#Anthony Starr x reader

[ch3rrybbie]

Homelander is so “please please please” coded except even if it’s him doing the wrongs he’d also be the one begging her LMAOOO (this is a fem reader request<3)

Please,please,please.

Part 2

Homelander x fem!reader

Warnings: stormfront🤢,angst,cheating?,violence,sexual mentions, Homelander is down BAD for reader lolll

Note from author: I love your mind anon hope you enjoy🫣 made reader not a supe as I feel like it’s even better he’s simping for someone he’d otherwise look down on heheh

———

He is pathetic.

You’d been ignoring him which was extremely hard to do considering his sheer influence not to mention his powers. He was the world’s biggest superhero and here he was on his knees for you. Eyes glossy and red and a face as pleading as you’d ever seen.

I mean getting caught having stormfront as his new supe wifey was your last straw. You understood the arrangement and even loved it you could just be together be yourselves you saw the true him and not “the Homelander”.

But this wasn’t what you agreed to.

———

He’d been more erratic than usual, instead of dressing up like a civilian (let’s be real he throws on a vought baseball cap) and going on your usual dates he came up with a “fun idea” to just stay inside. You relented, but after days of fucking and takeouts cabin fever set in. He thought if he could keep you from vought news and your phone you wouldn’t find out. That if he touched you in the right ways you’d melt into his plan.

It was a good thing vought didn’t pay him for thinking.

“Fuck” you muttered as you turned off the plug socket of for the third time, looks like you’d have to go buy a new charger tomorrow. You feel pure muscle wrap around your waist as he hides his head in the crook of your neck.

“what’s wrong baby?” he kisses into your neck and starts caressing your waist.

“Ugh my charger it’s broken, I’ll get a new one tomorrow” you sigh.

He freezes.

Through the mirror that watches you on the wall you see cogs turning in his head, somethings up.

“You don’t need a phone, you have me” he pouts. “Plus this is good for you, all that junk rotting that pretty head”

You huff as he continues,his hands ghost across the your stomach that is taught with anticipation.

“In fact, come back to bed and I’ll clear that pretty little head of yours” he smirks cunningly.

His hand begins to play with the band of your joggers.

You snap out of the haze he’s attempting to throw you in and turn towards him.

“I don’t think it’s my head that needs clearing, tell me what’s going on”.

It’s his turn to throw a tantrum now.

“Y/N you’re being ridiculous what could possibly be wrong?! We’ve been having a lovely week away from the world!” He whines, hands waving around maniacally.

Your eyes narrow as it clicks, “what have you done?” You sigh.

You knew him too well.

He enveloped yet again eyes boring into you, hands clenched around your waist.

“Nothing baby, I just want us to keep having a lovely time in here and not out there with liars and fools who want to tear us apart” he laments.

You quirked a brow unimpressed.

“How about I go get some delicious Vought snacks for us to watch one of my movies with huh?”, he winks.

A great sigh left you and you relented, you’d appease whatever was going on.

Only issue was he made the mistake of leaving the TV remote.

So 10 minutes later and one Vought broadcast, here you were storming out of his apartment at the top of Vought tower.

Deep in self berating you bumped straight into Ashley.

“Oh Y/N lovely to see you where’s Homelander he needs to sign-“

You cut off her fake smile.

“Cut the shit Ashley, you tell that egotistical maniac that if I ever see him again I will fuck him up”

You turn to the elevator cringing, how the hell would you fuck up the worlds strongest supe?!

And how did you not realise all the promos inside the building of him and stormfront???

He flew you up.

You hit the first floor with all you might, tuning out his distant shouts.

———

I’d been days and your apartment was filled with expensive bouquets. His pathetic apology notes piled on your coffee table were marbled with your tears.

You missed him.

You missed late night conversations under the sheets. Feeling safe with him. Fucking him. Him doing anything to make you laugh.

Him.

He’d been at your door almost everyday and didn’t smash through it so bonus points for him, you’d supposed cynically.

You’d even had Billy Butcher and co turn up begging you to join and give them knowledge. The flowers came in handy as you hurled them until all was left was a trajectory of petals in the direction of your door.

———

Your phone rang with an unknown number, fuck it.

“What?” You sighed.

“Y/N it’s Ashley listen he’s coming over” she gasped down the phone.

“That’s not news he does this-“ you sighed.

She cuts you off panicked, “No he’s coming in this time Y/N, he seemed upset you need to leave”.

In all your time with him you’d never been worried about him hurting you no matter what.

You swallowed that sick seed of doubt down and waited for him.

———

The soft thwack of his landing made you leap from your sofa. You sank back down after remembering why he was here.

You longed for him to just sweep you up in his arms and hold you, kiss you, love you as he did so well. You used to love watching him land and stand tall, chest puffed out waiting for you to let him in.

He gently broke the door ignoring the lock that fell to the floor.

His hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot and watery. He rushed to you clutching your elbows and shrinking in stature.

“Please baby, please please please” he begged.

You huffed turning your head looking anywhere but him a lump lodging in your throat.

He was breaking your heart.

Suddenly his eyes were lined with yours and he somehow halved in stature seeing your hurt.

“I had no choice!” he exclaims, hands dropping from you.

You stand and go to speak yet the words get stuck and dissolve like sour candy.

Hands gliding towards you, he cups your face eyes urging you to speak.

You can’t hold back the tears as sobs wrack your body you could still see so clearly the man you loved.

“Please honey, please let me back in, please tell me what I can do to fix this” he poured these sweet offering upon the altar of your heart and sank to his knees- the deepest of devotees.

He looked up pleadingly, patheticly.

You were his Goddess and sometimes they could be cruel mistresses.

A cold gust of a laugh lit from behind your tears as you sought to push him away.

“Kill her, kill that fucking cunt stormfront” you spat venomously. You weren’t serious but you wanted to hurt him, knowing he’d never do such a thing. To kill a supe for you a mere mortal. As much as his heart was yours, you as all humans were to him were replaceable.

Eyebrows taught mouth hanging open he takes you in, he’d never know you to be this cruel- Godlike.

You could’ve been a supe in that moment, you should’ve been. He starts to grow hard at the thought of you in a supe suit, as powerful as him.

He smiles sickly sweet, rising like a knight in shining armour and licks his lips to yours.

Drawing back he once again grips your face, hard.

Eyes boring into yours he offers a sweet prayer to you.

“Anything” he whispers like an amen.

He is gone as soon as he came.

———

Smutty part 2?🫣😉

Edit: part 2 can be read here

[lovedeathalice]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride. Morning, noon, and night, he can pump me full and turn me into his own personal Supe making factory

[eternallyordinary]

"He Belongs to You" - Part 1

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series masterlist<3

Summary: Your first day at Vought Tower doesn’t go unnoticed—especially by Homelander. What starts as intrigue quickly turns into something deeper, something more intense. He’s never felt this before, and now that he has, he won’t let it go.

Warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, power imbalance, mild violence, harassment, implied dark themes, mild smut

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With a deep breath, you step inside Vought Tower, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling your ears. The moment you cross the threshold, all eyes are on you. A plush red carpet stretches across the gleaming floor, leading you straight into the heart of the crowded gala.

You brace yourself, forcing a smile as camera flashes go off like a relentless storm. Each burst of light is blinding, each snap of a shutter a reminder that you’re no longer just another face in the crowd.

At the end of the carpet, a formidable lineup awaits—Homelander, Black Noir, Firecracker, Sage, The Deep, and A-Train. The Seven.

“There she is. Our newest member. I've been waiting to meet you!” Homelander grins down at you, his smile sharp and predatory.

His eyes flicker over your form, and something unexpected happens. He was ready to treat you like everyone else—as nothing. But instead, his heart thumps. Hard. Is this what they call love at first sight?

Homelander’s gaze drifts across your face, your body, the way your lips curve into a nervous smile, the way your eyes shine with curiosity. He’s had his fair share of women, but none have caught his attention quite like this. There’s something about the way you move, as if you’re unaware of just how captivating you truly are.

For the first time in a long time, he finds himself at a loss for words.

There’s an innocence radiating off you, a stark contrast to the kind of people he’s used to dealing with. The idea of someone so pure, so untouched by the corruption of the world, excites him. You could be his—his little princess, his perfect possession. He finds himself picturing it: you by his side, always within reach, his to protect, his to control.

He’s never thought about anyone like this before. You spark something in him he doesn’t quite understand.

Homelander suddenly realizes he’s been staring for far too long. He shakes himself from his thoughts, masking his momentary lapse with a smirk.

“Ah, sorry about that.” He chuckles softly, his voice smoother now, more in control.

His eyes sweep over you once more, lingering. The way you stand there, so unsure, so unaware of the effect you have on him—it’s almost too much. He feels something he doesn’t quite recognize. The strange urge to protect. To keep you all to himself.

“It’s okay,” you say sweetly. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry, I’m a little nervous. This is a lot.”

Homelander’s smirk falters—just for a second—as your voice reaches him. If anyone understands the weight of expectation, the crushing pressure of the spotlight, it’s him. A part of him wants to scoop you up and fly you far away from all of it—away from the flashing cameras, the mindless chatter, the idiots barking their inane questions.

But he reins it in, masking the impulse with practiced ease. Instead, he simply says, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you too, darling."

You apologize again for being nervous, and he can’t help but find it… cute. The way you fidget, the way your cheeks flush ever so slightly. He commits the image to memory.

You smile at him, a hint of blush dusting your cheeks. You make eye contact, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped—not in a weird way, but in a way that feels completely natural.

However, the moment shatters when The Deep steps in.

“Hey… newest member, right?” His voice is casual, too casual. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “I’d love to show you around, ya know… Not just the tower, but my room. I’m pretty blunt. You know how it is, most girls who join The Seven have to—” He makes a crude motion with his fist in his mouth, then hesitates. “But wait, you’re over 18, right? Right. Just making sure. Don't want to get another suspension, you know? Anyway, let’s fuck. You look so fucking hot. And-and, so do you, Homelander, sir. No homo though.”

