Dee, she/her đ Late 20s â¤ď¸ Hyperfixated on the Boys18+ only, MDNI
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I donât want anything, I just have homelander thoughts to share.
So Iâve been thinking about the weird stuff about HL. Granted, all of him is weird, but the uncanny valley things about him is something I love to think about. His canines are just a bit â¨too⨠long from having so much V in his system. Eyes a bit too blue; in his youth, his hair is just a shade of yellow from being unnatural. I feel like he doesnât blink all that much, and when heâs not in performance mode, heâs too⌠disjointed? Like his movements might not flow into one another as much, like a puppet controlled by different operators in each joint. Or maybe they flow too well. I just have so many thoughts about it.
You're so very right. And I love everything you just said. Reminds me of this post because he stands in such an awkward way. There's always been something uncanny valley about him. But it's interesting when it's just the combination of all these normal things that in a normal human we wouldn't notice. Or at least not think it's weird.
I feel like the suit must be really awkward to walk and stand in so it's forced him to act like a puppet; just like you describe. But part of it is definitely his upbringing. When every step you make is analyzed by scientists for well over a decade, you'd too grow overly aware of the way you look and how you move.
He's good at performing his role but when he strips down to his 'undercover' outfit he looks so strange in it. Still walking as if there was a cape swishing behind him. Just his posture is very different from the norm. There's very little natural fluidity to him, one we'd only see from him when he's flying, but besides that it's all learned and performed.
Have you ever seen that husky who grew up around cats and now sits like one and plays like one? That's what Homelander reminds me of. He's just imitating what he's seen everyone else do, not truly understanding the natural flow that comes with being normal. It's not the way he was brought up so that's why it feels so disjointed.
#idk how visible this is in the show or Antony's acting#but i take this on as a fanon#he's a strange guy to meet#just like celebrities obvs it feels different to meet him but theres more to it#teeth and smile so sharp its like youre gonna get bitten if you say something wrong#i loved this ask#love your brain for this#asks!#homelander headcanons
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Baby boy's cape appreciation post! [part 1]
#as a non american i feel so embarrassed for myself#wdym ive got a fat crush on this dork walking around with the US flag on his back#love the edits op!#homelander
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I mean, sure, Iâll lose everything, but then⌠Iâll have nothing to lose.
THE BOYS | 3x03 -Â âBarbary Coastâ
#I NEED HIM#jesus this scene makes me insane#pls I just wanna listen to him give long threatening monologues for hours on end#He's SOOOOOOOO#đĽ´đĽ´đĽ´#homelander
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itâs homelander!!! waow]!!!!!!
#LOVE THISSSSS#I imagine a journalist taking this moody shot after the flight 37#breaking news: homelander and maeve arrive at the scene#and it's just this shot#and then comes his little speech#anyway I love that this gives that moody feeling#the colours are perfect#the soft brush makes it feel eerie and dreamlike#I really love this piece#homelander fanart#homelander
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Babe it's time for your daily validation enrichment
#i always talk about how id love to see more of the audience reactions/comments about vought and their superheroes#but forget to think of the other side of the coin#he'd be gluuuuued to the phone#getting his gloves altered to he can use the touch screen ofc#I'm actually surprised that we saw none of this in the show#besides the little freak out he had over shitty memes#ANYWAY THIS ART IS BEAUTIFUL#undercut MY BELOVED#yes ofc he's sitting mid air#wouldn't you if you could?#the colours in this are soo pretty and soft OP#absolutely adore the style đŠˇđŠˇđŠˇ#homelander fanart#homelander
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Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter seven)
18+ 7k. homelander x f!reader. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, abuse, forced relationship, slow burn, heavy dubcon, fingering, clothed/unclothed, dry humping. gif credit | fic directory | AO3
As promised, Homelander allows you an opportunity to say goodbye to the life you knew. After which, he does what he must to prove that you belong withâand toâhim.
Days spent with Homelander are simultaneously long and yet strangely fluid, hours blending seamlessly into one another. Every day that he comes home, you endure the flip into what youâve privately begun to refer to as âperformance mode,â in which youâre playing the role of doting girlfriend.
So long as you maintain the idea that itâs a performance, you donât have to think too much about how good the heat of his body feels against yours. You donât have to question the ease with which youâve taken to toying with his hair while the two of you watch television, or why you donât mind it so much when he rests his head in your lap.
There was a day he came home early and caught you absently dancing in the living room while you tidied. That alone was embarrassing, but it was mundane enough of a thing to be brushed aside, to forget. Except that he wouldnât. Heâd fixated on it like a dog with a bone, and youâd had to endure his relentless teasing about it for the rest of the day.
âYou act like youâve never seen anyone dance before,â youâd said.
âI havenât,â he said. âNot here.â
Your role here has many names: girlfriend, cook, therapist, maid, lover, and reinventor. Itâs about more than just romance. It's a complete transformation of his empty, lonely world.
Itâs what you must do to survive.
You learn quickly that heâs a creature of habit, favoring the same routine each day. He gets out of bed at the same time every day, showers for the same amount of time, and asks for the same breakfast that he does not eat.Â
It drives you crazy to cook a breakfast only to find yourself emptying it into the garbage not an hour later, but the drastic and often unpredictable fluctuations in Homelanderâs moods have made you reluctant to question or criticize him.Â
Besides, what do you care if he eats your food?Â
Caring is a creature with sharp teeth. It sinks its fangs into the deepest part of you and opens you up to deeper infection. Caring can hurt more than a punch, more than broken bones, more than anything that bleeds. Caring doesnât break you clean. Itâs a bone that doesnât set, a cut that doesnât close. Caring is to be vulnerable, to live as an open wound, and one thing youâre entirely certain of is that Homelander cannot be trusted with your vulnerability.
Yet you could not bring yourself to turn away from him. Not after he snapped at you, not after he screwed his eyes shut, not even as he began folding in on himself like a dying star readying to implode. Even though every primal instinct in you told you to run, your feet remained rooted.
You took him into your arms for the same reason you smother a flame rather than blow on it. In doing so, part of you has caught fire, embers continuing to burn.
The way he kissed you lingers on your lips like a ghost. His touches haunt every part of your tingling body, your fingertips numb with adrenaline as you pick up the containers from the coffee table. You can still feel the trail his hot mouth seared down your throat, branding your skin with the memory of his hunger.
He hadnât embraced you so much as heâd clung to you, his hands testing every inch of the reality of you. He disappeared somewhere so deep in his own mind that it had shocked him stiff when you held him.
A panic attack�
Strong hands settling on your hips break you out of your daze. Looking over your shoulder, you see Homelanderâs smiling face. His eyes are bright and clear, his cheeks no longer streaked with tears. If you didnât know betterâknow how easily and abruptly he can switch gearsâyouâd think you had hallucinated the entire thing.
âOh, sorry,â you say, recognizing that expectant look on his face. Whatever he said, you didnât hear it. âI was just thinking. What did you say?â
He huffs a little laugh. âGeeze, talk about a space cadet. Câmon, letâs get you airborne!â
Though your stomach flips, you nod.
Iâll take you flying again. Youâll be conscious this time around.
As soon as you have the containers of food safely tucked into a bag, he wastes no time scooping you up into his arms. The ease with which he lifts you is jarring; itâs less like being picked up by a person, and more like being strapped into a rollercoaster. Thereâs no sense of give in his strength, and all at once youâre shunted back to the memory of the night you were abducted.
It had felt the same way then, too. His arms coiled around you like steel, his chest a brick wall at your back. Heâd held you then as gently as he holds you now. No matter how hard you thrashed, there was no give.Â
No escape.
Your heart beats hard against your chest, apprehension tightening around your throat like a collar being pulled tight.
When will it stop feeling like this when he touches me?
The derangement of the thought strikes your addled mind belatedly. Never, you remind yourself. His touch should never evoke anything but the fear heâs earnedÂ
A sudden rush of cool air from the door opening hits your face, the shift in pressure briefly paralyzing your lungs, halting your shallow breaths. You turn your face from it, nestling instead into the thick, textured fabric of his suit while you fight to catch your breath.Â
Somewhere over the furious drumming of your heart, you hear him laugh, feel the rumble of his chest against your cheek.
He adjusts you higher up, bringing your face to the crook of his neck. Youâre more secure in his grasp this way, and admittedly, youâre grateful for it.Â
âRelax,â he purrs in your ear. âI wonât let you go.â
Yes, heâs made that abundantly clear.
In an effort to gain some modicum of control, you slip your fingers into the front of his suit collar, gripping the fabric tight. Itâs stiffer than you expected it to be, but it at least serves as a good handhold that way. His pulse can be felt in his throat, the beat of it fluttering against the backs of your fingers. Itâs quicker than you expected it to be.
You wonder what in the world he has to be nervous about.
âJust give me a warning before you take off, okay?â you ask, focusing on steadying your breathing.
âBefore I take off?âÂ
Thereâs a particular playful lilt to his tone that makes you uneasy.
âYes.â
âHm. Can we pretend I did that thirty seconds ago?â
You rear back to look at him, and before you can think better of it, you turn to look down. Your vision tunnels, the edges of it blurring as your eyes fight to adjust to the sudden distance between you and the earth.
The reality of it sets in. It was one thing to understand his capacity for flight in theory, what it would be like to fly with him, but nothing could have prepared you for this. Thereâs nothing stabilizing you but him, the plummet below a nauseating hundred storey drop. Against your every wish, your stomach starts to churn violently.Â
Tucking back against him, eyes screwed tightly shut, you mumble, âIâm gonna throw up.â
Homelander sucks in a breath through his teeth. âThatâs really gonna ruin someoneâs day down there.â
âShhhâup,â you slur, white-knuckling his collar with one hand, the other clutching the bag of food to your chest. âI changed my mind, take me back, take me back. Can we please just take the elevator and drive? I really donât want toââ
âHey, hey, relax,â he coos, tilting backwards, bringing more of your weight against his body. The movement only makes you feel sicker. âClosing your eyes only makes it worse. Yâgatta adjust.â
You shake your head and swear you can feel water sloshing back and forth in your skull. âTake me back, please take me back.â
Warm lips press against your forehead, his breath wafting over your scalp.
âItâll pass,â he says with the certainty of experience. âItâs worth it. Trust me.â
Trust him? The audacity of the ask is enough to make you temporarily forget your peril and look up at him through narrowed glassy eyes.Â
âWhy in the world would I trust you?â you ask through your teeth, emboldened by your incredulity despite the way the tension in your body makes your muscles tremble faintly.
His grin doesnât falter as he asks in turn, âWhatâs your alternative?â
Your lips part on an incredulous breath, disbelieving that he would be so blatant about it.Â
In the three days youâve spent with Homelander, there have been both ambiguous and unambiguous moments of cruelty. Moments where you were certain he was rubbing your captivity in your face, mocking you.Â
Other times he seems so desperately lost you can almost understand the way he clings to you. Times where his cruelty comes not from an understanding of what will hurt you, but a complete inability to comprehend that youâre a living, breathing person with your own complicated innerworkings. Â
âYouâre unreal,â you say, mystified by the enigma he presents.
âAnd youâre flying,â he says in your same tone, those ocean blue eyes glinting with self-satisfaction.
You take in a breath to retort, but pause. Though your grip on his collar remains tight, youâre no longer shaking. For a moment there, youâd honestly forgotten where you were. Leaning against him like this, with more of your weight supported on his wrought iron frame, you donât feel quite so much like youâre precariously dangling.
Though your heart is still racing, and your mouth's as dry as sand, you donât feel immediately ready to eject your lunch anymore.
âDonât look down this time,â he tells you, towards the horizon. âLook out.â
Hesitantly, you turn your head to follow his gaze.
The view is surreal.
The afternoon sky is a clear and vibrant blue that the maze of steel buildings below reflect, giving the entire city an oceanic hue. Hundreds upon hundreds of windows lit with warm lights dot the way like fireflies in a field.
In the distance, the sun has fallen low enough that it casts a golden glow across the water. It refracts the light in endless shimmering waves. The spectacle of it is enough to make you forget that this isnât some fantastical world, that you live here.
Never could you have fathomed seeing the world like this with your own eyes.
âFuck me,â you murmur, slightly dazed.
Homelander barks a laugh. âWhat, now?â
Ignoring him, you tentatively let your gaze drift lower. From this distance, all you can see of the lives below you are faint black dots, the flow of them reminiscent of an ant colony. The same loud bustling streets that you used to walk every day are silent from this vantage point, giving the city an uncharacteristic sense of calm. Itâs the worldâyour worldâas youâve never seen it before.Â
âSee?â You feel the heat of the word against your temple as much as you hear it, his lips brushing along your hairline. âI told you it was worth it.â
You tear your attention from the cityscape and bring it back to Homelander.
While youâve always distantly acknowledged that heâs attractive, heâs undeniably beautiful like this. Bathed in the glow of golden hour, his skin looks Midas touched, and the blue of his eyes is even more vibrant, the light giving them an almost crystalline appearance.
All over again youâre struck by the fact that, whether you want him or not, heâs inexplicably yours. Your captor, your roommate, your warden, your boyfriend, your gilded cage. Youâre only where you are nowâsoaring above the city beyond the confines of that penthouseâbecause you found it in yourself to be all the things he wants you to be. The more you give, the more you get.
