#fem!homelander

[alissssssaka]

alexa play Shakira - She Wolf

[fandomnerd9602]

Jamie, Homelander, stand in front of the Seven and Y/N…

Jamie: any objections?

Y/N raises their hand…

Jamie: I hear you baby. Plans rejected.

A Train; the plan was to eat out.

Jamie sits in Y/N’s lap…

Jamie: I’d rather be eaten out (winks)

Y/N: as you wish

Maeve: who wants Chinese?

The rest of the Seven leave Jamie and Y/N alone…

For @kingofthelizardpeople

[kingofthelizardpeople]

Could you write a Fem!Homelander x Normal Reader fluff with a hint of yandere plz

Y/N: You don't really mean what you're saying about normal humans,.....right?

Jamie scoffs at the suggestion.

Jamie: You really question me? I'm not a big fan, but even I am not filled with that much hate.

Jamie lifts Y/Ns chin.

Jamie: Besides, this is mostly to put me in a place of absolutely power. I mean more so than usual.

Y/N: But why? Why would you do all of this-

Jamie: To protect you, silly.

Based on characters created by @fandomnerd9602

[givemebackmypills]

[bimboyaoi]

I need her so bad....

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[tonixe]

hii i love ur writing and the k you for the noir fic!! there’s not enough content for the boys and i appreciate it so much!! can i request jealous homelander x reader? tyia!

♱ — rapacious — ♱

A/N: I was itching, with no craving to make a homelander fic, and ideas just ran through me, but thank you anon for requesting this, and letting my devious idea run free. P.S. Im not sure bout that black noir fic, this was asked in July, but yk thank you for still requesting <3. Btw H/N is hero name.

WARNING: oral sex, p in the v, no condom we fuck raw, creampies, non-con, tw: homelander, gagging, cursing, non-con, threats, forced breeding and nudity.

PAIRING: jealous! homelander x reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.1k

Life with Homelander was great, something so great that it makes you go insane, crazy...good crazy may be bad for some, but you could take it, right?

Vought, was another thing, watching over your shoulder and making sure everything went well, I mean with you there were a lot fewer casualties than usual. Soon things got less complicated with Edgar and Madelyn being gone from Vought, basically Homelander leading the company with Ashley as a puppet.

It was chaotic per se, where Homelander's watching eye was everywhere in the building. His leadership didn't make anything better but worse. With the seven keeping on being replaced and disappearing mysteriously, surprisingly you were still there with the same everything, no new rebrand, no nothing just staying in place.

You didn't mind it at all, I mean you still had a job and were still getting paid. Even with the weird shift of Black noir, instead of his quiet demeanor, he was talkative which was a change. It was evident it wasn't noir and everyone in the seven knew it, but nobody questioned it. You didn't mind but preferred the change, and even started talking to him.

He was a little better than old noir, not in combat but in being amusing, even spending time with outside meetings and regular superhero activities.

"So how the fuck did you manage to even fly like that?" You asked while you walked with him down the hallway,

"I have no idea, it just happened?" Black Noir II shrugged, you nodded at his words as you took a sip of the peanut butter frappuccino from Vought's cafe, it was a plus that he wasn't allergic to peanuts like the old noir. It wasn't a glow-up from the old noir but a plus. You two chatted as you got into the elevator, it was abruptly stopped by a red, white, and blue cape fluttering into wedging between you both, making you step back, it was Homelander.

The atmosphere immediately got tense than it was once a carefree mood, it was quiet.

"Good morning Homelander," you said, it was met with a nod from him, "Morning Sir," Black Noir said to him, only for him to glare at him, "Don't fucking talk" Homelander ordered, clearly annoyed that he was talking.

It was suffocating being in the elevator, you just took a sip of your frappuccino, praying for the elevator to open up quickly.

Guess your answers were answered rather quickly, as the doors of the huge elevator opened to the meeting room, the giant seven table in front of you.

The Deep, Sage, Firecracker, and A-train were already in their seats. "Good morning sir" The deep stood up, saluting him which made you laugh a little. You immediately took your seat next to Firecracker, and the meeting started. It was a blur to you, something like finding the leak in Vought, which you had many questions about.

The whole meeting was led by a different Sage, your eyes flicked towards Homelander, he was staring at Black Noir. You averted your eyes away,

God, you have to pay attention more often.

You couldn't help but take a sip of peanut butter frappuccino, "Would you fucking stop" Homelander's voice interrupted Sage's presentation, all attention was at him and he was staring directly at you.

"Um...Sorry" You hesitating looked back at him, and you felt eyes on you. You couldn't help but your heart to beat faster,

You watched Homelander rubbed his head in annoyance, closing his eyes before staring to you, "Could you slurp any louder?" He said, his voice dripping with annoyance and sarcasm.

"Sorry" You muttered, putting it back where it was,

"No..nope" Homelander repeated, he pointed at you again, "Be a good girl and put it in the garbage" He snapped. You looked around, with everyone staring at you, "Okay" you responded, slowly getting up from your chair, taking the cup in your hand, and throwing it in the garbage before sitting down.

"Good"

With that statement, the meeting continued on, with your face heating up in embarrassment, as you sank further into the chair.

Sage's voice engulfing your thoughts,

You got interrupted by a note being thrown at you, it was obvious it was from Noir that somehow got to you without Homelander looking, you grinned a little bit, secretly opening up the crumbled piece of paper.

[I'll buy you a new drink after the meeting] - Noir

You read the note, before turning your attention to him and smiling, quickly putting the note in the pocket of your suit before Homelander can see it. Combing your hair back and leaning back into your chair.

Soon the meeting ended, getting up from your seat, and everyone else was doing the same, yours scanned and the room soon landing on Firecracker still in her seat. But you didn't care much to ask why, but more excited to hang out with Noir after this awkward meeting.

"Everyone can go expect H/N" You heard Homelander's voice mentioning your name made you freeze. You stopped where you were, "You can go Firecracker" Homelander turned to her,

"But..um Homelander sir—"

"You can go," Homelander said again but in a more threatening tone, "Now" After he said she scrambled out of the meeting room.

Soon it was only you two left in the room, you watched hesitantly as Homelander turned to you. "Y/N, we need to talk," Homelander states, you could hear his voice straining, with concealed anger.

You looked up at him confused, "About..what?" You asked.

You watched as he walked around you, his pace was slow, you listened to his footsteps echoing around the empty meeting room, before he stopped suddenly, " Do you think I'm just stupid?" Homelander said, his tone catching you off guard.

It wasn't confusing that Homelander was speaking to you in anger, you rarely got him angry knowing you both were together and your relationship wasn't publicized due to his status.

"No, definitely not John," You replied, using his name instead of his hero alias, made him freeze before he stared at you.

Jealously was gnawing inside of him when he looked at you, "Tell me...are you fucking him" Homelander snapped at you, your brows knitted together in confusion at his words. "No, we're just hanging out—why would you ever think that?" You stuttered over your words, as Homelander walked closer to you.

He reached out for your face, harshly grabbing your chin with his hand, tilting your face to meet his eyes. You felt his glove hand digging into your face, his eyes closely turning red, you just felt fear, you were terrified. You knew he could smell your fear, and hear your rising heartbeat. "John...I would never cheat on you, I'm yours" You entreated, trembling under his grip.

Finally, his grip got looser and then he dropped your face, making you stumble a bit.

"Then show me," Homelander said,

You were confused about his words, "What?"

"If you love me..show me" Homelander sat down in the seat in front of you. It took you some time to process his words, confused at what he was saying, "Come on, strip for me" signaling towards your chest.

Your brows furrowing, "Come on, if you don't do it" Homelander leaned in his seat, "You won't like it if I do it" He finished,

"Now strip" He repeated, his tone more irritated.

You took a breath in and started undressing. Unzipping your suit, feeling the cool air on your bare skin. Your suit falling on the marble floor echoed through the room, leaving you in your bra and panties.

"Bra and panties too" Homelander eyed your chest.

You comply, putting your hand behind you and clipping your bra off, discarding it on the floor, and stepping out of your panties, leaving you fully naked in front of him.

"Come here" He patted his lap, "Crawl" he pointed at you. You sank down to your knees and crawled towards him and stopped in front of him. "Come on, you know what to do" You felt his hand on your cheek, stroking it.

You looked down at his growing member in his pants. Hesitatingly looking up at him through your lashes, as you started to undo the bottom of his suit revealing his cock, you looked up at him, "Use your mouth" You leaned in and inched his cock into your mouth, before taking him whole. Homelander moans out feeling your warm mouth enveloping his cock, feeling his hand gripping your hair making you wince.

You slowly bob your head down on his length, his grip on you getting tighter. Your ears perched up at his straining voice barely containing his whimpers as he watched you intently, taking him whole. "Fuck, your good at this" Homelander groaned, jerking you away, taking his cock out from your mouth. Staring at your disheveling appearance, spit dribbling on your chin.

His hand still fisting your hair, "Your pretty when your like this" Homelander chuckled, before forcing you down his cock, making you gagged. Tears prick on your waterline, saliva staining your chin, his grip never loosening as he abused your throat,  thrusting into your mouth, the sound of slick, the sounds of wet suction filling up the room.

His pace turning frantic, fucking your mouth.

Homelander threw his head back as waves of ecstasy washed over him. His hips buckled uncontrollably as he lets out a guttural groan, filling your mouth with his cum. "Fuck, ..." He pants, chest heaving, before he gripped your face, "Be a good girl and swallow it" He threatens, feeling the hot liquid going down your throat, swallowing it.

His grip loosening and releasing you. You panted for air, feeling his gloved-hand stroking your cheek. "Now, stand and lean over at table" Homelander ordered, as you got up from the floor and obeyed his order, propping yourself on the table, and bending yourself over the glass. You couldn't help but to feel excited for the pain, the slick dripping down your legs. You waited in anticipation,

Before feeling his cock stretching you out, biting down at your lip at the simmering pain, arching your back. His hands on back of your waist, "Fuck" you mumbled, gripping the end of the glass. Before he thrusting into you, "You think Noir would please you like I do" Homelander growled into your ear, his breath warm on your skin "N...no" you mumbled, feeling his cock tearing you open, feeling himself stretching your cervix.

His ministration was more painful next than the next, feeling his cock stabbing you over and over again. The sounds of flesh slapping filled the room, letting out a gasp, your voice wavering in pain. His thrust driving deeper into you, clenching down on his cock, feeling his grip digging into your skin.

You hated how you were slowly enjoying this, feeling yourself coming close to your climax. Your body tensing up as you feel your skin warming up,

His hips stuttering against yours, "Fuck, I'm close" You felt his hands stroking your hips, "What if I just cummed inside you, breed you myself, have my kids, and have a family...then ill have you to myself" He whispered,

You felt your heart in your throat, "Pull out" You tried to get away from stone grip, "Homelander, please" You begged, only for your face to be shove down on the glass table. Scrambling underneath his grip, just to get him off you. "please" you cried.

His pace getting frantic until he thrust into you for the last time, feeling on cue your body shuddering as he came into you. Feeling himself spilling inside you, making you freeze on the spot.

Feeling him finally pulling out of you, leaving you there stunned. He kissed your shoulder, the kiss feeling lingering on you.

