kiss me until i start to rot 🪲🪱🍄

fandoms you can request for (you can request for fandoms not in this list since i can’t think of everything but be warned - i might not write for them):

arcane (pretty much the main cast)

my hero academia

gravity falls (gruncle stan/ford)

you (tv series)

mob psycho 100 (reigen arataka)

the boys (homelander, black noir)

cyberpunk 2077

hunter x hunter

boyfriend to death/the price of flesh

severance (mark s)

haikyu

jujutsu kaisen

mcu (ask for any specifics and i’ll lyk!)

dcu (superman, batman – can ask for specifics and i’ll lyk!)

american psycho (patrick bateman, paul allen)

slashers (ask for any specifics and i’ll lyk!)

what i’ll write:

dubcon/noncon

yandere (+ the topics that generally come with it e.g. kidnapping, dub/noncon, violence, abuse, manipulation, etc.)

nsfw

slight gore (can be more extreme but it will be at my discretion so try not to request heavy gore if you can)

fluff

angst

non-sexual age regression in a yandere context

what i WON’T write

incest

loli/shota (basically any proship type of content)

extreme gore

extremely specific requests (it feels very constricting sorry!)

requests that are simply “please do character x reader” … i do need some inspiration oops

“Do I have to?” He whines as if he’s not the Homelander but instead a petulant man-child all because you want him to use a condom.

You both found yourselves tangled up on the couch in various states of undress, cheeks hot and hands desperately grabbing as you held onto each other as if it was your last night together. It’s like there’s some otherworldly pull that draws your eyes to his swollen lips when he speaks, shiny and pouting so sweetly for your eyes only. Your formidable boy and his cute face.

He rubs your back and leans in to capture your lips in another bruising kiss that has your head all woozy and your thoughts scattered to the wind. Homelander has this uncanny ability to make you feel drunk whenever you’re near him, you just can’t get enough and the fact that he feels the same way about you only adds fuel to the ever-growing fire deep inside of you. He grins against your mouth, no doubt thinking he’s won this round as he shuffles your hips impossibly closer to him.

You see what he’s trying to do and push against his clothed chest. “Nuh-uh, no way. Either you wrap that up,” you make sure to point to his rock-hard dick which bobbed against his lower abdomen in anticipation, “or we’re not doing this tonight.”

As endearing as his little temper tantrums can be, you didn’t want to take any risks tonight — not since he’d flushed your birth control the other day. You were beyond furious when he found out especially since he tried to gaslight you through the whole situation. Why would I throw your silly little pills away, huh? I heard they can do terrible things to a regular body so even if I did do something, which I didn’t, maybe it’s a blessing.

You loved him deeply. So much so that even a day without him felt like torture but you knew the kind of man he could be at times. Stubborn, unrelenting, cruel. Now he would never turn on you, but why give him the opportunity? You knew how testy he could get when you “accused” (read: rightfully called out his bad behaviour) him and sometimes it was easier to put aside your own discomfort for his sake.

Just as you thought he would, he groaned and dropped his head to the crook of your shoulder. His breath tickled against you and you felt the soft curve of his mouth when you tried (and failed) to hide your giggles.

“Please?” You whisper into his hair and that is enough to pull him away from you. He rolls his eyes and grumbles your name under his breath but stands up to retrieve a condom.

Phew. Crisis averted, you could breathe easy now.

When he comes back he’s fully naked, just as you are, and showing off the foil wrapper he holds between two long fingers. “Happy now?” He sighs but he can’t stay upset at you for long when he sees you nod vigorously at his words, your body soft under the dimmed lights and your eyes appreciating his body. It’s something he can never quite get used to. It took him so long to find the beauty

He’s about to put the condom on when he stops and the look of concentration is replaced by a wolffish grin that shows off his sharp canines perfectly.

“I couldn’t convince you to do just the tip…Could I? Surely I don’t need a condom if it’s juuuuust the tip.” He bats his lashes for extra effect which pays off as you cackle louder than he’s heard from you before. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard you cackle to begin with. He decided he liked the sound more than anything else in that moment.

Now it’s your turn to teasingly roll your eyes at him parroting such a stereotypical jock phrase but quickly swoop down to put the condom on for him. “No can do, I want all of you tonight.”

He blushes a brilliant red and chooses to flip you around so you’re face down into the couch before snapping into you with one assertive thrust that your smile is instantly wiped from your face. He wastes no time pounding into and if you thought your brain was mush before, it’s probably leaking out of your ears at this point. Your moans reverberate in the open penthouse as he continues to fuck you within an inch of your life. Your skin sticks to his and you feel yourself grow even wetter at the absolute filth that tumbles from his mouth behind gritted teeth.

Homelander knows exactly how to ruin you as you feel his hand snake between you and the couch, rubbing circles around your clit that have you clenching furiously around his dick. Your orgasm hits you like a truck and he soon follows. Warm spurts release inside you and you’re about to beg him to keep moving, just a minute longer, when it hits you.

