#homelander fluff

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[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

[asmutwriter]

American Beauty/American Psycho (Part 1)

DESCRIPTION: You are an introverted woman. Working at a local book shop, keeping to yourself, not really on any social media. However, one small act of kindness makes you appear on the radar of a very specific superhero.

A/N: I didn't know what title to call this story, I had 'devil' and 'angel' playing on my mind. But then I was listening to Fall Out Boy and 'American Beauty/American Psycho' came on and I thought it was perfect for this story. So it is very, very loosely based off of that song

WORD COUNT: 2292

Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, fire, burning house

DISCLAIMERS

-  This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You run a finger through your hair. Letting out a sigh as you look at the pile of books before you. The small library you work in had closed for the night. You had the job of putting back all the forgotten books into their rightful place. Taking out all the different genres, placing them into their corresponding piles. Going to each shelf and placing them alphabetically in their correct places. You take a step back. Nodding at your work as you move onto the next section. Doing this for each of the small piles you'd managed to accumulate.

Once you had done this you make your way down the isles. Making sure there aren't any late night readers or sleeping students inside before you lock up. Thankfully there were none. So you head outside. Pulling the door too before locking it. Jiggling the handle to check it was locked. Placing the keys into your jeans pocket as you make your way through the chilled night air. Wrapping your arms around yourself. It was early autumn so you hadn't quite gotten used to the warm days yet chilled nights. Not having dressed appropriately for it. Only a thin hoodie keeping you warm.

Your nose catches scent of something. Causing you to stop in your tracks. You look around. Listening. Trying to see anything. Then you spot it. A blazing building. "Fuck". You mutter. Running over as you watch the building going up. Before you can think about anything else you hear a piercing scream through the night. Running over as you see someone by a downstairs window. A young boy, his fingers scrambling at the frame. Retracting his hands at the heat. You motion at him. Yelling through the night. "Stand back". Going into your pocket and taking out a pen. He stands back a little way. You wrap your fist around the item. Smashing it into the glass. Shattering. Reaching inside you pull him out. Holding him as he coughs. Moving him a safe distance away.

"My mum. Shes in the house. Plus my sister". You look back. A loud crack. You turn back to the boy.

"Do you know what floor they are on?"

"Top floor. I think the top floor". You nod. Hands on his shoulders as you keep his gaze.

"Stay here". You run back over. "Fuck". You mutter. Going in through the open window. "Hello!" you call out. No answer. You go to the door to the rest of the house. Pulling your hoodie sleeve up over your hand as you open the door handle. Feeling the heat grow intensely around you as you enter what looks like a living room. A body lies on the floor. Going over to it. You crouch down. Checking for a pulse. Nodding to yourself as you feel the slight beat of her heart. You grab her arm. Pulling her up as you sling her over your shoulder. Going back to through the house to the open window.

You aren't sure how but you manage to get the woman out of the window you entered through. Contorting yourself with her still over your shoulder. Going over to the boy as he watches. Tears staining his cheeks. "Mum!" he sobs. You lie her on the floor. You place your head near her chest. Hearing a soft yet distinct heart beat. The boy kneels down. Taking her hand in his.

"Stay here with your mum". You stand up. Rushing back over to the building. Climbing through the window as you are met with a monstrous fire. The room you were just in now fully engulfed in flames. Lapping at the sofas in the living room. You spot the stairs. Making a bee line for them as you dart up them. Hearing the sound of them slowly burning away as you go up. Three closed doors.

You stay silent. Hearing the crack of the fire below you. The distant sound of a toddler crying. You dart to the door the noise is behind. Opening it you see a very young child crying. Hands on the edge of her crib as she looks at you. You go over to the bed. "Shh" you try to soothe her. Picking her up and holding her close to you. "Its ok. You're ok". You go to the door again. Going to walk down the hallway. Seeing the fire now licking up the stairs. Destroying your only exit. You cradle her close to you as you go back into the bedroom. Shutting the door behind you. Grabbing a blanket form the side and placing it under the door. Trying to prevent the smoke from coming through.

The child still cries as you hold her close to you. Trying to soothe her as you turn around. Just as you hear a loud cracking noise. The middle of the floor starts to cave into the fire below it. Not daring to move, scared the floor will give out completely. You stay close to the wall. Pressing yourself a flat against it as you can. Among the crackle of the flames you hear voices. Firemen must've arrived. You call out. Your voice dull against the noise of the fire, and the slowly falling floor.

"Help. Please help". You call out. A soft sob coming through your voice. The door opens. You look. Expecting to see men in yellow enter. Instead, seeing a blue suit. Being met with his equally blue eyes. You'd seen him on billboards and newspapers. Homelander. He goes to walk into the room. "No!" you almost yell. Hand going outwards. Motioning at the floor.

He stills. Looking at you. Then the floor. Analyzing the situation before his gaze going back up to you. He outstretches one of his hands. You go to move towards him. The all to familiar sound of the fire making you still in your movements. You shake your head. Causing him to take a step closer to you. You move the child. Handing her to him.

"Get her out please". He looks at you. Going to say something but you move the girl closer. "Take the damn child!" you say. Fear in your voice as it fills the room. He takes her from your hands. Holding her close as he looks behind him. Then at the floor in front of him. Obviously assessing his best way out where the girl is unharmed. You watch as he looks at the ceiling. His eyes lasering a hole into it. He flies the girl out. You let out a breath. Glad the young child is safe.

The floor jolts slightly. The suddenness making you take it a sharp breath. Shutting your eyes as you press further into the wall. Your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Making you unable to hear anything else around you. The crack happens beneath you again. You fight back the tears. Pushing your lips together.

You jump as you feel something touch your arm. Eyes flying open as you meet Homelanders gaze. His hand on your upper arm. "Wrap your arms around me". You try to move. Lifting your arm up just as another creak fills the room. Your arms going firmly back to the wall. Shaking your head as you look at him

"I-I cant" you whisper. The floor cracks again.

"Yes you can". You shake your head. Shutting your eyes again. Feeling the floor start to shift under your feet. A soft whimper escaping your lips. "I'll catch you". You look at him. Wide eyed. The terror evident in your features. "Trust me". You watch his eyes. His still. Calming against yours. Slowly lifting your arms up. Trying to ignore the fire slowly eating its way through the floor. He puts an arm around your waist. You gently put your arms around his neck. Just as the floor falls out from under you. Your soft grip on him changes as you cling to him. Hiding your face into his shoulder as the comforting feeling of floor gets whisked away from under your feet. He remains hovering. The warmth of fire licking at your feet as he flies up. Away from the heat.

