cheek softly. An attentive mother who wanted to protect her own kin.
Your nerves were now messing with you. Was it really the hormones? "I-âŚI'm scared." You said simply.
The heavy arms lift to cradle your head. "Don't sugarplum, I got you. I'll take good care of you. You'll be perfectly safe in my penthouse and we'll have the doctors check on you in my bed."
Stillwell was not happy with that answer, but it was better than before. So she clicks her tongue with a small nod. Approval. Approval was all it took to make Homelander let you go. He waited till Stillwell steps away to walk to the front of you. With ease he slips his hands under you and lifts you up. Setting you on her forearm and looks up at you. You felt your heart in your throat as those sky blue eyes looked at you as a precious treasure. His ears twitching as you coul tell he was listening. You rest a hand on your stomach as the other rests on his shoulder to help with balance.
"Let's get you home." Homelander spoke in a dreamy state. That moment you knew that you were going to be more than just a face in the crowd.
Months past by in a breeze to your surprise. The first couple of weeks were a bit rough. Getting used to someone following you around the tower. Having to give up working completely, as that was too much stress on you. Finding ways to entertain yourself. Loosing friends that you cherished. Introducing your parents to their grandbaby in a conference room with a NDA on the table. It was suffocating day by day. Being escorted back to the penthouse where he would be waiting. Swaying side to side with his hands behind his back as your stomach grew.
Same routine until you broke down in the 7th month of your pregnancy. You were hysterically crying over a plate loaded with eggs. Your shoulders shook as you cover your face. Homelander in the chair next to you bending a fork in half with his thumb. Snapping it as you weren't talking to him. It was all jumbles of sobs and barely proper sentences. The sum of it was how much pressure there was on you and no sense of free will. Basically being locked away in the penthouse and never having a moment to yourself outside of the staged home. Even when you moved in you weren't allowed to change anything. You felt as an ornament added to the decorations mounted on the walls. It was causing more harm than good and Homelander didn't know this till now.
"You need to breathe honey." A name that stuck with you after a month in the penthouse. "The baby is distraught from your sobs." His words sounded too caring as he dropped the fork to get up.
Homelander takes a knee next to your chair. He grabs the edges and turns the chair with ease so you were looking at him instead of the eggs. He took your wrists gently and pulled them to his lips. Kissing them softly as he tried to calm you down. "It's okay." He whispers.
Even in your sobs, you did admit to one thing. Since you have been living with him, he has done everything for you. Only a few times he showed anger that frightened you, but he apologized deeply. Never directing that anger at you, but at Vought. Anything you asked for he would deliver. Any action needed done, he took care of it. He would go as far as massaging you when your ankles swelled up. He was so attentive that it made you guilty for taking this. Taking this away from someone who truly loved him from the start. You had his the pregnancy in the beginning, but you never tried to terminate it or ignore his gifts. You just were ashamed.
"We will take a vacation." Those words brought you out of the tears and self criticism. "I have a cabin. I was going to wait for the baby to arrive, but I think you need this now."
"A cabin?" You ask hoarsely.
"Yes. A small place that you will love." He places your hands on your lap.
Homelander scooted his hands under you as he lifts you with the same ease before. You lean into his shoulder, reminded of every time he did this before. Each time either passed out from exhaustion or your feet pinged with pain. The warmth he provided like a cozy heated blanket. The soft cushions in his suit that allowed you to rest your head. His quick movement mixed in his excitement he strides to the glass door out to the city. An easy balcony he is able to use as an exit. He steps before leaping through the door and into the sky. He soared with such speed that you held your breath. The only time you recall this feeling was back at that night. A night that turn your future to this ridiculous illusion of happy family.
The crisp air chilling you out and freezing the streaks of tears to your cheeks. The lashing of the air rushing pass you had you struggling to breath. You force yourself to breathe which even helped more than you expected. The speed he was going had you falling from the air fairly fast. The descend was slow enough that you finally caught the breath you struggled with. Your eyes looked out towards the world and found it green. A color that almost brought you to tear as trees and plains formed around small homes and fencing. You take in a deep breath as you relaxed as the fresh earthy smell hit you. Your focus on the beauty of the lush fields. His focus on the color returning to you and the soul that hadn't been seen for too long.
The both of you settle on the ground in front of a deep brown cabin that looked well kept. Landscape kept perfectly and flowers growing out in front. Homelander slowly sets you down on your feet. You look around as you cup your stomach and take in the scene. Homelander keeping his hand on your back as he watches your body language and check on your child. Everything steadying and even your blood pressure calming. Something he had been worried about for a while. He believed it only to be due to the baby, but clearly it was more.
"Want to go inside?" He asked softly to not startle you.
You hesitate at the idea of going inside. You wanted to stay out where the grass tickled your feet. You just realized you were bear foot. The ground felt cool in the slight heat. You feel the ground with your toes as you think before ultimately nodding slow.
He smiles and guides you to the steps. Homelander then lifted you and carried you in like a newly married couple. The inside was such a drastic change from the penthouse. It felt more natural than staged. There was some aspects that felt purposeful. A more cabin feel, but some touches of home. The remnants of someone being her within the last week. A spare cape draped over the couch arm that gave away who lives here. The few mugs left around by accident. Carpets moved to the side from walking on them. The screen of the TV lighting up as you were sat down on the couch. You look around to find the remote stuck between the cushions. Already you felt you could breathe easier. A small kick made you groan as you rub your stomach.
"I heard that, he must be happy. " You hear Homelander say as he was getting a bottled water from the kitchen. Something that didn't shock you, but could connect the dots. He really wanted you here.
"Yeah, he hasn't kicked really before. Just movements." You spoke pausing as you just said the same thing he did. He. "Did you-"
"We are having a boy." He said with so much sweetness that it made him look like the proudest man in the world.
Your face became flush. You have seen sides of him that scared you, but seeing these rare soft moments made your heart race. He wasâŚadorable. He was so close to being husband material, but that would be absurd to think he could be more than just a father. Well even then, it was hard to believe, but you saw it.
"Is he healthy?" You asked worried for the first time. Not worried about surviving and getting through things. Just worried about only your baby.
Homelander set the bottle next to you and took a knee. He looked at your stomach for a while. You felt nerves bubbling and rubbed your hands over your plump stomach. He then looks up at you with a white smile. "Perfectly healthy."
Homelander began to remove his leather gloves. A small zipper that kept them sealed tightly. He laid them out on the couch and rubbed his hands. Homelander reached up, and for the first time he stopped him. He waited for your permission which you didn't give verbal confirmation. You took his hands softly and pulled them to rest on your stomach. A will action that was more than just a scared nod or shake. His hands were perfect, soft, clean, and touching your stomach like glass. Homelander's fingers gliding along before stopping at the subtle kick from his son.
"He really enjoys being here." He said with the most certainty.
"I do too." You mumble under your breath, but he catches it.
Homelander's lip twitches as they part to say something, but instead he just rests his head against your stomach. Someone so tender and yet so powerful at the same time. He was breathing as if every breath would be his last. You felt yourself gazing off at the cabin's interior. A soft sigh left you with this whole new feeling. You raise a hand to wipe away the crust of tears from before. The rubbing making your cheeks flush naturally as you enjoy the first sounds of nature. Birds tweeting, a breeze flowing in from the front door, and the faint creeks of the floor under him. Him. A time that his hums did not feel like judgment of being around the tower without him. Homelander looked like the ideal prince charming from a fairytale.
"DoâŚDo you remember the night we had-"
"I do." Homelander lifts his head to look into your eyes. "I remember every second that you clung to me and pulled me in so needy. How you sought out warmth and wouldn't let me leave until you begged for me to be inside you."
Your body reacted on cue. He knew exactly what he was doing as his lips curled into a grin that made you want to smack him. Though as he kneeled between your legs with his hands holding your stomach, it all felt as he described. Needy, clinging, and wanting him not to leave until you were satisfied.
"A small blessing for saving you from another man. Putting a baby inside you and being able to experience fatherhood." The topic changed was clearly on purpose, but his actions still tease at that night.
Homelander's hands slide to your hips and give a small squeeze. Your breath hitching as his thumbs rubbed against the dip inwards. Your thighs twitched to pull together, but his body stopped any progress. His hands slide down inch by inch till they rest on the plush of your thighs. Squeezing the plump flesh, pressing the inner side of your thighs. Rubbing circles as you twitch as you feel your blood warm up throughout your body.
"HomelanderâŚ" Your breath hushed and that faint struggle.
"Just like before, so needy~" He teases with a lick of his fangs.
[itâs been a while since the homelander unceremoniously kidnapped his personal assistant when he decides itâs finally time to take the relationship to the next level]
sequel to work-life balance
cw: lesbophobia, homophobia, dubcon, noncon, (bad) smut, mentions of kidnapping + murder, yandere homelander, toxic homelander, power imbalance, age gap but not really mentioned, size difference, reader has an ex-gf called mia, formatting/tense kinda busted my bad
a/n: this has been collecting dust in my drafts since i have an issue with trying to finish all my works/requests oopsâŚwanted to be more accurate with the penthouse this time so ofc i had to go on the vought website and take a virtual tour lol. sorry that the smut sucks IM SO BAD AT WRITING IT PLS FORGIVE ME!!! i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing â¸(ď˝ĄË áľ Ë )â¸âĄ
Another dinner with The Homelander in the penthouse youâve come to know as a cage, another night spent trying to fend off his increasingly lustful advances. Movie nights couldnât be enjoyed without the fear of unrelenting hands that couldnât help but wander, each kiss he reverently placed upon you only served to make you feel dirtier than you should and his hugs â god, you tried to turn a blind eye but itâs hard to ignore the worldâs strongest supe, somehow always covered in blood, deliberately pressing his hard on into your hip with that smarmy face of his.
Everything about this place, and you call it a place because it could never truly be home â not for you or him, felt off and no matter how long you spent trapped with him you could never get used to your prison. Hell, even the windows had some sort of modernist bullshit bars covering them. It felt like one big joke from the universe. The wood floor had clearly been shined recently, no thanks to the mess Homelander dragged in earlier that still made you shiver. If you looked closely you could start to make out your reflection in the smooth, glinting wood. Really, it was less of a reflection and moreso a vague mass of soft darkness and blurred edges that could be you, but itâs not like you even recognised yourself enough anymore to even tell the difference.
You snap out of your reverie, peeling your eyes away from the floor, and centring yourself back into your unfortunate reality before Homelander could tell you werenât truly present.
Ah, thatâs right.
Youâre in the dining room, the lights are dimmed and that gaudy American flag (he called it patriotic, you thought it downright tacky), is pasted behind him. He fed you fresh oysters, sourced by The Deep who dutifully followed his command though tearfully, and Belgian chocolates straight from his gloved hand and perhaps it couldâve been romantic â if it wasnât for the vice grip he had on your jaw and the knowledge of the sticky blood that coated them just hours prior. His eyes, the ones you thought were inhumanly blue from your very first encounter, seem to pass right through you and pierce into the very depths soul. No part of you is or ever will be safe from Homelander's invasive need to conquer every cell of your being, just so that he can be the one to say that only he truly knows you.
He collects another oyster, making quick work of manoeuvring your head so itâs tilted back and he can oh so slowly tip back the flesh of the oyster down your throat. Itâs hard to swallow when his hand is practically choking you but you know better than to voice your complaint. You both watch each other in the dead silence as you struggle to swallow it down. It disgusts you to see his pupils, fixated on the space where his hand meets the underside of your neck, dilate in rapt attention. A part of you curses your past thoughts as all you want right now is to see the blue in his eyes, anything to make this moment any less horrifying than it already is.
Your heart rate quickens and your left hand, always the one to give you away, fidgets with the table cloth next to you reflexively. You hate how synchronised the two of you have become as both of you dart your eyes down to track the rickety movement. Of course, only he has the nerve to slowly drag his eyes back up to your face â you, however, admit defeat and hope that if you stay still enough he will forgive your almost imperceptible transgression.
His grip on your face somehow grows tighter without crushing you into a pulp.
âAll done? My girl has a big appetite tonight, huh?â He drops the forgotten oyster shell and uses that fake sing-song voice as his eyes twinkle with mischief and it takes gargantuan effort to not roll your eyes in front of him. You may hate every disgusting, pathetic fibre of his being but youâre not suicidal. He could laser you before you could even begin to notice somethingâs amiss.
âMmm, I suppose so.â Bland, devoid of any meaningful emotion; you give him what he wants without compromising your spirit in the process. You donât mention that he practically had to force-feed you through the entire meal, and maybe heâll return the favour and leave you alone. Maybe.
He nods solemnly and drops his hands. You breathe a sigh of relief as you slouch forward in your dining chair. Homelander, gracious as he is, ignores your little mistake and instead traipses over to the floor-to-wall windows with the demeanour of a man who has no worries. You know much better than to be fooled by his false bravado by now. He opens the balcony door and steps through as looks off into the sunset with his hands clasped behind his back like heâs posing for a Vought-issue poster. The Homelander image never rests even when he's safe from the prying eyes of the public.
You might feel bad for him if it wasnât for the small issue of him kidnapping you.
"C'mon over here, babe." His voice booms across the open room and you scuttle over to where he stands. It's humiliating how he has you at his every beck and call like youâre nothing more than his lap dog. You canât help but cast a look at the faux statue of liberty that stands nearby as you make your way to him; how ironic, a symbol of independence in the same room where your freedom was stripped from you like it was nothing more than a formality.
You hate the stupid pet names he gives you but the first and only time you protested, you had a broken wrist and couldn't work for weeks. Not like you did much working nowadays so there wasn't much to miss. Ever since the two of you started "dating", he's controlled every aspect of your life: who you're allowed to talk to (nobody unless it's a member of The Seven, bar Deep), which family members you can visit (none), what clothes you wear (only what he chooses because he knows best) and so on.
He kindly allowed you to continue working as his personal assistant but there are a precious handful of employees he still allows you to contact and even then it's under his strict supervision. So, despite wanting to fight back time and time again, you eventually quit your âjobâ by his own design. You've become his living puppet, only existing to parade around and prove that he's capable of something close to love.
You don't realise you've once again drifted off into that jaded corner of your mind until you hear him exclaim, "What a gorgeous view." You're lucky the sunset is rather beautiful today â that means he won't punish you for spacing out during the time he's dotingly put aside for the two for you since it seems like you were only admiring the horizon with him.
