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kennedybaby · 2 months

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HAUNTING ~ JASON P. TODD. 18+

Summary: Maybe blocking Jason isn't such a great idea.

Contents: dry humping, oral sex (female receiving), fingering in the alleyway, fucking in the alleyway hence risky sex slash teeny tiny bit of exhibitionism, rough sex, size difference, unhealthy relationship.

Pairing: Jason P. Todd X Female! Reader.

Word count: 2.6k

Author note: an anon implied that they want a part two of the drabble i made abt ex! jason. it is here... and it's valentine's day special. sorry for dropping bangers and leaving for another 2 months. will do it again. enjoy!

🖥️ MAIN MENU. PART ONE.

I know if I’m haunting you,

you must be haunting me.

You told yourself this was going to be the last time. The morning after Jason had left, you were already blocking his number and changing the lock to your front door the next day. Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity that helps you realized that maybe… maybe this things going on between you and him wasn’t exactly healthy. Maybe it’s a good idea to ignore the calls you’ve been getting from ‘unknown’ caller knowing full well it was him.

You think it’s a little cute when he went as far as to text you from Dick’s number.

He thinks you’re a brat.

Besides, who cares if what him and you had going on wasn’t healthy? You didn’t have to blocked him.

Whatever, what’s done is done. “He’s going to stop reaching out eventually.” you told yourself only to see him leaning against his bike, waiting for you in one of the alleyway you always passes after your night shift a week after blocking him. The red helmet slightly glints in the dark when the streetlight hits, “come here,” he murmurs, head tilts slightly to the side. There’s a battered bouquet of red roses in his hand, the veins on his forearm pokes out from how tight he gripped the bouquet to the point that the stems are crushed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, princess. Come get your flowers.” Jason adds, his other hand reached up to removed his helmet as he placed it on the seat of his bike.

”I don’t want to.” A small huff left your lips.

”Just do it, goddamnit [Y/N].”

Old habits die hard.

Your shoulders drops in defeat as you dragged your feet to him, you can’t help it. As much as you want to keep up the ‘I’ve-totally-moved-on’ acts, you just can’t. So here you are, not even five minutes in and Jason already had his arms wrapped around your waist, his lips naturally finding their way to yours the second you had your head slightly tilts up. “Blocked my number, huh? What, you think you’re so mature, huh?” He snorts, letting the bouquet falls from his hand to hold you tighter in his arms. “I didn’t block you…” You whined, standing on your tip toes to keep him quiet by smothering his lips with small pecks.

”Yeah right, that’s totally believable.” He scoffed in between the pecks you're giving him, his head tilts down to make it easier for you to reached in for more kisses. “Because my texts and calls totally got thru.” You can practically taste the sarcasm dripping from the way he talks to you. “I might have accidentally blocked you.” You pulled back slightly to watch as his face gradually sours. He stared back at you with an annoyed look, his brows furrowed before a low groan leaves his lips. “Face the wall.” He groaned, his fingers running thru his black locks before you reluctantly turn to face the wall, “We’re doing it right here?” You stuttered as you spared him a glance over your shoulder, your eyes quickly widened when he pressed himself against you. His bulge slightly rubs against your ass, his hands digs into your hips to keep you still. “Damn right we are.” He says, his breathing slightly staggered as he moves his hips slightly to get more friction against his clothed cock.

You leaned the back of your head, fingers latching onto his forearms as a support. “You’re so annoying, you know that, right?” He speak with a gruff, there’s creases on his forehead as Jason looked back at him. “How many times are you going to do this, huh? Acting like I don’t exist and blocking my number the second we had sex. I’m gettin’ real sick of it, [Y/N].” His hand reached up to grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he grinds himself against the curves of your ass. “Fucking brat.” He adds, his thumb gently brushing over your lips. “My fucking brat.”

“I don’t know,” you breathes, your lips instinctively parting as Jason slips his thumb into your mouth. “…until you’re bored of me?.” You muffled out your words, eyes slowly turning cloudy from the having his cock brushing up against you. He scoffed at your reasoning, rolling his eyes before he pressed his thumb down your tongue.

”As if.” He mumbled, leaning down slightly to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’re gonna block me again after this?” His eyes flickered to looked back at you. You stared at him for a solid minute with only the sound of his jeans and your skirt rubbing together can be heard before he removed his thumb off your tongue to let you speak. “No?” You stammers, mentally cursing yourself when he smirked at your answer. “Good girl.” He replied, his hand falls to the hem of your skirt.

”I missed you,” A soft whine left his lips as his fingers desperately reached down to rub your clit. Jason leaned against you to leave kisses on your neck and up to your jaw as his fingers pushes your panties aside. “You’re so wet already, baby.” He mutters, massaging the bundle of nerves in a circular motion. He slowly swipes his fingers between your folds as you leave trails of your wetness on his fingers. “Looks like this pretty little thing misses me too.” He chuckled when you whimpers at the feeling of his fingers being pushed inside of you. “I missed you too…” You whined, eyes shut tight as he pumps his digits deeper into your sopping cunt. The wetness between your legs sticks to your thighs and clings to his fingers, his teeth hungrily leaving marks on your neck. “Sorry for blocking you.” Your body shuddered in sheer bliss when his fingers curls with his calloused palm constantly brushing against your clit.

”Yeah? You’re sorry?” He asked, his voice growing breathy while his other hand clumsily undo his belt and zipper. A small frustrated groan leaves his throat before he pulls his fingers out of you causing you to pout and whine. “Oh, come on. Give me a second.” He laughed, turning you around but this time facing his bike. He moves your leg up on the seat before he kneel down behind you. “Fuck… Look at that.” He whispers, his warm breath fanned against your pussy before he desperately buried his face in between your thighs. “Jason!” You squeaked, toes curling upon feeling his tongue lapping on your clit with his fingers tightly gripping your thighs. His thick fingers leaving marks on your skin as you squirmed on his bike, causing him to land a spank on your cheek.

