#homelander fic

[lilacwants]

black leather & eyes of blue.

18+ notes: we love obsessive homelander in this house :’)<3 enjoy! summary: no one touches what’s his and what’s his never interacts with people who don’t respect that. you should have learned that by now. warnings: explicit/mature content. secret office romance, domlander, fingering, cowgirl, breast-play, oral(f! receiving), morally grey! reader, killing, possesive & obsessive behaviour. word count: 1.7k

The fluorescent lights of Vought Tower's 75th floor cast a sterile glow over the bustling office. You could feel eyes on you as you navigated the maze of cubicles, clutching a stack of reports to your chest. It had been a particularly stressful week, with deadlines looming and pressure mounting.

All you wanted was a moment of peace to collect your thoughts.

But that wasn't to be.

As you rounded a corner, Daniel from marketing intercepted you with a friendly smile. "Hey there," he said, leaning casually against a cubicle wall. "You look like you could use a break."

You offered him a polite smile. "Just trying to get through these reports. How are you, Daniel?"

He chuckled, a warm, easy sound. "Better now that I've seen you. You know, you really brighten up this place."

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"You're too kind.”

What you didn't notice was the pair of piercing blue eyes watching the interaction from afar, growing darker with each passing second.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the tension followed you home. When you finally made it to your apartment, the door had barely closed behind you before you felt him.

Homelander stood in the shadows, his presence filling the room with an intensity that made your heart pound. He stepped forward, the glint in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

"You've been ignoring me, sweetheart," he said, voice dangerously calm. "And we can't have that now, can we?"

Before you could respond, he grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed. The reports you had been holding scattered across the floor, forgotten. He ripped his shirt off, his eyes dark with possessive lust.

"You think I didn't see you today?" he growled, climbing on top of you. "That little chat with Daniel?"

Your breath hitched as his hands roved over your body, claiming you. "I was just being polite," you whispered, trying to reason with him.

"Polite?" he repeated, a sinister edge to his voice. "No one touches what's mine. And what's mine never interacts with people who don't respect that."

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding. He pinned your wrists above your head, his grip bruising. His free hand trailed down your side, tearing open your blouse and sending buttons flying. He exposed your bra, his eyes devouring every inch of you.

"You belong to me," he said, his voice low and possessive. "No one else."

He yanked down your bra, his hands rough on your breasts, squeezing and kneading.

You moaned, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. He bit down on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and you cried out.

"No one flirts with you," he growled against your skin. "No one makes you smile but me."

His hand trailed lower, slipping under your skirt. You gasped as his fingers found your wetness, teasing you. His eyes locked onto yours, a predatory gleam in them.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured, sliding a finger inside you. "So eager to please."

You moaned, your body arching into his touch. He added another finger, thrusting them roughly, his thumb circling your clit.

The pleasure was overwhelming, your climax building rapidly.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice a dark whisper. "Come for me. Show me who you belong to."

Your climax crashed over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. He didn't give you time to recover, lifting you and positioning himself at your entrance.

With one powerful thrust, he was inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.

"You're mine," he growled, his pace relentless. "Always mine."

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts. He was rough, dominant, and completely in control.

"Say it," he demanded, his eyes burning into yours. "Say you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, the pleasure almost too much to bear. "I'm yours."

He rewarded you with a deep, bruising kiss, his tongue dominating yours. His hands moved to your breasts, squeezing and kneading, his fingers pinching your nipples.

The sensations were too much, pushing you to the edge again.

"Come for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your body obeyed, another orgasm ripping through you, your cries of pleasure filling the room, fingers gripping the sheets. Homelander's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He followed you over the edge, his own release powerful and consuming, a primal growl escaping his lips as he came inside you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

You lay there, your body trembling and spent, feeling the weight of him on top of you. He stayed inside you for a few more moments, savoring the connection, before finally pulling out. He rolled onto his side, pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively.

"You did well," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. "You're learning."

You nestled against him, feeling a strange sense of security in his embrace despite the intensity of his earlier actions. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He stroked your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I don't want to see you talking to anyone else at work. Especially not Daniel.”

"I understand," you replied, knowing better than to argue. "I'll avoid him."

"Good," he said, his tone firm. "You belong to me and I won't tolerate anyone else trying to take what's mine."

The next day at the office, you tried to maintain a low profile, avoiding unnecessary interactions, especially with Daniel. But as luck would have it, Daniel caught up with you in the break room. He flashed you a charming smile, holding a cup of coffee.

"Hey," he said, "You seemed a bit off yesterday. Everything alright?"

Before you could respond, you felt a sudden rush of air and heard a terrifyingly familiar voice behind you.

"Everything's just fine," Homelander said, his tone deceptively pleasant.

Daniel looked up, his smile faltering when he saw Homelander. "Oh, uh, Homelander! I didn't see you there."

Homelander's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Obviously."

In a flash, Homelander grabbed Daniel by the collar and lifted him off the ground. You could see the terror in Daniel's eyes, and you knew what was coming next.

"You think you can flirt with what's mine?" Homelander hissed, his eyes glowing with an ominous red light.

"Wait, no, I-" Daniel's plea was cut short as Homelander's laser vision sliced through him, leaving nothing but a smoldering corpse on the floor. The scent of burning flesh filled the room, and the sight of Daniel's lifeless body should have horrified you, but instead, it sent a strange thrill through you.

Homelander turned to you, his eyes still glowing, blood spattered across his face and chest. "Let's go," he said, his voice commanding.

You followed him back to your apartment, the adrenaline and shock mixing with an inexplicable arousal. As soon as you entered, Homelander closed the door behind you. His presence filling the room with an electric tension. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. He approached you slowly, every step deliberate, as if he were stalking prey. The sight of him, splattered with blood from the earlier incident, should have repulsed you, but instead, it ignited a desire deep within.

Without a word, Homelander closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. His eyes bore into yours, searching, demanding. There was a hunger in his gaze, a hunger that matched the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from him. "I-" Your voice caught in your throat, the words failing you.

His grip tightened slightly, a hint of warning in his touch. "Answer me," he demanded.

A shiver ran down your spine as you nodded slowly. "Yes," you admitted in a whisper. "I did."

A dark, satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"Good."

In one swift motion, he pushed you against the nearest wall, his body pressing against yours possessively. His lips crashed onto yours, claiming you with a raw intensity that made your head spin. You could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lips, feel the heat of his body against yours.

His hands roamed over your body, urgent and demanding. He tore at your clothes, the fabric giving way under his strength. Soon, you were both stripped bare, exposed to each other.

He pushed you back onto the bed, climbing on top of you with a predatory grace. His hands pinned your wrists above your head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine."

You nodded, unable to speak as desire coursed through you like a wildfire. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly before he bit down, marking you as his. The pain merged with pleasure, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.

He kissed his way down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. When he reached your core, he didn't hesitate. His tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh, his fingers spreading you open. The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You moaned, arching into his touch, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His tongue worked you mercilessly, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. He added his fingers, thrusting them deep inside you, matching the rhythm of his tongue. The dual assault sent you spiraling towards ecstasy, your body trembling with need.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a dark whisper against your skin. "Show me who you fucking belong to."

Your climax ripped through you like a tidal wave, pleasure consuming every inch of your being. You cried out his name, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Homelander didn't let up, prolonging your ecstasy with expert precision until you were trembling and breathless.

He crawled back up your body, his eyes burning with hunger as he positioned himself between your legs. With one swift motion, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The intensity of his desire matched yours, his thrusts deep and powerful.

"You like it rough," he murmured, his voice a husky growl. "Don't you?"

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as pleasure consumed you. His hands gripped your hips, his pace relentless as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his guttural grunts.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, dominating you completely. His hips drove into yours with an urgency that bordered on desperation, his need for you palpable.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered in a voice filled with possessive desire, "Mine. Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasped, the admission spilling from your lips without hesitation.

"Yours."

He groaned, a primal sound of satisfaction, before his movements grew more erratic. You felt him tensing above you, his rhythm faltering as he approached his own release.

"Come with me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice strained with pleasure.

His words pushed you over the edge once more, your body convulsing around him as he found his release deep inside you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, a growl escaping his lips as he emptied himself into you.

For a moment, you lay entwined in each other's arms, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Homelander's weight pressed against you, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He shifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of possessiveness and tenderness that took you by surprise.

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a whisper against your skin.

You nodded, a strange sense of belonging settling over you despite the chaos of your emotions. "I'm yours," you whispered back, feeling the truth of those words down to your core.

He kissed you gently, his touch surprisingly tender as he caressed your cheek. "No one else gets to touch you," he murmured, his voice filled with a possessive certainty. "You belong to me."

You closed your eyes, a mix of fear and desire coursing through you. "I do, I always will,” you replied, knowing that with Homelander, there was no room for negotiation.

As the night wore on, you lay in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your chest. In that moment, with the world outside forgotten, you knew that you had willingly stepped into the darkness with him.

[aphroditessaturn]

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐓 || 𝐇.

pairing || homelander × fem!reader

summary || Homelander constantly destroys your underwear to the point where you have none left. In conclusion you force him to buy you new ones and have the whole media see it.

warnings || SMUT; we've got tittie sucking, fingering, sublander (I love that word) but also domlander? p in v, unprotected sex, big load (he's a supe so ofc), rough sex, did I forget something?

note || this is my first homelander you guys and sure ain't the last... idk what my problem is with these difficult men and making them soft, please reblog/comment and give feedback!

BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST

“Yes, and tomorrow you have an interview with Fox,” Ashley told Homelander as she trailed after him, clipboard clutched in her hands. The blonde nodded, not even listening completely because his mind was already on you.

He was only meters away from you and could already hear your light humming over the music that played in the background. Ashley kept talking to Homelander’s dismay, not that he wasn’t interested, especially if she was talking about his ratings.

However, you took over his thoughts and body, god, his body longed for you. With his heavy footsteps he walked towards his penthouse and thinking about every position he would put you in.

Homelander opened the doors, and Ashley was still there. He was close to cursing her out, but stopped in his tracks once he laid eyes on you.

You stood in front of the trashcan, throwing away your lingerie. Completely naked. His eyes went wide, as naked as the day you were born you stood there.

Ashley squeaked, holding her clipboard in front of her eyes, “I’m sorry, god, I’m so, so, sorry,” she apologized profusely. Quickly she run out of the room, shocked as to what she just saw and hoped that Homelander wouldn’t punish her.

“What the fuck are you doing,” he questioned you with a glare, slowly making his way over to you.

In response you pouted at him, pushing all your destroyed lingerie into the trash, “well, you see all my pretty lingerie is destroyed and now I have to throw them all away,” you looked up at him with innocent doe eyes.

“Doesn’t explain why you’re naked,” he pressed, although Homelander didn’t mind but he hated anyone else seeing what’s his.

“I have no underwear, dummy,” you teased him with a smile, one that turned his mind around. He had known for years by now and knew exactly that you acted dumber than you actually were.

His patience was waning and he fought himself to not look at your perfectly hard nipples touching his suit coveted chest.

“I can’t even wear my plain once because my handsome boyfriend ripped them when I was on my period,” you added, acting as if you didn’t know what else to do. Your arms snaking around Homelander’s neck.

“Then buy fucking new ones and don’t let anyone see you naked,” he growled as his hands found a vice grip on your hips. “Mhm, but you know the rule. If you break it, you have to replace it,” scolded him, rubbing your breasts against his suit covered chest and pulling on his concentration.

“Fine, take my card,” Homelander hissed, he wanted to get over this topic and simply fuck you. He pushed you back against the wall, his leather gloved hand stroking along the back of your thigh.

“Don’t think so, you will come with me baby boy,” you grinned at him, hooking your leg around his torso.

Homelander didn’t like that, he couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized and how would it look if a superhero was buying lingerie?

As if you could read his thoughts – which by now you could – you pushed back, caressing his cheek while pushing him back onto the sofa. He laid back with you on top of him, still gripping your waist in a way that was sure to leave bruises.

“Imagine how good your ratings would be if you buy your pretty girlfriend all that lingerie. Men would love the control you have, and women will love seeing a devoted boyfriend,” you whispered, praising him as you moved your cunt over his clothed erection.

He released a strained groan, already painfully hard, “everyone will love you,” you whispered into his ear. You leaned down, your nipple hovering over his lips.

You knew how much he loved sucking your tits and you knew what to say to get everything you wanted.

“And don’t you wanna choose what I should wear? I’m too stup-,” “Fine, I’ll fucking go with you,” Homelander hissed and switched you around, now on top of you and his pearl white teeth bared.

Your thighs clenched, your cunt already soaking wet, but you had to suppress the smirk of triumph.

Homelander latched onto your nipple, sucking on it hungrily while his right hand kneaded your unattended breast. You threaded your hand through his gold-blonde hair, harshly tugging on his roots.

His tongue licked around your nipple before gently biting down causing you to arch your back, “John,” you moaned.

With a ‘plop’ sound he released your breast, looking up at you through his beautiful lashes.

Slowly his hand trailed down to your core, the cool leather of his glove causing goosebumps to dance along your skin. He rubbed his thumb over your clit as his attention directed towards you other breast.

You could feel his desperation, it wasn’t from the conversation just moments before, no. It was because of the other team members had gotten his last nerve, VOUGHT had gotten on his last nerve, everyone had gotten on his last nerve.

“Oh, baby,” you mused with a loving smile, taking a deep breath. The pressure on your clit increased, and your breath quickened.

John immediately picked up on your behavior, you were close to your high. He inserted his middle and ring finger inside you, “fuck,” you groaned at the new feeling of his thick fingers.

“They’re all brainless idiots, can’t do a thing right,” he gritted his teeth, curling his fingers against your g-spot. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tried to come up with words to response, John expected it from you.

“Mhm, yeah, they’re-,” your sentence was cute off by a loud moan slipping from your lips as he bit onto your nipple.

He sucked harder, a desperate call for praise, “you’re right, they’re all brainless, but you, you’re the best of them. John, you’re smart, pretty and the greatest supe,” it rolled off your tongue naturally.

To you he was perfect, he could do no wrong and maybe you were sick in the head for thinking that.

“Make me come, please make mommy come,” you pleaded, grip still tight in his hair. Without hesitation John brought you to your orgasm, a pornographic moan fell from your mouth as you bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.

“You did so good, you’re perfect John,” you praised as your high rushed through your blood, god you felt amazing.

Homelander reeled in your praise, he needed it to function properly. While he enjoyed, loved, controlling you, telling you what to do and not to do, John worshipped the ground you walked on.

-----

Ahley organized the press along with fans to stand in front of your favourite lingerie shop, Homelander was for once wearing something casual – you forced him to.

“It looks better, trust me,” you told him with a pointed look, “you want them to love you, don’t you?” you added, knowing this would push him over the edge.

Now he wore dark jeans, sneakers and a matching polo shirt. He had a charming smile on his face as he escorted you into the store which was empty – expect for a cashier. Never before did you have the chance of shopping private like this, online shops were your best friend.

Your man looked around, already picturing you in some of the lingerie that catched his eye. “What do you think of this one?” you asked, showing him a blue piece, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just a baby blue lace set.

“It’s uhm, pretty,” boring, fucking boring, was what he wanted to say. You rolled your eyes playfully and continued looking around, until something unique came into your sight.

Quickly you took your size and vanished into the changing room, of course Homelander heard you and followed you curiously.

You put on the hot pink bra, the underside was see-through, and the top was decorated with flowers. The slip was the same, meaning most of your vagina was visible add to that it was connected with two strings on each side.

The accessory that made you pick it was the choker, it came with a chain that went down between your breasts and was attached to flower shaped belt which fitted your waist perfectly.

Homelander waited outside, impatiently looking around the room until you were ready. Then you opened the curtain, revealing yourself.

You smiled at him innocently, “how does this look?” you asked. He took a step towards you, hand tracing along the fabric and causing a shiver to run down your spine. Suddenly he hooked his point finger around the chain, slowly dragging you to him.

He leaned down, lips hovering over yours, “you’re playing a dangerous game little lady,” he whispered. You pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly close.

“I’m not playing any game,” you told him honestly, playing with the tiny hairs on his nape. “Don’t think just because they’re many, many people out there I won’t fuck you till you can’t walk anymore,” Homelander threatened, but was it really a threat if you would enjoy every second of it?

“Promise?” you smirked and within a second you were pressed against a wall. Homelander slid his hand down to your core, in your mind you already knew what was about to happen.

With that he snapped the pink panties in half, pushing his two fingers inside you, “look at that, little slut is already wet,” he taunted you.

Your head fell back as he curled his fingertips against your cervix, his unoccupied hand came up to lift your leg around his torso.

“Does that feel good mhm? Come on let me hear you, let them hear you,” he rubbed his thumb over your clit, finally drawing a moan from you. Homelander kissed you, hard, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

He showed his dominate side, hand leaving your side to undo your hand around his neck. Slowly moving it towards his belt, a silent order to open it which you follow without hesitation.

The trousers of his suit fell to the ground, Homelander hosted you up into his arms and entering you in one stroke, giving you no time to adjust to his size – as if he ever did.

You moaned, biting your lip in pleasure. For a moment he stilled inside you, his heavy breathing hitting your skin. Slowly he moved his hips upwards, you could feel him stretching your cunt, feel him hit that spongy spot inside you.

“Fuck, you’re fucking me so good, so good,” you groaned, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Homelander grinned at you, “yes, yes, tell me how good I’m. Fucking tell me and I will let you cream all over my fat cock.”

“You’re good, fucking amazing, baby. No one compares to you, you’re so good,” you chanted as he pounded into you at a ruthless pace.

Sometimes you wondered if your cervix could form bruises, but what you knew was that it could become difficult to walk out of this store.

A tight knot formed in your stomach, pleasure building up and you gripped Homelander’s hand, guiding it towards your clit.

“That’s right, I’m fucking you and you love it, you love me. Say it, come on,” he growled, letting go of your thigh and you closed your legs around his waist, sucking his cock deeper in. You need to feel more of him.

His hand came up to your throat as you didn’t answer, stilling inside of you, “I said, tell me you love me, or I will fill you until my seed is dripping down your legs and you can’t take it anymore, but you little lady, little slut won’t get to come.”