Your mind to overwhelmed by everything, plus hiding into his shoulder. You don't take in the fact he's taking you out of the previously made hole in the ceiling. Flying both of you out safely. Your legs nearly give out from under you as they hit the soft ground. Your arms still clinging to him as you tilt your head slightly. Looking at the paramedics tending to the unconscious girl on the ground. He gently rubs the lower of your back. "I'm going to need my neck back". He whispers into your ear.

"Shit. Sorry" you unwrap your arms. Going to move away from him. Wobbling slightly on your feet. Your arms coming out to balance yourself. He brings his hand out. Stabilising you by holding your arm. He tilts his head down. Looking at you through his lashes. Swaying slightly as you regain your composure. You look over at the woman on the floor. Her son sat next to her as their young daughter gets checked over by a paramedic. "Is she ok? Will she be ok?". You look at the blue eyed hero. Eyes tiredly scanning his face.

"They are doing everything they can do make sure she lives". You look back at the woman. Thats when you notice the small group of people. Neighbours all wrapped in coats and dressing gowns as they watch the scene before them. Some with their phones out. Recording the situation. Recording the fire. Recording Homelander. Recording you.

A paramedic comes over to you. You watch as his lips move. Obviously speaking to you but your overwhelmed senses don't take in what he says. You shake your head at his words. "I need to go home" you whisper. Looking at the crowd of people.

"Miss we need to make sure that you're ok".

"I'm ok". You smile at the paramedic. Homelander watching you as he keeps his grip on your elbow. "I promise I'm ok".

"Why don't we get you checked out, hmm?" Homelander says. You look at him. A smile on his face. You shake your head.

"I don't want to be a hassle. You've got the woman and her children to prioritise over me".

"You are just as much my concern as they are. Please miss" the paramedic says. Smiling at you as he takes the arm that was being supported. Taking you over to an ambulance. Checking you over. Once hes confirmed that everything is ok with you, he gives you the all clear to go home. Saying that they can organise transport but you insist on walking. You turn to try and find Homelander. Wanting to thank him for saving your life. But you see him talking to a news reporter. You press your lips together. Turning on your heels as you make your way back to your home.

You open the front door. Having a quick shower, changing into your pyjamas, then getting into your bed. Trying to fight the pesky nightmares. It isn't much after 8am when you hear your bedroom door burst open. Your curtains being forced back. You let out an annoyed groan. Bringing the covers up and over your head. Your roommate comes over to you. Grabbing the covers and pulling them down.

"Your famous!" she says. You sit up. Blinking your eyes awake as you look at her. She hands you her phone. A video pops up. The reporter from yesterday on the screen.

"A mother and her two children were saved last night from a house fire believed to have started from a cigarette butt. Thankfully no one was hurt, and we can put it down to this anonymous hero who risked her own life to save these three souls. A neighbour recorded the incident - describing it as a miracle and heroic act"

The video cuts to you. Helping the boy out before going inside the building. A few minutes passing, worried voices filling the background before you appear. Carrying the mother out the window. It cuts back to the reporter.

"Although Homelander himself managed to make it to the scene, firefighters and paramedics have both said that if this woman hadn't stepped in when she had then the family of three would have likely all been killed. Just goes to show the world that you don't need powers to be a true hero". You turn the screen off. Looking at your roommate.

"Fuck". You say. You pull the covers off of your legs. Going out into the kitchen. She follows behind as you grab out the orange juice. Filling a glass.

"Did you actually get to meet Homelander?". You place the orange juice back into fridge. Nodding.

"He saved my life".

"Thats so awesome". You scoff. Drinking your juice.

"I wouldn't describe nearly dying as awesome, but I understand what you mean". Placing the cup into the sink. You run a hand through your hair. Lightly massaging your scalp before bringing them down. "I'm going to head to work"

"You nearly died last night". You go over to the bathroom. Picking out your toothbrush. Applying some toothpaste.

"I am aware". You start brushing your teeth.

"And you're going to work?". You nod. Spitting and rinsing out your mouth with some water before looking at her. Drying your hands on a towel.

"Bills aren't going to pay themselves". Lightly tapping her nose. "I'll pick up a Chinese on the way home". You smile at her. Hand motion for her to leave the bathroom. She takes a step out. She goes to say something as you shut the door on her.

Next

[samdeancass]

Grounding Him

Requested by @thelirofnorthlands

Pairing: Homelander x reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Characters: Homelander, Y/N

Description: Homelander keeps his anger brimming at the surface whenever he's in an uncomfortable situation, but he can always count on you to keep him grounded.

A/N: Look at that lil' cuties face <3

Everybody always walked on eggshells around Homelander, afraid he would pop and laser someone's head off—everyone, that is, apart from you. Every time he raised his voice at you, you would flash him a look, and he would know how to tone it down. He was incredibly grateful to have you in his life; you kept him grounded and gave him love he had never had. He showed a different side to him when you were by his side, and everyone could see it, much to his dismay. He was happier and treated everyone better, even humans. Homelander would still occasionally kill someone if they got in his way or said something that really angered him. He did always keep his anger at the surface, but he always knew that you would pull him back. Homelander let out a nervous, shaky breath as he prepared to step onto the stage for yet another PR campaign for The Seven. He wished you were by his side, but you were in another country making deals with Vought's international clients. He closed his eyes, took deep, slow breaths to slow down his ever-quickening heart, and replayed your calming words in his head. He was always more nervous when you weren't around to ensure everything went okay. Homelander knew that if just one person said one wrong thing, his anger would take over, and he would kill everyone standing before him. He heard his cue to go on and made his way but stopped when he heard a flurry of footsteps hurrying behind him. His eyes lit up as he smiled wide. When he turned, he saw your flustered form hurrying towards him. "I'm so glad I'm not too late." Homelander gathered you in his arms and kissed you deeply. "I can't believe you're here; I thought you were still out of the country." He placed his hands on your cheeks, pecked your lips once more and grabbed your hand to go on stage. "I was up until 30 minutes ago. A-Train rushed me here, and he did a good job. Otherwise, I wouldn't have made it." You both plastered on smiles and walked on stage to a mixture of applause and boos from the audience. Homelander waved at the crowd and took a patriotic stance, still holding your hand. He began making a speech about the importance of The Seven and how America still needed them. He was doing an excellent job until somebody interrupted him and started hurling insults. Homelanders expression immediately changed, his lips forming a thin, straight line, an instant indicator that he was becoming increasingly angry, especially as others began to join in. You rubbed circles into his hand, which usually calmed him down, but it wasn't enough this time. Homelander's whole body began to shake with anger as he closed his eyes to try and contain it. Still, they shot back open again when somebody mentioned your name, and the rest of the crowd joined in. His eyes glowed red, but you managed to distract and pull him off stage before he could do anything disastrous. "Hey, calm down. C'mon, baby. I'm right here, they're not going to do anything." You hugged him and ran your fingers through his hair, a loving gesture that always calmed him down. "I know, but the things they were saying about you, I couldn't contain it any longer. They need to keep your name out of their fucking mouths! There would be a room full of dead fucking corpses if you weren't here, so thank you." He finally calmed down and pecked your lips before taking your hand and leading you out of the building. An angry mob surrounded the two of you as you opened the door to the outside. "Move out of the fucking way before the ground gets covered in your fucking guts." Homelander kept a stoic expression as he warned the group of people, who stepped a whole way back, letting you jump into his arms and fly to Vought Tower. You jumped down from his arms and linked your arm with his. "Thank you for being my rock; I would be in a whole ton of shit right now if it wasn't for you." "Anytime, honey."