Homelander’s expression darkens instantly. His jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists at his sides. The irritation rolling off him is palpable.

He’s used to sharing women, but something about this—about you—sets him off in a way he doesn’t quite understand. He doesn’t want to share. Not you.

Yet, he forces a tight smile, masking his anger as The Deep runs his mouth.

You tilt your head slightly, giving The Deep an innocent, almost amused smile. Then, in the blink of an eye, his body jerks, his eyes go wide, and he groans in pain, blood seeping from them.

You step toward him slowly, voice calm, unwavering.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that again. I’m your equal. I wasn’t chosen to be a fuck toy. Got it?”

“You fucking bitch—”

“Got it?” you repeat, your voice like steel. “Yes or no?”

“Yes! Yes, I—I’m sorry!” he sputters.

You let go of your hold, watching as he stumbles back. Silence falls over the room. The rest of The Seven stare in awe. Sage, standing off to the side, gives you a slight nod, almost as if to say Good job. He deserved it.

Homelander is floored. His jaw literally drops.

He was prepared to see you as an innocent thing, someone to be protected. But this? This was something else entirely.

You weren’t just another pretty face. You had power. Real power.

The Deep whimpers, turning to Homelander like a child begging their father for help. “Bro? I mean… Homelander? Sir? She’s not allowed to do that, right?”

Homelander’s eyes flick to The Deep, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips curl into something dark.

“She can do whatever she goddamn pleases.”

You smirk, twirling a strand of hair between your fingers, then turn on your heel and walk away. Homelander watches, stunned. You left without a word. No begging for his approval. No waiting for his reaction.

He doesn’t like that.

But in instant, he’s following you anyway.

—

He catches up to you in the hallway, composing himself just before stepping in front of you.

“Hey…” His voice is softer now, less composed. “Where are you going?”

You blink up at him. “I was going to grab a coffee. Want to join me?”

You smile. It’s casual. Friendly. Normal. Not flirtatious. Not forced.

Homelander is thrown off. He expected you to be fawning over him by now. But instead, you’re just… talking to him. Treating him like a person, not a god.

It’s confusing. It’s intriguing.

He smirks, trying to hide how taken aback he is. “Sure, darling. I could use a cup of coffee.”

As you walk together, he shows you around the tower. You listen, genuinely interested. He finds himself glancing at you every few seconds, trying to figure you out.

Then, you stop in front of a wall—his wall. A collection of photographs from birth to now. Mementos. Honors.

Normally, he’d love to brag about it. But for some reason, right now, he feels… embarrassed?

You smile, eyes landing on a baby picture.

“Awww, this one’s so cute!”

Homelander blinks. No one has ever called a picture of him cute before.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess I was kinda adorable back then.”

You smirk playfully. “Yeah, what happened?”

Homelander’s eyes widen slightly. Did you just—

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll have you know, I’m still cute.”

You giggle, the sound light and effortless. Homelander decides, in that moment, that he wants to hear that sound again. And again.

And again.

—

You finally reach the break room, grateful for a moment of normalcy. The overwhelming chaos of the gala, the constant attention—it’s exhausting. You just need a cup of coffee to ground yourself.

You move toward the machine, rolling up your sleeves, ready to make it yourself. But as soon as you touch the coffee pot, the room falls dead silent.

Vought assistants and PAs stare at you like you just committed a federal crime.

Homelander, standing beside you, looks around, then back at you. His expression shifts—mild confusion turning into pure indignation.

“She shouldn’t be doing this herself,” he scoffs, voice laced with authority.

You freeze, flushing slightly as the entire room remains frozen, waiting for your response. The way everyone bows to him, hanging on his every word, it’s unsettling.

You clear your throat, offering an easy smile. “Oh, Homelander, it’s okay. Seriously. I’d rather make it myself. Thanks, though, guys.”

He doesn’t look convinced. In fact, he looks even more annoyed, like this offends him on some deep, personal level.

You ignore it, focusing on making your drink, acting like it’s no big deal.

A second later, you glance at him. “Want one?”

Homelander blinks. “…Sure, darling.” His voice is smoother now, intrigued. “I’d appreciate that.”

You suppress a laugh, pausing. “Wait. Do you even need caffeine?”

Homelander chuckles at your question, finding your innocence endearing. “Not really. It’s more for the taste.” He leans in slightly, smirking. “But don’t worry, darling. I can still get a buzz off coffee.”

He watches intently as you prepare his drink, captivated by the effortless way you move—by the simplicity of it all. Then, a single drop of coffee escapes, trailing down your hand. Without thinking, you lift it to your lips, tongue flicking out to catch it.

His breath hitches.

You must be messing with him now, right? You have to be.

When you hand him the cup, your fingers brush.

It’s brief, barely a second, but Homelander feels it everywhere. A sharp, electric jolt races through him, rattling something inside his chest. His fingers linger—just a second too long.

His eyes lock onto yours.

The air between you shifts. Something unspoken settles between you both, thick and heavy.

Then you pull away, back to normal. Casual. Unbothered.

Homelander feels the opposite.

Just as you and Homelander settle into an easy rhythm, the break room door swings open. Firecracker strides in, her gaze locking onto him immediately.

She’s used to having his full attention—being the loudest, the most brash. Serving his every need. But right now, he isn’t even looking at her. He’s looking at you.

Her lips curl into a smirk as she saunters over, sizing you up. “Hi. I don’t think we’ve met.”

You offer a polite smile. “Oh, I know who you are.”

Firecracker chuckles, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “And I know who you are. The new recruit everyone’s buzzin' about.”

“Hopefully good things?” you say, trying to keep things light.

She scoffs. “Oh, definitely. You’re just the cutest thing, aren’t you? So innocent. So… naïve.”

Your smile doesn’t waver. “I wouldn’t say naïve, but I’ll take the compliment. Thanks.” You raise your coffee cup in a mock toast before taking a sip.

Firecracker’s smirk tightens. She was expecting intimidation, maybe even submission. But instead, you’re comfortable, unfazed. That drives her crazy.

She leans in, voice lowering. “Naïve, innocent, clueless.” She tilts her head, watching for a reaction. “I guess that’s how they like their new Seven members now.”

You twirl a strand of hair between your fingers, meeting her gaze without hesitation. “You forgot to add jealous—oh wait, that one’s just for you.”

Homelander is watching closely now. He sees the fire in your eyes—the same fire that took The Deep down without a second thought. It excites him.

Firecracker’s jaw tightens. “Jealous? Of you?” She scoffs, but there’s something forced about it. “Please. You’re just a pretty face they hired for ratings.”

“They hired you for ratings too,” you reply, still calm. “Notice I didn’t say pretty face.”

Her eyes flash. The room is silent.

Then you add, voice even but firm, “The misinformation you spread on your show is disgusting. I tried to be nice, but you lie about people of color, immigrants, the LGBT community. You cause people pain. And I’ll make sure the public knows exactly what I think of you.”

For the first time, Firecracker hesitates. A flicker of uncertainty flashes across her face before she quickly masks it with a smug grin. “Oh, sweetie,” she purrs, “you’re just a newbie. You don’t know how this business works. I’ve been playin' the game for years. People eat up what I say.”

“Yeah?” a new voice cuts in. Homelander.

He’s been silent this whole time, observing. But now? His tone is lethal.

“She’s right,” he says smoothly, tilting his head at Firecracker. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about this for a while.” His smile is slow, predatory. “I want you out.”

Firecracker stiffens. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll make sure Ashley gets you a nice severance package,” he continues, voice light, almost bored.

Firecracker blanches. “Homelander… please. I—”

He takes a step forward, voice dropping to something cold, final. “You’ve caused too many problems. You’re done.”

You watch as Firecracker’s confidence crumbles. Her eyes flick from you to him, back to you, before rage floods her features.

With a sharp glare, she storms out, knocking everything off the counters in her path. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife.

You exhale, turning back to Homelander. He’s already looking at you.

“You really wanted to fire her?” you ask, suspicious.

Homelander shrugs. “She was a liability. A nuisance. Wasn’t worth keeping around.”

You nod. “Agreed. Sorry, I’ve gone off on two members today. Not making the best first impressions, huh?”

What a ridiculous thing to say. Not making good first impressions? You’ve done more than that—you’ve rewritten his entire existence within hours of meeting. There is no before you, no after you. There is only you.

He can’t say this, though. Not yet. He doesn’t want to scare you.

Instead, he chuckles, shaking his head. “No need to apologize.” His eyes darken slightly, something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. Something possessive.

“You’ve got guts,” he murmurs. “I like that.”

—

After everything—the gala, The Deep’s failed attempt, Firecracker’s tantrum, the coffee incident—you finally feel like you can breathe.

You slide onto the counter, legs swinging slightly as you sip your coffee, completely unaware of the way he’s watching you—devouring you with his eyes.

What he wouldn’t give to just reach out, grab your face, and kiss you. To start slow, to feel the warmth of your lips against his. He can already picture it—your legs wrapped around him, your body molding to his like you were made for him. He’d ease your panties to the side, fingers teasing, circling your clit—drawing soft, sweet sounds from you as he whispers against your skin.

Such a good girl.

He’d tell you how long he’s been waiting for this. How many sleepless nights he’s spent restless, aching for something he didn’t think could exist—you. How many meaningless women he’s been through, searching for something that was never there.

Because no one else matters. No one else will ever matter.

You deserve to be worshipped, and he’s the only one worthy of doing it.

The thought alone makes him hard, his restraint hanging by a thread. He knows he could take you—could have you if he just tried. He could force you to submit.

But you’re different.

And for the first time in his life, he doesn’t just want to take.

This—you—are worth waiting for.

—

The room is still, but even you can feel the energy weighing heavy between you both.

You glance at him with a cute little smirk, breaking the ice. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so nice to me on my first day.” You tilt your head. “No offense, but I kinda thought you’d make me run laps around the building or something for initiation.”

Homelander chuckles, the sound low and amused. He steps closer, leaning against the counter beside you.

“No need for that,” he murmurs, voice smoother now. “I’m finding this way more… entertaining.”