You heard the sound of him putting his pants back on. He stared at you before walking towards you, before sighing, you turned your head to him, "I forgive you, you know" He said, his hand behind his back watching your pitiful form,

"Just don't do it again" he pats your head,

"Now get dressed, we have a date" He smiles, listening to his footsteps descending from you.

[cryptfile]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ holy terrain!!!!!!, [ homelander x supe!reader ]

SUMMARY— based on a request aka when you arrive to vought’s tower covered in blood, you certainly don't expect to enjoy John’s comfort after feeling so numb.

WARNINGS — +18 minors dni, implied fem! reader, homelander is a warning himself, usual the boys content, mentions of murder, violence, reader matches homelander’s freak ngl, always wash your hands before fingering #PLEASE, blood kink at it's best, degradation (blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, porn without plot sort of?? lmao blame it on my hormones.

SIDE NOTES — hi there, this is a result of me going feral in this new season. English's not my first language, so please be kind, any mistake it's my own fault sorry in advance. Hate this mf but wont deny I wouldn't fuck him to calm him down. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me!

The smell is under your nose.

At first it didn’t bother you to feel the warmth of it, you’re not disgusted by blood. But it’s everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Sticking in your face, staining your damn suit, pooling beneath your feet.

You can feel your own breathing, yet, you're numb to everything else. The screams of terror and the sudden silence of the killing are now something similar as a long-time-ago memory, a distant thought you cannot bring yourself to care about.

And when you came out of the elevator, you don't care about the other people looking at you either. The Vought personal that were always running in the floor, Ashley, or fucking Noir at the matter thinking you're Carrie or something, no one dares to talk to you even when you’re a mere sidekick, too afraid of your explosive personality to even demand to know what happened.

It's almost like you asked for it, to be left alone, to not deal with anyone but your own judgment.

So when you cross the hallway to your dormitory dreaming about a warm shower, you don't expect to see him inside, your relationship with Homelander being too sporadic to even catalog it as one. Yet he's there like it's his house, and you're too tired to even ask why he's there in the first place.

"There you are," he says, but you hear his voice like he's talking miles away from you instead of the couch where he really is. "Something was telling me you were having a rough day."

"Don't remember anything about inviting you to my room" he doesn't care about your tone as he walks closer to you, usually, when he speaks, he only seem to listen to himself. "Didn’t give you a key."

He's oblivious at your words, instead, he seems to be too lost in his own way of seeing things, just waiting for you to say something similar to what you’ve already said in his mind. To admit something like you missed him all day long, that you've been thinking about him as much as he's thinking about you, to fed his ego like only you can do after only a few times of sharing intimacy.

The air is thick, making it harder to breathe as he plants himself in front of you, blue eyes scanning your face as his fingers touched your hair, toying with the strands glued together with blood — Even if it’s gross, he don’t seemed moved by it, mainly, you think, because he’s been through the same too.

"Don't need a key to show up," he laughs like it's obvious, and you look at him like he's having a rougher time than you. "This is my building."

It's almost a reminder for you, that you're living under his roof and have a place on his team because he just wants to. Even when you always do the dirty job no one dares to do, if you save his ass more times you can count, he still remarks you’re living in his world.

“I know,” you fight the need to roll your eyes to the back of your head while responding. It’s something you remind yourself sometimes, how most of them are just plain stupid, always treating you like you were no better than fucking Deep.

The stink under your nose is annoying and your skin feels sticky at the touch so you’re almost begging for just ten minutes of privacy.

“I just missed you” he says in a low voice, almost ashamed of admitting something he would never even dare to say out loud, a sudden verge of vulnerability, strange raw honesty as he looks at you. “Didn’t you miss me too?”

You know the only way of really control him, how to make him do exactly what you want to do, so you let him. Let him act all needy and weird cause you want John wrapped around your finger, unable to think on his own. You want him to believe, whole-heartedly, that in the end he’s the one coming up with the great ideas when it's you every single time.

You don’t find it cruel, he’s the same with you and he deserves it, so when Homelander bites his middle finger to grab the fabric of his gloves and pull it off, you let him touch you, treat you like this lost-dove-in-trouble he loves to see — “Had an awful day. Just wanted to see you,” like that. The correct combination of words and he looks like he got fucking shot by a celestial force, mesmerized. “Always missing you, babe.”

He’s sold by the moment, that tone you use, that little nickname that gets him, the sound of your heartbeat slightly faster than before, not enough to catch you lying, but enough to show you’re indeed, happy to see him as well.

He's pleased, so the next is unexpected to say the least, and you hate every second of it when he carries you like you two are married or something similar, sitting in the sofa with you on his lap.

“What are you-”

He shushes you, and you cannot finish what you’re saying when he pulls you to his chest, the fabric of his suit against your cheek as he, weirdly enough, hugged you close, the sound of his heartbeat instead, loud against your ear as you can feel him breathing beneath you, an steady rhythm as the silence filled the room. It's weird sometimes, to think he's human as well before the compound V.

“Comforting you,” he says in a low voice. His bare hand now grabbing your tight enough to bury his fingers in the covered skin, squeezing it lightly as first, nothing you cannot control. And it's beyond doubt what he truly wants, the way his nose inhales the scent of your body like it's fuel, the blood mixing with your fragrance — "M' here now."

He likes it almost more than his own smell. Almost is the key, cause he cannot help but wish you'd stink like him after waking up next to him that very same day. The thought wakes something new in the alleged superhero, something that stings in his stomach, plaguing his mind with the thought of getting all that he wants, to mark you as his property as he has done before.

He cannot get enough. Of course he can't, he's used to have it all now, to never ask but take. That's why he bites your shoulder, why he didn't mind getting his hands dirty with you and your sticky suit, why he's not grossed out by anything, but instead, turned on by how much you needed him.

But in reality it's the other way around, cause Homelander's the one that pulls you closer, that kisses you like you're something heavenly, just like he is. He's not gentle, yet he knows you like it that way, that you're into that rough force he's used to and would kill any normal person in result.

"Who let you go on that mission on your own, huh?" He asks, concentrated in your suit, pulling it down slightly just to reveal the naked skin under the fabric, clean skin in contrast of all the red. "Seems like they all forgot we're supposed to work together."

You don't get why it feels so nice at first, why the hand on your hip moves through your body like you need some kind of reassurance after all you went through the day.

"I'm okay" you manage to say, the pure need to remind him you're good enough to make things on your own, some kind of memo that explains clearly that you want the same benefits he has. It's useless however, when he has you like that, making you tilt your head to the side, placing random bites in any sight of exposed flesh.

"You're hurt" he says, making you aware of your own body as he presses one hand against the injury on the side of your ribs. He's fucking sick for it, and it doesn't give you any time to react when his fingertips are pushing against the cut, your suit staining with your own blood as you mewl on top of him. "Clearly hurt."

He's drunk on depravity, lost on the face you make when the pain hits you all sudden, stealing the air from your lungs. He's suddenly hard beneath you and his hand's now rest on your hip making you move on top of him, hungry for anything he can get out of you, any little sound you make so focused on keeping quiet, trying so hard to not to fed on his bullshit.

The friction is unbearable, the fresh blood coming out of your now-opened wound, the slight force he uses to tear your suit apart like its nothing, giving him more space to work with as he seemed desperate to have you close. It takes you far from where you were first, the numb feeling that grew like a parasite your stomach swallowing it all, now instead, too sensitive to his touch.

Yes. You hate him for it, hate that it's too easy for him, the traumatized hero with too many issues, the world's strongest man that somehow manages to make a mess out of you just with something so simple as sitting on his lap.

He's so pleased when you moan, when you say his name and you forgot about mannerisms, he needs to pull out his other glove in response as his blonde hair falls over his face, throwing it to the floor as his bare hand is now able to rip apart your suit effortless. The warmth of his palm cups your now bare breast for him, and he leans into your chest, tongue flickering in circles over your nipple as you let out a strangled moan.

"Common, need you to use your words here," he demands for a moment, almost annoyed as you can see the traces of saliva that connected you to his mouth: Why does he look so good? Fucker. "Cause if you don’t stop me now I’ll reduce your suit to ashes.���

“Don’t care,” you know Ashley’s going to be pissed, yet it's not enough to say anything about it. "Fucking hate the suit anyway."

"Such a dirty mouth" you're tugging his hair, hand on your kneecap pulling it slightly to the side as he forces you to open your legs for him. "What can I do with you?"

There it is, the ripped sound of his hands tearing the rest of the fabric apart, the pliable desperation in his touch, grabbing, kissing, and palming the curves of your body as it's holy terrain, unstudied land. He's caught in the smell of your skin finally mixing with his, the way your hips grinded in need for a deeper contact.

He laughs at you, laughs at that sight of defeat when he finally slides the hand that was on your knee under the ripped leavings of your now-destroyed suit. Of course he fucking loves the way you're speechless all thanks to his efforts, that you're unable to keep still as you straddle him now confident he's not repulsed by your dirty nature.

"Did you get turned on by killing?" He asks, and you try to respond something like he's clearly dumb. "Been smelling you since you've got here. All wet, covered in blood."

He's far from lazering you, but you can feel the weight of his gaze almost trespassing you when his hand finally reaches that nice spot between your legs and feels your drenched underwear beneath his fingertips. He can feel it all, and you are aware of it.

He's driven by the sounds of your heartbeat, the way your skin glimmers with sweat, he knows you're enjoying every second of it, his fingertips fondling on top of the cloth moments before pulling it to side. The warm contact with your cunt is enough to make him lose it, enough to make him succumb beneath you as he explores the folds of your aching core, his other hand holding your hip just to keep you in place.

John seems to forget, always does. Cause his grip turns beyond bruising and you can hear the crack when he moves you against his hand, a new broken bone to added to the list as he's unaware to the sound it produces, the pain that makes you shake violently blending immediately with pleasure.

You can take it. You're tough and a big girl who's taken worse, so you don't whine about it knowing you must be healing already, instead, you let yourself be trapped in that haze he created, the sounds of your sex when he hits that very spot you overly-enjoy, digits slightly curving inside as he’s experiencing the velvety feeling of your walls colliding against his hand.

"That's it, keep the show for me.” He loves praising so much since you told him he’s doing good one time, he needs to do the same for you at the first chance he got while you offered yourself to him, riding his fingers. “Such a good slut.”

He’s concentrated in the way his fingers disappear inside of you, the intense smell of blood and sex that now fills the air as you moan out his name, the red droplets in your face much like freckles, far more wicked than pure marks on your skin.

“So nice, so warm,” he says to himself, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your chest as he marks your skin like you’re all his.

He’s sure he’s alleviating your problems, sure he’s making you feel so much better, thumb tracing circles in your swollen bud as he stole cries of pleasure from your parted lips.

You don’t let him know you’re close but he can sense it, the slight change in your breathing each time more erratic, your heartbeats quickening their pace as you got closer to the edge.

And when you really finish, when you’re done riding your high, you grab the remains of your teared suit and look at him with that damn smile he loves. You know he’s expecting to receive anything back, any favor you’re willing to give in return.