He came inside you. With no condom on. Even though you know you put it on him.

He’s not an idiot so the second he came, he knew you’d realise pretty quick. So, when you flip yourself around with a stormy expression aimed right at him he at least has the decency to look slightly ashamed.

You can’t even find the words to express your anger,so close to just yanking out chunks of your own hair, but he beats you to punch when you dips a finger between your folds and sucks your combined fluids off his finger. Your entire body shivers at the sight even though you’re still super duper pissed.

“Whoops, don’t know how that happened. Sorry sweetheart.” He smiles at your still-moody face sheepishly while ensuring his finger has been licked clean before he settles down on his front right between your thighs, “It’s far from an ideal situation, for sure, but believe me I can do a much better job of cleaning up this mess than some lousy bit of rubber.”

His speaks in a low purr, his words punctuated with a wink. He doesn’t dare give you a chance to argue back before he has you seeing stars, again.

Another dinner with The Homelander in the penthouse you’ve come to know as a cage, another night spent trying to fend off his increasingly lustful advances. Movie nights couldn’t be enjoyed without the fear of unrelenting hands that couldn’t help but wander, each kiss he reverently placed upon you only served to make you feel dirtier than you should and his hugs — god, you tried to turn a blind eye but it’s hard to ignore the world’s strongest supe, somehow always covered in blood, deliberately pressing his hard on into your hip with that smarmy face of his.

Everything about this place, and you call it a place because it could never truly be home — not for you or him, felt off and no matter how long you spent trapped with him you could never get used to your prison. Hell, even the windows had some sort of modernist bullshit bars covering them. It felt like one big joke from the universe. The wood floor had clearly been shined recently, no thanks to the mess Homelander dragged in earlier that still made you shiver. If you looked closely you could start to make out your reflection in the smooth, glinting wood. Really, it was less of a reflection and moreso a vague mass of soft darkness and blurred edges that could be you, but it’s not like you even recognised yourself enough anymore to even tell the difference.

You snap out of your reverie, peeling your eyes away from the floor, and centring yourself back into your unfortunate reality before Homelander could tell you weren’t truly present.

Ah, that’s right.

You’re in the dining room, the lights are dimmed and that gaudy American flag (he called it patriotic, you thought it downright tacky), is pasted behind him. He fed you fresh oysters, sourced by The Deep who dutifully followed his command though tearfully, and Belgian chocolates straight from his gloved hand and perhaps it could’ve been romantic — if it wasn’t for the vice grip he had on your jaw and the knowledge of the sticky blood that coated them just hours prior. His eyes, the ones you thought were inhumanly blue from your very first encounter, seem to pass right through you and pierce into the very depths soul. No part of you is or ever will be safe from Homelander's invasive need to conquer every cell of your being, just so that he can be the one to say that only he truly knows you.

He collects another oyster, making quick work of manoeuvring your head so it’s tilted back and he can oh so slowly tip back the flesh of the oyster down your throat. It’s hard to swallow when his hand is practically choking you but you know better than to voice your complaint. You both watch each other in the dead silence as you struggle to swallow it down. It disgusts you to see his pupils, fixated on the space where his hand meets the underside of your neck, dilate in rapt attention. A part of you curses your past thoughts as all you want right now is to see the blue in his eyes, anything to make this moment any less horrifying than it already is.

Your heart rate quickens and your left hand, always the one to give you away, fidgets with the table cloth next to you reflexively. You hate how synchronised the two of you have become as both of you dart your eyes down to track the rickety movement. Of course, only he has the nerve to slowly drag his eyes back up to your face — you, however, admit defeat and hope that if you stay still enough he will forgive your almost imperceptible transgression.

His grip on your face somehow grows tighter without crushing you into a pulp.

“All done? My girl has a big appetite tonight, huh?” He drops the forgotten oyster shell and uses that fake sing-song voice as his eyes twinkle with mischief and it takes gargantuan effort to not roll your eyes in front of him. You may hate every disgusting, pathetic fibre of his being but you’re not suicidal. He could laser you before you could even begin to notice something’s amiss.

“Mmm, I suppose so.” Bland, devoid of any meaningful emotion; you give him what he wants without compromising your spirit in the process. You don’t mention that he practically had to force-feed you through the entire meal, and maybe he’ll return the favour and leave you alone. Maybe.

He nods solemnly and drops his hands. You breathe a sigh of relief as you slouch forward in your dining chair. Homelander, gracious as he is, ignores your little mistake and instead traipses over to the floor-to-wall windows with the demeanour of a man who has no worries. You know much better than to be fooled by his false bravado by now. He opens the balcony door and steps through as looks off into the sunset with his hands clasped behind his back like he’s posing for a Vought-issue poster. The Homelander image never rests even when he's safe from the prying eyes of the public.

