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scarletwants · 2 months ago

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bloodrush.

⟢ notes : hi loves — this one got under my skin in all the best ways. if you like your romance dark, your writing rich, and your god of mischief just a little obsessed… this is for you. reblogs = forehead kisses. ⟢ summary : after a violent mission leaves you soaked in blood, loki finds you in the aftermath. he should drag you back in chains. instead, he falls to his knees. ⟢ warnings : explicit sexual content (minors do not interact), morally grey reader, violence and blood imagery, soft dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, choking, possessive/obsessive loki, light degradation and praise, intensity, biting, roughness, twisted emotional undercurrent.

The bodies were still warm.

Loki stepped over a severed banner, his boots stained with blood as his eyes scanned the desolate throne room. The air was thick with the smell of iron, magic, and ash. The stone pillars were scorched black, and the tapestries were torn. This hadn’t been a battle—it had been a warning.

You stood in the middle of it, sleeves rolled to the elbow, blade loose in your hand. There was blood drying on your throat, splattered along your collarbone like an afterthought. You hadn’t seen him arrive. You didn’t need to. You felt him. You always did.

“Are you here to gloat, or to lecture?” you asked without turning.

"I haven’t decided yet," he said as he stepped closer.

He hadn’t expected to find you like this—not truly. He’d heard the reports, of course—the slaughter, the disappearances, the complete lack of mercy. You had vanished into the wilds three weeks ago, leaving only devastation in your wake. He had followed you through three realms.

And now, here you were—calm and standing amidst the ruins as if they belonged to you.ged to you.

"You've truly surpassed yourself," he whispered.

“They provoked me,” you said, still not turning around. “I gave them a conclusion worthy of their beginning.”

He watched the line of your spine and the slow rise and fall of your shoulders. You were steady, centred—too calm for what you’d just done. It should have chilled him.

Instead, it lit a fire in his chest.

"You could have left them in pieces," he said. "But you chose to destroy them."

You finally turned your head, your gaze catching his. There was no remorse in your eyes, nor fury. Just… satisfaction and purpose.

“I didn’t come here to teach them a lesson,” you said. “I came to end them.”

You looked beautiful in the firelight. Terrible and powerful. You hadn’t cleaned the blood from your skin, and your lower lip was still split. You looked like violence incarnate.

Loki stepped closer. “And now what? Do you return home and play the innocent card?”

“No,” you said simply. “I wait.”

“For what?”

You smiled faintly. “For you.”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

There was something raw clawing at his chest—something that urged him to take you by the throat and demand answers, and something deeper that compelled him to fall to his knees.

He did neither. He stood before you, silent.

You moved first.

Your hand brushed against his chest, fingers gliding over the fabric of his tunic. His heart raced harder. He remained still. Your gaze fell to his mouth, then dropped lower. When your eyes met his again, it was intentional.

“You’re angry,” you murmured.

He scoffed. “Hardly.”

“You’re aroused.”

That made him smile. “I’m a god, not a beast.”

"Then why are you trembling?"

He grasped your wrist before you could pull away, holding it firmly. Your pulse raced beneath his thumb.

“I should have killed you the day we met,” he said.

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Because you saw yourself in me.”

He brought your hand to his lips. Kissed it.

“No,” he whispered. “Because I saw something worse.”

You exhaled. A quiet sound. Almost a moan.

“Touch me,” you said, not as a request, but as a promise.

He stepped into you, backing you against the nearest pillar. His hands found your waist and then your throat, guiding your chin up. You arched into him, letting your head rest against the cold marble.

“You don’t deserve kindness,” he murmured.

“Then don’t be kind.”

He kissed you. Rough and demanding, lips parting yours as his thigh pressed between your legs. You whimpered into his mouth, arms sliding around his neck, pulling him closer.

His hands dragged down your sides, found the fastenings of your trousers, and tugged them open. You gasped when his fingers found you wet.

“Of course,” he murmured against your cheek. “Of course this excites you.”

You only smiled.

He dropped to his knees, never breaking eye contact. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as he lowered you back against the stone. When his mouth met your centre, it was filthy—slow at first, deliberate, tongue sliding through you as if tasting divinity.

You cried out, hips jerking, hand flying to his hair. He let you grind against his face, let you sob his name into the night.

He fingered you while he licked—deep, curling strokes, thumb pressing up into your clit until you were trembling.

You came with your head thrown back, eyes wide, body shaking. He didn’t stop. He kept going until you were pushing at his shoulders, thighs trembling.

When he rose, he looked wrecked. Jaw slick, eyes wild.

He pulled you against him, kissed you slow, filthy, tasting you on his own lips.

Then he spun you, bent you forward against the stone. You heard the soft rustle of fabric, then the hard press of him at your entrance.

He didn’t warn you.

He pushed in with a groan, filling you to the hilt. You gasped, braced on the marble. He grabbed your hair and pulled.

“Say you belong to me,” he said, voice ragged.

You laughed.

He slapped your ass, hard. You gasped, eyes rolling back.

“Say it.”

You turned your head. “Make me.”

He wrapped a hand around your throat and began to fuck you.

Hard. Ruthless. Every thrust drove the air from your lungs, left you gasping, eyes fluttering. He whispered filth into your ear, called you dangerous, wicked, perfect. You sobbed his name, begged for more, nails scratching the stone.

Your second orgasm hit hard—sharp and brutal. You cried out, shaking beneath him. He came with a groan, spilling inside you, burying himself as deep as he could go.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, suspended in a silent standoff. The air was thick with tension, and the only sound that broke the stillness was the soft rhythm of your breaths, mingling in the quiet like whispers in the dark.

