Got Milk? | Homelander x Reader

10 | Invitation

The morning sun filtered softly through the blinds of your apartment, casting gentle stripes of light across your living room. You sat at your desk, staring at the computer screen, though your mind was far from focused on work. Instead, you were lost in the memories of yesterday's encounter with Homelander.

His touch, the way he'd moved with such deliberate confidence, and the strange mix of sensations you'd felt were replaying in your mind on a loop. Each recollection made you flush with a heat that was both unfamiliar and intensely unsettling. Your body had reacted in ways you didn't fully understand, and you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about how his lips had felt against your skin, or the way he'd looked at you with that dark, predatory satisfaction.

The lingering excitement of the experience had you feeling warm all over, a soft throb between your legs that you were desperately trying to ignore. Every time you thought you'd gotten past the memory, a shiver would run through you, and you'd find yourself reliving the moments in vivid detail.

You tried to push the thoughts away and focus on the reports cluttering your screen, but it was no use. The intimate experience from yesterday was too vivid, too powerful. Your cheeks flushed just from thinking about it, and you shifted uncomfortably in your chair, trying to quell the unfamiliar stirring within you.

As you were trying to immerse yourself in your work, you heard a knock on the door. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you froze, staring at the door as if it might suddenly burst open on its own.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A moment of panic surged through you, and you scrambled out of your chair. Your heart pounded as you approached the door, your hand trembling slightly as you peered through the peephole. There, standing confidently in the hallway, was Homelander. His impeccable suit and the authoritative stance made it unmistakable: he was exactly who you'd feared—and perhaps hoped—would return.

Your breath hitched in your throat. The sight of him brought back the intense memories from the day before, and you felt a wave of heat flush through you. Your palms were clammy, and your knees felt weak. You were unprepared for his arrival and, despite the embarrassment of yesterday's encounter, there was a flutter of excitement buried beneath your anxiety.

You hesitated for a second before opening the door, finding yourself face-to-face with the man who had stirred up so many confusing emotions in you. He stood there with a slight, almost predatory smile, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of curiosity and mischief.

"Hello, [Your Name]," he said smoothly, his voice like silk. "I hope you didn't forget about our little arrangement."

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "H-Homelander," you managed to stammer, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. "I... I didn't expect you so soon."

Homelander stepped inside, his presence filling the room with an overwhelming sense of power and dominance. He closed the door behind him with a gentle click, though the sound felt thunderous in the tense silence.

"Did you think I'd forget my promise?" he asked, his tone teasing yet serious. He looked around your modest apartment with a mixture of curiosity and appraisal, his gaze finally settling back on you.

You fidgeted nervously, your hands wringing together. "Well, um, actually... you're a bit early. I don't need to pump right this second. Maybe in an hour or so?"

Homelander raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "Oh? And what should we do until then? Surely you didn't expect me to just stand around."

You could barely meet his eyes, your face flushing. "I-I don't know. I guess we could just... talk?"