Tears welled in your eyes, you wouldn’t even mind it and he fucking knew it, but for your own sanity you had to answer him. Play into his game, because in your sick twisted mind you enjoyed it.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much,” you whimpered, clutching your hands on his shoulders, begging him to move.

“You do, don’t you? Want me to make you come, want me to fill you up?” he asked, though he knew the answer he, wanted to hear it from you.

“Mhm, yes, want you to make me come, please, please and fill me up, I want it so bad,” you begged, and he finally moved again, rocking his hips up. They you begged him brought him closer to his high, he loved having you at his mercy, doing everything he wanted.

A pornographic moan slipped from your lips as he rubbed over your clit and hit your g-spot. You reached your high, the knot exploding and smashed your lips onto Homelander’s to muffle another moan.

He barred his teeth, releasing his cum into your cunt and his pace slowed down. “Come, paint me baby,” you whispered into his ear.

----

“These please,” you grinned at the woman working the register, letting a pile of lingerie fall onto the counter. Every sort of color and shape, nervously the woman cashed you up, “a bag?” she asked to which you nodded.

“That will be 300,36 please,” she said, “cash or card?” she added, looking at you and not daring to spare Homelander a glance.

You held out your palm to your boyfriend who huffed before putting his card into your hand, “thank you,” you said and laid the card down, then stepping aside once it signaled, “pin, “ you told him and gestured to the machine.

Homelander put in the pin while the cashier packed everything up, handing it to you, “thank you very much,” you smiled.

Finally, she found the voice to ask Homelander for an autograph, “oh, sure everything for my fans! You guys are the real hero’s,” he showed her his pearly white teeth and signed her card.

“We could do this a lot more often, go shopping together, maybe have a little lunch date,” you trailed off, teasing him.

Outside there was a lightening of reporters and fans, all wanted pictures and asked questions. In Homelander style and because of Vought, he answered some of them, but he had to keep himself together.

"What is it like to have such a devoting boyfriend?"

"Anything else you do for your girlfriend?"

"How is you future looking? The two of you are a beautiful couple!"

"Thank you, thank you! The future is bright and what my girl wants she gets, there is truly nothing I won't give her," he smiled at them brightly. You posed for pictures, getting bolder with every flash.

Homelander wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side to whisper in your ear. "You better behave little lady, I will punish you until you can't walk a fuckinf millimetre."

"Promise?"

please reblog/comment and give feedback! I would love to know if you like my Homelander fics, I have so many ideas

BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST

[ultravioletrayz]

KINKTOBER

╰┈➤ DAY FIVE: PUBLIC SEX + EXHIBITIONISM w/ HOMELANDER

Being with Homelander, you've quickly become America's doll. Little girls admire you, men ogle you, women envy you. You embody perfection— a sweet and pretty adornment for Homelander that Vought eagerly showcases to reinforce his heroic persona, while quelling concerns over his volatile nature by presenting you as his anchor to humanity's virtues.

Meanwhile, Homelander finds himself enamoured with your sweetness, a stark contrast to his usual entourage of adoring yet superficial admirers who fall into his orbit like moths to a flame. Though, he doesn't let you know of his smitten thoughts. He's concerned that if you actually knew the power you had over him, over everyone, you would lose yourself to the fame like so many of his other conquests tend to do. And he can't have that. You're just too precious.

Instead, he treats you more like a plaything, a placeholder for the kindness he's supposed to be conveying as a hero. That's why he drags you along to every interview, photoshoot, advert, convention, filming... he needs to flaunt you. He needs to show the world that he's the type of man that can score such an innocent girl, and subsequently portray a sort of gentlemanly image.

That gentlemanly image is non-existent now.

"If you keep fucking squirming, I'll call up some of these pigs to have a turn, huh? Just take it." Homelander grits out against your ear, strong hands keeping your cute dress bundled up as he thrusts into you from behind, the image blown up in size on the big screens around the convention hall. One innocent question is all it took for Homelander's resolve to snap. A mere "why are you so shy?" from a fan directed at you, to which your sweet boyfriend insisted on proving everyone wrong by showing off how much of a cock whore you are.

The audience are all cheering Homelander on with vigour, reeling at the raw display of masculine power. It's degrading, watching hundreds of people through teary lashes looking back at you as your tits bounce and your thighs quiver, your own slick running down your skin for all to see. But some sick part of you like it. Likes being seen as Homelander's toy. It's fucking exhausting pretending to be so cutsie every day, when all you want is to get your cunt stuffed with some thick, supe dick.

"How about I knock you up?" Homelander groans, hips rutting up into you with even more ferocity at the thought of getting you pregnant, of the changes your body would endure as his potent cum takes over you, makes you his alone.

"Clap if you think I should give America's sweetheart a baby!" Homelander calls out, balls grinding against your sopping pussy as he gets off on the applause of his adoring fans, almost cumming right then as he observes the uproar of encouragement.

"You heard them, honey. Gotta give the people what they want, don't we?"

eughhhh

[dollerinna]

❛ 𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑯𝑨𝑺 𝑨 𝑭𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑺𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑻𝒀 𝑫𝑶𝑬𝑺.ᐣ ❜

─ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝚑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡, 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝚑𝑎𝑡 .

𝓢UMMARY . . you should know better than to sleep with your superior, especially when duty calls. yet homelander always finds a way to pull you in, leaving you hurt each and every time

❪ ꪆৎ ❫ ⸝⸝ 𝓗omelander x fem!maid reader 。 𝒲c: 2.1k 𖥔 𝓓ead 𝓓ove ── 𝒲arnings dub-con/non-con. oral (m! receiving). face f*cking. degradation. homelander’s god complex. choking/gagging. hair pulling. slightly choppy writing n’ lazy ending

作 者 注 释 . . heeeeey finally back from the dead for the gazillionth time *cricket noises* anyways, this fic came out like ass. so just letting u know it’s not my best work and to go easy on this poor soul

"S-Sir," you stammered, heat blossoming across your cheeks as you fought to maintain your composure. "I really should get back to work. There are other rooms that need cleaning..." your fingers twisted anxiously in the hem of your skirt, the involuntary gesture exposing the desires your words tried so vainly to deny.

Your gaze flitted towards the foot of the bed, where Homelander loomed over your sprawled, vulnerable form. His pale blue eyes raked over you, drinking in every perfect little detail—from the half-lidded, sultry cast of your features to the way your maid uniform clung to your curves, the fabric hitched scandalously high to reveal lace-trimmed panties clinging to your dampened folds.

A smug lift of his brow greeted you in turn, along with a maddening quirk at the corners of his lips—like he knew damn well the extent of his charms and was loath to let any woman forget. It was the same look of cocky triumph that had first drawn you in, and still drove you to distraction each time after. With slow, deliberate steps, he advanced, his heavy red boots echoing off the hardwood as he climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, but his gaze never wavered from you.

"Please sir, I—-" your feeble protest withered on your lips, smothered by that familiar tutting sound that often passed through Homelander’s teeth—a dismissive noise, as if you were nothing more than a misbehaving pup in need of correction. You knew he could smell the betrayal of your body, the musk of your arousal wafting up from your heat-stricken cunt to meet his keen senses. "Ah, ah, ah," he chided, "What did I say about you and that pretty mouth of yours, hmm?" Homelander asked, his words dripping with patronizing disdain.

Undoubtedly, he saw through the flimsy pretext of your resistance, reading the truth scrawled across the crevices of your beautiful face.

Homelander surged forward, his muscular frame blotting out the light as he straddled your quivering body. His knees bracketed the sides of your chest, pinning you in place.

"I believe I made it quite clear," he muttered, a razor’s edge seeping into his otherwise jovial tone, "that those lips are to be used for only two things - sucking," his thumb dipped between your parted lips, "or shutting the fuck up."

Instinctively, you opened your mouth, a reflexive response to affirm your obedience. But the firm, cautionary squeeze of his hand on your shoulder gave you pause. Discretion, it seemed, was the wiser choice. So instead of voicing your compliance, you offered a wordless nod, a silent acknowledgment that Homelander found satisfactory. “Good girl…” he hummed in approval.

With that, Homelander granted you permission to move on to the main course of tonight—the sweet, sweet prize that awaited between his god-sculpted thighs.

He gently took a hold of your hand, guiding it towards the impressive, straining bulge that threatened to split the seams of his superhero attire. The moment your fingertips skimmed along the rigid contours of his erection, you swore you felt the barest hint of a beat, tugging the most muted catch from his breath.

“Feel that?” He rasped lowly. “That’s power. And it’s all yours tonight… if you behave.”

A current of nervous tension coiled within you, manifesting in the restless curl of your toes and the worry of your lower lip. Intently, you watched as Homelander worked to undo the buttons of his suit, yanking his thick, weighty cock out which stood tall and proud in its cushion of golden curls. Warmth bloomed in your ears and spilled over your face at the sight, your stare remained locked on its sway.

Amusement scrunched his eyes, absolutely relishing that ‘flash-frozen, deer-in-headlights’ look of yours at his size. The smug bastard soaked it all in with a smile so self-satisfied, it could only belong to the most insufferable shithead around. But the most infuriating part? It was how he still made your insides tie knots for him despite it all.

After a long, narcissism-fueled pause savoring your admiration, Homelander broke the silence with an arrogant exhale. “Alright alright, I get it… I’m perfection personified, nothing short of a masterpiece, yada yada,” He flicked a wrist before his posture of perfection, clad in pristine blue. “But I didn’t invite you here for a goddamn photoshoot. So enough with the eye-fucking already, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Snapped out of your trance, you blinked in a confused daze “Huh?” You barely caught on a word, most of his monologue being a blur—something about bigger fish? Homelander fixed you with a withering glare that could melt steel, lips curled in contempt. Clearly, he thought very little of your mental facilities.

"Bless your heart. Do you need me to break out the crayons and draw you a picture?” His silky tone was condescending in the extreme, as if addressing a particularly dim child. “By bigger fish to fry, I mean bigger things to explore, bigger challenges to face… bigger dicks to suck. Now come on sweetheart, stick that tongue out for me.”

Without another word, his fingers curled around the sturdy base, the glistening, slick tip coming to rest against your warm lips. Homelander’s message came through loud and clear—he wouldn’t allow anymore of your human idiocy, demanding your absolute compliance. Right here, right now.

Swallowing your trepidation, you slowly extended your tongue, tracing a stripe from the curve of the base all the way up to leaky slit of his bulbous, cherry red head. A blissful twitch rippled through his length, drawing beads of precum that sprang forth like a broken faucet.

Homelander’s jaw ticked at your touch, eyelashes flickering low while his mouth thinned bloodlessly, barely stifling the moan that rushed out on his gusting release of breath. Craving more contact, he settled fully over you, wedging you further into the mattress until the head of his member was able to slide past your lips.

He cradled your head close, suffocatingly so, to the point that the tip of your nose was nearly squashed against the hard muscles of his pelvis, sweeping your senses away on a tide of raw musk and cologne—the kind you could only dream of affording.

Without a moment’s pause, Homelander instantly set to work plundering into your slack mouth, greedily stealing the air out of your lungs with every thrust. You froze, an icy veil draping across you as his sheer size blanketed your tongue to an overwhelming degree—an inevitability when in the presence of the Homelander, whose power could crush and destroy with the merest flick of a finger.

“Mm… yeah, that’s it baby, just like that,” Homelander’s voice dropped to a low, throaty purr that was tinged with an undisguised pleasure, impressed by the way you took him with practiced ease despite your discomfort. “Look at you… you really know how to handle a steel pipe, don’t ya?” Homelander quipped, the mirth in his tone teetering upon mockery.

An eye roll for the ages battled to escape, yet the chains of protocol held fast. Because in your idiotically cock-whipped mind, rules somehow still applied when giving your superior a sloppy-toppy.

But the very moment you faltered, even slightly, he seized a fistful of your hair, wrenching your head back with a stinging, almost bone-crushing grip that had you gasping. It was a request, no, a demand for you to quit wriggling pathetically and take it like a big girl. “Stay still and keep working on that cock like it owes you a goddamn fortune.” He growled, a wolfish grin splitting his features as he watched you strain to swallow his brutal intrusion—the same ‘steel pipe’ that was now halfway lodged down your throat.

Helpless, all you could do was gag and sputter, while Homelander’s heavy balls slapped loudly against your chin until your skin felt raw. The relentless pounding overwhelmed your eyes with an unwelcome moisture, vision blurring like an out-of-focus camera from the onslaught of sensations—the taste of him, the ache in your jaw, the burn of your scalp. “…’s too… b-big…” you choked out the syllables with gulping effort, each one emerging gargled and barely discernible around the column of flesh violating your mouth.

The craziest part? He could’ve easily gone harder—so much damn harder—if he simply wanted to.

Scorn etched harsh lines around Homelander’s sneer at your plea and lack of appreciation for his so-called ‘restraint’, carving deeper as your mangled noises scraped its way loose. “Jesus, did all that disgusting slobber rot what was left in that walnut you call a brain? I know critical thinking isn’t your strong suit, but this?” Briefly, he withdrew himself, slapping his fat, drooling cock against your cheek to emphasize his next point.

“We’ve been over this—dominance and dick diameter are a set for a reason. And I don't do average. Ever." With a snide scoff, he shoved his member back between your teeth, utterly dismissive of the fact a worm such as yourself had the gall to express any form of displeasure with his godly magnificence. “Psh, ’too big’… Boo-fucking-hoo! Cry me a river and pass the hankies. You signed up for this sweetheart, don’t you forget that.”

Well-fucking-ouch, you winced internally. If the sting in your jaw wasn’t already bad enough, then the blow to your ego definitely added insult to injury.

Unable to take his barrage of demeaning insults any longer, you mustered what little strength you had left and wrapped your hands around his intrusive member in a frantic plea to wrest back some control. But even as you tried to push him away, to create even the slightest distance, you knew it was a futile gesture. Homelander's mighty fists, capable of crushing a thousand suns, anchored your skull in place, rendering your attempts at resistance utterly meaningless.

“Nono- don’t you move a goddamn inch,” Homelander’s command rang out with finality, brooking no room for defiance. “Suck it up and let me in just a little further. You can do it, I know you can.”

He pressed onward, unforgivingly, until your lips were stretched obscenely wide around his spongy head that brushed the sensitive reaches of your throat, coaxing the lewdest hisses of moist air to slither past the corners of your mouth. "Atta girl, that's it," a shuddering exhale fled his lungs, fingers knotting in your hair as his skin came alive beneath your enveloping wetness. "Such a natural little cocksucker. Taking me like a champ."

“…s-sir… please…” words struggled to claw free through vocal cords rubbed raw. Your begging fell upon deaf ears, disregarded as mere noise to soundtrack the moment for Homelander, whose mind was currently busy drowning in a cloud of bliss as his orgasm neared.

"This," he growled, punctuating his words with a mean grind of his hips, "is what you wanted. The privilege of worshipping a true god, the savior of humanity time after fucking time again..." His grip tightened, fingers digging into your scalp. "So keep that pretty mouth open and swallow every last drop of my seed like the starving animal you are.”

With one final pump, a wave of bitterness assaulted your taste buds, and before you could fully brace yourself, Homelander came. The copious tang of his essence flooded your mouth, burning on your tongue with a ferocity that felt like it would linger for days on end.

Once he pulled away, a familiarly heavy silence fell over the small space between you. You knew what was expected of you once he had his fill, yet it never got easier no matter how many times. In truth, you felt empty—skin prickling with discomfort rather than release. He laid beside you, recovering his breath, when he momentarily glanced over at you. There he paused, doing a double take when he noticed the sheen glistening in your eyes, the sadness shaping your lips.

A groan followed, already annoyed by even the subtlest display of your ‘weak, squishy human emotions’. “Eugh… would- would you quit your sniveling and give it a rest? If I needed a weeper, I would’ve, I dunno, gotten a damn puppy… not you.”

Yet something flickered in the depths of his steely gaze—just a momentary glint before it was swallowed back. He quickly schooled his features, reminding himself that you were only a human, a toy for his amusement. Nothing more.

Then with a careless toss, Homelander flung your coat over your head, blinding you. “Cover up that embarrassing nonsense. And while you're at it, do something about that stomach-turning stench up in the break room—it's giving me a migraine.”

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Pssst- likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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♡ divider credits: @/grlselle

[ancientwastedlores]

Don't Be Kind To It (Homelander x Reader)

The overwhelming amount of love Homelander Only Breaks His Favorite Toys got really hit me in the feels. Some of you asked for a part II, and much like Homelander, I aim to please (and love the praise).

[tags: @helreyy @discowizard88 @slasherho]

This one is lightly inspired by Hozier's "It Will Come Back," and we get a glimpse into Homelander's perspective as well.

Hope you enjoy it! <3

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Don't Be Kind To It

Don't let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it

You're a smart cookie. And you know Homelander better than he knows himself. You expect him to stalk you, watch you from rooftops, send you gifts that have an agenda, and force Vought's Crime Analytics department to keep an eye on you.

So, you wait. You listen for the telltale whoosh of air, the crackle of energy that signals his arrival. Every gust of wind sends your heart hammering; every creak of the floorboards makes your blood run cold. You scan the skyline for a flash of red and blue, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

At first, you think he’s just toying with you, letting you stew in paranoia. You brace for him to materialize at the most inconvenient moment, smug and victorious. Yet days turn into weeks, and his absence becomes undeniable. You tell yourself he’s good at what he does—too good—but the truth begins to sink in: it’s not just you. Nobody has seen him.

No staged rescues. No public appearances. Not even a leaked video of him losing his temper. Ashley let slip that his tracking chip went dead 3 days ago. Vought is scrambling to spin the story - a secret overseas mission? A long-deserved vacation?

But the inner circle is panicking. The people who know him best—the ones who know what he’s capable of—are terrified.

Where the fuck is Homelander?

But... another thought creeps in, invasive and unwelcome, like a splinter under your skin.

Isn't he going to fight for me?

The selfishness of it makes you recoil, but it’s there, undeniable and raw. After everything, after all the suffocating control and emotional whiplash, you almost wanted him to stay obsessed with you. To prove that you still mattered to him. To prove that you had power over the most powerful man alive.