Eventually, he pulled back and caught you as you leaned against the stone. He wrapped you close in his cloak, blood drying on your thighs.

You leaned your head against his chest.

“This doesn’t make us allies,” you murmured.

Loki’s hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face up. “No,” he said quietly. “But it makes us inevitable.”

Your lips curved—not softly, and not cruelly, but with certainty.

He looked at you then, truly gazed into your eyes, and in that moment, he understood.

He would follow you into ruin.

And call it devotion.

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scarletwants · 2 months ago

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hi hi!! this made me smile so much i had to read it twice—thank you for such a kind, hilarious message. i’m so glad you enjoyed it (and survived the trip back from heaven)! more littlefinger fics are definitely on the way soon. sending you all the love. <3

money, power, glory.

⟢ notes: hi loves <3 missed u soooo much—sorry for the hiatus… life got wild, brain = soup, but i’m back with soft kisses + dramaaa ; this one’s for my girlies who like their men manipulative + their kisses reverent. pls enjoy this v sensual lilfinger moment i’ve been dreaming of foreverrr. ⟢ summary: in the velvet shadows of the Eyrie, Petyr Baelish turns his charm on you—his newest obsession. he offers no promises—only pleasure, whispered secrets, and the sweet rot of shared ambition. ⟢ warnings: 18+ content, smut, power dynamics, manipulation, soft dom Petyr, oral (f. receiving), slight dacryphilia, praise kink, sensual power play.

The first time he truly touches you, it’s not with hands, but with a glance—low-lit, slow-moving, crawling down your figure like candlewax down an altar.

“You looked like a queen tonight,” he says quietly, just beside your ear. “Or something holier. Far more dangerous.”

It’s after midnight in the Eyrie. You’re still in the gown you wore to the council, high-necked and deep-colored, the weight of politics still clinging to the hem. You hadn’t undressed yet because you’d expected this—him, finding you. He always does.

The corridor outside your chambers is silent. The fire behind you crackles. And Petyr Baelish looks at you like you’re already half-undone.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he murmurs.

You lean against the doorframe, holding his gaze. “You already own the room.”

His smile is slow, edged. “You’re learning, my darling.”

And you are. You’ve watched him charm lords out of alliances and girls out of virtue, all without once raising his voice. He’s careful, clever, dangerous. You’ve always liked dangerous.

But this—this is different. When he steps in and closes the door behind him, it feels like something being sealed.

Not a deal.

A vow.

He doesn’t kiss you right away. That would be too simple. No—he circles first, fingers brushing your bare wrist like he’s testing the temperature of a wine he already poured. His breath ghosts across your throat when he leans in, not to kiss, but to whisper.

“Do you want money, sweet girl?” he says, voice velvet-smooth. “Power? Glory?”

You answer without hesitation. “All of it.”

He hums, pleased. “I thought so.”

You feel it when he touches your waist—finally. Slow, languid, like you’re precious silk. His hands are warm. He slides one up your spine, dragging the zipper of your gown down inch by inch. He moves like he has all the time in the world. Like he’s savoring something.

And he is. You can feel it in the way his lips skim the top of your shoulder when the dress falls to your hips. In the way he breathes in against your skin like he’s catching a scent he’ll never forget.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, reverent. “And so, so dangerous when you want to be.”

He doesn’t strip you all at once. No—he peels you open slowly. Worshipfully. His mouth finds your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve beneath your ear. Every word he says is hushed, low, meant only for you.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he murmurs, between kisses. “Every room you walk into, they underestimate you.”

He undoes your corset slowly, lips brushing your spine with each inch he reveals.

“And yet—somehow—they always end up exactly where you want them.”

You half-turn to speak, but he hushes you with a kiss. Finally. Mouth soft but claiming, tasting of wine and winter air.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he says against your lips. “You don’t have to outwit me. I already see you.”

The words melt you. And when he falls to his knees, guiding you carefully to sit on the edge of the bed, your breath catches.

Not out of surprise—but because you knew it would come to this.

He kisses the inside of your thighs like you’re an offering. A gift to be unwrapped only when fully deserved. His eyes never leave yours. Not even when he finally presses his mouth between your legs and begins to praise you with tongue and breath and slow, aching reverence.

He doesn’t rush.

Of course not.

Petyr Baelish never rushes.

He’s deliberate—precise. Every movement made with the knowledge of a man who listens more than he speaks and remembers everything he hears. He teases you open with gentle fingers and silken promises, murmuring between each stroke how divine you taste, how soft you sound, how utterly ruined you will be for any man but him.

And you are.

You knew you would be.

When you come undone beneath him, shaking, crying out softly into the crook of your arm, he lingers—doesn’t pull away, doesn’t taunt. He stays there, kissing gently, like your pleasure was a ritual and he’s sealing the spell.

When he finally rises, his eyes are molten, mouth slick with devotion. He kisses you again—deeper now—and you taste yourself on him, hot and heady.

“You could have anyone,” you whisper, dazed.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb.

“But only you would know how to use it.”

Later, when you lie tangled in his arms, robe slipping from your shoulders, he speaks softly into your ear.

“I can give you everything,” he says. “But not love.”

You laugh, exhausted and high on satisfaction. “Love is the weakest currency.”

His fingers trace idle shapes on your hip.

“You’ll have a crown,” he promises. “If only in secret.”

“And you?” you murmur. “What do you get, Petyr?”

His smile is the slow burn of a matchstick.

“Money. Power. Glory,” he says. Then, softer—his lips at your throat—

“And you, my clever little queen.”

