#Maeve is a queen of course

[psychewritesbs]

Ok but can we talk about how beautifully written Westworld is? the whole story on the nature of consciousness against human nature (ego) is just... yes.

Yes.

[homielander]

the most interesting character detail about maeve through which i have extrapolated at least half my understanding of her is that she prefers to be called maeve. i frequently see "maggie" pop up in meta and fic as her chosen name, but quite literally nobody calls her that, including (and most significantly) elena. elena is maeve's tether to her humanity and her refuge away from vought, yet even elena only ever refers to her as maeve. (and in season 2, we learn that maeve started dating elena before she joined the seven -- before queen maeve's popularity would have become so inescapable that she would feel compelled to introduce herself by that name.) it's especially notable that in her final scene, maeve refers to starlight as annie for only the second time, but she is still called maeve by both annie and elena.

here's what we know about maeve's life as maggie: she had a rocky relationship with her father whom she doesn't seem to speak to anymore, she's from a "cousin-fucker hick town" as described by homelander -- i can't imagine this place being terribly lgbt-friendly, and she generally lacks connection with anyone she would have known before becoming queen maeve. she doesn't have fond memories of this time of her life, and perhaps that extends to all associations with it, including the name maggie.

i tend to think that becoming queen maeve was, in many ways, self-actualizing for her. the act that garners her national attention and earns her a ticket to vought is a heroic one -- she breaks every single bone in her right arm to save a school bus from falling off a bridge. and i know madelyn says she is responsible for the mythos of queen maeve, but this character was still aspirational, and likely someone maeve wanted to live up to. in any case, this new identity gave her a purpose and tools to achieve it: she wanted to help people! by her own admission, maeve enters vought bright-eyed and hopeful, not far off from annie. (maeve is also one of the only supes in the seven not to know about compound v -- she doesn't strike me as religious but believing she's among the very few born with powers would have strengthened her internal drive to be a hero.)

it's for the same reason that i think maeve actually... liked having powers? of course she says otherwise in her last season, but season 3 maeve is cynical and weary from about two decades of dealing with vought and homelander's abuse. they've used her first as the token woman and then the token gay person of the seven. after growing largely passive to the brutality of the job, the flight 37 incident forces her to confront all of the violence she's witnessed and tolerated. she's given pieces of herself away and she loathes the husk of herself that's left. i don't find it surprising that she would want to relinquish every single connection to vought, including her powers.

assuring herself that she will be better off without her powers comes with an added benefit: she gets to distinguish herself from homelander, who would be lost without his powers. and i think she is eager to make this distinction in her mind because there are some uncomfortable similarities between their initiations into vought. the mantle of homelander allows him to exert agency for the first time in his life, just as the mantle of queen maeve endows her with purpose for the first time in hers. (crucially, none of his current circle call him john, either.) they both enjoy being the most powerful superheroes in the world, the unending public adoration, and (in my interpretation) each other. they're also both overwhelmingly lonely and they know it -- homelander teases her multiple times about how she has no friends with a bit more bite in every passing season, while maeve is keenly aware of his isolation and exploits his yearning for love pretty effectively.

maeve steadily grows disillusioned with her position at vought because she still has a moral code, suppressed though it may be. even so, she nearly relents to homelander's vision: that they will be lonely at the top but lonely together. she's pulled out of her miserable state of inaction by annie and elena. annie reminds her of what a hero should be (what she was, once); elena offers her a way out of vought, serving as maeve's light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

she escapes that tower as maeve, not maggie. she rejects homelander's god complex which engenders his cruelty towards regular people and 'lesser' supes -- no one will call her queen maeve ever again, at least -- but it is still important to her to be a hero, and for better or for worse, she found that as maeve. i feel like she'd struggle to exist without her powers (possibly the self-awareness hasn't settled in yet) for all the reasons mentioned above. i like to think that eventually, she'll circle around to helping people and resisting vought however possible -- albeit on a smaller, more covert scale so she can continue living a peaceful life with elena.

[carpenterswife]

HALF OF ME (iv)

SUMMARY: With Soldier Boy alive in the 2020’s, back in America, he starts his mission of vengeance. Of course, his first stop is to you; the only woman he’d truly wanted to start a relationship with, who’d taken his spot only months after his supposed death. And you don’t exactly expect your old lover to appear in your home, with the intent to kill.

WORD COUNT: 2238

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Typical Soldier Boy behaviour, gore, heavy violence, canon divergence.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Finding you was difficult. They were beginning to think Ben had been wrong, that you were six foot under in some unlabelled grave, rotting away. But, Ben was sure. And arguing with him seemed like signing their death warrant.

So, they kept searching. Despite the fact they could have located at least two other Payback members, and had them dead, by now, Ben was insistent on killing you first.

So, they kept fucking searching.

And then they found it.

It was a tiny discrepancy. Something most people would simply brush past. But, Hughie found it, and it was all they needed. They followed the rabbit hole, down and down, finding hidden documents and details not even Ben knew about.

It only took two days to pinpoint your location.

The Appalachian Mountains. In the middle of fucking nowhere. Smack-bang in the middle of one of the largest forests in the entire USA. But, to Ben, that fact was whatever. He had your location. And he was going to find you, even if it meant spending weeks searching every inch of that forest.

Butcher and Hughie knew it was a dumb idea.

But, they got Ben in a car, and started their roadtrip.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

The quiet life was nice, you’d decided. You’d forgotten about Queen Maeve’s uninvited visit, going back to your routine of feeding the animals and drinking coffee on the balcony every morning.

It was weird. You used to be one of the most famous people on the planet. There was blood staining every inch of your hands, and families who were likely still trying to gain justice for the people you killed. You had decades of history. And, yet, you now lived out your days as some sort of Disney princess.

You couldn’t complain. It was better than willingly running into gunfire every week.

Padding through your dark home, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the floors, you headed for the kitchen. You were never too old for a midnight snack. Especially in the comfort of your own home. You turned into the kitchen.

And you saw it. A dark figure, shadowed in the corner.

But, you kept moving, playing oblivious. In your mind, your old training make itself own. Ben’s critiques and advice played like a movie, as you pulled the cabinet open, standing high on your toes to reach for packet of chips. Your senses were on fire, focused in on the quiet breaths, the soft squeaking of boots on the tile.

They moved, and so did you.

You ducked under the fist swinging towards your face, snatching a knife from the block beside the fridge. Holding it tightly in your fist, your stance ready to attack, you looked at the intruder. Every muscle in your body froze.

“Ben?”

He didn’t pull his punches. Ben grabbed you by the throat, using your momentary distraction to his advantage, shoving your back against the sharp edge of the counter. Instinctively, you swiped the knife towards him, but a rough hand caught your wrist, slamming it down onto the counter.

A cry of pain slipped past your lips, fingers releasing the knife. It was his turn to grab it, tossing it from your reach.

No words were spoken, just heavy breathing.

You’d never seen Ben look at you like this before. This look was reserved for those who got on the wrong side of him. Those who disappeared mysteriously overnight and were never found again — but you knew what happened. And so did he.

He was here to kill you.

“Ben—“ You choked out, through the tightening grip his hand had around your throat. The grip tightened, and your breath caught with a squeak, broken gasps for air trying desperately to pull in oxygen.

“How much did they pay you?” He demanded, his voice low and gravelly. “Huh? How much, did they fucking pay you?” There was something about him that was so different. A new edge to him, maybe. But, what caught your attention, was the look in his eyes.

Hurt. He was staring at you like you’d ripped his heart from his chest and stomped on it.

You clawed at his wrist, unable to bring any air into your lungs. Your nails bit into his skin, the scratches down his wrist quickly repairing themselves. He let you go. Not out of mercy. No. He grabbed your collar, lifting your head up, and then slamming it down onto the counter.

Your vision went completely white, all remaining breath knocked from your lungs with a gasp. Blinking desperately to clear the stars, you tried to struggle. But, he slammed you down again. And again. And again. Until he tossed you to the floor like nothing more than a rag doll.

The counter was cracked from the force of it, blood staining the white marble, and splattered across the counter. Your own kitchen. Stained with your blood. You could feel the warm liquid dripping down the back of your head, matting in your hair.

If you weren’t a supe, you’d be dead.

He didn’t let you get a word in, brutal with each of his attacks. As you desperately tried to scramble away, body on fire, he put his foot down on your ankle. Leaning down, staring intently at you, with dark eyes, Ben snarled. “How much?”

“Ben—“ Finally, words escaped. In a pathetic whimper that made his lips twitch in disgust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your breath hitched with pain.

That answer wasn’t good enough for him. You swore you could feel the bones in your jaw crack, as his fist met your cheek. You cried out in pain, the force of the impact whipping you around, hitting your head against the ground.

His hand curled into your hair, forcing your eyes on him. “Don’t fucking lie to me, you bitch.” Your breaths were ragged, with pain and terror, staring up at the man you thought was dead. He seethed, nothing but anger and disgust (and hurt?) in his green eyes. “You whored yourself out to me, huh? Put my dick in your mouth? For what? Fuckin’ soften me up like a weak pussy?”

“Ben—“

“Don’t.” He tugged your hair, hard. “I loved you.” His teeth grit together.

Your heart broke, tears in your eyes as you stared up at him. He loved you. And he thought you’d hurt him? He was dead. He was dead. That’s what they said. They said he was dead. Your mind worked at 100 miles an hour, heart constricting.

He loved you.

Soldier Boy loved you.

You didn’t even think he was capable of that. Sure, you knew you had something special with him, something unique. But love? It’d never crossed your mind. You’d always loved him somewhat, always throwing yourself in front of bullets and danger to protect him. Always following his lead and teasing him.

Always pushing your luck with his temper. Because he never snapped. He never hurt you. He never hit you. You knew you’d loved him, when your heart would dance when he chuckled at your jokes. The way your body reacted to his hands on your hips during your first training session. You knew there was something. But, for sure, you thought it was one-sided.

That, to him, you were a good fuck. Just a hole, as he liked to say about some women.

But, you’d been so wrong. And, all this time, 37 years, he’d been alive. And you’d done nothing.

“I loved you.” He repeated, in a broken seethe. His eyes were less angry now, but still held that hint of vengeance. “I would’ve died for you.” You could’ve sobbed, right there. “We were gonna start a family.”

Your voice was shaky. “Ben. Please. I don’t know what’s going on.” You begged, pathetic and weak. Ben scoffed, emotional. “I thought you were dead. I swear it, Ben!” It was practically a plea; a desperate cry for him to believe you.

He was too blinded by his rage. “I waited every day for you.” He hissed, reaching over and grabbing his discarded shield. “For you to come and get me. To save me. You never came.”

“Ben—“

He shoved you down, head slamming against tile once more. Knees on other side of your hips, Ben gripped the edge of his shield, raising it high.

He was going to kill you. You couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t fight it. All you could do was look at him, tears running tracks through the blood on your face. A silent plea, begging him to not do this.

He rose the shield higher, lined up with the juncture of your throat.

And then he saw it. A glint of metal peeking out from under your shirt. He could recognise them from a mile away. They were his, after all. His dog tags, sat delicately just above your chest, resting on the skin like they were made to be there. His brows furrowed, movements faltering.

His dog tags. You were wearing his dog tags.

Ben hesitated, unsure.

He looked down at you, meeting your teary eyes, and his brain ran wild. Of memories of being a couple. Of the memories of when a big question mark had hung above your relationship, neither of you sure of what was going on, but treating each other like lovers anyway.

Your soft touches; the way your fingers would trace the contours of his muscles in the morning. The way you’d kiss each of his scars, muttering against his skin how perfect he was, despite the flaws and the imperfections littering his body. How gentle you were. He’d never felt a gentle touch before you.

How you’d giggle at his jokes, smile blinding, pretty dimples, cheeks flushed.

God, and those eyes. How they’d shine and shimmer when you looked up at him, like he was made of the stars themselves. He always used to melt when you propped your chin on his chest in bed, looking at him with that cute smile, and he’d trace your face with his thumb, cradling your cheeks like delicate glass.

Those few nights spent together, in the limited time you’d had together as an actual couple. The way you’d move together; perfectly in sync, like you were made for each other.

The way you’d hold him. Laugh with him. Smile at him. The passing touches. The lingering stares across red carpets and events, subtly checking each other out, and then meeting up in the supply closet. The quiet moments together, cooking dinner or merely holding each other. All those times you forced him to dance, and he’d begrudgingly spin you in the kitchen. The dates, and the movie nights, and the silly fights, and how warm his cold penthouse felt when you were with him.

Every memory, every moment, replayed in front of his eyes, as he stared at you. He lost his breath, muscles stiff. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring this shield down and kill you. His chest ached and burnt.

He couldn’t kill you.

So, instead, he hit the blunt edge of shield against your head, and watched your eyes roll back.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

Coming to was disorientating and painful.

Every inch of your body ached, from the beating you’d received from Ben. You cringed as the light made the throbbing in your head intensify. Through squinted eyes, you made out the sight in front of you.

You were in your dining room. And there were two… unfamiliar men stood by your table, leaning over files and papers. Movement caught your attention.

Ben. Setting his shield down by the table.

“Ben.” You choked out, instinctively trying to reach out and grab him. To check if he was real. If he was actually stood in front you. Living, breathing. Your hands didn’t move. You looked down, frowning at the sight of tattered rope tying your wrists of the arms of your chair.

The noise drew over the attention of the three men. They exchanged a silent look, and slowly, and rather intimidatingly, approached. You whined a little, at the throbbing pain that made a tremble run it’s course through your body.

One of the unfamiliar men pulled up a chair. “What d’ya know abou’ BCL-RED?” Was that an English or Australian accent? You couldn’t tell through the buzzing in your ears.

“Wha’?” You slurred, blinking rapidly, trying to orientate yourself. “BCL-what-now?” A grunt slipped past your lips. They didn’t look impressed by that answer. “I— I saw it on a file. Back in ‘84. Never figured out what it meant.”

The man learnt forwards. “Neva’ found out?”

Your head shook, and it made the pain increase. Your face scrunched up in agony. “Mm, no.” You groaned, breaths hitched. “It was all classified. Edgar never told me. Mallory and I— we tried to figure it out.”

“Grace Mallory?”

“What? Yes. Grace.” You groaned again. “Jesus. Can you turn off the fucking lights? It feels like there’s a drill in my head.” You tried to push your face into your shoulder, hiding from the light that made your eyes burn and your head feel like Ben was slamming it against the ground again.

There was a beat of silence. “Did you know?” That was Ben. He sounded hesitant.

“Know what?” You peeked up at Ben, eyes squinted to be able to look at him. He looked tense, face expressionless. “I thought you were dead. I don’t know what else to say to convince you. I thought you were dead.”

“How did you not know?” He demanded, his short fuse lit. Ben and his fucking temper.

“I don’t know, Ben!” Your own yell made you wince in pain. “They never told me shit! I tried for 15 years to get answers!”Ben didn’t look convinced. Of course he didn’t. He was so set in his heartbreak and rage, by your supposed betrayal, that he’d utterly convinced himself. “I didn’t know.” You echoed in a broken whisper.

