hom3landr

[hom3landr]

The Lucky Winner - Part 4

[Masterlist] | [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] | [AO3]

18+ Only | 6.8k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Insecurity. Jealousy. Implied shower sex. Phone sex. Mild voice kink. Homelander is being a sex pest again. Or just a pest.

Summary: Homelander insists on taking your relationship to the next level.

Author’s Note: I don't know why I decided that Part 4 is when I should include somewhat of a plot but it happened so the voice kink fic continues😂 Major shoutout to @anotherhomelanderblog for all the editing help and keeping me sane throughout the process 💗

“And you live like this?” Homelander asks incredulously, drying himself off. He hands you the damp towel and you promptly hang it up to dry, wrapped in a fluffy towel yourself.

“Most people live like this! Also most people are smart enough to not waste all their hot water on making out,” you say with a laugh and a playful eye roll.

“Ohoho, that was a lot more than making out.” Homelander’s brazenly parading around naked and you can’t help but follow the line of his slender body. It always feels special to see him without the suit. Although he still clearly prefers to keep it on, he’s not feeling particularly worried about swapping his superhero suit for the birthday one around you. 

“Well still—it’s no wonder we ran out.” 

Your lazy morning rolling around in bed quickly turned into messing around under the spray of the hot shower water. And while Homelander’s right and it was more than making out, you didn’t get to experience more than a few thrusts before the water turned cold, rudely interrupting you both.

Homelander has never been one for giving up. He held you in place, keeping you nice and warm as he thrusted into you. All the way to the finish line. Needless to say, the morning couldn’t have started better.

It could have been warmer though.

He finally finds his underwear somewhere in between the pile of his thick suit. You mentally wince at him reusing the same underwear he had on before he slept over last night. He may neither exert himself nor sweat, but it still catches you off guard. Many times you’ve offered him the space to store his spare clothes, but he denies the offer every time, saying it’s just as easy for him to fly back. 

This behaviour is equally as perplexing as him never changing into something you’d deem more comfortable. It’s always been the full suit or fully naked. You don’t think there has ever been a third option. The cartoonish nature of his persona comes through vividly in moments like these. While you haven’t rummaged through his portion of the wardrobe back in his place, you wouldn’t be surprised to see multiple versions of the same superhero suit. 

And yet, along with the rehearsed lines he can’t always help but avoid, this makes him seem larger than life. Unfamiliar. Untouchable. Unattainable.

Thoughts like these frequent your mind each time you see yet another headline speculating about his love life come across your newsfeed. Whenever someone mentions the dreaded topic out loud, your gut clenches, your heart drops and you get shaken by the idea that you’ve somehow stolen America's golden boy.

Homelander, on the other hand, has been nothing but eager to celebrate your relationship. You haven’t shared your concerns with him yet. You don’t think he would quite understand your worry about stealing him from his devoted fans. He’s been constantly coaxing you into uprooting your life and moving in with him, officially being with him. His little nudges like today are just the tip of the iceberg.

The idea of being offered to the media vultures as their new chew toy fills you with dread just thinking about it.

You turn away from watching Homelander redress. You unwrap the towel you’ve tucked in around your chest, bunching it up in your hands and bending over to wipe leftover water droplets off your legs. 

You don’t get very far before you hear a whistle. “Don't you look good enough to eat? Well, again.”

You automatically straighten up, covering what you can with your towel. Pointless, really. Homelander can easily see through whatever he wishes. Still one of his stranger powers, if you do say so yourself. You can never quite tell whether he’s staring at your tits or your heart—both options feeling equally voyeuristic.

You shake your head at his silly flirting. While he can be obnoxious and overly cheesy, there’s something to be said about being so blatantly flirted with. Knowing you’re desired so… carnally—as cliche as that feels to say in your head—feels reaffirming. Confidence boosting, even. 

This alone allows you to think that maybe having a public relationship wouldn’t change anything between the two of you.

You hear the familiar creak of leather as he puts his gloves on, stretching his fingers and squeezing his fists to get them comfortable.

“In fact, if you moved in with me—like I keep telling you to—we wouldn’t be having this problem at all.” 

Or not. The slightly pushy tone brings the recurring anxiety back up.

During the storm of your internal thoughts, you dig out a fresh pair of underwear. You’ve gotten into the habit of actively wearing the pretty pieces Homelander can’t seem to stop himself from sending to your home address—amongst the other obscenely expensive gifts. Ever since you’ve once dressed up for him, he made it his mission to dress you in lingerie of all the colours of the rainbow and more. Feigning scientific interest in seeing what colour matches your skin tone the best—though he still favours the Homelander panties that started it all. 

However, knowing how perverse he can be with his penetrative vision, helps with not feeling underdressed at any given time.

Homelander takes no note of your internal struggle, instead focusing on his fantasy of what life is meant to look like for the two of you while you start getting dressed.

“Then I could fuck you in the shower for as many hours as my lady wishes, hm?” He gives you a cheeky smile as he passes by, walking out of the bedroom and into the living room.

You laugh heartily at his comment while you pick out your clothes. Normally, you’d keep it cosy and comfortable enough. At least, before Homelander. Now you pick something a little more put together, knowing you’ll be stopping by the Vought tower as part of his plan for the day. 

“Hours seems a bit much. I don’t know if looking like a wet prune is a good look on me.” While you put your clothes on, you look up to see what he’s up to through the open bedroom door. While any other person would entertain themselves by turning the TV on or scrolling on their phone, Homelander just walks around. As if he hasn’t seen this space a thousand times over.

At your response, he turns to you. A bewildered look crosses his face before he lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Funny.” He readjusts a photo on the wall, making sure it’s perfectly straight. It’s a selfie you took of the two of you on the couch. Not the best quality, but Homelander insisted you make it the centerpiece of the photo wall. “Don’t know about the prune part but wet is easily the best look on you.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. 

“It’s a little silly of you to think otherwise, don’t you think? I know you’re smarter than that.” While some might get easily offended at his words, you’re used to his crass words.

You watch as he points his gloved finger at you while he steps further backwards. 

Finally dressed, you come out of the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. Homelander walks to the kitchen with you following.

“I just thought you liked it here.” You lean against the small breakfast bar as you watch him open the fridge and take out the jug of whole milk you keep stocked at all times for his sake only. 

He doesn’t bother pouring it out into a glass and neither does he close the fridge while he takes a big gulp, closing his eyes in the moment. Putting the jug down, he licks his lips clean as he opens his eyes. It’s bizarre how strangely erotic he manages to make the whole ritual seem.

“I do,” he says once his eyes are less glazed over and focused back on you. Properly snapping to attention, he acts offended. “Of course I do.” As if you suggested something so horrifying it insulted his very being. “But it would make things a lot easier.”

He takes another indulgent big gulp before closing the jug and putting it back in the fridge, shutting the door with a nudge of his elbow as he walks past.

He makes his way around while you’re still leaning against the breakfast bar. His lips trace the shell of your ear as he settles himself riiight behind you. “Imagine all the fun we’d have, huh?” He tilts his head to place a little kiss on your cheek, very close to your ear.

The timbre of his voice vibrating through your ear just warms you to your core. He still knows how to disarm you so thoroughly. If anything, he happily abuses this little quirk of yours.

“We wouldn’t have to settle for a fucking quickie in the morning.” His arms settle on your hips as he, excruciatingly slowly, drags his hips against your ass. “You know, I very much enjoy a good old breakfast in bed. What do you say? As soon as you move in, I’ll be waking you up with my tongue between your thighs. Now try saying no to that.”

“Nice try. You’ve done that here before.” You try to remain calm and collected but your voice betrays you, coming out in a stutter. While his voice—the sexy, slow tone he abuses anytime he wants to get his way—along with the visuals, is already wetting your fresh panties through and through.

“Hm, but there I wouldn’t have to think about flying back just to make it to a stupid meeting. I’d get plenty more time with you. Think about it. Every break in my schedule I could come back for a kiss and a cuddle. Maybe a little romp with my best girl.”

“Oh so suddenly we’re happy with quickies?” You chuckle breathlessly.

“Well y’know, I’m a busy guy. Gotta work with what I’ve got.”

“Speaking of—shouldn’t you be heading out? You’ve got a busy schedule ahead of you.”

“Alright, okay. I got the message. Think about it though, babe, will you?” Homelander finally allows you to gather yourself as he steps back, not so discreetly adjusting his dick after all that teasing. You constantly wonder where he gets this sky-high sex drive from.

“Sure. I’ll think about it.” You take the moment to walk around the breakfast bar, reaching for a coffee pod to pop into your machine for a quick pick-me-up. With a twist of your wrist you notice the time. “Oh, you should head out now if you don’t want to be late.” 

He slots behind you again, unable to stay away for even a moment. “Let me take you with me?” His arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing softly as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of you in between little kisses.

The coffee machine finishes whirring, and with the smell of fresh coffee it breaks you out of the daze.

“Mhmm, then you’ll definitely be late. And I want my coffee. And some breakfast. You go have your meeting, I’ll be there in time for your interview.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise. Kiss goodbye?” You ask for it before he does. Immediately, he turns you around in his arms, trapping you in his hold so he can deliver what he deems an acceptable goodbye kiss. It’s long and deep and were you in public you’d be blushing to the tips of your ears. So much for the little goodbye peck you imagined.