Play your part. Reap the reward.
This is survival.
âYou were right. Itâs beautiful,â you say, relinquishing your grip on his collar to instead slip your arm around his neck, leaning in to press your cheek to his in a make-shift embrace. You feel his surprise in the slight hitch of tension in his body before he relaxes back into you.
âCan I ask you something? Something about us. Or⌠about me, I guess,â you say, staring at the world from over his shoulder. Only now has your pulse begun to calm enough that you can properly hear yourself over the rush of your own blood.
His flag of a cape billows in the wind behind him as he flies languidly through the air, giving you something near to focus on.Â
âSure you can,â he says, feigning ease that doesnât quite ring sincere.
He doesnât like it when you ask too many questions, or start poking holes in the idyllic little fantasy youâve been living for him.
âWhy did you choose me?â
Thereâs a pause while he mulls over the question, the droning winds around you filling the empty space. Your stomach gives a small flip as he shifts, changing his flight path, making you wonder if youâve made a mistake, said the wrong thing.
You draw back to meet his gaze, but his expression doesnât betray any kind of upset.
âIâll show you,â he says, the words punctuated by a wink, though the gesture doesnât exude his usual self assured bravado. Based on the tension in his jaw, you get the sense heâs actually masking a buried nervousness.
Within minutes, youâre soaring over a part of the city you recognize with stark familiarity. Seeing your route to work from this angle has a surreal quality to it, like remembering a dream in vivid detail. Itâs difficult to fathom that less than a week ago, this was your life.
Drifting to the ledge of a nearby building, he sits on the edge of it, adjusting you on his lap. While the height remains dizzying if you think too much about it, you canât deny that the warm strength of his arms have given you a firm sense of security.Â
âI used to come here a lot during my downtime. Between meetings and location work,â he explains, taking in a deep breath.
You do the same, cool air filling your lungs. Itâs warm out, but the altitude brings in enough of a chill from the ocean to offset the late afternoon summer heat.
âI got familiar with this spot. The people, their routines,â he says, head lightly bobbing side to side.
âYou saw me,â you fill in as understanding dawns.
âYeah. I saw you,â he echoes, following the walkways below as if heâs tracing your path to work in the same way you are. âEvery day.â
âYou were really out here every day?â you ask with a lilt of surprise, looking at him. âI never saw you before.â
âPeople almost never do. Youâd be surprised how rarely people ever look up.â
You hum quietly. Already you feel isolated from the world below. Nothing more than an observer. Knowing him as you do now, you can only imagine how outside of it all he really feels.Â
âDo you ever⌠go down there? Not as Homelander, but just as yourself.â
âI am Homelander.â
âNo, no, I know, butâŚâ You falter, wanting to be delicate. âYou were someone else first, werenât you?â
His gaze turns distant, no longer focusing on the streets below. âNo.â
You think again of the young boy in the empty room holding back tears, and your heart grows heavy in your chest. That childâand the man he grew intoâhad to have had a name once, didnât he? Itâs unfathomable to think he didnât. Homelander isnât really a name. Itâs a persona, a product patented and sold by Vought.Â
To have a name is to exist in peopleâs minds and hearts as a whole person. Whether the name is a gift or a choice, there is soul in a name. More than just an identity, a name is a love language. Be it a given name, nicknames, pet names, to name something is to love it.Â
Names begin in the heart, form on the tongue, become shaped by lips and cradled by voice. They're an intimacy not only of the body, but of the mind and soul.
Surely he has a name beyond the heroâs title of Homelander.
Project Odessa.
You take in a breath, the question poised on your tongue, but Homelander speaks first.
âI donât remember when, but you started to stand out. Couldnât take my eyes off you. I wanted to know more, so⌠I learned more. And I saw that you were lonely,â he says, but youâve learned to read between the lines when he tells you things about yourself.
I was lonely.
âYou needed someone.â
I needed someone.
âSomeone to take care of.â
Someone to take care of me.
âI wanted to save you.â
IÂ wanted you to save me.
âAnd I did.â
He looks at you then, his expression difficult to parse. Thereâs a challenge in his gaze, as if heâs daring you to contradict him, but that defiance isnât enough to cancel out the fragility that always seems to linger when he admits to any sort of genuine feeling.
âI saved you,â he reinforces, voice quieter, firmer.
Sitting hundreds of feet in the air, youâre reminded that this isnât a normal conversation.
This is a matter of survival.
Play your part. Reap the reward.
âThank you.â
The tight line of his lips relaxes, spreading into a smile. It radiates the same sort of satisfied pride that he always gets when you show him gratitude for all heâs done for you.
To me, you correct yourself, fighting to keep those lines from blurring. When you look at your life through his eyes, you cannot deny that it looks small. Inconsequential. Lonely. Sad.
None of that changes the fact that it was yours. That it is yours. That he had no right to take it from you when he had every opportunity to ask to be part of it.
The worst part is that, given the choice, youâre starting to feel like you would have said yes.
Itâs a conflicted kind of relief when he closes his eyes and presses his lips lightly to yours. The heat of his mouthâthe instant memory of his tongue, his teeth, his roaming handsâsends a hot rush through you, but unlike last time the kiss is fleeting and chaste.
âAaaalrighty,â he says, his voice suddenly full of vigor and performative boom. Itâs a wonder he doesnât give himself a headache with how quickly heâs prone to switching gears. âLetâs get this grubhub goinâ.âÂ
He pushes off of the ledge and your stomach lurches the way it would at the start of a rollercoaster, a drop followed by a sudden lift. Your arm tightens around his neck while his smile lingers, clearly pleased by the clinginess this has imposed on you.
You donât have to tell him where to go. He knows exactly the alley to land in, sinking between buildings to the very back, as not to be observed by the bustling crowd below. Youâd grown used to the noise of the crowds, but after several days of quiet, the clamor of New York is borderline deafening. It makes you wince and reflexively press on one ear, plugging it while you adjust.
Regardless of the noise, you feel an instant relief when your feet hit the ground. Homelanderâs hands linger on your hip and your elbow, steadying you.
âWell?â he prompts. âYou glad we flew?â
âLetâs not get carried away,â you say, huffing a quiet laugh. âI very much almost lost my lunch, but⌠yeah, Iâll admit it was worth it,â you say, checking on the containers of food packed away.Â
Youâd considered hiding some kind of message amidst the food, but it felt too risky. There was too good of a chance that Homelander would check, and if he did, you wouldnât have made it this far at all.
For all you know, he did check. Youâre still not certain if he really has x-ray vision, or if thatâs an invention of Voughtâs for the movies. Better safe than sorry.
Maybe you wonât need a hidden message. Maybe youâll be able to get across to John, without saying a word, that something isnât right.
âIf you wait here, Iâll beââ
âWhat, Iâm not allowed to meet your friends?â he interrupts, hands on his hips.
âOh, uh.â You blink, holding his gaze uncertainly. âI didnât⌠think youâd want to.â
Homelander waves his hand dismissively.
âIf heâs important to you, heâs important to me,â he says, slipping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing lightly.
âBesides, next to children, the unhoused are our most vulnerable population,â he says, sounding entirely too much like a politician with a list of talking points. âAnything could happen to him. I can keep a close eye on him for you, make sure he doesnât get into any unnecessary trouble.â
His smile is too wide, too wolfish, and with a terrible chill you understand the words for the threat that they are.
If John causes problems for him, Homelander will remedy them.
Am I making a mistake?
Swallowing thickly, you nod. âOkay⌠Sure.â
Despite how heavily Homelanderâs words hang over your head, you very nearly take flight yourself with the swell relief that hits you when you see John sitting at the end corner of the alleyway, hands busy with a Rubikâs Cube. Heâs an imposing looking man in his late thirties, bearded and tall, but heâs never made you feel unsafe. Heâs kind, and most importantly, heâs familiar.
You take in a sharp breath of excitement, his name on the tip of your tongue, but a crimson leather clad hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into the shadow of the building. Homelander pins you back against him, one hand keeping you quiet while the other slips around your middle, locking you in place.
Did he change his mind, or was this all just a game from the start? Your wide eyes prickle with tears.
âGround rules,â he says, voice low in your ear. âWeâve been together for a couple of weeks, but for your own safety, itâs been kept a secret. You quit your dead-end job and traveled to Europe with me, from which weâve just recently returned. Got it?â
Huffing shallow little breaths from your nose, heart racing, you nod.
âIf I see any funny business, Iâll break his neck.â
You close your eyes, every beat of your heart a painful jab. His voice has the same cool hollowness it did when he warned you not to lie to him. Itâs him, and yet simultaneously sounds like an entirely different person.
âNod if you understand.â
A beat, and then you nod.
âGood girl,â he says, his smile audible in his praise. His hand slips away from your mouth and he kisses your temple, straightening out your clothes. His arm slinks around your waist, hand settling heavily on your hip. âNow, letâs get this over with.â
Rattled, you rub the tears from your eyes and take in a steadying breath, trepidation replacing your excitement. Dread pools in your stomach, the tide of it rising with every step, but you still manage to smile once youâre in earshot of your friend.
âHey, John,â you call gently, lifting a hand to wave when he meets your gaze.
John does a double take, glancing up once, then twice, recognition flipping to confusion, and then rounding back to delight. He smiles broadly from beneath his wiry beard, pushing off of the wall heâd been leaning against.
âIâll be damned,â he says as he approaches you. âYou had me worried! I was beginning to think yââ he stops himself, belatedly noticing Homelander at your side. His eyes widen a fraction, and then his brows furrow.
In his myriad of expressions, you recognize yourself. That first night you woke up, how confused you were by where you were and who you were with. The whole thing felt like a dream, and John looks as though heâs wondering if this is one, too.
As a New Yorker, seeing Homelanderâor any member of the Sevenâin the flesh typically means one of two things: youâve stumbled onto a promotional event, or trouble is close at hand.Â
âIs everything alright?â he settles on asking, the priority of his concern for you instantly warming your chattering heart.
âMore than alright,â Homelander answers when you take too long, flashing a winning smile. He gives your hip a squeeze, prompting you.
You clear your throat, lifting the bag off of your shoulder. âYeah, yeah, yes, Iâve justâIâve been away,â you say, already tripping over the lies catching in your throat.Â
If I see any funny business, Iâll break his neck.
Thanks to you, Johnâs life rides on this conversation, and he has no clue. You kick yourself internally, desperate to get your shit together for both your sakes.Â
âIt was really impromptu, but, uhm, I didnât want you to worry, and I have news, so Iââ you flash Homelander a look, as if to say let me sell this, and he reluctantly withdraws his arm. âI asked Homelander if heâd come along, because I honestly didnât think youâd believe me,â you say, forcing out a little laugh.
John hesitantly takes the bag when you offer it, but heâs looking at you like youâve grown a second head, his eyes occasionally darting over to Homelander, who continues to stand akimbo behind you. âBelieve youâŚ?â
âThat Iâm dating Homelander,â you say, pulling your lips back in what you can only hope is a convincing smile, and not just a manic show of teeth.
âOh,â he says, looking no less puzzled.
The whole situation is bizarre beyond words. That you would come to him, an acquaintance that youâve known only through habit, through the quick conversations youâve had in the transitional spaces between work and home, seems insane. That you would care that he knows or that he believes youâre dating New Yorkâs premium hero.
Of course he wonât see that youâre a hostage. Why the hell would he?Â
You feel out of your mind the same way you did sitting on that stupid couch, punching in website after website after website. Itâs futile. Youâre outside, youâre right in front of another person, someone who would be just as horrified as you are to know the truth, and yet you canât say a damn thing.
This will always be true. Whether youâre standing in front of a stranger, an acquaintance, or your dearest loved ones, your truth will put them in danger.
All because of one lonely little boy.
Your smile holds firm, but your eyes well with tears.
âI quit my job,â you say, fighting back the sob threatening to choke you. âSo I wonât see you anymore. But I, uhmâI just wanted to say goodbye. So, goodbye,â you say, moving to turn away before your emotions betray you any further, but John catches you by the shoulder, his touch light and painfully human.Â
âHey, you take care of yourself,â he says, looking to be shaking off the shellshock from what youâve presented. âYâalways seem to be taking care of other people and their problems, so⌠Take care of you, too. If not for yourself, youâll do that for me, yeah? For old timeâs sake,â he says with a smile, giving the bag a little shake.
You stare at him, the confession of it all sitting heavily on the tip of your tongue.Â
Help me! you want to shout. I canât do this alone. I canât take care of this myself. I need help. Itâs too much. Iâm scared.
You start to move towards him, and his opposite arm opens, as if ready to embrace you.
âLucky for her,â Homelander interrupts, hoisting you suddenly into his arms and out of Johnâs reach, shattering any potential illusions. âSheâs got me to take care of her now,â he says, his Hollywood smile stretched instead into a thin sneer.
âGreat to meetâcha, pal,â he spits, voice devoid of any actual camaraderie. Tears burn in your eyes as his fingertips dig into you, his grip like a vice, like chains slipping back around your limbs. âEnjoy the food.â
Anything John might have said in response is swallowed up by the rush of air parting around him as Homelander shoots up into the sky, leaving your world in the dust, and any hope you had with it.