But instead, when you got off his lap, you just caress his cheek gently before saying — “See you later, John? Kind of busy now.”

my masterlist

[scififettuccine]

Homelander x SupeTeen!Reader

Idk ya'll Homie has really been getting on my nerves recently. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going with this one at first, but I LOVE the way it turned out. It was a doozy but it was SO FUN to write! This isn’t proof read just yet so please don’t yell at me💀

Summary: You meet your biological father for the first time at Vought Tower after your adoptive mother's unexpected passing...he's not exactly what you expected.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Homelander (Obviously), death of a parental figure, mentions of death, manipulation tactics, awkward parental conversations???

Being a Supe had never been easy for you, though, luckily you had never been forced to live in a lab. Soon after you were born, one of the Vought scientists had taken you in as her own, -due to the fact that your biological mother had died during childbirth- directly going against Vought's policies. She was found out eventually, to no one's surprise...but this breach in policy gave headway to a new experiment. So, she was allowed to keep you and raise you as her own. You were raised as any other child would be, but you were treated with extra caution...and being the only Supe in school wasn't exactly a cake walk. But the worst thing you had experienced was a little bullying, but your doting, caring, adoptive mother put an end to that rather quickly by talking with the school board. The first 15 years of your life were...tolerable, if not ideal. It was supposed to stay that way...until your mother was found dead at her place of work.

It had only been two weeks since your mother died. In those two weeks, you had been relocated and told, verbatim, that your father was one of the most iconic Supes in the world...Homelander. Now? You were sitting in The Seven's meeting room at Vought Tower, anxiously toying with the handle of the swivel chair you were sitting in. Part of you was still just...numb. Everything you had ever known had been ripped away from you seemingly overnight. Any other child would be over the moon...but you? You were just...detached. You were pulled out of the endless depths of your own thoughts when a voice echoed off the walls of the room.

"Hey there, kiddo!"

You looked up from your anxious fiddling, and were met with the blindingly white smile of your biological father. You did your best to give a convincing smile back, sitting up a bit straighter in your seat. His presence wasn't exactly the most comforting. He tilted his head to the side a bit when you didn't respond.

"You're Y/N...Right? Hopefully we didn't get the wrong kid...that would be awkward, wouldn't it?" Homelander asked with a laugh. He sort of stopped in the center of the room, looking you up and down, like he was trying to evaluate you...to decide your worth. You nod sheepishly.

"Yeah...yeah. That's me." It honestly didn't help that you were the age that you were...it made it more awkward somehow. Homelander didn't say anything for a moment, almost like he was waiting for you to say something else. When you didn't, he sort of chuckled.

"You're not very talkative, are you?" He asked. You had opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off. "I guess that's understandable. Meeting your old man for the first time is no small feat..." He paused for a moment as he evaluated your expression. "I'm sorry to hear about your mom...tough stuff there, kiddo." You took a breath when he mentioned your mother. It was all so fresh...and there were so many things you had recently learned that she had never told you. You didn't even know she wasn't your biological mother until after she died.

"Mmm...Don't be sorry...not your fault."

Oh, the unknown irony of that statement.

Homelander let out a small scoff and frowned. Admittedly, the frown looked incredibly fake...almost like he was mocking you.

"Still...I can't imagine what you must be feeling. I mean, to find out that she was keeping so much from you...after she died...? That must pack an even worse punch." You sort of stiffened in your seat. You weren't exactly stupid...you could read his tone. He was hiding his insults towards your mother with a cruel, mock sympathy.

"She only did it to protect me...I know she did. She wasn't a bad mom, she was amazing, actually." You respond, almost matter-of-factly, your eyes glowing red ever so slightly. "I know raising a Supe couldn't have been easy for her...she had her reasons." It was incredibly hard to talk about your mother in any way, considering she had only died two weeks ago. Homelander sensed your tone, and put his hands up as he noticed the flicker of light in your eyes. It suddenly became clear to him that you couldn't control your powers, which almost made him smirk.

"Hey now, of course she was...Absolutely no hard feelings towards your mom...But I know I would have never kept things from you like that. And registering you at a public school, knowing you're a Supe? That's just...cruel." You were going to continue defending your mother...until he mentioned school. That was something you couldn't exactly convince yourself was a great move on your mom's part.

"School was...a different story. It was rough." You said, pulling your legs up onto the swivel chair so you could hold your knees to your chest. Homelander nodded as he took a few steps closer to you, his hands now at rest behind his back.

"So I've heard...I spoke to your therapist." That comment turned your stomach a bit. Wasn't everything you spoke about with your therapist supposed to be confidential? Homelander noticed the slight change in your expression. "Don't worry, Y/N...I didn't dig into any of the gritty teenager things..." He chuckled, "I was just curious to learn about your school situation. You're a sophomore now, right?"

"Yeah...I will be. In the fall." You said quietly. Homelander smiled, where he now stood beside your chair at the point of the uniquely shaped table.

"Well that's fun, isn't it?" He asked as he pulled out one of the other swivel chairs and pulled it towards him. "One more year and then you're one of the big dogs." You nodded, watching his movements as he sat down, facing you. Everything about him just seemed so...strange. Even the way he moved. It looked almost calculated...and was mildly unsettling.

"I guess..." You said quietly. You sighed as you rested your chin on your knees, grabbing onto the table to reluctantly turn your chair to face his...it was only polite.

"You don't seem too thrilled..." He started, his blue eyes meeting the identical set that you possessed, "Was school really that bad?" That was more of a rhetorical question on his part, he knew everything about you.

"The teasing sucks...They call me 'Laser Eyes'..." Homelander stifled a laugh when you said that, to which you narrowed your eyes.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry!" He said with a chuckle, "That is the stupidest insult I've ever heard!" Homelander took a moment to stop laughing before he looked back to you. "Look. I'm not laughing at you, kiddo. I would never. But Laser Eyes...? Really? They couldn't come up with anything more original? I mean...Even I'd be hesitant to insult you considering you could just laser them in half." He said. His smile was almost manic looking.

"What?" You asked, almost dumbfounded. "I would never...I could never." You said. You pulled your chin off your knees, your eyes still narrowed.

"Why couldn't you? You're a Supe...aren't you? I mean...mommy swooping in and bribing administration to take disciplinary action against those little shit stains isn't exactly making you out to be the strongest person..." You almost immediately sat up correctly in your chair.

"She bribed the administration...?" You ask softly. Homelander gave a mock frown as he noticed your eyes become glossy.

"You didn't know? Gosh...How much was she keeping from you?" You swallowed as he spoke and tried your best not to cry. The last person you wanted to look pathetic in front of was Homelander...Especially considering his earlier comment about it not being a good look that your mom always had to swoop in and save you. "Awe..." He started, scooting his chair closer to yours. "Don't cry kiddo...It's not your fault that you're so lost...It's hers." Your eyes met his once again, a tear slipping down your cheek, which you quickly reached up to wipe away.

"Lost?" You ask. Homelander nodded.

"Well, most Supes your age, with your abilities usually already have a professional presence...Or at least know how to use their powers correctly." He said, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "I mean, had I raised you? Had you not been wrongfully stolen from me after you were born? You'd already have a place in the Supe community, followers...maybe even a contract with Vought. You wouldn't just be floating in your own little bubble...You'd have a group. A family." Something in you broke when he spoke. Your mother had stolen you from your biological father? And had he raised you, you wouldn't be so...you? So lonely and misplaced? You couldn't help the tears that slid down your cheeks. It was as if your entire life had been flipped upsidedown.

"She...S-she really kept all that from me?" You asked. Homelander tutted softly, almost pitying you. He stood up and held out his arms.

"Come here, kiddo..." He said softly, with a tone of empty sympathy. You almost immediately stood up and buried your head in his chest. At this point....What else did you have? Who else did you have? He chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around you, his hug firm, considering he was so much larger than you...yet comforting, despite the strange material of his suit.

'It's alright, Y/N...You're right where you need to be. We'll get you up and running with those powers of yours in no time..." He said softly, resting his chin on top of your blonde hair. He caught the reflection of the two of you in the large window that lit the room and his grip tightened, almost possessively. "You're not alone anymore...got it? You've got your dad to keep you company..." You nodded against his chest, sniffling.

"Got it." You responded softly, hugging him a bit tighter. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe Homelander, no, your father was what was best for you. How could you have been living in the dark for so long without realizing it...? You were truly lost. But everything was okay now. You were finally safe, in your fathers embrace.

Homelander smiled wickedly at his own reflection in the window before he rested his cheek on your head. Finally...he had you. His own child that he had been trying to get his bloody hands on for years...Losing another Vought scientist was a necessary sacrifice in the bigger picture of his perfect narrative...and it all started right here. With you. His child. He smiled as he pulled away from the hug, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders.

"How does a milkshake sound, huh? I know Planet Vought has a double chocolate one that's yummers." You smiled and nodded as he moved his thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"I love chocolate." You said with a small laugh. Homelander chuckled as he turned you towards the door of the meeting room and started walking, his firm hand on your shoulder urging you forward.

"I know."

————————————————————————

I hope ya’ll enjoyed! I left it open for more parts so totally let me know if you’d be interested in reading more. Writing for Homes is always a questionable adventure 💀 Until next time, Adieu!

[nobitchs-world]

If you’re gonna make a smut fic please specify which sexual acts that will be in it I don’t want to be surprised attacked by a nigga getting his butt fingered

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl

A Homelander X F! Reader fanfic

A/N: I am still working on my other projects but I just wanted to write something fun and light to get me back into writing. I hope y'all enjoy this short little piece, btw i aint got no kids so i have very little idea how milk banks work, this will be a 2 or 3 part story.

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

Word Count: 3K

Part 1– Heifer

Such a small box, smaller than a shoe box, just big enough to fit its contents with enough space for his ghost to move. You stared at the small box as its buried in the family plot… you never thought of visiting this place to ever bury the last shred of happiness you had left, his body was born weak, so small you wonder if you’d given birth to a child or a chick, 2 months ago you had come home to find your now ex in bed with his ex, he had turned this betrayal on its head and blamed you for it, something about your lack of desire lately, about how your pregnancy had given him amounts of pressures he'd never agreed with, talking endlessly about his needs and how much you’d ignored him.

Whoever this man was, you didn’t recognize him.

Time blurred into nothing but disconnected colors and shapes, all you know was that the stress and anguish lead to this.

A box under soil.

Days passed and in your empty apartment, surrounded by all the stuff you bought you stood in front of the sink, throwing a bottle of fresh milk down the drain feeling tremendous guilt, the doctor said you would dry out soon enough but your breast had swollen so much your bras no longer fit– even the spare ones you bought just in case they’ve grown a size too big from what you expected, you booked an appointment with your doctor hoping they could give you whatever cocktail of drugs to dry you out and save you from the pressure and pain in your chest, it had been nothing but a passing message from a worried neighbor who had stop by to give you some mail that had been sent to them by accident when she mentioned her daughter-in-law had donated her excess milk after her little one refused to latch, she gave you the name of the charity and after much thinking you gave in, you lost your baby but there was some woman out there who could end up experiencing your same grief if their baby starved to death, yours simply born too small and weak to hold your finger for very long.

It felt good, you met the women running the charity and even some of the faces of the women you helped, as you delivered your frozen packs to the women’s clinic where the charity operated, it helped you heal, it gave your pain purpose, but as the months faded behind you a part of you worried about how much you keep producing, less than before but still too much, yet you keep going knowing it would end soon enough. 