You might feel bad for him if it wasn’t for the small issue of him kidnapping you.

"C'mon over here, babe." His voice booms across the open room and you scuttle over to where he stands. It's humiliating how he has you at his every beck and call like you’re nothing more than his lap dog. You can’t help but cast a look at the faux statue of liberty that stands nearby as you make your way to him; how ironic, a symbol of independence in the same room where your freedom was stripped from you like it was nothing more than a formality.

You hate the stupid pet names he gives you but the first and only time you protested, you had a broken wrist and couldn't work for weeks. Not like you did much working nowadays so there wasn't much to miss. Ever since the two of you started "dating", he's controlled every aspect of your life: who you're allowed to talk to (nobody unless it's a member of The Seven, bar Deep), which family members you can visit (none), what clothes you wear (only what he chooses because he knows best) and so on.

He kindly allowed you to continue working as his personal assistant but there are a precious handful of employees he still allows you to contact and even then it's under his strict supervision. So, despite wanting to fight back time and time again, you eventually quit your ‘job’ by his own design. You've become his living puppet, only existing to parade around and prove that he's capable of something close to love.

You don't realise you've once again drifted off into that jaded corner of your mind until you hear him exclaim, "What a gorgeous view." You're lucky the sunset is rather beautiful today — that means he won't punish you for spacing out during the time he's dotingly put aside for the two for you since it seems like you were only admiring the horizon with him.

You turn to look at him just to find that he had been staring at your profile the entire time.

Gross.

The softness of his face makes you squirm in moments like this; fine lines eased away and his body, usually tense and unforgiving, uncharacteristically relaxed. Watching him be so at peace reminds you of the uncanny valley effect you heard about so long ago. His wide hands traverse the contours of your arms and you can't help but jump at the contact. Again, you expect his fuse to be short and blow at your thinly veiled revulsion but instead he laughs. Breathless and a bit short but a laugh nonetheless.

"Gee, Y/N, you're like a cute little rescue puppy that needs to be trained. Do you want a collar while we're at it?" His voice is light and playful but there's an undeniable tension woven into his words, and the crinkles that line his eyes, that catches you in your place.

You don’t laugh, choosing to grip onto the railing of the balcony as a delicate breeze passes over you, and it doesn't take a genius to tell he's clearly annoyed by your lack of humour as he rolls his eyes and theatrically pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sweetheart I'm joking." His voice is strained though there's a slight hint of a whine laced in his words. He recovers in record time and shoves that saccharine smile back onto his face in the blink of an eye.

Homelander’s voice calls out in a lazy drawl, "Call me crazy but I get the impression you're awfully shy around me and I've been thinking…We need to work on that. Now." A gloved hand moves from its position on your bicep to lightly boop you on the nose and you think the scrunch of his eyes is his attempt at a genuine smile? His sharp canines show themselves soon after which gives you no option but to nervously giggle at his playful actions.

You force yourself to calm down as he walks around to your back, his red cape swooshing in the wind, and slightly obscuring your vision, as he walks. It pisses you off how heroic he manages to look when you know he’s anything but.

He starts to massage the muscles in your shoulder before they begin their descent. A brief touch at your collarbone turns into a lingering and not-so-subtle caress once his hands reach your chest before looping both muscular arms around your waist in a loose hug.

Of course he'd try to cop a feel even when he's trying to calm you down.

You look down at his arms and snort as it properly dawns on you that he's still wearing his uniform. Then again, does it really count as a uniform if it's all he ever wears? You wish you were anywhere else but here; you've never appreciated getting to look at the fading sun as much as you do now — whether it's despite your circumstances or because of them you don't really know. Either way, the combination of the golden hour and the copious amounts of wine Homelander gave you is helping you to relax for the first time in a long time, that is if you ignore the fact he's currently trapping you in his arms.

It's been oddly silent by his standards and you wonder if Homelander is quietly brooding at your lack of conversation. Just as you're about to say something mundane about the view, you wouldn't want him to be wracking up points against you in his head after all, you just about hear him take a slight inhale right by your neck.

What the fuck?!

The tip of his nose is warm and tickles at your neck as he decides to inhale again but this time even deeper before you realise that he's huffing your scent like some kind of creep. You're at a loss for words but it's not like you can even say much about it for fear of your safety.

"You know," his voice is strained and the sudden noise causes you to go stock-still, "I made sure everything we ate tonight were aphrodisiacs." Another inhale but this time he softly moans when he breathes out, "Thought it would help get you in the mood. God knows you must be pent up." A stray finger comes up to tickle your neck in a way he must think is sensual but it only serves to make you wince. It feels like everything he says is some sort of twisted projection of all his fantasies.

Still, you know you have to play the long game — anything to keep him away from your body. “Really? I had no idea…” Your voice trails off, carried away by the wind as you look across the skyline and blink back tears. The sun set a long time ago.

