#homelander x hispanic reader

[ishomieokay]

— texting boyfriend!homelander

HOMELANDER X HISPANIC TEXTER (1/?)

✰ summary — a series of random texts between homelander and you, his girlfriend 💕

✰ warnings — +18, suggestive themes, sublander flavored, latina baddie with an attitude.

✰ genre — texts, domestic fluff, humor, smut.

✰ a/n — tbh, i dont't even know what this is, plp. i 've been meaning to give x reader content a try and this is me dipping my toes in the water, lmao.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 3

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: A huge THANK YOU to everyone who's following and commenting/giving me feedback on this story so far! It's so encouraging for me and I really do appreciate you all. 💖

Word Count: 2,500 Warnings: Angst, violence.  

Part 3: Somewhere Down Below

“Hey, Tony,” you nicknamed your kidnapper. You knew he was the one who attacked you, as you now saw the reason for one of his boots being larger than the other. 

He really did have a broken foot from when you all but stabbed it with your heel a couple of weeks ago.

“How’s the foot?” you teased. 

“Shut up,” he hissed. 

Aw, where’s that charming smile? you thought in grim amusement.

“Hey,” Soldier Boy snapped at him. “Focus. Did I order this?”

“Sir…” Tony said, shifting on his feet.

“What were my words?” Soldier Boy asked, enunciating each and every syllable. Tony looked nervous, though of course he tried not to show it. Soldier Boy was dressed like a wealthy dad on vacation—in a buttoned-down blue shirt rolled up to his elbows, and beige slacks. 

But there was no mistaking the strength in his build, or the threat in his crossed arms and stern expression. 

“To…make sure you weren’t followed,” Tony said. “And to take care of Butcher’s team.”

“Did you do that?”

“My guys found their hotel, yes…but Butcher managed to slip away.”

You smiled at that. Soldier Boy noticed, and he was not pleased. 

“Just him?” he asked. 

“With his team,” Tony admitted. “Except for this one. I thought we could question her.”

Soldier Boy looked at you then. “Okay. Let’s start with that.”

He leaned forward into your space, resting an elbow on his knee. You regarded him with a tilt of your head, trying to hide your wariness.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked. You wanted to say that, first of all, you weren’t his sweetheart. But you decided that question was simple enough. You gave him your first name.

Soldier Boy considered it, and he nodded. 

“Do you know where your friends went?”

“Well, considering I was taken from my room with a musty bag over my head—which smelled like a Frenchman’s asshole, by the way—I’d have to say no,” you replied. 

And you’d spent the past four months helping M.M. clean up after Frenchie and Butcher, so you knew exactly what flavor of grunge that was. 

Soldier Boy’s lips twitched upwards.

“See, that’s what I thought,” he said. He glanced back at Tony with a certain look. One that actually made you nervous for your kidnapper. He was a criminal, and a handsy dick, but you didn’t want to see anyone die in front of you. 

Soldier Boy stood, and Tony tensed up. 

“They’re working with the CIA. They’ll have safe houses lined up,” said another groupie in the Soldier Boy club. You recognized him as well. This was the crew-cut Hispanic man who’d escorted you up to Soldier Boy’s room at the gentleman’s club.

Soldier Boy looked over at him and considered this with a nod. He stepped back while Tony approached you. You took a breath to try and steady yourself. 

It begins. If you were going to take a hit, you preferred it be from Tony’s pansy ass.

Don’t let him in. Don’t let him see that you’re afraid.  

“How about it, doll?” Soldier Boy asked. “Who’s your controller at the CIA?”

“Grace Mallory,” you revealed, with only a small twinge of guilt. Grace could take care of herself, and you were a P.I., not a fucking spy. “I believe you’ve met before.”

It took a moment for Soldier Boy to remember the name, but you watched the realization alight in his eyes. 

“Ah, the lesbo. Damn, she must be an old fucking bag by now,” Soldier Boy mused with a grin. “She give you a list of safe houses here?”

“No. We’d check in after crossing a location off our list, and she’d send us the itinerary,” you said. And that was the truth. He looked into your eyes, and eventually he nodded. He seemed to believe you. 

“Okay, let’s try this. If you had to guess, where would Butcher and his merry band of assholes go to regroup?” he asked. 

“I honestly don’t know … but what does it matter? They don’t know where you are,” you replied. “Most of them are just human, like me.”

You watched Soldier Boy’s reaction carefully. He didn’t seem to outwardly react, other than a fractional tightening of his jaw. 

“After what you did in New York, blowing up that building. Taking out your whole damn team. Killing Homelander. I thought you’d be swatting us like flies,” you said with a breathy laugh. 

Because really, you didn’t expect to live much longer than the next few minutes. Maybe talking could extend your life just a bit longer… 

Tears welled up in your eyes when you thought of your family though. Your mom. Your sister, Luisa. They’d probably never know exactly what happened to you. But you counted that as a small blessing.

“But then again, Butcher and his guys almost put you back under,” you added. 

Soldier Boy had been almost amused by your audacity, but now his expression tightened. His arms crossed as he rose a brow. 

“And you ran away. You’re still running away,” you said. “Why? Are we just not worth your time? Or are you actually worried we might just outsmart you?”

The hit actually took you by surprise, because it didn’t come from Soldier Boy. It was Tony who backhanded you roughly. He wore a gaudy ring that bit into your cheek, opening a bloody nick in your skin. The blow itself was hard enough to make stars burst behind your eyes.

Stronger than he looks, you could admit, just to yourself.

“You’re a fucking mouthy one, aren’t you?” Soldier Boy mused.  

You licked your dry, lipstick-smudged lips and caught your breath. Your wrists were burning from the zip tie holding them behind the chair, making your shoulders ache as well. Your cheek was throbbing. 

But you looked up, ignoring Tony, and stared directly into the green in Soldier Boy’s eyes. It was a challenge that he met.

“You really believe you fuckers can win, don’t you?” he asked. Your lips quirked, even as a tear rolled its way down your bloody cheek. 

Right now, you weren’t sure of anything. But you believed in your friends—in Annie and Hughie, M.M., Frenchie, Kimiko, and yes, even Butcher. They’d almost done it before. They could get it right the next time, even if it was without you. 

“Yeah, I really fucking do,” you replied. Then you aimed a wry glance at Tony. “By the look of your little backup dancers here, I’d say it’s a matter of time before they put you back in the box.”

Tony’s ring bit into your cheek again, this time in a closed fist. You tumbled over with a pained cry, still tied to your chair, but one of the old wooden legs broke. It was an antique, after all. 

When your head smacked against the tile floor, the lights above you got hazy for a moment. You tried to blink them back into focus as you stared up at the ceiling. 

The truth was, you were exhausted. If you were going to die…you’d really just like to get it over with. 

So as you struggled for breath, your gaze wandered and met Soldier Boy’s again.   

You couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking, but you were sure that your end was coming when his arms uncrossed, his posture tightening. Unlike his friends, he didn’t have any guns on him at the moment. You knew very well that he didn’t need weapons.

But he held a hand against Tony, and he called to the Crew-Cut guy.  

“Frank, get her a room,” he said. “Watch her though. She’s a wily one.”

You blinked in confusion as Frank nodded. He and Tony pulled you up from the ground and untied you from the chair’s remains, but soon their meaty man hands wrapped around your arms. 

Soldier Boy started to walk away from you. You knew you should just leave it be, but you couldn’t help it. 

“I’m staying?” you asked. Soldier Boy paused. He looked back at you over his shoulder.

“Oh, you’re staying.” He nodded, with a smirk you decided you didn’t like very much. “For now.”

You were led to a room with a queen-sized bed and the basics in furnishings: a desk, a TV, a closet, one nightstand, and a small two-seat table. Tony pushed you in, and the door slammed shut behind you. 

Rude. But you supposed it could be worse. You looked yourself over in the mirror, and you were pretty ragged. Bruised and bleeding, your hair a virtual rat’s nest, your eye makeup dark and running, your lipstick smudged, your dress in tatters, with the split in the skirt still revealing your entire left thigh and dirty bare feet. 

Heaving a deep sigh, you returned to the door and weren’t surprised to find it locked. But you knew someone must be there on the other side to make sure you didn’t try anything.

“Hey, geniuses,” you called. “Got any sweatpants out there? A hairbrush? A toothbrush? Some bread or something? If you’re gonna have a fucking hostage, might as well make sure I stay alive.” 

For a while, there was silence. But eventually the door opened, revealing Frank. He was tall and stoic, and like you remembered, with cropped dark hair and a thick beard and mustache. He handed you a plate with two slices of dry bread, and nothing else. You raised a brow at him.  

All he said was, “Check the dresser.”   

Then the door shut in your face again. You looked down at the sorry plate. 

Could’ve at least slapped some butter on it. Goddamn. 

You ate it anyway though; now that you weren’t about to die, you were starving. But you did as Frank instructed and indeed checked the dresser. There were some men’s clothes in one of the drawers, but not much. This had to be a guest room of some kind. 

You opened the rest of the drawers and managed to find women’s lingerie, of all things. 

Definitely a party mansion, you decided. The vacation home of one of Soldier Boy’s old connections, you guessed. 

One culprit could be the Legend. He was Vought’s former Senior Vice President of Hero Management, before Madelyn Stillwell. Butcher had mentioned that he’d stowed Soldier Boy in one of the Legend’s penthouses before.

In the drawers you finally managed to find some women’s jeans, a few tops, panties, and quite a few skanky dresses. They looked old though, like they hadn’t been washed in years. And likely from the 80s, if the gaudy frills and funky patterns were any indication. 

Who knew how long ago these drawers had been stocked and left untouched. And God knew if they were even your size, but you supposed you’d find out. 

In the bathroom, you also discovered a first aid kit and a spare towel, along with soap, shampoo, conditioner, and host of other toiletries. This is like a damn hotel, actually.

Except for the whole being a prisoner thing. Again, you supposed it was better than the alternative. 

After you’d showered and dressed in a shirt and the only pair of shorts you found (the clothes were too tight, probably meant for some supermodel, but you’d manage), patched yourself up the best you could, and tamed your wild hair, you at least felt like a human again.

You didn’t know what time it was, as your room didn’t have a window. But you did have a bed, and it was calling you. You slipped under the covers and let out a long breath. 