#— talking to my bbys #petyr baelish x reader #thank you for the love 🫶🏻

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scarletwants · 2 months ago

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money, power, glory.

The first time he truly touches you is not with hands but with a glance—low-lit, slow-moving, crawling down your figure like candle wax down an altar.

“You looked like a queen tonight,” he says quietly beside your ear. “Or something holier. Far more dangerous.”

It’s after midnight in the Eyrie. You’re still wearing the high-necked, deep-colored gown from the council, and the weight of politics lingers at the hem. You hadn’t changed yet because you anticipated this—him finding you. He always does.

The corridor outside your chambers is silent. The fire behind you crackles, and Petyr Baelish looks at you as if you’re already half-undone.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he asks softly.

You lean against the doorframe, meeting his gaze. "You already own the room."

His smile is slow, edged. “You’re learning, my darling.”

And you are. You’ve seen him charm lords into alliances and girls out of their virtue, all without ever raising his voice. He’s careful, clever, and dangerous. You've always had a fondness for the vicious.

However, this situation feels different. As he steps in and closes the door behind him, it feels as if something is being sealed.

Not a deal.

A vow.

He doesn’t kiss you right away; that would be too simple. Instead, he circles around you first, his fingers brushing your bare wrist as if he’s testing the temperature of a poured glass of wine. When he leans in, his breath ghosts across your throat—not to kiss you, but to whisper softly.

“Do you want money, sweet girl?” he asks, his voice smooth as velvet. “Power? Glory?”

You respond without any hesitation, "All of it."

He hums in satisfaction. "I knew it," he says, pleased.

You feel it when he touches your waist—finally. It's slow and languid, as if you're precious silk. His hands are warm. He slides one up your spine, pulling the zipper of your gown down inch by inch. He moves like he has all the time in the world, as if he's savouring something.

He truly is. You can feel it in the way his lips brush against your shoulder when the dress slips down to your hips. In the way he breathes in against your skin, as if he's capturing a scent he’ll never forget.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, with reverence. “And you are so, so dangerous when you choose to be.”

He doesn’t strip you all at once. No—he peels you open slowly, worshipfully. His mouth finds your collarbone, your shoulder, and the curve beneath your ear. Every word he says is hushed, low, meant only for you.

“I’ve been watching you, you know,” he whispers between kisses. “Every room you enter, they underestimate you.”

He slowly loosens your corset, his lips brushing against your spine with every inch he uncovers.

“And yet—somehow—they always end up exactly where you want them.”

You turn half to speak, but he hushes you with a kiss. Finally. His mouth is soft yet claiming, tasting of wine and winter air.

“You don’t need to pretend with me,” he says against your lips. “You don’t have to outsmart me. I already see you.”

The words melt you. And when he falls to his knees, guiding you carefully to sit on the edge of the bed, your breath catches.

Not out of surprise, but because you knew it would come to this.

He doesn’t rush.

Of course not.

Petyr Baelish never rushes.

And you are.

You knew you would be.

When he finally rises, his eyes are molten, mouth slick with devotion. He kisses you again—deeper now—and you taste yourself on him, hot and heady.

“You could have anyone,” you whisper, dazed.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb.

"Only you would understand me."

Later, when you lie tangled in his arms, your robe slips from your shoulders, and he speaks softly into your ear.

“I can give you everything,” he says. “But not love.”

You laugh, feeling exhausted yet high on satisfaction. “Love is the weakest currency.”

His fingers lightly trace shapes on your hip.

"You will have a crown," he promises, "even if it's just in secret."

“And what about you, Petyr?” you murmur. “What do you gain from this?”

His smile is like the slow burn of a matchstick.

“Money. Power. Glory,” he says softly, his lips against your throat.

“And you, my clever little queen.”

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scarletwants · 2 months ago

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loves, please hear me out when i say this, as someone on season 2 of game of thrones, petyr baelish. i know, i know we hate the man, but there’s something about cunning men i absolutely adore.

#— the priestess whispers #petyr baelish x reader #littlefinger x reader #game of thrones

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scarletwants · 9 months ago

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I absolutely love they way you write Homelander!!! He's got me in a vice grip 😭😭😭

The brain rot is so real

I wanted to request something, you might have already done it but it dosnt hurt to ask right?

*cough cough* sky sex? Like Homelander and the reader fucking over the skyline... much like the end of season 2 except he's not alone this time?

Annnnndddd maybe the reader is terrified of heights?

Who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️

I hope this was an okay request!!! I love your work and I hope everything is going well for you 🫂

the sky is ours.

notes: hello guys! im finally back :) i know the wait was loooong and i apologise about that :’( i’ll start by responding to my asks because they’re really getting me in my writing mood. warnings: mature content. minors do not engage.

The cold night air rushed past your face, stealing your breath as you soared high above the city's skyline. Your arms were wrapped tightly around Homelander's neck, your body pressed against his as he carried you through the air like you were nothing but a feather. The world below was a blur of lights and buildings, tiny and insignificant from this height, while the sky stretched out endlessly around you.

Despite the exhilarating sensation of being weightless, your heart pounded in your chest for an entirely different reason. You weren't one for heights. In fact, you hated them.

Every instinct in your body screamed at you to hold on tighter, to demand to be put back down on solid ground, but the thought of doing so seemed impossible with Homelander's arms cradling you with such ease. His power was palpable, and even though you knew he could kill you with a single motion, there was a strange sense of comfort in his grasp.

"You okay up here?" His voice was smooth, low, and teasing, but his eyes flicked toward you with a glimmer of something genuine.

The deep blue of his eyes seemed to glow against the night, and you had to force yourself to look away.