You whined. “What’s that for?” You looked back at him only to be met with his dazed eyes and his mouth still latching onto your pussy, drinking every liquid that drips out of you. For once in the span of an hour filled with nothing but his sarcasm, he was quiet. Except for the occasional groans and moans every time you pushes deeper against his nose. Your nails digs into the cushion of his seat as you whimpers when he slide his tongue into your entrance, prodding in and out of your entrance before he finally pulled back for some air.

”Jeez, Jay…” He looked up at you when you pouted, his cheeks and chin were coated with your juices before his eyes cast down to the way you wiggled your hips at him. “…keep going.” You bat your lashes at him, the excitement in your stomach stirs as he tugs his pants and boxer just low enough for his cock to springs out of the tight confinement before gently slapping against his stomach. His thumb keeping your panties aside and your entrance exposed to him, "Calm down, princess." He sighs before his teeth digs into his lower lip, it's been a hard week since he felt anything close to this. Sure, he settled on his fist for the first two days before he completely stopped when he realised that fucking his fist to the thought of you wasn't as good as fucking you.

He slowly moves his hips, managing to bury the tip of his cock inside of you as he lets out a choked moan. "Still feels good as ever." He moaned, head tilted back with his eyes closed. His cock twitches in you when small whines falls past your lips, sending vibrations down to him as the muscles tightening around his length. "Christ, you're still not used to me?" His breath were shaky before he looked down to you, admiring at the clear size difference between the two of you as you tried your best to take every inch of him.

"S'not my fault," You huffed, your legs slightly trembles underneath him. Jason shifts your position slightly, holding you by the waist with one hand while his other hand makes their way under your shirt to fondled with your tits. "Never said it was." He replied, pushing his cock deeper inside of you until he’s halfway in when he stopped, noticing the way you tensed up. “It’s okay, baby. Just a few more inches and the hard part’s over.” Your body shuddered from his whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck before you quickly nods at his words. His hand reached to wiped the sweats off your forehead before his hips slowly moves, “Mhm, just like that… Just relax.” Jason coos, planting small kisses on your temples.

A whine break out of your sealed lips when he completely buried himself inside of you, filling every crevices off your pussy with his twitching cock. The curve of his length itches just the sweet spot to make you see stars, “Jason…” The sound of you calling his name temporarily distracts him from the way your pussy clamped him down. His fingers had its deadly grips on your hips as you stand on your tip toes just to slightly fuck yourself on his cock, “Yeah?” He croaked, replying back to you with a deeper tone as he glanced down to the way your ass softly slaps against his pelvis, “You’re adjusting?” He asked before you let a small ‘mhm’ left your lips.

“You’re just fucking yourself on me.”

“No, I’m not.” You lied with a crooked grin. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Just look at the damn wall. You’re gonna break that dainty little neck if you keep looking back at me like that.” He mumbled, moving his hips into you in a more quicker pace. “Hold onto my helmet. Drop it and I’m stopping.” He grabbed a fistful off your ass while you quickly grabbed the red helmet, hugging it to your chest. The sound of skin slapping can be heard throughout the dark alleyway, your shared moans and groans reverberates and bounces off the brick walls. He moves his hand down between your legs, his fingers pressing down on your clit as he moves it in sloppy, circular motion. His other hand holding on the handle of his bike, “Lift your ass up, baby.” He grunted, brow furrowing as his hips moves back and forth, every thrust felt like he’s sending you over the edge.

”I’m trying!” You said in a hushed tone, too breathless. You weren’t sure if your knees can take anymore before they buckled to the dirty ground. In an act of desperation, Jason lifts you up with his forearm under your stomach causing your legs to dangled off the ground before he continue shoving his fat cock into your dripping pussy. You let out a small gasp, he’s really doing it-- he’s quite literally carrying you like a doll. “Can’t even do the simplest thing.” He huffed, eyes closed with his the tip of his nose tickling the crook of your neck as your fingers clings to his helmet, not wanting to dropped it lest he stopped just for the sake of making you miserable.

Your eyes lazily gazes at the other end of the alleyway where anyone that decides to passed the alleyway can noticed the both of you. Your cheeks warmed up at the thought, minimizing your moans into small squeaks and whines. You glanced at Jason, hoping he doesn’t notice only for him to sharply thrust into you to elicit a loud moan out of you, green eyes narrowing down at you. “Don’t be quiet,” He whispered, his other hand reached to traced the curve of your spine with his thumb lightly. “Let me hear you.” He dragged his voice to sound slightly whiny just to tease you even further.

You hated how much you expected this from the get go.

Blocking him was never an option, Jason has a knack when it comes to keeping you tied to him. One command from him and you’d rushed back into his arms like a puppy, hopelessly lingering around him. “Feels so good…” You whispered back, lashes thick with salty tears as wanton moans spills out of your swollen lips. You hated the fact that the both of you knows this. You’re not even sure if the both of you were even exes at some point. The feeling of the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot sends you shivering despite being half dressed, it doesn’t help how godly his cock is. The delicious curve that sends you whining for more, the noticeable vein on the side of his length, the way his balls slaps against your clit, the thickness of it-- all of it drives you insane, fills your body with nothing but carnal desires.