The realization is a gut punch. Maybe you’re not as different from him as you thought. Maybe his possessiveness, his need for control, rubbed off on you more than you care to admit. Maybe you’ve become just as twisted as him, longing for attention—even the toxic kind—because it’s better than silence.

And now, silence is all there is.

It wraps around you like a noose, tightening with every passing day. His absence presses on your chest, cutting off your circulation, making it hard to breathe. You tell yourself it’s relief—that this is what you wanted—but the emptiness feels like punishment. You try to convince yourself he’s sulking, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to make you regret leaving him.

But the longer it stretches on, the more it begins to feel permanent.

You could care less what this means for Vought. All the company seems to care about is who will lead the Seven now. Should they try to replace Homelander or lean into the “team-first” narrative Ashley has been pushing? PR scrambles to keep the media from asking too many questions, trotting out The Deep and Black Noir to cover for him.

But the public isn’t buying it.

Those who love him are afraid he is hurt. Those who hate him post conspiracy theories about Homelander going rogue - which feels way more accurate.

Either way, if Homelander doesn’t want to be found, no one can find him.

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Your days stretch out unfathomably long. You expected to feel free, to savor the clean air and the wide-open spaces of a world without him. Instead, his absence is louder than his presence ever was.

When he was there, he consumed everything: every thought, every moment, every inch of your life. You hated it, resented it, but at least you understood it. His attention, no matter how suffocating, meant you mattered.

But now there’s nothing.

The silence echoes like a scream, reverberating through every corner of your mind. Every sleepless night, every anxious thought loops back to him. Where is he? What is he doing? Is he coming back?

You start to wonder if this is how he wanted it—to leave you drowning in uncertainty, gasping for closure you’ll never get. Maybe this is his ultimate revenge.

Or maybe…

Maybe he’s broken in ways even you can’t fix.

You almost wish for his cruelty, for the familiar push-and-pull of his twisted affection. Because this? This void where he once loomed so large?

It feels like dying.

No. You have to seek him out. You can't quite tell if it's for his sake or yours... you can figure that out later.

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Monster's Lament

The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through cracked blinds. Dust floats in the air, settling over the relics of a forgotten time—old Vought propaganda posters peeling from the walls, a long-dead television covered in grime. It’s quiet here, too quiet, save for the clock that's miraculously still ticking.

Homelander sits slumped in a battered chair, his suit grimy, his cape discarded on the floor in a crumpled heap. His head is in his hands, his golden locks disheveled, the picture of a god brought low.

“You warned her,” a voice says, syrupy sweet.

Homelander doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to—he knows where it’s coming from.

The mirror.

He lifts his gaze reluctantly, and there it is: his own reflection staring back at him, but not quite right. The eyes burn brighter, the teeth are sharper, the smile is crueler. It leans forward as if trying to crawl out of the glass.

"You warned her," it sings again. "But did she listeeeen." "Not now, okay?" Homelander pleads.

The face in the mirror laughs. "Jesus fucking Christ, this is so pathetic. What are you waiting for, for her to come find you? For her to need you?" "She does need me." “Oh, sure. Because you gave her everything. The flying, the fancy dinners, the cape-flipping bullshit. But what did she give you?” It leans closer, its grin widening. “Pity. That’s what. You wanted love, and all you ever got was pity.”

“That’s not true,” Homelander growls, but his voice wavers.

“Isn’t it?” The reflection tilts its head, almost playfully. “She stayed because she felt sorry for you. The broken little boy in the big man’s body. She didn’t love you, not really. She loved the idea of fixing you. And when she couldn’t—”

“Shut up!” Homelander’s voice cracks as he lurches to his feet, his hands trembling.

The reflection’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “What’s the matter, Johnny? Don’t like the truth?”

He stands frozen, a deer in headlights. He never learned to deal with complex emotions, and even after all this time, it wraps around him like a boa constrictor, cutting off his air supply and rooting him to the ground.

And the reflection starts to sing. “Don’t feed me, honey. Don’t be kind to me.”

The lyrics echo around Homelander, twisting like a blade.

"Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul Honey, make this easy Leave it to the land, this is what it knows."

"STOP IT" Homelander cries.

"Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back"

"You're supposed to be on MY side." Homelander says. "I am. This is what that looks like," It replies.

Homelander's stares ahead, his fists clenched, his jaw tights, his eyes ready to burn holes into the mirror. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating.

Homelander closes his eyes, but her face is there, burned into his eyelids. The way she looked at him—like he was more than the sum of his power, more than the monster everyone else saw. He hates her for it. He loves her for it.

“Why did you leave?” he whispers to himself.

The reflection’s smile vanishes. For a moment, it almost looks… pitying.

“Because you allowed it,” it says simply.

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

"She fed you ONCE. And you kept going to her like a stray fucking dog. You took her mercy and her love and you became weak. Nobody wants weakness, Johnny." It leans forward, smiling, canines gleaming, "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Homelander looks at the ground. Shame and desperation wash over him, and he blinks tears back.

"You're going to claim her. And you'll make sure she never, ever leaves again. Right?"

Homelander doesn't look up from the floor.

It gets irritated. "Right?"

Silence.

It rolls its eyes. "Do you want ME to do it?"

Homelander looks up, hope obvious in his bright blue eyes.

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You don’t intend to start looking for him. It just… happens.

It begins with small, idle habits—clicking on articles about Vought’s latest scandals, scrolling through old news coverage, and watching grainy footage of staged rescues from years past. Your eyes search for him automatically, for that familiar streak of red and blue cutting through the chaos.

Then it escalates.

You start wandering the city at night, tracing the paths he once flew you along. You visit the rooftops where he used to land with a flourish, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. You linger outside the exclusive restaurants where he once paraded you like a trophy, his smile razor-sharp as he soaked in the envy of the other diners.

But it’s not just the glamorous places.

You walk down seedy alleys and explore dark corners—the forgotten places he claimed as private retreats. The places where he could let his guard down, where the mask of America’s golden boy slipped.

It feels grotesque, this act of seeking him out. Like you’re willingly feeding the monster you swore you’d escape. You hate yourself for it, for the way your heart leaps at the thought of seeing him again, even if it’s just to tell him to his face that you’re done.

But you can’t stop.

You start putting yourself in danger—not consciously, but recklessly enough that it’s obvious even to you. Walking alone through neighborhoods that turn predatory after dark. Taking late-night trains without any plan or destination. Part of you hopes he’ll swoop in, cape flaring, to save you in one of his dramatic displays of power.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, one night, it’s Black Noir who finds you.

The alley is suffocatingly narrow, the air heavy with the mingling stench of rotting garbage and damp asphalt. The dim, flickering streetlight overhead barely illuminates the passage as two men circle you like predators. Their laughter is low and ugly, their shadows long and distorted against the brick walls.

You freeze, your breath caught somewhere between a scream and a sob, as one of them lunges toward you. You pray even now that he'll swoop in from somewhere.

And then he’s there.

Black Noir steps from the shadows like death itself. His arrival is so silent, so abrupt, that the men don’t even notice him until it’s too late. A gloved hand clamps down on one man’s shoulder, spinning him around with an almost casual effort. Noir doesn’t waste time. The blow is swift, brutal—a single strike to the man’s temple that sends him crumpling to the ground.

The second man barely has time to react, stumbling backward with a terrified curse. Noir closes the distance in an instant, his movements fluid and precise. A sharp crack echoes through the alley as the man’s arm is wrenched at an unnatural angle. He screams, but Noir silences him with a swift knee to the ribs. He falls, gasping and broken, as Noir turns to you.

The black Kevlar of his suit gleams faintly in the dim light, the contours of his armor making him seem more shadow than man. His helmet hides his face entirely, the opaque visor reflecting your terrified expression back at you. He stands perfectly still, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his presence both menacing and oddly comforting.

You crumble to the ground, your legs giving out beneath you as adrenaline and fear collide in your veins. Relief washes over you, but it’s tainted by something darker—frustration, disappointment, an aching sense of abandonment.

Noir kneels on the ground to make sure you're okay.

“Why—why isn’t he here?” you sob, your voice breaking. The words spill out of you, raw and unfiltered, as you pound your fists weakly against Noir’s chest.

He doesn’t move.

“Why won’t he come for me?” you cry, your hands trembling against the hard, unyielding surface of his armor. “He’s supposed to be here. He’s always here.”

Noir doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He simply stands there, a silent sentinel as your emotions spill over in a torrent of tears and ragged gasps. His helmet tilts ever so slightly, as if he’s observing you, but he offers no comfort, no words of reassurance.

You clutch at him like a drowning person reaching for a lifeline, your fingers curling around the slick fabric of his suit. The tears come harder now, soaking into the Kevlar as you press your face against him.

“I hate him,” you whisper through clenched teeth, though the bitterness in your voice is softened by the despair in your heart. “I hate him for leaving.”

Noir stands up, lifting you with him, and lets you go once he's sure you're standing straight. His silence is maddening. Why isn't he angry that you're being ungrateful? Why isn't he at least talking about Homelander disappearing? ANYTHING?

You finally step back, your hands trembling as you wipe at your tear-streaked face. Your gaze meets Noir’s visor, and for a moment, you imagine you see something there—pity, perhaps, or understanding. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the blank, inscrutable void of his masked expression.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely, though the words feel hollow. What you really want to say is, Why wasn’t it him?

Noir doesn’t react. He simply steps back, his movements as quiet and calculated as ever, before melting into the shadows.

You’re alone again, the weight of Homelander's absence pressing down on you like a physical force.

But... a thought creeps in. If Black Noir came, then Homelander must know, too. They all have access to the same intel. He knows where you are and what you’re doing, and still—still—he hasn’t come for you.

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GUYS, I think this is going to be a three-parter. Bear with me. The next chapter will be the last. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be tagged to the third one!

Thank you for all the love 😭😭

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Homelander being obsessed with his sister HC II

Warnings: heavy siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, dubcon, noncon, manipulation, stalking, basically all the horrible parts of HL come out to play, MC has blonde hair and blue eyes like HL, different plot than 'All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed', kidnapping

I III IV V

Mother fucker would definitely find a way to lock you up in his personal apartment. It’s not easy to keep a supe that had the same powers as him as a captive. Through trial and error, Homelander would find a way to keep you hidden. His little secret

Has major mood change at work and a new skip in his step. All smiles and syrupy sweet voice.

Your parents and friends would go into immediate action to try and find you.

HL installs motion detector cameras throughout his apartment to keep an eye on you when he’s too far away. If anything happened, he knew he could be there in a flash

All day you were forced to wait for him until he got off of work (though does a hero ever really have time off?), like a pet. During that time all you could do was stare at the tv that HL had kindly turned on for you.

Of course you'd tried to escape in the beginning. But HL was faster than you.

Bored out of your mind from the constant stream of tv, you'd manage to wiggle over to the box that Homelander had shown you your first day there. You had time to really look at the contents though it was difficult without the free use of your hands. There were pictures of you as a little girl with your mom and dad. Lo and behold, you even found a picture of you on a young HL lap. Documents upon documents with Vought's stamp on them had you accepting the truth that HL was indeed your blood brother.

Homelander gives up trying to jog your memory once you inform him that you really don't remember much growing up. But you acknowledge him as being your sibling by blood.

"I believe you, but this doesn't condone kidnapping and keeping me here, Homelander." You countered, still not understanding why he went through all of this trouble. Just because you were his sister? That seemed too outrageous to you. Then again, you still didn't really know the real Homelander.

He corrects you. "John. You can call me John." He'd told you that several times but you just couldn't bring yourself to say such a simple name to this legend of a man.

Honestly, the whole abduction thing was a spur of the moment idea but once he found himself in the air with you in his arms, he made the decision that he was going to keep you to himself whether you liked it or not. That was the only way to make sure you wouldn't forget him again or leave him.

And some morbidly twisted feeling was growing inside of him every time he looked at you. You were perfect. Like he was. He talked himself into thinking that this was okay, that he was always meant for someone who was just as perfect as he was. And who better than you who has the same genetic mockup as he did.

He'd tell you all of this like it was the most simplest thing in the world. You gape at him in horror at his grotesque explanation.

Unnerve and discontent raised the hairs up on the back of your neck. What he'd said sounded a lot like him talking about incest. That roiled your stomach, making you feel sick.

He hated the fear he smelled on you in that moment, Homelander even pulls back from you and puts you at arm's length. You hate how he reduced you to someone so helpless. You also hate how much he really scares you.

Swallowing something thick in his throat, HL looks away from you with what you could only read as disgust. Maybe at you? Not for you though. For himself. He'd scared you and that was enough to shame him.

He'd mutter out an incredibly soft apology before leaving his apartment.

I'm thinking that as long as I have HC ideas of this, that I'll just be adding parts whenever the feeling strikes 🙂

[honeymaze]

nothing but the two of us

bad days are a constant to him, but your presence is, thankfully, a constant as well.

❤️‍🔥 homelander x supe!fem!reader | established relationship, graphic mentions of dark content (violence, death, reader isn’t the best person out there either), hurt/comfort, reader’s powers aren’t specified (nor does she “work” as a supe), no plot/slice of life

note: hey! just an angsty drabble to open this new blog. hope you guys like it!

-

There is a thick mist glazing over the city as he arrives at his place, just a little before the setting sun takes shelter behind the skyline. Homelander is beyond exhausted, as he usually is, and he feels like the weight on his shoulders might be a little too heavy for him to handle. There aren’t powers in the world that can soften the blow of being paraded around like a caged animal for an entire day — photographed, talked to relentlessly, groped — and there’s nothing he can’t do but endure it.

It’s a divine joke, really. That he is much stronger than everyone else, and yet he has to settle for this game of pretend. They take everything from him, and he scrapes for all the compliments and looks of awe that he can get. But even that is starting to get old.

“Let me guess, bad day?” Your voice breaks his thoughts. He finds you instantly, wearing only an oversized shirt and taking a sip from your coffee. “You look like you’re about to lazer through me.”

He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t work, remember?” Homelander tries to play it off. You don’t buy it. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Bad day, horrible. Ashley should be grateful that she isn’t in a coffin right now, I’ve already — I’ve already told her how much I hate these stupid interviews.”

You smile, putting your cup down. The act alone makes something stir up inside him. “Vought magazine, right?”

He rolls his eyes. “They couldn’t come up with an original name and they want me to pretend like I care.”

“I don’t know how you manage,” your sarcasm is lost on him, for he only sighs and nods vigorously. “But come on. You’re with me now, magazine be damned. We should enjoy our night.”

“Stupid fucking animals — primates, all of them,” Homelander continues to complain, turning his back to you. He places his hands on his hips and looks over the city that expands just beyond his window. “I could kill all of them with one blow.”

You come behind him, giggling at his hissy fit. John is such a manchild, you can’t take these comments seriously (even if you’ve seen enough proof that they’re not only vacant threats).

“Baby, I know that. They know that. That’s why they love and respect you so much,” you reason. Your arms wrap around his waist and Homelander tenses — then relaxes, melting into your touch. You rest your cheek against his broad back, the vague scent of ashes and blood dancing in your nose. Even if he cleans it, you can still catch it: magazine interviews weren’t everything he did today. But you won’t pry, you don’t really care that much. “If Ashley pushes you through another interview, she’ll have to answer to me. And I’m much meaner and harder to please.”

That manages to tear a laugh from him. “Glad you know that.” He turns around and runs one hand through your hair. His blue eyes went from a dark storm to a calm sea, always a good sign that you’re managing to get to his rational (softer) side. “Thank you.”

You smile and kiss him briefly. In your mind, there’s a clear distinction between Homelander and John, and when you manage to make him click out of his “super-better-than-you” mindset, you’ve won.

The next hour passes by in a routine that you’ve grown used to — a warm shower, the brief cleaning of fast-healing wounds, a passing comment about the sprinkles of blood in his blonde hair. There’s an unspoken knowledge between the two of you about the true nature of the man standing before you and, just as clearly, the notion that you don’t mind it. Maybe that’s why Homelander enjoys your company so much: you don’t judge, you don’t care. He doesn’t know if you look down on non-supes as much as he does, but the bottom line is that you don’t care enough about a few casualties that manage to brighten his day. And that’s enough for him.

“And they were able to cover up that alley situation, right?” You ask randomly as he turns off the shower. John scoffs. “I mean, yeah, I know they always do, but usually things don’t go that south. Starlight looked like she was in shock when I saw her enter the building.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

But it was. The alley situation in question was a mission that the seven were assigned to last week — something about bombs and gun traffic at the dark corners of the city. It was supposed to be a clean-cut mission: get in, neutralize the threat, look for victims, get out. There was one aggravating factor, however: Homelander was having the worst day in weeks, and you were out of town. One thing led to another and at some point the mission turned from “stopping the evil men” to “controlling the unhinged Homelander before he blew up an entire neighborhood”. The destruction was so massive that it was easy to pass it off as a massive bomb activation, but a few surrounding cameras told a different story. The devil works hard but Vought works harder — though, it’s hard to stop a video from spreading after it’s uploaded somewhere.

“Just wanna know if they asked you about it during the interview, that’s all,” you say, reaching for the towels. You could say that you’ve seen it stir up quite the frenzy online, but you knew better than that. As much as you were able to calm down John from a few hissy fits, you knew that the public hatred was stronger than a few soothing words from your end. “I know you always answer the right things and I—“

“So there’s nothing to worry about,” he interrupts. “I don’t know how you can just walk around and live like one of these… worms. Makes me think that you like them more than your own kind.”

In the end, it always comes down to this little mind game: us or them. Homelander or the rest of the world.

“Well, first of all, I don’t think I have what it takes to be in the spotlight, I’m not as good as you,” you start off strong, with a caress to his ego. His blue eyes are frozen in place, staring deep inside your soul for any sign of lies. As much as he can’t lazer through your head, he could break your neck if he tried. And, once again, there’s a thin line between love and hate when it comes to him. “Second… I know my worth regardless of what I choose to do. It’s not because I work amongst non-supes that I see myself as one of them. I like what I do.” Your hand reaches out for his cheek, and he rests his head on your hand. “Besides, I already have everything I want right here. No supe or non-supe world could ever compete, so why even bother?”

Homelander’s eyes stay locked in for another second, not one line of expression on his face. He sighs and relaxes his shoulders, finally adverting his gaze. “I like having you home when I arrive,” is all he answers — in his words: I like you’re not out there when I need you.

