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blucampbell · 12 days

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American Whore // HOMELANDER X M. READER

Summary: Being this man babys' person assistant was tough. You were chosen personally to linger around Homelander, keeping an eye on him in order to "keep him in line". You choose not to make it a big deal, not going to let this man get under your skin when he starts to fuck around with you. And when he starts to grow fond of you, he makes it so very obvious.

Warnings: NSFW, top dom reader cause this is different, I love him sm he's so dumb, Homelander is annoying on purpose, man handling? I'm not sure, praise, You guys fuck in your office, use of condoms, hair pulling ish, not proofread, yeah!!! :3, takes place around beginning of season 2 maybe

"You know I never asked-, how much are they paying you to babysit me anyway?"

It's a dumb question, an annoying question that he's asking you for the billionth time. You ignore him, typing away on your laptop as he sprawls himself out on the couch that's sitting at the side of your office. "We've been over this, John. It's not babysitting," you say, hitting the enter key on your laptop with a profound click. "It's just to keep an eye on you."

"Well I see no difference," he grumbles, picking up one of the throw pillows and tossing it up into the air, catching it once it falls back down like a bored child. "Me neither," you mutter, shutting down your device and sitting up in your chair, stretching your muscles and sighing as you hear a pronounced pop come from your shoulder. You don't miss how his eyes dart all over your upper body, blue eyes meeting yours for a split second before he goes back to playing with the throw pillow.

You roll your eyes and get up from your chair, picking up your laptop and tucking it under your arm. When you move towards the door of your office, you're stopped when a hand is placed firmly on your shoulder. You groan, turning around to meet eyes with the walking blond headache you're looking after. "You don't have to do this, ya know," he says with a sly smile, squeezing your shoulder tightly. "I don't need someone to keep an eye on me," he continues, moving his hand lower, now squeezing at the muscle on your arm. From what you assume, you think he's trying to intimidate you, but you know deep down, he's just getting in that extra feel of your bicep.

You place your hand over his own, patting it reassuringly. "We both know you do, John." You pry his hand off, holding it up by his wrist. He stares at you, that mischievous yet mysterious glint in his eye. You could never really tell what mood he was in. He was always like a puzzle with a missing piece, and when you would find one, another would go missing. You let go of his wrist, putting your hand up against his face gently. He doesn't flinch away from your touch, he never does. You rub your thumb against his cheek, taking note of how quick he is to push his skin against your palm. A needy cat, this one was.

"You know, you wouldn't need a "babysitter" if you were a better boy," you whisper to him, moving your hand to the back of his head, away from his cheek. You grasp his hair lightly, giving it a light tug before continuing on. "If you were, I don't know, a good boy," you move closer to his ear, smirking to yourself when you hear him groan quietly. "You wouldn't need a babysitter, right?"

You feel him shake his head immediately, pushing his face between your neck and shoulder. You roll your eyes when you take your hand out of his hair, patting his back reassuringly when he doesn't move away from you. You hum, placing your laptop down on a nearby bookshelf in arms reach, patting his back more. "You know, for someone who's America's greatest hero, you sure are a big baby," you tease, kissing at his neck.

He ignores you, rubbing his crotch against yours. You huff, listening for any noise in the hallway before pulling him towards the couch he was previously laid out on. You sit down on it, pulling him down into your lap. You smirk when he starts to grind against you quickly, trying to gain any friction against you before you're even able to undress him. You try to shush him when he starts to fall apart, whining about how he's gonna be your good boy. Your hand's moving towards his lower back and rubbing it as a way to comfort him, reassuring him you'll take good care of him. The way an American hero deserves to be treated.

You use your other free hand to cup the obvious bulge in his pants, chuckling at the way he immediately starts to rut against your palm. He lifts up away from you, starting to take off that iconic suit of his. You watch him like a hawk, taking in the little details of the way he breathes erratically. His hands are slightly shaky as he tosses his clothing onto the other side of the couch, smashing his lips against yours and going back to grinding against you. You run your hand over his chest, moving down to run your fingertips over his pronounced abs. Jesus, you often forget how easily this man could tear you apart like a lion, or worse.