[secretjeon]

I THINK THIS IS HOW YOU SEND REQUEST IN BUT NE WAYS will you write for supe!reader x homelander where reader gets hurt?

GOTTA KEEP AN EYE ON YOU; HOMELANDER

pairing: homelander x reader

warnings: violence, little bit of angst, fluffy homelander, he's a bit ooc but what do you expect with fluff, not proofread!

word count: 836

summary: in which homelander gets angry after you get hurt during a mission, but makes it all better

a/n: tysm for requestingggg hope u like it <3 wasn't super sure what to include since the request was vague but i hope it meets ur standards!!

It was supposed to be a simple task.

A task that you had stubbornly said you could handle on your own. There had been a Z-lister supe gone rogue, killing any person that was in his line of sight, when you insisted to Homelander that you could stop him on your own. 

You were close to taking him down, the man groaning on the floor in pain after you had used your powers to slow him down. You should’ve known it was a stupid idea. Checking on a hurt citizen before the threat was completely cleared. But that didn’t stop you anyway, kneeling down next to the girl, a teenager, who was badly injured by the supe’s retractable claws. 

You were next to the girl for maybe five seconds, when you felt multiple blades pierce the right side of your lower back deeply, a gasp leaving your mouth before turning around and blasting the supe back with your powers. Before you could continue your attack on the villain, someone else flew in, getting in between the two of you. 

It was Homelander, who had a visible look of anger on his face. He looked at you with concern for a moment before turning towards the supe, yelling at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snapped, the villain looking terrified at the angry Homelander in front of him. He didn’t give him any time to answer, immediately lasering him to death. When the man was for sure dead, he turned his attention back to you, who was now feeling the extent of your injuries a little more. 

“Hey, you alright? Do you think you can make it back to the tower?” He didn’t know why he was asking, based on the color leaving your skin rapidly and the way he could hear your heartbeat slowing down, he knew he’d have to carry you. 

“No, I can handle myself. I’m fine.” Homelander rolled his eyes at your words. Your regenerative abilities were the one thing you had as a weakness, your wounds never healed as fast as your fellow members. 

“Come on. I’m gonna take care of you.” And with that, the blonde superhero scooped you up in his arms, flying back quickly to the tower, until you got to his penthouse. The man gently laid you on his couch, peeling off your suit, allowing him to get a closer look at the large gashes that had yet to go away. 

You had no problem with him doing this, the two of you constantly sharing moments of vulnerability together in the comfort of your homes. He knew the lesions would heal on their own, by the time you woke up in the morning, it’d be like nothing happened, but he still wanted to clean you up. 

You watched with sleepy eyes as he opened a drawer, filled with supplies like alcohol and gauze just for times like this, for you. He walked back over with a handful of items, gently turning you around so he could see your back, pressing a washcloth with alcohol on it to the wounds. You let out a small hiss that anyone with normal hearing wouldn’t be able to hear, but he did. 

Slowly cleaning up blood that was still coming out, he planted a gentle kiss on your upper back, where your skin was still smooth and free from any injuries. Going back to the drawer, he went one slot lower to take out a baggy t-shirt and pair of shorts, having a supply of clothing just for you. 

He helped you into the clothes, laying you into bed before getting out of his own suit and slipping on a pair of boxers. “Thank you, John.” You mumbled, watching as he knelt down next to you.

“Think I gotta keep an eye on you, missy. This happens way too many times.” He acts like he’s annoyed but he likes it, the thought of you being dependent on him, only him. Not Queen Maeve, not Black Noir, not The Deep, but him. John also liked when you cared for him, when he’d lay his head in your lap and you’d gently brush your fingers through his hair while you tended to whatever you were doing. 

It was a nice thing you had going, and neither of you would change it for anything. He got into bed with you while leaving space between your bodies so he wouldn’t accidentally touch where you were hurt. “Come closer.” You whispered to him.

You watched as he hesitated for a moment before adjusting himself so he was closer to you, plopping your head on his chest and his arm wrapping around you as a protective instinct. You immediately felt safer in his arms, falling asleep within minutes. John watched you as you slept, only thinking about one thing. He’d do anything to keep you safe and by his side, even if it meant killing everyone who was against it. He’d do anything for you. 

[vitally-undead]

Fucking Everything!

your garbage can writer has brought you another plate.

Summary: Homelander's angry, but you're there and calm him down.

i suck at summaries and writing, and this was self indulgent trash. enjoy

Homelander stormed into his penthouse his eyes glowing that bright crimson shade as he paced. You sat on his couch looking at your phone when you look up. "John? What's wrong?" You question standing up and walking towards him. He throws his hands in the air. "Fucking everything! Ashely's up my ass because i dropped four points. Four Points! All because of some stupid fucking mistake." He ranted his eyes glowing brighter as he breathed heavily. You walked towards him before stopping in front of him putting your hands on his arms.

He stopped trying to pace glaring down at you his lips pulled into a sneer. You met his gaze unflinchingly as you reached up to gently cup his cheek in your palm. "Hey, you'll get those points back up again. You always do." You reassure him smiling softly as the red glow slowly fades from his eyes as he leans against your hand. His now blue eyes look into your searching for any hint of a lie as he listens to your heartbeat. Satisfied with how steady your heart is and how he cant find a trace of a lie in your gaze he relaxes into you. wrapping his arms around your waist as he sighs.

"Yeah, you're right." He mutters his eyes fluttering shut as you stroke his cheekbone with your thumb. "Come on, let's go sit on your weird ass couch and watch mind numbing tv." You playfully tease him as you link your fingers with his leading him to the couch. "It's not a weird couch." He protests smiling slightly as he follows along behind you. You simply laugh as you both sit down. You at the edge of the couch your arm resting on the armrest and Homelander laying down with his head in your lap, a smile on both of your faces.