“How’s ‘bout this?” You blinked rapidly, trying to focus in on the accented voice. “We track down the otha’ girl. See what she ‘as to say.” There seemed to be a group-wide agreement.

“Countess?” You grunted, confused. Your gaze flicked between the three men. “I know where she is.”

And that got their attention.

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[msmiseryxoxo]

Behind Closed Doors

homelander x assistant! reader

🎧 Behind Closed Doors- Lana Del Rey

Disclaimer: This is finally done after two months, i first started this when the season came out. I don't know anything about the corporate world. I made up things as I went along :3 im sorry :( Also my first time writing fanfic and first time creative writing in a while, so I am a bit rusty be nice please :3 I wrote this as a challenge to myself , so i hope its not too bad. Constructive criticism welcome :)

around 3-4k words i lost count

this is so secretary ( 2002) coded

Tags: dom!Homelander Fem! Girly! Reader. praise kink, body worship, p in v, fingering, cmnf, homelander is soft for reader. creampie, breeding kink, daddy nickname used. homelander and reader are horny weirdos. I'm bad at tagging hopefully i'll be better :(

Set between seasons 3-4 but i didn't watch gen v oops

You transcribe the meetings for Vought, and you feel like you don’t get the recognition that you deserve. That is until Homelander calls for a private meeting. 

You were quiet and meek, like a little mouse. He viewed you exactly like that. A rodent to be exterminated. Squashed. He’ll have a word with whoever was in charge of hiring you. Even more of a word if it was Ashley. In your eyes, he could never hide the utter disdain on his face whenever he got a waft of your sweet, vanilla rose scent as you . He thought you represented everything wrong with humans. Your head was always hung low, you always stared at your shoes as you brought Ashley the notes for this week’s meeting. How dare you not look in his eyes? How can someone as stupid as you ever be trusted with confidential information about the company?

He absolutely hated everything about you. Your prissy nature, the way you only drank matcha lattes with soy milk. He turned his nose at that poor excuse of a milk option. He smelled that bullshit from a mile away. He hated the gloss on your lips. He hated the sparkle in your eyes, like you still had a lot of life to look forward to. He hated that hopeful mentality you held, following the philosophy that life was going to get better. He simultaneously hated and loved the way you cowered in his presence, the way your hands get sweaty and clutch at your skirt. He loved and hated the fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact with him. On top of all that, Homelander hated the way you made his dick twitch.

Even as you stumble around with a slight hunchback, he couldn’t keep thoughts of peeling off your tights and bending you over the table where meetings were held. How breathless and cute your pathetic moans would be. How he would make you speak up and ask for what you truly want. He wondered what your lip gloss would taste like. How soft your plush ass would feel as he caresses it. Even considering your horrible posture, something as small as your scent is enough to turn him on.

When homelander would retire to his apartment, he would drink a pint of milk and jerk off. That was his nightly routine for the last couple of years. He would think about Madelyn Stillwell, Stormfront, and if he was feeling especially normal, he would think about Queen Maeve. After a week of you working at Vought, his jerk off material had changed. He began thinking about you. A lot. You had dominated his brain, and this irritated the hell out of Homelander. He had never given this much thought to another person before. Mundane and ordinary things had popped into his brain. What did you eat for breakfast? What side of the bed do you sleep on? As much as he tried thoughts of you out of his head, they always came back with a vengeance. Just your entire existence bugged Homelander, but he got used to seeing you in the conference room, even looked forward to the weekly meetings if it meant he got to see you. He’d notice that his presence would have an embarrassing effect on you. Of course, he would have a certain effect on just about everyone that he encountered, but he relished in the fact that you would get so flustered when in the same vicinity of each other. He would then think of ways to get you worked out, he wanted to tease you just enough to coax you. He’d knew the type of girl you were, you thrived under words of praise. Homelander also knew that you’d be obedient enough to never say anything. He’d make you fear him, more than you already do. He wanted to make the desire to please stronger.

After the first month of your newfound employment at Vought, you wondered why anyone would put up with Homelander and the Seven’s antics. You pride yourself on your obedience and dedication. Why could nobody acknowledge the sea of tears shed over copious hours of overtime, and the perfection you put into shooting out emails everyday, keeping people on track. You even schedule the time the emails are to be put out. You know deep down you will never say anything, or even hint at the maltreatment and neglect that you recieve. You want to remain hopeful that this is just a rough patch, and as you get more acclimated to the company you won’t feel this way, they won’t treat you this way.

You wake up at 5:30 to face the day. 30 minute shower, a five step skin routine, and light makeup routine. You were told to always look your best when first hired. Vought has an image to maintain, and their employees should reflect that ( which only really applies to female employees).

While in the shower, you contemplate your life. You’re proud of yourself and what you have accomplished so far, but sticking to the Vought job is insane. It’s insane because you have a crush on your boss. Arguably the most famous and powerful man in America, or even the entire world. You know he's not a good person, but you wouldn’t mind being at his beck and call. God, it was pathetic how you imagine him grunting in your ear for you to take it. You try to move past these thoughts for the betterment of your life.

You are the first to arrive to the meeting room. You set up your space, placing your laptop, a notebook with strawberry pattern on it, and your matcha latte with soymilk.

As the supes settle in, you get ready to write. This week’s meeting was about searching for another member of the seven, or to speak truthfully, find a new black noir. You are clueless to how The Seven found itself without a Black Noir, but you know it is in your best interest to never ask questions. Of course, like the queen of England, Homelander is the last to arrive. Homelander strides in greeting everyone.

“ Mmm can’t wait for the bullshit we talk about today,” He rolls his eyes. You notice his tone even more irritated today. Homelander walks over to the front of the table and sits. Everyone waits for him to speak, for him to start the meeting. As you write the date on the top of your paper, you hear him clear his throat.

As you look up, he says your name. How does he even know your name? He couldn’t give less of a shit at anyone at this table, especially you.

“Can I speak to you at the end of the meeting? Alone of course. We wouldn’t want any of these morons listening in”

“ Oh. Yeah, of course!” You stutter a bit. You give him a small smile. He gives you his signature fake smile back. You know that look all too well. You recognize that that look is basically the middle finger. That highly calculated smile hides the disgust he feels for everyone around him at any given time. All the while, you are caught off guard by his words. Being alone in a room with any man would make you anxious, but being the only woman in the room with Homelander makes you nauseous. To say you are absolutely mortified would be an understatement.

Everyone in the room gives you a side eye. Ashley looks like she might pull out a gun and shoot you. She knows she’ll never hear the end of it. After all, she did hire you.

The rest of the meeting goes as smoothly as it could. Some dumb remarks were made by The Deep, but it could have been worse. You didn’t pay much attention during this meeting, as you were in your head about what this private session with Homelander would entail. Homelander senses your heartrate going up. He can practically hear the blood rushing through your veins. His hand quietly goes to grab and rub his bulge. He thinks of you on your knees, him grabbing your hair as you rub your face against his crotch with your hands on his thighs, looking up at him with adoration in your eyes. He brings his hands up and bangs the table.

“ Ok, I think we’re all done here,’’ He gives instructions to the Deep and Ashley to scout for the new Black Noir while A-Train shoots his movie. You write the details of the meeting in your notebook.

Everyone gets out of their chair and leaves, Ashley gives you a death stare. You feel faint, and your legs try to gather courage to walk toward Homelander.

“ Shut the door behind you, will you buddy” Deep closes the door, and you two are left alone at last.

Homelander slowly strides toward you with his hands behind his back. Like a deer in headlights , you were paraylzed with fear, you could not move. He softly grabs your chin. He sees the fear in your eyes.

“ Hey, you’re not in trouble. I can see the hairs on your arm standing up. It’s fine. You’re not in trouble.” He reassures you, eliminating the worst case scenario your brain. You breath a breathe of relief. You look at Homelander’s boots, still afraid to look him in the eye.

He gives a slight chuckle. “ I’m not going to laser you, ya know. Um, actually I asked you to stay because I realized something.” He places his hands on your shoulders, you finally look up. He is towering over you. You can see the absence of his pores on his face. He truly is perfect, which makes his presence even more intoxicating. Your head feels dizzy from both the fear and his course fingertips on your shoulders.

“ You’ve been here for a good while. I know that you think that you’ve gone unnoticed. But trust that that could not be further from the case.” He sighed. “ To be quite honest with you sweetheart, you’ve been too much of a distraction around here. Your short little skirts are killing me.” Homelander laughs. He imagined his hands hiking up your skirt all of the time. He toys with your hair as you cannot believe that this is happening. His hands travel to your neck as you can smell the mintiness of his breath. He places soft sweet kisses on the tip of your ear as you let out a whimper.

“ I know you wanted me like this.  Ya think I don’t know why you try so hard? You want to get my attention. Think of this as a reward, yeah?” Your knees buck. The pit of desire in your stomach is getting bigger, and you're aching for more of his touch.

“ I need you to look at me” He says in his stern voice. “ And I need you to respond when I’m talking to you, kay? Sit on the table for me.”

You nod your head. A light tap of his hand kisses your left cheek.

“ Use your words, doll.” Homelander whispers and looks at you tentatively.

“oh okay” you stutter and stammer.

He impatiently unbuttons your shirt, practically tearing it open, and quickly undoing the claps of your pretty pink bra ( which you wore everyday, holding onto hope he would one day see it) clumsily breaking a clasp in the process.

“ I’ll get you a new one, its fine” Your mouth opens in a slight gasp.

His tender, soft, touch full of need finds the softness of your breasts, as he bends down to delicately pinch your nipples, hard, from the building's chill and the unfamiliar feel of his leather gloves. He bites his lips, resisting the urge to come right then and there. He lightly sets you on your back, legs dangling off the table. He looms over your view. The blonde man begins to suckle on your breast, massaging the other. His lips leave soft marks all over your tits as he rotates his hands and his lips.

“ Oh god, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart, your tits feel amazing” You let out a mewl as your pussy clenches. Filthy sounds of Homelander lapping at your tits and soft cries escaping your mouth fill the room. He lightly nibbles your nipple. In a fleeting moment of bravery, you give Homelander a request.

"Mmm want you inside"

“Not yet honey. Needa prep you first, know you can’t handle it right now. ” He unzips your skirt and throws it across the room. Your tights were thigh high, so he didn’t have to take them off like he would have liked. He looks almost animalistic as he crouches down to level with your cunt. He rubs his gloved hands up and down your bare thighs, as he inhaled the scent of your clothed pussy. You run your hands through his soft, blonde hair, thinking about how how heaven feels.

He murmurs into your pussy, “ you’re fucking soaked and i barely touched you”

His nose brushes with your clit. Catching wind of your squirming and quiet mumbles, Homelander purposely moves his nose in a circle while he maintains eye contact with you. A strong hold of his hands is on your hips, trying to contain the buildup of your pleasure. His rhythmic movement works your way toward an orgasm, and as you get higher and higher, almost reaching your peak, he moves away, toward your mouth, embracing your tongue, biting your lip softly, as your lips sloppily crashed into each other. He sat you back up as his arms moved up and down your back. Anger quickly left your body as quickly it came, you couldn’t be mad at his denial when you inhaled his fresh linen and sandalwood scent.

He breaks away from your lips .“I want you to cum on my cock, so im just gonna make you nice and wet for now, sound good?” You look into his of course that sounded good, but something felt off.

“ mmkay homelander” you mumble, feeling a bit odd and disconnected suddenly. You don’t want to call him that, his nose was in your pussy, his tongue all over your chest, it felt wrong to call him homelander. Sensing this, he does the unthinkable.

“ call me john” he mutters under his breath, almost inaudible. you grin at him.

“ mmkay john!” God. your squeal and positive attitude made his cock even harder, which he didn’t think possible. You relax a bit more, as this was a sign of him opening up.

He slowly wiggles you out of your panties, as you giggle. Leaving you fully naked, Homelander basks in the sight of you, ready and pliant for him. 

“ Yeah, what’s so funny” Homelander smiles at you. 

“ hmm. Dunno. You’re just so…” you trail off at the end of your sentence.

As you’re responding to his question, Homelander slips a finger inside you. You let out a cry, slightly rolling your head back.

“ Im so what sweetheart, finish your sentence” He grabs you by your neck, demanding a deep sloppy kiss, whilst adding another finger in your pussy, plunging deep in and out of your slick folds. He curls two fingers up,

‘So..mmph..good, feels good, john” 

“ Mmm yeah I know honey, I know ”  He coos, mockingly in between kisses. He worked his fingers until your breaths became ragged, squirming and quivering under his touch. 

“ You’re so fucking wet, baby” He grunts while you moan as John scissors his fingers in and out of your slick pussy. He moves his fingers, moving them into circles on your clit.

“Im gonna cum, please!” You plea for him to keep going, faster.

“ Ah ah ah, no i don’t think so. going do it on my dick remember?” He pulls his fingers out of your wet warmth, drags his tongue up and down his fingers.

He moans as he sucks on his own fingers, you look up at john with utter adoration.

“you taste so good mmph” Your tongues intertwine, lapping filthy at one another. He bits your earlobes while his hands lazily fidget with your nipples.

He then brings the bottom of his suit to his knees, cock swinging out. It’s egregiously thick. His length swollen and aching, leaking out precum from his pretty tip.

“ I’m going put my cock in now, ok sweetheart?” He seems to take it easy on you, as he doesn’t mention your mouth salivating at the sight of his dick.

“need it bad, been waiting for it”

“ Oh I know, i’ve seen the way you look at me” he laughs sinisterly.

He uses one of his arms to spread your thighs wider apart as his other hands supports you up, grasping the whole of your back. You smile up at him

He positions himself nearer to you, his cock at your entrance.

“ it’s gonna be a big stretch ok, need you to breath, if you need support, hold onto my shoulder.” he senses your lack of experience, or at least your naivety. you had never experienced anything like this, and you never would again, he would make sure of it.

you nod your head and look up. You’re already cock drunk, you trust him with your life. He reassures you with a kiss to your forehead.

Homelander bullies his length through your warm walls, gently and slowly. you let out a cry, both of pleasure and pain. you feel so good full, He groans into your mouth, as you moan into his.

“ ok honey, it’s going in”

“mmmphh John, so big..”

“does it hurt?” he stops in his tracks.

“a little, but not a lot” you say almost in a whisper.

“ok, ill keep going really slow, sweetheart”

He thrusts real slow, as he caresses your face. you lose feeling in your legs as he pounds softly into you. He finds him rhythm quickly as he maintains his pace. You hold onto his back as he moves his hands all over you.

“ God, your tight pussy clenching my cock feels so good sweet girl”

You smile and giggle.

“ My dick needs to be in your sweet cunt forever, sweet cunt, sweet girl” He growls into your ear.

“mm Keep going daddy!” you squeal, not knowing the damage you have done but uttering those words. Homelander feels like could come right then and there. A primal switch flipped in his brain.

Tears begin to swell in your eyes. “ I’m so so so sorry i didn’t mean to say that” Homelander sees your eyebrows furrow and your eyes widen.

His thrusts begin to pick up the pace, the perfect rhythm becomes sloppy, as your juices spill out of your thigh. His fat cock ever so slightly touches your cervix as you let out a soft sob.