But he never did, or tried to, he submitted to you so easily, and you assumed it was the whole "I need to be nurtured by anyone at all times" thing he had going on. You're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a whine, looking up to see a pouting John. His hand is placed near your belt buckle, waiting obediently for your permission to undo it. You nod in confirmation, groaning as your cock strains in your pants when he starts to unbuckle it. You had John Gillman, The Homelander, undoing your belt buckle like an impatient whore. The sight alone made your dick twitch, scanning over the other males face quietly.

When your cock is freed from your waistband, you see John look around, seemingly lost while he thinks of a way this can continue going smoothly. As if you read his mind, you slide a condom out of your pocket, smiling at him innocently when you hand it to him. He snatches it from you, opening it above your dick with trembling hands. He rolls it onto your cock, stroking it generously just to hear your noises. He pulls the rest of his suit off, now hovering over you naked. When he reaches out to grab for you, he's taken aback when you sit up, flipping him over, quickly making him fall onto his back on the couch.

Homelander fucking moans, biting at the inside of his cheek while you spread open his legs, moving yourself between them as he's slumped against your couch. He takes it upon himself to wrap his legs around your waist, forcefully pulling you closer. You give him a light spank on his thigh, giving him a knowing look to remind him that he should know better. He pouts once more, jutting out his bottom lip as his tip grows angrier and redder, beads of white leaking from it. When you finally line your tip up with his hole, he starts to move his hips around, impatiently signaling that you're taking too long.

You roll your eyes, slamming your cock deep into him, knowing how resilient he would be to the extra pain. And yet, his back still arches, a choked moan ripped from his chest as his cock twitches against his stomach. You chuckle at his reaction, positioning your hips perfectly. As you start to drill into him, his hands start to wander over you. He lets out quite a few moans, reaching slowly for your hand. He frowns when you pull it away from him, grabbing ahold of his legs and throwing one over your shoulder, deepening the reach of your cock into him. It drives him nuts, John now gripping the fabric of your couch aggressively.

He holds an iron grip on it, panting and drooling like a wild mutt while you bully your cock into him. "How about that, Mr America? How does my dick feel, hm?" You ask teasingly, not expecting anymore of an answer than the desperate whines and louder moans that hit your ears. "What do you think would happen if I posted you like this? Hm? How many points would you gain when the people of the states see my cock deep inside their greatest protector," you say with a smirk, it only growing wider when his moans seem to heighten in pitch. "Would you want the people to see how good of a boy you are? How good you are at taking dick like a slut?"

He starts to squirm a bit, nodding along to your words absentmindedly. He's only focused on the praise. On the way those two sweet words roll off your tongue. "Mhmm, 'm good," he whines, hands grabbing at your shirt. That seems to be the only thing he's worried about, how good he's being for you. "I'll be good-, a good boy for you, I promise, promise," he mumbles, getting more and more handsy with your clothes. You hum, grabbing his wrists and yanking them off of you. You pin him down, rocking your hips harsher than you were previously. It sends him spiraling, deep groans like a sympathy are being pushed out of him.

"You're a good boy, John," you whisper to him, keeping him pinned as you start to huff, feeling your release build up ever so slightly. That makes him lose it, releasing his own cum onto his stomach. You continue to fuck into him, however. You needed to teach him how to wait for his turn next time, but you would save that for another day. "Yeah? Did that make you feel good? Being called a good boy?" You say lewdly into his ear, ruffled blond hair nodding quickly in a blur. As you feel yourself about to let go, you slam your hips against the back of his, holding the two of you in place as you release into the condom.

The thin barrier containing your mess saves you the trouble of having to help him clean himself up, not that it would be a problem, he's just a person that isn't ready to be done just yet when you say you're done. He was one persistent bastard. As you pull out of him, his legs fall limply, shaky and practically useless to him at the moment. He frowns, spreading his legs open farther as a way to coax you back into him. You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time, patting his face with your hand gently. "We can keep at it later, alright? As of now, I need you to be a good boy and go handle a robbery they just announced was happening," you say to him, locking your phone that you had just picked up out of your pocket.

He nods, standing slowly and limping the slightest way while he redresses himself. Johns thighs still have the slightest tremble while you're buckling your belt back up, disposing of the now tied condom and humming to yourself as you watch him make his way to the door of your office. You scan him one last time before he leaves, rushing over to him and swooping your hand through his hair. "Fix this, you look like you just rolled around on the floor," you say, patting his cheek one last time before sending him on his way.

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