You turn to look at him just to find that he had been staring at your profile the entire time.
Gross.
The softness of his face makes you squirm in moments like this; fine lines eased away and his body, usually tense and unforgiving, uncharacteristically relaxed. Watching him be so at peace reminds you of the uncanny valley effect you heard about so long ago. His wide hands traverse the contours of your arms and you can't help but jump at the contact. Again, you expect his fuse to be short and blow at your thinly veiled revulsion but instead he laughs. Breathless and a bit short but a laugh nonetheless.
"Gee, Y/N, you're like a cute little rescue puppy that needs to be trained. Do you want a collar while we're at it?" His voice is light and playful but there's an undeniable tension woven into his words, and the crinkles that line his eyes, that catches you in your place.
You donât laugh, choosing to grip onto the railing of the balcony as a delicate breeze passes over you, and it doesn't take a genius to tell he's clearly annoyed by your lack of humour as he rolls his eyes and theatrically pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sweetheart I'm joking." His voice is strained though there's a slight hint of a whine laced in his words. He recovers in record time and shoves that saccharine smile back onto his face in the blink of an eye.
Homelanderâs voice calls out in a lazy drawl, "Call me crazy but I get the impression you're awfully shy around me and I've been thinkingâŚWe need to work on that. Now." A gloved hand moves from its position on your bicep to lightly boop you on the nose and you think the scrunch of his eyes is his attempt at a genuine smile? His sharp canines show themselves soon after which gives you no option but to nervously giggle at his playful actions.
You force yourself to calm down as he walks around to your back, his red cape swooshing in the wind, and slightly obscuring your vision, as he walks. It pisses you off how heroic he manages to look when you know heâs anything but.
He starts to massage the muscles in your shoulder before they begin their descent. A brief touch at your collarbone turns into a lingering and not-so-subtle caress once his hands reach your chest before looping both muscular arms around your waist in a loose hug.
Of course he'd try to cop a feel even when he's trying to calm you down.
You look down at his arms and snort as it properly dawns on you that he's still wearing his uniform. Then again, does it really count as a uniform if it's all he ever wears? You wish you were anywhere else but here; you've never appreciated getting to look at the fading sun as much as you do now â whether it's despite your circumstances or because of them you don't really know. Either way, the combination of the golden hour and the copious amounts of wine Homelander gave you is helping you to relax for the first time in a long time, that is if you ignore the fact he's currently trapping you in his arms.
It's been oddly silent by his standards and you wonder if Homelander is quietly brooding at your lack of conversation. Just as you're about to say something mundane about the view, you wouldn't want him to be wracking up points against you in his head after all, you just about hear him take a slight inhale right by your neck.
What the fuck?!
The tip of his nose is warm and tickles at your neck as he decides to inhale again but this time even deeper before you realise that he's huffing your scent like some kind of creep. You're at a loss for words but it's not like you can even say much about it for fear of your safety.
"You know," his voice is strained and the sudden noise causes you to go stock-still, "I made sure everything we ate tonight were aphrodisiacs." Another inhale but this time he softly moans when he breathes out, "Thought it would help get you in the mood. God knows you must be pent up." A stray finger comes up to tickle your neck in a way he must think is sensual but it only serves to make you wince. It feels like everything he says is some sort of twisted projection of all his fantasies.
Still, you know you have to play the long game â anything to keep him away from your body. âReally? I had no ideaâŚâ Your voice trails off, carried away by the wind as you look across the skyline and blink back tears. The sun set a long time ago.
Homelander chuckles in response, full of his usual arrogance, causing his hard chest to move against your back. "Ah-ah, donât play coy with me. I know somewhere in that busy. Little. Head of yours,â he punctuates each word with a two-fingered tap against your temple, âyou knew that. You might be young and inexperienced but you're not that naive."
You fill with rage at his insinuation that youâre inexperienced just because you donât have any experience with men. Youâre not a blushing virgin but itâs all meaningless in his eyes nonetheless.
âLook at you!â He gently pushes you out of his arms and takes up your hand, forcing you to spin for his enjoyment before he stops you facing him and grips your waist again. âDressed like a slut for me. You want this too.â His voice is a low growl and you feel ashamed under his gaze, trying but failing to cover yourself. Heâs the one that chose the lacy babydoll dress youâre wearing right now, not you!
Homelander bundles you up in his arms, squeezing the life out of you, as if the passion heâs feeling canât be contained any longer. He hasnât even kissed you yet but heâs already rock solid and grinding it into you. No, no, no, this canât be happening. This is developing into so much more than the kisses youâve shared, the ones you could ignore after scrubbing your teeth so hard your gums bled, the ones that made you feel like you were betraying yourself for not fighting back hard enough. You feel your brain switch into the prey mindset; how can you keep caring about the consequences, when all you can focus on is escaping.
So you shove him. Hard.
But heâs The Homelander and youâre you, so all it does is infuriate him. Perhaps youâve finally pushed your luck after an evening full of infractions. To your surprise, he pulls back and lets you go.
âEnough!â His voice booms so loud a flock of birds hurry away, their wings desperately flapping like you wish to do and he points a menacing finger at you. You back away and let him corner you into the railing like an idiot. âI know you donât have any religious hang-ups considering you let that woman fuck you like you were nothing but a brain dead rabbit in heat!â You balk at his snarl and at the mention of your girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend? You didnât even know what she was to you anymore.
You feel your eyes smarting and it frustrates you to no end because logically you know he couldnât give two shits about religious doctrine but he sure knew how to make you hurt.
He circles you, cape rushing behind him, mocking you by pitching his voice higher to sound like your cries. âOh donât be such a fucking prude. I know youâŚhad dalliances with her.â He waves his hand as if that can somehow erase the years of love and vulnerability you shared with the girlfriend he ripped you away from.
âI watched out for you every damn night even if it broke my heart knowing that my darling could do that to me. And here I thought you were doing this pretend virgin act for my sake.â
His presumptuousness and delusional beliefs that he was preordained to have you just because he said so usually maddened you but today was the straw that broke the camelâs back.
âYou are an entitled sick fuck! I donât love you and never will.â Your words cause him to stop in his tracks and you get the feeling that perhaps you broke the camelâs back too.
He rushes over to you, pure rage and desperation swirling in his eyes as his chest heaves. He quickly grabs your left wrist in a bruising grip that has you screaming at him to let go! as you instantly feel it start to swell.
âYou wanna do this the hard way, babe? See if I care!â Heâs screaming in your face and droplets of spit land on your cheeks but you canât find it in you to care as heâs dragging you closer and closer to the edge of the balcony.
Your head is on a constant swivel as you look to him and the drop behind you. You beg and beg and beg him to rethink whateverâs on his mind, you can be good this time â really!
By the deranged look on his face you know your pleading lands on deaf ears. He lifts you up like you weigh nothing and fucking dangles you over the edge of the balcony. Luckily heâs only got a hold of one wrist which allows your free hand, the left, to grip onto the bar of the railing.
He looks on with cold indifference, a single manicured brow arched, as you scream and still he lets your wrist go. Your heart drops to your stomach when you realise that this could be your last moment on earth. Your vision starts to tunnel when you make the fatal mistake of looking down.
It all comes rushing to you in that moment. The laughter, the love, your family, the inconsiderate behaviour that only drove a wedge between you and Mia in the last moments of your relationship. Is this what they meant when they said your life flashes before your eyes? Every single formative experience of your life rushes past in a technicolour blur that leaves you breathless.
Where are you now? The 100th floor? Everything looks so impossibly high from up here, you hope that when you drop you donât feel a thing. Your hand is sweaty and twitching like it always does when youâre stressed around him, your legs thrash beneath nothingness and your face is wet with tears and snot from your uncontrollable sobbing. Homelander looks down his nose at you with a sneer and his hands once again clasped behind his hand and you think that this is it, youâll die a painful death and he wonât have cared any less.
âAdmit that youâre a virgin.â His voice is cold and unwavering but he sighs in exasperation at your confused crying. âAdmit that youâre a virgin, sprinkle in something about wanting tonight to be special and maybe I wonât let you fall.â
You gulp down panicked breaths you donât really have and cry out, âP-please donât let me die! I was just nervous, I swear! Nervous because Iâm a virgin but I want you!â
Your left hand twitches and, once again, you both look to it. His eyes stay on the hand that betrayed you but you donât have the same luxury and instead whip your head back up to face him and continue screaming until your voice is hoarse and barely audible over the wind.
He takes a step closer, reaches a benevolent hand out and you think that this is it, youâre about to be saved just for him to flick your fingers off the bar that were barely holding on as is.
What?
All of a sudden youâre falling, falling, falling and the air you were trying desperately to hold onto is forcefully stomped from your chest. You squeeze your eyes shut while the exhausting rush of adrenaline pumps through your body at record speed. There is no god or deity to argue with now, you are about to die and you wonder if this is the freedom youâve been searching for.
Then it all stills and you wonder if the adrenaline has stopped your body from perceiving the fall, but you feel something cradling you hard enough to leave bruises on your cold skin. You decide to crack open your eyes to The Homelander who looks unusually teary. You should be mad. You should be howling at him. You should kick and push and accept the fall. Instead, you wrap your shaky arms around his strong neck and openly weep into his body.
You stay mid-air for what feels like an eternity of you seeking comfort in his arms and him softly rubbing your back but he eventually flies you both back to the balcony where the tragedy began and drops in a heap onto the floor.
He exposes his sharp canines as he slowly grins at how weak and broken down you are; his victory. "Let's start again, shall we?" He holds his hand out but your mind is still reeling from your near-death experience that you donât even notice the olive branch he extends. He soon grows impatient of waiting for you and rolls his eyes before forcefully grabbing your hand once he sees how violently you're shaking. You hate the fact that you canât help but collapse into his arms in shock once heâs pulled you up.
He bridal carries you to bedroom which is only a few steps for him. You donât even kicks and squirm, but your fear doesnât stop you from thinking about how much you hate the open plan penthouse â thereâs never anywhere to hide but itâs not like you could hide from him to begin with.
Once you reach the bedroom, equally as dark, opulent and audacious as the rest of the penthouse, he lays you down on the furs of the large bed like something precious.
He surprises you by gently stroking your cheek as he whispers into the quiet of the room, âYou know, youâre lucky to be chosen by a God like me. Itâs agonising to hurt you like this, but I am saving you from, letâs say, a life of sin.â His words pain you like nothing else youâve experienced in this life, not even the fall could surpass this, so you softly weep into the bed but this time he takes his gloves off to wipe your stray tears.
You understand what is about to happen and that nothing can stop the tragedy to come.
You expected him to be harsh; thought heâd rip your clothes off in one swoop, or laser them off your body with terrifying precision. But no, he takes the time to carefully strip your flimsy dress in such a gentle way that nausea builds up in your throat. Your underwear is quickly lost along with your dress and you find yourself completely nude before The Homelander. The lights are still low which causes his eyes to appear like dark caves where all light is lost and no humanity is able to penetrate. Your hands slowly make their way near your head and clutch the blue cotton bedsheets in worry.
Homelander meanders to you and a part of you wonders if heâs moving so torturously slow just to ensure heâs thoroughly snuffed the fight out of you. Eventually, he kneels down near the edge of the bed where your legs dangle off and finds his way to the part of you that you tried so hard to guard from him.
âYouâve never been touched down here beforeâŚNot properly.â His voice is breathless as his eyes fixate on the index finger which slowly drags its way through your folds. He lightly grazes your clit and chuckles at the way the shiver in response to his touch.
You hate how infantilising this is, you hate how you were never even given a choice from the moment Ashley sent you into the lionâs den. You especially hate how he pulls back to inspect the way his gloved finger glistens under the low light. He licks the wetness you left behind on his glove like a man starved and makes quick work of stripping that one off too.
"My sweet girl's enjoying this just like I said she would." You scrunch your eyes up at his sickening words and the self-loathing they stir up within you.
Deep down you know this is a natural biological response â he fed you countless aphrodisiacs and the fact that your adrenaline is through the roof surely isn't helping, but years of research can't talk down the burning, lecherous shame that latches onto the instinctual part of your brain and ignites your soul. You enjoy this, it tells you. You only say you're a lesbian for attention, it whispers. The voice gradually gets louder and louder until all you can do is weep and attempt to squirm your way out of The Homelander's grasp. Anything to get away from this.
He doesn't appreciate that though, or perhaps he purposely misreads your obvious discomfort for yearning as he instead shushes in your ear and pins your legs down with such ease it makes you feel even more vulnerable than you thought possible.
"Sensitive, huh? And I've barely even touched you." His voice is quiet and he speaks with such reverence and awe you feel the need to hide as heat blooms in your cheeks.
He sets an imposing figure at the end of the bed, even when heâs crouched down, and itâs almost magnetic the way you feel forced to look at him.
His bare hands rub your ankles and smooth their way up your legs, so close to where you ache but not close enough. He keeps rubbing up and down to the point where you wonder if this is it. Perhaps heâs had a change of mind and will let you go and you can pretend this is all one bad dream. Your leg juts out in surprise when his face makes contact with your cunt in the blink of an eye. He continues rubbing up and down your thighs and you wonder if heâs had a change of mind and will let you go as if this was all a bad dream.
Your leg juts out in surprise however when he messily nosedives between your legs with no warning and his mouth latches onto your cunt like a man starved. His tongue makes sloppy circles around your clit before dipping down and lapping at your wet core. He has you clenching your toes and crying out to whoever who will answer cries â you wouldnât be surprised if any supes nearby with super-hearing could hear your wails of pleasure, the noises were loud and downright pornographic.
Your hands feel like theyâre about to shatter with how hard youâre gripping into the sheets. You whine when Homelander looks up, the sheen of your essence marking the entire lower half of his face, but stop your non-verbal complaining when he wordlessly takes your hands and places them in his blond hair. You flex your fingers uncertainly in his soft strands as he goes back to devouring you like you were the first meal heâs had since the beginning of time.
You grip his hair cautiously but you think you hear him whimper this time as he nudges his strong nose into your clit. Experimentally, you grip hard onto his hair and you see the way he hips frantically rut into the empty space below him. Oh?
Itâs as if youâre running on autopilot, after all the you that you know would never do this with him, when you clutch onto his hair so tightly you wonder how his hair isnât falling out in clumps in your hands. This spurs him on to continue eating you out so aggressively you cum so hard itâs a surprise you didnât fling yourself off the bed. You eventually manage to whine loud enough that Homelander finally pulls himself off.