You giggle, sipping your coffee, looking at him with soft, doe-like eyes.

And that’s it. That’s the moment.

Homelander realizes, with absolute certainty, that he’s royally fucked.

Because for the first time in his life, something inside him feels human.

And he hates it.

And he loves it.

Because it means something dangerous.

You don’t just belong to him.

He belongs to you.

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[dianesdiaries]

first day, nervous? | Homelander x Y/n

-Homelander is introduced to his newest assistant after Ashley went AWOL, and Y/n's expectations were more then she knew

-Soft foreplay/tension

NOTE: this is a draft so I might finish it later!!

"Hey, you're finally here! Took long enough".

His teeth creaked into a wide smile, almost as forced as the wide floor-to ceiling doors that ringed in my ears. I shuffled quietly towards the curved slim table, as the slender man ran his fingers along the rims. Blonde silky streaks ran through his hair, his eyes squinted as he pushed his strands back. Homelander was a peculiar choice for a leader. As I sat down and watched him glide around the table, he leaned daringly close into my presence. "So what made you decide Vought? I checked your resume you know, you seem pretty-under qualified. Sorry", Homelander chuckled away the awkwardness of his sentence. It was pretty clear he thought I didn't have the brains for it. "Well", I pushed my glasses back into my face, avoiding the gaze of the daring supe. "I've been in association with many government institutions and have worked for-"

"Blahhh Blahhhh"

It took a minute for me to take in his approach. So far, in the past six minutes we've gotten to know each other I can already see how 'bright' my future will be at Vought. "I want the real truth. Everybody comes here looking for fucking power- whether they have it or not. So, again. Why are you here?" he asked, his voice became stern as he ran his fingers across my shoulders. My body bolted at the feeling, his gloves curving along my collar. The one thing I could be sure on was his need for praise. He wanted me to tell him how great he was. He needed to hear exactly what I thought of him so he knew how to approach me. And he found exactly how. By fear.

I chuckled nervously, "Well, I-uh.. Was looking for a new job because I guess I got tired of the same... form after form stuff, you know?", sweat leaked like a tap from my temples, streaking through the bright curtains that swayed back and forth. Homelander dove into the next chair, quickly spinning mine to face him. My legs became entrapped between his, his arms leaning between my seat. "I think.. You'll find just what you're looking for here. Besides.. you work for me. Right?", his eyes asserted a cold shiver through my body. "That's right, sir". "And you'll do whatever I say?", the air became still with his words. my breaths encased into my cavity, the struggle to find wiggle room became worse. Of course he's my boss but.. God, he was so close. I bit my lip at the careless thought of us, I'd already had fallen for what he had planned before I walked into that room.

"Yes sir".

"Anything?", curiosity sparked in his words as he leaned closer, his hands barely caressing between my legs.

"Yes, sir", the yearning in my voice grew louder, my back arching to the sharp feeling of his fingers climbing inside my shirt. His lips pressed into mine, his passive hand making its way through my pencil-tight skirt. The soft hum of his grunts buzzed against my lips, it drove me crazy. He knew exactly what I wanted. He knew the words to say. He felt my heart pace before I had the chance to sit down. An unpredictable supe is never good news, so why do I want it so bad?

[thelirofnorthlands]

Something special for all Kripke creations 🤩From “The Boys” to “Jacked” Eric Kripke is my ultimate fave man 🫶🏻#Kripkeverse

ps the dedication is real..🤭✨

[ultravioletrayz]

homelander moodboard

"I'm done. I am done apologising. I am done being persecuted for my strength."

[interstellarflare]

Homelander Masterlist

Bend and Break

People can only bend their morals so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR| |PART FIVE| |PART SIX| |PART SEVEN| |PART EIGHT| |PART NINE| |PART TEN| |PART ELEVEN| |PART TWELVE| |PART THIRTEEN|

Gif by @vought-thot​

[kezdispenser]

Breaking Character pt6/?

Summary: You are the new cast member of 'The Boys' and you play Butcher's cousin and Soldier Boy's new love interest 'Solene'. You're introduced to the cast by the director at a dinner and you're seated next to Karl and Jensen to "bond".

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: again! no hate to Danneel.

You stayed by the door, leaning against the frame, watching Jensen with Zeppelin. It was hard to look away, your heart swelling at the sight. This big, tough guy—who threw around curse words like they were punctuation and could knock back whiskey like it was water—was now a total softie, cradling his son like the world depended on it.

“Daddy loves you, okay?” Jensen murmured, his Southern drawl soothing as he smoothed Zeppelin’s hair. “Ain’t nothin’ out there gonna hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

Zeppelin sniffled, his tiny face peeking up at his dad, and you swore you saw Jensen’s heart melt right there. It was so damn pure, and it made you smile, even as a pang of something deeper settled in your chest.

When Jensen finally stood, leaving Zeppelin peacefully tucked in, he closed the door halfway and turned back to you. His shoulders sagged just a little, his face soft and tired, but still managing a sheepish grin.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Zep’s got those dreams sometimes. Fuckin’ rips me apart every time.”

You shook your head, stepping forward to close the space between you. “Don’t you dare apologize for that. Seriously, Jensen. Watching you with him? It’s…” You paused, trying to find the words, but they all felt too small.

“It’s what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“It’s amazing,” you said, your voice softer now. “The way you just—shit, Jensen, the way you’re there for him, the way he looks at you like you hung the damn moon. You’re a hell of a dad. I mean it.”

He looked down, his grin turning bashful. “Yeah, well,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “they’re my world. Ain’t much choice in it, you know? Gotta show up.”

“No,” you countered, stepping even closer until you could rest your hand on his arm. “It’s not just that you show up. It’s how you show up. You’re so… present. So fucking all in. It’s not something you see every day.”

Jensen’s lips quirked into a lopsided smile, the kind that made your chest flutter. “You keep talkin’ like that, darlin’, and I’m gonna start thinkin’ I’m some kinda superhero or somethin’.”

You laughed, your fingers giving his arm a playful squeeze. “Well, you do save the day pretty well. You’ve got my vote.”

He chuckled, his hand coming to rest lightly on your hip. The warmth in his eyes softened even more as he looked down at you, his thumb brushing absently over the fabric of his shirt you were wearing.

“You’re good with them, you know,” he said quietly. “Zep and Arrow… they like you. Hell, I think Zep’s already got a little crush.”

You grinned, feeling a warm flush rise in your cheeks. “Well, I mean, I am pretty damn likable. Can’t really blame the kid.”

Jensen laughed, his head tipping back before he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Yeah, you are,” he murmured.

For a moment, you just stood there, wrapped in the quiet warmth of the hallway. Jensen’s arms came around you, pulling you into a hug that was as solid and grounding as he was. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“For what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

“For bein’ you,” he said simply, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I don’t say it enough, but… you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

Your heart did a little flip, and you smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself, Ackles. Now, let’s get back to whatever we were doing before Zeppelin decided to steal the show.”

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head as he took your hand. “Deal. But don’t expect me to get through the night without braggin’ about how you got both my kids wrapped around your finger already.”

The set was its usual brand of chaotic—lights being adjusted, cameras rolling into position, and the crew bustling around with a kind of practiced frenzy. You were in your full Solene costume, leaning against a prop table while scrolling through your phone. Every now and then, you glanced up at the action, ready for your cue, but mostly, your attention was glued to the screen.

Jensen, standing nearby in his Soldier Boy costume, watched you from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t unusual for you to check your phone between takes, but today, you’d been extra preoccupied. Every time the director called for a break, you slipped away to a quiet corner, your phone pressed to your ear as you laughed softly at whatever conversation you were having.

Jensen’s jaw tightened as he adjusted the strap of his shield. He wasn’t the type to pry, but damn if it didn’t bother him to see you smiling like that for someone else.

“You good?” Karl’s voice broke through Jensen’s thoughts.

“Huh?” Jensen turned, blinking at Karl, who was smirking at him knowingly.

“You’re practically burning a hole through your shield,” Karl teased, gesturing to the prop in Jensen’s hands. “Who’s got you all twisted up, mate?”

“Nobody,” Jensen grumbled, but his gaze flicked back to you as you walked past, phone still in hand, laughing at something the person on the other end said.

“Uh-huh,” Karl drawled, following Jensen’s line of sight. “Right. Nobody at all.”

Jensen shot him a look, but before he could say anything, the director called for everyone to take their places.

You returned to set a minute later, tucking your phone away and sliding into position next to Jensen. Your cheeks were still slightly flushed, and there was a brightness in your eyes that made his chest tighten.

“Ready for this?” you asked, giving him a playful nudge.

“Always,” he replied, forcing a smile.

The scene went off without a hitch, but the moment the director yelled “Cut!” and announced a ten-minute break, your phone was back in your hand, and you were wandering off again. Jensen watched you go, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Just ask her,” Karl said, appearing at Jensen’s side again.

“Ask her what?” Jensen muttered, though he knew exactly what Karl was getting at.

“Who’s got her giggling like a teenager at a One Direction concert,” Karl replied, smirking. “You’re not exactly subtle, mate.”

Jensen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s none of my business.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Later, during lunch, you were sitting at a table, still engrossed in your phone. Jensen walked over, his Soldier Boy bravado dialed back, and cleared his throat.

“Mind if I join?” he asked.

You looked up, smiling. “Of course not.”

He sat down across from you, tapping his fingers against the table for a moment before finally asking, “So, uh… who’s got you grinning like that all day?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but you chuckled. “Why, Jensen Ackles, are you jealous?”

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Jealous? Nah. Just curious.”

“Uh-huh.” You smirked, leaning in slightly. “It’s just my brother. We're very close, so we talk about our entire day.”

Relief washed over Jensen’s face, though he tried to play it cool. “Your brother, huh? Sounds like a real pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he is,” you said, laughing. “But I love him. Keeps me grounded.”

“Good,” Jensen said, his voice softening. “You deserve people who do that for you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, the chaos of the set faded away, and it was just the two of you sitting there, sharing a quiet connection.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “That means a lot.”