“Outside? Inside?” He asked in between his groans, strands of his black locks sticks to his forehead as his jaw clenches. You know it’s near when his movement grow sloppy and inconsistent, his eyes darkened with sheer lust and the muscles on his bicep flexes. “Fuck, don’t just gimme puppy eyes, princess. Answer me.” He said with gritted teeth, purposely moving his hips rougher into you as you cried out of pleasure. “Out, out, out…” Your babbles almost went incoherent when you choked on your own moans while you blinks away the tears that welled at the corned of your eyes. He nods his head, burying his face into your shoulder as his arm around your waist tightens.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He curses, his head spinning and leaving him dizzy. Jason wanted to stay inside of you badly, the warmth of your cunt wrapping snugly around him screams nothing but heaven. And the fact that you’re already cumming on his cock before he even gets to pulled out? God, you’re just torturing him at this point. He pulled out of you right before he finishes, wet and sticky seeds shooting on your back and staining your skirt as he winces when the cold air hits his cock. “Oh my god.” His chuckle were airy, skin were slightly flushed from the lovemaking. Jason cradled you in his arms, turning you around to face him before placing you on top of his bike.

”You okay?” He asked, softly massaging your inner thighs. His forehead presses against yours, his gaze softened at the sight of you looking back at him with tired eyes. “Yep.” Your answer were short as you steadied your breathing, your arms wrapped around his neck to pulled him closer while Jason fixes your clothes.

”Wanna go rest at my place?”

The both of you stared at each other for a solid minute. You give him a small nod.

“That’s my girl.”

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY ANY OF MY WORKS. ©️ KENNEDYBABY.

#i heard a small snippet of it then got working #ovulating so harddd rnn thank god jason todd were created #dc smut #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x you #jason todd imagines #jason todd x female reader #tw. exhibitionism

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ishomieokay · 4 months

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Idolatry (Chapter 1)

18+ 7.k homelander x hispanic oc, age difference, strenght kink, loss of virginity, religion kink, slow dancing, light dom/sub, rough sex, nebulously takes place post s03e03. part 1/?. AO3 link, part 2.

Homelander's fooling around with a perky Latina almost twenty years his junior. She's looking for a daddy. He just wants a good fuck, and maybe to mess with Maeve's head. It's not going to end well.

Aura María realized that the party had reached a point of no return when the Junior Manager of Crime Analytics climbed onto a table and started singing a Luis Miguel song at the top of his lungs. His name was Ethan, and he neither knew the lyrics nor spoke a word of Spanish.

She observed the dance floor from her seat at the bar, cringing at the increasingly deteriorating dancing skills of the guests. Ashley Barret, the Head of Superhero Affairs at Vought, clearly had too much to drink. Like an octopus, she had possessively wrapped her limbs around Cameron Coleman, a news anchor she was rumored to be dating. If their roaming hands and slow, inebriated motions were anything to go by, they had long forgotten that they were at a corporate party and not in a dimly lit club downtown.

Earlier, a well-known Paramount producer had approached Aura María about her latest documentary. She attempted to do some networking, but it didn’t take long for her to deem it a failed enterprise. “I heard The Invisible Boy was a great success at Cannes this year. Congratulations! Your take on Translucent’s untimely demise was so moving,” he said, and although initially, she was flattered, soon it became apparent that it was not her he was seeking to engage in conversation with, but rather her companion for the evening.

Goddam leeches, she thought bitterly, even the ones on top gather around if the smell of blood’s tempting enough.

Aura María shook herself, unwilling to let the nuisances of the industry dampen her good mood. “What ya say, champ? Wanna head to the dance floor?” she asked, poking fun at her date’s intermittent Southern accent. The Homelander blinked at her as if perplexed by the invitation. After a beat, he smiled widely, revealing a row of bright and unusually sharp teeth.

“Oh, no. I don’t dance,” he replied, in a tone that broke no argument. “Like, at all. Especially not… this.”

Aura María didn’t miss the contempt in the slight arch of Homelander’s eyebrow or the dismissive wave of his hand. She pursed her lips, trying not to feel affronted.

To a certain extent, she knew where she stood with him. Although neither Homelander nor Vought had an open political agenda, Aura María had a vague idea of the type of man he was and the beliefs he held. His anti-immigration stance was not a secret to the public. Still, a part of her had hoped it was only a matter of appealing to his fanbase. These days, the Seven’s golden boy was more popular with the older generations, and primarily with people of white descent.

Surely he wouldn’t have asked her out if he actually had an issue with Hispanics, though? Were that the case, she couldn’t fathom why he would invite her to a Latino-themed party for a first date, especially if he found the mere notion of dancing to a Caribbean beat so distasteful.

“Do you even know what this is?” Aura María asked, crossing her arms.

“I dunno. Some traditional Cuban dance? It kinda looks like that scene from Dirty Dancing just… dirtier.” Homelander wrinkled his nose but thankfully refrained from commenting further.

Aura María wanted to be annoyed, but she also knew better than to take his old-fashioned prudishness upfront. As frighteningly good as he was at maintaining his squeaky clean Boy Scout image, she had been working in the entertainment industry long enough to recognize it for what it was. She wondered if he would allow her to see the real thing if she stuck around long enough.

“It’s called Bachata and it’s actually Dominican.” Aura María tilted her head to the side, a teasing smile spreading across her face. “You get points for not assuming it’s Mexican, though. I think we’re making progress.”

Homelander frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nuthin’,” she replied, standing up. “Come on, don’t be such a spoilsport. If you wanted to spend the entire gala sitting around watching other people dance, you shouldn’t have brought me as your date.”

“Right, my bad,” Homelander deadpanned. “It won’t happen again.”

“Uh, uh,” Aura María tutted, shaking her head. “You ain’t getting out of this one so easily, mister.”

She extended her hand towards him, wriggling her fingers. Homelander stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing his options. For a moment, Aura María thought that she would be refused again, but then he sighed and relented, taking her hand. “Fine, let’s get it over with,” he said, allowing her to lead him to the dance floor.