"I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice shaky, despite your attempt to sound calm.

You didn't want him to know just how terrifying this was for you, but it was impossible to hide the tremor in your voice.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, his lips curling at the edges as if he could sense your fear. "You sure about that, sweetheart? You're shaking like a leaf."

You tightened your grip around his neck, digging your nails into his cape, feeling the way the fabric stretched beneath your fingers. "I said I'm fine," you repeated, more forcefully this time, though you weren't sure who you were trying to convince-him or yourself.

Homelander let out a low chuckle, his chest vibrating with amusement. "I know you're scared. I can hear your heartbeat," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "But don't worry. I've got you."

His words were meant to be comforting, but the way he said them, with that dark, seductive edge, only made you more aware of how dangerous he was. It wasn't just his power that terrified you; it was the way he made you feel. Being with him was like standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering between fear and desire, unsure of which way you were going to fall.

"You... You're not going to drop me, right?" The question came out before you could stop it, the fear lacing your voice more obvious than ever.

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he adjusted his grip on you, his hands sliding down to your waist, holding you tighter against him. "Drop you? Now, why would I do that?" His voice was thick with teasing, but there was an undertone of seriousness that sent a chill through you.

The truth was, he could drop you. He could let you fall to your death right now, and no one would stop him. But you knew he wouldn't-at least, not tonight. Tonight, his mood was playful, almost tender, in his own twisted way. There was something possessive in the way he held you, something that made you feel like, at this moment, he didn't want to let you go.

"Relax, sweetheart. Enjoy the view," he said, his voice dropping to a softer, almost intimate tone as he flew higher, the city shrinking below you. "Not everyone gets to see the world like this."

Your stomach churned as you glanced down at the sea of lights far beneath your feet, the skyscrapers looking like toys from this height. You could feel the wind whipping through your hair, the cold biting at your skin, but the overwhelming sensation was the dizzying fear of falling, of plummeting into the void below.

"I... I can't," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the terrifying sight. "I hate heights, Homelander. Please, can we go down?"

He hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tracing slow circles on your waist as if he were considering it. "Hmm, I don't know..." he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. "I kind of like you like this. All vulnerable. All mine."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, awakening a heat deep inside that contrasted with the icy fear coursing through your veins. Despite everything-despite how terrifying this was, despite the fact that he could drop you at any moment, you were drawn to him, irresistibly so.

"I thought you were stronger than this," he taunted, his breath hot against your neck.

"You can't really be that scared, can you?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears you were sure he could hear it. "I'm not scared," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't like it."

"Oh, I think you like it more than you're willing to admit," he said, his voice dropping even lower, more predatory, as his lips grazed the sensitive skin of your neck. "The fear... the thrill. It's exciting, isn't it?"

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his mouth trailed down your throat, his tongue flicking against your skin, and despite yourself, despite the fear, you couldn't help the way your body reacted to him. Your pulse quickened, but this time it wasn't just from the terror-it was from the undeniable desire that had been building between the two of you for so long.

He chuckled, clearly aware of the effect he was having on you. "That's it," he whispered, his hand sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back, exposing more of your neck to his hungry mouth. "You can't deny it. You want this."

Your mind was spinning, the fear of heights warring with the intoxicating heat of his touch. You hated that he was right. You hated that despite everything, despite how dangerous and terrifying he was, you wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything in your life.

"Homelander.." you breathed, your voice trembling as his hands roamed over your body, his touch firm and possessive. You could feel the raw power beneath his fingertips, the control he had over you, and it made your heart race even faster.

"I could take you right here, right now," he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and full of promise. "High above the world... where no one else can reach us."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the imagery sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins. The idea was terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly intoxicating all at once.

He moved his face back to yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that took your breath away. It was rough, demanding, and full of an intensity that only Homelander could bring. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your whole body ache with need.

Your fear melted away, replaced by the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins. You were his, completely and utterly, and in this moment, high above the world, it didn't matter that you were terrified of heights. All that mattered was him-the way he made you feel, the way his power wrapped around you like a cocoon, keeping you safe and dangerous all at once.

The tension between you both snapped like a taut wire, and in one swift, dizzying motion, Homelander had you pinned against him, hovering impossibly high above the shimmering city.

The cold air bit at your skin, but his body was a furnace, burning with heat and power as his hands roamed over you, pulling you closer.

His mouth crashed against yours, a demanding, hungry kiss that left you breathless, and before you could even comprehend the danger of the height, your body was responding to him with equal fervor. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you around his waist, his strength holding you effortlessly as he pressed into you with a low, possessive growl.

The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, heightened by the adrenaline of being so far from solid ground, and all you could do was cling to him as he thrust into you, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

The world around you disappeared, the city below forgotten, as the only thing that existed was him-his strength, his control, the way he dominated you completely.

Your cries were swallowed by the wind, mixing with his low, primal groans as he moved faster, his grip on you tightening with each rough, relentless thrust. The fear of falling faded into the background, replaced by the raw, intoxicating pleasure that surged between you both, as if you were defying gravity itself, suspended in the sky, lost in the intensity of the moment.

And as his hands roamed over your body, his breath hot against your skin, you realized that maybe-just maybe-the sky was where you belonged after all.

#the boys x reader #— lena writes 🔖#homelander fic #homelander smut #homelander imagine #homelander x reader

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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The sheer pride on Butcher's face, goddamnit, he loves that kid. Everything should make it impossible, but he does. And it tears me apart.