The flight back to the penthouse is quiet.
Homelander flies faster than he did on the way out, itching to be back within the safe, predictable confines of home. Youâre tense in his hold, but both of your arms are wrapped around his neck, your face tucked in under his jaw, and he takes pleasure in that, at least.
Itâs a miracle he didnât rip that filthy fuckers arm off for the way he grabbed you, for the way he tried to pull you into his arms.
God damn pervert is what he is.Â
Youâre too naive to see it, but he isnât, and there wasnât a fucking chance he was going to let the guy cop one last feel before you were spirited away for good. The thought alone is enough to set his teeth on edge, to make him consider paying the son of a bitch a little visit anyways.
He grits his teeth.
No one touches his things.
It sets off something primal in him. A gnawing, feverish compulsion to claim you so thoroughly there could be no doubt that youâre his. He wants to fuck you, to mark you so obviously that no other man will ever touch you like that again.
By the time he lands on the concrete slab of his balcony, youâre shaking up a storm. He maneuvers inside without putting you down, as youâve made no move to let go of him.Â
Something isnât right.Â
He rubs your back, mimicking the patterns you make when you rub his, pausing when you suddenly make a choked noise that sounds suspiciously close to a sob.
What the hell? He did exactly what you asked him to. Youâre supposed to be happy.
He carries you to his bed, a dozen versions of the two of you reflected back in the surrounding mirrors, and sets you down gently. Your arms slide loose from his neck and fall limply to your sides. Bending down, he cups either side of your face and brings your gaze up to meet his, perplexed to find your eyes brimming with tears.
âHey,â he says softly, swiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb as it falls. âYou got what you wanted, didnât you?â
You shut your eyes and make a sound he canât make sense of, something between exasperation and agony. Though you try to pull out of his grip, he holds you in place, refusing to let you run from this.Â
From him.
âNo, no. Look at me. I did what you asked,â he says, impatience slowly wringing the gentleness from his voice.
Your eyes are red and glassy, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and over his thumbs.Â
Christ.Â
This is a far cry from what he had in mind when he thought earlier about how youâd make it up to him.
âI canât do this anymore,â you sob, taking hold of his wrists. âI just want to go home.â
His expression falls, brows furrowed in confusion, dismay, anger.
âWhatâre you talking about? You are home. Youâre happy here. You have everything, youâIâve given you everything,â he says, though a voice in the back of his mind reminds him that isnât true.Â
He hasnât given everything. Not yet. Heâs been holding back. You both have, and now youâre both suffering.
Enough, he thinks. Hasn't he been deprived long enough?
Haven't you?
You try again to pull away, but this time he pulls you forward, pressing his lips to yours. You make a sound against his mouth that sounds like surprise, but all that matters now is the thrum of your skin against his.
âDoesnât have to be like this,â he says between kisses, following you as you pull backwards, his knee hitting the bed as he crawls over top of you. He lets his hands roam, learning you in the way heâs been aching to since the day he decided that you would be his, and that he would be yours.Â
âYou have no idea how fucking good I can make you feel.â
Pleasure has always been his greatest comfort. The ability to shut down his brain, to quiet the voices and focus solely on the physical. He needs it, and now more than ever, he can see that you need it, too.Â
He kisses your jaw, your cheek, kisses the wet streaks from your skin and licks the salt of them from his lips.
âI can make it go away,â he murmurs, undeterred by your hands pushing against his chest. You have a nasty habit of fighting whatâs good for you.Â
âIâll make you happy if youâd just let me.â
Your clothes put up less resistance than you do, the designer material tearing with ease. He swallows up your gasp with another kiss, slips his tongue into your mouth and grazes your teeth with it, daring you to bite.
Your pulse thunders in his ears, but not even the acridity of the fear coursing through you can hide the sweet heat of arousal seeping from between your thighs.
His own body aches in kind, cock throbbing needily behind his cup. His mind has already started to fog, the sting of rejection soothed by the need he can feel building in every part of your body.Â
You want him. You do. He can feel it in the drumming of every climbing throb he hears your body give.
âAll this teasing, this tension, it can all end. Weâre so close to what we both want now, what we both need.â His hand slips lower, forcing your legs apart enough to drag his middle finger over your cunt through the satiny fabric of your panties, savoring the way it makes you shudder.
âI donât want this,â you say, hardly sounding convinced of it yourself.
âYou can lie to yourself all you want, but you canât lie to me, â he says, taking his hand away only to bite the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off with his teeth and tossing it aside. He moves it right back to your pussy, pressing in firmly to finally feel the hot, soaked patch of fabric against his bare skin.Â
âLook whoâs all wet.â
âWhy are you doing this?â Thereâs a tremble running through your voice, through your body.
He huffs an incredulous little breath.
âIâm doing this for you. For us. Iâm doing this because you donât know how to let yourself be happy,â he says, drawing back to look at you. Youâre beautiful like this. Eyes glassy and vibrant, skin hot under his touch. âAll you have to do is let go, and Iâll make all the bad stuff go away.â
You donât respond, but he knows by the look of you that heâs struck a chord. He kisses you again, and this time, you donât try to turn away. Instead, both of your hands slip into his hair, and to his elation, you kiss him back.
He moans against your lips, shifting onto his side next to you so that he can better maneuver his hand, bringing his fingers up to slip them into your underwear, letting out a low sound for the feel of your velvety wet cunt under his bare fingers.
âKeep breathing,â he reminds you, acutely attuned to every inch of you, including when your breath catches. âThatâs it⌠Good girl.â
The last thing he needs now is for you to pass out.
He kisses a trail down from your shoulder to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts before he kisses an apology into the soft skin, only to suck a mark at that same spot. He spreads your own slick from your cunt to your clit, massaging it between his middle and index finger.
You suck in a ragged breath, you whimper, and in that sound he knows he finally has you hook, line and sinker.
Thatâs when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above. You shudder, turning your head away as if ashamed, but he wonât let you hide from this.
âAh, ah, none of that. No shame in this. Itâs a tale as old as time, sweetheart,â he says, pressing his middle finger slowly into the silky clench of your pussy.Â
âBoy meets girl⌠Girl falls for boy⌠Boy fucks her brains out,â he half laughs, half rasps, hooking his leg over yours both to pull your legs wider apart, and to give himself your thigh to grind against.
He angles his thumb to rub your clit while his finger crooks, stroking inside you until he finds that delicate, puffy little bundle of nerves heâs been taught to look for. More than just by the feel of it, he knows heâs found it when your hips jerk suddenly, and you look at him as though heâs just invented the spot.
âI told you,â he rumbles, kissing you slow, wet, hungry, âthat I would make you feel good.â
He adds another finger, fucking you with them slowly, his pace building gradually. He imagines how itâll feel to have his cock where his fingers are, and he nearly comes in his pants at the thought alone, his hips jerking against you.
âLook at yourself,â he sighs, his other hand cupping the back of your neck. âLook at yourself,â he says again, harsher this time, and your eyes snap up to the mirror above you.
Youâre a mess, clothes torn apart and splayed under and around you, hickeys forming where heâs abused your skin with his lips. Youâre fucking yourself down on his hand entirely of your own accord now, one hand fisted in his hair, the other in the sheets. Your tears have dried and thereâs only sweet, mindless pleasure left in your eyes.
Heâs never known a pain he couldnât fuck away. He knew youâd be the same.
âSo fucking perfect for me,â he coos, breath hitching on his own mounting pleasure. Your pussy squeezes his fingers, the lewd cacophony of pleasure filling the room the closer you get to the brink.
âHomelander,â you keen, voice fractured and sweet as sugar.Â
He kisses his name from your lips, licks up the honied taste of it while he fucks you deeper, faster, his pace never once faltering, not even as you begin to thrash against him. He canât tell if youâre trying to get closer or further, but he holds you tightly in place, gritting his teeth against the pleasure while he shamelessly humps your leg.
Your shallow breaths take on a pitchy sound as you writhe, as if part of you is still fighting him, fighting your pleasure, but in the end, itâs a battle you lose. Your cunt locks up like a vice around his fingers, your orgasm throbbing inside and out, your clit fluttering against his thumb.
Youâre robbed of breath, of sound, and of sense as you come, capable of nothing more than a silent cry as pleasureâthe pleasure he gave youâwracks your body.
He fucks you through it, relishing the way your quivering cunt squeezes his fingers, greedily pulling him back in on every thrust. Itâs too muchâyouâre too muchâand he loses himself to it, giving a ragged gasp as he comes shortly after. His eyes roll back, pulse after pulse of sweet pleasure filling his cup with liquid heat.
âI love you,â he gasps, nearly choking on the words, rocking against your still-trembling form. âIâfffuck, I love you, I love you so much.â
Heâs languid but no less ravenous in the way he kisses your chest, your throat, your jaw, your mouth, all while his fingers rock lazily in and out of your cunt. Still coming down from his own high, he doesnât stop until youâre grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand away, pleading your overstimulation with nothing but soft noises.Â
He licks his fingers clean, intoxicated by the feel, taste and smell of you. A shiver runs through you, and itâs only then that he realizes he forgot to shut the balcony door behind him.
Too enraptured to move, to risk breaking the spell your bodies have cast over one another, he drapes his cape over your naked body, tucking you in against his chest.
Satisfied that heâs made his point, that you finally understand the gift heâs wanted to give you all along, he wraps both arms around you and nuzzles against the top of your head, pressing a kiss to the crown.
While ending your first tryst sticky and wet in his pants wasn't his ideal scenario, he'll take it. The weight of you in his arms, the taste of you on his lips, more than makes up for it.
âThatâs it,â he murmurs, the words slurring together slightly. He strokes your back, holding you close as the tremors subside. He gladly takes credit for the way your breaths even out, for the way you sink into his arms, the resistance wrung from your muscles.Â
All thatâs left now is bliss.Â
âThatâs my girl.â And you are, without a shadow of a doubt, his.
#i cannot overstate how insanely good this chapter is#if anyone hasnt read this series yet please do#its such a masterful look into Homelander's psyche#homelander x reader#fic rec
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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 youâve become a part of his life, any second spent without you feels like somethingâs missing. So itâs 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 âWelcome homeâ shouted from another room.
âBabe?â Homelander calls out into the penthouse, the questioning tone reverberating through the open plan of his home. He knows youâre 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 wouldnât you react to his presence? Shouldnât 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 youâve had on his life itâs 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 doesnât really know how to approach you when youâre distant like this.
So his over the top bravado will have to do.
âHeyyyy there sleepy head! You know itâs waaayyy too late for a lie in, don't you think?â 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.Â
He doubles down anyway. âIf I knew you were planning to spend the entire day in bed I wouldâve never left.â But, you donât 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 heâs 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.Â
He should be able to do the same for you, right?
âHmm⌠Iâm just resting.â You sound dejected, empty.Â
He swallows at the sound of you being so different. Youâre missing the light that usually fills out the dark space in him. Homelander doesnât know how to approach you. Whenâs the last time heâs had to comfort anyone? Truly comfort someone. Has anyone ever asked or even trusted him to be there for them?
Whether youâve asked or not, he needs to be there for you.
Itâs the least you deserve.
âYeah right.â
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 youâre 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.
âHow long have you been doom scrolling now?â He clicks his tongue, shaking his head lightly against your shoulder.
 âI donât know. A while I guess.â While you squirm in his hold your tone is still just as impenetrable.
âYouâre not even looking at the screen!â When you donât even react he frowns. âAlright, thatâs enough of that.â 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. Itâs what he wouldâve wanted in times of despair. Itâs 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.
âWhatâs wrong?â He says. This time in a soft, low voice. No longer trying to put on a show. Heâs meant to be there for you, not for a crowd.
âI donât really know how to talk about it⌠Or if I even want toâŚâ While you donât sound like yourself, part of him is glad to hear your sadness. Itâs 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.
âOkay. You can⌠I donât know, at least try to tell me something about whatâs going on. Orrr, I will be reciting all of the amendments to the Constitution of the United States.â Heâs gambling with the teasing tone of his voice but it pays off when you groan and giggle.
âOh god no, not again!âÂ
âWelp, itâs your choice.â By now he canât stop the smile from spreading across his lips. He gives you a soft squeeze.
âAlright, I can try.â You concede with a calm defeat.
âGood. Thatâs a start.â 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
#I'm sorry this is late anon!#I hope you feel better 𩷠and if you don't I hope this brings some comfort#I've had a terrible day and I needed something to get my mind off things. This little ficlet helped. I hope it helps some of you.#Although my misery isn't mainly due to the election results I still weep for my american friends and followers#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander#homelander fanfiction#my writing#the boys fanfiction#homelander fluff#homelander x gn!reader
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Antony Starr/Homelander on set and BTS photos from the Amazon X-Ray Bonus content:
#ohhhh ive not seen most of these!#love the one from the first ever scene#and the couch one đĽšđĽš#precious bby#his titties look juicy af in these#homelander
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homelander's fangs appreciation
#shoutout to these gifs#stared at them about a thousand times over while writing my biting fic#his sharp teeth make me go đĽ´đĽ´#clearly#bite me next bite me next#thank u#the first one especially#so pointy!!!!#anyway yes#yes to vamplander#homelander
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â.