Perhaps somebody in the clinic or the charity had dropped your information to these people but you'd received some mail regarding some research trials Vought International was running and how they needed some donors to drop fresh samples, in their pamphlet they offered to pay a decent amount--your divorce had been costly plus having to move to a new place and breaking your previous lease had left your bank account quite dry, this was cheap money, you had given your milk for free, you looked at the few pouches you had collected for next week's drop you saw a wonderful opportunity to make some quick cash.

You went to the Vought Clinic and saw a few other women filling up forms, reading old magazines or dilly-dallying on their phones until some nurse called their numbers, you filled the medical form, waited less than half an hour before your number was called, brought into a small bleach scented room, the nurse read your form and told you she would take a blood sample, a doctor came in, reciting whatever script he’d been given about what this project was, giving you big words you had no interest in, this was about providing better milk formulas closer to natural milk than anything currently in the market apparently, thanking you for your donation, he looked at your form smiling as he saw your inked words.

“You're still producing 4 months after…” The doctor handed you a disinfecting wipe and a freshly steamed breast pump in a silver tray– we just need two samples, please press the alarm to let us know you’d finished, then follow Nurse Potts to the front counter to sort out your payment.”

It had been an awkward experience, but there you were 300 dollars richer, you probably should’ve read those papers a bit closer before signing but money was money and you were told to come back if you could.

You did it a couple times for 2 months, much like a man donating sperm for pocket money or plasma to pay the rent.

That was the first mistake, you headed home and woke up the morning after wishing you had stayed out for an extra hour or two, perhaps caved in to your friends pressures and tried going back to dating (after all your ex was whoring himself all across the lower east side without moral qualms) or hookups so you would had gone to a different address, maybe you should had taken a taxi instead of taking the train and walking home.

Regardless you woke in some strange empty room, the only thing beside your person was a pair of pale pink hospital gowns, grippy socks, clean underwear and a pair of thick large towels, you screamed and banged on the door for an ungodly amount of time but nobody ever came, you stayed alone in that room for what could have been 12 hours or more… maybe less… who knew it was all too much, suddenly a sharp sound cut into the silence a note had been slid under the door, you rushed to the note.

It was instructions, they wanted you wearing their clean clothes, you could not leave the room unless you did so, and as much as you hated the idea, you wanted to get out so badly, you knew if you wanted to escape your only chance came in knowing your surroundings, you begrudgingly and tearfully changed, waiting until anything changed– the doors hissed opened, a woman in a sharp cream coloured suit stood there with clipboard and an armed guard, at the sight of the heavy looking gun– you froze.

Then you took the first step towards hell.

You knew the following things: You lived in some basement area– there were no windows, only elevators. You weren’t alone, there were other women here and they made sure to keep your interactions at minimum no doubt to keep all of you submissive and not getting any ideas, sometimes familiar faces will fade and you could only speculate nightmares. Lastly… your purpose, the reason you were trapped here in the first place was… to lactate.

A plucky little thing that stayed optimistic despite your shared horror called herself a ‘Heifer’ she wasn’t wrong… you lived in a small cell where everything had sat on top of each other feed to keep fat and producing milk much like a cow, whoever developed this diet knew of all the ingredients known to help production, and you knew there were putting something else in the food for your breast begun to feel uncomfortable, for a little while you thought you could fight it by starving yourself, then two men with guns came into the room and told you to eat or else.

The time you spend outside this microflat hong-kong style cell was in the milking room and the shower room, you were ordered to stay clean and quiet, at least in the milking room you had some television and could spend time with the other women, but they keep you isolated, you could do very little, sometimes music would play and a book would be dropped with your food but your happiness wasn’t priority, you had to fill a quota.

After a couple weeks of this you simply accepted defeat, too many guns… not enough spaces to run, and nothing to come home to… a man that wanted to sue you for more feeling as if the judge had been unfair, a pestering family who acted as if they had been the only ones who experience loss, an empty cot you still hadn’t gotten rid off and piles and piles of bills, in this quiet cool room you had spend endless hours thinking, you didn’t love your job, you had been distant from most of your friends and you could only imagine that they assumed you had run away or killed yourself after what happened nobody could blame you.

Existing for the sake of existing until you could figure out what to do next.

“Good Evening… I’m glad you’re eating so well” The lady you met the first day said as the door hissed open, she watched you like a hawk as you process this sudden interruption, clutching at your paper thin blanket, you looked at the floral fabric in her arms and the clipboard under her arm– I need you to sign this before you’re allowed upstairs”

“Am I being let out?” You said anxiously, no way it could be that easy you thought.

The lady let her smile waiver, looking at the unseen guard then at her wrist watch as she handed you the clipboard.

“Your performance might determine how soon you'll be release…”

“You assume I won’t go to the police…”

“That wouldn’t be wise Miss L/N but we assure you that you’ll be sufficiently compensated for the inconvenience.”

You wanted to yell, but a voice in the back of your head thought of this but nothing but pageantry, you were dead either way, but perhaps this could be your opportunity to escape, whatever they wanted to do now meant being outside of these buried walls, you signed the sheet without thinking, briefly considered stabbing the bitch in the eye but is likely they would turn you into swiss cheese before you even took a step too close, she took the paperwork from your hands and in change handed you a long sleeved dressed straight out of the mormon section in target, she closed the door and you dressed up.

The halls looked so odd when you didn’t wear your prison clothes, the other few doors housed sleeping and bored girls, your plucky friend hidden behind one of them, the new girl hidden behind one of them and the girl you seen before in the milking room once hid behind one of them.

They took you to an elevator– it was old box, if you had to guess by the button’s design maybe built in the late or mid 70s, you never left their side until the elevator closed before them, the box moved slowly, a dingy silver box with low honey coloured lights, so dim… and you were alone, as the light chime as it went up you felt your entire being sink into your stomach, your heart beating so fast you were sure you were gonna have a heart attack before the doors opened once again, swallowing dry spit, your eyes opened so wide it hurt.

Quiet… it was so quiet when the doors opened, you expected something else, something menacing… something frightening– not an old house, an old house in the middle of some evergreen forest, everything screams old, untouched, museum like, like it's meant to present this idea that somebody lives here but not really, despite it being an elevator hidden behind a bookcase, you take a few cautious steps, your naked feet bury in the plush carpet, there’s bird singing outside and the sun is so bright and warm it hurts your eyes, the cool tones gone and this feels like a bad dream, pinching yourself but you’re awake, tragically awake, a weird wiry smile creeps on your lips, an almost laugh escapes your lips before you can feel tears burning your eyes.

“Hello…?” You ask and you don’t know why.

As you venture into the living room, hands firm against the tacky dark pink wallpaper, you found old floral couches that matched the drapes and despite how old school it was it had a charm to it.

Then you saw him.

Perusing the VHS collection filled the entire bookcase on the wall, just rows and rows of VHS boxes, some plastic and some cardboard, the TV boxy and just as antiquated but who cared— he was there.

You ran before you even realized you done it, crashing into him with desperation, tears staining your cheeks and you could barely breath as you tried so hard to speak.

“Homelander please help me!! I’ve been kidnapped!! Please!!” You cried, pulling on his suit– please!!”

Those endlessly blue eyes more poison dart hide than veronica flower bush the more they stared at you calmly, his lips into a thin smile and his hand thad taken your wrist inflicting just enough force to keep you firmly in his grip… to show you how he wasn’t an ordinary man, he looked at you as your tears changed meaning as if you were the most unfortunate creature he’d ever seen, his lips parted just enough to show those sharp canines that had looked so charming in sidewalk posters, now you could sense their presence squeezing at your jugular.

“You are so much prettier in person, Y/N.” His voice is disturbingly soft and calm, intimately quiet as he takes a whiff of your neck, moving you to make it easier, his free hand creeped towards your hip– I was so glad when I saw your picture and you weren’t hideous.”

Trembling against him, a nonexistent cold draft blew against you, your whole body shivering and covered in goosebumps.

His eyes fixated in your breast, mouth agape as his tongue dared to lick his lip, watching you like a starved man at a las vegas buffet, his hand slithering upwards, you know where this is leading, you can’t stop crying but you can’t scream either, you're just there as his hand avoids your breasts and creeps towards your back and presses your bodies together.

“I’m so glad you signed that sheet, I was getting sad endlessly waiting for one of you to agree to the deal” He says quietly, you stare at him and you realize you should’ve actually read that stupid sheet– why so scared? I ain’t gonna bite.” He bites the air as a joke and you could tell that that single bite could have torn your finger off cleanly.

His eyes shift to your clinging fingers that stayed so stiff against his padded suit, you stopped squeezing at him now they rested limp against him.

“Let’s watch a movie…” 

It’s an awkward dance concluding in sitting down on a couch, its surprisingly soft and you’re sinking on the cushion while your mind dissolved in the sky, the coffee table had a humbled spread of snacks, pizza and milkshakes, not once did you notice, you stared at him clutching at your dress as he picked something out of the shelve, watching as his hand worked the VHS player, the clicks and whirling all you could focus on. He sat beside you as the speakers began to play the included trailers, he took the drink urging you to do the same with a menacing look, filling you with incomplete thoughts as you obeyed.

Malt vanilla marinated in your tongue, you had a terrible thought.

‘Milk’ 

You were there to provide milk… to whom? Why just milk? You thought they would sell your body or your organs, experiment on you but… they wanted your milk, but who was buying it? Who was drinking it? Where did it go? You stared at the pretty blond whose arm kept your shoulders still, you saw the news– you’d known he had a child and who knows with whom but his kid was old enough to not need it… was it for him? You thought… thinking of it as ridiculous until you remember how 20 minutes ago  he was staring at your tits as if he was malnourished, you looked at his lips pursing as he took a long sip of his milkshake and wonder if that was milk… from a cow… not a heifer like you.

Homelander smiled at you.

“I don’t like ‘The mothman prophecy’ , never been a Richard Gere fan” he said casually.

“He was really good in ‘Pretty Woman’ . This one is okay…” You looked at the screen your voice so stiff– what’s going on…? Mr. Homelander… I…"

“Shhh… watch the movie” He leaned against you resting his head on your shoulder– you tasted the best… every batch perfection– such delicate custardy taste… So this is what we are gonna do… I’ll keep you in this floor so you’re not so bored ."

You swear he’s purring as he rubs himself against you marking you as much as he was making himself comfortable.

“There’s cameras everywhere… The glass is bulletproof, doors won’t open without a fob and code, and there’s no phones or internet, but if you do manage to get out of here just be aware I’ll know.” He said such terrible things as if it was nothing– if you tried to off yourself there will be 3 armed guards and nurses here in less than a minute but if you behave I promise you– you’ll be allowed out, but only if you gain my trust.” He looks up at you as you focus on those thin lips of his– there’s no kitchen but your meals will be delivered… if you want anything just tell the camera over there.”

He pointed at the corner tucked in between two VHS tapes was a small camera.

“I like you Y/N you're cute… you’ll behave for me, right?”

You nodded, too afraid to disagree.