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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firecracker is so real for that because I also want that man to suck my tits

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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i wanna stroke his face while he looks at me with those doe eyes

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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so anxious.

notes: finally the long awaited M.M fic <3 i love this man so much he drives me crazy… summary: ever since you started dating, you realised just how much M.M loves ravishing you. warnings: soft M.M, mature/explicit content.

Marvin glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Nine o'clock. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was home alone, the stillness of the apartment only amplifying his longing for you. He picked up his phone, paging you once more, wishing you'd come over to his place. He needed you here, now.

"Hey," he started, trying to keep his voice steady despite the excitement bubbling inside him. "I'm just sitting here, thinking about the last time you were here. Hit me back when you can. I miss you, babe."

He put the phone down and paced the living room, trying to distract himself. Every second felt like an eternity. He replayed the memories of your last visit, the way your skin felt against his, the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your touch. It was all he could think about.

The phone buzzed and Marvin's heart leaped. He grabbed it, seeing your name on the speaker, soothing yet laden with anticipation. "I got your message. I just finished my shift. Heading over now. Can't wait to see you."

A smile broke across Marvin's face as he glanced at the clock. It was 10:10. "Where have you been all my life?" he teased, his voice low and intimate. "I've been waiting, reminiscing about you, about us. Drive safe, but hurry. I miss you so much, babe."

The next hour felt like an eternity. Marvin tried to keep busy, tidying up the living room and setting the mood with soft candlelight.

He made sure everything was perfect for you when you arrived.

Finally, at exactly 11:30, he heard your key in the door. His heart raced with anticipation.

The door swung open, and there you were, looking as beautiful as ever.

You barely had time to drop your bag before Marvin pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss.

The intensity of the moment took your breath away. "I've missed you so much," he murmured against your lips.

"I missed you too," you replied, your voice breathless and filled with desire.

Marvin didn't waste any time. As soon as the door clicked shut, he backed you against it, his hands exploring your body with an urgency that made you shiver. "I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck. "About you, about us. I can't wait any longer."

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom. The candles cast a warm, flickering glow over the room, creating a perfect ambiance. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes dark with desire.

"Marvin," you whispered, your voice filled with anticipation. "I want you."

"Say no more," he replied, his voice husky.

He stripped off his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. The raw intensity in his gaze sent shivers down your spine.

You reached for him, pulling him down to you. His body was warm and solid against yours, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he held back, wanting to savor every moment. "I love the way you talk dirty," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "It drives me crazy."

He kissed you deeply, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every curve. You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring his body, relishing the feel of his skin against yours.

Marvin's kisses became more urgent, his touch more demanding. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs. "I've waited long enough," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I need you now."

You moaned softly as he entered you, the sensation overwhelming. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling, but soon the intensity of his desire took over. His pace quickened, and you matched him, meeting his thrusts with equal passion.

The room was filled with the sounds of sex, the only light coming from the flickering candles. You lost yourself in the moment, in the feeling of being with him, the world outside disappearing.

"Marvin," you gasped, your nails digging into his back. "I'm so close."

"Me too, babe," he groaned, his movements becoming more urgent. "I can't hold back any longer."

With a final, deep thrust, you both reached the peak of your passion, your cries of pleasure mingling in the air. Marvin collapsed beside you, pulling you close, his breathing heavy.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "I don't want this night to end."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling sate and content in his arms. "I love you too, Marvin," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

"And as long as we're together, it never has to."

As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what, you would always have these moments, these nights of passion and love. And that was all that mattered.

#the boys x reader #mm x reader #marvin milk x reader #mm imagine #the boys imagine #i need this man right NEOW #— lena writes 🔖

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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I want to bounce on his dick until my thighs burn

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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i went nuts writing this 😭 homelander is just soooo……

black leather & eyes of blue.

18+ notes: we love obsessive homelander in this house :’)<3 enjoy! summary: no one touches what’s his and what’s his never interacts with people who don’t respect that. you should have learned that by now. warnings: explicit/mature content. secret office romance, domlander, fingering, cowgirl, breast-play, oral(f! receiving), morally grey! reader, killing, possesive & obsessive behaviour. word count: 1.7k

The fluorescent lights of Vought Tower's 75th floor cast a sterile glow over the bustling office. You could feel eyes on you as you navigated the maze of cubicles, clutching a stack of reports to your chest. It had been a particularly stressful week, with deadlines looming and pressure mounting.

All you wanted was a moment of peace to collect your thoughts.

But that wasn't to be.

As you rounded a corner, Daniel from marketing intercepted you with a friendly smile. "Hey there," he said, leaning casually against a cubicle wall. "You look like you could use a break."

You offered him a polite smile. "Just trying to get through these reports. How are you, Daniel?"

He chuckled, a warm, easy sound. "Better now that I've seen you. You know, you really brighten up this place."

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"You're too kind.”

What you didn't notice was the pair of piercing blue eyes watching the interaction from afar, growing darker with each passing second.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the tension followed you home. When you finally made it to your apartment, the door had barely closed behind you before you felt him.

Homelander stood in the shadows, his presence filling the room with an intensity that made your heart pound. He stepped forward, the glint in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

"You've been ignoring me, sweetheart," he said, voice dangerously calm. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

Before you could respond, he grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed. The reports you had been holding scattered across the floor, forgotten. He ripped his shirt off, his eyes dark with possessive lust.

"You think I didn't see you today?" he growled, climbing on top of you. "That little chat with Daniel?"

Your breath hitched as his hands roved over your body, claiming you. "I was just being polite," you whispered, trying to reason with him.

"Polite?" he repeated, a sinister edge to his voice. "No one touches what's mine. And what's mine never interacts with people who don't respect that."