You watch him from where you lie and he watches you like a predator hunting down their prey. His tongue darts out to lick you off his face and your body burns in humiliation and shame. It feels ridiculous to even think this but as you watch Homelander, still in his godforsaken uniform, a part of you wishes that he was naked too, that he could at least have the decency to share a bit of vulnerability with you. Clearly you jinxed yourself because he peels off the layers of his suit until heâs completely naked.
You sit up on your elbows with wide eyes as you look at him in all his nude glory. His body is objectively fine, heâs svelte and a bit toned though perhaps a let down from what his padded suit projects, you muse, though you feel no real burning attraction for him. What does manage to get a reaction out of you is the size of his dick. Youâve never seen one in real life but even you know that his is massive. You quickly whip your head to the side to avoid the sight but itâs too late: you know itâs long, thick, slightly curved upwards and kind ofâŚangry looking? You wonder if being a supe impacts the size or if thatâs all him. Any leftover pleasure from before is wiped away and you shake in nervous anticipation. How can he expect that to fit inside of you?
Smug as he is, he tips his head back to let out an absolute roar of a laugh â clearly, youâve inflated his ego far beyond what he deserved. No more is said on the matter as he strokes himself and crawls onto the mattress. It dips under his weight and itâs this moment when you confront just how much bigger he is than you. You feel so impossibly trapped underneath him; maybe if you think of a happy memory, you can act like none of this is happening at all.
Homelander has no care for your inner turmoil, "You should feel lucky Iâm doing all the fucking work this time. I'm not even making you suck my dick! Shows how much I care about you.â His words are no less scathing than they usually are but they come out softly as he pants, like this is the only way he can express kindness. His use of 'this time' reminds you that it will never just stop here. He will continue to take and take and take until you're nothing more than a husk â not like he'll care, just as long as he has someone.
He fumbles around at your entrance with a certain lack of grace that has you questioning the validity of his own escapades and just like that, your plan of mentally escaping this torment crumbles before you. How could you possibly ignore any of this? His frustration is short-lived much to your upset. Slowly, he sinks his dick into you and you both watch closely â he in unrestrained arousal and you in morbid fear. He was dripping with precum and still itâs a awfully tight fit that has you hyperventilating in pain. Each time you shut your eyes, you hope for him to be fully inside so this nightmare can finally be over but heâs big and your anguish is never ending.
âFuuuuuck. How are you so tight? You really are a virgin. Saved yourself all for me.â His words are choked and even he seems pained.
The end of his sentence is punctuated with a single, sharp thrust and you scream bloody murder. Sob escape from your chest uncontrollably as each thrust into seems to be unravelling you from the inside out. Heâs barely pulling out and still the pain is unbearable. Homelander shushes your pathetic bawling before he intertwines his large hands in yours, softly licking each tear away from the fullness of your cheeks before biting down on the same spots your tears stained.
"She could never fuck you like this." The growl he unleashes doesn't even sound human as he pounds into you, pelvis smashing against yours that would be imperceptible to a supe but only furthers your agony. Blue eyes start to simmer with that red hue and you unintentionally clench down around him in fear that he could lose control and laser you in the throes of passion. Despite the inhuman display of strength, heâs still somewhat like you in this moment: sweat dripping down his brow, chest rising and falling with each thrust and his face even looks a bit funny as it scrunches up in pleasure.
âNobody, and I mean none of these mud people can have you like this, you hear?â Heâs staring directly into your eyes and you get the feeling you need to respond so you nod but by his sigh that wasnât the right option. Thereâs no margin for error, not after he just tried to kill you.
His hand snakes down between your sweaty bodies and a finger captures your clit again and resumes the tight circles that have your brain shutting down from all the overstimulation.
âNobody can have me. O-only you! Just you!â Your voice comes out shaky and uncertain and warbles under his skilled ministrations but thatâs enough to please him. He purrs before diving in, taking claim over your lips in a punishing kiss that leaves the tender skin there bleeding and bruised. He laps up the blood and nips down in a cruel cycle that has you crying out for his kiss just so it can soothe your mouth.
He knows just as well as you that youâre close to the finish line so he speeds up and if you thought you were overstimulated before, you were fully gone now. Youâre on the cusp you never wanted to reach but you canât even summon the pain you know lies just beneath the surface. You didnât even realise you had squeezed your eyes shut but you hear his voice command you to open them and you do. He is taking everything from you and you give him want he wants on a silver platter. How can this feel equal parts orgasmic and soul-crushing at the same time?
Just as youâre about to cum, he can feel the way you clench around him and he gets even harder knowing heâs about to be your ruin, he leans down and you assume heâs about to tell you some dirty secret of his.
âI killed Mia today.â
His voice cuts through the crashing waves of gratification and straight into your heart. Your vision goes white as you let out a silent scream only Homelander has the privy of hearing. The waves soon turn on you and bring you under; youâre drowning under it all, lost in a unforgiving tempest thatâs stripped you to your barest elements and you know you will never be found again.
He brings you back to life by playfully biting your ear but you lay on your side in a daze, counting each star and stripe you can find on the pillowcase with unseeing eyes.
You donât know how long itâs been but itâs still dark out, Homelander has the blanket pulled up to your chest (or his waist) and you can feel his legs locked in between yours. You shift slightly and feel him drip out of you. Your silence is of no bother to him for once as he strokes your hair like an owner does a pet.
âYouâre so stinkinâ adorable when youâre fucked out. Guess Iâve ruined you for other men, huh?â Your heart stutters and his hand stills on your head. He rolls his eyes in his own private performance of irritation, âNot that there will be other...people.â
He spits the last word out as if it was poison and despite it all, your heart seems to be breaking all over again even when you thought you had nothing left to give. You let him douse the hand he broke with kisses and he doesnât fault you when you cry.
SUMMARY both soldier boy and bombsight seem to be competing for your affection, but only one of them makes you really weak at the knees CWS smut, vaginal fingering, unsafe sex, sex with two different people (not at the same time), 1950s setting, supe!reader, testing (early compound v), blood, near death experiences, spoiler! reader chooses bombsight WC 4.1k
who would be art and who would be patrick in a challengers situation? lmk
The amount of hairspray that you had in your hair should be considered an obscenity of some kind, but you didnât have much say in the matter if you wanted to present yourself well at work.
Everything was so new and experimental at Vought. You were brought on as an assistant, but had in your agreement that you would be given Compound when they had a replacement lined up for you, âjust in caseâ. That alone should have deterred you from the project, but some part of you figured that you werenât actually going to be given Compound V after working for the company for a month. They probably could have found someone rather easily within that period of time to replace you, but they didnât.
It wasnât that you didnât want the experimental drug, because you did. The entire reason you were on the companyâs radar was that you had signed up for it, but they decided that they had a better, more temporary use for you.
You werenât upset about it, anyway. You couldnât be. Not when you had made friends with some of the people you were working with.
Mainly, you had made friends with Bombsight, or Robbie, though he tended to be okay with either. He was your favorite out of the group of new Supes. He was easily one of the most attractive people you had met before, and he always seemed to have a way of keeping you entertained. He talked to you before anyone else did, even though you were just there to take the coffee order of everyone in the room. He took the time to make you laugh, even though he really didnât have to.
From what you had gathered about him, he at the very least knew that he was good-looking. But he wasnât in your face about it, even if that was true. He didnât sit around, making it clear that he knew that half of the people in the room were going to turn and stare at him whenever he walked in. Though he did seem to be at least somewhat aware that you found it rather distracting when he sat with his legs wide open half of the time. But you didnât let on that much, and you didnât see much of a purpose in doing so, anyway. You wanted to, but you sort of worked for him, and he seemed to respect the fact that this entire thing was very new. Vought, the company having assistants and superheroes. The last thing that anyone needed was him misreading the signals that youâre putting down and getting the company sued before it could even really get off the ground.
Another Supe on the new team, Soldier Boy (or Ben, either worked, he claimed), didnât have a single problem with flirting with you in front of everyone. You knew that he was flirting; anyone with a pair of eyes knew that he was flirting. They knew that he was staring right at your chest when you happened to bend over enough that skin could be exposed if you werenât so keen on wearing undershirts. Everyone knew that he started at your legs, and your hips, and your ass when you were doing just about anything in the same room as him. He made it no secret that he was interested in you, but you werenât quite sure how to feel about that.
It wasnât that he was unattractive; it was quite the opposite. He was a good-looking guy, and he knew it better than anyone did. But he also seemed to have other people who had caught his eye. He was a clean-cut player. He got around, and he got around with other people whom you worked with, like Liberty. You knew that he didnât mind sleeping with anyone or anything, and that made it difficult for you to deal with the teasing and the flirting. Because the thing was, youâd never call it harassment.
If you really wanted him to stop, he would. You doubted that heâd even tell anyone if you confronted him. He could be a bit intimidating, but he didnât seem like the type to fuck you over for telling him no. You got jittery when he touched you, you felt something in your stomach and between your thighs when he got too close to you, and sometimes things got a little bit out of hand. Or, really, one time things got a little bit out of hand, and every other time things were pretty under control.
You just remembered that you had been standing in front of a window, looking out into the city by yourself. Youâd never worked in a building like the one that you were working in, not really. You had office jobs before, sure, but nothing like this. The scale that was going into making sure that everything was perfect was something that you had never seen in person before, and something that you werenât sure if you would ever see again.
It almost made you feel important to be able to look into the city like this, knowing that Supes were the talk of the town and that you were in line to get injected too. Truthfully, you might die if you did. There were only five people who had been injected and lived to tell the tale, and a part of you wasnât sure why you were even counting down the days until they told you that it was coming. You werenât sure that you wanted it to come.
The thought had been stressing you out enough that when Soldier Boy came into the room, when he flirted with you and stood so close behind you that his chest was pressed against your back, you couldnât help the way that you leaned into it. The way that your ass pressed against his hips, or the way that you let his hands rest on your waist for just a moment before one of them inched between your thighs.
Everything else had been a blur. You remembered being pressed against a bookshelf in the study that you were in. You remembered the way that his lips felt on your neck and the way that he felt inside of you. But you also remembered that you realized, pretty succinctly, afterwards, that you didnât have half as much interest in him as you had in Bombsight. Soldier Boy was good in bed; he knew how to please a woman, and he knew how to keep you interested. He even cleaned you up afterwards and made sure that you were okay. But there was just some emotion in you that was missing, something that you were quite sure that you would have felt if you had been with Bombsight instead.
How would you know, though? You hadnât been with Bombsight, and you werenât sure if he was going to give you the chance, even though he had lightly flirted with you when he had the opportunity to do so.
Things changed, though. Faster than you would have liked, too.
Youâd anticipated that maybe, someday, someone would come to you and remind you that you had signed up to be tested on, too. That they were working on finding a replacement just in case. Or, really, no matter what. If it worked and you lived, you would probably take on a different role in the company. But if it didnât work and you died, then you were just going to have to be replaced anyway. It didnât make much of a difference. No matter what, that day didnât seem like it would ever come, but after two months, it did.
The memory of being injected with Compound V was something that was gone the moment it happened. You somewhat remembered that Bombsight was there, that he was the one person they allowed to be with you when it happened because he was the first one to ask. You knew that, if you were to die, you didnât much like the last image that he would have of you, but you figured that you would rather be with him than be alone or be with anyone else. But if he held you or stayed awkwardly in the corner, you would never remember.
The injection seemed to fry that part of your memory.
When you woke up, your entire face was covered in blood. There was blood clotted along your cheeks and your lips from where you had probably been coughing, and someone was in the process of cleaning it up. But you were alive, and that much seemed to be a shock to them.
âY-oh my God.â Bombsight was beside you the moment that your face was cleaned up, his glove coming off so he could feel your neck, right below your jawline. âI donât understand. She still has no pulse.â
âYou thought I was dead?â
âYou have no pulse.â
Right. That makes sense.
âIt could be a side effect of whatever power she got, sir.â
It was, youâd come to find out rather quickly. You had a pulse, your heart was beating, but no one could feel it. It was like there was an impenetrable barrier around your vulnerabilities that was being protected. You were stronger than before, much stronger, and you were better with weapons that you had certainly never trained with. It seemed like it gave you talents more than it gave you straightforward powers, but you werenât too offended by that. It made the next step in Voughtâs position for you to make more sense, anyway.
If you had something harmless, being told that you were a secret weapon would make no sense. You wouldnât wear a cool outfit like the other Supes, nor would you be in the public eye like them. To anyone else, you would just appear as an upper-level employee at the company. You were business-savvy, so they could genuinely use you in those areas. But you would handle grittier work, the type of work that would typically be assigned to a bald man in a suit with leather gloves and a suitcase. Someone who no one would suspect could easily overpower them, but could.
But that meant that you werenât an assistant anymore, and that meant that you were essentially equals with the man who had chosen to be with you when you took the injection in the first place. The shift had been palpable within him, but that also meant that it was palpable with Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy, with whom you had sex with two weeks ago, and it felt like they were in some sort of silent competition that you wanted no part in. Bombsight had no qualms with being with you now, at the very least, he had fewer qualms with expressing it out of fear that heâd upset you, since you were more on an equal playing field.
But Soldier Boy never had any issue with expressing himself, and Soldier Boy had no issue with expressing that he wanted to fuck you again. You, however, were rather aware that you preferred Bombsight. You knew that from the moment youâd been intimate with Soldier Boy, and you werenât sure how to tell him that. What if you were being presumptuous and Bombsight didnât want that? What if he was just a nice guy and you thought he was hitting on you when he wasnât? Plus, you werenât afraid of Soldier Boy, but you had never been good at doing things that you knew might hurt someoneâs feelings.
And yet? You were well aware of what you wanted. You didnât need to listen to them bicker with each other or have Private Angel and Torpedo remind you that theyâre both clearly vying for your attention to realize that. They were both flirting, but you really only wanted one of them. It was Private Angel who eventually got you to actually admit that, and Private Angel who sent Bombsight your way with all of that information to finally (hopefully) stop the bickering and pining that has been going on for as long as sheâs known you.