Once Homelander leaves, you take the time to have a quick breakfast before preparing your overnight bag. While Homelander can’t take you to the set of the talk show he’s getting interviewed about his new movie at, he insists you come to his place to watch it live. Afterwards, he’ll be eager to fly back home to spend more time with you, listening to everything you’ve got to say about his appearance.

Entering the Vought tower always leaves you with a level of anxiety in your gut. This isn’t your territory, you don’t feel safe here. Each camera feels like the watchful eye of every stakeholder, observing you walk around freely as if you’ve not been greedily devaluing their best asset. 

You feel like the mistress everyone but the wife knows about. The overseeing eye of Vought management is already unhappy with you as is—Homelander said so himself, unaware or uncaring of the effect that information would have on you. It’s why you’ve started dressing better, trying to appear smart and classy. Worthy. Defending your position by his side.

You like to pretend like you belong. But everyone knows you’d be lost without him in tow.

This isn’t your world.

And it never will be.

Arriving at the penthouse allows you to release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. While Homelander’s space is odd at best and downright unliveable at worst, it’s part of you now. With its impersonal portraits of historical figures or perfect marble statues that make you feel self-conscious each time you undress, the decor leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Who is Vought to not ever allow him peace and quiet from this persona they’ve built for him? It really feels like he only gets to be himself when he’s around you. At home with you.

So why he constantly insists on the idea of you moving into this hellscape permanently confuses you to no end. Sure, your home isn’t luxurious by any means. It’s small and cluttered—less so now you’ve gotten rid of some of the Homelander memorabilia—but it’s comforting, warm, and inviting.

You’ve already gone through the effort of adding some warmth and home to this… space. Blankets and throws, pillows and trinkets that made you think of him. Anything that takes away from the sterile museum-like feel of the place.

Today you have brought a little picture frame. It’s the same photo you saw Homelander adjusting just an hour or so earlier. The print isn’t of great quality and neither is the photo, but he seems particularly fond of it, so you’ve gone ahead to frame this one for him too.

Dropping off your bag on the living room couch, you walk over to the bedroom, swapping out an existing impersonal historical portrait of Abraham Lincoln for the silly selfie of the two of you. You fret around with the positioning until it feels right, running your hand over the frame with an absent smile. The photo lets you forget about the madness of your life; it lets you instead think of the love you share with each other. However fragile it may feel at times.

Your phone rings in your pocket. You fumble around, like you’ve been caught doing something vulnerable and intimate. 

You swipe without looking at the screen properly, pressing the screen to your ear.

“There she is.” 

Something about the way he purrs into the phone melts your anxieties of the day into nothing. While grounding is what you need, his voice goes beyond that. You’re not grounded. Not with him. It feels like you’re flying instead. Lightheaded and full of excited nerves, you can’t escape the heartfelt bright smile lighting up your face.

“Hey baby. Ready for your interview?” 

“Am I ever not? You’ll be watching, right?” He knows you will. The question is rhetorical at best.

“Are you kidding? Of course I am.” You chuckle breathlessly into the phone. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You make your way to the couch, sprawling across the leather, your phone still against your ear. Something about this makes you so giddy. Here you are in Homelander’s apartment, sitting on his couch with his voice in your ear. It feels like a fairytale.

It doesn’t feel real.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Ever since Homelander’s discovered your little quirk—which admittedly was clear to him from day one—he’s been more than happy to ramble on and on and on. No matter what it’s about. He likes to have you listen.

“Is she already there?” You change the topic, not wanting to dwell on your inner discomfort for too long.

“Who? My co-star?” he asks with an innocent enough tone.

“Yeah. Her.” You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying more.

“Careful there, you’re sounding a liiittle jealous.”

This talk show interview centres around Homelander’s new movie, Homelander: Hero’s Heart. The first one in his range that gave him a tangible love interest. His previous movies focused on action, patriotism and Homelander ultimately being the hero that saves the day. Vought are still on a mission to boost numbers in certain demographics—your demographic—so saving the damsel in distress was the logical next step for them.

It wasn’t too obnoxious. Just one on-screen kiss by the end of the movie. But you can’t shake the enormous pit of insecurity at the bottom of your gut anytime you think about them going through all those scenes together. Just how many takes was it really?

Okay, maybe you are a little jealous.

“I’m not. I’m just curious.”

No. You’re being unreasonable. Throughout all of the shooting Homelander came home to you, seeking solace. Seeking familiar and comforting touch. Complaining to you endlessly about the other actors’ poor skills.

Homelander clocked your jealousy early on. With a cheeky grin he prodded and poked, making you lash out and admit to your unsavoury feelings. The verbal conversation usually ended there. Instead, you got your frustration out physically. Night after night, he fucked you into the mattress, proving just where you stand. Until you couldn’t even stand anymore. 

Those nights, he’d sit you in his lap, pushing his thick cock inside you as he held you close. Face to face, chest to chest, he’d grunt and mewl in between kisses. Homelander would revel in your possessiveness of him, getting you to repeat ‘you’re mine’ over and over again. You’d rarely do any of the moving. Homelander liked taking it in his own hands in these moments. He’d wrap his hands around your hips, squeezing where he could reach, bouncing you with deliberate movements down onto his lap.

Logically, you know Homelander wouldn’t cheat on you with a random actress. But it’s hard not to compare yourself to her. She’s another gorgeous face amongst the constant stream of supes, actresses, models or celebrities he has instant access to. And you’re… well, you. The fact that he chose you out of the mix should leave you with some sense of relief, but it doesn’t. 

“Mhm, sure you are. As luck would have it, she couldn’t make it. Real shame, huh?” Homelander can be surprisingly sweet sometimes. To his credit, it was never his actions that made you jealous. Your own insecurity latched onto rotten ideas, spreading like mold across your healthy mind. 

Homelander plays into your possessiveness of him, more than eager to hear how much you love and want him. Only him. 

It makes you wonder if he had something to do with his co-star’s absence. 

“You know women are gonna go crazy over you after this. I’m sure they’re all waiting for you to spill some crazy stories about being a romantic on and off set.”

“Are they now? You know, I really don’t fucking care what they want to hear. I don’t care about them. I care about you.” 

There's a desperation to his response that catches you off guard. It's impossible to deny him the adoration he wordlessly requests.

“Oh. That’s—Ahah—I care about you too. You know I always love to watch you.”

“Good. Good. I want you to watch. I want you to listen... You’ll do that right? You’ll listen—”

“—to every word. To every single word.” The breathless quality to your tone shocks you.

It makes Homelander moan.

When did you both get so worked up over this?

“Good—fuck. Always such a good girl, aren't you? My biggest fan.”

“Not just a fan.” You huff out. You’re not offended per se, but after seeing what other so-called-fans say about him online or how little love they share with him, it would be an insult to label you as one of them.

“Pfft—of course you're not.” He scoffs in disbelief. Even he doesn’t believe his own words. “You are everything. You're everything to me.” 

Your eyes widen. Your heart pounds against your ribcage. The unashamed proclamation said so clearly by the strongest man in the world makes you pulse and clench.

You're not worthy of being his all.

It leaves you speechless. Over the past few weeks your mind has started waging war with your heart. Oddly, today feels like the final battle of which will win.

Your body is nearly shaking. The palm holding your phone feels clammy. You try to get comfortable, but you’d only achieve that by clawing out of your own skin. Something feels different—wrong—about today.

“Helloooo, don't go quiet on me now.” There's a new, dangerous tilt to his already deliciously rumbling voice that makes you soak your underwear. 

“Sorry… I just—you’re so—I just… I love you so much.” You trip over your words. Something you’ve said so many times feels oddly loaded.

“D’aww, how cute. That’s better.” With an audible swallow, you slide your hand down your body. Pressing into your flesh through your clothes as you go, trying to pretend it isn't your hand exploring your own body.

You imagine it’s his. Following the route it has done so many times before.

You ache with the need to be touched and filled and worshipped. Your cunt throbs painfully under your layers, soaked and weeping. Even the slight press of your fingers feels electric. Too little and too much at the same time.

You swallow the saliva that’s gathered on your tongue. You scrunch your eyebrows when you roll your hips into your hand, a gasp coming out involuntarily.

“I can hear you. Do it.”

“Y-you can?!”

This brings you back to the first phone call that kick started this whole relationship. Back then, you had some courtesy to not touch yourself to the sound of his voice. You’ve lost all that courtesy by now, but the reveal that he could hear you all along makes you embarrassed for your past self.

You undo the fastening on your bottoms with a shaky hand. Your hand immediately slides under your layers, into your panties, with your fingers already forming a familiar shape. Your eyes roll back when your fingers glide along your inner lips, gathering slick and bumping your clit where your fingers meet. You repeat this motion a few times, thoroughly wetting your pussy, letting your head hit the armrest like a deadweight, your phone still loosely tucked against your ear.

“Jesus Christ, listen to yourself. Might have to move into the bathtub before you flood my couch, you know.” 

“Not like you actually care.” You huff out half a laugh, barely coherent with your slurred speech. 

“No you’re right, I don’t. Now spread your legs for me, gorgeous, I want you to put your fingers in.” 

You nod as if he could see you—though for all you know, maybe he can.