They were right on time. A Romeo Santos song had just started playing. If she was going to give America’s Dad some dancing lessons, she better start off with the good stuff. Homelander stood awkwardly before her, seeming unsure of what to do. Taking pity on him, Aura María grasped his hands. “You don’t have to look so worried,” she said with a smile, “I’ll lead you.”

Homelander’s mouth curled downwards. “I thought the man’s supposed to lead?”

“We’ll get there. I just gotta show you the steps first,” Aura María replied, amused despite herself. She then proceeded to make a quick demonstration. “See? It’s real easy. Just one, two, three, four, again and again.”

“O-okey-dokey.” Although Homelander smiled, there was something decidedly strained about the gesture.

It was a rare sight - a man built like a wall and almost twice her size, gracelessly fumbling around and searching her face for guidance. Aura María felt a bit bad. Homelander went through the motions, and although it looked stiff and awkward, it wasn't the worst she'd witnessed as far as first tries went.

“Okay, you’re getting it. You’re just too still. Try to shift your weight while you move.”

She put a hand over his waist, trying to guide him through it, but Homelander refused to move an inch. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he huffed out a breath. Then he rolled his hips in a strange, floundering motion, shifting his weight from one side to the other. He looked like a fish on land, desperately squirming around in an attempt to jump back into the water. Aura María tried and failed to stifle her laugh.

“My god, you’re such a fucking white boy.”

Homelander glared down at her. “Don’t know how to tell you this, missy, but María or not, you too are white as bread.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Aura María replied. “But I’m also Venezuelan, so I’m still the better dancer. You’re at a genetic disadvantage.”

“Uh." Homelander arched an eyebrow. "Can’t say anyone’s ever told me that before.”

He put a hand on her waist then, pressing her against his chest. Aura María was somewhat startled by his demeanor, not at all like the carefree, downright corny persona she knew from TV interviews and brief workplace interactions. Although he’d been known to venture into politics here and there, Homelander’s brand content had always remained vanilla and family-friendly. His character was designed to be wholesome, goofy, and almost comically artificial, at least to the discerning eye.

The man currently flashing bedroom eyes at her was someone else. Someone real. It was like a breath of fresh hair. Aura María knew what a rarity it was to witness even a touch of authenticity from anyone so far up the ladder, especially when it came to a man whose entire life seemed to be a convoluted PR stunt. She felt like leaning forward and kissing him. There were eyes on them, though, and that was enough to make her hold back, at least for the time being.

Aura María turned her attention to the side of the room and took notice of Queen Maeve staring in their direction. At that distance, she found it hard to make out her expression. Maeve didn’t seem happy, though, and it made her stomach twist with unease. Homelander and her had ended things amicably, as far as the public was aware, but Aura Maria wasn’t naive enough to take that at face value.

She wasn’t into gossip as a general rule and preferred to avoid drama whenever it was possible. No matter how rich or devilishly handsome he was, she wasn’t thrilled by the idea of fighting with anyone over a man, especially with a supe who could easily crush her like a bug. Aura María shook herself, looking away. They were broken up and had been for some time. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“You know, for a white boy who’s never danced before, you’re doing really good,” she said, allowing the gentle sway of the music to carry her through the crowded room. She kept a tight grip on Homelander’s hip and forearm, taking him along for the ride. He visibly struggled not to preen. How strange. The strongest man in the whole wide world, and a few words of acknowledgment were enough to make him flush. Or was he just playing coy?

“No need to appease my ego, María. I know I suck,” Homelander said, but she could tell that it was a pretense. Just another line out of his well-rehearsed repertoire. Aura María felt her lips tilting downwards. It was disappointing to see the mask slipping back on, and after catching only a few fleeting glimpses.

“Not at all,” she replied, just to be nice. “I’m having fun, either way.”

When they left the gala, there was a crowd full of reporters and paparazzi waiting outside. Homelander effortlessly dodged their questions. His hand stayed on the small of her back as he guided Aura María forward, almost hunching over her, as if sheltering her from the camera flashes.

It seemed news anchors were in for a field day. Aura María was always amazed by how easily Vought’s flimsy attempts at playing the inclusivity card worked in their favor. Putting some salsa on and serving piña colada at a party during Latino Heritage Month was really all it took these days.

Aura María wished she could play along with her date - smile and wave at the ravenous beast of the American press, the way she’d seen public figures and talent do countless times over the years. It didn’t come naturally to her, though. She had always felt more comfortable standing in the corner.

Homelander opened the door of the cab, leading her inside, but Aura María was too irritated to appreciate the gesture. She tried not to think too hard about what the tabloids were going to say about them tomorrow morning. Homelander spotted leaving party with mystery woman was a real possibility. On the other hand, it could be something along the lines of Rising Director María Dávila reportedly dating Homelander, 17 years her senior. Both were offensive and off-putting in their own way.

She gave Homelander a glance over. He appeared unbothered, leaning against the back of the seat with his eyes closed. She allowed herself to stare while his guard was down. He was a beautiful man. It was the reason she agreed to go out with him despite their age difference, which wasn’t small. So much so that Homelander had already been quite a celebrity when she was still in elementary school.

He looked remarkably well for his age, although he had some wrinkles across his forehead, as well as prominent laughter lines. Aura María had always assumed that he was a natural blonde, but the darker, brown roots of his hair were now noticeable to her, even in the dim light. She found it odd to realize that a man who was often advertised as the pinnacle of masculinity actually wore makeup and dyed his hair.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” Aura María asked. Homelander turned to look at her and blinked as if he’d forgotten he had company.

“What’s that?”

“The cameras? The crowds following you around? Seems exhausting.”

“Nah, I’m used to it. Sides, what’s wrong with giving the people what they want?” Homelander said with a self-satisfied smile.

Aura María arched an eyebrow, bemused. “Man, you’re insufferable.”