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding. He pinned your wrists above your head, his grip bruising. His free hand trailed down your side, tearing open your blouse and sending buttons flying. He exposed your bra, his eyes devouring every inch of you.

"You belong to me," he said, his voice low and possessive. "No one else."

He yanked down your bra, his hands rough on your breasts, squeezing and kneading.

You moaned, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. He bit down on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and you cried out.

"No one flirts with you," he growled against your skin. "No one makes you smile but me."

His hand trailed lower, slipping under your skirt. You gasped as his fingers found your wetness, teasing you. His eyes locked onto yours, a predatory gleam in them.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured, sliding a finger inside you. "So eager to please."

You moaned, your body arching into his touch. He added another finger, thrusting them roughly, his thumb circling your clit.

The pleasure was overwhelming, your climax building rapidly.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice a dark whisper. "Come for me. Show me who you belong to."

Your climax crashed over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. He didn't give you time to recover, lifting you and positioning himself at your entrance.

With one powerful thrust, he was inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.

"You're mine," he growled, his pace relentless. "Always mine."

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts. He was rough, dominant, and completely in control.

"Say it," he demanded, his eyes burning into yours. "Say you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, the pleasure almost too much to bear. "I'm yours."

He rewarded you with a deep, bruising kiss, his tongue dominating yours. His hands moved to your breasts, squeezing and kneading, his fingers pinching your nipples.

The sensations were too much, pushing you to the edge again.

"Come for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Come for me now."

Your body obeyed, another orgasm ripping through you, your cries of pleasure filling the room, fingers gripping the sheets. Homelander's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He followed you over the edge, his own release powerful and consuming, a primal growl escaping his lips as he came inside you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

You lay there, your body trembling and spent, feeling the weight of him on top of you. He stayed inside you for a few more moments, savoring the connection, before finally pulling out. He rolled onto his side, pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively.

"You did well," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. "You're learning."

You nestled against him, feeling a strange sense of security in his embrace despite the intensity of his earlier actions. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He stroked your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I don't want to see you talking to anyone else at work. Especially not Daniel.”

"I understand," you replied, knowing better than to argue. "I'll avoid him."

"Good," he said, his tone firm. "You belong to me and I won't tolerate anyone else trying to take what's mine."

The next day at the office, you tried to maintain a low profile, avoiding unnecessary interactions, especially with Daniel. But as luck would have it, Daniel caught up with you in the break room. He flashed you a charming smile, holding a cup of coffee.

"Hey," he said, "You seemed a bit off yesterday. Everything alright?"

Before you could respond, you felt a sudden rush of air and heard a terrifyingly familiar voice behind you.

"Everything's just fine," Homelander said, his tone deceptively pleasant.

Daniel looked up, his smile faltering when he saw Homelander. "Oh, uh, Homelander! I didn't see you there."

Homelander's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Obviously."

In a flash, Homelander grabbed Daniel by the collar and lifted him off the ground. You could see the terror in Daniel's eyes, and you knew what was coming next.

"You think you can flirt with what's mine?" Homelander hissed, his eyes glowing with an ominous red light.

"Wait, no, I-" Daniel's plea was cut short as Homelander's laser vision sliced through him, leaving nothing but a smoldering corpse on the floor. The scent of burning flesh filled the room, and the sight of Daniel's lifeless body should have horrified you, but instead, it sent a strange thrill through you.

Homelander turned to you, his eyes still glowing, blood spattered across his face and chest. "Let's go," he said, his voice commanding.

You followed him back to your apartment, the adrenaline and shock mixing with an inexplicable arousal. As soon as you entered, Homelander closed the door behind you. His presence filling the room with an electric tension. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. He approached you slowly, every step deliberate, as if he were stalking prey. The sight of him, splattered with blood from the earlier incident, should have repulsed you, but instead, it ignited a primal desire deep within.

Without a word, Homelander closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. His eyes bore into yours, searching, demanding. There was a hunger in his gaze, a hunger that matched the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from him. "I-" Your voice caught in your throat, the words failing you.

His grip tightened slightly, a hint of warning in his touch. "Answer me," he demanded.

A shiver ran down your spine as you nodded slowly. "Yes," you admitted in a whisper. "I did."

A dark, satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"Good."

In one swift motion, he pushed you against the nearest wall, his body pressing against yours possessively. His lips crashed onto yours, claiming you with a raw intensity that made your head spin. You could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lips, feel the heat of his body against yours.

His hands roamed over your body, urgent and demanding. He tore at your clothes, the fabric giving way under his strength. Soon, you were both stripped bare, exposed to each other.

He pushed you back onto the bed, climbing on top of you with a predatory grace. His hands pinned your wrists above your head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine."

You nodded, unable to speak as desire coursed through you like a wildfire. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly before he bit down, marking you as his. The pain merged with pleasure, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.

He kissed his way down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. When he reached your core, he didn't hesitate. His tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh, his fingers spreading you open. The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You moaned, arching into his touch, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His tongue worked you mercilessly, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. He added his fingers, thrusting them deep inside you, matching the rhythm of his tongue. The dual assault sent you spiraling towards ecstasy, your body trembling with need.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a dark whisper against your skin. "Show me who you fucking belong to."

Your climax ripped through you like a tidal wave, pleasure consuming every inch of your being. You cried out his name, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Homelander didn't let up, prolonging your ecstasy with expert precision until you were trembling and breathless.

He crawled back up your body, his eyes burning with hunger as he positioned himself between your legs. With one swift motion, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The intensity of his desire matched yours, his thrusts deep and powerful.