You push your bottoms down far enough that they won’t be in the way. Adjusting yourself on the couch, you curl your fingertips inside yourself with a little wiggle, letting out a sigh. Like this, you’re definitely gonna make the couch wet.

“Feel good?” While he purrs low, you hear the sharp grin in his tone.

You hum softly as you focus on moving your fingers in and out. “Not as good as when you do it. Actually, hah, it doesn’t compare at all.” You’re not even trying to butter up his ego before his live appearance. He’s just that good to you.

“That’s the sp—fuck—spirit.” 

Having been with your lover many times, the familiarity of that stifled whimper leaves you gasping. You don’t need super hearing to know that Homelander’s wrapped his own hand around his cock. You’ve come to memorise and categorise all the pretty little sounds he makes.

You don’t even remember hearing him unclasp his belt, too lost in your own pleasure. 

“Are you…?” 

Through the phone comes a clipped exhale. “—Yes.” The rough, rhythmic stroking now becomes audible to even your human ears. Your cheeks feel hot. The sensation climbs up all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Oh. That’s really sexy.” You whimper, melting into the sofa as you spread your legs as far as the garment you pushed down allows. “Aren’t—aren’t you worried about someone walking in?” You alternate between rubbing your clit and fingering yourself as a way to make your body tingle all over.

The response you get is a barely restrained moan straight in your ear. His voice trails off into a sweet rumbly groan that has your fingers rubbing faster.

“Don’t care. You make me feel fucking crazy.” 

How is it that you have such an effect on him? From morning till night, he never seems to have enough. Before Homelander you were racking up two—three at most, really—self-love sessions a week. These days you’re lucky if you only end up with two a day. The resolve in his proclamation brings back some of the confidence today has been slowly chipping away at.

Plus, his absurd words make you snicker.

“I make you feel crazy?” Your voice is all breathy. With each moan in your ear, your own touch feels electric. Your fingers stick to rubbing your clit: circles that started slow, teasing and loose are now tight and fast, nearing on too strong a stimulation. 

“Uh-huh.” He’s barely responding at this point, but you don’t mind. 

“Mhm, really? You’re so good to me, you know that?” Knowing Homelander is there in his guest dressing room of the host’s set, fisting his sensitive cock raw because of you, makes your head spin. The gratification that fills you with is intoxicating. Drunk on the power you have in your hands, you change up the pace, rubbing your clit more languidly, taking your time to instead sweet talk your boyfriend into blowing his load into his underwear right before his interview.

“They don't deserve you.”

“You do so much for the world.”

“They never appreciate how much of an honour it is to have you serve them.”

“You’re so perfect.”

The combination of Homelander’s signature stuttered groan and the rustling of fabrics tells you your words are all it’s taken for him to finish. 

“Wow, what a show, superstar on and off the stage,” you tease him a little. You hear the familiar click of a belt come through the phone.

“Smartass. Speaking of, I gotta be on set in a few. But what kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you hanging like that. Need to hear my best girl cum her brains out on the other side.” 

“Don’t be silly, you’ve got to go live in a few.”

“Then you better hurry up.” He laughs airily. The orgasmic high makes him exude even more of this strange energy. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you going pretty crazy over there. Doubt it’s gonna take you long anyway. Never does when I’m talking to you, hm?”

“Oh my god.” You exhale, your hand back at full speed. You dig your feet into the couch, pushing against it as you stroke your clit faster, your hips meeting your hand firmly, accelerating your climb to ecstasy.

“Mhm, that’s right. That what I am to you, honey? Your god?”

“Y-yes… yes, you are.” Your lips are shut tight when you’re not talking, breathing heavily through your nose as you feel the warmth spread throughout your body. From your core, to your chest, to your limbs. You start to feel the tips of your toes tingle with the electric sensation.

Somehow, he always manages to make your body feel sensitive all over. Even indirectly.

“Gonna listen to me live like it’s gospel, aren’t you? Listen to eeevery word I say. Wouldn’t be surprised if you used to constantly fuck your brains out while watching me. What’s that, got nothing to say?”

You really have nothing to say. While he clearly knows it, it's embarrassing to admit to something you may have occasionally indulged in before he became a tangible part of your life.

It doesn’t stop you from whimpering as you feel the tethers loosen. 

“Come on baby, time’s ticking. You better come for me now—” 

You hear barely audible knocking at his door. The line picks up a foreign muted tone, but you’re not really processing it. Your orgasm takes over and you stutter out a choked gasp, heels pushing into the couch before they fully relax into the leather, the tingling waves of your orgasm spreading to all your limbs.

“Mhm, I’ll be a minute.” His voice sounds further away, like he’s covered the phone and moved it away from his ear while he talks back.

In retrospect, the shame of orgasming on the phone to him while he’s talking to someone else should’ve stopped you from getting there, but it’s him you’re talking about. It’s hard to restrain yourself.

“See, I knew you could do it. Now go put yourself together, missy. I want you to pay attention.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, I will… Just—hah—gotta catch my breath a little bit. I will, I’m excited to see you.”

“Good girl. I love you, alright? I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too.” You smile fondly.

Homelander ends the phone call and you take a moment to gather yourself. You breathe in deeply. The first big exhale lets you release some of the muscle tension you’ve gained as you hurriedly brought yourself to orgasm.

As you pull your now uncomfortably soaked underwear and bottoms back on, the next inhale brings the tension back in a different way. 

All your nagging thoughts return like a flood, crashing through you. Your gut churns, the anxious feeling of it all souring your post-orgasmic high. Is there even more you bring to this “relationship” besides sex?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you get up off the couch to clean up and make yourself presentable in the bathroom. While nobody is here to see you, you feel dirty sitting in your wet and cooled underwear. You swap it for a fresh pair from your overnight bag, tossing the old ones in the laundry hamper.

Sitting comfortably on the couch in your den of pillows and blankets is a familiar enough routine. Due to your secretive relationship status, Homelander can’t take you with him. You watch from the safety of yours or his home, watching your favourite hero live on TV.

You click the remote to the channel Homelander’s talk show appearance will be broadcasted on and wait until the time they’re live with some pointless scrolling on your phone. You can’t help but gravitate towards the Homelander-centric gossip pages, Instagram fan accounts or Reddit forums. Each time relieved that there’s still no information on you. Nobody is none the wiser.

The TV speakers burst with the audience’s roar of applause, tearing your eyes up and away from your phone. You smile at the support he gets. Though it turns ugly and cracks very quickly. Some possessive part of you wishes you were there backstage cheering him on as he walks on set in front of all these people.

Homelander oozes confidence with every sure step. This is his element. Big bright smiles and a quick broad wave to the audience you don’t see. He looks handsome. Hair parted slightly, loose and charming, just like his smile. He’s calm and collected. Definitely not like someone who was just getting his rocks off a few minutes ago.

He brings the smile back all the way to your eyes. All sour thoughts dissipate when you see him like this. It’s not fair to feel awful when it’s time for him to have his moment. You know better than that.

While there’s hardly a need for it, he’s introduced to the audience. 

“Homelander, welcome, thank you for joining us.” 

“Always good to be here, thank you for having me.”

Homelander’s seated and the interview begins. So unlike any of the other usual guests he takes up the majority of the space with his larger-than-life quality. So much more suited for something better than this.

“I’m sure all the ladies are very excited for the movie’s opening weekend.” 

“Great start.” You roll your eyes as the audience cheers  and whistles again. Nothing like objectifying him the moment he walks into the room.

“It’s what I’m—well, what we’re all hoping for, it’s a wild ride. I can promise you that much.” While your lover is a little snarkier behind the scenes, he’s a class act in front of the cameras. You’re always proud to see him do so well.

“Well that’s a glowing review if I’ve ever heard one! We all enjoy a love story. Let’s not be modest here, you’ve been voted The superhero heartthrob. It’s no wonder this movie is already pulling record sales at the box office.” The interviewer speaks into the side of her palm, acting secretive as if each word wasn’t clearly picked up by the lav mic.

“Oh stop it, that silly thing.” He brushes the compliment off, shrugging his shoulders boyishly. 

“No seriously, I think this is exactly what the audience wanted. We all love a superhero flick, don’t we, folks? But the little touch of spice and romance? Instant crowd pleaser. Tickets are selling like hotcakes!” 

“Insipid cow.” You can’t help yourself but comment on the over the top vapid glazing happening right before your eyes. Muttering obscenities to yourself you miss Homelander’s response and only vaguely take in the following mindless chatter in its entirety.

They treat him like a circus animal. 

“Who’s your favourite cast member to do scenes with?”

“What is it like to juggle acting with protecting the city?”

“What’s your guilty pleasure when you’re off duty?”

One mundane—pointless—question after another makes you wonder how he puts up with the pomp and phoniness of it all. You know you couldn’t. You even imagine yourself sitting next to him. You see the difference. You see how differently the world would see you.

As soon as you started thinking of the labels the world would describe you with, you couldn’t help yourself but compare the two. Him; popular, handsome, loveable, patriotic. A true ray of sunshine. You on the other hand? You already envision the headlines. Nobody. Golddigger. Leech. Attention seeker. Maybe even a thief?

You’ve stolen America’s perfect poster boy and the penalty for said crime is the heaviest guilty conscience. 