“And still you agreed to go out with me, so what does that say about you?” Homelander’s expression didn’t change, but a trace of laughter shone in his clear blue eyes. He was teasing her.

Aura Maria felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she turned towards the window to hide it. “Nothing good, I can tell you that.”

“Here we are. Home sweet home,” Homelander said, and although his voice was full of warmth, something about it sounded artificial to her ears. It was the same tone she used when giving an interview at NBC, or congratulating the crew after a long day at set. Something to pick at later.

“I can’t believe you actually live here,” Aura María said, stepping out of the cab to look up at Vought Tower.

“Nice, isn't it?”

“Nice isn’t the word I’d use.” Aura María wrinkled her nose. “Looks like something out of a bad 90s movie set in the distant future of 2001.”

Homelander laughed, taken aback. “Well, that’s one way to describe it.”

He took her by the waist, guiding her through the main entrance and into the lobby. It was around three in the morning, and there was no one about but some security guards and the unlucky receptionist who got the Friday night shift. Although she looked tired, she still smiled brightly at them when they approached her desk. She had Aura María sign a visitor form before letting her through, which wasn’t terribly inconvenient as far as safety protocols went.

“Thanks, doll. Always great seeing you!” Homelander said, playfully pointing at the receptionist. She blushed, struggling and failing to hide a toothy grin. Aura María noticed that he didn’t address her by name, though. She wondered if he was always so recklessly extroverted, or if he was putting up a facade for her benefit.

“So, waiting for the elevator is a drag,” she said after fifteen minutes had passed, “I should have figured.”

“I usually just fly in.” Homelander was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He looked just mildly irritated by the inconvenience. “Didn’t think you would appreciate that, though.”

Aura María blinked.

“You flying me into your bedroom in the middle of the night? The one that’s like, on the 99th floor?” She tried to picture it and actually felt a shiver run down her spine. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. I’d probably have a panic attack halfway there.”

“Come on, I’ve never let anyone fall.” Homelander grinned, but then seemed to reconsider his words. “Not accidentally, anyway.”

Aura María stared, unsure if he was joking. “Right.”

Finally, they stepped into the elevator. They waited for the doors to close, and it was only then that Homelander leaned forward to kiss her. Aura María got on her heels, putting her hands over his shoulders to keep herself upright. She was suddenly very aware of their stark difference in height. He put his hands around her waist, pushing her against the wall, and it was enough for her to feel how strong he truly was. It was a bit dizzying.

Not too long ago, if someone had asked Aura María if she was into the big, muscly type she would have replied with a quick no and a side-eye. Usually, she wasn’t even into white men, especially not blondes. She’d only ever gone out with other Latinos, and more often than not they’d been of a darker complexion. Dating outside of her culture was an issue for her, and she even found no sabo kids were a bit of a turn-off.

There was something different about Homelander, though. Something she couldn’t quite express in words. Aura María put a hand around his jaw, angling his face slightly upwards to bite into his bottom lip. Although he could have fought off her grip more than easily, he allowed her to and it made heat build in her lower belly. Homelander’s hands were trailing down her sides. Although a part of her wanted to feel his bare hands over her skin, she couldn’t deny that the feel of the soft leather of his gloves was also thrilling.

Suddenly, the elevator was grinding to a stop, but a quick glance at the button panel confirmed that they hadn’t reached their floor yet. Auria María struggled not to let the annoyance show on her face. Reluctantly, they pulled apart. The doors slid open revealing a petite blonde girl standing in the hall. She was dressed in pajamas and by the startled look on her face, it was clear she hadn’t expected to bump into anyone at such late hours.

“Homelander,” she said, slightly bowing her head.

“Starlight,” he replied, smiling down at her. Something about the expression looked weird and much too tight. Aura María recognized the name and immediately understood why.

Great, she thought, another ex-girlfriend.

Although she'd heard a lot about her, Aura María had never worked with the infamous Annie January on set. Largely because of how unwilling Vought’s new rising star had been to participate in Super in America or any other documentary regarding her personal life. By the time she finally relented, Aura María had moved on to new projects. Her days of waiting at someone’s beck and call were over, even if they were a member of the Seven.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the elevator stopped and the three of them stepped out. As she walked away, following Homelander down the hall, Aura María got the distinctive feeling that she was being watched. Looking back, she noticed Starlight staring after them, a deep frown on her face. If she hadn’t known any better, Aura María would have thought that she looked worried.

“You don’t really get along with any of your exes, do you?” She asked once they made it to the end of the corridor.

Homelander stopped before the door of his penthouse, then offered her a smile a bit too wide. “Come on, now. Why would you say that?”

Aura María stared at him, unimpressed.

“That girl looked like she was walking into the elevator at gunpoint.”

“Oh, well, Starlight is…” Homelander trailed off, making a face. “She’s a sweetheart, don’t get me wrong. She just didn’t take the breakup very well.”

Aura María hummed, seeming skeptical.

“That’s a major red flag, you know? When all your relationships end badly.”

Homelander huffed a breath through his nose, and she realized, perhaps a bit too late, that she should back off. He was starting to look genuinely irritated. When flirting with overly confident men, Aura María often came across as a smartass. A lot of them were weirdly into it, and it was always fun to take them down a notch. She wasn’t looking to overstep and ruin the night with her antics, though.

“You get along with all of your exes, then?” Homelander asked, narrowing his eyes at her. Aura María made a face and he noticed. “What?”

“Nuthin.” She swayed back and forth on her heels, flashing him a teasing little smile. “Are you gonna invite me in?”

“Do you want me to?” Homelander was staring intently at her. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, just barely.

“I don’t know,” Aura María replied, shrugging. “Maybe I came all the way up here just for a goodnight kiss.”