"You like it rough," he murmured, his voice a husky growl. "Don't you?"

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as pleasure consumed you. His hands gripped your hips, his pace relentless as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his guttural grunts.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, dominating you completely. His hips drove into yours with an urgency that bordered on desperation, his need for you palpable.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered in a voice filled with possessive desire, "Mine. Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasped, the admission spilling from your lips without hesitation.

"Yours."

He groaned, a primal sound of satisfaction, before his movements grew more erratic. You felt him tensing above you, his rhythm faltering as he approached his own release.

"Come with me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice strained with pleasure.

His words pushed you over the edge once more, your body convulsing around him as he found his release deep inside you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, a growl escaping his lips as he emptied himself into you.

For a moment, you lay entwined in each other's arms, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Homelander's weight pressed against you, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He shifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of possessiveness and tenderness that took you by surprise.

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a whisper against your skin.

You nodded, a strange sense of belonging settling over you despite the chaos of your emotions. "I'm yours," you whispered back, feeling the truth of those words down to your core.

He kissed you gently, his touch surprisingly tender as he caressed your cheek. "No one else gets to touch you," he murmured, his voice filled with a possessive certainty. "You belong to me."

You closed your eyes, a mix of fear and desire coursing through you. "I do, I always will,” you replied, knowing that with Homelander, there was no room for negotiation.

As the night wore on, you lay in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your chest. In that moment, with the world outside forgotten, you knew that you had willingly stepped into the darkness with him.

#— talks with lena 🪻#homelander x reader #homelander smut #im such a slut for rough homelander omfg #i lowkey went crazy with this #they r fucking like rabbits

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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guys is it slutty to say i wanna cook for him, kiss his forehead, pour him his liquor, light his cigarettes for him when he's tired and just be a light in his life

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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I have such bad memory so sorry if I already requested this! but request for a homelander x reader where the reader is also a supe. they had some bad experience with intimacy in the past & while they’re getting intimate with homelander they have a sort of flashback. basically hurt/comfort and then fluff. i am a huge sucker for homelander being soft when it comes to his s/o lol!!!

safe in your arms.

notes: of course anon this is so sweet!!! <3 i love soft! homelander with all my heart :’(. summary: in the quiet safety of his apartment, you find out that homelander can be surprisingly gentle & even caring. warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, soft! homelander.

You had always known that being a supe came with its own set of challenges. The powers, the public scrutiny, the constant pressure to be perfect—all of it weighed heavily on your shoulders. But the hardest part had always been intimacy. Past experiences had left scars, both physical and emotional, that you couldn't seem to shake.

When you started seeing Homelander, you were skeptical. He was everything you feared in a partner: powerful, intimidating, and unpredictable. But over time, he showed you a side of himself that the world never got to see. He was gentle, caring, and, surprisingly, vulnerable.

Tonight, as you lay together in the quiet of your apartment, you felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. Homelander's blue eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur that seemed out of place for someone so formidable.

You nodded, though the truth was more complicated. You wanted to be close to him, to feel the connection that you shared, but the memories of past hurts were never far from your mind. As his lips met yours, you tried to focus on the present, on the warmth of his body against yours and the tender way he held you.

But then, as his hand traced down your side, a sudden flash of memory hit you. Another time, another place, another man who hadn't been kind. Panic flared in your chest, and you pulled away, gasping for breath.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Homelander said quickly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You're safe. I'm here."

You buried your face in his shoulder, the scent of him grounding you as you tried to push the memories away. "I'm sorry," you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. "I just... I can't..."

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed, his hand stroking your back. "You don't have to apologize. I get it."

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of frustration or anger, but there was none. Only concern and a deep, unwavering affection. "You do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his expression earnest. "I do. And I want you to know that you're in control here. We go at your pace. Whatever you need, I'm here."

His words were like a balm to your wounded heart. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Can we just... lie here for a while?" you asked.

"Of course," he said without hesitation. He pulled you closer, his arms a protective cocoon around you. "We can stay like this as long as you want."

You nestled against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. The memories still lingered, but they seemed less daunting now, less powerful. With Homelander holding you, you felt a sense of safety and peace that you hadn't known in a long time.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "No need to thank me," he murmured. "I care about you, and I want you to feel safe with me. Always."

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that the road to healing wouldn't be easy. But with John by your side, you felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. Together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead, one step at a time.

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #homelander imagine #the boys imagine #— lena writes 🔖

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scarletwants · 1 year ago

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casual.

18+ notes: this song tugs at my heart like no other... i love chappell so much :'( summary: you said, "baby, no attachment" but we're knee-deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out, is it casual now? warnings: a little angsty, mature/explicit content, homelander being homelander. word count: 1.6k

You’d always known that getting involved with Homelander was a dangerous game. From the very first moment you laid eyes on him, his charm had been undeniable, but so was the sense of danger that accompanied every smile, every touch. The problem was, that you couldn’t resist the pull. He was intoxicating, a deadly cocktail of power and allure that you couldn't escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

It all started casually enough, or at least that’s what you told yourself. A chance meeting at a charity gala, a few drinks, some flirtatious banter. But the connection was immediate and intense. Homelander— John, as he insisted you call him in private — had a way of making you feel like the centre of the universe, his blue eyes piercing through to your soul.

“Sweetheart, no attachment,” he’d whispered in your ear one night after a particularly passionate encounter. “This is just…casual.”

You’d nodded, even as your heart sank a little. You’d agreed to his terms because, let’s face it, who wouldn’t want even a piece of Homelander’s attention? But as the weeks passed, the lines between casual and something more started to blur.