There he is talking about his latest save of the week. His movie premiere and his day to day crime fighting activities. You can’t help but compare yourself to the woman interviewing him. She looks well presented, put together, classy. You never feel that way. Do thieves and criminals even get to feel classy?

It’s clear to you now that you don’t belong. It’s clear to everyone. Is it not? He must see it too. It’s only a matter of time until he realises that he’s trying to force you into a mold you were simply not born to fit into.

You often wonder how long until Homelander decides to move on.

The next line of questioning that catches you out of your doom spiral.

“Let’s circle back to the start. It’s a shame your co-star couldn’t make it today. What was it like to work with her as your love interest?”

Your ears perk up. Until now Homelander has never squashed the rumours of their supposed fling. You’re not entirely sure if it was due to Vought’s ruling or his own sick enjoyment derived from your jealousy.

“Oh well, she’s lovely. Things were kept very professional. She’s a very talented young woman, it was a pleasure to work alongside her. She got on well with everyone on the team, a real star. The main cast is usually made up of our superhero line-up, so she exceeded my expectations. Especially since I was a little wary myself of the change.” 

You can’t sit still, fidgeting in your spot, you run your tongue in between your teeth when you’re not nervously biting the inside of your cheek.

“Sooo all the rumours we’ve heard about a little behind the scenes romance are not true?” 

“No. Definitely not. Sorry. We all got on very well, but not that well if you catch my drift.” The mic catches the sound of the audience’s synchronized ‘ooh’ and you clench your fists.

He’s yours. You hate how they all think of him.

“Well you can’t blame the rumours. People are eager to see their favourite hero in love. It’s the first time Vought has released a love interest-themed movie. Why the change?”

“Well you tend to see us saving your homes and neighbourhoods. I think Vought wanted to show everyone that at the end of the day we go home and hang up the capes. We’re people too.”

You remember the evening he was whining to you about his premiere talking points. This one sounds awfully familiar.

“Do you? Hang up the cape?” The interviewer has a twinkle in her eyes like she hasn’t before. She clearly thinks that she’s getting the scoop of the year.

“Sometimes, when the time’s right. The city’s protection comes as the utmost priority but I have some downtime.”

He does. 

With you. 

Something that’s always felt exhilarating about this was the secrecy to it all. Knowing Homelander comes home to you. You’re the one you know he’s making hints to. You’re the one who’s going to praise him for a job well done once he’s back.

That has always felt good. Right?

So when did this excitement turn to dread?

“Could you share what you do in your spare time?”

“Well then you’d know where to look for me. Some things are better kept quiet.”

“Ooh a secret! Don’t we love a mysterious man, ladies?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, shut up already.” You groan hitting the couch cushion with the back of your head in frustration. This crowd flirting is getting old real fast.

“You make it sound a whole lot more exciting than it is. I just like to find my peace.” 

“That begs the next question. It’s been a few years since your last relationship. So after this movie everyone’s asking, are you looking to find your peace with a certain lucky someone? And what can the ladies do to get your attention?”

You straighten up from your lazy lounging. Feet on the ground with your elbows on your knees you intertwine your fingers and lean forward. You don’t remember him preparing for this conversation.

“First of all I’d like to say thank you to all the lovely ladies who have reached out to me or those who have written me a very sweet letter—I have read them all, don’t worry.” Homelander sends the camera a cheeky wink. Even in your tension you can’t help but chuckle at the blatant lie.

“But unfortunately for them, I am already in love. There’s a scoop for you.” He tilts his head towards the interviewer with a knowing smirk. There’s a mix of ‘ooh’ and gasps in the audience followed by applause.

Your eyes widen, jaw dropping and you barely get a gasp out. What the fuck is going on?

“Oh? Well isn’t that exciting! Who’s the lucky lady?” Scoop indeed. The interviewer is grinning ear to ear, knowing her live viewership is skyrocketing. Like it’s all a game. Like this isn’t your fucking life.

“I can’t say yet. But I know deep in my heart that she’s the one.”

“The one! Well well ladies, it’s time to pack your bags. Sounds like we’ll be seeing a massive rise in the sales of the vanilla Homelander-approved ice cream to soothe all the heartbreak you’ve just caused.” 

You can’t focus on anything they’re saying. Your heart is racing. The panic is quickly trying to take over. But you take a deep breath. Maybe he’s messing around. Maybe it’s some Vought initiative. Maybe it’s another fake PR relationship he hasn’t told you about? However much that would hurt. 

“So tell us everything you can. How long have you known each other? How did you meet?”

“We met a little under a year ago. One crazy encounter sprinkled with pure luck brought us together. But some details I will keep for myself. We’ve been keeping out of the public eye. My sweet love bunny is a little camera shy. And I get it, I’m a famous guy. Our love wouldn’t have had the privacy and time to bloom if we were public from the get go.”

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

“I think I just heard the entire country go ‘aww’. How romantic! Will you be coming public now?”

“Yes. It’s about time I shared her with the world. I’ve been selfishly keeping her to myself. But I really can’t wait for you all to meet her.” 

Homelander winks at the camera and you know damn well it’s not meant for the audience.

“Fuck.”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged when I post a new Homelander fic)

@ker0senebunny @itsvaleriesucka @thychuvaluswife

@nervoussystemss @littlegaaby @natliecole @sing1art

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade

@nommingonfood @jokesonyoupup @chaimshelii @gingeraleluke

[hom3landr]

A GIF collection of Homelander getting comfort and head scritches from Doppelganger. I always really liked this scene because he's so expressive pretending he's got a normal night back with Madelyn (and his hair is so fluffy >w>).

[hom3landr]

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. it's time to spread positivity!!!! ☆☆☆☆!!!!

AHHH THANK YOU! THIS IS SO SWEET!

[hom3landr]

Slightly tipsy fic idea.

Overboard (1987) but it’s Homelander and his exhausted and put upon assistant 😂

[hom3landr]

to all my oyster hating friends have a gift ✨

[hom3landr]

Consider this: an AO3 feature where readers can indicate whether they jerked it to your fic.

23 comments, 235 kudos, 46 jorks

[hom3landr]

Homelander: Good morning, Ashley. How was your evening?

Ashley: M-mister Homelander. Good morning! It was--was good... sir!

Homelander: Good. Good.

Homelander: Aren't you going to ask me how my night was?

Ashley: Ur, how was your night, sir?

Homelander: I slept like a baby.

Ashley: Oh, that's--

Homelander: I woke up every two hours to breastfeed.

[hom3landr]

Reading my own fanfiction is basically just a rollercoaster of emotional whiplash.

20% of the time: “Hold on. I wrote this? This is fire. This is emotionally devastating in the best way. This scene is dripping with tension. I’m a literary perfectionist. Someone give me a book deal.”

80% of the time: “Straight to jail. Immediate prison. Why is everyone’s breath hitching?. I used the word ‘gaze’ three times in one paragraph like I was possessed. Did I think 'his eyes darkened' was profound? Why is everyone clenching their jaws? Why is someone whispering 'their name like a prayer' again?? No one talks like this. What is this dialogue. Why are there so many weird metaphors and em-dashes…”

[hom3landr]

I hate when a tiny stupid thing pushes you over the edge and makes you freak the fuck out because it makes you look like a completely irrational tar pit of a human being. Like no I promise this is warranted just maybe not about that specifically I swear I'm well adjusted. Come closer stick your fingers in my cage

[hom3landr]

online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't think anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

[hom3landr]

literally how boring and dull do you have to be to dislike codependent relationships in fiction like where is the passion where is the devotion where is the worship that inevitably corrupts and destroys one if not both of them

[hom3landr]

ANTONY STARR as HOMELANDER THE BOYS SEASON 4 (2019-) created by: Eric Kripke

[hom3landr]

Cr @robloxmilf

[hom3landr]

Heavy Dirty Soul

Chapter One

Homewell x fem!reader

18+

When you first get a job as Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, you merely see it as a stepping stone for corporate advancement. But when your feelings for her begin to toe the line between admiration and desire, you allow her to mold you into whatever she wants regardless of professional boundaries. This evolution places you square in the middle of the very strange dynamic between her and Homelander. It doesn’t take long before you willingly become entangled in a web of lust and manipulation.

Competence, that’s what starts all this. You’re a perfectionist, constantly at war with your best, and desperate to prove what you're capable of. When you are hired as Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, you practically shake with your need to show off. If you can impress her then you’ll be set. If you can impress her then maybe she’ll pull you up the ladder along with her. You’re ambitious and hungry. You can practically taste your future when she calls you into her office for the first time.

She’s not an easy boss but she’s fair. She walks the halls and people scatter. You imitate her gait as you follow behind her, typing away on your phone and completing tasks that she hasn’t even asked you about yet. But you know she will, you know her. You crave that look of respect she gives you every time you reveal that you’re already ahead of her. It makes you feel fuzzy, like your veins are filled with champagne. Her approval is good for your career but your craving for it has become far deeper than a bit of professional interest. When you’re tailing her, your gaze perhaps watches her a little too closely. At first you thought it was because you wanted to be her, but you’re not so sure that’s it anymore.

