AUGUST 2ND, 2021 — DURING THE WORKDAY. He’s under your spell yet again. As you complain about some diplomat or politician rejecting your — Vought’s — proposals, he listens. If it’s Vought’s, it’s yours. He’s Vought’s, he’s yours even if you rarely use him. Homelander’s at your beck and call and he hates that he’s underutilized. You won’t let him be your sole weapon. Still, he doesn’t hate you. Perhaps it’s because you humanize him more than anybody ever did and ever will. You don’t let him stay late or overwork. Fear is the last thing you feel when looking at him, he can tell. Everything down to the stupid cups of coffee you buy him sometimes.. it’s disgustingly human, how you treat him.

“I could do more for Vought,” he interrupts your rant as he confidently strides over to you. The blonde swiftly makes his way behind your desk, getting on his knees at your feet so he could rest his weary head on your thighs, like a child. He holds your waist, keeps you still for him. “I could do more for you. I’m the Homelander. I could do more.”

“Your work already is good enough,” you reply gently, running your hand through his blonde hair. It’s not the first time he’s done this and surely not the last. “I promise you, you are at the top of my list of people to call. I promise, John. You’re doing good enough for me.”

Good enough. He’s good enough for you. Is that why your spell is so strong on him? Homelander’s completely lost so much of himself, his humanity.. not that he minds or cares. Still, the small bits left.... they cling to your words like a child clings to its mother or favorite toy. He presses a kiss to your thigh, a smooch. Maybe a few, right through your pants. “I know I could do more.”

“You know I can’t say no to you,” he muses quietly into your skin, looking up at you through blonde lashes. “I can’t say no to you.” It’s a warning. Take care of what you ask me because I can’t say no. “Ask me for something. Anything.” And I won’t say no. He’s begging to be put to good use.