So many scenes from earlier today played and replayed through your mind. All the “what ifs.” If you’d been more successful with Soldier Boy back at the club. 

If you’d stayed more alert in your hotel room. If you’d managed to call out to Annie or M.M. or Butcher or any one of your team, could they have stopped you from being kidnapped? All of them had been attacked as well. 

But clearly, if you were the only one captured, then you were the least of all of them. 

That thought made you shudder, your eyes burning with tears. You had also given up today. When you’d continued mouthing off to Soldier Boy, you’d succumbed to your seemingly inevitable fate, already given up on your life. 

You felt guilty about that when you thought about your sister. If there was one thing the two of you had learned from your fucked childhoods, it was that giving up wasn’t an option. 

You had spent most of your life fighting. Fighting so she could have a good future.

“I wish you’d start protecting yourself,” she’d told you. One of the last things she’d ever told you.

So…you decided that from this moment onward, you were going to fight. 

For your life, and for your freedom, no matter what Soldier Boy wanted with you. 

“He’s in the wind,” said Butcher. “Might be time to regroup.”

He leaned on a chair, like it was getting hard for him to stand, and coughed into his arm. Hughie watched him in both curiosity and concern. Was he getting sick or something? 

“We’re not just leaving her out there,” Annie snapped. “We’re finding her now.”

Hughie knew that look on his girlfriend’s face. No matter what Butcher said, you were a priority. You had become her friend, and she was not leaving you with a sick fuck like Soldier Boy.

“I hate to tell you this,” Butcher said dryly, “but it ain’t likely that she’s still breathing.” 

That fell between the entire team with a heavy silence. 

Until Hughie spoke, calm but determined. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We don’t just leave our friends without trying.”

And by now, he could call you a friend. Annie certainly agreed.

After sharing a look with Kimiko, who smiled and nodded, and then M.M., Frenchie grinned. “I agree with Petit Hughie.”

He slapped the younger man on the back, though Hughie shot him a wan look. 

“Can you stop calling me that?”

Butcher looked to M.M., who crossed his arms and nodded back. 

“Can’t leave a man behind. Besides, if we find her, we probably find Soldier Boy.”

After a moment, Butcher shrugged. 

“All right. Let’s hunt down the old fuck. Again.”

AN: "Welcome to the Hotel California! Such a lovely place, such a lovely face." 😅

Next time, she tests her limitations:

It was Soldier Boy, of course. He was looking down at you, not sure if he should be stern or amused. 

“What a naughty little girl,” he drawled. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t mind your fucking manners.” 

Keep Reading: PART 4

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[blindmagdalena]

Although he's not truly a Nazi the way Stormfront was, we do see many times throughout the show that Homelander is a bit of racist, especially towards Hispanics. I mean, he doesn't like it when he hears Ryan speaking Spanish, and all his interactions with Supersonic were so, uh, uncomfy, to say the least.

HOWEVER, Homelander is willing to overlook anything when he gets emotionally involved with someone. Like how he's always rambling on about supes being the superior race while at the same time lowkey worshipping Madelyn.

How do you think he will react to dating a Latina? I can see him being a major asshole at the beginning, complaining about her putting on Latin music while in the penthouse, and cooking "weird food". But slowly and almost unwillingly he gets dragged into the culture.

Like, her brothers and cousins adopt him and suddenly he's the guy who goes to parrillada every Sunday to hang out with his amigos, playing domino and watching freaking soccer. They nickname him "El Casas" and teach him how to speak Spanish but the type that's only spoken deep in the guetto and has grandmothers clutching their pearls.

He starts watching Soap Operas with his girlfriend ironically but then gets weirdly into them to the point that he's crying his eyes out every other episode. He also starts calling her mami/mamita and his mommy kink gets like ten times worse. Which is fine by her because she's been calling him papi rey (king daddy) in her mind since the moment she laid eyes on him.

Once they finally go public, Homelander is all but embraced by the Latino community and it makes his ratings go through the roof because America's Dad speaking perfect Spanish and dancing Salsa in his girlfriend's livestreams is the best representation they've ever gotten. His fanbase drastically changes ofc. Stormfront would be rolling on her grave, I just know it.

Forgive me if this is weird, I'm just a sad latina who's dying for representation in Homelander x reader stories.

GIRL YOU GOT ME INVESTED. i was pulling out the popcorn by the end of this!! tell me you’re gonna write this! it’s not weird at all, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to see yourself represented. i’ve had this conversation a couple of times, and i can guarantee you’re not alone in wanting this: there’s an audience waiting!

i always tag @irenadel in these (which I hope she isn’t tired of lol) because her fic Pygmalion is the only one that i know of so far that leans into this, so you should definitely check it out if you haven’t already. i happen to have insider info that she’s working on the next chapter 👀

really and truly though, it sounds to me like you have the makings of a killer fic lined up in your mind. you clearly have a solid understanding of Homelander’s psychology, too. i really think you could do something awesome with this! it’s important that people tell these stories, and i’m not always the right person to do that.

i would 100% read the heck out of this. 🖤

[lisinfleur]

Bonita

Author’s Notes | Hey, dear anon! Thank you for the challenge! This is the first time I risked to write for a Hispanic Reader and I really hope it is well written! I would really like to thank my sweet friend @honestsycrets for the help with the details from her beautiful lands! May the gods bless me one day with the sweet chance to know and hug you in person, Bonita... Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Hispanic! Reader, Modern AU, requested by anon for 5CW5 Words | 1699 ⁑ Warnings: None

"What a damn lucky bastard you are!"

Hvitserk knew exactly what Ommar and Knut were talking about with those elbows hitting his ribs.

"She's fucking great, bro. Legit curves from Puerto Rico's fire, man!"

Hvitserk took a sip from his drink; the taste remembering him from the first time he saw her and how he was just as idiot as those two assholes beside him now.

He could remember he sighed at the sight of her curves, thinking she was the sexiest woman he ever saw in his life. Her skin was caressed by the sun and her traces seemed to be hand painted by an artist with his brush sliding in a single line to draw the suavity of those curves and circles and forms of her body. The beautiful lips smiled at his face, colored like the berries of autumn, adorning the face framed by the beautiful dark curls of her hair, cascading through her shoulders, down to her waist. She was the day and the night in a perfect marriage as if the sun had kissed her skin from the morning until the moment the moon decided to embrace her with the cloak of the dark sky, locking stars into the two dark lagoons she had in her eyes. A piece of art he couldn't avoid admiring, stunned by such unique beauty he never saw before in the lands he came from.

He giggled, remembering how innocent and stupid he was. She was so much more... But at that moment, he lost completely the attention to the menu card in his hand, the reason why she had approached him in the first place: He had the biggest number of wrinkles in his forehead she ever saw someone show while reading that thing, so, she thought she could help the foreigner with the obvious confusion about her language.

"May I?" she pointed the card and Hvitserk kinda woke up from his trance, remembering he wanted a drink, looking at the menu once again.

"Ah... Yes... Please... I..." he giggled, remembering how the words simply escaped him completely, despite the fact that there were a bunch of stupid ways to hit on her dancing in his mind.

At least, he had the good sense to avoid all of them. But in the end, he ended up looking even more like a silly tourist, babbling in front of her.

However, she was used to dealing with silly people like him and her smile opened once again, like the sunrise in the sky.

"Here, this one is made of..." she started explaining every single item of the menu for him, translating the words with that beautiful accent in her voice, so melodic.

Hvitserk remembered how he wanted that card to have a thousand items so, he could hear her voice forever.

But the list wasn't that long, and when she finished, he smiled back at her gentleness.

"What would you recommend for me?" he asked, trying to have more of her attention.

And she kindly pointed the number three of his card, smiling.

"Try the Don Q Limon with Cranberry Juice," she said, causing his lips to curve in a smile. "It's a local brand of rum. You may like the experience," she suggested, gentle.

Hvitserk took a new sip from his cup, remembering that moment. The drink became his favorite, just because it tasted like a good memory. One of the best of his life, he had to admit.

At that night, he paid not one, but two cups of that drink, offering a drink to the beautiful girl who was so kind to the foreign stranger. She accepted his drink and his company and the two of them had a long conversation, even laughing together, sharing not one, but various drinks before the night was too high and she said she had to go. And only then, at the time of her departure, the two of them noticed they had forgotten the simplest part of that interaction:

"Sorry..." Hvitserk said when messing with his phone to ask for her number. "But... What is your name?"

The two of them laughed together of that for weeks... And this was the reason why she still called him "Frowny" sometimes, such as he gained the habit to call her with one of the firsts words he discovered from her language... Bonita.

That night, Hvitserk remembers they exchanged messages until the dawn and through the morning on. Laughing emojis had replaced the laughs of the night and he said several times he wanted to see her again. They meet each other dozens of times and she showed him lots of places in her town, always playing about how he looked like a tourist even when he was trying the most to mix with the locals and not to seem so foreign.

He discovered the flavor of coconut water, some steps of her dance and notes of her music; she showed him how to speak some of her words and jokes from her people; stories, traditions, parties, kisses... With Y/N, Hvitserk discovered the magic of that place was too much more than just the beautiful women and beaches.

He discovered she worked on a family shop, selling handmade souvenirs and some dishes from the local cuisine - his absolute favorite kind of store: beautiful things and delicious food. Hvitserk spent hours there with her, learning from the flavors to the histories behind the Vejigante Masks her mother and her produced to sell at the store. He even brought one - red, white and black! - to his mother. He could remember how fascinated she was by the handmade piece that was now exposed in a wall of her corridor, proudly hanging at the wall.

To go back home after the first time was painful. And for a time, Hvitserk remembers he thought his Bonita would forget him. Silly boy... The one who was, at the first moment, planning to have a delicious and lustful night with a woman he would completely leave to his memory in the following morning; was now completely fallen for her sweet words, spoken to his ears at the airport, when they exchanged one last kiss before his departure.

"Vuelve pronto, mi Frowny," she said, nuzzling her nose to his neck, near his ear shell. "I'll miss you."

He came back.

Not one time, but two, three... Whenever he had the chance, he came back to be received by the true fire from Puerto Rico he discovered had nothing to do with the sex appeal of those beautiful women and men from that place.

The true fire was into her heart, enlightening her dark eyes whenever they landed on his image coming from the airport into her arms once again.