“you don’t know what you do to me don’t you? Jesus, this pussy was molded for my cock” He grabs you by your knees and throws your legs over his shoulders. His dick twitches inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum, and you’re about to follow him.

“Say it again. Call me what you just called me” He annunciatesin a low voice.

“ Fuck, daddy feels good, want your cum” You feel free of all embarrassment and shame in that moment as you bask in euphoria.

“ That’s a good girl. Good girls get to cum. Good girls get filled up with daddy’s cum” Homelander never knew that this nickname did it for him. Hell, he was more of a mommy kind of guy, but he would do anything for you. Any word that came out of your mouth would make him hard, because it was you. But submitting yourself to him in this way, it did more than getting his dick up. He was disgusted by this feeling. What was it? Why did it feel so weird?

“ Oh god I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in you, give you babies oh god” He sloppily kisses your face, as fat blobs of sticky cum drip out of your cunt. He keeps his cock in your pussy, as he holds you with your face pressed to his chest.

“i need to come daddy” you stutter and shake under him.

He allows you to come and you swear you see stars. John smears his cum across your pussy, then he bends down to kiss in between your lips highs.

He helps you into your skirt and what’s left of the rest of your clothes. You smile at him, and he smiles back. A genuine smile.

that got a little more emotional then i thought it was? idk should i make more of homelander x reader in mind? if you want to give feedback feel free to :) i’m doing this to be a better writer !

divider creds: @cafekitsune @bunnysrph @anitalenia

[hughiecampbelle]

Supe Preference: Asking You Out

Requested: hi, idk if you write for the supes, but I will try request anyway :D how would the supes ( the boys series) ask a gn reader out? Ty - anon

A/N: I hope this is okay my love! I tried to stay true to character as much as possible, so I'm not sure how romantic some of them are. I tried writing for new Supes too, at least new for me, so apologies if it's not totally in character! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜💜💜

Homelander doesn't exactly ask you out. Rather, on live TV during an interview or event, he grabs your hand and proclaims that you're in love, that you're a couple. Whether or not you're into him, it still comes as a shock. Afterwards he'll ask you on a date where the public and paparazzi can see and take pictures. It's not as intimate as you'd like, but the date goes well. He takes you to an expensive restaurant where you've gotten rid of your suit for something classy and elegant, but he sticks with his regular attire. It's definitely not how you were expecting to be asked out or how you thought your relationship would progress. Ashley thinks it's great! You are both insanely powerful and, for selfish reasons, she wants Homelander off her back. She appreciates that you'll take some of the attention off her.

The Deep probably makes more than a few inappropriate, crude, raunchy jokes about and around you before he properly introduces himself. It's almost compulsive the way his jokes come out. He just can't help himself. He later apologizes and asks to start fresh. Would you want to go out on a date with him? When you say yes, he instantly tells you about all his ideas. You could go to the aquarium or to dinner or to the amusement park or coffee or whatever you want to do. You stick to coffee. It's pretty cute how excited he is. He wasn't expecting you to say yes, so he really didn't have it planned all the way through. He was expecting, like everyone else in his life, for you to call him stupid and move on without answering.

A-Train and you have been dating forever, but you haven't been out on a date in ages. He's still shy trying to ask you out even now. Of course you say yes, excited you'll get some time alone. You might have to reschedule once or twice because Homelander is on the rampage, but when you do get together, he takes you rollerskating. Despite how fast he is in sneakers, he's awful on wheels. He holds your hand the entire time and definitely drags you down when he falls. He stays pretty casual in his clothes and tries to keep his hood up, but it just falls down. You guys find a roller-rink in the middle of nowhere, so you're pretty safe in being discovered. You make fun of his clumsiness and check him for bruises when he falls, especially hard. He makes the same joke over and over: that he "fell" for you. You think he's an idiot, but this is by far one of your most favorite dates.

Queen Maeve asks you out over text. When you say yes, she shows up in her civilian clothes. She makes sure she isn't followed and that Homelander is distracted the entire day. She takes you to the movies. It's dark and secluded, but she knows you love movie theater popcorn specifically with all the butter and the blue raspberry slushies, and you picked the only movie not funded by or produced by Vought. It's a really terrible comedy, but you two can laugh at it anyway. Maeve even holds your hand during the movie which makes her heart beat out of her chest. Afterwards she makes you stay after to kiss you and tell you she had a really great time. It's the first time in forever where she's felt like a real person whose allowed to do real person things. She wants to get your read on it, but you're both excited for a second date.

Firecracker would ask you on a date to some fast food restaurant where you can get the best greasy food and the thickest milkshakes. She'll definitely be sported because she doesn't go incognito and ends up spending a few minutes at least taking pictures and videos for everyone who wants one. She apologizes for them, but secretly, she loves it. You don't mind. You knew what you were getting into when you said yes to the date. She tells you about her life growing up and her past with Starlight. You tell her about your own life and how you came to New York to follow your dreams. She tells you about joining The Seven and what she really thinks of Vought. It isn't the most magical date, but you're glad you said yes. It made you feel like a teenager again, getting food with your old crush, trying to play it cool when you're actually freaking out.

Soldier Boy doesn't really ask you out on a date. You two *get busy* in bed and afterwards he asks if you'd want to go to a bar. You say yes and find yourself at a local hole in the wall, a place that definitely doesn't see new faces. Most of the patrons are as old as Ben would be if he'd aged. He looks so familiar to them, but they can't figure out where he's from. An old friend? An old co-worker? Regardless, they don't pay attention to the two of you. You and Ben start trying to out drink one another and though his tolerance is astronomically higher than yours, you keep up enough to impress him. You two probably go back to bed and keep drinking, sharing stories about your lives between sweaty sheets and shared sips of whatever booze he has lying around. It's not too official, but you both kind of think of it as a date.

Bonus! Annie asks you to go bowling with her. Like in the show, she plays it off like she's not very good until you point it out to her. That's when she starts kicking your ass. She's really embarrassed and worried that you'll think she's showing off or just trying to make you feel bad, but you love it. You love her strength. You love her showing off and almost breaking the pins with the ball. You get really awful bowling alley food and beers, and it's a really fun night despite all the drama that comes with being Starlight. It's the first time in a long time she's felt normal and safe and excited to be here, excited to be herself. You're not shy about asking for a second date, though you know you're risking a lot by wanting to be with her. She makes that known before anything else.

[gorgeys]

kinda pervy!queen maeve x femsupe!reader

sorry this is so long but i finished season 3 and had to get this out of my system. maeve come home the kids miss you.

and pls more ppl write for her 🙏🙏

she doesn't want to be like this.  she really doesn't.  but as you sit down at your new seat across from her at your first seven meeting, all of her morals fly right out the window.

you're smiling up at homelander as he introduces you, but all maeve can see are your hands attempting to pull the low cut neckline of your suit up to cover more of your tits.  your suit's brand new and, like starlight's, shows more skin than your previous one which takes some getting used to on your end.

vought's costume department also made quite a few mistakes so your new suit is basically a size too small.  it's the world's best push-up bra, giving maeve so much to look at.  but it's the small opening of your suit over your rib cage that really gets her.  it shows just the teeniest big of your underboob and it's already driving her wild.

you're already not leaving up to imagination, but still, she wants to reach across the table and rip the black leather right off of you.  she wants to run her cold hands all over your chest and make your nipples turn hard under her thumbs.  she wants to grope and squeeze your tits and watch as your face morphs between pain and pleasure.

when you look over at her, you finally notice that she's been staring at you with what appears to be the meanest death glare you've ever seen.  she's leaning forward with her elbows on the table and a clenched jaw as if you're her next target.  you look away quickly, already scared of her.  you just hoped she didn't hate you.  she was your idol after all. oh, if you only knew what she was thinking.

you're too pre-occupied to notice, but every time you leave the conference room after a meeting, she always walks behind you.  of course, it's not an accident.  nothing she does is an accident.

she notices that whenever you walk in front of one of the boys (especially the deep), your hands constantly rest along the hem of your skirt which barely covers your bare ass, ready to pull it down and obstruct their prying eyes.  but with her, you don't seem to care.  it's probably because you think that you're both girls so you don't have anything to worry about.  little do you know she's the worst of them all.

her eyes constantly peek beneath your skirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of something.  a couple times she does get lucky and sees a bit of your white or pink cotton underwear.  one time she gets really lucky and instead catches your black lace panties and wonders who you could be wearing those for.  it's moments like those where she hopes you know she's looking.  she wants you to wear those for her, no one else.

but most days she's not that fortunate.  instead she just watches the sway of your hips and ass as you both walk over to the elevator.  again, she wants to run her hands all over you and feel every single curve.  she visualizes herself squeezing your ass and whispering in your ear how soft and smooth your skin is.  then she imagines bending you over something so she can see all of you.

but then you enter the elevator and turn around and smile sweetly at her.  having spent enough time in the seven, you know she won't ever smile back, but it doesn't really bother you.  you've accepted that's just who she is.  meanwhile, she contemplates pressing the emergency stop button, slamming you against the wall, and shoving her fingers so far inside of you that your brain goes fuzzy and tears are slipping down your pretty cheeks.

it's that same thought that keeps her awake at night.  she can almost hear your whines and moans echoing in her head.  she can hear you begging to cum all over her face and promising you'll be a good girl for her.  you're so loud in her head that she can't help but reach under her shorts and rub circles on her clit as she whispers your name into her pillow.  she thinks about fucking you so often that, to her, it feels like it's really happened.

one time she comes back late from a team-up and, on her way toward her room, peeks into the training room to find you practicing moves on a punching bag.  she stops and just watches through the window for a second.  your back is to her but your hair is up and she can see the sweat dripping off your neck, some of it hitting the mat beneath your feet.  she wonders what it tastes like.  probably salty, but also sweet because it's you after all.  she'd lick your sweat right off your neck in long stripes.  she'd probably lick it off the floor too if she was feeling extra thirsty.

she's torn.  she's tired and you look tired and if homelander catches her, he'll know something strange is going on.  but as you turn slightly toward her and use your tank top to wipe some sweat of your forehead, she makes her decision.

"hey" she says, leaning against the door frame.  you whip your head around and are more than surprised to see her of all people with her arms crossed over her chest and a smug half smile.  "need a training partner?"

you weren't going to say no to this uncharacteristically kind offering, even if you were just about to head upstairs.  so you're jumping around the mat at nearly midnight, dodging her blows and getting in a few licks of your own.  you're a pretty good fighter, but not as good as her, so it's not long before she has you pinned to the mat with one forearm against both your shoulders.

your chest is heaving beneath her arm and your mouth is slightly open.  she's never been this close to you before.  she feels like she's on fucking fire, feeling herself on top of you like this and feeling her skin against yours.  she would've been able to control herself if you weren't staring into her eyes like that, looking a little dazed but excited.  who can blame her for closing the distance and kissing you like there's no tomorrow?

you're beyond shocked.  more like stupefied.  you'd never even had an inkling that she had thought of you in this way.  in fact, you assumed she wanted to kill you sometimes.  but the way she kissed you so hard and dug her teeth in your bottom lip made you want her so badly that you could feel your panties growing wet.

with your little crush on her, you thought about this moment sometimes and assumed she'd be rough but my god she was rough with you that first time.  she barely let you move, keeping you completely pinned to the mat with one arm while the other snuck beneath your skirt.

"you don't even know how long i've been waiting for this," she whispers into your ear as her fingers push your panties to the side.  she's instantly assaulting your clit in fast, tight circles, leaving you writhing beneath her, though there's not much wiggle room between your bodies.

"maeve, what if somebody sees?" you ask between quiet whines.  what a suck up you were, constantly trying to gain points with the other members of the seven in hopes of gaining more power.  she especially hated the way you sucked up to homelander, always grinning at him and laughing at his stupid, gross jokes with hearts in your eyes.  a small part of her wanted him to see her fucking you so good.

"you'll keep taking my fingers, goody fucking two shoes," she says through gritted teeth before shoving a finger inside of you with no warning, causing your back to arch up and off of the mat.  "good girl, baby."

after that night, there's less staring and imagining but more touching and doing.  her hand grazes your ass when you pass each other in the hallway.  she pretends to swat a fly away from your chest and ends up smacking one of your tits.  it always ends with that same no-good smile.

you try your best to only end the night in maeve's room if homelander's out on a mission, but she grows impatient.  you're an addiction and every little taste she gets leaves her wanting more.  she especially gets handsy when you've spent a lot of unnecessary time with homelander.

"y'think he can fuck you like this?" she asks, her strap buried deep inside of you.  you're sat on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around her waist and hands tangled in her hair as she relentlessly pounds into you, pushing you toward your third orgasm.  you moan a "no" into her shoulder before biting down on her skin.  "yeah, that's what i thought.  if i see you touching him again, i swear i'll strip you naked and fuck you in front of him.  now cum before i change my mind and don't let you."

she once threatened to make you wear a vibrator to one of the seven meetings after you came back from a team-up with homelander's arm around your shoulders.  but, after a lot of begging and time spent on your hands and knees feverishly eating her out, maeve finally forgot about the idea.  he would've probably seen it anyways.

but, one of, if not her favorite time fucking you is on a random sunday when homelander's out doing day-time talk show interviews.  she drags you into the seven conference room and sits in homelander's chair at the head of the table.

"feels good, does it, baby?" you say, sitting on the edge of the table in front of her, reaching underneath your skirt and shimmying your panties off.

she sighs a sigh of accomplishment and leans her head back against the chair without taking her hungry eyes off of you.  "feels fucking fantastic."

then she's rolling her chair forward, locking her arms around your thighs, and pulling your pussy toward her mouth.  you lie back on the table with your legs over her shoulders and moan maeve's name as her lips enclose your clit and suck harshly.  she shushes you but with her lips against your cunt, the vibrations only leave you struggling to compose yourself.

the rush of power from eating you out in homelander's chair makes her hungrier than ever and she laps you up quickly, collecting your juices on her tongue and swallowing proudly to avoid leaving behind a mess.  "you taste better than ever, baby," she says, licking her lips before leaning down to give you a chaste kiss.

everything's going well until one fateful meeting when homelander's getting on your ass about some dumb little thing you said in an interview that's been twisted by fans and is now trending on twitter.  he was talking to you like you were a mentally unstable infant and it was starting to piss maeve off.

"hey, cool it, homelander," she interrupts him mid-sentence as he ranted on about your "tiny pea brain."  he turns his face, which was inches away from yours, toward maeve who was coolly leaned back in her chair.  they had a stern staring contest for a few moments before something inside of him snapped.

"just cause y/n's slutting herself out to you doesn't mean you have to be her lesbian knight in shining armor, maeve."  maeve was far better at hiding her shock than you were.  "yeah i fucking knew about you two.  don't think you can hide anything from me."

and that was when your secret arrangement turned into a very public one.  you would be lucky to escape this situation with your life.  luckily maeve would never let you go without a fight.

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.

Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.

You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.

Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.

You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.

He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'

You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.

Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'

'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.

The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.

You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.

'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

[leth-writes]

Yandere Platonic The Boys part 2!