“And I’ll always be home for you,” you say, smile growing on the corners of your lips.

He nods. For now, that’s enough.

[isroji]

if villain, why hot?

[thewritingofamadwoman]

A little snippet that came to mind, since all I’ve been thinking about for the past week and a half is this menace. Should I continue? Let me know what you think x

“Hey, there he is! Say hi to Translucent everybody!” Homelander said cheerfully, as he wrapped his arm around Translucent’s shoulders, effectively pulling him away from you. The invisible man smiled and waved out to the crowd.

“Hey Homelander,” he responded, smiling as the fans cheered and roared at seeing two of the most famous heroes of The Seven acting like the best friends they all assumed they were.

Homelander kept a smile on his face as he used his other hand to slap Translucent’s chest in what seemed to be a friendly gesture. But you knew otherwise. Homelander’s chuckle faded as leaned in.

“Hey, yeah, if I ever see you fucking look in her direction again I’ll burn a hole into your fucking skull. Indestructible skin, give me a fucking break,” Homelander’s smile widened as Translucent paled, a fake smile still plastered on his lips.

“What? Homelander I-“

“Uh-uh. Nope, you don’t get to fucking speak,” Homelander jostled the invisible man closer to him, still smiling. “This guy, huh?” He called out onto the crowd, his canines glistening as they caught the sunlight. The fans ate the interaction up, cheering louder.

“I won’t repeat myself, you fucking pervert. Look at her like that again and I’ll kill you,” he promised. With one last laugh and shake, Homelander let the invisible man go and waved out to the crowd as everyone roared even louder than before. Translucent turned back to his line of fans waiting to take a picture while Homelander made his way over to you, his smile never faltering. You were bent over, leaning down to take a picture with a little girl who showed up to the event dressed as you. Homelander smiled politely at the girls parents and “humbly” refused their praise as they thanked him for keeping the city safe.

“No, please. You guys are the real heroes. We just wear the suits.” He nodded graciously and you smirk up at him as they leave.

“For someone who just threatened to kill one of our team members, you’re awfully cheerful,” you teased. Homelander playfully rolled his eyes at you, his hands poised behind his back in his signature pose.

“That ungrateful little fuck needs to learn to keep his eyes off of things that aren’t his,” he shrugged, giving a tight smile to another on looker who called out his name and waved.

“Oh is that so? And what exactly was he looking at ‘that wasn’t his’?” You joked sincerely as you smiled out into the crowd again and they chanted your name. Homelander looked down at you again, this time his voice almost as sincere as yours.

“You,” he replied and you laughed, not catching onto his change in tone.

“And pray tell, to whom do I belong to then?” You sassed, and turned to look him in the eye ruefully. Homelander’s gaze was focused solely onto your eyes and your smile faltered slightly at his semi-serious expression.

“Me. Duh.”

[nztsume]

• waiting for the big twenty-five •

homelander x you

{“Only one more year till the big 25. Aren’t you excited?”

This piqued at his curiosity. “What’s the big 25?”

“It’s when your brain finishes developing.”, you replied, remembering the information from back in the day, when you were still trying to get your Psychology’s degree. “Your frontal cortex- the one in charge of your personality and all- it stops growing at around 25 years old.}

Even if you’re just kind of a glorified baby-sitter, you just want to see him happy - instead, you accidentally make him worse.

read on ao3

------

Hi yall!!! The voices won and I finally ended up starting to write the young homelander fic of my dreams where we find out how he ended up being the deranged insecure insane man we know and love!!

In this one, you're Madelyn Stilwell's niece who works at Vought- and have striken an unexpected soft spot for the company’s latest investment- this insecure, shy but sweet young hero called Homelander.

Enjoy!

• 1 •

July, 2005

Every single day, at exactly 5.30 a.m., Homelander was to be awoken by the smell of coffee on his kitchen table. The coffee had to be fresh, beans grinded that same morning, no sugar, no milk, no exceptions. To accompany it, he was to have his pills: two of creatin– for muscle growth, three of protein- to feed them, a weight gainer– so he would stop being so lanky, and an extra dose of vitamin D, to fight those pesky pimples guys his age still got sometimes. All of them should be in a small container, so he could swallow them at once with his first gulp.

Next to his coffee and his pills, he was to have a folder with any relevant document for the day- interviewer’s questions and the answers he was to give, profiles of important people he would meet, scripts for any ad he was to film. All of that, including his schedule for the day- except that was to be read to him by you. This is how Maddie had told you it had to be done, and how you’d done it since day one.

You looked at your wrist watch, holding his coffee on your hand- piping hot, just how you knew he liked it-  and you yawned, watching the thinnest clock hand go round it, as the last minute before you could walk into his apartment went by. 

Finally, it was 5.25, and you could already walk in- so you did. 

You weren’t exactly his maid- he had several of those, but none of them were to do anything to his apartment whenever he was around. He wasn’t to have much contact with the normal civilians, the normies- as Maddie called them. You preferred to reserve your opinions at that- your aunt had changed a lot since she had started working here. 

What you were was Maddie’s secretary- and Maddie was Mr. Edgar’s secretary- or something. There was a fancier title for that, but you couldn’t recall it. All you knew was that she was aiming for vice-CEO or something, as it was the only thing she talked about whenever she dragged you to a bar after office hours, and insisted on drinking glass after glass of whisky.

As you finished setting things up, you appreciated the result- his cup of coffee, his pills, his documents and ah, a special surprise. One big, obscene chocolate cupcake, the kind where the chocolate topping is so rich that it spills and drips all over, with one beautiful strawberry on top, and next to it, one single candle. You weren’t sure if chocolate was his favorite, but you knew he had a bit of a sweet tooth- so he’d appreciate it, at least some. 

Finally, you took out your red lighter and lit the candle- and less than twenty seconds later, you looked up- and there he was. 

"Good morning, John.”, you put the lighter back on your blazer’s pocket, smiling at him. 

He blinked- eyes still not fully alert, as he scratched them. They were boring holes into the chocolate cupcake, and you couldn’t help to smirk a little- you knew he’d be interested in it. 

“Is that for me?”, he asked, surprised, almost like a child- and you laughed. Ever since you’d met him, about five or six months ago now, you’d felt like he was younger than his actual age- there was something about the way he stood in the middle of his own massive penthouse, like a kid lost in a big, elegant furniture showroom. Alone, quiet and shy, even when wearing his own super suit. It didn’t help that it was actually way too big for one person, with its tall, tall roofs, marble everything and sleek furniture- much less for an overworked twenty-something with no time for a social life.  

“Of course.”, you assured him. “It’s your birthday after all, right? Happy 24th!”

He pressed his lips awkwardly, trying to contain a smile- but that didn’t work, as he let out a laugh, and finally came to the kitchen island, almost a skip on his step. You couldn’t help to be glad- finally this kid was getting some happiness in him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”, you said, sarcastically, as he went to town on the cupcake, taking big bites out of it. He stopped for a second mid-bite, mouth full of chocolate, to look at you with a smile- and there was a gleeful glint in his eyes. Actually, that was enough of a thank for you. Anything that made that perpetual sadness that he always seemed to hold go away, even for just a few minutes, was worth it. You laughed at him. “Okay- just go for it. But don’t forget your pills!” 

“I can’t believe it- this tastes so good!”, he finally said, after taking another bite- in less than thirty seconds he had eaten half of it. Unbelievable! “Best birthday gift ever!”

“Oh- shush.”, you crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter, watching him take a big gulp of coffee. “Just wait until you see what Maddie has gotten you- it’ll blow your mind.”

“I don’t think it’ll be better than having chocolate as breakfast.”- he set the last bite of the cupcake aside, finally taking the pill container, and eyeing them with disgust. You sighed- perhaps if they let the kid eat his breakfast he wouldn’t need those nasty pills- it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to burn it off in the training center literally thirty minutes later. You didn’t know much about supe genetics, but they couldn’t be too different from normal people’s, right?

You yawned again, this time covering your mouth to the side, as you let him have the rest of the cupcake and his coffee. You liked to give him some minutes of silence so he could enjoy it properly- you knew that that’s how you liked it when you had yours.

This morning in particular, you just wished you had gotten to drink your coffee alone- but your fiance was just arriving from a shift at the E.R., and you had to deal with his graphic description of a dick that had been cut in half by a broken wine glass. You were still trying to forget about it. At least you lived close enough to Vought- just a ten minute subway trip away - so you didn’t have to wake up much earlier than that. It was just lucky you knew how to do your make-up on the move, another time-saving skill you’d learnt in your college years. 

You heard him drinking the last of his coffee- doing that big slurp noise he always did, and you finally decided to take the document with his schedule- ready to tell him about his day. 

He was tired -he always was, but today he seemed particularly so, even behind the hint of a smile the cupcake had left him with. You could tell by his posture under those cheesy button up burgundy silk pajamas, shoulders too slumped, hips rested against the counter. You weren’t surprised- according to Maddie, ever since they’d debuted him close to two years ago to the public, he’d been worked non-stop. It was only time until he broke, you thought- but you could never say it to her. Your aunt had always been too good at pushing people further than they could reach, and too good at seeing only ahead of her; John was just another one of her subjects. 

“Alright”, you finally said, seeing the subtle move of his shoulders straightening at your voice, “Ready to hear about your day, birthday boy?”

He groaned in response, the hint of his smile completely being wiped away, “I guess…”

You pressed a smile for him, but mentally frowned reading over his schedule- he was packed, of course. “What’s that? Not excited about being 24?”, they’d even put an interview right after his birthday celebration- his 1 hour long birthday celebration. They as in Maddie and Mr. Edgar. “Only one more year till the big 25. Aren’t you excited?”

This piqued at his curiosity. “What’s the big 25?”

“It’s when your brain finishes developing.”, you replied, remembering the information from back in the day, when you were still trying to get your Psychology’s degree. “Your frontal cortex- the one in charge of your personality and all- it stops growing at around 25 years old. So you get only one more year of acting like a dumbass without people holding it against you.”, you added that last one joke to make him laugh- it worked. He wasn’t used to people throwing curse words around him. “Congrats!” 

“Just one more year, huh?”, he said, more seriously than you expected. “That’s kind of sad.”

“No way- it’s great.” you shook your head, “After 25… it’s like your brain rewires. You’re not embarrassed anymore, you get some self-esteem back from when you were a kid.”, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, remembering how stupidly shy you were back when you were his age. It wasn’t that long ago, really, just four years- but it felt like another lifetime, somehow. “10 out of 10, if you ask me. Anyway–”, you gave one more sigh, before turning your attention back to him, “Let me tell you about your day. So- it officially starts at 9.10 where you- oh. I didn’t know this. You’re getting a new suit!”

His eyebrows rose, “I thought that wasn’t until September.” 

“Hmm, maybe they wanted to launch it at today’s park inauguration for your birthday- which is at around 11.30, by the way. So you get your suit fitted and all, then it’s an one hour drive, and then the inauguration. After that, lunch, and after…”, she frowned. “You have to have tea with- with Margaret Pataki and her friends ...?” , no way they were making the kid spend his birthday with a bunch of rich old ladies that wanted to get in his pants. You couldn’t believe Maddie. What in the world could have they offered your aunt to get the privilege of The Homelander’ s time on his birthday? Unbelievable.  You huffed. “Well… too bad you have your weekly marketing meeting. You’ll have to miss it.”

“I thought that wasn’t until Thursday.”, he frowned, but there was a hint of relief behind his confusion. 

“It’s not-”, you shot a look at him, “But you should get to rest for a couple hours on your birthday, don’t ya?”, you winked at him- and then moved on, before he could protest any further. Better not to think about it too much, or you’d get extremely mad at your aunt. “And then… your birthday celebration!”

“You’re coming, right?”

You looked up from the paper, surprised at his sudden intensity as he cut you off. You found those crystal blue eyes boring at you- like you were another cupcake, expectating of your reply.

“ ‘Course.”, you simply smiled- surprisingly secretly pleased. You liked him- he was a nice guy, behind all the pizzazz that Vought put him through in front of the cameras. Perhaps too nice, in your opinion- there was some trauma somewhere in there, you could tell. But you didn’t weren’t close enough to him to recommend therapy or something, although you had suggested it to Maddie… who obviously shrieked at the thought of their golden child going to the shrink. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Johnny.” 

“Thank god-”, he sighed, rolling his eyes in sass, “If I have to deal with Stan or Madelyn or any of the other old farts there by myself, I’ll laser my own foot.” 

This made you laugh. It always surprised you whenever he showed a bit of bite, as it seemed like whenever he was with Maddie or Edgar, he seemed like the best behaved pupil in the boarding school- and whenever he was in front of the public, he was an absolute boy-scout. “Oh- come on. I’m sure Noir’s gonna be there too. I’m not your only friend here, you know?” She hoped so, at least. John seemed to like Black Noir, although his presence in the Vought building was far and apart, since they hadn’t officially re-debuted him under the company’s name yet.

He shot you one last skeptical look before taking the folder with the rest of the documents- this was your dismissal, and you took it. It was ten to six, and he had to be in the training center soon. 

“Anyway- I’ll take my leave. Maddie’s probably sent me my tasks for the day already.”, you heard a low distracted hum coming from him, already walking to the door. Before you left, you peeked at him one last time, before saying: “Happy birthday.”

He looked up just as you waved, and there was a hint of a smile in his face- good. You smiled back, and finally, slammed the door closed.

 

-

 

When you worked at Vought- more specifically, in their superhero division, every single day felt like standing in the middle of the sea during a storm- wave after wave of issues and tasks coming at you, suffocating you at times. Truth be told, you weren’t supposed to be working there- you were far too unqualified, both emotionally and academically. 

When your aunt Maddie had found out about your mother’s disease, she, of course, had refused to help her. She had always been resentful at how resentful your mom had been of her, at how she had chosen a professional life path while your mom chose to have you at just seventeen, dropping out of school to form a family. Just your average sisters’ feud, splashed with just a bit of new wave feminism and abandonment issues. However, knowing you had dropped out of college, Maddie was kind enough to offer you a job in her workplace- none other than Vought Enterprises. Big shot shit. 

She had told you that she wouldn’t make any promises, she wouldn’t work with you, and she wouldn’t slide you in with the big supes, where she worked. She had hustled her ass off to be where she was- she wouldn’t let your wormy little self run on the path she had so laboriously paved. You were okay with that- any corporation job would pay more than what you were doing in the dingy bar downtown where you’d been working since you dropped off college. Besides, you knew your aunt had never been all there- the love-hate she always showed you wasn’t personal, it was just a thing she did.

It didn’t help that you weren’t even more than seven years younger than her, so a lot of your childhood memories involved playing with her teen self. She was more a cousin than an aunt, to be fair. So there were a lot of things you could easily let slide- her insane mood swings was one of them. You knew she meant well- behind all of her power plays and degradation.

Either way, that didn’t end up happening- you working for a less important division, like pharmacy. As soon as she suggested Mr. Edgar to give you a job he was into the idea- he liked to keep things between family. And in hindsight, it was understandable. The things that happened behind the scenes for supes weren’t half as glamorous or exciting as they seemed to be on camera.

This morning had been particularly busy, the waves of work slowly turning into a tsunami, as Homelander’s birthday was a top priority for the entire department. He was the star, after all- had been for almost three years now. He was Vought’s face and voice, their personality. The bright eyed, all-american, charming, strongest to ever exist superhero. America turned into the shape of a man. Everything they’d ever dreamed, they were training into this twenty-something-year-old. Any excuse to celebrate him was good enough for them- because it was as if they were celebrating Vought itself.

That’s why you’d been running all over New York the entire morning. The tailor had managed to mismeasure John’s shoulders, somehow, and they needed two more of the handmade eagle feather golden shapes that went… well, you didn’t know where they went. You had only gotten the gist of it, along with a brown envelope to take to the goldsmith- any goldsmith that would get them done before 11.30 a.m., when Homelander was supposed to debut his new suit to the world, to mark a new era or something.

Luckily, it was 11 sharp as you ran through Vought’s main hall’s doors, and 11.04 as you knocked the costume division’s door on the 45th floor. You were breathless, knowing that he had to be on the other side of the city, to Fort Lee in less than half an hour- although seeing how tight they were, he was probably going to fly to the inauguration. The city council had granted him his very own children’s park after he’d saved a school bus from sinking into the Hudson a month ago, and they had chosen to inaugurate it the very day of his birthday. As if he had nothing else to do on that day.

Maddie opened the door, blonde waves all over the place, breath ragged. You knew the signs, she had been yelling at someone- and you were lucky it wasn’t you. You saw a flash of dark blue somewhere in the background and you knew it was John- and your curiosity was piqued. Would the new suit be too different? At least it seemed they’d keep his colors. 

“Where are they?”, your aunt demanded.

Wordlessly, you took out a fancy necklace case out of the bag you were holding, “I had to find a different place- our goldsmith was taking too long to decide whether he could do them or in time or not.”, you explained, as she snatched it off your hands and opened to inspect them. While she did that, you subtly went on your tippy-toes, trying to catch the new suit without her knowing. “I think they look just like the mold-so…” 

“Perfect.”, she concluded, slamming it closed, and she took one look at you, with those severe eyes of hers. “Go to the 72th. They need help with the party.” 

After that, she slammed the door on your face. Oh well- you’d see it later, hopefully. 

 

—

 

The 72th was a mess- as it always was, since it was the floor where most Vought only parties were held, the ones no outsiders should know about. Before, you would have thought that that meant something sexual- perhaps some sort of massive over the top superhero and congressmen orgy, the kind conspiracy theorists would talk about- but soon you found out it was not the case. Rather- it was the kind of party where millionaires would get drunk and discuss whether bombing another South Asian country would make them profits or not. You didn’t know which of the two types of parties were worse.

This time, though, at least the purpose of the preparations was much more innocent- just a small party for every person in Homelander’s life to celebrate him and his birthday. It was kind of impressive so many people showed up, in your opinion. It was the 4th of July, after all- most everyone would choose to celebrate it with their families at the park- or even just watch the fireworks from their TV at home. Instead, about twenty or more people were there, running around with you- decorating, inflating balloons, making every cookie in the dish look beautiful and photogenic. All for him- everyone wanted him to be pleased. You were sure that as long as he was allowed to eat enough of them, he’d be just as happy. 