Hvitserk could remember lots of things from her. The first time he brought his mother to meet her - and how sweet her family was, receiving them as if they were a part of the house. The way she used to help him with the terrible heat of those lands - and how good it was to share the shower with her, shivering satisfaction under the cold water, against her skin; or simply lay down on her bed, the bare feet touching each other, pretending to fight for the air of the floor fan. He could remember the nights at her balcony, her body sitting in the middle of his legs, her back against his chest and her sweet lips kissing his neck while his eyes were looking at the beautiful sky over them both, full of stars.

However, what he couldn't remember was when his heart changed that way. When she became the blood of his veins or his skin became so addicted to her presence that his homelands weren't attractive anymore. His own apartment was cold, the places were sad, the sky was grey.

Hvitserk wasn't spending his vacations at Puerto Rico with her. He felt like his soul was living with her, in those heated lands, while his body was spending work time in the cold places where he came from.

What was a chance for a one-night stand girl became the reason why he became passionate for planes and never again he spent a single vacation in his home unless he could bring her to stay with him and warm his nights.

"Try not to get burnt on those flames, buddy!" Ommar's voice kinda woke Hvitserk's mind from the memories.

This time, the friends from his land wanted to come with him since he was the one who knew about the customs and language from the place they wanted to know. Hvitserk rolled his eyes. If she was flames, then he was a moth already taken, burnt to ashes long ago. And he liked this way.

He liked the way her spirit was free like the fire he was now so habituated to understand. The fire his foolish friends were too blind to really contemplate.

She was this fire. Her spirit, her curves, her eyes, her smiles, her words...

Her love.

Hvitserk left the empty cup over the table and smiled at his friends.

"I would be happy to burn, my friend," he said, pulling the small velvet box from his pocket, causing Ommar's eyes to become large and Knut to gasp with his drink before Hvitserk could smile.

It was funny to see how foolish he was one day. Good to notice he had grown into someone so better than before.

And it was all because of her.

"But this fire is not for everyone, Ommar. It has to accept you. To want you. And I'll be blessed if those flames decide I'm dignified enough to become one with them".

Holding his velvet box in his hand, he walked towards the dance floor. His precious Y/N so beautifully lost in the music...

"Hey... Mi Bonita!" he called, smiling.

From the iced lands of the Vikings, he came to know her flames. And maybe, if he was really as lucky as Ommar and Knut and many others before then said, then he would be able to play with her a song of ice and fire...

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[ishomieokay]

Tbh, to me the funniest part of creating Homelander x Hispanic Reader/OC content is that in the back of my mind I'm always picturing Homelander and Maeve going to a taco place with their latina baddies and bumping into each other like

[ishomieokay]

Idolatry (Chapter 3)

18+ 5.3k homelander x hispanic oc, age difference, manipulation, breaking and entering, stalking, obsessive behaviour. part 3/?. AO3 link. part 1, 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.

The day after, it was as if nothing had happened. They were cordial but not overly friendly, maintaining a professional distance while shooting, careful in case they were overheard. From time to time, Aura María caught a glimpse of Homelander staring in her direction, but she couldn’t be sure if it was real or just a trick of her mind. She returned home late with a pounding headache, the lack of sleep and the long hours on set taking their toll.

It was Friday night, and she had no plans, which wasn’t unusual. Her party girl days were firmly behind her. Aura María felt a mixture of thankfulness and regret that things had never spiraled out of control even back then. Now, her routine was only occasionally interrupted by meetings with friends at overpriced coffee shops or the occasional night gala. Despite being relatively young, she sometimes felt inexplicably old.

She retrieved a pair of pajamas from her closet, laying them neatly on the bed next to her folded underwear, then made her way to the bathroom. She contemplated sending a text to Homelander as she sat in the tub, softly lip-syncing to a Ricardo Montaner song. Surely, permission had been granted when he provided her with his number. While his infatuation lingered, she reasoned, she could have some fun, even if that was all he wanted from her. She had no other prospects, after all.

Three years after arriving in the United States to work for Vought, Aura María still lacked a social life outside of her workplace. This was partly due to her commitment to warding off her many admirers. Cultural differences made it much more challenging to establish friendships, something she’d never excelled at even back home. She had been alone for a while and wasn’t particularly interested in changing that, especially when it came to romantic relationships.

Aura María had begun to question her sexual orientation when her 21st birthday came and went without a lover or even a fleeting interest in physical intimacy. It had occurred to her that she might be a lesbian or asexual. Homelander had proved her wrong in that regard. She did have needs, and now that they'd been satisfied, however briefly, she was aware of them in a way she'd never been before.

She took hold of her breast, retracing the path Homelander had drawn with his tongue the night before. It felt like a dream now. She decided that the barely concealed erotism of the lyrics was probably just getting to her and turned the music off. When she went back to her room, everything seemed the same at first glance. It was unusually cold, though. She turned around and realized that the window was open, but she couldn't remember whether she had closed it or not. The clothes she had neatly folded before getting into the tub were now in disarray.

She had trouble falling asleep and felt uneasy throughout the rest of the night. The cold seemed to seep into her bones. She tossed and turned, her mind replaying the events of the previous night and the strange occurrences in her room. The sense of someone having been there, the disordered clothes, and the open window gnawed at her. As she finally drifted into a restless sleep, Aura María couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

She dreamed of Homelander's intense gaze, the sensation of his touch lingering on her skin. The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, filled with half-formed images and unsettling whispers that left her feeling more exhausted when she finally awoke.

Aura María texted Homelander in the end. They had agreed to meet at one o'clock for lunch, but it was well past two when he finally arrived. He descended from the sky like a rocket, landing thunderously on the pavement. The impact shook the ground, sending a ripple of excitement through the crowd that quickly gathered around him. He handled the attention as gracefully as always, giving fist bumps, patting shoulders, and signing autographs. Over twenty minutes passed before he made his way to the restaurant door. The crowd didn't follow, thanks to the timely security’s timely intervention.

When he reached her table, he was smiling broadly and unapologetic. Although she couldn’t bring herself to be mad, Aura María put on a show of irritation anyway.

"So, you're the fashionably late type, huh?" she said, crossing her arms.

"Ah, not all the time. Only when the world needs saving," Homelander replied nonchalantly, taking a seat beside her.

"How convenient for you."

Aura María had more than a few sassy remarks at the tip of her tongue, but something at the corner of her eye caught her attention. The crowd had not dispersed yet. They were standing on the other side of the window facing their table, and there were news reporters and paparazzi among them. Word always traveled fast when it concerned Homelander.

Aura María felt her lips turn downward. This would probably reach Stan Edgar and the other executives at Vought. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. She had always valued her privacy and hadn't had much of an issue protecting it even after becoming a renowned filmmaker. No matter how good her work was, almost no one seemed to be interested in the personal life of a documentalist.

"Just so you know, if you were planning to keep this, whatever it is, a secret—that's not gonna work out. Not anymore."

"Who said I wanted to keep it a secret?" Homelander replied, smiling slyly at her. He took her hand then, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Aura María felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth but was quick to suppress it.

"Explain it to me, won't you? Why in the world wouldn't I want everyone to know I'm dating such a dang brilliant, talented, and beautiful woman?"

'Dating,' Aura María thought, a bit bewildered. 'Am I dating Homelander?'

Assuming one was generous enough to consider meeting for drinks after work a date, this hardly counted as their third time going out. However, Aura María guessed that was the right word to describe their situation—dating. Even in the privacy of her thoughts, it sounded wrong. Never in her wildest dreams would she have dared call it anything other than a hookup or situationship at best.

"I mean, you do have a mirror at home, right? This is the kind of thing most guys would be shouting from the rooftops."

"Mmm, you're coming off strong today, aren't you?" Aura María replied, pleased but unwilling to let him have it so easy. "Sorry to say, but I think bootlicking looks awful on a man, especially if he's just doing it to get laid."

Homelander blinked at her, then laughed, seeming oddly delighted by her rudeness. He had one thing in common with all the men who've tried to woo her in the past. The banter was half the fun for him.

"O-okay, the lady's not into sweet-talking, then," Homelander leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "That's fine. I think I could change your mind about the bootlicking part, though. Maybe, mmn, broaden your horizons?"

Aura María blinked, then arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're not serious."

Homelander looked her up and down, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "If I was, would that freak you out?"

Aura was already aware of the fact that Homelander was not exactly the pedantic goody-two-shoes he pretended to be for the sake of his image. Apparently, he was into having sex while having verses of the Book of Revelation read to him. As if that weren't blasphemous enough, Aura María also had the feeling that she'd awoken in him a virginity kink. Still, this thinly veiled insinuation came as a surprise. Not for the first time, she felt oddly flattered that he would share this part of himself with her—one that he usually kept hidden under wraps.

Smiling and unwilling to back down, Aura María met him with the same energy. "I'd say I'm open to new experiences."

Homelander whistled. Then he lifted the tablecloth and made a show of leaning down to take a look at her shoes.

"Oh, shucks," he said in a disappointed, cartoonish voice. "Nah, it wouldn't work. You're wearing high heels."

"What a pity," Aura María deadpanned.

"I wear boots all the time, though. Leather," Homelander replied, dragging the 'L' obnoxiously and then winking at her. "I'd let you borrow 'em, just this once."

"I feel tricked. You're not the serious man I was led to believe."

"Chica, I walk around all day long wearing a skin-tight spandex suit and a cape. I am the very definition of an unserious man."

"Well, I can't argue with that," Aura María said, then gestured at the window with her head. The crowd was still there, although there were fewer of them now. "I think you should be more careful with what you say when out in public, though. You know what would happen if any of those news reporters found out that the Homelander is into dominatrixes? The internet would explode."

"I think you're exaggerating."

"Maybe. Parents wouldn't buy their kids those cute Homelander dolls Vought just released, though. That's for sure."

Homelander tilted his head to the side, then said very slowly, "action figures."

"What?"

"They're not dolls," Homelander corrected her with a serious face. His every word was emphasized by the tapping of his index finger against the table. "They're action figures."

After a beat, Aura María burst out laughing.

"Coño, este pana es un caso," she said, covering her face with one hand.

Homelander blinked at her, then parroted back her words but in an awful American accent, mispronouncing every syllable and clearly unaware of what he was saying. Rather than offend her, the sound of the leader of the Seven mercilessly butchering her mother language only made her laugh harder.