Hughie, at first, is terrified you’re a spy for Homelander. In some ways, he’s actually right; you don’t understand the concept of keeping secrets from him, as you view him as a protective force.

Starlight has to explain it in ways you’ll understand. She tells you that it’s like that time Queen Maeve had to go undercover to save the day in her third movie, and that you need to keep their friends safe by not telling anyone about them. You understand; you’re so excited to feel like you’re in your favorite film!

This really warms Hughie up to you, and he becomes almost like an older brother figure.

Everything is going well, with Hughie and Annie slowly introducing you to the concept that Vought is corrupt, and that Homelander isn’t who you think he is. They’re taking you out to eat, going to the library and to films, really enjoying spending time with you and helping you explore.

Homelander, of course, HATES this. He can’t say anything however, because the media has caught wind of Annie mentoring you and is running wild with the story. He’s stuck letting you see her, but he’s definitely not happy about it. He pulls her aside and threatens her, eyes blazing red, to make sure you aren’t corrupted.

Everything goes to shit when Butcher catches on, seeing a photo of you and Annie smiling in the paper, Hughie in the background. He absolutely loses his mind, accusing Hughie of bringing “Homelander’s pet” into the operation and working with Vought. Obviously, Hughie gets pissed and storms off, his mind clouded when it comes to you.

When he next sees you, you transform and exaggerate his sad eyes and add tear streaks, silently asking him what was bothering him

Him, Annie and you are just sitting at the bench, eating some sweets you had packed, when Butcher approaches.

At first you’re apprehensive, but when you see Annie and Hughie react as if they know him, you relax and enthusiastically greet him, transforming and exaggerating his scratchy beard, adding a gentleness to his eyes and exaggerating the wrinkles to give him a kinder appearance. He doesn’t react too well.

By the end, Hughie and Annie have forced you behind them, Annie’s hands blazing white, with Butcher glowering. The standoff lasts until Hughie manages to explain the situation. The comparison to Kimiko helps Butcher understand the situation, though he’s still quite apprehensive and refuses to allow you back to the base.

Mother’s Milk is equally apprehensive, though he does view you as young and innocent, almost reminding him of his young child in your obliviousness to the reality of supes.

Frenchie loves you right away. You remind him of a less combat-ready Kimiko, making his chest swell. He can’t help but see the way Kimiko could’ve been if she had a different upbringing in your gentle excitement. This lasts until Hughie quietly explains your past. He’s honestly a bit in awe you’re able to remain so positive.

Kimiko adores you as well. Part of it is being able to see the way the others react, and part of it is the way you immediately transform. You remind her of her family. She can see the confusion, the lack of cohesive identity, and really identifies with you. The two of you bond quite easily, becoming inseparable.

Let me know if anyone is interested in more!

[shadowqueenjude]

Who pulls the most bitches?

So I saw someone do something like this and I kind of wanted to do my own version with sjm characters. They get no bitches (besides that one girl who's a sucker for losers): Tamlin, Hunt, Ithan, Declan (only bc he's gay not for lack of game; he pulls ALL the men), Tarquin They get more than none but less bitches than you'd expect: Fenrys (bc he's with Maeve, poor boyo), Tharion (bc he's stuck with the river queen's daughter, oof), Aedion, Mor (because she has to hide her sexuality, rip) Now let's rank the remaining: Rhysand: for the supposedly most powerful fae guy to ever exist, he gets a surprisingly low amount of bitches. Perhaps it is due to his creepy evil reputation and the hatred for him within his own court: turns out a pretty face a male does NOT make. Even gold-diggers have standards! Cassian: I turned this over in my mind many times, but I realized Cassian pulls less bitches than Azriel after the line "I don't need to resort to poetry." He gets plenty of bitches because he's a bigass dude with muscles, but his shitty poetry is a turn-off to most eligible ladies. Azriel: he doesn't need to resort to poetry; he's a pretty boy with a cut body, but points have to be deducted for lack of game and pining over Mor for 500 years and being obsessed with having a mate (yuck). Dorian Havilliard: Come on, guys! He's a hot prince! Of course, he gets all the bitches. He's a little immature but he grows out of it! I mean he pulled the fucking man-eater, for God's sake. Points deducted for falling for Celaena wayyyy too fast (and getting rejected) and for his healer girl getting decapitated (rip Sorscha). Rowan: we KNOW this guy gets aaaaaaaalllll the bitches. Come on, he's Rowan-rutting-Whitethorn! Points were deducted for the whole Lyria thing AND serving Maeve for so long. Lorcan Salvaterre: He gets even more bitches than Rowan because... "Battles, riches, females- Lorcan always won, at any cost." And it's even said Rowan often allowed him to win. So yeah, he pulls a lot of bitches and participates in crazy orgies with his homie Rowan. Points deducted for being Stockholmed by Maeve (poor Lolo). Ruhn Danaan: I mean we already know the man's got game (evidence: CC2 chapter 3 plus all ruhnlidia chapters). He's also a young (by Fae standards) prince who lives in a fucking frat-boy house. And that sad-boy thing he's got going on? Girls love that. Eat it up. All the bitches wanna sit on him to take away his sorrow. Points deducted for crushing on a lesbian (oops). Tristan Flynn: Man gets even more bitches than Ruhn because he's just hornier and he's obsessed with his hair. Also, did you see the fire sprites becoming his cheerleaders? King shit. Points deducted for failing to rizz up Ariadne. Eris Vanserra: Come on, he's an Autumn Court male. Plus he's a Vanserra! It's practically in his blood! Points deducted for being rejected by Mor and Nesta tho. Chaol Westfall: Man gets a shockingly high number of bitches despite being a human character who until Dorian became king had a pretty lowly position. I mean, there was a literal PRINCE and his cousin hanging out and the girls were all drooling over Chaol. When he had a disability (which unfortunately due to prejudices that exist, often make you "undesirable" in the eyes of many) and he rizzed all those women, including Yrene, harder than Kashin. EVERY. GIRL. CHOSE. CHAOL. OVER. A. LITERAL. PRINCE. Both in Adarlan AND the southern continent. You're telling me he doesn't have the rizz??? A half a point deducted for being too hung up over Celaena (I don't blame him but still). But still, he pulls sooooo many bitches. Lucien (Vanserra? Spell-Cleaver? Cunt-Server?): Come on. Is there anyone else fitting to be number 1???? Man's got EVERYTHING Chaol has, PLUS he's the son of a High Lord and he's got that Vanserra rizz. Fuck it, he wouldn't stop at bitches. He'll pull every mfer to ever exist. If it breathes, it's into Lucien Vanserra. He is THAT guy.

[bohemianblasphemy]

can you write maybe billyxreader where reader finds out he slept with maeve and it bothers them and billy reassures them that it wasn’t serious and he loves reader, and they ask him to prove it.

i love a lil angsty smut ✨

@billybutcherrtrash

Numb.

That was all that you could feel in that moment. The abundance of tension in that room where the Boys had their meeting was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Butcher had dropped some intel for their mission to take down Homelander; the superweapon that had supposedly killed Soldier Boy, as well as a small supply of Temp V.

It was however, when he casually dropped the bombshell of how he got this information, which was in the form of sleeping with Queen Maeve.

“Purely transactional, nothin’ else.” He’d grin, before continuing the meeting as if it didn’t mean anything- especially to you.

Billy was a complicated man- He’s determined to get what he wants, even if it meant to sleep with the enemy.

Nothing could have prepared you for that news, the pressure of his words hung on you like dead weight. Uncertainties filled your mind as you thought about the obvious feelings that you and Billy shared for each other.

“Did what we have matter to him? Or was it just to fill in the void?”

It seemed that everyone besides Butcher, who was still yapping away was focused on you and how you were feeling; sending invisible messages of sympathy and pity toward you as you sat there motionless trying to subdue your pain.

Trying to avert your mind to anything else than what you just heard had proved unsuccessful, the image of him and Maeve burned into your brain.

The day was unbearably long, it was too much for you, choosing to feign illness and left for home early. Butcher saw right through your getaway, knowing deep down why you did.

As night fell, your apartment was quiet. Sitting on your small couch as you looked out the window, ruminating thoughts of his ‘transaction’ still fresh in your head.

Knocking on the door snapped you out of your thoughts as you made your way to look through the peep hole, seeing none other than Billy himself.

A part of yourself wanted to tell him to fuck off, the other begging to open the door. The latter of your thoughts won as you opened the door- Butcher waltzing in without so much as an acknowledgement.

“Well yes, of course come right in!” Your voice oozed sarcasm and annoyance as you shut the door. He snapped around to look at you.

“You ain’t sick, i know that.” he grumbled. “talk to me, i ain’t leavin’ till ya do.” You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms as you stared at him- staying silent as you figured out the words to say.

“Why her, Billy?” you choked on your words, not looking him in the eye. “How could you think that was okay to sleep with someone else?” Butchers expression showed regret and annoyance at himself, punching the bridge of his nose.

“Love, it wasn’t serious. It was just for the job- nothin’ more, nothin’ less!” his voice rose. “you know the shit i gotta do for the Boys.”

“just for the job?! are you serious right now?” you echoed his words, disbelief laced through your tone. “How do you expect me to believe that?”

Silence fell over the both of you, surrounded by uncomfortable tension. “You didn’t think of me at all?” your voice cracked, Butcher looking over at you with a guilt ridden expression as he strides over to you- placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Listen to me.” he looked into your eyes, his gaze piercing through your anger. “I. Love. You. only you, you get me?” He looked for a sign in your eyes, anything to indicate how you felt.

He sighed. “Maeve and I… it was nothin’, she means nothin’ to me. Nothing like how i feel about ya. You’re the only one that matters to me, the only one i want.”

Your heart raced at his words, but the hurt you felt in your heart still lingered.

“Then prove it…”

You challenged, seeing Billy’s eyes widen.

“Show me that i am the only one you love.” you stepped toward him, the short distance closed between you.

“Oh I’ll prove it to ya alright…” he murmured, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. Before you could even speak his hand reached to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a bruising kiss.

The kiss deepened quickly, his tongue invading your mouth as he backed you up toward the nearest wall; he hands running up under your shirt and pulling it over your head.

Goosebumps formed along your now bare torso, Butchers calloused hands roaming around your body.

“God you’re just… fuckin’ stunning.” he mumbled as his lips attached to your neck and sucking a red mark onto you, making you purr.

His lips trailed further down as he sat on his knees in front of you you, his digits working on the drawstring on your pants as he pulls them down your thighs along with your underwear.

With a swift movement he turns you around, your chest pressed against the wall. His hands running up your thighs, pushing them apart.

“Bend over f’me…” he growled, his voice laced in arousal. Obeying his word, you pushed your hips backward, hands braced against the wall- hearing him groan softly at the sight before him.

You heard him shuffle forward, his large fingers dug into your fleshy backside. “I can’t get enough’f this pussy…” he whispered as he dragged his tongue along your folds, burying his face between your legs.

The sinful mix of your moans and Butchers mouth moving along you filled the room. Your legs shook as Billy continued lapping his tongue on you, occasionally smacking you ass causing you to yelp.

Your orgasm came quickly, Billy’s hands holding you up as your legs shook from the overwhelming pleasure of his skilled tongue. “God lovey, i could taste you for hours…” he chuckled, gently biting your ass cheek as he stood back up behind you, unzipping his jeans.

“I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good love…” you felt him line up with you, moaning as he started to tease your sopping cunt with the tip of his cock before plunging deep inside of you.

Hot breath invaded your ear as you were pounded into from behind, Billy taking a grip of your hair.

“You feel me huh? you feel how f-fuckin’ ‘ard i am f’ya?” he grumbled, grabbing your hips roughly. “It’s all f’you. no one else but you, ya hear me?”

You couldn’t reply, the pleasure was too overwhelming for you. Rough fingers snaked down towards your middle, rubbing your sensitive clit.

You whined at the added sensation as your second release was near, Butcher nearing his as his cock pulsated within your walls.

Heavy groans erupted from behind you, his fingers moving faster as he felt you clench around him. “Fuck Billy!” you cried out, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. “that’s a good fuckin’ girl, cum on my cock…” he growled in your ear.

His thrusts became sloppier as he came inside you. “fuck… i can’t get over you, my sweetheart…” he praised, turning you around and bringing you in for a passionate kiss.

Pulling away from the kiss he looked you, looking in your eyes - hoping to find a glimpse of convincing you of his love.

Your eyes look at him with a neutral expression.

“As good as that was…” you giggled, moving your mouth closer to his ear.

“it’s gonna take a lot more convincing…”

[amostimprobabledream]

Subterranean Affairs (Homelander x Reader)

I love how seeing Homelander in normal clothes sent everyone completely unhinged lol. Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57191485 Applause rained down like thunder, spotlights and the dozens upon dozens of cameras flashing brightly. Almost as brightly as the sharp-toothed, megawatt smile on the Homelander's face.

"We cannot overstate enough the heroic efforts of the Seven in their latest daring rescue!" a reporter was saying into her microphone, a safe distance from the disaster zone, the victims being escorted off the bus and bundled up into shock blankets in the background, but the camera focused on the heroes standing front and center. "All hostages are safe and accounted for, and we're told repairs for the damage of the bridge will be minimal, so hopefully it should open within a few short weeks!"

A few cheers erupted, whistles and people clamouring, stamping their feet. Homelander, A-Train and the Deep were lapping up the attention, the latter smiling and waving. Behind them, Queen Maeve stood with her usual disinterested, sulky expression and Black Noir was, unsurprisingly, silent. Starlight looked like their little sister who had unwittingly tagged along, her costume spotlessly white, not a hint of grime or debris touching her. The reporter approached The Seven, making a beeline for their leader.

"Homelander, reports state that this terrible event was the handiwork of the self-professed vigilante, the Raven. Is this true?"

Homelander’s eyes found the camera immediately.

"That's right, Carol - a video of the hostages was sent to us at Vought, as well as the companies the Raven was demanding the ransom from. We knew we had to act and do it fast. Innocent lives were at stake!”

"Of course, no doubt your fast thinking saved so many lives!" Carol gushed.

"Yeah, uh, nobody's getting blown up today, guys!" The Deep put in helpfully, giving a thumbs-up and a wink to the camera, which perhaps wasn't quite the right tone to be striking, but nobody thought to say that over the shrieking of the crowd.

Starlight pursed her lips, squinting against the glare of the flashing cameras. She still wasn't used to being stared down by so many of them at once.

"Vought has also pledged one million dollars towards the reconstruction of the bridge!" A-Train said, gesturing behind him with an expansive sweep of his arm. "Can't stop people from just trying to live their lives! That's not how we do it in America!"

"And what about the Raven? Are you guys any closer to catching this guy?" another reporter spoke up.

Homelander gave a languorous blink and a small silence settled – even the clicks of the cameras seemed muted.

“Arrests have been made of suspects in this terrible attack. Remember that this…criminal has evaded the very best law enforcement in the whole country. This isn’t just a normal lawbreaker, folks. This…is a villain.”

The word rippled, spreading on impact, and gasps surged forth from the gathered crowd, and Homelander raised a finger, wagging it as he paced back and forth, cape billowing importantly behind him.