One thing you ended up noticing about the attendees was the variety, or more like, the lack of thereof. Most people there were some of Vought’s scientists, the ones you only knew of by their pictures on the Vought’s Best wall. You wondered what they had to do with Homelander, or if they were there just for protocol. Maybe these were the kind of people Edgar wanted him to surround himself with. Important people- people who did good for humanity. 

And no, no Black Noir to be found.

Interestingly enough, even they were helping with the organization. Perhaps they were close, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t know much about John’s past aside from what you’d figured out by yourself- and what the public knew. 

Either way, he was about to arrive, and you were to get Maddie’s gift ready for him. The box was a bit too big for it- but it needed the space, you guessed. You just wondered if the box was necessary at all. 

Somebody heard the elevator sound starting to ding up- and began shushing everyone, as they started crowding around the room, hiding the big table with the cake and different foods that they had set up in the middle of the room behind them. You, of course, didn’t want to steal any spotlight from someone who could actually be important to him, so you placed yourself to the side, excited for him to arrive. You knew he was going to love this; he loved attention- even affection, as much as he tried to hide it.

The elevator finally dinged on their floor, and the doors opened, and-...

“Happy birthday!”, everyone shouted- only for Maddie to come out, her heels clicking as she saw on her that particular face she made when she scolded someone- her words drowned by their scream. Everyone made a confused noise- wasn’t it supposed to be…?

Then- a massive spot of blue walked in- a young man with wide shoulders, an unhesitant stroll and perfectly coiffed blonde hair- clad in an imposing red and blue suit. Homelander.

You began singing Happy Birthday- loudly, completely drowning everyone’s confusion and whatever Maddie was nagging the young supe about- and everyone was super quick to join. And you had the pleasure to see John’s face go from a slight frown to a bright expression- as everyone sang for him- claps and even stomps to go with it. 

But… there was something off in his smile as he started recognizing the faces around him. You saw his eyes go through every person in the room with a strange restraint- like he was holding back something. Then- they fell on you, and they stayed there, somehow, it seemed that it made that off feeling fade off. You clapped and sang more excitedly.

“Happy birthday, dear… John-Homelan-Johnny !”, everyone laughed, as nobody quite knew how to address him, “Happy birthday to you!” 

You saw him laugh- eyes looking around in surprise at the decorations. Everything was red, white and blue- with lots of golden details, that had been your touch. They were the expensive kind, but anyone could tell they weren’t set by professionals. You thought it added a homey touch that he’d enjoy- and he did, as he quite didn’t know what to do with himself, with his hands, as everyone clapped and whistled for him. 

“Oh-!”, he finally said, “Thank you- thank you, guys!”, he was trying to play it cool, calming them awkwardly. 

After that, the short event officially started. The attendees started mingling amongst each other, coming up in groups at times to talk to John, who seemed more interested on whatever was going on on the food table. You had caught him eyeing it from time to time whenever he was left alone for a second or two, as if he was deciding whether he could have a treat or not .

Meanwhile, you were busy guarding Maddie’s gift- which was secretly the only reason you were here at all. Not by your own volition, of course- you’d obviously come to John’s party if it was up to you. But… somehow, you felt that without your aunt’s express invitation it would have created problems for you. Sometimes it felt like Maddie got insanely possessive of the kid- as if anyone could come and snatch him away from under her management and steal her progress doing that. You didn’t quite know- all you really knew is that whenever you made a small observation, offered a small detail you’d noticed about him, she responded incredibly bad.

It wasn’t too bad, though. At least you were saving yourself from awkward conversations with strangers- plus, sometimes John caught your eyes and smiled at you. He had even tried to make his way to you a couple times, always interrupted by a new group of people who called for his attention.

He looked good in his new suit, you had to admit. A far cry from the leotardish one-piece he had before- that only worked to accentuate his still teensy physique, still too skinny and lanky for what he was supposed to be Edgar’s final vision of him- this new suit was magnificent. It looked like it was a two piece, for once- which he was probably thankful for- held by a strong golden (gold?) belt, and a high collar, covering just enough of his neck to draw attention to the slight v line it formed. He had some padding, she knew that- but it was just enough, not to transform his actual size, but to accentuate it. He looked more mature, more secure in his skin, and it showed - even if just a little bit.

Either way, you could hear her gift getting more and more agitated by the minute- so it was a relief when you heard her voice loud, commanding everyone’s attention.

“Let’s open your gifts, John.” Maddie said, coming up from behind and slapping a hand on his shoulder, making him jump a little. 

The party moved to the gifts table, where a small pile laid. You dutifully took the box you’d been guarding on the corner of the room and started walking it by it with a bit of difficulty, mostly because it kept moving all over the surface- but also because it was making your nose itch.

By the time you had gotten there, John had already started opening some of his gifts. Someone got him an insanely expensive wine you knew he wasn’t even going to try, and someone else a piece of pottery. It was hard to make someone like him a gift- what could you even get someone who could have anything? Not that John ever asked for anything, though. But he could- and everyone was aware of that. Vought made sure they were.

As soon as Maddie saw you with the box, she took it from your hands and walked up to him- and the second he turned to it, his face illuminated. 

“A dog?!”, he took it from her almost immediately, sitting on the floor with it on his lap- hands fighting to open the wrapping as soon as he was settled. 

“Oh John!”, Maddie scoffed, annoyed, “You spoiled it for everyone else!”

He didn’t seem to hear her though- entranced on the unwrapping, and you couldn’t help to hold your hands together on your chest, excited with anticipation. You were sure he was going to love it.

And as soon as the little guy jumped from inside the box- you know he did.

“Oh, lord!”, he exclaimed, as the small dog started barking and twisting in his grasp- as excited to see him as he was, its tiny tail wagging so hard it was moving its entire little body with it. “Oh, my god!”

The dog, a small Jack Russel with a big, brown spot over one of his eyes, barked excitedly, and you were sure you could see John’s eyes shining with tears, sat on the floor while everyone else aww’d at them. You could tell that- for once- he had forgotten about the people around him, as he let the puppy jump on his legs, on his chest, licking his face, sat back on his hands, as if he was stopping himself from squeezing the little thing. He was happy, so happy , and the dog was too.

“I can’t believe it!”, he gasped, again, as he finally decided he needed to pet it, getting rid of the thick gloves that his new suit had, grabbing it with both hands. The puppy barked at him, tongue out, and a laugh escaped from his mouth. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life !”

The puppy wriggled its way out of his grasp, and jumped at his face again, licking him- and everyone aww’d once again and clapped. You finally unglued your eyes from the adorable scene to your aunt- and she looked incredibly pleased with herself. You would be too, this was probably the first time you’ve seen him actively elated.

Suddenly, she was startled by something- and you saw her hand going to her blazer’s pocket, picking her cellphone in a second. As she walked away with it, you took a step closer to him- and he turned to you.

“Did you know about this!?”, he asked, incredulous, fighting against the dog’s excited licks, “I can’t believe it!”

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as you saw him. “Obviously. I went to pick him with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest- still remembering the horrors of the testing lab you’d gone get the poor dog from. It had been a month ago, and the dog had stayed with Maddie until now, “He was not the youngest puppy in the uh- adoption center but…”

“Shush, he’s perfect.”, he interrupted you, holding it to his chest, and turning to you, “What’s his name?”

“I’m not sure actually-”, you turned towards where your aunt had left- and you saw her smiling into the phone, a small skip on her step- and you knew that body language. She was sucking up to someone on the other end of the line. “We could ask Maddie if she named him when she comes back.”

But as you said that, Maddie actually came back- almost running in the short steps her heels allowed.

“Let's get this over with”, she whispered to you, as she walked by you taking over the center of the small round that Had formed around him, “Hey, everyone! Let's cut the cake!”

Everyone agreed happily- but you frowned, running to follow her as she went to the food table, already starting to make space for it. You knew that this was supposed to come at the end of the party, but not even half an hour had gone by yet- what was she doing?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw John's eyes shoot from you to her to Edgar, as he as well tried to figure out what was going on.

“Maddie-”

“Seems like his birthday interview got delayed a couple hours”, she whispered to you excitedly, almost like a secret, “Guess who'll get to make up for his fatal mistake of not seeing Mrs. Pataki and her friends!”

A sense of disgust immediately took over your stomach, as you realized why she was so happy. She was making John spend time with those women after all- she was going to get him to butter them up for Vought On his own fucking birthday. 

“Go help with the cake.”

You felt sick.

Behind you, you heard John approach and Madelyn’s arm immediately shoot to get a hold of his forearm and guide him to the center of the table, the dog still in his arms.

Suddenly, a lot of things started happening simultaneously. Edgar was on the scene now, - a cameraman that you’d seen wandering about the event next to him - finally caring about this party at all, as he seemed to be giving him directions about how to encapsulate the happy event. 

Maddie, on the other hand, stood next to Homelander- whose eyes seemed far, as he heard whatever she was telling him, his lips pressing in some sort of emotion you didn’t have time to figure out, eyes looking far away from the scene unfolding. You got closer, as you started fixing the cake decorations, and got to hear some of it.

“And you'll show off your fucking new suit and tell her ‘ You like it, Margie?’ like she's the woman of your dreams, okay? She needs to go home and tell Pataki that Vought's doing great things while she considers divorcing his ass. You need to make up for the time you made her lose, John.” she was instructing right next to his ear, and he seemed more out of it by the second, “You'll be so fucking sorry to her she won't doubt for a second that you made a honest mistake with your schedule.” 

People started gathering as well- their loud chatter surrounding them like a massive beehive, buzzing so close to the table it was even starting to make you dizzy and desperate, as you fought to make one of the star decorations stay up. One of the scientists came up to you with a lighter, offering to turn the single candle on and you nodded, mindlessly as your focus kept shifting to him, and the way his gaze dissociated more and more- and you were actually worried now. You’d never seen him like this, not this badly. 

“Homelander!”, Edgar called, his serious nasal voice adding a new layer to the buzz, just like the scientist's lighter he couldn't get lit on. “Move one step to the left and turn a little, the lighting's bad there!”

“Seriously - apologize like a fucking dog, you hear?”

“Fuck”, you cursed under your breath- snatching the lighter yourself and trying- getting to turn on.

The camera started snapping- and it added another layer. A group laughed loudly in the background. Edgar kept giving needless instruction. The dog started wriggling, running out of his grasp. Madelyn kept barking into his ear.

“You'll lick her feet- and…”

And you could almost hear it before it happened. 

“Madelyn, I fucking GET it !”

The loud high sound- the sound his lasers made.

The crowd gasped, shocked- but more importantly, the dog started fucking screaming in pain.

“Oh- no!”

Someone screamed- and all hell broke loose. John ran from the table to the side- where his laser had left a dark, charred line that ended with… with the poor puppy laying on the floor, bleeding and crying. You ran after him.

“Oh no- no, no, no, no…”, he was on his knees, and you fell next to him as he whispered the words to himself, holding the poor thing as it wriggled, its loud shrieks vibrating in your ears. His hands were starting to get covered in blood, and its fur was so bloody- flesh so mangled you couldn't make sense of any of it. “No- please !”

You were speechless, shocked, and the blood was draining from your face by the second. “It was an accident!”, you were immediate to comfort him, but his eyes were glued to the animal- unable to think, to do anything, “It was an accident, John, and-and…”

You looked around- but nobody thought like you- nobody else was stepping up to comfort him. Instead, everyone stared in… fright , taking fearful steps away from the scene like he was a monster- and that made you so insanely mad.

“I-I killed him!”, he exclaimed in horror. “Oh, God, I fucking killed him!”

“ No, you didn't! ”, your hands went to his shoulders, shaking him a little as his eyes filled up with tears- and your heart was going a mile a minute, “He's crying ! He's still alive!”

“N-no, no, I-”

“John!”, Maddie’s voice shouted- and you looked up to see her walking to you, angry, as she got out of her shock, “What the hell was that?! Are you insane?! Are you retarded ?!”

He turned slightly to her, eyes full of tears and remorse and pain- and you couldn't take it anymore.

You stood up like a spring and took a step between them.

“Madelyn!”, you looked at her in the eyes, heart still drumming, “ Are you fucking serious?!”

You saw her eyes widen and her mouth fall open.

She started sputtering your name, visibly shaken. You'd never ever had spoken like this to her. She was always the one that was right, the one whose decisions just weren't questioned.

“Y-you stay out of this!”, she finally managed, and tried to push you to the side- but you slapped her hand away.

“No, I won't! Not this fucking time, Aunt Maddie.” you stood your ground, stomping a foot.

There was a rage in you burning- and you instantly realized this wasn't just about this, right now. This was a rage that had been slowly burning- building up these last six months as you'd witnessed how they treated this kid, how they exploited every single second of his time. How tight his leash was. How simply sad and alone he looked all the time.

It had been burning since your mother had been diagnosed with that heart condition- and how ironically heartless her sister had been to her. How she'd offered you the job the same way someone offers leftovers to a starving stray dog, and how you had to swallow your dignity and take them.

It had been burning, you'd even say, after the first day Maddie had started this fucking job, and how she blew you off when you went to her apartment with a cake you'd made her to celebrate it- saying she had coworkers over and she couldn't deal with a child like you here, too, as if they were too important for you to even see them.

She growled your name one last time, “You're about to lose your job.”

“Then fucking do it, Maddie.”, you hissed back, feeling venom in your voice, “Fire me. Fire me! Who wants to work in a company that depends on how much they can exploit some twenty-year-old, anyway? Oh, but the second he makes one mistake you all look at him like he's a monster, right?!”

You couldn't help to turn around, including everyone in your rant now- every single person that was important in John’s life, who was looking at him like he was going to laser them next. Him, who was still holding onto the crying puppy, hands drenched in his blood.

“Don't look at him like that! God- look at him ! He didn't do it on purpose! You all pushed him to do it!”

You felt frustration building in you- as your eyes started to burn as well, angry. No, you couldn't let yourself cry, you needed to speak up!

You saw Maddie about to say something else when someone took a step forward- Mr. Edgar.

“Okay, okay everyone…” he had his hands raised up, voice infuriatingly calming and imposing. “Let’s calm down. You-”, he pointed at a random woman, who jumped at his calling, “Take the dog to the fifteenth, there must be a vet somewhere there.”

The woman quickly stepped forward- a middle aged with a messy bun hanging off of her head- arms in front of her, ready to take the still wailing dog from John while putting the most distance from him she could. Your eyes followed the movement as he extended the creature to her- his hands still shaking. For some reason, as this happened, you felt absolutely insane- like you were some schizoid character In a movie, and everyone else was just watching your crazy rants unfold. 

“And you- miss… Stilwell?”, he continued, turning to you- and as you shook your head (you didn't share your aunt’s last name, thank you ), he held a hand up, like he didn't actually care about that, “Why don't you take Homelander here home? He's still a bit shaken.”

And you're the only one here not afraid of his lasers, seemed to be the tacit rest of his request. 

At that, you stood straighter, facing him as a bitter bile pooled in your throat - desperate to keep jawing off about all you've been keeping, seeing these last months, about every single thing that they'd knowingly been doing to him- but you held back for him. Edgar was right, he needed to get away from this,  he needed some peace- and perhaps not to have to spend his birthday with some old lady who would be pawing at him all night. 

You swallowed it and nodded at him, chest still out and shoulders squared, like you were a shield and shot one last look at Maddie.

She was boring holes into you- mouth in a thin line, dark blue eyes unblinking in anger, hands fisted to her sides. You knew that look, your mother had been the end of it one too many times. But unlike her, you did not relent- and Maddie should better get used to it.

Then, you simply turned, falling to a kneel once again, as you grabbed his shoulder. His eyes were on you as well, those clear blue eyes, still watery, still shaking. His hands were drenched in blood, as was the rest of his new suit- he looked so small in that moment, so scared.

“John?”, you let your voice fall into a soft tone. At your call, his eyes tuned into an emotion you couldn't quite decipher- aside from intense gratefulness, “Let’s go home.”

[bootyshortsjacob]

Booty, we have so many already butttt elevator scene rewrite. Pls! I’ll love you forever! Rough sex and everything. Homelander has to leave Starlight destroyed in the elevator. bc fuck Hughie. <3

Between the Floors

Here you go anon. Tumblr exclusive... 🫶🏼. Love you too!!! I'll probably throw this on ao3 later, but enjoy I hope I did what you wanted.

Starlight strode down the busy Vought Tower corridor to the elevator. As she walked by certain employees, they would either nod when they saw her or even look at her respectfully. All eyes would be on her no matter what she had done. They loved their superhero as the perfect, unfailing image of purity and righteousness.

A blast of cool air and the gentle whirr of machinery greeted her at the elevator door in contrast to the movement in the open corridor. Starlight stepped through as the doors shut themselves.

As the doors were about to close, a hand slipped between them, preventing them from closing. Starlight paused for a long moment as the doors were held open. Her surprise was mixed with a hint of curiosity as she turned to see who had stopped the elevator.

The elevator door opened fully to reveal a tall, charismatic figure. Homelander stood there, his face devoid of any emotion. He stepped into the elevator, his presence instantly filling the enclosed space. His sharp blue eyes met Starlight's momentarily before he casually stood behind her with no words.

Starlight watched him and swallowed before speaking, "Hey... Homelander."

Homelander let the silence linger for a moment longer before reaching out and touching the emergency stop button.

As Homelander's finger pushed down the emergency stop button, Starlight's heart began beating a little faster from surprise. The elevator stopped with a lurch, and the silence gave way to anticipation.

Homelander almost caught the fleeting suspicion from Starlight. His face was blank as he turned to focus on her. It felt like his eyes were drilling into her, watching every step she took, waiting for how she would respond.

Homelander sighed deeply before speaking with a chilling voice, "Maeve… Maeve begged me to let you live…. So, I gave you a second chance. And you... failed me."

Starlight shuddered at Homelander's words. The flat tone spelled danger, and her heart rate picked up again. Her voice was cracking; the fear started slipping through even as she tried to hold it together. "W-what are you talking about?" Starlight stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Homelander clicked his tongue before focusing on her and shook his head, "No more lies."