[themeraldee]

Can I get a wholesome little thingy of homie comforting his s/o that's like depressed what would he do? And give them snuggles? And although of course s/o giving homie headpats and caresses are top tier this time I want him to have to give headpats. Not because I'm depressed rn or anything (yes it is)

~1k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Established Relationship. Dealing with depression. Homelander's POV. Fluff. Just fluff really.

Something feels off when Homelander enters his penthouse. While he used to welcome the quiet of his home after he came back from events, this has recently changed. Ever since you’ve become a part of his life, any second spent without you feels like something’s missing. So it’s definitely out of order to get the same empty feeling when he's home. Usually you greet him with open arms or at least a ‘Welcome home’ shouted from another room.

“Babe?” Homelander calls out into the penthouse, the questioning tone reverberating through the open plan of his home. He knows you’re here. His question acts more as a reset, giving you a chance to play your role.

At your lack of response he quickly scans the room, seeing you in the bedroom. Very much awake but hidden under the sheets. So why wouldn’t you react to his presence? Shouldn’t that be something you look forward to?

You always do.

His mind runs at a hundred miles a minute. Even with the overwhelming positive effect you’ve had on his life it’s easy to fall into insecurity and despair, worrying about the worst possible outcome.

Homelander stops himself from rushing into the bedroom. But the slow one step at a time sinks the weight in his gut lower and lower. The anxiety of something being wrong has thrown him off-kilter. He doesn’t really know how to approach you when you’re distant like this.

So his over the top bravado will have to do.

“Heyyyy there sleepy head! You know it’s waaayyy too late for a lie in, don't you think?” He waltzes into the bedroom, hands on his hips, acting as if he was addressing a crowd. His voice is loud and clear, carrying a jovial tone that sounds a little too insincere even to his ears. 

He doubles down anyway. “If I knew you were planning to spend the entire day in bed I would’ve never left.” But, you don’t respond. He can hear your heartbeat, the slight rustle of the sheets and even the thud and glide of your finger scrolling down your phone screen.

When the silence gets too awkward for him to bear he peels the blanket from over your head, revealing you down to your waist. Immediately you squirm at the light coming from the outside after having your den of doom broken into.

Over the time that your love has blossomed into a relationship he’s gotten used to receiving comfort from you. You were there to listen to his countless rants and concerns. From the simple work related complaints to the horrors plaguing his nightmares. 

He should be able to do the same for you, right?

“Hmm… I’m just resting.” You sound dejected, empty. 

He swallows at the sound of you being so different. You’re missing the light that usually fills out the dark space in him. Homelander doesn’t know how to approach you. When’s the last time he’s had to comfort anyone? Truly comfort someone. Has anyone ever asked or even trusted him to be there for them?

Whether you’ve asked or not, he needs to be there for you.

It’s the least you deserve.

“Yeah right.”

He unzips his boots, setting them neatly next to each other before sliding under the sheets right behind you. He hooks his arm over you, pulling your back into his chest. And although you’re not reciprocal to his affection like you usually would be, the warmth he feels is enough to ease the anxiety in his gut.

He wedges his head in between your head and shoulder, watching with you as you mindlessly scroll through social media.

“How long have you been doom scrolling now?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head lightly against your shoulder.

 “I don’t know. A while I guess.” While you squirm in his hold your tone is still just as impenetrable.

“You’re not even looking at the screen!” When you don’t even react he frowns. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” He plucks your phone from your hands, turning and placing it on the bedside table away from you. He acts as a barrier between it and you, giving you no chance of getting it back. He rolls over back to you, greeted with the sight of you facing him.

Instantly he pulls you into him, both arms tightly around you with heavy comfort. It’s what he would’ve wanted in times of despair. It’s what you do when he seeks comfort. The whole body embrace where all he can focus on is you. It always grounds him.

He hopes it has a similar effect on you.

“What’s wrong?” He says. This time in a soft, low voice. No longer trying to put on a show. He’s meant to be there for you, not for a crowd.

“I don’t really know how to talk about it… Or if I even want to…” While you don’t sound like yourself, part of him is glad to hear your sadness. It’s better than the dejected empty voice. The closer you are to revealing your true sorrows the closer he is to getting you to feel better.

“Okay. You can… I don’t know, at least try to tell me something about what’s going on. Orrr, I will be reciting all of the amendments to the Constitution of the United States.” He’s gambling with the teasing tone of his voice but it pays off when you groan and giggle.

“Oh god no, not again!” 

“Welp, it’s your choice.” By now he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. He gives you a soft squeeze.

“Alright, I can try.” You concede with a calm defeat.

“Good. That’s a start.” He kisses the top of your head, still holding and caressing you.

But most importantly, actually listening to you.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade @littlegaaby @jokesonyoupup

@nommingonfood @infinetlyforgotten @nervoussystemss

[homelander-simp]

Imagine confessing everything that you’ve done wrong to Homelander. Just little things and things that just upset you personally that you feel guilt and shame over.

He is your god after all.

And then he just forgives you, holding you close, playing with your hair, and reassuring you that you are his favorite lamb. His most beloved follower.

[lilacliquors]

can u write Homie simply affected to receive homemade food from the woman he loves for the first time? that lab-grown little boy just now knows the taste of HOME 🥺

you guys know how to pull on my heartstrings oh my GOD

he didn't always get a lot of time to see you. it was hard, sneaking away from vought to spend a few solitary hours in your arms, especially with the tracking chip all members of the seven had. but he managed, for the first time in a week, to get to your place.

it was later in the evening when he'd landed on your deck, like he always did. you'd given him permission to come in as he please, so he did, and when he entered your home he was greeted with warmth and a delicious scent in the air.

"something smells delicious," he said as he shut the sliding glass door behind him.

"john!" you smiled, wiping your hands off on a dish towel before you hurried over to hug him. he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight, then pulled back to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"missed you," he said, gazing down at you.

"i missed you, too. you're just in time for dinner. go on, sit down. i'll fix you a plate," you said.

"you're too kind," he said as he went to sit at your kitchen table. he'd always loved your home, how cozy it felt and how welcomed he was within it. he looked up with a smile as you came in with another plate and some utensils, as well as a napkin, and he took them from you gently to set them at his place.

"dinner will be out in just a moment, okay?" you asked, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"take your time, take your time," he said, watching you head back into the kitchen. when you returned moments later, the smell that filled the room was heavenly. he could feel his mouth watering as he looked into the dish you set before him.

"this looks amazing," he said as you fixed his plate up for him.