#i love his pointy fingers#its been on my to do list to make a gifset of his dramatic gestures for the longest time#but am lazy#so i love to see him with his angry red pointer finger in my face#the dramatic flare his suit adds to him is so silly#me anytime i dress up suddenly gaining new found confidence#homelander
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Hi!!! If your free and hey take caree there no pressure
Homelander x reader (both are establish)
He sees reader in a dress which is a new change for her at some point they do get smutty at night . She found a nice peice he sneakily uses his x ray abilities and finds out she has no bra and panties (reader knew he would do that)
I'm sorry this is so late, and isn't exactly how you requested it but in this fic I've incorporated some of those elements you've asked for, specifically with you in mind so I hope you like it!
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Mark Me Yours
[Masterlist]
18+ Only | 4.6k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Biting. Established Relationship. Mild Pain Play. Cunnilingus. Fingering (with gloves on).
Written for cozy corner kinktober prompt #16: Biting
Amongst the buzz of some vague Halloween music and constant chatter, Homelander is impatiently looking around the room. As an annual treat, Vought organizes a Halloween-themed party for their shareholders, ambassadors and any and all influential people that get easily swayed by expensive champagne and an impressive catering spread.Â
The one person not impressed is Homelander himself.Â
Heâs had his fill of schmoozing and brown-nosing at Madelynâs behest. By now heâs just looking for an excuse to leave. Heâs not one to indulge in partying like the rest of the Seven. Looking at the state of them leaves him with a bitter feeling. There they are being more rambunctious than ever while heâs the only one whoâs trustworthy enough to actually get the job of upselling and marketing done right.
While itâs dressed as a fun party, Vought doesnât do things for fun. Itâs a thinly veiled attempt at getting all the powerful people in the room to spend more money and sign onto more superhero-led campaigns in their fields. Really, to Homelander itâs a waste of fucking time. There are so many better things he could be doing. But no. Heâs stuck having to sweet talk every C-suite level person in the room.
And while part of him wishes he could just relax and kick back like the rest of them he just as much scoffs at the childish Halloween costumes the rest of his team came in. Before the party even broke out, Deep thought it would be funny to come dressed in one of those terribly cheap polyester Homelander costumes all the pathetic lowlifes wear on this day of the year.
Pfft. As if they could ever understand the burden that comes with wearing the suit. Neither, really, could Deep. Thatâs why one look was enough to get through even his thick and algae-infested skull that if he doesnât change out of the suit there wonât be a body to dress up for the party.Â
With an exasperated shake of his head he looks for you. He comes into these parties with decent energy, soaking up the applause and the adoring words but very quickly the praise turns sour when he feels just how empty and vapid each executive he talks to comes across as. They donât actually care for his attention. They just want to wring him dry for more cash and fame. Youâre the only one whoâs managed to keep his usually soured high going. Your look doesnât turn vacant, instead thereâs a real person behind those eyes. One thatâs his. One that adores him and is his to adore.Â
So where the hell were you anyway? Your presence is what makes him tolerate the insipid crowds these days. Besides the fact that he gets to be with you and show you off to the world, he happily uses your name as an excuse to get out of conversations that just about manage to reach levels of stupidity and numbness that even his media-trained smiles and nods canât keep him looking interested.
Fucking Halloween. What a stupid holiday, he thinks. Homelander slides his tongue over the fake plastic vampire fangs you insisted he wears throughout the night. As if heâs a child that has to partake in the âfestivitiesâ. As if it wasnât enough that heâs gracing everyone here with his effervescent presence. Surrounded by cameras he has no choice but to keep up his flawless smile, now tainted with the silly prop.
And really at this point heâs getting less annoyed and more worried. You promised youâd show up. And while the party is in full effect youâre still nowhere to be seen. Homelander steps a little to the side, removing himself from as much of the chatter and music as he can, instead listening carefully, honing in on the familiar pitter patter of your heart. Only outpaced by the clicking of your heels as you rush across the stone flooring.
Tsk, late as always.Â
Not even a minute later you make your way through the open door, immediately looking around for him. Homelander watches you try to calm down your rush as you finally settle your eyes on him. Youâre smoothing down your dress and calming your breath. He leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow and with a lifted gloved finger he motions for you to come close.
Thank god youâre finally here. Just the sight of you is enough to release the tension in his shoulders. Relieved that thereâs finally someone who he doesnât have to pretend in front of.Â
And what a sight you are. Dressed to the nines, a gorgeous classy black evening dress that fits your body perfectly.
He would know, itâs one of the many he handpicked for you.Â
Looking at you now he canât deny that heâs got impeccable taste. His keen eye is good when it comes to picking clothing that dresses your figure in a flattering way. Not just any dress would do, it always has to be perfect.
Until he actually notices the little band of cat ears across your head that has him recall the very long-winded argumentâor an exchange of opinions as you liked to call itâabout the importance of dressing up appropriately during any festivities you come to be a part of.
âLook who finally showed up. I was beginning to think you stood me up.â He flashes you a grin, letting the fangs exaggerate the sharpness of his smile.Â
You stutter through your answer, caught off guard, and instead of defending your tardiness you change the conversation. Homelander watches as your eyes widen in surprise, locking on the way he slides his tongue over the pointy ends. The shiver that runs through you doesnât escape him either. Well⌠isnât that interesting.Â
âOh my godâI didnât thinkâ youâre actually wearing them!â Almost comically you put your hand over your mouth in shock and he takes the time to properly look you up and down. In your initial shock you let him in on not one, not two but three secrets.Â
From the gasped breath and the excited shiver running down your body he deduces that your earlier adamant begging to have him dress up was for an entirely different indulgence.Â
His second surprise upon checking you up and down was the lack of any undergarments. Not that he wouldnât be able to look through the flimsy bits of fabric as well but the lack of them certainly inspires a mood.Â
And the third secret your body lets him in on is just how much you enjoy the sight of his fanged grin. Your thighs rub together but with no fabric to soak into, your slick just squelches in between your legs. A sweet little symphony for his ears only. Maybe tonight wonât be so boring after all.Â
If this was the kind of trick or treating he knew heâd be getting heâd have been onboard with the holiday a lot sooner.Â
His mouth tugs into a smile but he stops himself, instead tutting and shaking his head.
âUnlike someone, Iâm keeping my word.â He rolls his eyes. âAfter all that hounding you come out in this? So much for dressing up, Mrs Halloween spirit.â He makes a mocking gesture with his hands, waving dramatically over your Halloween costume, if one could call it that. Â
âAnd sweetheart, although you look stunning, your little cat ears definitely donât count as a costume.â Homelander relishes in the way you swoon under his compliments and attention.
At least someone here understands how valuable it is to have his attention.Â
Homelander waves over a waiter, plucking a flute glass off the tray, passing it to you. This breaks you out of your trance and you finally get your words straight.
âSorry, thatâs why Iâm late. I had a costume, I swear! Then Ashley needed help with something and then on my way here someone spilled red wine all over my costume, so I had to change. I know itâs not impressive but this was last minute!âÂ
âOh, itâs very impressive. Just not very festive of you.â He quotes what you said earlier that evening about his reluctance to wear the stupid Dracula costume you prepared for him.
âIf you wanted to come as Catwoman you couldâve worn some swanky latex at least.âÂ
âOh no thank you. Youâd be peeling me out of that at the end of the night.â And you look cute when you shake your head with that displeased look on your face.
âWho said I wonât be peeling you out of this?â He places his hand on your waist, his glove sliding across the silk of the dress.
âIâm hoping thatâs gonna look a little more elegant than the latex suit would.â You lean in, whispering this little secret as if it was just the two of you in the room. You do always make him feel like heâs the only one in the room. Finally, heâs getting the respect he deserves.
âOne way to find out.â He graces you with a show of his sharp fangs as he whips out another wide grin.Â
It almost wins you over.
But youâre not that easily swayed. And you came here to celebrate Halloween with him. Clearly, heâs not gonna be able to use you as an excuse to leave just yet.
You say just that.
âYou canât leave yet!â You cover your flustered cheeks with a laugh.
Homelander doesnât give up without a fight, but more importantly thereâs nothing he loves more than having an upper hand. âThen why arenât you wearing any underwear?â
Heâs close to leaning you against the wall and boxing you in so you donât have a chance to get away but he does have appearances to uphold.Â
âIâum, I thought Iâd keep you motivated to keep your energy up throughout the night.â Youâre no stranger to keeping things exciting. Flirting with him is a must and comes naturally. Unless itâs outside the comfort of your home. Then you get all flustered and embarrassed. Itâs cute, really.Â
âYouâre motivating me to leave.â He grumbles and dips his eyes back down your body, making it terribly obvious that heâs not just admiring your dress.Â
On the other hand, heâs a better flirt in a crowd. He knows the power that comes with being surrounded by people that adore him and while itâs the comfort in between the two of you that allows that, he takes advantage of being the one whoâs seemingly in control.Â
âI've barely just arrived!âÂ
âThat's your problem not mine, be punctual next time.â
 âCome on, just another hour. You can manage.â
He rolls his eyes, already beyond fed up with the party. However, he still has a job to do and you take the chance to make your way around the room to make your presence known to other attendees.Â
As the time goes on, Homelander catches you looking around for him like a sixth sense tickling the back of his neck and everytime he meets your wandering eyes, giving you a dazzling smile showing off those fake fangs he still puts up with just for you. And each time you look away flustered and move out of his line of sight.
While everyone else is here to kick back, heâs still on duty, actively greasing deals, soft-launching Madelynâs messaging and repeating the corporate-glazed talking points just to plant the seeds of Voughtâs future plans in unsuspecting and mildly inebriated victims.Â
The promised excruciating hour later he finally makes his way around the room back to you, pulling you out of the conversation with his media smile aimed at the group. âSorry folks, youâll need to excuse my date.â With a hand settling on your lower back, he takes you away into a quieter corner, plucking the empty glass out of your fingers, placing it at a nearby catering table.
âYou have been avoiding me.â
âI have not! I just know how busy you are.â
âRight.â He spreads his lips into a wicked smile and he watches as your eyes quickly dart from his eyes to his teeth, not quickly enough for him to miss it. Neither does he miss the way your heart skips a beat.
Itâs then he puts his hands on his hips shaking his head with a laugh. âI knew it, youâre into this.â He lifts one hand to wave a gloved finger in your face as if youâve done something naughty.
âIâm not!â Youâre a terrible liar. Homelander just places his hand on your chin as he uses it to tilt your head to one side.
While ignoring your protest he continues. âIs this some sort of Twilight fantasy youâve got? Want me to bite you here?âÂ
âWhatâno!â
He raises his eyebrows, parting his lips as he glides his gloved fingers down your neck with his other hand. As if you were in a secluded bubble he has his eyes firmly set on you, focusing on the hurried beat of your heart.Â
Unlike him you fluster. Unable to tune out the sound of the party and the presence of a crowd.
âStop, youâre embarrassing me!â You squeak out like a little mouse, though your hushed voice makes no difference to Homelanderâs keen ears.
While he doesnât let the topic go, he does let go of your chin, allowing you to straighten up.Â
âWhile I love you very much, Iâm not covering myself with glitter.â He chuckles to himself, terribly amused at having found one of your guilty pleasures. âBut I can be your super strong and fast vampire if youâd like that.â Itâs his turn to turn all hushed and whispered. He talks in a way that he usually indulges in between the sheets yet he canât resist to see your reaction.
Homelander doesnât miss the way you shudder at his proposition. He almost melts away your stubborn exterior, but you snap out of the dazed vision and blink your fantasies away. This is not the place.
âWait, how do you know so much about it? And no, no, itâs not a Twilight fantasy. It doesnât matter. Does it really need an explanation?â Still continuing with the hushed outrage you pull him with you, backing out of the party hall.
Homelander grins at you widely, purposefully flashing the fangs while you drag him away from the party. You probably think youâre being subtle, trying to blend your bodies in between the incoming crowds. However, his cape alone is as dead giveaway as any. If anyone cared to get his attention at the party they were now keenly aware that heâs left.Â
âNope, not really. I just want to know whatâs going on in that fucked up little head of yours.â The lightheartedness that comes with you two prodding one another is not only refreshing; itâs needed. To have someone he can feel like a lovesick teenager with is more important than he expected it to be.Â
You act as if you were sneaking away from your parentsâ house rather than seeking the quiet comfort of your home.
You secretly make your way down hallways, guiding Homelander behind you.
Even with his hand in yours you reluctantly turn around. The Eurydice to your Orpheus where one look would make him disappear forever.Â
He understands the love shared between the two of you. Sometimes itâs so overwhelming it feels like its own living thing. Ever growing. Spreading like mold. Taking over everything that you both are. Be it good or bad.Â
When he shuts the door behind the two of you itâs like the rest of the world goes quiet. He canât stop himself from smiling widely at the sound of your pretty laugh when he spins you in place, clumsily dancing with you across the hardwood floor of his penthouse.Â
He didnât get the luxury of dancing with you during the party so he enjoys the feel of you carefree and against him in the comfort of his personal enclosure.
Neither of you need music to feel the intimate rhythm of your bodies. And really, the party has only just started. Each wrong step results in a giggle and another twirl with which Homelander brings you closer.