The first time she asks you to watch Teddy while she meets with Edgar, you flush crimson. She doesn’t comment as she hands him over to you, but there is a certain quirk in her smile that indicates that she notices. Your shoulders square with pride as you bounce a giggly Teddy on your hip. He instantly takes a shine to you and this fact hasn't escaped her either. You can tell because her look of respect has turned calculating in a way that makes your knees a little wobbly. You’ve never considered yourself good with children so despite his inability to understand, you thank Teddy for doing you a solid and behaving for you.

Teddy is only the beginning. Stillwell begins asking you more personal favors, ones that push the boundaries of what is strictly professional. Her gaze remains pleasant but hawk-like, as though she’s testing how far you’ll really go. When she begins requesting you wear button-ups to work, you instantly fill your closet with them. When she asks you to wear your hair a certain way, you make a playlist of hair tutorials that night. You aren’t stupid, you know she is pushing inappropriate boundaries. You also know that following her orders without question is no longer a matter of pure ambition. You crave the way she looks at you with quiet satisfaction. And when she starts insisting you wear your shirts unbuttoned, you are more than willing to show off, despite the passing looks you get for revealing more of your chest than is appropriate for a corporate job. But everyone knows better than to say anything, especially with Stillwell’s umbrella of protection.

You are hungry for her attention. You thrive in her office, by her desk, waiting to fulfill whatever task she asks of you.

So when you start to notice your meetings with her end up involving Homelander more often than not, you can’t help your disappointment. It’s clearly a disappointment he seems to share. He always stares at you when she calls you in, disgruntled at having his time with her interrupted despite plastering on his best winning smile. You’ve never seen it reach his eyes. His stares drift down and linger impolitely on the days you wear your shirts buttoned low. You exchange small talk with him and he pretends to be pleasant under her watchful gaze. It doesn’t escape you that he looks at her the same way you know you do. 

You’re not jealous of him or the way she is with him. On the contrary, as much as you would prefer her undivided attention, there is something magnetic about how effortlessly she moves him around like a piece on a chess board. You’ve heard whispers about their interesting dynamic but no one dared to say anything concrete. Now you have a front row seat. It’s subtle enough that it could easily be waved away as an overactive imagination. But not to you, your keen focus is what makes you so good at your job. Nothing escapes you. Especially not the subtle way she brushes his thigh as he huffs, pinky grazing the obscene jut of his cup. Her eyes meet yours as he melts and she gives you the silent command to watch, as though she is asking you to sit in on a meeting with her…as though she’s trying to teach you something.

                           ———————

You’ve heard things that would have the country in a horrified uproar if they knew. The Supes aren’t heavenly bodies in human form. They’re created. You’ve seen it. The bright blue of the compound V practically glows. You find it beautiful. It looks like victory. You never once dream of whistleblowing. You don’t want to lose this strange intimacy that comes from sharing a terrible truth with someone else. She’s tugging you up the ladder with her and you eagerly climb. You leave your soul at the bottom. It’s dead weight anyway.

You touch yourself the night you learn the truth and fail to notice that a couple of stars in the sky glow an ominous red.

                       ————————-

This is new, leaving you alone with him. You’re happily cuddling with Teddy, him giggling on your shoulder while you rub his back. She’s pleased with you today and your stomach flips twice over when she rests a gentle hand on your arm while she runs through the day with you. She has back to back meetings today so you’re on Teddy duty. You are more than willing to play with the baby. It turns out you do like children after all.

But Homelander has business with Madelyn. He’s flustered and when he comes into the office only to find you on your own, his displeasure is palpable. Teddy is gurgling and a muscle twitches in his cheek as he stares at the two of you with disdain. 

Only…something interesting happens. His eyes rake over your body. Your shirt is buttoned low as usual and with Madelyn’s guidance, your tight pencil skirts have only gotten shorter. You remember the day you realized that she’s been dressing you up as some pornographic version of her. Homelander seems to finally be coming to the same conclusion. You’re not her twin by any means but that doesn’t seem to deter Homelander’s roving eyes. Your arms around Teddy seem to have sealed the deal as he watches you care for him so easily. He licks his lips and your eyes follow the movement.

“Where’s Madelyn? I have something urgent to discuss with her.” His hands rest on his hips and you can’t help but truly look at him for the first time. You’ve always been too distracted by Stillwell’s overwhelming presence. Acknowledging his attractiveness has always been a matter of cognitive recognition. But something about him has your body catching up to what your mind has always known.

“She has an emergency meeting with Mr. Edgar. I can help you with whatever you need.” You reply sweetly. Teddy reaches up for your attention and his little hand tugs at your shirt. A flash of your lace bra appears.

Homelander’s mouth opens wordlessly, eyes drawn to your exposed chest. You see a flash of tongue press against his teeth. He clears his throat as another insistent tug reveals more of your fancy lingerie, another purchase requested from Stillwell. 

“I…I have some notes about these stupid talking points. I would not say this bland corporate shit. It’s ridiculous.” He fumes, lips pursed. He doesn’t look unlike Teddy at this moment when the baby starts to get petulant and hungry. He effortlessly sweeps his cape out of the way as he flops onto the couch with a huff. With the change of angle, he lets his eyes follow the line of your stockinged leg. His gaze seems to intensify as it reaches the hem of your skirt and travels upward. He hums low in his throat, a filthy heady noise. You swallow thickly, pretty damn sure he's using his abilities for reasons that are incredibly inappropriate in a workplace environment.

You walk over to place a babbling Teddy in his high chair before walking over to join Homelander on the couch. He scoots a touch closer and his thigh is blazingly hot against yours. You push down the nerves bubbling in your stomach at the intense way he looks at you. It’s different from the borderline reverent way he looks at Stillwell. 

“Why don’t you tell me about it? That way you can gather your thoughts before she comes back.” You reply. He doesn’t answer at first so you gather your courage and reach out to lightly rest your hand on his thigh. He tenses for a moment but he doesn’t stop you and eventually his leg relaxes under your touch. He leans toward you conspiratorially.

“If you ask me, I think we’re going in the completely wrong direction when it comes to getting this bill passed. I mean, spitting out these bland speeches doesn’t do anything to really show what supes are capable of.” He casually rests his arm on the couch behind you. He smells good, clean but with the tiniest hint of cologne, something with vetiver you think. Your lids feel heavy as he leans closer until his forehead is almost touching yours. You try to ignore the painful thump of your heart in your chest, as though pretending it isn’t happening will block him from hearing it.

Your mouth is dry when you open your mouth to reply to him. You try your best to think of what Stillwell would say but your mind is blank. Luckily, you don’t have to think much harder because the door opens to reveal her. She seems completely unphased by the borderline inappropriate distance between Homelander and yourself. She even seems pleased by it, her eyes meeting yours with that look of approval you crave so much. Homelander instantly moves away and the loss of his heat is a shock to your system. He stands and launches into a laundry list of complaints but he seems easier to mollify today as his eyes continue to flick over  to you. You return to pick up a whining Teddy, bouncing him on your hip as you watch them. Your heart is still pounding and you become aware of a dull throb between your thighs. 

You wake up to a small bonus and a text from Stillwell.

Thank you for handling him.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she means.

                      ——————————

It’s the Believe Expo and Homelander is being a snot. It’s been a learning curve trying to manage him but you’re starting to get the hang of it. Now it’s your fingers teasing him just enough. Stillwell is still the one he really wants but he’s come to settle for you in a pinch. You don’t allow it to go too far but you’ve been known to allow a subtle grope of your chest or a hand brushing your backside. You don’t hold quite the same status of Stillwell yet so there are some things you must allow to keep his attention on you. You’re a little ashamed to admit to yourself that you don’t really mind.

Today however, he isn’t so easy to tame. He fumes in his tent as you gently explain that Stillwell is taking Teddy to the pediatrician. Usually allowing him to vent to you and distracting him with your body is enough to soothe his annoyance. But even your best efforts aren’t working. Your ire is up in a way he hasn’t been able to inspire in you before. Stillwell impressed upon you strongly the importance of this event. If he fucks up then you fuck up, and you feel ill at the thought of letting her down in this way. You dig your nails into your palm to calm yourself down.

“The pediatrician? Really? She should be here! Does she really expect me to be content with you?” He looks down at you with bold faced disdain. “She can’t use her slutty little puppet to get out of all her responsibilities!” 

You slap him.  

He stares.

A horrified silence sweeps through the tent like a dark cloud as you breath heavily and meet his glare right back. Your heart is pounding. You know you’ve fucked up. You know it. 

He wasn’t wrong about your role in regards to Stillwell. You know what you are and the real reason she keeps you around. All the competence in the world doesn’t make up for the fact that you have nice tits and a willingness to debase yourself for corporate advancement and just a sliver of her attention. So far you’ve been more than ok with that. You don’t care why you’re useful as long as you are. But hearing it from him made you feel so cheap. Your hand moved before you could make yourself stop and think things through. 

He smiles coldly but you don’t miss the way his hips twitch the way they always do when his hard cock becomes uncomfortable in his cup. You’ve watched Stillwell work him enough to know. 

He liked that you fought back.

He walks closer with purpose and each footfall echoes in the quiet. You can see Ashley clutching her tablet with a death grip, knuckles white with the strain. A look of sheer primal horror is frozen on her features. But she’s more than willing to let you face the consequences of your own actions. 