One night, after a particularly late Vought meeting, he’d picked you up, taking you for a drive in his sleek black SUV. The city lights blurred past as you sat in the passenger seat, his hand resting on your thigh. The tension between you was palpable, the kind that made your skin tingle and your breath hitch.

“John, this isn’t exactly what I’d call casual,” you murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh.

He glanced over at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Why? Because you’re in my car?”

“No,” you replied, leaning closer. “Because you’re taking me out in public, letting people see us together. Doesn’t seem very ‘no attachment’ to me.”

He pulled over to the side of the road, turning off the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You're overthinking this, sweetheart,” he whispered before pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss.

The next thing you knew, you were knee-deep in the passenger seat, your dress hiked up around your waist, and John was eating you out with a fervour that made your head spin. His hands gripped your thighs, his tongue working it’s magic, but all you could think was, is it casual now?

A few weeks later, you found yourself being introduced to his close friends from Vought, a move that surprised you. They welcomed you with open arms, treating you like part of the group. As you sipped champagne and laughed at their stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a fling.

One evening, after a particularly long day, John showed up at your door with takeout and a bottle of wine. He looked exhausted, but his eyes lit up when he saw you. You spent the night on the couch, eating, drinking, and talking about everything and nothing.

“John, this doesn’t feel casual,” you said softly, your head resting on his shoulder.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around you. “Why does it have to be anything more than what it is?”

“Because I need to know where I stand,” you replied, looking up at him. “I need to know if I’m just another distraction for you or if this means something.”

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Sweetheart, I told you from the beginning that I don’t do attachments.”

“I know,” you said, your voice trembling. “But this doesn’t feel like no attachment to me.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Let’s just enjoy what we have,” he murmured. “No labels, no expectations.”

You wanted to argue, but the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his words melted your resolve. For now, you would take what you could get, even if it meant pretending this was enough.

Over the next few months, your relationship continued to evolve in ways you never expected. John was still adamant about keeping things casual, but his actions spoke louder than his words. He introduced you to more of his colleagues, took you on romantic getaways and even started leaving some of his things at your apartment.

It was hard being casual when your favourite bra lived in his dresser. You really, really tried to be the chill girlfriend, the one who held her tongue and gave him space. But to be honest, you weren’t and you didn’t even want to be one. Doubts were eating at your chest and you always felt a pang of hurt when he reminded you things between the two of you were simply casual. Nothing more.

You tried to ignore the nagging thoughts that crept into your mind during quiet moments. You tried to be satisfied with what you had, even as you found yourself wanting more. Every time he kissed you, a part of you couldn’t help but feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. He said it was casual, so why did it feel so much deeper?

“I’m just a girl that you bang on your couch, aren't I?” you blurted out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. “I thought you thought of me better. I thought I meant something to you.”

He looked at you, taken aback by your sudden outburst. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

“You said, ‘We’re not together,’” you continued, tears streaming down your face. “So now when we kiss, i jut feel so bitter. I don’t want to be just another fling to you, John. I want to mean something.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered. “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

“Then why can’t you just admit that this is more than casual?” you demanded, pulling back to look at him. “Why can’t you admit that you love me?”

“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’m scared of losing you, of getting too close and having it all fall apart.”

You took a deep breath, wiping away your tears. “I’m scared too, John. But we can’t keep pretending that this is nothing. We can’t keep lying to ourselves.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. “You’re right. I don’t want to lose you, sweetheart. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“Then let’s stop pretending,” you said softly. “Let’s stop hiding and start being honest with each other.”

From that moment on, everything changed. John was still the same intense, powerful man you’d fallen for, but there was a new softness to him, a willingness to open up and let you in. He started spending more time at your apartment, making it clear that he considered it home. You began to make plans for the future, talking about where you wanted to live, and the things you wanted to do together.

One warm evening, as you walked along the pier hand in hand, he stopped and turned to you, a serious look in his eyes. “Sweetheart, I want you to know something.”

“What is it?” you asked, your heart racing.

“I’m in love with you,” he said simply. “I know I haven’t said it before, but it’s true. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Tears filled your eyes as you smiled up at him. “I love you too, John. So much.”

He pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply as the sun set behind you. At that moment, everything felt perfect. For the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

As the months turned into years, your relationship continued to grow stronger. You moved into his luxurious penthouse, now filled with love and laughter. John was still the same hero the world adored, but to you, he was just John—the man who held your heart.

But as you settled into your new life together, there were moments of doubt. Homelander’s public persona often clashed with the man you knew in private. There were times when his temper flared, when his need for control threatened to overshadow everything else. You had arguments, some more intense than others, but each time, he would come back, apologizing, promising to do better.

One particularly bad night, he came home late, his face a mask of anger and frustration. “Sweetheart, why can’t you just understand that I’m trying?”

You stood your ground, your eyes glossy. “John, I do understand. But you can’t keep shutting me out whenever things get tough.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” he snapped, his eyes blazing.

“Then what do you call this?” you demanded, gesturing to the space between you. “We’re supposed to be in this together.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He nodded, pulling you into his arms. “I love you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“And you won’t,” you whispered, holding him tightly. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

The road ahead wasn’t easy, but you faced it together. With time, you learned to navigate the complexities of your relationship, finding a balance between the man he was and the hero the world needed. You built a life filled with love, trust, and understanding, knowing that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them side by side.

In the end, love was anything but casual. It was messy, complicated, and beautiful. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter what, this man held your heart in the palm of his hand. You will always love him, as Homelander or as John. You just can't help it.

#the boys x reader #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander fic #the boys imagine #— lena writes 🔖

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