The warmth and love Homelander can feel from your laugh is so visceral he needs to taste it. He captures your lips. Simply pressing his against yours. Feeling the vibrations of your giggles against his pursed lips.
Just as heâs parting his lips to deepen the kiss you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. You donât put any effort into pushing him off, it would be fruitless should you try anyway.Â
âTake them out, theyâll get in the way.â You refer to the fangs youâve been downright drooling over the whole night. Finally. Homelander takes out the prop fangs and tosses them to the side.
With no barriers in the way he devours your lips like heâs been starved for the taste of you all night. Heâs drunk on the ease with which you let him take what he wants from you.Â
Heâs pulling out his best moves tonight. Heâs always eager to impress, but tonight especially so. Itâs not everyday he finds out about yet another depraved fantasy youâve been keeping away from him. That alone is a reason to celebrate and pull out all the stops. So if a little innocent vampire roleplay is what you want, a vampire roleplay is what youâll get.Â
Nipping at your lips earns him a moan. His hands gliding up your body cause a shudder. He continues teasing you little by little until your body is begging him to take it further. Your tongue licks over the naturally pointy ends of his canines. His grin stretches wide, dissolving the haze of lust and instead reminding him of what heâs here to do.
He walks you back to the sofa, all the way until your calves hit the upholstering and your knees give in. With a gleeful giggle you fall onto the cushioning. Homelander follows after you, sprawling across your body, still kissing you.
"I can hear your pulse racing..." Homelander breathes out when he pulls away. His eyebrows pinched tight together, acting as if any second away from you causes him pain.Â
It doesnât. But being away from you might as well feel like heâs drowning.
âAll that blood rushingâŚâ In a breathy tone he continues. His hands push the straps of your dress over your shoulders. His hands tremble. Wanting to grip and squeeze and push and pull. But the power heâs capable of is always kept tightly locked up. But the desire and the pool of need inside him just begs for him to be inside you, feeling your supple warmth all around him.
But he wants to fulfill your fantasy. He wants to be good for you.
With a moan he drags his tongue starting from your collarbone up the line of your neck. Hungry for the faint taste of you he licks at the tender skin, sucking marks where you wonât be able to conceal them.
He laps his tongue over the junction of your neck and shoulder with the same eagerness he usually devours your cunt with. Now heâs preparing the soft delicate skin of your neck, akin to a surgeon before a procedure. Equally diligent in prepping your skin ready for the incision. Except Homelander wants you to feel the sharpness and warmth of his canines and incisors rather than the cold steel of a surgical scalpel. Your blood rushes to the surface where heâs sucked hickies all over your skin. The temptation to break skin and feel the warmth of your blood is tempting. But alas, he wants you lightheaded with pleasure, not blood loss.
Heâs too sucked into his own world. Your blood is rushing loudly in his ears. He doesnât even manage to slip out another zinger before sinking his teeth into your neck with a needy moan.
Should someone stumble upon you two, it wouldnât be clear who asked for this roleplay in the first place.Â
Homelanderâs careful with the pressure he puts into the bite. Even without his super strength he could easily break through your fragile skin. Instead heâs leaving indents and bite marks over your neck that have you whimpering right into each lap of his tongue over the wounded skin.
Attuned to your bodyâs responses he can feel the way youâre getting off on the contrast of the sharp bites and the dull ache of his languid tongue.
When heâs done with your neck, Homelander pulls away. Eyes hazy with lust. Hands trembling. His heartbeat is so loud it overpowers yours. He slides his tongue over his teeth as if he was licking off your blood. He looks up to meet your eyes and if the sight of you isnât something out of a dream.
Just as hazed with the thick lust in the air. The smattering of bites is exquisite on a canvas as perfect as you. Your body rises and collapses with each shuddered breath and Homelander wants nothing more than to finish painting your body with his love.
And he does. Tearing and sliding the silk fabric off your body he leaves you bare in front of him. Your choice to omit your underwear gets you rewarded faster. Heâs already sucking and biting all over your chest. Swapping for soft kisses anytime you yelp out of painful sensitivity.
Homelander bites wherever his teeth allow to sink into your flesh. Giving them the same soothing treatment with his tongue like heâs done on your neck.
The bites he descends upon your sides make you burst into giggles, temporarily breaking the bubble of the heated tension. With a smile he nuzzles his head into your belly, kissing you with affection all over the exposed skin. While the love he exudes is just as intoxicating, you push his head further down.
âGreedy.â He teases, but he happily slides off the couch, kneeling on the ground right in front of your gloriously spread legs. âWant me to bite you here too?â He easily slides back into his breathy tone as his mouth waters at the smell of your arousal.
After all this time heâs spent getting you worked up with bites and kisses youâre leaking over the couch.
He doesnât wait for your answer, if you were coherent enough to give it anyway, and instead he licks up your inner thigh. Narrowly avoiding your sopping wet cunt. And while the hypnotizing rhythm of your throbbing clit nearly sucks him in, thereâs still plenty of supple flesh heâs yet to sink his teeth into.
Homelander treats your inner thighs with the same respect heâs given your neck. Even though you wiggle underneath his tongue he holds you down. His arm easily pinning your middle down, while his shoulders keep your legs open enough for him to continue.
Here the sensation makes you both whimper from the stinging bites and giggle from the tickling motions of his tongue. Your body continues to serve as a canvas as he litters marks in between your thighs. He lets a few bruises join the mix as he grips your thighs with too much enthusiasm when he dips his head lower to bite another mark higher up the sensitive skin.Â
You donât shy away from the pain either. The contrasting shades of pain he paints across your skin just make your breath stutter, your heart race and your core ache for more.
Homelander is just as strung out. His cock is heavy and aching uncomfortably in the tight confines of his pants but heâs not about to relieve himself. Not when youâre served in front of him like a meal.Â
Finally he buries his head into your lap. He licks up a line from your weeping hole to your clit, slurping up as much slick as his tongue can gather. He goes through expressions of content, where heâs eagerly sucking on your clit, and need, where he pinches his eyebrows together, whimpering into your cunt at the feeling of you quivering around his tongue.
And really, he could spend hours in between your legs. Getting handfuls of your ass he pulls you even closer, his tongue now closely and precisely rolling around your clit in a rhythm that has your toes curling and heart pounding. Heâs come to know your body as intimately as it gets. The changes in pace are part of his plan. The slow teasing to a fast build-up, letting the feeling of your encroaching orgasm climb up and up your spine until he slows down, dropping the meter down again, wanting to prolong your pleasure.
With the occasional pull to the side where he nips more bites into your inner thighs he has you strung tight, and heâs playing you like a violin. When your moans turn into near sobs at the constant edge he keeps you balanced on, Homelander takes pity on you.
Gathering the slick and saliva, he pushes two thick gloved fingers into you. The drag of the leather glove is not familiar enough to you and you whine at the contact, clenching down on his fingers. Tight enough to nearly stop the glide.
With soft kisses he descends upon your clit, he lets you relax. When your cunt is no longer squeezing his fingers for dear life he drags them in and out while amping up the pressure. The obscene display of you bare to the world and him still dressed in his uniform has you both vocal and shameless.
While heâs already done a fantastic job of licking you open and needy, making you into an even bigger mess than you were before; heâs now fucking you wide open, preparing you for whatâs inevitably going to be his cock in a round or two filling out all the space his fingers canât reach.Â
âCâmon, keep fucking me. Harder. Harder. Ye-yes. Yes!â You groan out, your voice all cracked and strained from moaning for so long.Â
You grind yourself down on his fingers as much as the space allows. Your fingers pull at his hair while you ride both his face and his fingers to completion. Itâs a hard finish, with downright growled words of praise as you chase the high heâs providing you with.
âThatâs it, thatâs it, thatâs it. Fffuuck. Such a good boy, letting me ride your face like that.â You pant in between words, just as eager to give out praise as he is to receive it.Â
With an obscene squelch, Homelander pulls his fingers out of you, sucking the leather clean, adding to the already rich taste of you on his tongue. You slide down the couch and lean down to kiss him, and he indulges you in letting you taste yourself on his lips.
Pulling away, you only allow the minimum space apart in between each other. Just like him, you act as if being apart caused you harm.Â
âTake me to bed. I want to ride your cock next. Aaand maybe bite you myself.â With a giggle you wrap your hands around his neck.Â
âYou know you canât bite me.â With a tilt of his head he kisses the bite marks heâs left behind. Each kiss brings back a little spark of pain making you twitch.Â
âI love a challenge.â
âWell Iâd certainly love to see you try.â He effortlessly lifts you up from the couch, already carrying you over to the bedroom.
After all the treating heâs done, heâs definitely excited to see some tricks.
So maybe the Halloween celebrations are not so stupid after all.
Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):
@rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade @littlegaaby @jokesonyoupup
@nommingonfood @infinetlyforgotten @nervoussystemss
#this was meant for both halloween AND kinktober but I'm terribly late#SORRYYYY#idk how I managed to get up to 4.5k words and not get past oral but oh well#also I've been battling with this for ages so excuse the poor dialogue#not well edited and I've read it too many times so if there are mistakes SO BE IT#cozy corner kinktober 2024#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander#homelander fanfiction#my writing#the boys fanfiction
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"Write for yourself, you can't depend on getting comments on your fics to feel good, don't look for validation from oth-..."
#and then I sit there rereading the comment and kicking my feet#< prev#so true#this also reminds me that I need to go back to all the kinktober fics I've read and leave comments!!
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my favorite Homelander headcannon that's been floating around in my head is that he gets motion sickness
He's durable and all, but i feel like if he wasn't in control of something, not using his powers and forcing himself to be docile, it'd just mess with him. Having to ride in a car? He's toast. He will be flying there please and thank you.
#cosigning this#the visual of him in a car is too funny ngl#dude's anxiety is off the charts while he's just sitting in the passenger seat#yeah he can just burst through the metal and escape but he's not in control!!! and that's not okay!!!#homelander headcanons
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The Lucky Winner
[Masterlist]
18+ Only | 8.5k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Pre-season 1. Voice kink. Oral sex. Unprotected sex.
Summary: You're a huge fan of Homelander but you always feel too awkward to ever meet your hero at a meet & greet or similar events. Your friends enter you into a Vought competition, where you've got a chance to win a phone call from Homelander himself. Â
Authorâs Note: My first Homelander fic! Also, this is the first time Iâm publishing my work. Obligatory English isnât my first language so apologies if there are any strange turns of phrase but I happily take on criticism so feel free to correct me. I want to get better! Iâm also not very good with sticking to the right tense. This is very self-indulgent so read with caution.Â
You can��t decide whether to hug or strangle your friends. Theyâre trying to be nice, you get that. But this goes against everything youâd ever do! Lovely as they are, theyâve entered you into a competition to meet your hero. To meet Homelander. The thought alone makes your head spin, your heart pound and stomach twist on itself.
âIt was just 20 bucks, whatâs the worst that can happen? You win?â Reads your friendâs message. You roll your eyes, hearing the teasing tone in your head. They know about your not-so-hidden obsession and at the end of the day they just wanted to brighten their friends day.
And sure, you are a fan. Okay, fine. Youâre a big fan. Obsessed even. Every-wall-of-your-bedroom adorned-with-posters-and-promotional-materials obsessed. But you donât want to appear like that. Last thing youâd want to come across as to your idol, you hero, is an annoying screeching fan begging for his attention.
You donât want to be part of the crowds pawing at him, inching as close as they can just to graze his uniform with their fingertips. You donât want to look like a feral fan. You have manners. You donât want to be just another face, just another adoring fan begging for him to look your way. Itâs hard to admit to yourself that youâll never be more than a fan. So you donât go to meet & greets. You donât go to premieres. You donât pay exorbitant fees just to meet your hero.
Youâre a romantic at heart. You always imagine the first meeting to be one for the books. Maybe he saves you from a burning building flying you down, his stars and stripes billowing in the wind as he looks at you with concern etched into his handsome face, his piercing blue eyes scanning you for injuries as he talks to you with a soothing rumbling tone that sends shivers down your spine. You can clearly imagine him going, Are you okay miss?, as he descends to the ground. Or you just happen to bump into each other but he catches you with his strong arms and fast reflexes and just like that itâs love at first sight. Scenarios after scenarios. All varieties of âmeet-cuteâs play in your head on a daily basis. You spend your time getting lost in your head, dreaming of the day when it will be your turn to be the protagonist of the story. When will you be the damsel in distress? But you sigh and move on with life, because this isnât a romance novel.
Or at least, thatâs what you tell yourself (and others) when people ask you why you haven't tried to meet your hero.Â
Oh I just donât want to be a weird obsessive fan. Plus itâs expensive!