Homelander chuckles in response, full of his usual arrogance, causing his hard chest to move against your back. "Ah-ah, don’t play coy with me. I know somewhere in that busy. Little. Head of yours,” he punctuates each word with a two-fingered tap against your temple, “you knew that. You might be young and inexperienced but you're not that naive."

You fill with rage at his insinuation that you’re inexperienced just because you don’t have any experience with men. You’re not a blushing virgin but it’s all meaningless in his eyes nonetheless.

“Look at you!” He gently pushes you out of his arms and takes up your hand, forcing you to spin for his enjoyment before he stops you facing him and grips your waist again. “Dressed like a slut for me. You want this too.” His voice is a low growl and you feel ashamed under his gaze, trying but failing to cover yourself. He’s the one that chose the lacy babydoll dress you’re wearing right now, not you!

Homelander bundles you up in his arms, squeezing the life out of you, as if the passion he’s feeling can’t be contained any longer. He hasn’t even kissed you yet but he’s already rock solid and grinding it into you. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. This is developing into so much more than the kisses you’ve shared, the ones you could ignore after scrubbing your teeth so hard your gums bled, the ones that made you feel like you were betraying yourself for not fighting back hard enough. You feel your brain switch into the prey mindset; how can you keep caring about the consequences, when all you can focus on is escaping.

So you shove him. Hard.

But he’s The Homelander and you’re you, so all it does is infuriate him. Perhaps you’ve finally pushed your luck after an evening full of infractions. To your surprise, he pulls back and lets you go.

“Enough!” His voice booms so loud a flock of birds hurry away, their wings desperately flapping like you wish to do and he points a menacing finger at you. You back away and let him corner you into the railing like an idiot. “I know you don’t have any religious hang-ups considering you let that woman fuck you like you were nothing but a brain dead rabbit in heat!” You balk at his snarl and at the mention of your girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend? You didn’t even know what she was to you anymore.

You feel your eyes smarting and it frustrates you to no end because logically you know he couldn’t give two shits about religious doctrine but he sure knew how to make you hurt.

He circles you, cape rushing behind him, mocking you by pitching his voice higher to sound like your cries. “Oh don’t be such a fucking prude. I know you…had dalliances with her.” He waves his hand as if that can somehow erase the years of love and vulnerability you shared with the girlfriend he ripped you away from.

“I watched out for you every damn night even if it broke my heart knowing that my darling could do that to me. And here I thought you were doing this pretend virgin act for my sake.”

His presumptuousness and delusional beliefs that he was preordained to have you just because he said so usually maddened you but today was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“You are an entitled sick fuck! I don’t love you and never will.” Your words cause him to stop in his tracks and you get the feeling that perhaps you broke the camel’s back too.

He rushes over to you, pure rage and desperation swirling in his eyes as his chest heaves. He quickly grabs your left wrist in a bruising grip that has you screaming at him to let go! as you instantly feel it start to swell.

“You wanna do this the hard way, babe? See if I care!” He’s screaming in your face and droplets of spit land on your cheeks but you can’t find it in you to care as he’s dragging you closer and closer to the edge of the balcony.

Your head is on a constant swivel as you look to him and the drop behind you. You beg and beg and beg him to rethink whatever’s on his mind, you can be good this time — really!

By the deranged look on his face you know your pleading lands on deaf ears. He lifts you up like you weigh nothing and fucking dangles you over the edge of the balcony. Luckily he’s only got a hold of one wrist which allows your free hand, the left, to grip onto the bar of the railing.

He looks on with cold indifference, a single manicured brow arched, as you scream and still he lets your wrist go. Your heart drops to your stomach when you realise that this could be your last moment on earth. Your vision starts to tunnel when you make the fatal mistake of looking down.

It all comes rushing to you in that moment. The laughter, the love, your family, the inconsiderate behaviour that only drove a wedge between you and Mia in the last moments of your relationship. Is this what they meant when they said your life flashes before your eyes? Every single formative experience of your life rushes past in a technicolour blur that leaves you breathless.

Where are you now? The 100th floor? Everything looks so impossibly high from up here, you hope that when you drop you don’t feel a thing. Your hand is sweaty and twitching like it always does when you’re stressed around him, your legs thrash beneath nothingness and your face is wet with tears and snot from your uncontrollable sobbing. Homelander looks down his nose at you with a sneer and his hands once again clasped behind his hand and you think that this is it, you’ll die a painful death and he won’t have cared any less.

“Admit that you’re a virgin.” His voice is cold and unwavering but he sighs in exasperation at your confused crying. “Admit that you’re a virgin, sprinkle in something about wanting tonight to be special and maybe I won’t let you fall.”

You gulp down panicked breaths you don’t really have and cry out, “P-please don’t let me die! I was just nervous, I swear! Nervous because I’m a virgin but I want you!”