He’s close enough now that your noses are almost touching. His hand reaches around to rest heavy on the small of your back. Your skin prickles under the heat of his palm. Wordlessly, he maneuvers you to the exit and you let him guide you without resistance. You’re the only one who knows his dirty little secret and you pray it’s enough to give you leverage as long as you keep your cool and play your cards right. Perhaps this is your first real test.

“Ashley,” He purrs dangerously. “I’m going to miss the upcoming panel. I need to teach some manners. But believe me, I am fully prepared to make my big speech”

Your stomach drops.

You don’t care what he does to you. But if you disappoint her…you’re not sure you’ll be able to handle it.

Normally Ashley would try to stutter out some protest about his last minute cancellation but she prioritizes self-preservation at this moment. Instead, she shoots you a poisonous glare, because in her mind this is your fault. You know she doesn’t give a shit if you are being punished. After all, you’re just the office whore. The way she sees it, if you sleep your way to the top, you don’t get to throw a tantrum when someone actually calls it out. Especially when it’s someone as powerful and terrifying as Homelander.

You didn’t sleep your way to the top. But you look like you did and apparently that’s all it takes.

He leads you through the expo, waving and smiling and “politely” turning down requests for selfies. Eventually he makes it through the worst of the crowd, past the stench of the porta-potties and the humming generators providing power to the whole ordeal. He leads you behind the stages and the massive trucks ready to be stuffed with equipment again once the event is over. You reach a place on the edge of where the parking lot begins, a singular lone tent being used to store some instruments for an upcoming Christian rock performance. It’s isolated but not private. You expect that’s the point.

He doesn’t speak to you once and you’re not sure if it’s a relief or merely a signal of your upcoming doom. He never removes his hand from you and his gloved fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hip hard enough to bruise. He lifts the tent flap and all but shoves you in. He crowds you up against a speaker, looming over you with his gaze cold and snakelike. It’s far more terrifying than any overt display of rage could ever be.

“Y’know I could have you blacklisted not only from Vought but the entire corporate world for that. You could spread your legs for everyone in upper management and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.” He leans forwards and whispers poisonously. He reaches out to trace the edge of your shirt, gently pulling the flimsy fabric back just enough to reveal the lace of your bra. You grab his wrist. He pauses, not because he has any intention of stopping. He’s just curious to see what you plan to do. 

“I got this far because I am good at my job.” You hiss at him and he snorts.

“You got this far because your ass looks good in a tight skirt and Madelyn knows it. You think I don’t know what she’s doing… I’m not an idiot.” He growls and your stomach turns over. 

“Maybe if she didn’t have to fuss at you to behave, she wouldn’t need to distract you so she can do her real job” You growl and you swear his eyes flash red for a split second. “If you want her attention so badly then why not be a good boy and let her do what she needs to do so she actually has the time.” 

He reels back when you call him a good boy. His hips don’t twitch, they jerk. A light bulb flashes in your brain. You ignore the way his expression twists with fury as you reach out and caress his thigh, brushing the cup the way you know he likes. Your expression is cool despite the frustration and fear you feel. Rage simmers in his expression but it fights with the sudden rush of arousal from your words and actions. You know his secret. It’s time to exploit it if you want to make it out of this. Maybe you are nothing but a pretty object. But you’re a pretty object with teeth.

You sensually unbutton your blouse, exposing your fancy lingerie fully. The cups are sheer lace and leave nothing to the imagination. His lips curl with disdain but his gaze doesn’t move from your tits and there is a rapt hunger in his expression. 

“There’s no need for you to fight with me. I’m here to help you both. Why don’t you get all of your big feelings out with me? I know you must be aching. We don’t have to be enemies, you and I.” You purr and once more you watch his tongue flick behind his teeth.

“You’re proving my point. You’re nothing but a slut.” He huffs, but his hand reaches out to cup your breast with an unexpected tenderness. You rest your hand on top of his, encouraging him to squeeze harder.

“You keep using that word to hurt my feelings. But you’re a little slutty too, aren’t you? My good boy.” You purr and he grips a little tighter as a faint blush crosses his cheeks. His thumb rubs over where the color of your nipple peeks through the white lace and you give a sweet moan as your nipple hardens. He exhales sharply.

“I don’t need anyone’s attention.” He complains but you both know it’s a lie. He pinches your nipples and you squeal and shift against him, letting your thigh slot between his legs to nudge up against where his hard cock must be aching in his cup. He bucks into it and the flush on his cheeks deepens as his brows knit together.

“It’s alright if you do. It’s alright if you need to soothe your nerves before your big performance. Just behave and let me help you. I’m good at what I do. It’s not because I’m a slut. It’s because you know as well as I do, you sometimes need to get a little dirty in this business if you want to get anywhere.” You nudge him again and he gives a sweet little whine. “Sometimes…you have to leave your soul at the door and give the damn speech”

He snarls and lurches forward to clash his mouth against yours. The force of it splits your lip and Homelander gathers it on his tongue and messily kisses it back into your mouth. Your blood is warm on your tongue and the sharp tang of iron masks the taste of him. The hand that isn’t massaging your breast plunges between your legs and cups you roughly. He grinds his palm against your aching clit until you whine and buck in his arms. 

“Slut” He hisses against your lips as his hand tugs your bra down roughly to pinch the swell of your breast punishingly. The pain feels good even as the skin purples beneath his fingers. He can feel the way your panties become plastered against your wet cunt at his rough play. You smell like sin. You smell like you’re winning.

“Whore.” You hiss right back as your hand rubs against his cup. He whimpers and bucks into your hand rudely, demanding more and more and more. His cock is sensitive and the precum provides a delicious slip as he grinds against your palm. His eyes roll back as the pleasure blazes all the way up his spine until his brain goes hazy.

He closes his eyes. You know he’s imagining you’re her. That he’s “punishing” her for leaving him alone. That’s fine with you. Whatever gets him to do his job so you don’t have to tell her you failed. He whimpers sweetly and he nuzzles against you to bite and suck at your neck. You think he whispers her name against your skin but then his fingers slip under your silky panties to shove two thick gloved fingers into where you’re wet and open.

You gasp at the stretch but he cuts it off with another messy kiss. 

He curls his fingers to pummel that spot inside you that feels like heaven and you croon and clench around him. His thumb circles your clit desperately, the sheer slickness dripping from you making it hard for him to establish a rhythm as his caresses can’t help but slip off their mark. It’s a cruel tease that he doesn’t intend and he growls lowly in frustration as he concentrates on rubbing you off. 

“Good boy” you moan and you make sure to match her cadence of speaking.

He moans like a slut as he spills in his cup.

Good boy

Good boy

Good boy

You come hard around his fingers as your legs shiver and collapse. He simply presses you harder against the speaker with his body as he milks as much as he can from you. The lewd profane squelching of your juices filling the tent as your cunt flutters and melts around leather. He’s mean but not cruel as he continues to tease that spot even as your body twitches with overstimulation that is quickly edging into pain. When you rest your palms against his chest to weakly push him away, he removes his fingers with a flourish, droplets of your come darkening the dirt beneath your feet.

You’re both panting as you stare at each other. You both reek of sex and desperation. You both look debauched and used. You see each other and you understand. 

“Feel better with that out of your system?” You ask breathlessly but the tone of your voice is as in control as ever. You did what you needed to do. You turned the situation in your favor exactly as you planned. You pull your bra back into place and button your shirt back up with a brisk professionalism despite your shaky hands. 

He narrows his eyes as he analyzes you. He’s panting and the slimy mess he’s made of his cup is cooling and quickly becoming uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning as he figures out where to go from here and whether or not this has changed or further solidified his opinion of you. He seems to make a decision although his expression gives nothing away.

He takes the two gloved fingers he had shoved up inside you and sticks them in his mouth. He keeps steady eye contact as he sucks before opening his mouth so you can see the way his tongue cleans  your arousal from every inch of his fingers. He pulls them out with an obscene slurp and there is a faint shimmer of your slick on the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t lick it away.

“Peachy” He replies with a sleazy grin, before leaving the tent with a final flourish of his cape.

You lean against the speaker as you take a moment to wipe the sweat from your brow and to adjust your uncomfortably wet underwear back into place. Duty calls and so does the speech that has had you both so worked up. You are confident that things will work out just fine and as you make your way to the main stage you feel a deep sense of satisfaction that you’ll make Madelyn proud after all. He’ll behave just fine…surely.

You are wrong.

[hom3landr]

Heavy Dirty Soul

Chapter One

Homewell x fem!reader

18+

When you first get a job as Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, you merely see it as a stepping stone for corporate advancement. But when your feelings for her begin to toe the line between admiration and desire, you allow her to mold you into whatever she wants regardless of professional boundaries. This evolution places you square in the middle of the very strange dynamic between her and Homelander. It doesn’t take long before you willingly become entangled in a web of lust and manipulation.

Competence, that’s what starts all this. You’re a perfectionist, constantly at war with your best, and desperate to prove what you're capable of. When you are hired as Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, you practically shake with your need to show off. If you can impress her then you’ll be set. If you can impress her then maybe she’ll pull you up the ladder along with her. You’re ambitious and hungry. You can practically taste your future when she calls you into her office for the first time.