It had been a long week on set, and you were ready to spend your rare day off relaxing. Jensen had texted you earlier that morning, asking if you could swing by his place for lunch, and you didn’t think twice before saying yes.

When you arrived, the house was bustling with the noise of his kids running around. Zeppelin was chasing Arrow with a toy dinosaur, while JJ was sitting at the kitchen counter, coloring intently.

“Hey,” Jensen greeted you warmly as you walked in, pulling you into a quick hug. He lingered for a second, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Of course,” you said, smiling up at him. “What’s all this?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Something came up—work-related. I was supposed to drop the kids off at Danneel’s, but I don’t have time. Any chance you could do me a huge favor and take them over?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you minded helping out, but the thought of facing Danneel alone made your stomach twist. Still, the way Jensen looked at you, so earnest and a little desperate, made it impossible to say no.

“Yeah, I can do that,” you said finally.

“Thank you,” he said, his relief palpable. “You’re a fucking lifesaver.”

The car ride was filled with Zeppelin and Arrow chattering away in the back seat. They were sweet kids, and their excitement about seeing their mom made the drive easier. When you pulled up to Danneel’s house, though, your nerves returned full force.

You walked the kids up to the door, their small hands in yours, and rang the bell. It wasn’t long before Danneel opened it, her expression immediately guarded when she saw you.

“Oh,” she said, her tone clipped. “It’s you.”

You forced a polite smile. “Hey, Jensen asked me to drop the kids off. He got caught up with work.”

Danneel’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked you up and down. “How convenient.”

You ignored the comment and crouched down to say goodbye to the kids. “Alright, you two. Be good, okay?”

Zeppelin threw his arms around your neck, and Arrow gave you a shy smile before following his brother inside. You straightened up, ready to leave, but Danneel stepped into the doorway, blocking your path.

“Let me ask you something,” she said, her voice low.

You froze, your hand still on the doorframe. “Okay...”

“What exactly is your endgame here?” she asked, her arms crossing over her chest.

You frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she snapped. “You think I don’t see what’s going on? Jensen’s not some clueless idiot, but he’s obviously blinded by... whatever this is.” She gestured vaguely in your direction, her eyes blazing. “But I’m not.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re implying—”

“I’m implying that you’re a fucking gold digger,” she cut in, her words sharp as glass. “I don’t know what sob story you fed him, but let me make one thing very clear—you’re not going to worm your way into his life through his kids or otherwise.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’ve got it all wrong,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “I care about Jensen, and I care about his kids. That’s it.”

Danneel let out a harsh laugh. “Sure, you do. But here’s the thing—you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. So save us all the drama and just... back off.”

You stared at her, your chest tight and your face burning. Without another word, you turned and walked back to your car, the weight of her accusations settling heavily on your shoulders.

You didn’t tell Jensen what Danneel had said. How could you? It wasn’t just the sting of her words; it was the fear that maybe, deep down, she was right. You didn’t want to cause a rift between him and the mother of his kids, and you didn’t want to be the reason for unnecessary drama.

So, you buried it. You went about your days, still seeing him on set, still sharing stolen smiles and quiet moments. But something had shifted. Your texts were shorter, your hugs a little less tight. Jensen noticed.

At first, he didn’t push. He figured maybe you were just tired or stressed, but as the days turned into a week, your distance started gnawing at him. You didn’t laugh as much, didn’t lean into him the way you used to. Every time he asked if you were okay, you brushed it off with a weak smile and a quick excuse.

It was driving him fucking insane.

It had been gnawing at Jensen all week. Your sudden shift, the guarded looks, the forced smiles—it wasn’t you. He knew you, and he knew when something was eating you alive. The final straw was when you avoided his texts entirely for a whole day, leaving him pacing his living room, running his hands through his hair, trying to figure out what the hell went wrong.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks: Danneel.

The next time she came by to pick up the kids, he didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low and clipped as soon as the kids ran to grab their bags.

Danneel tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Talk about what?”

“You know damn well what,” Jensen said, stepping closer, his arms crossed over his chest. “What the fuck did you say to Y/N?”

Danneel smirked, her red lips curving into something sharp and satisfied. “Oh, so she told you?”

“She didn’t have to,” Jensen shot back. “She’s been acting different ever since she dropped the kids off at your place. What the hell did you say to her, Danneel?”

Danneel shrugged, playing with the hem of her sweater. “Nothing she didn’t need to hear.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jensen snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“Fine,” she said, her voice turning cold. “I told her the truth. That she doesn’t belong in your life. That she’s out of her depth.”

Jensen’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m the mother of your children,” she said, stepping closer, her voice low and smooth. “I’m the woman who knows you better than anyone else. Better than her.”

“Don’t,” Jensen warned, his voice sharp.

“Don’t what?” Danneel said, her tone dripping with false innocence as she closed the space between them. “Don’t remind you of what we had? Don’t make you think about how good we were together?”

Jensen took a step back, his hands flexing at his sides. “We weren’t good, Danneel. We fell apart, remember?”

She ignored him, her eyes roaming over his face. “You haven’t changed much, you know. Still the same Jensen. Still loyal, still so easy to read.” She reached out, trailing her fingers down his arm. “I miss that about you.”

Jensen flinched away from her touch, his voice cold and steady. “You need to stop.”

“Stop what?” she asked, tilting her head. “Being honest? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. About us.”

“There is no us,” he said, his voice firm.

Danneel’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, stepping even closer. “You sure about that?” she whispered, her hand brushing against his chest. “Because the way I see it, she’s just a distraction. Someone new and shiny. But we... we were everything, Jensen. We could be everything again.”

The sound of the front door opening stopped her words in their tracks.

“Jensen, I—”

Your voice froze mid-sentence as you stepped inside, your bag slung over your shoulder, your eyes wide as you took in the scene.

Danneel’s hand was still on his chest, and the way her body was angled toward him made it look intimate, conspiratorial.

The color drained from Jensen’s face as he saw the way your expression crumbled.

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like,” he said, stepping toward you.

You held up a hand, your voice shaking. “Don’t. Just... don’t.”

Before he could say another word, you turned and walked out, leaving him standing there, his heart sinking into his stomach.

As the door slammed shut behind you, Jensen turned back to Danneel, his face a mask of fury.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed, his voice dangerously low.

Danneel shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just proving a point.”

Jensen’s voice was ice. “You didn’t prove shit, except how fucking bitter you are.”

“She’ll leave you, you know,” Danneel said, her tone smug. “They always do.”

Jensen didn’t reply. He just turned away, his fists clenched at his sides, and stormed out the door, his mind racing with how to fix the mess Danneel had just made.

You made it to the driveway before he caught up to you, his footsteps pounding against the pavement as he grabbed your arm gently to stop you.

“Please, just let me explain,” he said, his voice desperate, his eyes wide with panic.

You turned to face him, tears already streaming down your face. “Explain what, Jensen? Explain how she was all over you? Explain why you didn’t stop her?”

“It’s not what it looked like,” he said quickly, his hands raised in surrender. “She was trying to get under my skin, trying to mess with me. With us.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Well, congratulations. She fucking succeeded.”

“Y/N,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Please don’t do this. Don’t let her ruin this. Don’t let her win.”

“Win?” you repeated, your voice breaking as you took a step back. “This isn’t about winning, Jensen. This is about me standing there and realizing that I will never—never—be what she was to you.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly, his voice cracking with emotion.

You shook your head, a sob catching in your throat. “She’s the mother of your kids. She’s beautiful, she’s confident, she knows every part of you, Jensen. Every part that I’ll never get to know.”

“That doesn’t mean—” he started, but you cut him off.

“She gave you a life I could never give you,” you said, your voice trembling. “She gave you Arrow and Zeppelin and JJ. She gave you history. How the hell am I supposed to compete with that? How am I supposed to fit into your life when she’s always going to be there? When she knows exactly how to push your buttons and... and make you hesitate?”

Jensen’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You don’t have to compete with her, Y/N. This isn’t a fucking competition. I want you. I choose you.”

You looked up at him, your chest aching with the weight of it all. “But why?”

“What do you mean, why?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“Why would you choose me, Jensen?” you whispered, your tears falling freely now. “I’m not her. I’ll never be her. I could never give you the same excitement she gave you. I could never give you the family she gave you. And every time I see her, every time I see the way she looks at you, I feel like I’m just a placeholder for something you’ve already lost.”

His face crumpled, and he stepped closer, his hands reaching for yours. “You’re not a placeholder. You’re not some fucking second choice. You’re everything, Y/N. You make me feel alive in ways she never could.”

You pulled your hands away, the ache in your chest growing unbearable. “I wish I could believe that,” you said softly.

“Believe it,” he pleaded, his voice desperate. “Believe me.”

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The pain in his eyes was almost too much to bear, but you turned and walked away, your heart shattering with every step.

Sitting alone in her car, I stared out at the rain streaking down the windshield, the silence pressing in around me. My hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, though the car wasn’t even running.

I thought about the way Danneel had stood so close to him, her hand on his chest like it belonged there, like it always had. The familiarity in her touch, the confidence in her presence—it was suffocating.

And Jensen… he hadn’t pushed her away.

It didn’t matter that his words had told a different story, that he’d promised Danneel was in his past. Actions spoke louder. And in that moment, standing there in his house, it felt like I was intruding on something sacred. Something I could never touch.

A sob caught in my throat as I buried my face in my hands. What the fuck was I thinking?

How could I ever compare to someone like Danneel? I wasn’t the mother of his children. I didn’t share years of memories with him. I wasn’t his past, his history, his comfort. I was just… a blip. A fleeting distraction.

The worst part wasn’t that Danneel was in his life—it was that she always would be. Every holiday, every school event, every milestone for the kids. She’d always be there, like a shadow I couldn’t escape. And me? I’d always be on the outside, trying to carve out a space that would never truly be mine.

I could never be enough for him. Not the way she was.

My breath hitched as the thought settled deep in my chest, cold and unyielding. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall freely. It was over. It had to be. For both our sakes.