Homelander laughed, shaking his head. Aura María got on her heels, leaned forward, and just like that they were kissing again. He made a pleased sound at the back of his throat, and something inside her unraveled. This was a point of no return. Aura María was mildly surprised by her lack of fear. Shivering, she put her arms around Homelander’s neck, deepening the kiss. This wasn’t like her at all, and she’d been certain that she would end up backing down at the very last second.

That was certainly out of the question now.

“I don’t think you did,” Homelander said in a rough voice, pinning her down with those sharp blue eyes of his. Aura María laughed, a little breathless.

He opened the door of his penthouse and bowed, gesturing for her to go first. It was such a goofy, chivalrous thing to do that she found herself stepping inside, biting back all the teasing remarks at the tip of her tongue. Homelander hummed, looking terribly pleased with himself, and followed her inside.

“You know, this place looks exactly how I pictured it,” Aura María said, tilting her head to the side as she stared into the cold marble eyes of a George Washington bust. She took a sip of her drink - Bourbon with coke and a dash of lemon. Turns out the Homelander was good at making cocktails. Quite the feat for someone who didn’t drink himself.

She could feel her host standing behind her, eyes burning at the back of her head. Although she was itching to do just that, she refused to turn around.

“Really?” Homelander said, breath ghosting by the shell of her ear. She wondered if he was getting tired of it. This quiet game of cat and mouse.

“Yeah, the only thing that’s missing is a confederate flag and a closet full of shotguns,” Aura María deadpanned.

“That’s not fair,” Homelander replied, but she could hear the amusement lining his words. “You make it sound like I’m some kinda redneck.”

“Nah, you’re worse than that. Rednecks actually believe the garbage they spew.” She turned around, arching her eyebrows in a way that she’d been told many times was infuriating. “You’re just in it for the money.”

“Not just the money, chica,” Homelander said, winking at her. He then gestured at the room, at the American flag hanging from the wall, at the statues and paintings of the founding fathers. “It’s the glory, the power, the fame - all the pillars of this great nation. Anyone tells you they made it this far up looking for anythin’ else, you can bet your ass they’re lying.”

Aura María blinked rapidly, caught off guard. With a start, she realized that this was probably the most transparent he’d been with her all night, yet the meaning of his every word was diluted by banter and unfashionable flirting. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. In lieu of a better response, she laughed.

“Man, you’re such a goddamn cynic, it almost makes you sound deep,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. If Homelander was offended by her reaction, he didn’t let it show. He raised a gloved hand, then caressed the line of her jaw with his index finger. There was a twinkle in his eye.

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, missy,” he said, and they were standing so close now, their noses were practically touching.

“No? I rather think it will,” Aura María replied.

“Mmn, you’ve got me all figured out, don’t ya?”

“Not my fault you’re so damn predictable.” Homelander’s hands trailed up her sides, then stopped just below her breasts, caressing her with fingers clad in red leather. Aura María shivered, biting into her lower lip. “Do you keep a bible on your nightstand, too?”

“Maybe I do,” Homelander said, and something in his voice, in the forced levelness of it, made her look up. The waiting game was over. She could see it in the arch of his eyebrow, the unusual intent of his gaze. “Wanna check?”

Aura María hesitated, then. There was no turning back, once she followed him into the bedroom. Although her stomach was fluttering with excitement, there was also a hint of fear. Homelander was stronger than her. There was not a single living creature on earth who could stand up to him, as a matter of fact, and she’d never been anything of a fighter. If she wanted to stop or slow down, she would be at his mercy. The thought made her unexpectedly anxious.

Backing away wasn’t yet out of the question. She could make up some excuse, hail a cab, and call it a night. He probably wouldn’t stop her. Instead, Aura María put her hands on Homelander’s chest, offering him a knowing little smile. Her throat felt very dry. “Let’s see it, then,” she said.

Aura María approached the nightstand and indeed found a bible resting on top of it, small, black, and wrapped in leather. She opened it to the bookmarked page and read the first verses out loud: “The dragon stood on the shore of the sea. And I saw a beast coming out of the sea. It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.”

Aura María saw Homelander and the other members of the Seven in her mind’s eye, walking into the set wearing their garish, custom-made suits. Easygoing, chirpy, and deceitfully polite when the cameras were rolling, but just as quick to make snide comments and lash out at the crew when the smallest thing didn’t go their way. Superpowers or not, they were still talent. Pretty faces with fragile egos and low emotional intelligence, usually from troubled backgrounds, charismatic yet easy to manipulate. Add Compound V and it makes for a dangerous combination.

For a whole second, Aura María considered asking Homelander if he had similar thoughts whenever he read those verses. They probably meant something to him, if he cared to bookmark the page. Then she realized what a terrible idea that was, and whistled appreciatively instead. “That sure makes for a nice bedtime reading,” she said, very aware of Homelander’s breath at the shell of her ear.

“It does, actually,” he replied, pressing soft lips to her neck. “Keep going.”

Aura María shivered, hanging tightly onto the book’s leather cover. Homelander bit her earlobe playfully, sinking sharp canines into the soft flesh. There was a stark contrast between the man standing behind her, caressing her sides and leaving a trail of hickeys down her neck, and the supe who always walked into her set wearing a disarming smile, telling corny dad jokes and waving at the crew. This felt real. Without giving it a thought, she kept on reading.

“The beast I saw resembled a leopard but had feet like those of a bear and a mouth like that of a lion. The dragon gave the beast his power and his throne and great authority.” Aura María could see Homelander through the mirror hanging from the wall. He’d hidden his face on the curve of her shoulder, pressing wet kisses to the exposed skin there. Slowly but skillfully, he undid the buttons of her shirt. Once it was open all the way, he pulled down Aura María’s bra, exposing her breasts.