Once they left the restaurant, Homelander gently scooped Aura María into his arms. He sensed her hesitation, her body tensing slightly as they rose. To keep her at ease, he flew slowly and close to the ground, weaving through the cityscape with the grace of a shadow. Aura María clung to him, her arms around his shoulders, holding tight enough to dislocate a lesser man's neck. Homelander, with his superhuman strength, barely seemed to notice.

The cacophony of the city was soon replaced by the serene whisper of leaves as they reached a secluded clearing in Central Park. The moonlight cast a silver sheen over the grass, the stars twinkling faintly above. The distant hum of traffic was a mere murmur here, overshadowed by the rustling trees and the occasional chirp of crickets. They decided to take a stroll, savoring the rare peace away from prying eyes and the relentless noise of the city.

"It's unfair, to be honest," Homelander began, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Sorry?” Aura María replied.

"You know almost everything there is to know about me. I mean, it'd be strange if you didn't, I guess, after directing a 40-minute-long documentary on me. I don't know the first thing about you, though. It's unfair, it's all I'm saying."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Where are you from? Originally, I mean."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aura María's tone sharpened, her hackles rising defensively. Homelander, rather than offended, seemed amused by her reaction.

"Don't get me wrong, missy, you speak English better than many people who were actually born here. The accent gives it away, though. So, Venezuela, am I right? What city, though? What's it like there?"

"Oh." Aura María relaxed, her tension dissipating.

She had thought he was questioning her heritage, a common and hurtful experience. "I'm from Caracas, born and raised. It's loud and dirty and full of weirdos, like any capital. It's in the middle of a valley, though, so there's also nature and trees, lots of macaws. I grew up in the East, which most would say is the fancy part of town. Like, uh, American suburbs, I guess."

"I don't find that surprising at all."

"Please, like you don't have Old Money written all over your face."

"I should hope so. You've no idea how much Vought spend just to make it this pretty," Homelander replied, smiling teasingly down at her. His smile faltered slightly, as if he just realized he'd said something he shouldn't have. Aura María laughed it off, unsure what he meant. Had Homelander just confessed to her he'd had plastic surgery?

"My dad's a native, from a small town called Alto Orinoco. That's in the Amazonas. We look nothing alike. His maternal grandparents were from a tribe called Wayú, and apparently their Spanish was very bad," Aura María said. Although she most definitely took after her mother, someone educated in the matter could glimpse a few ethnic features in her. She had eyes dark as night, larger than average and almond-shaped, a round face with plump lips and thick hair of an intense black shade.

"My mom's from a town not far from the capital called Valencia. Her parents were Italian immigrants and racist as fuck. They disowned her when they found out she wanted to marry a Wayú. When I was little, they often came by the house, though. Once I was old enough to understand that they wanted me around because I only looked 'a little Indian,' I told them not to come back," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Uh," Homelander said, ever so eloquent. He was staring at her strangely. "That's a... very colorful background."

"You think? Not very different from my friends' back home, though. We are all a weird mixture of something over there."

“So, interracial marriage is normal in your country?”

“I guess? I mean, we don’t really have a concept of it. To us, it’s just marriage. Obviously, there are racists, like, well…”

“Like your grandparents?”

“Yeah, like them. People from different races marrying each other is usually not a big deal for us, though. Not nowadays. I was surprised to see how much of a taboo it still is here, to be honest. You would think citizens of the so-called first world would be more open-minded.”

Homelander actually sniggered. “There’s people in this country who think the Earth is flat, María. Give us a break.”

“I guess you would know a lot about that,” Aura María replied, a glint in her eyes. “I’m pretty sure flat-earthers make up most of your fanbase.”

Homelander stared at her gravely. “There are flat-earthers among my fans. They are not the majority of them.”

“Oh. So, you would say it’s an insignificant amount, then?”

“Definitely.”

“So, if tomorrow you were at a rally and openly said that the Earth is in fact round, everything would be fine? Is that what you’re saying?”

“…no,” Homelander said, reluctantly. “It would affect my ratings. Like, a lot. Stan would have my head on a plate.”

“I thought so.”

“If I tell you something, you promise not to laugh?”

“What?”

“For the longest time, I thought Venezuela was a country in Europe.”

Aura María halted to a stop. “Please, tell me you’re joking.”

Homelander shook his head, pursing his lower lip.

“I mean, I can’t say I’ve met a lot of Venezuelans. The ones I have only dressed in designer clothes and threw 100$ bills around like they were pennies. That did not scream Third World country to me.”

Aura María frowned. “When was this?”

“Uh, 2008, I think? I was hosting a beauty pageant with Melanie Brown. You know, one of the Spice Girls? Your candidate won; I forgot her name.”

“Ah, Dayana Mendoza. Yeah, people who work at those pageants have lots of money. I should have known you only ever heard of my homeland because of Miss Universe.”

“Well, look at the bright side, chica. I may think Venezuela is a Third World communist hellhole, but at least I know that you’ve got A-tier women and not everyone’s brown. Better than a flat-earther by a long shot.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Aura María’s voice carried a mix of frustration and amusement. Homelander chuckled, a low, amused sound that rumbled in his chest. “Anyway, I guess that means we’re even,” he said, his tone casual but his expression unreadable.

“Mmn, I don’t think we are,” Aura María replied, her brows knitting together as she looked away, gathering her thoughts.

“What’s that?” Homelander asked.

“You said you wanted to know more about me because I already knew everything about you. That’s not true, though. I think most of what we filmed for that documentary was bullshit.”

Homelander’s expression shifted abruptly. The playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by a serious, almost steely gaze. His jaw tightened, and Aura María could feel the tension radiating from him. She realized, belatedly, that this might be one in the long list of questions she wasn’t supposed to ask.

“What makes you say that?” Homelander asked, his voice low and measured.

Aura María hesitated, feeling the weight of his stare. She forced herself to keep going, her heart pounding. “I could see it that day when we were filming the childhood segment. You know, back at Maryland?”

“Okay?” he responded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read her.

Aura María smiled awkwardly, her cheeks flushing. She could feel the heat rising to her face. “You’re gonna think it’s weird that I noticed. But, uh, during a recess, I heard you asking Madelyn where the restroom was. You also got lost a couple of times when we were filming the house tour.”

“Oh,” Homelander said, his face going blank for a moment. He looked away, his gaze focusing on the horizon as if searching for an escape from the conversation.

The trees rustled softly in the breeze. The sky was painted with hues of blue and black as the moon rose higher, casting long shadows across the grass. Aura María felt a knot in her stomach, regretting her boldness. She had hoped to pierce through his facade, to understand the man behind the mask, but now she feared she had pushed too far. The vulnerability she had glimpsed in him earlier seemed to retreat, replaced by a cold, impenetrable wall.

Homelander’s face softened slightly, though, as he met her eyes again. There was a flicker of something—maybe understanding, maybe resignation. “Aren’t you a clever one?” he said quietly. “Not many people notice those things.”

Aura María relaxed a little, relieved that he hadn’t shut her out completely. She offered a small, tentative smile. “I guess it’s my job to notice things.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” He nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re right, of course. A lot of what’s out there about me is…curated. For the public.”

Aura María nodded slowly, feeling a pang of empathy despite her wariness. “I understand. Image is everything, especially for someone like you.”

“It’s more than that,” Homelander replied, his voice unreadable. “It’s about control. About making sure people see what Vought wants them to see.”

“And what about what you want?” Aura María asked, genuinely curious.

Homelander looked at her, his eyes searching her face as if weighing how much to reveal. “What I want doesn’t matter as much as what they need me to be.”

They continued walking in silence for a few moments, the sounds of the park around them feeling comforting despite the tension. Aura María could see revelation before her eyes, a glimpse of truth in a world of illusions. Although all of her instincts were telling her to change the subject, she would herself digging for more. “You know,” she said softly, “I was thinking about what happened that day. With the blanket.”

Homelander's face tightened, a shadow passing over his usually composed features. "Right. You were there."

"When you got Randy fired? Yeah, I was there." Aura María's tone was gentle, trying to tread carefully on what was clearly a sensitive subject.

Homelander didn’t look sheepish at all. He raised one eyebrow, his gaze unwavering and intense, as if waiting for a reaction.

"Relax," Aura María was quick to say, sensing his defensive stance. "He was a shitty producer. I was glad to see him gone."

"Ah, see? I was looking out for you, even then," Homelander said with a smile, pointing at the tip of her nose with his index finger in a playful gesture.

"Sure you were," Aura María replied, flashing him a teasing smile. She knew what he was doing—trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. She decided to press on, determined to get to the truth. "What was it?"

"Uh?" Homelander feigned ignorance, though his eyes betrayed a hint of unease.

"What got you so upset that day? I mean, if it was just about Randy getting his crusty ass hands on your blanky, I understand. I don't like it when people touch my stuff either. But I got the feeling that there was something else going on."

Homelander stayed quiet, his jaw clenched.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Aura María said softly, trying to give him an out.

"It was nothing, really. It just... brought back bad memories," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm gonna ask you a question. Can you promise to answer it truthfully?" Aura María's voice was steady, but her heart pounded in her chest.

"It depends on the question," Homelander replied, his tone guarded.

"Did you really grow up in that house?"

"No," he said simply, the word hanging heavily in the air.

Aura María remembered Homelander talking about his mother's perfect cake, eyes full of love and reverence, only for him to go completely blank-faced the minute the cameras stopped rolling. A void formed in the pit of her stomach, though she wasn't sure why. "Was anything of what we filmed that day real? Anything at all?"

Homelander just shook his head, his lips pulling downward. He looked like a child being scolded, vulnerable and exposed.

"And the blanket?" she asked gently.

Homelander hesitated, then. Aura María put her hand over his, waiting patiently. He stared at their joined hands for a strangely long time.

"Only real thing on that set," he said finally. "It pissed me off that they would put it there without even asking."

Aura María understood then. It had angered him to see something real among all the fakery. She tilted her head to the side, considering him. There were only a few reasons she could think of to completely fabricate the background of a world-renowned celebrity, and none of them were very nice. What was Vought trying to hide?

"You come from a bad place, don't you, John?" she asked softly, using his real name for the first time.