âHowâs⌠this? What is this, actually?â
Your attention was diverted from the papers that you were working on. It was a speech that was being planned for Soldier Boy to give in a few days' time with Liberty, something that you knew was incredibly important to the company and its image. But it also needed to be planned just right. You would be there, and the company knew that a party interested in dismantling Supes would be there as well. There needed to be a big enough diversion in the speech to feel natural and not incite conspiracy, but enough that people wouldnât notice if you took the party at interest out during the speech.
âA speech, nothing. Youâll see in a few days.â You shrugged it off, leaning back to sit up straight when Bombsight approached you. âBusiness as usual.â
âAnother defector?â
âSomething like that, yeah. Disgruntled guy who got rejected for the trials, says that he was denied his âfair shakeâ at being a Supe when his DNA didnât align with Compound V. Guess heâd rather die than be told no.â
âMm.â
Bombsight usually talked a bit more, and he almost always had something more to add to conversations. But right now, he was eerily quiet, and it wasnât something that you were used to. You watched him with your eyes squinted a bit as he pulled up a chair, sitting beside you. His legs were spread enough that you were watching him quite clearly, but you could swear that there was more of a bulge in his pants than normal.
âYou can keep writing.â
âBut youâre here, maybe I wanna talk to you.â
âMaybe I want you to keep writing.â
âBut-â
âPlease?â
âFine, Robbie.â You huffed as you leaned back down to keep writing, but after you got a paragraph or so done, you could feel one of his hands on your arm. You watched the way that his fingers grazed delicately against the cotton button-downâs sleeve. The way that he undid the button at the wrist was just so his fingers could brush against your arm. He was doing it on purpose, touching you just to get a rise out of you. But he was sitting closer, too. His leg brushes against your thigh, his chin moving to rest on your shoulder. âYouâre far.â
âWhat?â He paused when you spoke, almost sure that he misunderstood you. But you understood what was happening here. Private Angel had done you a favor, and you were getting what you wanted. You werenât going to let that pass you by, especially since it took two to tango.
âYouâre sitting too far away.â
Your eyes met his when you let your pen fall.
âHow close would you suggest I sit?â
âI donât know, maybe we could share a chair?â
He pretended to think about it for a moment before you were both shuffling. He was in your chair, his hands on your hips, and pulling you down to sit on his lap. You were seated rather comfortably against him after a moment, before you picked up your pen and started writing again. But he was kissing your neck the moment that you were writing, and you were really trying to keep up the ruse that you were still invested in the speech and not rather wet and pressed up against him.
âDid he hold you like this?â
So he knew that, too.
âNot really, no.â
âDid you think about me?â His tongue dragged against your skin when he asked that, and you were certain that you almost felt your soul leave your body when he nipped at your neck.
âYes, I thought about you.â
âDid you wish it was me?â
Bombsight was getting bolder, you noted. He had removed his gloves and placed them on the desk, one of his hands cupping yours so he could make sure that you were still working. His other hand was pressed on your inner thigh, his fingers trailing past your lace garters before pressing lightly against the dampness that was coating the center of your panties.
âI did-I-â You were certain that your brain short-circuited when he pushed his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties, his middle finger sliding through the slickness of your folds. He moaned against your neck, and some part of you knew that no one else could ever make you feel this way. âTho-thought about you, I wished it was you. I wanted it to be you so bad, and I-after-all I co-ould think about was you.â
âI bet.â
Admittedly, he seemed a bit distracted. He did have two fingers inside of you, though, so you werenât shocked that his mind wasnât entirely thinking about whether or not you thought about him when you were with someone else. But he did take your pen out of your hand, urging you to relax against him. The moment he did, you leaned back against him. Your head pressed into his shoulder, your lips parted as a soft sigh left your lips.
âRobbie-â
âMhm?â
âPlease donât stop.â
âWouldnât dream of it, sweetheart.â
His fingers moved a bit quicker, pushing deeply inside of you and curling just where you needed them. You could feel his thumb brush upwards to press circles into your clit. The pressure was just enough to make you squirm but not enough to feel overstimulating. He seemed to know just how to make you feel good, and he must have known it, given the obscene sounds that were leaving your lips as your body pressed back against his.
Bombsightâs lips were pressed against your neck again, muffling his quiet moans as your hips slowly ground against his bulge on instinct. Everything he did made you squirm, and that made you brush up against him. He was just as much of a wreck as you were, and that was definitely saying something.
He held you through it, though. Keeping you close while his fingers worked inside of you until your pussy clenched around them. His grip was rather tight as you cried out softly, trying to keep yourself from making too much noise that it would draw anyoneâs attention, but knowing, too, that there was a part of you that didnât mind too much if anyone heard.
It wasnât until you came down from it enough to pay attention to your surroundings that you noticed that he was kissing your neck again. Though he did seem a bit surprised when your hands moved underneath you so you could undo the belt on his pants.
âYou donât have to.â
âI want to, though.â You responded, turning back to face him. His cheeks were a little flushed, his lips parted and somewhat wet. But his blue eyes were blown out, all dark, his blond hair a bit of a mess. He looked good, but he looked good every single time that you looked at him, so you werenât too surprised. âDo you want to? I only want to if you do.â
There was a small bit of your brain reminding you that you needed to be careful with this - there were certain things that were considered polite and impolite in society, and having sex with someone like this was certainly not considered to be polite. But he had just fingered you, so you figured that some of those manners that you were brought up on werenât in the picture anymore. Really, they had probably flown out of the window the moment that you sat down on his lap.
âI do- God, I do.â
The smile that covered your lips was a bit infectious, but neither of you focused on it for too long. Bombsight worked on his pants rather quickly, while you took your damp panties off so you werenât just trying to keep them out of the way while you were together. But that was taken care of soon enough, and when he was inside of you, you couldnât bring yourself to understand why you hadnât done this sooner.
Your hips moved slowly against his at first, taking him deeper than you had anticipated in the first move, but getting used to it in the long-run. His body felt like it melded against yours perfectly, his hands finding your hips and holding you to him while your soft moans filled the room. But you tried to keep quiet, mainly. Not just because there was a risk of people hearing you, but because you really, really wanted to hear the noises that were coming out of his lips. Youâd heard him make little noises here and there before. Mainly, whenever he got hurt in some way, nothing that you were overtly getting off to. But this was different. He was moaning because he was inside of you, and he was doing it so close to your ear that it would have been impossible to miss.
One of his hands moved to the front of you, pressing you back tighter against him when you started to move faster. Your head was pressed back against him, resting right at his collarbone, while you leaned into him. Your eyes were rolled back just a bit, though you bit down into your inner cheek to avoid making a noise that was too loud when you felt him hit just the right spot inside of you.
Everything felt like it was slow and fast at the same time. You were with him, you were moving with him, and you could feel him inside of you over and over again, and that was all that mattered. You werenât really sure how long it went on before you both finished; all you really knew was that, at some point, youâd both ended up slouched against the desk with one of his hands gripping your hips so tightly that it may have hurt if you felt pain in the same way that a human did still.
Bombsight was as careful about cleaning up as he was about anything else. He kept you close while he cleaned you up before setting you down in the chair that he had been sitting on. But you stopped him when he went to put his gloves back on, taking hold of one of his hands and tugging yourself up on moderately shaky legs so you could meet him in the middle.
âDonât run off.â
âIâm not.â
âYou totally are.â
He stopped, though. His hands found your shoulders to stabilize you when he realized that you had been a little shaky standing up. But Bombsight didnât run off, even though some part of him seemed to want to.
âIt should have been you from the beginning, anyway.â Your voice was so quiet that it was probably easy to miss. But he was so close to you, there was no way that he missed anything that was coming out of your mouth. âI just figured- it just felt like-â
âI get it, itâs⌠complicated.â
âYeah.â
His eyes averted to your mouth, and you realized for perhaps the first time since he came in here that heâd kissed your skin but not your mouth. You wondered what his lips tasted like, what he would feel like pressed even closer against you. It didnât really seem like you needed to wonder for long when one hand slowly moved to your face. One of you closed the distance, and it really didnât matter which one. But someone did, and all you could really think about was how good he was at kissing you. He was good at everything, and it was almost insufferable, but you had your fingers tangled in his hand and tugging him closer before you could really spend too much time thinking about that.
âThe fuck did they put in your hair to get it so stiff?â You teased, breaking a bit of the tension when he pulled back. His smile was adorable, the dimples in his cheeks making you feel weak at the knees in all the ways that you figured he was supposed to.
âThe same stuff they put in your hair, donât be a hypocrite.â He wasnât wrong, especially given how stiff your hair was when he twirled it around his finger. âWe should go wash it out together.â
Now you were smiling wide, your hands finding his again. âOh, definitely. I can finish that speech later.â Your hands were within his in a moment, laughing when he urged you out of the room with him. It should have been him from the beginning; it always really was, you just werenât sure if he was much of an option. But it didnât really matter - you had him now, and you had no intention of letting go.
(My native language isn't English, so sorry if the words sound strange. This is my first fanfic, so please forgive me if Homelander isn't like the one in the series.)
Pd: Y/n's pheromones are vanilla, although Homelander's pheromones are left to your imagination (although I think his scent would be warm milk?).
-----
Y/n worked in a small coffee shop on the outskirts of the city. It was a quiet place, full of warm tones, with warm lights. You wore a brown apron and ribbons in your hair, you prepared lattes with different figures in the foam, and you sold decorated cookies. You had chosen this spot outside the city because it was the quietest thing an omega could have, your vanilla pheromone filling the entire coffee shop.
One rainy afternoon, he walked in.
Homelander wore civilian clothes: dark jeans, an impeccable white shirt, and a jacket that concealed his overly straight posture. He had flown over the area by chance when the scent hit him full-on. It was sweet, soft, warm, and completely opposite to everything he knew. He sat in the corner, ordered a glass of warm milk, and during that entire time, he didn't stop looking at you.
ââHere you go, sir. Have a nice dayâ you said kindly, without having the slightest idea of who he was. Homelander only looked at the milk, but his blue eyes shone far too intensely. He finished his milk and left, but your scent stayed engraved in him, and from that moment on, he watched you.
He flew in silence over the city and followed you from a distance. He learned your complete routines: what time you left the small apartment you shared with a roommate, how you walked toward the coffee shop humming songs, and even your favorite shoes.
Homelander always asked himself in an annoyed tone, how could an alpha like him feel something for a simple, silly omega? And how he hid in the shadows just to watch her. Although the vanilla scent calmed him, he wanted to bring her close, mark her, and have her all to himself.
Y/n started to notice that a very handsome, tall, and blonde customer appeared more and more at the coffee shop, and he always ordered the same thing: warm milk. He would sit at the same table and look at her with an intensity that made you nervous, but also made your heart race. He was polite, had a slightly deep and confident voice, and when he smiled, he seemed to have almost sharp fangs. He never told her his real name at first. He only called himself âJohn.â
â You're very good at thisâ he told her one afternoon while she drew a smiley face in the foam. âEverything you touch looks... sweeterâ You could only nod with a slight blush.
âThank you, but it's just practiceâ
Little by little, John started to stay longer. They spoke about simple things: old movies, the weather, the way she decorated the cookies. He listened with absolute attention, as if every word of hers was the most important thing in the universe. He knew she was an omega because of the scent, even though she used mild suppressors.
One day, you had a bad shift, a rude alpha customer who raised his voice when you made a mistake on an order. When the guy left, you stayed quiet thinking about things, when you heard a familiar voice. âAre you okay sweet?â he asked in a low voice, but this time his scent seemed heavier.
âYes, it was just a rough dayâ you said as you got up from the floor. He stepped closer than usual. His scent of burnt apple pie wrapped around you like a heavy, warm blanket. By instinct, you leaned a bit toward him. Homelander smiled with satisfaction. From that day on, he started to frequent the coffee shop almost every day.
He would bring you small flowers and once he even walked you home (even though he already knew the way by heart).
Y/n fell in love slowly, but deeply fell in love with the way "John" made her feel safe, how he looked at her as if she were the only valuable thing in the world, and how his scent calmed her even on her most anxious days. You didn't know yet that he was Homelander, the hero from Vought. One night, while she was closing the coffee shop, John waited for her outside with an umbrella. âY/nâ he said softly, using her name for the first time without her having given it to him that afternoon. âWould you like to have dinner with me?âYou looked at him, having almost already wished that he would say that to you, so you nodded.
âYes⌠I would love to, Johnâ
Homelander smiled, this time with true satisfaction, and thought to himself that he already has you close, soon he would have her completely, and because you are innocent and naive as always, you could only think about how beautiful it was to feel looked at in that way.
cw: yandere, toxic behaviour, power imbalance, brief mentions of violence, slight nsfw, slight dubcon
a/n: inspired to do some more 'light hearted' hcs while i'm in the middle of finishing pt 2 to my homelander fic......lowkey might have to do some yandere!seven and yandere!annie hcs soon...........wait yandere!sage would go crazy woahâŚ
homelanderâs ego is through the roof so once heâs met you it isnât a question of if youâll date him but more so when youâll date
unfortunately homelander is incapable of being a normal human being so while he could theoretically meet someone out in the wild he's probably going to get attached to someone who works for vought in some capacity
i love love love all of the 'homelander falling for a non-supe/ intern/assistant trope'
the power imbalance is very yummy
he isn't the kind of yandere who will bide their time and wait for the right moment
he's The Homelander⢠for god's sake!
doesn't matter which division you work for, he will introduce himself the moment he's interested in you (he will definitely neg you at least 3 times in the first conversation), and then turn you into his personal assistant all within a week
he hates how weak and juvenile having a crush on you feels but don't worry! it gets much deeper than a crush in no time
he's absolutely willing to try and get into a relationship with you the normal way (or at least as normal as dating homelander can be) but the second there's one minor inconvenience or you don't seem as receptive as he likes, it's gonna go south quickly -- even for his standards
homelander flies above you on your journey home without you realising since he can't stand the idea of you getting hurt all because he wasn't giving you adequate attention
so really it's only fair he gets to hover by your bedroom and peek through your windows using his x-ray vision once he's made sure you got home in one piece
he's a perv
homelander is obviously going to break into your house but he doesn't see it as breaking in
he's simply spending time in his future partner's home, you just don't know you belong to him yet
likes to move things around and watch the panicked look on your face from where he stalks hides from outside your window
he thinks everything about your helplessness against him is soooo cute :)
speaking of him being a perv, i like to imagine tha he was bored one day and stole all your bras (if you wear them)
#hesniffingthem
when you got to work he was not so subtly staring at your chest the entire time
yes he got a boner, no youâre not gonna do anything about it because heâs homelander
the image of your shocked face when you looked down to his lower half is burned into his mind
he only does stuff like this when the two of you are alone
heâs got a reputation to uphold after all
he monopolises ALL of your time -- you no longer have a home life because everything centres around homelander now
tells you what to wear at work and might even surprise you with a whole new office wardrobe
says itâs a new incentive for the employees and yet somehow youâre the only one getting stuff hmmm
he will trap you in some random copy room and talk your ear off about the most asinine things ever just to be around you
he hates that he can smell your fear and hear your heart pounding whenever he's near but he will fix that soon
he's definitely gonna ask if you notice anything new about him in these conversations and will visibly deflate if you don't notice he's used a new cologne because he overheard you talking from 10 floors away about how you like guys who use it
spiritually a loser c'mon
he never bothers trying to impress other people as it's usually the other way around, especially for mud people with no powers like you, so your disinterest absolutely kills him inside
he will be taking out his rage on some poor intern later since he really doesn't want to hurt you too much just yet
you probably did notice but felt too scared to just speak normally with him
heâs gonna invite you to his penthouse all the time and if you dare decline heâs going to make your life at work hell
soon you learn never to say no to his invitations
itâs lowkey awkward because heâs incapable of just talking like a regular person
he doesnât see it that way though he thinks every little âdateâ you two have is a success
speaking of rage, he will kill any of your coworkers that seem a little bit too comfortable with you
at first he hides it from you but the deeper his obsession gets the more of his insanity he's going to show
he knows you're a kind person, it's one of the reasons he can't get enough of you, so if you know that you will be responsible for any future deaths then maybe you'll obey his orders more often
if this is what he needs to do to ensure you stay with him he will do it
OH he doesnât even ask you to date him if itâs gone on long enough, he just calls you his girlfriend in a meeting with the seven and thatâs that
all of this is to say you will never have a normal life again once he stakes his claim on you
You stood near the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Midtown, watching the city move forty stories below, and tried to remember how to breathe.