"yeah? it's my grandmother's recipe, i think it matched the picture pretty well," you said, and you set his plate down before helping yourself. you sat down after, but before you started eating, you saw that he was still just sitting there, almost frozen.

"you okay, john?" you asked, reaching to take his hand.

"yeah, i, uh ... i've just never had a meal like this before, you know? home-cooked and all that," he said softly. you gave his hand a squeeze, and when he looked at you, you felt your heart swell.

"john, you're welcome over any time you want a home-cooked meal. i'm more than happy to set an extra place at the table."

he smiled and returned the squeeze, and you watched as he took his first bite of many.

[sehtoast]

In The Kitchen? (Depowered Homelander x OC | Fluff Drabble) All of You is Left to Love Ch7

450 Words

Warnings: None that really matter lol

Summary: Breakfast fluff with a sprinkling of goofiness, no plot.

Chapter Directory Can Be Found Here

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

Ben woke early that day. 

He’d been gone so often between his duties as the new leader of The Seven and with patrolling the city that he’d started to feel he was neglecting Homelander.  So, he crawled out of bed bright and early to make them both a proper breakfast.

He pulled out all the stops.  Fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, toast, pancakes, an ice cold glass of milk for John– everything he could think of to put a smile on his lover’s face.

Benjamin thought he’d done a great job sneaking out of bed, but that never quite was the case with Homelander.  Despite the loss of his powers and rampant depressive episodes weighing him down, he never did lose that sensitivity to Ben’s physical absence.

He certainly didn’t hear John over the music from his phone competing with the sizzling of eggs.

His spider-sense wouldn’t alert him to Homelander’s presence in the kitchen.  Why would it?  He was no threat.  Never had been– not to Ben, at least. 

So, when arms wrapped around his waist, Ben jumped just slightly.  His surprised expression turned to one of joy, and he stroked along Homelander’s arm with one hand while he worked with the other.

“Morning, pumpkin.”  He greeted, turning his head to press a kiss into John’s overgrown hair.

“M’rnin’” Homelander groaned, sighing a heavy breath against the curve of Ben’s neck.

“Always notice when you leave…” 

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Ben ran the tips of his fingers over Homelander’s knuckles.  “Meant to have this be a breakfast in bed sort of deal.”

When Homelander released him and began to walk toward the table, Ben turned to watch him make his way over, huffing a laugh.

“Lemme finish up here.  Wait at the table?”  Ben smiled sympathetically. 

John had thrown on an oversized shirt– ordered online as Ben’s way of building him a new wardrobe, but arrived too large.  That in itself was no big deal, but the bare cheeks peeking out from under the seam were a wonderful surprise.  

“Johnny, are– are you shirt-cocking it in the kitchen?”  Ben giggled, a wide grin on his face.  

Homelander, too deep in his sleepy haze to care, simply plopped down in his seat and nodded, spreading his legs high and wide for Ben before sitting normally.

“Oh, brother…” Ben groaned, totally betrayed by his smile and humored tone.  

He continued working until the food was ready, and prepared each plate– setting fruit atop of John’s pancakes in the shape of a heart. 

Ben set each plate down, saving the pancakes for last.  

“Love you, babe.” Ben pressed a kiss to his forehead.  

“Love you more…”  John returned, despite his grogginess. 

[asmutwriter]

American Beauty/American Psycho (Master List)

DESCRIPTION: You have a very ordinary life. Working at a local bookstore as you try to keep mainly to yourself. However, you mange to catch the eye of a very specific superhero.

When I upload a new part if the story I will add it to the list

Part 1

[obsessedwrhys]

hi baby, you can make an hcs of the characters from The Boys with a Harley Quinn! readers?? With all characters including Soldier Boy

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ THE BOYS X HARLEY QUINN!READER

ᯓ★ looots of goofy shit, dark humour, gore, sensitive topics (abuse, toxic relationships, etc), toxicity, reader is fem!!

ᯓ★ Characters included (I couldn't do everyone so I just did these guys, I know yer kind missy 👴): Homelander, Black Noir (Old and New), Butcher, Soldier Boy

HOMELANDER

He's honestly so fed up with you.

Sure he loves watching you mess with people but he does not like it when YOU DO IT TO HIM!!!

"Quinn!" He'd shout for your name and you'd open the door to see him standing outside your room. You laugh when you see him covered in ketchup. One of your many pranks.

"What?? You needed the upgrade for the suit cupcake" You smiled all innocently.

That being said you LOVE pulling pranks on him.

Whether if it's putting hair dye in his shampoo or stealing his suit so he wakes up searching for it.

It's just your favourite thing to do.

There have been times he's tried to kill you due to his rage but it takes every cell in his body to stop himself because he knows that he's not able to do that.

Because why? Because he thinks you don't even deserve to be killed by him directly.

You disgust him that much.

He just wishes that you weren't such a pain in his ass.

If the pranks weren't bad enough that it had him double checking every item he uses, AKA worsening his trust issues. You've also came up with nicknames to mock his superhero status.

"If it ain't the flying dick!" You'd address his entrance to everybody the moment he walked in the meeting room.

Just imagine him suddenly stop and standing at the door like 🧍‍♂️

If you wanna know more nicknames, we've got captain narcissist, america's buttplug and sperm cell.

Trust you are never sent on safely planned missions, only the ones he knows are highly dangerous in hopes of you dying...

There was this one time he sent you on a suicide mission and he was all proud of himself, but just as he thought he finally got rid of you, the elevator door slides open to reveal you, some fabrics of your clothes were ripped and there were bruises all over your body but it didn't seem to bother you.

"What's up toots?" You'd smile even though your nose was bleeding. That's when he looked down to see the head of the guy he asked for you to assassinate.

Who also happened to be one of the most protected men in the nations by the way.

Like how the fuck did you do it?

You're not even an ACTUAL supe!!

Regardless, he has his respects for you but really why WONT YOU LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE.

PLEASE STOP FLIRTING WITH HIM SO CASUALLY ITS WEIRD??!???!?

ALSO DONT PINCH HIS BUTT!!!

You once did that during a meeting and the sight of him yelping as his body jumps was unforgettable!!

You're JUST like a bee addicted to its pollen. P.S, he's the pollen.

BLACK NOIR (OLD)

He.. doesn't... understand you??

Why do you enjoy showering him with love??

You say it's in your nature but why do you always ask to be carried around the tower??

And why does he obliges each time??

Apparently how your mindset works is that you find extremely deadly things to be adorable.

In this case, he's the extremely deadly thing.

With his silent nature, you just NEEDED to get a reaction out of him.