The cold of the room hit her, and she trembled. A part of her felt like she ought to complain or cover herself again. No man had ever seen her as she was now. She stared at Homelander’s reflection as he fondled her breasts with gloved hands, pinching her nipples experimentally. A long sigh escaped her. Aura María had been waiting for a long time to experience something like this, and now that it was happening it almost didn’t seem real. It felt so right, for him to be the first.

“One of the heads of the beast seemed to have had a fatal wound, but the fatal wound had been healed. The whole world was filled with wonder and followed the beast,” she read, breath hitching in her throat as she felt Homelander pulling her skirt down.

Her underwear followed quickly after, and just like that he completely exposed her, without going through the trouble of actually undressing her. She felt hot all over. Homelander took off his gloves then, placing them on the nightstand. He trailed his hands down her chest and then her stomach, stopping just inches away from her pussy. Aura María spread her legs slightly wider.

“People worshipped the dragon because he had given authority to the beast, and they also worshipped the beast and asked ‘who is like the beast?’, ‘who can wage war against it?’” She said, licking her dry lips as she passed the page. Homelander tapped her clit a few times with his middle finger, then slowly rubbed a circle around it. Aura María made a pleased sound in the low of her throat, tilting her head back. Then he was going deeper, slowly rubbing his fingers back and forth between the folds of her pussy.

“The beast was given a mouth to utter proud words and blasphemies and to exercise its authority for forty four months.” Finally, Homelander pushed a finger inside and then another. Aura María could feel herself clamping around them. She moaned, pushing her lower body against him. “Mmn, that’s real nice.”

“None of that.” Homelander spanked her then, just once. It stung. Aura María thought that she ought to be offended, but for some reason, she wasn’t. She pushed her hips backward, looking for friction, but Homelander’s hand pressing against her back was enough to halt her attempts. “Be a good girl, keep reading for me.”

“It was given power to wage war against God’s holy people and to conquer them. And it was given authority over every tribe, people, language and nation.” Aura María trembled, forcing herself to stand straight again.

She heard Homelander undoing his belt, and then lowering the multiple zippers of his suit. Anticipation was building in her lower stomach. He reached for the first drawer of the nightstand and pulled a condom out of a little plastic box. For a few moments nothing happened. Then Aura María felt the head of Homelander’s cock brushing against her opening.

“All inhabitants of the earth will worship the beast - all whose names have not been written in the Lamb’s book of life, the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world,” Aura María said, words stumbling out of her mouth in husky breaths. Homelander was pushing inside slowly, and he felt big and almost unbearably warm. She was trembling all over. Panicking, she reached backward and put a hand on his hip, stilling him. Without her explaining, he understood and waited.

It took her a few moments to fully relax. Once she did, Aura María pressed her back to Homelander’s chest, guiding him forward. She felt full in a way she never had before. When he started thrusting, she made a pleased sound, pushing back against him. “Whoever has ears, let them hear,” she said, much too conscious of the soft sounds of their bodies coming together, her quiet moans, and Homelander breathing raggedly against her ear.

“If anyone is to go into captivity, into captivity they will go. If any, ugh-” Aura María gulped her words as she felt a hand wrapping around her throat. It squeezed just hard enough to make a statement, but not to cut off her breathing. Her hands were shaking and still she held onto the Bible, barely managing not to sink her nails into the leather. She wasn’t even religious. Not anymore. Still, she felt compelled to play along - to indulge in this little game the Homelander seemed to enjoy so much.

Aura María could feel her breasts jiggling with the force of his thrusts. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the reflection of their bodies moving together, just shadows and lights swaying on the surface of the mirror. She closed her eyes tightly, too unused to the idea of sharing her body with someone else - too embarrassed to witness herself surrendering, so freely, to his touch. Tears threatened to spill, but Aura María quickly blinked them away. She had really been waiting for a long time.

“If anyone is to be killed with the sword, with the sword they will be killed,” she whispered, then let go of the book, too shaky to keep holding it up. It landed on the carpet, barely making a sound.

Homelander lifted her from the ground, slamming her onto his cock in a few quick successions before coming. The pressure around Aura María’s neck increased to an almost alarming degree. It slacked off after a few seconds, and only then could she feel her climax washing over her. It was a strange, overwhelming feeling. Nothing like the orgasms she had coaxed out of herself in the past.

For a while they stood in silence, catching their breaths. Then Homelander pulled out and backed away. Suddenly, the chill of the room hit her and Aura María felt very self-conscious about the state she was in. Although she didn’t really mind her nakedness, she felt a bit silly - being essentially dressed but showing all her intimate parts. In a daze, she started buttoning her shirt back up. Just as she was about to pull up her underwear, though, she was stopped by a hand circling her wrist.

“Aw, shucks,” Homelander said. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

Unsure what he meant, Aura María turned around. She gave herself a moment to take in his features - the strong jawline and hooded blue eyes, the slicked-back blonde hair that didn’t match his brown eyebrows, the long eyelashes and thin lips. He truly was beautiful. Aura María put her hands on Homelander’s chest, caressing him with the pads of her fingers. Unlike hard, compact muscle, what she touched was leathery and unusually soft. She wondered if it was padding.

“Not at all, I had fun,” she said, smiling. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting the Homelander to have a blasphemy kink, to be honest, but maybe I should have.”

He looked skeptical, for some reason. “So, you’re not in pain?”

“No.” Aura María frowned. “Why?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Aura María followed Homelander’s gaze and was startled to see a bit of blood running down her thighs. She’d gotten so into it, the pain hadn’t even registered. Heat rose to her cheeks. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s normal, ya know? The first time?” Aura María said, leaning down and pulling the rest of her clothes back up.

Homelander frowned, blinking at the choice of words. She could clearly see the moment understanding dawned on him. He shifted where he stood, hands firmly clasped in front of him as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He opened his mouth, closed it, then cleared his throat. “You, ah… you didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but ya know. It’s whatever.” Aura María shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t actually feel. “Virginity’s a construct.”