“Now… let’s finish the movie… I actually like this part”

You stared at the pizza box, you could at least tell that the pizza was from an american restaurant, which made you feel safe ‘Select Pizza and Grill” said in the box and you knew you were somewhere in Pennsylvania, far from your apartment in Clinton Hill.

You looked at your boobs feeling his piercing gaze on them, you started drawing lines connecting weird things together, back when you were donating your milk, girls joked about people buying for medicinal and fetish purposes, this spelled itself out for you.

Maybe you could get out of here… but you had to do something weird… but as you heard the birds outside and the warm light peeked into the room, you realized maybe you could leave… no you’ll leave, you’ll go back home and you would find a way to ruin this man and those bastards beneath you, you’ll get them out too, so you took one courageous breath and forced a smile on your dried lips.

“You really liked it?”

“Huh?”

“My milk…” You mumbled– you know I never tasted it myself but am glad to get a review.”

“It’s really tasty” he bites his lip.

Your hand plays with one of the buttons on the dress.

“It hurts a bit… I usually get asked to pump around this time… dunno if you know this but it's a bit painful when they get this swollen.”

The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know and as you leaned away from him pulling on buttons with slightly trembling fingers, you watched him follow your movements like a snake chasing prey.

“Would you help me out, mister superhero?” Is not flirty but is slightly playful and you’re surprised that you can lie that well, he’s so shameless as he shakes his head enthusiastically, mouth opening for you– please don’t bite.”

He gasps as you let him see all that he’d wanted from the get go, why he put you in that box, why you ended up in this place for.

His body was lighter than you thought as he sunk against you-- eyes closed, body limp against yours, he made the softest sounds it put you at ease somehow, for a moment you saw a very small being latched on your chest, you’d only experienced it once before, and it was seared into your mind as a painful yet tender memory, so you close your eyes dreaming of a fantasy far removed from this peculiar reality, half lid eyes found a man so blissed out your lips curved, this was unbelievable, the world most famous supe keeping you hostage just so you could indulged him.

But you knew now… that this was your way out.

[alissssssaka]

the girls comeback

[mrsdesade]

Control;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (Ophera as usual) TW: NSFW, smut, sub!Homelander, praise, teasing, aftercare Words count: 2,3k Note: literally a pwp, when the voices obligates you to write something different more spicy than usual

You thought you could leave, but his voice ordered suggested you to stay a little longer. To sin again. In the private swimming pool he had built in his apartment. Only because, after months, he learned that you loved taking hot baths after missions.

This time, after another demonstration of the fact that he could do whatever he wanted with your body, you decided to act bolder, ignoring his words, elegantly. Standing up from the water and walking towards the marble steps.

''You're not the only one who can do whatever he wants here. You had fun? Very well. But I'm leaving.''

''Ah, so you think you're in charge now?''

You're disobeying, you're going against his orders. He's not a fan of being challenged, he can't deny the thrilling feeling of your rebelliousness.

"Not yet, but what If I'm feeling more brave than usual?"

You came back, still standing in front of him, but he doesn't move from his position, sitting comfortably and smiling at you. You move a hand in his direction and softly touch his chin with a light gesture, moving a little his face in your direction.

There's a certain vulnerability in his expression as you move his face towards you. His eyes lock onto yours, the usual arrogance momentarily replaced with a hint of curiosity.

"Careful, doll. Don't push your luck too far."

You smiled a little, sitting on his lap once again in that long night, inside the hot water of the bathtub, and moving slowly close to his face. Showing no fear, the adrenaline of playing that dangerous game with him makes you feel alive. You know you're the only one, at the moment, that can handle him.

"You always say that, but in the end, we just end up fucking all night. You need to move on to something more creative, or I might get bored."

That dangerous last phrase, lips a few millimeters from his, just because you wanted, not thinking about the consequences, you never did. What a terrible mistake.

As you sit back on his lap, he can feel the thrill coursing through his veins. There's surprise in his eyes. He tries to keep his composure, but your words send a shiver down his spine.

"You little minx, you really think you're invincible, don't you?“

He grips the edge of the bathtub, knuckles turning white. The tension in the air is electric.

You remained still, trying to don't flinch and don't esitate, trying to be more in control of the situation. Everything is just a test, a dangerous test to see If you can keep him under control.

"Little minx, doll, etc All nicknames. I have a name, Homelander. Use it."

You ordered, pushing his patience even more. He grabs your waist, pulling you closer, until your bodies press against each other. His fingers digging into your skin as he tries to control the situation. He looks up at you with dark, fiery eyes, almost challenging your audacity.

"Oh, you want me to use your name? Is that it? You want me to remember you're more than just my pretty little toy?"

Your hands run before on his chest, then on his neck and at the end, on his blonde hair. At the beginning is just a caress, but suddenly you grab his scalp and move him in your direction with a firm movement.

"Am I really just a toy to you? A little fragile and useless toy? Really really really?"

You say in a low tone, your voice is sexy, melodic, the voice of a manipulator. Oh damn, you're really pushing him over the edge.

Homelander's breath hitches as you grab a handful of his hair, his body responding to your touch immediately. The pain from your grip is oddly thrilling, and he can't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through him. He's absolutely not used to being dominated like this.

"What do you want me to say? That you're special? Unique? Are you looking for me to boost your confidence, Ophera?"

"Special? Unique? Oh dear, tell me something I don't know."

You purred at his ear, trying to make him shiver. To make shiver the most powerful and dangerous man on Earth. Your grip on his hair is firm, you can clearly feel his body under yours responding clearly.

That mixture of pain and desire is perfect to ignite his fire.

A low growl escapes Homelander's throat as you whisper in his ear, your voice sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel himself responding to your touch, his body betraying him, showing his desire for you.

"You really know how to tease, don't you?"

You sighed dramatically, since he's not giving what you're so kindly asking, you decided to play even more with him. Trying something more effective.

You moved on his naked lap, while he's waiting for an answer, with a decisive gesture, unexpectedly, you let him entering in you. Your eyes are fixed on his, to see every single reaction from him.

"So what about this method? This isn't teasing at all."

His blue eyes widen in shock as you unexpectedly guide him inside you, a mix of surprise and pleasure overtaking his features. He can't help but let out a gasp, his body tensing up at the sudden and overwhelming sensation.

"Ngh... F-fuck. What are you doing?"

He can barely speak, his voice strained and raspy as he struggles to control his reaction. His grip tighten, holding onto you like a lifeline.

"Just trying to be convincing.''

You smile, as mischievously as you've ever been with him, your movements are slow, absolutely intentional. Looking at him surprised by your actions. The grip you have on his hair has loosened a little. And you started caressing his cheeks, mixing pleasure and a mischievous care.

This time, you're in control.

"You're... playing dirty..."

"Of course I am, and I've just started.''

And then you add your last weapon, neck kisses. Delicate and sublime. Subtle and whispered kisses on his sensitive neck. Last shot to drive him mad.

Homelander's resolve crumbles completely under your touch, his body shuddering at the sensation of your lips on his neck. He can no longer hold back the low, shaky moans escaping his throat. He closes his eyes, unable to resist the wave of pleasure washing over him.

"Ah, f-fuck you..."

"Oh no, no no, don't say such bad words to me..."

You turn one of your kisses on his neck into a sharp bite. Interested in leaving a mark on his perfect skin. You've never stopped moving your hips, tormenting him so well. Just to get an answer. Just to feel in control. All just to assert dominance in him for a couple of minutes.

He gasps sharply, his body arching involuntarily at the unexpected sensation.

"F-fuck. Damn, don't y-you dare to stop..."

He grits his teeth, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you continue to torment him with that pleasure. He's struggling to hold onto his control, but you're driving him to the edge.

"Come on admit that I'm more than a toy for you. Or you can trust me, I'll stop on the best part."

His usual dominance is now melting away under your onslaught, you can feel it, his greedy body is already at your command, and even his proud mind is slowly getting caught in your trap of pleasure.

"You… you're more than that, ok?"

Homelander's voice is strained, his usual arrogance slowly cracking as you continue to torment him. He's frustrated, but so overwhelmed by the sensation of you moving on top of him. He looks at you with a mixture of arousal and irritation.

"You have what you wanted. Now give me what I want."

"You can do better than that, pretty boy. Give me what I want."

You've slowed down your movements, he feels the pleasure slipping away, his only way to get what he wants: is to obey you.

He lets out a frustrated groan as you slow down your movements again, denying him the release he's craving. He knows what you want, and he's clearly torn between his desire to resist and his impatient need.

"Damn it, you're really going to make me beg, aren't you?”

He grits his teeth. He hates being in this position. But the desire to satisfy his carnal desires is too strong.

"Fine. You win. You're...not a toy. You're...y-you're..."

"You're struggling baby, but you're so close. It's easy. Finish your sentence. And I'll give you what you want so badly."

You're talking with a gentle but mischievous tone, caressing his face, being caring and dominant at the same time. You move on him only when he's speaking, bringing him so close to the edge.

His body trembling under your touch. He's struggling to find the words you want to hear, and his usual arrogant composure is now replaced by pure devotion to you.

"Y-you're... something more. You're...different. I can't... I can't ignore you even if I...I want to..."

He looks at you with pleading eyes, his voice shaky as he speaks.

"Please, give me what I want. I can't stand it anymore..."

You looked at him with a satisfied smile, finally feeling that you win against him this time. You felt incredibly powerful.

"Oh, you've no idea how much knowing this makes happy. You've been so good baby. So damn good..."

Your tone is sarcastic but some sort of caring and romantic. You give him another caress, and then you decide to gave him the reward for being so obedient. You purred at his ears and started moving more faster, letting him holding you to reach his final pleasure.

He lets out a guttural moan as you begin to move faster. His eyes flutter closed, lost in the flood of sensations coursing through his body. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his ragged breaths hot against your skin.

"Oh god... please don't... don't stop. I...I can't hold it any longer..."

"Let go, release yourself. That pleasure, is all for you."

Your legs are trembling as well because of his movements under you, but this isn't the moment to flinch. You remained still and in control. Whispering lovely things to him. Like the most gentle love he ever had.

Your whispered words and comforting touch send continues shivers down his spine, adding to the already intense sensations building within him.

"I... I need... you... f-fuck..."

You gasp softly. He caught you by surprise with that last sentence, you definitely didn't expect that from him. Getting a slight emotional kick from it, his words hit your heart in an unexpected way. And you can feel a single shiver of pleasure run down your spine, stronger than the other. But you don't have much time to realize.

Homelander feels your body shudder in response, but he's too far gone to pay it much mind. He's completely lost in the moment, his mind and body consumed by the intense moment. His body shakes violently as the pleasure reaches its peak, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he finally reaches his release. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding you close against him as if you were his lifeline in the midst of the overwhelming sensations.

He buries his face in your neck once again, his body still trembling with aftershocks as he tries to catch his breath.

"...you've certainly got a knack for being… persuasive."

A calm silence hangs in the air for a brief moment, the only sound being the steady flow of the still-running water. You're immersed in thoughts, trying to understand why his previous affirmation made your heart beat, it shouldn't have happened, but his voice interrupts your flow of thought. He speaks again, while you are still gently caressing his hair.

"I don't understand how you manage to get under my skin every damn time."

He looks up to you, finding comfort and a unique form of vulnerability in your arms. Irritation and admiration running in his veins.