Your left hand twitches and, once again, you both look to it. His eyes stay on the hand that betrayed you but you don’t have the same luxury and instead whip your head back up to face him and continue screaming until your voice is hoarse and barely audible over the wind.

He takes a step closer, reaches a benevolent hand out and you think that this is it, you’re about to be saved just for him to flick your fingers off the bar that were barely holding on as is.

What?

All of a sudden you’re falling, falling, falling and the air you were trying desperately to hold onto is forcefully stomped from your chest. You squeeze your eyes shut while the exhausting rush of adrenaline pumps through your body at record speed. There is no god or deity to argue with now, you are about to die and you wonder if this is the freedom you’ve been searching for.

Then it all stills and you wonder if the adrenaline has stopped your body from perceiving the fall, but you feel something cradling you hard enough to leave bruises on your cold skin. You decide to crack open your eyes to The Homelander who looks unusually teary. You should be mad. You should be howling at him. You should kick and push and accept the fall. Instead, you wrap your shaky arms around his strong neck and openly weep into his body.

You stay mid-air for what feels like an eternity of you seeking comfort in his arms and him softly rubbing your back but he eventually flies you both back to the balcony where the tragedy began and drops in a heap onto the floor.

He exposes his sharp canines as he slowly grins at how weak and broken down you are; his victory. "Let's start again, shall we?" He holds his hand out but your mind is still reeling from your near-death experience that you don’t even notice the olive branch he extends. He soon grows impatient of waiting for you and rolls his eyes before forcefully grabbing your hand once he sees how violently you're shaking. You hate the fact that you can’t help but collapse into his arms in shock once he’s pulled you up.

He bridal carries you to bedroom which is only a few steps for him. You don’t even kicks and squirm, but your fear doesn’t stop you from thinking about how much you hate the open plan penthouse — there’s never anywhere to hide but it’s not like you could hide from him to begin with.

Once you reach the bedroom, equally as dark, opulent and audacious as the rest of the penthouse, he lays you down on the furs of the large bed like something precious.

He surprises you by gently stroking your cheek as he whispers into the quiet of the room, “You know, you’re lucky to be chosen by a God like me. It’s agonising to hurt you like this, but I am saving you from, let’s say, a life of sin.” His words pain you like nothing else you’ve experienced in this life, not even the fall could surpass this, so you softly weep into the bed but this time he takes his gloves off to wipe your stray tears.

You understand what is about to happen and that nothing can stop the tragedy to come.

You expected him to be harsh; thought he’d rip your clothes off in one swoop, or laser them off your body with terrifying precision. But no, he takes the time to carefully strip your flimsy dress in such a gentle way that nausea builds up in your throat. Your underwear is quickly lost along with your dress and you find yourself completely nude before The Homelander. The lights are still low which causes his eyes to appear like dark caves where all light is lost and no humanity is able to penetrate. Your hands slowly make their way near your head and clutch the blue cotton bedsheets in worry.

Homelander meanders to you and a part of you wonders if he’s moving so torturously slow just to ensure he’s thoroughly snuffed the fight out of you. Eventually, he kneels down near the edge of the bed where your legs dangle off and finds his way to the part of you that you tried so hard to guard from him.

“You’ve never been touched down here before…Not properly.” His voice is breathless as his eyes fixate on the index finger which slowly drags its way through your folds. He lightly grazes your clit and chuckles at the way the shiver in response to his touch.

You hate how infantilising this is, you hate how you were never even given a choice from the moment Ashley sent you into the lion’s den. You especially hate how he pulls back to inspect the way his gloved finger glistens under the low light. He licks the wetness you left behind on his glove like a man starved and makes quick work of stripping that one off too.

"My sweet girl's enjoying this just like I said she would." You scrunch your eyes up at his sickening words and the self-loathing they stir up within you.

Deep down you know this is a natural biological response — he fed you countless aphrodisiacs and the fact that your adrenaline is through the roof surely isn't helping, but years of research can't talk down the burning, lecherous shame that latches onto the instinctual part of your brain and ignites your soul. You enjoy this, it tells you. You only say you're a lesbian for attention, it whispers. The voice gradually gets louder and louder until all you can do is weep and attempt to squirm your way out of The Homelander's grasp. Anything to get away from this.

He doesn't appreciate that though, or perhaps he purposely misreads your obvious discomfort for yearning as he instead shushes in your ear and pins your legs down with such ease it makes you feel even more vulnerable than you thought possible.

"Sensitive, huh? And I've barely even touched you." His voice is quiet and he speaks with such reverence and awe you feel the need to hide as heat blooms in your cheeks.

He sets an imposing figure at the end of the bed, even when he’s crouched down, and it’s almost magnetic the way you feel forced to look at him.

His bare hands rub your ankles and smooth their way up your legs, so close to where you ache but not close enough. He keeps rubbing up and down to the point where you wonder if this is it. Perhaps he’s had a change of mind and will let you go and you can pretend this is all one bad dream. Your leg juts out in surprise when his face makes contact with your cunt in the blink of an eye. He continues rubbing up and down your thighs and you wonder if he’s had a change of mind and will let you go as if this was all a bad dream.