She’s not an easy boss but she’s fair. She walks the halls and people scatter. You imitate her gait as you follow behind her, typing away on your phone and completing tasks that she hasn’t even asked you about yet. But you know she will, you know her. You crave that look of respect she gives you every time you reveal that you’re already ahead of her. It makes you feel fuzzy, like your veins are filled with champagne. Her approval is good for your career but your craving for it has become far deeper than a bit of professional interest. When you’re tailing her, your gaze perhaps watches her a little too closely. At first you thought it was because you wanted to be her, but you’re not so sure that’s it anymore.

The first time she asks you to watch Teddy while she meets with Edgar, you flush crimson. She doesn’t comment as she hands him over to you, but there is a certain quirk in her smile that indicates that she notices. Your shoulders square with pride as you bounce a giggly Teddy on your hip. He instantly takes a shine to you and this fact hasn't escaped her either. You can tell because her look of respect has turned calculating in a way that makes your knees a little wobbly. You’ve never considered yourself good with children so despite his inability to understand, you thank Teddy for doing you a solid and behaving for you.

Teddy is only the beginning. Stillwell begins asking you more personal favors, ones that push the boundaries of what is strictly professional. Her gaze remains pleasant but hawk-like, as though she’s testing how far you’ll really go. When she begins requesting you wear button-ups to work, you instantly fill your closet with them. When she asks you to wear your hair a certain way, you make a playlist of hair tutorials that night. You aren’t stupid, you know she is pushing inappropriate boundaries. You also know that following her orders without question is no longer a matter of pure ambition. You crave the way she looks at you with quiet satisfaction. And when she starts insisting you wear your shirts unbuttoned, you are more than willing to show off, despite the passing looks you get for revealing more of your chest than is appropriate for a corporate job. But everyone knows better than to say anything, especially with Stillwell’s umbrella of protection.

You are hungry for her attention. You thrive in her office, by her desk, waiting to fulfill whatever task she asks of you.

So when you start to notice your meetings with her end up involving Homelander more often than not, you can’t help your disappointment. It’s clearly a disappointment he seems to share. He always stares at you when she calls you in, disgruntled at having his time with her interrupted despite plastering on his best winning smile. You’ve never seen it reach his eyes. His stares drift down and linger impolitely on the days you wear your shirts buttoned low. You exchange small talk with him and he pretends to be pleasant under her watchful gaze. It doesn’t escape you that he looks at her the same way you know you do. 

You’re not jealous of him or the way she is with him. On the contrary, as much as you would prefer her undivided attention, there is something magnetic about how effortlessly she moves him around like a piece on a chess board. You’ve heard whispers about their interesting dynamic but no one dared to say anything concrete. Now you have a front row seat. It’s subtle enough that it could easily be waved away as an overactive imagination. But not to you, your keen focus is what makes you so good at your job. Nothing escapes you. Especially not the subtle way she brushes his thigh as he huffs, pinky grazing the obscene jut of his cup. Her eyes meet yours as he melts and she gives you the silent command to watch, as though she is asking you to sit in on a meeting with her…as though she’s trying to teach you something.

                           ———————

You’ve heard things that would have the country in a horrified uproar if they knew. The Supes aren’t heavenly bodies in human form. They’re created. You’ve seen it. The bright blue of the compound V practically glows. You find it beautiful. It looks like victory. You never once dream of whistleblowing. You don’t want to lose this strange intimacy that comes from sharing a terrible truth with someone else. She’s tugging you up the ladder with her and you eagerly climb. You leave your soul at the bottom. It’s dead weight anyway.

You touch yourself the night you learn the truth and fail to notice that a couple of stars in the sky glow an ominous red.

                       ————————-

This is new, leaving you alone with him. You’re happily cuddling with Teddy, him giggling on your shoulder while you rub his back. She’s pleased with you today and your stomach flips twice over when she rests a gentle hand on your arm while she runs through the day with you. She has back to back meetings today so you’re on Teddy duty. You are more than willing to play with the baby. It turns out you do like children after all.

But Homelander has business with Madelyn. He’s flustered and when he comes into the office only to find you on your own, his displeasure is palpable. Teddy is gurgling and a muscle twitches in his cheek as he stares at the two of you with disdain. 

Only…something interesting happens. His eyes rake over your body. Your shirt is buttoned low as usual and with Madelyn’s guidance, your tight pencil skirts have only gotten shorter. You remember the day you realized that she’s been dressing you up as some pornographic version of her. Homelander seems to finally be coming to the same conclusion. You’re not her twin by any means but that doesn’t seem to deter Homelander’s roving eyes. Your arms around Teddy seem to have sealed the deal as he watches you care for him so easily. He licks his lips and your eyes follow the movement.

“Where’s Madelyn? I have something urgent to discuss with her.” His hands rest on his hips and you can’t help but truly look at him for the first time. You’ve always been too distracted by Stillwell’s overwhelming presence. Acknowledging his attractiveness has always been a matter of cognitive recognition. But something about him has your body catching up to what your mind has always known.

“She has an emergency meeting with Mr. Edgar. I can help you with whatever you need.” You reply sweetly. Teddy reaches up for your attention and his little hand tugs at your shirt. A flash of your lace bra appears.

Homelander’s mouth opens wordlessly, eyes drawn to your exposed chest. You see a flash of tongue press against his teeth. He clears his throat as another insistent tug reveals more of your fancy lingerie, another purchase requested from Stillwell. 

“I…I have some notes about these stupid talking points. I would not say this bland corporate shit. It’s ridiculous.” He fumes, lips pursed. He doesn’t look unlike Teddy at this moment when the baby starts to get petulant and hungry. He effortlessly sweeps his cape out of the way as he flops onto the couch with a huff. With the change of angle, he lets his eyes follow the line of your stockinged leg. His gaze seems to intensify as it reaches the hem of your skirt and travels upward. He hums low in his throat, a filthy heady noise. You swallow thickly, pretty damn sure he's using his abilities for reasons that are incredibly inappropriate in a workplace environment.

You walk over to place a babbling Teddy in his high chair before walking over to join Homelander on the couch. He scoots a touch closer and his thigh is blazingly hot against yours. You push down the nerves bubbling in your stomach at the intense way he looks at you. It’s different from the borderline reverent way he looks at Stillwell. 

“Why don’t you tell me about it? That way you can gather your thoughts before she comes back.” You reply. He doesn’t answer at first so you gather your courage and reach out to lightly rest your hand on his thigh. He tenses for a moment but he doesn’t stop you and eventually his leg relaxes under your touch. He leans toward you conspiratorially.

“If you ask me, I think we’re going in the completely wrong direction when it comes to getting this bill passed. I mean, spitting out these bland speeches doesn’t do anything to really show what supes are capable of.” He casually rests his arm on the couch behind you. He smells good, clean but with the tiniest hint of cologne, something with vetiver you think. Your lids feel heavy as he leans closer until his forehead is almost touching yours. You try to ignore the painful thump of your heart in your chest, as though pretending it isn’t happening will block him from hearing it.

Your mouth is dry when you open your mouth to reply to him. You try your best to think of what Stillwell would say but your mind is blank. Luckily, you don’t have to think much harder because the door opens to reveal her. She seems completely unphased by the borderline inappropriate distance between Homelander and yourself. She even seems pleased by it, her eyes meeting yours with that look of approval you crave so much. Homelander instantly moves away and the loss of his heat is a shock to your system. He stands and launches into a laundry list of complaints but he seems easier to mollify today as his eyes continue to flick over  to you. You return to pick up a whining Teddy, bouncing him on your hip as you watch them. Your heart is still pounding and you become aware of a dull throb between your thighs. 

You wake up to a small bonus and a text from Stillwell.

Thank you for handling him.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she means.

                      ——————————

It’s the Believe Expo and Homelander is being a snot. It’s been a learning curve trying to manage him but you’re starting to get the hang of it. Now it’s your fingers teasing him just enough. Stillwell is still the one he really wants but he’s come to settle for you in a pinch. You don’t allow it to go too far but you’ve been known to allow a subtle grope of your chest or a hand brushing your backside. You don’t hold quite the same status of Stillwell yet so there are some things you must allow to keep his attention on you. You’re a little ashamed to admit to yourself that you don’t really mind.

Today however, he isn’t so easy to tame. He fumes in his tent as you gently explain that Stillwell is taking Teddy to the pediatrician. Usually allowing him to vent to you and distracting him with your body is enough to soothe his annoyance. But even your best efforts aren’t working. Your ire is up in a way he hasn’t been able to inspire in you before. Stillwell impressed upon you strongly the importance of this event. If he fucks up then you fuck up, and you feel ill at the thought of letting her down in this way. You dig your nails into your palm to calm yourself down.

“The pediatrician? Really? She should be here! Does she really expect me to be content with you?” He looks down at you with bold faced disdain. “She can’t use her slutty little puppet to get out of all her responsibilities!” 

You slap him.  

He stares.

A horrified silence sweeps through the tent like a dark cloud as you breath heavily and meet his glare right back. Your heart is pounding. You know you’ve fucked up. You know it. 

He wasn’t wrong about your role in regards to Stillwell. You know what you are and the real reason she keeps you around. All the competence in the world doesn’t make up for the fact that you have nice tits and a willingness to debase yourself for corporate advancement and just a sliver of her attention. So far you’ve been more than ok with that. You don’t care why you’re useful as long as you are. But hearing it from him made you feel so cheap. Your hand moved before you could make yourself stop and think things through. 