Stan Edgar had called it a meeting. The kind of word that didn't prepare you for standing in Homelander's living room with your hands folded in front of you like a schoolgirl waiting outside the principal's office.
You had known for a year.
Three hundred and sixty-two days of knowing, and you still hadn't found the right moment, and the right version of yourself brave enough to knock on his door.
Apparently Stan Edgar had decided to knock for you.
He entered without announcing himself, they never did, did they? men who owned every room they walked into.
You turned, and there he was.
You had seen him on television a thousand times.
The jaw, the cape, the smile engineered for magazine covers. But television didn't prepare you for the weight of him in person, the way his eyes moved over you with something between suspicion and hunger, trying to place you in a category he already understood.
"You're her," he said. Not a question.
"Yes, I'm your biological mother." Your voice came out steadier than you had expected.
"Edgar told me." He crossed the room slowly, hands clasped behind his back, chin lifted. "Said you donated the egg, and that you're a supe." His gaze dropped to your face, studying it with an intensity that made your skin feel transparent. "You don't look old enough to be anyone's mother."
"Compound V," you said simply. "I was twenty-six when the donation happened. Physically, I haven't moved far from that."
"Donation." He let the word sit in the air between you, turning it over like something he'd found on the bottom of his shoe. "Is that what we're calling it."
You felt the shift in the room before he moved. Supes learned to read the air differently, the pressure change, the micro-current of heat when someone was preparing to use their abilities. You stayed very still.
"You left me."
The smile was gone. Underneath it was something so raw and so unguarded that it physically hurt to look at.
"You gave me away like I was, like I was nothing, and then you spent more then forty years not once, not one single timeâ"
"It wasn't a donation." you admit
You held his gaze, remember how you rehearsed this meeting before meeting him, the part you had wept through at three in the morning lying next to your husband, finding the words, losing them, finding them again.
"I was twenty-six and I was frightened and Vought took the egg from me without my knowledge or my consent. It was attached to a routine medical examination, and signed forms I didn't fully understand because I was young and I trusted the doctors in the room." You paused for a moment then continued.
"I didn't know you existed. I didn't know any of it until one year ago, when someone left a file on my doorstep and I spent three days barely getting off the bathroom floor."
Silence.
The city hummed forty stories below.
"You didn't know," he repeated.
"No."
You watched him process it the way a man processes information that requires him to rewrite the story he has been telling himself since childhood.
"You still didn't come." His voice broke on the last word.
"I was afraid," you said softly.
"Afraid." He laughed, short and humorless. "Of me?"
"Not of you." You took one careful step toward him.
"I was afraid of making you uncomfortable, you're not a child, you're a grown man with an entire life and an entire identity built without me in it. I thought arriving on your doorstep after many years would feel like an intrusion. As if I was trying to claim something I hadn't earned the right to claim."
The truth of the next part sat heavy in your throat. "And I thought, when you looked at me, that it might be strange. That I look like this. That I look young. I didn't want you to look at me and feel â"
"Stop."
He was directly in front of you now. You hadn't tracked him closing the distance. He was looking at your face with an expression that made your chest ache in a way you didn't have a name for something between grief and recognition, like a man who has been searching for a landmark for so long that when he finally sees it, he isn't sure he's allowed to believe it's real.
"You look like me," he said quietly. "Around the eyes."
You hadn't expected that. Your throat tightened.
"I noticed that too," you admitted. "When I saw the file."
The sound he made wasn't quite a word. It wasn't quite anything. It was the sound of something enormous and structural giving way, and then before you had fully understood what was happening he was against you.
His head dropped to your chest, his full weight staggering into you, and your arms came up around him without a conscious decision because something older than thought told you to.
He was shaking, the most powerful man on earth was shaking in your arms like a child woken from a nightmare, and the sounds coming from him were quiet and broken and utterly without performance.
"I used to think about you," he said against your shoulder, his voice muffled and unrecognizable. "I used to lay in the dark and think about what you were like. Whether you were looking for me." A breath that shuddered all the way through him.
"Whether you even wanted to."
"I want to," you assure him. Your hand moved to the back of his head without thinking. "I'm here now. I'm so sorry it took me this long."
He wept in a way you doubted he had ever permitted himself to do in front of another living person. You held him and said nothing more because there was nothing more useful than presence, and presence you could give.
You didn't know how long you stood there.
Eventually the shaking slowed. His breathing evened. He didn't pull away, only shifted slightly, enough to speak clearly.
"You're staying." It wasn't a question. His arms tightened around you, confirming it for himself.
"Now that I've found you. I won't let you just leave."
"Hey." You pulled back gently, just enough to see his face. You brought one hand to his jaw the way you imagined you might have done if you had ever been given the right to do so. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not disappearing. I promise you that."
Something in his expression settled. Then immediately tightened again.
"Move in here." The rawness was folding back under something more like command, more like the version of him he was used to presenting.
"I have the space. We can arrange your new room together."
"I can't do that."
"Why?"
You sighed, before speaking "Because I have a life, a home, and a husband."
His expression shuttered.
"A husband." The word came out like something bitten off. "So there's room for him but not for me."
"That's not what I saidâ"
"You spent forty years not finding me." His voice had gone cold, that particular cold that was performative and hurting in equal measure.
"And now you want to set visiting hours. Like I'm aâ" He stepped back, jaw tight. "Like I'm something you fit in between the rest of your real life."
"John â"
"Homelander." It cracked out of him, then his tone quietened down
"My name is Homelander."
You absorbed that information after realising how it disgusted him.
"Homelander." You kept your voice steady. "I am not rejecting you. I am standing in your living room, which is the bravest thing I have done in years, and I am telling you I want to be in your life, those are not the words of someone who is leaving."
He looked away. The muscle in his jaw worked.
"You had forty-four years without me," he exclaimed. "I had forty-four years without you. You don't get to decide the terms just because they're more comfortable for your schedule."
"I'm not deciding terms. I'm asking for time to do this right."
"You think you get to walk away from this?" he snarled, his fingers clamping around your upper arm with a force that made you gasp. "I just found you. You don't get to have a life without me in it. You don't get to have a husband." His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "You belong here with me."
The pent door swung open with a bang that made you both flinch. A man stood silhouetted against the hallway light, shield on his back, cigar clamped between his teeth.
Immediately you recognize him, the same man who made your life at Vought a living nightmare in the 70's.
Soldier Boy's eyes narrowed as they took in Homelander's grip on your arm, then drifted to your face. Recognition dawned slowly, then all at once. His jaw went slack. The cigar nearly fell from his mouth.
"Well, I'll be damned," he breathed out, a smirk slowly appearing on his face, as his eyes moved up and down your figure.
"Look what the cat dragged in."
You feel like a cat indeed, a cat that is trapped between two dangerous predators.
This is my second time writing headcannons so It might not be prefect. if you liked it please comment or dm me some more ideas!! credit to: @lacedbells for some of the ideas! (_ă_)ăăzď˝ďźş
Homelander is a tits man 100%. He definitely loves to suck your tits and spends most of his time with you, with his face smushed between your tits and cooing like a baby.
Homelander would have an app on his phone secretly to track your period just to know when you are ovulating so he can fuck you at the best moment possible. If you had cramps he would probably cuddle you the whole time and whisper (whine) that he could easily get you pregnant and make all the pain go away.
Homelander would definitely beg you to have a baby with him just so he can drink your milk. If you did end up having a baby he would be very jealous of it because got all of your attention (spends most of his time pouting about how the baby is "drinking all your milk".)
Homelander would use his Xray vision to stare at you through walls and doors as you masturbate and jerk off at the same time. This man is a horny bastard and he knows it.
Warning: Contains Smut, Mommy kink, and cream pie.
After a day of long hours hunched over a screen and having to listen to idiots bumble about the latest game or their plans for the weekend. All you wanted to do was get home and take a nice bubble bath. The kind that just melts away all tension and stress.
Sadly that was likely not going to happen as you made it to your small town home. Waiting at your door step was a man clad in red, white, and blue. The Homelander was pacing in a small circle as you came up to the house on foot. Work was not too far from your house, so walking was something you did even when exhausted.
"You're home, I have been waiting for you. You usually get home sooner." He mentioned, his expression was like a puppy left waiting for his owner.
"I had a long day. Was kept after work for some items needing to be done."
Your voice is exhausted and worn out. Your body was tight and there was a tension grinding on your nerves. Homelander could see without using his X-ray vision. He knew he needed to take care of you instead of the other way around.
Every time he visits you, normally you would baby him. Kisses, home cooked meal, cuddles on the couch, and then a few rounds rolling around in bed. Both getting some kind of satisfaction and never being left with discomfort. Your relationship with Homelander had been steady, but not yet gone public. His visits only at night to avoid attention, but it suited your work schedule.
You pulled your keys out from your bag. You unlock the front door and head in with him following after you. You dropped your bag on the floor and felt. Something growing inside. Almost the tension in your body wanting to be released quickly. A bath was not going to cut it. Maybe a massage?
As you were trying to figure it out, Homelander had closed the door and walked up to you from behind. He loosely wraps her arms around your waist before resting his face in the crook of your neck. His lips brush your skin, the tension burning in a good way from his touch. It was clear what needed to happen and you took the opportunity.
You turn around in his arms making his head lift only to be captured and pulled into a passionate kiss. The passion dying quickly and being replaced by a deep yarning to consume his lips. He did not pull away, if anything he melted into your lips letting you take the lead like normal. You back him up to the door where his back hits hard enough to make the door creak. Your hands drop to his collar to lead your hands to open up his suit. His skin exposed and the chest hair riddling his chest, something you did enjoy feeling when being passionate. Though this time you rub your hand through his chest hair before pulling on strands to give him twinkles of pain. He groans against your lips, the sound lustful and sweet to your ears. You press your hips against his and feel him just crumbling from the pleasure.
You pull or rip from his lips just to look into his eyes with demands. "Such a good boy, letting Mommy have her way with you." It was like you held a leash to his collar. His breath ragged and already a boner struggling against his suit. "Oh look who joined us."
Your lips curled into a wicked smile as you reached a hand down to cup the tent. You can feel some bit of protection in his suit. It makes your smile drop as you pulled away and glared at him.
"Didn't I tell you before to remove that cup. I want to feel your cock against your suit when you come around here." Your tone was harsh, but then turned soft. "How is Mommy supposed to reward my sweet boy for good behavior."
God how your words gave him such euphoria. "I'm sorry Mommy, it won't happen again. Please let me make it up to you."
Without even saying another word he picks you up by the waist and wraps your legs around him. He carries you to the couch while kissing from your jaw to neck. He nips at your neck, but does not dare to leave marks unless you allow him. Though the work of his teeth relieved the tension that had been crippling your body. His hands release you along the couch as he angles you so your left leg hung off the couch. He still kisses your neck, but stops to remove your button up work attire. He doesn't rip it knowing you wanted him to go slow, but funny enough you pull your shirt open ripping the buttons off. He was startled for a moment, but you gave him a look that said to get to work.
Homelander continues where he left off, his kisses going from your neck, your collar bone, to your chest. He stopped to unclasp your bra with his teeth as the bra had a front clasp. His crystal blue eyes looking up at you as you watched him. Like an obedient dog he is, Homelander began to kiss and even nip gently at your breasts. His actions obviously avoid your nipples. The bites and kisses slowly unwind your stiff body. His hands were busy undressing himself, you didn't notice as your eyes fell shut to enjoy his meticulous lips dancing on your chest.
You have yet to really moan, but your breath was shallowing out. The pleasure is beginning to warm up your body, starting from the pit of your stomach to your chest. The heat between your legs only faint as he was working on building you up to satisfaction.
His lips parted from your skin to speak. His lips graze and his hot breath tickles your skin. "Am I doing good Mommy..?"
Before you could respond he finally wrapped his lips around one nipple while his hand went to the other. He finally was stripped down of his suit. His gloves even thrown off the couch with the rest of his suit. Soon your clothes will be there, but patience. Which he was testing as his tongue rolls over your hardening nipple. Both perked up as he focused his attention on them. Your breath slowly becomes ragged like his was at the door. He always had a creative mouth.
"Just like that, such a good boy." You finally got out as he bites down a little harder than before making you jump with a faint whimper.
