unfortunately I can’t take any HL smut seriously when he’s dominant and assertive and stereotypically masculine. I need that man whimpering and crying and kinky as hell, getting his shit rocked while also having his hair gently tousled with. you’re telling me that this babydoll that instantly melts when he’s called a good boy is going to take up that role for someone else? nuh uh
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Ahead of the finale, I am making my post finale fanfiction to-do-list (may I stick to it):
1) Finish: Little Stranger. I've always known exactly where the characters will be at the end of it and have been plotting out their journey there, trust. It is just a matter of getting it written out in prose.
2) Finish: Milestones. The last couple seasons' new information on John's life (B6, Barbara Findley and her project, the Legend meeting him) have given me so many ideas. I plan to revise the story to include those but will leave my original chapters up as well.
3) Write: The Babysitters Club. My most diabolical fanfiction idea ever. The unfortunate lovestory of Barbara Findley. Homelander is more a sex toy than a partner. Madelyn Stillwell is in over her head.
4) Write: The Stable Hand. John joins Stan Edgar and Victoria née Nadia on their farm for some much needed acclimitizaton after his disastrous introduction to Vought's upper echelon. The realities of life on this farm do not match the idealized version that he was told to pretend was his lot.
5) Write: Brings All The Boys To The Yard. The Milklander fanfiction of my dreams. "My best way is to creep under his [cape]; there is no other shelter hereabouts: [Soldier Boy] acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows.” - Shakespeare, The Tempest (bastardized)
6) Write: Errai. My Starlander/#Homelight idea. As his female fanbase is not pleased that he is in a relationship, Vought decides Homelander ought to have a sidekick instead of a girlfriend. They decide to check some boxes at the same time by having him choose his sidekick from a shortlist of young superheroines.
7) A nebulous idea for a Butchlander fic involving Soldier Boy. I just think him having to adjust to having an apparently-not-asexual (he longs for the days he could still believe Homelander was asexual -- why must Butchlander be so loud) weirdo son, dealing with Butcher as a son-in-law, and learning to tolerate Ryan (who Ben hilariously seems to like the least of all in the show despite Ryan being this rather normal, sweet, even-keeled kid lmao) is a recipe for fun. It's a The Boys spin on Meet the Parents. Maybe Homelander has V1 in this. Soldier Boy keeps hypocritically telling himself this whole family business is a phase Homelander will get past in several decades, so it's worth sticking it out as it will get him his son at his side for the long road ahead. And everyone is wondering what is Terror's deal but they know enough to know they probably don't want to know, which has Soldier Boy side-eying Billy.
After the last episode where Vicky reveals she had a child with someone from Vought R&D, I started wondering why she was hanging out at Vought labs. And then my mind went to a weird AU where Stan would bring her in as occasional social enrichment for John at wherever Lab B6 is. Maybe they’d meet on some other level, in a slightly more civilized setting. I don’t know what their age difference is supposed to be. I assume 5 years or less. So something like 9 year old Victoria going on play dates in a (reinforced) playroom on B1 with this 12 year old who is pretty strange but ultimately really eager to connect.
Yes, I’m still convinced he’d have needed some normal social interactions to be able to function normally in front of cameras later on.
Yes, I ship Homelander (romantically or platonically) with Vicky. They’re both evil and frenemies. What’s not to like?
Yes, I’m trying to reimagine Stan Edgar as someone who may be sociopathic towards ‘his children’ but not an idiot who didn’t even try to socialize Homelander to be able to pass for normal. Whether he’s Vought’s most important asset or not, he’s certainly the most volatile and dangerous the way they raised him 😕
just thought abt viclander and the “scary dog privilege” thing…the wasted potencial 😭👎
the way i was FROTHING at the MOUTH to see president Vic and her unhinged attack dog chomping at folks from the end of her choke-chain was insane. i've been robbed. i'll never forgive the writers.
i cry thinking about how delicious it would be to see her trapped in this position of power at Homelander's whim while also having to deal with the fact he keeps pushing his head into her hand for pets and bringing her dead detractors like a cat brings dead rodents
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Victoria (or maybe she was Nadia this time? She couldn’t seem to keep it straight lately) was spread like a lounging feline across the couch, blouse unbuttoned and open, completely nude from the waist down. Homelander had gone straight to work as soon as she strolled through the door, heels heard by him well before her key hit the lock. Her light floral perfume filled his senses in an almost dizzying manner, innards buzzing like a bursting beehive. He was always early. Sometimes she’d keep him waiting on purpose.
His hot mouth between her legs was normally enough to keep her from teetering off the ledge she’d managed to construct. Something cruel and unrelenting had forced itself through her brain not long after she’d realized how malleable he could truly be. She was in the business of blackmail and using others as it were. This had started out that way, with a bit of “make sure he doesn’t go full-tilt insane.” However, she wasn’t sure what she was using him for or doing here at this point. She had an idea, but feeding into it only made it fester. In any case, he’d been more than cooperative, going above and beyond as far as her personal agenda was concerned; as far as keeping him in tow, which also happened to be underneath hers- pun intended.
So, how exactly did this arrangement manage to uncover wounds she either believed she’d buried, or never knew existed? She felt nauseated entertaining the notion that she and Vought’s star-spangled, homicidal lackey had more in common than she had with anyone else in her life.
“Yeah, I’m just…” she sighed, tapping a manicured nail to her forehead. “- thinking.”
His chuckle was felt against her ignited flesh, like concentrated heat from the inside of an oven. “Wasn’t it you who said we weren’t meant to think during our little sessions?”
She scoffed in response. “A woman’s mind never rests.”
Homelander licked his chops, her taste flowing from his tongue and permeating every part of him. He could tell she wasn’t as focused as she usually was. Her chemistry was off. Plus, she had been awfully quiet, both in shudders of pleasure and instruction. They would have been close to fucking by now. Instead, he’d remained attached to her slit like bumblebee to flower. And the flower wasn’t giving him much of that nectar he needed to survive.
“Sorry.” Victoria shook her head, straightening so she was sitting as opposed to partially draped over the armrest.
He paused a moment, then took it upon himself to plop down next to her, tucking his cape off to the side. She watched him do so, wondering if she should put her slacks back on and call it a night. But she didn’t… want him to go. That was also attributing to the frenzy upstairs.
“Wanna talk about it?” His unsheathed hand squeezed her exposed thigh, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. In what world would feelings enter their equation? She should be staving off his orgasm, not hollowing herself out to a greater extent. Shit, she probably shouldn’t even be doing the former.
She looked at him again, really looked at him. He presented her with a pursed smile, and she couldn’t tell if that was an attempt at sincerity or not. Perhaps he was a little offended that she found some kind of sick amusement out of his grand gesture. Both were plausible.
Blanketing her palm atop his clothed leg, Victoria leaned in, pupils roaming his semi-forced features. “Why don’t we talk about you instead?” Her fingers traipsed across his uniform, softly stroking his inner thigh. He shivered, eyes snapping shut. They fluttered half-open eventually, his expression resembling carved marble: solemn with an incomprehensible depth. “We’ll start off easy, okay? Now, where in our brief exchange did you get the idea that you were allowed on this couch next to me?” He stiffened, inhaling through his nose.
His arousal was back, and stronger than ever. So was hers.