Because loving Jensen Ackles meant loving a life I could never truly be part of. And no matter how much he might have wanted me, some things just weren’t meant to be.

And God, it fucking hurt.

---------------------------

A/N: wouldn't it be fun if i abruptly stopped the story here? just kidding, there's obv a next part. lmk how u liked it in the comments.

@justwhisperingfantasies @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @jackles010378 @winchester @barnes70stark @nancymcl @oceean @spnaquakindgdom @ladysparkles78 @sexyvixen7

[o-erastis-tou-apollona]

Casual: part 2

relationship: homelander x black reader

Angst

word count: 957

The city buzzes beneath her feet as she makes her way toward Homelander’s penthouse. The familiar rush of adrenaline mixes with the knot tightening in her stomach. She can already imagine how this will play out—his deflections, that insufferable grin, and the way he always manages to make her feel like she’s overreacting.

But tonight, she won’t let him off the hook.When she arrives, he’s already there, standing by the expansive window, his cape draped casually over his broad shoulders. The night sky behind him only amplifies his godlike presence, but she’s long past being awestruck by him.

Right now, all she feels is frustration. The weight of their unspoken truths presses down on her chest.“You’re late,” he says without turning around, his voice carrying that ever-present air of superiority.“I wasn’t aware we had plans,” she snaps back, crossing her arms. She’s not here to be coy. “We need to talk.”

Homelander finally turns to face her, an eyebrow raised. “Talk? Is that what this is? Because from where I’m standing, everything seems fine.”Her jaw tightens at his casual dismissal. Typical.

He thinks everything is fine because he’s fine. He’s never cared to dig deeper, never bothered to ask how she feels. “Fine for you, maybe,” she shoots back, her voice steady but laced with irritation. “But I’m done pretending like this—whatever this is—works for me.”Homelander’s smirk falters, just slightly, but enough for her to notice. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” he says, his voice smooth, calculated.

“We’ve got a good thing going here. Why complicate it?”She steps closer, her eyes locked on his. “Because it already is complicated, whether you want to admit it or not. I’m not your toy, Homelander. I’m not just here to stroke your ego when you feel like it and then be forgotten when you don’t.”He crosses his arms, clearly annoyed by the shift in tone.

“You’re reading too much into this. We agreed—casual, no strings, no complications. You knew what this was from the start.”“Yeah, I did,” she retorts, her voice hardening. “But I also didn’t sign up to feel like an accessory to your image. You show up when it’s convenient, and the second things get real, you disappear. That’s not casual—that’s you hiding behind this perfect hero act because you can’t handle being anything else.”

His expression darkens, his sociopathic tendencies bubbling to the surface as his eyes narrow. “Watch your tone.”“Or what?” she challenges, stepping right into his space, unafraid. “You’ll what, Homelander? Remind me how powerful you are? Scare me into backing off? I’m not one of your terrified fans. You don’t intimidate me.”

He stares at her for a long moment, the tension in the room thickening. He’s used to getting his way, to controlling every situation, but she isn’t budging. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—anger, frustration, maybe even confusion—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I thought you liked things the way they were,” he says, his tone softer but still guarded. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want anything serious.”She sighs, running a hand through her braids. “I said I didn’t want something serious, but I didn’t mean empty.

There’s a difference, Homelander. I’m not asking for forever. I’m just asking for something real. I don’t want to feel like I’m the only one who cares in this... whatever this is.”He scoffs, turning away as if the conversation bores him. “You’re really going to pull that card? Come on. You knew what you were getting into. I’m not here to play house.”“Neither am I,” she fires back, her voice rising. “But I’m also not here to be a placeholder in your life, someone you can call when you’re bored or need a distraction. I’m a person, not some tool to make you feel better about yourself.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and for a split second, she wonders if her words have finally gotten through to him. But then he turns to face her again, that familiar smirk curling his lips.“You know what your problem is?” he says, his tone condescending. “You’re too emotional. You’re expecting something that doesn’t exist. This is all there is, sweetheart. Take it or leave it.”

Her heart sinks, but she stands her ground. She knew this was a possibility—that he’d refuse to meet her halfway. But hearing it still hurts.“I deserve more than this,” she says quietly, but firmly. “And if you can’t give it, then maybe I need to stop wasting my time.”For the first time, Homelander looks genuinely caught off guard.

“You’re serious?”“Yeah, I am.” She steps back, her voice calm, though her heart pounds in her chest. “I’m not asking you to change who you are. I just need you to be real with me. And if you can’t do that, then I’m done.”The silence between them is deafening. He’s never been good at dealing with someone walking away from him—it challenges everything he’s built his persona on. But for once, he doesn’t have an immediate response.

She waits for him to say something—anything—but when the silence stretches on, she turns and walks toward the door.“You know where to find me if you ever decide to stop playing pretend,” she says over her shoulder before leaving, the weight of her decision settling heavily on her shoulders.As she steps into the night, she wonders if he’ll ever let his walls down. But she knows one thing for certain: she won’t settle for less than she deserves. Not anymore.

[ishomieokay]

Idolatry (Chapter 3)

18+ 5.3k homelander x hispanic oc, age difference, manipulation, breaking and entering, stalking, obsessive behaviour. part 3/?. AO3 link. part 1, part 2, parte 4.

Homelander's fooling around with a perky Latina almost twenty years his junior. She's looking for a daddy. He just wants a good fuck, and maybe to mess with Maeve's head. It's not going to end well.

The day after, it was as if nothing had happened. They were cordial but not overly friendly, maintaining a professional distance while shooting, careful in case they were overheard. From time to time, Aura María caught a glimpse of Homelander staring in her direction, but she couldn’t be sure if it was real or just a trick of her mind. She returned home late with a pounding headache, the lack of sleep and the long hours on set taking their toll.

It was Friday night, and she had no plans, which wasn’t unusual. Her party girl days were firmly behind her. Aura María felt a mixture of thankfulness and regret that things had never spiraled out of control even back then. Now, her routine was only occasionally interrupted by meetings with friends at overpriced coffee shops or the occasional night gala. Despite being relatively young, she sometimes felt inexplicably old.

She retrieved a pair of pajamas from her closet, laying them neatly on the bed next to her folded underwear, then made her way to the bathroom. She contemplated sending a text to Homelander as she sat in the tub, softly lip-syncing to a Ricardo Montaner song. Surely, permission had been granted when he provided her with his number. While his infatuation lingered, she reasoned, she could have some fun, even if that was all he wanted from her. She had no other prospects, after all.

Three years after arriving in the United States to work for Vought, Aura María still lacked a social life outside of her workplace. This was partly due to her commitment to warding off her many admirers. Cultural differences made it much more challenging to establish friendships, something she’d never excelled at even back home. She had been alone for a while and wasn’t particularly interested in changing that, especially when it came to romantic relationships.

Aura María had begun to question her sexual orientation when her 21st birthday came and went without a lover or even a fleeting interest in physical intimacy. It had occurred to her that she might be a lesbian or asexual. Homelander had proved her wrong in that regard. She did have needs, and now that they'd been satisfied, however briefly, she was aware of them in a way she'd never been before.

She took hold of her breast, retracing the path Homelander had drawn with his tongue the night before. It felt like a dream now. She decided that the barely concealed erotism of the lyrics was probably just getting to her and turned the music off. When she went back to her room, everything seemed the same at first glance. It was unusually cold, though. She turned around and realized that the window was open, but she couldn't remember whether she had closed it or not. The clothes she had neatly folded before getting into the tub were now in disarray.

She had trouble falling asleep and felt uneasy throughout the rest of the night. The cold seemed to seep into her bones. She tossed and turned, her mind replaying the events of the previous night and the strange occurrences in her room. The sense of someone having been there, the disordered clothes, and the open window gnawed at her. As she finally drifted into a restless sleep, Aura María couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

She dreamed of Homelander's intense gaze, the sensation of his touch lingering on her skin. The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, filled with half-formed images and unsettling whispers that left her feeling more exhausted when she finally awoke.

Aura María texted Homelander in the end. They had agreed to meet at one o'clock for lunch, but it was well past two when he finally arrived. He descended from the sky like a rocket, landing thunderously on the pavement. The impact shook the ground, sending a ripple of excitement through the crowd that quickly gathered around him. He handled the attention as gracefully as always, giving fist bumps, patting shoulders, and signing autographs. Over twenty minutes passed before he made his way to the restaurant door. The crowd didn't follow, thanks to the timely security’s timely intervention.

When he reached her table, he was smiling broadly and unapologetic. Although she couldn’t bring herself to be mad, Aura María put on a show of irritation anyway.

"So, you're the fashionably late type, huh?" she said, crossing her arms.

"Ah, not all the time. Only when the world needs saving," Homelander replied nonchalantly, taking a seat beside her.

"How convenient for you."

Aura María had more than a few sassy remarks at the tip of her tongue, but something at the corner of her eye caught her attention. The crowd had not dispersed yet. They were standing on the other side of the window facing their table, and there were news reporters and paparazzi among them. Word always traveled fast when it concerned Homelander.

Aura María felt her lips turn downward. This would probably reach Stan Edgar and the other executives at Vought. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. She had always valued her privacy and hadn't had much of an issue protecting it even after becoming a renowned filmmaker. No matter how good her work was, almost no one seemed to be interested in the personal life of a documentalist.

"Just so you know, if you were planning to keep this, whatever it is, a secret—that's not gonna work out. Not anymore."

"Who said I wanted to keep it a secret?" Homelander replied, smiling slyly at her. He took her hand then, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Aura María felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth but was quick to suppress it.

"Explain it to me, won't you? Why in the world wouldn't I want everyone to know I'm dating such a dang brilliant, talented, and beautiful woman?"

'Dating,' Aura María thought, a bit bewildered. 'Am I dating Homelander?'

Assuming one was generous enough to consider meeting for drinks after work a date, this hardly counted as their third time going out. However, Aura María guessed that was the right word to describe their situation—dating. Even in the privacy of her thoughts, it sounded wrong. Never in her wildest dreams would she have dared call it anything other than a hookup or situationship at best.

