#homeve

The Vought Tower penthouse kitchen smelled like heaven. Chocolate chip cookies, just beginning to brown in the oven, filled the air with their warm, sweet promise. Flour dusted the marble countertops like fresh snow, and a bowl of leftover batter sat forgotten near the sink.

You were perched on the edge of the counter, your legs dangling, wearing nothing but one of Homelander's navy blue Vought-issue t-shirt and a pair of pale pink lace underwear. The shirt hung off one shoulder, revealing the delicate line of your collarbone, and the hem barely brushed your upper thighs.

Maeve stood between your legs, her hands cupping your face, her thumbs stroking your cheeks. Her sports bra left little to the imagination, and those black lace panties—your black lace panties—clung to her hips like they belonged there. Which they did now. She'd claimed them with a smirk and a kiss, and you'd let her.

"You're so pretty" Maeve murmured against your lips, her voice low and rough with affection. "So fucking pretty, sweet girl. You know that?"

"Maeve-" you protested weakly, but you were smiling, your hands coming up to rest on her bare hips. "Your hands are covered in flour! You're getting it all over my hair!"

"Good," she said, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. "then you'll smell like cookies. Like the perfect little housewife you are."

"Maeve-"

"Shh." She kissed you again, softer this time, her lips lingering. "Let me have this. Let me have you."

You melted into her, because that's what she did to you. Maeve had a way of making the world fall away, of making you feel like the only person in existence worth looking at. When she looked at you with those sharp green eyes, you felt seen. Really seen. Not like one of America's heroes, not like the public figure everyone loved, not like the comforting face on a thousand lunchboxes and action figures. Just... you.

Your fingers threaded through her copper hair, tugging gently, and she hummed against your mouth. The sound vibrated through you, warm and possessive, and you arched into her touch.

"Those cookies are for John, you know," you said between kisses, your voice breathless. "You're helping me eat the evidence."

"Let him have the burned ones," Maeve said, grinning against your lips. "He'll be grateful for anything you make him. You could serve him sawdust and he'd thank you like you'd given him the moon."

"He's not that bad."

"He's exactly that bad." She pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But you have him wrapped around your little finger, sweetheart. You and me both."

"Maeve..." You ducked your head, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. It still made you shy, sometimes, the way she looked at you. The way both of them looked at you.

"Don't get shy on me now..." she said, tilting your chin up with a flour-dusted finger. "You're the one who suggested we 'welcome him home properly', sweet girl. Your words, not mine."

You bit your lip. "I just thought... he's been gone for three days. He always comes back so tense, and I thought maybe if we-"

"You thought maybe if we made him cookies and let him watch us make out, he'd calm down?" Maeve's smile was sharp and knowing. "You're too sweet for him, you know that? He doesn't deserve you."

"He deserves someone who cares about him," you said softly. "And I do. And so do you. Even if you pretend you don't."

Maeve's expression softened, just for a moment, before she covered it with a scoff. "I don't pretend. I make it very clear that I think he's a pathetic, preening, emotionally stunted man-baby."

"And yet you're still here. Still dating him. Still sharing me with him."

She was quiet for a moment, her hands dropping to your thighs, squeezing gently. "Because you make it work," she said finally. "You're the glue, sweet girl. Without you, it's just... him and me, and that's not—" She shook her head. "That's not good for anyone. Especially not for me."

You lifted your hand to her cheek, wiping away a smudge of flour. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She kissed you again, deeper this time, her tongue sliding against yours, and you moaned into her mouth, your fingers tightening in her hair. Her hands slid up your thighs, under the hem of the shirt, and she squeezed your ass, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter.

"God, I love you," she breathed against your lips. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too, Maeve."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you, I love you, I love you-"

The sound of the penthouse door sliding open cut through the moment.

Maeve pulled back, but she didn't move away from you. Instead, she turned her head, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face as Homelander stepped into the kitchen.

He was still in his suit, the red-and-white cape draped over one shoulder, the blue of his suit immaculate except for a few smudges of what looked like soot near his collar, his eyes scanning the room before landing on the two of you.

On you, specifically. Sitting on the counter in his shirt. With Maeve between your legs. In your panties.