You tried tickling him or making him sneeze but he always just stares at you in confusion.

You can't see his face but you can tell he's giving you the "What are you doing?" Face.

That's when your bright ass thought of a plan.

A dumb and reckless idea... but hey! You have suicidal tendencies so this is fine!

You'd put yourself in danger on purpose just for him to always come rescuing you. He has lost many body parts when doing so but you could care less, you would give him those heart eyes as he carried you back to Vought in bridal style...

Just for the managers to lock you up in a small prison cell to prevent you from pulling more of these stunts.

Though they were never enough to hold you back.

Naturally there would be rumours in the industry if you two were dating and you never hesitate to push those rumours even more.

Imagine for a premiere for your movie, you'd walk on the red carpet in a dress with Noir beside you, still in his signature suit.

"You're looking real good tonight, handsome. I'm liking what I see" You'd say with your arm wrapped around his. He looks at you as you winked at him seductively.

Someone save this poor boy from your endless flirting.

Jokes aside, there has been times he's seen you in your lowest, like that time you trashed your room with your makeup melted from your tears.

Apparently you got rejected from a movie role you wanted to get so badly. Which was Mario but stupid Chris fucking Pratt got it instead.

Seeing the state you were in, he'd grab you by the shoulders firmly and make you sit down, then putting a blanket around you. He'd leave the room for a couple of minutes... to come back with a bucket of ice cream for you to happily snack on as you rest your head on his shoulder.

BLACK NOIR (NEW)

"EW!! Get this mo'fuckin' bastard away from me!" Literally your words when you heard about the replacement.

Is a bit hurt by your disgust towards him??

But that just means he knows what he's doing right or wrong with this new role.

No because seriously everything he does, he would stop to watch for your reaction, most of the time you are never impressed.

Like how he killed those homelander fans to frame the starlighters. He'd hold the bat, his mask all bloody as he turned to see you, arms crossed, no reaction to his performance.

UNTIL at the end of season 4 where he began killing people within the company, that was what got you to start growing interest in his character.

Even though you're fine with him, for now, you really don't like it when he pushes things.

As in trying too hard to replace the old Black Noir. You just don't fw it 😡

"Hey! Hey! Harley wait up!" He'd call out for you while you ignored him and decided to speed walk away. Anyways, he manages to catch up with you.

"The team wants us to attend the premiere of your next movie together.. since.... y'know... we're rumoured to be dating??" He said and you had to stop walking to put your entire energy into giving him the most NASTIEST look. The second he sees you take a deep breath, he knew it was over.

"I ain't yer GODDAMN babysitter, and don't you think that for a second that wearin' the suit makes you my damn boyfriend, alright? I ain't here to hold yer hand and coddle you. I got better things to do than listen to yer constant whining and need for attention. So knock it off, ya copy-cat!" You'd point at him before walking off, hand on your hip.

You can bet that he asks Deep for advices on how to win your heart.

BRO IS TOO INVESTED IN HIS CHARACTER 😭

That's why he thinks making you fall for him is one of Noir's characteristics.

You love mysterious and threatening looking people? Okay gotcha.

You want hyenas for pets? Cha-Ching! Got it!

But seriously someone please tell him to stop before he gets his ass beat. He does not want that Brooklyn smoke.

BILLY BUTCHER

Ah great another crazy chick.

The only possibility to why you'd be apart of the boys is if someone vouched for you.

50/50 it's either Hughie or Frenchie.

Though surprisingly enough, you were the first to notice the symptoms of his virus. Like he could be fidgeting at the office and you'd point it out so casually that everybody turns to look at you in confusion.

Everybody thought you were crazy at first, it's to be expected, but the second his virus was confirmed to be lethal. Everybody has started to take you a bit more seriously.

Read carefully. A bit.

He finds your weapons fascinating though. Like how your gun has words engraved in it, your initials being the biggest. Not to mention the designs being the inspiration of poker cards.

"That must make you the clown" He once said when you whipped it out to shoot someone. You smile mischievously at his remark.

"Oh you'd better watch your tongue before I make you the punchline of my next joke!"

He likes you.

ONLY if you don't fuck anything up.

Sure you guys do argue a lot but theres also strange moments of understanding between you two.

There was this one time he found you alone in the office, your legs placed on the table and you were literally downing a bottle of alcohol. It was when he came closer that he noticed the bruises on your body.

"What the hell happened to you?" He said and you sniffed as you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, I'm just peachy, tough guy... Can't you see I'm having a little cry-fest over here after a lover's spat with my oh-so-darling ex-boyfriend. Yeah, he just looooves to use me as his personal punchin' bag, y'know? But don't worry 'bout me. I'll be back to my ol' crazy self in no time. Just need a minute to let the tears dry and the bruises heal"

For the rest of the night he'd stay to talk about how shitty both your lives are. You guys actually BOND over your past traumas.

The booze just making the conversation ever more fun.

Will go out of his way to take you to places for shopping or eating at a restaurant to make you feel better.

After understanding you better, he realised you're just a once normal person who became a psychotic sociopath after whatever the supes did to wrong you.

He may not show it to you but he really cares about you and would not hesitate to protect you despite how much he says he wish you'd just fuck off.

SOLDIER BOY

You have to be some kind of masochist right??

He says the most disrespectful shit to you and you just squeal in excitement from it.

It's starting to weird him out.

Everything he does or say, you love to mock him, like he could be giving orders and you'd be at the back using your hands to mimic his talking like a puppet as you mouthed along and made faces.

But he has to say, he finds your insanity amusing. Because deep down, he sees a tiny bit of himself in you.

He calls you Looney Tunes. Why exactly? Nobody knows its for his own entertainment.

He's into older women but that doesn't stop you from flirting with him. He finds your efforts interesting.

"You're a tough nut to crack, Soldier Boy, but I'll get you to crack a smile eventually" You'd say and it'll be enough to have him grinning at you.

"You gonna tickle me?" He'd say, returning the same energy.

But that doesn't mean he's interested in you, he's just toying with you.

AND YOU KNOW IT. But apparently red flags just look like a go flag to you 🤷‍♀️

Despite that, if any other guy did the things he did to you, he would be fast to knock out the fucker. That's because he knows you value loyalty and he does too.

Everything aside, he really appreciates it when at the end where everybody turned against him you stayed by his side. Just imagine him driving the car while you're in the passenger seat singing your heart out to Cherry Bomb by The Runaways.

He'd simply shake his head with a smile on his face.

But the more relationship develops, he'd actually start to show you his softer side. Not soft side. Soft-er side.

Will literally lecture you into standing up more for yourself and stop being a doormat for every man in your life.