"I mean, you do have a mirror at home, right? This is the kind of thing most guys would be shouting from the rooftops."

"Mmm, you're coming off strong today, aren't you?" Aura María replied, pleased but unwilling to let him have it so easy. "Sorry to say, but I think bootlicking looks awful on a man, especially if he's just doing it to get laid."

Homelander blinked at her, then laughed, seeming oddly delighted by her rudeness. He had one thing in common with all the men who've tried to woo her in the past. The banter was half the fun for him.

"O-okay, the lady's not into sweet-talking, then," Homelander leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "That's fine. I think I could change your mind about the bootlicking part, though. Maybe, mmn, broaden your horizons?"

Aura María blinked, then arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're not serious."

Homelander looked her up and down, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "If I was, would that freak you out?"

Aura was already aware of the fact that Homelander was not exactly the pedantic goody-two-shoes he pretended to be for the sake of his image. Apparently, he was into having sex while having verses of the Book of Revelation read to him. As if that weren't blasphemous enough, Aura María also had the feeling that she'd awoken in him a virginity kink. Still, this thinly veiled insinuation came as a surprise. Not for the first time, she felt oddly flattered that he would share this part of himself with her—one that he usually kept hidden under wraps.

Smiling and unwilling to back down, Aura María met him with the same energy. "I'd say I'm open to new experiences."

Homelander whistled. Then he lifted the tablecloth and made a show of leaning down to take a look at her shoes.

"Oh, shucks," he said in a disappointed, cartoonish voice. "Nah, it wouldn't work. You're wearing high heels."

"What a pity," Aura María deadpanned.

"I wear boots all the time, though. Leather," Homelander replied, dragging the 'L' obnoxiously and then winking at her. "I'd let you borrow 'em, just this once."

"I feel tricked. You're not the serious man I was led to believe."

"Chica, I walk around all day long wearing a skin-tight spandex suit and a cape. I am the very definition of an unserious man."

"Well, I can't argue with that," Aura María said, then gestured at the window with her head. The crowd was still there, although there were fewer of them now. "I think you should be more careful with what you say when out in public, though. You know what would happen if any of those news reporters found out that the Homelander is into dominatrixes? The internet would explode."

"I think you're exaggerating."

"Maybe. Parents wouldn't buy their kids those cute Homelander dolls Vought just released, though. That's for sure."

Homelander tilted his head to the side, then said very slowly, "action figures."

"What?"

"They're not dolls," Homelander corrected her with a serious face. His every word was emphasized by the tapping of his index finger against the table. "They're action figures."

After a beat, Aura María burst out laughing.

"Coño, este pana es un caso," she said, covering her face with one hand.

Homelander blinked at her, then parroted back her words but in an awful American accent, mispronouncing every syllable and clearly unaware of what he was saying. Rather than offend her, the sound of the leader of the Seven mercilessly butchering her mother language only made her laugh harder.

Once they left the restaurant, Homelander gently scooped Aura María into his arms. He sensed her hesitation, her body tensing slightly as they rose. To keep her at ease, he flew slowly and close to the ground, weaving through the cityscape with the grace of a shadow. Aura María clung to him, her arms around his shoulders, holding tight enough to dislocate a lesser man's neck. Homelander, with his superhuman strength, barely seemed to notice.

The cacophony of the city was soon replaced by the serene whisper of leaves as they reached a secluded clearing in Central Park. The moonlight cast a silver sheen over the grass, the stars twinkling faintly above. The distant hum of traffic was a mere murmur here, overshadowed by the rustling trees and the occasional chirp of crickets. They decided to take a stroll, savoring the rare peace away from prying eyes and the relentless noise of the city.

"It's unfair, to be honest," Homelander began, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Sorry?” Aura María replied.

"You know almost everything there is to know about me. I mean, it'd be strange if you didn't, I guess, after directing a 40-minute-long documentary on me. I don't know the first thing about you, though. It's unfair, it's all I'm saying."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Where are you from? Originally, I mean."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aura María's tone sharpened, her hackles rising defensively. Homelander, rather than offended, seemed amused by her reaction.

"Don't get me wrong, missy, you speak English better than many people who were actually born here. The accent gives it away, though. So, Venezuela, am I right? What city, though? What's it like there?"

"Oh." Aura María relaxed, her tension dissipating.

She had thought he was questioning her heritage, a common and hurtful experience. "I'm from Caracas, born and raised. It's loud and dirty and full of weirdos, like any capital. It's in the middle of a valley, though, so there's also nature and trees, lots of macaws. I grew up in the East, which most would say is the fancy part of town. Like, uh, American suburbs, I guess."

"I don't find that surprising at all."

"Please, like you don't have Old Money written all over your face."

"I should hope so. You've no idea how much Vought spend just to make it this pretty," Homelander replied, smiling teasingly down at her. His smile faltered slightly, as if he just realized he'd said something he shouldn't have. Aura María laughed it off, unsure what he meant. Had Homelander just confessed to her he'd had plastic surgery?

"My dad's a native, from a small town called Alto Orinoco. That's in the Amazonas. We look nothing alike. His maternal grandparents were from a tribe called Wayú, and apparently their Spanish was very bad," Aura María said. Although she most definitely took after her mother, someone educated in the matter could glimpse a few ethnic features in her. She had eyes dark as night, larger than average and almond-shaped, a round face with plump lips and thick hair of an intense black shade.

"My mom's from a town not far from the capital called Valencia. Her parents were Italian immigrants and racist as fuck. They disowned her when they found out she wanted to marry a Wayú. When I was little, they often came by the house, though. Once I was old enough to understand that they wanted me around because I only looked 'a little Indian,' I told them not to come back," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Uh," Homelander said, ever so eloquent. He was staring at her strangely. "That's a... very colorful background."

"You think? Not very different from my friends' back home, though. We are all a weird mixture of something over there."

“So, interracial marriage is normal in your country?”

“I guess? I mean, we don’t really have a concept of it. To us, it’s just marriage. Obviously, there are racists, like, well…”

“Like your grandparents?”

“Yeah, like them. People from different races marrying each other is usually not a big deal for us, though. Not nowadays. I was surprised to see how much of a taboo it still is here, to be honest. You would think citizens of the so-called first world would be more open-minded.”

Homelander actually sniggered. “There’s people in this country who think the Earth is flat, María. Give us a break.”

“I guess you would know a lot about that,” Aura María replied, a glint in her eyes. “I’m pretty sure flat-earthers make up most of your fanbase.”

Homelander stared at her gravely. “There are flat-earthers among my fans. They are not the majority of them.”

“Oh. So, you would say it’s an insignificant amount, then?”

“Definitely.”

“So, if tomorrow you were at a rally and openly said that the Earth is in fact round, everything would be fine? Is that what you’re saying?”

“…no,” Homelander said, reluctantly. “It would affect my ratings. Like, a lot. Stan would have my head on a plate.”

“I thought so.”

“If I tell you something, you promise not to laugh?”

“What?”

“For the longest time, I thought Venezuela was a country in Europe.”

Aura María halted to a stop. “Please, tell me you’re joking.”

Homelander shook his head, pursing his lower lip.

“I mean, I can’t say I’ve met a lot of Venezuelans. The ones I have only dressed in designer clothes and threw 100$ bills around like they were pennies. That did not scream Third World country to me.”

Aura María frowned. “When was this?”

“Uh, 2008, I think? I was hosting a beauty pageant with Melanie Brown. You know, one of the Spice Girls? Your candidate won; I forgot her name.”

“Ah, Dayana Mendoza. Yeah, people who work at those pageants have lots of money. I should have known you only ever heard of my homeland because of Miss Universe.”

“Well, look at the bright side, chica. I may think Venezuela is a Third World communist hellhole, but at least I know that you’ve got A-tier women and not everyone’s brown. Better than a flat-earther by a long shot.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Aura María’s voice carried a mix of frustration and amusement. Homelander chuckled, a low, amused sound that rumbled in his chest. “Anyway, I guess that means we’re even,” he said, his tone casual but his expression unreadable.

“Mmn, I don’t think we are,” Aura María replied, her brows knitting together as she looked away, gathering her thoughts.

“What’s that?” Homelander asked.

“You said you wanted to know more about me because I already knew everything about you. That’s not true, though. I think most of what we filmed for that documentary was bullshit.”

Homelander’s expression shifted abruptly. The playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by a serious, almost steely gaze. His jaw tightened, and Aura María could feel the tension radiating from him. She realized, belatedly, that this might be one in the long list of questions she wasn’t supposed to ask.

“What makes you say that?” Homelander asked, his voice low and measured.

Aura María hesitated, feeling the weight of his stare. She forced herself to keep going, her heart pounding. “I could see it that day when we were filming the childhood segment. You know, back at Maryland?”

“Okay?” he responded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read her.

Aura María smiled awkwardly, her cheeks flushing. She could feel the heat rising to her face. “You’re gonna think it’s weird that I noticed. But, uh, during a recess, I heard you asking Madelyn where the restroom was. You also got lost a couple of times when we were filming the house tour.”

“Oh,” Homelander said, his face going blank for a moment. He looked away, his gaze focusing on the horizon as if searching for an escape from the conversation.

The trees rustled softly in the breeze. The sky was painted with hues of blue and black as the moon rose higher, casting long shadows across the grass. Aura María felt a knot in her stomach, regretting her boldness. She had hoped to pierce through his facade, to understand the man behind the mask, but now she feared she had pushed too far. The vulnerability she had glimpsed in him earlier seemed to retreat, replaced by a cold, impenetrable wall.

Homelander’s face softened slightly, though, as he met her eyes again. There was a flicker of something—maybe understanding, maybe resignation. “Aren’t you a clever one?” he said quietly. “Not many people notice those things.”

Aura María relaxed a little, relieved that he hadn’t shut her out completely. She offered a small, tentative smile. “I guess it’s my job to notice things.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” He nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re right, of course. A lot of what’s out there about me is…curated. For the public.”