"Well," he said, eyebrows rising, voice carefully neutral. "This is a welcome."

You smiled shyly, flushing a bit, trying to push Maeve away from sheer embarassment, but she just laughed, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before stepping back.

"Look what the cat dragged in.." she said, sauntering toward him. She grabbed the front of his suit and pulled him into a kiss, deep and dirty, her tongue sliding into his mouth before she pulled back with a smirk. "You're late."

"Mission ran long," he said, his eyes already drifting back to you. "Had to deal with a few... complications."

"Complications you could have handled faster if you'd stopped playing with your food."

"Maybe." He was still looking at you, but then his eyes diped down to the oven. "Did you—are those cookies?"

You bit your lip, nodding. "Chocolate chip. Your favorite. I thought-"

"She thought you'd be hungry." Maeve interrupted, grabbing him by the front of his suit and dragging him further into the kitchen. "So she spent all afternoon baking for you. Didn't you, sweet girl?"

"I just wanted to-"

"To be nice." Maeve interrupted again, pushing him down into one of the chairs at the kitchen island. He went willingly, his eyes never leaving you. "To take care of you. Because that's what she does. She takes care of everyone."

"Is that true?" Homelander asked, his voice softening. "You made me cookies?"

You nodded, sliding off the counter and walking toward him. Maeve intercepted you, lifting you off your feet to give you a spin and carrying you the last few feet before dropping you onto Homelander's lap with a playful grin.

You landed with a delighted squeak, your hands bracing on his shoulders as you settled onto his thighs. The suit was warm beneath you, the fabric smooth and unyielding, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the coiled strength in his frame, and the way he was... perking in interest.

"Hello, John." you said softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Hello to you too, baby." he replied, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. He looked almost shy with his eyes darting between you and Maeve.

"Don't just sit there," Maeve said, already turning toward the oven. "Thank her properly."

"Thank you," he said quickly. "The cookies, I mean. Thank you for-"

"I said properly." Maeve repeated, pulling open the oven door. She bent over to retrieve the baking sheet, deliberately slow, deliberately arching her back to show off the curve of her ass in those black lace panties. "You know what I mean, John."

You watched his eyes flick to Maeve's ass, then back to you. His hands tightened on your hips.

"Take off the gloves." you said softly, and he obeyed immediately, pulling off the red gauntlets and dropping them to the floor. His bare hands settled on your thighs, warm and calloused, and you shivered.

"Good boy." you murmured, and he let out a shaky breath.

You kissed him.

It started soft, just a brush of lips against lips, but then you tilted your head and deepened it, your tongue sliding against his, and he groaned into your mouth. His hands slid up your thighs, under the hem of the shirt, and you gasped as his fingers found your slick heat.

"You're already so wet..." he breathed against your lips, and you bit back a moan. "Maeve did that?"

"You know damn well I did."

"Maeve-!"

"Shh." He kissed you again, two fingers sliding inside you, and you arched into his touch. "Let me take care of you, babe. Let me make you feel good."

"Don't tell her what to do." Maeve said, her voice sharp as she set the cookies aside. She walked back to the two of you, her arms crossed, her eyes glinting. "You're not in charge here."

"I wasn't-"

"Oh, but you were." She reached down and grabbed his chin, tilting his face up to meet her gaze. "You're here to make her feel good. That's your only job. Understand?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good boy." She let go of his chin and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Now make our girl feel good. And if she doesn't come before you do, I'll be very disappointed in you."

"Not a problem-" Homelander scrambled to get out as quick as possible, his eyes sliding to you. "I've got her."

He curled his fingers inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars, and you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. His thumb pressed against your clit, circling slowly, and you bucked against his hand.

"That's it, sweet girl." Maeve cooed, her hand coming up to stroke your hair. "Let him make you feel good. You've been so sweet for us today, baking cookies, taking care of us. You deserve to feel good."

"Please," you gasped, your hips grinding against his hand. "John, please-"

"Please what?" he asked, his voice breathless. "Tell me what you want, baby, c'mon."

"More- I want more—"

He added a third finger, stretching you, and you sobbed with pleasure, your head falling back. Maeve caught you, her hand on the back of your neck, and she kissed your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth.