''...you're messing with my head. You're making me feel things... goddamn it, you're making me soft."

You remained silent until that moment, just listening to his words, not knowing what to say, but his last statement makes you laugh a little.

"Why the hell are you laughing? Hey, don't laugh at me!''

''I'm laughing because I didn't say anything at all, you're doing everything by yourself.''

Your tone has softened, and your eyes are fixed on his so unusual expressions. You're discovering parts of him you never imagined. Some of them also very ridiculous. Like the overthinking he's showing right now.

Deep down he knows that you're right — his reactions are revealing more than he probably wants to admit.

He tries to maintain his usual stern demeanor, but the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile. Can't resist a response in his usual sarcastic tone.

"Fine, go ahead and laugh it up. Just don't expect me to become all nice and mushy every time we do this."

''Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, it will be our little secret. I would never want anyone to think that the great and powerful Homelander is being put down, no matter how hot the situation is, by one of his teammates.''

You give him one last caress, resting your arms on his shoulders, showing an adorable grin on your fiery red lips, where your lipstick was still perfectly in place.

''You always have to be in control, right?''

"Damn right I do. I'm the leader here, I'm always in charge."

He rolled his eyes at your teasing, but secretly enjoyed the soft touch of your hands and the sight of your perfect lips forming that adorable grin. He tried to fight a growing smirk, but failed miserably.

"It's just that... you happen to have a way of making me... forget that."

''And you have to admit that my method is almost perfect.''

You smile, with immense charm, victorious. He could dominate the world If he only wanted to, but in this situation he couldn't fight you in any way, you make him vulnerable with just a few caresses.

''I must say... surprisingly effective."

Oh, what great power you now hold in your hands.

-------

Hope you enjoyed this as much I did! Kisses for all of you <3

[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.

[em-ontv]

If I can’t have you.

Pairing: Homelander x fem!reader (who's a member of The Boys)

Summary: he’s obsessed with something he can’t have. And you just so happen to show up at a little Vought party.

Warnings: Homelander himself is a warning, language/profanities, mentions of violence, psycho behavior, a bit of stalking?, bits of obsessive behavior, use of y/n

Author's note: After weeks of hiding under a rock, I have returned with this little fic. Just a random thought, Homelander may be ooc, I don't know, I tried my best, I've only seen a few episodes of the show. Anyways, enjoy. English isn't my first language, there should be mistakes, apologies beforehand :)

Word count: 789

———————————————————————————

You weren't supposed to be there. Not at a Vought party, not at this swanky corporate party with its champagne flutes, fancy lighting from the chandeliers, and a thousand faces that were too smug for their own good. But there you were, playing the role of a nobody, trying to blend in with the crowd. The plan from Butcher was easy — get in, get out, no problems.

But then he noticed you.

Homelander.

The Golden Boy. America's fucking sweetheart. The poster child of Vought International's entire empire. He was everything you despised, everything you were working with The Boys to bring down. You knew what he was behind the flashing lights and the cameras, the bodies he had left behind without so much as a second thought. He was a ticking time bomb, dressed up in red, white, and blue. But you didn't expect him to even look your way.

It started with a file. A damn file. Some low-level paper pusher at Vought had flagged you as a person of interest — seeing your connection with The Boys. Homelander caught wind of it somehow, maybe during one of his scans to sniff out a threat, or maybe he was just bored enough to pry where he shouldn't have. And then, there it was — your face, plastered on the screen. Something about you caught his eye. You didn't look scared. You looked defiant.

That pissed him off. But it also intrigued him. So, he started watching.

At first, it was just a curiosity, a passing interest. But then it grew, and festered. He started to check in on you more and more, looking through cameras, or, fuck, his x-ray vision, flying over the city to catch sight of you. It became a sick little game for him — seeing how close he could get without you noticing, and you didn't. He'd watch you walk down the street, watch you with Butcher and his merry band of assholes, watch you when you were alone. It was thrilling for him, intoxicating, even, to know that someone like you, someone who should be terrified, was living their life so... boldly.

And that's when it became an obsession. You were something he couldn't control, something he couldn't have. And that made him want you even more.

Which is why, when you crashed Vought's little party, you felt a pair of eyes on you the moment you stepped foot into the building. You knew something was wrong, you felt it. It made your stomach churn, as if it was a warning that told you to run. But you couldn't. You had a job to do, information to gather. And you knew that Homelander wouldn't dare to make a scene at a party that was hosted for him. Not here, not now.

But then you bumped into him.

Literally.

One second you were standing beside a door, trying to catch a few whispered words between the executives, acting casual. And the next, you were backing up right into the problem itself, quickly turning around and meeting the eyes that could burn holes through your skull or melt you into a literal puddle.

"Whoops," Homelander said, with that infuriating, perfectly rehearsed smile plastered across his face, as if he wasn't the most dangerous thing in the room. "Well, what do we have here? A little spy, sneaking around my party?" he hummed, his voice low, just for you.

"Oh, no. Just someone who’s enjoying the party like everyone else is, nothing special." you said, your voice steady, although you were absolutely fucking lost inside.

"Standing close to that door won't do you any good. Why don't you come with me?" his hand reached out, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you fought the urge to flinch.

His eyes were piercing, searching your face like he was trying to peel back your skin and see what made you tick.

Nope. You were leaving.

He couldn't have seen through you, could he? You've never even met face to face before; how could he recognize you? Did he know that you were with Butcher?

Fuck him. Fuck Butcher. Fuck this.

"I should go. This party's been delightful." you said, giving him a smile that seemed too forced, a sour look on your face.

You turned around and quickly paced your steps to the exit, as if your lifeline was just ahead. It was. But before you could reach it—

Homelander blocked in front of you, blocked your path. The smile no longer on his face, instead, it was replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes. He moved forward, one step... two steps, backing you further and further away from the exit.

"Leaving so soon... y/n?"

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Run Rabbit

Homelander x Fem Reader 

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Homelander spots you assisting first responders helping those less fortunate in a building fire. People he wouldn’t normally bother helping or even caring about. It’s just his job and a mundane and boring one at that. But you caught his eye. You selflessly cared for them, helping them. It disgusts him. HE needs your help! It makes him want to make you dirty, to spoil your spirit, to make you like him, and what the Homelander wants, he takes.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, oral (m and f receiving), piv, unprotected sex, breeding, gaslighting, coercion, DUBCON, praise, begging, mentions of violence, stalking, swearing, obsession, D/S implications, mentions of death (implied), blood play, choking, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, dacryphilia, mommy issues (brief mention)… It’s homelander… 

A/N: My head Is so full of fuck! I had to get a Homelander fic out in the midst of all these fics I’m grinding on! This man, being of pure perfection, got me in a damn chokehold!! Why do we always tend to go for the guys that are walking red flags? Like, I can fix him! On a more serious note, these characters are all endearing in their own way. Trauma can manifest into some pretty terrible things, and I think we can all relate to that in some way or another. I tried to keep it short... that did not happen you know how it goes. Please, I hope y’all enjoy this one! And as always, I welcome, ideas, comments and criticisms, but please be nice. Cheeers! 

Word Count: 6.3k

Tags: fem!reader, smut, dark content 

RUN RABBIT 

He watched as you helped those around you. He had been for a while now, just out of view of the bustling crowds beginning to form and watch the commotion. He watched as you gave aid to those less fortunate. The vulnerable people you had pledged to help so long ago. It was your job and came naturally to you. He watched as the building continued to burn growing fiercer with each moment that passed. Fire reflected in his eyes with a look of discernment, perhaps even disgust, but all he could seem to focus on was you. He watched as you gave people solace and respite, watched as your hair clung to the sweat on your face from the heat of the flames, how your ample chest rose and fell as you breathed shakily, helping the local paramedics and EMT’s. You gathered supplies and handed out bottled water to those affected. A fire had broken out at the shelter. It was an old building, probably not up to date on fire regulations and things of that nature. It housed approximately 80 people that evening. You rushed about frantically helping in any way you could. A bleeding heart, he thought.  

He felt a mixture of abhorrence and lust. Something about the way you cared for those he considered beneath him. He couldn’t understand, his distaste for humanity growing every day. Yet, something about the way you cared for them, in a loving, and motherly way, so perfect. It stirred his loins and a deep longing simmered within him, a feeling he was quick to extinguish. He often had these troubled thoughts paired with erections. It was nothing new. Trauma manifesting into sexual desires as a coping mechanism. He hastily grabbed at his crotch, shifting his bulge within his suit.  

He was above it all anyway. Humans merely play things for him, entertainment. Like a fox chasing a rabbit, you became his prey. He would make you his new toy and break you. He wanted to make you dirty, to make you like him. He wanted to ruin you. He had to be methodical about this, but still, it would be easy, he thought. Conquests were never a challenge for him. He was handsome, had charm, and could put on a “friendly” demeanor if he needed to. Plus, he was a supe. If he couldn’t get a woman with his A lister status alone, he could simply force her to be with him. He would do what was necessary. He preferred little to no effort, but he couldn’t lie to himself. Sometimes, he liked the chase. Both literally and figuratively. He was like a predator. Cold, calculated. Run little rabbit, he’d think to himself. Seeing lesser beings and their pathetic attempts to escape him was his favorite kind of entertainment and maybe even gave him the feeling of joy. If only for a short time. He often found himself bored, tired of the mundane. Meetings at Vought HQ, Ashley up his ass, saving…. People. His disgust caused a visceral reaction. Tonight, he would find entertainment to chase that elusive high.  

He flew over, hovering then lowering himself as he outstretched his arms, palms down as if to quell the crowd’s murmurs and bestow peace. A façade, he couldn’t care less. He had ulterior motives. “Don’t worry, everyone, everything’s under control” he spoke. Sure, he initially showed up to do what The Homelander does… be a hero. But you caught his eye, something more interesting and surer to be more giving than the appreciation of his adoring fans and the thrill of an applauding crowd. He wanted the pleasure of seeing you beg for him. Soon. He thinks to himself with a mischievous look crossing his lips. He is staring at you as he lands. You thought he looked your way but couldn't be sure. He began that repetitive, mundane, and ever so grueling process of saving these pathetic souls. He darts in and out of the building, grabbing them one by one at a crawling pace ‘for him’. Everyone in the crowds cheered on as you watched this man help people.  

It was no unordinary feat truly. Supes were common, and Homelander was the most well-known. The leader of the seven, Americas hero. Nevertheless, you watched on as he effortlessly helped people get out safely. You caught yourself admiring his physique, he was essentially perfect. No wonder, you thought. It’s as if he was made to be perfect. His charismatic smile, striking blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and athletic build. You found yourself breathing heavier, face flushed, racy thoughts manifesting. You were still in that moment, watching how his suit would singe from the flames that brushed and flicked against him. Embers flew from the fabric and fizzled out, skin remaining untouched but revealed underneath. The glint of the gold eagle shoulder accents on his suit shined in the light of the raging fames that burst through every opening of the building, returning once more.  