He raised sharp eyes to look at her, the vulnerability in his gaze taking her by surprise. She had never seen him like this—so hesitant and out of his depth. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's okay. You don't have to," she replied, her voice soothing.

Homelander stayed quiet, something about his expression making her heart ache. The tough facade he usually wore seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the superhero persona.

"Aw, I'm sorry, papi," she murmured, kissing his cheek gently and laying her head on his shoulder. "I wasn't trying to make you sad."

"It's fine," Homelander said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

The embrace was tentative at first. Aura María could feel the tension in his muscles, the residual wariness that made him hold back. But as the seconds ticked by, he seemed to relax into her, his grip tightening. She pressed her cheek against his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of his suit. She could hear the steady, powerful beat of his heart.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park and turning the sky into a canvas of deep blues and purples. Homelander and Aura María walked side by side, the cool evening air brushing gently against their skin. The city’s distant hum was a comforting background noise, reminding them that despite the surreal peace of the park, the world outside continued to churn.

"You followed me that day," Homelander said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Uh?" Aura María glanced at him.

"When I walked out, you went looking for me. No one else did. I mean, there was Madelyn, but she... she only wanted me to keep filming, yaknow? She didn't really care about me."

Aura María had heard the rumors about Madelyn Stillwell's involvement with Homelander. Although it didn't seem like the right time to ask, she couldn't help but wonder. It had always seemed odd to her that America's most-sought-after-bachelor would set his eyes on a woman known around the whole metropolitan area to be a moody two-faced narcissist. Aura María was certainly not glad to learn about her sudden passing, but in all honesty, she much preferred to deal with Ashley Barrett. Despite her often-neurotic behavior, at least there was something human about her.

"You, though? You walked up to me when I was going back to the set, and you said... you said that you were sorry if your crew did something to upset me. That I didn't have to keep going if I didn't want to."

"Oh, yeah. I remember." Aura Maria’s expression softened, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"It's not common, you know? For people in this industry to be kind. Genuinely kind, no ulterior motives."

"No, I guess it's not," she replied, her tone thoughtful.

Aura María understood what he meant at once. Entertainment was not for everybody. She'd learned that the hard way and she'd already been a full-grown adult when she started working for Vought. Homelander had made his debut when he was only eighteen years old. She couldn't even imagine what growing up in that environment would do to a teen. Aura María wondered if that was the reason he asked her out—a small act of kindness she barely even remembered.

She could still recall that day vividly. They had been filming at a grand estate in Maryland, a faux representation of Homelander's childhood home. The house was opulent, with perfectly manicured lawns and an aura of artificial nostalgia. The set was bustling with activity, lights and cameras everywhere, creating an atmosphere that was both chaotic and meticulously controlled.

He had felt overwhelmed at some point, though at the time she had not been ablet o certain why. After what had been labeled by the crew as The Blanket Incident, he’d walked out into the expansive backyard, seeking a moment of solitude. Aura María remembered the feeling of the cool grass beneath her feet as she followed after him, the way the breeze had whispered through the trees, offering a fleeting sense of peace.

Then, out of nowhere, she spotted Homelander coming back from the barn. His presence, normally so commanding, had been almost sullen that day. A look she hadn’t expected from someone so larger-than-life. She had approached him with a concerned look in his eyes, and although her words had been simple, apparently, they had stayed with him. She had offered him an out, a rare moment of empathy in an industry that often lacked it.

Aura María had wondered awhile back if it was a good idea to go out with such a high-profile celebrity, even if only for one night. With a man so different from her, both in social and economic standing. It had been so very intimidating and still was. She was happy she said yes, though.

It felt strange to let him into her bedroom. She'd had people over before, but it was not quite the same. As Homelander stepped inside, Aura María suddenly became acutely aware of every little detail she'd never given a second thought to before. The stuffed animals she brought from Caracas because she couldn't bear parting with them, the Studio Ghibli posters that lined the walls, the TikTok LED lights she bought during an online shopping frenzy and never took down.

She cringed inwardly, realizing for the first time that her room could easily belong to a middle schooler. Homelander didn’t comment on it, though. He just stared down at her, eyes intent and gleaming in the low light of the room.

"I think we are overdressed, aren't we?" he said with a half-smile, a playful glint in his eye. "Take it off, come on."

Aura María bit into her lower lip, then proceeded to remove her dress. She crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the bed. Homelander was having none of that, though. He tsked at her, shaking his head slightly.

"Ah-ah, pick it up," he said, wiggling his finger. Aura María frowned, feeling a mixture of annoyance and curiosity, but still did as she was told. "Fold it, then put it in the drawer."

"You're into very weird stuff, you know?" she muttered, her voice tinged with a mix of amusement and nervousness.

"'Course not. I just don't like making a mess."

"Sure, that's all this is," she said, rolling her eyes as she took off her underwear and folded it along with the dress, placing them neatly on the bed.

"That's better."

Homelander approached her slowly, his gaze roaming over her body, making her skin prickle with anticipation. He put both hands over her breasts and squeezed them lightly. Aura María took a deep breath, already feeling the first stirrings of pleasure run through her. His touch was firm yet gentle, sending waves of warmth through her body.

His hands traveled down, caressing her sides, then her hips, and finally stopping at her ass. He squeezed her buttocks, then pulled her closer so that they were chest to chest. Aura María put her arms around him and leaned forward to kiss him. The apartment was deadly quiet, only the soft noises of their kissing and the erratic beating of her heart could be heard. It was embarrassing, really, how worked up she'd gotten after he'd barely touched her.

It made sense in a way, though. He was, after all, her sexual awakening. Aura María found it weird and sort of embarrassing that it would finally happen in her mid-twenties. Talk about a late bloomer, she thought wryly. But there was no denying the chemistry between them, the way his mere presence seemed to ignite something deep within her.

As their kiss deepened, Homelander's hands continued their exploration, making her skin tingle with every touch. The LED lights cast a soft, colorful glow around them. Homelander pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her lips. "You’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran down Aura María's spine. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly alive. She looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of lust and something deeper, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

"Thank you," she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

They moved to the bed, Homelander guiding her gently. As they lay down, he continued to explore her body with his hands and mouth, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. Aura María's mind was spinning. She felt a connection with him that went beyond the physical, a sense of understanding and mutual need. In the quiet of her bedroom, surrounded by the remnants of her past and the promise of something new, Aura María let herself be swept away by the moment. She surrendered to the sensations, the intimacy, and the overwhelming feeling of being seen and desired.

[ishomieokay]

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.

[ishomieokay]

DANCE OF THE SEVEN VEILS || coming soon ||

──── a homelander x hispanic oc story.

✰ summary — Salomé was Stan Edgar's wife. He was thirty years older than her, boring and unaffectionate. They shared nothing in common, and only exchanged small pleasantries while in the office. She was a decoration and a sign of status to him. To her, he was financial security and an easy way to get a green-card. It was clear to anyone with common sense that quid pro quo was the basis of their marriage.

Homelander found it infuriating. Leaving such a rare flower to whiter on the hands of that old geezer should be a capital crime. So he allowed himself a sniff or two while no one was watching. Sometimes, not even her.

✰ warnings - +18, stalking, obsessive behavior, mental instability, infidelity, breaking and entering, watching someone sleep, mutual pining, dead dove, yandere!homelander.

[ishomieokay]

—texting boyfriend!homelander

HOMELANDER X HISPANIC TEXTER (2/?)

✰ summary — a series of random texts between homelander and you, his girlfriend 💕

✰ warnings — +18, suggestive themes, hints of breeding kink, latina baddie with an attitude.

✰ genre — texts, domestic fluff, flirting, smut.

✰ taglist: @poisoned-cupcakes 🤗

[ishomieokay]

[ishomieokay]

A little playlist I made for my Homelander x Hispanic!OC fanfiction Idolatry. You can read it here on tumblr (part I, II) or in ao3.

[ishomieokay]

Idolatry (Chapter 2)

18+ 7.1k homelander x hispanic oc, age difference, manipulation, dirty talk, virginity kink, spanking, cunnilingus, verbal humiliation, daddy kink. part 2/?. AO3 link. part 1

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.

Taglist: @blindmagdalena 🤗

The weather proved to be a challenge. The hollowing wind and the crashing waves, clear signs of an incoming storm, threatened to disrupt the shoot at any moment. As if the passing boats and helicopters didn’t make enough of a raucous. There was a reason why Aura María initially refused to film in location, despite the insistence of Vought executives that the New York Bay couldn’t be properly recreated in post-production. There were just too many variables. It made it difficult for both talent and crew to focus.

They had a permit for filming that expired at midnight. There had been delays and their time frame for shooting was already limited, but Aura María was convinced that they could promptly wrap up their last scene. She gave the crew a fifteen-minute recess and retreated to the back of the set in an attempt to keep her temper. A steaming cup of coffee served to warm up her hands, its bittersweet aroma mingling with the sea air. It was colder than she’d expected. Wrapping her coat tighter around herself, she let the rhythmic motions of the water wash over her. It had been a long night.

"Everything alright?" A voice said, startling her. Aura María sucked in a breath and looked up to find the Homelander hovering a few meters above her.

"Jesus, you scared me,” she said, a hand to her chest. “What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to stretch the legs,” Homelander replied, lowering himself to the ground. As he approached her, his boots made a tip-tapping sound against the damp pavement. “Been quite a day, hasn't it?"

"You can say that again." Aura María made a face, then took a large sip of her coffee. 

"Sure you should be drinking that, missy?” Homelander said, throwing her drink an askance glance. “Your heartbeat's going through the roof as is."

"Uh.” She narrowed her eyes. “You can hear that sort of thing?"

"Sure can do. I mean, your pulse is always dangerously high, but that isn't strange in my experience. Not for filmmakers, anyway."

"It sure is a lovely profession,” Aura María said, absentmindedly. 

Homelander seemed to consider her for a moment. “You could always call it a day, you know? No one would hold it against you. It's been one hell of a week."

Aura María thought about it for a second, but ultimately shook her head. "No, we should stick to our schedule. There's been enough delays as it is. I don't want Mr. Edgar to think I'm stalling."

"Mmn, yeah, well, it's Edgar,” Homelander said, a clipped tone to his voice. “There's no pleasing that old fart. If we stopped shooting because of a tropical storm, he would try to claim you've somehow acquired control over the weather."

