Chapter Text
Anonymous asked:
Concept: Reader who had touch starvation before they met Homelander and so they absolutely thrive on his clinginess after not being touched for so long. Homelander would be so whipped.
"Don't go," you whisper.
Homelander pauses, looking down at you. You're still in bed, covers pulled all the way up to your chin. The corner of his mouth twitches. You look needy. Cute. "Investor meeting in half an hour," he laments.
"How long's it take to get to it?" You ask, slipping your hand out to reach for him. He evaluates you for a moment. You can already see his resolve crumbling.
"Five minutes," he says. Perks of living where you work.
You smile sweetly, and nothing more need be said. His will power is nothing in the face of your adoration, or your touch. You lift the blanket, and he eases himself down next to you. You snuggle in against him, bringing the blanket over him. His arms snake around you in turn, pulling you in tight against his chest. It doesn't matter that you've remained snug under the blankets, he's still somehow warmer than you. You think that there must be a furnace in him that powers the red beams in those eyes of his.
Anyone else would be smothered by either of you. Not a moment goes by that the two of you aren't pressed against one another, holding hands, entangling your fingers in each others hair. You've craved this level of intimacy your entire life, just as he has. You are each other's only solace from a lifetime of deprivation.
"You're a bad influence," he rumbles through a smile.
"You love me," you counter playfully.
"I do," he responds, more firmly and sincerely than you anticipated.
Homelander winds up very late for his meeting.