His eyes lit up as he enjoyed finally getting a sound out of you. His eager eyes now trained on your body. His hand leaving your other nipple so then his mouth could kiss over and latch on. His hand sliding down to u bottom your pants and unzip them. His hand sneaking under your lace panties that he bought you a year ago. His fingers parting to slide along your folds. He teased the edge of your lips to only grow your excitement. He could smell the hormones and then something else. A faint chemical reaction that would only be picked up by a sharp sense. It was like vanilla, creamy, light, and sweet. His lips parting from your nipple to groan as he was already extremely excited. His hard length just grazing your thigh as he removed his hand from your panties. You were left needing, but not begging.
"Did I tell you to stop?" Your words coming out frustrated.
He was surprised by the tone, but knew you had a rough day. Your normal warmth has an edge to it whenever you are tensed or sexually frustrated.
"Sorry Mommy, I will get right to it." He had a small smirk as he pulled your pants down and panties with them.
Homelander lifted your legs to remove those restraining garments. Once done he didn't release your legs. He only rested them on his shoulders as he lined the tip of his cock to your entrance. He would normally rub his legs along your lips, but today there was something about you both that couldn't hold back anymore. He didn't give any warning as he thrusts into your warm slicken cunt. His head impacting with your cervix instantly. Your head flings back from the intense pleasure as his hips moved quickly. He always thrusts like a dog in heat, but this time he wasn't rapid in an lustful way. He was rapid in grinding along your lower walls, hitting not only the cervix but that certain spot that lets you see the stars.
Immediately the pleasure strikes your body as though crashing waves against the seashore. Your legs shaking along his shoulders. His arms lock you in as one hand rubs your thigh and the other reaches for your breast. His hand cups before squeezing gently against your plush breast. Your inner walls clamping tighten around him in a desperate need to have him deep within you. This time was so focused on you that you lost your edge and the need to take care of him. He was taking you to cloud nine and making sure his eyes stayed on you. Seeking, pleasing, and yarning for your approval.
There was moans rolling off your tongue as he ripples through you with each thrust. The knots twisting and snapping within you were leaving you a mess under him. His own groans and whimpers fueling his thrust to not stop. The pace was perfect, the angle perfect. Your slick keeps the friction quick and easy. But there was one giant knot waiting for the pure release. He could tell as he was getting close. He always seems to be easy to get off, but you can tell his thrusts were deliberate to get you off first.
You call his name with praise for his thrusts and telling him how good he felt. The words only thrilling him and making his thrusts faulting briefly as he aims solely for your cervix making you almost coo with pleasure.
"Can I cum inside Mommy, please~" Homelander whimpers out as he looks down at you with those doe like eyes that beg for you.
Wanting that sweet release you agree to him cumming inside of you. His thrust growing with an eager pace that started to make the room spin and your mouth hang open with relentless moans, groans, and cries. He finally buries himself deep within your pussy, shooting a few strings of cum as he calls you with needy whines. You join him in calling his name as you cum with him. The beauty in mixing both climaxes was gratifying.
Homelander only pumps himself into you to make sure every drop stays inside. He lets your legs fall around him before he lays down on top of you. His face goes straight for your neck to inhale your scent and bury his face against your skin. His arms sliding under you and your own wrapping around his head. Stroking his hair and rubbing his upper back. You both a panting mess as he rubs his nose against your neck. Your eyes are closed and regaining its steadiness.
"I love you." He says exasperated from such a finish.
"I love you too." You responded with a sweet mothering tone.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â You had only attended the Vought donor gala because the senior legal partner caught pneumonia two days earlier. Suddenly, you were representing your firm in front of Voughtâs biggest investors. That's when you met Homelander.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â He found you near the champagne tower. He didn't expect you to speak to him. Even the hotshot CEOs were afraid to actively engage him in conversation, but you made a joke and it had made him laugh. âYouâre not afraid of me?â he asked pleasantly. You shrugged. âIt'll be a sad day when we come to fear our national heroes." The conversation lasted twelve minutes before you thanked him and stepped away to join a colleague. That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, and you never gave it a second thought.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â Twelve months later and Homelander is still stuck on you. You're his fixation and you don't even know it. He knows where you live, who your inner circle is, and the exact cadence of your laugh through your apartment walls.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â He enters your apartment when you're not home and rakes through your things. The fantasy grows in his head over time, and he hates how badly he wants you.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â One night, you come home drunk after a brutal week at work. Your friend walks you upstairs, laughing when you stumble over your heels near the door. She helps you undress, and you mumble something incoherent into your pillow when she tucks the blanket over you.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â Homelander, who had been hovering silently outside your balcony for nearly forty minutes, watches her leave. He enters your bedroom through the balcony and watches you breathe slow, heavy breaths on the mattress.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â Then he sits on the edge of the bed. You shift slightly in your sleep, rolling closer to him unconsciously. The illusion of trust completes his fantasy. He lies down beside you.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â You don't wake when his weight makes the bed stutter. He settles comfortably on his side, facing you, and his hand hovers over your waist for several seconds before settling. His face presses briefly into the crook of your neck as he inhales shakily, eyes falling shut. His tongue traces a line over your jaw, and he can taste the sharp remnants of your perfume.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â He falls onto his back and pulls you carefully onto his chest, feeling his heart race. He stares blankly at the ceiling and closes his eyes, pretending it's real. He bites off his left glove and, with a bare hand, caresses your cheek. His right palm strokes hard into his slacks.
â･đŚšÂ°â§â The next morning, you wake alone but a draft alerts you to the unlocked balcony door. You're groggy and hungover, but some part of you still recognizes the smell of somebody else's cologne on your pillow.
Warning| 18+, Mutual Toxic Relationship, Masochist Reader, Sadist Homelander, Simi Sexual Themes
Summary| A new supe is winning the hearts of everyone and Homelander is not at all fond of it.
Word Count| 2,219
Why do humans support such non-superior beings compared to the obviously stronger and elite version? They were supposed to love him, praise his existence, not whatever you were. None of it made sense, he was principle of a perfect hero but no they prefer a weaker idol to stand as their savior. Who cares how many people you save without the assistance of fake scenarios like him? It didnât matter cause he knew that in every way he was better than you even if it was all a lie, after all he was the one genetically born to be an ideal god.
Regardless of all of that they continue to be ungrateful to him. Every single one of them worthless to his eyes. He shouldnât care about their appraisal but the idea of those imbeciles worshipping you more than him put him in rage. How can imperfections like you persist to exist? You had no name, no worth, you were absolutely nothing. So how come is he being forced to see your face on every billboard across the city and merchandise of you everywhere? He couldnât escape you and any attempt to get rid of you failed, you were too observant. That in sense was special about you immediately vanishing out of existence but never truly gone. Your skill set is proving to annoy him more. Homelander despises you and he would never admit it but he envy you.
Perhaps it wouldnât have gone this far if you had accepted joining the seven way back when Vought offered you the chances. He couldâve had control of you, molded you to his liking. You would fear him and follow all his commands. No longer would you be the eye of the public only he would remain in the hearts of all. Yet you declined it and also humiliated him live on TV. You ran your mouth tearing at him while ruining his reputation. He remembers quite well what you said as Ashley put you on display as she paced around trying to find solutions to handle the situation.ďżź
âSo we heard you were invited to join the seven and rumors say you declined. Can you tell us why you decided to miss such a big opportunity?â The interviewer curiously asked you. âWell it was simple, my beliefs didnât align with them. Honestly, when was the last time they ever helped someone without the intent of profiting or prompting some bullshit stuff? They donât care about doing good, most of them mostly get more people killed than save specially Homelander. He doesnât know how to fucking do shit, I donât even know why he's even a hero in the first place when he's just pathetic asshole.â
Then you continue to berate him like he was nothing. He desperately wanted to obliterate you at that moment but he kept his cool for now. Homelander known if he killed you it would bring uproar on him. He needed to keep his appearance clean if he wanted them to continue to love him. For now, he needed to think smart to put you in your place. It isn't long before he finally gets you, no longer can you avoid his wrath.
From above he observes as you stand in front of a stage preaching to your dedicated audience. Yells of real admiration surround through out, it sickens him how pure nonsense could continue to prosper. Homelander had enough of this blasphemy as he slowly descended beside you. You werenât even surprised when he appeared, He even noticed a small smile on your face.
âWelcome Homelander, it's great to have you join us! I guess you got bored with just listening.â You kept your eyes forward not sparing a single glance at his presence. He hated how you called him out like that. Homelander desperately wanted to murder you right there for treating him like he was some lesser being. However, He didnât need those news outlets reporting that he was some supe killer. Guaranteed the public wouldnât enjoy that. For now, he had to play civil until he could get what he wanted.
âNot quite, just checking that no trouble is being caused here. Donât want a rowdy crowd disrupting their fellow citizens.â You hum not believing his obvious lie.
âIs that so? Well, you could clearly tell that not the case here. How about you do something useful or perhaps fuck off in your tower!â Parts of the crowd roar in agreement with you. A frown on him followed before disappearing quickly. He had enough of your disrespect and distaste of him. If you wanted to keep acting like you had higher authority than him then he would use that for his advantage.
âArenât you feisty. I only wanted to assure the safety of everyone including you.â He loudly proclaims to make it seem like he cares. Unexpectedly to everyone, he wrapped his arm around your waist bringing you closer to him. âI donât always agree with you but that doesnât mean I canât take care of my fellow heroes.â His other unattended hand strikes upon his chest while a smirk appears with it. Like always the crowd simply got wooed by his effortless charm.
âOh, that's so sweet that the Homelander finally learned sympathy for others. What do I deserve for such graces?â You respond sarcastically. âHow should I ever thank you?â
Homelander could basically taste the condescension in your response. He knew if he kept at this it would eventually keep going back and forth. You werenât the type to back down and neither was he. Both of you were similar that way. Nevertheless, he knew one weakness about you that he didnât share at the slightest.
âIf you keep at this Iâll slaughter everyone here and frame it on you. Who do you think theyâre going to believe? You or America's greatest hero?â He tightened his grasp on you while leaning forward so only you could hear.
âMy goodness, if you wanted my attention you couldâve just asked, no need to resort to violence towards innocent civilians. How about we just fight it out or something? I know you would enjoy seeing me all tried out and defenseless.â You utter under your breath at him.
Homelander was thrown off by your almost seductive applied comment. It almost sounded like you were flirting with him. At that point, he couldnât control the uninvited images flashing through his head of you. He felt the bottom of his suit getting uncomfortable. No you were messing with him again to embarrass him in front of the public.
âStop fucking with me, I don't enjoy playing this game with you. I will crush your weak body in half until I see that pained expression on your face.â ďżź
âAw, how cute giving threats like an angsty fourteen-year-old. Does that make you feel like you have authority?â You tease him with a gentle chuckle. Of course, you found this amusing, not even a bit frightened by him. You donât even wince in pain when his grip on you becomes unbearable. âCome on, I'll make it easier for you this time. I know you've been having trouble trying to find me.â You tilt closer to him so that it would make it seem you were going to lean in to kiss him. Considering how near you've been with him the audience is probably misinterpreting your relationship with him.
You donât even let him answer as you announce your departure with the forgotten crowd leaving them with him. Not wasting time he immediately chased after you. True to your words you would expose yourself randomly just for him. He wanted to hate that he needed assistance to catch up with you but if this was the quickest way to get rid of you then he let it slide. You start taking him more into secluded areas, baiting him to try to use his power without needing casualties. After a while, he beamed you down. Whether it was done by his own skill or you purposely letting him, it didn't matter as he pinned you down where you fell in an abandoned alleyway.
You moan as Homelander presses down on your back against the ground applying aching pressure on the part he lasered on. He prepared to finish you off as his eyes heated up but not long after before he could follow a joyful laugh from you.
âDo that again!â Your excitement confusing him.
âWhat?â
âYour lesser eyes, lesser me again I know you can change the intensity of them, fire it up more!â
He stares at you maybe with judgment or amusement. Did you really desire him to hurt you? Homelander felt mixed feelings about this discovery of you. It wasnât because he minded doing it, he would actually do it until it literally killed you. More on the fact that it seem you been excited at the thought of it. ďżź
âCome on, pathetic narcissistic freak! Do it, I know you want me dead!â You try to taunt him into doing it.
âDonât tell me what to do, youâre the pathetic one begging me. I can do whatever I want!â His anger toward you once again came as if it ever went away, diffusing his confusion.
âYeah, we all know you do whatever you want. Youâre like an unrestricted child who doesnât know how to restrain themselves. Real heroes like me end up cleaning up your mess.â You would have continued your rant about him, but he was tired of your bullshit.
âI donât think you get it. You act as like your beyond me, immune to your actions that tarnish my reputation. Youâre just nobody, a small filth that doesnât belong in my revolution. Iâm the real hero, Iâm god it self!â
âSupremacist much? Is that it that you wanted to get off your chest? If you are a hero that you say you are how about you defend the enemy right in front of you? That's the way you see me, right? I'm the enemy.â You wrap your hand on the back of his neck bringing his face to your level. He felt your fingertips comb the back of his hair. Homelander didnât understand why you kept messing with him like this? First, you insult him then you flirt with him like you just didnât degrade him. It confused him making him second-guess if he should be mad or feel aroused by it.
Surprisingly you lock your lips on his interrupting his thoughts. You didn't even wait as you took action before he could. He shouldâve retained himself and gotten rid of you for taking advantage of him but his self preserves told him otherwise. Screw it, he told himself as he kissed you back roughly. It's been too long since he got his dick wet, who cares that he hated your guts he will deal with it later.
Homelander felt you bite on his lips, and he bit harder as blood drew from you. He slid his tongue in your mouth tasting the iron taste from your lips. His finger choked around your neck while he took your breath. He enjoys feeling you suffocate under him, making him have that control he always wanted over you.
Then he face planted below where you were as you disappeared. He quickly repositioned, feeling piss off from the sudden change. Of course, you would take this chance to embarrass him in such vulnerable positions. However, it wasnât long until you appeared on top of him putting your lips back on his again. Still upset from earlier he digs his fingers deep into the wound he gave you on your back. He smirked to himself as you moan from it. As the kiss deepened, he kept fingering your wound staining his gloves with your blood. He never knew cooperating with such acts would be so pleasurable, Him inflicting pain on another as it got viewed as exhilarating. Who could ever do this with him beside you? You saw his use of powers as desirable even as you hated him. Homelander felt pride that he was the only one who could ever satisfy your dirty desires. This kept going on, further along as he found himself groaning feeling you grinding yourself against his crotch.