Your leg juts out in surprise however when he messily nosedives between your legs with no warning and his mouth latches onto your cunt like a man starved. His tongue makes sloppy circles around your clit before dipping down and lapping at your wet core. He has you clenching your toes and crying out to whoever who will answer cries — you wouldn’t be surprised if any supes nearby with super-hearing could hear your wails of pleasure, the noises were loud and downright pornographic.

Your hands feel like they’re about to shatter with how hard you’re gripping into the sheets. You whine when Homelander looks up, the sheen of your essence marking the entire lower half of his face, but stop your non-verbal complaining when he wordlessly takes your hands and places them in his blond hair. You flex your fingers uncertainly in his soft strands as he goes back to devouring you like you were the first meal he’s had since the beginning of time.

You grip his hair cautiously but you think you hear him whimper this time as he nudges his strong nose into your clit. Experimentally, you grip hard onto his hair and you see the way he hips frantically rut into the empty space below him. Oh?

It’s as if you’re running on autopilot, after all the you that you know would never do this with him, when you clutch onto his hair so tightly you wonder how his hair isn’t falling out in clumps in your hands. This spurs him on to continue eating you out so aggressively you cum so hard it’s a surprise you didn’t fling yourself off the bed. You eventually manage to whine loud enough that Homelander finally pulls himself off.

You watch him from where you lie and he watches you like a predator hunting down their prey. His tongue darts out to lick you off his face and your body burns in humiliation and shame. It feels ridiculous to even think this but as you watch Homelander, still in his godforsaken uniform, a part of you wishes that he was naked too, that he could at least have the decency to share a bit of vulnerability with you. Clearly you jinxed yourself because he peels off the layers of his suit until he’s completely naked.

You sit up on your elbows with wide eyes as you look at him in all his nude glory. His body is objectively fine, he’s svelte and a bit toned though perhaps a let down from what his padded suit projects, you muse, though you feel no real burning attraction for him. What does manage to get a reaction out of you is the size of his dick. You’ve never seen one in real life but even you know that his is massive. You quickly whip your head to the side to avoid the sight but it’s too late: you know it’s long, thick, slightly curved upwards and kind of…angry looking? You wonder if being a supe impacts the size or if that’s all him. Any leftover pleasure from before is wiped away and you shake in nervous anticipation. How can he expect that to fit inside of you?

Smug as he is, he tips his head back to let out an absolute roar of a laugh — clearly, you’ve inflated his ego far beyond what he deserved. No more is said on the matter as he strokes himself and crawls onto the mattress. It dips under his weight and it’s this moment when you confront just how much bigger he is than you. You feel so impossibly trapped underneath him; maybe if you think of a happy memory, you can act like none of this is happening at all.

Homelander has no care for your inner turmoil, "You should feel lucky I’m doing all the fucking work this time. I'm not even making you suck my dick! Shows how much I care about you.” His words are no less scathing than they usually are but they come out softly as he pants, like this is the only way he can express kindness. His use of 'this time' reminds you that it will never just stop here. He will continue to take and take and take until you're nothing more than a husk — not like he'll care, just as long as he has someone.

He fumbles around at your entrance with a certain lack of grace that has you questioning the validity of his own escapades and just like that, your plan of mentally escaping this torment crumbles before you. How could you possibly ignore any of this? His frustration is short-lived much to your upset. Slowly, he sinks his dick into you and you both watch closely — he in unrestrained arousal and you in morbid fear. He was dripping with precum and still it’s a awfully tight fit that has you hyperventilating in pain. Each time you shut your eyes, you hope for him to be fully inside so this nightmare can finally be over but he’s big and your anguish is never ending.

“Fuuuuuck. How are you so tight? You really are a virgin. Saved yourself all for me.” His words are choked and even he seems pained.

The end of his sentence is punctuated with a single, sharp thrust and you scream bloody murder. Sob escape from your chest uncontrollably as each thrust into seems to be unravelling you from the inside out. He’s barely pulling out and still the pain is unbearable. Homelander shushes your pathetic bawling before he intertwines his large hands in yours, softly licking each tear away from the fullness of your cheeks before biting down on the same spots your tears stained.

"She could never fuck you like this." The growl he unleashes doesn't even sound human as he pounds into you, pelvis smashing against yours that would be imperceptible to a supe but only furthers your agony. Blue eyes start to simmer with that red hue and you unintentionally clench down around him in fear that he could lose control and laser you in the throes of passion. Despite the inhuman display of strength, he’s still somewhat like you in this moment: sweat dripping down his brow, chest rising and falling with each thrust and his face even looks a bit funny as it scrunches up in pleasure.