The building erupted in what must have been a gas line explosion you thought. Homelander walked out through the flames with the last individual hurled over his shoulders. He sauntered over to your direction where you stood with a few EMTs who were supporting victims in a pop-up tent. Next to you, a bare stretcher. Homelander stopped next to you and dropped the smoking body onto the stretcher, eyes locking with yours as he did. He could hear your heartbeat quicken and your breathing go shallow. You were unsure if it was fear or excitement in this moment, he scared you in a way. You couldn't tell if he was disingenuous. Too many things were happening all at once, it was a state of high emotion and your head was spinning. You felt like you were helpless and had no control. He did though. He behaved as if this was nothing to him, as if he could do this one hundred times over. Of course he could, yet you could sense the arrogance behind his charismatic demeanor. 

You manage to speak in his presence. Something you had tried to do for several unending moments now under his gaze. “Thank you” you manage to mumble in a timid manner. You found it hard to maintain eye contact with him. He was so sure, so confident, and so… beautiful. You had never had the opportunity to be in the presence of a supe, let alone meet one. You had only seen them on TV, in the news, or in movies. Simmering in what you thought to be embarrassment or intimidation, you hastily make you way out of the tent, brushing by him as you passed. He watched over his shoulder as you disappeared behind him, feeling the warmth from you as you passed. He inhaled deeply as you walked away. You were so flustered but didn’t know why… You knew why, truly you did. It just didn’t make sense. You didn’t want it to make sense. You felt attraction to him, and you felt guilty for it for whatever reason. For many reasons. But mainly, you felt bad that in this moment, you felt lust and your attention drawn away from the people that needed your help the most. 

You made it behind the tent and had begun fidgeting with a worry stone you kept in your pocket. Rubbing it furiously when you hear the wet splat of steps behind you. You look down, the grounds wet; the fire fighters must be here, you think. A firm hand grabs your shoulder and spins you around. He looks at you matter of factly with a smirk. “You know, I wanted to tell you back there, thank you, for the work you do and for helping these fine people” he said, hand still on your shoulder. His eyes beaming into yours a deep sapphire. “I also wanted to let you know that there were some folks over there that could really use your help! That is, if you still want to help people.” He watched as shame crossed your face, then guilt and confusion. Easy, he thought. They’re so fucking easy! His smile, perfect white teeth gleaming at you. You recoil at his words, struck by how kind he sounded with the contrast of his delivery. You felt immediately inclined to help, like you didn’t have a choice but to prove it to yourself, and to him, for whatever reason. 

You nod your head in agreement, convinced by him you needed to. You feel a weight take over your entire body, pulling you down. Before you realize you were being flown away from the scene. The Homelander had picked you up and shot towards the sky. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you against his body. Terror filled you, but you were too high up to scream, the force of wind hindering your speech and breathing as it forcefully blew past your face. What did you agree to? You think. Where is he taking me? As quickly as the thoughts came to fruition, you were on your feet once more. He was looking down at you, still clinging tightly to your lower back. His face is indifferent and uncaring, almost empty. The suit he wore felt ridged where flames made contact. Soft in some places where the fabric was still intact and cool, where his skin peeked through. Your arms still grasped his biceps until you became aware you were doing so and let go. You wondered how he felt under the suit. He’s invincible, is his skin like that of a rock, or is he soft and pliable. He caught you gazing at the areas where his suit had melted away. He watched as you admired him. He knew the thoughts running through your head. He could see them cross your face. He was amused. That mixture of lust, exhilaration, and fear. He craved that from you, and you were abundantly insatiable. 

“Just through there.” He gestured kindly toward a door as he let go of your waist. You took a second to observe your surroundings, still fearful of what exactly you were doing and where the hell you were. For an educated girl, you felt like this was a really stupid decision. You were standing on a white tiled balcony about fifty, maybe sixty stories up. The city sprawled out before you. You could see city lights and in the distance a plume of smoke sure to be the fire you just came from. You remarked at how far away you were. Looking towards the door you saw white curtains billowing through the opening leading into a dark room. “This way” he gestures once more. His hand at the small of your back pushing you towards the entrance. 

You step inside, looking for someone, anyone. A large room with a couple connecting hall ways it looked like. Seems to be an apartment. A very nice one. You begin searching the room familiarizing yourself with it, it’s pretty dark except for the light of a modular fire place that hung from the ceiling. There’s a four-post bed with sheer white curtains, lace pillows, and a velvet duvet. Some accents, art, and statues, it looked very high class, very luxurious. Who did it belong to? You thought. It didn't matter though. 

Homelander had stepped behind you watching you roam the apartment you were now essentially trapped in. He stood behind you, shedding off pieces of his torched suit, exposing himself completely. He playfully tugged at his cock, already hard. Pulling it to his abdomen and letting it slap down onto his leg in a spring like motion. SLAP! He was hard watching you at the building fire, the intensity only grew. Especially when he held you close. He watched you search the room, calling out to no one. He snickered to himself. How much is she really willing to help hmm? He thought about you begging for him, praying he would let you come, but only after he tore you to shreds and broke you down mentally. He needed you to crave him, needed you to need him. Appreciate him, respect him, and most of all, obey him! Look at her, stupid enough to go along with this, she’s so sweet. It sickened him and only made his fervent lust grow. 

The realization finally began to hit, and a pit dropped in your stomach. There was no one here to help. In a way, you already knew but held onto some kind of hope, albeit for nothing. You began to spiral in your mind when a loud slap could be heard behind you. You spin around quickly on your heels, already on edge when your eyes are drawn to Homelander. The doors had closed behind him, and there he stood, completely nude in front of you. You stood with your mouth agape when he said “sorry, my suit was burned, practically tarnished, I had to take it off.” He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled with a sly smile. Hs eyes narrowed as he grabbed his cock and pulled it up once more to his abdomen and let it slap down onto his leg. SLAP! He was throbbing, watching your reaction to him so boldly lying to your face and exposing himself to you, jacking off in front of you with zero consequences. He knew he could do anything he wanted- get anything he wanted, and anyone would give it to him, even you. Whether you liked it or not. 

You recoiled in disgust and shock, eyes wide with fear. Although earlier you had thought about him like this maybe even slightly, not like this! “Where are they?!” you tried to say in a tone that was stern yet confident enough to not show fear. He could hear the fear in your voice, the pulse that raced through your veins that told everything in your mind and body to run away. “Who?” he replied teasingly. SLAP! “The people! The people you said needed help!” you shot back, starting to lose your cool. Heat rose to your cheeks and you felt hot, dizzy and angry. The light of the fireplace danced gently over his features illuminating him in an amber glow. Every muscle, every shape and curve on his body, shrouded in firelight.  

He stepped forward, walking briskly towards you. You stammered back, glancing behind you, looking for a place to run but hitting a wall. You tried to look for an exit, but the room was dimly lit, and it was too late. He was already right in front of you. You leaned against the wall and clasped your hands behind your back as he pressed his hand against the wall next to your head, the other hand holding his throbbing length… SLAP!  

“It’s me!” he said in a curt tone, almost annoyed you didn’t know. His eyes traveled, looking you up then down. “I need your help!” he stated. You turned your head sideways as he leaned in, whispering in your ear “My suit was burned, I could have been hurt saving those people, don’t you care?” A brief flicker of red lit up behind each eye, and you felt yourself shrink in his presence. You were scared, unsure of yourself. He’s invincible, you thought. Your head spun; you didn’t understand the weight of the situation. Except that he lied to you to get you here. He grabbed your chin with his free hand and turned your face to his, looking at you behind a furrowed brow. “Don’t you care about me?!” SLAP! His face scrunched, examining your reaction, waiting for a reply. “Y-Yes.. I care about you.” You chimed apprehensively and unconvincingly. He doesn't even know your name, you thought. He doesn't care. 

He let go of your chin. “Show me” he demanded behind a mischievous smile that curled at the ends of his lips. He placed his hands on your shoulders gripping the fabric of your shirt underneath and ripping it off, pulling it apart, you heard the buttons pop off and hit the floor with a ting as it ripped down the center. Your heart leapt into your throat as he devours you with his eyes, reeling in the sight of your ample breasts and the soft fleshy skin beneath your bra. He was all but salivating for you. He wanted to rip your bra off and nuzzle himself between your breasts, to inhale the skin, to feel their warmth. But he wanted you to prove yourself. Did you really care about him? Were you really a good girl? 

At this point, you realize what he brought you here for. But why you? He was a supe. He could literally kill you without a thought, and he would be protected. Your mind was hazy, but you couldn’t stop your own eyes from wandering. He was, in all his glory, vulnerable and bearing himself to you. Part of you thought it irresistable, intimate even. His body against yours felt like fire, and your senses began to tingle and go haywire. SLAP! You found yourself at the will of your hormones as your thoughts and body took over. He pushed his body closer, his hard length now pushing into your abdomen with force. A gasp fell from your lips as he looked into your eyes, a deep blue sea of burning blue ice. Entranced by his physique. Another whisper, more stern this time “I said, show me!”  

He stepped back, and you dropped to your knees in front of him. His hand on top of your head caressed the side of your face and slid to the underside of your chin, forcing you to look up at him, he gave a cursory look, eyebrows raised as if to say ‘I’m waiting’. Not wanting to disappoint him or make him angry, you quickly raise your hands up and rest them on his thighs. Feeling the softness of his skin. Leaning in, you open your mouth and take him in. His hands were immediately in your hair, pulling you in closer. Sticking out your tongue and forcing his length down the back of your throat. Tears begin to stream down your face. He put a finger to your face, catching a tear as it fell and pressing it to his tongue. His throbbing cock twitched in your throat. It was substantially thick and unreasonably big, the force stretching your throat was enough to make you cry.  

He threw his head back, letting out a low groan. Your mouth is so warm, so wet, and so tight. He imagined stretching your pussy, pounding you into oblivion until you either cried and begged for him to stop or climaxed and cried for more. You continued sucking, taking him in as deep as you could each time, hoping to please him and show him you were truly a good person. That you did care about him, you cared about everyone truly...but especially him. He created a feeling in you- you had not had previously, a desire for him. You used your hands to explore his body as you gulped him down, mesmerized by him. Caressing his abdomen, his buttocks and his balls. He had his hands twisted in your hair, rocking with the motion of your mouth. Every once in a while, taking your time to gently circle his tip with your tongue while sucking, ending in a kiss to his tip. Each time your lips pulled from him, a trail of precum would string from your lips.  

You looked up at him, licking your lips clean. “Mmm, that’s a good girl. Show me more.” He growled through his passion as he pulled you to your feet and directed you to get on the bed. He smacked your ass with force as you walked, it rang out with a snap, even against the fabric, it stung. You lurched forward falling into the bed face first. He quickly stood behind you spreading you knees apart on the bed with his legs as he approached. He began tearing your remaining clothes from you in shreds laughing. You felt defeated and ashamed, but you wanted more. Embarrassment filled your face with heat, a bright red hue colored your nose and cheeks.  

Your bra, snapped and torn. Your jeans, off, split in two, your underwear, lacy and white, torn from between your legs. You whimpered as they dug in while being ripped off of your body. Quick and painful. Grabbing your hips, he pulled you closer to the end of the bed where he stood. A cold breeze drifted across your back, buttocks, and exposed legs. He had you right where he wanted you. He liked it when you squirmed, when you whimpered. You thought perhaps you liked it as well. You found yourself helpless, at his mercy, and obeying his every command.  