“But know this! It doesn’t matter what threats he makes, or who he tries to use against us. I- we, The Seven, will always stand against criminals like him, and always fight back! America will stand strong!”

Applause exploded forth, cheering and screaming the names of The Seven, and the camera went wild, flashing like little explosions. Homelander’s smile widened beneath the endless clicking of shutters, basking in the worshipful gratitude of the adoring public, their need for him to save them washing over him in a wave.

“Stand strong! Stand strong! Stand strong!”

You fuckin’ cocksuckers.

~

Your room was lit up by a multitude of screens, your eyes flicking from each of them, missing nothing.

Images of all different news stations made a cacophony of murmuring voices in the living room, though you keep the volume low so you could listen to the music drifting through your laptop speakers. In your hand you held a milkshake, sucking on the straw and enjoying the creamy, tasteful thickness of it. You’d never been much of a milkshake fan before, but in the past couple of months you’d been…converted.

A knock sounds at the door, one you’d been waiting for all evening, and your heart jumps in your chest.

“Come in,” you call, setting down your drink and swivelling in your chair so you faced the door.

You’d left it unlocked because you didn’t want it broken again, and the door swung open silently to reveal a man standing there in plain clothing, baseball cap jammed low over his face. Even though he looked smaller without his usual suit, more slender, the look in his eyes stayed the same. He leans his head back to stare at you imperiously, his gaze commanding attention.

Homelander cocks his head.

“You’re still working?” he asks as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. It seems odd not to see a cape trailing behind Homelander, like a bird without its plumage.

“Crime never sleeps.” You reply in a deadpan, before smiling. “That was quite the motivational speech back there. ‘America will stay strong’, jesus – how long have you been dying to use that tagline?”

“Not every day I get to face my nemesis on national TV, right?” he replies in a drawl, stepping closer until he’s standing between your parted legs. “A bus full of kids? Seriously?”

You roll your eyes at his tone.

“People get so sentimental when children are involved.” You say mockingly, smirking. “It makes them pay attention.”

Homelander’s lip curls at your cavalier reply, amused, his eyes going half-lidded as he looks down at you, his hands settling on your thighs.

“And what if I didn’t get to that bus on time, hmm? We’d’ve looked like a bunch of fuckin’ amateurs.” He says, in a mock-scolding voice.

“No, you’d look like martyrs.” You correct him, watching his hands slide further up your legs. “People would have felt so sorry for you and how terrible you must feel. And I’d look like an even bigger threat, everyone feels just a little more unsafe in a world where little Billy or little Sally can go kaboom just like that, and everyone turns to you, desperate for you to swoop in and save them and knowing there’s a chance that even you might not be able to. That this time, they could get very unlucky. You get to swear great justice and vengeance and I get to make the corporations look like the sociopathic conglomerates they are for not paying the ransom, and next time I can demand even more money because they know the Raven doesn’t bluff. Everybody wins.”

“But we did save them,” he points out, tongue perched on the very edge of his bottom teeth, almost sticking it out but not quite, as he leers down at you with his eyelids lowered. “Everyone loves me even more now. What do you get outta this?”

“I still got some of the money, remember? The companies weren’t willing for me to expose them on national television if it meant coughing up a little. And more importantly, notoriety. The next one, when I win, will make everyone more afraid. More desperate to pay for safety. Fear is very profitable, you know.”

“And how d’you know you’ll get your way next time, hmm?” he says with a smirk, a hint of a purr entering his voice.

“Because that’s how it works. You don’t want your nemesis to be a total fucking loser, right?” you remind him in a singsong. “The bigger of a threat I am, the more people love you when you foil my dastardly deeds. Ergo, next time, you let me win.”

You rise to your feet and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, punctuating it with a little teasing lick, and he chuffs like a big cat.

“I should be punishing you, you know…” he croons, hiking you up like you weigh nothing – to him, you don’t – and plonking your ass down on the desk, nearly sitting on a keyboard so you’re at a more accessible height for him to play with you. “Hmm? Drag you down to the police station or to Vought Tower and let them deal with you. Or maybe I should get a little rough…”

He's kissing your neck as he says this, his words colliding together in eagerness, breath hot on your skin. One hand was clamped at your thigh, kneading the flesh beneath his bare palm. You hiss and arch your back as his teeth clamps on the skin of your neck, putting those fangs of his to good use.

“Should teach a bad girl like you a lesson.” He murmurs in a low voice, dripping with promise, right in your ear. “Maybe I should put you over my knee and spank you, hm? Make that pretty ass raw until you say you’re sorry…”

Something in you clenched at the very suggestion, heat crawling over your body. His hand snakes up your dress, brushing against the flimsy material of your panties, which are already slightly damp from anticipation of his arrival. Homelander traces the outline of your cunt through the fabric, a lazy smile spreading slow and smooth as honey across his face.

“Or, I could fuck you how you like it, nice and deep, and just when you’re about to come, I’ll tie you up and leave you here. All fuckin’ desperate to finish yourself off…”

He's not bluffing, and you know it. The thought of how easily he can overpower you is one hell of an aphrodisiac – his plain clothes may hide who he is, but you know what strength lies beneath his little disguise, and knowing there’s someone who isn’t scared of you, the Raven and all your clever machinations, is thrilling.

“Mm, fuck…” you mutter, reaching up and batting his silly baseball cap off, tousling his hair between your fingers and taking pleasure out of rumpling it from its slicked-back state. “You wanna play the hero, huh? Vanquish the evil villain?”

Homelander growls, tugging your panties down like they've personally offended him. His hand skims up your thighs, and you twitch as his finger tease at your crotch.

“You’re pushing your luck, missy.” He mutters darkly.

"Mmph...but I'm so good for you." You remind him, panting as he brushes your clit, massaging it with an infuriatingly feather-light touch, refusing to give you the friction you want.

"You'd - hmm- be so bored without me..."

Homelander hums in acknowledgement. You’re his dirty little secret, one he holds close to his chest. He’s the only one who knows who you really are – everyone else thinks the Raven is a man, all thanks to a simple voice-changing modulator and never showing yourself on camera – the few times you’ve had to address anyone directly, you go Black Noir and wear a mask. When Homelander tracked you down after you’d taunted Vought one too many times for his liking, he was surprised to find a young woman masterminding the attacks, and even more surprised that you had a proposal.

“I can boost your precious ratings better than anyone can. You’re bored, aren’t you? Catching me has been one of the most thrilling things to happen to you in a long time. I’m right, aren’t I? Doesn’t every hero need a villain?”

You hadn’t been wrong.

So, fast forward to the present, whenever you set up one of your plans, usually involving extorting a ludicrous amount of money from people who need a lot of nudging to give it up, you make sure to give Homelander a head’s up. You don’t always tell him every single detail, you insist that it’s better if some of it is a surprise, so his reactions are authentic, so he can still experience the thrill of the chase, but he knows enough. He gets to swoop in as the world’s strongest man and save the day, and you get to antagonise some very dangerous people and walk away without a scratch on you. Homelander finds ways of giving you funds, should it be his turn to thwart your plans and you have requirements to be met. All secretly taken from Vought’s coffers, of course.

The best part is that Vought have no idea who the Raven is. No-one, not one of the Seven, or Ashley, or Stan Edgar or the shareholders, knows what your next move will be.

In exchange for this, you have intel on who in Vought is working on tracking you down, (apparently there’s a whole department dedicated to you now, which you find hilarious) and Homelander can easily get info on the police too if need be and your schemes get national – sometimes international, attention. In a way, you’ve become a bit of a celebrity, yourself. And you have your own personal hitman on speed dial. If you need something or someone out of your way, Homelander’s number is on your burner phone, and he has no issue with taking out the trash every now and then. And if he can’t do it himself for whatever reason, he can always point a finger and send Black Noir like his own personal phantom. The masked Supe never asks questions.

Perhaps, then, the other arrangements were simply inevitable. A natural occurrence, if you will. Having such dangerous, intimate knowledge of one another is a surprising shortcut to sexual attraction, of knowing the other person in a way nobody else does. And you’d be a dirty little liar if you said you weren’t curious about what fucking America’s golden boy would be like.

You’re firm about these little trysts, though. You haven’t gotten away with your shit for so long for nothing, and there’s a reason it took a man with flight and super senses to finally catch you. If anybody saw The Homelander flying to where you live, seemingly for no apparent reason and roughly around the time either The Raven makes an appearance on TV or after “his” schemes are thwarted…well, then there might be questions, and you’re not willing to risk it.

Hence, the civvies. Plus, there’s something hot about an incognito Homelander, without the mantle of being the face of the Seven and symbol of America weighing him down. It’s illicit, forbidden, the man behind the curtain.

“You think I need you?” he sneers, pulling back to show his pointed fangs, but his affected disdain is unconvincing when he has his fingers buried deep in your pulsing cunt, and you can feel every ridge of his knuckles, his breath excited hot puffs on your neck.

“We’re good for each other,” you reply hoarsely, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, leaning up to bite his bottom lip and he growls in approval – he likes a little rough play. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t feel good…knowing something nobody else does…being the one in control the whole time and nobody is any the wiser?”

You know you’ve hit the nail on the head as he plunges his fingers as deep as they can go inside you and you throw your head back, keening out loud. The truth is that nothing beats that rush, setting off these earthquakes and watching everyone else scramble to gain their footing, people falling as predictably as dominos. Having the man who swoops in to save the day visit you in the cover of nightfall for a quick fuck afterwards is just the cherry on top of it all, and you know he’s riding some of the aftershocks of his own, knowing he has everyone eating out of the palm of his gloved hands.

“Oh, fuck…” you hiss as he curves his fingers inside you in a come-hither motion, sending shivering jolts through your body, and your body automatically tilts your hips forward for more friction, more motion, without you having to even think of it. “Homelander…like that…”

“Yeah? This what you want?” he asks, half amused and half horny, doing the motion again and watching as your eyes get a glazed look about them, the usual sharp, wary gleam giving way to a fog of pleasure. “Greedy little brat.”

He doesn’t stop, though – he loves the look on your face as you lose yourself to it, swallowed up in sheer, undiluted lust. Your inner walls flutter around his fingers, making him slide them in and out, teasingly.

With his free hand, Homelander rips open the front of your dress as if it were made of wrapping paper and you make an indignant noise – perhaps a little dramatic given it’s not like you don’t have the cash to buy fifty dresses if you want, but your annoyance dies a quick death when his free hand palms one of your breasts.

“Mm…you wore your slutty lingerie for me, huh?” he says, a grin like a highschooler looking at his first Playboy curving his mouth as he traces over the lace detailing that skims the cups of your bra. “Very nice.”

“And it wasn’t cheap,” you can’t resist saying, tilting your head back like you’re a duchess being showered in trinkets. “All bought and paid for with Vought’s dirty money.”

Homelander laughs at that, delighted, lowering his head to drag his tongue over the sensitive skin and you shiver, his mouth is hot in the cool of your room, and you wrap your legs around his hips. He’s hard, you can see the outline of his dick through his jeans, but you let the moment stretch between you, like pulling bubblegum between the teeth.

He's impatient, snapping the front clasp (he notes you chose an easy access bra with approval), watching the pretty material slide off you to expose your tits to him, and he latches on with just as much greed as he accused you of having.

“I can hear your little heartbeat, you know,” he remarks conversationally, glancing up at you from beneath unfairly lush eyelashes on a man. “Going like a fuckin’ jackrabbit’s. It’s cute how you act like you’re this cold, calculating bitch, but really…you’re just desperate to be fucked.”

You look down at him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, lust at how he’s playing with you and irritation that he’s calling you out at war with each other, and you can’t quite resist running your mouth.

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should hurry up and fuck me, then.” You throw the words down like a gauntlet.

His blue eyes snap to yours and for a split second, you think his pupils go from black to a sizzling red. It’s gone when you blink and Homelander’s hands wrap around your hips and he hoists you up, holding you, a full-grown adult, up off the ground like a ragdoll. With one hand – the one is busy freeing his cock from the confinements of his jeans, hissing under his breath. Relief skims over him when he pulls it out of his briefs, hot and throbbing in his hand.

“You asked for it, you fuckin’ brat.” He snarls.

You did, no denying that. You let out a groan when he sinks into you, letting you impale yourself on his cock, and he sighs, long and luxuriantly like he’s gotten into a hot bubblebath instead. Your hands tightly grip his shoulders and something about the fact you’re both mostly clothed really gets you going, the rushed, dirtiness of bouncing on his cock for a little while before he’s inevitably called away, before it’s time for him to go shine in the sunlight once again.

Homelander agrees with you - it's delicious, the heat of your snug, wet cunt engulfs him and he groans, nuzzling his face into your tits, which are conveniently right at face-level. You may have an excellent poker face, but your body is so responsive to even the slightest of touches, your nipples hard and flesh covered in goosebumps, either from the chill of the air conditioner or anticipation. Probably a potent mixture of both.

“Ah, fuck, yes…” you pant against him, clinging onto his jacket for dear life, nails embedding in the fabric. “Just like that…fuck me, ah…”

He doesn’t need telling twice – for someone who loathes being ordered around, Homelander is quick to take to instructions and he snarls as he picks up the pace, manhandling you with an ease that sends butterflies taking flight in your stomach. Your thighs clench, hooked around his waist as they are, the balls of your feet digging into his lower back, and you bury your face into his neck, breathing in the scent of his fancy cologne and just a faint whiff of something metallic. His skin is so warm like he’s constantly running a fever and you press little kisses and bites to his neck – you may be a Supe but you’re not strong enough to break his skin, but he seems to appreciate the effort.

“You shoulda - ngh- fuckin’ seen Stan Edgar’s face – when you first showed the hostage video-“ Homelander says, gasping out the words as he fucked you, maneuvering your body up and down with a mere flex of his wrists – all you had to do was cling onto him for dear life. “Shit, I nearly flew right here to bend you over this desk just for that. Got everybody in Vought losing their fuckin’ minds…”

“Glad to know I’m living up to my reputation,” you say against his ear in a thick voice, like you’re trying to speak through a mouthful of treacle, mouth falling open in a silent cry as his cock thrust deeper into you, hitting somewhere deep inside that sent bolts of pleasure zipping up and down your body, and your thighs and cunt clenched around him in tandem. “Fuck-!”

“Yeah,” he growls back, purposefully upping the back to drive more of those needy gasps he loves so much from you, the sound of bodies smacking together loud and clear in his ears even when it’s muffled by your clothing. “Got everything under control, don’t you? Everyone dancing to your tune? All except me. I’m the only one who gets you, only one who knows…”

“Yes, yes, fuck…” you hiss – you’re going to come, you can feel it, if he just keeps going, just a little more…your nails are digging so hard into his shirt you’re sure you’re going to pierce it with them alone, but neither of you care, nothing matters except chasing that high. “Only you, only you, Homelander…”

It's exactly what you know he wants to hear, and he groans in a hoarse way that finishes you off – you can’t hold back the heady kick of exhilaration and pleasure, conjoined and making you throw back your head as you come, a moan rising up to the ceiling fan that’s still whirring away above you. Tingling, throbbing heat engulfed you as you came, slick coating your thighs and you’ve probably gotten some on his pants too. Homelander’s concerns were less on his dry-cleaning and on chasing his own orgasm, his teeth sinking into the spot that joined neck and shoulder, making you give a soft whine. Your thighs tremble with the effort of keeping them clamped around his hips.