âOh, fuck.â He pulls away from the kiss almost losing himself as he silences his continuous groans with your neck. His canines bite down feeling tight as you continue rubbing on him.
âHarder, fucker!â He glances up to you as you do the motion of biting down after licking the blood off your lips. Usually, he would bark back but he enjoys imagining what you could be licking instead. He let his canines pierce deeper into your neck leaving you out of breath. âYeah, just like that.â
Before long Homelander had your whole upper body full of deep bites bleeding over your chest. Eventually, things got rougher along with flinging each other around and the misuse of heated vision. If anyone stumbled upon this they would have been terrified by the horror they saw. Who would know you both share very odd revelations about each other that would overpower the dislike of each other. Perhaps there is a way that both of you could get along.
Hollow, completely devoid of any humanityâthat's what Homelander felt the moment he saw his father in a body bag. His only kin who stood beside him was gone in the blink of an eye because of a virus. Chemical warfare: how dirty, he thought. Homelander was next, and it was only a matter of time.
The Deep didn't understand Homelander's attachment to his father. Soldier boy wanted nothing to do with Homelander; that much was true. Ryan was off, making a fool of himself and tainting the bloodline by trusting Butcher, and Homelander was alone.
Outside the Kix Crib, men in hazmat suits dotted the snow-covered paths, sealing doors and windows. Homelander couldn't bring himself to care that he could be infected. All he focused on was the way Soldier Boy's skin bubbled and peeled. Shuddering, he promptly turned away and let his head fall, his hands instinctively reaching for his hair to self-soothe.
But despite the growing pain in his chest, he thought of you, sitting peacefully at the Vought tower. You had nothing to worry about besides looking pretty for him upon his return. Part of that infuriated him, but at least he always had your lap to rest his head upon.
The moment The Deep was out of sight, Homelander sifted through his pocket and found his phone. There were missed text messages from you, simply checking up on him. At least he always knew where your loyalty lied. Deciding that responding to a text would be too complicated, he tapped the call button beside your name and carefully brought the receiver to his ear.
It didn't take long for you to respond, and the moment you did, he asked, his tone broken, "Do you love me, baby?"
"Of course I do," you said. "Talk to me. What's going on over there?"
After deeply inhaling and letting his eyes trail to the cloudy sky, he whispered, "My father is dead." When you didn't immediately speak, he added, "He left me... just like Ryan, just like Madelyn, just like... everyone else who has ever mattered to meâexcept you."
"I would never leave you, because who would that make me? I wouldn't be any different than them, but I am because I truly love you."
"You love me..." he murmured, really testing the words. "You are the only one who loves me." Putting distance between himself and the vicious crime scene, he carefully ascended, remaining a few feet above the street lights. "Would you still love me if I burned down the whole world just to see you smile? I want to kill people for you, my queen. I want to build a kingdom over their ashes because you do not deserve to walk among them. I do not deserve it. We're gods compared to them. They're just common pests."
"Homelanderâ"
"You are more deserving of life than they are, and I am the only one who can help you reach your full potential. I'm the only one who can save you, my love. If you leave me... I will have no one, and I will have to kill you." That declaration betrayed the emotion in his voice; killing you was an inconceivable fiction that could never become reality because he loved you too much.
"And you won't have to kill me," you reasoned. "I will always be at home, waiting for you with a warm glass of milk, open arms, and a comforting movie to watch."
Homelander groaned, "That's perfect, baby, so perfect."
"When will you be home so I can make it a reality?"
"Not anytime soon. I have... unfinished business." He paused momentarily, considering your offer. "I need to reward you for being such a good girl. No matter what I do, you're always here for me, and I think you would like it if I gave you some attention."
"Like what?" you wondered.
"I have been thinking, and I realized that you would probably really like it if I let you sit on my lap. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like it if you could sit on The Homelander's lap and forget about the world, hmm? It's only fitting for my right-hand-woman, don't you think? But I think you would just love it if I kissed your neck and whispered to you what a brave girl you've been for Homelander. Or if I let you lie your head on my lap so I could scratch your scalp and trail my fingers from your face to your neck... to your chest... to your sensitive stomach..."
His words already had you getting worked up, but you controlled yourself so he couldn't quite hear the shift in your breath over the phone.
"Or maybe my girl would like it if I bathed her and cleaned her up nicely, then dried her off and tucked her away in her fluffy blankets. I think I'd prefer kissing you all over until all you think about is me. But we'll just have to see, won't we?"
"I would really like that," you admitted.
"Then keep being a good girl for your daddy. I'll be home soon, and I will smother you until you forget your name." Before hanging up, he said, "I love you. I will love you for the rest of my life, and I will love you when humanity collapses at our feet. Never stop being my girl."
SUMMARY any normal person would have run for the hills during homelander's descent into madness, not you, though. CWS smut, unsafe sex, creampie, bathtub sex, milk-play (????), childhood abuse (both of you), murder, death, brief scene of graphic violence, evil reader, codependency WC 5.1k
i'm not going to lie i wanted to do a longer fic about this but i would be soooo remiss if i ended up never posting anything about homelander before the last episode that comes out in... fifteen minutes. so.... you know... maybe some day if anyone wants to read it i'll write the multi-chapter fic that fleshes stuff out more. anyway, i've been a homelander ride or die for six years, i'll never forget getting cancelled for editing him in 2020. sigh. also i've met antony :)
anything in italic is a flashback.
The first day that you met him, everyone warned you that you needed to be nervous around him. He was volatile, cruel, and not to be trusted.
Maybe for a moment you had been nervous, but it didnât last. Not when you got into a room with him, anyway. You werenât like one of the other picks for The Seven; Homelander had picked you personally because he believed that your good image would be good for the team. There had been some behind the scenes controversies, some people claiming that there was too much violence being propagated by the movies. There wasnât really a hero that was clear-cut as being a good guy, besides, in their eyes, maybe Homelander and Queen Maeve.
You, on the other hand, were a kidâs television show star.
Ultraviolet, named for the rainbow colors that the flames that came from your hands could make. Your powers werenât all too similar to Lamplighterâs, and as opposed to his more gritty persona, you came off as bright and colorful.
In reality, your hands didnât shoot the colors of rainbows; they were only edited to look like that on television. There was a hue that would surround your hands and your feet when the flames came out, a natural protection from the heat, but the colors came out different every time. The most common was bright blue, like the flame from an oven once it was on high. But they could also come out red, or yellow, or any other color that would be associated with the rainbow. Sometimes it was two or more colors, but often it was just one. More lackluster in person, but the persona that Vought had created for you made up for it.
You wore a one-piece bodysuit with a blue background and a rainbow across the stomach, with a cape that was supposed to emulate a cloud. The shoes of choice for the show were a pair of roller skates that were often edited to look like there was something coming from your feet - typically a rainbow trailing behind you. You werenât the most powerful Supe, to be sure. Your powers werenât necessarily weak, but they werenât all that special, sparing the color that set them apart from most other people with powers to do with fire.
But your image was squeaky clean. So Homelander recommended you personally, and when Vought pushed back a bit, saying that your image was a bit too different from some of the others and that your color-scheme was too similar to A-Trainâs, he insisted. So you werenât nervous when you met him, because you were fully aware that he was the one who wanted you in the first place.
It was such a small thing, really. Not being afraid of someone you were only just meeting was something that⌠most people could say in most situations. But that tiny thing for you made all the difference for him. You were the first person, in a long line of people, who wasnât afraid of him. Your heartbeat didnât skyrocket any more than it would when anyone would when they met someone for the first time. You didnât disrespect him, but you werenât walking on eggshells around him, either. You treated him normally, and that was odd for him.
Something small for you was how you ended up being so close.
Irritatingly close, for some.
When there was an issue, he went to you with it. To handle it, to vent about it, to complain about something that other people would judge him for. When he did something bad, he was candid about it. He told you when something went wrong, he told you about the flight, he told you about everything that had happened between him and Maeve and everything that had led Starlight to hate being on the team so much that he knew of. And it was mainly current things that he complained about until it wasnât.
There was one particular night that he had come to you, clearly upset. He told you a lot about his upbringing, how he had been made in a lab without anyone who really cared about him. Without anything to bring him any real comfort. He had been made for one purpose, and one purpose only. Youâd gotten a lot closer that night, but it was also the night that you realized that you felt more about him than what a friend should feel.
Maybe you shouldnât have been petting his hair and letting him rest against you. And you definitely shouldnât have had sex with him before he left, because you were certain that wasnât what normal friends were supposed to do. But you werenât normal friends, and no matter how much you knew not to think about that, you couldnât help it. It made it a whole lot more irritating when Stormfront came into the picture, though you didnât let it show. You never really let any emotions show unless it was a smile on your face. That was how youâd been raised, that was all you really knew.
But everything kept changing. More people died, you hooked up with Homelander again at Herogasm, and despite everything you knew that he did you remained close to him. Unafraid of him. It was almost cathartic to have someone who was comfortable with it. With the violence, with the pain. With the way that sometimes, every so often, he expected you to hurt people, too. And you did. Most times without question. The lack of fear you had around him didnât change, but you did change.
There was one particular day that made that incredibly clear.
â
Heâd gone to visit the people who âraisedâ him, and that was something that you knew was incredibly personal to him. Youâd expected that he would have gone alone, but he didnât.
Your fingers - now covered by a white glove that went up to your elbow as opposed to your original costume that didnât have any gloves - were intertwined with yours as you walked down the hallway that he had surely walked out of years ago, thinking that it was the last time that he would ever see it. But this was different. You knew that everyone here was going to die this time, that they couldnât hurt him like they used to. Most people might go to therapy, but even if Homelander were most people, something like that was never going to work on him.
For most of the visit, youâd been sitting there. Letting him do what he needed to do, watching while he tormented the people who he hated for tormenting him in the first place. You were quiet, but not nervous. You didnât feel bad for the men who were dying in front of you, and maybe the version of you that had first been recruited into The Seven would have. There was a part of you that was wholly aware that you had changed in a way that was entirely unrecognizable to some.
Your family, your friends. Many of them were worried. Publicly, you were very close to Homelander. You were always with him, always speaking entirely positively of him. And that was something that worried a lot of people. Too many people, really.
But maybe they had no right to be worried.
âCould you help me with this last one?â
His voice was quiet as he spoke. He was going to enter the room again, the one that you knew he had been locked in when he was younger. He was speaking lowly so he didnât entirely reveal his plans to the others, but you were certain that they had to know.
âYeah, sure.â
Help with âthis last oneâ was an understatement, youâd realized. You hadnât fully realized it until youâd already killed two different people. People who you were certain were uninvolved with him, in particular, but they knew about it, didnât they? They knew about it, so should you really feel bad when you had their blood on the wall and a hole burned through one of their eye sockets?
Maybe you should. Maybe not all of these people knew about it. You didnât speak much when you had your hand pushed through someoneâs stomach, when you could feel their organs in your hands. There was a certain power in it, even knowing that Ashley would be irritated when she found that she needed to replace your costume again because it had been stained.
But when it was over, you were sitting back against the wall. There was blood on it, blood smeared all over your cape and your legs; it would be a sensory nightmare if you werenât wearing thick tights. Your hand was over your cheek, feeling your skin. You were pretty sure you had been trying to clean the blood from your face, but youâd forgotten what action you were doing entirely by the end of it. You were in a bit of a daze until you noticed a hand in front of you.
âWe should go.â
âMhmâŚâ You took his hand, but trailed off as you thought back to your own childhood. âYou know, I wasnât treated like you were. Not like⌠in a room like this, not made to be the most powerful but-the most-fucking-obident. My dad resented me for a bit because my powers didnât develop immediately; he figured that the V was a scam. But my mom was smart; she knew that theyâd come. And she knew I needed to be just fucking perfect when they did.â
There was a bit of an eerie, dazed laugh that came from you when you recalled it. âFucking perfect. Thatâs what they made me. And when I wasnât, she hit me, or she screamed at me, and one day my powers did come because of her. Because she was screaming, because I knew she was going to backhand me or sack my dad on me. And then my powers came out, and-I guess she didnât hit me anymore after that.â
Homelander, for once, didnât actually respond immediately. But you did take his hand. You did meet him in the middle, standing up. Your eyes were still glossy, but there was a smile on your face that best displayed the slight confusion that came from that much gore. âThey deserved it, all of them.â
âThey did.â He almost seemed to be contemplating something before he stopped. His free hand was on your chin, the blood smearing from his glove onto your already stained cheek. You didnât stop him when he kissed you, and he didnât stop you when your fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer. It was supposed to happen like this, you reasoned. When you were both a little bit fucked up, talking about how everyone in life loved screwing you over. It was supposed to be just like this. But he pulled back, and you almost fought him on it before you remembered where you were. âHome. We need to go home.â
âYeah, home.â
â
It wasnât much of a home, anyway.
Things continued to shift and change. Members of The Seven came and went, and you got over your irritation about Firecracker trying to take Homelanderâs attention away from you when you figured that he didnât really like her very much. But things got worse, too. With him, with his mental health.
He felt entirely too low and alone, no matter what happened. Even when Soldier Boy came back, it was clear that he was just fighting for the attention of a man who was never going to want to play the role of a father figure in his life. He wasnât really his father, anyway. Biologically, sure, but the man had come out of a test tube. He was an experiment, not really much of a child to anyone. And deep down, you were sure that he knew that. Which was why things got worse, and why you got clingier. Maybe it would help, you figured. It certainly wasnât hurting.
Youâd been close with him in public, incredibly so. Just about any time you were out together, you were holding hands, but there was no real way to define your relationship. It was⌠codependent. You both relied on each other, but you relied on each other in the same way that you clung to each other. Hooking up had become more normal, making out had become more normal, but it wasnât really something you spoke about. It just kind of happened, and then you brushed past it.
Until it wasnât, apparently.
â
Your afternoon had been normal, mainly. Soldier Boy had been woken up about a day ago, but that was something that youâd already moved past. You had a habit of moving past just about everything strange that happened in your life. So what if there was a hundred year old man who you used to have a poster of on your wall on the team now? That wasnât something that you ever really fretted about before, so you figured that there was no purpose in starting now.
Homelanderâs penthouse had become the place that you were in more often than any other place in the building after being on the team for a bit. You spent most of your time with him, so it was only natural that you would also spend most of your time on his floor. There wasnât really anywhere else that you wanted to be, anyway.