Meeting heroes is technically easy. Vought gives people many opportunities to see their heroes for a pretty penny. They parade their heroes around like exotic animals in a zoo on a daily basis.Â
For you the reality is that you simply canât handle seeing your hero up close and personal, let alone talk to him. How are you not meant to get flustered in front of what you considered to be perfection? How are you meant to find your words or even come up with words worthy of being uttered in his presence? Youâre meant to look into his eyes, tell him how much of a fan you are and not fluster and burst into tears from the anxiety coiling in your gut as you wait your turn?Â
You donât want that. You donât want to be just another babbling fan. You want to stand out. You want him to remember you. You want him to think about you. But youâre also a realist and you know that at most heâll think you just another annoying fangirl if he even grants you a passing thought. So you spare yourself those hurt feelings and you avoid meet & greets, you avoid all the fan-targeted conventions, events, promotional campaigns or competitions.Â
Or you always have. Until now it seems. You again scroll up in the group chat where your friends surprised you with an entry to the newest competition Vought advertised. It was presented as a fundraiser. All proceeds are planned to be donated to Samaritanâs Embrace. A simple $20 entry that would grant you a chance to be one of five lucky winners to get a personal phone call from Homelander.Â
A fat chance of that, you thought when you first saw the competition announced on both Voughtâs and Homelanderâs twitter accounts. With a competition that invites Homelander's country-wide fanbase, there really is no chance of you winning. You half-comfort yourself with that thought. You donât know where youâd even start should you win. Part of you thinks that maybe âmeetingâ him over the phone could be bearable as he wouldnât be able to witness just how badly youâre holding it together.
But then you think back to all the videos youâve watched. The reels and the tiktoks youâve saved. The podcasts and interviews that at this point you play almost religiously. He's perfect in every way but you're particularly fond of his voice just rumbling in your ear when it gets nice and low as he talks in lengths about the upcoming movie or his most recent save. A while back you bought yourself a decent set of noise-cancelling headphones with great audio quality and suddenly it felt like he was right behind you just purring into your ears. Very few interviews record with good enough microphones to capture how mesmerising his voice is but those that do get saved and played on repeat sending shivers down your spine, following you to bed and invading your dreams. So no, maybe a phone call wouldnât make the experience any easier on your poor heart.Â
You calm down after the initial panic reaffirming yourself with the reality where thereâs no chance that youâll get picked anyway. You text your friends again, kindly thanking them for thinking of you as you shook your head with an amused smile. Thatâs that done and forgotten about.
Or so you think. Few weeks down the line the mental discourse has long left your mind. The conversation moves on and your friends donât mention anything since. Thatâs why itâs no surprise when you pick up the unknown call after the third ring with ease, casually answering with, âHello, Y/N speaking.âÂ
Homelander looks through the list of winners Ashley brought to his desk with a scowl on his face. Heâs grumpy, having to jump through everyoneâs hoops is grating on him, slowly chipping away at his showmanship armour. This is just another nail in the coffin. Now he has to make private phone calls?
He wants to be revered, loved. With people bending over backwards just to get his attention. Sure, thatâs right up his alley. Get the crowds to scream his name, be grateful for his divine presence. What he isnât a fan of is making others think theyâre special. Heâs the special one. Where does Vought get off thinking that heâs got the time to call and visit his fans one-on-one.
He rolls his eyes looking through the unimpressive line-up that Vought carefully curated. One of each demographic, trying to hit all the targets Vought wants him to improve his numbers with.
Each candidate has a sheet of talking points assigned to them, things to highlight, mention or even promote to each one of the fans. Normally Homelander would throw Voughtâs carefully crafted response straight back to their faces but right now heâs not in the slightest interested in being clever or the fans' idea of âauthenticâ so heâd rather rattle off a few lines from a curated list of party lines. At the end of the day he doesnât care for this. Talking to five individual fans doesnât help him in the grand scheme of things. This isnât happening in public, thereâs no one here to witness his generosity. Nobody to witness a god, looking down and gracing his followers with his benevolence.
Vought believes the individual approach will be worth it in the long run. That apparently fans will come running to any future events and competitions seeing as real people they might know have won in the past. All Homelander sees is at most five twitter mentions from a few nobodys.
Heâs got about an hour in the calendar to get through all of these. Though he's banking on this taking a lot less time. There are many more important things he could be doing instead.Â
He flips through the files again, each profile is filled out with a name, number and a photo, deciding on the least painful order. A young boy, an elderly woman, a middle aged comic enthusiast, some punk teenager and you. Homelander looks at your profile with mild interest. Youâre the only one who Vought didnât manage to find a good quality recent photo of. Clearly you donât do social media. Yet the quality doesnât take away from the intrigue your profile inspired. Youâre easily the most interesting in the list but thatâs not that hard to do. Still, Homelander puts yours at the end of the list. Saving the best for last.
âHellooo and congratulations! This is Homelander and youâre one of the few lucky cookies who get to have a little chit chat with me.â All air gets sucked out of your lungs and the ease with which you picked up the phone is gone. Your eyes widen, breath caught in your throat only coming out in confused little stutters. This isnât real. It canât be!
Whether itâs a particularly vivid dream or your world is actually turning upside down youâre glad this happened at home. Your knees buckle, your ass landing straight on your bed, your legs trembling with nervous energy as you sit down.
âW-what?â You manage to blurt out, more breathy than not. Your heart is pounding like never before. You wouldnât be surprised if he can hear it over the phone, it feels loud to your ears.
âThe competition? You entered, right?â His voice. His fucking voice was right in your ear and you felt like melting into a puddle of goo. Anything to spare you the embarrassing words that are surely about to come out of your mouth one way or another.
âOh⌠umâŚâ You are blowing it. Thereâs no other word for it. Totally embarrassing yourself. Not able to say a word, still trying to calm your heart down.
âAre you not a fan? Have I got the wrong numberâ?â
âN-no no! NoâŚI mean yes. I mean sorryâŚfuck.â You are totally losing it. The hand holding your phone is shaking with nervous energy.Â
âHey hey heyâŚ. Come on now. Take it easy. Now take a deep breath aaand relax.â His voice is rich and sweet like honey, just like youâve heard on TV but here it feels intimate. Just for you. Heâs not talking to anybody else. As he hears your stuttered intake of breath and a mildly calmed exhale he coos again. âThatâs it. Breathe with me. Now in.â If only he knew that this is making things so much worse for you. âAnd out.âÂ
âIâm so sorry. I meant to say, I am a fan but I donât do this.â Your voice still trembles with each word but youâre a little more composed.Â
âWhat? Call people?â You can hear the smirk in his voice, he's clearly pleased with his little joke.Â
âNo.â You canât help yourself but chuckle, your lips spreading in a wide grin. Your heart is still pounding but itâs more excitement than embarrassment. Youâre actually talking to Homelander. And you have already embarrassed yourself beyond belief but heâs still here! Heâs still talking to you. He doesnât even sound upset. âI mean I donât meet you guys. Heroes. I donât really know how to do this. I mean I pretty much live on your doorstep and Iâve never met either one of you.â Now that he calmed you down, getting you talking, you canât stop talking.Â
âReally? Some fan you are.â Were you of a sound mind youâd hear the joke but now all you could think is that youâve upset him. And you canât have him think that. Sure youâve always wanted to stand out but not in a negative way! You take it to heart and you apologize.
âIâm so sorry. I donât mean to offend. At all! Really! Itâs just, you donât need another person begging for an autograph that they can brag with to their friends or sell online for a quick buck.âÂ
He exhales a little breathy laugh that has your whole body flush hot. âOh, arenât you adorable.â The panic that was inflating in you like a hot air balloon finally fizzled out. Instead itâs replaced by a throbbing heat in between your legs and you place your free hand over your heart, almost trying to will your body into behaving normally. âYou know if you want I can send you some, would be a shame for such a sweet fan to not have anything personalised. Iâll sign it with your name.â He offers, a nice gesture, really, but you are currently having a whole body meltdown to even appreciate it for what it was.
âO-oh,that isnâtâYou donât have toââÂ
He continues nonetheless.Â
âY/N, is it? Beautiful name.â Your name rolls off his tongue perfectly, all soothing and sweet. And there you go, melting into a puddle just for him.Â
âYou donât have to be nervous. I donât bite. At least, not over the phone.â You let your hand trail down your body. Heâs just talking. Heâs just making jokes. Heâs just trying to strike up a conversation to make such a freaked out fan of his a little calmer and there you are getting your rocks off on this.Â
âSorry. Itâs hard not to be. Iâve been a fan of yours for a long while. I didnât expect Iâd ever get to talk to you. Itâs kind of you to do things like this for us fans. Iâm sure youâre busy. Thank you for taking the time.â You distract yourself from the throbbing thatâs just calling for your hand to settle heavily in between your shaking thighs.Â
âOh no problem. Wouldnât be where I am if it wasnât for all my loyal fans, right?â You should really stop moving your hand down your body. But you canât help the effect he has on you, youâre not acting normal!Â
âI donât know. I donât think itâs the fame that makes you special. Itâs you.â You breathe you all dreamy before realising this isnât just one of your fantasies. No. You really are talking to Homelander. You cough a little, pretending like you had something stuck in your throat.Â
âIt is?â
âI think so. Change into civilian clothing and Iâm sure youâll still be turning heads.â You speak normally now but you bite your lip at the end, your hand now just above your pubic bone.Â
âSounds like youâve thought about this plenty.â Oh, of course you have. Your body is screaming at you to take the plunge, to slip your hand down your panties, and make yourself feel like this is more than just a friendly fan call. But your mind is, correctly, telling you that this is beyond inappropriate.Â
âAh no! I just mean that youâre perfect at what you do. Thereâs nobody like you. Noone could take your spot. So itâs more than just fans.â Youâre surprised youâre still carrying on. You feel like your brain is turning into mush with each word heâs saying.Â
âWhat can I say? I take my job very seriously.â He goes on to talk about being a leader of the Seven, you guess heâs just trying to fill space seeing as youâre such a blubbering mess. Even with all his efforts at making this normal, your brain turns all the innocent words into the filthiest dirty talk.
âLook, Iâd love to talk to you some more but Iâm afraid Iâll have to end it there. Iâm late for a talk show interview.â You retract your hand as if it got burnt and instead you grab onto the comforter youâre sitting on, stopping yourself from doing anything impulsive.Â
âO-of course.â Your heart rate is elevated again, something about the thought of him leaving and you never getting the chance to speak to him again makes you want to scream.Â
âTell you what, I donât want to be unfair to you. You hardly got your prize. Iâll call you later. You free in the evening?âÂ
âY-yes.â
âPerfect.âÂ
Perfect. Youâre fucking perfect. Homelander canât stop the way his lips stretch into a predatory grin. You are exactly what a fan should be like. Swooning over him. Grateful that heâs even bothering to grace you with his presence. You were practically kneeling, bent over before him on the floor, kissing his feet as he gave you a taste of his divine presence. He has half a mind to take care of the uncomfortable hard-on pressing into his rigid suit. He couldnât help himself when you were being such a sweet little thing. He feels no remorse at having rubbed himself through his suit as you were there on the other side of the phone, undeniably shaking in excitement, all flustered and tense and most certainly aroused. But no, he wants to wait his turn. He needs the real thing. Heâs not planning on letting you go that easy.
Originally he was pissed that most of his time on the phone was taken up by the elderly woman who was talking his ear off. Now heâs thinking about sending her a gift basket. He has a real excuse to see you.Â
When Homelander wants something heâs like a hunter, doing everything he can to lure his prey into his trap. In this case he abuses his powers to get the Crime Analytics team to dig up your address and in the meanwhile he sits through a mind-numbingly boring interview at a low-tier talk show he really shouldnât need to waste his time on.Â
The only thing that keeps him going is the thought that you might be watching. You seem like a big fan. You surely wouldnât dare miss out on his live appearances. The thought alone gives him enough drive to not laser through the talk show host everytime she asks a stupid question and instead he imagines heâs speaking straight to you.
When the show is over he takes off before his team can steer him towards another boring chore. No, he has more pressing matters to attend to. Like any good predator he observes. He waits until itâs the right time to strike. Thatâs why heâs perched at the top of the building thatâs opposite yours. Heâs got a clear line of sight to your apartment but heâs careful in making sure you canât see him.Â
He watches, his grin reappearing every damn time he sees you reach your phone, checking if your ringer is on for the tenth time. You are an easy target, he can swoop in anytime and sweep you off your feet but he wants it to be perfect. With sick fascination he keeps watching you, your behaviours and patterns as you pace around your room trying to preoccupy your mind with mindless thoughts. He knows that nothing you do can now fill the void that he left behind. What else can replace the purr of his voice in your ear, soothing and exciting you at the same time. Nothing. Thereâs nobody like him. You said it yourself.
An hour of self-indulgent watching later he decides to end your misery. You just look so upset and disappointed and he knows youâll just melt in his presence. He needs to be close to you. He got a little sprinkle of what you're like over the phone and now heâs got a craving for the real thing. He needs to feel you, smell you, hear your poor heart trying to keep up with the excitement right in his ear.
So with a quick drop he descends.
The day has gone by torturously slow for you. You spend every minute checking your phone in case your ringer randomly fails you and you wonât catch the second call from Homelander. Just thinking that makes your thighs quiver. The thought of having him purr into your ear any longer wets your panties all over again. But over the coming hours your enthusiasm deflates. Itâs getting late and your chances of ever getting a call back are low.Â
You emerge from the bathroom, fresh and clean, in your pyjamas ready to sleep todayâs rollercoaster of emotions away. Or you would be if it wasnât for a knock at your balcony door interrupting your thoughts and making you flinch in surprise. The flash of red and blue still so vibrant and colourful against the midnight sky has your breath catching in your throat. What the fuck?!