“Atta girl…” he mutters against your neck, planting a sloppy kiss against it like a stamp of ownership. Your skin breaks out in fresh goosebumps where his lips touch you, his lips burning like a brand.

It takes you a moment to recover yourself, and Homelander sets you back down on the desk with all the care of placing down a priceless vase. You give a little sniff and wipe your face with the back of your wrist, pushing your hair back off your sweaty forehead.

Homelander, in a surprising moment of decorum, turns away to tuck himself back into his jeans, a smug little smile lingering on his lips, and you pull your bra back into place and fasten the clasp. There’s not much to be done about your ruined dress, but all you have to do is say the word and he’d buy you whatever you asked for as a replacement. Price tags aren’t a concept that high and mighty beings such as himself need concern himself with.

“Ugh. Got a press junket tomorrow morning.” He mutters, giving a bitchy eyeroll. “All this goddamn promoting the brand now roster’s changed. They want another Seven movie too.”

“Jesus, they really don’t believe in letting a franchise die, do they?” you scoff, grateful that you’ve never once been tempted into the glitz and glamour of being one of Vought’s Supes – the red tape and smiling would be unbearable. And all those selfies with fans. “They sure do keep you busy.”

He scoffs, eyeing you out of the corner of his eye, watching your lip curve in a smirk as he matches it with one of his own.

“Yeah, well.” He says, in a sarcastically breezy tone, a can-do Boy Scout voice. “Anything for our fans.”

You laugh and shake your head. Rather you than him.

“I’ll send a bomb scare to set and make everyone evacuate for a few days,” you say, fluffing your hair. “Give you a little me-time.”

He eyes you, like he’s trying to work out if you’re joking or not, but you simply give him an enigmatic smile – you know he likes the mystery, so you keep quiet on if you’re actually planning on following through. He shakes his head.

“I’ll see you next time then, my pretty little criminal.”

He leans over and tilts up your chin, one last kiss before he goes, and you give it to him, enjoying the feeling of his mouth pressed hungrily against yours. He pulls away with obvious reluctance, but you force yourself not to invite him to stay – you have to keep yourself somewhat professional, after all.

“Til then.” You reply, running your tongue across your bottom lip, and his blue eyes follow it.

By now, it’s dark enough that he can get away with flying more easily. You watch him step out onto your balcony and disappear, probably landing outside and walking a few feet before he takes off properly, in the spirit of making sure not to draw any unwanted attention.

You run a hand through your hair as you eye your desk – you should tidy up but you’re too wobbly on your legs now to think of doing any more work. Plus, you want to run yourself a nice, relaxing bath after a day of extortion and disturbing the peace.

You go to grab your milkshake and not with grudging amusement that Homelander swiped it just before he left. Asshole. He took your panties too, though you’re less surprised about that – quite a few pairs have gone missing thanks to him, even if he denied it last time you asked.

With a yawn, you stumble to bed, rather more wobbly on your legs than you were about an hour ago. You’ll be sore tomorrow morning, but it will be well worth it. You’ll lie low for a little while, let everybody get comfortable and let their guards down again, get swept up in whatever new media circus captures their attention. Your plans take time to coordinate and carry out, and you like to make sure it’s something unexpected each time. So, for now, everyone can wait until you’re ready to rock their safe little worlds again.

And with any luck, Homelander will return to rock yours.

[glossykissies]

the readers and… who?

— the series ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

episode one: bunny reader pt.1

introducing… my newest moodboard series! i will be creating moodboards based on my different readers with some of the characters i think they pair best with! along with the moodboard will be a brief description of their dynamic. i will mostly featuring characters that i write the most on this blog, but who knows, maybe i’ll throw in someone niche! enjoy scrolling through ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

queen maeve (the boys) ♡

maeve just adores her little supe!bunny, also known as her alias ‘baby doll’ — as does the rest of the world. she’s the corporations cash cow, always flouncing around in the sparkliest, glitziest outfits made specially for her, which is why when she first joins the tower… maeve can’t stand her. she thinks the whole thing is silly and makes a mockery of her, but once she notices the creeps at the tower taking advantage of her, she decides to take her under her wing and protect her. soon, her protectiveness turns to lust and then to love, and well — you know the rest.

nate archibald (gossip girl) ♡

the only time nate and sweet bunny!reader are under fire on the gossip girl blogs, is when she slips up and calls him daddy in public or the two of them get escorted out of a fancy restaurant for getting frisky in the bathroom. having nate as her boyfriend is basically like having a lover and a full time sugar daddy in one. any bag she wants is hers, the shoes have already been ordered — and at the drop of the hat if she’s feeling the slightest bit of stress he whisks her off to the hamptons for the weekend. his calm demeanour and gentle dominance keep the sweet, needy, fashionista it girl in check (most of the time!)

ellie williams (tlou2) ♡

bunny!reader is well loved around the camp, but no one loves her more than her girlfriend ellie. they’re complete opposites, bunny being mega girly despite the odds, ellie being — well, not. bunny is super sociable, always planning ways to make jackson more fun, whilst ellie is fairly quiet, sticking mostly to herself and her small group of friends. bun is sensitive, ellie always having to comfort her anytime someone gets in danger, or god forbid — an animal dies (yet ellie will explain every time that the animal had to die so they could eat dinner) bunny is ellie’s soft spot, and she doesn’t have many of those left… which is why upon request els will always find bunny a cute little trinket on her supply runs, even if it’s just a bunch of old ribbon.

scott miller (twisters) ♡

the MIT nerd and the fashion student combination, scott and bun. he’s a little older, and in his opinion it shows most of the time when the two of them are together. bunny is hyper everything — hyper-energetic, hyper-feminine, hyper-sexual, it’s nothing like anything scott has ever dealt with before, but of course he loves her… even if he has a funny (grumpy) way of showing it sometimes.

clark kent (smallville) ♡

just a farm boy and his spoiled, cheerleader girlfriend. clark gives bunny anything she wants — if she wants to get food, clark’s already starting up the truck. if she wants to go shopping, bless his heart— he’s gathering any money he’s got so he can be a gentleman and pay. if she needs to get her pussy blown out — clark’s pressing her lower back down and pressing a kiss to her shoulder telling her to relax so he can fit it all inside. he’s the full package, and has no idea how he ended up with someone as perfect as bunny (he clearly doesn’t own a mirror.)

part 2 coming soon!

[whitemancumslut]

this is nothing. just 2.5K words of me fantasizing about phh/lhh harry as a dad. ignore my delusions— or not, reblog and like:))

imagine!!! the baby is like one when harry has his long hair and lhh being a dad to a little baby girl GOD HEAR ME OUT!!!

i so imagine y/n finding out she’s pregnant at the beginning of phh’s era

“I’m pregnant.”

The words left her mouth quickly. Sick of the anticipation, she sucked in her breath looking up at her boyfriend.

Harry sat there with his fingers intertwined, mouth gone dry from being hung open for too long. His brows are furrowed, his mind trying to translate the words said. “I— Uh—” The only syllables he was able to get out. He cleared his throat vigorously.

“I—I’m—I’m going to be— Are you sure?” His eyes piercing up into hers, stinging with tears. She chuckles, suddenly feeling relief that his reaction seemed a little on the bright side. “Y-yeah,” She pulled out the two ClearBlue test with the clear words Pregnant written across.

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat before he’s able to comprehend anything. His mouth is dry, hesitant, he turns the rest towards him to clearly see it.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He breaths out.

Y/n’s eyes lightened after her whole demeanor had been tense due to the anticipation of his reaction. “Yeah, you are,” She let out a breathy laugh as she tried not to cry. Trying to read his expressions— Harry’s lip eventually twitches into a small smile. Disbelief and happiness all in one. “W-we’re going to be parents?”

Y/n pouts towards him coyly, nodding before pulling him in an soft hug. Harry’s slow to respond but he eventually does. Wrapping his arms around her torso tightly, letting the built up tears of happiness drop on to her t-shirt that she most definitely stole from him.

“Are we ready for this?” She whispered in his shoulder.

They were only twenty. Fresh out of their teen years, nervous as hell, but they made it work.

omg don’t even get me started when they find out the gender!!

Harry would lay down on the bed, resting his head on Y/n’s chest softly just like he’d always do before she was pregnant and caress her bump.

“‘Dats my baby girl in there,” Harry whispered in disbelief. Caressing her bump so ever softly.

“Don’t forget about me,” Y/n pouted softly, joking of course. Harry huffed out a soft chuckle, pressing a passionate kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. “How could I? I love you, always, my love.” He reminded her kindly of his love her before resuming to the view of her glowing stomach. Treating her like the queen she deserves to be treated like, he was always so soft and gentle when he spoke and touched her.

Y/n’s fingers tangled in his tight curls that went all the way down to his shoulders and caressed his scalp softly. Getting his attention by calling him with a small “Baby.”

“Yes,” He answered lowly like he was going to awake the baby.

too cute too cute too cute

“Not trying to push you or anything. But inside that head of yours were there any names that came to you? Or not yet?” Y/n couldn’t imagine that he didn’t think of any names yet.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath before turning to Y/n and saying, “Yes, plenty, but i feel like the perfect one won’t come until she does, you know what I mean,” He said. “I need to see her first, you know,” He looked back down at her belly then at her.

“Well it’s nice to have ideas. Can I hear what you got?”

“Really? Are you sure?”

ima explode

“Throw em at me,” She smirked.

“My first thought was, Rosie.” He said simply, looking up at Y/n, hesitance in his voice. A large smile grew on her face at the sweet soft name. “Go on,” She urged.

He smiled lightly. “Lily, Maeve, Lucy, Ellie, Hailey— like e y or l e e,” Every name out in a blink of an eye. Y/n couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle as he continued naming names like he had a list engraved in his brain.

god i so believe that he’d lay back next to her and just rant about baby names and go, “well yeah there’s mine. yours?” :(( so baby

I also feel they would hide the whole pregnancy from the press. At least try to. Many fans would be suspicious on why they don’t see Harry and Y/n together as much— many would think they are just not spotted. But really Y/n is trying to hide her growing fetus.

ugh!! imagine how thrilled he’ll be to be a father:((

hes def the type to adress y/n and the baby as two.

“I’ll be right back,” Pecking his girlfriends lips and letting his two hand lay up on her belly. “I love you… both.”

i’m going to cry

♡♥︎♢♦︎♡♥︎♢♦︎♡♥︎ ♢♦︎♡♥︎♢♦︎♡♥︎ ♢♦︎

—One Year Later—

fuck ima scream. imagine lhh about to go on stage and can’t leave the baby alone:(

Lily giggles as her father blew into her soft belly. Kicking her little chubby legs as if it’ll fight him off. The little airs hitting her stomach tickling her. She laughs ridiculously hard at her dad’s actions.

Fifthteen minutes before the concert starts and Harry can’t get enough of the little chubby baby. Her laugh was so contagious, her beautiful smile. Teething, baby. Two teeth at the bottom, two at the top.

Y/n sat next to her baby as Harry cooed to her sweetly. “Argh! You’re just the cutest arent ya’” Harry cooed before pressing his lips against his daughters cheek, giving her a sweet kiss.

Dressed in a simple black long-sleeve shirt, with matching skinny jeans and his favorite boots, Harry swore to himself he was going to get up and go with the boys soon but every time he would kiss Lily and Y/n goodbye and try to go for the door, he swore the baby called, “Da da,” and came back for an extra five minutes.

“Harry you have to go,” Y/n chuckled.

“I know I know. It’s time she naps anyway, huh?”

Y/n nods sweetly at her fiancé before taking her baby in her arms. “You might as well take one with her, lovie.” Hoping his girls gets some much needed-rest while she could. Harry presses a kiss to each of their foreheads before stepping out of the dressing room.

Harry would come back to his dressing room, sweaty, bottom of water half-empty, hair falling out of bun. But all exaggeration leaves his body when he spots his two girls passed out on the long sofa of his dressing room.

and then just imagine when they get a chance home. the baby would be about 14 months now. harry has come home from tour, the band hit its hiatus. imagine lhh with a baby at home! ima cry fr

Harry would wake up in his L.A home. His fiancée by his side and his baby fast asleep.

“Da da!”

Harry’s heart beams every-time he hears it come out of her squeaky small voice. So cute, so small, he was going to explode. “Yes baby, Da Da,” Pressing pepper kisses on her nose, as she let’s out a little giggle.

“Okay let’s get you fed, yeah?”

Harry placed the tiny plastic green spoon against his daughters lips. Her favorite flavor ever, Banana.

“Mmh,” She shook her head.

Harry pouted, “No? This is your favorite, darling. At least try it,” He placed the spoon between her sealed pink lips, getting them to slowly pry open.

She begins letting Harry place the banana flavored liquidated mush in to her mouth. He sooner earned a, “Mmhm!” Harry chuckled fondly as she squeaked to the delightful taste of her favorite flavor.

“Mmh!” Harry mocked his daughter playfully, impersonating her reaction to delicious food. “More?”

She scrunched her face up she proud took another spoonful, Harry wiping the dripping banana mush off her chin with her bright colored bib.

nah because that baby is his and he’s gonna do whatever to protect her. that’s his ‘princess.’

“Good morning, princess,” He greets quietly as he steps into the nursery. Loud babbling alarmed him to step into the room, telling him she had awoken.

When he bent over the crib, he was met with her big wide colorful eyes. Babbling to her father, arms stretched, hoping to be held. Her lip quivers scared who wouldn’t get the message, “Da Da,” she’d whimper.

“O-oh my baby!” He’d coo babyishly. Tending to his daughter, Harry would pick up his baby up, setting her on his hip as she clings to his shirtless body. “Don’t cry m’pretty girl. Don’t ye’ cry.”

He bounced her in her arms, giving her soft kisses to her temple.

The fact the baby would probably be a daddy’s girl would be so !!! like when the baby is like 18 months and they’re able to say simple, “mommy,” and “daddy”’s

“Daddy,” Her lip would quiver after watching her Daddy leave the room and Harry would immediately revert his tracks. Harry shirtless with his hair tied up and just into his shorts as he was about to jump into the shower. But immediately making a 360 turn to his fiancée and daughter on the large bed in their bedroom.

“I’m right here baby,” He said walking back to his daughter. Hand out to her, she’d wrap her little hand around his two fingers.

“Daddy's going to shower he’ll be right back,” Y/n promised, holding her. The child tried to move towards the edge of the bed to crawl towards her father but Y/n held her hold.

“I’ll be right back, baby, promise,” Harry pouted.

please i just know he hates leaving her!!

When he’d walk away, again… Her lip would tremble and her eyes would swell with tears, “Da-Daddy,” She called silently.

Harry’s quick to look back her watching him walk to the bedrooms master bathroom.

“Oh baby, come here,” He took her right when the tear finally fell down her cheek. She curled up into his neck as he rubbed down her back sympathetically.