Homelander laughed, taken aback. “Oh, wow. Right.”

“What?”

“Nothin’, it’s just - young people these days,” Homelander said, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I swear I can’t keep up!”

He smiled broadly at her, showing a perfect row of white, pointy teeth. Aura María felt a pang in her chest and did everything she could to shake off the feeling of betrayal. There it was again - the persona, and not the man underneath. Homelander headed to the bathroom with the condom in hand, presumably to dispose of it. Aura María felt her legs starting to shake, so she laid down on the bed to get some rest. She could hear water running, and then the sound of a blow-dryer.

After a few minutes, Homelander came back. It was clear from his refreshed appearance that he’d taken a quick shower. He was wearing a new suit and had the old one hanging from his forearm, neatly folded. Aura Maria made a very conscious effort not to comment on how weird that was. His hair looked softer and fluffier, free of whatever products he used to slick it back. She should have suspected that America’s Number One Hero used a blow-dryer. His undercut always looked much too perfect. She wondered if he had a skincare routine too.

“You don’t mind if I lay down for a bit, do you? I’m beat,” she said, unsure of what to expect. If he would let her stay the night, or at least pay for a cab to come pick her up. There was a knot at the pit of her stomach.

Homelander was staring at her strangely, as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he went to the mini fridge and pulled out two water bottles. Handing her one, he settled on the bed beside her. Aura Maria gulped down more than half of her bottle, only then realizing how thirsty she’d become. For a while, they lay there in silence.

“You really should have said something.”

Although she'd been expecting them, Aura Maria still felt her hackles rising at the words. “Why?”

“I wouldn’t have…,” Homelander trailed off, and she found it so strange to see him hesitate. He cleared his throat and tried again. “If I’d known, I would have gone about it… differently.”

Aura Maria’s lips twisted downwards. She kept her eyes fixated on the ceiling. “I told you, man. You didn’t hurt me.”

“It isn’t about that.”

“What is it, then?” Aura Maria replied, growing frustrated. She shouldn’t have said anything. “You had a good time, so did I. That’s what we both wanted. What difference does it make if I’d never done it before?”

Homelander blinked at her. “Because… women remember their first.”

“Oh? Only women?” A contentious smile unfolded across Aura Maria’s face. She couldn't help it. At times like these, it felt like the only way she knew how to communicate with others was through confrontation. “So you don’t remember yours, then?”

“We are not talking about me,” Homelander replied, slowly and without a hint of inflection.

“Yeah, sure.”

Despite her biting words, there was a deep coldness spreading through Aura Maria’s body. It felt like she may start shaking any second now. She wasn’t going to let him see how much his questioning was affecting her, though, or how much it mirrored her own inner voice.

“Come on, spit it out. What’s actually bothering you?” She snapped. “Is it how kinky the whole thing was? Because I was into it. What, you think it would have been better if we had done the missionary by candle lights, covered the bed with some goddam rose petals?”

“Yes, I do,” Homelander replied without missing a beat. She would have thought that he was joking, if it weren’t for the serious look on his face. It gave her pause. For once, Aura Maria couldn't tell whether he was being authentic or if this was yet another performance. She reached out, caressing the line of Homelander’s jaw with the tip of her fingers.

“Come on, look at it from my perspective. I got wined and dined, danced at a nice party, and now I’m in a lavish penthouse, laying in bed with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” she said, and that was enough for Homelander to blush again. Talent was never immune to flattery. “I mean, most of the first-time stories I’ve heard are cringey as hell, either way. Even if shit doesn't work out, at least I got a nice memory out of it, ya know?”

Homelander stared at her for a long moment, seeming to consider her words. “Okay,” he said eventually, “you do make a good case for yourself.”

“I sure do,” Aura Maria replied, relaxing. She wasn’t sure who exactly she had been trying to appease - him or herself.

“How old are you, again?” Homelander asked, frowning.

“Twenty-six,” she replied, reluctantly.

“So… you waited.” Homelander looked uncomfortable now. “A bit longer than most. Why now?”

Aura María hesitated. She herself wasn’t sure why she had chosen to have her first time one random Friday night, in what was essentially a casual hook-up with a co-worker. Even now it made little sense to her, especially after waiting so long.

“Maybe I just like you that much,” she said with a smile, but the words tasted like ashes in her mouth.

She knew that’s what he wanted to hear - that he was man enough to charm it out of her, to make her give up what she hadn't allowed anyone else to take. All night she had been scrutinizing his every word and action, salivating at the sight of even the smallest hint of humanity in him, but now she was the one hiding behind a mask.

“We barely know each other,” Homelander replied, unmoved, as if he could see right through it. In an impulse, Aura Maria leaned forward to kiss him, treading her fingers through his soft blonde hair. There was a troubled look in his eyes when they parted.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Aura Maria said with a soft smile. “I’m not asking you to marry me or anything. I’ve been waiting for the right guy and the right time for a while now, and it just… never happened. I got fed up with it. Then you asked me out and I couldn't think of a reason not to.”

“So, you're saying if you had come as, I dunno, the Deep’s plus one, the outcome would have been the same? Good to know.”

“Now, you're just twisting my words.”

“Right,” Homelander said, puffed out, but there was a teasing edge to his voice. “I hope I didn't disappoint, though?”

“So far you haven't.”

Once Aura Maria had worn her capacity for restraint like a badge of honor, probably an aftereffect of being raised in a radical Christian home. Although she considered herself an atheist now, she was very aware of the consequences her upbringing had on her love life. She was tired of feeling like a nun willing her life away at a convent, though. When Homelander unbuttoned her shirt again, circling her nipple with the tip of a curious tongue, she didn’t stop him.

It was as good a time as any to break the habit.