He smiles coldly but you don’t miss the way his hips twitch the way they always do when his hard cock becomes uncomfortable in his cup. You’ve watched Stillwell work him enough to know. 

He liked that you fought back.

He walks closer with purpose and each footfall echoes in the quiet. You can see Ashley clutching her tablet with a death grip, knuckles white with the strain. A look of sheer primal horror is frozen on her features. But she’s more than willing to let you face the consequences of your own actions. 

He’s close enough now that your noses are almost touching. His hand reaches around to rest heavy on the small of your back. Your skin prickles under the heat of his palm. Wordlessly, he maneuvers you to the exit and you let him guide you without resistance. You’re the only one who knows his dirty little secret and you pray it’s enough to give you leverage as long as you keep your cool and play your cards right. Perhaps this is your first real test.

“Ashley,” He purrs dangerously. “I’m going to miss the upcoming panel. I need to teach some manners. But believe me, I am fully prepared to make my big speech”

Your stomach drops.

You don’t care what he does to you. But if you disappoint her…you’re not sure you’ll be able to handle it.

Normally Ashley would try to stutter out some protest about his last minute cancellation but she prioritizes self-preservation at this moment. Instead, she shoots you a poisonous glare, because in her mind this is your fault. You know she doesn’t give a shit if you are being punished. After all, you’re just the office whore. The way she sees it, if you sleep your way to the top, you don’t get to throw a tantrum when someone actually calls it out. Especially when it’s someone as powerful and terrifying as Homelander.

You didn’t sleep your way to the top. But you look like you did and apparently that’s all it takes.

He leads you through the expo, waving and smiling and “politely” turning down requests for selfies. Eventually he makes it through the worst of the crowd, past the stench of the porta-potties and the humming generators providing power to the whole ordeal. He leads you behind the stages and the massive trucks ready to be stuffed with equipment again once the event is over. You reach a place on the edge of where the parking lot begins, a singular lone tent being used to store some instruments for an upcoming Christian rock performance. It’s isolated but not private. You expect that’s the point.

He doesn’t speak to you once and you’re not sure if it’s a relief or merely a signal of your upcoming doom. He never removes his hand from you and his gloved fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hip hard enough to bruise. He lifts the tent flap and all but shoves you in. He crowds you up against a speaker, looming over you with his gaze cold and snakelike. It’s far more terrifying than any overt display of rage could ever be.

“Y’know I could have you blacklisted not only from Vought but the entire corporate world for that. You could spread your legs for everyone in upper management and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.” He leans forwards and whispers poisonously. He reaches out to trace the edge of your shirt, gently pulling the flimsy fabric back just enough to reveal the lace of your bra. You grab his wrist. He pauses, not because he has any intention of stopping. He’s just curious to see what you plan to do. 

“I got this far because I am good at my job.” You hiss at him and he snorts.

“You got this far because your ass looks good in a tight skirt and Madelyn knows it. You think I don’t know what she’s doing… I’m not an idiot.” He growls and your stomach turns over. 

“Maybe if she didn’t have to fuss at you to behave, she wouldn’t need to distract you so she can do her real job” You growl and you swear his eyes flash red for a split second. “If you want her attention so badly then why not be a good boy and let her do what she needs to do so she actually has the time.” 

He reels back when you call him a good boy. His hips don’t twitch, they jerk. A light bulb flashes in your brain. You ignore the way his expression twists with fury as you reach out and caress his thigh, brushing the cup the way you know he likes. Your expression is cool despite the frustration and fear you feel. Rage simmers in his expression but it fights with the sudden rush of arousal from your words and actions. You know his secret. It’s time to exploit it if you want to make it out of this. Maybe you are nothing but a pretty object. But you’re a pretty object with teeth.

You sensually unbutton your blouse, exposing your fancy lingerie fully. The cups are sheer lace and leave nothing to the imagination. His lips curl with disdain but his gaze doesn’t move from your tits and there is a rapt hunger in his expression. 

“There’s no need for you to fight with me. I’m here to help you both. Why don’t you get all of your big feelings out with me? I know you must be aching. We don’t have to be enemies, you and I.” You purr and once more you watch his tongue flick behind his teeth.

“You’re proving my point. You’re nothing but a slut.” He huffs, but his hand reaches out to cup your breast with an unexpected tenderness. You rest your hand on top of his, encouraging him to squeeze harder.

“You keep using that word to hurt my feelings. But you’re a little slutty too, aren’t you? My good boy.” You purr and he grips a little tighter as a faint blush crosses his cheeks. His thumb rubs over where the color of your nipple peeks through the white lace and you give a sweet moan as your nipple hardens. He exhales sharply.

“I don’t need anyone’s attention.” He complains but you both know it’s a lie. He pinches your nipples and you squeal and shift against him, letting your thigh slot between his legs to nudge up against where his hard cock must be aching in his cup. He bucks into it and the flush on his cheeks deepens as his brows knit together.

“It’s alright if you do. It’s alright if you need to soothe your nerves before your big performance. Just behave and let me help you. I’m good at what I do. It’s not because I’m a slut. It’s because you know as well as I do, you sometimes need to get a little dirty in this business if you want to get anywhere.” You nudge him again and he gives a sweet little whine. “Sometimes…you have to leave your soul at the door and give the damn speech”

He snarls and lurches forward to clash his mouth against yours. The force of it splits your lip and Homelander gathers it on his tongue and messily kisses it back into your mouth. Your blood is warm on your tongue and the sharp tang of iron masks the taste of him. The hand that isn’t massaging your breast plunges between your legs and cups you roughly. He grinds his palm against your aching clit until you whine and buck in his arms. 

“Slut” He hisses against your lips as his hand tugs your bra down roughly to pinch the swell of your breast punishingly. The pain feels good even as the skin purples beneath his fingers. He can feel the way your panties become plastered against your wet cunt at his rough play. You smell like sin. You smell like you’re winning.

“Whore.” You hiss right back as your hand rubs against his cup. He whimpers and bucks into your hand rudely, demanding more and more and more. His cock is sensitive and the precum provides a delicious slip as he grinds against your palm. His eyes roll back as the pleasure blazes all the way up his spine until his brain goes hazy.

He closes his eyes. You know he’s imagining you’re her. That he’s “punishing” her for leaving him alone. That’s fine with you. Whatever gets him to do his job so you don’t have to tell her you failed. He whimpers sweetly and he nuzzles against you to bite and suck at your neck. You think he whispers her name against your skin but then his fingers slip under your silky panties to shove two thick gloved fingers into where you’re wet and open.

You gasp at the stretch but he cuts it off with another messy kiss. 

He curls his fingers to pummel that spot inside you that feels like heaven and you croon and clench around him. His thumb circles your clit desperately, the sheer slickness dripping from you making it hard for him to establish a rhythm as his caresses can’t help but slip off their mark. It’s a cruel tease that he doesn’t intend and he growls lowly in frustration as he concentrates on rubbing you off. 

“Good boy” you moan and you make sure to match her cadence of speaking.

He moans like a slut as he spills in his cup.

Good boy

Good boy

Good boy

You come hard around his fingers as your legs shiver and collapse. He simply presses you harder against the speaker with his body as he milks as much as he can from you. The lewd profane squelching of your juices filling the tent as your cunt flutters and melts around leather. He’s mean but not cruel as he continues to tease that spot even as your body twitches with overstimulation that is quickly edging into pain. When you rest your palms against his chest to weakly push him away, he removes his fingers with a flourish, droplets of your come darkening the dirt beneath your feet.

You’re both panting as you stare at each other. You both reek of sex and desperation. You both look debauched and used. You see each other and you understand. 

“Feel better with that out of your system?” You ask breathlessly but the tone of your voice is as in control as ever. You did what you needed to do. You turned the situation in your favor exactly as you planned. You pull your bra back into place and button your shirt back up with a brisk professionalism despite your shaky hands. 

He narrows his eyes as he analyzes you. He’s panting and the slimy mess he’s made of his cup is cooling and quickly becoming uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning as he figures out where to go from here and whether or not this has changed or further solidified his opinion of you. He seems to make a decision although his expression gives nothing away.

He takes the two gloved fingers he had shoved up inside you and sticks them in his mouth. He keeps steady eye contact as he sucks before opening his mouth so you can see the way his tongue cleans  your arousal from every inch of his fingers. He pulls them out with an obscene slurp and there is a faint shimmer of your slick on the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t lick it away.

“Peachy” He replies with a sleazy grin, before leaving the tent with a final flourish of his cape.

You lean against the speaker as you take a moment to wipe the sweat from your brow and to adjust your uncomfortably wet underwear back into place. Duty calls and so does the speech that has had you both so worked up. You are confident that things will work out just fine and as you make your way to the main stage you feel a deep sense of satisfaction that you’ll make Madelyn proud after all. He’ll behave just fine…surely.

You are wrong.

[hom3landr]

*Me sitting down to write smut.*

But first! We must thoroughly understand this man's fractured and devastated sense of self. Only then can we truly appreciate how connected he feels to her while finger-banging the soul from her body.

[hom3landr]

yes! More mirrorlander! I love him but am also terrified of him!😂

He is so much fun to write primarily because he is so scary. I can let the fucked up part of my brain run wild 😂