Y/n’s quick to hold her up and let Harry tend to her. As much as Y/n would be jealous of the favoritism Lily has over her for her father she couldn’t blame her— Harry treated her like a little princess.

“How about we take a bath, yeah? Wanna do that?”

Harry let’s her soft hand hold his large finger, he doesn’t get a response but Y/n smiles before saying, “I’ll get it set up.”

harry taking gears when y/n is exhausted.

“Oh hello my gorgeous girls,” Kissing them both on the foreheads softly, Y/n would smile wholeheartedly.

Holding the bottle up to Lily’s mouth Y/n smiled sleepishly at Harry. “Hi,” She spoke quietly. Harry looked her in the eyes and immediately noticed the sleep she was craving.

“Oh my love, I got this. Why don’t you rest for the night? I got ha’” He offered, holding his hand out for the baby.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah you’ve been with her all day, I’ve got her,” Harry answered sweetly taking the baby from Y/n’s arms. He felt all though he was tired she deserved the rest more than he did.

“Well she’s fed, she just wanted to drink outta the cup for a while, I guess. You got this?” She checked.

“Yeah,” He assured her.

“Mmh, you’re the best. Thank you baby.” She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before receiving one of for her own. “Always. Goodnight my love.”

“Goodnight.”

Y/n kissed Lily on the head before heading upstairs to bed.

Harry bounced Lily in his arms softly, going to lie down on the sofa.

Humming whatever tune in his head. Whatever it was he couldn’t get it out of his head. Pulling the silly cup away from her mouth as she began to doze off, Harry laid Lily’s body up on his broad chest.

Singing against her forehead ever so lightly. A tune that’s been stuck in his head all day, humming it softly above his daughters head as he stared up at the bare ceiling.

IM GOING TO EXPLODE.

harry’s def the type to give her a little talks when he’s stressed or just out of it.

“I think mumma’s upset with me,” He’ll speak lowly, sitting in the chair in the nursery, holding his daughter straight forward cradled in his arms.

“I’m trying,” He’ll tell her. “I just wish I could be with you guys all the time, you know. I’m trying to— you guys are my number one priority, you know that right? But I don’t want mommy to think the opposite,” He told her truthfully. “Do you think I'm doing a good job?” He asked the question, not getting any response.

“I know mummy thinks I'm doing a bad job.” He speaks sadly, “I know she feels like she’s on her own. But I’m trying I really am—” Lily’s eyes brightened and her small hand grabbing at his face in response.

“I— What? What you grabbing at—” He lent forward to see her mission on his face only for her to grab at his long strands of hair. Opening her mouth wide, Harry’s eyes widen, “No, my love. You cannot chew my hair,” He chuckled, pulling his hair back from her mouth on for her to began swinging around her tiny finger. “I really wish I could be with 24/7,” He sighed. “Soon, though. Just gotta make it up to mumma. She doesn’t deserve to be all alone on this. You could be a handful my little angel,” He teased. Knowing she couldn’t understand most of what he was ranting about was the most comforting thing about this conversation.

“I love you,” He sighed. “I’m trying,” He promised her. Letting her softly tug on his hair, her eyes focused on the hair, and his focused on her large ones. “Do you believe me?” Brushing her hair back softly, Harry brushed his nose against hers, “I’m sorry if I’m not doing well, baby. I’m trying to be their for you guys everyday but you know, the band. But it’s okay, alright? Because the boys— we are planning a little break. I’m hoping during that break I could spend everyday with you and mummy, yeah? Speaking of which, what you think about me doing my own thing? You think Daddy can do it, huh? Without the boys, Daddy can do it by himself, right? I mean it’s only a little break but if I ever wanted to focus on just something like a solo thing… do you think I can do something with it?”

Lily babbled baby noises that made Harry chuckle. A little yawn followed, telling him it was about time he wrapped this midnight talk up. Smiling softly at his daughter, their matching dimples mirroring each other. “I always knew you’ll be my number one supporter,” He chuckled pressing a kiss to her nose. “I love you with my whole heart, lovebug. So much it hurts.”

i def over did. it with the end but i couldn’t help it ugh that’s his baby:(

[cheezihouse]

“Pregnancy left Maeve’s back aching and her mind yearning for the silk sheets on her bed. However, being a queen left no break- even with her state. Her unborn seeming happily active with the late night chatter, a near opposite of the queen.

Despite her stomach shifting with excitement, she can only hope to see a soon end to the midnight social.”

A small post for some activity!! I’ve been incredibly busy, but wanted to make something small.

I’ve had Maeve on my mind a bit, so of course she was my choosing. <33

[inkmonster21]

Voughtland

Read as a continuation of this

Billy Butcher x fem!Reader

It’s Friday! Field trip day! Bailey is up and running about, trying to pick what outfit to wear. “I wanna wear my Starlight dress!” She smiles and points to the closet. You smile as you dress her in said dress. Taking a picture for memory.

Your daughter waits at the door tapping her foot. “Are you ready, mommy?” You finish getting ready, slipping on your shoes, and gathering your things. Bailey waits at the door, growing more impatient by the second.

You smile at your daughter's eagerness, her little feet tapping the floor in anticipation. "Almost, sweetie. Let me just grab my purse."

The bus ride to Voughtland is electric with excitement. Children chatter amongst themselves, pointing out the window as landmarks whizz by.

You sit amongst the other moms in the front, exchanging smiles and laughing at the kids' antics. As you sit amongst the other moms, you can't help but notice how young you are compared to the rest. They all seem happily married with their own families.

You glance down at Bailey, smiling as you realize she's all you need. Her innocence and love are more important than any romantic relationship ever could be. The kids gleefully rush into Voughtland, eager to explore every corner of the park. You watch as they disperse into groups, some already hopping onto rides while others line up to meet the life-size superhero characters.

You can't help but smile, seeing the excitement and joy on their faces. Bailey, having the time of her life, runs off to join the others. Before they could run off the teacher spoke. “Alright, everyone! Gather here!” The kids reluctantly pull away from their current activities, slowly making their way back to the meeting point. A few pout, but most hurry to rejoin the group, eager to know what's next.

“Okay! So I know the drive up here was long and I know we’re all pretty hungry, right?” The teacher asks.

The children nod eagerly in response, some even letting out a collective "Yes" that rises from the group.

The teacher smiles at their enthusiasm, knowing just what to say to appease hungry little stomachs. There was a surprise hidden in the words. The teacher could barely stay still. “Well, we have a surprise right through those doors.”

As the room comes into view, the kids' eyes widen with shock and excitement.

In the corner stand Homelander, The Deep, and Queen Maeve. The three supes smile as the kids enter the room.

The kids' gasps and whispers fill the air as they take in the sight, unable to believe that they're in the same room as their favorite heroes.

You watch as the kids eat and chat happily with their heroes, especially amused by Bailey's enthusiasm as she tells The Deep about dolphins.

Suddenly, a figure takes the seat next to you, his firm presence drawing your attention. Without even glancing, you know exactly who it is. You meet his dead eyes. Homelander smirks as he catches your reluctant smile, his gaze unwavering as he looks you up and down. "You looked lonely," he replies.

Fuck. I force a smile. “It’s so nice for you to take time out of your day to do this.” He leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze remains fixed on you. “I love kids.”

“I’m sure they’ll remember this for the rest of their lives.” Homelander nods, a smug smile on his lips. "Of course they will. Every child should have the chance to meet their heroes."

His eyes flick over to where Bailey is still talking with The Deep, then back to you.

"She's very sweet, your daughter," he remarks, an almost mocking tone underlying his words. He wasn’t stupid. He could fucking smell Butcher on them from the second they walked in. The little girl resembles his enemy. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

You smile at his compliment. “She’s one of a kind.” Homelander watches you with sharp eyes, his smirk growing as his suspicion deepens. He glances back towards Bailey, taking in her appearance once more before turning back to you.

"Yes, she certainly is," he agrees, his tone almost mocking.

He leans in a bit closer, the scent of cologne and arrogance surrounding you. He notices your ring finger, any sign of a wedding ring absent. "And her father?"

You look at him with wide eyes. “Oh, gosh. That’s… quite an intimate question.” You grin at him. Homelander raises an eyebrow at your reply, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies your face.

He chuckles lowly at your attempt to sidestep his question. “It’s just curiosity,” he says, the hint of arrogance in his tone. “Her dad’s… around. We’re not together.” Homelander cocks his head to the side, his expression unreadable as he continues to study you.

"Ah, I see," he responds, his tone slightly mocking. "Not together, huh? Must be hard raising a kid on your own." You wave your hand at the remark. “Nah, she makes it easy.” Homelander chuckles slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"She's a well-behaved little girl, I'll give her that," he agrees.

He glances over at Bailey, who's still animatedly chatting with The Deep. Then he looks back at you, the sharpness in his gaze returning.

"But she looks so familiar, you know? I swear I've seen her somewhere before…" You lie quickly, “We’ve been to a couple of meet and greets. That’s probably why.” Homelander nods, his smile still in place, but his gaze hardening as he considers your words.

"Ah, that could be it," he murmurs, seemingly accepting the explanation.

He's silent for a moment, still looking at you intently. Then, he grins and leans in closer, the smirk growing on his lips.

"You know, a strong, independent woman like yourself should have a man to take care of you," he says, his voice low and suggestive.

You laugh and scoot your chair away slightly. “Oh, no. I’m happily single.” Despite your attempts to distance yourself slightly, Homelander doesn’t seem dissuaded by your response. He chuckles at your laugh, his eyes still locked on yours.

"Happily single, hm?" he says, his tone dripping with arrogance.

He leans in a bit closer, his gaze roaming over your features. "A beautiful woman like you, all alone? That's a shame." He continues to push. Even inviting you to an interactive experience where you could have a tea time with Starlight herself. Before you could shut it down. Bailey accepted the invitation. Homelander grins as Bailey eagerly accepts the invitation to tea time with Starlight. He seems all too amused by the situation, his eyes flickering to you as if enjoying your discomfort.

"Looks like someone's excited," he muses, his tone slightly mocking, "How can you say no to that?" You push a smile as Bailey jumps at your side. “Can we go now?”

As Bailey tugs at you with excitement, you can't help but smile.

Homelander chuckles, watching the scene unfold. "Eager, isn't she? Starlight will be happy to see a little fan so excited for tea time," he says with a smug smile.

Homelander leads you and your daughter down a hallway. He glances back with a smug smile. “Just through here.” He opens a door and calls out. “This little one is ready for her tea time with Starlight.”

You go to follow Bailey through the door, but Homelander's firm grip on your arm stops you in your tracks. His smirk widening, he looks at you, his eyes locked on yours. "Ah, ah. Starlight will take good care of little miss Bailey.” He drapes an arm over your shoulders. “Take a walk with me," he says, his tone dripping with confidence.

As you begrudgingly walk away, your heart aching a bit at the sound of your daughter's excited chatter, Homelander guides you away from the room.

He looks at you, his smirk still present on his face. "Don't worry, your daughter's in good hands," he says, almost mockingly. "relax a little." Homelander leads you down the hallway, his arm still wrapped casually around your shoulders. He can almost feel the tension emanating off you, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

He glances at you, his cocky smirk still present. "Nervous, sweetheart?" he chuckles, the mocking tone returning to his voice. You push a smile and exhale. “Starstruck, maybe. Sorry. When I got up this morning I didn’t think I’d ever be in the presence of Homelander.” Maybe if you boast his ego enough he’d let you go?

Homelander chuckles at your attempt to butter him up, his smirk growing wider. He obviously enjoys the compliment, his ego thriving on your words.

He lets out a low, arrogant laugh, his arm still around you as he leads you further down the hallway. "You're right about that," he says, his tone dripping with cocky self-assurance.

"Not many people get this close to me. Consider yourself lucky." Homelander forcefully guides you into the dark room, the heavy door closing behind you with a loud thud.

His playful demeanor fades, replaced by a cold, hard glare. His hand still grips your shoulder as he pins you with his gaze.

"Now, we can talk without all the bullshit smiles," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Still attempting to play dumb you question, “What?” Homelander leans in closer, his hand still gripping your shoulder. “Cut. The. Bullshit. Now.” He flashed his laser eyes. You sigh and hold your hands up in a sense of innocence. You use to fucking take down supes, but it’s been so long. You’re out of practice I guess. Hard to act tough when you sing fruit salad on the daily.

Homelander grins at your gesture of innocence, his eyes flickering over you. He can see the shift in your demeanor, the facade slipping slightly. "I can smell him on you. On her. Just like a wet dog.”

He's in your space now, his eyes piercing into yours as he leans in even closer. “Listen, I… I don’t have shit to do with whatever they’re doing. He’s not around. He doesn’t care. Okay?” He smirks at you. “Guess we’ll just have to see how much, he doesn’t care.”

He slams your head into the wall knocking you out. Homelander looks down at you, unconscious on the floor. His smirk widens, a cruel and satisfied look on his face.

"You’re right," he says, voice cold and detached. "Let's see how much he doesn’t care."

You wake up, bound tightly to a chair, a gag around your mouth, effectively silencing you.

The room is dark, almost completely devoid of light. The only sound is the occasional hum of machinery and the quiet drip of water. You're in a secluded spot on Vought grounds. While you're being held in a dark room, alone and bound, Bailey is blissfully unaware, sipping tea and chattering away with Starlight just a few floors above you.

Homelander sits on the side, watching as your daughter giggles and discusses superheroes with Starlight. A smug grin is plastered on his face. He’s having you taken care of.

Annie takes a picture of herself and Bailey. She found her costume just adorable. Starlight smiles warmly at the picture she's taken with Bailey, her heart warming at the sight of the little girl dressed as her.

She grabs her phone and quickly texts the picture to Hughie, adding a message along with it.

Look at this, isn't she cute?

Hughie's scrolling through his phone when the notification from Starlight pops up. He frowns as he taps on the message to see the picture of Starlight and Bailey.

Bailey? He thinks to himself, confusion written on his face. Hughie stares at the message for a moment, not seeing you anywhere in the picture. Something feels off to him. A pang of anxiety gnaws at his stomach, his mind filled with questions.

He looks to Butcher and shows him the photo of Bailey and Annie. “They’re at Voughtland. Annie said the seven were there for a school trip.” Butcher glances at the picture on Hughie's phone, his expression immediately darkening. Recognising Bailey, he looks tense at the sight of her with Starlight.

"A school trip?" he mutters, anger starting to build as he processes the news. You didn’t mention anything to him about a field trip. Especially to Voughtland, because he would’ve said fuck no.

Butcher pulls out his phone and dials your number. When it goes straight to voicemail, his worry grows.

"She's not answering," he mutters, a hint of panic in his voice. He glances at the picture again, the absence of you gnawing at him. He turns to Hughie, his gaze dark as he gives the order. "Call Annie. Ask if she's in there with her."

Hughie listens to the cheerful sound of Annie and Bailey dancing together in the background before speaking up. "Hey, Annie," he interrupts, his voice filled with urgency. "I need to ask you something." Hughie does as told and calls her.