Starlight's heart dropped at Homelander's words. He seemed looking right through her, and she gave up trying to deny it. She hesitated and then gave up trying to answer.

Homelander's hand snapped out with the speed of a striking snake and wrapped around her neck. Starlight was taken by surprise with the unexpected attack. Homelander pressed her against the wall, squeezing harder while depriving her of air for a few seconds as she gasped. She reached for his arm to dislodge his hand instinctively.

The impact caused her vision to blur a bit. She could not help but panic. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but she was too far gone now, too petrified as she peered into the frozen orbs of Homelander's eyes.

Homelander maintained his hold on her throat, tight enough to remind her how easily he could kill her. He moved in a bit closer, now little more than inches from her face. "Go ahead and scream as much as you want," he snarled, his voice tinged with disappointment and rage. His fingers tightened slightly around Starlight's throat, squeezing it just enough to make her gasp for air again.

Starlight tensed as Homelander's hand slid down her superhero costume, though she could feel how hot his hand was even through the fabric. She winced as he dug into her stomach, causing her to shiver in response.

Starlight felt a painful pressure as Homelander's knifelike hand pressed harder into her stomach. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her voice steady. "Wh-what... did I do?" She gasped, the words struggling to escape as he continued applying pressure.

Homelander's intense gaze bore into hers as he spoke, his voice soft but dangerous at the same time. "I told you to kill Hugh Campbell, and you hesitated," he sneered, digging his hand harder into her stomach now.

Starlight's eyes widened in surprise and fear as Homelander's hand pressed even harder into her stomach, the pain becoming sharper. She grunted softly, her body tensing under the pressure. "I... I said we should go to the police..." she tried to protest, her voice shaky.

Homelander's grip on her throat tightened further as he spoke, his voice a dangerous whisper now. "You disobeyed my orders because you're with him," he said, his fingers pressing deeper into her stomach.

Starlight's mouth opened wide as a moan of pain slipped out; she could feel his fingers threatening to puncture her body.

Homelander's eyes flickered with anger and satisfaction as he felt her body respond to the pressure he was exerting. She almost had no voice left, and the pain in her groan made him feel even more like he was powerful and entirely in control of her. His hand was like a burning brand on her belly, and the burn increased with every passing moment.

There was no more room for conversation as the only sound was Starlight's pained scream, which only spurred Homelander on. He continued to press his fingers into her stomach, holding her against the wall with a vice-like grip.

As she struggled to speak, her words came out in short gasps and wails of pain, the pressure Homelander was exerting on her stomach making it difficult for her to draw a full breath. He leaned in closer, his face just inches away from hers, relishing his power over her.

"F-f-fuck you. Hughie Campbell broke my fucking heart... w-worse than anyone ever has-s..." Her gloved hands still scrambled at the wrist of his hand around her throat as she continued in a stammer. "And part of me w-wants to blast his fucking face off, so no, I'm not with him." Starlight managed to force out her words despite her difficulty breathing, and her anger and pain were evident in her voice. "But if you want to kill me because I'm not a murderer and I won't straight up execute someone, then go ahead."

Homelander's eyes darkened further at Starlight's words. Her defiance only seemed to fuel his anger and possessiveness even more. He could feel her body shaking against his grip, the combination of pain and emotion causing her voice to tremble.

Starlight was filled with pain and fear despite the defiance in her voice. Homelander felt the tension in her body as he held onto his grip on her; it only made him want to assert more dominance over this woman.

Her ears were filling with her own heartbeat, and panic was swirling in her head as Homelander's hand tightened around her throat. She fought to maintain her composure, but the pressure of his fingers against her skin was beginning to wear her down. "So, tell m-me, am I-I lying," she managed to choke out.

Homelander glowered down at Starlight, the grip on her throat tightening more as he considered her words. He leaned in closer, his body nearly pressed against hers, his voice cold and calculated. "No, you're not lying..."

Homelander trailed off momentarily to notice the slightest bump in Starlight's heart rate. As much aggression and anger as he had for her, he could not help but notice how softly she breathed in proximity to him now. He held her by the neck, but his eyes dilated slightly as he observed her face. A flicker of curiosity seemed to cross his features, and he continued to hold her pinned against the wall, his body close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin.

Homelander could hear the small, involuntary sounds of her breathing, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly. Despite the pain he was causing her, there was a hint of something more primal and intense building between them at that moment.

Homelander leaned a little closer, his breath hot against her ear as he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not as good at lying as you think," he hissed, his fingers digging into her skin just a bit more as he pressed against her.

The warmth of his skin next to hers now filled Starlight with a sense of vulnerability. Her heart sped up to match the cadence of her racing thoughts. The combination of fear and panic ran wild in her veins, but something more she couldn't name rose as well and fueled the emotions inside her.

As she heaved with ragged breath, her ample chest rose and hell repeatedly. Homelander's gaze focused on her breasts and the way she responded to him, her heart hammering in her chest, the feel of her skin under his fingertips.

His hand softened instead of digging into her stomach, and slowly, he slid it up her chest. Starlight's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected gesture. Her breathing hitched, and fear and something else flared within her. While he was a threat and dangerous, she could not help but like the way her body shuddered for this man.

His hand went higher and higher until it closed gently around the curve of her breast through the costume. Her skin heated beneath his fingers as she felt her heart rate heighten even more, and a secretive smile crept up his lips as he listened to her heart race again.

One of Homelander's hands teased at the low-cut neckline of her supersuit, and Starlight's eyes were drawn to it. His fingers moved around the fabric, teasing her sensitive skin. She was aware of his gaze on her face, observing every move and noting every gesture.

He caressed her collarbone with firm but tender fingers. He knew he affected her; the way her chest rose and fell with every breath, the way her eyes darkened just a fraction as he touched her. His fingers teased the edge of her neckline, slipping under the fabric and gently brushing against her skin. Her heart's thumping grew faster, as did the tension surrounding them.

Starlight's breath hitched as Homelander played with the edge of her costume while running his hands down her body, not just because she was afraid of what he might do but because her body betrayed her, reacting to his touch in a way that surprised both of them, and she tried to contain herself.

Homelander grinned, and Starlight sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the soft skin beneath her super suit started to harden his cock. He saw her fear and lust etched in the way she looked at him as he kept touching her, his fingers drawing designs on her skin.

Starlight responded as if on autopilot, purring in the back of her throat and relaxing into his exploring. Her hands gripped his arms, unsure if she wanted to push him away or pull him forward. "Y-you didn't tell me. W-was I lying?" Starlight tried to keep her voice from trembling and repeated her question.

Homelander's hand stopped for a moment, and his fingers lay flat against her breast. Head tilted, he looked at her as if surprised by her interruption. Finally, an almost-inaudible, near-lethal drawl slipped out, "I don't know. I haven't decided yet." He pulled the edge of her collar away as he answered, "I'm far too preoccupied." With that, he lowered his head and kissed her neck gently, his teeth finding a tender spot and nipping at her skin. Starlight gasped in response and held his arms even tighter. But her body responded to his touch, the pool of heat in her core growing.

Homelander continued to tease her skin, his teeth and lips working their way along her throat, his hands roaming her body in a possessive yet gentle way. He seemed to enjoy the way she responded to his touch, the way her body betrayed her despite her best efforts to remain stoic.

Starlight's breathing grew ragged and uneven, the feel of his teeth and lips on her skin sending waves of pleasure through her. She tried to push him away, but her hands only seemed to hold him tighter, her body responding to his touch in ways she couldn't control.

As Homelander unzipped the front of Starlight's super suit, he exposed more of her body to the cool air around them. His predatory expression moved over her body with a fierce, hungry gaze.

Homelander's tongue slowly dragged over his fangs as he stared at Starlight's breasts that were hidden behind the unzipped material of her costume. His eyes darkened with lust as he placed his hands on her hips, mapping out the curves of her body. "You really are quite beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "A shame you had to go and lie to me."

Starlight's eyes darkened as Homelander's hands began to slide the fabric of her costume over her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the cool air. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, the heat from his body warming her skin even more.

Homelander's eyes bore into her flesh, hands gliding over her skin as sensations of euphoria swept through her. She tried to fight, but her body arched into his touch. His hands coasted over her body.

Starlight's breathing was labored, and the touch of his hand moving against her sent liquid heat through her veins. His erection pressed against her thigh, and her body seemed to unconsciously roll her hips, which was also strangely intentional.

Homelander's hands roamed over Starlight's body, and he felt her respond to him—the warmth of her skin under his touch. His fingers ran over her breasts, teasing at her nipples, drawing gasps of pleasure from her lips. His hand slid down further, teasing at the waistband of her costume, pulling it down further to expose more and more of her skin to his gaze.

His lips found her neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he whispered against her ear, his voice dark and dangerous. "You should have told me the truth, Starlight," he said, his hand sliding down her stomach and over the exposed skin. "But it's not too late to make it up to me."

Starlight's breathing grew even more ragged as his hand slid lower, her body quivering in anticipation. His breath was hot on her skin, and his teeth nipped at her ear. She knew she was toeing the line, but the way he caressed her and the way he teased her made it hard to resist. She could feel herself surrendering to the feeling, her body melting beneath the intoxicating caress. The heat and gentleness of his fingers as they pressed into the folds of her pussy caused her legs to part for him effortlessly.

Starlight groaned as his fingers slid into her opening, and his thumb circled around her clit. It was heavenly, and she was writhing with the way he fingered her. Her fingers found their way to his hair, clutching him as he worked her over, her breathy moans echoing through the space. Her pussy tightened around his fingers, her thighs shaking as she came apart around him. She collapsed against him, her body shaking with the aftershocks of her orgasm. His mouth found her ear again. "That was only a taste," he said, his fangs nipping at her earlobe. "I want more, Starlight."

As he spoke, he pulled his hand away from her pussy, his fingers slick with her cum. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean, the taste of her flooding his senses. He felt his cock getting stiffer at the sight of her boneless against the elevator wall, her body exposed and ready for him to take. He leaned over her, his mouth finding hers once more.

While they kissed, Homelander's fingers found their way to her pussy again, teasing her entrance as they pressed inside. His mouth swallowed her moans as he worked his fingers in and out of her, stretching her to take more him. His lips were wet against hers, his tongue tangling with hers as he continued to fingerfuck her.

The sensation was almost too much to bear. Starlight's moans echoed through the metal box, her body shaking as he worked her toward another orgasm. The feeling was so good, her body melting into him as he kissed her, his fingers curling inside of her. She came apart around him, her muscles clenching around his fingers as she orgasmed again.

This time, Homelander didn't pull away. Instead, he continued to kiss her, his tongue tangling with hers as he worked her through her orgasm. His hands found their way to her hips, lifting her off of the wall and pulling her legs around him. His lips didn't leave hers as he pressed her back against the elevator wall, holding her body flush against his. His tongue continued to dance with hers, his hands roaming over her body, touching her skin as if trying to commit every inch of her body to memory.

Their bodies were pressed tightly together, the feel of her skin against his driving him wild. He could feel the heat from her body, the way she trembled and quivered against him.

Homelander's hands fumbled with his golden eagle belt, his body shaking with anticipation as he tried to free himself. He felt wild, feral, possessed by a need that made his fingers clumsy and his breath in ragged gasps. As he finally managed to get his belt unbuckled and his spandex lowered, he pressed himself against her body, his bare skin against hers, their bodies molding together as if they were made for each other. She was so wet, so hot against his cock, and he knew he wouldn't last long once he was inside her.

He pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, her pussy slick with her arousal, and she was already trembling with pleasure as he pushed in. His lips broke away from hers as he groaned loudly, her body clenching around him as he began to thrust. "Fuck," he gasped against her lips, "You. Feel. So. Fucking. Amazing."

Starlight's eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen. He couldn't look away from her face as he fucked her, her expression so fucking beautiful. He could see how much she enjoyed it, how she loved the feel of his cock inside of her.

Her fingers were digging into his back, her nails scratching against his spandex top as she pulled him closer to her, her body undulating against his. "Harder," she whispered, "I can take it."

He grinned, his lips brushing against hers, and he gave her what she asked for. He fucked her harder, his cock slamming in and out of her body, her body shaking against his. The way her body quivered with every thrust was addictive, and he wanted more.

She moaned loudly, her eyes rolling back as he fucked her, her pussy tightening around his cock. It wasn't enough to make him cum, but he could tell she was close again. He didn't want to cum until he was sure she'd found her release again.

Homelander shifted his body slightly, his cock angling upwards as he thrust inside of her. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as he hit the spot inside of her that made her whole body tremble.

"God," Starlight moaned, her voice hoarse with pleasure. "God, right there." He continued to hit that spot with every thrust, his cock driving in and out of her body, her pussy tightening around him. Her nails dug into his super suit, her body shaking against his, her legs tightening around his waist. He was fucking her harder now, his cock hammering in and out of her.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer, her body trembling around him, her pussy clenching around his cock, her nails digging into his top. He could feel himself losing control, his hips plunging hard into her over and over, his cock driving inside of her; the way she started to tighten around his cock made his balls tighten.

He could hear her moaning, her breath gasping as she took his cock, her body shaking against his as he fucked her. Her body was trembling with pleasure; she was close to coming; he could feel it in the way her body tensed up against his. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open as she panted through the pleasure.

Homelander was intent on fucking her through the metal wall of the elevator with how hard his hips were snapping. His cock was buried inside her body. He was fucking her like a man possessed like he couldn't get enough of her. His lips brushed against her ear, his teeth scraping against her earlobe as he fucked her.

"Come for me," he whispered, his cock slamming in and out of her body. "Come for me, baby." Her body tensed up, her pussy clenching around his cock, her nails digging, ripping through the spandex. Her whole body shook with the force of her orgasm, her breath coming out in ragged gasps.

He didn't stop, his hips still moving hard into hers as she came. He wanted to feel her clenching around his cock, wanted to feel her come all over his cock. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his own pleasure building in his balls. He would come any second now; he could feel it but didn't want to.

He wanted to feel her cum again.

Homelander redoubled his movements and fucked her harder, his hips colliding into hers, his cock filling her body, his balls slapping against her ass. His lips found hers, kissing her, his tongue filling her mouth, his hand holding her neck as he fucked her.

"Come for me again," he whispered, his voice breathless, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

Starlight's body tensed up, her pussy clenching around his cock. Her body shuddered with the force of her orgasm, her breath coming out in irregular gasps. He felt how tight she clenched around his cock. He was so close to coming, his balls aching.

Homelander's pleasure building in his balls, his body tensing up, his hips slamming into hers. He came deep inside of her, his cock spurting rope after rope of cum inside her body. His hips slammed into hers one last time before he pulled out, his cock slipping from her body. Her legs shook as they released her, holding herself up against the wall of the elevator.

Homelander's breathing was ragged and uneven, his body heaving with exertion. His eyes were dark and dangerous as he looked at Starlight, his hands still gripping her hips, keeping her pinned against the wall. "That was..." he stated, thick with awe. "That was... something."

Starlight shook all over; gasping for breath, her chest heaved. She was haggard, her eyes half-closed, and her hair a disheveled mass of sweat and curls. "Yeah," she croaked, still a little hoarse from all her moaning. "Yeah, it was…"

Homelander let her slip to the floor, her legs spread out akimbo style, and his gaze wandered over her body, taking in the sight of her, completely spent and exhausted. "Well..." he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You weren't lying…"

Homelander grabbed his gloves from across the elevator in the railing and released the emergency stop; he glanced over her bare body.

Starlight's eyes popped open as she heard the emergency stop release. Lost in the moment, she had forgotten all about where they were. She grasped for her super suit, trying to hide the fact that she was naked, but Homelander caught her eyes before she could blush.

Homelander scanned her body, his eyes flickering up and down her nude frame, once more, "You should cover up..."

[lilacwants]

casual.

18+ notes: this song tugs at my heart like no other... i love chappell so much :'( summary: you said, "baby, no attachment" but we're knee-deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out, is it casual now? warnings: a little angsty, mature/explicit content, homelander being homelander. word count: 1.6k

You’d always known that getting involved with Homelander was a dangerous game. From the very first moment you laid eyes on him, his charm had been undeniable, but so was the sense of danger that accompanied every smile, every touch. The problem was, that you couldn’t resist the pull. He was intoxicating, a deadly cocktail of power and allure that you couldn't escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

It all started casually enough, or at least that’s what you told yourself. A chance meeting at a charity gala, a few drinks, some flirtatious banter. But the connection was immediate and intense. Homelander— John, as he insisted you call him in private — had a way of making you feel like the centre of the universe, his blue eyes piercing through to your soul.

“Sweetheart, no attachment,” he’d whispered in your ear one night after a particularly passionate encounter. “This is just…casual.”

You’d nodded, even as your heart sank a little. You’d agreed to his terms because, let’s face it, who wouldn’t want even a piece of Homelander’s attention? But as the weeks passed, the lines between casual and something more started to blur.

One night, after a particularly late Vought meeting, he’d picked you up, taking you for a drive in his sleek black SUV. The city lights blurred past as you sat in the passenger seat, his hand resting on your thigh. The tension between you was palpable, the kind that made your skin tingle and your breath hitch.

“John, this isn’t exactly what I’d call casual,” you murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh.

He glanced over at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Why? Because you’re in my car?”

“No,” you replied, leaning closer. “Because you’re taking me out in public, letting people see us together. Doesn’t seem very ‘no attachment’ to me.”

He pulled over to the side of the road, turning off the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You're overthinking this, sweetheart,” he whispered before pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss.

The next thing you knew, you were knee-deep in the passenger seat, your dress hiked up around your waist, and John was eating you out with a fervour that made your head spin. His hands gripped your thighs, his tongue working it’s magic, but all you could think was, is it casual now?

A few weeks later, you found yourself being introduced to his close friends from Vought, a move that surprised you. They welcomed you with open arms, treating you like part of the group. As you sipped champagne and laughed at their stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a fling.

One evening, after a particularly long day, John showed up at your door with takeout and a bottle of wine. He looked exhausted, but his eyes lit up when he saw you. You spent the night on the couch, eating, drinking, and talking about everything and nothing.

“John, this doesn’t feel casual,” you said softly, your head resting on his shoulder.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around you. “Why does it have to be anything more than what it is?”

“Because I need to know where I stand,” you replied, looking up at him. “I need to know if I’m just another distraction for you or if this means something.”