Aura María laughed despite herself. "Yeah, he can be a bit... much," she said, and although there was more than one biting comment lingering at the tip of her tongue, she left it at that. She knew it wasn’t always safe to trash talk the boss with co-workers, especially while working for Vought.

Silence followed, and Homelander seemed to decide he’d had enough leg stretching for the night. Something occurred to him, though. “Hey,” he called out to her, hovering mid-air. Aura María looked up in time to see him wagging his finger at her in disapproval. "Lay off the coffee for a bit, kiddo. I mean it."

She felt her lips twitching. "Okay, Dad."

Homelander blinked at her, then shook his head in exasperation. Soon he was flying away, heading towards the filming set. Aura María stood on the bay for a little longer, staring into the dark ocean. Before walking back, she threw the coffee out onto the frost-covered pavement and disposed of the cup in a nearby bin. It was cold already, anyway.

The shooting went smoothly enough once the weather cleared up, and they managed to finish just a quarter before midnight. After wrapping things up, Aura María headed to Homelander's trailer. She did her best to ignore the looks some members of the crew gave her. People had been talking, ever since those photos of them leaving a party together made it to the tabloids. 

Although it wasn’t a written rule, it was generally not well seen for a director to be dating talent, especially in the middle of a major production. Hence the mutual avoidance. Aura María tried her best not to let it sting, aware as she was that it was a reason among many. From the very beginning, she expected nothing from Homelander but a casual encounter, and that had been evident in both her words and actions. To demand anything from him now would have been hypocritical. 

After their short exchange by the bay, Aura María felt like a door had been opened, though. Perhaps she had been too hasty to deem Homelander's interest in her as a fleeting fancy. Even if it was, he probably wouldn’t deny her the pleasure of a nightcap and some good conversation, especially after such a stressful workday. As she climbed the stairs of his trailer, though, Aura María heard the muffled sounds of conversation and paused.

"I don't get it. What do you want with that poor girl?" Said a female voice, and after a moment of pondering on its familiarity Aura María realised that it belonged to Queen Maeve.

"Is that jealousy I hear, Maggie? Cause let me tell you, it looks real fuckin' ugly on you." Homelander sounded irritated, not at all like the cheerful, even-tempered man he pretended to be while in her company. The fact that he didn't wear his masks around Maeve shouldn't have come as a surprise, and yet it did.

"The hell it is!"

"What's this about, then? It's not like you've ever been concerned about my love life before!"

"Get over yourself. I don't give a shit what who you fuck,” Maeve said, and there was such viciousness to her tone that Aura María felt a spike of fear run through her, although she wasn’t even in the room with her.

Uh, good terms my ass, she thought with a frown, these guys hate each other.

“I thought you said you'd learned your lesson. You know, after the last one? No more mudd people - those were your exact fucking words."

"That's your problem? Please. Like you haven't got your own little pet prancing around the tower 24/7."

Then there was a crash, followed by the sounds of struggle. Aura María was suddenly tempted to peek through the window, but she knew better than to risk being discovered. This was clearly something she was not supposed to hear.

“You think I don't realize what you're doing? One day you are exposing me and my beautiful Hispanic girlfriend on national television, and the next you turn around and try to get one for yourself? You really expect me to believe that's a coincidence?"

Aura María felt her stomach drop. Unless Homelander had hit things off with another Latina while she wasn’t looking, it appeared that they were fighting about her. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. They had only gone out once. Homelander and her were barely even a notion, and certainly not a reason to make such a scene. That is, unless Maeve somehow found out that they spent the night together afterwards. The mere thought of it filled Aura María with anxiety.  

"Get one for myself?' ” Homelander’s laughter then was sharp and full of contempt. It didn’t sound like him at all. Even if his temper had slipped once or twice during filming, Aura María had never known him to speak in such a callous manner. “Well, how fuckin' romantic, Maeve. Does Elena know you talk about her like she's some goddamn rescue dog?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then, firecracker?"

An unsettling silence followed. Aura María bit into her lip and leaned closer, trying to understand what was happening. She wondered if she should call someone, then quickly realized how futile that would be. There was no one present at the set who would be able to break off a fight between Homelander and Queen Maeve. As a matter of fact, she wasn't even sure if such a person existed. 

"I don't know what fucking body-doubling, weird fear-tactic you're trying to pull here, but it won't work,” Maeve said icily. “Not on me, pal. Not anymore."

"Just listen to yourself, Margaret. Not everything I do revolves around you. Honestly, and you call me a malignant narcissist."

"Go fuck yourself!"

The door of the trailer was pulled open, then, so quickly and with such force that it almost knocked Aura María to the ground. Maeve blinked, stopping just short of literally walking over her. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Aura María braced herself for an onslaught of insults and jealous accusations, but it didn't come. Maeve's eyes on her were soft and almost sad-looking. Aura María wondered if she was embarrassed, knowing that she may have heard their argument. For some reason, she got the feeling that there was more to it, though.

Maeve nodded at her, then walked past her without saying a word. Aura María stared at her retreating figure, a frown etched across her face. She wondered, numbly, what exactly she had just witnessed. Homelander cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

"María," he said, and he looked unusually serious. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Aura María had a vague idea of how sharp his power of perception was. She always did thorough research on all her leads, before shooting started. It was only sensical when it came to regular talent, and potentially life-saving when a supe was concerned. She knew that Homelander should have been able to sense her approaching from miles away. Had he been so caught up in his argument with Maeve that he failed to notice her?

"I- sorry, I should have texted you or something," Aura María replied, wondering what she was thinking, showing up unannounced at the Homelander's door. 

When they were on set, she was the one in charge. Whatever she says goes, Stan Edgar had warned everyone when she was first introduced to the crew as Vought's newest director of non-fiction films. Aura María was young, well-mannered, and possessed a gentle beauty that made people label her at first glance as a woman of fragile character. A terrible combination for someone looking to stand out in a field dominated by men. Mr. Edgar, as many before him, incorrectly assumed she would have an issue asserting her dominance, so he took the liberty of doing it for her. It was a while before she had the chance to prove both him and the crew wrong, but she managed.

Aura María was more than qualified for her job and she was ready to stand up to anyone to prove it, even Homelander himself. Once the cameras were turned off, their dynamic shifted, though. He was the leader of the Seven - the face of the most powerful corporation in America and maybe even in the whole world, and she was but one in a wide myriad of its employees. What right did she have to seek him out, to demand his time and attention outside of filming hours, when he already had such a busy schedule?

"I can come back later if it’s a bad time," Aura María said, but Homelander shook his head.

"It's fine, come on in," he said, opening the door wider and gesturing for her to go inside. After a moment of hesitation, Aura María did as she was told. 

Homelander went through the expected motions, offering her something to drink and a place to sit on the couch, making small talk about the day's work. He knew how to be a good host. He was also enough of a gentleman to play pretend with her, despite her poor attempts at concealing her true intentions. They both knew what Aura María was doing there, even if she wouldn't say it out of modesty and pride. She had come to him looking for sex. There was something bothering her, though. When he leaned forward to kiss her, she moved her face away.

"I thought you and Maeve were over?" She said, not quite looking him in the eye.

"Oh, is that what's bothering you?" Homelander asked, and although there was amusement in his eyes, he had the sense not to laugh. He placed a gloved hand over her thigh. "She and I are done. You don't have to worry about that."

"What was she doing here, then?" She asked, crossing her arms. Too late did she realize that her words very much sounded like an accusation, something she had no right to. Homelander was gracious enough not to call her out on it. 

“Who’s to say?” He replied, adding another ice cube to the glass of Bourbon he'd prepared for her. "She’s a strange one, that’s for sure. Maeve. Likes to make people believe that she doesn't give a damn about anything, or anyone. She's actually very passionate, though. Sometimes, too passionate I'd say. It took me some time to understand that."

Aura María frowned. "That's a cryptic answer if I've ever heard one."

"Guess it is." Homelander chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Ah, she's just pissed at me. I mean, I outed her on live TV for the whole world to see. It's not the type of thing you easily forget."

“Uh.” Aura María stared at the ice cubes floating on the surface of her drink, small and perfectly square-shaped. "So, what people say is true?” 

Homelander turned to look at her, his smile placid and easy. "What do people say?"

"That she didn't know what was going to happen in that program. Vought edited the footage in the next screenings - tried to reframe it as something else. I remember. The guys at the marketing department were running around like headless chickens. The official story wasn't terribly creative, as far as I recall. Just… two exes who remained good friends, talking about their love life."

"Right." Homelander was smiling, but the gesture looked bitter and almost sad.

Aura María considered him for a moment. "Why?" She asked, although she had never been one to gossip and he had no reason to confide in her. Suddenly, it felt terribly important for her to know.

"Mmn?"

"Why did you out her?” Aura María was careful not to let judgment slip into her voice. “Don't you know how dangerous that is, even nowadays?"

Homelander’s face twitched and he looked away. At times, there was an almost childlike petulance to him. She'd seen it before, whenever they were delayed by technical problems or he was asked to repeat a scene one too many times. Silence stretched for long enough that Aura María thought he wouldn't answer.

"Maeve was seeing her, while we were dating," he said, finally.

"Sorry?"

"Her girlfriend, Elena.” Homelander was staring through the small window that faced the bay, lips turned downwards. “They’d been together for some time when Maeve and I started dating."

Aura María frowned, taken aback. "What? Seriously?"

"Yep,” Homelander said, and his out-of-place cheerfulness did not serve to mask his resentment, but on the contrary, highlighted it. “I want to say that Elena was the Other Woman, but seeing as she was there first, I guess that would be me."

It was clearly meant to be a joke, but Aura María didn't find it funny. 

"I'm really sorry,” she said. “You guys were together for quite some time. Six years, was it? I guess you must have taken it pretty badly."

"You kidding, right? Longest relationship I've ever had, and it was all a lie,” Homelander replied, taking a large sip of his drink. She would have thought it was a rather unhealthy coping mechanism if she hadn’t known it only contained Diet Coke. “Really messed me up for some time. Anyway, I found out about it that day, before the interview, and I outed her out of spite."

"Six years..." Aura María mused out loud. It always put her off to see how easy it was for people who were in a relationship to hurt each other, often deeply and without remorse. In retrospect, it was probably because she herself had little to no experience when it came to love. "Damn, even if it was a dick move, I honestly don't see how she has any right to be mad at you, after that. If she felt so trapped in her relationship with that woman, she should have just ended it, instead of fucking both of you over.”