Bailey and Starlight are dancing with wide smiles when Hughie calls. Annie answers. “Hey, kinda busy-“

Butcher snatches the phone. “That kid. Is her mother with her?” Annie furrows her brow, glancing at the little girl dancing to the music. “No? She dropped her off.”

Butcher’s frown deepens at the revelation that you're not there. "What do you mean she dropped her off?" he asks, his tone growing sharper. “She… she dropped her off with me for the tea time. Then she… left.” Annie looks at the little girl. “Everything okay?” She asks the team. Butcher closes his eyes and huffs. “Just don’t let her out of your sight.”

Annie's voice comes through the phone, slightly surprised at the new voice. "Um, sure." She looks over at Bailey, who's still dancing happily. "Hey, Bailey, sweetie?" she says, gently interrupting the girl's dance. "Where did your mommy go?" Bailey looks up with a smile. She pointed out the door. “With Homelander.” Clearly no sense of danger for her mother.

Annie's heart skips a beat at the answer. Hughie looks at Butcher with worry. "Homelander? Why would she go with Homelander?"

He knew this would eventually happen, but if she would’ve just listened to him, he would’ve been able to protect her against this. As Butcher continues to pace, he can't help but feel a pang of guilt and anger. *If only she would have listened*, he thinks.

He clenches his fists, his mind racing with thoughts of what could be happening to you. He knows you're tough, but he also knows the kind of hell you could be thrown into with Vought. He grabs his coat and tosses it on. “Oi!” He holler to the team. “We’re going to Voughtland.”

As Butcher hollers to the team, the rest of the boys look at him, immediately understanding the urgency in his tone.

"Voughtland? What's going on?" MM asks, a look of concern on his face. Butcher huffs, “my girls are in a bit of trouble.” MM raises an eyebrow at Butcher's words, a flicker of curiosity mixed with concern in his expression. "Your girls?"

The rest of the boys look equally puzzled, curious about the nature of the "girls" in question.

Butcher huffs as he gathers his belongings. Butcher says your name, turning to look at M.M. and Frenchie. “You lot remember her, yeah?” They smile in fondness. Butcher raises his brows, “Well she had a little girl. Mine. So the question is. Are you going to help me?” Without a single word, they all gather weapons and belongings.

You sit bound, and now bruised, lip busted. “Fuck you!” You scream at your attacker. Some no name paid to pry the information you don’t know out of you.

He asks, his face a cold, apathetic mask as he watches you struggle against your binds. "Language, sweetheart," he says, his voice dripping with thinly veiled malice. "No need for that." You rest your head down, and begin to laugh.

He frowns at your unexpected laughter. He takes a few steps towards you, puzzled by your reaction. "What's so funny?" he asks, his tone losing a bit of its cool as he looks down at you.

“Just… this stupid shit. I got out, ya know? I was happy. Guess karma has a way of sneaking up.” You look at him, “and even if you kill me and send my kid to Red River, I know for a fact Butcher will skin you from your head to your fucking toes for hurting his kid.”

The attacker's smirk falters for a moment, a flicker of genuine surprise on his face. He had assumed you would be frightened, cowering before him. But here you are, defiant and bold.

He recovers quickly, his smirk returning. "Butcher, huh? You think he'll come to your rescue?" he chuckles.

You laugh again. Finding the time to untie your hand behind your back, “Rescue me?” your eyes find a thin rod on the ground.

you look up at him and shake your head. “I don’t need anyone to fucking rescue me.” I spring from my chair and dive away from him as he lunges. I grab the small rod and turn to him, stabbing it into his eye socket and directly to his brain.

I sigh, standing up as the door is ripped open. You turn to the door and toss your fists up, ready to brawl.

Butcher stands at the door with M.M., both wielding weapons. Butcher lowers his at the sight of you. He sees the cuts and bruises covering you, signs of the struggle you've just been through.

"Shit," he mutters, his grip on your shoulders tightening as if to reassure himself that you're really there. "Are you okay?" You nod quickly without a word. You are all ushered out of the underground tunnels. Your mind is racing. “Bailey. Where is she?”

All thoughts of Homelander and revenge are pushed to the back of your mind. Your main concern is finding Bailey.

As you and Butcher rush out of the underground tunnels, you look around urgently for any sign of your daughter. "Bailey," you repeat, your voice laced with worry. "Where is she?"

Butcher holds you under his arm as he leads you out. M.M. is back up as we move towards the exit. “I got Hughie and Frenchie to take Bailey to the safe house. She’s safe. I promise.” Your heart clenches with worry, but Butcher's reassuring words offer some comfort. Knowing that Hughie and Frenchie have taken Bailey to a safe house eases some of your fear.

"Okay," you murmur, holding onto Butcher's arm tightly as the three of you move towards the exit.

As you enter the safe house, you call out for Bailey, your voice filled with urgent concern.

"Bailey! Baby, where are you?" you call out, your eyes darting about the room, searching for a glimpse of your daughter.

There's a moment of silence, and then a small voice replies from another room. "Mommy?" As soon as you hear Bailey's small voice, a wave of relief washes over you, and you feel tears prick at the back of your eyes.

Without a second thought, you rush towards the sound of her voice, finding her in another room. You grab her tightly, pulling her into a tight, comforting hug.

"Oh, baby," you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. "Are you okay?" She looks at your face and frowns. “Daddy? What happened?” She asks as she reaches for Butcher. Butcher steps closer, a mixture of concern and relief etched on his face as he looks at the little girl in your arms. He glances at your injured face before crouching down to meet Bailey's gaze.

"It's alright, love," he says softly, his voice gentle as he reaches out to touch her hair. "Your mummy just had a little accident, that's all." Bailey scrutinizes you, her young mind able to intuit that there's more to your accident than you're letting on. However, her tiredness takes over, and her eyes droop as she leans into Butcher's outstretched hand.

He notices her sleepy expression and gently ruffles her hair. "Come on, love," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "You need some rest."

You watch as Butcher lifts Bailey into his arms and carries her towards the bed, their interaction tender and caring. Your heart feels full watching the two of them, and a warm smile forms on your face.

As he tucks her into bed, you realize how much you've come to depend on him, both for yourself and for Bailey. He was your stability in this chaotic world.

Your thoughts drift back to the events that led you here, a pang of guilt mixed with gratitude settling in your chest.

You knew you’d tried your best, but you wished you could've done more to protect Bailey. The thought brings a pang of self-blame, but you also know that if Butcher had been there, things could have turned out very differently.

You find yourself in the quiet of the safe house, the lights dimmed, casting a soft, warm glow. It’s almost peaceful, the calm after the storm. The silence is broken only by the soft breathing of Bailey, already fast asleep. You settle onto the couch, the weight of the day's events catching up to you. Your eyes, heavy from exhaustion and worry, start to feel weary. You lean back, letting your body relax into the comfort of the cushions.

Even though your mind is still on high alert, the quiet of the room, combined with the fatigue settling in, makes it almost impossible to stay awake. When Butcher steps out of Bailey's room, he stops in tracks as he spots you, asleep on the couch. A soft, almost tender expression crosses his face, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

He walks closer, his footsteps silent as he approaches, careful not to wake you. He stands before you, watching your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath. As he looks down at you, asleep on the sofa, Butcher's eyes rake over your face. A strong urge to lean closer, to kiss you, washes over him. But he resists, knowing that you need sleep more than anything right now.

His fingers, almost involuntarily, reach out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch feather-light and tender.

You stir “Billy.” You mumble still asleep. Your sleepy murmur of his name causes Butcher's hand to still against your hair. He looks down at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he realizes you're still half-asleep.

"Hey, love," he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. "You're supposed to be asleep." You sit up, making room for him. A small smile tugging on your lips.

Butcher watches as you stir and sit up, making room for him on the couch. Your sleepy smile warms his heart, and he takes a seat next to you.

He slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. "Couldn't sleep?" he teases. You push a small smile and shake your head. “It’s been so long since I’d fought for my life.” You look at Butcher. “Kinda missed it.”

Butcher raises an eyebrow at your words, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "You missed fighting for your life?" he asks a hint of disbelief in his tone.

He tightens his grip on your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. "You've got a strange sense of nostalgia, you know that?" You scoff and bump your shoulder with his. “Look who’s talking.” Butcher grins at your scoff and shoulder bump. "Hey now," he teases, a smirk on his face. "No need to use logic against me."

He pulls you even closer, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder. "Are you alright, though?” You lean into his hold, resting your head on his chest. “Yeah, I’m alright.” You wait for a beat, “I… I shouldn’t have even taken her there. I should’ve known better.” Butcher nods. “You should’ve told me.”

You agree, and if you did tell him, then you’d be safe from all this nonsense. “Yeah. I should’ve.”

Butcher continues rubbing your shoulder, his hold on you firm yet comforting.

"What am I going to do now? We can’t go back home. He knows my name, her name, what school she goes to, her teacher.” You cover your eyes in shame. How could you have let this happen?

Butcher feels a pang of sadness as he hears the despair in your voice. He pulls you closer, wrapping his other arm around you.

"Don't beat yourself up, love," he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. "This isn't your fault."

He pauses for a moment, his mind working quickly. "But you're right, we can't go back home. Not right now, at least. We'll figure this out, though. I ain't letting that bastard get to us."

You look up at him, then around at the surroundings. You wouldn’t be truly safe until he was gone. He would never stop looking for you, just to knock Butcher a peg down. You’d be the sacrifice. Bailey….

You shake your head. “Your boy, Ryan. Grace keeps him safe doesn’t she?” Butcher nods, knowing exactly where you are going with your question. "Yeah, she does. Ryan's safe with her," he says, his grip on you tightening.

"Why do you ask, though?" he adds, a hint of foreboding creeping into his voice. “Bailey. She… if Homelander has the slightest chance to take her, he would.” You run your fingers through your hair. The hatred of supes coming fresh to mind. “He has to go.” Butcher listens intently as you speak, the mention of Bailey's name a chilling thought. The idea that Homelander might use her as a pawn against him makes his blood boil.

When you mention Homelander's need to go, Butcher's expression hardens. "You're right," he says, his voice cold and resolute. "He's got to go. And I'll make sure of that."

You shake your head, “not without some help.”

Butcher looks at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Are you suggesting you help me take down Homelander?" he asks, disbelief evident in his voice.

He runs his hand across his face. "Love, this ain't a game. Homelander's the most dangerous supe out there. I can't risk you getting hurt." “And I can’t just sit here when I know I could help. Especially when he knows Bailey is out there.” Butcher shakes his head doubtfully.

Butcher looks at you, his expression a mix of worry and admiration. On one hand, he doesn't want to put you in danger. But on the other, he knows how fiercely protective you are of Bailey.

He lets out a sigh. "I can't talk you out of this, can I? Once you set your mind to something, you're more stubborn than a damn ox."

You lay a hand on his cheek. “That’s why you love me.”

He leans into your touch, relishing the feeling of your hand on his cheek. He covers your hand with his larger one, holding it there for a moment.

"That's right." he says, his voice gruff but filled with affection. You lean in, relishing in the moment, and as you do, Butcher's free hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. He looks at you for a moment, a mix of desire and care in his eyes.

Then, he leans in too, connecting his lips with yours in a tender, yet passionate kiss. As the kiss deepens, Butcher's arms tighten around you, holding you close. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you to him as he devours your mouth with a fierce hunger.

There is a sense of urgency in his actions, his touch desperate and full of unspoken desire. He needs to feel you, to know that you're really here, safe with him. A small gasp pulls your attention from the kiss. Bailey stands behind the door, spying on her parents in a loving embrace. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw her mother and father in such a way.

Butcher and you break the kiss as Bailey's gasp interrupts the moment. You both turn to see your daughter standing behind the door, her eyes wide and curious.

Butcher's hand slips from your neck, his expression somewhat sheepish as he realizes they've been caught. You smile at her, “Hey honey.” Bailey gives you a sheepish smile in return, her cheeks turning slightly pink at being caught spying. She's never seen her parents kiss like that before.

"You were kissing," she says, her voice filled with innocence. You look to Butcher with a smile. A playful manner picking up. “Kissing? Your dad? No way.” You sarcastically claim.

Butcher rolls his eyes, playing along with your little game. He feigns surprise, pretending to play the part of the innocent father.

"Yeah, no way," he says, his voice gruff but laced with humor. "Your mum was just getting something out of my teeth, love." Bailey crosses her arms and challenges you both. “No. I saw it with my own eyes! You were kissing!”

You and Butcher exchange a quick glance, trying to hold back laughter at Bailey's stubborn insistence. You decide to play along for a bit longer.

"Are you sure you saw that?" you ask, your voice filled with mock confusion. "Maybe you were dreaming or something." You nod. “Yeah, you know you sleepwalk.” Bailey stomps her foot, her small frame filled with determination as she approaches. She looks from you to Butcher, her expression defiant.

"I know what I saw," she says, her voice firm. "You were kissing!" You toss your hands up. “Fine, fine. Yes, mommy and daddy were kissing.” Bailey smiles with an excited expression. Butcher grins, unable to hold back his laughter anymore. He looks at Bailey and ruffles her hair affectionately.

"There, is that what you wanted to hear?" he asks. She nods, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She climbed on the couch, shoving herself between the two of you. “Daddy.” She says with a smile.

Butcher chuckles as Bailey climbs onto the couch and squeezes between the two of you. He wraps his arms around her, a warm smile on his face.

"Yes, love?" he replies, his voice soft and fond. Bailey looks at you, wiggling her brows. “I know you love mommy now.” Butcher rolls his eyes at Bailey's comment but grins good-naturedly.

"And how do you know that, hm?" he asks, his rough voice filled with feigned aloofness. “Because you only kiss people you love.” She grins in pure innocence. Butcher's expression softens at Bailey's innocent comment. He looks at you and then back at her, a small, fond smile on his face.

"Well, can't argue with that logic, can I?" he says, ruffling her hair affectionately. Bailey grins, but a yawn makes its way to her face. You pat her leg, “Come on, back to bed. You went mommy to come lay with you?” Bailey yawns, her energy seemingly running out. When you ask if she wants you to lay with her, she nods, her eyes drooping.

"no, it’s okay. Go lay with Daddy," she murmurs, leaning her head against your arm. You scoff at her words. A small smile played on her lips as she closed the door back to her room. You chuckle softly as Bailey closes the door behind her. It's sweet how she always wants you or Butcher with her when she goes to sleep.

You look at Butcher, a small smile on your face as you shake your head. "Little matchmaker, isn't she?" Butcher smirks at your comment, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Yeah, seems like she's got it all figured out, love."

He moves closer to you, his arm sliding around your shoulders again. "Can't say I'm mad about it, though." Leaning into his touch you feel fatigue washing over your body. “I couldn’t agree more.” Butcher feels your body relax against him as fatigue sets in. He pulls you closer, his arm encircling you protectively.

"You look exhausted," he murmurs, his voice low and soft. "You should get some sleep, too."

You give him a sly smile, standing up. “Yeah, I guess.” You make your way to the door before looking back. “You coming or what?”

Butcher raises an eyebrow, a cocky smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He stands up and saunters over to you, a swagger in his step.

"Of course I am, love," he replies, his voice dripping with confidence.