“Nobody, and I mean none of these mud people can have you like this, you hear?” He’s staring directly into your eyes and you get the feeling you need to respond so you nod but by his sigh that wasn’t the right option. There’s no margin for error, not after he just tried to kill you.

His hand snakes down between your sweaty bodies and a finger captures your clit again and resumes the tight circles that have your brain shutting down from all the overstimulation.

“Nobody can have me. O-only you! Just you!” Your voice comes out shaky and uncertain and warbles under his skilled ministrations but that’s enough to please him. He purrs before diving in, taking claim over your lips in a punishing kiss that leaves the tender skin there bleeding and bruised. He laps up the blood and nips down in a cruel cycle that has you crying out for his kiss just so it can soothe your mouth.

He knows just as well as you that you’re close to the finish line so he speeds up and if you thought you were overstimulated before, you were fully gone now. You’re on the cusp you never wanted to reach but you can’t even summon the pain you know lies just beneath the surface. You didn’t even realise you had squeezed your eyes shut but you hear his voice command you to open them and you do. He is taking everything from you and you give him want he wants on a silver platter. How can this feel equal parts orgasmic and soul-crushing at the same time?

Just as you’re about to cum, he can feel the way you clench around him and he gets even harder knowing he’s about to be your ruin, he leans down and you assume he’s about to tell you some dirty secret of his.

“I killed Mia today.”

His voice cuts through the crashing waves of gratification and straight into your heart. Your vision goes white as you let out a silent scream only Homelander has the privy of hearing. The waves soon turn on you and bring you under; you’re drowning under it all, lost in a unforgiving tempest that’s stripped you to your barest elements and you know you will never be found again.

He brings you back to life by playfully biting your ear but you lay on your side in a daze, counting each star and stripe you can find on the pillowcase with unseeing eyes.

You don’t know how long it’s been but it’s still dark out, Homelander has the blanket pulled up to your chest (or his waist) and you can feel his legs locked in between yours. You shift slightly and feel him drip out of you. Your silence is of no bother to him for once as he strokes your hair like an owner does a pet.

“You’re so stinkin’ adorable when you’re fucked out. Guess I’ve ruined you for other men, huh?” Your heart stutters and his hand stills on your head. He rolls his eyes in his own private performance of irritation, “Not that there will be other...people.”

He spits the last word out as if it was poison and despite it all, your heart seems to be breaking all over again even when you thought you had nothing left to give. You let him douse the hand he broke with kisses and he doesn’t fault you when you cry.

She was so much more than just a person.

masterlist

he hates how weak and juvenile having a crush on you feels but don't worry! it gets much deeper than a crush in no time

he's absolutely willing to try and get into a relationship with you the normal way (or at least as normal as dating homelander can be) but the second there's one minor inconvenience or you don't seem as receptive as he likes, it's gonna go south quickly -- even for his standards

homelander flies above you on your journey home without you realising since he can't stand the idea of you getting hurt all because he wasn't giving you adequate attention

so really it's only fair he gets to hover by your bedroom and peek through your windows using his x-ray vision once he's made sure you got home in one piece

he's a perv

homelander is obviously going to break into your house but he doesn't see it as breaking in

he's simply spending time in his future partner's home, you just don't know you belong to him yet

likes to move things around and watch the panicked look on your face from where he stalks hides from outside your window

he thinks everything about your helplessness against him is soooo cute :)

speaking of him being a perv, i like to imagine tha he was bored one day and stole all your bras (if you wear them)

#hesniffingthem

when you got to work he was not so subtly staring at your chest the entire time

yes he got a boner, no you’re not gonna do anything about it because he’s homelander

the image of your shocked face when you looked down to his lower half is burned into his mind

he only does stuff like this when the two of you are alone

he’s got a reputation to uphold after all

he monopolises ALL of your time -- you no longer have a home life because everything centres around homelander now

tells you what to wear at work and might even surprise you with a whole new office wardrobe

says it’s a new incentive for the employees and yet somehow you’re the only one getting stuff hmmm

he will trap you in some random copy room and talk your ear off about the most asinine things ever just to be around you

he hates that he can smell your fear and hear your heart pounding whenever he's near but he will fix that soon

he's definitely gonna ask if you notice anything new about him in these conversations and will visibly deflate if you don't notice he's used a new cologne because he overheard you talking from 10 floors away about how you like guys who use it

spiritually a loser c'mon

he never bothers trying to impress other people as it's usually the other way around, especially for mud people with no powers like you, so your disinterest absolutely kills him inside

he will be taking out his rage on some poor intern later since he really doesn't want to hurt you too much just yet

you probably did notice but felt too scared to just speak normally with him

he’s gonna invite you to his penthouse all the time and if you dare decline he’s going to make your life at work hell

soon you learn never to say no to his invitations

it’s lowkey awkward because he’s incapable of just talking like a regular person

he doesn’t see it that way though he thinks every little ‘date’ you two have is a success