Aura María nodded slowly, feeling a pang of empathy despite her wariness. “I understand. Image is everything, especially for someone like you.”

“It’s more than that,” Homelander replied, his voice unreadable. “It’s about control. About making sure people see what Vought wants them to see.”

“And what about what you want?” Aura María asked, genuinely curious.

Homelander looked at her, his eyes searching her face as if weighing how much to reveal. “What I want doesn’t matter as much as what they need me to be.”

They continued walking in silence for a few moments, the sounds of the park around them feeling comforting despite the tension. Aura María could see revelation before her eyes, a glimpse of truth in a world of illusions. Although all of her instincts were telling her to change the subject, she would herself digging for more. “You know,” she said softly, “I was thinking about what happened that day. With the blanket.”

Homelander's face tightened, a shadow passing over his usually composed features. "Right. You were there."

"When you got Randy fired? Yeah, I was there." Aura María's tone was gentle, trying to tread carefully on what was clearly a sensitive subject.

Homelander didn’t look sheepish at all. He raised one eyebrow, his gaze unwavering and intense, as if waiting for a reaction.

"Relax," Aura María was quick to say, sensing his defensive stance. "He was a shitty producer. I was glad to see him gone."

"Ah, see? I was looking out for you, even then," Homelander said with a smile, pointing at the tip of her nose with his index finger in a playful gesture.

"Sure you were," Aura María replied, flashing him a teasing smile. She knew what he was doing—trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. She decided to press on, determined to get to the truth. "What was it?"

"Uh?" Homelander feigned ignorance, though his eyes betrayed a hint of unease.

"What got you so upset that day? I mean, if it was just about Randy getting his crusty ass hands on your blanky, I understand. I don't like it when people touch my stuff either. But I got the feeling that there was something else going on."

Homelander stayed quiet, his jaw clenched.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Aura María said softly, trying to give him an out.

"It was nothing, really. It just... brought back bad memories," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm gonna ask you a question. Can you promise to answer it truthfully?" Aura María's voice was steady, but her heart pounded in her chest.

"It depends on the question," Homelander replied, his tone guarded.

"Did you really grow up in that house?"

"No," he said simply, the word hanging heavily in the air.

Aura María remembered Homelander talking about his mother's perfect cake, eyes full of love and reverence, only for him to go completely blank-faced the minute the cameras stopped rolling. A void formed in the pit of her stomach, though she wasn't sure why. "Was anything of what we filmed that day real? Anything at all?"

Homelander just shook his head, his lips pulling downward. He looked like a child being scolded, vulnerable and exposed.

"And the blanket?" she asked gently.

Homelander hesitated, then. Aura María put her hand over his, waiting patiently. He stared at their joined hands for a strangely long time.

"Only real thing on that set," he said finally. "It pissed me off that they would put it there without even asking."

Aura María understood then. It had angered him to see something real among all the fakery. She tilted her head to the side, considering him. There were only a few reasons she could think of to completely fabricate the background of a world-renowned celebrity, and none of them were very nice. What was Vought trying to hide?

"You come from a bad place, don't you, John?" she asked softly, using his real name for the first time.

He raised sharp eyes to look at her, the vulnerability in his gaze taking her by surprise. She had never seen him like this—so hesitant and out of his depth. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's okay. You don't have to," she replied, her voice soothing.

Homelander stayed quiet, something about his expression making her heart ache. The tough facade he usually wore seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the superhero persona.

"Aw, I'm sorry, papi," she murmured, kissing his cheek gently and laying her head on his shoulder. "I wasn't trying to make you sad."

"It's fine," Homelander said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

The embrace was tentative at first. Aura María could feel the tension in his muscles, the residual wariness that made him hold back. But as the seconds ticked by, he seemed to relax into her, his grip tightening. She pressed her cheek against his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of his suit. She could hear the steady, powerful beat of his heart.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park and turning the sky into a canvas of deep blues and purples. Homelander and Aura María walked side by side, the cool evening air brushing gently against their skin. The city’s distant hum was a comforting background noise, reminding them that despite the surreal peace of the park, the world outside continued to churn.

"You followed me that day," Homelander said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Uh?" Aura María glanced at him.

"When I walked out, you went looking for me. No one else did. I mean, there was Madelyn, but she... she only wanted me to keep filming, yaknow? She didn't really care about me."

Aura María had heard the rumors about Madelyn Stillwell's involvement with Homelander. Although it didn't seem like the right time to ask, she couldn't help but wonder. It had always seemed odd to her that America's most-sought-after-bachelor would set his eyes on a woman known around the whole metropolitan area to be a moody two-faced narcissist. Aura María was certainly not glad to learn about her sudden passing, but in all honesty, she much preferred to deal with Ashley Barrett. Despite her often-neurotic behavior, at least there was something human about her.

"You, though? You walked up to me when I was going back to the set, and you said... you said that you were sorry if your crew did something to upset me. That I didn't have to keep going if I didn't want to."

"Oh, yeah. I remember." Aura Maria’s expression softened, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"It's not common, you know? For people in this industry to be kind. Genuinely kind, no ulterior motives."

"No, I guess it's not," she replied, her tone thoughtful.

Aura María understood what he meant at once. Entertainment was not for everybody. She'd learned that the hard way and she'd already been a full-grown adult when she started working for Vought. Homelander had made his debut when he was only eighteen years old. She couldn't even imagine what growing up in that environment would do to a teen. Aura María wondered if that was the reason he asked her out—a small act of kindness she barely even remembered.

She could still recall that day vividly. They had been filming at a grand estate in Maryland, a faux representation of Homelander's childhood home. The house was opulent, with perfectly manicured lawns and an aura of artificial nostalgia. The set was bustling with activity, lights and cameras everywhere, creating an atmosphere that was both chaotic and meticulously controlled.

He had felt overwhelmed at some point, though at the time she had not been ablet o certain why. After what had been labeled by the crew as The Blanket Incident, he’d walked out into the expansive backyard, seeking a moment of solitude. Aura María remembered the feeling of the cool grass beneath her feet as she followed after him, the way the breeze had whispered through the trees, offering a fleeting sense of peace.

Then, out of nowhere, she spotted Homelander coming back from the barn. His presence, normally so commanding, had been almost sullen that day. A look she hadn’t expected from someone so larger-than-life. She had approached him with a concerned look in his eyes, and although her words had been simple, apparently, they had stayed with him. She had offered him an out, a rare moment of empathy in an industry that often lacked it.

Aura María had wondered awhile back if it was a good idea to go out with such a high-profile celebrity, even if only for one night. With a man so different from her, both in social and economic standing. It had been so very intimidating and still was. She was happy she said yes, though.

It felt strange to let him into her bedroom. She'd had people over before, but it was not quite the same. As Homelander stepped inside, Aura María suddenly became acutely aware of every little detail she'd never given a second thought to before. The stuffed animals she brought from Caracas because she couldn't bear parting with them, the Studio Ghibli posters that lined the walls, the TikTok LED lights she bought during an online shopping frenzy and never took down.

She cringed inwardly, realizing for the first time that her room could easily belong to a middle schooler. Homelander didn’t comment on it, though. He just stared down at her, eyes intent and gleaming in the low light of the room.

"I think we are overdressed, aren't we?" he said with a half-smile, a playful glint in his eye. "Take it off, come on."

Aura María bit into her lower lip, then proceeded to remove her dress. She crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the bed. Homelander was having none of that, though. He tsked at her, shaking his head slightly.

"Ah-ah, pick it up," he said, wiggling his finger. Aura María frowned, feeling a mixture of annoyance and curiosity, but still did as she was told. "Fold it, then put it in the drawer."

"You're into very weird stuff, you know?" she muttered, her voice tinged with a mix of amusement and nervousness.

"'Course not. I just don't like making a mess."

"Sure, that's all this is," she said, rolling her eyes as she took off her underwear and folded it along with the dress, placing them neatly on the bed.

"That's better."

Homelander approached her slowly, his gaze roaming over her body, making her skin prickle with anticipation. He put both hands over her breasts and squeezed them lightly. Aura María took a deep breath, already feeling the first stirrings of pleasure run through her. His touch was firm yet gentle, sending waves of warmth through her body.

His hands traveled down, caressing her sides, then her hips, and finally stopping at her ass. He squeezed her buttocks, then pulled her closer so that they were chest to chest. Aura María put her arms around him and leaned forward to kiss him. The apartment was deadly quiet, only the soft noises of their kissing and the erratic beating of her heart could be heard. It was embarrassing, really, how worked up she'd gotten after he'd barely touched her.

It made sense in a way, though. He was, after all, her sexual awakening. Aura María found it weird and sort of embarrassing that it would finally happen in her mid-twenties. Talk about a late bloomer, she thought wryly. But there was no denying the chemistry between them, the way his mere presence seemed to ignite something deep within her.

As their kiss deepened, Homelander's hands continued their exploration, making her skin tingle with every touch. The LED lights cast a soft, colorful glow around them. Homelander pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her lips. "You’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran down Aura María's spine. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly alive. She looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of lust and something deeper, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

"Thank you," she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

They moved to the bed, Homelander guiding her gently. As they lay down, he continued to explore her body with his hands and mouth, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. Aura María's mind was spinning. She felt a connection with him that went beyond the physical, a sense of understanding and mutual need. In the quiet of her bedroom, surrounded by the remnants of her past and the promise of something new, Aura María let herself be swept away by the moment. She surrendered to the sensations, the intimacy, and the overwhelming feeling of being seen and desired.

[ch3rrybbie]

Messy (part 2 of please please please)

Summary: he’s back like a cat with a dead bird.

Warnings: smut, p in v, no protection, oral fem rec. , dead body, blood, ominous end?

Note from the author: based it off the song by Lola young (loosely) mainly bc he is too messy but when he relates to the song it’s bc he’s pathetic yet dangerous lol idk if that makes sense.

———

Gore, blood and sweat enveloped him.

He heaves out heavy breaths, eyes unrelenting from yours.

Unconsciously your feet carried you back from him.

Had he looked this way at whoever’s blood was on him?