He smacked you again and again. The sound of your flesh being abused rang out into the empty room, bellowing out and echoing back to you. Your skin again burning from the impact of his open hands leaving red hand prints sprinkled over your flesh. He joyfully continued. His face in a half smirk with eyes narrowed as he reveled in every cry that escaped your mouth. Your skin, now mottled with bruises and scratches. Smack! Again, he slaps your ass and drags his fingers down. Pinching you, squeezing hard, and watching you recoil, helpless to get away. You could feel the wetness spread between your legs. “Who’s my good girl, huh?” he said confidently in a gruff. “I aam” you cried out in a huff, face buried in the blankets. He placed both palms on your cheeks and placed his thumbs close to your crevice, pulling with his thumbs and exposing your most intimate parts to him. The brisk air on the wetness of your cunt sent a shiver up your back and goosebumps peppered your skin. Homelander took notice and began smoothing his hands over the surface of your legs and back as you lay before him, relishing in the work he’s created. An artwork of purple and red now enhanced by the prickling of your skin. 

What a sweet little cunt, he thought to himself. He then pushed against the surface of your opening with a single finger, taunting you, teasing you in a cruel way. You rocked your hips back toward him but couldn’t move, not unless he decided to let you. “what’s wrong bleeding heart? Not so sweet now, are you?” You whined as he toyed with you. Slowly drawing circles around your labia, clit, and opening, spreading your wetness around his fingers and your vulva. “Please, Homelander, please!” you begged him, a muffled plea distorted from the blankets below. You turn your head to look back at him, the only thing you could manage to move. You watched as he brought his face down, placing his tongue along your slit, flat, wide, and slowly licking up towards your entrance. You couldn’t take it anymore; he was teasing you and you were putty in his unforgiving hands. You melted into his touch. Pure bliss and euphoria filled your body as your mind released a load of dopamine to your receptors. Telling you, you wanted him, no- you needed him. Now! 

Slowly, he pushed two fingers in. The sheets below you, clutched within your hands as you lay on top of them. His hand held tightly, gripping your left cheek, holding you open as he explored, pushing in harder and deeper as he went. He could manage his strength sure, but he wanted so badly to fuck you into the bed, and you wanted to feel just a fraction of his strength, you thought you could handle it. In his mind he knew you couldn't. You, a delicate little thing. A rabbit he had caught. But just the same he held back, he needed time to play, to be entertained. 

The room filled with the aches and moans coming from your mouth as he pulled his fingers in and out of you, licking up and down your slit, and fucking you with his tongue. You wanted to move, but he had a hold of you. But you wanted to see his face, to watch him as he pleasured you so lovingly, a stark contrast to how you got here. They way his tongue traveled so freely between your folds and into your core, both tender and firm. There was no escape. You didn't want him to stop, your walls quivered around his fingers. 

He stopped, his fingers sopping, his face covered in your fluid. You feel his arm reach under you and pull you, turning you around. You lay before him on your elbows, knees bent. He pulls your forward, his face stern, as he gazed at your chest. He kneels in front of you and without words opens his mouth and laps at your breast flesh with his tongue. Sucking, licking, biting, lightly flicking your nipple with his tongue. A low hum building in the back of his throat. Your juices now smeared all over your chest as he paws and devours your breasts. You moan in ecstasy, a high-pitched squeal that reverberated in the room. You could feel his lips curl into a smile around your areola as he consumed all of you. Inhaling you in deeply.  

Your hand roamed his body, such a powerful being, and you had the pleasure of taming him. Your hands, rubbing along the muscles on his back, your fingers tracing the veins sticking out on his arms as he cradled your chest. In this moment, you weren't scared of him. You knew his power that he could kill you with his dick if he wanted to. But in this moment, he was vulnerable, weak even. He was the most human right now with you than he had felt in a while. Something about a woman with ample breasts opening up for him, opening everything up for him, filled him with a sense of true belonging. The elusive high he was truly trying to chase but always evaded him so eagerly. It was true compassion, isn't that why he chose you? You, specifically. Not just a beautiful woman, a beautiful woman with a pure heart.  

"You’re being such a good girl," he moaned into your chest. You move your hands from his shoulders to his face, pulling him up. He looks up at you. You observe an innocent, unassuming look in his eyes. He follows where you guide him. Your lips push against his in a heavy kiss. He pushes your shoulders down and pins you to the bed, enveloping you in his own passionate kiss. He swirls his tongue in your mouth and bites your bottom lip hard. You could taste the tinge of blood, like pennies in your mouth. Blood pooled at the corner or your mouth. With a flick of his thumb, he wiped it away and kissed you again. He found the taste of your blood mixed with your essence to be intoxicating, making him drunk with lust. 

 "Are you ready for your reward?" He said nefariously. That smile, no matter how menacing you thought it was, still made you crumble. "Mhmm" was all you could manage. He stood, quickly lifting you from the bed so you were face to face with him once more. He cradled your legs in his arms, holding you to him effortlessly. Slowly, you felt his arms drop you down, his hardness, now piercing your slick wet opening just barely. You groaned, once again trying to motion yourself closer to him, to feel him inside you, but he wouldn't let you move. It was his decision and his alone. With your arms wrapped around him, you began kissing his face and neck. Lightly with delicate pecks.  

Her lips were so soft and moist, he thought to himself as you indulged in him. Leaving traces of saliva trailed down his neck as you pulled your lips from his skin. Soft breaths from your mouth, creating a cool sensation on the surface. He growled deeply and with sudden force, dropped you down, sliding his whole length into you without hesitation or effort. He chuckles as you cry out. His swollen cock, so stiff, so large. It hurt sliding in. You were dripping with him just sticking the tip of his head at your surface, so he entered you easily. But you could feel the pressure inside stretching you from within, a painful yet satisfying fullness. His face was focused on yours as you cried in ecstasy and pain. The pain only amplifying the pleasure of him forcefully ramming you, lifting you up and down, sliding you on and off his cock. He could feel the pressure of your walls closing up and gripping him every time he slid hid length out of you. Then having to forcefully push back in again, opening you up. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He said with each grunt as he proceeded. 

Homelander’s thoughts had ceased at this point. He was enveloped in euphoria, acting on pure instinct but somehow still able to hold back. He concentrated on your face, watched as beads of sweat pooled on your forehead, then dropped down your face and onto your chest, glistening on your breasts. How your eyebrows curled up in the middle as your voice rang out into the room. Your screams only made him more crazed. He pounded you in a frenzy. Meeting each thrust with a grunt as he hit your cervix harder and faster with each push, causing you to cry out in moans of pure passion intermixed with pain. 

He dropped you back on the bed and stood at the end, parting your thighs once more with his legs. You thoughtlessly wrap them around him pulling him closer almost instant as if it was a natural reaction. You were too out of breath to speak; you could only mumble 3 words “I'll be good”. Homelander leans into the bed, a hand placed at either side of your face as he enters you.  

With your legs wrapped around him and his hands not holding you down, you were now free to meet his thrusts with your own, something he did not expect. He stopped for a moment and watched as you had become what he made you. Craving him, only wanting him, and willing to do anything for it. His body was rigid and still as you bucked and rocked underneath him, trying to meet his pelvis with your own thrusts when his right hand reaches over and closes over your throat He enters you. “Fuck!” you whisper in a harsh tone, unable to fully speak. He shoves his throbbing member into your cunt, squeezing your neck tighter with every slam into you, you fuck him back looking into his eyes as you moan his name.  

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a long sigh, loosening his grip on your neck. “Now be a good girl and finish me off” he says in a deep whisper. You nod your head in agreement, wanting it just as bad as he did. He lightly pecks your lips before releasing his grip and lying next to you. You lift your legs to straddle him on the bed, knees pressed to his hips. His hands wander to your chest, squeezing and pulling the flesh. With your hands placed firmly on his abdomen, you allow yourself to sit down on him, giving yourself he time to adjust to him, which he had not done. He thought this to be tedious. Were you teasing him? He would not allow it. His hands reach out and grip your hips, pushing you onto him. There was nothing you could do; his strength was unimaginable. The power of his cock expanding you within was a testament to this. 

You didn't need him to push you down, you thought. You would happily ride him regardless of the pain. This was worth it, something you didn't know you needed and never thought you wanted. The earlier nights troubles were miles away in your mind, you could only think about him now, pleasing him. You felt a yearning for him brew deeply within your loins, and a longing in your heart. 

You propped yourself up, crouching above him on your feet, still stranding him. Your body had accepted him now, and you were wetter than ever, sopping around his manhood. Each bounce met with a loud exhausted moan from you, and a wet slap could be heard echoing off the walls of the room. Music to Homelanders ears, internalizing you moans. Mesmerizing to hear, indifferent to the pain it may have caused you.  

With your arms outstretched behind you gripping his thighs, you bounced on him, each time taking him in fully, rocking forward, as you did. The brush of his pubic hair against your clit as you grinded into him sent you into hysterics. You began slamming yourself on top of him, breathing heavily. He used his hands to cup your breasts and playfully tug at your nipples as you found your climax. He had never heard someone scream so loud while taking his cock. Your pace slowed as your orgasm took over, your body convulsing with every contraction of your cunt around him. “You’re not done yet!” he growled “How greedy” he chuckled maliciously. His words barely registered in your fucked out brain, still swimming from the intensity of your climax.  

“I said you're not done yet! Keep going!” He said in an insistent and unsympathetic manner, slapping your breasts, leaving a large red hand print that stung. He then grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks in his hand and pulling you down. “Fuck me.” You immediately slink back and do as you are told. His good girl. Taken aback by exhaustion and overstimulated, but not wanting to disappoint this work of perfection, not wanting to disappoint The Homelander, you find the strength to continue on. You use all of your strength incomparable to his, to please him, hoping it was good, that it was enough. You were eager to please him and wanted your reward for it.  

You planted yourself on him, over and over again, easing his tip in and out each time. His hands had reached to your backside, clutching the flesh in each fist, pulling you forward with each fall. Looking into his eyes, those piercing sapphire blue eyes sparkling with adoration. You watched as his lashes futtered and his face scrunched, his lips parting as he looked down watching himself slide in and out of you, hands latched onto you. He lets out a low breathy grunt, and his hands go limp on your cheeks, his eyes roll back. You reveled in the moment, soaking up the feeling of him spasming inside you while bursts of his seed shot deep within you. His cum dripping out and collecting around the base as you continued to slowly fuck him. Each burst causing his body to buck and convulse. You maintained your gaze on him, seeing him in his weakest moments. It was sweet. This man you had feared, turned from a monster into something beautiful to you. He was this anamorphic being you could now see clearly. He wanted to be loved, adored, cared for, appreciated, and feared. You wanted to be that person for him. You didn't want to let go or cease this moment. 

He helped you off of him, and you lay sprawled out on the bed. A mess of exhaustion. Pearls of his essence are still leaking out. He sat calmly next to you, enjoying the last bit of euphoria from this high as his orgasm subsided. A coy smile crossed his lips as he caressed the side of your face with his fingers. With no explanation and no words spoken, he left. Just like that. Out the balcony door and into the cloudy night. Still in a daze, you lay there admiring the bites, bruises, scratches, and hand prints that freckled your body, playfully tracing along all the marks he gifted you. Waiting eagerly for is return.