speaking of rage, he will kill any of your coworkers that seem a little bit too comfortable with you

at first he hides it from you but the deeper his obsession gets the more of his insanity he's going to show

he knows you're a kind person, it's one of the reasons he can't get enough of you, so if you know that you will be responsible for any future deaths then maybe you'll obey his orders more often

if this is what he needs to do to ensure you stay with him he will do it

OH he doesn’t even ask you to date him if it’s gone on long enough, he just calls you his girlfriend in a meeting with the seven and that’s that

adam absolutely understands the struggle, he has nightmares all the time

he quickly picks up what works for him and adapts it to your needs

he’ll gently rouse you awake and tentatively stroke your hair (he still feels like he’s not allowed to touch you despite the two of you being in a relationship)

he has great pattern recognition so he knows which nights you’re most likely to get a nightmare and prepares accordingly

he’ll make sure the kitchen is stocked up with your favourite tea blend and any light snacks you like to have

definitely makes sure the temperature in the room isn’t too hot or too cold! it helps you to sleep through the night much more peacefully

when you do have a nightmare, he wakes up immediately and searches for you in the bed

a persons hc of mine is that since his eyes were…donated…his eyesight isn’t the best, especially in the dark

so he uses his hands to find you which feels much more personal and helps you to wake up from your nightmare much faster

it also helps that his hands are on the cooler side and help you to regulate your body heat after such a stressful sleep

always always asks if it’s ok to cuddle you to the point that you just drag him into your arms

again, he feels ashamed touching you in any capacity as he feels like he’s sullying you

this leads to him being extremely conflicted bcs on one had he wants to caress your cheeks, stroke your hair, press kisses to your closed eyelids — any form of contact that will help you (and him) calm down

but on the other, he’s constantly hesitating and feeling guilty that he hasn’t helped you sooner because of his own shortcomings

he definitely blames himself and wonders if your nightmares are about him and the fact you’ve chosen to live out the rest of your days with a monster

but then he decides to be brave and ask if you want to talk about what was troubling you in your nightmare

and he quickly becomes reassured in his place in your life as you snuggle into him and talk about past traumas while letting him now how safe and protected you feel with him

sometimes you get self-conscious and worry that eventually he’ll get fed up with your constant nightmares and leave you for someone easier to deal with

HE WOULD NEVER

he’s obsessed with you and you him so just the thought of leaving you (even if it’s willing in your panicked scenario) feels like a knife to the heart

he takes it upon himself to lumber you up in his lanky arms and squeeze you so tight you completely forget what you were upset about

he might be nervous about showing you physical affection but once he starts it, he commits!!

if you’re hesitant to open up about what exactly caused the nightmare, he won’t pressure you at all

he might offer up to talk about it his own worries first if that helps you feel more confident

you’re a bit sweaty once you wake up and he’s on it with a cool, wet rag to dab at your face

he’s definitely the type to coo over you and recite your favourite book passages off by heart since he knows how calming you find it

he hesitates to reach over and touch you, some faulty wiring in his head (courtesy of his maker) making him shy away yet desperate to your touch. but then another tortured cry wrangles itself from your cracked lips, this one somehow even more heart shattering than the last and he knows he must act.

he cups his hands to his mouth and hopes each strangled puff of air he breathes into them are enough so his touch won’t startle you even further. he can’t help but look down at his mangled, mismatched body — how is he allowed to touch you? share the same bed? gaze upon your sleeping form while you’re none the wiser?

“my love, please wake up. i’m here.” his brows furrow in worry but soon relax as your eyes shoot open and immediately find his in the darkness that surrounds you.

“a-adam?” your voice is husky and quiet as if you’re the one scared to wake him. that’s something he could never grow tired of; how, despite the grotesque nature of his existence, you always extend such deep concern for him. he knows he will never find elsewhere.

he grunts in response and you seek out his lukewarm hands, urging them to cool your flushed cheeks.

“adam.” you sigh his name again but this time you sound much more assured.

his now-cool hands waver as they trace along the dips and curvatures of your face. his vision has never been the best but he allows his fingers to see for him and he knows what a vision you are, even when your face is tacky with sweat.

“i love you, darling. please don’t fret.” the words seem to pain adam as he speaks them, full of distress and anguish, and you know instantly how lost he must’ve felt knowing there was nothing he could do but to watch you suffer in the land of sleep.

you know he’s no stranger to night terrors himself but the childlike worry he displays towards you draws you to him like nothing else.

no other words are exchanged as you cling onto him, folding your body around him as if you intend to lock him to the bed with you for eternity. it’s your way of letting him know that he belongs here with you now and forever. that even the silent, brooding presence of his he seems to hate is enough to make you feel loved.

you stay wrapped up in each other for the rest of the night, your night terrors and his deep insecurities seemingly washed away the moment you two made contact.

you hope that you can make him feel loved too.