“Come. Here” he punctuated. The emblematic flag of freedom swinging behind him like a grotesque red flag.

Eyes scanning his face for danger, you relent tenderly walking towards him.

His gloves creak as they stretch to soothe your fearful face.

You’d seen the posts come through live on social media, Vought news smothering all reports of his rampage.

“I had to do that baby” he whispers nodding in self assurance.

When your expression didn’t soften from your apprehension he started to do his typical ranting.

A string of false preaching to bring you to his side.

“I mean they were going to take you away from me when I told then what you wanted and i will never let that happen. I would’ve done that a thousand times over, I will do it a thousand times over”. he’s left grasping at breath passion makes his eyes wild his hair is drooping into his face.

He looks villainous.

You cant help but reach up and smooth it back, “what have you done?” a voice drips out shaky and unrecognisable.

Cold breeze breaks your attention as the soft cotton curtains beckon you. Moving to grasp them you are breathless at the sight before you.

Dumped on the balcony is Stormfront, eyes gone with ragged laser marks across her face and body.

His body is marble behind you when you step back in shock. Toned hard planes keeping you upright. Kissing your cheek sweetly he grips your hand and guides you out, eventually dragging you over the threshold into the biting air.

It was his idea of some sick sort of wedding gift, an I am yours for ever and ever gift, a fate sealing bauble. And like a cat that got the cream he beams at you, face nuzzling into your beating neck.

“I love you” he sighs.

In the distance a sirens race towards the destruction he’d left. A promotion board with him and stormfront is almost unrecognisable, stormfronts picture is hanging above the shocked civilians.

His image grins down proud.

———

You’d been unable to speak and he barely batted an eyelid.

Shuffling around making you food and coffee. Keeping you no further than his eyesight. He was finally yours.

But did you want that?

He was even still covered in her blood. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Fat hot tears slip down your face in whispers and he rushes from the stove to grasp you like you’d disappear.

Confused he pleads, “what’s wrong tell me i’ll sort it baby”.

Still in shock you finally let your looping thoughts fly free at him.

“You killed her”.

He sours.

“No,no,no” his finger wags in your face

“You asked me to kill her my love”

You breathe in sharply, you did ask him. He obeyed you, and not so deep down you wanted that.

Needed that proof of loyalty.

Once trembling and begging before you he now stands over you.

Worshipper victorious. He had sacrificed for you, he would always sacrifice for you.

“Let me take care of you baby” he smooths at you slick as silk, he kisses you softly but you knew hunger bludgeoned in him.

———

Food forgotten and probably burning he pulls you into the bathroom. Gently pulling clothes from you he smoothes his hands over your soft skin. Looking at you like you’re a marvel. A mere mortal that swayed his heart, perhaps you were a marvel.

You settled under the warmth of the shower attempting to breathe through the images of stormfronts ragdolled body on your balcony.

His sudden heavy presence behind you brings you back and you lean in to him letting him ground you. His skin is hot under the burning water. Steam perfumes the space between you and you feel his hardened cock bob and nudge into you. He grips your hips to him, but you couldn’t fuck him covered in blood.

Covered in your commands, your vicious dog. Turning to look up at him you begin to wash the blood off him, an iron tang hits your senses. He smirks down at you knowingly.

Arousal and blood.

You can’t help but let him kiss you, all teeth and tongue. Blood be dammed.

He kneels devoted, parts you legs desperate to taste you, he is unrelenting and messy when he kisses your aching pussy. You drip with desire, a string of wanton moans music to his ears and he begins to moan back into you. Drawing back he looks up at you, bloodied face, mused hair and swollen lips. He relishes in your shocked face as he pushes two of his fingers in, knuckle deep. His hair is gripped in a silent command for more and you wrench him back up to you.

Fervent desire sets your senses alight the salty water spray and copper tang of his bloodied lips envelop you. He pushes into you and the burn is delicious. A wet cacophony of thwacks and groans accompany his pursuit of your pleasure. Suddenly you are up against the cold tiled wall and you nipples pebble at the temperature change. The new angle means his relentless fucking into your sopping cunt hits the most perfect spots and the sheer size of him brings a pleasurable pain.

He is stoic. Looking down through wet hair and bloodied trails he grins and reaches down to harshly rub your clit. Letting your nails dig into his taught back you release around him. Fingers and toes curling and tingling you are out of your body as you violently clench down on his twitching cock, pulling him in. He comes in hot spurts lining your spasming walls.

You are satiated. For now.

He gently lowers you and peppers you with kisses, pushing your hair from your face.

“I love you” he asserts

“I know” is all you can return.

He finishes washing you and escorts you to bed, all thoughts of the burnt food and stormfronts corpse vanquished.

You can’t help but think about how calm and quiet he seems as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

You don’t see him rise and clear away the burnt food and stormfronts corpse.

You don’t see him slip back into bed and whisper promises of your new life together.

You didn’t see the messages from Ashley about the missing compound V and his foolish plan.

———

TAG LIST: @melody-deathnote

[lovedeathalice]

Realest shit I've ever read. I need this man's Compound D in me right now

fuck my face, until you nut in my mouth! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME !!?

YEAH !

THEN FUCK MY FACE LIKE I SAID !!!!!

father

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs to You”

Homelander x Reader Masterlist <3

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡

Spotify playlist<3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

to be continued ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚

[dianesdiaries]

what you are| Homelander x Y/n

-After getting ahold of Homeland's animalistic nature, Vought's international decides to hire a psychiatrist to examine his behaviours. But he can see right through yours

NOTE: no smut! this short fic contains convo w/tension, suspense/ js a fun piece on the boys!

In the three minutes it took me to take in my situation, I could feel his gaze getting warmer. The aroma filled with the silence of a faint fan, the distilled white walls that caved into his head. My eyes slowly met with his, intoned into the rage that conceived into madness.

"Surprise visit?", the supe seemed unamused with my presence, the silent creaking of his chair rocking back and forth. We both knew damn well those cuffs could come off any second. We both knew Vought could do nothing if he killed me. I think it excited him. I sat down cautiously, leaving a gradual space between his palmed hands and my worksheets. "You seem- out of it lately. More or so then often. I'm here to help you through these times but you need to cooperate with me", my words held stern through my fear. The rapid pumping of my heart thumped with every crack of a smile he made. "Fix.. You want to fix me? that's ironic", the man scoffed and leaned back into his chair. his eyes met mine once again, demanding an answer to the quiet that held curiosity. "You seriously think you can walk in here and try to fucking fool me? What a joke. They want to hold me in here like some sort of mutt- while you have more to be scared of then you think". The room fell still again. I desperately looked for somewhere to avert my gaze, but fell back to base one. But I held my ground. As long as he left me time to stall, I could do my work. And leave. I worked mercilessly at my sheet, writing down whatever could come to mind to seem productive.

"Wasting my fucking time with this..."

I darted up to check my client, watching him carelessly stare into space. The plan was working. The more he could keep thinking, the more I could write down. I never admitted it, but being a super in silence had more benefits than you think-

"I know what you are".

My vision blurred in circles. My heart was alive in my stomach. "Excuse me?..-"

"Let's be honest, okay?", his words were empty, his hair hung low below his eyes as I could feel my body overheating. "You were given the gift, of being a better being. Of being superior to a world of sheep. And you're fucking ashamed. Like a waste of good product". I slowly stepped back from my chair, collecting my sheets that scattered onto the ground in the whip of a chain. The cuffs dangled, and scraped slowly to the rhythm of its fall. The floor swarmed my gaze, small trickles of tears bubbling in my eyes. Torn cloth met the warmth of my body, his presence towered over me. At this point, his thoughts were unreadable. I couldn't possibly make out how he felt in this moment but vast- nothingness. His breath was cold, the brace of his hand on my shoulder gripping. "Look at me. I said, look at me when I'm talking to you". I could feel my breath tremble as I raised my head to meet his gaze, the grin he had wiped off slowly. Homelander laughed at his irony, the madness breaking with every breath. "You come in here, and you tell me I have fucking problems? You can read people's minds and still choose a minimum wage fucking job!", my tears looked crocodile in his presence. His fingers slowly met my chin, tilting my head upwards in a jolt. "But it happens to the best of us, right? Nothing wrong with some slack. You wanna live serving them? Or a life of serving your kind?", my head shook up and down vigorously at his statements, my words entrapped in my throat. "Then you'll do the right thing, yeah Y/N?", his eyes began to light a crimson red, a smirk drawing on his face at the sound of fear in my cries.

His hand slowly made its travel down to my throat, grasping at the grooves as my hands searched for my keycard in a survival instinct. His grip tightened at every second I wasted, his soft chuckles at the heinous act sent chills down my spine.

BEEP!

My body collapsed at the release of air, grasping onto every breath I could take. The vigorous buzzing of his eyes fell into a still blue, looking down at the fawn of a supe he was looking at. His steps marched slowly out of the room, the sound of metal the door cranking open at his sight. "Thanks for the chat. It was a cute try, at least".

[lovingramos]

my introduction !

starr . 20 . she/her . anthony ramos girly !

i started this account to mostly write and reblog about anthony , hoping to write fics — feel free to request my inbox is always open !

more about me below

꒰ 💋 ⊹ ˚ . ➶ . ˚ ༉‧

this is an nsfw black!reader blog, if you're a minor do not interact with me or my works here.

what + who i do write for :

♡. anthony ramos

♡. daveed diggs

♡. usnavi de la vega

request : smut , fluff , headcannons, snaps and texts

what i will not write for :

please do not send anything regarding;

♡. r*pe

♡. p*dophilia

♡. person x person ship

♡. piss and feces kinks

♡. pregnancy

♡. inc*st

♡. stepc*st

fun facts !

♡. i’m anthony ramos biggest fan

♡. i’m in a business university

♡. my favourite hobbies are writing and crocheting

[burntsaltsblog]

why did i legitimately think this was anthony starr for a second😭

don’t talk to me i’m pretending this is my view of butcher rn while we sit in some random hotel room finally having one of the first nights of peace and quiet after getting away from everything together