You open the balcony door in shock, and if you had the strength to do so you would have ripped it off its hinges with pure eagerness. There he is in all his patriotic glory. Homelander. A wide grin on his face, posture ramrod straight as he clasps his gloved hands behind his back, puffing his chest out.
âH-Homelander?!â Your voice quivers at the proximity, your heart picks up speed again and you feel your entire body flush both in embarrassment and excitement. Your first thought goes to how you currently look rather than questioning his motives or how he even found where you live in the first place.Â
Trying to regain your composure you shake your head, blinking as if he was just a figment of your imagination. Maybe your devout obsession with him is finally damaging your mental state, making you hallucinate.
âGood evening, Y/N.â God, how does he do that! The way your name slips off his tongue so easily, with such familiarity makes you clench and part your lips with a gasp. Any sort of composure youâve regained crumbling to dust. Now you are just awkwardly gawking, in awe at the unreal figure in front of you, in the flesh. Homelander doesnât wait to be invited in, strutting into your modest apartment like it belongs to him, the confident strides of his red boots loud and heavy against the creaky floor of your apartment. He takes up the living space confidently, somehow making you feel like you don't belong in your own space. His presence took priority, anything else secondaryâyou included.Â
âHow did youââ Your question of how he found where you live doesnât even get fully asked, let alone answered. He cuts in, not actually caring about your justified worry over having your address handed out willy-nilly.Â
âOur call was a bit too short to my liking. You donât mind a little late-night visit, do you?â You feel disarmed. His voice turns gravelly, lowering with each word. His tone teasing as if he was telling you a secret, so unlike his television persona where heâs all American apple pie values and open arms with clear intentions. Here, he grinned widelyâall teeth with his sharp canines bared to you like the predator he is. Like youâre his next meal. âOhohoo, would you look at this. Maybe you are my biggest fan, huh?âÂ
You are distracted by his voice, his presence, just him that you fail to notice his eyes wandering around your apartment. Your face flushes red in embarrassment as you see him assessing your safe space, or what felt like your safe space before this ambush, all with an amused grin on his face.Â
âThese are all limited edition. Must have cost you a small fortune.â Holding a breath you watch him take his gloves off one by one, placing the leather on your table with a soft thwack. It feels forbidden, not meant for your eyes. The public doesnât get to see Homelander as anything other than perfect. His image manicured, perfected to the tiniest details. Seeing his surprisingly elegant bare hands, this up close feels intimate yet threatening like heâs unsheathed his sword, revealing one of the many hidden weapons he can use against you.Â
You watch as he brushes his fingers against limited edition action figurines, box sets, posters and trinkets featuring his likeness or the logo emblem Vought associates with him. If it was anyone else youâd tell them to keep their paws away from your most prized possessions but it's Homelander. Who else gets the right to touch special limited edition merchandise of his own likeness?Â
You watch as he paces the room with an unreadable expression. The embarrassment you feel transforms into an apology, heavy on your tongue as you force your mouth open, letting your shame out into the world. Itâs hard not to feel overwhelmed in his presence.
âI-Iâm sorry.âÂ
âYouâre sorry?â He turns his head over his shoulder with a curious expression. A swoop of his blonde hair handsomely falling into his face. He puts down one of the figurines he picked up earlier as he scouted the area.Â
âAll this stuff.â You wave your hand around, the grand display of what can only be described as the Church of Homelander, a shrine dedicated to his divine existence. You see how it looks, how it makes you look like a rabid fan. Though youâre anything but. âI know itâs a little strange. I donât want to make you feel like a museum piece. Or-or-or a circus animal! I just admire you. A lot.â
âYou do?âÂ
âI do.â Your breath catches in your throat as he turns around fully, facing you head on, one slow step inching towards you at a time. You gulp, feeling like youâre left in the dark regarding his intentions as you hopelessly struggle to read him. On the opposite spectrum youâre there, an open book, your heart on your sleeve, your every thought written so clearly on your face you may as well give him your diary to flip through. âMore than anything.â Breathlessly you add, meeting his eyes as a challenge. Youâre devout, as loyal as it gets. Youâd do anything for him if he asked.
Homelander rises to your mental challenge with a grin so sharp you feel the metaphorical bite coming before he even opens his mouth as he steps closer. Heâs so close now. Any ordinary man could feel the thud of your heartbeat, but to his keen senses itâs a war drum and heâs marching to a battle heâs already won. His bare, elegant hands make their way to your jaw caressing it with a surprising gentleness. You flinch. Even though you watched it happen with wide eyes, you didnât expect his hands to leave you unmarred. You almost expect your skin to sizzle, unworthy of his divine touch. Â
Homelanderâs grin disappears, his tongue gliding along his teeth as if heâs cleaning them before he devours his next meal. All that leaves you is a little whimper before he pulls you in, his hands thrumming with incomprehensible strength as he kisses you. He kisses the air out of your lungs as if you could survive without it like he can. As if you could meet him in the middle. But dammit you do your best to. Heâs a passionate kisser, incapable of sticking to soft kisses. No, he devours. He licks your lips open, his tongue gliding along yours. You brace your hands against his chest, already feeling weak in the knees. The heat of his breath and the wetness of his tongue in your mouth is nothing compared to how hot and wet you feel in your panties.
It doesnât help that heâs vocal. You kiss him harder anytime he growls or moans into your lips, his voice vibrating against your lips just possessing you more. And soon it turns into a game of who can dish it out harder. Each devoted kiss makes him hum and purr which in turn melts you into a pile of goo, making you kiss him harder. Your lips feel hot, swollen from the ferocious kissing. Youâre nearing the limit of what your lungs can manage without resurfacing for air.
Homelander pulls away but he doesnât give you any time to recover. As if you could. How do you recover from that? Instead heâs adamant about making your heartbeat hit record heights. His hands glide down your body, featherlight touches that make your skin break out into goosebumps as he settles on your hips, trailing the waistband of your pants. His pink wet lips spread into another predatory smile and before you know it he leans closer to your ear, practically purring, âTell me, if I take these off will I find you wearing Homelander panties too?âÂ
Flustered squeak escapes you as he laughs wholeheartedly at your embarrassment. You know he knows. Heâs teasing you for a reason. âTheyâre comfortable.â You eventually grumble, pouting like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
âI bet they are.â He sinks down to one knee, his hands taking the waistband of your pants with him as he pulls them down over your thighs, letting the fabric pool by your ankles. He pats your ankle, prompting you to step out of them. You comply, kicking the fabric away earning a little word of praise from him. âAttagirl.â Youâre visibly trembling as he kneels in front of you, his eyes locked on the sight of your blue panties with his emblem and name right across the middle in gold, all accentuated by a red trim. It would be far from sexy in any other circumstance but he purrs at the sight. All pleased like the cat that got the cream. âGot my name across your pussy all day long?âÂ
Before you could react like any other person would, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. You yelp, losing your balance trying to grab onto his head or shoulders for support but he puts his arm on your back, sliding it right under your top keeping you straight and secure whether you want it or not. Youâre not leaving until he says so. âMight as well fucking taste it seeing as itâs already mine, donât you think?â He gives you a hungry look licking his lips before hoisting your other leg over his shoulder, standing up with ease. He walks you back against a wall as he eagerly inhales the scent of you, his head perfectly in between your warm thighs.Â
âWoah!â You stabilise yourself, finally having more surface to lean against. The fabric of your top glides along the surface of the glossy posters he has you pressed against. Making you the centerpiece, surrounding you with his likeness. You finally process what the fuck is happening as you feel his nose pressing into the soaked fabric of your panties. âHomelander! Y-youâŚ.ohhâŚâ You whimper, your hands automatically finding comfort and safety in between his golden locks.Â
âFuck you smell good.â Homelander growls, his hands now on your ass, holding you in place as he sticks his tongue out, pressing it wetly over your soaked panties. The taste of you already coating all his taste buds.
âO-oh fffuuck. OH godâŚyesâŚyes please.â You donât stop yourself from moaning freely, the time for embarrassment long gone as Homelander lifts one hand from your ass, impatiently pulling the fabric of your Homelander panties to the side, his tongue already slipping in for a taste before his hand even makes it back to squeeze your ass. âTaste just as fucking good.â His voice strained, uttering filth in between your thighs.
His thick tongue pushes through the slit of your weeping pussy, lapping up what youâve so graciously prepared just for him. And as you watch a mop of blonde hair greedily slurp at your wetness like heâs parched, you think back to the fantasies that drove you to orgasm after orgasm as the imaginary Homelander ate your pussy.Â
Well, for one the real thing is a lot more enthusiastic than you ever imagined him to be. He is sucking on your clit in rhythm that has you throb harder, making your toes curl. âOhhh, Homelander!â You reward him with a loud moan of his name, like a prayer on your lips. And you repeat it with each masterful lick around your clit that has you squirming in his hold, legs quivering around his head, fingers tugging at his hair.
The second thing you never considered was how much his powers would come into play. Here he is with a deathly strong iron grip around your ass, easily holding you up on his shoulders against the wall while pushing you as close into his face as he can. The thought of not being able to escape his grip exhilarates you as much as it terrifies you. His lack of need for air makes him a perfect devout lover. Because this is pure devotion except it seems he forgot who was meant to worship who.
Youâd be embarrassed by the obscene sounds you two are making if it didnât feel so good. You moan for him prettily as he licks up all the wetness heâs coaxing out of you. You breath hitches as you feel your orgasm building. He's consistent, giving you just the right pressure. Homelander looks up at you, eyes glassy and blown back with lust before he swiftly repositions you, needing just one arm to make you feel weightless yet secure in his hold as he takes his free hand plunging two fingers into you revelling in the feeling of your cunt clenching around him.
âOh there there there! Ahhh!â You guide him, his fingers pumping into you and with his tongue still working magic on your clit you whimper out, âoh fuck, Iâm gonna, Iâm gonnaâ.â You fall apart in his arms, cumming on Homelanderâs tongue like youâve imagined many times over. With you thrashing around you rip the poster right behind you unaware of the mess youâre leaving behind. He licks you through the waves crashing through you. Heâs smug, you can feel the smirk against your pussy as he gives it one more kiss before easily slipping you off his shoulders, preening with satisfaction. âMhmm you did so good.â His voice purred and even in your post-orgasm haze you flush with fresh heat at the praise.
He gives you time to compose yourself but you donât want it. You want him. You need him. Your legs feel like jelly so you immediately sink to your knees, nuzzling your face into his crotch. Too eager to wait. Homelander cooed at your enthusiasm, âLook at that. Didnât even have to tell you.â He chuckles, voice thick with lust, his lips and chin still glistening from the way he feasted on you.
Wobbly and out of your mind, you reach for his belt, unable to figure out how to unclasp it, your dexterity not quite there either to be able to wiggle the hem of his pants underneath it and pull them down.
You look up at him with the face of a kitten thatâs not getting what it wants. Pouting and pleading for help.Â
âChrist, let me help you with that.â Homelander unclasps his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud and heavy clang and the thought of it denting the cheap flooring doesnât even graze your mind. He unzips his pants and the hiss alone makes your mouth water. He pushes his pants a little lower and you stare wide eyed at where his thematically red briefs are tented, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-cum into the thin fabric.
Okay, this you can do. Your hands slide up his thighs, getting a little feel of the bare skin of his thighs. Unmarred, smooth and hot. Your hand briefly squeezes around his cock through his briefs, forcing Homelander to hiss through his teeth. You pull down his briefs, bunching them down with the thick fabric of his suit.Â
You try not to stare and drool but youâve imagined his cock in your dreams and fantasies so many times that seeing it in real life just kind of blows your fucking mind. Itâs perfect. A bit longer than average but especially nice and thick. You lick your lips in anticipation. His hand rests on the back of your head, giving your hair a tug.
âYou gonna keep staring or will you put those pretty lips to work?â His gruff tone tears you from the haze.Â
You blush, being caught staring. Wanting to please your hero you apologize, âsorry, itâs just so perfect. Youâre perfect.â You breathe out in pure adoration.Â
âCome on then, be a good girl and open up for your hero. I want my cock wet before I slide it into that needy pussy.â He looks down at you with a sharp smile, his other hand rests on your jaw before moving up squeezing the hollow of your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. Not that he has to, youâre more than willing to deliver. You open wider, making his hand withdraw as you take matter into your own hands. Literally. You grip the base of his cock, feeling how hefty and hot it feels. It hits you in that moment that youâre holding Homelanderâs cock. Fuck. Youâre gonna be dreaming of this moment for years to come.
You look up, giving him one more doe-eyed look before you stick your tongue out easing the swollen red head in between your lips. The salty, musky taste of his pre-cum on your tongue makes you whimper, your eyebrows furrow with concentration as you focus on banking the memory of his taste in your head. Eagerly you get right into it. Down and dirty. You focus on him, coating him with an ungodly amount of saliva until anytime you pop off him youâre followed by strings of it connecting you two. His grunts and heavy breaths just urge you to do better. So you take him deeper, slurping around the saliva you've made for him, bobbing your head up and down.
You nearly lose your rhythm when he lets out such a needy wanton moan, making your pussy throb.