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Sweetheart, I told you from the beginning that I don’t do attachments.”

“I know,” you said, your voice trembling. “But this doesn’t feel like no attachment to me.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Let’s just enjoy what we have,” he murmured. “No labels, no expectations.”

You wanted to argue, but the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his words melted your resolve. For now, you would take what you could get, even if it meant pretending this was enough.

Over the next few months, your relationship continued to evolve in ways you never expected. John was still adamant about keeping things casual, but his actions spoke louder than his words. He introduced you to more of his colleagues, took you on romantic getaways and even started leaving some of his things at your apartment.

It was hard being casual when your favourite bra lived in his dresser. You really, really tried to be the chill girlfriend, the one who held her tongue and gave him space. But to be honest, you weren’t and you didn’t even want to be one. Doubts were eating at your chest and you always felt a pang of hurt when he reminded you things between the two of you were simply casual. Nothing more.

You tried to ignore the nagging thoughts that crept into your mind during quiet moments. You tried to be satisfied with what you had, even as you found yourself wanting more. Every time he kissed you, a part of you couldn’t help but feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. He said it was casual, so why did it feel so much deeper?

“I’m just a girl that you bang on your couch, aren't I?” you blurted out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. “I thought you thought of me better. I thought I meant something to you.”

He looked at you, taken aback by your sudden outburst. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

“You said, ‘We’re not together,’” you continued, tears streaming down your face. “So now when we kiss, i jut feel so bitter. I don’t want to be just another fling to you, John. I want to mean something.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered. “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

“Then why can’t you just admit that this is more than casual?” you demanded, pulling back to look at him. “Why can’t you admit that you love me?”

“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’m scared of losing you, of getting too close and having it all fall apart.”

You took a deep breath, wiping away your tears. “I’m scared too, John. But we can’t keep pretending that this is nothing. We can’t keep lying to ourselves.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. “You’re right. I don’t want to lose you, sweetheart. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“Then let’s stop pretending,” you said softly. “Let’s stop hiding and start being honest with each other.”

From that moment on, everything changed. John was still the same intense, powerful man you’d fallen for, but there was a new softness to him, a willingness to open up and let you in. He started spending more time at your apartment, making it clear that he considered it home. You began to make plans for the future, talking about where you wanted to live, and the things you wanted to do together.

One warm evening, as you walked along the pier hand in hand, he stopped and turned to you, a serious look in his eyes. “Sweetheart, I want you to know something.”

“What is it?” you asked, your heart racing.

“I’m in love with you,” he said simply. “I know I haven’t said it before, but it’s true. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Tears filled your eyes as you smiled up at him. “I love you too, John. So much.”

He pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply as the sun set behind you. At that moment, everything felt perfect. For the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

As the months turned into years, your relationship continued to grow stronger. You moved into his luxurious penthouse, now filled with love and laughter. John was still the same hero the world adored, but to you, he was just John—the man who held your heart.

But as you settled into your new life together, there were moments of doubt. Homelander’s public persona often clashed with the man you knew in private. There were times when his temper flared, when his need for control threatened to overshadow everything else. You had arguments, some more intense than others, but each time, he would come back, apologizing, promising to do better.

One particularly bad night, he came home late, his face a mask of anger and frustration. “Sweetheart, why can’t you just understand that I’m trying?”

You stood your ground, your eyes glossy. “John, I do understand. But you can’t keep shutting me out whenever things get tough.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” he snapped, his eyes blazing.

“Then what do you call this?” you demanded, gesturing to the space between you. “We’re supposed to be in this together.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He nodded, pulling you into his arms. “I love you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“And you won’t,” you whispered, holding him tightly. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

The road ahead wasn’t easy, but you faced it together. With time, you learned to navigate the complexities of your relationship, finding a balance between the man he was and the hero the world needed. You built a life filled with love, trust, and understanding, knowing that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them side by side.

In the end, love was anything but casual. It was messy, complicated, and beautiful. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter what, this man held your heart in the palm of his hand. You will always love him, as Homelander or as John. You just can't help it.

[dianesdiaries]

scorched earth| Homelander x Y/N

Synopsis/AU;Homelander becomes a madman after Vought decides they have the better facilities of taking care of Ryan, realizing the pain and abandonment he went through Ryan would believe his dad left him to face. In a fitted rage, he destroys the Vought building one by one, taking a life every minute it takes to return his boy. Y/N is assigned to the special forces team responsible for 'cleaning up his mess', and ensuring that nobody gets hurt. By the time special units have reached the building, Homeland's already taken a liking to toppling down dominoes.

TW: lots of violence in this one! I didn't really know what to write but I thought it would be a cool idea to see homelander go cray cray again lol

NOTE: this is short but I feel like would make a rlly good part 2 lmk!

I searched the premises top to bottom, looking for any signs of imperfections left behind in his massacre. God knows what he had in store for the rest of the world, and not one person has a single clue what could've led to this trajectory. I watched as bright stars peaked in the sky, cameras and vans swarming the building like bees to a nest. My gun slinged along my arm as I slowly watched the stars get closer, and closer..

It was bodies.

The sound of bones mushing into pavement made my stomach hurl. But when it rains, it pours. Dozens of civilians began falling from the sky, bouncing off the concrete in sync to the sounds of blood curling screams arising amongst viewers. I know, I was assigned to special forces for a reason. But he's lost his damn mind.

"All units, Move in! NOW! RIGHT FUCKING NOW! I SEE ONE MORE BODY DROPS ITS GONNA BE YOU!" The chief demanded, his coffee splattered across his long tattered coat in a fuel of rage. Hoisting into gear, I took one last look at the pain behind me. News vans scampered back and forth across the roads looking for a way out, avoiding the bloody trouble Homelander had flung into their direction. But something was wrong. I began to sweat, and it didn't stop. Drops of water began covering into my helmet vision, tactical gear cooking my body as the temperature increased. Metal scraping against brick made my ears squeal, quickly retreating into the building for safety. Red lasers danced across the city scape, quickly sawing whatever came into its way.

The building couldn't be any more worst than outside. Scarlet red painted the walls like an artists' touch, the main floor wiped of human life. I was assigned no other job but to simply talk to him, my guys in route watching closely as we made our way to the elevator. Quickly, I swiped my feet at the feeling of someone's touch, backing away in terror. There lay A-Train, who once was the world's fastest man quickly turned to nothing but broken bones. He crawled gently towards my ankle, pleading with his eyes as he winced in pain. "Send a paramedic team in, now. He's still got time" I demanded, the group of SWAT enforced men looked at me puzzled. "You're going up there, alone?..." one brave suit asked, I couldn't see his face but his tone ensured everyone was equally as terrified. I could see right through the supes facade, Homelander didn't scare me not one bit. I nodded my head in approval, the boys quickly sweeping to A-Train's rescue as they steadily carried the poor runner out of the building. I stared at the hopeless elevator entrance ding open, inhaling deeply as the doors closed behind me. Soft elevator music hummed in my ear, steadying my heart beat to a soft thump. I had to be prepared for the worst of it all, he could cut me into two pieces by the time the door opened and nobody would know until it was too late.

39,40...41.....42..........42.....

The elevator came to a holt, its bright led numbers flickering as the music came to a stop. My feet jolted below me, holding steadily to the railing as I waited in silence. He knew I was here. He knew someone was coming. My heart roared through my chest as I struggled to catch my breath, what the fuck was I thinking taking this job?

distress fled into my body, watching the doors pry open to the grip of ruby-red gloves. I fled to the ground, covering my head with my heads, watching the door opening wider. And wider. His cold distilled blue eyes emerged from the peak, analyzing me through the small crack. Homelander demanded, "Take off the helmet and let me see your face", watching my hands unravel from fetal position as my breath quivered. Slowly emerging from my helmet, I took the might of speaking up. "Homelander, I know your stressed... I'm not sure what happened, but.. we can work through this-". In the blink of an eye, the metal doors tore as gracefully as paper, falling into the ever abyss of the metropolitan below. My pupils constricted at the sight of him, his face was dim in expression and yet said so many things. His once "all American dream" blue suit covered in the blood of his coworker's, his hair a frilled mess, mania scampered in his eyes to the sound of his laughs. The dazed man grabbed my neck in a grip, and pulled me towards the gravel of the roof. I could feel my heart drop into my stomach, watching him edge closer and closer to the end of the building. "Homelander, wait.. Homelander please d-don't do this! Listen, okay? I'm Y/N, now you know me. Just tell me what happened, I'll listen!", pleading for my life as my gear scraped across the floor. The crazed supe held my head against the edge, a thousand feet of death kissing my eyes in return.

"They took my son. Away from me. My son is gone. you're going to tell me where he is. Or you can go say hi to your friends for me" he said, my hands pushed in denial as I screamed at the force of his body swinging me back and forth. "Where is Ryan! Goddamnit-where is he!" Homelander roared, his eyes holding threat in a bright neon red, I could feel my life draining from me in the moment. I had to think quick. I could keep my job, and do as I'm told. Or, I could save my life. I could do what I was good at. What Butcher taught me best. Rationalizing.

"Listen- look, okay? I can help you find Ryan, but you got to let me go! Without me, not a single fucking person at Vought would tell you his whereabouts. Besides, what they did to you.. Could be happening to him as we speak. Y-You want that?", my words could be playing with fire. But I had to give it a shot. Homelander laughed in mockery of my bravery, hastily letting go of me as he clapped and laughed in rejoice. The man's madness made me sick to my core. I could feel fresh acid forming like a lump in my throat, but I had to keep composure. I couldn't show I was scared. He would kill me without hesitation. He paced back and forth in thought of my offer, hands on his hips as I tried to catch my breath and pushed up against a corner of the roof. The screams from below echoed like the gates of hell, I could tell it was riling him up. "I have an idea, but.. We need to do it my way. You understand? No diverting, no nothing" I exclaimed, he looked across at me as blood dripped off his icy blonde tips stained a muck brown. "We leave. Now. Before they find out you were responsible for this, we can pinpoint it on another supe and you get Ryan back. Homelander- if this gets on the news...", I carefully stared back into his cold gaze, gulping at the words stuck in my throat. "You might not ever see Ryan again if Vought finds out you did this" I said.

The supe almost took that as a challenge, raising his eyebrow at my comment. "Really? And what makes you think I'll listen to you?" he chuckled, approaching slowly as I backed my heels into the ground. He towered carelessly over me, crouching low to meet my gaze. The smell of death reeked off his clothes, his teeth blinked brighter than the sky filled with mourning souls. Without thinking, the man lifted me carefully and began to back away from the building, I could feel our bodies lift off the ground and up towards the clouds. It calmed me, to know that I was able to do something perfectly for once. The one moment that could've possibly ruined my entire life, I saved myself. But I couldn't save the others

"Before we go.. You want to see something cool? I've been meaning to do this for a while" he chuckled, stopping in position as we levitated above the downtown metropolitan. The feeling of course hot beams almost burned through my suit, as I watched the Vought building explode into an array of flames. The building's base was untouched, Homelander squealed in laughter watching people rush onto the streets like ants. "They had what was fucking coming for them. And they knew it. Nobody to blame but themselves, right Y/N? I mean, you have to agree. We're friends now. And you!-You Are going to get me my boy back", his head shook vigorously as if he agreed with his own sentence, looking at me for the approval of his message. I understood that he was setting me up, but two can play that game. "We need to see Butcher. Now. He'll know what to do" I explained, my eyes refused to watch the city below. I had nowhere to look but right into his eyes. And I prayed that he could feel the hatred feeling through my body. Effortlessly, the dazed supe began to track throughout the clouds, elevating so the bare naked eye could barely see us through the cotton-field of clouds.

[amazingmaeve]

INFATUATION (1/?)

homelander x fem!reader

summary — homelander meets Ashley’s sister and he’s already feeling infatuated with you and he just can’t help it, even though ashely is fucking annoying he can’t help but think you were the exact opposite.

warnings — homelander is himself a warning, stalking, toxic behavior from homelander, breastfeeding, kinda angst and fluff

word count — 2174

authors note — this is my third homelander fic and the other two are on my AO3 account and this one will be as well. also tried and different writing perspective.

homelander masterlist | the boys masterlist

YOU took a deep breath looking at the huge Vought tower, looking down you saw your daughter in the stroller and it calmed you down a bit. Eleanor was the light of your life and yeah that might be a little bit of a cliche but it was true.

Her father ditched ever since he figured out you were pregnant and all you had was yourself to help fend for you and for Eleanor. He was a douchebag anyway only cared for himself and his own life, not caring what happened to you or Eleanor but you were doing okay on your own.

I mean yeah paying for all the stuff for a baby was hard but at least you didn’t need to pay for formula since you breastfeed, but you just move for a job that would hopefully work out. Luckily it was close to your sister, Ashley. You’ve been in contact but never visited since you didn’t have the funds to do so, but now you could see her all you.

Ashley was your number one supporter when you got pregnant and she was even there when you gave birth and loved Eleanor. She was also the last defining factor of moving here in the first place, you could have a job that paid decently and see your sister.

You knew she worked for some of the most popular supes in the world and that’s why you were kind of nervous to step in the building. They were superheroes though, they’re not dangerous. At least Ashely hadn’t told you anything that would imply that and she even invited you to come to her work.

So how could this go wrong.

It was just worrying, that’s something you’ve done since you were a small child and even took some anxiety medication to help.

Walking into the big building with your stroller, you would’ve thought people might’ve been ogling at you but it seemed like everyone was into their own conversations or just minding their own damn business. That was at least nice, at least.

But it was intimidating standing in the lobby of this building where the seven stayed. The supes were nowhere to be seen at least and you hoped Ashely would get down here soon because it was getting awkward. You texted her when you first arrived which was about 5 minutes ago and you were starting to worry.

Luckily Eleanor hadn’t sensed your discomfort.

“Y/N you made it,” Ashely says with a smile as she walks up to you, wearing her usual bright pantsuits.

“I was worrying you forgot about me,” You said with a smile as you hugged her. She gave you a tight squeeze before looking down and smiling at Eleanor.

“How’ve you been,” Ashely asked as the two of you walked towards the elevators. You didn’t know where you were going but it was probably to her office or some more private place so you could talk.

“It’s been hard taking care of a newborn baby but I’ve been pushing through it,” You told her vaguely not wanting to worry her. You’ve been only getting 3-4 hours asleep on a good night, but it was the normal life of a single parent, or a parent in general. “Eleanor is totally worth it though, she is the cutest thing,” You cooed at your baby as she gurgled in her stroller.

“She is, and I’m glad you brought her here because I’ve been wanting to babysit and since you’re closer it's so much easier to do,” Ashley says with a smile.

“I just don’t want to intrude on your life, you have a job that you need to do and having a baby will only make it harder,” You expressed as you picked at the skin around your finger nails.

Bad habits die hard.

“It wouldn’t be a burden trust me, I’ve been wanting to see my niece since she was born and I insist,” Ashley promised.

“Okay only if you’re okay with it,” You muttered as the elevator doors finally opened and you walked behind her, to her office which seemed totally cool to you.

“I can’t believe you got your own office that is totally badass, and it totally suits you,” You complimented as she closed the door behind her and leaned on her desk and gave you a coy smile.

“It does feel good to have an office but this job is kinda grating,” Ashley murmured looking down at the floor.

“That is totally understandable though, I mean you’re brushing shoulders with the seven, the most famous superheroes, who wouldn’t be stressed,” You reassured her sitting on the couch and placed the stroller next to you so you could keep your eye on Eleanor.

“At least somebody understands,” Ashley says, giving you a smile. Something dings on her phone which she then pulls out of her pocket and her eyes widen. You look at her worried as you move the stroller back and forth. “I’m sorry I have to go,” She rushed out.

“Wait what am I supposed to do here,” You quickly ask as your heart races against your chest.

“Don’t worry I won’t be long, just stay here playing the tv, I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Ashley says before leaving the room and slamming the door behind her.

Unfortunately for you that woke Eleanor and she started to cry as you jumped at the door slamming. You stood up and grabbed her and started to bounce her in your arms trying to calm her down.

“It’s okay,” You cooed as she continued to cry and scream in your arms and it seemed as though the bouncing didn’t help your stressed baby.

As you were about to check her diaper in case it needed to be changed, you felt something wet on your chest and you immediately knew what it was. You hadn’t breastfed Ellie since early this morning and your breasts were full, when Ellie started to cry it usually happened. Instead of checking her diaper, you would try to check and see if she’s hungry first, and since you’re already ready for it, might as well take advantage of it.

Sitting down on the couch, you lifted your blouse up and since you decided not to wear a bra that day it was a little more easy but it ruined your shirt and hopefully you could get Ashely to find one.

Settling Ellie in your arms right near your primed nipple she immediately latched, and since your breasts were full it felt like relief as she began to drink from you. You supported her head as you leaned against the comfy couch, she squeezed the fat of your breast as she suckled the milk out.

It would normally hurt due to her pinching but since you were in a relaxed state you didn’t really mind. As she began to relax, you began to as well.

You looked at your baby as your chest was filled with so much love, that you would have never felt for anyone else. You probably wouldn’t feel this amount of love for anything or anyone else that enters your life again.

And you were perfectly fine with that.

“Ashley I’ve been fucking looking for you every-,” Homelander cursed as entered the room with an angered expression on his face but it turned into a confused one when he saw you.

God this was the most embarrassing moment that would ever happen to you, you knew you shouldn’t be ashamed of breastfeeding but this was America’s most beloved supe and when he looked angry as well.

Homelander averted his eyes so they weren’t trained on you. He was angry when he was looking for Ashley and expected to find her in her office but who the fuck were you and he didn’t want those old thoughts to come back. But he couldn’t help it as he saw the scene unfold before him.

“I’m sorry Homelander-sir I was ju-,” You began to say as you stood up and turned around so he didn’t seem as uncomfortable. It was obvious due to his stature stiffening as he entered the room and you didn’t want to do that. As you were speaking though you were cut off by him.

“Who the fuck are you,” Homelander snapped as he looked at you as you turned around. Ellie was still at your nipple, and you didn’t want to remove her from it as she seemed very hungry so you did what you thought was best.