"Thaaaat's it.." she murmured. "That's our good girl. You're so beautiful like this, sweetheart. So fucking beautiful."

"Please- I'm so close—"

"Come for him," Maeve said. "give him the satisfaction."

And you did, your body shuddering as you came undone on Homelander's fingers, your cries muffled by his mouth as he kissed you through it. His other hand wrapped around your waist, holding you steady, and you felt him trembling beneath you.

"John.." Maeve said, her voice low and dangerous. "Look at me."

He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes hazy, his pupils blown wide. "Yeah?"

"You've been such a good boy for us.." she said, her fingers tracing down his throat. "Helping our girl come undone. But I think you're close too, aren't you? I can feel you twitching under her."

He let out a shaky laugh. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" She raised an eyebrow. "Don't lie to me, John. It's not a good look on you."

"It's just- it's been three days," he admitted, his voice strained. "And she's so fucking beautiful, and she's sitting on my lap, and you're- you're wearing her panties too and- I can smell her on my fingers—"

"So you're going to come in your pants like a teenager?" Maeve asked, her tone mocking but not unkind. "Is that what you want, Homelander? To cream your suit like a pathetic little boy?"

"Fuck-" he breathed, his hips bucking up into yours. "Maeve-"

You started rocking down on him, mewling with oversensitivity, but deeming it a valid price to pay to hear the way his breath suddenly hitched on his chest and see the way his eyes struggled not to get cross.

"Come on." she said, leaning down to start pressing kisses to his neck. "Come for us, John. Be a good boy and come for your girls."

He came with a groan, his body going rigid as he spilled into his suit, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. You held him, stroking his hair, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

"Good boy." you murmured. "Such a good boy, John."

"Fuck," he said again, his voice muffled against your skin. "That was-"

"Pathetic and sad?" Maeve offered, but she was smiling as she said it, her hand coming up to ruffle his hair. "You're lucky you're cute, you know that?"

"Am I?" he asked, looking up at her with something like hope in his eyes.

"No." she replied flatly, deadpan. "You're really not. But she is, and she loves you for some reason, so you get to keep being pathetic in her presence."

"Hey!" you protested jokingly, a smile tugging on your lips. "That's not nice."

"A bit?" Maeve snorted. "He literally just came in his pants from fingering you, honey" she said, looking at you, before turning back to Homelander. "You're an absolute disaster of a man."

"Is that what that is?" Homelander asked, and Maeve actually laughed, a real laugh, bright and surprised.

You beamed at both of them, this strange, impossible set-up you'd found. Maeve, who wrapped herself in armor because she'd been hurt too many times. Homelander, who hid behind a mask because he'd never learned how to be anything else. And you, sitting in his lap, in his shirt, between them like a bridge.

"I love you both," you said softly. "You know that, right?"

Maeve's expression softened. "I know, sweetheart."

Homelander's eyes widened, just for a moment, before he ducked his head. "Yeah. Yeah, we know. We love you too, babe."

"I'll prove it," Maeve said, heading back to the cookies. "I saved you a few, John. The ones that didn't burn."

"Really?" He perked up like a child.

"Really." She grabbed two cookies and tossed one to him. He caught it easily and took a bite, his eyes fluttering closed.

"These are amazing," he said, his voice muffled around a mouthful of cookie.

Maeve took a bite of her own, then picked up a third, leaning over you to press it to your lips. "Open, sweet girl. You need to eat too."

You bit into the cookie, the chocolate melting on your tongue, and Maeve kissed the corner of your mouth, licking away a crumb.

"Perfect," she said, and you weren't sure if she meant the cookie, or you, or all of it. Probably all of it.

"This is really good," Homelander said, finishing his cookie in two bites. He looked at you, his expression almost soft. "Thank you. Really."

"Of course, John," you said, cupping his face in your hands. "Anything for you."

"You know," Maeve said, leaning against the counter with her own cookie, "if you keep spoiling him like this, he's going to get insufferable."

"I'm already insufferable," Homelander said, grinning. "It's part of my charm."

"Your charm is a very long list of things that are not charming," Maeve said. "But you've got a few points in your favor. Mostly because of her."

"I know." He turned to kiss your forehead. "I know."