"It's more complicated than that. Maeve and I - it wasn't real, at the beginning. It was just for the cameras."

Homelander went quiet, then. He looked unusually stiff and she was reminded, oddly enough, of the Ken dolls she used to play with as a child. Dreamlike pretty and all too easy to break, despite the hard material they were made of. Plastic through and through. He'd probably been aiming for a brief, passing comment. Aura María's expectant gaze was on him, though, so he kept going.

"One night we were at a cocktail party, Maeve had too much to drink. She's always had a problem with that, ya know? The bottle,” Homelander said with a grimace. Aura María wondered, briefly, if that’s why he was so adamant about not drinking himself. “She invited me back to her place and I knew... I knew that it wasn't like her. She'd been acting erratic for some time. But I went anyway because I liked her. Liked her a lot, actually.” 

Aura María rested her chin over her hand, listening intently. Homelander was not looking at her anymore but at some undefined spot on the carpet. “I wasn't, well... I wasn't at a great place either, back then. And I felt like she understood me. She was my friend. I mean, I thought of her as my friend,” he said, and despite all the contempt and the screams Aura María bore witness to earlier, he still uttered the word with something akin to tenderness. 

“Everything around us was just a big fuckin' lie, but hey, at least we had each other. And I thought, would it really be so terrible to make the lie real, just for one night?” He smiled then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, the lines just started to get sort of blurry, after that. Like we lost sight of what was real and what was for the press. Looking back I realize that she probably felt coerced into it. By me. By Vought, and the fans. It's always about the fans. And I never suspected a thing because... I just saw what I wanted to see."

Aura María was at a loss for words. Although she was not a Reality Show director by any means, she was aware that most of the time there was little to no truth to the stories told in her documentaries. She worked for Vought, after all. Yet even after years in the filmmaking industry, and particularly in a field that was prone to exaggeration and downright deceit in order to increase ratings, she found she had trouble facing this. Reality and fiction mingled so intimately in a person’s mind that they’d become indistinguishable from one another, and all for the sake of high viewership.

"I... I'm sorry, that sounds terrible,” she said, voice low, as if afraid she would be heard. “You guys went through all that just to what, please the shippers? That’s so fucked up.”

"It's just the price you pay. I guess you're too young to understand that… but you will," Homelander said, raising his glass, and Aura María realized, belatedly, that it was a toast. "For staying on top."

She raised her glass accordingly, unsure how he would react if she didn't. "For staying on top," she repeated and downed her drink in one gulp.

Although he was cleanly shaven, Aura María could feel a hint of stubble as she caressed Homelander's cheek. Even in the darkness, his eyes looked very blue and unusually bright. When he leaned forward to kiss her again, she didn't back away. What's happened? She thought in a daze, as Homelander skillfully undid the buttons of her shirt. She could feel her whole body tingling in anticipation. What has this man done to me?

She had promised both him and herself that it was a one-time thing, and there was no need to further complicate their working relationship. Yet here she was, knocking at his door again, ready to surrender herself to him in the back of a movie set trailer, of all places. Aura María didn't resent the triviality of the encounter. On the contrary, she was grateful knowing that at least for tonight he would be the one to guide her as she explored this part of herself that for so long had remained a mystery.

He would enjoy her and offer nothing else in return, and she wouldn't ask for what he was not willing to freely give. She told herself that she wanted nothing from him but these stolen moments. After such a long period of abstinence, a warm body and some good Bourbon were enough to satiate her appetite.

It was not the promise of release that had drawn her to him, like a moth to a flame, though. It was him noticing her standing alone by the bay, tired and overwhelmed after a long day's work, and caring enough to strike up a conversation. It was the ever-so-subtle concern he'd shown for her health, although they were nothing to each other, and she had no need to have a man fuzzing over her the way he had. Aura María had been on her own for some time and had learned to find comfort in a solitary life. Indeed, she had no need for a man's tender care, and yet she found such heady pleasure whenever he was the one to offer it. 

Homelander pulled her bra down, letting her breasts hang free. He licked his lips, staring at them with an unusual level of attention. Aura María struggled not to preen. She knew they were nice - bigger than average, round-shaped, and with little pink nipples. Back in her middle school days, she hadn't appreciated them as much, as she'd developed earlier than all her classmates and that often made her the object of teasing remarks. Her mother hadn't helped matters, always making comments about her not covering herself properly, even while inside the house. Her body had been a source of embarrassment back then. Now Aura María was a grown woman, though, and somewhere along the line, it had turned into a reason for pride.

Homelander buried his face between her breasts, taking a deep breath. Aura María ran her fingers through his hair, swallowing hard. She'd never felt desired before, or at least not in this manner. Men were usually able to sense her disinterest, and although some of them were more persistent than others, they always reacted accordingly in the end. Their attention was as brief as it was unwanted. This was different. Exponentially so.

Homelander caught one of her nipples between his lips and circled it with his tongue. Aura Maria's breath caught, and she could tell without checking that her underwear was growing wet. Homelander made a low sound of contentment, as if he were savoring the most delectable dessert, and started sucking on her nipple. It was a most curious sight. He looked like an infant being fed by his mother. Aura María thought that mental image should probably disturb her, but it didn't. Perhaps there was nothing he could say or do that would manage to truly upset her.

No more mudd people - those were your exact fuckin' words.

Aura María didn't know what that meant. She could only speculate on what that conversation had truly been about. Homelander's very public involvement with Stormfront did raise some uncomfortable questions. Although he'd never been openly racist as far as she was aware, it was a possibility. Aura María didn't allow herself to ponder these matters, though. If Homelander thought less of her because of her cultural background, the language she spoke, or even her human condition, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Not after the time they shared in his penthouse, and certainly not after tonight.

"Take off your clothes," Homelander said, letting go of her breast. His voice was husky, and there was an edge of command to it she'd heard before but never directed at her. Usually, she would never stand for it. They were not at set, though, and Aura Maria found herself obeying without further prompting.

She could feel Homelander's eyes on her as she slid her shirt down the rest of the way. Soon she was left lying on the couch of his trailer with nothing but her panties on, her nipples painfully hard because of the air conditioner. The feeling of exposure she experienced then was overwhelming and completely new to her. It had been different last time. She got to keep most of her clothes on, then, and although they were adventurous enough to try a couple of different positions, none of them forced them to face each other. 

She realized that she was trembling and took a deep breath to steady herself. Homelander removed his glove and pressed his fingers to her, just feeling the damp skin through her underwear. Aura María felt herself pulsing against him. 

"You know, you were already wet when you arrived," he said, smiling smugly. "I could smell it. Were you thinking of me, on your way here? Did you picture what we would do?"

"I… yeah, I did," Aura María said, face red, unable to lie as she felt his index finger rub against the folds of her pussy. "I think of you often."

"Ohhh, you bad girl," Homelander chided, and yet he looked awfully pleased with her, eyes hooded and bright. "Been touching yourself, uh? Remembering it? Thinking of what else we could do together?"

"Yes, yes. Everyday." Aura María pushed her hips upwards, head tilting back as pleasure ran through her. Her voice came out so low and husky she almost didn't recognize it as her own. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. It freaks me out .”

Homelander shushed her, caressing her cheek with a gloved hand. He circled her clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing two fingers against her entrance. "Aren't you a dream?" He said, and although his voice was soft and almost sweet, she knew that he was mocking her. "Had a man ever done this for you, before me? Tell me."

Aura María wanted to snap at him but refrained. Despite her inexperience she understood, to an extent, the way a man's mind worked. She knew that the idea of being her first aroused him. Were it anyone else, she would have resented him for it. One of the reasons why she'd been unwilling to engage in sex so far was that she didn't want some man sexualizing the act of taking her virginity. The mere notion of it had filled her with disgust. 

He was not some spoiled rich boy back in her childhood neighborhood in the East of Caracas, though, thinking he could win her over by flashing his daddy's credit card her way. Neither was he one of the lowlifes who kept hollering at her when she first moved to Washington Heights, always teasing her because of her accent and calling her veneca. He was the Homelander, America's Greatest Hero. He was handsome, charismatic, and powerful beyond belief, and somehow she'd known that surrendering to him in any way wouldn't be a reason for shame but rather a balm on her ego. All that waiting was worth it in the end because she lost it to a real man. 

"No," she said, and the confession aroused her, perhaps as much as it did him. "There's been no one but you."

The words brought her neither embarrassment nor anger. She liked the idea of belonging to him in such a deep, intimate way, even if in the end it was just sex. Homelander made a low, pleased sound at the back of his throat.

"Fuck, that's hot," he said, licking his lips. Pupils blown wide, his eyes looked dangerous and almost black. "A real-life Virgin María. Weren't so virtuous anymore, though, were you? After I was done with you?"

Aura María's pussy twitched at the memory of bending over in his penthouse, reading verses from the holy book while he took her from behind, a hand wrapped around her throat. She certainly hadn’t felt very virtuous, then. Homelander reached down and undid the buckle of his belt. When he pulled out his cock, Aura María blinked. Although she truly had no frame of reference, she did wonder how they managed to make it fit inside her, the last time. 

"Righty-right, up we go, missy," he said, and she felt a spike of annoyance at him for using his corny dad voice now, of all times. 

She wouldn't complain though, because deep down she knew that it was part of the appeal - that fatherly disposition he would sometimes show her. Then there were warm hands on her, turning her around and lifting her hips, leaving her spread out and vulnerable beneath him. Homelander took the hem of her panties and pulled them down, removing the last means she had to protect her modesty. Instead of attempting to cover herself, Aura María laid her head over her forearms, setting her thighs further apart.

"Atta girl, you just leave everything to me." Homelander's voice was rough as he squeezed her buttocks, spreading them apart to take a better look. "I'll take real good care of you."

Feeling nothing but his breathing over her damp skin, Aura María moaned. He leaned forward and pressed the tip of his tongue to her clit, then slowly licked his way up. Aura María's whole body shook violently. Homelander caressed her sides as if trying to comfort her or perhaps warm her up.

"It really gets me going, baby," he said, slapping one of her buttocks, just hard enough for it to sting. Aura María let out a helpless little sound. "To know that you saved it for such a long time, and just for me."