How ironic huh?

"You might act all tough and macho, but I see that big, marshmallow heart under there, sweetheart" You'd boop him on the nose that has him rolling his eyes with a smirk.

"You already said that. Are you a broken record or just dim?" He said.

If you stay obedient and don't push the wrong buttons, he might just keep you around.

[samdeancass]

Homelander Masterlist

Grounding Him

Past Experience

[blindmagdalena]

Night Terrors

1.6k homelander x reader. established relationship. pure comfort fic. remaster of this old prompt. very mild spoilers for s4 if you squint. mostly just wanted to self-soothe with some comfort/cuddle fic. gif credit.

It's been decades since Homelander last stepped foot in The Bad Room, but when he wakes from a nightmare of it in your shared bed, it's as if he never left.

Most of the nights you spend with Homelander are peaceful. 

Tonight is not most nights.

The scream that wakes you from a dead sleep is guttural, barely human. Homelander is sitting upright, frenzied and wild-eyed, the ocean blue of them obscured by crimson glow. You're not even sure that he sees you through it when he looks at you. He's panting like he just ran a marathon, and the comforter is ripped cleanly in half, the two sides strewn on either side of him. "John," you call softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he jerks away from your hand like you've burned him. "Don't fucking touch me," he hisses, wrapping his arms around himself. Sometimes he is small during these fits, curled in on himself, begging you to make it stop. Not tonight. Tonight he is another self, spitting rage and violence through remembered agony. A cornered animal. "I'll fucking kill you!" "John," you say again, pleading. You know he isn't talking to you. He's speaking to the ghosts of his past. "You're in our bed. You're with me. I would never hurt you. I love you, John." His name is a double-edged sword. It cuts clean through to something at the core of him in a way that “Homelander” doesn’t. Each use of it acts like a shock to his irregulated system.

You keep your hands outstretched, but you don't touch him. You show him that you aren't holding anything. Not a pen, not a notepad, not a needle. You show that you don't mean him any harm. 

God knows he's suffered enough. With the sound of your voice, the red glow of his eyes gradually dims, flickers, and then finally it goes out entirely. He's still panting, hands moving slowly down his arms, his torso, checking himself for injury. Though his body bears no scars of the pain he’s endured, his mind knows exactly where each one of them would be. Bit by bit, you watch him come back to himself. He looks around the room, taking in the evidence of your truth. Framed photos, décor, the life you’ve built together. It isn't a concrete dungeon. It isn’t a lab. It isn’t an incinerator. It's home. "Fuck," he says quietly, hiccupping the word into his palm. He says it again, louder, screwing his glassy eyes shut. The third time he says it, it's nearly a sob. It’s agony to wait, but you don’t touch him before he’s ready. You fist the bedsheets, you don’t stop talking. I’m here. I’m right here. I love you. You’re safe. You’re not sure if it’s minutes or seconds before he reaches for you. All you know is you act immediately. You move swiftly up on your knees, climbing over the ruined blankets to take him into your arms, pulling his head to rest against your chest, bringing his ear close to the beat of your heart. You hush him while you work to unstick the words from your throat, unable to help the tears that well in your eyes.

The fear and misery in him is so palpable, you nearly feel as if it’s your own. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap as he weeps against you. It's taken a long time to reach this point. He used to swallow it back like bile, adamant for the longest time that you not see this side of him, this aspect of himself that he thinks ugly, imperfect, broken. You fought for this. As you hold him through these bone-deep sobs, it shatters you that it's taken him this long for him to find someone who would. "You're safe," you whisper, battling to keep the tears from your voice. "You're home. You're with me. You're safe. I love you so, so much." He rocks back and forth, choking on his sobs. “I could feel it,” he tells you, the words barely escaping the clench of his teeth. “It hurt. Every second of it, and they just–they all just watched.”

You close your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks and disappearing into the softness of his hair. You kiss the crown of his head again and again, combing your fingers through his hair where it’s damp with sweat and your own tears. “You’re safe now,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. It isn’t enough, but these words and touches are all you have to offer him against the torment of his childhood.

His grip on you tightens. It wouldn’t take much for him to snap you in half.

That scare you? He’d asked you once. How easily I could break you?”

No, you admitted. It makes me appreciate how hard you try not to. It takes time for his breathing to even out. His hold softens, but he doesn't relinquish you. For as terrible as the nightmares are, it's the shame he experiences in the aftermath that often requires the most care. 

You rub firm circles on his back with one hand while cradling the back of his head with the other, trailing butterfly kisses along his temple, his forehead, down to his cheek. Any part of him you can reach, you kiss, murmuring quiet assurances in between, as if to imbue him with each word. Eventually, the rocking stops. He's breathing more steadily now, arms encircled firmly around your waist. He gives a shaking sigh. "Sorry," he whispers, voice strained. That's a word in his vocabulary that rarely comes up, but when it does, it is always drenched in shame. He hates himself for this. "Don't," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair. You sniff back your tears, letting out a breath. "I asked for this. I begged you for this," you emphasize, earnest. You cup his face, angling him to look up at you. "Let me do this for you. Please. You have nothing to be ashamed of." He stares at you with large, watery blue eyes. The whites are red, strained by the force of his grief, his durability tested only by his own power. In his gaze you see damage done to him that may never heal, but your words settle over invisible scars like a soothing balm. It’s that very look of vulnerability that has driven you to this depth of love. You know his violence, his viciousness, but so too do you know the fragile man it protects.

Most of all, the scared boy beneath it all.

His grip on you flexes, his jaw clenched. The nature of your insight into him is both a blessing and a curse to him. He cannot hide from you. You know his shame, and despite how deeply he needs your compassion, your understanding, it’s something he has to bleed for every time. He’s perpetually torn between his desperation to be your perfect hero, and his soul-deep yearning to be safely vulnerable. 

If you have to, you'll spend the rest of your life convincing him that he can have both.

Finally, his shoulders sag. "I love you," he says, quietly defeated by your warmth. "I'll never hurt you. Ever." You recognize the plea in his words. He's terrified that someday it will be too much. You’ll see what everyone else sees, and your love will be tainted–destroyed–by your inevitable fear of him. You hope one day that he’ll understand why that will never happen. Someday the depths of your love will soak in as deep as the misery of his past, and he’ll be able to forgive himself for the human way his god’s heart bleeds. "I know. I know that.” You kiss the top of his head, still rubbing his back, taking your hand away only to swipe the tears from your face. “I love you, too. Every part of you."