“I’m Y/N Ashley s-sister,” You muttered and stuttered as you stared at the wall and began to force your body to relax so it would freak out Ellie.

Homelanders gazed at you even more confused. He didn’t know Ashley had a sister or even a niece for that matter. But he couldn’t deny that you were pretty, beautiful even and he didn’t know if that was due to your actual look or what you were doing.

Ellie decided that she was full as she removed her mouth off of your nipple and you used one hand to pull your shirt down, so you could turn around to face Homelander.

“Like I said I’m sorry about that, I was here to see my sister and she rushed out and Ellie started crying and when she does that, this happens,” You say looking down at your shirt. “And I thought I was alone and-and she was really hungry and I’m just sorry,” You quickly said your apologies, god this day couldn’t get any worse could it.

“No worries,” Homelander waved it off and put on his smile. “It’s natural right,” He nodded and pointed to the baby.

You visibly relaxed as he said that. He wasn’t angry with you, it would’ve been horrible if America's strongest supe was angry at you for a normal bodily function. But he did seem kinda uncomfortable you would say, his smile didn’t reach his eyes but it was better than his eyes being red.

Meanwhile Homelander felt his mind swarm with thoughts about you already and he just met you. He was about to say something but Ashely walked in the room with a shocked expression on her face.

“Sir I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Ashely breathed in deep as she had a somewhat scared expression on her face as she looked between Homelander and you. She was lucky that Homelander didn’t melt your face off as he saw you there and she let out a sigh of relief.

Homelander gave you a wary look and you took that note as you put Ellie in her stroller.

“Don’t worry Ashley we can meet up later,” You gave her a reassured smile. “Nice meeting you,” You gave Homelander a quick smile as you exited the room and felt your body relax that you were out of that awkward encounter.

Although Homelander had already set his eyes on you.

Later that night Homelander found out where you live through the tech department as he could get any one of those people to give him anything.

All day he had been thinking of you, his thoughts were all surrounding you and he tried to shake it off as attraction, which was definitely a part of it but he knew a part of it was due to your milk filled breast. He couldn’t help wanting to find you and just watch you.

As he stood on the building across from your tiny apartment, he used his x-ray vision to see what you were doing. It seemed like you didn’t have an exciting night but what he saw was certainly exciting. You were using a breast pump to get the milk out for the baby. The TV was playing but he didn’t pay attention as his cock throbbed his pants.

You looked pretty tired though, must be due to that baby and you were already dozing off catching yourself multiple times. His thoughts trailed off as he wondered what it would feel like to be doted on by you. If you would praise him and let him get a taste of what he actually wanted.

Homelander knew he was becoming infatuated with and some part inside of him was perfectly fine with that. He would find a way to see you again, even if he had to scare it out of Ashley or find out where you worked and “accidentally” bumped into you. It didn’t matter what he had to do, and what lengths he would reach to get to you.

He just couldn’t wait to see you again and wondered if you’d bring the baby, he hoped not but if so that would be totally fine as long as he got to see you.

Taking a deep breath as watched you and his body was filled with arousal and he knew you were already a part of his life for better or for worse. Probably a better for him and unfortunately worse for you.

[cevans-is-classic]

Okay I need more like selfish boy. As an ace I'm not sure why but I adore seeing the few fics where homelander gets intensely horny/passionate for reader but she's just like "No. Calm down." Like she's got basically the world's most popular men who could get so many women and he propositioning HER and she's just like "nuh uh. Don't wanna" 💀💀

But fr I need more like this😫😩😩

Whenever I write Homelander (and I'm actually writing something to go with Selfish boy), I love the idea of him being controlled.

He's the greatest hero, yet he's curled up in your lap and whining for you. Anything he does, what he says, what he wants it all goes through you.

He's your baby boy.

Ugh, I definitely have a very specific idea of who my version of Homelander is, and that bastard is a horny, grumpy little bastard that needs a time out.

So basically

I got you, babe.

[ancientwastedlores]

We'll Give It One More Fight (Homelander x Reader)

Thank you again for all the love! This is the third and final installment of the Homelander series!

[TAGS: @helreyy @discowizard88 @slasherho @carlyi @moopiter @casalucard @hom3landr]

1 - Homelander Breaks His Favorite Toys 2 - Don't Be Kind To It

INSPO: Robbers (The 1975)

Hope you like it!

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We'll Give It One More Fight

Not having learned your lesson, you venture out again.

You've accepted it by now - you need him just as much as he needs you. His dependence on you satisfied a part of you that wanted to feel desperately needed. What is your value in someone's life if you cannot be of use somehow? And was there any better high than serving Homelander's desire to be loved by a good person?

The city feels different at night, stripped of its glittering facade. The streets are barren, the air thick with the kind of quiet that amplifies every sound: the scrape of your shoes against the pavement, the distant wail of a siren, the hum of a streetlight flickering above. You walk without purpose, your hands shoved deep into your coat pockets, your gaze fixed on nothing. The cold bites at your cheeks, but you don’t bother pulling your scarf tighter.

Your legs just keep carrying you deeper into the city’s dark underbelly as if you might stumble upon him lurking in the shadows.

The unease begins as a prickle at the back of your neck. You pause under the faint glow of a streetlamp, glancing over your shoulder. Nothing. Just empty sidewalks and yawning alleys.

You shake your head, muttering to yourself, “Get a grip.”

But the feeling lingers.

Unknown to you, though there is something there. Watching.

Perched on the ledge of a nearby building, he watches you with predatory stillness. The golden glow of the streetlamp illuminates the slump of your shoulders, the exhaustion in your every movement.

Pathetic, he thinks, the corner of his mouth curling into a sharp grin. The Homelander you know is no longer there...

You don’t even realize you’re being watched, don’t sense the eyes that follow your every step. You’ve let yourself go—dark circles under your eyes, a hollow look on your face. You’re unraveling, piece by piece, and he revels in it.

This is what he wanted: to see you suffer, to see how far you’ll go without him. He doesn’t intervene—not yet. He wants you to reach the brink, to see how much of yourself you’ll lose before you finally admit the truth.

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Back in your apartment, you shed the many layers of clothes and let them drop to the floor. Every day has been like this, lately. You don't care to pick things up, put them in the right places, or even cook yourself real food. These days, you live on microwave popcorn and cheese, watching some mind-numbing, pointless show to occupy your brain.

And the couch is beckoning to you. But you need to at least have a goddamn bath.

You sit in the tub, your knees pulled to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around them. The water is lukewarm at best, the kind of temperature that doesn’t comfort but also doesn’t compel you to leave. You stare at the wall, your mind blank, your body heavy with exhaustion.

You haven’t been sleeping well. The dark circles under your eyes are a permanent fixture now, as are the faint tremors in your hands.

The bathroom feels smaller tonight, the walls pressing in.

When the water goes cold, you force yourself to climb out, wrapping yourself in a towel that smells faintly of mildew. You drift into your bedroom and sit cross-legged on the bed, your laptop balanced on your knees.

Your fingers type his name almost instinctively. You hit "Enter" and brace yourself for disappointment. The same headlines glare back at you:

"HOMELANDER STILL MISSING." "VOUGHT SILENT ON HERO'S WHEREABOUTS." "LEADERSHIP CRISIS: WHO WILL REPLACE HOMELANDER?"

You click on an old clip instead, one you’ve seen a hundred times. Him smiling at the camera after a staged rescue. All-American, blonde-haired, blue-eyed. It makes your heart ache to imagine he is already happy without you.

You slam the laptop shut. How could he not fight for you? Why are you here simpering when he should be the one destroyed over losing you? The only one who saw him? Who loved him?

You've asked yourself the same line of questions a hundred times, and it only entrenches you further into a deep, dark pit.

Anybody watching you... their heart would break for you. But it turns out the person actually watching you doesn't. Not right now, anyway.

Your walls and curtains are as good as glass to him. He floats right outside your apartment, gazing at you as you break down. Your misery is delicious aged red wine to him. He could lap it up, get drunk with it, swim in it, make it a bad habit.

He watches you get up and walk to the living room and floats alongside you, making sure to avoid the windows. You settle into your couch and put on another trashy reality show to fall asleep to.

Soon. Not long now. The moment needs to be perfect.

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The women in your office had been watching you spiral for weeks. You heard their whispers, and to their credit, they were genuinely concerned for you. But only because they still believed in the polished, pretty version of Homelander. You suspected if they knew the truth, they would be rejoicing in the separation.

But you are increasingly growing distant from them. Sometimes they bring you freshly baked cookies or banana bread. They can tell you're not eating any of it.

One afternoon, as you're typing away, barely present in your body, one of them approaches you.

"Hey Y/N," Gina's voice is soft. Comforting. "Hello." "So. A bunch of us are going dancing today. It's a classy club downtown, and we're getting dressed at mine and getting a cab from there."

You don't know why you should care about this. You stare at her, mustering up your politest face.

"You should join us," she says. It's very clearly not a request. "I'll come fetch you at 5, kay?"

She leaves no time for a debate. People pleaser that you are, you don't want to go out of your way to decline, either. But you think back to Homelander's visceral hatred for dance clubs. Sweaty, stupid humans jammed together, acting like disgusting fools with no control over themselves. It was a cosmic amalgamation of every single thing Homelander hated.

He would HATE that you're going to one.

Oh.

You can't help but smile yourself a devious little smile. It's everything you can do not to kick your feet in glee.

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You don’t remember the name of the club. It doesn’t matter.

It’s the kind of place Gina and the others love—sleek, trendy, all mirrors and neon lights, the music loud enough to rattle your chest. You’re here because you said you’d come, but the truth is... well, you know what the truth is.

You're throwing a final hail Mary.

The others are laughing, carefree, and beautiful, but you hang back, nursing a drink you haven’t touched. The crowd presses in from every side, a swirling mass of bodies that makes your skin crawl. The flashing lights disorient you, the heat and noise wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

You glance at your phone, the screen lighting up your face. Nothing. No texts. No updates. You almost laugh at yourself. Did you really think he’d—what? Come storming in here, cape snapping, to drag you out like some jealous lover?

Still, the thought lingers.

3 hours later - no chaos. No Homelander ripping the club to shreds.

It hits you: he's really gone.

Isn't this what you wanted? Or were you really just testing him? Don't you know you can't play games with gods?

You grab your coat from the exit and step out into the cool winter air. You look up at the sky for the millionth time since you broke up and see nothing but pitch black.

You slip your hands into your pocket, put your head down, and head for home. No lurking in alleys tonight tempting fate. You're done.

The silence is almost too much after the pounding bass, your ears ringing as you walk aimlessly down the street.

You don’t notice the man following you at first.

“Leaving so soon?” His voice is low, teasing, with an edge that makes your stomach clench.

You glance over your shoulder and see a man. Lanky, frail, but something in the way he stands... it's creepy. Like the twisted, gnarled branches of an old tree. Unnatural. Clearly a Supe, but you can't tell what his powers are yet.

'Not interested,' you choke out as you quicken your pace.

He laughs a low, predatory sound. “C’mon, don’t be like that. Just wanna talk.”

You walk faster, your heart pounding, but he keeps up effortlessly.

“Don’t you know who I am?” His tone is light, almost playful. “You’re lucky I’m paying attention to you at all.”

You duck into an alley, hoping to lose him in the maze of narrow streets, but he follows, his footsteps echoing off the brick walls. Okay... he cannot fly. He clearly can't run fast, either. You might still be able to get away.

You find an overflowing dumpster to hide behind when...

“Is this your idea of fun, sweetheart?”

The voice cuts through the night like a blade. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. A rush of wind blows past you, scattering trash and loose debris as a blur of red and blue slams into the alley.

The Supe is on the ground before you can even process what’s happening, Mirror!Homelander standing over him like a god of vengeance.

The Supe scrambles backward, panic etched across his face. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

Mirror!Homelander doesn’t give him a chance to finish. He moves faster than you can track, grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

There’s a sickening crack as he slams the Supe into the wall, leaving him crumpled on the ground. The metallic smell of blood pricks your nose, and you cover it with the collar of your coat, horrified. It's been so long since you've witnessed Homelander's violence,e and it's all coming back to you. Your body is pumping adrenaline, screaming at you to get out, but your feet are firmly planted. Somewhere, you know you are desperate to look into his blue eyes again.

Mirror!Homelander turns to you then, his expression unreadable.

You should feel relief. But you don’t.

He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel. His smile is sharp, cruel, and the gleam in his eyes makes your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“You’re really trying to get my attention, aren’t you?” he says, his tone mocking. You take a step back, your voice trembling. “I didn’t—” “Oh, don’t play coy.” He laughs, low and dangerous, as he closes the distance between you. “A dance club? Really? You think I wouldn’t know?” “You don’t get to control what I do anymore.”

His smile falters, just for a moment, before it twists into something darker. “You only went because you were so desperate to see me. I'd call that control."

The cold air feels thinner, harder to breathe. You don’t recognize this version of him—the sharp edges, the calculated malice.

“You’re not him,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “You’re not my Homelander.”

His jaw tightens, and his expression hardens into something terrifying. “Your Homelander?” His voice is low, deadly. He steps closer, his presence suffocating. “That simpering bufoon who hung on your fucking praises? He's dead. He was weak."

"He wasn't weak..."

You try to back away, but he grabs your wrist, his grip like iron. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be saved? To be mine?” “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Not like this.” "How, then? I get on my knees and fucking beg?"

If you're being honest... yes. Was that too much to ask after everything you'd given him?

As if he reads your mind, the next words out of his mouth cut you: "You fed him. You were kind to him. You invited him in. And then you tossed him out. Why the fuck should he beg?"

Tears well up as you search his eyes for the tiniest hint of your John.

"Now. Are you going to go back to him? Or are you going to keep pretending he owes you something?"

And suddenly, all the sadness, pain, grief, confusion, and self-loathing... turns into seething anger. Your awakening to your own neediness has not been a delightful journey, and you've had no outlet for it.

“You don't fool me,” you stare into his eyes. “You don’t want this—you want me to forgive you. You need me. This isn't a fucking Vought movie, the only person you're convincing right now is yourself. So DROP the fucking act."

His grip loosens. Your words hit him like a blow he wasn’t prepared for, and for a moment, he looks stunned at the audacity. The sharp, cruel smirk falters, replaced by something rawer, something almost pitiful. His hand drops from your wrist, and he takes a step back as though your anger burned him.

The night air feels colder now, sharper against your skin. You take a shaky breath, but your chest still feels tight, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

“Forgive me?” His voice cracks, low and trembling, a far cry from the venom that laced it moments ago. He laughs bitterly, the sound broken. “Forgive me for what? For loving you? For being good to you?"

His shoulders slump, his eyes searching yours with a desperation that borders on childlike. It’s the look of someone clinging to a lifeline, someone terrified of being abandoned again.

“You say I need you,” he whispers, his voice trembling, “and maybe I do. But you need me just as much. Don’t you?”

The truth of those words claws at your chest, undeniable and suffocating. You hate him for saying it, and you hate yourself more for agreeing.

You don’t answer, and he steps closer, his movements slower now, more deliberate. His hands hover near your face, hesitant, before finally cupping your cheeks. His touch is surprisingly gentle, as though he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he presses too hard.

“You want me to drop the act?” he murmurs, his voice soft now, almost reverent. “Fine. No act. No games.��� His eyes bore into yours, raw and unguarded. “I love you. I hate myself for it because it makes me weak, but I do. You’re the only good thing I’ve ever had. The only person who looked at me like I was more than… this.”

You should push him away, scream at him, tell him he’s lying—but you don’t. Because you don’t actually want him to let go. Him cradling your face, being this close to you, feels safe. You move into him, wrap yourself in him, feel his arms encircle you. Trap you.

“I can’t do this without you,” he says, his voice cracking again. “And I don’t want to. You’re all I have.”

Your throat tightens, the tears finally spilling over. “You don’t know how to love me.”

He flinches as if you've slapped him.

“I can learn.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. You know they aren’t enough—far from it. They don’t erase the pain he’s caused, the fear, the doubt. But they’re enough to make you stay.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Then don’t. You can hate me. Just don’t leave me.”

And right there, the mask falls.

As a request, it's the most earnest and vulnerable Homelander could ask for. He craves love; he will bear your hate, but he cannot tolerate indifference.

Not from you.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his arms are around you, pulling you close, and he kisses you. He gets rougher as you return his kiss, pulling you closer, tighter. It’s not sweet or tender, not the kind of kiss you’d find in a fairytale. It’s desperate, raw, and devastating, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every broken promise, every piece of himself into it.

You’re drowning in him, in the sharp press of his mouth and the way his hands tangle in your hair, anchoring you to him. It feels like falling, like spinning out of control, and you hate how much you need it—how much you need him.

Your thoughts swirl, confusing and chaotic, torn between anger and longing. You should hate him for this, for dragging you back into his orbit, for making you feel like you can’t breathe without him. But right now, you don’t care.

It just feels so good.

Right now, you’re leaning into him, clutching at his shoulders like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s crumbling around you.

He groans softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, making your chest tighten. His hands are everywhere—cupping your face, sliding down to your waist, gripping you like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

The intensity is overwhelming, suffocating, and it feels like he’s trying to burn himself into your skin, to leave a mark that will never fade.

When you finally pull back, gasping for air, his forehead presses against yours, his breathing ragged. His eyes bore into yours, bright and unrelenting, filled with something that looks like both hunger and fear.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, and you think for a moment that his other self is back. But the other one had dead eyes. This one... his pupils are dilated, and he looks drunk. “You’ve always been mine.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Your lips are still tingling, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. You let your head fall against his chest, closing your eyes as his arms wrap around you, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. And holding you, he floats up slowly.

How you've missed flying with him.

The ascent is slow because he knows you're out of practice. You hate him for being mindful of that. You love him for knowing you so well. You need him, and you wish you didn’t.

And you know, deep down, that you’ll never escape him.

Only because you don’t really want to.

The city stretches out below you, cold and indifferent, as the two of you cling to each other like lifelines. You let your eyes close and feel the gentle, crisp winter air as he slowly picks up speed.

And he smiles down at you, planting another kiss on your forehead as he murmurs, “We’ll give it one more fight. Just one more.”

You close your eyes, letting the lie wrap around you like a warm blanket.

One more fight. Yeah right.

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I hope you liked it! <3