"Yes, papi, just for you," Aura María replied. "You gonna give it to me? I want you so bad."

Then Homelander was dragging his tongue, slow and firm, over her pussy, and the sudden heat of his mouth left her breathless. He sucked her clit, gently lapping at it, and she moaned for him, loud and unrepentant, just to let him know that she liked it. His hands around her waist felt steady and secure. Everything he did, his every word and gesture, reflected a confidence Aura María both envied and admired. Even the slightest flick of his tongue made her aware of how much her experience paled before his. For how many women had he done this in the past? How many more would come after her?

"You sweet thing. Never even touched a cock before mine, did ya?" Homelander said, and suddenly, Aura María could feel him against her, thick and warm, rubbing between the folds of her pussy. She let out a moan, and then quickly bit into her fist, mortified by how lewd and desperate it sounded. Homelander slapped her ass again. 

“Answer me, baby,” he said, voice smooth and unnervingly calm. Aura María made what appeared to be a sound of denial. As he rubbed and teased her dripping sex, she felt almost unbearably warm. Last time they used a condom. This felt so different.

“No,” she said in a rough voice, “had never even seen one before. Not in real life.” 

It was a slip of the tongue, but just enough to draw his attention. “Uhhh, what’s that mean, in real life? You watch porn?” Homelander laughed, and she found it somewhat disconcerting to hear the Seven’s most wholesome hero let out such a devious sound. It was only then that Aura María realized her mistake. She bit into her lower lip, keeping quiet. Homelander spanked her harder this time, leaving her skin throbbing and with a very distinctive rosy print.

“Answer me,” he said, an edge to his voice. Aura María swallowed hard. 

“Yes.” She pushed her hips against him, hoping it would be enticing enough to get him to finally penetrate her. Homelander took hold of her hips, though, holding her in place. 

“You touch yourself when you do?” He asked, and she could clearly picture the grin on his face, the hunger in his eyes. Aura María’s arousal grew so intense then, she actually felt dizzy. She licked her lips, just barely stopping herself from drooling all over his couch. 

“Yes, papi.”

“Oh, boy, and here I thought you were such a proper young lady.” Homelander lowered himself then, and she could feel the spandex of the suit pressing against her back. He felt strong and safe on top of her as if that had always been his rightful place. He brushed the thick mane of her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck tenderly. 

“You don’t know half of it,” Aura María replied, and it felt good to gain back a bit of control - to try and tease him as much as he did her. He didn’t seem displeased. Finally, she could feel the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. 

“You want that, uh?” Homelander’s voice was low and thick. He twisted her hair around his hand then, not quite pulling at it. Just to give her a reminder that this time, in this room, there were no cameras and no film crew, and no Stan Edgar to stand behind her every decision. Homelander was the only one in charge.

“Yes, papi. I want it so, so bad,” she mewled, arching her back and thrusting her ass towards him, the way she’d seen girls do in porn so many times. Then he was making his way inside her, so large and already pulsating with need, just thick enough to be uncomfortable. 

“There you have it,” he said, bottoming out in a swift, merciless thrust. She yelped, caught in that thin line between pleasure and pain. Homelander paused, rubbing her back. “How’s that? Feels good?”

“Yeah,” Aura María replied, panting. She could feel herself clamping around him, already asking for more in spite of her own discomfort. “You feel so fucking good.”

"I should have known, the first time,” Homelander whispered at the shell of her ear. He licked it slowly, then sank sharp canines into her earlobe. She gasped. “You were so fuckin' tight. Should have known that I was fucking virgin pussy."

Aura María’s body went awfully rigid. Her eyes felt wet and her throat very dry. “Fuck you,” she muttered under her breath, very aware that he would be able to hear it. The anger burning in her heart was sudden and intense, threatening to burn both Homelander and her to a crisp. She was still dripping for him, hot and bothered and wanting more. Aura María hated it. 

Homelander stopped moving. He seemed to sense that he’d said something wrong. His hands moved away from her hips, caressing her thighs and stomach, finally making it to her breasts. He licked a steady line from her mid back to the upper part, and just with that, Aura María’s whole body shook. "That bothers you, baby? You regret what we did?" Homelander asked, lowly, as he fondled her breasts.

"N-no! I don't,” she replied, trembling as she felt him spreading her labia apart. He pressed one single digit against her clit and just left it there, giving her no stimulation. Aura María let out a pitiful sound, unable to hide her disappointment.

"What’s wrong, then?” 

Although she couldn’t see him, she heard the amusement in his words. Aura María tried to press herself against his hand, but that just earned her another spank. 

"I just don't want you to be such an asshole about it!" She cried out in frustration.

"Oh, my poor baby.” 

Then Homelander was turning her around and kissing her, hard and relentless. He spread her legs, entering her again in a swift motion. Aura María moaned against his mouth, putting her arms around his neck. Just like that, her anger seemed to melt away. She locked her ankles behind his back, unwilling to let him move even an inch away. The vice-like grip of her thighs around his waist brought her a strange satisfaction. There was a certain comfort in the knowledge that, no matter how hard she tried, she would never have the strength to truly hurt him. She was the one who broke the kiss, unable to keep up and struggling for breath. Homelander just stared at her, an easy smile splayed across his face.  

“What is it? You don't like it when Daddy teases you?" He asked, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. Aura María pouted, feeling her cheeks burn.

"No, papi." 

“You like it better when he’s nice, right?” Then Homelander was moving inside her, hard and slow, and she just laid back, opening her legs wider for him. “That’s okay. I can play nice.”

It didn’t take long for him to find a steady rhythm. He draped his body down over hers, one hand gripping the arm of the couch, the other holding onto her waist. He was a sight above her, breathing hard and moving fast, and keeping her close. Aura María kissed his cheek, his earlobe, what little of his neck was within reach. She wished he would take the suit off, but didn’t dare ask. Each snap of his hips felt like a stab to the gut. Then Homelander bit into her nipple, letting out a low, guttural sound, and that did it. Her orgasm rolled hot through her entire body.

He kept going, face pressed to the crook of her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, caught in a haze of pleasure. Tightening herself around him felt natural and easy. It should be good for him, as it had been for her. When he finally reached his peak, Aura María let him come inside. It occurred to her, as he pulled out and his warm semen slipped down her thighs, that there was nothing she wouldn’t let him do to her, as long as he was gentle enough about it. 

He carried her to the bed afterward. When she asked him to turn on the radio he let her pick the station, and although it was in Spanish and he couldn’t understand a word, he didn’t complain. It was almost three in the morning and it was raining outside.

"I like that," he told her, voice drowsy.

"What’s that?"

"The song.” Homelander gestured vaguely at the radio, not bothering to raise his head from between her breasts. “I like it. What’s it say?"

Aura María smiled, pleasantly surprised. It was a nice song. The type her mother would often listen to while doing house chores and cooking when she was a little girl. There were no particular memories of hers attached to it, yet it reminded her of a time of her life that she missed now. She translated it for him as best as she could, the pleasure of sharing something personal and dear to one’s heart lighting up her face.

“There's sadness in his eyes when he's talking and keeping quiet, and dancing with me,” Aura María said, softly, as she stared at the ceiling. The sound of Homelander’s breathing above her was strangely calming. "The boy with sad eyes lives alone and just needs some love. He needs to see me like he needs air. And I need him, like the sun.” 

She pressed her cheek to Homelander’s hair and was surprised to catch the scent of apricot and coconut that clung to it. It never failed to amaze her. How a man who was under so much pressure to appear strong and unbreakable to the rest of the world was still able to protect such unexpected, gentle elements of himself. 

“I don't even know his name, but I want to meet with him alone again. I want to find out for what strange reason there’s no laughter in his eyes. With love and tenderness, I will make them shine with happiness again.”

“Sounds like a real bummer, that guy,” Homelander said out of the blue.

Aura María laughed. “You think?”

“Yeah. It's a nice song, though," he said quietly. 

When she was grabbing the last of her things, ready to head back to her trailer, Homelander stopped her by grabbing her arm. “Give me your phone,” he said, and it sounded more like an order than a request.

Aura María arched an eyebrow, taken aback. “What? Wanna know if I’m talking to other boys?”

Homelander scowled. “Just give it to me!”

Aura María pulled her phone out of her purse and handed it over. Even if he did go looking for something incriminating, she knew he wouldn’t find it. Her SMSs (which she was forced to use because that’s how all Americans communicated via text, apparently) only featured tedious work conversations, almost exclusively with Ashley Barret. Her WhatsApp was just a long list of family groups, full of recipes, cat videos, and good morning images with cartoon backgrounds, courtesy of her seven aunts. 

Homelander didn’t appear to be searching for anything, though. He quickly tapped something on it, then handed the phone back. “That’s a private number,” he said, wagging his finger at her, the way he’d done back at the bay. “Don’t go sharing it around.”

Aura María wanted to argue. She’d been working at Vought for a couple of years now and knew well what the protocol was for protecting talent’s privacy. It was hard to stay mad about that, however, when she considered what she’d just been given. No one had Homelader’s number. Only Mr. Edgar and a few of the highest executives at the company had access to it. Was this his way of saying that he wanted to see her again? 

Aura María meant to text him so that he could have her number as well. She became distracted, however, when she noticed the name Homelander used when saving his contact information. It was not his superhero name - the one everyone at Vought knew him by, including her. This one was plain and simple, and so terribly common, she somehow knew it couldn’t be made up. 

John.

[ishomieokay]

Intro Post

Hi, there! I'm Lena.

I write mostly Homelander fanfiction, although I dabble into other media every once in a while. I love creating Hispanic OC/reader content, because I believe everyone should have some rep in fandom spaces. So, if you're looking for some spicy, diverse storytelling, you've come to the right place.

I absolutely love answering asks and diving into discussions about Homelander, The Boys, or just life in general. So, if you're up for a chat, feel free to slide into my DMs.

I'm open to taking requests, so, if you have any wild ideas or specific scenarios in mind, hit me up. Let's create something awesome together!

Links / Tag

AO3 | all my content | fanfiction | smut | homelander x oc | homelander meta | idolatry general tag |

Fanfiction Directory

works in progress:

idolatry (homelander x hispanic oc) AO3

masks we wear (john escapes the lab and joins the boys au) AO3

Imagine Guide

texting boyfriend!homelander (homelander x hispanic texter)