Even the parts you hate. Gingerly, he lifts you just enough to lay you back down on the bed. He wastes no time cuddling back in against you, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. The bedding is ruined, but he runs warm enough that you hardly notice the absence of cover while he’s holding you. Your legs tangle with his, bodies slotting together easily. He nuzzles as if he can worm his way closer than skin to skin. If you could, you’d open your ribcage to welcome him inside. He could eat your heart if it kept his beating another day.

"Will you... talk me to sleep?" He asks, threads of shame lingering in the request. The tension has drained away, leaving him vulnerable and exhausted. His blinks are slow, the curve of his lips mournful. "Of course," you whisper, smoothing your hand up and down his back. This isn’t the first time you’ve talked him back to sleep, and you doubt it’ll be the last. Sometimes you tell him the plot of a book as best you can recall, other times it's random anecdotes from your life. Sometimes it's complete nonsense. To him, it doesn't matter what you say. All that matters is that when he does finally drift back into sleep, it's your voice that safeguards him there. 

Gladly, he rests his head back down on your chest, closing his eyes with a rumbling sigh while your nails drag along his scalp. You cradle him there, savoring the warmth of him as it seeps into the marrow of your bones, the weight of him grounding you.

You tell him stories until sleep finds him. Even then, you continue to speak until your voice frays and you can no longer keep your eyes open. You speak and speak and speak hoping that somehow, in some small way, you can help make up for the years he spent with only his own voice for comfort.

[vitally-undead]

Boops

Homelander x reader, gender neutral i think. i hope so. no use of y/n

Summary: Fluffy fic about booping homelander and him being confused about it because i can. besides i doubt he's ever gotten booped.

Homelander might be a tad out of character or maybe hes in character

literally inspired by the boop feature.

Homelander looked up at you from his position on your lap. Your attention was on the movie playing on the tv. He'd long forgotten about the movie instead choosing to watch you which he found miles more interesting then some stupid action flick. He nuzzled his face against your stomach causing you to look at him with a smile. You carded your fingers through his hair lightly scratching against his scalp while he smiled up at you. You began lightly scratching along the shaved sides of his hair, Homelander letting out a content hum as you do so.

"You're adorable." You say with a grin. "Adorable? Seriously?" He questioned though with a smile preening at the attention. "Very." You affirm before lightly tapping the tip of his nose while you said boop. "Boop?" He echoed a mildly confused look on his face. You nod lightly speaking as you trail your finger down the slope of his nose before tapping again the movie forgotten as you admire him. "Yep, you're just so adorable i just had to boop ya." You ran your hand through his hair again. "It's like a sign of affection, when you like someone or find them cute." You further explained noting his still present look of confusion.

"So.. You 'booped' me.. because it's a sign of affection?" Homelander questioned raising his hands and putting air quotes around the word booped causing you to laugh quietly. You nodded as Homelander raised his hand again tapping your nose with the pad of his finger with a smile. You smiled as he proceeded to trail his finger down following the curve of your lip to which you playfully nipped at. "I love you." You said quite happily, scratching his scalp lightly. "I love you too." He returned still a bit surprised that you did. He laid his hand back across his stomach, seeming content. For now at least, you think fondly before looking back to the movie.

i suck at endings, always have, probably always will

anyways enjoy

@mommy-mortis

@blindmagdalena

[themeraldee]

Okay hear me out: to get Homelander really into the Vought Christmas spirit, you teasingly promise that you’ll always kiss him under the mistletoe no matter when or where. Of course, you’re picturing around his apartment or perhaps in an empty hallway. But no. Our boy loves a good promise and decides to carry a piece of mistletoe on him at all times, waving it above him whenever he decides he wants a kiss: in the middle of a meeting with the Seven? Sits back in his chair and waves it around like a bell. In the middle of a crowded elevator? Oh yeah, he pulls it out and clears his throat to get your attention and waits for his smooch. He’s such a dick about but you can’t bring yourself to give a fuck and will happily kiss him whenever he wants 😌

| 600 | Homelander x gn!Reader | Established Relationship. Fluff. Suggestive themes but nothing happens. Mistletoe kisses.

“Here, really?” You were giddy when you left the penthouse this morning, already high with the feeling of a hundred kisses descended upon your lips. Homelander shook the mistletoe right over the two of you right as you left for work. Knowing you had many more to come left you excited.

Now that you’re standing in the elevator, not so much. You quickly look around to note how many people are looking your way.

“You promised~” He says in a sing-songy tone, already way too drunk on this power you’ve presented on a silver platter. Taught to have zero shame, he’s not-so-patiently waiting for you to do your part.

You lean in for a short and quick peck and like the asshole he is, he asks for more. “Oh come on, that’s not very jolly of you.” You kiss him again, enough to temporarily tame his hunger for you and he relents with a pleased hum.

This whole setup puts Homelander in a great mood. A rare occurrence for the Vought tower employees. There’s a pep in his step with you on his arm, he’s whistling and boisterously exclaiming ‘Merry Christmas’ to any passerby. Of course, it’s less about spreading the Christmas cheer and a whole lot more about bragging.

But after the kind of Christmases he’s had, both corporate-washed and soulless, you can’t fault him for it. So you let him have it. However annoying he manages to be. 

In the middle of a meeting with the Seven, he whistles you over with a significant little shake to the wrapped bundle. Although it’s pretty embarrassing to kiss the head of the table while other people are talking he doesn’t relent and you still smooch his kiss-red lips for over a hundredth time today. 

You’d think you’d get annoyed by the shit-eating grin he throws you each time with a side of suggestive eyebrows yet you love him too much to care about how obnoxious the two of you are being. It’s starting to take the PDA levels to ones you’ve never seen from him before.

Nowhere is safe. Homelander doesn’t shy away from sneaking into a meeting you’re presenting in. Disrupting your speech and leaving you flustered and distracted for the rest of the hour. He kisses you in the halfway, by the printer, in the break room and by the coffee machine.

With the lead up to Christmas you’re really gonna need to invest in some heavy supply of chapstick.

When you finally find some peace and quiet in your office, you still smile when you see the door opening. Although the public kisses are fun, you much rather prefer indulging in private where nobody is there to watch the two of you get utterly lost in each other.

“Still haven’t had enough?” You crack a smile and lean back in your office chair.

“Of you? Nah, never.” Homelander walks toward you, you see the little bunch of mistletoe that at this point has really been through it. You start to get up at the sight of it but instead he wiggles his gloved finger in front of you.

You watch as he places the mistletoe right above his belt and you burst out laughing. “Leave it to you to make a cute Christmas tradition perverse.”

“Hey, it was your idea. I’m just playing by your rules. Kiss under the mistletoe, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

And well, who are you to take this newfound joy of Christmas away from him.