a mirror in half-light
18+ 1.5k. homelander x supe f!reader. blood, dirty talking, cunnilingus, use of telepathic powers, acts of violence mentioned (not between reader and HL)
From someone so concerned with shielding his mind, Homelander quickly comes to appreciate your telephatic powers and how useful they can be. Especially during a boring Seven meeting.
prompt sent by @infinetlyforgotten, thank you so much 🤍
When you were first introduced to the Seven, many, including your new colleagues, compared you to Mindstorm. Sure, there were some similarities—the ability to see a person’s thoughts or to project specific images. But that’s where it ended.
The ace up to your sleeve, which distinguishes you and earned your supe name as Quickstep, is both your telepathic precognition, giving you leverage in hand to hand combat, and your crown and glory—possession. Supe or non-supes, all could have their minds hijacked by you; an ability Vought decided not to publicize.
Your fellow partners in fighting crime knew, though; and from day one you could feel Homelander watching you with suspicion, a stare so filled with distaste your knees almost buckled.
Seeing you in a corridor, Homelander signaled for you to approach.
“Quickstep,” he sneered, invading your personal space until he towered over you and your neck ached from looking so high up. “If I catch you using your little powers on me, be sure I’ll crack your spine. It’ll be easier than stomping on an ant. Got it?” His sudden artificial smile did nothing to lessen the weight of his words.
Homelander was your hero, always, since childhood. Not only that, ever since you saw him for the first time, the shining blue eyes, the softness of his blonde hair, that commanding voice... You were a goner. And he most certainly knew. The disappointment almost, almost broke your heart.
Little by little, however, with the unspoken promise you wouldn’t pry on his mind, you’d grown close. Partners in fighting crime, yeah, of course, but you had his back, no matter what.
In one of your missions together, Homelander smeared in an innocent’s blood from head to toe, your first instinct was to help him—clean the mess. And you couldn’t lie, him in his violence and brutality did something to you.
“Hey, you,” you murmured. “Let me help you, okay? Let me take care of it. Let me protect you.”
Surprisingly, he acquiesced. It took no more than minutes to possess the mind of some poor bystanders, having them fight and commit atrocious acts; they wouldn’t know what came over them and Vought would be too happy not to disclose. In quick action, the narrative changed; from rabid supe, to terrorist crowd.
Later, you found yourself in his penthouse, in his bathtub, naked and cleaning the gore as he squeezed your waist. When you sealed your relationship with a bloodied kiss, you knew there was no turning back—and you loved it. Loved his quirks, his humor, his beautiful nose and soft hair, loved his flaws and all that came with it. Loved the tie that bound you forever.
“I love you. I love you so much,” you whispered in his ear as you lay in his bed, a few hours before your meeting with the rest of the Seven. “I ache for you all the time. It overflows, sometimes.” You giggled, remembering when your desire burned you so passionately, so intensely, your mind had one focal point: Homelander and what he could do to your body. Without realizing, all your wants and needs were suddenly projected on his mind.
In the first time, you were fearful he’d throw a fit, but he simply grinned devilish at you.
“Wow,” he laughed. “If I’d known more about your dirty little mind I would have put it to use a long time ago, babe.”
After that, it became a fixture, in bed, in daily moments where voicing your thoughts wasn’t an option, or in missions when silent communication was useful. And bit by bit, he delighted in it, veritable proof of your devotion and love.
As it were, in this stolen moment, cuddled in his bed, he answered. “And I love you, my darling, My own mirror.” He nuzzled your neck. “No need to scream in my mind, I’m gonna eat your pretty pussy until you beg me to stop.”
“I’d never,” you said breathily.
Slowly kissing from your collarbone, to your stomach and thighs, mischievously looking you in the eye as he bit and kissed and licked everywhere around your cunt. His strength was enough to keep you in the exact place he wanted. Such a delicious torture.
Finally he turned his attention to your clit, dragging his tongue over it in elaborate patterns—he was relentless, and you both moaned at the contact. You were loud, thrashing and screaming at the slightest touch, but only for him. He played your body perfectly.
Your hands found his hair, soft to the touch, and yanked, wanting him closer and he groaned—the vibrations going straight to your core. Soon he started tongue-fucking, just as you liked it, going deep and slow, alternating to trace your slit from your asshole to your clit; not one part of you ignored.
“Fuck, you taste so good. You’re fucking made for me, your pussy is mine, mine, understand that?”
“It’s yours! It’s all yours. Please, Homelander, please—”
“Please what?”
“Let me come, let me come in your mouth, I want to feel you.” It was all too much, the mess his tongue made, the wetness running down your pussy and dripping in the mattress.
Moaning, he plunged two fingers deep inside you, as he squeezed your ass, bringing you even closer. You cried from the pleasure he woke in you, and even in this madness you caressed his hair, closing your legs until he was in the position you liked most: with a perfect view of his face, his soft locks, his bright eyes.
He smirked, squeezing you tighter, until you no longer touched the bed, and he slapped your ass so hard your whole body trembled.
“Like that, princess? Like when I do whatever the fuck I want with your sweet body? Now show me. Show me what you want.”
You complied instantly.
You imagined him feasting on your pussy, licking it all until his spit and your slick became one and the same. His fingers marking your ass, your thighs; biting so deeply even your invulnerable skin would cleave to his superior strength. You wanted his tongue deep inside you, for yours on end, fucking your pussy so good your legs would spasm and you would scream for all the Tower to hear, pussy clenching just the way he liked. You wanted it all—Homelander slurping on your clit and swirling his tongue, making you squirt and swallowing it all, leaving his chin a beautiful fucking mess.
In the aftermath, body boneless and exhausted, you wanted his fingers, for him to drag it all over your juices and make you swallow and gag on it. Then, in a little tenderness, he'd give you a breathtaking kiss, further proof of your intimate lovemaking.
As you projected all of this on his mind, his smile grew bigger, more wicked. And you knew he'd deliver it, or even more.
“You really are such a slut.” You giggled; it was all in the game.
Later on, as all the Seven were debating their latest terrorist attack, and what plan they'd need to put in action, all you could think was Homelander. His hands on you, his tongue lapping at your clit and his disheveled hair—which, you noticed, he didn't fix for the meeting. It wasn't fair, he was too mean at taunting you.
You couldn't keep your eyes off of him and he knew. Flashes of your morning together ran through your mind. No matter how satisfied you'd been, you wanted more, again, all the time. You wanted his kisses and devastation, his head between your legs and his mouth both teasing and giving you the most world-shattering pleasure.
You wanted to caress his hair, your newfound obsession, while he fucked you, hiting that sweet spot and filling you up with his come.
In your daydreams, you tuned out from the conversation, and like being burned you found Homelander staring straight at you, an expression oh so familiar. Unintentionally he'd become the spectator of your fantasies.
Rising from his chair so quickly you barely caught it, Homelander said, “That's enough for today. I have other things to take care of. Quickstep, you stay.”
Whispers of complaint were quickly shut down, as Homelander glared at them until each and everyone left the room.
“Well, well, seems like someone is still wantin' for more.”
He laid his hands on your chair, then turned it so you were face to face.
“I couldn't help it,” you smirked. “I can't get enough.”
“But that's not fair, don't you think?" He clucked his tongue. "It's your turn to please me.” He pulled you from the chair, and manhandled you until you fell to your knees with a thud. “Now, princess, get to work.”
2K notes
·
View notes