âThaaatâs it, come onâfuck!âdeeper, yeah yeaahh you got it sweetheart. God fuck thatâs fucking it.â Heâs nearly whimpering, so lost in the sensation. And you're eating it up. Each whimper and word goes straight to your pussy and at this point you wouldn't be surprised if you were making a puddle on the floor.
His hand forces your head down deeper and you gag, choking around him as for a second your nose bumps the neat thatch of hair above his cock. He's not easily dissuaded and he pushes again, a little softer this time. You almost feel the tremble of his hands, he's so close to unravelling. Just for you. The swell of pride pushes you forward and you take him deeper. He takes the chance to push both hands into your hair as he starts fucking your face.
âTake it. Take it.â He grunts, his voice more and more broken with every thrust. You're just about to push his thighs back, attempting to fight against his unyielding force but his hips stutter and he groans, letting out broken moans as he spills on your tongue.
As if on command you swallow and he pulls out, wiping the residual dribbles of cum on your lips. Now that heâs done you realise just how fucking badly your jaw aches. You whimper at the ache of your jaw and the ache between your legs.Â
Youâre still kneeling on the floor, a picture of pure devotion, with your mouth messy and lips swollen. He grumbles at the picture in front of him. He pulls you up by your hair, kissing the taste of himself out of your lips. You can still taste your pussy on his lips and tongue as he shoves it into your mouth. âBed?â He's somehow more than ready to continue and mentally you add his extraordinary refractory period to the list of his many talents.Â
You nod a broken, ây-yeah, this way,â the taste of him still heavy on your tongue as you lead him to your bedroom.
He lets out a little chuckle at the state of your bedroom, just as decorated with his brand as was the rest of your apartment. âFuck me, you really are my biggest fan.âÂ
Youâre about to apologize, again, and he can read you like an open book already shushing you. âShh, donât say it. Câmere, take this off instead. Want to see you.â He tugs at your top, wanting you to take it off. Like unwrapping a present. You let out a few breathless âokayâs and pull the top over your head baring your entire body to him, save for the panties that were still uncomfortably pushed to the side. He clearly wants you to keep them on and youâre not sure whether thatâs his narcissism or possessiveness talking. You donât dare comment on the fact that heâs still fully dressed. Youâre not gonna start demanding things from the Homelander now are you?Â
With a step closer he purrs, pushing you to the bed intensely watching as your tits bounce when your back hits the comforter. He follows as he lays over the top of you but he doesn't look at you. He picks up the grimacing Homelander plushie he sees on your pillowâ the one that's predominantly advertised to kids. He holds it up for you to see with a raised eyebrow, the look almost condescending. âWhat? They make no other official plushies!â You defend yourself.Â
âIs there anything you don't have?âÂ
You don't know what possessed you to answer, âyeah, you,â but Homelander eats it right up as he grins at you.
âCheeky slut. Well you're about to. On your side.â He says sliding off you to rest on his side looking you up and down hungrily. Youâre clearly surprised at his choice of position and he grumbles with annoyance as you take forever to move the way he wants you to. His impatience gets the best of him and he effortlessly manipulates you to your side, slotting right behind you. Homelander grips your inner thigh lifting your leg a little higher, as he nestles his cock right against your wet cunt.
You sigh with partial relief, feeling him solid against you feels good. Feeling him inside you would feel even better. âJesus, you're still so fucking wet.âÂ
âIt's all your fault.â You whimper trying to wiggle in his unyielding hold. He just tuts at you gripping you tighter, cusping on pain.
He pulls you close, his cock sliding in between your slit, immediately getting the top of his cock wet. His lips trail up your jaw until he reaches your ear. He growls, low and sexy, nipping at the sensitive skin of your ear. Your heart skips a beat, your pussy throbs as the sound of him just ripples through you.Â
âMaybe it is. You know, I've been thinking. You're such a nervous little thing.â He grinds his hips into you, dragging his cock back and forth, teasing you. His voice got quiet, dropping a register lower. All slow and drawled out he continues rumbling in your ear clearly aware of what it's doing to you. âYou were beside yourself when I called you. So there I am thinking nobody gets that nervous, not unless theyâre trying to hide how fucking turned on they are.â He keeps fucking talking and talking, making you shiver to the point where you feel goosebumps rise all over you. Your breath ragged, your eyes fluttering shut.
You're starting to understand why he was particular about this position. After all, he could read you like a book from the get go.
âAt first I thought it was just me because you're such a big fan.â He coos in a condescending tone. He licks the outer edge of your ear and you shriek, thrashing in his uncompromising hold. âBut no no nooo. It's not that. Because everytime I spoke, your heartbeat sped up. You know, I was worried about you there for a minute. Then there was your pussy. You get so wet the air is thick with it. I can't even fucking breathe without tasting your sweet cunt.â You let out a broken sound, close to a sob, you pussy throbbing so hard he must feel it even without being inside you. You didn't even consider that his senses can easily sniff your secret out.
Heâs still rubbing his cock in between your folds, sliding the whole length of it up and down. Itâs slick and loud and so good and holy shit your clit is burning from the way his head catches on it with every thrust. You're so close and your body is on fire. You so desperately want to cum with something inside you but heâs cruel. He's not gonna give it to you just yet. âAnd look at that, you're still getting wetter. They do say it's always the unassuming ones.â He chuckles into your ear, low and vibrating against you.
âIs that it? Do you get off to the sound of my voice? Do you watch videos of me, listening to interviews while you finger your little pussy?â He's going harder, the wet sound of your pussy slicking his way in between your slit is deafening, embarrassingly loud. âTell me.â The little command growls in your ear and you force your lips open.
âY-yes! YesâŚ.I-I find your voice sexy.â You admit to your little shameful secret. You admit that one of the reasons you never met him was because you didn't want to get sopping wet in a crowd full of screaming fans. âDon't stop, please.â You moan out, quiet and broken, your embarrassment making way to pure pleasure. Now that it's out in the open, what is there to hide?
âDo you even care what I say? Huh? I could be reading out the fucking phone book and your pussy would still get wet. Greedy little thing. Whatâs it gonna be? You gonna cum to my voice or are you gonna be difficult?â You're burning hot, your body so so tense, the leg he's hitched up a little trembling against his strong grip. His cock is still hitting your clit in the perfect fucking way and you're so so so close.Â
âDonât stop, donât stop, donât stop! Oh fuck, Homelanderâdonâtâahhh!â The dam bursts, a wave of pleasure sweeping over you as you scream. Homelander pulls back and with one deft stroke he slides his cock inside you. He doesn't move. He growls at the feeling of your cunt just pulsing against him. He's so thick inside you, stretching you wide, filling every crevice.Â
He whimpers and you feel how tense he is holding off the orgasm threatening to burst inside him.
Just as you think this must be the end of it, your mind just a buzzing noise, he pulls out moving back and he pushes you on your back.Â
You never expected him to be so active in bed but he's already in between your legs, his hands clamping down on the clammy flesh of the back of your thighs and he spreads you open. He's on his knees, his hands slide and curl from the back of your thighs to the top as he pulls you in, slowly sliding his cock into you in one push.Â
He doesn't wait for anything. He just fucks you. Hard and fast, really getting himself off more than you. Surrounded by posters and merch all carrying his likeness while he plunges into you again and again. Your hair is plastered to your forehead as you watch your hero utterly ruin you. You're sweaty, absolutely spent and tired while he's pushing into you without breaking a sweat.Â
This round isn't for you yet it's gonna be a memory you'll frequent the most. The look on his face, pure lust and torture as he's fucking you with as much strength as he allows himself.Â
With how he's got your hips propped up he's managing to hit all your best spots as your overstimulated nerves light up, giving him one last finish, your pussyâs quivers pushing him over the edge as well.Â
Then there's a little hot spurt of him inside you but you're surprised when he pulls out shooting most of his load with a few strokes of his fist all over your panties and stomach.Â
âAhh fuck. Look at that, finally got your first autograph.â He snorts, amused, admiring the sight in front of him. His cum has already soaked into your panties, the âHomelanderâ text changing into a darker colour as both his cum and your slick from the previous round drench the fabric.Â
You flush hot red and you shake your head, amused by his antics. âThat's disgusting.â But strangely, you're charmed.Â
âI should take a picture. You look great like this.âÂ
He notes as he slides off your bed pulling his briefs over his finally softening cock, tucking himself back into his suit.
âStay?â You say softly, offering him the space for his benefit more than yours. Even though you'd like him to stay for a cuddle you know you'll be out of it in a minute.
âCan't do I'm afraid, duty calls.âÂ
You nod, understanding. âThank you, I really feel like a winner.â You snorted, thinking back to how the day even started.
He looks at you almost fondly, but your orgasm-hazy brain might just not be working anymore.Â
âUntil next time.â He says as a goodbye and you end up tucking yourself into bed. The last thing you hear is the click of his belt he picked up from the living room, the creak of the leather gloves he slides back on and the sonic boom of him flying away.
And you know that when you wake up if it wasn't for your ruined panties, your throbbing cunt or even the ripped poster in the living room you wouldn't believe any of it was real.
You sure hope there will be a next time.
[Part 2]
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#FLABBERGASTED THAT THIS HIT 1K NOTES!!!!!!!!!#WHAT THE FUCK#THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS READ THIS#đđđđđ#don't mind me just feeling strangely emotional and accomplished after a long while of not doing anything creative#having people express their like for something I wrote just makes me want to create more#so thank you everyone for giving me the extra drive i was missing!
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Hi! First I need to say you literally have THE BEST fic of Homelander x Reader ever (The Lucky Winner) and omfg you deserve literally every single praise in life for that one, thank you so much for fulfill my mind with content of Homelander!
And Iâm here to make an interesting request (know you are picky about requests and do as your wish, Iâm glad just for you to read it honestly).
Itâs about some Homelander x Idol! Reader. When they meet in a interview for the first time in a TV show and Homelander think Reader is just too bubbly and naive, a truly sunshine person and of course Reader start to getting more attention in the interview. He got a bit jealous and after it start following their social media (maybe even stalking a bit) to see if they are truly all people give her credits for. little detail: Reader is keep being called of âAmericaâs Sweet Idolâ and Homelander âAmericaâs Sweetheartâ.
BAWLING MY EYES OUT, I LOVE YOUUUUU
Honestly this means the world to me. I was terribly worried about posting it, thinking that my writing was just not good enough to be posted but the feedback I got for it was so unexpected and heart-warming that I still go back to in anytime I don't feel good enough. So honestly massive thank you to you and everyone else who's given me any sort of feedback on my stories!!!
Sorry this is not actually a filled request, by oh myyyyy I love this!!!
And the part of the Boys I particularly enjoyed was just how commercialized superheroes are. Like you have these incredibly super-abled people and you're putting their faces on a box of cereal... And I love how soulless that is! The corporate/commercialized superhero America was always much more interesting to me than the political part that came later.
SO I adore prompts that delve into the social media part of their lives. And how much they really are just media trained puppets that rattle off their lines and curate the perfect image on social media. As much as Homelander loves the attention from people it's also annoying that they're clapping for the Vought approved & perfect image (obvs until we find later when he realizes that they don't care what he does).
So it'd be interesting to me to see him look down on the reader while finding out their life is difficult in the same way? The perfectly manicured and maintained image in front of cameras - just like him! Either bcs he's pissed that they're genuinely as nice and perfect as they seem while he has to keep up the façade or just determined to find out what's wrong with them. What are they hiding behind this persona??
Idk I just love how complicated perceptions of people get when there are cameras involved.
Homelander would wrangle someone from crime analytics to dig up everything they can on the reader, really trying to come up with some dirt that will make them so not the America's Sweet Idol.
I'd loooooove from them be shipped by all the fans so OF COURSE Vought has to spin up a whole fake relationship for the public. Very soon it'd be fake from only reader's perspective once Homelander would settle his claws into the reader and they'd realize what they actually got themselves into.
#first of all I realize that this is just a lot of rambling that makes no sense#second of all a lot of asks I answer but don't fic-fill go into a little bank of ideas to revisit when I've got more spare time to write#this is deffo one of them#bcs like many asks in my inbox I don't want them to rot there unanswered waiting till I've got a spare minute#SOO if i've answered your ask without a fic even though you've requested it there's a chance I'll get back to it#and if you've sent in a fic request and haven't heard back from me I do plan on getting to it!#homelander x reader#asks!
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I just realized you know how much it must suck sharing a bed with Homelander like if he rolls on top of you what do you?
What if youâre a night owl is he just gonna toss your phone and fall asleep?
Is he big or little spoon?
I feel like you'd still be able to push him off. He's not actively exerting strength and bracing against impact. Just like you'd be able to squish him when you hug you'd be able to nudge him off.
You've got that right đ Unless he was occupied himself he'd want you to give him 100% of your attention. And if you protest it's all "don't you love me more than your phone?"
Falling asleep with him would be a whole ritual of cuddling, holding him and whispering sweet loving words. I imagine he'd fall asleep pretty quickly too. What will pose a challenge is his recurring nightmares.
I see him as a little spoon! Besides the need to be held and reaffirmed of your affection I think it would keep you safer than the other way around. Especially if he's having a particularly rough nightmare the last thing you'd want is to be squeezed too hard or tossed around.
That or he'd want to sleep with his head on your chest.
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