Heâd been sitting with you pressed into him, your cheek pressed into his shoulder, while he watched people speaking about him on the news. You werenât sure why he did it. You knew that he hated watching people talk about him, but it had become worse lately. He was miserable and sad, even with Soldier Boy being woken up. Heâd sent him off to deal with something, but Soldier Boy had nearly died, and Homelander had been a bit distraught, even though heâd come back alive.
âVi?â A shortened version of your Supe name, Homelander didnât really believe in using human names because he didnât really believe in humans. The only person who was now a Supe youâd heard him refer to with their human name was Ashley, but that was a bit different. Still, you were used to it by now.
âHmm?â
âEveryone knows that weâre close, and my image has taken a hit with the Starlighters.â
âYeah.â
âWe should get married.â
âM-Homelander, people donât even-are-wait, are we dating?â
âSuch a human concept.â He brushed that off, but you figured that was answer enough. You were together all the time, and he let you cling to him. He let you be just as codependent as he was because nothing he ever did freaked you out, and that was something that he knew was rare. But he also did like you; he clearly cared about you enough to make sure that you werenât in harmâs way. He didnât like people who didnât like you, and you knew that. âI guess in a technical sense, yes.â
âMm.â You hummed, thinking about what he was saying. You knew that he probably (maybe) wouldnât make you if you said no, but did you even really want to say no? Youâd kind of tied yourself to him already in every way that counts. There wasnât a chance that you were going to leave, no matter what, so did it really make all that much of a difference if you were married, besides there being a title to your relationship? Maybe it did. Maybe it did in the sense that you wanted that. âYeah, okay. Letâs get married.â
âPerfect.â
âItâll help your image, though?â You asked him, your voice quiet as you moved your head so your chin would rest on his shoulder. Your eyes traced over his face, taking in the familiar features that had become so normal for you to see. You were so used to him that there wasnât really a way around it. But you felt that you were used to him in a good way. You liked him more than you were supposed to ever have liked him, but it was like second nature now. You couldnât really imagine your life without him. âI mean, people already know weâre close, so-hmph-â
Your words were cut off when he kissed you. One of your hands was around his shoulder, your fingers tightening in the padding of his suit. You had never seen him without the suit on, and you found that you wanted to. You wondered what he looked like without the suit on, and maybe he would show you if you were married. Maybe, now that you knew what this was, you could actually see him. Physically, anyway. You knew pretty much all there was to know about him otherwise.
His kisses got deeper, though. His tongue brushes against yours, your back pressing into the couch as your body adjusts to fit below his. He was so close to you now, his body hovering over yours. Your fingers found one of the clasps on his suit, but he stopped you before you could take it off, despite the pout on your lips.
âNot just for my image⌠entirely.â
Oh.
Well, that kind of made sense, anyway. There werenât very many people who stuck with him. In fact, there would be none if it werenât for you and, you suppose, The Deep. But he didnât really care about The Deep. He was a member of the team, but he didnât respect him, though. He didnât have any reason to kill him or doubt his loyalty, but he didnât think very highly of the man, either.
âCan you take the suit off?â
âIâll consider it.â His eyes broke contact with yours, his lips trailing against your throat. Your back arched closer to him when you felt him suck a bit of skin in between his lips, a sigh leaving your mouth as you clung to him just a bit. âWhen weâre married.â
âUgh. Tease.â
The smile against your skin was entirely, entirely worth it.
â
The entire ordeal had been quick. Oh-Father and Ashley put together a ceremony quickly, and you ended up married in front of the general public. Though the people there were specifically chosen because they had a favorable view of Homelander. That didnât really change anything, but things still changed in a pretty big way. Mainly, that Homelander had also gone insane.
When Soldier Boy came back, he was pretty irritated with Homelander for sending him somewhere without a proper warning that he might die. Soldier Boy almost died, really. But he didnât because his blood had something different in it. The V that the rest of you had been given was more diluted than what the originals were given, and Soldier Boy couldnât die from the virus that had been created to be a cure-all for getting rid of Supes. He was immune, but no one knew that going in.
Heâd insulted Homelander, and Homelander had a breakdown. But then he went a bit insane.
He claimed, the very next moment that you saw him, that he had seen an angel. The angel had told him everything that he needed to know, and that the reason why everything was so hard for him was that he was the one true God. It was one of the most insane things that you had ever heard come out of his mouth. And while you werenât scared of him, you were concerned. Concerned because this wasnât a remotely normal thing to be thinking, because you were quite sure that he was going to get himself in trouble if he kept this up.
There was really only one way that this was going to end, and you knew it. If someone else didnât kill him, he was going to get burnt out. You really didnât want him to die or get hurt, but you werenât sure that there was really any possible way to protect him. Most people wouldnât remain by his side, but you would. You always did, and you always would. Maybe you could protect him, then. It was better than leaving him to his own devices, anyway.
But now you were just with him, standing there, wondering how to proceed while you were barely comprehending that he was bringing you into the bathroom with him until you were standing directly in front of a tub ifâŚ
âIs that milk?â
âBreast milk.â
âOh.â
âGet in.â
Clearing your throat, you turned back to look at him. You werenât sure that you wanted to get in, but you wondered if you could get something out of it if you did.
âCan I see you without the suit on? Fully?â
âYes, if you promise to get in.â
âOkay, perfect.â
You didnât really need much more prompting. You started with your cape, undoing the claps and letting the cloud-like fabric fall to the floor. Your hands moved down to remove your boots, followed by taking the suit itself off. You were left in just your socks and gloves, which quickly joined the pile of clothing on the floor. But you were stopped before you could get in.
âYou wanna see me so bad?â
âReally, really bad.â
âThen you can take it off. I trust you.â
Your eyes moved up to meet his, but you let your hands do the work. Removing his gloves first, knowing that youâd seen and felt his bare hands more than once. Next was the cape, then the boots. But you were careful when you got to the claps on the suit, your eyes not leaving his. Searching, clarifying. But he nodded, knowing that you were making sure that he wanted you to do it. So you did.
Seeing his skin for the first time was an odd experience, but not a bad sort of odd. It was odd in the sense that you rather liked seeing him. Youâd felt him inside of you before, youâd seen part of his legs, and youâd seen his butt. But you hadnât seen anything else, so actually getting him fully undressed was interesting in a way that you hadnât known it to be when youâd seen anyone else undressed before. Yet, all you could really do was kiss him. On the mouth, on the cheek, on the neck. He let you kiss his chest, let you feel the hair on his chest, and the fact that his stomach wasnât as toned and muscular as the padding on his suit. He was rather slim, which was a contradiction to the bulky padding.
âBath.â
âRight.â
You were with him in the bath rather quickly, and thankfully so.
Soldier Boy was in the room on about a momentâs notice. The milk in the tub wasnât clear, so he couldnât see anything below the water. But you listened while he talked to Homelander, you moved off of him while he seemingly asserted his dominance by standing up entirely nude. You resisted reaching up to touch him in any way, letting them have their conversation even though it was a conversation that Homelander clearly didnât enjoy very much.
But the moment he was back down again, you were in his lap, and he was being⌠odd. Still. You watched as he dipped his fingers in the milk, watched as he sucked the milk into his mouth. His eyes didnât really leave yours, though his free hand had moved to rest against one of your thighs.
This was a weird situation, you knew that. It was weird to be sitting here in the tub with him because the tub was filled with womenâs breast milk that he had taken from a hospital, apparently. You were bathing in breast milk, actively, and that was a strange thing. He was being incredibly odd because he believed that he was God now, and everything was all sorts of messed up. And yet he was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you, and, for reasons that youâd unpack when you werenât on top of him, you were getting a bit turned on.
âCan a God still get fucked?â You asked him, turning back so you were facing him. His answer seemed pretty succinct when he leaned forward to press his tongue against one of your nipples, licking the bud before wrapping his lips around it. âI suppose that means yes, then.â
You could feel him hard against your thigh, now. You could feel his hand moving his erect cock in between you both until it was settled directly at the entrance to your pussy. Your eyes had yet to leave his, but he also had yet to speak. He didnât really need to. Not when he was pressing inside of you. Not when your lips parted around a moan that fell through them as you adjusted to the feeling of him being inside of you. It wasnât new. Youâd been with him before. But you enjoyed it just as much each time.
âDo you like this?â His tone changed, almost like he felt human again, as he grabbed your hand to show you the two rings on your finger. There was a wedding band, one that matched his. But there was also a diamond engagement ring. It was pretty, it was exactly the sort of thing that you would have wanted, and he knew it. It was a shame that it had to be worn underneath gloves, but you figured that he hadnât suggested the change because it was personal.
âI love it, itâs perfect.â
Whatever honesty he was looking for in your eyes, he found.
His hips moved against yours, finally giving you permission to ride him. But you were mainly focused on the way he reacted when you did. Homelander was always a bit noisy in bed, but there seemed to be a bit of increased arousal by being in the milk while he was inside of you. His hands were tight around your hips as you rode him, taking your time.
âI really like that youâre my husband now.â You stated that your voice is a bit breathy now.
âI like that Iâm your husband now, too.â
Human. Entirely human. Wanting to be married to someone was a human trait, and one that he seemed to have. But it was something that you werenât surprised by. As much as Homelander wanted to claim that he was above being a person, you knew that he wasnât. He was just as much a person as anyone else was, if not more so. But that wasnât something that you felt the need to say to him. You wouldnât.
âFuck-â
The way his head fell back when he moaned, the way he whimpered when you squeezed him just right, did things to you that you werenât sure how to process. You felt one of his hands caress your hip before moving to collect some of the milk, smearing it over your breasts, before his head tilted back up so his lips and tongue could attack the flesh.
None of this should be a turn on, but it was. It felt good. It was demented and strange, but you found that you liked it. Like him. There was nothing normal about him, nothing that you should really like, but there was never a moment in which he wasnât your favorite person in the room. Your movements got faster, your moans more erratic. He didnât seem far behind, either.
And it was your favorite type of sex because you came at the same time, or at least so close that you werenât sure who finished first. Your fingers tug into his shoulder as you come with a cry of his name, his face still pressed against your chest.
It wasnât until about an hour later that you were dried off and back in his bed, covered by nothing more than a fluffy blanket. You couldnât get over the way that it felt to curl up with him, to feel his skin entirely against yours while you were in bed. It was different this way; you liked it far more.
âI really like your body.â
âYeah?â
Your fingers trailed from his chest to his stomach, resting there for only a moment before moving back up to be placed right above his heart. You liked to feel the beat of it, to know that he was a person even if he didnât want to be one. But you couldnât really blame him, could you? He was raised to believe that he was being made to be the best. He was raised in the same way that cattle or a prize pony would be raised. Not to see himself as a person with feelings, not to see inherent value in himself, but to be the best. To be the prodigal son.
Years ago, when you first joined The Seven, maybe that wasnât how you would have seen things. You were normal back then, despite your past. As normal as you could be, anyway. But you werenât someone with blood on your hands on purpose. Youâd killed a parent by accident, and that was an almost common occurrence in new Supes - if it wasnât a parent, it was a sibling or a friend. But it was often discovered through tragedy.
Yet, you werenât the one to kill people just because you could. You avoided it; you didnât like violence. But now you were comfortable with it, apologetic about it. And maybe you werenât just as bad as him in every sense, but the inherent codependency that had formed had made you practically inseparable. His crimes felt like they were your crimes, and maybe they were to some, since you looked past them. But it didnât scare you; nothing about him really did. Not from the moment you first met him or now, with your hand leaving his chest so you could rest your face there instead.
âI think youâre one of the only people whoâs never disliked me.â He spoke like he was whispering, but no one was here to hear it, anyway.
âI love you, you know. Thatâs why.â
âI know.â
You didnât need him to say anything back; he wasnât the type, you figured. But he didnât fight it, so you went to sleep rather soundly; heâd always been in awe of the fact that you slept in his arms without a worry in the world.
been thinking a lot about yandere Lex Luthor x Reader soulmate shit where, to be cordial and respectful, he allows you to continue living your life independently from him as he tries to woo you, but he slowly starts losing it as he sees just how severely the entire system is rigged against you as a member of the working class
Lex who initially has no problem with letting you work until he sees how hard and how many hours you have to work just to pay simple bills, quite literally not being able to afford spending much time with him and still not being able to afford certain little luxuries and treats for yourself
Billionaire-going-on-trillionaire Lex Luthor slowly going insane as he has to wait for you to get home from your menial tedious bitchwork job only to receive a text that you're being forced to work a double because someone else called out and if you're not a team player you'll lose your job and wont be able to pay rent
Luthor slowly formulating some sort of plan to help you as he watches you wear your body down because, ope! You don't have any sick days at this job :) as someone who obsessively adores you, it's inconceivable, bordering on a crime against humanity in his eyes if you ever have to go to work after throwing up or anything like that. Meanwhile he's like paying mercenaries to do some shit like strip-mine a village in Africa using slave labor and couldn't give less of a fuck if a tunnel collapses on some kids sent into the dark to harvest mica
He accompanies you to an urgent care visit because you have some injury or illness and he's all but turning beet red watching the doctor tell you you have something menial like anxiety and afterwards he's looking over the bill for the visit while you cry (because they didn't even help and now you're even more fucking broke)
Having this genius man literally sit down and go over all your budgeting and expenses and realizing you are genuinely doing everything you can and then some and it's STILL not enough. Sitting there with all his intellect and running the numbers and he KNOWS you're basically trapped so deep in poverty you'll never make it out
and ALSO maybe it's directly his doing through lobbying and dark money that some of this shit is happening to you and he's hit with a sort of guilt because like. It is at least partially his fault your life is an absolute fucking nightmare. But. Also. Obviously this means he should marry you and bring you into his tax bracket and his luxurious lifestyle as soon as possible. He'll have to make sure to keep you a safe distance away from his 1% baby-eating private torture island-owning cohorts but otherwise he has absolutely no qualms about uhhhhhhh basically giving you anything you want. And I do mean anything. Hey sweetheart? You know how your work comp for that bad fall got denied because they hired a doctor who was misogynistic as fuck to you and he single handedly got your claim denied? Yeah so we decided to use him as a test dummy for the government's Targeted Individual Program and he bashed his own head into the wall to stop hearing the voices. Anything for you, pookie â¤ď¸
